I don't want to work !

My mom always reminded all 3 of us (daughters) to "study hard...be independent....never rely on a man to take care of you - even if you married a super rich man....you must work and you must be independent -men are NOT reliable and the minute you stretch your hand out for money...you'll lost their respect!"....

hmmm…rather harsh but....that's how most girls my generation were brought up - I think.

I was watching a programme on TV the other day and realised that those who fought hard for women's right to work would be rather appalled when they realised that actually there are many many many women who view it their rights NOT TO WORK!

…including me….

Increasingly, there are many young women who deem it their absolutely right to stay at home - and that it is the men who have to go out and support the women.

…including me….

Some women felt that if they are married to someone....then everything the guys own then belong to them and that the men would have to pay everything because by nature of being women....they will 'lose out‘ after marriage.

So….the poor guy would need to continue to demonstrate love and care and 'compensate' the woman for agreeing to marry him.

Admittedly….it's always nice to have a super rich man (or a super rich dad!) because I can then choose to do whatever I want at whatever salary and not worry about my credit card bills or mortgage or my next holiday etc.

But...that would be 'lucky'(hmmm...which I highly doubt I am) -- and I would still wanna work -

My money is still my money - his money...hhmmm....would be nice to have a bit of that too!! :)

And...no....I am not materialistic and I am definitely not a feminist -

Just realistic! ;)

Disposition

Waheed and I have been almost inseparable for about a year now.

More precisely....since August 15th...hmmm....

The same day that Zaiba moved out of my life.

To be honest.... I dumped Zaiba without warning and took up with Waheed.

Relationship with Zaiba had been difficult from the start.

Zaiba was demanding...hmmm....always craving my attention. And I can never get her to do what I want her to.

Waheed on the other hand...is solid...easy to read....dependable.

I really feel comfortable with Waheed....probably because I felt in control of the relationship.

Zaiba...hmmm....on the other hand....made me examine my own weaknesses....mental and physical.

Yes...I admit....the problem was with me....not with Zaiba.

The fact is that I adore Waheed. And Zaiba?

Well...let’s just say that I needed her.

And through this blog I’d like to find out how other people have coped with the stress of this sort of relationship..hmmm.....Is it just me?

But let me first introduce you all with Waheed and Zaiba…

Zaiba….was my LG KS360 mobile phone.

Waheed is a sturdy Nokia N82 with line like buttons and a simple keyboard.

Zaiba had a QWERTY keyboard that means tiny buttons and small characters.

I disliked Zaiba from the start....mostly because of my own physical failings.

The keys are far too small. Or my fingers are too big....(which I highly doubt)...hmm....

Then....the letters on the keys are too small to read.

It used to take me so long to send a text. Apart from the finger size and vision issues....I’m so used to the old phone keyboards where you type the ‘ghi’ button 3 times to get the letter ‘i’, that I used to write stuff like ‘III tthhiiinnkk ssssooo’....instead of ‘I think so’.

So....yes....the problem is my brain as well as my body.

I’m conditioned....and too old to do much about it.

So I use to sent really short texts....which confuses friends and family who are used to chatty messages.

The longest text I sent from Zaiba says simply....hmm.....‘Thanks’. (Well, ‘Thakns’, actually.)

Yes...Zaiba....changed my life.

I think I have made it clear that all my problems with Zaiba are my fault.

At least they were....until August 10th....when she suddenly told me that I would....from that moment on....need a password to access her multiple functions.

Because of my pathetic fingers and even more pathetic eyes....I never manage to get the password right first time....sometimes it takes me three or four goes.

So where did I stand with Zaiba?

I must admit....the email function itself is brilliant. The password bit isn’t.

The application possibilities and media sync are great. The keyboard isn’t.

But aren’t all relationships like that? A bit of give....a bit of take…hmm...but when Zaiba refused to give me any attention....I had to give her away.

Well....It’s been fun to blog....to get things off my chest.

I hope Zaiba will forgive me dumping her for Waheed.

It will become me !

My dear father often speaks of the first time he saw her….when she was coming down the stairs in the black satin saree...hmmm.....

Though they were cousins but that was may the first time he noticed her.

I also have little memory of seeing her in the same attire in the family gatherings in my childhood…and whenever I saw her in the black satin saree I remembered what my father revealed to me…

Today I was under her roof….seeing her is in my routine now...

I was waiting for her in the living room....looking up….I saw a portrait on the wall…of a beautiful girl…in a curious….old-time costume.

The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the head told me that it was my hostess in her youth….and even as I looked….and wonder on her sparking beauty…

I heard the rustle of the cloths….and smelt the faint odor of sandalwood….and she came softly in..hmmm…..bearing a parcel.

“I think you might like to have it…I don’t expect you to wear it…but I think if you ever try it out…it will become you….” She handed me the parcel with faint smile.

I saw her hands trembling due to the weakness and illness she is going through nowadays…

I took the parcel…put it on my laps…lifted fold on fold of tissue paper…hmmm…..I looked….expecting fairy thing of lace and muslin….I saw - - the black satin saree.

“I think the saree will become you; it has been considered handsome.” She glanced fondly at the shining fabric.

hmm....I sighed….and said.

“Definitely I will try it out mother….and I am sure it will become me!”

I am aging !

"A man who lived by digging graves survived

To ripe old age. A neighbor said: "You've thrived

For year, digging away in one routine-

Tell us the strangest thing you have ever seen."

He said: "All things considered, what's most strange

Is that for seventy years without a change

That dog, my Self, has seen me digging graves,

Yet neither dies, nor alters, nor behaves !"

Every day ends now on disappointment...hmmm....without understanding the cause of my disappointment I sleep so that I can start another day.

Looking at gray sky now contract my heart…hmm….I suffered every time I heard the singing of the birds and suffered more by changing of season.

Is it may be I am aging...most people remember age with pleasure and regrets its passing but I always see my age as bars and shackles of a jail…

I am provided with a tongue and tears…even when I will old like a hag…then why I worrying….?

What I want?

I want may be the wisdom….freedom….to open my hearts door and lighted its corners.

I am aging without gaining freedom….without any wisdom….

As a falcon I am suffering in my cage when ever I see a flock of birds flying freely in the spacious sky.

It is ok for those who born dead and who exist like a frozen corpses but the person who feels much and know little is the most unfortunate creature under the sun.

I don’t want to be a gravedigger who digs grave for others but could never change himself.

My Failure !

When I was a little girl I was determined to make my name prominent in this world…hmmm...

I strongly detest to even thinking of just filling up the space of this world and not doing anything extra ordinary..hmm....

I loved so many and make so many beloved…but unfortunately couldn’t become a beloved myself to anyone…

I totally failed in love…hmm...

I wanted to be FREE….I wanted to be free of the way people think about me….I wanted to be free of what everyone expects from me…I wanted to become a spirit…ghost…who don’t need barriers….

But my freedom turns out to be my failure as an accomplished person….

My failure as a daughter restricts me to become a mother…I am afraid of having children…

My failure as a good human restricts me to meet people and makes me hide myself in internet…where people know me the way I tell them…

I hide myself because I don’t want to accept the fact that I have failed in this life…

My failure as a morally strong person hurts me and restricts me to accept my defeat...

So now…I am leaving my hiding place...I will confront the truth...I will accept my defeat.

Blogoversary

My blog has finally completed its third year…hmmm….

Because I was not in a habit of sharing my thoughts to people face to face…hmm…I started this blog. I am not shy but something always stops me whenever I say anything that whether my opponent has any interest…who knows…s/he doesn’t.

When I first started blogging…I worried about not being able to sustain it because I might run out of ideas to write about.

Although I’m quite opinionated…I often do not go about publishing all my thoughts online…ahh…I can’t be that vernacular online…you know…I’d rather much keep them to myself or write them in my notebook. In writing you have to be very careful since you can’t always express clearly what you want to say.

I thought lack of content to write about will someday be the reason that I will just leave this blog lying around the cyber world….abandoned.

Although I have only few close people around me such as:

1: Beloved Husband

2: My ailing Mother

3: ME

4: My limited dear Friends

I always find something amusing to share with you people everyday while only few get the privilege to finally come up as a blog post.

3 years has passed and I can’t count how many post I published…deleted and how many posts I have saved as draft. But whatever I published here I found tremendous comments and attention from wonderful reader/visitors.

My gratitude goes out to the people whom I shared several of my experiences that I’ve documented in this blog and to those who helped I made those experiences come true.

Of course to the readers (so really, are you one of the 115?), my appreciation goes out to you.

I hope I somehow provided a bit of knowledge (which I highly doubt)…suggestions…opinions and humor to your life.

Thanks for checking out my blog once in a while…it means a lot that some people are actually interested in reading about my craziness.

Most of all…thanks to those who were both with me and continuously read this site at the same time. I couldn’t have done this without you.

So…want to send me some love?

Or do you have suggestions as to what you want to read?

Type something in the comment box and hit “submit”. I love reading comments.

Till the 4th year....

I hope...hmmm...!

SELF

The very word..hmm...

SELF…elicit strong emotion...

hmm... excitement... hesitation...

...or may be even confusion.

Where do Self come from?

How do you find it or use it?

And most importantly...do you have one?

The exciting part of discovering your SELF is that you grow into it and with it !

SELF can be what gets you up in the morning...hmm...or makes you feel alive.

It's the once area of life that you feel like you were created for the very purpose of doing.

It's also where you feel the Allah's pleasure or presence the most.

Our Maker gives us SELF as a way to give us part of Himself.

Have you ever stop and asked any of these questions to you:

1: What breaks you heart and baffles your mind?

2: What si the one thing in life you can't stand?
3: Why did you get up this morning?
4: What makes you weep with joy or sorrow?
5: In what area did the Maker give you talents?

Actually finding yourself depends on your passion.

You should first find out what your passion is....you should pray to Allah to reveal to you your passion...or how to know about it if you already have one !

I am passionate about being a writer.

Passion takes you from WHAT to WHY. Writing is my passion but why writing is my passion is the question.

Actually it arises from our heart....try to find WHAT is the WHY of your passion.

The root of our passions came from either joy or pain in our lives.

Writing became my passion because I find solace in it when people didn't want to listen to me I started writing.

Suffering and pain are often the means the Lord uses to make us passionate about changing something and making a difference to the world.

Some of our greatest passions come from our biggest wounds.

Writing gives me joy.

Passion helps you inspire people....you can create and you can make a difference in the world with your passion. And bringing a change in this world is another joy.

Try to find your passion...what gives you joy...what basically you think you should do...and by finding these answers you will find yourself.

Don't get afraid of your passion....because this is the first step to find yourself.

..hmmm...

My Fair Van Wala

For my Van Wala(Driver)…hmm…Driving is like completing a puzzle game.

While running towards the halted cars in front of red signal he always try best to settle his van in between the little gaps other cars left by either mistake or overlooking and when he did it we find our van in between old...new...big and small cars like we have crammed our van...

...and I can see the pride on my Van Wala face that he completed the puzzle...it satisfied him on his right guess that the space will accommodate our van.

Once you enter the long route where you will see and will accompany so many cars for a while like a cheap video game which keep repeating the same vision...and it become very hard to keep your eyes off from the other drivers who get irritated by his uncertain overtaking...needless horns and turning right or left without indicators...most of the time showing or waiving their hand’s middle finger to him.

But nothing can stop him and he keep on fancying the other drivers by driving closer to them or always keep his van ahead of their cars.

But the real adventure starts when we have BUS or a TRUCK as our company...he never miss any chance to run along the BUS with only few inches gap in between, always try his best to use breaks when he is at the front of the bus and always turn left or right when there is inches gap between van’s bumper and bus’s front grill…

All of the girls in the van get irritated by his driving in such dare as he never let any other car (big or small) bully his driving.

He has been ticketed by the Traffic controller constable so many times and his driving license and van’s paper are been confiscated by the controller long time ago…so now if we are stopped by any of the constable and asked to provide the driving license or van’s paper…”its already with you guys” is his answer…I don’t think he ever care to pay the ticket to get his papers back.

There are certain things he never cared about:

1: Signals (either RED or Green…hmm)
2: Stray Animals (like cats, dogs, cows, even camels can’t slow him down)
3: Traffic Constable
4: Road crossing people…poor pessengers dropped by our super active busses in the middle of the road
5: Zebra Line (ahh…what’s that…?)

Since I joined the van I always try to calm him and asked him to slow down...

We never wanted him to speed...and he never took a heed.

But now I am so much in a habit of his driving that I don’t like my beloved husband’s slow driving…ahh…I mean normal driving.

I always used to think that what kind of the driving school he took his driving lessons from...what his driving teachers used to look like…

Until one day I asked him...from where he learned driving.

"I learned it from my brother…he gave me free driving lessons." he said.

"hmm…its very generous of him and what he do?" I smiled.

"He works for EDHI foundation and he is an AMBULANCE driver." He innocently told me.

hmmm…that....explained everything…..

Thus I cried !

Sometimes…heart acts like a child of the starving poor….who cries for food.

Become bitter by hunger…and disregard all the plight of his poor and merciful mother and never consider the poor mother’s defeat…hmmm….

Sometimes….heart congested itself with secrets…hmm….heart knows it is going on wrong way but it keep itself on the same way….

And when heart realizes that what it has done….

The heart ask for one more chance…from Divine…the heart wants the expression for such labyrinth…the heart want to release….because the ribs are about to burst with the growing of heart’s confinement..hmm....and there is no other way except a surge of release.

The heart request for the joy…from Divine….

Sorrowful persons find joy in lamentation….and the lovers encounter comfort and condolence in dreams and the oppressed delight in receiving sympathy….and…hmm….heart…?

Heart finds joy in crying.

And thus I cried!

Noteworthy Letters !

The correspondence started when a girl of only 12 years old found no one around her who can understand her...hmmm...

She not only wanted a good listener but also wanted a good person who can answer her.

She wanted to get inspired, she wanted to question, she wanted to raise concern.

She wanted a FRIEND.And she knows that her questions...her concerns...and her voice is larger than herself.

And thus she started the conversation with the PERSON...larger than her thoughts...and her dream.

It was her sheer good luck that she found a person of accuracy and liberty...love and brotherhood was his motto and Pakistan was in his blood.

Please do visit the blog which contain correspondence deserving a wider audience.

Noteworthy Letters : http://thinking-worthyletters.blogspot.com/.