Today is my friend’s birthday, but…

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Today is my friend’s 18th birthday.

I did attend her surprise birthday party and gave her a nice gift, wished her on time and put on an obligatory birthday wish status and display picture with her to tell her how much she means to me. But as I was typing a long birthday wish for her, I had a flashback of the moments we have spent together in college and the only thing that came in my mind was a bitter comment made by her about me in front of everyone, including me. The memory of that day and that moment was still alive, hemmed in some corner of my brain, now dancing shamelessly like a harlot in front of my eyes, reminding me of the day my soul was torn apart from my body.

It wasn’t a bad comment on my character, it was on my personality. The reason it pierced my heart so much was because I have heard that comment before, from someone else, someone who claimed to be my best friend. And even though we are still in contact whenever I think about her the first thing that comes in my mind is the same comment. And I’d be lying if I say that it doesn’t hurt me. Because it does. It certainly does. And we all know that physical wounds can be healed but emotional wounds cannot. The pain of that comment will always stay in my heart and even if that (the birthday girl) was incredibly sweet and helpful to me in past, even though she apologized a lot for that comment later on and even though I have forgiven her, the first memory that comes of her in my mind will always be that same comment.

Please, never think for a moment that your words don’t have any effect on others.  Bitter words hurt more than the peeling of skin from our body with the help of a knife, more than the pain of a completely broken nail from our skin. And even if you think someone is not as good as you please keep it to yourself and don’t say that on their face. Because there is a 99% chance he already knows that, and secretly he is just trying to change that. Think from your heart before you speak, keep yourself in his place and think how would you feel if you were him and someone said the same to you? You would never forgive him/her. It takes a trillion compliments to build someone’s personality and your one harsh comment can take it all down, or worse, just kill him from inside.

Spread peace, love and kindness!

Love,

Fiya.

Laila

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★Laila:
With each swirl of the swing,she laughs and cries. The color of her cheeks turning from pale yellow to red. And far away stands a woman begging at a mosque for a child. Laila laughs and cries at the same time, hiding the sad betrayal in her eyes. Oh such a lovely girl she is, they say. But who knows the tragedy that made her live a life in orphanage. Her father did not want her, her grandparents despised her, her mother never saw her. Oh such a sad girl, they say. Laughing and crying at the same time, abandoned by her father for being his 13th daughter, left alone in this huge world for being a less powerful human, dumped by daddy, cared by none!

And far away a woman cries in the mosque, praying everyday for a child.

That dream.

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I gave birth to the idea of that dream, composed it, nurtured it and fed it like a baby. I fashioned it. I was the one who spent her days and nights aiding the growth of that dream. I was really hopeful. I loved it, I cherished it and I protected it from everything and everyone. I actually lived for that dream. I became too ambitious, my work drive became too much for me to handle but I did not let it go. I dedicated my body, my soul, my mind and my heart to that only dream.

 I had a blind trust on Universe but one day, it decided to betray me.I still held onto my dream, clutching it in my pure heart, through the bitter storms and crushing earthquakes, through awful thundering and crazy snowfalls, through horrible cyclones and hot and disastrous volcanic eruptions. As a result, I got grubby, I got muddy, I got crushed into bits and pieces, I got electrified, I got numb with cold, I got muddled… I got burnt! but I was sure that my dream is out of any harm,  it’s in my heart, safe and secure and I am going to nourish it more and accomplish it one day.

 I was so close to my dream. I was so sure that it is safe in my heart and in the depth of my soul. I touched my heart and felt it there, my lovely dream. A feeling of joy passed through my burnt veins. It is there! I cried. I pulled it out, slowly and affectionately… I stared at it, horrified. My hands started trembling and my eyes grew wider in shock.

 It was broken, it was ruined! My dream was broken. The dream that meant everything to me. I raised my dream to sky in an act of asking the universe to justify its act, and in a result the sky showered rain, melting my dream and letting it seep into the ground, a harsh slap from the universe for relying on it.

I sat down on my knees and rubbed my hand slightly over the soil, smoothing the part which had my dream buried in it. I shouted, I screamed, I cried. It did not lessen my pain. It did not help me to forgive myself!

………..sighs, guess I’ll never be able to trust myself again

……Guess I’ll never be able to dream again……

 

 

 

 

My review on the novel “Confessions of a shopaholic” By Sophie Kinsella

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Summary:

Rebecca Bloomwood (Becky) is a twenty five year old financial advising writer and a crazy, out of control shopaholic who owns all the things that she cannot afford, and is employed to a job that she is not interested in. She’s in deep debts and makes lame excuses to her bank account manager for not paying her bills. She makes every effort to hide those bills from herself because she does not want to feel depressed because of them. On the suggestion of her dad she decides to C.B (cut back) or M.M.M (make more money) but totally and miserably… fails.

Panicked by her bank manager’s constant calls and urges for a ‘meeting’, she visits her parents and gets to know that the careless financial advice that she gave to her caring and kind neighbors became the cause of them losing a lot of money. She then decides to stands up for them and ends up getting the job and the man…that she loves!

Review:

Oh my god. What a fun it was to read this novel. All those efforts she made not to buy stuff and all those times she ended up buying them. I knew it from the start that THIS GUY is going to be the love of her life, it was like the author had made it sure in the start.

A fun read, for girls. Because only us girls know the happiness and satisfaction of buying those ‘Lovely Louis Vuitton shoes’ or that ‘Classy Gucci watch’ or that ‘Black, studded Prada’s bag that’s really in fashion!’

Three words for this book, thrilling, light and relatable!

 

All my regards,

Fiya. 

 

Struggles of a young blogger

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My basic struggle as a young blogger is the language barrier. English is my third language, the first two being Urdu and Punjabi. I usually have a lot of ideas and expressions in my mind but as cool and amusing they sound in Urdu, when I convert them into English they seem absurd and boring.

My second struggle or fear—whatever you call it, is that I’m afraid to get judged. I mean, I’ve a lot to say on my mind but I dare not transform them into words, fearing that I will be labeled as ‘young ungrateful narcissist B****’

My third struggle is writing to please my audience. I think twice about posting stuff on wordpress because I’m afraid no one would appreciate my work and reject me. But Getting rejected is everyone’s greatest fear, isn’t it?

I’m currently trying to confront my fears and sparing no effort to make sense of my words. I hope that I succeed in it.

I love it how people on Word press tell me that I don’t seem to be so young, I’m like that since forever. My grandpa says I have a 50 year old head on my 17 years old shoulder.
Really Grandpa? Am I as smart as a 50 year old? Well, Nevermind.
But Oh, don’t underestimate me; I’m still as cool as a cucumber 😉

With this post, I continue my journey as a young blogger.

Rawr!
Fiya.