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!
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.
On one of those lovely winter nights, she sat writing her past on her journal. She wrote and wrote and wrote, carving the never ending memories on a thin piece of paper. As lonely as she was, she knew her only solace is this journal. As she wrote about her one and only love, she felt a lump in her throat and felt hot tears on her ninty years old, cold bare skin, streaming down her hazelnut eyes. She felt the tissues of her skin blazing, her veins scorching and blistering,her body roasting. She couldnt bring herself to write about her sweet lost love. Her love life was dark and gloomy as that silent winter night.
As she sat there mourning for her long lost love, she felt a flurry of air caressing her cheeks and stroking her hair. She instantly felt better, and with that breath of wind she knew he was there with her… watching her, protecting her, loving her. She knew she wasn’t alone. She knew she was loved. She wiped her tears and closed the journal, ending her memoir in a sweet serendipity and signing her journal for the 100th time,
“Jennifer ♡ David, together forever!”
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.
Honour-By Elif Shafak.
“Honour is a powerful, gripping exploration of guilt and innocence, loyalty and betrayal, and the trials of the immigrant, as well as the love and heartbreak that too often tear families apart”
This novel is about two twins, one of them (Jamila) who remained unmarried till her death and the other one (Pembe) who got married and travelled to England after marriage. Adem, pembe’s husband abandoned his family for a strip club dancer and Pembe was left alone in a foreign country with three other mouths to feed. She devoted herself to her children and treasured each and every one with all her soul until one day her son, Iskender decided to hurt the one who loves him most in this world…
This novel accurately describes the dark situation in Pakistan. Women try not to be a cause of shame and men do not even need to try because they are the honour of family even if they are useless, all because it is already decided. A harsh, hurtful and bitter reality of so many families around. Each and every word of this powerful story and all the events defined are still the story of so many unfortunate Pakistani households. Honour killing is so common it is almost a tradition now. An innocent girl does something that is not in the code of conduct of the family? Simple, kill her! This story clearly describes that we, women are bound to be ‘chosen’. It doesn’t matter what women wish, what their choice is, what matters is the HONOUR. Elders would want their children and their relatives to live their life according to the unwritten set of codes. But wouldn’t life be much easier if we stop relating every split second of our lives with our so called ‘Honour?’
I personally LOVED every bit of this novel. The superstitions and perfectly described characters, everything was lovely.
Except that the events were not in order and that caused me a lot of misperception at first.
A brilliant read.