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.

The ‘newlyweds’- [An Indian subcontinent love story]

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They were meeting after thirty years.  For them, the sun was rising again after a long winter. Thirty years! Their love was strong enough to bear these thirty years in isolation. He came running from above the hill; she was waiting downside the hill. Heels cracked, skin wrinkled, body scarred, but love still as pure as the holy water. On the partition of the subcontinent in 1947, he was left behind in India and taken as one of the prisoners by Indian army, just like many of Indians were taken as  prisoners by Pakistan. The war had separated them, right after their wedding, exactly on their wedding day! 

They were told that their village would be safely merged with Pakistan, but it didn’t. Millionaires were turned into paupers, their factories and houses were burnt down, leaving them completely empty handed and penniless. 

 He was running to the downside of the hill, stopping various times to catch a breath, and to make sure his old knees get some rest. As he reached the place where she was standing, he saw her. Dressed in purple and pink gown, wearing a red stole over her head and brown Peshawari Sandals, though her skin  had been wrinkled and blemished but her eyes told him that she was innocent, her heart was as young as a sixteen year old. Fixing her red stole again and again and looking here and there for him, she finally caught a glimpse of him. Smiling brightly at him, she had a flashback of him as a young boy, flashback of that horrible day when most of her family members had been slaughtered mercilessly in front of everyone in the name of religion.

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How much she missed his smile, his presence, his personality, his lovely voice. They both came closer to each other, laughing and crying at the same time. They couldn’t recognize each other properly. She touched his cheek, his skin felt so rough and patchy, showing her the cruelty he had to face in all these years. She almost thought it’s a wall scraper instead of his skin.

30 years! He thought to himself. 30 years of immense trauma and torment. The pain of knowing your beloveds were killed mercilessly without a cause and the torture of not having someone close to share this sharp, incurable pain with. They had been married, and right after Chanda’s brothers held up her doli, they came. ‘The unknowns’ as everyone called them. Killing their families just for a little piece of land, in the most inhuman way, and taking Jugnu with them as a prisoner. Jugnu remembered the shrieks and cries of his family when he was  being torn away from his own family after a cruel beating.

30 years.

He held her hands and took her in his arms. Chanda made him vow to his life that he won’t go anywhere without her, ever again. They cried the tears of joy and walked together to the village, hands in hands, smiling broadly.

It was the end of their hardship and the start of their life as newlywed couple.

And not to forget,

It was their ‘happily ever after’

100 Good deeds challenge: Last

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Hello folks! Hope everyone’s good. Nope, I did not forget about my challenge. Infact, I finished it a long time ago and noted down all the good deeds, just couldn’t find enough time to post all of them, plus I didn’t want to waste my good deeds and be the victim of God’s wrath by showing them off to the world…. Sooo, just thought to post my last 6 good deeds of the 100 good deeds challenge.
And here you goooo:

95. Massaged Grandpa’s feet when he was feeling really sick. (Love you Grandpaa! Please get well soon)

96. Helped mum in her daily chores.(I love food)

97. Helped an 80 year old neighbor to walk in the street (That wide smile on her face. Pure happiness!)

98. Forgave two girls who were my bitterestestestestestest enemies! (NO COMMENTS)

99. Helped a friend in college admissions (A friend in need is a friend indeed)

100. Donated half of my pocket money to buy an Eid dress for an ex-maid’s daughter (Eid means celebrations, and celebrations should be equal for poor and rich. That’s what my religion is about!)

Life is too precious to be worrying about whether or not to be good to anyone. Forgive, forget and move on. Please, never waste a chance to do a good deed because one day or another it will all come back to you. Your kindness, your favors will come back to you and your niceness will bring you great rewards. Trust me, this law of Karma actually works wonders!

Spread love, spread peace and spread happiness. That’s what life’s all about.

All my love,
Fiya.



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. 

 

His beloved (a short story)

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Joe walked down the stairs in a hurry, his vision blurring and causing him to miss two steps at a time. He was already late. He had to look at Jade one more time, or maybe last time before she goes to take her class. Her class was just in two minutes. He could not let this opportunity pass, he had to have a glance at his sweetheart, bask in her smile and adore those big blue eyes with lashes so long one could see their shadow on her upper cheeks. Her lips firmly molded and her hair so long, smooth and silky, they reminded him of Arabian silk. Her sweet laugh could mend anyone’s broken heart and fix their torn soul. She was a lovely young beauty, full of life and glamour, a happy go lucky sort. He longed to hold her, to pinch her cheeks, touch her hair and be the cause of her smile. He loved her and he needed her, more than anything in this world. She was his life, without her it was impossible for him to survive.

His heart was thumping so hard he knew he could die at any tick of the clock. He ran in a hurry to the right block where her class was. He looked to the right, and then to the left. He felt like his heartbeat had stopped.
She was not there.

She was gone to her class. He wouldn’t be able to see her today, wouldn’t be able to rejoice in her lovely laugh and who knows about tomorrow? it isn’t promised. His jaw dropped. His eyes suddenly became red, filled with salty water of his emotions. His forehead became sweaty, his vision started blurring and his hands started trembling. Downhearted and low spirited, he raised his hands to himself as if praying to God and stared at his sweaty palms, trying to read the luck lines. He couldn’t believe on his bad luck when suddenly he heard echoes of laughter and two girls coming out of her class as if punished by the teacher.

It was her!

His darling, his angel, his sweet one. Laughing and high-fiving her friend, she stole a glance at Joe who was staring lovingly at her. Not knowing who he is, except that he was a school mate, she passed a confused smile at him. He laughed. How lucky he felt at that moment, She finally noticed him! She finally knew he existed on the last day of his existence.

On the last day of his existence

Even being so attractive that he stood out among his mates like a striking, magnificent jungle cat surrounded by harmless baby kittens, he decided not to propose her. Not because he was afraid to be rejected… but because he did not want to be accepted. He smiled at her, for one last time while she giggled with her friend, standing out of the class, completely unaware of the fact that this handsome young man standing right in front of him is madly in love with her, and also, that he is suffering from Brain cancer, a disease of which he was sure he is not going to survive because his doctors had already told him so. The cancer had spread, causing a severe headache, seizures and vision blurring. He came to school every day, just to catch a glimpse of her one more time, to listen to her laughter and to look at her and pray to God to give her all the happiness in the world, and to give him a chance to catch a sight of her,just one more time.

Just one more time

It was his last day on Earth, last day with her.

But the first day of his existence in the eyes of his beloved.

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.