Dear Hilary,

On thursday you accused the forces of Libyan leader Moamer Qaddafi  of using rape and violence against women as “tools of war.” "It is an affront to all people who are yearning to live in a society free from violence with respect for basic human rights. We urge all governments to conduct immediate, transparent investigations into these allegations, and to hold accountable those found responsible.”


Now I am not denying the possibility of this actually being true. However my problem lies with your blatant audacity with which you adopt this self-righteous tone. I am sitting there, wondering if you actually expect anyone to buy this crap.

Why don't you start by showing the world exactly what was going on in Abu Ghraib? Why dont you give the world some transparency and tell us what exactly has been done to un do those crimes, which your government has even admitted to? Lead by example?

Fuck you, seriously!

true me?

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." – Oscar Wilde

How much of me have I lost trying to be all that is me, I have often wondered. What if for a period I could just be me without any pressure of being what I am supposed to be me? For a day, living life without having to worry about being a wife, a daughter, a friend, a citizen. Sheer anonymity, sounds like a fairy tale really when one’s entire life has been spent in Islamabad.
Would I still walk the walk and talk the talk that I have been walking and talking for the past 27 years? Why is there such a strong need to constantly fib and lie about our true selves constantly. Is the compromise worth it? Who started it anyway?
Do you ever ponder over this?

Balance?

Today I was asked to list down my roles in the general scheme of life. For no apparant reason I did so in an order of priority. Without a thought it came to "Daughter, Sister, Cousin, Wife, Friends, Employee"...and then for some strange reason I remembered my last nights conversation with my mother. She wasn't happy. Her complain was the one I have been listening to pretty much everytime I go over to my 'rents. "You dont spend anytime with us". The day before my mother's elder sister, who I also refer to as mama had called complaining about the same thing. I thought of my mother's eldest sister, whose also in town from UK. I hadn't called her in some time too. Sara, my baby sister, who if I refer to as my life, I wouldn't  be too far from the truth, had asked me to come over in the morning. I got there at 9 in the night. Hashim, my cousin, my brother, my pride never asks anything of me. I never give him anything. Irfan, my husband has given me way more than I ever expected from life; A perfect home, the feeling of being loved and respected, a shoulder to cry on and the kind of love, fairytales are made of. I dont think I have been able to give back even half of it. I thought of all these relationships in my life and what a fail I had been at each one of them. Of all the failures in life the realization of this one has to be the hardest.

So today I made some resolutions and promised myself to not forget my priorities. I am writing this note as a reminder to hpw shitty I feel right now. Its my three cheers to priorities and living life the way I thought ideal as a 21 year old.

Anyone else wanna join the resolution-to-be-a-better-person brigade?

How a Man should Love a Woman

Oscar Wilde said, and I quote:

“How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being?”

So I say to the 45% of the world population which has the tag 'Heterosexual, male' learn a thing or two from Mr Wilde. What's so grand about loving someone who is normal, who has no personality flaws you would talk about and people wouldn't be shocked or atleast be mildly amused? What's so grand about that love which probably found a window of convenience and jumped right into it? You think you are something when you marry that girl-next-door, who has never seen hot-insane passion in life, who has never believed in something so strongly that she would get it tatooed on her forehead, who has never gotten drunk and passed out, who has never been precarious in life? What's the fun in marrying a satti sawatri?

I get a lot of comments, sarcasm implying that my husband either must be high when he married me or regretting it now. I normally just crack a joke about it and move on, but you know what I am thinking inside? How end of the day, I am that lucky girl who got a man who gave her unconditional acceptance, knowing that he wasn't marrying someone who was easy? He married me knowing that I am not going to stay in the marriage if everyday wasn't made worth every sacrifice that I was going to be making? He tied that knot knowing that I have loved like mad before and a part of me will never stop? He married me knowing that the Love, i love is Insane and mad and passionate and extreme and obsessive.

He married me knowing I was me. nothing less. nothing more.

and that my friends, is how a man should love a woman.

Why?

So blessed I feel, whenever I look back at life, generally.

The faces that I see. SunnySara, Baji and Bhai. Deedi Peeno Simi. Hashim.

Bay Ji.

Komal, Arshia, Alina

Marya, Madiha, Atif, Johnny, Shahab, Rana, Jazib, Asfa, Zahra & Zara, Mahaau & Irfan.

Saady.

The love that I have seen, I wonder, is it common? Has everyone seen so much and felt so much of it?

You would think a girl with 11 best friends, six siblings, three moms and a great husband would be at peace with the love she has had all her life.

Then why is it Baba, that I want more. More of the love you gave me. Baba, why so greedy?

Why does my heart not find peace. Why does it keep wanting you back. So much love, and still wanting that very brand of love that only you could dish out. I have so much, baba. So much that words can never explain. Why being your daughter, I still have such a greedy heart?..

Why my heart has no peace. Why does it just want your hands wrapped around my head & the hug that only a stick-thin baba can give?

Just you baba. I dont want to be ungrateful but only want you. Nothing else. I want you for me, baba. Just me.

nothing else. just you.

Baba, Annie Misses you

I go on facebook everyday and I end up doing the same thing. Reading all the condolences that were written to me, on baba's death. One month after, they are still trickling in. Some wrote to show they cared, even if they didnt understand. Some wrote cause they had gone through the same. Some wrote cause calling was harder.

I know what to say when someone is in a similar situation. Yes, it doesnt come easily but I can still somehow drag my feet through it. But I dont know what to say back, when I am at the receiving end. "Thanks" would be awkward. "God's will, what can I say or do" would be truely reflective of the situation but not of how I feel. I'm not quite there yet. I'm still trying to understand how it happened.

I was in the 4th grade, when I had a dream that he had died. Its amazing how clearly I remember it. I remember that his face at that time didnt carry a beard and his hair were darker. So I'm glad that this time I saw an older face. A face which had seen and experienced so much more than what it had at that time. But why do I feel like there was more for it. I used to celebrate the fact that my kids would have an awesome grand father, having not liked mine all my life. How will they learn that grace and that dignity. Who will teach them to hold their head up high no matter what. I can't. I have walked some roads with my head hanging low. Grace is not me more than it is me. Dignity I have tried to hold on to tight but my grip has been loose on it on a few occasions. but Baba. Never.

That time that I had that dream, I woke up and I was relieved that it was just a dream and up I was to school. I had the same dream another time and when I woke up I didn't really remember anything about it other than the fact that I had seen him dying. Even though I was in Thailand on my honeymoon, there was no relief to follow. By the time it was evening I was sitting in my hotel room, crying out loud, freaking my newly acquired husband to no end.

But I knew it. That it was gonna happen. I'm not superstitious or psychic but that feeling I just couldnt shake off. So in a way there is some consolation that I got to cuddle up with him more than I would have otherwise. I told him how much I loved him, a million times after I got back and before he expired. I got to see him smile and nod at me and do all the little baba-things he used to do, in that special way that made me feel so loved and taken care of for 26 years of my life. So I guess, I should find my peace sometime soon. Also if nothing else works I can find solace in knowing that I was a special one, cause I shared my birthday with him.

But whatever happens, needless to say there are still tears which are gonna be shed, sad laughs, laughed like the way us siblings do when we are reminiscing about him and loads of birthday candles blown wishing he was there.

If the floods were World War 2...

...the Ahmadiyyah community would be our Jews and our Government would be the third reich!

Discrimination of this sort needs to be put on hold, if not forever, atleast for times like the ones we are facing. So do your bit for this. Share the link on your facebook, talk to your friends about it, forward to your contacts. The Ahmadiyyah Community can not openly speak up about their right in fear of legal action taken against them thanks to the Blasphamy Laws. So you do your part!