I've never done this on the internet before, or to anyone off the internet. Just coming clean. Releasing all those small and tightly knotted worries which seem so big and difficult to tackle in your head. To free them one by one i'll list them in bullet points.
So today hasn't been a good day, not just for me but for my whole family. We're like a fully functioning body, when one body part feels pain the rest absorb that pain until it has reached every tip and tether.

• My dad is sick and is living all by himself in Quetta. A lone man in his mid fifties, working tirelessly for hours, in a desolate and ill-wishing town, comes home sick, to find what? nothing but empty spaces that were once filled by us. I wanna run home to him but my finals result is a week away. We have to wait here till it comes. 
• My mom is sick too. But I'm glad she's with us yet she's so faraway as she misses dad the most. Tonight i went with her for her weekly dose of injections. Hospitals already made me so uncomfortable and now when I saw my mother wincing in pain as the needle passed through her skin, I wanted to run outside and never return. We went to eat icecream afterwards as the injections make her feeble and nausea starts to fill up. 
• After that, when I came home my sister pointed out that a certain T.V show was airing right now on HBO. It was none other than the clearly forbidden 'Game Of Thrones'. Our protective brother has vented many times on how he doesn't find this show, well suited for us, so he has banned it for the rest of our dependent lives. But the opportunity was laid out before us, to test it's rating ourselves we sat down to watch it. To further advocate our decision, i would like to point out that HBO is the pakistani one which is obviously censored. But just then our brother came and well caught us red handed. I ran to the bedroom leaving my sister apalled. She came running after me after a few seconds. And then appeared my hot headed brother through the doorway who said in his demanding voice 'Tum log GAME OF THRONES dekh rahay thay?' My sister said 'Haan likin vo HBO par araha tha..' quite sheepishly. i stayed quite. he looked at us with his fiery eyes and an expression that you can often encounter when you snatch a candy from a toddler. with that strange stare he went back.
• My sister was mad at me for not saying anything or for switching the channel. 
• I'm sooooo worried about my result.

and this is the point where i lose it. I'm just glad i shared my feelings for the first time, don't care if someone reads it or not.

photoshoot of a tiny yet significant flower

Readers!

or people who only stay at my blog for a second and regret they ever came on my blog, COMMENT! I don't bite you know. mostly.

Subhanallah

Yesterday, on my father's wish, we all went to the Manora Beach located just a few miles away from Karachi.
When I say 'we' I say that regarding my whole family including my cousins, my aunt and my uncle.
This was another one of our picnics, unplanned and extremely fun. In Quetta, our favorite and only picnic spot was Askari Park. Each saturday we packed huge amounts of food in baskets and joyfully went to the park, singing our favorite songs like 'One Way Ticket' and planning on which rides to spend our money on.
But slowly, those weekly trips ended as Askari Park's policy of only allowing families through had been stopped. It began to look nothing more than a waste land. And we had grown, we weren't those children anymore who craved to try out all the rides in the park. in one day, atleast i was but my siblings weren't.
So we switched to Hanna Lake/Urak as our picnic spot to perform the rituals of eating biryani and hiking mountains and shouting loudly when we reach the top.
But this ceremonious exodus to the ragged mountains of Quetta ended when me and my family shifted to Karachi.
So this was the first time we had a picnic in Karachi. The sea was calm and peaceful in the afternoon but shook and raged as the sun went down. As we were making our way back to Port Qasim on our rented motor boat, I saw the towering, illuminated ships, a thousand glittering lights outlined the ships. I admired at the size of the ships and thought how man had come so far. The magnificent creations man had brought into reality.
But then I was riveted towards the sea. My eyes gleamed with awe. I couldn't believe how I didn't realize it's beauty before. It was unbelievable how a wast pool of water could make me feel this way. The sea glowed under the moonlight, it resembled mercury and looked as if it was alive and made me feel alive too.

It might seem that I'm exaggerating but I'm not. Infact I'm short of words right now.

It was then when I realized that man-made marvels can NEVER be compared with Allah's creations.

Blank

I have been spending my holidays staring into blank space,hoping it would be stained with words, words that flooded my mind a few weeks ago, words that were live and connected but my mind had to ignore them as it has to concentrate on words like physics, math or chemistry. Hmph!

Basically this post is about how badly i want to get something published. I fear, this would leave me being to self absorbed.

Quetta

Just a few pictures i took from my last trip to Quetta. The bottom one of the kid is not taken by me! :D

beauties of everyday life

At times when I come back home from an exhausting day at school, I often yearn to spend my evening the way I spent it one rainy day, years ago.


I love rain. It’s because of the divine symphony of rain that compels me to do so. It is how every rain drop creates a sense of being alive. It’s the monotonous drumming of the rain drops that reminds you of a well-kept memory, every time you listen to it.


And mainly because the weather of Quetta is mostly dry throughout the year so a rainy day is quite joyous for all the citizens.


It was a hectic day at school for me and all I could do was long about going back home. At that time, it was my teacher whom I went back home with. She had her own car and took full pleasure in using it as she drove through the roads of Quetta in full speed, not paying even a sliver of attention to the scrutinizing eyes of men.


So as soon as the bell rang I went to the car parking area and to add to my annoyance found out that I would be sharing my ride with two other school teachers.


I sat in a tight space between the two teachers and placed my school bag on my lap. Due to the crowdedness in the car and my tiny temper, I had the wild urge to scream out loud. But the sudden wind that gently stroked my face, banished my intentions completely. I sat upright and looked outside the window. The much appreciated clouds were hovering over us leaving dark shadows on our car, on an overly filled fruit cart, on a lonely pine tree, on everything that I could set my eyes on. It was strange how hurriedly the weather had shifted. Just in the morning people were grieving on how global warming had left no difference between the climate of Quetta and Karachi, and now they were turning off their fans and taking out the blankets covered in dust with sheer glee.


After a while our car was being bulleted by rain drops. I was jumping in my seat impatiently. I couldn’t wait to go back home and enjoy the rainy weather with my family. Rain was just what I needed to lift up my mood.


But all of my hopes crashed down once again, as my teacher announced with a deep sigh that all the roads have been blocked with water. It was a common sight in Quetta, the gutters easily get clogged and overflow with dirty water. There was only one option left for us and that was staying at some else’s house. It was clear that my patience was being tested as ‘home sweet home’ was the expression I obediently stood by.


So it was decided that we would spend the afternoon at a house of my teacher’s sister until it had stopped raining, because it was nearest location we could reach. We reached there in not less than five minutes. My anxiety for meeting new people had spread again; I was playing crazy scenarios in my head of me tripping over various objects in their house. We quickly got out of the car and went into a dilapidated apartment building. I dodged the water that gushed down from the drain pipes, the hem of trousers soaked in muddy water. As I followed my teacher in the building I heard the loud whack of a leather ball hitting against the hard woody surface of a cricket bat, echoing in the parking area. Some kids rushed past us with their feet, exploding each puddle they touched. One of them was my teacher’s nephew and he escorted us to his apartment.


We went through a curtained doorway and found my teacher’s sister and her husband waiting for us in their ‘living room’. With a long exchange of ‘salams’, we were finally seated on the huge floor cushions that covered most of the floor. Although I felt a bit relaxed I couldn’t help getting tense sitting with complete strangers. To my dismay, I found out that we would be staying for lunch.


Just as I was replaying those crazy scenarios in my head, my teacher’s sister asked me my name. I answered her three times until she understood and with a hearty laugh asked if I wanted to wash my hands before eating lunch. I was surprised how airily she asked that, how she wasn’t like most of the aunties, who ordered you around. I got up and went into their tiny bathroom.


For lunch, we had ‘palao’, the creamiest ‘lassi’ I’ve ever had and some light hearted jokes with our laughter contrasting beautifully with the noise of the raindrops in the background.


After lunch, judging by the flooded streets outside, we decided to stay for a few more hours which meant I had to take a nap. All of the teachers and I, prayed and then found places to lie down in a small but comfortable room. The room was engulfed in amber sunlight radiating from the closed curtains that fluttered because of the fans moving in high speed. Sometimes a huge gush of wind pushed through the curtains and released sunlight, illuminating half of the room with the wind tickling my feet. It was the calmest afternoon I ever had.


As soon as the rain stopped, we decided to return to our houses.


This day taught me a great deal of things. It showed me how life can be so unfair at times, but when you think back about it, you realize that it wasn’t all bitter. You are bound to find something sweet in it.


It lessened my anxiety for meeting new people.


It told me how to treat my guests. How a simple smile and a hug can gain you the utmost respect from someone, how places with good hearted people can be a reflection of your home.


It made me hate rain but then love it even more again.

Quetta cantoment, picture taken by my uncle