Forgiveness: Friday Offering

“… They should rather pardon and overlook. Would you not love Allah to forgive you? Allah is Ever-Forgiving, Most Merciful.” (Qur’an, 24:22).”

Battle of the Soups

It is clear i am a different specie when the waiter gives me a choice between  Chicken and Coriander Soup and Spinach and Egg Soup, and whilst everybody else on the table opts for the safe chicken soup, i choose Spinach and Egg. And i am not even vegetarian.

Spinach and Egg Soup

On another tangent the waiter could not pronounce, “coriander” and he was unintentionally put on the spot when someone on the table corrected him ( unintentionally of course). However, in all this unintentional mess, i saw a slight change in the waiter’s expressions. No! I will never put some one on the spot unintentionally…  at least i hope so.

Chicken and Corriander Soup

Blogger needs your help

Today i reach out to all my wonderful readers. This female janitor/maid in our office is keen to learn how to read and write in order to be able to help her young children study. Her children are currently enrolled in school and she feels that there is only so much assistance she can give to her children with respect to their education.

 

She wants to learn for her children. She wants to learn how to read and write and is willing to enroll in a school and take lessons.

 

Do any of you know of any effective adult literacy programmes in the city of Karachi?  Do you know of any non governmental organizations or schools that i can reach out for in this regard?

 

Your help would be dearly appreciated. God Bless.

 

 

First work blooper of the Year

Sending an official letter to important folks dated January 4th 2011 when it is infact January 4th 2012. *Sigh* Epic Fail.

Sapphirical’s 2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog. And frankly by just writing 13 posts the past year, i have proven that i am definitely at  a turtle’s speed in the world of blogging. But then you know what they say, slow and steady, wins the race. :)

But what surprised me that people came to this blog to search for “inner peace”. Boy, the disappointment,  that must have brought across. *sigh*

And folks from eight countries in North and South America, five countries in Europe, five countries in Asia and Arabia, two countries from Oceania and five countries in Africa paid me a visit too. Thank you!! Thank you!! Thank you !! This is incredibly humbling.

This year i shall strive to blog more and hope that i don’t fail. :)

Love you all. :) And thanks wordpress for making my day.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 8,400 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report

The New is the Old.

So this is the new year.
And i don’t feel any different.
The clanking of crystal
Explosions off in the distance.

So this is the New Year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions.

(Death Cab for Cutie.)

A few years back on every New Years Eve, despite the fact that I was in my room and under the blanket on my bed, trying to sleep amidst the deafening celebratory gun shots ( that made me realize how a war zone would sound like) I used to be very optimistic. Brimming with energy, hope and very stupid faith and certainty, I used to declare to nobody but myself, “I am so sure the coming year will be different. Something great will happen. Something special will happen. Surely, this will be the unforgettable year of my life and I will achieve many milestones.”

So terribly naïve of me.

Fast forward a few years and now on New Years Eve, as I lie under the blanket and listen to the various types of ammunition being shot in the air, I have no feelings- nothing. – nada- zilch. To be honest, it does not even feel like it is the new year. Nothing feels different. Yes, AlhamdulilAllah I have achieved many milestones along the way, but somehow nothing in life motivates me anymore. I am after all running after nothing. Money? Fame? Success? Love? Contentment? Happiness? Do I have any of these things?  Hell NO! But still I don’t aspire for anything.

Maybe I have become a zombie- insensitivised by the bomb attacks happening every other week, frustrated by the country’s politics, tired of the meaningless social gatherings, disappointed by people to such an extent that there are no expectations at all, secretly depressed by the nothingness of life and most importantly resigned to my fate- whatever it is and whatever it may be.

But I am not unhappy. Just at peace with my self, the world and those around me.

So happy new year folks. My expectation level for this year is actually pretty low so bring it on. Love,  peace and Light as they say. <3
.-..-.
`•.•´
●/
/▌
/ \

Ps. Keep me in your prayers.

The Lazy Girl Syndrome

There is a blog post I have been meaning to write but I also want to go shopping. There are social commitments over this weekend too. But I want nothing of it. I just want to lie in bed , watch movies, eat chips, almonds and maybe some ice cream later and just sulk, sulk and sulk. Why can’t you guys understand I really don’t want to go out. :/ The only exception I would like to make is going out with immediate family. Now that makes me feel infinitely better. But for now, let me laze and sulk, please.

ps. i am so demotivated and lazy that is a sheer surprise i even wrote this.

Collective Sickness

I wanted to write about the degradation of the collective Pakistani Psyche, but then I would be generalizing. If I am a dissenting member, then I am sure others do exist or at least, I hope.

But then there are several things I do not understand:

(i)                 What kind of self-respecting Pakistani will fill up everybody’s facebook feeds with Veena Malik and her latest antics? Are, our brains slowly reducing to the size of peanuts? Is this all we can think?

(ii)               What kind of shameless Pakistani will send you texts and update their Facebook statuses and behave like twits (reference to tweeting! Sorry, I have no love lost with twitter), wishing death to the country’s President, a human.

For starters, I am not a Zardari fan. As far as I know no one is. But will I wish death to him, even if in the form of a lame joke?  No way! Not to him, not to anyone else. I feel sick at this moral decline.

And when Pakistani blogging pioneers and umm.. “social activists” like Awab Alvi ( who of course screams allegiance to Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf and whom many youngsters look up to) updates his Facebook page with a below the belt joke about President Zardari and how he wishes that his doctor behaves exactly the same way that Michael Jackson’s doctor did, I almost throw up.

We need to be better than this. I beg of you, my Pakistani brethren. We really should know better. Let our psyche not deteriorate into the gutter. :/

Friday: The Best Day

Abu Hurayrah stated that Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) said:

“The best day on which the sun has risen is Friday. On it Adam was created, on it he was placed in paradise, on it he left paradise, on it he was forgiven, on it he died, and on it the final hour will take place. Every creature on the face of the earth, except Adam’s descendants, awakens on Friday on the lookout fearing the final hour until the sun rises. And there is an hour on Friday in which Allaah will grant anything a believer asks, if he is in formal prayer (salaah) during it.”

Collected by Abu Daawood (Sunan Abu Dawud, vol. 1, p. 269, no. 1041)

 

 

 

 

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Frustration and Cell Phones

There are days when you do not care how expensive the stupid cell phone is and you just want to throw it on the floor or casually across the table to vent your frustration- even if the phone jacket is delightfully pretty.  :(

 

Work Blooper

After years of wanting to take a make up class so i too can somehow metamorph my plain jane face into something more umm…. what’s the word, glamorous, i decided to enroll into a “make-up artistry” class. Yes, that’s what it is called.

The next thing i did was to send an email to all the girls i know who may be interested in joining as well. And that is where i faltered. In my excitement, i negligently sent the email to a colleague with whom i usually correspond on a formal and official basis.

Within a few minutes, i received a reply from the same colleague stating the following:

” I hope this mail was not meant for me.”

Oh my God!

By the way did i tell you folks, that the colleague is a “male”,

*Hides crimson face in hands and suppresses embarrassed giggles. *

No Hell , No Paradise.

~ Na tarsam z’aatishe dozakh, na parvaah-e jana’n daaram
Manam shoreeda-e janaan, na khwaahum hoor-o-ghilmaan ra

 

~ Hazrat Bu Ali Shah Qalandar ~

 

I don’t fear the fires of hell, nor do I hunger after paradise
I am enraptured by my beloved, what do I care for houris and slaves in paradise?

 

~ Translation by Musab Bin Noor ~

Do you have egg and bread in the fridge?

I just had to share the niftiest egg and bread halwa recipe that I learned from my mum last night. As it happens, dad had some unpredictable guests ringing the door bell late last night and the kitchen was bare of cookies, nimko or even frozen items which could be fried and served to the guests. With my brothers away from home at that particular moment in time, we faced the predicament of what exactly to serve the guests. Me, being me suggested that we should just make some cardamom tea given the paucity of snacks in the house.

But ammi being the super mum, opened the door of the refrigerator  and took out 4 to 5 eggs and some bread. Oil was heated in a pan and the egg yolks and whites were rigorously stirred whilst at the same time, 2 fistfuls ( yep!) of sugar were dumped in. The bread was broken into many pieces and the crumbles were then added to the egg mixture. Add maybe a table spoon of milk (not more) and keep stirring until the sugar dissolves. Taste some to see if more sugar is needed. If not, throw in a few almonds, stir the halwa a bit more so the almonds too get their share of the oil massage and voila. You are done.

This takes maybe 10 minutes and best served hot with some piping hot tea.

I love it and I love my momma. :)

Of fairy lights and weddings

Bittersweet these weddings are- when you are from the bride’s side and especially when the bride is your sister. You run tirelessly to make everything perfect for her and when it is finally time to say goodbye to her, all those pent up emotions release … sigh. I really miss her. Even though she is in the same city, but she is not home and I am not sharing my room with her. No one to fight with. :( Bitter sweet this shadi business. :)

Dholki: Dance of the candles

Dholki ambience

Glass Bangles: Every colour to your mood

Mehendi: Before the fun began.

Mehendi Shehendi

Wedding: The Horse Carriage

Arrival of Baraat

Enter the Bride’s maids

For better or worse till death do them part.

Good Byes: Woh Chali, woh chali, dekho pyaar ki gali.

Applause: The show was worth it.:)

Cuppa tea and Generousity

I firmly believe that some humans are angels. However, this does not mean that they do not have flaws. Just that in a certain moment, they surpass themselves in generosity and kindness and perform an action solely for the well-being of another person, with no ulterior motive and in that one moment and one action, they become angels,  even if it may be short-lived and if the action is so small that it can be easily overlooked.

I did not have time to take breakfast today and walked in the work space with a foreboding that if I do not eat, I may just get the flu allergy I so dread. After debating endlessly on the merits of ordering an omwitch (egg and veg sandwich) from Dunkin Donuts or taking tea on an empty stomach against waiting until 1:00 p.m when I would take lunch, I decided to walk over to the pantry. The pantry attendant was asleep in his chair and I cleared my throat in the slightest of ways. This caught his attention. I asked him if he knew anybody who could get some cookies or biscuits for me. He did. I gave him the required cash and went back to my work station.

All I could think about were the cookies and how I would make some hot tea for myself as soon as they arrived. In around ten minutes, the pantry attendant was standing next to my work station with the cookies on a plate and a cup of hot steaming tea in another. And in that minute, just because he was considerate enough to make tea for me, I hold him in high esteem.

Phase Book (Facebook)

It is only after you de-activate your facebook profile, you realize how addicted you were to it- how browsing on other people’s updates and updating your status had become a tool to validate your being. Tsk. Tsk.

I do not know how long the deactivation will last, but I do know that I am getting more work done with concentration than before, and opting for more constructive activities than checking facebook.

Oh, how social media warps our brains.

_____________________________

Humaira Bachal – The light of Moach Goth, Karachi.

Let me introduce you to twenty two year old Humaira Bachal. The first time I saw her was in the Heroes Session of the Rahbar Program of the Citizens Foundation (“TCF”). Rahbar is a program which focuses on the development of students studying in TCF schools as responsible individuals and productive members of society. In this program individuals from all walks of life spend time with eight and ninth graders studying in various schools in the cities, during the eight weeks of the Rahbar Program. One of the sessions of the program is the, “Hero Speaker” session, where guest speakers talk about their life struggles, with particular focus on how these individuals fought all challenges and succeeded in the face of adversity. In this particular session, Humaira Bachal was the Hero Speaker for the students of the TCF Sumar Goth School.

Dressed in black shalwar kameez and with a red shawl draped over her head, her face was calm and composed, belying the story of her struggle that she would soon unfurl open us.  She was the second Hero Speaker for the day and I waited patiently with baited breath for the moment she would speak. And when that moment finally arrived, we were all humbled to dust and she was elevated in our eyes to such a large extent, that we could have made her our queen.

This is her story.

Humaira Bachal moved to the Moach Goth squatter settlement in Karachi City, when her village and her home were destroyed by floods in interior Sindh. Her mother, Zainab Bibi at that time took the bold step of convincing her husband to send Humaira and her younger sister, Tahira to school. The two sisters were the only children to go to school in that particular settlement. Whilst the sisters spent their time in school, their friends played in the streets throughout the day. As a typical first grader, Humaira initially believed that going to school was a punishment. However with time, she soon realized that she infact was the “privileged one”.

Her introspective mind and sensitive nature inevitably led her to feel troubled over the plight of the other children in her neighbourhood. She wanted all her friends to go to school as well but knew that financial constraints would probably never let this happen. Humaira however did not know the meaning of giving up and soon had a novel idea up her sleeve to redress this injustice. She would herself teach the children in the neighbourhood. The only problem was the dearth of stationary, copies and books.

Nothing could be too big of a problem for Humaira. She soon started asking her school friends to donate their old school books, copies and stationary, which she collected in a basket at the end of every class when the teachers were away. Soon Humaira’s home school was functional and being attended by the children of the area.

Although Humaira was actively working to elevate the condition of her own village, she had to face setbacks of her own as well. Her father wanted to pull her out of school when she was in grade eight and get her married. At that time Humaira’s mother begged her husband to let Humaira study further. The result of this plea was a resounding slap across Zainab bibi’s face. Despite physical and verbal abuse and the possibility of social boycott in her community, Zainab bibi continued to convince her husband, who eventually relented when Humaira promised that she would marry anyone deaf, dumb or blind without cavil if her father let her finish school.

As the population of children in her school grew, she persuaded other classmates and juniors at school to join in and help in this noble venture. In 2003 she established, “The Dream Foundation” which was aligned with the aims of this very school. The only problem was that the kitchen floor and the courtyard of her modest home were not spacious enough to accommodate the students. Despair settled in her heart and she realized that perhaps her school would not be able to sustain itself. It was at that time when one of her students encouraged her and Humaira rejuvenated by their faith started to look for solutions.  She decided to seek help from the ARM Youth Welfare Society running street schools in the adjacent poverty stricken neighbourhood of Lyari. When the organization visited Humaira’s school, they were pleasantly surprised and impressed. Convinced of Humaira’s sincerity and infected by her positivity and motivation the organization arranged financial support from the Rotary Club, and Humaira was able to rent a space in the neighbourhood that she affectionately named the. “The Dream Model Street School.”

Things improved in her personal life as well. On a visit to her village in interior Sindh, she was informed that her uncle had purchased a plot of land. Being an inquisitive character, she convinced her uncle to show her the paperwork and map relating to the purchase. All it took was a cursory glance for her to realize that her uncle was being fraudulently given a smaller plot of land than what he had bargained for. When she brought this fact to her uncle’s attention, she was met with disdain and sarcasm- after all what is a woman supposed to know about these things which involve men. Undeterred she convinced her uncle to take her to the local land registry where she was proven right and the fraudulent transaction was exposed. At that moment, her father could not have been more proud as his daughter had proven herself to the same community which looked down upon her decision to study.

Meanwhile, news of Humaira’s endeavours reached the ears of a Shirkatgah, a nonprofit organization who were researching on women empowerment. They decided to document Humaira’s work.  This documentary,titled, ”A Small Dream” was launched on 28 March, 2009, in Lahore at the South Asia Free Media Association, with Humaira, Tahira and Zainab Bibi attending. It  was while watching this documentary itself that she realised what she had done and the impact it had in her community. She recalls watching the whole documentary with tears streaming down her face and in utter disbelief of what sheand her friends had achieved.

 

As word spread and her documentary was aired on television, organizations Like Engro Vopak, Orangi Pilot Project (OPP), Shirkat Gah, Behbud Association and Family Planning Association of Pakistan started supporting The Dream Foundation and this support remains to-date.

In 2007, Humaira  as she says, “retired” from the school in order to earn a living and to be able to support her school and to try to pay some of the dedicated staff . She however remains as the President and is on the board of trustees of her trust. Her 19‐year old sister Tahira is now the principal. Humaira, since then has been offered a scholarship by the Lahore University of Management and Sciences, which she has declined to avail for now.

“If I leave now and abandon the children studying in my school, who will look after them?” she says matter of factly.

The Dream Model Street School currently has a staff of 22 teachers, aged between 13 and 24, who work for free and are active donors of the foundation itself. The school has by now imparted education to approximately two thousand students. Apart from regular studies, the school also provides computer classes, has a female literacy project, has an Islamic education class and conducts separate evening classes for children who work to earn a living in the day.

 

Humaira dreams of making her school a long ‐lasting institution by constructing a proper school building that will remain even when she is gone. An empty plot of land is available, but the young teachers need Pakistani Rupees 2,800,000 to purchase it.

The session was almost over and almost all the children and mentors sitting in the TCF Sumar Goth campus had questions brimming within us. One of the mentors’ asked Humaira as to why she had chosen to do all this when she could have joined the status quo like many of her peers. Her answer sent shivers down our spine. She told us that she had seen her female relative who was suffering from a stomach ache die after she was injected with medicine and a syringe meant for horses. She also told us of her little cousin who died because of eating expired medicine. Humaira believes that these deaths took place because of illiteracy and lack of common sense and awareness which can only be erased through education.

We have much to learn from Humaira, who has done the unthinkable in her community through her courage, motivation and the simple will to bring about a change. Where we talk about the problems faced by our country while sitting in our luxurious drawing rooms, she has actually translated all those thoughts into action despite the uncountable problems that she faces and we do not. She is the change in her community. At this tender age, she has a vision for this country- a vision that we all share. This is the time for us to join hands with Humaira, step out of our pseudo intellectual drawing room discourse, and bring about that change. Let us ensure that Humaira’s small dream becomes a reality and that it is not in fact one Model Street School that gets saved, but several such schools are constructed so that every street of our country is a dream come true.

 

Note:

You can find out about more about the Rahbar Program and the process to register as a volunteer here: http://www.thecitizensfoundation.org/docs/rahbar.pdf

To get linked with Ms. Bachal and help her in raising funds for her school, please write to:

Dream Foundation Trust, Muwach Goth Brohi Muhallah, Near Murshid Hospital, SUPARCO Road, Hub River Road,  Keamari Town, Karachi, Pakistan.

Email:  humaira-bachal@hotmail.com

Website: http://dreamfoundationtrust.weebly.com/index.html

To donate to the Dream Foundation Trust, please deposit donations in the following bank account:

DREAM Foundation Trust
A/c No. 09947100289003 
Habib Bank Limited
 Saeedabad Branch,
 Karachi

To see Humaira’s documentary, click here:  http://blip.tv/r4d/a-small-dream-2127432

 

Ghulam Sughra- I am Proud of you !

While going through the newspapers today, i happened to glance upon the picture of a woman being given the International Woman of Courage Award by the Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and First Lady Michelle Obama of the United States of America. The lady being awarded was wearing a light blue embroidered shalwar kameez with a red dupatta over her head. She looked Pakistani. A quick check and yes! She is a Pakistani and her name is Ghulam Sughra.

How is it that i had never heard of Ghulam Sughra? This woman is getting an award conferring on her the title, a Woman of Courage. She is one of the ten people around the globe who have been chosen for this award. Clearly, she must have done a lot of courageous and exemplary things to be bestowed this honour. How is it that another country is honouring this woman and most of us in Pakistan have no clue about her identity? I blame no one but myself for such ignorance.

Do you want to know what Ghulam Sughra did to earn this award? Well, where do i start?

Ghulam Sughra is the Founder and Chief Executive Officer of a Non Governmental Organization (‘NGO’) known as the Marvi Rural Development Organization. This organization is focused on creating community savings funds and raising awareness of education, health, human rights, and social development issues. Theis NGO has its roots in her home village in Sindh, but has now expanded to several rural areas of Sindh, Punjab and Balochistan Provinces.

Unfortunately the catalyst for her activism was a sad story.  Sughra was forced into marriage in the tender age of 12 years. After six years of a bad marriage, Sughra became the first woman in her village to divorce her husband. The result was  as expected. She was suddenly a social outcast in her own village.

She tried to pick up the pieces of her life and started to attend school. However, whenever she ventured to do so, she was severely beaten by her brothers. Not a woman to give up hope, she continued to pursue her studies at home and went on to become her village’s first female high school graduate in a newly formed Girls Government School. Well, did you expect her to sit at home? No, she then became the first teacher at the first school for girls in her village.

She faced another challenge in this role as well unfortunately. Even though the girls school had been constructed but there were no girls that were being given the permission to come to school. Parents in the village were not motivated to send their daughters to school, owing to the poverty and the social norms in the village.

Sughra has been able to bring a slow and steady change in the perspective of local rural villagers of this country through her NGO. After several years of her work, and especially since she has faced hardship, taboos and seen financial difficulties herself, she is convinced that the quality of life of women in this country will not improve unless issues such as building of good infrastructure such as roads and amenities such as water supply, electricity and compulsory education in the shape of well maintained schools are not provided.

She knows that education is essential to break taboos and for progress. She has been religiously encouraging young girls to go to school and become educated. She feels that it is only education that will empower girls to battle and remove the economic and social barriers to their education.

Sughra has also implemented income generating projects and secured sources of credit so that women living in  the rural areas of Pakistan can achieve the role of a “bread earner” as well, and therefore have have a say in the decision to send their daughters to school, and also prove that their role is complimentary to  the domestic duties they perform at home.

Sughra is a woman we should look up to. She is an asset to our society. We should be ashamed to not have brought her into the limelight and give her the support and acknowledgement she so deserves.

Ghulam Sughra, i am proud of you and Thank You for proving a Pakistani woman’s worth.

U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton (C) and U.S. first lady Michelle Obama (5th L) pose for photographs with the International Women of Courage Awards winners (L-R) Bebela publisher and journalist Henriette Ekwe Ebongo of Cameroon, Beijing Zhongze Women’s Legal Counseling and Service Center Director Guo Jianmei of China, Hungary Member of Parliament Agnes Osztolykan, Mizan Law Group for Human Rights Executive Director Eva Abu Halaweh of Jordan, Kyrgyz Republic President Roza Otunbayeva, Deputy Attorney General for Special Investigations against Organized Crime Marisela Morales Ibañez of Mexico, Marvi Rural Development Organization Founder and CEO Ghulam Sughra of Pakistan and Herat Province Prosecutor General Maria Bashir of Afghanistan at the Department of State March 8, 2011 in Washington, DC. The award were given on the 100th anniversary of International Womens’ Day to women recognized for their “courage and leadership as they fight for social justice, human rights and the advancement of women.”

Dear Big Gal on the Outside . . .

This letter is for the girl i have never met. It may also be that i am writing this letter based on assumptions, and you know what they say about assumptions. Oh, you don’t? Ah… in that case, let it go. Oh, but you insist? Well, an assumption is the mother of all F***ups. Oh come on, i am so not going to spell it out for you. I mean as far as i am concerned, i think, ‘Mess up’, is a perfect substitute, don’t you think?

But i am digressing. I heard about a girl yesterday. Maybe i dreamt about her. Or maybe, i have just thought of a fictional character, but i am trying to convince myself that the character is real. Well, i don’t care, and neither should you. You know why? Because, i don’t think it is important. And maybe, after a certain point, you will agree with me. If not, heck i tried.

AND NO, THE GIRL ISN’T ME! GOD! Judgemental aren’t you all?

But wait let me write the letter first….

* * * * * * *

Dear Big Girl on the outside,

How are you doing? How is the weather? How is life in general and is there anything, ’specific’ you want to tell me?

Ofcourse, you don’t. You are perfectly contented sitting in that corner, quietly and patiently doing what you have to do. Yes, there are a thousand, million, billion and gazillion thoughts in your head that plague you, and whose shadows sometimes lurk in your empty eyes, but as far as we are concerned, you will still tell us, you are ok and doing alright.

Well guess what! I know your secret. You are not ok at all, and despite being big on the outside, you are really a little five year old child inside. Is that shock on your face? Are you angry? This should not really be a revelation to you. You have known it all along.

I don’t think that it is a bad thing. Infact, i think it is a very good thing. Children are innocent, have clear hearts and almost always speak the truth. They don’t speak to you in the guise of being someone they are not. The only problem which i have is that, you are not being true to that five year old.

You see five year olds are also quite stubborn when they have to be. When they want something, a new doll, a new toy car- they really do want it. They plead, they cry and smart ones may also make up a case stating all the reasons why they should get that particular toy in order to convince their parents to do the same. You, on the other hand, who frankly only needs to convince herself to do or get something for herself or implement an idea (considering after all you are a big girl on the outside), still needs to convince A, B, C and D to do or get something. Strange thing is A, B, C or D really don’t need to be asked or convinced. You want something or want to implement something (legitimate and legal of course), then go get it. I know the five year old would.

Let me also clarify, that i suppose i am a five year old girl inside too, just that, i am not that girl ALL the time. I flit between the girl in the late twenties and the five year old. You although may be in the late twenties, but are constantly stuck in the five year old mode. Well, don’t! And if you have to be, do it properly. I am going to support you all the way. What fun would that be actually?

There is a reason why you are still a five year old girl on the inside. I suppose it has to do with your parents who never let you bloom the way you wanted to. Everything was regulated. Everything was criticized. Sometimes, you felt that you could never match up to their expectations, so you moulded yourself as much as you could to their expectations.

Then one day, a very different day, something very different happened. Someone liked you for who you were. Ofcourse, given the circumstances you gave in, and fell hard in love. You didn’t know the falling would not just be hard on the knees but hard on the heart too. And yes, the scabs are still, after the passage of time, tender. That someone who gave you the strength and comfort you always needed turned out to be liar and left you for another.

Fair enough girl.  But let me break it to you- it happens to a lot of people. You are not the only one. Yes, you were the most sincere, honest and committed, but he wasn’t, and that is that. Would you rather that he left you after marriage, or felt miserable with you and vice versa or that he made the decision now.

Uff! That look again! Yes, i admit. He was the biggest moron on planet earth, along with the million others (maybe even including me). If he never planned to marry you or didn’t find you worthy enough to be a life partner, then he should never have led you on, never promised to be with you, and a hundred, ‘never’ other things. But honey, it happened. And sooner or later you need to get over it.

Even five year olds stop talking to certain other children, but then bravely open their hearts to love and befriend again. Five year olds are most accommodating, compromising and non judgemental. They don’t befriend people according to the strict guidelines which frankly everyone, including your self will fall short of. He should be hundred percent honest. Never lie. Never say something mean. Be most compassionate and most understanding. He should raise you up, and be there with you, always nodding when you may be at your most irrational and whiny. What PMS doesn’t happen to you?

Thing is, if you do manage to find someone like that- he is fake and not normal.

So how about cutting yourself some slack and opening your heart to love someone again. I know a five year old would. Maybe the five year old would wear red ribbons, make a ,’heart’ card or wear multi coloured beads to attract that other kid and impress him. I don’t see you doing that. Most people are not telepathic and cannot read your mind. You need to tell them how you feel. And just like you probably won’t enter a garden which has an imposing gate with a huge padlock and a notice which says, ‘Trespassers Beware’, nobody would want to look into your heart if you don’t open your heart to them and be gentle and more accepting.

Oh, that thing which people tell you that there is definitely someone who will like you irrespective of whatever and make an effort to get to know you, well, they too are liars. How many people would fall for the principal in Matilda, the movie? Did you notice the movie reference? I think most five year olds like it. :p Ok, i suppose i am not making much sense, especially since you are MashaAllah so pretty and one of the most genuine and compassionate people i have met. That was a bad example. All i mean to say is that you need to smile more often for the sake of smiling and start enjoying life for the sake of life itself. You need to start accepting people and open your heart again, leaving behind that dreadful past, without imposing a strict criteria on yourself or other people.

You, dear girl- you need to take risks. I admit not all children take risks. Some just prefer to have that chocolate flavoured ice cream and continue to have that even when they are older. No! I don’t have a problem with chocolate ofcourse. Who would? But occasionally, i move to blueberry or cookie and cream or mango…..So you need to take risks too. I am not asking you to hang around with wannabe’s and addicts, but don’t say no to a positive experience. Who knows you may like life more or meet someone new or make fabulous new friends. I mean you should atleast try, shouldn’t you?

Sorry to be on your case, and i feel that at any point i might just get a slap around my face, but there is something else i wanted you to know. You are Human.

Don’t give me that, ‘Duh’ look, because i am not being very literal here. I feel that you are too hard on yourself. You are allowed to make mistakes. You have the right to have faults. You can be selfish. You can eat that extra slice of cake (once in a month maybe.p). You can tell me to buzz off. I mean if i am pissing you off, you should tell me to go take a hike on another planet.

Did you just actually say that to me?

Wow. You learn fast. See, that is the first step. This means that this letter of mine is actually making some sense and you are learning and implementing some of my suggestions.

Oh God! Please don’t crumple this masterpiece and tear it in a thousand pieces. Please.

This is anyway the moment where i bid adieu, but let me just say: “Give yourself a break, kiddo!” We all need a break sometime.

Take care of yourself and Smile :) ,

Your smart arsed well wisher.  : P

rant.

The problem with life is, you keep on giving, not accepting or expecting anything in return. But, then some day, you are told that you are not giving enough or perhaps a cruel word, a taunt or passing sarcasm.

That’s it.

And life is never as meaningless than that moment.