Be Silly Be You!

Do you know what the most important thing in the world is? Have you ever stopped for a minute and pondered over the significant elements of life? To me, the most important thing in the world is to understand the spiritual importance of silliness.

Being silly is holy, being silly is sacred. Playing a prank on a fellow mate, dancing around like a madman in the veranda during rain, posing as the statue of liberty on the busy streets of Karachi, singing at the top of your lungs on deserted roads; all these things are silly. And silly is unfathomably divine.


My way of being silly; reading some Chinese Philosophy!

Don’t you feel like we need to broaden our horizons? Don’t you think you just want to dance your worries off in the middle of the street and don’t get judged for it? Sometimes, don’t you just want to carry a coffee thermos over your shoulders and offer free coffee to every random passersby?

What are we? I repeat, not who but, what are we? I remember a distant friend used to say, “We are all tiny stars in this huge galaxy. We play our parts and disappear in the vastness of this wild and endless depth.”

We are all going to die anyway, why not live each day to its fullest? Why not make the most of all that we have? Be divine. Be sacred. Be silly. Isn’t it amazing how a tiny human being has reached out to the space and touched the moon? I’m positive, the first time Neil talked of reaching to the moon, he was told he was being silly. Being silly made him touch the moon.

Baby, let your thoughts flow, let your imagination float. Go, grab the candy, go the world is yours. Be silly, be you!


Avada Kadevra You

9:16 pm: If you’re a Harry Potter fan you’ll totally understand what it feels like when you are so damn sick of a professor that you just want to Avada Kadevra him. Or when you get this urge to put an Imperius Curse on a nuisance neighbor and make him sit straight in a corner whole day long. Some days, you’d want to curse your annoying boss with the Cruciatus Curse and put him through the worst pain and torture of his life, till his toes curl.

Today is one of my days when I really feel like cursing every single person I meet. I had to endure three straight classes of three of the lousiest professors I’ve ever had the misfortune of bearing. Then, I was forced to spend the entire afternoon and evening working my ass off while my boss was being nothing but an absolute douche bag to me. And now, right after I finish writing this, I have to attend this stupid wedding where I have to pose to be the sweetest girl on the face of Earth. I will have to force the curve of my lips to stay upward while these aunties go on and on about each other’s dresses and about how awful the hosts are and how the bride looks fat in her wedding dress and blah blah blah… because I’m gonna put filters through my ears to mute their ranting after 15 minutes of toleration at max.

12:52 am: I didn’t get the chance to complete this write up then. Mom started shouting profanities at me for being the most worthless and dim girl one can ever meet. I’m kinda proud of it to be honest. So, I went to this wedding or I’d rather say “Fancy dress competition” with my mom and a neighborhood lady. Every single person I laid my eyes on was trying to flaunt the weirdest and suckiest form of fashion. (I wonder what their definitions of “Fashion” are). The ladies eventually fought over food and to my utter horror, the neighbor lady we went with was the first in the highlights.

All in all, today was officially the suckiest day one can ever have. These are the days I wished I was a smoker; I’ve heard smoking releases stress. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, I just feel horrible and inspirations-less. Somebody please ask my crush to text me? Okay, whatever.


It’s a Gloomy Gloomy Night!

It’s coming. It’s almost here, moving at a speed immeasurable. The unfathomably deep and bottomless sea of gloom and despair – it’s moving towards me ready to elope my being into its intensity. This sweepingly sinister feeling of despondency is creeping through my toes towards my legs, to the pit of my stomach and towards my heart. It’s eating away the pumping little piece of tenderness in my chest. The boisterous ocean of scarlet red is deafening my ears, drowsiness far-reaching my insides. Curling up in the bed under the warmth of the sheets, all I can think of is giving in. I want to give in to the darkness may be just for a bit. I want to lie down and let it take over me..

I’m talking and eating and meeting people. I’m going about the everyday business of life but inside I’m dying; as if some virus has infected my heart and it’s consuming it away, little by little every day.

I never knew tears can be this imperative. They were just some dropping wetness to me until now. They were the moisture that showed vulnerability and defenselessness. But now, today, they seem a lot more than that. Today, they surfaced as my refuge. I want to cry the anguish out. I want to cry so hard that my soul may curl. I want to shed each tear and mean it. I need to cry for hours and days and years and eternities; I need to cry until this frustration goes away, until the muddy land of my heart is wiped and cleaned of any contamination. You know what the worst part is? Tears won’t come to me today. They’re going to play all ‘hard to get’ with me tonight. They’ve betrayed me tonight and left me alone to decay away in my own pool of melancholy and gloom. Indeed, it’s a gloom gloomy night!


For all those who’re having a bumpy start of 2015!

Yet another year… today when I tread at the bay of 2015 and turn around to see the changes that ensued in 2014, I can’t see anybody or anything changing except for myself. It’s been a year of self growth and development.

January has always been my favorite month, partly because my birthday lies in this month and partly because it brings a change of calendar and a surge of motivation. I’m always hyped up and thrilled in January each year. This year, January brings in defeat for me. Or I must say, December ended up with a defeat for me. In whatever way I pronounce it, the fact that I’m vanquished does not change. I am unable to relish the same excitement this year. I tried, but in vain, to convince myself nothing happened, but there’s no such fallacy that may ease the heat of my burning scar. May be the wound is new and wet and it will take time to heal up. But, at the moment, it’s hurting. It’s hurting pretty bad.

But hey, I’m hopeful and optimistic. The sting will soon be cured. It will be the powerful, buoyant and extraordinary me again. I’ll start my year all over again when I feel better, when I feel radiant and joyous, ready to take on the world. Perhaps, God is waiting till my birthday to vouchsafe me the gift of boon and blessings. I’m biding for the divine favor and protection. And, whatever power be up there, it has never let me down.

As far as 2014 is concerned, it has been a bumpy ride. Or maybe I’ll just baptize it as a voyage; a voyage that endured the storm and got past these huge icebergs like the ones that took away Titanic with them. My titanic is fierce and daring. It smacked with the iceberg and the iceberg crashed shredding into pieces. But, my titanic stood erect and steadfast.

It’s for all those who’re stepping in 2015 with a lesion on their hearts about one thing or the other that happened in 2014. No, I’m not going to give you the ‘new year, start anew’ crap. I’ll just ask you to hold on the rope. Don’t let go. Hold it tight. You’re going to make it and those eyes won’t be cheerless and gloomy then, those lips won’t be wearing a grim. You’ll be the joyful and merry you. I’m holding my horses till I get the cheery me back. You do the same. Have a rocking New Year! (Only when you’re ready)

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A mad man

I don’t have the right words to express what I feel after reading this. Absolutely thought-provoking. Love it.

a corner of my Heart...!

Tribute to the Quaid - I_thumb[7]

“You turned 138 today. But, gladly you still don’t seem to be aging”

“So, how do I look?”

“As always, debonair, father.”

“If it is a happy day, why the atmosphere is so melancholic? Is my country doing fine?”

“No, father. It is ill, very ill. I don’t know which dictionary or vocabulary or language I shall extract words from to tell you in what a tormenting state your beloved country is in. Can’t you read my face?”

“I certainly can. You look hollow, robbed and bruised.”

“Pakistan had its general elections last May.”

“That is a gratifying news, why you look so dreary then?”

“Because the story is half recounted. I look dreary and robbed because I am actually robbed. I am robbed father, of my only right; my vote.”

“Pakistan was formed to be ruled by the democratic regimes, hence the sanctity of vote is to be the…

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The Devil Inside [Prologue]

Worth a read.


See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!

Come! Let the burial rite be read, the funeral song be sung! –

Lenore, Edgar Allan Poe


I tell you of a hero, born on the day of Valor’s rites.

Bathed him, they. In perfumed holy oils mixed with the blood of the strongest swine.

In cradle he spoke, I am Valor’s might! Born to set demons and tempters alight!

To him they blessed the cursed sword. Little hero, little whore. –


The Unnamed, he knew the legend of it. The folklore that had been passed down generation to generation in oral tradition, since time immemorial. The memory of how he leant it was now much too painful to bring up. Despite of that he forced the reminiscences to resurface. Freed them from the hold he had maintained over them. Over her. And they flooded his…

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Misconceptions by the World Media about Peshawar Attack!

Talibans are the real valiant fighters. I mean it. It takes nothing but immense mythical bravery, a huge stained heart and the fakest chivalry to kill innocent kids. They sure are the most valiant and courageous criminals known to the world.

When I started this blog, I was very firm that I’m never going to write about current affairs and the depressing situations of the world but how am I ever going to answer my nagging conscience if I stayed quiet in a situation like this, even-though I have a podium to voice out my thoughts.

Peshawar Attack, for those who still do not know, calls to the bloody killing of 141 naïve school kids at The Army Public School on December 16th.


No, I’m not going to extend page-long prayers for those kids because what sins a 14-year-old could have committed? Presumably, none. This inhumane butchery of the juvenile youthful life of Peshawar is not only condemned by people in Pakistan but in the entire world. The most traditional rival of Pakistan – India, has also stretched out sympathy and solidarity with Pakistan in this hour of grief and Pakistan is extremely thankful to India for its support.

So this brutally brave act of killing school children was performed by none other than the highly esteemed (my foot) terrorists organization, Tehreek-e-Talibaan Pakistan. Where we observe, a huge part of the world demonstrating hate towards Taliban for carrying out this atrocious act, there is a noticeable proportion of people (media personnel, religious scholars, media channels, human right activists) still, in one way or the other, extending espousal to Taliban; some by covering their acts and others by justifying them. There’s a third party as well; they are neither covering nor justifying, they are taking up the responsibility of portraying what-so-fucking-ever they want by twisting and turning the incident in their own ways.

Some of the instances are:

  • CNN reported the children were killed for going to school
  • BBC reported that female casualties were not taken in by hospitals because of the gender disparity in Pakistan
  • News channels in UK reported that the children were killed by the Army officials and not the Taliban militants in a cross-fire attack.
  • The New York Times claims that there was a threat alert to the Army Public School already and the walls of the school were vulnerable. The vulnerability of the walls was an issue raised by some teachers but was overlooked by the army management.

Dear CNN, this little message from Mohammad Omer Khorasani (Spokesman of Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan) will resolve your query pretty well:

“We chose the kids of army school for attack because the army is targeting us in Zarb-e-Azb. We wanted them to feel the pain.”

The children were not targeted for going to school. They were targeted because their fathers and brothers were army soldiers who were giving their lives to save the country from these barbarians. They were killed because they belonged to families that are loyal to their country. STOP propagating against Pakistan in your own super pathetic ways. STOP helping these extremist barbarians achieve their goal by publicizing malicious crap against Pakistan.

Dear BBC, for your very kind information, there is no such gender disparity in Pakistan. The Taliban militants attacked the male section of the school. There were no female casualties. How were the hospitals supposed to take in female casualties when they weren’t attacked? Update your good-for-nothing stats!

Dear dear UK media, you are my favourite kind of stupid. I have nothing to say to you. You must be given special training to be this idiotic. You mean to say the army soldiers killed their own sons/brothers? Sure, if you say so. These pictures might tell you how the kids were dragged on the floors in the pool of blood. I’m sure their own fathers and brothers did that to them. Pardon my language but, SCREW YOU.


Dear NY Times, General Asim Bajwa has confirmed that there were no such threat alerts. There were no such imaginary teachers who pointed out the vulnerability of the walls. Just so you know, the terrorists climbed the rear wall of the school using a ladder. They had to cut the barbed wires to enter the school.

Please DO NOT help Taliban succeed in their tarnished motives by promoting these good-for-nothing ideas. DO NOT twist and turn the facts just for some ratings on the box. These are human lives we are talking about. Those kids were humans; breathing, living humans.

Taliban is and has always been involved in the most dreadful and disgusting acts of human massacre. Whether it be the airport attack, the hotel attack, the church attack, or the historic Qissa Khawani or storytellers’ market attack. You clear their names by posting news that is incorrect just for the sake of some spice. These kids won’t ever forgive you. They gave their lives in this battle we are fighting against talibans and all the other extremist terrorist groups.

Let me remind you dear world, it wasn’t Pakistan who started this War against Terrorism in 2003. Pakistan was nowhere there, when the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan and extremist groups like Taliban and Al-Qaeda came into existence. Pakistan wasn’t responsible for the Twin Tower Attack in any way. This war was initiated by America against Iraq in which half a million Iraqi civilians died. Where was Pakistan involved in the entire game? Look at the broader picture and you may realize Russia and America were responsible for the entire warfare that started and who is facing the consequences? Countries like Pakistan. The two Veto Powers are living a safe standard life, posting what so ever they desire on their media and Pakistan is facing the music it never even played or requested for.

Show some respect. We are not asking you to help us fight these terror groups but at least do not paint a picture of Pakistan that’s not true. Do not make us look backward. We are the victims. Don’t make us look like the marauders. If you can’t write well about us, at least write what is true.

And for Talibans, I’m not afraid to say, they are those extremist bastards who have no hearts in their chests. Don’t call them the Pakistani Talibans. They are nation-less, country-less, face-less rascals and you are requested to not cover for them. Reveal their identities, bring their fall through this power of media you have.

I take the responsibility of whatever I say and write. I’m an anti-Taliban and I’m going to say that fearlessly out aloud. What can you Talibans do? Shoot me like you shot Malala? Shoot me. Shoot me now. You have guns and I have a pen. Use your gun as much as you want and I’m going to use my pen until my last breath.

A little message to Talibans after killing 141 Pakisatni children: “FUCK YOU” and I am not afraid to say that at all. Kill me now.

The World is Cruel

Do you know what the worst thing about heartbreak is? There’s no sound to it. Your heart shatters like a glass scattering into pieces but hell, there’s no sound to it. Just in a mere instant, you burst into a thousand tears of pain and agony and the world still goes about its business. How terribly cruel and brutal this earth is; while your being is strewn into unfathomably sore and throbbing screams, it keeps revolving around the sun as if nothing has happened. The sun shines, the birds fly, the snow falls, the animals live, the people breath – and you die; you die of this excruciating hurt that dwells deep inside of you.

Unattached attachments lead to an unbearable pang almost always.