Damsels in Distress of Social Media.

I don’t understand why some teens only stick to love & heart break poetry, particularly Indian teens at my school. It’s common to find so many wannabe poets setting up Instagram pages to only write on these two topics. It gets mundane after few posts & even cringe-worthy. This doesn’t imply to all new poets out there but it does to a few of them, as far as I’ve noticed.

Poetry, in its most basic sense, is a means of self-expression which is lost somewhere along the lines of these clichèd topics. Why not write about self-growth, nature, etcetera?

On a more positive note I’ve seen people explore once they’ve established a page. They learn gradually.

On the other hand what undermines a good prose/poetry is its grammar. Why not focus on honing your grammatical skills first?

Some people use big, fancy words that seem to have come straight out of the dictionary. Their only motive is to add some salt to their writing but it still ends up bland, why? Well, the trick to improving your writing style is to keep it simple. There are no restrictions on using fancy words but make sure they meet their purpose.

Look up the meaning of the word you’re about to use & its examples. Try to incorporate it in your daily vocabulary. Don’t just sprinkle them on a prose, try blending it in.

To give life to your writing you need to really understand the word yourself before simply looking up its meaning in the dictionary & using it abundantly. Is the word an adjective or a noun? How do you use them in a sentence? Figure these questions out before making mistakes & posting them online.

There used to be some sort of English club at my school. I can’t even remember the name or what it exactly was. Anyway so it comprised of writers of my school. The one who started it was a prolific writer at my school. She was a straight-A student, always perfect. But what lacked perfection was her writing. Her poems were really good, as far as I’ve heard and she did win a lot of prizes for them too, so it must really be something. But when she began posting her stuff online, I was shocked. I had high expectations but after reading her work, I could observe nothing but grammatical errors(Minor but noticeable), love/heartbreak poetry & improperly constructed sentences.

Writing can be your only outlet, I agree. But make sure it defines you, not love, hearbreaks & sadness only.

Keep it simple & efficient.

Happy writing!

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India VS Pakistan

I think Indians are way better than Pakistani’s considering the fact that we’re all so diverse & straightforward. All our neighbors care about is hurling insults at us. They can’t help but put the blame on India no matter what the situation be. They’re racist to the core. I’m pretty sure the points I mentioned above should suffice to prove my Nationalistic Pride.

Don’t you agree with me too? No? That is great. But if you do, please keep reading.

Growing up in a country other than India or Pakistan gives you enough exposure into various cultures & ways of life. I’ve met some of my family members who left India for Pakistan during the partition decades ago, in this foreign land.

Being an Indian, what comes to your mind on hearing about Pakistan? To tell you the truth the first thing on my mind is my childhood friend who is Pakistani. We literally grew up together. People would often mistake us for sisters. We studied in the same school till 5th grade. We often had little fights as children over India & Pakistan, both of us trying to prove our country’s better. As we grew older we would discuss at length about our cultures & similarities.

I remember going to my cousins place. They are from Lahore, Pakistan. My uncle would get quite racist at times. While all women would talk about clothes & fashion I would sit on a chair in the living room listening to men talk about politics. The fact that my uncle completely ignored was that we were Indian yet he would go on incessantly insulting India. My dad never said a lot during these conversations. He did speak when my uncle wouldn’t stop. But he was always polite.

Some of my Indian friends fathers support the Pakistani cricket team because they’re Muslim. It makes me laugh every time my friends vent out their angst against their fathers at school.

I think cricket is one game where people should support their own countries. It is abnormal to support some other team based on their religion.

Besides sports there should be no place for segregation of this kind. It makes me sick to see people with such mindsets.

One of my Pakistani uncle even said once that why was Pakistan made. At that time we simply laughed. But later I realised it was wrong. No country is perfect & neither are its citizens. Statements like these shouldn’t be uttered. It’s wrong to say such things about ones own country.

I understand that India & Pakistan were separated from each other. Putting blame on one another is useless at this point. Who is better than who, kon kiska baap hai? Notions such as these are of no help.

True nationalistic pride lies in firstly, respecting your own motherland and secondly, giving the same respect to other nations as well.

I was also shocked when one Pakistani, on realising we were Muslim said, “Oh, you’re Indian Muslim?”. I suppose that reaction was out of ignorance but still it was quite unexpected.

I’m an Indian Muslim and a proud one. I don’t hate Hindus. My Pakistani friends have had misconceptions about Hindus but I always tell them that they’re people too, just like you & me. A mere difference between religion doesn’t make them or us monsters.

At the end of the day, there are good people & bad all around the globe. You can choose who you want to be. It’s not religion or nationality that influences their nature, it’s their thinking & how they see other human beings that makes them good/bad.


All the incidents mentioned above have actually happened. I’ve seen people with different viewpoints which I respect because they’re free to speak their mind. However, so am I. The only purpose behind this post is to depict how we’re not really that different. At the end of the day we’re just people, bones & flesh on either side of the border.

FemiNazi’s

A very quintessential trend has come into existence that stems from Feminism which, as most of you are already aware of, has been a movement led by women when centuries ago they were still fighting suppression, which is unlike the actual movement.

Equal rights were, without a doubt earned years ago but hints of suppression can still be found in today’s ‘modern’ society.

Well, let’s generalize first and then come to the point. What is the younger generation like today? If I’m not mistaken, we want to prove our point without taking into consideration whether we’re doing it the right way or not. We feel the need to justify ourselves when patience & silence can do it way more efficiently. There’s passion, aggression & disrespect but for all the wrong reasons. On top of all this there’s lack of in-depth knowledge but everyone has something to say whether or not they’ve done their research.

I’m not against feminism. But I don’t support Feminazi’s destroying the whole purpose of a peaceful movement that seeks to bring equality between men & women. If he can, why can’t she? Is the question that has been answered. Now, you need to find a method for implementation.

Bringing your male counterparts down isn’t an answer. It’s simply repeating history, making them go through what you did decades ago. Provided that we differ in our physical strength history can’t entirely be repeated obviously. But such useless attempts to bring equality can take a toll on mental health which, both men & women are prone to.

Let’s rephrase the questions according to this century, What really is feminism? What is the suppression women went through decades ago & what is happening right now? Are all men the same? Does having an anti-male approach really help? Will proving one gender’s superiority over the other cater to a solution?

I think what we need now is Global Equality. Even if men & women are equal there are so many grounds on which we remain separated namely, race, religion, etcetera.

Uploading statements like, ‘All men are the same’ as soon as news of a rape victim appears on your screen is not feminism. What are you willing to do for women & equality in the real world, where real problems exist?

It’s easier to show support, hate & sympathy online. The advent of technology is inherently an advantage without a doubt as long as we know how to deal with life, movements, equality & gender issues when we go offline.

The Golden Swing

She was very young when her mother left her. Her father was a very busy man, after all the job of being a Nawaab essentially involved many things from taking care of myriad of wives that come with their own set of children. Administration work kept him away as well.

So, as the tradition goes she was put in the care of trustworthy nannies who did each & everything for her. She grew up playing with the children of her caretakers, her only friends. The outside world was never her concern hence wisdom dawned upon her after a long, long time.

Every time the Nawaab visited his beloved daughter, he’d bring her gold coins. As years went by her collection grew. One day her friends gave her a ground-breaking idea, “Nanni, why don’t we plant a gold tree in the garden?” the idea appealed to the young girl. Now, every time her father brought her gold coins she & her friends would bury it in the ground hoping for a golden plant to sprout from within the soil.

Years went by but the plant never grew. Yet the coins went missing.

Her sky blue eyes gleam as she talks about her special swing, the seat of which was made of pure gold. Our eyes open wide with wonder as we picture the golden swing in our heads. Though somewhere in the back of my mind I had a doubt regarding her honesty but those eyes told me otherwise & I felt obliged to believe in my grandmother.

She literally had a golden childhood.

The Liebster Award!

It’s an honour to finally get nominated for this award, many thanks to Fariha of thoughtfulhues for nominating me! Make sure to check out her amazing, thoughtful blog. I’m sure it’ll be worth your time.

The Liebster Award is an award given by bloggers to other bloggers who they think need encouragement and recognition. It was started by The Global Aussie in 2011.

The rules for the 2018 Award are as below :
• Thank the person who nominated you
• Display the award on your post
• Write a small post about what makes you passionate about blogging
• Provide 10 random facts about yourself
• Answer the questions given to you
• Nominate 5-11 other blogs for this award
• Ask them creative and unique questions of your own
• List the rules and inform your nominees of the award.

My passion for blogging:

Without a doubt what all bloggers have in common is a flair for writing. Hence, words are what fuel my passion for blogging. Besides this I also love coming across like-minded people who share my views. WordPress is a bliss for someone like me.

10 Random Facts About Me:

  1. My hometown is near Jaipur, called Tonk in Rajasthan. My great, great, great grandfather was a Pathan from Afghanistan, Amir Khan & he used to help Rajputs fight against British. Later on the British gave him the title of Nawab & the princely state of Tonk where he finally settled.
  2. I like gothic fiction a lot. The first book I read was ‘Dracula’ by Bram Stoker that remains one of my favorites till date.
  3. My hobbies include painting, writing, watching movies & reading.
  4. As much as I like being an extrovert, I’m never petrified at the thought of being alone.
  5. I’m an only child but I’m not a spoilt brat & I don’t spend my parents fortune recklessly as the stereotypes go.
  6. I love exploring old buildings, castles. One such place is my aunt’s place, she lives in one part of the castle which is equally divided amongst the many children of the Nawaab (He had more wives than he needed).
  7. Even though I can socialize well my friends know nothing about my personal life. I’m a very private person.
  8. I struggle with expressing emotions which makes people think I’m cold.
  9. I can be unforgiving & ruin your self-esteem without feeling even an ounce of guilt. But it takes a lot to infuriate me.
  10. I love spending time in a library or a stationary more than anything else.

Fariha’s Questions :

1. What is your fondest memory?

One of the many that I can remember at the moment is making short films with my dad. Even though they were extremely unprofessional 😁but I always had a great time making them! I played a magician once, inspired by Harry Potter😂

2. Team Coffee or Tea & Why?

Team ‘Cold’ Coffee to be more specific because I don’t like tea.

3. What is the most courageous thing that you have ever done?

For me it has been accepting the fact that I don’t have to stop respecting myself just because I’m different.

4. What’s your guilty pleasure?

My guilty pleasure is debating. I’ve made my friends cry over silly debates just to prove my point. I can get aggressive but it’s never personal.

5. What’s the biggest challenge about blogging for you?

So far I’m doing just fine but I guess in the near future I might lack motivation to go on. I can’t remain hooked onto one thing.

6. What three items would you take to a desert island?

Water, survival kit & a magic lamp to get back whenever I want to.

7. Would you rather watch a movie or read the book ?

I’d rather watch a movie. If the genre is something that appeals to me then I will read the book.

8. What is the one battle you struggle with daily?

Getting out of my bed.

9. How do you aspire to be a better you?

I want to stay focused on my goals, believe in God & always respect my parents.

10. What is your favourite family tradition ?

I think it has to be Eid celebration because it brings the whole family together from every corner of India & abroad.

Here are my nominees:

Bharath Upendra

The fault in our brains

doses of ever-i-thing

The Realist

notthetumblrgirl

EST : 2013

Fawad Hassan K

This is it for now, I might nominate more bloggers later.

These are my questions for you :

  1. What’s your biggest pet peeve?
  2. What does your name mean?
  3. What are the top 5 songs on your playlist?
  4. How far can you go to prove yourself right?
  5. What would be the title of the book about your life?
  6. What was the easiest life-lesson you learnt?
  7. What makes you apprehensive?
  8. How would you define yourself?
  9. Who is your favorite author?
  10. What is more important, emotions or logic?

Thanks for reading!

The story behind a world record.

It’s a dream that many see yet few actually get the chance to achieve it. A common notion exists that only exceptional beings deserve something like this.

Were the 4,500 people without whom this achievement of mine would be impossible really that exceptional?

14 November 2017, a day marked in the history of International Indian school, Jeddah. No one will forget the batch that made it possible.

The scorched sun adamantly sucked our energy as we stood holding placards above our heads. Our hands were stiff with pain but we never gave in.

It was not surprising to hear that a girl or two had fainted due to excessive heat & dehydration.

As we stood on our marked spot there were apprehensions that dug their way in the back of our heads. Before approaching our school the party that organised this event made students of International Indian school, Dammam go through the same. But they tried & failed hence we were their second chance. Students were hopeful yet many held the belief that we were no different than our distant cousins, students from Dammam. It was a paradox in itself.

But the moment arrived that finally declared us the winners. Even though we felt weak & tired because Jeddah’s heat is no joke, there was a wave of shouts & hoots that shook the venue.

Soon excitement turned into something pointlessly ugly. Words cannot suffice to create a picture of what I saw that day but I will try my best.

The cloudless sunny sky witnessed the strangest downpour ever. It fell with a huge thud initially somewhere in the back. In the blink of an eye what followed was a havoc. Flying placards fell on our heads from all directions. Even though it lasted for about 5 minutes yet the feeling that we were in a war zone persisted.

My only self-defence was the placard I covered myself with to avoid getting my head smashed. While my alertness & quick thinking saved my head that day, many of my classmates ended up being hospitalized. One of my friends blacked out right in the middle of the ground.

Some said it was girls who started it all & boys simply decided to return the favour. All the victims of this horrendous turn of events were girls. Others believed that boys should’ve stopped throwing when they saw people getting hurt. Whatever started it didn’t matter as much as injuries suffered by these students.

The dream had come true with a nightmarish outcome.

In the end the scarred faces, bleeding foreheads, unconcious teenagers, flying placards, cursing mouths & angry youngsters marked us as exceptional beings.

A briefing about the world record :

Officials of Abeer Medical Group, a leading healthcare provider in the Middle East, joined 4,500 students of International Indian School Jeddah (IISJ) and their mentors in celebrating the fantabulous achievement of entering the Guinness Book of World Records by forming the world’s largest human mosaic“.

The students formed the largest picture mosaic on the World Diabetes Day on 14 Nov. 2017 as part of Abeer Group’s mass corporate social responsibility campaign against the health hazards of diabetes“.

-Saudi Gazette.

You can read the whole article here.

The home away from home

My mother received a call from her friend yesterday. So, we’re at her place today. It isn’t grand but you can’t exactly call it average. Three chandeliers lined across the ceiling are intricate in design. There were other women already present when we got there. All of them stood up as we greeted them by saying Salam followed by softly touching each other cheek to cheek, which can be termed as the Saudi greeting style, in a way. They’re all wearing burqas’ with different hues. The colors range from grey to caramel to black but sorrow has only one color; grey. Now, here comes the interesting part. The women here speak fluent urdu/hindi pronouncing a word or two with a heavy Arabic dialect. They’re Saudi no doubt yet they weren’t born one. It’s an interesting sight to behold but the purpose that brought us here is a grave matter.

My mother sits in the corner consoling her friend who just lost hope or in simple terms, a mother.

There are chocolates laid out on the table. The Arabic coffee (Qahwa) and dates are never missing in any Saudi house.

I see women from different walks of life share their stories. In a way, this is the only means to share grief in a home away from home.

“She would stir the Sheer Korma (An Indian Sweet dish) standing in the kitchen” says an old woman with a walking-stick kept by the sofa she settled comfortably upon. A dramatic pause on her part makes it seem as though her memory was failing her. “She would often quote the following as I remember well:

Eid ki sachi khushi to apno ki deed hai,
Tum humse door ho to apni kya eid hai.

(Translation : The true happiness of Eid is a gift of loved ones, what’s Eid if you’re away from me)”, she said, smiling satisfactorily as my notions about her memory turned out false. The old woman’s mother married a Saudi decades ago and never went back. Years later when she asked her mother to visit their family in Pakistan she’d simply answer, “What’s the point of visiting graves?”. Apparently most of her close family members were buried 6 ft under the earth. The only home left was where she was now.

As blessed as these people are with two homes & families scattered across two continents yet the painstaking truth seldom goes unnoticed.

People like us or as the term goes, expatriates see these converts in more than one way. Yet something that always bugs me most is patriotism. How do they decide which home to put their faith in? Or are they torn apart between two like I imagine myself in their shoes? Many of my questions have long gone unanswered but a few hints here & there in conversation always reveal their love for where they’re now but no matter what, the past still makes them nostalgic.

As one of her friends asked her where her mother died, the woman replied, calm & collected, “Rourkee” followed with a briefing about the beautiful state situated in the colder regions of India. “Is it close to Saharanpur?” Asks a lady wearing desi clothes with a pixie, quite an odd sight for a native of where she comes from but it’s pretty normal for us. “No, it’s close to Dehradun” a reply is made to acknowledge the query. The chubby woman laughs bobbing her head back & forth, “Like I’d know where that is!”.

The fact that they have no knowledge of states other than their own parents or grandparents place of origin always makes me wonder if they can ever have emotional ties with a place they’ve never seen, only heard of through stories & anecdotes.

“My mother was from Dehradun” exclaims the woman who had been listening to the conversation from across the sofa. Others nod their heads in acknowledgement.

Without a doubt the conversation drifts towards fashion. “My sister sent me stitched clothes from Lahore which removed all apprehensions I had had regarding my Eid outfit” says a woman with an air of relief as others agree with her.

As consolation, advice and stories went on, a young girl with eyes that resemble a puff of grey cloud in the sky waiting for downpour, offers coffee to those who want it. Few refuse, many ask her to fill their cups twice.

Without a doubt the topic of death arises & the fact that these days you don’t necessarily have to be old to die finds a mention yet again. “She would always cry when I came back here” says my aunt, her voice heavy with vivid emotions. “But this time when I bid goodbye, she didn’t shed a tear” she ends the note with a heavy sigh. Perhaps a mere sigh wouldn’t relieve her of the pain she’s feeling. I’m sure it wouldn’t.

The girl with grey eyes comfortably settled herself on the sofa in a corner, watching all her aunt’s hover around her mother as she wailed for her mother. Her skinny feet shuffle in a manner that makes her worry evident. With eyes fixed on her mother her lips part in silent apprehension as she moves her hands excessively.

“In the beginning of this year, she told me to hurry up & visit her otherwise she’d leave for South Africa”, little did the old woman realise where she was when she asked her daughter to pay her a visit. In the care of a son & a daughter in law, the frail creature was often visited by memories of a past she cherished deeply.

As I was looking out the window in the backseat of our car, I realised how much history everyone carries with them. The part that saddens me is that they know little to almost nothing about it. Some don’t even wish to discover their origins. A new life, a new country becomes such an integral part of their lives that what was once a place they called home becomes nothing more than a distant memory.

But what really is the point of holding on to the past, right?


I’m a keen observer by nature, not by choice. This prompt is not meant to hurt sentiments of any group in any possible way. I did feel the need to let out my thoughts about this particular issue. Being an expatriate experiencing a culture that I could live in forever if I choose to yet I feel obliged to not undermine the values inside me. Even though it would be practical to consider options like safety & a lifestyle I’ve been used to since childhood. But my choices are never governed by comfort or leisure.

I’m Indian by birth & choice. Maybe I feel this way because I’ve never actually lived in my home land for more than a year but I’m sure I can find my place in a country as diverse as India. My apprehensions about moving to India demand another post which I’ll make sure to keep short & concise.


P.S

Apologies for such a long read.