My Other Blog!

Here is a link to my other blog “Media Mavens” co-authored by me and my closest college friend Rabiya. We set up this blog as the final project of our Print Media course. It was pretty challenging for other students to navigate WordPress but we had a great advantage thanks to my previous blog-y adventures. HuiHuiHui!

At Media Mavens, we share our news stories, features and columns, along with original photographs and short videos. Please join us at Media Mavens here!

We have decided to keep MM active throughout our remaining college years and maybe even afterwards. It will grow and become cooler with time just as we do ourselves!

The Plan Is In Motion

Fate is being kind to me. The plan God has made for me is finally gaining momentum. 24th February is a big day. If I rock on that day, my life will change for the better.

Please send some positive juju this way, I shall be obliged. And if I succeed, I shall tell you all where I will be at this time sometime next year. To all my American friends, it will be somewhere close to you!

May the Force be with *me*!

Turf Wars

So it’s semester break for a whole lot of days, and I’m just here being a potato. I eat (potatoes), watch TV, play games and sleep. I’m just existing. My sister bought a crapload of chocolates from the Dubai Duty-Free last week, which is nice. A never-ending supply of chocs and semester break; woot.

Anywho, I like to cook. I’m also a good cook. I don’t like following recipes and just go with what’s available. I always end up with yummy things, which is cool if I say so myself. However, one thing I’ve figured out, after a lot of experience, mind you, is that it’s only fun to cook when there’s someone else to clean up the kitchen afterwards.

There is also another problem with my creative cooking endeavors. The Momzilla. The kitchen is my mother’s territory. Even now, after she ‘retired’ from cooking (by her own will), letting my sister-in-law take over that post, she is the Supreme Queen of the Stoves.

She’s always just there in the kitchen. She isn’t cooking, or cleaning, or whatever. She just stands in the middle and oversees her minions doing the work while dropping in some useful “instructions”. These oh-so-helpful instructions usually insinuate that I am doing everything wrong occasional taunts about what I’m doing. “Hold the sieve like this”, “Use less water, it’s a waste”, “Why do you put in the salt in pinches? Just fill the spoon and throw it in”, “Peel the potatoes with a knife, not the peeler.” Mother, it is a potato peeler, used to peel potatoes quickly, why should i not use it to peel the potatoes? Yeesh. 

Once I asked her what exactly was she doing in the kitchen, to which she replied in a an offended way that she was here to drink water and that I can’t stop her from drinking water. She then filled the glass to the brim and stood there, sipping, while her eyes followed my every move. Well played, mother, well played.

In her eyes, the kitchen is still her territory, and we are just the hired hands doing her work. She oversees us like a plantation owner would his slaves in pre-Civil War America. (Okay, I admit I’m overreacting but I just saw 12 Years a Slave again)

My sister-in-law is now used to mother’s territorial traits. I, however, get annoyed very easily. Just today I was straining the pasta while the sauce was bubbling on the stove, when she came over and stood at my elbow and started rushing me saying the sauce would burn if I take so long. I knew the sauce wasn’t even close to burning yet, so I firmly told her that she was not needed in the kitchen. To which she replied that she was just waiting for the leftovers to finish re-heating in the microwave.

Okay mother, you win.

Next time I cook, I’ll use that magical instrument of ignorance known as earphones.


I am writing after so long that the feel of my laptop’s keys seem unfamiliar to my fingertips. I am making a lot of typos, pressing ‘t’ instead of ‘y’ and writing ‘og’ instead of ‘of’. The layout of the laptop which was ingrained into my muscle memory now feels cold and foreign to my touch.

My head is stuffed with questions and answers; answers which ignite more questions and the cycle continues to spin around and around and around until my mind feels it has been through the spin cycle of a cranky old washing machine.

The month of December 2014 was a nightmare; for me, for my family, for my friends and for my countrymen. Illness, blood, violence, loss; both loss of life and material, followed me like a perverted shadow. I went through a phase of extreme procrastination and depression. Even music, my saviour, lost its charm; King Crimson started to make me physically sick. I have already talked about my phases on my blog and those who are my loyal readers will know.

Oh, my loyal readers! Half the reason I did not start writing again was due to my shame of facing those I had forgotten about. How I had made friendships and left those sweet people hanging, never even reading or contemplating on their own words of woe. For that, I am very sorry.

Every time I return to the world of writing after an unannounced hiatus, I promise my readers I’ll continue writing regularly now. But this time, I will not make another hollow promise. I may not return to the world of WordPress for another two months, for a year, or forever; I do not know.

As the year drew to a close, the nightmare began with the martyrdom of more than 141 students and teachers whose only fault was to attend one of the most prestigious schools in the country. The sentiments of each and every Pakistani were hard to understand. We all felt guilty, angry, depressed and helpless.

It continued when all educational institutions in my country were closed down due to the looming threat of similar attacks. My own university which was founded by our Army’s welfare organization, Fauji Foundation, had received such threats. The last time I was on university premises was on Friday, the 19th of December. We have not been allowed to even step foot inside the college building since then. While us students stay at home and “enjoy”, my university is being renovated into a fortress for our protection.

I have had all the time in the world to contemplate on what was happening around me, and my thoughts dragged me down into a black hole.

While all this was going on, I fell ill and during the course of three days I had had my share of 13 intravenous and 6 muscular injections which my father administered twice a day. For more than four days I did not eat a single bite or took a single sip of water. I spent New Year’s Eve staring at the ceiling of my mother’s room which had been turned into a temporary hospital room. And at the end, it turned out all the medication was just a precaution and a result of misdiagnosis. I had only suffered a severe case of vertigo which had unsettled my stomach, while I was treated for complete intestinal obstruction!

While I was ill, my chronically ill paternal aunt’s condition also worsened. Her kidneys were failing and she was rushed to several hospitals during the course of 5 hours by my brother and cousins. My siblings and my father simultaneously took care of two severely ill loved ones, and I shall never forget their dedication.

As I recovered, my father’s health dropped. At the age of almost 7 decades he has no chronic illness except a deficiency of B-12 and the tendency to stress over things, resulting in higher blood pressure. It was my fault that he had high BP during the course of my illness and days after that. He says he is better now, but the doctor will determine that tomorrow.

I caught up with numerous semester final projects which were due in 3 days.  I slept at 3 AM and woke at 9 AM to try my best to save my 3.8/4 grade point average.

On the 10th of January, I turned 20. Two decades of my life closed among chaos.  But it was not complete chaos. As with every dark cloud, the silver lining had begun to emerge a few days before my birthday. One of my sisters got the job she always wanted while the other had a substantial pay raise which had her dancing at regular intervals during the day. They are also upgrading their car. My father’s business is booming. My aunt, after finally agreeing to dialysis, is now successfully on the road to recovery. She visited on my birthday and brought balloons and gave me cash. She looked groomed and healthy and was even talking about getting a new haircut.

My personal silver lining happens to be the existential crisis I am going through. It may seem like a conundrum to some, and yes it is terribly tiring to think so much, but introspection is something that was required. Ignorance is bliss until you get yanked out of it by a series of unfortunate events. Nonchalance never works out in the long run. Writing, what I had been calling ‘passion’ for lack of a better one, might not be after all. ‘Art’ which I had pushed away indifferently may as well be. But that too, does not make my eyes shine anymore so I am looking for something that does.

I am looking for my ‘calling’, a purpose of existing. For a dream, an aim, which will turn my humdrum existence into what we call life. I finally understand that to live and to exist are two very different things, and I am tired of simply existing like a leaf blowing in the wind.

To life; I hope it comes to me soon.

I Have Not Forgotten

I am really sorry for not reading, commenting and writing on WordPress for the whole month. It’s just that our teachers seem to think that we don’t have a life outside of college and due to their kind consideration, now we actually don’t have a life outside of college.

So much has been going on lately that I have not had the time or energy to write. I leave for college at eight,come home at five. I change, eat and start working on assignments and projects by six. And then I stay at it till 11:30 or 12 and then I just crash.

I also want to write about so many things that I just can’t pinpoint a single one.

So to tide over my frequent readers, here is the first chapter of the novel I started writing as a teeny-bopper back in 2012:

The Love of a Father – A Vampyr Story

Chapter 1: Survivor

A violent mob. The burning pitchforks. The shouts. That was what Leah Dragos woke up to on the eve of her mother’s death. She was asleep on the hard floor holding her still and cold mother in her lap. She wanted to bury her in the forest behind their hovel, but she was so tired and drained with the tears she had shed and the keening wails she had no control over, that she had dropped off in a dark, haunted, dreamless sleep. Now she realized she would never get to bury her in the way she deserved, because the noisy mob was almost upon her home.

She sighed, she wasn’t afraid; it was merely an inconvenience, a nuisance that these people were presenting her with. She was confident in her abilities to thwart a crowd of “witch” mumbling hooligans. But she would be left without a home. Well I won’t be able to keep the house anyway, where would I get the rent money from? A house, like that’s what it is, a hovel more like it. But the memories, yes the memories…. She was jolted awake from her daydream of good times with her mother and landed back in her bizarre reality, when a particularly loud celebratory cheer on her mother’s death went up outside.

She shut off her emotions then, just like she had so many times before. A trait of hers for which she was called witch. Like it’s the only unnatural one I have. She thought bitterly. Leah’s ‘abilities’, as her mother called them, were a source of fear and trepidation among the village folk. Some said she was cursed at birth, others said she was a changeling, switched at birth by a mighty witch. Others simply claimed she WAS a witch, just like her mother. A monster, a ghost’s child, a shape-shifter. Leah chuckled while she carried her mother’s tiny body to the rotting mattress on the floor. She covered her up in her threadbare shawl and set her hands on her chest.

A tiny pearly tear was all her hardened heart allowed to escape from her eyes. Sorry Mama, you know I love you, but I have to disappear now or it will be too late. Yes, she had a heart as cold as the relentless ice that hardened the ground as she ran from the back of the hovel into the dark woods, but she knew it will be what would keep her alive now.

She was so lost in thought and remorse, that she did not see the dark, lithe figure emerging from the house, with a bundle over its shoulder.


He looked at her face; it was starting to discolor now. Silly girl, he thought, what was she thinking sleeping at a time like this! But he was proud of the calm façade she had put on later, he knew how she was hurting, but she hadn’t panicked, she was clever.

He swept a lock of hair from his eternal lover’s face. Eternal? She’s dead! He chided himself on the direction his thoughts were taking. Now’s not the time to revisit the mistakes already made.

He rolled up the sleeves of his raven-black coat, and set to work digging his beloved’s grave. His superhuman strength made short work of it. He cradled Irina’s body in his arms, close to his heart for a moment, before lightly jumping in the cave and placing her on the wet soil. He climbed out and started covering her fragile body with the cool earth. She always was breakable, he thought amusedly, focusing on the better memories of their love, rather than the bitter ones.

He stood up when he was finished; throwing the iron shovel in a tree over his head like it was a feather.

Now to see what my progeny is up too….


Leah curled into a ball in the hole made by a hollowed out tree. This was her sanctuary, a place to come to when things got too much for her to bear. It was a beautiful night; the orb-like full moon was hanging in the sky, the stars twinkling. A cool breeze was blowing, but Leah was shielded from its bite by her tree.

She thought about the crazy turn her already crazy life was taking. She realized she would have to live on the streets now. The village was small, but Leah had an idea where she would be safest from the rapers and the murderers.

There was an old abandoned side of the village, named the ‘Ghost Street’ by the villagers. It was said to be haunted. An old legend was famous around these parts, that the mansion at the end of the street was once the abode of a blood-sucking monster, a Lord. His land stretched miles around his home, a village was established there. Apparently the village people revolted against him and burned his house to the ground, seemingly with him inside it. Some said it was his ghost that haunted the place now. Some forms of the legend claimed that the people who had tried to kill him were killed off one by one in painful ways, and they were THEIR spirits that haunted the place now. She thought about what the mansion looked like now, the stone walls were still intact, but the wooden structures were burned. There were abandoned and dilapidated cottages all around the mansion’s ground. Yes, ample shelter, she thought. And nobody would venture out there, the cowards that these people were. A few teenagers on a dare or drunken men maybe, but there were plenty of places to hide out there. She made up her mind and started to uncurl from her fetal position on the hard ground. She picked up her bundle, settling all she had in the world on her shoulders. A dress, a pair of shoes, her mother’s diary, and a book, the only one she owned….

But the most prized possession she owned was around her wrist: a delicate gold bracelet embedded with three blood-red rubies on the front. And at the back were the words “In Aeternitatem”. Her mother had told her they were of an ancient language, meaning ‘for eternity’. She was very protective about it, she had given it to Leah on her 10th birthday, and after that it had always stayed around Leah’s wrist. Once when she was 13, it was a cold and brutal winter, Leah suggested her mother to sell or barter the bracelet, and she had never seen her mother that angry.

Her mother never said who had given it to her, but Leah was clever enough to figure out it must have been her father. Like I should call him that, my sire maybe, not FATHER, what has he done to deserve that name and status in my life? If I could just find him, demand answers, SEE him! Hell, I don’t even know if he’s human!

She wasn’t aware of the shadow trailing behind her, chuckling lightly on his daughter’s thoughts, which were swirling about crystal clear in his head. Her mixed blood had always unconsciously provided her a shield to thwart his telepathy, but not when she was upset and overly emotional. His smile turned into a frown. She must really be hurting then, her mother’s death and her absent father who she thinks abandoned her, if only she knew how much I care…

Just as Leah stopped behind the last row of trees behind his old mansion, he heard the message his second-in-command, his creation, Roman, was sending him through their telepathic link. Sorry child, you’re on your own for now, he thought, sighing.

He whooshed around and disappeared in thin air.

“That Specific Male(s)”

Okay so my blog had been taking a pretty dark turn lately, what with ashes, fire, death and all that crap. It’s now time to inject some humor back into my monologues. And also, a new WordPress friend wanted to know the history between me and “him”.

Let me clear up one thing first: Me and him were never ‘together’. In fact, we never even saw eachother face to face. In my nearly two decades here on Earth, I have had many and I mean many crushes. They never manifest into something more because a) I don’t really believe in relationships; they’re a hassle and b) I’m physically average and we all know guys fall for normal hot/cute girls and never the quirky ones like me.

So the first of these many was Moz*, who I saw at a birthday party when I was in grade 5. Then there was Kami. I saw Kami’s photos a while back, and I was like EW what was wrong with me? And Kami also turned out to be an asshole.

The one “crush” that lasted a long long while was Zed. He is a friend of a friend, and I had been stalking him on Facebook for a while before I came to know that he was on the notorious website I immediately made an account on and hence began anonymous conversations with the one person I thoght was perfect.

Tall, buff and cute, he also had a Persian cat. Which in my eyes, was the epitome of perfection.

I can never keep a secret. Others’ secrets are forever locked in my heart and I don’t breath a word of them to anyone. My own though, are a different matter. I have also never been able to stay anonymous. I want everyone to know that it was I who ratted out the teacher or stole the chocolate from the fridge, because I just can’t keep it in for long.

So when Zed wanted to “guess” who I was, I gave him a number of hints. At the end he wanted me to “untick” but I made a stupid decision and told him I would inbox him on Facebook. And I did. To this day I still have no idea where I suddenly got the guts from to do what I did. Man…

Conversation started October 24, 2013


Hello I wasn’t going to do this but my friend said **k tum ne itna tang kiya hai becharay ko** soooo I thought I’ll message you

I’m Raiha, Abdullah’s friend and I was the spy-obsessed one on your Ask!

And humaray mutual friends mein Channa bhi ho ga but he’s more like an acquaintance and I really don’t like him that much

So yeah… Hi


Hahahaha Hi!

And abdullah’s friend? Full name?

And lol what

Mene kisay tang kia hai?** :s

I didn’t talk about the anon spy girl with anybody

Okay so now let me explain what “anon spy girl” or “ISI girl” is about. Although I was chatting with Zed anonymously, I had let my awesomely weird personality shine through. I let my love for spy novels and all things espionage known to Zed, which led him to call me spy girl or ISI (Pakistan’s infamous intelligence agency) girl. Which made me go “awwww” a lot, not that he knew, or will ever know.

I am laughing so hard right now. LMAO! I just scrolled back to 11 months ago on Zed’s Ask profile and found one of my crazy convos. Start reading from bottom to top please…

Great, that’s just great -__________- 
What would you do/think if I AM her? 😀
I would tell her to stop -.- She shouldnt start talking to me everytime portraying as a new girl.
Tch tch. You always know who’s who anyway 😀
Is that you, ISI girl? -.-
Hahaha omg poor you 😀 And no I’m not that girl. Sorry 😛
Yeah, that shit is bad lol.
Goddd I hate it when people don’t come off and leave me hanging here, thinking which ones which. Does that make any sense? ._.
That is so awesome. You’re such a 10/10 *_* 😀 And I won’t beat up such a pretty boy as you, don’t worry 😛 BUT my daddy bought me a Tazer I’m not afraid to use :3
Hahaha I have been a victim of pepper spray :p Being the typical army-brat-so-I-am-tough, I took my aunt’s pepper spray and sprayed a bit of it on my hand, nothing happenened, i was like dayeeem i am strong, but afterwards I subconsciously rubbed my eyes, i cried for two hours and had a red nose :’)

For the record, are you the same girl who said i can be hardy and emotional at the same time? :p jus’ askin’
Dude not all feminists are hairy biker freaks who like to beat men or who write long lectures on men being baaad xD I’m a very feminine feminist ^_^ And I just want men to treat and think of women as something other than pretty objects 🙂
Haha okay well you prolly don’t know me then, ask my friends and they’ll tell how much of a gentleman I am with them, I don’t treat women as objects, neither do I agree with the common stereotypical roles.

typical. guy. soch. -_- now shut it before my feminist side wakes up 😀 😛
Hahaha I was joking, obviously.
Oh so you are a feminist? :p I am pretty scared of them lol.
Blonde bombshell… TYPICAL guy -.- 😀
You know it :p Dumb blondes are the best thing which happened to this world :p
What’s so special about her? Apart from looking perfectly lazy with the half open eyes and all 😛
Her blonde hair, her eyes, and that cute little spot on her face. I hate her spouse -_- and her VOICE OMG
Nai aaj kal sab larkon ko Jennifer Lawrence pasand hai. Ya Mila Kunis! Fox is old now 😀 **
Blake lively *_*
***Start reading from here*** The one in bold is me…
So this was our last “conversation”. I gave up after this. I think he was getting annoyed. And he wasn’t interested at all. He had a crush on someone else. She was perfect. Zed had a lot of requirements in a girl. He said he was “fit” and so wanted a fit girl with a “flat stomach”. I just found this pathetic. The girl should also have long hair. I didn’t fit into his image of a perfect girl. I was miles apart from what he wanted: a nice, submissive, angelic beauty queen.
We had many, many other conversations, but I guess my personality didn’t get through to him. We couldn’t even stay friends…
And so we move on to HO, my other serious crush. He is also a friend of a friend. My best friend, Abdullah (Abby), apparently has a lot of hot friends.
HO was really different from Zed, he’s actually sweet. He has now joined the Army and I wish him the best of luck in life. I actually asked Abby to approach HO on my behalf. HO is emotionally unavailable. Bad breakup, girl got engaged to someone else, yada yada all that crap about relationships. But he was nice. Here’s our Ask convo:
*facepalm* shit
It’s Okay Girl 😛
okay then… if you’re so sure O_o just don’t say it here 😛
Sure I’ll convey it via Abd 😛
shit. time to disappear!
Too late 😛
na its okay if you have specs. all guys do. and I don’t believe in relationships anyway. just crushes 😀
I believe I’ve narrowed it down. I think I know who you are 😀
on what? height, weight, complexion?
Haha! None actually I’m just messing with you 😛
I don’t want a relationship. We can be friends though on ask 😛
what if I wanted that someone to be you?
Well that depends 😀
It’s fine. People don’t get me anyway. Have a good life man -x
Haha! Don’t get Emo ab 😛
someday someone will understand you 😀
no sorry bye!
After reading your previous question 2-3 times, I finally understood what it meant 😛
Sorry for the harsh answer and Oh yeah thanks 🙂
somebody who has a crush on you the size of an F-16 ^_^
Who so ever you are, I didn’t understand shit what you tried to convey. Lets make this simple “untick”
Dude… No. Not Abdullah this time 😉
Then who.? :-\
Yaaay! When? Next Saturday okay with you? McDonald’s wali kachairiyan? Baad mein waheen date bhi maar lein ge JP mein? :’) **
Theek hai Abd 😛
Let’s get married maybe? ^_^
Ok sure ^_^

***Read from here***


That’s all the history till now. I have no crushes at this time, and I have stopped ogling pretty guys who I know I’ll never have a chance with. I just observe from afar. I don’t even initiate awkward text conversations anymore.

It’s just not worth the jolt to self-esteem when you find that you’re not good enough for someone perfect like Zed!


*Moz: Names have been changed a little. But still if any of these guys read this, they’ll know I’m talking about them. But I just don’t give a crap...

** Some translations in order of occurrence
– that you have teased the poor guy so much
– who have I teased? 
(Yeah, Zed wasn’t really a sharp one)
kachairiyan = courts
– later we will have a date in JP as well? (JP = Jinnah Park where all the riff-raff go for dates)

Related Posts:

crush forever | The misterman’s take

Another Failed Romantic Tale. | A Mercurial Peculiarity

Why you are afraid to talk to your crush | snertmandosian

I am not good enough for him | sfunnygirl

16 Personalities; What’s Yours?

This is a fun quiz. And it’s detailed and actually scientifically backed.

The link:

I’m an INFP personality: Introvert – Intuitive – Feeling – Prospecting. Variant: Turbulent. Role: Diplomat. INFPs in the world: 4% Recommended career: Author. A famous person with the same personality type: Tolkien.

Pretty on the dot, if I say so myself… If you decide to take the test, don’t forget to share your result, especially if you’re an INFP! Maybe we could start a club…