My First Horror Story

Once upon a time, I was sitting in my mathematics class happily watching an incredible movie of numbers in my imagination. All the numbers seemed to be fighting with 1 while 0 kept goofily offering his love for 1.
1, being a stubborn idiot kept ignoring and refusing 0’s love and help. In my notebook in front of me, I just couldn't resist but tell the idiot to join 0.

Just when I was about to ensure their sweet ending, the impending teacher’s heavy shadow casted clouds over the battlefield of my poor notebook, like an angry storm, she crushed all the numbers in the paper and tore it. And tore it. And tore it.

I felt sad. My battle, I wondered. I sighed heavily in the remembrance of the deceased numbers. And now, well it was my turn it seemed. She casted an angry glare and asked me what 1 divided by 2 was.

Happily and in an attempt to make her proud of me, I started. “Oh well, you know, how when Ammi serves us roti over dinner, she takes one, hands half to me and half…”

Even before I could complete, the teacher looked around impatiently, stopped me abruptly and told me to leave the class. “But...my story...” I squeaked. “Leave!” She screamed.

I walked outside, still unable to comprehend what was wrong. Dismissing the torture of thinking through, I shunned away the thought and happily walked into my geography class.
The teacher welcomed me in. As a matter of luck, I was the first person to be questioned on last afternoon’s lesson. “So, Ali, tell us where Africa is on the map?”.

I gladly took out my little airplane which I carried around everywhere pretending to be a pilot. I took it out, placed it on the atlas at the point of departure- aha, from Karachi. I proudly parked my plane there, before taking it off and guiding it through streams of dotted cities and countries to Africa. Half way through to Africa, the ma’am grew impatient. “Ali, we don’t have the whole class for you! Stop playing games and just spot where Africa is!”

“But ma’am, it is crossing the Middle East right now!”I tried explaining with a sense of pride that I remembered where Middle East was! In fact, I realized how I now know the names of each emirates by heart. Thanks to National Geographic evenings! I pondered.

Sadly, my plane could not descend peacefully, as it was struck with an attack from my teacher. Worse than 9/11 for me I tell you.

Dejected and disappointed, I left the class. Or rather, was kicked out from another lesson. I scratched my head and wandered around, till it was time for my science class.

I really liked my science teacher, I am not sure if the feeling was mutual or not. Little did I know, that my love for her was about to be tested. In the midst of the lesson, driven by my irresistible sense of curiosity, I shot my head up in the air with a question that I thought made perfect sense. “Ma’am, you’re saying we can’t look into the past. But then, looking at the stars at night, aren’t those all dead by the time we look at them..?”

She shook her head, told me that it was a very stupid question. The whole class laughed because they thought I was trying to be extra philosophical.

That was it. That indeed was my first horror story. However, here is the climax of it. The place where the good guy dies in the sad movies; when I submitted this essay to my English teacher,
she gave me a zero in the test. She said, she could not understand what was so horrific about the whole experience.

Nobody does perhaps. But it still remains my first horror story. Until I decided to join the cult by killing the troubling monsters of questions and slashing the curiosity within. Today, I am a successful professional earning a good package, working 9 to 5, for I have become one of all.

I play by silence and live by the rules given to me. Every time I get crazy ideas with obsessions, I have to label them as wrong and shun them away under the carpet - For the fear of experiencing another horror story.

Khanum Suraiya Sakina & Me

I was sitting in my room. Cutting vegetables for food. Just like anyother day, I had to prepare the meal before anyone could come around the kitchen looking for food.

Just when I had almost finished peeling the third potato, the doorbell rang. I figured it must be Khanum, our next door neighbor. She had been going through a traumatic life experience.  Perhaps, that has made her bitter and excessively negative. Nevertheless, I welcomed her in with a smile. She came, she sat and she spoke. Like always, her taunts targeting issues from Pakistan's politics to her own house. And then, her guns of bitterness turned to me. How absolutely useless life I have been living. She made me realize how I was wasting my time sitting there and how perhaps, my attempts at laughter are nothing but a failed attempt to coverup my real depression. Am I really depressed? I wondered. Her confident glance cut through my nervous laughter and deeply pieced into my heart. I gulped down hard. My eyelids feeling suddenly too heavy. My shoulders bogged with the pressure of her stares. Depressed? I thought..

And then, the doorbell rang again. Distracted for a moment, I gathered my recently shattered and exposed self to check the door. This time, It was our front door neighbor. Suraiya. She was young, energetic but recently had been undergoing bouts of depression. The local muhalla rumor suggested that she had failed to make a good career. Nevertheless, with a smile, I welcomed her in too. Suraiya and Khanum exchanged salams and sat to catch up on the local gossip. And then, as if, ensuring that the topic stays alive, Khanum brings up my sadness again. This time, in front of Suraiya. I feel too tired, too drenched and too embarrassed to face, acknowledge or resist. I just look up and shake my head, distracted and lost. Too confused rather to even think. Khanum now with Suriya excitedly start giving me totkas to brighten my life, to cheer myself and to put happiness back. They highlight how dark my life has been and how I've always tried denying it.

Just then, the doorbell rings for the third time. Bringing me back into the room from my thoughts, I glance at my watch. I realize how just 30mins with these two ladies have seemed like eternity. My head is pounding. My body suddenly feels so heavy. I feel feverish. So much negativity around. So much of everything wrong. Is there even anything right around I wonder.

At the door, I find Sakina standing. Another bright, middle aged, successfully married lady from the neighborhood. She has dropped in to say hi and share some freshly baked bread. There's something about her confident smile. She hugs me tight which somehow shakes and wakes me up. Her warmth makes me feel good suddenly.

She enters the room, greets the two and sits right beside me. The room suddenly seems brighter, happier. Much happier. Khanum and Suraiya invite Sakina to comment on my sadness. Sakina turns to me, confused she looks at me. She says she sees nothing but a beautiful smile. I feel a bit surprised. But realize that she isn't faking. I feel her hand hold me tight. It sends some sort of signals.

If we really really really zoom into our brain, travel further into our neurons and pick up just one case of how neurons interact. We realize their interaction is nothing less than a conversation of Khanum, Suraiya, Sakina and me. Some neurons are constantly sending out signals like Khanum and Suraiya; while some are confidently shining up like Sakina.

Zoom out a bit. And we find our thoughts follow the same mechanism too. The decision to entertain which thought lies with us. Proactive fighting. Not reactive impulses. For Khanums and Suraiyas in our brain catch us offguard and shatter us apart even without us realizing. We then go around sheepishly believing them, living a life of sadness without a reason. We empower the thoughts which were meant to be countered with the energy of Sakina.

We fail to brutally take out our weapons, burst our bubbles of sadness and jerk our minds out of the illusion of sadness.

For we were made to live a happy, healthy and positive life. It doesn't mean that we don't get hit by Khanums/Suraiyas. It only means, we recognize the Sakinas within. 

For it all starts with a doorbell. It all starts with one single thought. 

Journey.

The real journey is pushing ourselves perhaps from the realms of realization to the realms of action. And that journey, that battle, occurs in every single moment in time in every single one of us. Some moments become brutal disappointments while some moments dance before us with victory. 

Heal & you will be Healed.

We have all heard about a man who was drowning, standing on the island that was drowning, he kept praying to God. Asking him to send him help, while the water level kept rising. First there came a helicopter, the pilot yelled, threw down the rescue rope to the guy. The guy refused. Then, came a fisherman on his boat, he drew near to the drowning man, told him to climb up the boat and save his life. The man refused again. He kept refusing the help saying that his God will turn up to help him. And then, he drowned. When he went up and met God, he complained. He said I kept waiting for you God. The God smiled and said, I sent you two people to help.

We all have heard this story countless times. In many forms. At different places. Through various people. In school, in college, by friends, by parents. The moral often remains the same.

However, there is another aspect to the same story. Imagine, if the man had actually realized and taken the help sent by God. He would have saved his own life. But more importantly, imagine, if the helicopter had not hovered above the island, if the fisherman had not chosen to go by that route.

We all have different islands in life. In some, there is a flood, drowning us, making us yearn to God for help. In some, there is perfect sunshine, making us smoothly sail through and explore the islands of others. That makes us naturally fall into the position of that pilot in the helicopter. Of that fisherman in the boat. The perfect islands of our lives give us the ability to go and be the helicopter guy and the fisherman for those drowning in their lives. Some of the perfect chapters of our lives are there so that we can represent an answer to somebody else's prayer. Doing so, somewhere, actually helps us in turn, realize the importance of those helicopters and fishermen entering our lives. While they represent the answer to our prayers to God, we are somewhere, representing somebody else's answer to prayers. And that is how we Heal.

Twins

There is a pair of twins, identical twins. They study in the same school. Same class. They share their room, their meals, their games, their homework. They have the same teachers, same subjects. They share the same level of brains and intellect. However, one of them is extremely egoistic and lazy. On the other hand, the other twin is extremely humble and down to earth.

The lazy egoistic kid does not like working, he is usually too engrossed in finding short cuts. Despite everyone telling him to follow the steps of his twin decent brother, his big fat ego does not allow him to seek help. Hence, he avoids doing anything near to what his twin does.

One day, teacher gives them both an assignment. An assignment that needs to be completed within an hour. The assignment requires them to think and write. Given the laziness of the little kid and the time pressure, he decides to gulp down his ego and copy his brother's work. He realizes that his brother must have worked really hard on the assignment. So he waits till his brother finishes his work and leaves the class to play. The egoistic lazy kid then goes to his desk, picks up his brother's notebook, copies his assignment, silently keeps it back at his desk and goes back to his own table happily. The work done so smoothly, so naturally.

The teacher comes in, checks their notebook and for the first time, is simply impressed by the kind of work produced by the lazy kid. She smiles, gives them both full marks and leaves.

For every assignment after that day, the process is repeated. For every assignment, the lazy egoistic kid finds a way to copy his brother and earn a good grade. Strangely, he notices that the teacher never catches him. Slowly and gradually, his ego starts to melt, he starts to pro actively and openly seek his brother's work. He starts copying his steps. He starts being him.

The moment the little one's ego disappears, a pattern of beautiful identical work begins appearing. He realizes how unnecessarily tough and difficult it is to defend his ego and stance. And how much easier it is to just let be, copy and reflect his brother's work.

That good twin lies within us. We are born with good twin as our soul. Forever humble, embedded with a compass of always doing and knowing the right.
And that egoistic kid is our own self constructed boundary outside. Which distances us from our own good twin within us.

And they only become true identical twins once the egoistic kid gives up his ego and starts following the steps of the Soul.