Full stop.

I was raised by two of the most hopeless optimists I have ever met. For some odd reason, my life was always full of positive stories. I hardly ever heard anything negative about a human I knew. 

Growing up, I realized my parents did too have their considerable share of troubles and sufferings. Oddly and strangely enough, I did not, even for once, found them bitter at it. 

We have negative people, energies, reactions around us. Every single day and every single moment.

Most of these negative sets do not stem from any inherently ill Intentions. More often infact they are purely contextual reactions to their own personal struggles.

We often make the mistake of viewing others negative emotions in isolation. As independent events meant to hurt us or do us harm. We often fail to see the larger picture.

Everywhere I go, in every phase of life, there have existed humans struggling with their emotions. Reacting wildly. Taunting people. Viewing everything with the simple equation of criticism. Not believing anything but themselves as right. Being the victims of their own stories. Feeling bitter at their own circumstances and putting it out unto others. 

From school mermories to university to work life, every single day, I met almost ten of such different people. Different stories. Same struggles. 

I realized if I could catch them. If I could listen and put a full stop to their energy. It would all well, just vanish. 

I believe we all have the power to put a full stop. To gather all that is being said and done wrong and put a full stop to it right there.

You experience a person belittling you/another person - You sigh. Silence. Full stop. 

You hear your inner voice demanding you to react. You smile. Full stop.

Your inner voice suddenly transforms into a theartrical performance of a self-victimized you with a dramatic sound score - You smile broader and full stop. 

It is all a matter of a full stop. 

It is a matter of not conversing back. A matter of not engaging. A matter of viewing your inner thoughts as they simply just pass by. Of holding your own hand and putting a full stop. Of holding somebody else's hand and putting a full stop. Of showing positive side of story. Of instilling trust. 

It indeed is definitely the most excruciatingly painful experiences.

Of putting a full stop within. 
Of battling one's own demons. 
Imagine isolating yourself from yourself. 
Imagine ignoring nonstop excited conversations within yourself to put a full stop within and outside. 

Zainab has learnt to run. Recently, at a store, she ran around exploring the area. A guard at one of the entrances stopped and offered a handshake. She excitedly searched for me, as I smiled back, she confidently shook hands with him and moved on; perhaps, not realizing how she had just made his day brighter. 

It is then when it hit me. She views the world through me. Her relationships with the world, with people, with sufferings and with challenges would all be shaped mostly by how I perceive the world. 

She is - to the world - what she sees me - to be to the world. 

29 years ago, two humans put out a brighter picture of the world to me. As a space where positivity can alter the course of human's life. I learnt it so because they put a full stop to their inner demons. They let the goodness win. They let it prevail. They did not burden me with their personal biases. As I turned out to seek their assurance, they smiled and made me see the positive ahead.

28 years later, I am learning to put a full stop to my inner demons. Learning to put a full stop to anything remotely negative. Put a full stop by being empathetic to myself. Put a full stop by winning over my inner demons. Every minute. Every moment. Every single day. 

Oh, it is one of the most excruciatingly painful experiences yes. But trust me when I say this, it is one that is totally worth a lifetime.

Put a full stop inside and bake a few goodies for the world to feel the Love. 

Humans as we know.

I think we live in a world where there is an increasing need to liberate ourselves and do things out of love and not perceived obligations.

I can't say a lot with confidence about other societies, but the one I stem from essentially tames and limits a woman to its roles..Forming expectations and  associating a fixed set of obligations to it.

You are born a daughter, sister, turn into a wife, mother, daughter in law, mother in law, grandmother and so on.

All these seem to be confining identity. By way of proudly introducing these roles, not only do we squeeze and cut out a woman to fit into these roles, we implicitly then expect them to behave and not behave a certain way. External influences  unto how you are to behave  in a certain role often gets  heavy. Happily so often, it overshadows a woman's personality which often unveils itself in depression, bitter relationships and complicated negativity towards spouse/the rest in old age.

I was brought up intensely as a human than as anything else. It helped me realize the passion, enthusiasm and power involved in doing things out of
Love and not merely out of obligation. It helped me breathe/live and serve as a human and not as out of any role.

I suppose liberating a woman and raising a human to love and live out of love is extremely essential.

I only realized so after getting married whereby, said and unsaid expectations of beyond immediate families become evident. 'Oh, you are married now..' 'Oh! You live with your in-laws? Must be difficult no?' 'Oh, now you have a baby, stay home yes' 'Oh, Zainab is so lucky that she has an educated mother'

All this somehow seems to be limiting identity of sorts. I am here, sitting at home, choosing to be a stay at home wife/mom at the moment for my reasons. Not out of obligation.

We have a choice as humans and most importantly as women. As most specifically as South Asian Muslim Women perceived through a certain lens by inside and outside of community alike. A choice to assume power of practicing love and actions out of love and for the sake of love. Not out of obligation. Don't be a good daughter/sister/wife/mother/daughter in law and so forth only because you are expected to be so. Don't just sit and robotically fulfil expectations set upon you by the world.

Assume power of choice and practice actions out of love. Don't compromise and volunteer for anything in a relationship or in life because you're obligated so. Do so out of Love. In fact, Liberate yourself from the delusion of obligation and do it purely out of love.

To all the women rejecting self contained shackles of victimisation, struggling and tiptoeing around patriarchy while teaching, practicing and spreading nothing but Love and growing wise with the daily struggles of life. Lots of love to you. You are and you have what has inspired me to write this today.

Haldi honey doodh.

I had been wondering whether to post this for quite sometime.

In our lives, if we sincerely look around, there are humans who geniunely are beautiful souls. They may take different roles/relationships in our life.

People often tell me I am quite lucky with everything. And I think they are wrong. Everyone in this world gets their fair share of luck. In different forms. Every single soul is blessed. In one way or the other. In some part of life or the other. In some phase of life or the other.

So, I am not quite sure about being lucky with everything. I have had and still have my fair share of sufferings that I personally cherish - which seems to be the only option in helping me evolve into a better/wiser person.

What I am quite sure about is that this planet still has wonderful souls roaming about.

What I am quite sure about is my luck in meeting such souls.

The issue with the warmest one I know is that he happens to be my husband. Loving him just because he is my husband is like exploring an excuse to justify why I am still with him.

He is a good human. Something we undermine so often. He is a balanced rational yet sensitive being. A very very patient one. He is a good teacher. And a great student. He realizes. Acknowledges and feels. Something a lot of us struggle to do on daily basis. I often feel like writing on his ability to be so self reflexive.

So yes, I am not sure about being lucky with everything in life. But I am quite sure about being lucky to having met Zain. And extremely lucky about the manner in which we met. And definitely lucky to realize that my daughter is almost as lucky as I was in having a great father.

He is a good human. A soul. The concept is fluid. You don't need to importantly have such a person as your partner or family member or friend. It could be anyone. Open your heart and look around. I am 100percent sure you will find good hearted souls just as I did. And try being like them.
---

Zain, to learning patience and adapting to your unexpected plans and honeyhaldi-doodh obsessions forever. Happy Birthday.

May we all stumble upon and learn to cherish humans like you and may we all learn to be the same for the rest of the world around us and within us. Amen.

Magic.

"One thing every human has in common is the first sound we hear. Its the heartbeat of our mother. The steady rhythm is the first connection each of us knows, not with our minds but the knowing is there in our hearts. The heart is where we find our comfort and our safety in the darkest of places. It is what binds us together and what breaks when we are apart. The heart has its on kind of magic - Love."

I literally kept the phone down and picked up this book. Struggling and racing against time, I was wondering if I'd get time to even call my mom for a minute to wish her birthday. Or better, if I'd get time to pin down my thoughts today.

And as I hung up, picking up this book, it did nothing less than of reminding me of her again.

Thank you Ma for always being there, for always being the source of Love, inspiration and undeterred sustained intense bout of positivity. You are the most unorthodox human I have ever met. May this universe be blessed by many many more like you! With each birthday of yours, my wish to grow as insanely positive as you grows. Here is to hoping that Zainab and the world grows to cherish the company of your wisdom and positivity for years to come. Amen.

Note to myself on the road.

There is a truck on the right waiting to take a turn. But no car seems to be giving it the space to turn. Instead, in fact, the cars seem to speed up as soon as they see the truck trying to make a u-turn. The cars seem to be in a hurry even if not really so. They just want to cross and not get stuck in waiting behind the truck.

Each car speeds up, the driver anxiously looking at the truck as if pleading to let me just pass by first.

We halt. Pause. And let the truck pass by. It takes us two minutes of pause. As we stand and witness, the truck swiftly makes the turn that it had been wanting so.

There are people, experiences and moments in life which happen to stand at their crossroads. Dangling and lingering back and forth hesitant yet inevitably in a situation where they have to take a turn. They don't mean to cross your path or make you waiting. But life just happens so to give you a choice of either letting them intersect and help them pass or just speeding up and moving on with your own life.

Waiting behind the truck for two minutes cost me two minutes delay from the destination I had felt I was set on arriving. But when the truck does pass, I see the road clear ahead of me.

There are times when life expects us to give space. Incorporate pauses and halts which may seem uncomfortable to the otherwise fast paced motion of mine. But they tend to make us more humble. More patient. They tend to make us more considerate.

If every car driver on that road would only think of itself letting pass first and not wanting to pause/give space, eventually, sooner or later, the truck may forcefully make its way through compelling you to slow down; while more and more traffic clogs behind it each arriving at its cross roads.

I am not sure if I make sense, but the point is. Slow down. Look to your right. Is there as a person, emotion, experience, occurance hesitantly waiting at its crossroads? Pause your life and let it pass through yours. Trust me and believe me, you will find a clearer, smoother road ahead with a more patient and wiser you. It is only logical.

Home

It has been a while since I wrote. As months pass by, as I move, evolve and get busy with obsessively learning new things to adept and adopt, this place stays here in silence. Giving remote peace and visited so seldom.

Today, after really long, I found myself standing by this window again. Here, right here. This window. With the glimpse of Shell's guard distantly in the background, that car, that stillness of this hour. Everything is just so absolutely the same when I stand here again at this window today.

Strangely enough, I have stood by this place gazillion times. I have cried, sobbed, laughed, giggled, painted, scribbled blogposts..all by this place. I have thought and arrived at some of the most important decisions of my life, here, by this place. Every decision has taken me on a journey.

Today, standing here, after nearly one year, I find myself lost again. Staring at my posts, I wonder who was it in me that wrote. Standing here and struggling to paint, to scribble, to define the serene stillness and silence of a company of one here, I am left dumbfounded. Perhaps, finding myself here is an indication to stir within. The thoughts, the realization of the time. Of this time, to get up and decide forward. To move. To learn.

This window is so much like my blog.
Both haven't changed. And in the midst of busy lives everywhere, I stand here still, cherishing the moments of painful Change. Realizations are painful. Realizing that time flies is somewhere somehow intensely painful as well. Realizing your struggle and disconnection from your own window, your own writing is painful too. But in this pain somewhere, somehow, still stubbornly lies the familiar. In all the change of moments, there still somehow lies a figment of what has been us.

The story of every other

The story of every "other".

Back in school, there was a time when our teachers persuaded us to teach English and basic subjects to house help staff at home.

I gladly, charged with newly found mission of life, stormed across the house with English books and new notebooks to our old maid. I was bent on making her replace her nap with English learning sessions.

Sadly, what I could never understand was: She did not need my help. She did not need to learn English. If it was something that she truly wanted to learn then it was how to read an urdu newspaper and scribble out the grocery on paper/do quick maths for grocery.

But I had a completely different, perfectly convinced picture of how to help this other. She needed me after all. Sadly, she did not.

Recently a friend of mine, over coffee, recalled a similar experience from her yester days:

"During my annual summer break back in 2010, there was a friend visiting me. She found me sitting quietly staring at my laptop screen in my room, weirdly zoned out. She tried breaking into a conversation, which made me put down my laptop and focus on talking. I was however still deeply lost in what I had been watching. It was nothing but an intense show that I had passionately loved.

Given my lost sense of everything, she concluded I sounded depressed and needed help. She kept forcing me to change and hang out with others.

I did not feel so. I was absolutely comfortable where I was."

And there lies the problem.

The problem of helping.

The problem of being raised to be noble. The problem of being praised to be noble. The issue of individually and collectively celebrating/cherishing the whole idea of "let's help them".

Because in order to help "them", I ought to be stemming from a perfect life as a savior to others.

The problem lies in children being taught by naive parents: See that poor kid down that shabby road, look, he can't even afford food, look at yourself. You are being picky about cheese on fries?

Why is that a problem?

Because it inculcates a sense of privilege. A fluid sense of "I stand on concrete road looking down at a kid down that shabby road with nothing. Oh, well, but I am not happy here. Oh well, but I have some bread. Let me go give this to the kid."

We disguise our generosity. We are not being generous. We are not being helpful. We wrongly label "self gratification" as "helping".

Observing, deducing, concluding "problems and solutions" for "others" on behalf of "others", for "others", is just plain selfish. It is as wrong as a superpower deciding to intervene into an establishment with its own "methods" of helping.

We assume superiority since childhood. We have something that they don't.

Remember those wise old lectures - "Poor are still more satisfied than rich." Yep, well, that inculcates a complicated equation of materialistic superiority with a tinge of internal emptiness. It inevitably leads us to barter. We step out with our materialistic possessions to give away, save the poor. It gives us happiness.

If giving away blindly based on assumptions of what "we" think is right for "them", gives us Happiness then well, it is not happiness. It is a strong sense of recently rewarded big fat ego.

I am the Power. I was always rich. I always had the power to give away of myself.

The problem lies in assuming the problem for others.

The problem lies in how we conduct conversations, describing "others" even in the confines of our private space.

The problem lies in how "white" spoke of their "black" staff so politely yet with assertive power/expressions.

The problem lies in speaking of "others".

The problem lies in thinking of "others" with problems, because we are assuming we know something they don't.

How do we know we don't know something that they do?

And here, let me pick a pin and burst the bubble.
There is no we. There is no them.

We stand on equal footings, across time, culture, religion, color, country, economic status, lifestyle status.

From a rich school kid being taught to give his pencil to that poor kid, to a development enthusiast entering a community with his/her own strong conclusions/paradigms about the issue/solutions to the society worried about an ambitious lady sitting at home.

Pakistan and I seem to have quite a lot in common right now. Just like Pakistan, I am expressed concern by "others" over how I might not be living the life I want because I am a SAHM these days.

While I am trying to juggle and shatter my own perceptions of these "other" humans who stay home, I am also being bombarded with questions/concerns/disappointed sighs about my new role.

An old friend expressed concern over how difficult it must be for me to be living here, stuck in the kitchen, with just cooking and looking after Zainab after all these years of rigorous education and work experience.

And here is what I had to say: How do you know that it is the major problem or concern of my life right now? I might as well just be doing great and not wasting talent/skills/time just because you assume I am sitting at home at the moment.

Just because I am sitting at home does not make me less compatible, out of touch or wasted.  Whether and when I work outside of my own home should be my decision.

A choice is a choice is a choice.

You have a wrong understanding of liberal and feminism if your aspirations of independent women stop her at believing everything is career. It is as limiting as old challenge of limiting women to reproduction and marriage.

I almost fell into the trap of helping these "housewives" out right after marriage. they don't need to be rescued from being housewives. They are doing quite fine. If I am facing a challenge of exploring activities outside home for myself, then yes, I may relate/connect with them and together maybe able to mobilize ourselves in our "me" time.

That, however, cannot be done if I stand here, assuming a role of a white hero here in this city to rescue housewives from their homes.

16 years ago, my house help did not want to learn English alphabets and words. She wanted to learn Urdu and basic maths to get her work done.

16 years later, today, I am not going to commit the same fallacy by assuming role of power, wear a cape and make Myself a big meal of Ego boast using what seem like helpless creatures.

There are no shabby roads and no rich kids. There are no us and no them. No others. We all stand on equal grounds across time, culture, religion, sect, color, financial and lifestyle status. We don't need to rescue others. Rendering help yes, which comes with compassion and understanding. Compassion that exits outside the compounds of our limiting assumptions. Compassion starts where the need to impose our solutions on others end.

If you really want to help, question your intention of helping, of reaching out. Then pause. reflect. over and over and over again.

Perhaps while going down that shabby road to help, you'd be able to kill your need for self gratification and see that the poor kid down there doesn't need that expensive shoe in your hand. And that is when you'd see the kid perceiving you too as the "other".

And that just about is the story of every "other". You, me. We all are the others.