Sometimes life breaks us so bad, we wonder how on earth are we going to put our pieces back together. How do we get up?
I miss my mom. The last trip she made here, on the last night of her stay, her legs hurt. I offered to press them for her. It was dark and mom was sleepy. I held on to her legs and cried. For a long, long time. Marriage. Something that separates you from the safest haven and puts you out on your own to try to build yours. I miss my mom. When I bid farewell to her for her flight, I couldn’t stop crying. I cried the whole way back home in the car. I can’t be with her, I can’t be without her.

Today I miss her the most.My heaving heart misses her today so much. But then I know, if I got to see her now, I wouldn’t tell her what’s wrong. Too many tears in my mom’s own eyes taught me so well years ago to camouflage my tears so well, she would never know. Still a hug from her, she telling me I am a good girl would bandage my hurting soul, at least temporarily.

It hurts when you are not being understood. It hurts feeling alien. It hurts feeling ignored. It hurts feeling used. But do you know what hurts the most? It hurts that when you are hurt you want to revert back in a certain way to make yourself understood, but you just can’t, because that’s now how you have been raised. You can’t follow the script you wrote inside your head, because that’s not who you are. 

Alone, humiliated, insulted, I cried while I made rotis for my kids. My soul spoke up. Spoke to my inner angel voice. Asked it, why God is silent watching me suffer inside. Pat came the reply. Because I am silently watching my time suffer. I don’t pray with the same fervour. I stopped asking for forgiveness. I went silent on God. The only one, my only constant, and I went silent on Him.

Main hi woh jo rehmat se gira

Aye khuda… gir gaya gir gaya

Main jo tujhse door huaa

Lut gaya, lut gaya…

Aye khuda…….

Aye khuda…

Kyun judtaa iss jahan se tu

Ik din yeh guzar hi jayega

Kitna bhi samet le yahan

Muthi se phisal hi jayega

Har shakhsh hai dhool se bhara

Aur phir usme hi jaa mila

Yeh haqiqat hai tu jaan le

Kyun sach se mooh hai pherta 

 Not the whole song, but these parts of the lyrics fit me right now so well. I ran away from myself. Today my natural voice screams inside me, why do I have to face all this? What did I do to deserve this? Why do I have to be the only one patient? Then my angel voice replies, because I prayed for this! Damn! I prayer for this, I spent nights up in prayer convincing God I could handle anything just get me here. Oh, how naive I was. I literally asked God to put me here! And you know what? God always listened to me. He still does. I always get what I wish for and what I pray for. My wishes and prayers are so messed up, that sometimes I wonder why I prayed for a certain thing. Then I fear unthankfulness, so I shut up and let my inside voices battle. That’s what messed me up. There are some things that I want to so bad. But I get afraid that what if I ask God and He gives me and I mess up again and regret. Maybe I should add at the end of my prayer, that my wishes to be fulfilled if they are good for me. 

It is such a strange cold world. Everything is so temporary, it is freaky. It took me four years to understand that nobody is mine. Everyone has a tiny role in a part of life and they all fly away. Parents and siblings. They are priority. The moment you’re married, gone. They fly away. No, we fly away. Husband. Yours but never really yours. He is himself. His own self. Friends. Always there. But not at all parts of the moments of life. Kids. Only till their childhood. Then they fly away too. Heck, even we are never our own. I can never control my physical body always. I can’t stop sickness. I can’t make pain go away. I can’t force my eyes to stop tears. I can’t ask my heart and brain to not get hurt when others say hurtful things. I am not even my own.The only one always there is God. The only constant. The only solace.

And like every time I fall, I get up, again. Because I believe in a thing called Hope. Come hail or storm, I pray to God that Hope doesn’t die in me. I just hope that I am not putting myself in a further mess with this wish though!


Wide-eyed tech-freak…



This is another side of me. An open-mouthed, wide-eyed, immensely awestruck side of me. I love technology. It is really a very very very exciting thing for me each time I hear of a new release. Be it about laptops, cellphones, the internet, tabs, anything everything related to technology.

There was a rosy time of mine, when I was always updated and full of details about the latest stuff in the market. Now I have slowed down. But I still love techie stuff. I yearn to bring back that time, yearn to be aware of every detail of the great and not so great improvements in technology.

It gave me immense joy, when yesterday I sat down and counted up the things I held so close to my heart.


My dad gifted me an Acer Laptop. When I passed out tenth grade with distinction. I used it with love for seven whole years. The only reason I have abandoned it now, is because its bluetooth no longer works, its OS cannot be updated anymore, and most important reason is the wifi doesn’t connect anymore.

There are two laptops I am eyeing right now. Let’s see what fate hands to me. One is the Lenovo Yoga 13. It has an enthralling flexible design. And some great features:

Graphics Intel® HD Graphics 4000 (integrated)
Dimensions 333.4 x 224.8 x 16.9 mm (13.1 x 8.9 x 0.67″)
Camera 1.0M 720p HD integrated webcam
Display 13.3″ HD+IPS capacitive multitouch display (16:9 widescreen) (1600×900)


The other laptop is the Hp Spectre. My reason for adoring it: pure blithe design. (It is too dreamy to be true!!!!)


It has awesome specifications too:

  • CPU: 2.2GHz Intel Core i5-5200 (dual-core, 3MB cache, up to 2.7GHz with Turbo Boost)
  • Graphics: Intel HD Graphics 5500.
  • RAM: 8GB DDR3 (1600Mhz)
  • Screen: 13.3-inch, 1,920 x 1,080 FHD Radiance LED-backlit touchscreen.
  • Storage: 256GB SSD.
  • Ports: 3x USB 3.0; HDMI, mini DisplayPort, headphone/microphone combo.


I bought a Geepas walkman. Because I was tired of borrowing it from my friends in school days. Okay, I never had enough to buy the Ipod that was trending at that time and somehow I wasn’t very attracted to the mp3 players. Until, after I bought my walkman.

Oh well. And then I bought my first cellphone. It was my LOVE. Pink, delicate, slider Samsung J600. It had the following specifications:

Released 2007, April
20MB storage, microSD (dedicated slot) card                                                                                1.3MP camera, GSM Technology

It had a slippery feeling, and it slipped on my tiled floor a lot of times. This lead to the damage of the speaker, and then even the navigation keys stopped working.

So I went ahead and bought a Nokia E63. This was my LOVE tooooo. It is still working and really dear to me. It just got obsolete because it wasn’t a touchscreen smartphone. It has the following specifications:

Released 2008, December
Symbian OS 9.2                                                                                                                                 Screensize: 2.36 inches
120MB storage, microSD card slot

My next targeted phone is the Samsung S6 Edge. It is not the latest phone in the market. But that is the thing about me. I don’t go after the latest. I go after the one that I can’t keep my eyes of and can’t stop thinking about it. S6 did that to me.



Until I get hold of this phone, I have to make-do with my Lava A79.

When I had a hard time finding books to read, I was downloading and reading pdf novels on my Nokia E63. I knew I’d lose my eyesight reading that tiny font. So I decided to get an Ipad 2. For the sole purpose of reading on large font (Hahahahaha!!!!), I grabbed one from Jarir Bookstore, KSA in 2012.


I used it with great care, until my daughter was born. She dominated its usage. And by the middle of 2013, it got cracks on a side and the home button got stuck often. Ipad 2 didn’t win my heart. Although being my most expensive purchase till date, it just didn’t awe me. I had a hard time downloading audio files to the ios format. I also had a tough time getting games. Besides being an avid reader, I am a huge game enthusiast. Ipad was a huge disappointment for gaming. It had a great camera though. I have some amazing pictures taken from it.

The Ipad 2 had such a great camera, that I did not need to use my Fujifilm camera anymore. That camera was a great buy for me. It has been so good over the years, that even till today I take pictures from it. Lava a79 doesn’t support great megapixels. Thus, I have resorted to take pictures from the camera.

Home life has side-tracked me from a lot of my passions. It is time I get back to them. I have to fill the mind-numbing voids of my days. I cannot just simply cross off days from my calendar. I have to make my days count.

I am not promising, but urging my inner self. I shall get updated and post more about new stuff that hit the tech market.





Late nights

I struggle with sleep. The most active time for my brain is just before bedtime. And that draagggsss on for so many hours and before I know it is 1:00 am. I can’t sleep early. Even if the wifi is shut. I have a million thoughts in my mind. Why? Why sleep, why do you delude me?

May I need a very strong purpose to wake up early. There is nothing to look forward to, in the morning. I know, there are a lot of things I can get done. But I love the night. Maybe I am nocturnal. I do things better in the later half of the day.

What’s keeping me busy?

So Many Things To Do List

The above is how my lists of To-Do things always looks like. Only this time, I don’t have a list. But a lot of things to do.

So let’s see. Recently, a new idea popped into my head. I’d design my own saree. Mom had given me a plain green saree. I bought a fancy lace. So now I am getting the lace onto the saree. I shall do some stones sticking on it too. That is one huge project I am on. I plan to wear it on our housewarming ceremony. Let’s see how fast I can get that done.

Most of my daily tasks are mind-numbing. Its all action and empty-brain chores. I love thoughtful work. And blogging is the only thing I do in a day that keeps my brain ticking.

I do have lots of posts in my head. Just need to grab time and type them away.




There is nothing like rains. Rain has always fascinated me since childhood. We used to vacation to India every year in the months of July and August. And I have so many memories of those days.

We had this huge courtyard in the middle of our house. Mom was always afraid we’d fall sick, so she never let us out in the rain. We made lots and lots of paper boats with her and sometimes with grandpa. And sailed them across our roofed hall into the courtyard. It was not a very pleasant sight though. We made those paper boats out of newspaper and they sank so quick, they broke our little hearts.

I remember back in KSA, once mom and dad went out shopping. They left my siblings in my care. It began to rain. More than them, I was afraid of the thunder. There was this yellow blanket, I kept hiding under it, every time it thundered. My siblings, for some strange reason weren’t afraid at all. They laughed at me when I asked them to hide too.

It rained hailstones one May. We ran out of our house to collect them in a metal bowl. But the hailstones were tiny. I never got another chance again. My mom told us we should eat them. I don’t really remember why, but something was supposed to happen if we ate them.(probably something boring or unbelievable, I would have remembered otherwise!)

We had to go to school during the rain. We weren’t allowed in the ground though. But it was fun jumping in the rain puddles, when no one was around we’d sneak into the ground. The janitor lady used to come running behind us with a stick.

For some reason, as we grew up, it rained a lot less in KSA. I went through some emotional loneliness during my late teens. Lack of friends was the main reason. I had friends. But my best friend left for India. And nobody could fill that void. I had no one to call up or meet up. That depression threw me into poetry. And whenever it was too much to handle I’d cry in a corner. Whenever I cried though, it would begin to rain. It gave me the feeling that the sky understood me. It would cry with me. That’s why, I love rain. It was in those days that I developed an immense love for stars, moon, night, sky, sea, water, everything about nature actually.


Eventually life brought me out of that depression. I learnt to deal with being lonely even if I am in a crowd of people.It doesn’t really matter any more. But every time it rains, I feel connected to nature. A part of me jumps with immense joy.

As I lay my head to sleep now, 12:16 am, my heart feels empathized, as I watch the heavens pour out from window. I long to drench myself in the cold rain, to stand on this empty road of a vacant street. I can feel that silence echo from within me. A silence that has always unnerved my soul. Only the rain, always the rain, has quenched the thirst of company, momentarily, until it stops.


So many restraints. So many chains. Too hard to synchronize with the thunder, to let out, to walk freely, to breathe. Like the anguish of the lightning, I’ll just have to lash out once in a while, and then drown away in the pitter-patter of the rain.

Rain…I always love the rain…..



It is very annoying for me. The things that I do myself. Actually, I think I have done them, but haven’t really. It has happened so convincingly in my head, that my brain agrees to the task being done. Horror, pure horror. When I just found my recent post sitting in my drafts. All with the tags and everything. I remember clicking Post. Or did I?

Too much preoccupation of my mind with a never ending to-do list, and a family who believes I do nothing. Lots, I have lots to do. I have to get over the fact that switching on a PC is a chore. Because ideas overflow in my head, and I am unable to put them down. My phone keyboard is horrid.

Too much complaining. I shouldn’t be doing. Really excited about writing up two new post about stuff I love. Oh, there are so many posts in my head, I could write five a day. Just this getting my bottom down in front of a PC is a real chore, which it shouldn’t be.

Tand tadaaaaaa….Lets see how much I can write down before my two kung fu warriors tire themselves.

She cries….every time she wakes up…

My three and half year old daughter. My Princess. My sweetie pie. My simmalow. My babiyoo.

Every time she goes to sleep, even for a little nap, she finds it a hassle to get herself comfy. Then she falls asleep, shutting those beautiful long lashes, the creases from her forehead relaxing, as she slips into slumber. I bet she sees a lot of dreams.

What has disturbed me for a long while, is that whenever she awakens, she begins to cry. lots of it. Crying. And its worse when I am not beside her, like when I am in the kitchen or hall, or anywhere else.

It perturbs me even more, that she stills cries if I lie next to her. Why? Why do those lovely doe-eyes well up with tears and she wails and wails for a while.

Is it because of that day? That week? Atleast that is what my intuition tells me. Two years ago, my son was due to be born. According to the hospital rules, kids aren’t allowed during visit hours. I had no choice. My mom had flown in from KSA. So my mother-in-law and sister-in-law agreed to be with my daughter. Hubby had office those days.

A week before my surgery, I tried to schedule my daughter’s sleep, so that she slept late at night and woke up late the next day. I had to be at the hospital at 7 in the morning. The night before I left, she unusually hugged me close and slept. She held my hand the whole time. I couldn’t sleep. The whole night. I woke up at 6. Everything was ready. I poured out milk in her bottle. A few last minute talks with sister-in-law. I tip-toed around the room to get my bag and cover. I was sitting in the hall waiting for the auto, when she woke up. Silently as always and came walking to me. I sat her in my lap, hugged her. She could sense something, or maybe see it in my eyes. Separation. My heart was breaking. The auto came. I handed her over to my sister-in-law. Gave my baby a few gems which she loved. My SIL pretended to take her out for a walk by our second door. She loves walks. In the meantime we left by the main door. At the last minute, my baby asked for her water so my SIL turned around and came towards the main door.

She saw me. Saw me ready, going. Away from her. For how long, she didn’t knew. Her eyes began to water. She said mammaaaa. I can never ever ever ever forget that look. There she was, this tiny daughter of mine, in a yellow dress, curly hair. Crying. Because I was going. My mom and everyone else ushered me into the auto. And we left. I left. My daughter. Without me. For a whole freaking 5 days.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything once I reached the hospital. The image of walking away from my daughter was flashing in my mind constantly. My heart was mashed up. And then there was this nervousness of going under the needles and knives. The Cesarean Section. My husband held my hand and reassured me so many times. I kept telling him I miss my daughter. He kept saying she will be fine.

Time passed painfully slow. My son was born to me. The partial anesthesia made me lose all of my raging emotions. I just gave into tears. Of joy for my son, and pain for separation from my daughter.

My daughter didn’t speak sentences. She couldn’t explain anything. I could only sense her bewilderment and loneliness in her voice. She just kept saying mamma, mamma over the phone. In the first few days her voice was broken. Then towards the end of those exceptionally long 5 days, her voice strengthened. But there was an emptiness in her voice.

Time passed. She came with my mother-in-law to the hospital to pick me and her baby brother. We went to my mother’s place. Everything was back to normal. But my instinct told me, something had irrevocably changed. In both of us. But more in her. I couldn’t get it then.

She must have woken up each time, expecting me to be beside her, like always. But I wasn’t there. She must have roamed around the whole house looking for me silently. Then broken down when I didn’t appear for days and nights together. So much fear and horror for my one and half year old baby to go through. She must have cried so so much. Everyone must have done innumerable things to calm her down. They just couldn’t get her mom for her.

Its understandable, why it took her so long to come in terms with a sibling. Not because of any rivalry. But because I deserted her for 5 days. And nights.

I can’t calm her down when she wakes up now. Because I can’t go back in time and make myself present for those lonely wake-ups of 5 days and nights. I feel broken. But there is nothing I can do about it.

I talk to her. I ask her now to tell me why she cries each time she awakens. She never replies. She always has stories and huge essay answers for all of my questions. Why do you cry when you wake up? She doesn’t answer.

Does she still remember? That week? Or those memories faded and this just became a ritual. Maybe she might tell me when she grows up. Or it is going to remain her habit forever. To cry waking up, missing me.

I live away from my mom. Sometimes I yearn so much for her. But there is nothing I can do about it. Life is meant to brutally shoo a person away from the very emotion that is dear to you.

But I cannot let my daughter continue to cry when she wakes up. I don’t know how I am going to do it. But I have to….Stop her….from crying…each time she wakes up….for missing me…even when I am beside her….how? ..I don’t know…