Hollow from the inside…


Its been a long time, without you my friend. I’ll tell you all about it, when I see you again.

I really missed bogging all this while. I had so many posts in my head everyday but really, I really couldn’t muster the time to grab the laptop to type. I love blogging.

A lot has happened over the past few weeks. To begin with, my better half got my mobile phone fixed. Thanks to him, it works like new. Well almost. But it is much better. No more virus bugging me every instant. Battery is much better. I also got a cool back cover for it.

There is a destination I aim to reach in the next year. So got our stuff together and made our move. Hoping God lets everything go smooth. Big Goals ahead on this on!

Who said God doesn’t answer prayers. Sometimes you don’t even have to ask. My son got circumcised  a couple of weeks ago. My sister in law visited us for two days. Her dad asked her to wake up one late afternoon. After much mumbling, she sweetly said,” Daddy please let me sleep, I din’t catch a wink all night”. There was so much emotion and sweetness in her voice. My heart ached for my dad. At that very moment boundless tears flew out of my eyes. When will I get a chance to say something like that to my dad. (My parents and siblings live abroad in the KSA). Lo and Behold! The very next day my dad called up saying Grandma isn’t well and he is coming to India in two days time. MY EXCITEMENT KNEW NO BOUNDS. One ache, one sigh from my heart, and God sent my dad instantly overseas. Right to my house. Grandma is in a vegetative state with no medications. Just waiting for her time. Only I, only I know that God sent dad for me. And not for any other reason. I hugged my dad hard when he came. I couldn’t stop my tears . He has gone frail, but stronger in faith. His enigmatic charisma beheld my eyes and heart in awe. I love my dad. I missed him so much. I got to bond with him for a week. And then he bid goodbye. He went back to mom and siblings last Tuesday. (Well, now I am missing mom)

It has been very hot this summer. Temperatures really shot up. I have become really tired of constantly washing sweat filled clothes. And the current keeps cutting off. Two days back, hubby and me decided to move our furniture around to give a fresh look to the room. Beneath my dressing table he found a mouse. A dead mouse. It did not stink. There were no insects around it. It was dead. Along with the other dust I swiped it into the dust pan. I got a moment to look at it closely.

It taught me a lesson for life. Stagnant things become hollow from the inside. Stagnant things are dead things. There is a huge difference between being Constant and staying Stagnant. Life needs to have principles to be governed by for consistency. These should be imbibed to evolve in life. To move in life, even if it is moving behind or ahead or sideways.

That mouse got stuck. It couldn’t figure out a way out of its situation. So it sat stuck. It died. And the summer red fire ants ate up every single nerve, organ, everything of the mouse. Except its outer body. They permeated through its skin and ate it up. They left it hollow. When we found it, it did not look dead. It appeared very much alive. It’s when I shooed it with the broom, that I found it was dead, and hollow.

I got goosebumps at the realization. Never stay stuck, never. Always evolve. Always move ahead. Always, always keep moving.


I write again.


I have been away for a while. Enjoying my sunshine to its fullest.

God answers prayers.

I started taking math tutions  for an 8th grader. This can also be read as my coffers getting filled once more! Well, no actually, I did this to kill time and make the most of it. Math sums have run my dusty cogwheels again. After a long time.

I am also teaching my bro-inlaw Accountancy subjects.

Amidst this, I enjoyed the love being showered on me by my better half.

Like nature, after the day, the sun sets. The darkness comes out.

And like summer gives into rain, my good days faded a bit and now the rain has begin to pitter patter.

I find myself very weak at this point of life. Physically. My legs hurt. A lot. Not just hurt, its such a dainty word. My legs PAIN. Around my knees especially.

My FIL constantly belittles my parenting. It goes to my head and demotivates me beyond words. I am trying to raise strong kids. I don’t want them to grow up as tantrum throwers and cry babies, craving attention. And in the midst of this, both my kids are 3-4 aged and they EAT my head. I have so much pent up frustration, that I eventually yell at them. I am trying very hard to handle all the aspects of my life. Pulling together cooking, household duties, washing, cleaning, ass wiping as soon as I wake up, everything, along with a little bit of teaching, and somebody tells me on my face that I am doing parenting level -1.

I am trying very hard. I am among people, who when I am given a choice I would abandon at first notice. The amount of negativity drags me into the mud daily, that I let my tears run in the shower. I am holding myself with a piece of thread. Hope. Just Hope. That things will be alright. Giving time, some time.

The first showers of the year began on Wednesday. The literal rain. The sound of the droplets excited the child in me. But that died sooner than I wanted it too. The adult-ness of life, quietened me. I just watched my white candle melt away.

A distant cousin of mine won an award for poetry. I am happy for him. But deep down, a voice in me sighed deeply. I was a poet too. I thought I buried the poet in me. I buried Rose. Or so I thought. She yelled from within, yesterday. Under the sky with the fading sun. Rose woke up within me. (Nope I don’t have MPD, Rose is my poetic nickname). Why did I stop writing poetry? I don’t really know. But when I did stop, everyone else was writing. I have always wandered towards paths not taken. Well, I have now fallen in a pit. There is a way out that is visible to me, but it has a rope that I have to climb. A rope that I have been trying to climb since October 2015. God knows I tried my best. I keep slipping halfway through. God help me out.

Another thing that beats the brains out of me is my dysfunctional mobile phone. In this such a modern day and age, I am stuck with two hopeless mobile phones. Lava A79 and an even useless Nokia XL.

My Lava A79 is struck with a virus that attacks my phone as soon as I turn on an internet connection. I lost contacts, messages, and so many things in trying to wipe format and reboot the phone. And just as the bright screen gets on, I am hit with the virus again. And yeah, my daughter decided one day to pull out the charger cable while my phone was charging. The inner pins of the phone got slightly twisted. Charging that phone now is pure torture.

Nokia XL? Its Nokia. Incomplete version of an Android. The phone fell last year, so there’s spiderweb cracks on my screen held together by cellotape. Battery drains as fast as it charges. The browser dies on me often.

I also lost my 8GB memory card.

I can continue writing so many paragraphs on things going wrong with me right now. I spend the whole of yesterday crying at the same time hiding my tears from my loved ones. Hard things can’t be ignored for long. My human heart shrieks out from time to time.

Nothing is in my hands. Everything is going by flow.

My tuition kid flunked her math exam. Because her basics are poor. And we dint have more than a week to prepare for the exam. Failures in life punch me in my belly.

I haven’t. But I have failed as a mom, failed as a daughter, failed as a teacher, failed my health. I am masking myself infront of my parents. I can’t tell them my problems simply because they can’t solve it. Instead they would just worry. I don’t want to put the bag of worries on anyone’s shoulders. But I am also getting tired of fighting this battle like a lone brave soldier. I am not brave. I am just a broken person held together by hope in God and love from my hubby.

I have  got to stop myself from withering away into emptiness. Time is dragging.



What is a home? Where is a home?……

I was just scrolling through facebook, mindlessly. That is when I came across a very nostalgic video. It just broke the dam that was holding my emotional tears safely.

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey…..

I miss home. That’s what it is supposed to mean. The first thing that flashed in front of my eyes, was my parental homes of Saudi. To me those homes are the closest meaning to home. We lived in different apartments. We changed a total of 5 houses. Each have their own nostalgic memories. Out of them one had my whole childhood.

Kehta hai roz mann mujhey…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey….

I miss that house the most. To me that was the most memorable home of my whole life. I went to school from that house. I learnt to read, write, use a computer, cycle, skate (yes I cycled and skated in KSA right through my teenage), rode buggies, jumped in the mud pools at school, made sand castles by the beach, flew kites at cornich, collected sea shells and hail stones, ran through the rain, enjoyed swinging away into the nights, counted the stars by lying on a mat….and so many more memories that I cannot even count.

Woh garmiyo ki raat…

Woh jaadey ki baat….

I miss those full blast a/c mornings. So comfy in the bed. Heck, me and bro sat playing Need For Speed on chairs wearing our blankets like huge coats.


The winters? The cold washroom seats…the orange heater light that never flickered. I used to wear a grey sweater, then my dad’s blue jacket that had a brown fur lining inside. I sat infront of the white rotating heater.

I miss those car rides. Those long family drives along the coast with the windows scrolled down, the wind blowing in, ruffling the fabric of my niqaab. And the drives with just me and dad, simple peaceful trips to the clinic or to the exam halls or for those accounts classes.

Sabh sataata hai mujhey…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey….

I gave it up. Me. I gave it up. In the name of Love. I gave up everything. Left behind everyone I loved and who I knew would love me back and be there always.


Chaah kar bhi waqt wapis mod nahi saktey.

Chah kar bhi waha nahi jaa saktey.

Chah kar bhi woh yaadein phirsei nahi jeesaktey.

Chah kar bhi laut nahi saktey waha….

I miss my brown blanket with white dots and brown flowers, and DIANA written in white on one corner.

Jin dino mei raha…

barso tak….

ek hissa unmei mera bhi tha….

phir waha rehna hai mujhey…..

ghar yaad aata hai mujhey…..

Even though I want to, I can’t turn back time. Can’t go back to that age, to that place, to those people, to my people. Home.

But according to the place I come from, a girl’s home isn’t her parents home. Her home is where she is married of to. Really? Wrong people. Wrong. There is no home in this world at all. Atleast that’s what I think.

What is a home? A place where you come to find peace and belonging…apnaapan. Maybe I can never find this feeling ever. I left my parental house to find my home in LOVE. I found a house. With people in it. But I didn’t find home….No I didn’t. I didn’t find a home.

Home was not with my parents. It is not in my spouse. It is not even in my kids. Where is my home?


Mujhko bata mera dar hai kaha maula…

Jogi bada mei…phirta rawa kinna…

I am so well aware, that peace, love or belonging is never found in a person or place. It is found in the self. Maybe some day I may look at this blog post and laugh. Or maybe would nod my head and continue to cry. Maybe, just maybe I want to find a place called home. Because I learnt home can’t be a person. No not at all. It has to be a place.


Bhatkna padega..

Pata nahi kabh thak…

Tabh thak ghar dhoondna hai..

Aur jabh thak…

Ghar yaad aata hai mujhey……

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Pw9v5XnMsg  : Link to the video I came across on facebook)

Note: Non-italic lines are my own.



Computer games were first introduced to me by my dad. He got these amazing game CDs for us. In the evening, me and my bro would figure out the way around them. I built a penchant for mind sharpening games, knowledge treasure holders and SPEED. I am edging towards 30, but I get the same thrill playing as my 4 year old self. Maybe it has nothing to do with age.

There was Jill, Mario, Jazz Jack Rabbit 2, The incredible machine, the entire Magic School Bus series etc. These were my favourites. Then one day, dad bought NEED FOR SPEED 3 CD. It was very difficult to play. Me and my brother were unable to change the cars or choose a different track course. Alright, NEED FOR SPEED is a car racing game. Its more than car racing actually. Then after about sometime, we boggled our minds and discovered how to play.

The remaining series I had played earlier.

I can’t explain in words, the amount of fun me and bro had. We figured out the two player keys on the same keyboard. The cop chases among beautiful locations, the opponent races, the time lapses, I am emotional right now. Particularly, there was this snow filled location, we raced with opponents. I remember we both had two different coloured Lamborghini Countaches. It was summer in KSA. But we both were so engrossed in the details of the game that the graphics got to us. Our fingers were turning cold!


Our First NFS CD


Race course location: Summit, NFS3. 

We even got the dialogues mugged up. It was amazing. We played that game for over three to four years. Then dad got us other series of the game. My favourite car emerged to be McLaren F1. I have always dreamt of being able to get one ride in it !


My Most Favourite Car

My reason for this blog? I am back on the streets! Racing! On my cellphone this time. It is not like those early morning summer months, with huge headphones, a cool playlist and speeding down cars on my laptop. The effects were so realistic, I was transported into the game always. Sorry mom, I hated doing chores because I didn’t like getting up from my game!


Best game in the NFS series

Right now, I am playing NEED FOR SPEED No Limits. After my wedding, I have resorted to less exciting games. Mostly because my previous phones weren’t android and also didn’t have enough space. One good thing that my hubby-bought Lava phone has been this! I can play again.


Earlier I was hooked on to cooking games. From Resort Tycoon, Restaurant Story 1 and 2, to cooking fever that got me very much hooked. Then a virus hit my phone. I thought it was because of my game. So I uninstalled it and deleted all backed up progress. I had come way too far to restart again. A long pause later, I have come back with a great wifi (thanks to hubby) that has now helped me got my game!!!!!

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…


A Walk To Remember…



When life gets really messed up like our headphones and frustratingly impossible to sort it out, the best peacemaker is a good novel.
In the midst of the storm in my soul, I came across Nicholas Sparks’s A Walk To Remember.
A beautiful book meant to bring meaning to life.
I began reading it in the middle of my chaos, and ended up as a softened person.
Recently my heart became cold as ice and stiff as stone. Nothing, literally nothing was melting me. I cried a few tears over emotional moments but my eyelids by now hurt too much each time. So I mentally escape into another land.
I thoroughly believe that there should be no regrets in life. And recently I had begun to regret my present, because it appeared to me that I am pushing my time and doing nothing worthwhile.
And so this book. I downloaded it as pdf form. This was a bit sad for me because I love a book in its physical form, its unique smell, the texture of the pages. I don’t read a book, I romance a book. Anyway, the pdf was better than nothing.
About the book. I loved A Walk To Remember sooo much more than most of the other books I have read. The concept of falling in true love that comes with utmost faith in God and goodness to mankind is beautiful. A clean and neat book in these present times. Nothing nude, nothing enticing. But romantic enough to be able to be remembered for the rest of my life. Romantic enough that my heart yearned to see such pure love and compassion around me. Simple language with detailed description of beauty.
A walk to remember is a novel that revolves around young love. Seventeen, the utmost brink of teenage that makes every normal thing exciting, everything lively, colourful and daring. Amidst the dances, dinners, dates and kisses, a young lad Landon, the son of a congressman finds himself unwillingly pulled into helping the simple daughter, Jamie, of Reverend Hegbert. The story is set in North Carolina in the extremely beautiful town of Beaufort. Jamie asks Landon to be a major character in a thoughtful play written by her father. Attachment builds up between them together in a sensitive yet appealing way. Somewhere between helping the orphans, collecting charity, practicing at the rehearsals, and walking home together the duo fall in love. A gentle romantic love. Nothing demanding, nothing destructive. And just when the flowers of love bloomed, a storm came by and scattered the petals. Jamie is diagnosed with a rare case of leukaemia, which at that time was untreatable. As they stand together in each other’s arms on a cold breezy evening and cry their hearts out, i am sure the writer didn’t know but that scene must have broken every reader’s heart badly than any other emotion faced in real life. Well it broke mine real bad. The novel depicts how a genuine goodness and god fearingness (if that is a word) can totally redirect a detoured person’s life. Jamie with all her forgiving nature, simplicity, patience and utmost trust and faith in God was able to not only win Landon’s heart but also changed the life of the people of Beaufort. And maybe even mine. Anyway, as time is running out for Jamie, Landon tries his best to do whatever he can to make lasting memories with her. He reads the Holy Bible with her, helps at the orphanage she loves, comforts her and her distraught father. When his heart doesn’t get peace he recalls about the one thing that Jamie dreamt off that she would love to do. When it hits Landon, he makes up his mind. He decides to get married to Jamie. His Jamie, his ailing Jamie, his beloved Jamie. And nothing wrenches the heart more in the novel than the way the wedding scene is written. No matter how much in pain and suffering Jamie was in, she walked down the isle, to marry the one man she loved with all her heart. And that was definitely a walk to remember forever.
This novel also reminded me of my walk on my wedding night. When the person I loved the most, held my hand and I squeezed his hand tighter and we walked down the stage to our car, that should be the walk I should remember all my life. Just the way Jamie said to Landon that I will pray for you, I prayed for my love too. And yes , by God’s grace I am beside him today. But maybe if Jamie got to live in the novel I would know how the magic remained. But alas I am left to figure out a way to untangle my headphone wire-type of life all by myself. This is certain that if Jamie would survive she would have been the same God fearing pleasant person she always was. I am not that sort. But I could try to be. Maybe that would brighten up the lustre in my misty life.
I know my review can never ever do justice to this beautiful novel. Those who wholeheartedly believe in true love, and believe that love is a sacred beautiful sentiment of life will cry tears every time they come across the novel. An extremely excellent read for all ages. Even if this novel gets scripted into a movie, nothing can beat the string of words the author has used to tug at the reader’s heart. Hats off to Nicholas Sparks. This novel has made me contemplate on my life in a very new and better perspective. As Jamie puts it, It’s the Lord’s plan!

My Best Buddy



Best friends are like diamonds. They are found very rare. They are precious and special. My best buddy is Sameen Khan. Although we live poles apart in this country we still have our friendship as strong as ever. We first met as colleagues in Saad Specialist Hospital, AlKhobar.I have had many special moments with her since then. Sameen is a true example of a perfect best friend. She is so good to confide that I can share anything with her. She is totally understanding. She is quite fashionable and has awesome sense of humour. The best thing about my friend is that she shares a lot of same interests with me. I love my love my best friend Sameen very very much!
The above sounds like a typical best friend essay. But no, every word is true in every essence. I don’t get very comfortable with everyone. But my inner circle is dearer to me than life itself. And a beautiful part of my life is Sameen. A daughter of an urdu writer and hailing from a well educated family, Sameen herself has so many beautiful qualities that are hard to find in a good friend.
We both have a passion for an adventurous and fast paced life. True there are things that are distinct to each of us, but they are as dear to us as our similarities.
The base of a solid relationship is pure selflessness. And the best formula for a well lived life is to make the most of each day by having the right people around us.
I am so grateful to God Almighty for crossing our paths and joining us together for life. My buddy deserves to have the best in this world and the hereafter.