Lessons Learnt the Hard Way

I rested my head against the car window, adjusting my angle to avoid the sharp noon sun rays. They filtered through the thinning foliage of the young tree that caressed the car door. I looked up lazily. She was not a big thing, young - but not too young. She had not seen many winters I suppose, but enough at least, to give me respite against the glare of the sun, the kind of glare that looks specially sharper in the midst of winter. Until then, I had not noticed the tiny red flowers that were scattered scantily all over her branches. They danced in the soft breeze, carelessly, along with their green counterparts. The beauty of the scene mesmerized me, until nothing in my peripheral vision existed any longer. Suddenly, it was just her and me.

I've lived the better part of my childhood and adolescence abroad, and 2/3 of my married life as well. I no longer live abroad nor am I married either. As I reflect on the past, things around me become more clear, and I begin to appreciate what I had always taken for granted before. The most significant thing that I am truly and most humbly grateful for is for my very own city, my abode and my savior, my city Karachi. I realize that most of my Karachi readers, or Pakistani readers at that, will be wondering what the hell I am talking about. I get it. You've heard of political unrest, polluted streets, lack of basic amenities, the list goes on and on...it appears to be uninhabitable- a jungle- a place of mass hysteria. Whilst there is a morsel of truth in all the above, the horror stories are ridiculously exaggerated. But that is besides the point, let me show you how I see Karachi... Aerial View of a Part of Karachi

I've often asked myself, when I am dead, who will mourn me? Oh I'm not talking about my parents, or siblings- people connected by blood who are genetically wired to feel grief on such occasion. I'm talking about other people. Who'll come to my funeral thinking, hey you know this lady, she was really something! When she was alive, she taught me something, she gave me hope, I looked up to her, she was good person. The truth is, I don't know. I know my beautiful children will probably not be there. No one will be there saying, my mother is dead. And so as I reflect deeply on such matters, that my life can't just end in a poof, like the rabbit in a magician's hat, I ponder over what I will leave behind in my wake by way of legacy. Nothing worldly matters once you've enter the great unknown, I know this, I mean what will I care when I'm headed to meet my Maker; except the deeds I take with me. Not my money, not my kids, nothing except my bare sou

As mentioned in my previous post, I am often struck with inspiration by the most insignificant of things. Anything can become my muse. Today, I was compelled to write about your, average, normal everyday child. Children, by nature, especially the younger primary school going variety, are pretty honest creatures. Though their loyalties are fickle and given the chance, the next candy yielding teacher will become their 'favourite', their innocence and their unwavering optimistic approach to life is truly inspiring. We adults, hardly ever take time to delve on the coping mechanisms of young children, yet alone derive important lessons- nay- life skills from their behaviour. As of late, I am constantly tuning in on the goings on around me on an acute level. I have a filter system in my head that automatically negates the unpleasant, but tiny random acts of kindness, positivity and resilience have begun to resonate within me and rekindles the hope within my heart that hu

There is an image in my head. It's been quite a few days, but it has not faded. It was a fleeting thing. The type of thing nobody would give a second thought to. I also remember thinking it's funny how even mundane things can be a source of inspiration, but more on that later. There was a little sparrow, dipping its beak with rapid precision, smack right in the middle of the traffic junction, in a little puddle of murky water. It was oblivious to the moving seas of cars swishing past. The puddle was in the 'neutral zone' of the junction- right in the center where no cars could overlap. In all fairness, it is Karachi and the traffic can get out of hand at any given second, yet this bird knew only its thirst and probably noticed that this particular crevice was somehow, immune to any danger. As I looked on for a minute at its incessant task, I realized that this was such a fitting analogy of the life I currently live.

How many of us out there are leaders? The truth is, we are all leaders in some capacity or the other. We may not hold the reins to any country, but we are all masters of, if nothing else, our own thoughts and actions. But..  Life, as it were, is so fast-paced. It's just wake up, to work, to lunch, to home, tuck the kids in and back to work the next morning. And it is repeated, day after day after day. I can imagine a bird's eye-view of rush hour traffic. Traffic jams, people scurrying about like ants. cars moving along perfectly aligned on the motorways. And this is what? It's all good, don't get me wrong. We are performing a basic function of life, namely making a living, just as we should and are expected to. We are expected to do a lot more which we may not agree with, stemming mostly out of necessity and having no choice. For instance... Things like taking the humiliation and extra hours your boss hands out while he takes a Caribbean Cruise. Things like

Ms. Zablocki really hit the bulls eye when it comes to the basic philosophy of life. The piece of literature below is both touching and self revealing. We lead rushed lives, every day passing by, turning into weeks that turn into months and hence years go by. Though I love the message at the end, that we need to try and slow down some, catch a breath, relax, enjoy the moment; whether it be indulgence in that book you've been wanting to read for ages, or the relishing of the dessert you always loved, or just to capture your child's smile with your inner eye, we need to slow down. Many or most of us, sadly, don't push the pause button nearly as much as we should. As for me, the entire chain of events described above was fatefully interrupted and I ended up with a non-disputable halt after number 3. That's only half way right to the bottom. Now, none of us know when we are going to die, that is a variable that will put a halt anywhere- but sometimes life just ha

The other day, at a traffic light I was thinking about how it always seemed to be red and the resulting annoyance that stemmed from the wait. As the car moved on (slowly because of some disturbance ahead), my sight fell upon a young man on a motor bike right at the front of the line at the perpendicular junction. At first, the impression was not clear and instinctively I looked again, arching my neck back a little as the car moved forward (now speeding up). It must have been an issue with my eyes because what I thought I saw at first glance couldn't possibly be real. This was the shock. At second glance, it turned out my eyes were in perfect working condition. And this is what I saw...

I don't think you would argue that the greatest possible grief in the world is a result of the death of a loved one, more so if that loved one is your child. It is a pain nobody would wish upon his enemy. I am not sure if where I stand is better off or worse, maybe you could tell me (with all due respect to those brave parents who have suffered the loss of a child). I wrote in my previous post (read it here ) that I have made peace with my fate, that I will in all probability never see my kids again who are countries apart from me. There is my tiny baby in the same city which I reside, but even of that, I am not sure. I hope she has now reached her other six siblings where she rightly belongs. I don't know which fate is worse, the death of a child, or to forever lose seven, one of whom I lost before I even had a chance to explore her tiny hands and feet. But the idea of having her taken away after a couple of years by which time she would have bonded with me was a fate I

It's not easy for me to open up about anything. I've been a very private person all my life. Suffice it to say, it took a lot of contemplating before I actually sat down to write this post. I mean no harm to anybody. My views are my own, and as a human being I could be wrong. I am a firm believer of faith and destiny. All good and bad is from Allah. We can only strive to make choices that we feel are founded in our values and morals. If you lose these essential qualities which is the very fabric of your existence, you will ultimately lose yourself. And so I sit here today, almost seven months since I last saw my children. Whatever happened is in the past, and I have since accepted my fate. With that acceptance came a certain amount of peace. The memories of their faces, smiles, tears and all, will forever be sketched in my heart. The one thing that will haunt me though, is knowing that I was an awesome mother to them and that I can not (regardless of sincere efforts on m