It only hurts when you name it.

We never acknowledged its presence and hence it infected us till the roots were strong enough to cripple the world itself.

Abuse; it’s funny how the love of or from people that matter the most and care the most somehow result in such absurdity sometimes. I was loved beyond a child my age could dream of, my dreams were fulfilled before I even spoke, privileged? Definitely. But even that comes at a cost. I had to pay for it with my soul, my sanity.

Shouting and screaming was usual, so usual that the volume of an average conversation was tuned up to 10 times at my home. It’s never scary if you grow up seeing it, I never thought it was wrong until I saw what it did to me, my siblings, my personality. Until it was too late.

Independence at home was proportional to winters in Canada, zero wasn’t the minimum. Authoritative only barely described the leadership at home, oh but it wasn’t all bad. Never all bad. So many gatherings at my house when the laughter echoed through the walls, so many lives aided and supported by my dear grandfather and then my parents. I’ve seen them give away so much of them, I’ve also seen people greedily take away parts so big that vacated our lives. All without gratitude, appreciation was a concept lost apparently.

They say, If I saw it as a child it should seem okay by now, but I’m sorry it doesn’t. You don’t get ‘used to’ of abuse, you just can’t be content in a life that shouts dissatisfaction from the very core. My friends assume I’d do better than them in an abusive situation because of the background that I come from, so easily they regard themselves as less compromising, how dare they?

I wish people would stop abusing others, I wish we’d mind our own businesses, I wish that souls had more glue so they wouldn’t dissipate so easily. Why has the Earth become so hostile? If I stop and count the abuse around me in a day I’d need to lay out my intestines to have enough ounces to count against.

What went wrong you ask, why are we mentally, physically, emotionally  and spiritually abused so very regularly? Because we feed fear instead of values. Abuse has become our everyday, and sadly, we relish in it.


What went Wrong?

I’m a sucker for details, from key chains to cars I notice and work on every last bit. Naturally I did the same for my wedding, only it didn’t go as planned – yikes!

First of all, yea I’m married – needless to add, happily! – Alhamdulillah. It’s been super crazy but life is settling down.

So yea wedding – I’ve been dreading it but planning it all the same, the themes and colours and dresses and entrances… all is well that ends well, but what about those that end chaotically? :p My Mehndi and Baraat themes went to the drain when the vendor decided to be a douche and not pay attention to the asked details, I would’ve cried if it weren’t for the two life saving teams that held me up throughout; my makeup artist and my photographer/videographer – my experience with the two topped the list and I decided to not panic and smile instead.

I landed in Pakistan almost two months before the wedding (and we’ve been mentally preparing ourselves since 2014 – 3 years – should be enough, right?) and still didn’t feel as though I had ample time to strike off all my wedding chores. It bugged me more than it should, I didn’t plan neither expected an extravagant wedding, nor did I went out of my way with decor and details, my preparations were very much like any ordinary bride’s would be, so why so much of a hassle? 3 months later I realised it wasn’t because weddings are hard or families troublesome ( maybe a bit, but more on that later), it’s all because of lack of honesty and sincerity among the local business communities.

I custom ordered all my dresses, some from high-end boutiques and some from stores around the Liberty market and not only the tag on these dresses differ but the entire buying experience. I wouldn’t fall into ‘money buys better’ debate at the moment but would however like to emphasise how literally our market has implemented that. Nowhere during my entire shopping haul in Pakistan did I pay for the product quality, I paid for the experience, services and convenience. Not that it’s wrong, what’s wrong is that apparently everyone’s following the same model, why dude?

A small shop in the middle of the market isn’t expected to deliver as asked in time, the product promised might infinitely differ from the product delivered (whenever that may be) and you can’t complain. You can’t complain because well you didn’t pay a lot for it, not as much as the guys on the fancier side of the street are charging. So basically the moral of the story is that I should’ve opted for venues and vendors that sit in a fancy building surrounded by lavish businesses if I wanted the product or service I will or simply make-do without it, see the fancier the brand the better because even though the others are capable they wouldn’t deliver or exert as much effort, not until you double the price. Let me clarify one thing before signing off the above said is regardless of quality, a bouquet from a florist on the street and the one in the mall have the same options and styles and flowers even, but the one on the street assumes that just because I’m paying 10 bucks less than the mall my 7 pm actually means a 9:00.

You might wonder that honesty and sincerity are only relative and that businesses all over the world follow the ‘serve better charge better’ rule but the difference here is that most people are in their profession out of obligation or duty, I hardly came across people who were enthusiastic about their work, who truly wanted to present their talent or abilities, its upsetting that vocations such as a decorator and designer are inspired more by money than the art itself. I understand that my experience is very subjective, that people might not have suffered the same with their workers, but for someone outside of Pakistan and only remotely familiar with the clever minds of the locals, dealing with suppliers and vendors was the most challenging part. I realised it too late that all I had to do to discipline them was pay a little extra.


‘There’s always room for you’, I said
‘You’re always welcome’

‘My world is nothing without you’, I said
‘You’re the sun’

‘You brighten up my days’, I said
‘You’re also weakness’

But better didn’t I know back then that my words won’t matter
that time would play its toll on what my heart savored up for you
that nothing would stay in me save for bitterness and empty space that your betrayal gifted me


Oh my Ears!

Wedding Preparation is a full time job, mind you, it requires as much of your effort and time as any other management job out there except you earn nothing but empty pockets. I was warned before but I thought its not much of a work, how stupid of me.giphy (1)

All day we’re out roaming the streets of Lahore picking out material and bargaining like our lives depend on it, nights are no better where we sort out our shopping and drain out mobile battery calling and arguing with vendors for unsatisfactory or delayed orders.


It takes indefinite time to finalize the minute details and no matter how many journals or planner apps you keep, you will forget the most significant of details till the end and even though you rummaged your brain you’ll never remember the shoes you had to pick with your favorite dress or the gift you left for wrapping at the nearest store that has been sitting there for weeks, you’ll even discount the deposit you paid at the venue or overestimate the advance to the photographer. It’s all part of the fiasco and even though it mentally drains you, it doesn’t break you down, none of this, not a hundred things, but a hundred and one does.giphy.gif

Every time one thing goes right it makes up for the million others gone wrong, all my worrying and panicking ended the second I saw my wedding dress made to my liking, the money and time spent on international calls to photographers were justified when we finally got the best offer and confirmed it. But sometimes one wrong is all that takes to wipe off the excitement out of you. The jewelry I’m to wear on my wedding day is my mother’s, I loved it the second I saw it and was quiet happy about it, quiet happy until I tried it on. The earrings to the set are dramatically huge, they weigh around 24 grams each and slaughtered my ears instead of beautifying it. It’s been 2 weeks since I tried them on and my ears are secreting weird gooey shit that collects and dries around the ear hole and aches every time I touch them. Like it wasn’t bad enough that I were to dress up in extravagant gowns and makeup, now my ears are also to be tortured.


Mama purchased a new set of earrings (tiny ones – thank Allah!) that I am to wear everyday till the wedding day in a hope that the innocent holes drilled in my normal sized ear would magnify and I get used to wearing jewelry that painfully clings to my ears – that or the gooey shit that comes out escalates blocking out the hole entirely and infecting my traumatized ear for the wedding and days after – Oh my ears!

I’d be posting more of my wedding drama this week – so bear with me fellas!


Ground and gravity

We dream to fly but hold fear of falling;

We desire the sky but hide ourselves from soaring;

We’re beings of need but of need of ours we know nothing.

To be sane, to keep moving; To stay put and keep growing, All we need is some ground and gravity.

We long for change but admire uniformity; Our souls wish light and hearts yearn warmth, a little nature and a little human, Of either the two, this world has none.

We’re beings of need but of need of ours we know nothing; we ask too much for a man made of clay,

All we need is some ground and gravity.