Me. Uni. Time. & then There are These Awards

I used to have time and creativity. My brains used to have the capacity to think and contemplate. Then I got admission in the university. A flurry of events have happened since then. A couple of months back, all I would do was read and eat and sleep, then repeat. Now, I don't have time! All I get to think about is tests and projects and presentations. I miss myself. I miss what I used to do with my time.

But, anyways..

This post is basically for two sweet personages Aqsa & Tanya

Guys! Thanks a lot for the awards. I'd have loved to play that little award game but, well, it's gonna consume my time and that would be the last thing I'd want to do.

If you're neither Aqsa nor Tanya, let me fill you in. Aqsa thinks my blog deserves a Liebster Blog Award & Tanya thinks I have a Creative Blog. That's sweet of them. Let me post the awards here:

As My Memory Flips Back The Pages..

Every day when my dad would come back from work, I would run towards him. He would take his shoes off and I would ask the same question from him a thousand times in a row, like a broken record, until he would finally answer me.

“Have I got admitted to the school?”

“Have I got admitted to the school?”

“Have I got admitted to the school?”

…

“Not yet, Yusra!”

And then I would frown and start praying for that day to come quick and with that I would picture a school building. Every time when I thought about school, I couldn’t help but imagine a dark room with a fat lady sitting between two piles of sacks, scrutinizing the class. That fat lady was what I thought how a school teacher looked like.

One day, to my extreme happiness, my dad told me that we were going to the school and it dawned upon me that I would have to take a test before the admission because that’s how children get admitted to the school. My mom dressed me up and my dad drove us to the school. On our way, I asked my mom what I was going to be asked. She told me that I was taught all the basics at home so I did not have to worry, it would not be difficult for me. We reached the school and it looked nothing like what I had imagined. A big gate. A large school ground with swings, surrounded by a good number of classrooms that I couldn’t event count. Oh, so that’s how a school actually looks like. I highly doubt that I managed to see that view without dropping my jaw.

My mom was right. I knew just about everything on the test. The Urdu/English alphabets. The forward and backward counting. Spellings of some words. The first and second kalma. It was a piece of cake and that too with generous amount of chocolate sauce for me. Of all the tests I’ve taken in my life, this was the easiest one. The principal smiled at me and patted my cheeks and told me that I did great on the test and gave me a juice pack and a bag of chips.

I got admitted to the school.

I woke up early in the morning for my first day of school. Out of sheer excitement, I didn’t even want to eat my breakfast. Mom dressed me in my school uniform and did my hair. With my school bag perched on my back, I shoved my feet into my new shiny brown shoes and my mom stooped down to buckle them up for me. While buckling my shoes, she looked up at me, smiled and said, “Don’t forget this day and time when you grow up.” I had no idea what to say to her, so I just smiled back at her. That was a five-year-old’s response. A way of ensuring her mom that this day would be remembered. Forever. So, right then and there I promised myself that I would not let this day slip out of my memory.

And now it’s safe to say that after all those years, I still haven’t failed to keep my promise that I had once made to myself in secrecy.

My dad dropped me off at school. The day I had been waiting for eagerly had finally come. He came inside the school with me and took me to the principal’s office. The principal asked a lady worker at the school to show me the way to my classroom. My dad kissed me goodbye and told me he would come to take me home when the school hours were over. Being left in absolute unfamiliar surroundings and watching my dad leave me in the hands of a perfect stranger was that episode of my imagination about First Day Of School which I never watched. My heart started pounding in my ears and I tried in vain to keep myself from crying. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go sit in a classroom. I didn’t want to discover more about that school. I just wanted to run back to my dad. I wanted to go home. All I could see around me was an enormous building and alien faces. I was crying. The people at school were brutal. Like robots with no feelings, they watched me cry my eyes out but no one took me back to my dad. I was taken to the classroom instead.

I was assigned a roll number. 43. It took me a while to settle down and observe my surroundings. This time, too, the scene around me caught me by surprise. There were no piles of sacks and no fat teacher. Instead, what I saw before me was a big black rectangular thing on which, a pretty, happy faced teacher was scribbling down the English alphabet in different colors. Fat? No! Fat was absolutely not the word for her. With time, I started to acknowledge what I was seeing in my vicinity.

The bell rang after sometime and everyone started to get out of the classroom in pairs, with lunchboxes in their hands. This is lunch break, I was told. A girl, (let’s just call her ‘The Nice Girl’) while leaving the classroom with her friend, halted where I was seated and said that I could come with her if I wanted to. I didn’t have any friends to have my lunch with. I hesitated a bit at first but then I realized I was a total loner at this new place so I took my lunch box out of my brand spanking new school bag and tagged along beside her.

I don’t know why but I have always been the weird one since my childhood. I have weird desires now and I had weird desires back then. I wanted to see how school toilets looked like. I decided to ask The Nice Girl to take me to the lavatory but I found it so embarrassing to tell her that I only wanted to go to the loo just because I wanted to see it. I thought she would laugh at me. Even though she was really really nice, it still seemed a bit embarrassing to me. So I fibbed. I told her I wanted to go the loo really bad. She, being as nice as she could, told her friend that she was going to show this new girl (that was me, of course) the way to the loo and she handed our lunch boxes to her friend and said that we would eat our lunch once we get back from the lavatory.

So instead of eating my lunch and playing on the swings, I was heading towards the toilets just to see how they looked like at the school. The Nice Girl took me where the school toilets were. She stayed outside while I went inside and counted the number of toilet doors. After examining that place, I came out concluding that I didn’t really like the school toilets. Too small. The classrooms were a lot better. Wide and colorful.

I was feeling hungry and so was The Nice Girl. She suggested that we should start munching on what our mommies had packed for us before the bell rings. So we got back to where her friend was but what I saw next brought back that I-want-to-go-home-RIGHT-NOW feeling within me. Her friend was not at all nice like she was. She had hogged on my lunch. She was laughing devilishly, running around the school ground still chewing on the last bite of my lunch and giving me that same bully look they show in those school bully movies. She was just making me want to kill her. But I couldn’t kill her of course. Standing in the middle of the school ground, helpless like a fish out of water, I broke into a fountain of tears and cried my heart out. The Nice Girl got all mad on her friend. She told her that she was a bad girl and tried to calm me down from crying by offering me her lunch. Although, feeling like it was the end of the world, after all that had happened, somewhere in between the weeping and the longing to see my parents' faces, I couldn’t help thinking how nice, caring and sweet The Nice Girl was. I wonder if I had told her that. I highly doubt I had though.

Nevertheless, I made a friend that day.

I had learnt a lot that day. Like how hard and challenging it was to say goodbye to your loved ones. And that the school classrooms didn’t have piles of sacks. And that the teachers did not necessarily have to be fat. I finally knew how school toilets looked like. But above and beyond all, I had learnt that I could then proudly call someone my friend.

The Holy Month's Crescent Shows Up!

Groping in the dark, around the circle of her life, days after days, weeks after weeks, months after months, carrying along her luggage of sins, iniquity and guilt with the feeling that it was weighing her down with every stride, she stepped inside this discrete month. It was brightly illuminated, substantially sparkling vividly with its luminosity and teeming with its boons and blessings, ready to take away her culpable, hefty luggage from her and where she could easily sought refuge from the sins. A sanctuary. Once having entered, who would possibly want to leave this divinely illuminated room without benefiting oneself to the greatest extent?

She had stepped inside this month called Ramadan.

"Ramadan moon has been sighted in Pakistan and the muslims of Pakistan will observe their first roza tomorrow."

I get to hear this statement once a year and it has never failed to send a little quiver of excitement and happiness up my spine until now.

Sculpting my feelings into a sentence, as simply as it can get, I can only say that I love Ramadan. Despite the fact that I’m a big time foodie and that I can hardly go an hour without stuffing my mouth, I still have a specific reverence for this month. Now it can be a mere natural Muslim instinct or a holy diversion from the rest of the monotonic months of the year. Whatever might be the reason, it makes me a happy person. Having to wake up and eating at an inky black time and holding back my hunger till the dusk would sound next to impossible for my insatiable appetite, during the rest of the year. But in Ramadan, it sounds so normal to me. It seems like Allah thrusts upon you the blessing of remaining patient throughout the day while you are fasting.

Blessing; a beautiful word having a beautiful meaning. One of the problems of paramount importance is that we take this word for granted. Instead of purifying our souls by breathing in the sacred atmosphere of Ramadan, we take it as a mere religious responsibility, completely turning an irreverent attitude towards the holy month’s blessings and boons it brings along with it.

Allah is the kindest of all. My mom always says that Allah wants to omit His people’s sins by the great downpour of these little blessings that could help them raise the level of their good deeds higher. Having the ability to perceive these blessings, in order to devote ourselves to be a part of it, is a blessing in itself. Not everyone has this ability. People turn a blind eye towards it, unknowingly getting themselves deprived of those godsends. Obliviousness is a misfortune. Trying to gain the best you can from this overloaded phase of blessings is the greatest present you can give to your soul. This must be our Ramadan resolution.

I’m so ready for collecting these blessings and munching on the savory Ramadan delights.

By the way, isn't getting to sniff the smell of scrumptious iftari after the whole day of starvation counted as a blessing as well? Yeah, exactly! We owe a super great deal of thanksgiving to Allah!

Happy Ramadan guys!

Hi! I'm A Cat. Meow.

I have a horrible attention span. Or maybe I just try to over stuff by brain cells with random futile happenings. My memory is not horrible though. I can still recall some of the events from my babyhood. When I tell my family about how I still remember some of those episodes from when I was just a toddler, they laugh at me and mock me and say I make up stuff. I still remember the time when I was just 2, sitting down on the floor of my grand ma’s living room, eating lunch with my family when I suddenly got up with a piece of roti in my hand, headed towards the door that opened to the porch, sat down there and started making little crumbs of that roti to feed the line of ants that was passing along the doorline. My mom got so excited seeing me doing this act that she wasted no time, grabbed a camera and snapped my picture at that very instant.

I don’t really remember the part where my mom gets excited, though.

This picture, however, I suppose, is an alibi of her excitement.

Give your eye retinas a try, But you won't find the ant line in this pic. 

I have a horrible attention span, I forgot what I was going to write about.

Do you remember those cameras that needed a film reel to be put inside it? Ahh! Good ol’ days. That film had to go for developing and we had to experience the wait before seeing the results of our immature photography. The excitement coming along with those developed photos used to be immense. I miss those times. Even though this digital camera stuff has made our lives a lot easier, still it can't seem to level up with the charm our old film reel cameras used to bring about.

I have an attention deficit disorder, this is not what I was going to write about in this post.

Threading a needle is not an easy task, on the other hand. I just threaded a needle for my mom. It requires massive skills and the accomplishment brings along a great deal of pleasure. I still can’t tie a knot at the end of the thread though. I just twist the two ends of the thread together and then twist them again and keep on doing it until it forms, what I would like to call it, a knot.

I am predominantly hyperactive-impulsive. This actually means that I have a very short attention span.

Today marks the end of my driving lessons. I can now take my friends out for drive, burn rubbers on the road with the windows down while blasting P!ATD at maximum volume.

That actually would not happen. Let’s just call it one of my loud reveries.

My attention span is… Got it? Yeah.

On my way to the academy today, I saw Sam Winchester, in shalwar qameez, sauntering on the road. I was about to shriek out in excitement only before I took a closer look upon him and concluded that he was actually a mirror image of Sam Winchester. A Pathan dude, I’m certain, he was. I strongly believe there’s an ancestral link between Pathans and American/English people. Blond hair, fair skin, colored eyes. It must be about two families who got parted back in the time and moved to the opposite ends of the world after separation, originating Pathans in the east and Americans/English in the west.

Ok that was stupid, or maybe I’m right?

My attention span is even shorter than an ant’s eye.

Friday is one blessed day of the week. While I was heading back home, I saw rows of namazis stretching out on the road from the masjid, as the great crowd of namazis was getting the masjid short on space. The view made me so proud. I was absorbed in an undefined happiness when I saw those guys reading namaz in the scorching sun without even any shade upon their heads to protect them from the maddening heat.

Also, almost every other guy was wearing a cap, for it was Jumma today and they all looked so clean and orderly and crescent fresh in nicely pressed shalwar qameez. It looked like they were wearing a Jumma uniform.

See, that’s how easily I can get distracted. This too, is not what I was going to write about.

I still think there is a tinge of rightness about that Pathan ancestral history hypothesis I’ve proposed above, though.

I have an attention span of a…. hey, I love fireworks!!

I'm Such A Ditcher!

No seriously I am. This blog was created 4 years ago and it got so much dedication back then, oh you can’t even imagine. Then something strange (only if I could go back in time and see what) happened that got me over this blog-o-phobia and I ditched this blog, like a boss. Life, I don’t see how, went on for four legit years without me blogging my heart out. Then came stumbling, tumblr and got me all fantasized for what was living inside it. So I signed up there and started tumblr-ing, knowing this very fact in the back of my head that I already do have a blog on blogspot that only needs some renovation before it’s presentable enough to stand among its fellow blogs. That thought, however, got shot with a machine gun every time it tried to peep its head and saw me getting lost in the tumblr world, playing with words personifying my thoughts, telling me to go back to where it all started from. The awareness of the existence of this blog never died, though. Only lord knows, what made me sign in here, a few days ago to see my old bloggy still sitting there where I had left it brutally with no intentions of looking back at it and only lord knows what kind of voodoo magic this bloggy did on me that I couldn’t help but started editing it, for I saw many new things went on here while I was gone. And as selfishly as you could only think, I copied my blog posts from tumblr to here. In all honesty, I missed blogspot. Tumblr is nothing like it. Yeah a bit fancy maybe, but even that can’t make me turn my back on blogspot, ONCE AGAIN! So with summing up the four years of me wearing a backpack of my thoughts and running between blogspot and tumblr, I hereby ditch tumblr this time, with this very first post which is actually MEANT to be posted here.

Hi, Blogspot! Super freaking long time..

Adios, Tumblr! So freaking long fella.. Tissue box?

Need I say once again? I’m such a ditcher!

The Day I Had My First Ever Job Interview

I was just purposelessly scrolling down the Facebook page of Güzel, my sister had left open on my laptop, when I saw this job availability status, there. Güzel is a multi designer fashion store, which got open in my city a couple of months back. I didn’t know we had it here in our city, until Roxen happened to perform there. The vainness that was dwelling inside me, made me email them to see if there was any suitable job post available for me. I got a reply to come there, the next day. I had absolutely no intention of applying for a job, but taking a year out from studies, and spending vain hours at home made me thought, maybe I should go for it. So I asked my dad to take me to Güzel for my first ever job interview.

That day, in a nut shell, was a day filled with turmoil for my dad. For me, on the other hand, it was fun. We set off for our destination. My dad also had to drop off my sister for she was running late for work. The direct path to that road was blocked by the agitated public, protesting against load shedding, so my dad had to take the indirect path instead. That cost him a good half of an hour as the indirect road was also thickened with traffic. Nevertheless, we reached there, dropped off sissy and began the search of Güzel. After dragging the car in random neighboring roads to Güzel, we finally found the right road & then discovered what we had been searching for, ultimately. As I entered inside the gate of Güzel, I asked the watchman if that guy, whom I had emailed to, was available there. He nodded and showed me the way inside. I had quite got which way to go to by myself though, but still I think it was nice of him for directing me inside the shop. So I stepped inside with my eyes locating for a guy figure but all I could see was two girls, who were more likely the sales assistants, and some exquisite dresses hanging on the hangers. Normally people going for job interview get a bit nervous, I have no idea why I wasn’t feeling anything at all. I think that was a bit abnormal of me. Anyway, one of them girls asked my name, buzzed on the boss’s intercom, “Somebody named Yusra would like to meet you” and gestured the other girl to take me to the boss’s room. As the other girl was ushering me to his room, my mind was portraying the boss’s face. That was the only instant I felt a bit scared because what my mind had sketched was a man with furious face, creased eyebrows and a round shiny head semi circled by patch of hair from one ear to the other on the back of his head. That was because everyone I know picture their boss in such a scary manner that my mind couldn’t help but portray that face. But to my relief, I saw nothing like that when I opened the door of his room. Pheww! was the very sudden involuntary sound produced by me. After that, some light questions were fired upon me and I returned the answers correspondingly. Although, while I was in the middle of the interview, I got quite convinced that this was not the job for me. Still, the very first experience of me giving a job interview was subtly great. I’m marking this date in my “the-very-first-things-done-by-me” calendar. June 22, 2012 was the day of my very first job interview!!!!! (Please mind my excitement, I do get thrilled about trivial episodes of my life)

NOT regretting my decision of applying in Güzel, I came out of that place and sat in the passenger’s seat of the car. I absolutely knew how my dad was going to respond to the job situation I had put down before him. The response was not in affirmation of course. But that did not upset me. I didn’t quite want to do that job either. But I really liked the shop though. I must plan to go there with my sisters, someday. If you’re reading this and are a girl and are from Peshawar, please go and visit that place once. Ravishing dresses, oh you’re going to love them.

What happened later, made my dad overwrought big time. We drove off from there and on our way back home, the car engine started to heat up so my dad had to pull up the car every now and then to pour the water in that overheated radiator. After a couple of pouring-water-in-the-radiator sessions, it dawned upon my dad that the car radiator was leaking. This great event took place while our car was submerged amid the neighboring cars in the stream of traffic. When the traffic started to rupture gradually and my dad finally got to press the accelerator, another distressing news broke in and that was the news of TIRE FLATTENING! Yeah so my dad managed to steer the car off the road and inside a CNG station and started to change the flat tire. The very next worry was to repair the flat tire before the spare tire or any other of the three remaining tires gets punctured too. With that, the pursuit of ‘the tire repair’ shop commenced. So we found a shop, got the punctured tire inflated and put it back in its original spot while the spare tire went back in the trunk. This event was followed by the CNG refill event, where me and my dad finally found something to drink as that over 40 degrees hot weather had sucked up the water from our bodies. We gluged down the drinks and dad hauled the car to join the traffic once again. After the crawling, dragging and inching the car closer to the one ahead of us, we finally aced through the traffic and arrived our house after the anguishing four hours(for my dad, THAT IS) I enjoyed every occasion that had happened. Yes you’re allowed to call me crazy.

The traffic scenario. I loved the sudden weather change when we got stuck in the traffic.

The new radiator cap, my dad had bought, was absolutely of no use.

Notice the tires in the background? Yeah, that’s me at a tire repair shop, waiting for our car’s tire’s turn to get inflated.

Dealing With The Feeling

There are a variety of feelings I experience in a day. Happy, gloomy, excited, nervous, jealous, angry, irritated, ecstatic and many other kinds that I can’t even remember to scribble down because I’m still under the spell of the feeling I sensed today. Not that it was a positive feeling, but it sure did transfix me for a moment. I felt this new & uncommon (for me) feeling that I don’t really come across with. Or I think maybe I was too naïve to sense it before now.

I was strolling in my academy, waiting for my instructor to come when I saw this very cute kitten sitting on the pathway. I have always adored kittens & I desperately want to own one but sadly my parents don’t like pets so I cannot keep them in my house. So as my sight fixed upon that cute little creature, my feet comprehended the order and dragged me towards it. I, in a very playful manner started calling it by different names. Meow-ed at it. Snapped my fingers to attract it towards me and did some weird hand movements, all to get it attracted. The kitten was staring at me like its mind was perceiving a funny figurine of mine. It continued staring with its super innocent button eyes by keeping its head on its forelimbs. I reckoned it wanted me to come close and pat it, so I moved an inch more closer to it but as soon as I moved, it twitched, stood up, and defended itself by creeping inside the pipe it was sitting upon, through a hole, and disappeared into thin air. I thought, maybe I scared it with my hand movement. Disenchanted, I stood up and walked away towards the office to see if my instructor had come or not. There was no sign of him so I started strolling on the same track once again. As soon as I turned my back to the office I saw that very same kitten sitting in the very same spot it was reclining upon, before it went into the pipe. Unable to restrain my affection towards kittens, I started moving towards it once again and tried to create a playful atmosphere, but this time with a comparatively reassuring and comforting manner. I tried to make a few sounds that helped me make it motionless and it started staring at me with an intent look. So I stretched out my hand to pat it but this time once again, it disappeared in its shelter in a split second. My hand was still there where it’s “unpatted” body had been. But the kitten itself was long gone and disappeared. It came out again after a minute but whenever it sensed my pace towards it, it ran away from me. That was the moment when I sensed this feeling. The feeling of rejection it was. I don’t usually experience it, call it my good luck or call me blessed but this sporadic feeling sure made me feel so down for a while.

Coda: Come’on that was just a kitten. Next time I see any kitten, I’m going to attract it towards me by feeding it. That, I suppose, is the best way to make a cat like you.

From The Diary Of A Socially Phobic Niece

We all have annoying aunties in our family, right? The ones who keep talking about our future because their interest in our lives holds a special place in their minds. I have one too. Err, actually I’m dealing with more than one such creatures. It’s hard to keep up with them & their “I’m-about-to-make-your-ears-bleed” talk.

I have this aunty who got a catch phrase of her own. Particularly when she’s talking to me, I guess. And that catch phrase is “Tumhara number abi bohat door hai”

IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

I’m the youngest one among my sisters. Whenever my aunt sees them doing the chores, she goes “Baqi behanein to mehman hai, tum kaam kro tumhara number abi bohat door hai” Gets me all nettled. Seriously. Last time she said that I fired back at her. I said “Oh who knows aunty, maybe I’d get married first” (just to make her quite down of course) and it worked. For like a minute, I guess. She went still. I won (for that very moment I did win actually). But then she felt a little embarrassed about losing to ME so she started coming up with some pretty lame rejoinders.

Ohkay well here’s the deal. I keep thinking about it. When my sisters would get married, they’d leave the house, obviously, and their chores would be thrusted upon me because when there’d be nobody else at home to do the chores, mum dad would obviously call me to get them all done. So, in the long run, I am the one who’d be doing all those chores, right?? Verifying the intensive thinking of my brains, I felt like… Ah! Genius!! And put across those thoughts to her. I told her that being the youngest sister actually meant that you must show some mercy to me for I would be doing all those chores in the longest time possible. We must be given at least the same number of chores for the sake of stopping sibling rivalry. Her extremely non creative mind used my very own comeback against me and she said, “Oh who knows maybe you’d get married first and leave the house, so now go get to work.” :/ Child labor, I say. This is child labor.

This other aunty, she keeps worrying about my height. I’m kind’a tall. This, normally, is perceived as a blessing by girls. But for me, it has been a curse so far. I mean their stupid talk makes me feel like I have height issues. Although I’m not “that” tall. But oh well I am the the tallest sibling, the tallest (girl) cousin & the tallest one among my friends. My eldest sister, well she doesn’t even let me wear heels. She says I look like a giant in heels. Oh & did I mention that I LOVE HEELS?!!! But I really can’t recall the last time I wore them. I think I’ve never worn any. Never in my life time. I tried to wear them in a family gathering once, 3 years ago & I still remember what kind of harsh talk I had to hear when my sister saw me wearing those heels so she went all mad on me. I always wear flats everywhere and anywhere. *sobs* Life can be such a letdown, at times. Well, Ok, now getting back to the aunty issue, it once happened when I was sitting at a cousin’s house with my family (the word family includes ‘that height conscious aunt’ as well), when I suddenly had to get up to get some stuff done. As soon as I got up, she went “oh hey, are you wearing heels?” *looked down at my feet* I was wearing NO HEELS obviously. Then she continued, “You’re growing taller day by day. Give it a break.” and guess what did she say next… “Aur lambi hui to tumhare size ka koi nae mile ga” I went completely defunct! She said that to me on my face!!! Meany aunty. Meany Meany aunty!

Another aunty, she thinks I’m still a kid. So whenever I go to her house or she comes to mine, she treats me like a baby. Which is nice, at times, rarely, very rarely though. But most of the times, its irritating. I mean I like being pampered and all but that’s something different, she treats me as a kid & I would actually NOT call that pampering. It’s just being treated as a kid. It’s annoying.

Ok, I guess I must not give a damn anymore.

P.S. iWhine -_____-

It’s Mother’s Day!! (Yet Another Day Skillfully Saved By Mom Herself)

I know how they say, there shouldn’t be only one day reserved for showing your mother that she does exist and that mothers should be loved all year around and stuff like that.

But I say.. Heyyyy! I love my mum every single day of the year but how about making this one day super duper extra special for her.

How much time do you spend with your mum, telling her how blessed you feel, having her around? Not a lot, I’m guessing, considering the very fact that you’re staring at your computer screen right now instead of spending this time with your mom. So why not let’s just make this one day maybe a bit more extra special for her.

 My day started with a huge hug and suuuuuper pecks on my mum’s cheeks. :) Which I do almost everyday. But today she felt extra special which is an amazing feeling I tell you. Hey, if you still haven’t given your mum a big grand hug followed by a perfect kiss, Stop reading this & go do it now!

Whenever you think of making a day special for someone, the first thing that comes in your mind is FOOD, right? No? Uhh, Well okay I guess those kind’a thoughts dwell inside my mind only. I considered I should make something yummy & sweet because, you know, in my thesaurus, dessert is another word for celebration. (How pensive of me, eh? I mean, oh come on! Who could ever think of making a dessert for their mum on mother’s day? An unquestionably innovative idea! *pats herself*) Well bringing some practicality to my thoughts, I stood up, dragged myself into the kitchen and made some yummaaay trifle for her (which I kinda ate all by myself) Mum ate that too. She actually loved & ‘cherished’ that trifle. *feeling adored*. For the evening feed, I baked some brownies for her that err, well.. uh.. actually got burnt. I know I know. How embarassing, right? But who could come to the rescue at that moment. That’s right, AMMI!!! I knew mum was the only person who could make it right. So I called her and apprised her of the situation.

She saved the brownies.

My saviour<3

She actually made them look & taste EDIBLE, by doing some kind of magic. I don’t know, she’s a wizard I guess. MOM SAVED THE MOTHER’S DAY! *sheepish grimace*

Oh well…

Those brownies were delish! I ate those too. :P

Nonetheless, my mum felt loved. :) & that’s what matters most.

<3

A little message for my Ammi. :D

I just can’t thank you enough for making it right ,Every.Single.Time!

YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF AWESOMENESS

I love you to infinity & beyond!

P.s. Next time, I’m gonna make you the PERFECT brownies ever.*takes pledge*

 HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

BY THE WAY..

The very famous TV channel, GEO celebrated the mother’s week by telecasting a special “mother’s day” drama every night. My mom watched all of those DEPRESSING AS HELL dramas everyday and trust me, after watching  every single “mother’s day special” drama she felt down in the dumps. Stupid TV channels. Why do they always have to show an insubordinate child and a mum who passes away at the end of every story. Why can’t they end it in a happier way. Well, Ammi! just so you know, I’m never gonna be one of those sick children you watched in those sickening dramas.

I’m never gonna ditch you. NEVER EVER! You have my word<3

The Ufone Ghanta Package Can Go Straight To Hell

I never thought I’d hate Ufone this much.. My tragic story… :(

Err… so I was like having this real nice time tweeting from my phone & checking out some pretty funny hashtags when suddenly my phone started ringing. I so wasn’t expecting any calls at 11:00 P.M so it kind’a teensy weensy tiny bit startled me. It was my one of my aunties. I thought, why is she calling me? :s Got a little confuzzled, dragged my thoughts out of the twitter world & picked up the phone. And being on my best of my behaviour, I uttered, “Asslamoalikum, aunty. Kesi hain?” …and after le typical exchange of greetings, she told me she called on my no. because (unfortunately) she had the same phone network as me and that she had subscribed this “Ghanta package” so that she could gossip the night away with my mom.

ARE YOU KIDDING MEEE?!?!?!

Those words… they fell upon me like a thunderbolt (oh well, dramatic much) No but seriously, that basically meant I won’t be using my phone for one whole hour ‘cause ofcourse it’d be with my mum. Ahh, so I faked a happy reply in return, like “Yayyy, one whole hour.. that’s great isn’t it greeeeeeeeeeeeatttt”

Here mum, someone wants to talk to you!! From the inside, I was like.. Die Ufone Die!!

Things to do: get my mom a UFONE sim.