Pulse

Meet Sylvia Sylvester, I am sure you know her! … But no later than today, whilst you fought the conductor on that train, I can vouch you saw her, in a view so plain. … Uhm, she is not very stunning, neither ugly in terms, neither elfin or tall, nor the one you’d fall for. No, does not stand out, neither is she stale, she walks with the world, though slow in pace, can't claim her to be clever, or  a dummy for that matter, nor is her grown up self cunning neither naïve, or in fact is she too old to be called wise. She does not talk, but knows enough to express it hot, come to think… she reflects mother nature in that aspect quite a lot. I realize she’s easy to forget and hard to remember, but its important you try here, cause she  is  Sylvia Sylvester! .... Unseen, unfelt, and unheard, Sylvia does not know the words  associated with her, still by now, I am certain you know her, she is the average men's ego - Miss Sylvia Sylv

In the subcontinent you’ll find three T’s in abundance: Tea, Talk and Tuitions (being taken by students). The sudden expansion of the compulsory tutoring of every kid after school hours has coined itself as a parental ‘must-do’ notion, which in turn has students deeming it as a necessity. My confrontation with this belief came in the form of this developing school culture, where students and parents alike argued that tuitions are a form of keeping you in pace with school work, the assignments, examinations etc - an inevitable requirement.  The idea was so obviously contradictory to the core purpose of school that I could not help but disagree.  Is school not doing that to begin with? To my eyes, private tutoring can only be justified under special circumstances i.e.  If you have a serious lack of understanding on a ‘particular’ subject that results in constant failure, specifically after you’ve tried getting help from close resources: home/friends etc. Draining your own resou

   The idea of fitting in, the tight ideals of culture and society that chain us are more actively than we think it does. Some times I think if even the very idea of freedom is a cultural bound understanding and nothing more. Is life a constant loop of adaptation? If not, then why is death feared and not embraced. After all, we're dust. Destined to be swooped by the wind for more to settle. 

I have been so lost lately, I just don't know where to turn but this blog. It's a given that loneliness follows when your interests conflict with that of the crowd, but its' kind of hard to avoid that you're human and that you'd rebound to delve into humanly needs. For instance, having the right people for the right kind of conversations. I also have lately changed my reading habits, I am juggling to three books at a time ( prior to my one book at one time oath), completely blank out when I hold my pen to write, having rice sprinkled with lemon juice on it (don't even bother asking), and all I dream for breakfast, lunch and dinner is chocolate. Is this what they call mid-life crisis? No! It's just a normal next door girls' normal rant. I just called my self normal... I do need a check-up. See what I mean by not doing so well? I am constantly looking for inspiration, I often dream about my late grandfather and his stories and wish profoundly he'

The monsters fed on the silence, for the voices of logic were too catastrophic. The fear that kept quite for the sins to go louder, leading me my surrender, ready to burn through my eyes, a display of evil, I birthed with my first few lies. I think my fears are coming alive, taunting me, itching my skin from the inside, taunting me - for they lived inside all along, and I was ignorant, not wise. And we know how the ignorant end: eaten up... alive.

As illogical as it may sound, education where it should be a force to eradicate class difference does more to solidify it.  You attend school, as young naive kids, and that point you're least judgemental. Thus clearing the notion of attitudes being groomed and bred, and not natural in its raw form. Then onwards, we are at the edge of clearing school and entering college, at which point you're still evaluating people on the basis of general attributes, scaling in on the judicial scales lightly, the good,bad and the grey. Its when you enter a more materialistic life; when your outfits matters, when social judgement stands more important than ethical judgement. It's then we build in these deceitful and downright erroneous theories of class having an impact on our perceived 'esteemed way of life'. It is here I end up questioning a lot of standards we swiftly abide to, without so much so giving it a second thought.

My eyelids felt heavy, opening only to be closed again by the scorching white light. They didn't burn, for even after subsiding in pauses, journeying but softly from my irises to the brain, the light felt different, almost welcoming. It was taking me over whilst my eye lids battled and batted rapidly until it felt at one with me. From then, the brain to my toe nails, it had consumed me. Once conscious, I saw what was ahead me - pitch whiteness. I could not feel myself, just that I was there, a presence. I was neither flying nor was I detached from my body, it was somewhere between the two. Perhaps afloat? Slowly at first but at one with my thoughts the light began to fade, as I fused words, then sentences to make sense. I wonder if I was really making any. Although the light had soothed down outside, it was still caressing me gently on the inside, as if in no hurry to leave.  Royalty dawned me. My hair flowing, long and warming, partly covered with something, I say

Well I'll be damned. You my barely empty blog and it's cold reflection of my life, I summon you, yes summon to tell you how you are my only slave, friend and tutor. I learned something so cold, its almost making me feel my soul, and suffocated. Something about expectations. The expectation of not love or mercy but rather intelligence or rationality. It's rare. Given you have people all around you and only a few be there to see you tear up, you expect rationality from them. Just that... not more. I have had a brutal experience of relying on people who are apparently very righteous,  but when the time comes they surrender to bias, racist, discriminatory even brutal verdicts. Hypocrites, cowards, poltroon, iniquitous... sinful people! Why would you so much so talk about something you are not ready to implement? The last thing you get, and what you aim to achieve as you deceive with your words, is respect. And since they're close to someone, they often forget they h

   20 years old, I sit, and make big talks about life miracles and philosophies. Feeling so young in my skin at one end, like I can accomplish all my head can imagine. Where reality is dissimilar - my youth battles it, until one day, or so I presume, old age will tire me out of this battler for new warriors to fight the same way, the same war. Life is a loop. Like a combatant tediously fighting for people and against people (see loop?) I fight impossibilities and perhaps veracity.  ‘Simple’ no more a word to me - but that does not refute its existence. It is as it is. Sitting on a cosy sofa in the company of the cool breeze, all aid to the light shower in the evening and plenty so called ‘intellectual’ books on the side table I wonder why I don’t feel as passive as I should with all the ‘apparent’ thrill of young blood running in my veins and the ‘ideal’ noble framing of my scholarly surroundings. I miss simple. I miss simple emotions. I miss affection, love, care, tenderness and

 'I remember as people roughly cued by to get on the train we looked at each other for a short instance and smiled before she shied her glance away looking down at her shoes or just the floor, I couldn't make out. I was too grasped by the sweetness of it all. Before I knew it - all the people including her had boarded the train; for then I lost her sight, but once inside I tried to casually look for her. Trying to satisfy myself into thinking that it's okay to look around for a stranger like this but failing, thus shuffling my pockets and fixing my coat in a queer manner and soon quitting it to stand still upon realizing how dumb it might come off as. As quickly as my consciousness moved about from finding that girl to fixing my outlook - she appeared. And the  thoughts reversed rapidly from simply fixing my appearance to doing it for   her. Something felt poetic about the situation as I saw her eyes  too  quietly   trying to find someone - Or so I like to think what that

          I am not really sure what I am about to say will end up in coherence or not, but here goes. Have you ever observed how people, even your friends, readily accept to the sad part of things, embracing more promptly the prospects of situations, scenarios and events that bring in them a sense of hopelessness, thus enlarging a picture of self- self victimization. Well, paradoxically I’d do the same if I grab onto this issue, and make you more self conscious as already I am. In any case, that’s not what I am here to talk about. This was just the entrée to what I am preparing for you to hear next.          That is how to introduce the positive in our lives. Also, questioning why sadness is an overpowering emotion, especially in comparison to that which is happy.           I’d tell you why. It’s the lack of motivation, that’s the cause, the lack to actually reach out for the better. I believe that anything in us, to very large extends, be it our mental hea

The strongest of bond the heartiest of laughs, O Sister of mine, you redefine what's refine. Held us, you did not by the red in our veins, instead an embrace - oddly comfortingly plain unlike blood itself,  I eventually gain. So powerful,  this agreement - unseen, this knot - imaginary,  but be warn, not just illusionary. Tell me how I question not, who don't believe in the mighty, 'He' also unseen, If something so beautiful exists like you, with me. In winters  one day, like any other with you over a cup of coffee, as comforting as you you poured more than usual, what is the happy you... those oozing secrets, unheard. Withering lips, paling cheeks, moist eyes, how had the summer in you, suddenly changed to the cold outside my view. O sister of mine after years of love for you, I learned, finally discovered, a stranger's pain, and then it hurt.

This is what I spend a good hour on today. Its true, I am no Picasso BUT I do enjoy painting, the same way I enjoyed it as a kid. (P.s. everything I want to draw is 10 times more beautiful in my head,so open those imaginative horizons) 

Why persist to reside inside, when mocked you are outside? When hands to tarnish  are alert you opt to survive? I despise your resilience, oh so badly, I do it's pitiful how you exist all veiled and so timid! Have some dignity oh, hope! or borrow it from sorrow - so tenacious  it is don't you follow? Morrow or today, or even now  as I say, Kill yourself or so shall I.    Save the agony of fighting, trying to rescue all that which is a lie. Go on - please,  just die.

I can talk about dreams all day long. They are fascinating as it is! and mind you, if you don't  find them interesting what so ever, I think imagination and curiosity within you has seized to exist. They are the  indication of the basic natural creativity that all of us possess and none can escape. It is like a law of nature that signals and announces the vitality of imagination. OK. Chucking the philosophical rambling and getting to what I was here for, a dream that I saw. This is the first time I am going to narrate a first hand, sort of,  experience to you guys. You have my permission to laugh and well, enjoy. I know I did when I woke up. [Oh by the way, just a precautionary warning : This is going to smell,taste and sight weird] Here goes : Like all dreams tend to have, or not to have,  this one dream of mine had no exact starting point to it. I was starring this dream with two other people. I say starring cause it felt like a movie, you'll know why. One of them wa

Inside willingly, but not trapped succumbing to the responsibilities, all held. Young, I thought I'd escape Oh dear! was that a mistake. Ideas are mere droplets, clouds to rain are needed. Willing is not totality, Strength to do is central. Take my word, to achieve and reach break your bones or else all you'll breach, is a thin lining to your inner self - which is surely, sheerly just the first step. Just... the first step.

An Ordinary Guy: The Surprise : They talk and she's fast forward. He's a bore and she's not. A story that gives a lot leaving in you to read. :3

She waved to make herself noticed. He in nervousness, something he wouldn't usually feel around her, stood halfway up and sat immediately. Preparing mentally his side of the argument. 'You don't look good. Let's order food first... you respond well with a full stomach' she said seating herself right in front of him. The remark did lighten the mood. But his insecurity by now has settled in deep. He began to marvel at the idea of her being in his life, how she changed him, all as if it will be gone the next moment.  'Order something...' she said He nodded still tied up in his thoughts. Looking through the menu, reading it but hardly comprehending.  Faiza seeing him not response told the waiter 'He will have the same as me' 'Yeah sure..'  'I don't want to rush you into anything, but before you kill yourself thinking about all that can possibly go wrong, I want you to think about the possibilities I am offered..' 'Poss

So I am done with my examinations and the first thing that pops in my head , as naturally, is of making the best use of summers. As expected and experienced, things do go wayward. The peace is remarkable, and quite addictive. I'd continue with my posts soon. This was partly to let you know that I am alive and have my eyes on all of you reading. Kind of in a creepy way. Thanks, Regards. Another dumb blogger. 

        I have long forgotten the idea of 'taking a break'. Cuddled up in my bed to watch a movie or play video games is the 21st century definition of a break. So here's the deal - I have exams coming up and I try to find ways to exert some of the tension by turning to TV, a good movie  etc. The idea that silently surfaces around my head is that these are the 'new' forms of taking a 'time-out' while it may seem effective on paper it is rarely of any  use. After hours of computer usage and reading out of paper , you'd think more time on computer or another form of screen will help your eyes breath a little. It doesn't. Infact - I feel suffocated and I start walking around the house just to get some air. It took me long enough to grasp the pattern I fell into and what was meant to be an hour or a half break suddenly turns into what seems like an age of restlessness. Finally after some days, I walked up to my roof accompanied by nothing but

  I can image how busy we are in our lives, So much of misery filling our existence every day that when a happy occasion comes knocking we get anxious, speculating as to why even happiness is there in the first place. Seriously! Where is the simple life lost? I agree it's a modern world with it's modern theories but that does not mean societies were belligerent idiots before us. We are to take something from the people that have gone by but left us their legacy. Their simplicity at first.  Where's balance? Why is it that we are letting little meaningful things slip our hands like fine sand. I have a problem with the way we treat this world, considering it to be a menace and hence teaching our kids/siblings to tackle the world as if its cruel and nasty. Whether or not it is nasty, why aren't we more concerned with teaching them how to do good in the first place? To be good citizens first and then complain. To get in the dirt and make their opinions. In the coming futu

    __________________________________________________________________________________ Content quality must represent the creator to be an amateur Paint user. Thus exemplifying it to be my own work. It's a thought process owned to a single person, your beloved me, so its bearable to opinions and criticism.

(These are random writings I am doing as I preapre for my English paper this year May. Thought the least I could do is post them for you to read and criticise accordingly) In the form of a series of diary entries or a letter home, describe the experiences and emotions of a character who travels abroad for the first time. In your writing you should bring out his or her feelings about the new country compared with the one he or she has lived in before.                                         Kolachi, my imaginative spin. ________________________________________________________________________________ ‘21 st January 1999 Dear Janice,       Checking out of the airport was no trouble and as soon as I stood to call my cab out the realization soon dawned: I’ve officially landed my destination. I was too tired to notice anything as I started about this alien land, also because I partly slept half the time up to my hotel. Nothing feels new so far except for the faces, everything but

                   Cherishing memories only for they last "I thought you'd be busy to even show up here" mouthed in a taunting tone and with an even defensive manner his partner replied  " No man! to give up a chance to hang with you ... at  our spot"  Samar italicized 'our spot' enough to make Ali notice. "Ha, our spot, huh? Dog! " remarked Ali as they both sat down on the bare ground  gazing at the place with crossed legs and drinks in their hands. "Remember the day we dragged that egoistical brat out of 9th grade and brought him here" And with a slight smile to his face Ali said "That ghost prank na?....it was so cruel  ha..... hahaha..he." "Say it!.... say it!" "He wetted his pants!" stated Ali hysterically   "Any idea where that 67 kilo meat bag and 16 ounces of liquid up to these days anyway?" "Ha! No, none" "I have missed a lot" "What the peeing mac

My blog is my reflection...sort of. It has a mixture of a lot of things and a couple of "those things" are resting in my drafts. It's amazing how a blog can give you an insight into your own self and others. Slightly cause judgement here is very polite as I begin? *I love it like this*.Previously however, I was not very satisfied *read:was ill-experienced*. This ill experience came from the fact I was not writing for the moment, and all the while gazing for what w(sh)ould've come.What the un-known does to us or can do to us is.. unpredictable, very unstable in other words. And if I have learned anything it's that unsurety is exhausting. In any aspect of your life one must be honest chiefly with their selves; I am now and at present as I'm writing, I feel at ease with it. Perhaps one reason for my 'unhappiness' was my ' expected happiness'. I  was thinking of writing up on this matter myself on how expected happiness takes away the re