1) French Fries
2) Stew Chicken
3) McDonald’s
4) Cucumbers
5) Chocolate Cake
6) Dal and Rice
7) Turnip Curry
8) Honey
9) Special K
10) My mom’s cooking ❤
Until the next post, Live, Love, Inspire & (don’t forget to) Smile. Believe in yourself and you can conquer all your fears.
I love how magnificently the seven colors manifest themselves in a ‘Rainbow’ as one– can we be as noble as these colors who come together to give this world an utter sight of beauty?
So finally – my home is calling me. I am visiting my family after a very long nine months which I thought would never end. Earlier this year, I couldn’t go back in the summer break cause I was busy with an internship. Hence, I was looking forward to the winter break for a long time. However, my family is much more excited than me, my mother is a given but except of her, my sister is going insane with the count down.
I am happy and nervous at the same time. Returning home after so long does bring back all the emotions not just associated with my family but it also stirs the feeling of patriotism and love for my motherland. I am happy (not really excited but delighted) to go back home because I have missed my mother a lot. Also, this is the longest I have stayed away from home to the date. Anyhow, the flip side of the coin is that I am nervous. One thing that I am afraid of is that I am a changed person now. I cherish my personal freedom and value the peace in isolation. Going back home means all the hustle bustle, relatives and family gatherings. I have never been the social type anyway ( I am not shy but reserved – there is a difference!). Hence, now that I have been living on my own for almost three years – going back poses a threat on my personal freedom. I will have to be a part of family now while here in England, I can do whatever I want (as in I can wake, sleep and study whenever I want to; eat whatever I want – I can live like a night owl). At home, I have to go by a certain time table; not as in somebody dictating my life but more like a civilized approach to routine life which I don’t really care about in England. The second issue that concerns me is my temperament. I was never the calm person anyway and have always blamed my gene for this short temperament. However, now I ‘think’ it is worse. Anything can possibly trigger me off and I can lose it ( please don’t advise anger management – pretty please) but I think it’s one of the disadvantage of living on your own. The feeling of being independent and isolation leaves you a little confined and if somebody even tries to hop into your space, then you have ‘Watch Out’ written straight across your forehead. Although, it could be just me but I have heard people ranting about this more than often. So I can only hope that I don’t lose my temper and keep myself under good check and control. After all, it’s a party time for me — finally a break!!
Well, I have my flight in few hours and I hope Emirates is on time which is highly unlikely! Also, I apologize in advance for missing out on all the good stuff I get to read written by all you lovely people. See you guys soon in a different land with different experiences! Happy Holidays!!!!
Live, Love, Inspire & (don’t forget to)Smile. Believe in yourself and you can conquer all your fears.
Photo Source: All Rights Reserved With https://globalunison.wordpress.com
When I was a little girl, the world around me was like a bubble. I now think, if I would have popped my finger out of that bubble in those days, the world would have not been observed as a merry-go-round by me. A small girl who bombarded her parents with a “WHY”, “HOW” and “WHEN” frequently and who was fearless to burst the bubble and come face to face with the ruthless reality pertaining in the society; but Alas! The vindictive time, it always has a great timing! At the age of 4, this girl asked her teacher, “Ma’am, why can’t birds speak?” That day her teacher told her that every WHY in the world can not be answered and due to the undeveloped brain cells which failed to analyze the answer in the appropriate manner, that answer of the teacher was saved as a permanent file in ROM of her brain that could never be removed. Whenever, she faced a situation or a question and as soon as her brain used to prepare her for asking WHY due to the perplexity, the same stored file used to bang her head at the right moment reminding her of the teacher’s answer. She laid in her bed every night wondering how the sky is standing without pillars when no building can. She marveled how the sun shines so brightly when the moon was merely the opposite. She was bewildered when she questioned herself why the sea is so immense that she can’t see the ending spot. The perplexed questions ended every night with an exposure to the unexpected valley of dreams. Hence, that is the time when this 4 year old girl started coming out of the sealed bubble. She now wanted to be a colorful butterfly which can fly and be responsible for her very own flight.
Some of my many journals!
This girl started developing wings and the bubble was harmed every time her wings flapped at any instant. She lived in the world of her QUESTIONNAIRE. The questions, she kept to herself which were ultimately the reason for the quest to discover and explore beyond her knowledge. She wanted someone to hold up to her and answer her; she again faced hard time analyzing which medium could be the safest. Yeah, her wit clicked, why not her very own mother; but again that permanently stored answer of the teacher amplified her mystification and that is when she discovered that there exist a PAPER and a PENCIL that can be her best friend and unlike any other beings on this planet, their mouths will be forever sealed. She was amazed to discover such an innovative idea and at the age of 8, she started maintaining her very own registers. She did not want anyone to know about her thoughts regarding anything; she wanted those journals to be as personal as her body was to her. She was unaware of the fact that an eight year old doll would not be given sufficient privacy to survive and hence would be intruded more than once if the hidden registers came across the eyes of her guardians. She tried her level best to never let anybody know that she writes to release the burden off her shoulders; she carried those registers in her bag every time with an unpleasant fear of her thoughts becoming publicized.
Around the corner, this truth was not concealed for a very long time and she found her mother reading one of her private journal once she woke up from a very sound sleep. That was the first time she ever yelled at anybody. She was crying, she was blaming herself, she was regretting for choosing paper to be her best friend as it eventually showed its disloyalty. There was nothing confidential mentioned in those journals which could not be read by her mother but the very mutual thought of how untrustworthy even a non-living thing can be occupied her and this trauma didn’t end well. Her mother held her, caressed her, kissed her and embraced her collecting her entirely in her maternal arms where she sobbed for an eternity. She kept repeating the same line of how she hated herself. Within this phase, she realized one of her very good qualities that she doesn’t require an eternity to get over a mishap. Within two days, she was the same cheerful girl who lived in her own world with the same innocent heart building more question with every passing moment but now she did not have any best friend. At school, she was a quiet and shy girl who always succeeded in academics with a remarkable margin but showed no interest in any extra co-curricular activities. The time continued to pass by and taught her various lessons of life but she missed that unfaithful friend of hers – PAPER! The only thought that used to startle her was that why could she not forgive her best friend? After a year or so, she recovered and was friends with PAPER again. This time she wanted to be more aware of her mother not reading anything; she was now growing into an adolescent and the life was chasing her like she was a bone being chased by a starving dog. She continued filling sheets and sheets with her personal experiences, her daily affairs, how the world haunted her, how she wanted to be everything but not a wife (like her mother), how she wanted to explore the space and etc. The dreamy world was yet not over until 12, subsided with mature thoughts than her age-group. Even her dreamy world craved the meaning of life and the reason behind her existence. She often used to write about it when she entered into a very charming and alluring phase of any human’s life – TEENAGE!
Now this doll was 13; no more a doll indeed. She was a grown up girl who was ready to flap her wings open and explode the bubble confining her abilities. She flew swirling around the boundaries of life and exploded it with a charisma. Her teenage was abnormal or rather should I say it was normal because it was not the same boy-friends, drinks, clubs, pubs and dance floors that united her life and thrilled her but it was her escalating confidence that made her “UNIQUE” in the gatherings. Her parents were astounded themselves, she was paranormal with her brain grasping more than required for her age. She was no more a shy doll but a confident and stunning girl who could sway around with daffodils and make the universe dance on her finger tips. She turned out to be a debater where her teachers encouraged her to debate frequently to enhance her inborn skills with the weapon of experience. The paper remained her best friend throughout; though it was disloyal at times but she realized how her best friend could be someone else’s friend too. Her acquaintances called her arrogant, rude, she was blamed for her attitude when all she did was smile – her gleaming eyes smiled to their remarks. She was blessed with an enriched soul, all her job was to nourish it with plenty of resources in order to live up to what is expected of her by the world as well as Him.
Let you soul be free like a flying bird because ETERNITY lives in there.
This girl is ordinary just like YOU. A compassionate soul living in everybody – the only difference between YOU and her is she listened and responded to her soul since the day it called out to her; she was accomplishing what she was asked for by her Almighty. This is a time to catch the right bus at the right station and listen to your blaring soul, let the questions seep your heart, get a medium to express yourself and immortal soul BUT be aware of the hazards and obstacles on your way because no accomplishment can be achieved without the audacity to try. Live every moment in a sacred way cause neither can you trust your breath nor your life – this little doll gave us the same message of how to never trust the voices you hear from your ears but trust the sole voice that you can hear from the ears of your heart and soul – the voice of Eternity.
Soha – my cousin sister!
My little cousin sister is snoring as I see her lying in my bed and my heart becomes heavy and my smile fades away when I realize that this little baby is my guest for only a couple of days. She is my mommy’s sister’s daughter; it makes her my first cousin and they live in Dubai. My aunt is here for a short period of time to spend some time with us. My cousin sister is only 6 and half years old and though there is a major age-difference between us yet we get along together so well. She is always around me with an intention to have fun. She isn’t a Barbie girl who would like fairy tales instead she is an imaginative gal who thinks I am a vampire because I have pointed canines and is always interviewing me so that she can get a clue to break the news to the world that vampires do exist and she found the first very real-vampire under her nose. She possesses an intriguing personality with which she is able to knock me off and amaze me with her intelligence and brains. In my upcoming posts, may be I will talk more about my conversations with her. There is a reason behind why am I sharing this:
Random photo sessions – we both love them!
Time to share one of her stories!! She was sitting on the sofa playing some video games on her portable game box (what they call XBOX 360) and I couldn’t tolerate this beauty sitting and enjoying the company of the stupid dumb box so I started tickling her. I didn’t attack her once at a sudden otherwise she would have been annoyed instead I started rubbing the sole of her foot and there she smiled with a murmur, “Don’t do it, Naima.” I ignored the murmur and continued to tickle her for a short period of time and after all, my goal was accomplished. She moved from the sofa and went in my room to play the game. I followed her and lay with her in the bed and then I started tickling her belly. For a while she succeeded in ignoring me but after sometime it was difficult for her to overlook my gestures and she shut the game-box down and sat in bed screaming as if she has seen some dead-end. I politely asked her what was the matter and she gave me that hideous look and I resisted my laughter so that I can play along more. From then on, she started a conversation and that is what I am going to state like a dialogue-script. Her name is Soha and I will address her with the alphabet “S” and I will use “N” for myself.
S: What is your problem, Naima?
N: My problem? You kidding me? What are you here for? Playing games?
S: That is none of your business – I love to play games.
N: Forget about my business baby; I love you.
S: What? Baby? I am not one and half-year old Naima. I am a big girl. [Her expressions were worth it – I broke out laughing before my response]
N: Gosh Soha, you are a baby for me no matter how big girl you think you are!
S: Don’t call me baby; I am warning you.
N: Then what should I call you sweetheart?
S: Sweetheart??? I am not your boy-friend.
N: BOY-FRIEND? What’s that? Who told you about it?
S: [Evil Laugh] I told you, I am a big girl.
N: I am serious Soha, who told you about that?
S: I know it by myself like I learnt to whistle and burp.
N: What? Should I tell your mom??
S: Naima!!! Please Please. [Batting her lashes and bribing me with her charming eyes for keeping my mouth shut– again expressions worth mentioning.]
N: What please? You can not bribe me with your smile.
S: Oh, I kind of [the word she uses in every sentence] know it myself – I *pinky promise*
N: [I pass her a silent stare while she continues to smile bashfully.]
S: Okay Okay.. I just assumed that when we are big, we need to have a boy-friend so we can marry him.
N: Disgusting!! You talking about marriage?
S: [A shy laugh] I know it is *YUCKY*.
Soha with her little baby sister Izma.
Before I could continue with the conversation, I broke into a laugh and her innocent expressions made me go crazy. I know that this is 21st century but I do not expect all this coming from little kids – may be their friends and companions are all one and the same. She does not watch television excessively[her mother does not let her exceed an hour and the channel she watches is CARTOON NETWORK or NICKELODEON at times], her mum is a super-mom who would do anything to protect her from the bad company and what not yet she knows everything about this *BOY-FRIEND* stuff – this sent shivers down my spine thinking of how conscious would I have to be when I will be a *MOTHER*.
She can’t stop posing though I just asked her to *CHEESE*!
Today in this fast-paced world, the media is influential and we are unable to realize where it is leading our young generation. The influence is spread far and wide and the influence seems contagious; I must say mother’s four eyes[as they claim – one invisible pair of eyes at the back] in the present era doesn’t seem enough to look after their kids so what does that mean? Mothers need to buy more pair of eyes but from where?? It seems like these kids are innocent but once they start babbling the innocence evaporates leaving an absurd impression and my mum is always telling me and my little cousins about my childhood tales when she sees her little niece to be much cleverer than what I am even right now. According to my mommy[after talking to her nieces for several days], I am innocent and naive even at the age of 18 if compared to kids of 21st century though I have no idea if it really is the truth.
She rises from the ground and with her strength touches the Heavens
When your eyes open for the first time;
The hands of a woman wrap you in Thyme.
When your heart beats to make a sound,
The ears of a woman are on your chest to be found.
When your lips play with a radiant smile,
Take a glimpse of the parched lips of a woman for a while.
When your tear-filled eyes spill a drop,
This woman upholds your pain to stop.
When your comrades forget to play,
This woman clasps you in her arms and sway.
When oodles of your work is undone,
This woman stays by you until the rising sun.
When your life shuffles happiness to invite sorrow,
This woman of integrity desires to borrow.
When you are lonesome and forlorn,
There is a blissful woman with you to mourn.
This woman is your mother, sister, daughter or wife,
The existent support and comfort throughout your life.
A lovely new morning,
Strengthening life with another warning.
Cara woke up to the sound of the chirping birds and stretched in her bed with a gleaming smile as the unpleasant confrontation of the past night faded in the rooms of her brain. She climbed out of her bed wrapping the warm quilt around her and walked to the window where she removed the curtains to expose herself to the sunlight of the bright new day. Her Sunday morning was usually late but today was different. If one phase of her brain thought about Jon and their young romance leading to an official relationship in future then the other phase of her brain pondered over the survival of her dad after her. She agreed that he was unpredictable but she never blamed him for his behavior. She knew what it would feel to lose someone who is precious to the soul and heart but all this time she failed to analyze that why couldn’t her dad realize that it was not solely him who had lost a beloved wife but she had lost a MOTHER as well – a woman who contained her for nine months yet she knew nothing about her. Mr. Laurengram never felt any better discussing his late wife; he only preferred to drink and drink in grief – grief that Cara believed would never let go of him until the jaws of death would terminate the thread of his breath.
Cara’s silent thoughts were vanished in the air when her ringing cell phone scared her to death. She threw back the quilt wrapped around her in a jerk and dashed to her dressing to grab her cell phone and answered the call breathlessly.
“Cara, were you working out at 8 in the morning? I mean, are you okay?” Jon rushed himself with his words like an express on the station.
“Uh.. Well, why are you speaking as if you are living the last minute of your life?” humorously remarked Cara
“When will you stop being naughty Cara?”
”Never! Do I complain when you are silly to heights?”
”My babe is making me blush eh?” giggled Jon to tease her over and over.
“How is mommy? Was she worried the last night?” Cara asked anxiously. She had met Jon’s mum more than thrice and she saw the reflection of her own mum in that beautiful lady’s embodiment.
“Mum is good, anyway, she was worried but she knew to every beat that I was with YOU”, Jon teases Cara again with his chuckles over the phone.
“Whatever! Are you coming over for the Spring Party at Gayle’s place in the evening?”
“Cara, lets skip it and go for the dinner sweetheart, what do you say?”
“Jon, I have taken enough of you for the morning. See you at the party, let me check dad for now” Cara explained simply for Jon to stop teasing her.
“Okay babe, it is my turn to serve mum so I got to go too but aren’t you forgetting SOMETHING?”
”I love you Jon”, Cara was blushing even though they were not confronting each other.
“I love you too darling”, Jon knew it came from the heart – the core of his heart.
They ended the call and busied themselves in their routine. Cara went downstairs and knew that her dad was fast asleep. She brewed coffee and boiled few eggs for the breakfast. She inserted two slices of bread in the toaster at a time and toasted few slices. She collected the news paper from the porch and went through the headlines while laying the table for breakfast. She preferred milky coffee while black coffee was a necessity for his dad to wipe away the recurring headache after the night which had been spent drinking. He avoided drinking on the week days but weekend served him exquisite timings to drink and mourn. Cara knocked her dad’s room few times but no response assured her of his unconsciousness and she opened the door gently and saw her dad lying on the sofa sleeping sound. The last night was invigorated in her brain and her eyes suddenly were filed with tears. She looked precisely like her dad. The same blue eyes her mother has fallen in love with were the secret to her beauty. These blue eyes were deeper in meaning – the legacy of her life. She sat across the sofa brushing her dad’s brunette hair through her slender fingers and sobbing over his body as if he was already dead. After few minutes, her dad moved and then within few seconds he was squinting to the flashing sunlight illuminating the room through the white curtains.
“Cara, umm.. You here? Baby, Is everything okay?” his hesitation was evident that he might not remember accurately what he did last night but the fragments to the incident were still stored in the hippocampus of his brain.
“Oh daddy, I thought you were too tired so just brought the black coffee couple of minutes ago”, Cara tried her best to sound normal.
There was a pin drop silence. Mr. Laurengram was too busy fighting with the annoying headache that he was unable to see the fresh tears drying out on the pink cheeks of his little doll. He had complimented Cara for the black coffee and was headed to the breakfast table by Cara.
“Oh my goodness, you did this all? When did you wake up or should I ask did you sleep?” he uttered with amazement. Cara smiled and chose to stay silent for that moment. Mr. Laurengram was hungry, he had skipped the meal last night but Cara’s appetite had died already, she played with the fork in her plate cutting the egg in to pieces until he realized her little doll’s lost figure and snapped his fingers before her focused eyes.
“Are you in the same world in which I am eating like a beggar hungry for days?” he remarked to lighten the atmosphere.
“Daddy, I am not feeling hungry. I had coffee when I woke up so not feeling like eating.”
“Do you have any plans for the evening?” he asked her politely.
“Oh yeah, a college mate has arranged a Spring Party for the evening. Anything up with you?”
“Yeah, I will drop you by and leave for my business deal. I have a meeting this evening.”
The silence again shut their conversation and Mr. Laurengram began leafing the newspaper while she moved upstairs to avoid the confrontation with her dad. He was persistently reminding her of the last night when she did not want to think about it. She heard her dad calling her and she ran downstairs to hear what he had to say.
“I am sorry”, he said uncertainly.
“Umm.. It’s okay.” Cara tried to resist back her tears. Her dad was not looking at her; she knew he was embarrassed to look into her eyes. The physical pain meant nothing to this young girl but her smashed emotions feared her if she would start hating her dad one day.
“I know I am wrong. I know I say SORRY always and I hurt you all the time but …” he was interrupted by Cara’s gentle voice.
“Daddy, I said Okay. You don’t have to worry” her tears pierced the white flesh surrounding her sea-blue eyes balls and they spilled drop by drop wetting her face.
“Don’t cry please, that makes me feel guilty”, his voice was stern as usual and though he had pinned his eyes in the newspaper and had not looked up for even a single second yet he knew Cara better than anybody else that he could tell that she was crying without even looking at her.
“I am not crying Dad” she tried to be stern and stiff as him but the outburst of her cry made her run upstairs and dump herself facedown in bed trying to suppress her voice by tugging a pillow underneath her mouth. She cried and cried until her eyes surrendered and had insufficient water to let it out, her mouth and eyes both were dried for it had been an hour since she was crying to shrug the burden off his shoulders.
Crying endlessly in bed,
Mourning over the blood-shed.
She got up when it was half past noon. She arranged her closet deciding what to wear for the party the following evening. She messaged Jon to which there was no reply which indicated her that he was busy with his mum and hence she laid in her bed falling for the sleep. She woke up after few hours and before going to bathe she planned on sneaking downstairs to check up on her dad. The hall was empty but the kitchen was clean, her father was doubtlessly the most organized man she knew on the planet. She peeked in his room which was already arranged and tidy. She ran all the way to the porch and there was no car in the driveway, she knew where her dad was. She regretted crying in front of him; she was certain that he must be in the golf club playing golf on his own – the only thing he thought he could do anytime. She rang her dad though she knew he would not receive her call; he felt guilty beyond explanation but she knew he would turn into same creature once again when the memories of her mother would haunt him – this made her hate her mother at times.
Cara was dressed in a multicolor short dress and the bright colors complemented her fair-toned body. Her simplicity was her utmost beauty; she applied mascara to define her long thick eye lashes and softened her lips by applying a cucumber lip balm further defining her thin lips with the Etude glittery gloss to give a party touch to her appearance. She awaited her dad but there were no signs of his arrival; she called him over and over again but he wasn’t responding to her calls and this was not a good signal by any means. Therefore, pushing all the pessimistic thoughts aside, she called Jon to pick her when he would be heading for the party. Within a couple of minutes Jon was on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and a present.
“Present! Is there anything special?” exclaimed Cara with amazement and excitement blended all together.
“Well, you can keep the bouquet but you are not opening the present until I say so”, Jon smiled softly to her gleaming blue eyes.
Cara placed the flowers in a vase kept on the table beside stair case and locked the door while messaged her dad that she had waited long and when he had not responded to any of her calls, she had proceeded to the party with Jon. Cara looked at the gentleman precisely in the driver seat and locked her eyes on his innocent face. Cara had always found Jon’s hazel eyes soothing and intoxicating concurrently. Jon was wearing a lime-yellow t-shirt along with white pants. He didn’t look funky which is what the party demanded but decent as always. Cara knew every guy would be dressed fancily at the party but she was proud to be Jon’s girl; after all his dressing code had a taste which was beyond comparison.
I love you,
Claims the air that blew.
“I know I am looking SEXY but what are you staring eh?” Jon harassed her with a wink while slipping a finger of his right hand which is enclosed around the hand-gear to touch hers and there she smiled – the smile that always cheered him up and brought pleasure to his heart and soul.
“Oh Mr. Smarty Pants, you may be genius and nerdy but SEXY?? You are nothing close to Hugh Jackman” Cara taunted him back with a playful note in her voice to annoy him.
“Cara! I am no Hugh Jackman because I am Jon, Jon Stanley!” exclaimed Jon.
“Look, now who is getting pissed off huh? Possessive!! Possessive!!” Cara continued teasing him while he played with her fingers and cuddled around her at times when the traffic signal blinked red.
After half an hour drive, they both were at Gayle’s place hand in hand.
“Cara! Jon! Wow! Great to see you guys together here”, an excited voice made them turn their backs to the addresser.
“Gayle! What a party, bro”, cried Jon with excitement as they both hugged each other followed by a hi-five. Cara shook her hand with Gayle who often seemed brainless to her.
Gayle was a rich brat and a very good friend of Jon. Cara knew him through Jon; though three of them studied together in the first year of Stanford University yet Cara hardly knew anybody whereas Jon was as social as his witty brain allowed him to help every individual in the college. Gayle wore a printed hot-pink t-shirt and multicolor long shorts which made him look no less than a joker. After a brief conversation of Jon and Gayle; Cara was lead to a corner by Jon where they got seated and conversed for an eternity. Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by Cara’s ringing cell phone and she was not certain to attend the call or not as there was an unknown number flashing on the screen. She ignored the call thrice and ultimately when Jon convinced her to receive the call, she agreed reluctantly for the fourth time.
“This is Polly from Stanford Hospital. Can I have a word with Miss Cara Laurengram?” an adenoidal flat voice from the other end cracked through the earphone.
“Yeah, Cara speaking”, she hesitantly answered.
“Your father had a severe car accident. We want you in the hospital in an immediate hour to carry out the formalities”, the flat voice was penetrating at once or it might be Cara’s ears.
A misery over a heart-felt loss,
Praying with my hand tracing the cross.
The phone tripped from Cara’s sweaty hands with her bulging eyes forming tears that trickled down her cheeks within no time and she hadn’t even the faintest idea how Jon dumped her in the passenger seat and drove all the way to the heart of the city where Stanford hospital was situated.
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