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Two Thousand and For the Better

             In recent, I have begun to believe in the superstitious powers of the universe: karma, destiny, fate, signs and omens. I have come to believe that things happen for a reason- good or bad, often out of our control; I have come to believe that events occur to serve a purpose- a way that God communicates with us; I have come to believe that we will eventually reap what we sow; and finally, I have come to believe that our decisions and actions may reveal more to us than we could have imagined.  The year 2011 has taught me well, however cruelly.

           

         I began the year in a celebratory, cheerful fashion. “Happy hormones” were generously being excreted throughout my brain as my heart pulsated rapidly in my chest - it was great. The future looked bright and full of promise. I had recently stepped out of a bad chapter of my life and entered in to a newer, more exciting and, what seemed to be, a more rewarding one. I had finally rediscovered my social circle that I had previously been barred from having any interaction with. The lack of stressful factors and responsibilities that night was something that I had not even considered thanking God for because the feeling was something I had continuously taken for granted for a very long time. I remember being in a “good place”. It was all too good to be true. I still remember standing on my friend’s roof that night and looking out at the glittering Karachi night-view that was so graciously provided to me and thinking, “Tonight’s going to be the start of a better tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that. And the tomorrow after, after that. “

Today, I have 27 days until 2012 pushes its way in to the limelight and it all seems too soon. Too fast. Too different. My environment and life circumstances have changed- in both, good and bad ways. I feel like I’ve matured and grown over the last 12 months in a collection of spheres of my “self”. I have made mistakes which have taught me more than any “How to Get Through Life” book could have ever taught me; I have taken innumerable faulty decisions for which I have had to pay hefty prices; I have experimented with and tried new things for which I am, both, regretful and thankful for; I have learnt to forget myself for the betterment of others; I have learnt to accept things that I had to concede were out of my locus of control; I have learnt the importance of certain structures that  are a part of my life which I previously ignored; and most of all, I have learnt to treasure the good things in life- my family, my friends and the bounties that God has blessed me with.

However, this road to enlightenment has not been the smoothest. In the midst of this ruckus, I fell off the path I had once chosen for myself. A path full of goals, codes, aspirations and glittering stars. I had always had a certain picture in my mind which had kept me focused in the past and directed; however, when things did cease to go the way I had planned them out to be, I realised that my energies were being channelled into areas which, now looking back, didn’t deserve the care. Time was spent trying to improve the situation, precious concentration splashed in to trying to rationalise every little ill-intended act that slowly became a ritualistic behaviour pattern. In addition to that, my mother was diagnosed with a form of cancer during the mid-summer months which was a mixture of perfect icing on the cake and a tough reality check blended into one sour drink. “This is not what I’d planned. This is not what I had ever imagined”, I thought to myself. In a short time span I found myself becoming this ungrateful, pessimistic monster- someone I, somehow, could not identify myself with, but also a demon I could not detach myself from. My daily habits deteriorated, my performance in my day-to-day activities was a near zero. I was angry. And sad. And happy. And confused. All at the same time. I thought it would never end.  But as I sit here looking back at the chain of events that occurred, I can confidently tell myself that I was wrong.

Monsoon clouds pass over once they’ve done their job; and although they may wreak havoc wherever they pause to relieve themselves, those who suffer as a consequence learn to cope. They may mourn and grieve at their losses for some time but in time they realise that, in order to continue living a healthy life, they must clean up the mess and move forward. So they take a breath of renewed strength and energy, stand up and begin the dreadful deed. They rebuild the homes they had once lived in happily and work towards making themselves financially sustainable in order to repair their lives. Although it is a mind-shatteringly tough feat which requires, both, psychological and physical strength, they may come out of the experience as stronger individuals. Similarly, in time, as I was able to overcome the shock of my mother’s health and face reality in other relationships, I felt myself learning more than I felt I had learnt in the past year. I realised that life may throw dirt on your face, but unless you don’t make the effort to wipe it off, things would not change. I was able to foresee the implications of my negative stance on my future- I knew that the decision was up to me as to what I wanted to do with my current situation. My youth could either be wasted or utilized efficiently. It was hard to make the first step, to walk away from unhealthy habits, from relationships I cherished but could no longer make excuses for, distance myself from stimuli that weren’t in my best interest and most importantly, to put innate grief and fear in the background.

The road is rocky. It always will be. That’s life. But I’ve come to realise that there are events that we feel are out of our control when, in reality, they can be harnessed only if we want them to be. I believe in karma- I believe that whatever happened this year has repaid me in kind and will continue to do so. I believe in fate- things have a reason for playing out the way they do, however much we are unable to explain their occurrences. Lastly, I believe in signs- every event holds a significance that should not be overlooked or ignored.

However much I have hated this year, I feel like I have gained the most out of it than any other. I have come out a stronger, a more mature, and more grounded person than I was on the night of 31^st December as I looked out from my friend’s roof. I look forward to what 2012 will hold for me, obviously in hope that it will be better than what this previous year brought forth. I cannot predict or control what God has in store for me, but I can only have faith in my credentials and belief in karma, for what goes around comes around.

           

Degrees of Democracy

Home » News & Politics
Degrees of Democracy
By Sara Kazi    18 AUGUST 2010

 NEWSLINE MAGAZINE

When Jamshed Dasti appeared before the Supreme Court to prove his innocence over charges of cheating and lying his way into parliament, the nation witnessed two things: a functioning judicial system and a shameless politician. The PPP MNA from Muzaffargarh was accused of holding a fake master’s degree in Islamic Studies, and so he was being held accountable before the nation’s highest court. When the judges asked Dasti to name the first 15 chapters from the Holy Quran, the only response they received was silence. This silence endured even after a judge asked, “How about the first two?” Dasti voluntarily resigned in the days that followed. Nonetheless after his verdict was announced, Dasti openly called the court’s decision a joke and claimed that the court of public opinion in his district was the only one that mattered.

Jamshed Dasti is just one of the many politicians who were found guilty of acquiring fake degrees. By the end of July 2010, the degrees of 47 members of parliament and provincial assemblies had been verified as fake and many more were expected to be added to the list. The PML-N was leading the pack with the the PPP following closely behind.


The roots of the scandal grew from a 2002 law imposed by General Pervez Musharraf that stated that all candidates standing for parliamentary elections must have a bachelors degree or equivalent. Despite the former president defending his stance by saying that the move would improve the quality of lawmakers, critics believe that it was a tactic to sideline particular opponents from contesting elections. Others termed it undemocratic in a country of 180 million people where less than 50 per cent of adults are literate.


During the elections held in 2008, there were a few candidates who decided to sneak under the radar and take oath on the Quran, despite not having the required degrees. Now, a couple of accusations against a few lawmakers have ballooned into one of Pakistan’s biggest political scandals under the current administration. Degrees of at least eight federal and provincial ministers have so far been found to be forged or invalid by the Higher Education Commission (HEC). However, the numbers are expected to increase as the degrees of more than 800 parliamentarians are yet to be authenticated.


Investigations have been prolonged, intense and often dramatic. There have been alleged kidnappings, scandals of cheating politicians being exposed in front of the nation, and allegations that the government was trying to slow the verification process down. The federal government gave the Higher Education Commission the task of collecting and verifying the degrees of the 1,170 parliamentarians of the nation by July 27, 2010 (extended from July 8, 2010). However, the deadline had to be extended two weeks further when it was announced that only 270 degrees had been properly processed. Furthermore, by the date of submission, the HEC had not received proper credentials of 595 parliamentarians. Helping the Commission go about this task (in accordance with a standard procedure) were 36 universities, which included Punjab University, Karachi University, Allama Iqbal Open University, and Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai University. However, on July 20, 2010, 516 degrees out of 736 degrees were sent back by the HEC to the respective universities for not being assessed according to the pre-set guidelines. Out of the 63 degrees sent back to Punjab University, four degrees, one of a senator and three of MPAs of the Punjab Assembly, were found to be fake.


Some speculate government tampering. According to Ansar Abbasi of The News, Education Minister Sardar Aseff Ahmed Ali was approached by the presidency to stop the verification process of parliamentarians’ degrees “at all costs.” President Asif Ali Zardari is apparently quite distressed by the entire ordeal as it is alleged that he believes it is merely a conspiracy to oust his PPP government. His fears were mirrored by Information Secretary Fauzia Wahab. While talking to various media personnel outside Bilawal House recently, she said that the fake-degree scam was nothing more than an attempt to “derail” democracy. She never explained how having politicians lie their way into parliament was democratic.


The fight spread to the institutions in the middle of the crisis. A duel between the HEC and the Education Ministry of Pakistan broke out. The HEC began sending out degrees to various universities for inspection without consulting the education ministry, to the annoyance of the Federal Minister for Education, Sardar Aseff Ahmed Ali; he termed it unconstitutional. In a statement, he said that the HEC should have conferred with the ministry before initiating the assessment of the MPs’ degrees. In response, HEC Chairman Dr Javaid Leghari stood by his actions saying that the HEC was the only institution that had the right to recognise the validity of any degree issued in Pakistan or abroad and was doing nothing that was against the government’s policy.


A lot has been said about the overwhelming pressures that Dr Leghari has been facing from different political groups, parliamentarians and even the federal government. There were media reports about the HEC chairman being forced to resign from his post. In a meeting with Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani about the problems he was facing, Dr Leghari related accounts of maltreatment of his family members during raids at his family home in Goth Leghari. But then things escalated to a whole new level. On July 13, Leghari’s brother Farooq Leghari, a former District Coordination Officer (DCO), was reported missing by his family. It was later discovered that he had been arrested on charges of inappropriately obtaining four to five crore rupees worth of land and vehicles at the expense of the provincial exchequer. It was hardly surprising that all these accusations surfaced just days before the HEC chairman was to announce the names of the politicians whose degrees were forged.


Top politicians and MNAs such as senior minister of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Rahim Dad Khan, Syed Muhammad Salman Mohsin, Mazhar Hayat of the PML-N, and Hayatullah Khan Tareen, Nasir Ali Shah and Mir Hamayun Aziz of the PPP have been found guilty of possessing fake degrees, while other important figures such as President Asif Ali Zardari, his sister Faryal Talpur, Senator Ms Ratna Bhagwandas and MNAs Dewan Syed Ashiq Hussain Bukhari and Mir Amir Ali Khan Magsi are being considered as suspects.


The question of punishment and justice lingers awkwardly in the air. With the current numbers, approximately 47 MNAs could face disqualification from parliament or hefty prison sentences. Despite calls from politicians such as Tehreek-e-Istaqlal’s president, Rehmat Khan Wardag, for a lifetime ban on parliamentarians holding fake degrees, the Supreme Court has said that those found guilty may only face a maximum prison sentence of three years. The apex court’s decision reflects section 78 of the Representation of People Act, 1976. However, Section 100 of the same act states that a person guilty of a corrupt practice could be disqualified from being elected as a member of the Assembly. Secretary Election Commission of Pakistan, Ishtiaq Ahmed, announced that any parliamentarian found to be guilty will be given the chance to explain his case to the courts.


Despite the tumultuous ups and downs that the nation has witnessed throughout this scandal, there have been incidents that have been quite amusing, such as the time when Balochistan’s Chief Minister, Aslam Raisani, uttered the historic words, “A degree is a degree! Whether fake or genuine, it’s a degree! It makes no difference!” According to PPP leader, Sardar Aseff Ahmed, “The courts should focus on other issues of more significance rather than taking up the fake degrees cases.” It is not surprising that the PPP feels this way. The PPP government faces mid-term elections if more party members are found to be fake-degree holders – a thought that most probably thrills the opposition.


Luckily for Jamshed Dasti, on April 21, 2008, the Supreme Court removed the requirement of candidates possessing a degree to participate in the general elections on the pretext that the Musharraf-imposed law was in contradiction to Article 17 (freedom of association) and Article 25 (equality of citizens) of the Constitution. Even though he was previously found guilty of possessing a fake degree, Dasti was not only made the adviser on livestock to the Prime Minister but a fortnight later was also granted a ticket to contest by-elections from the same NA-178 Muzaffargarh-111 constituency by the PPP. Despite disqualification petitions launched by rivals such as Nawabzada Iftikhar Ahmad, Dasti later won the elections. His punishment and disgrace has seemed to come to naught. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Culture Schmulture

If you are ever walking down a bustling Karachi street, you might ignore the ethnic and cultural diversity that surrounds you- an anglicised business-man might pass by you fitted in the latest Hugo Boss business-suit followed by a conservative woman wrapped up in a “shuttle-cock” burqa. You might argue that rather than culture, this may have more to do with a gaping class-divide and the prevalence of numerous sub-cultures residing in Pakistan’s largest city. In fact, if you take a second to ponder over what you just saw, it might be clear that both these afore mentioned individuals belong to different ethnic groups- the veiled woman’s electric blue eyes and the man’s dark skin provide stereotypical insights into what has come to define this city.

The concepts of diversity and multiculturalism have become the “ideals”- many, if not all countries, pride themselves in housing people belonging to varying cultural and ethnic backgrounds. Canada, for example, officially adopted ‘Multiculturalism in Canada’ as one of its policies between the 1970s-1980s. In addition, the Canadian government has often been described as ‘the instigator of multiculturalism’ as an ideology because of its public emphasis on the social importance of immigration. As a result, it is still very well-known for accepting more immigrants per capita than any other country. But how well does this sit in practical life? Are immigrants considered and often treated as second-class citizens? Are they able to, as effectively and easily, escalate on the social and occupational hierarchy scale as native Canadians may? What do the rates of reported and unreported acts of discrimination tell us about how well-suited this type of society is to its people? According to Statistics Canada, hate crimes against ethnic minorities increased by forty-two percent in 2009 (preceded by a 35 percent increase in the previous year). And these were just the reported crimes. Where would the figures lie if one considered unreported cases? Similar is the case with countries such as the United States and Australia which share a similar case history to Canada. However, the degree of unrest due to multiculturalism is clearly evident here.

How might one explain the era of discrimination against black people prior to the Civil Rights Movement in the United States? What lessons did the Holocaust and pre-partition India teach us about different ethnicities living under the roof of one nation? Why is it that although multiculturalism and acceptance of diversity are increasingly being encouraged the world over, minorities are still relatively (and often drastically) disadvantaged? For example, a 2007 Statistics Canada study shows that from 2004-2007, the income levels of recent immigrants decreased steadily whereas natives were more likely to benefit in terms of the wages that they earned compared to these immigrants. Furthermore, even in countries other than Canada (Pakistan offers one such example with the various minority groups that reside here), people from a cultural and ethnic minority are more commonly found performing menial, clerical or labour-intensive, low-status jobs. Many people are not allowed to perform their cultural traditions or live their lives according to what they believe is acceptable because of the various dogmas they are often required to follow; unfair treatment scares people from whole-heartedly expressing themselves. Does equality, thus, exist? Are hierarchies further reinforced by encouraging this kaleidoscope of cultures and ethnicities in to one area? Would life be more peaceful if birds of a feather did flock together?

Karachi is another such melting pot. With the number of ethnic killings at an all-time high this year, one wonders whether it is advisable and wise to house such a variation of people under one roof. Families have been torn apart, scores of innocent people have been killed, political parties have become more ethnically motivated than ever and every day is just another gamble for the average city dweller. 


Maybe we can’t deal with diversity. Maybe culture was defined so because it highlighted the need for it to be integrated, shared and communicated amongst the people of a society- something that is clashing with modern day living. 


Perhaps diversity could be analogous to delivering a baby before the expected date- purely premature.

We're just too stupid

There are things our hearts long to do, experience and feel. These are strong urges which often blind us from seeing reality; they sugar coat the truth that we should see and, at the end of the day, leave us high and dry wondering why we didn't know any better previously. We mourn our lack of maturity and self-control- we cry, bleed emotion and make false promises to ourselves with great vehemence to put an end to it....but to what end?

A couple of days later, we're back to square one: hurting ourselves in the same way we'd promised ourselves we wouldn't ever again; more regretful than ever.

So why don't we put an end to this emotionally-suicidal rat race we call pleasure?

We don't know it yet, but we're just waiting for the day it comes and hurts us beyond repair.

We're living a treacherous life. It's dangerous. We're just too stupid turn it around.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Hypnotize you

"Just close your eyes let me hypnotize you; I can make your stormy feel sky blue" sounds just about perfect right now.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Her versus You

I don't speak to You very often anymore. I'm sorry. But there's something about Your Name that makes my lips crumple and my eyes bleed salt.

Or maybe its the way she hums Your Name as she tries to put me to sleep at night. I haven't heard that melody in a very long time... but I'd like to oh so badly...

I promise I'll sleep if You promise to tell her to sing to me once again...

It's been too long...
I can't always be this strong.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

For her

As it tears her apart, it brings this family together. 

Who knew that this is what it would take?

Map me out, why don't you?

Maps don't represent reality, afterall. We dedicate the majority of our elementary geography classes learning how to understand and interpret them, but at the end of the day, I've come to realise that they're as baseless as anything else that has been subjectively created. We think science is our objective reality but we forget that science is a product of human intelligence, and is thus, in more ways than one, biased. There are many ways one can look at it, whether it be from a sociological, religious, historical or socio-economic perspective, but at the end of the day, some sort of criticism will remain evident.

We think we've developed as a race- we claim to have become more intellectually evolved, racially diverse, culturally accepting amongst other fallacies- but, because we are, at the end of the day we are as ethnocentric and self-serving as it comes. Maps play a big role in determing our world-view (literally). It's very unconscious and subliminal (think: Disney), but it's enough to materialise certain conceptions. Why is the north pole situated at the top of the world map and the south pole at the bottom? Why does the equator determine what is “above” and “below” it- why are some countries to it's north and others to it's south? What significance do the projected sizes of certain countries and continents have on those studying the map? Why is Europe and West Africa in the center and Australia and South America at the bottom- could there be a causal link with discrimination due to this? Is possible to get an accurate picture of the world through a map considering one has to trace 27,000 spherical miles onto a standard, flat piece of paper? These are some of the concerns many people, including myself, have had with maps such as the The Mercator projection. Some critics say that it was a convenient way for Europeans to maintain their colonial foothold with the size of their continent on a map whilst reducing the size of underdeveloped nations. It is nteresting to see that the Equator is placed 2/3 of the way down the map rather than halfway down causing Europe seeming larger than South America (which in reality is twice the size of Europe); Alaska is shown to be thrice as large as Mexico, although the latter is the larger of the two; and finally, Greenland is drawn larger than China (China is actually four times larger than Greenland).

Such faults and ethnocentric views make me question what we're being taught....and how we've subliminally accepted “universal truths”. Before this, I had never questioned the authenticity of a world map- to me it was plain science; but now that I think about it, there IS no objective reality. I can construct a map the way I'd like to project it. I could place Pakistan at it's center, magnify it's size, change it's colour to make it look more attractive- and who knows, it could be the start of a new, healthy way people perceive us as a people, culture and geographical entity. Instead, we've followed whatever that has been set down to us. Reality is how you perceive it- no one can see Earth in it's full entity even from space- you'll only ever see the half which faces you.

It's interesting to wonder and questions the smallest of things that we've been taught- conspiracy theory much?. How can set the biased away from the unbiased, the subliminal from the conscious and the good intentions from the bad? How do we set ourselves apart and try to define ourselves the same way others have done so? It angers me that the makers of these biased maps have succeeded in making the rest of the world see what they want us to see; and we, instead of actively questioning what we are being taught, internalise it instead. It makes me think of the maps which distort political boundaries between countries, for example, India and Pakistan. In most world maps, you will now find Kashmir added to the Indian boundary, leaving Pakistan with a cut out semi circle at it's northen pole. Similarly, Iraq and Kuwait fought over whether Kuwait was a part of Iraqi land due to a map laid out by Europeans in the early 1920's which had instated an erroneous border line between the two countries. Are these ways to accomplish and cover certain agendas certain agencies have in mind? Could many of our problems today be solved just by editing a stupid map that we've been staring at for innumerable centuries?

Food for thought, not just for us as individuals, but also as a nation that has been living in obscurity for much too long.

What.....?

As the rain pours down battering us down shitless, I look up towards the sky- it's pretty mad at me. It knows what I've done...what I do..and what I will probably continue doing. It's beautiful- there's an absence of fear in my soul somehow. I remember it being there once upon a time not so long ago. I remember the feeling of taboo as I used to look around me. Things didn't seem right. But now, as I stare up into the sky, I can only feel grandiose and super. But I'm a new convert. A newbie. A novice. An amateur. Things don't always settle well initially, they say. So as I challenge what's up above me, the remnants of my innocence attempt to expel some sort of sense of shame into my blood stream.


Weak Nausea.


It goes away.

The rain continues to fall, the skies light up, their anger focused on my vehemence.

The child has blossomed into a black rose of some sort. I feel a slight sense of remorse but it's weak enough to dissipate soon. The rain feels good. So does this new way of life. So do the decisions I make.

I've won. Or lost.


What do I know?

Somewhere in the United States

Why can't you want me like the other boys do?
They stare at me while I.....crave you.

Generation Lost

We're a closed off generation- a generation motivated by so-called strength and power, repulsed by weakness and emotions. We drive ourselves on pent up frustration masked behind false exteriors; our lives are governed by passive-aggression, weak impulse control abilities and an array of unresolved conflicts. But why? Is it weak of us to experience pain and anxiety? Does it make us less "legit"? Do hiding, denying our truths and regressing from our true selves make us better human beings? The answers to all these questions are, obviously, subjective; but in my time of observing those around me- friends, coworkers, family members etc- I cannot help but notice that the trend of projecting certain cemented carvings of oneself to others is just part of the norm.

We are slowly but surely forgetting the importance of feeling, of living in the moment with our emotions, of being able to identify how we feel- often, in response to the notorious "How do you feel?" you're more likely to receive an "I don't know" or "I'm great!" rather than that specific adjective you're looking for. We've become to used to the pretentious facades that we desperately try to uphold in social situations that we've forgotten what it's like to feel...to hurt, to despair, to be weak, to be elated- to be in touch with ourselves. It's rather sad. I, myself am a victim of this malice, unfortunately. But who can we blame? It's not as if we conspired with each other to create this virus.

Really?

 I'm not too sure about that. Humans are selfish beings- we are the center of our respective universes. No one is allowed to enter beyond a certain a locus-  something that we should respect about one another- it's the legitimate privacy that someone should be endowed with. However, at the other end of the spectrum lies the child within us- the aspect of our self which seeks to expose and express itself honestly and freely. It is this part of ourselves that we fear to let other people see.

Our frailty is, now, thought of as something that other people can't handle- afterall, everyone is too submerged in their own selfish needs and desires to want to accept added baggage on their shoulders. Thus, in response, we tend to mask ourselves- we want to be the heroes- the Batman's and the Superman's and the Wonderwoman's of the world- so much so, that we forget that it's okay to be weak once in a while. It's okay to sit down, cry and think about everything that has gone wrong in our lives. It's okay to miss someone you're not "supposed" to miss. It's okay to tell someone that you're going to miss them after they leave. It's okay to hug someone when you feel like it. None of the above (and other things) make us weaker human beings- in effect, they just prove that, at the end of the day, we're just humans. We're meant to feel. We're supposed to feel that anxious knot in our stomachs when something bad happens. We're supposed to cry when someone hurts us. We're supposed to sweat and palpitate when in danger. We're supposed to smile and laugh when we're happy about something. There's no point in trying to hide it, to mask it, to not act upon a feeling if you feel it coming- someday or the other, it IS going to come out- in one way or the other. Why wait?

What we need now, in today's messed up robotic world, is a release, an expansion of one's locus of interest and a greater endeavor to feel ourselves and reach that self-actualising potential that is impatiently waiting to be discovered within each and every one of us. 

Case #1

X is a 20 year old female who had been married off when she was about to give her last matric examination. According to her mother, who I had earlier mistaken to be her elder sister, explains how X used to be a lively, clever and intelligent girl before fights in her in laws' family broke out. Her husband began receiving death threats from their neighbors due to a fight with X's brother in law. The first time that her husband was threatened, her mother reports that X fell to the ground while conscious. Ever since then, X's mental health has deteriorated profusely. What initially began with disorganized affect (anger outbursts, crying spells, irritation and high levels of aggression), slight insomnia and lower productivity levels has now blossomed into a complete inability to do anything more than sit in one place all day and stare off into space. Her mother and grandmother report that she often talks to herself, refuses to eat (vomits if forced to eat) and communicate with others, has begun urinating without control, takes off her clothes in inappropriate surroundings, does not know her own name when asked (gives some other name), and breaks into bursts of screaming (yells out her husbands name). She does not show any signs of physical mobility. It was reported that she had to be physically hauled out of the rickshaw she was brought to the hospital in this morning.


She has been sitting in front of me for the past hour and has remained in a static position all this time: eyes closed, expressionless with the back of her head resting against the wall behind her. As her grandmother asks her if she'd like to drink water, X opens her eyes momentarily but closes them again. Thus, she remains conscious but the medicines that she was given the previous day seem to have had a hypnotic effect on her. The psychiatrist next to me tries to make some sort of communication initiative by speaking to her, calling out X's name, slightly nudging her- but there is no response whatsoever.


X's mother and grandmother look dejected and disappointed as they watch X in the state that she is in. They are all that she has left since her husband and in laws chucked her out of their house. the doctor recommends immediate hospitalization in the mental health ward I am working in, so that a proper diagnosis can be laid out. for now, nothing can be said as to what X is suffering from but from the looks of it, it seems like a symptom of post traumatic stress coupled with psychotic depression.


A follow up in the coming weeks is likely to reveal more.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Congratulations

A short post, just to get it off my chest....


I survived today. I don't know how or even why, but I did. 






I'd like to self-congratulate myself.




Congratulations.

Metastasis

Day 2:

I feel....I don't know how I feel actually. It's a whirlpool of emotions; hard to identify and explain. More stable now; think things might be making more sense now. I'm not sure if I'm shocked or not...or in a state of shock...there's something there; a thudding, vibrating pain of some sort, a constantly present elephant in every room, every corner I go to. I'd like it to leave but I don't think that's possible any more. I took the step of writing that letter this morning- it was hard. I guess, unlike what i'd previously thought, the third time isn't a charm. Or whatever. Life must go on – despite the strong urge I'm experiencing to remain sitting here for the rest of it. I idealise myself to be consistently strong, but the weakness is hard to ignore. It's something that I must develop. Something tells me that my mind might be over-exaggerating the situation; it may not be as bad as I might be construing it to be.

It's a very “wish I didn't know now, what I didn't know then” sort of situation. It's like a permanent scar that is going to remain with you all your life, whether or not things work out. This moment can't be reversed; memories cannot be altered, emotions cannot be controlled and regrets cannot be rectified now. It's a little too late. But all you can do it to wait it out, cope and.....carry on.  

Say It Isn't So

Do you know how it feels to have your world crash down on you?

Do you know what it's like to feel like everything around you is a nightmare?

Have you ever felt a hopelessly desperate need to turn back time?

Have you ever felt such grounding regret that it makes you want to physically hurt yourself?

Do you feel a lack of faith resonate your body like an earthquake?

Do you know what it feels like to be a helpless bystander?

Have you ever felt your future hopes and dreams become unimaginable?

Do you know what it's like to hate God?

No?

Imagine all of this hitting you like a million little pieces- at once.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Let's Celebrate Death

So I was thinking about how a majority of the world is celebrating the death of Osama Bin Laden. Case in point: the endless congratulatory messages from world leaders from all over the world, and the scords of people who formed celebratory mobs outside the White House, shouting pro-American slogans after the “extermination” announcement was made. It makes me think about our species, how we live by hypocritical, double-standards and how we've become insensitive, unhumane animals in an era which supposedly promotes peace, diversity, acceptance and prosperity. I don't see any of it- anywhere. All I see and hear about are deaths, bombing, terrorism, poverty and wars over land and natural resources. What have we become and what has made us this way? Why are we becoming so immune to the injury, pain, distress and death of human life? I don't want to sound like I'm in favour of OLB's life-mission, but I don't think that the solution (for both parties, America and Al-Qaeda in this case) is resorting to killing people. Everyone has a family- a mother, a sister, a father, a brother, best friends, uncle, aunts- that is left behind to suffer and mourn the loss of someone who meant the world to them. The 3,000+ Americans who were killed in the 9/11 attack are no different from the 19,629 civilians killed in Afghanistan since the war there commenced (My aim is not to highlight the disparity in the statistics between the two countries).


I'd like to quote some of the reactions to OLB's death:

“USA! USA! USA! USA! Bin Laden’s been killed! Just texted every number in my contacts!,” - Random Tweet

“Justice has been done,” - Barack Obama

“We finally got him, justice has been done.” - Senator John McCain

“We welcome the death of one of the world’s most dangerous men and highly appreciate the United States’ help in crushing this global enemy,” - Chairul Akbar, secretary general of the anti—terrorism agency in Indonesia

Osama Bin Laden was no angel- I don't advocate his mission or anything that involves killing people (innocent or “evil”). I can't imagine what distress, trauma and pain those 3000+ victims of 9/11 had to go through before they died; not to mention the people who bore witness to the entire ordeal that morning, and the suffering of the families of the people who were less fortunate had to undergo. It's not easy. As humans we're programmed to be emotional, sensitive and weak. So, whether it's an afghani woman who lost her husband in a drone attack, or an elderly man whose US Armed Forces soldier son died in Iraq by a stray roadside bomb, the feelings of losing a person you love remain constant the world over.


So, how can we sit here and rejoice at the death of ANYONE? It doesn't matter whether or not he/she deserves it- who are you to judge? Who are you the end the life of another person? Revenge is not the answer; it only breeds further contempt and violence. It's like a viscious cycle that is never-ending.


Do I want to be a part of a world that believes that the road to peace lies in the murder of members of the human race?


Food for thought.

Baby Got a Little Problem

Baby got a little problem with the drugs man
And I tried to stop her, well
But she loves them
But I can’t do nothing that, last one man
Her nose keeps on bleeding but it’s, but it’s
but it’s nothing and I
And I won’t forget when, when she said

I lick a ring around this L
So that it burns all night
And I pass round that philly so, so
So we can all get high
You see I never knew
I never had a clue that
That you were capable of love

- Capable, K.O

From a Psychotic Girlfriend, With Love: “Five things I'd like to teach the average Pakistani Boyfriend.”

"So you call me crazy, huh?"

(A note to any idiot who will read this and get offended: No, this is satirical piece based on nothing factual.)


1) You made your choice, deal with it:

Think back to the time when you began liking your girlfriend (let's name her Sadia to make my writing easier). So, Sadia was just the girl you thought would be perfect for you: she was pretty, confident, intelligent, sociable, had a body you wanted to keep holding all the fucking time, she laughed at your jokes although you knew she didn't find them funny, she gave you those sexual innuendos which were oh-so-appealing....and somehow, despite being a tigress with you, managed to wow your mum with her domesticated facade. So, now, you and Sadia have really hit it off and it's come to that point where you're talking to each other all night, indirectly insinuating your feelings for each other, exhausting your SMS packages more rapidly than usual, and ofcourse, sickening your best friend with the stories of “ OMG ALI SHE TOLD ME SHE WANTED TO LICK MY CALVES LAST NIGHT!”

Eventually, you pop the question..she says yes, obviously and you two become an “item”. The first month is glorious: the excitement, butterflies, the awkward kisses which eventually improve and become amazing, the dates and sweet love talks ofcourse. But one day, Sadia tells you she doesn't like that pair of green Converse sneakers you were absolutely loved. Okay fine. You didn't wear them infront of her.

The pressure increases.

“Salman, I don't like you talking to Ayesha. She's such a slut. Why did she say hello to you? She only said hi to make me jealous!”

“Umm..okay Sadia...I'll try to keep out of her way.”

But it's not enough .

“Salman, do you KNOW what Faiz did today? I saw him staring at you. OMG he's gay isnt he! You CAN'T ever talk to him again! Promise me!”
“Sadia he's not gay. He was probably just looking over his shoulder.”

“I'm going to cry! I can't handle this!”, comes the reply as she starts screaming her lungs out until you have no other option but to concur that Faiz, poor thing, is gay with a irreversible crush on you.




Two weeks pass.




You get a text in the middle of the day saying “When you messaged me telling me that you loved me, you didn't add an exclamation mark at the end of it.you wrote “I love you.”, but not “I love you!!!!!” You don't love me anymore! I KNEW it! It's Faiz isn't it! I always knew you were gay! I hate you! I hate your guts! Fuck off! I never want to see you again! I hope you die and get eaten by maggots!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “

Silence.


Well, Salman. You made the choice, so now you have to live with it. I don't understand why boys don't expect girls to be emotional. It's like its some sort of revelation to them when they experience it first hand. And they react in two ways; they either a) flake out b) cry

Relationships aren't only about what you know of the person when you first start going out with him/her, but about the new aspects you discover; and yeah, that could mean that you run the risk of finding out that your girlfriend is a serial rapist (if you're really lucky).

Like honestly, if you want no drama, no emo bullshit....go out with yourself. Masturbate. Your dick is your best friend for life.

2) No, I will not wear a shuttlecock burqa to that crazy party happening on Saturday night.

No, we don't live in 400 BC anymore. No we don't all support the Taliban. Yes, we like being sluts at times. No, I will not wear that shirt with a neckline that reaches my chin. No, my dad's name is not Osama Bin Laden.

Boys think it's very sweet and caring and affectionate of them to impose restrictions on their girlfriends which conserve their girlfriends reputation and dignity. But honestly, it's pissing off.

Do I tell you to pull your pants up when your swagger around with half of your bright green boxers visible to the world? No. I don't care.

Don't tell me who I can or cannot go out with. Don't order my food for me; yes I want that deep friend chicken drowned in heavy garlic mayo cream with a side order of potato wedges AND fries.

Don't stop me from consuming what I want to consume. That's my personal duel with God. You have your demons to battle when God will be asking you about that time your mom caught you having sex with your ex-girlfriend in your dadi's bed.

Yes, I will act like a retard on ecstacy if I want to. I will be loud and obnoxious. I will cuss in urdu and laugh like a mad-man if I want to. Don't make that disgusted face.

You chose to be with me.

And NO. I will NOT cancel my plans with my girlfriends just because you're free after hanging out with your boys all day. No, I will not.


3) I'm not your maid.

Just because I'm a girl doesnt mean I'm your maid.

I will not wash your underwear.

I will not make your bed.

I will cook for you once in a while but don't make it a regular expectation.

If you pee'd you pants by mistake, no I will not sit there and lovingly wash your boxers for you (the same applies if you thought you needed to fart but accidently soiled yourself).

Yes, I might enjoy some of the things I do for you because I like/love you, but that doesn't mean that you don't reciprocate. If I ask you to do something for me, don't be a selfish bitch- be caring enough as to listen to me. So what if I want you to give me a bikini wax? So what if I ask you to play dress up with me and cats? So what if I want you to wash my period stained jeans?

Reciproate. Balance it out. Equalise the relationship. Don't expect things from me that you expect your maid to do.

4) Yes, I will complain, nag, seek attention, be pampered. I have a vagina.

Did you think that I was born without emotions? Just because I was all cool and composed with you initially doesn't mean that I don't want to occassionally yell at you, cuss you out, cry my eyes out, want you all to myself, expect surprises from you, be taken out on dates, be pampered, be taken to that new boutique that just opened up although you detest going shopping or being bought that flower randomly?

Yes, I'd like you to empathise with me and give me what I want. Don't get pissed off when I get my period. Did I choose my biology? I'm not a customized Subway sandwich.

Yes I will get pissed at you during my time of the month. Understand. What if you had blood coming out of your vagina for 5 days straight every month of your fucking life till you were 50? 

What if you had to either wear a mini pillow between your legs or stick a oversized capsule in your vagina (which by the way, you hadto pull out with a string that was attached to it. What if the string broke? Whatchu gonn' do now, huh?)

Don't give me bullshit about your 'bro's over hoe's” policy. I bet if I told you I was lying waiting in your bed with only a rose in my mouth, you'd immediately forget all about this “bro code”. I don't mean for you to ignore your friends, but maintain a balance. I'm not your pet iguana.

5) You're the man. Act like a man, not a statue.

Please don't act like a pussy. You don't have one.

Don't be an emo little prick. Don't cry everytime we fight. Stand up for me when you need to (but don't over-protect me).

No I don't want a 10 page letter in my inbox after every fight we have, in which you tell me about how your feelings were hurt and how you were about to cry but stopped yourself until after I hung up.

No.

But then again, don't be an emotionless statue. If I ask you how your day was , don't tell me you don't know. You have feelings, you're human.

And lastly....when I go bra shopping, NO you cannot come inside the changing room with me.

Happy Birthday to Me

10th may. One day till I turn 22 and I feel this uneasy sense of anxiety seeping through my body. I can't explain where it's coming from and how EXACTLY it's making me feel. It's a sense of fear of moving forward and of adding a year to my life. It's scary. I know I'm not turning 50 or something, but if I really think about it, just a couple of years ago, 22 seemed like s huge number- and now, here I am...22 in 24 hours.

Life has passed by pretty quickly. It seems as if it was just yesterday that I was standing in the morning assembly line at school, aged 10. Life was so easy back then. People were so pure. The world didn't have so many expectations from you; your responsibilities revolved around completing your homework (colouring geographical maps, making sentences of the 5 new words you had learnt at school that day). Your friends were innocent and young- you'd play baraf/paani during school break times, you'd cry because a boy would hit you, the most scandalous thing you'd hear was about someone being caught reading sweet valley UNIVERSITY instead of TWINS during library period. Those were the good days. You had no regrets, no feeling of emptiness, regret or societal pressures controlling your every move. You were left to yourself to express yourself and be who you felt you wanted to be. You didn't know what the world was really like so you were always in a hurry to grow up- to SAY that you were a teenager, to experience independence and autonomy, to sit on that stage on your wedding day in that carefully picked out wedding dress. These were your dreams. You wanted to be that doctor, that actress, that vet, that model, that journalist- these were your goals.
But you always wanted more. You didn't know that growing up and entering the world was no walk in the park; you didn't realise that what you had was what older people envied- youth, freedom and carelessness.

You'd go to sleep and wake up with thoughts of that boy you'd had a crush on for months- the biggest heartbreak was the fact that he didn't know that you existed. So you'd do everything you could to be noticed. You'd feel conscious every time you'd see him- you wondered whether he thought you were pretty or not, were you talking okay, would he be interested in you? You'd fantasize about that day when he'd finally come up to you and profess his romantic inclination for you- but more often than never would this actually materialize.

You would jump around, play, skip, dance, scream and shout like no one was watching. Your egocentricity was a gift that you didn't treasure as much as you should because you were too busy yearning to grow up. You hated being told what to do by your parents, not being allowed to go to park towers without someones mom following you around everywhere you went, being told what sort of clothes you were and weren't allowed to wear outside the house, being interrogated about that boy you had begun talking to on the phone late at night, amongst other things.

Your parents were your enemies. In your eyes, you were the know-all. Their experience didn't count for shit. You'd have regular fights with them over the get togethers and parties they wouldn't allow you to attend, the boys who they felt were getting too chummy with you and of course..the constant negotiations about your curfew.

Life was good. We just didn't know it. And it's probably the same right now. On the night before my 40th birthday. I might look back at my twenties and wish that I'd been more grateful Of my youth. And I am. But I still can't help but fear growing up. This birthday brings me closer to significant life events such as graduating from college, having to get a job, getting married, managing married life, raising a family etc. I'll never get this time of my life back again. It'll never be the same again. And as much as I want to sit here and try to treasure this moment and this age, I can't help but feel like rewinding and starting my life from scratch. I have regrets that I wish to amend, experiences that I'd like to relive, people who I'd like to meet again, family traditions that I'd like to reignite, actions that I'd like to undo, bad decisions that I'd like to correct and peace of mind that I'd please like back.

Our innocence is something of the past, and corruption is the thing of the present. Sometimes I think about the effort our parents put into trying to lead us on to the right path- the lengths they'd go to to make sure that we learnt to differentiate between right and wrong so that we could preserve our innocence, so that we'd would become good human beings. What would they think now? Have we done justice to their love? Have we cheated them in a way? What will it be like when we have children of our own? If only our parents knew.

So here I am. One day before my birthday, looking back on my life, thinking about the good times and the bad. I've had a pretty fucking good life. Gods been very kind to my family and myself. I've gotten everything that i ever wanted- whether or not it was beyond our means. I'm not emotionally scarred in any way- any regrets that I have are due to my own decisions and actions ; they cannot be blamed on anyone else but myself and I'm okay with that. I want to stay where i am. I don't want to grow up. I want live life in rewind, if that's possible. I know that's not possible but it's worth wishing for.

Happy birthday.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

My Personal Dragon

I was going through Psychology Today and chanced upon this beautiful article that I'd like to share:

Sit In The Belly Of Your Personal Dragon

by Dr. Leslie Becker-Phelps 

A long time ago, in the middle of a great countryside, there was a village terrorized by a dragon. A young knight came to its rescue, charging the dragon on his trusted steed. But before he could even get close, the creature merely yawned a fiery yawn and incinerated the poor lad. Then, a more experienced knight, equally fearless, approached the dragon. Using a fine, sturdy sword, he attempted to slay it. But, no matter how hard he swung that sword, it simply bounced off the dragon's scales. The dragon smashed this knight with his mighty tail. Knights from kingdoms far and wide came to demonstrate their courage and strength. They attacked with all manner of weapons - spears, battle-axes, cross-bows, and catapults. But every one lost his life to this great beast. Finally, one day, there appeared a stranger in the village. He was a bit worn down by life and carried no weapons, but he walked with a quiet strength. He asked the townspeople all about the dragon and went to observe it himself. Then, with an intense focus, he slowly - but unhaltingly - approached. And, when the awesome monster opened its mouth - apparently to spit fire - the man simply walked right inside and sat down in the belly of the great beast. After a blast of heat and some angry roars, the dragon disappeared in a puff - leaving the seated man.

I was recently reminded of this tale, which that I had read many years ago (so, more accurately, this is my memory of the tale). What made me think of it was watching a number of patients struggle with being terribly distressed, and wanting desperately out of their current situations. What's that got to do with dragons?

The tale suggests that you should do what you fear most - sit in the belly of your personal monster. That is, develop an inner calmness and strength so that you can sit with your emotions, thoughts, and beliefs.

You might be asking; How could this possibly help? The answer is based in the idea that your emotional distress (or failure to be the person you'd like to be) probably results from your being alienated from yourself. You don't want to feel hurt, so you pretend not to care; that is, until you are overcome by a tsunami of hurt. In an attempt to lose weight, you try to ignore your hunger; but are eventually compelled by an insatiable monster that demands to be fed.

The best way to respond to these experiences isn't to try harder or to pretend that your struggles don't exist. Instead, you must accept your distress; enter into that painful inner landscape, and walk through it.

By doing this, your compulsion to avoid those painful parts of your experience will no longer drive you from yourself. You will learn to tolerate them. And then you will learn to accept them. When you accept your emotions or experiences, no matter how painful or difficult they are, you also more fully accept yourself. You may be sad or angry or lonely; or something else; but once accepted, those experiences will feel 'right,' much as grief - even though it is painful - feels right when you have lost someone you love. In accepting your emotions, you are sitting in the belly of the beast.

Not only does achieving this self-acceptance mean that you can then feel better about yourself, but it is also empowering. It allows you to figure out whether there really is a problem beyond your merely cowering from your emotions. If there is, it enables you to look at it more clearly; and gives you the chance to approach it in a more confident, effective way.

You may wonder how you can learn to accept your emotions when they can be so upsetting and overwhelming. And, this is a good question. Some common ways are with personal journaling, meditation, mindfulnesspractices, and therapy. But just knowing that you need to accept all of your experiences is an important step in itself - because if you are not convinced of its importance, you probably will just continue trying to fight or deny unwanted experiences - a goal doomed to fail.

useless blog of the month

I'm listening to Rihanna rave about the sadomasochistic pain and pleasure she derives from the use of chains and whips. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react to that. It's like humans are so fixated on sexual pleasure that we'd extract it from anything and everything on the planet if it wasn't for the social norms that control our behavior. But thanks, Rihanna. I'm sure you'll be raped and disposed off in a black garbage bag someday soon; you just incited the crazy activation of sex and pleasure neurons in the brains of millions of rapists, sex addicts, serial killers and psychotic perverts from all over the globe. Add your inherent need to take off your clothes and act like a slut to the equation and we've got a winner, ladies and gentlemen!

So, bottom-line: it's great that you're into S&M and all; but girl, I spoke to Chris Brown and he thought he was being your sex-kitten. Clarify the rules of your game next time yeah?

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Blogging through a shoot-out!!!!

blogging from during a fucking shoot out a Fucking gun battle happening right outside my house!!!! oh my fucking god I can't believe I'm blogging oh my god this is so fucking scary!!!! crazy fucking machine guns gun fire flashes I think someone tried to Rob the house smack opposite to ours. the fucking alarm system isn't even working I dont think I've ever been this scared we're all lying flat on the floor I'm partially under the bed I feel like I'm a war journalist in Iraq or some shit like that. 1250 am it starter and it's 110 am now this is a keepsake blog more than anything yes I'm psychotic blogging. Omg it's getting worse I hear police vans pulling up WTF k I'm out

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Lazy Lucy

Laziness is a silent killer.

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Midnight Musings

I feel like writing nothing but a load of crap. My mind is pretty much empty- I think I'm going to make blogging a nightly routine. It's 110 am and I'm lying in bed comforted by the convenience of posting entries from my phone. I really have nothing to say but there's an internal urge that is prodding me to continue writing. I'm completely blank. Freud termed what I'm doing right now as "free association". Maybe you could psychoanalyze my post eventually. Maybe you'll uncover facets of my subconscious and unconscious that I, myself, have been disconnected from. This is a good way to fall asleep as well.

Today I discovered my loyalty towards humanistic psychology. It's quite ironic because just till about a month ago, I believed that it was just a load of bull- abstract, subjective, idealistic, optimistic and very artificially constructed. I have always invested more faith into more scientific and objective schools of thought such as the biological and behavioral paradigms of understanding how and why people behave the way they do. To me, humanism was analogous to a fairy-tale that was written on a whim to please a child- unreal, irrational and often misleading. But then, very recently, I chanced upon the works of theorists such as Horney, Maslow, Kelly and Rogers. I began to read and study what all of these people said about humans and humanity in general, about how to deal with clients during therapy, about what sort of world view one should adopt when trying to understand the next person. Although many of the ideas that have been presented contain gaps and unexplainable black holes, the underlying message/concept is one that holds the most significance.


To be continued. the writer has suddenly experienced a indescribable need to fall asleep. She's not sure if she's still typing or not.

Okay I'm back; it's 449 pm- the next afternoon.

I'd like to expand on my previous attempts to introduce humanistic psychology to my blog. Here is Carl Rogers' theory on how humans function.

I love how this theory encompasses the beauty of human beings rather than portraying us as passive objects which inhale and exhale whatever we're fed with. However, there are a few things that I question or don't agree with which I will mention exclusively, later on. But adding on to my first point, I think that Rogers has taken a first step in to explaining why people experience dissonance, anxiety, low self-esteem, and a lack of worth amongst other negative affects. I can relate to his concept of incongruence; I think it's easy to understand how society, socialisation, environmentally and culturally imposed value sets can cause conflict between the real and ideal self. For example, on a personal level, I often question the legitimacy and the truth in religion - after all, it's merely a construct which can be used as a social regulator, a sort of comfort for the "soul", a belief to pacify and explain things that may be out of one's locus of control. The feeling of rebelling within myself regarding my faith is something that I have been constantly taught to shun from my mind. This constant reminder from my peers, parents, teachers etc has caused me to embed these ideas within myself although I might not agree with them .Thus, I may experience anxiety, a sense of infidelity whenever I DO question the existence of a god. Both ideas clash, giving birth to incongruence.

Rogers's also talks about how every human is innately good. Many people may not agree with this, and I can see why. I didn't either but after much reading and debates with myself, I have reached a conclusion. I agree that humans are innately good. They function and serve a purpose that is not to harm others around them or to spread viruses. Society has subjectively defined and labelled certain acts, thoughts, feelings, religions, and needs as being either "good" or "bad". Who is to say that premarital sex is wrong? Society. People from certain cultures and religions have been taught that it is sinful to engage in sexual practices with someone other than one's husband or wife. You might argue and say that it's wrong because it breeds negative emotions, causes social disruptions, dissolves family values, hurts feelings and encourages polygamy amongst other "vices"- but I ask you, how did these themes get categorized as "bad" in the first place? If it wasn't for certain TEACHINGS, socially CONSTRUCTED cultures, beliefs, all of the above would be neutral to the human mind. Perhaps we wouldn't have felt bad that our partner was sexually active with another person if we hadn't been TAUGHT to feel bad- it's very much like "you SHOULD feel bad if X happens because it's NATURAL." How can you say it's natural? Are innate tendencies involved in defining crime and theft as morally unfit? Thus, my interpretation of Rogers belief is that without society, we wouldn't KNOW what's good or bad- we'd merely be living our lives to satisfy OURSELVES: our thirst, our hunger, our survival. It may seem like an egocentric perspective, but it's not because the interaction of the self with external players cannot be ignored. In a Utopian society, I wouldn't gather food only for myself (my actualising tendency- my survival), but would help my neighbour to help him reach his. This wouldn't be because I'd be taught to attach positive or negative attributions to the act of helping someone, but because it'd be my instinctual response to someone's need. My altruism would be a part of my actualising tendency- my path to self actualisation.

I think as humans, we starve for social approval- what Rogers calls positive regard. I am absolutely in love with his ideas on this subject- I think it's the foundation of our existence in a way. We strive to function in a world that is not only made up of people who we KNOW love us, but also of those people who are in some way connected to us. We want people to love us for who we are- and we should because the way we are built, the things we do, the way we speak, the interests we hold are all central to our existence as humans- they make up the structure of  the way we define ourselves, learn to love ourselves and feel the best at. Rogers talks about the ideal and the real self. If we disparage the image and the characteristic of our real self and solidify ourselves in to yearning to be that IDEAL person- the person who people like BECAUSE  of certain things. There's a condition attached to being accepted and cared for that motivates one to change ones true self. This, in my opinion, isn't always done consciously. I may begin to watch a specific sport thinking that I actually want to watch it, but in reality, it's only because it's a way to bond with a new group of friends who are avid football fans. I will enjoy watching the games on television, but somewhere inside, I know that I'd rather be watching a fashion show on FTV.  The conscious attempts to change oneself are more lethal because they are the roots of incongruity= more suffering.

My absolute FAVOURITE  aspect of Rogers theory is his interpretation of a fully-functioning person. The five characteristics that define such a person are: 'openness to experience', 'creativity', 'organismic trust', 'living in the here-and-now' and 'freedom'.

I love how Rogers lays emphasis on how we should live in the present (not ignoring the existence of a past and a future). I think that everyone in todays world is too busy trying to reach goals rather than enjoying and savouring journeys and experiences. A romantic relationship doesn't have to be about getting married; it's about the feelings of mutual love, understanding, sharing of experience (good and bad), learning from mistakes and sharing a certain part of one's life with another person  that should be emphasized. We're too busy thinking about how many years we've been with a boyfriend or girlfriend, how many more years till he may propose, how many months till we buy a home - this shouldn't be the motivation that we feed on. Every conversation, every fight, every holiday, every morning breakfast at the table is a part of ones phenomenal  field- how you experience or perceive it is your truth, your reality. It's your way of progressing from one stage of life to another without even knowing which stage you're at. It's like having a bath in a relaxingly hot bath-tub: savor the feeling of the warmth penetrating your body- don't think about the time when the water will lose it's warmth causing you to refill it; think about how good it feels at THAT moment. I know this is a concept that doesn't sit well with people with conservative points of view. Many people may refute my point of view saying that it goes against certain religious and cultural values. Yes, I agree that it may not be applicable to every situation you encounter in life, but definitely can with the things that you feel are ethically acceptable - which settle with your concept of the self. So, maybe you think it's important that you only be with a person who you intend to marry- so be it. But you can apply Rogers' perspective in other facets of your life which don't conflict with it.

 In conclusion, I'd like to say: Be creative. Be free. You are an independent and free-willed creature. We all are. Be open to adaptation, experience and change. Value yourself, your decisions, your feelings, your abilities, your likes and dislikes - you are responsible for everything that you do on this earth. It is your duty to actively try to help yourself reach a point where you know that you have manipulated your full capacity: no regrets, only triumph and satisfaction with oneself. Trust yourself.



***I know I had earlier decided to write about the weaknesses of this theory but I've changed my mind. Later on, I'll dedicate a separate post to that topic.***

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Four Walled Sanctuary

I'm sitting outside in the driveway of my house and my usually peaceful neighborhood has been polluted with the sounds of bustling traffic, hurriedly anticipating car horns and petrifying ambulance and police car sirens. My mother decided to take a brave step and venture out to a near by grocery store to stock up on basic supplies such as milk, petrol for the car, bread etc. I think she's over reacting because I feel surprisingly calm- after-all, I do live in Pakistan. I think I, along with millions of other pakistani citizens, have slowly but eventually desensitized themselves to the unrest that has surrounded us for years now. It's not something that has happened consciously and actively, but is something very cancer-like: silent, vicious and intoxicating. The same feelings of ill exuberance do not hit me when I hear about a bomb blast ripping through my very own locality, or in this current situation, where a political party's leader's murder has caused unrest throughout the city- so much so, that there are reports coming in about motor vehicles and public transport carriages being burnt, shoot outs occurring city wide and dozens of people being harmed as I type this. But amidst all this unrest, I sit here in the semi permeable safety of the four boundary walls that stand before me.

My safety, and the safety of my loved ones is primary to my conscience- but what about the innumerable people who aren't as lucky? What about the lay man who has to take public transport in order to reach the sanctuary of HIS four walls? What if the bus that he encounters to board is one of the ill-fated ones that is attacked? What if he isn't able to make it home unharmed? And if he is...what conditions will ensue for his family and loved ones? What if he is the sole breadwinner of the clan? What if the he is a she- the mother of young children, the wife of a poor laborer, the sister of an orphan child...? Then what? This doesn't just apply to the underprivileged class of society, it's equally devastating to see a wealthy family lose a loved one or go through such misfortune. We're all humans after-all- we all function the same way. We love, we hurt, we grieve, we recover and try to stand back up on our feet the same way as every next individual. But it's sad that although we are good at empathizing with others and condemn acts of such brutality and inhumanity, it is our very own specie that is the cause of such evil in the world today.

Pakistan has gone through a lot in the past 60 odd years since partition- it's been a rocky road with glimmers of hope which eventually lose their zeal. It's a sad sight. You'd envision positive development and growth (all, economic, political and HUMAN) to take over as time progresses - perhaps the gradual alleviation of poverty, equal opportunities for all citizens, the reduction of political malpractice, an increase in homeland security and most importantly, an increase in quality education of the masses in all spheres. Is this too idealistic a country that one yearns for after 60+ years of independence? I don't think so. Pakistan, in my opinion, has one of the strongest potentials to be a first world country; we have the natural and human resources, we have the talent, we have the intelligence, to say the least- our problem is that we get sidelined by what I'd metaphorically like to call 'extra-academic affairs'. You know how there's always that one kid in class that the teacher has high hopes in but the kid is so distracted by social activities and perhaps his newfound lady-love that he doesn't operationalize his intellectual capacities to their zenith. Thus, instead of getting an A grade, he ends up with a C. Pakistan, in my opinion, is in a similar predicament. We're too sidelined by problems such as corruption, a lack of education, political infighting, 'terrorism' and fighting off decades worth of debt, to name a few, to actually focus primarily on the real issues at hand.

I consider myself to be a very patriotic person. I feel very strongly about my country and what people may say about it. I have to admit that it was the effect of the whole 'distance makes the heart fonder' bullshit that makes me feel this way today. Living abroad makes you realize the worth of something you previously hadn't valued as much; it makes you realize that all the small things about home leave the most lasting impressions on your heart. This is why I made up my mind to return to Pakistan after my studies so that I could serve as a positive contribution to local society in any way that I could instead of being a passive bystander who was 'all talk and no action'. But as days pass and the situation seemingly deteriorates, I shamefully find myself considering retracting my commitment. I wonder whether I'd like to raise a family in a such an unhealthy environment where every day is more precarious than the previous one, where bombs explode like fireworks, where one fears having to wait at traffic signals, where one feels the most at risk and unsafe in the presence of security personnel who are supposed to protect you, where the system feeds on bribery and corruption, where justice lies in the number and color of the currency in your pocket, where education is being upheaved by extremist religious values.....and every day is the funeral of at-least one person who had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I'm ashamed to be portraying such a negative image of my mother land. I really am. But sometimes, one has to accept ones' flaws instead of living in a fairyland. I want Pakistan to progress, I want us to prove everyone who is against us at this point in time wrong, I want us to be the underdog that rises to the top. But I'm scared. I'm fearful. Yet hopeful. I don't want it to reach a point where I have to choose between my country and the safety of my family.

Things seemed to have settled down a little on the streets outside. The wind seems to be trying to deliver a similar message as it softly brushes stray locks of hair off my face. Motherly. Peaceful. But then in the lapse of a second, I am able to hear the far off shrills of a racing ambulance. It's probably stuck in traffic as it tries to make it's way to the closest hospital. I wonder how badly injured the person inside it is. I wonder if he/she will survive. I wonder whether he/she is in pain. If so, how much? The four boundary walls of my house continue to stare down at me with resolute dedication to protect me. But I wonder, how long will this spell of sheer luck last? You never think that such things will happen to you. You're always that special one that God has promised go protect no matter what. But living in such times makes me question my confidence. It makes me wonder: When will my turn come?

I look towards the wall in front of me as if expecting a reply of some sort. Surprise surprise. The walls remain silent.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Here and Now

I'm not sure how I'm feeling right now. theres a ph

Happy Second Anniversary

Happy two year anniversary to me.

April 22, 2009. I remember sitting in the Coach Canada bus as it slowly made its way out of the berri uqam bus terminal. I forced myself to take a mental snap shot for myself- an imaginary keepsake if you may. The snow was slushy and brown in some places, in other places it wasnt even present. Spring had freshly arrived. But in Montreal, you don't realise it's spring until atleast may. I had taken the 530 pm bus on purpose- it gave me a chance to spend my last day in my temporary city and say goodbye to it one last time. I had hoped that the su would set later that day so that I would be able to catch my last glimpses of sights and sounds I might never ever be able to experience again. It was one of the most emotional rides of my life (pun intended). I was lucky to have an empty seat next to me so I decided to sprawl myself in both seats and try to relax myself. I couldn't help but think of the year that had just passed by - the people I'd met, the lessons I'd learnt and wish id learnt, the mistakes I'd made, the good times with some of the most amazing people I'd gotten a chance to meet, the bitches I'd wished I'd never met....and the most amazing educational experience I'd ever gotten. I still remember crying silently wishing that I could turn back time And do everything again- the right way, this time. But I knew that I didn't have lady luck on my side.. Call it karma or call destiny..I call it fate. Fate that was hard to swallow- and still is- but someday..someday soon..I hope to digest it.

Two years later, I sit here writing this. It's taken me innumerable therapy sessions, a break up with an ex boyfriend and the support of some of the most amazing friends in the world to be at the place I am at right now. Considering how hung up I still am over fucking Canada. You probably think that none of them made a difference. But they have. In their small little capacities.

I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt a lot of people on the way. I've deposited and shredded friendships, broken the heart of a boy who worshipped me like no one probably ever will, fucked up my studies, reduced my professional credibility and most of all...lost myself in the process. The person I am today. In my opinion, isn't the person I was and am supposed to be. I consider identification of the problem step 1 of finding a solution. I don't know how I'm going to move on to step 2 but I know that there is a way- I just have to stick it out, feel the pain and move forward. It's been two years since I've been back in pakistan- that's no joke. And to still cringe at the sight, sound or smell of anything related to Canada is ridiculous. Its something I want to separate myself from; I thought cathartic writing should be my next step towards 'independence'.

My life in Pakistan is wonderful. I've met some amazingly amazing people- my best friends. People who love me for who I am no matter what I do or have done, parents who are there to support me through thick and thin- to protect me from all the negativity that may attack me, a university which sucks balls but still provides me with knowledge..I feel wanted and loved. I feel secure. And happy. I have a moderate sense of stability now. I've moved on from my previous shackled and turbulent relationship after a lot of shit. In relation to that, my only regret is that in the process I lost one of my best friends in the world- a boy I care about like crazy- its just that sometimes your craze is platonic more than anything else- and as much as you try, you can't force yourself to feel a certain way.

Here's to my 2nd anniversary. Happy anniversary Sara. Here's to fucking Canada out of your memory. Here's to moving forward.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

The Two of Them

My Brofriend. 

Brofriend.

My boyfriend.

Boyfriend

Two separate people. Separate entities. 

Fragile; please handle with care. 

Seek Apocalypse

Moderation is a phase
Starts, it does, filled with cloudiness
Mazes to meander, shoes to fill
Hill after hill do I clamber upon
Striving to reach that peak
Eyes wide shut, breath heavy
Eternity never seems to end.
Focus on that end, I placate
For everything has a conclusion

Self-Handicapped

Misty futures, goals left undefined
Confidence shAllow and twisted
Ideas convoluted, thoughts subjugated
Pressures mounting, expectations rising
A past left cluttered and unrepairable
History begins to repeat itself, emotions flurried
Fight to make it right, decay is inevitable
Thoughts polluted, motivations scarred
You know how to fix it, to twist it.
But do you really want to?

Locus of Control

I'm experiencing a sense of unconscionable panic right now. It's hard to explain. I've realized that I've become the sort of person who cannot handle things out of her locus of control: it needs to be in my hand.  But the problem is that even when I have that yearned control, I tend to take it for granted- a sort of self handicapping, so to speak. I fear becoming a failure in life due to this recently conceived personality flaw. People around me speak about the strong potential I have to be brilliant- and I know that this brilliance resides in me..somewhere..untouched...
Why is it untouched? Why hasn't it been exploited and used to it's zenith? When you have something, why don't you use it? When you have that control, why don't you exert it?  It's analogous to having the ability to see but choosing to walk around with your eyes closed. But I still wonder why this is so..and why is it something that's come about so recently? I was never like it- I was the go-getter, the proactive amazon...why now, when the time has come when I need it the most? Perhaps a sense of overconfidence and having been praised too much? Is it a method of regressing...?

 Whatever it is, it needs to stop.

Musings from the Sky

I feel poetic and exhilarated- in a world world external and public, yet internal and private: something that I can call my own; a little bubble with an ashtray grey with muddled thoughts- light and effervescent, enough to be blown away with a mere gust of air. Speaking to each other, pacifying their environment, my thoughts gently numb the erosion that has been corroding my mind. They softly brush together and intertwine their make - belief palms to push out the corruption that has long since been poisoning the territory of my sanity. Temporary as it may be, the escapist in me appreciates the vacation - I had hoped to find a sandy white beach outlined with green, umbrella-like palm trees, but the most I could get this time was only the infantile pleasure of resting these thoughts in my bed. A permanence in the temporary resonates within me as I realize that reality will catch up with me very soon. I feel her coming. The thoughts begin to tame themselves, the rust seems to be bringing back that feeling back with it once more. The bass keeps resounding. The beat keeps beating.