Within Seconds.

Being from a Muslim country and a Muslim family I don’t think i will be much appreciated if I come out open and confess that I support Gay marriages. I think for my family it will be just as me coming out a gay. Un-acceptable.

Unfortunately for them, I am a rebel.

I stand and support Gay marriages. It’s love that has to win in the end. It is that simple.

Something else that is simple is life. A bullet pierces through someone’s body and they are no more.

Within moments, a tear in the body and everything else falls with it.

Humanity comes first. It comes ahead of Religion (most importantly), ahead of race, creed, color and ahead of almost anything that is of this world.

There is nothing more important than human life. Isn’t it, that every-day is beautiful to save human lives.

Killing and blast are common in Pakistan. Almost every-day there are news of several death anywhere in the country. The media, tells us about it. Every news channel covers that coverage. There are headlines and breaking news regarding that incident. People cry and mourn those dead.

Almost every time I hear the words, ‘What must it be like for the victim’s family?’ As if they sympathies with their families, feel them as their own.

So, what changes when people in non-Muslim countries die?

Is not the color of their blood red?
Do they not breathe with the same air?
Do they not have families mourning for them?

A few months ago, there was this shouting in Paris. People died.

I got to know of that incident two days later. I was switching between channels when I stopped on BBC and there it was. Humanity slaughtered.

I lost my temper.

Were those lives lost not big enough for our news channels and newspapers to print about?

And if they really were not, then why do all the people criticize and curse the people abroad for not having any sympathy for them.

Just the same, today not anywhere have I heard or seen the tragic deaths of the Gay community being mourned.

Why?

Because they were Gay?

Because they had the courage to come out to their friends and families and went out to that bar to celebrate their courage.

They did not choose to be Gay.

Just like most of us did not choose our Religions and none of us chose our colors or our families or the people we fall in love with and for some of us the people we marry.

None of these choices are our choices.

What we can choose however is who to mourn for and who to stand by with

Just because they differ from us in anyway does not make them wrong. They do what they do with self-satisfaction just like we do. We have not been given any right by any authority to judge anyone.

I do not know what death feels like but I once saw myself die in a dream. I was shot in the head.

That was immensely dreadful. I had that dream years ago but for some reason, I cannot shake that terror that ran through my body that day nor has it changed today.

A bullet pierced through my skull, burning it with such a force and so simply that it was like a cigarette making a hole in a paper.
It happened within seconds, but when you know that you might be living your final moments then somehow you start feeling time, you can feel the seconds that pass you by.
Next in its motion, the bullet pierced through the meat of my brain. Imagine feeling like that, feeling the realization that all your life, all you thought about the brain and how much you use it and the connections and the cells and everything you thought there was, is in fact nothing but a disconcerted piece of meat.
Now imagine, drilling a hole in your head, in the very middle, swiftly, run any of your finger in that hole, in your brain and before you know it, the finger is out on the other side.
I remember this and then falling down on the ground, feeling so helpless and wanting to shout for help but you know it, it won’t matter, even if you manage to shout, there is nothing more.

That is helplessness.

Think, how helpless the people in that bar may have felt. When a guy with a gun barges in and suddenly all at once so many hearts sinks to the bottom, because it is over for them.

That is how close I got to death. So death affects me. A lot.

Within moments you can be gone. You can be a something in oblivion. Within seconds.

Human life is precious and fragile.

People think that their heart makes them fragile when in fact they are fragile with their bodies too.

Gay or not. Muslim or not. White or not. Asian or not. Yours or not. Human and yes.
Yes,
I stand with humans. I stand with humanity, even if that makes me a gay supporter.

 

-Naba Mehdi

Death of a friend.

SEPTEMBER,2013.

It been three years to that day. We don’t talk about it. None of us. They show it in movies and books of the trauma when you have someone you know die.

I have never written about it. I’ve meant to but i never did.

Three years ago, in grade 9, we had our chemistry exam and after it, we all went to the cafeteria, we all stood there, ordered what we wanted to eat and went on our ways. They went out. Left school. About 45 minutes later, 3 from 4 of them were dead. One of them was in a coma.

Areeb, Talha and Sheraz were dead. Zohaib was alive but barely.

How is it you see someone and then 45 minutes later they are dead. I mean they are dead. Really, dead? I knew Zohaib and Areeb for 9 years, I have memories with them and they still haunts me. Zohaib died too three days later.

I never wrote about it because people might say I wasn’t friends with them anymore. You see, in my part of the school, they separate boys and girls. Once you separate them in grade 7, does not mean you stop them from having those 7 years of memories. I talked to them too.

Last few conversations I had with Zohaib were of us fighting but no one knows about them because they were over Facebook.
I still remember the time, when we about to separate and Areeb was sitting in the row ahead of me and he was constantly fighting with the girl next to me. I was paired up with Areeb on that.
Or when I caught Zohaib with phone and I threatened him that I’ll tell the teacher and he said with the sparkle in his eyes, the naughty face, go ahead if you dare.
And there are millions of other memories. Siting together in class, passing each other by, small talks, making fun of some and those millions seconds we spent together.

I remember them. I remember them all. Just because I wasn’t talking to them in their last days does not mean I did not know them at all. I knew. I grew up with them. I grew up with Zohaib telling tales of the fun he had when his family was together.

I can not forget that. Because I am a girl and they were boys does not mean I don’t miss them. I miss them. All of them. Even Sheraz, who I hated but I even had memories with him.

You think you ever get over something like that. You don’t. You never do. Three years later. Five years later. You still miss them. You still remember them. The memories are there.

But the worst part is, you don’t know why it hurts. There are other people, you know for a long time and then you stop talking. You all move forward in your lives.

But the feeling of the dead. It leaves a whole inside of you. You get trauma one day. Years later maybe, but you do. You sit at 3 am in the morning, typing at your laptop, with here and there a few tears flying through.

It’s the worst kind of pain. I can not explain it. It’s something so bad, so hard and you know it, in your objective and subjective, brain and mind but it doesn’t hurt. There is no weighing over the heart. You feel no pain. You are closed to it. To the pain. Your body is closed to it yet somehow, somewhere you don’t know it still hurts. You feel pain without actually feeling anything.
It’s a crazy kind of thing but I do see Zohaib’s face sparkled with smile, while teethes flashing and so wide that they are reaching his eyes.
How do you not feel something like that, yet you feel it.

I remember them. We remember them. None of us talk about them, still we remember them.

-Naba Mehdi.

Control of the mind.

Are you in control of your mind, or is it in control of you?? 

Us human beings are extremely dependent No matter how much we claim the words of being independent, we never fully grasp up to it.

What are we if not out minds.

Lets consider a scenario:
You are siting watching a movie or reading a book. At the same time you also have a bowl of cereal with you. Now all your attention is at that movie or book and unconsciously you are eating that bowl.
You did not tell yourself to do so. You only had a bowl in your hands.
You did not tell yourself (as you are your mind), to take even the first step towards eating that.
Your brain put together the information –
a bowl full of food.
stationary at a place.
Without any command it just did what it thought best.

Another scenario:
You are quarreling with someone. He seems to be going to the extents to annoy you. You feel annoyed and suddenly you slap him.
After the slap has taken place you realize what you have done. It is only after the moments of your hands you think of them and decide if that was infact the right choice or not.

So, who is in control? You are your mind. Does your mind have a life of itself?
The logical explanations for both the scenarios is the function of brain. But we are not talking about the brain.
In daily life routine, we do not consider brain,we consider mind (the subjective being).

For me, I think it might just be my mind in control of me. It knows better than me, after all. It might just be the case with us all, I think.

It applies in daily life too. We are tired and lazy. Fighting through everyday lives and at the end of the day, we are so tired that we do not take charge of our minds, rather we let them be. We know deep down they are a tough job. Being in charge of them is a hard job and a full time too. And when does anyone says yes to hard work?

Our minds on the other hand, they know his truth true. They know the true nature of their bodies and so they hold the reins but offer them to us when we think about it.Sadly, we see these reins and steps backwards,shaking our heads. Such a hard burden it would be to take charge of our minds too.

It’s funny, how I thought of it.
I was trying to get that mind palace technique. I was following through steps and trying to imagine what my storage place would look like. I was trying but not really. The voice in me was telling me to drop it because it was hard work.
I tried to do but failed. Then it hit me, I need to be in charge to get this done. I need to own my mind. To be the king of my realms. I can’t make a palace in a place I am to lazy to take charge of. It’s tiresome and I have yet not done it.Yet not taken charge of my mind because I feel it to be a huge responsibility.
And I am lazy.

-Naba Mehdi.

Tea Cups.

I do not know about the world but from where I am and what I observe very frequently is something not fair.

You see, I am the eldest daughter of my house. So, traditionally it is my obligation to help my mother in her household duties. Now, I don’t have any opposition to that,  I can do it, my only problem is why aren’t your sons supposed to do the dishes and only daughter.

But that is not what I am talking about in my blog tonight.

It happens, whenever someone come by our place, we serve them. Happens everywhere.
In my house, today, some carpenters came by, they had to do some work. They did work for our house, which we ought to have done but rather we had them do it. Anyway, i made tea for them, having never met them before, I asked my mum to ask them of the amount of sugar they’d like? Instead of asking them she just said, make it one and a half. How did she know? She’s never met them before either.

Another scenario is, some guests come by, I make tea for them, I ask my mum for the amount of sugar in their tea, now instead of telling me herself, she asks them all, politely, the kid my age or her father or her mother.

Why did she ask them and not the carpenters. She’s never met any of the parties before, How come she judge any of them without knowing anything about them in the first place.
Hoe come she trust one party and not the other.

It’s all about the respect. How did she know that the carpenters weren’t worth the respect that she gave the other guests and guests were the guests worthy of the respect?

Because the guests were rich and had a place in society? What if they got it by all the wrong means?
And what if those carpenters had a difficult life and did their best but all they could get was true means of hard-work and earnings.

And then she says, she’s a fair person. That at least she gave tea to them.
I am not disrespecting my mother. All the mothers does it. I bet fathers would too if they were in-charge of the kitchens.

That is not justice by any place. That is discrimination.

And if we can do it on such a small level and then we think about how much we do it on bigger levels?

They are just small things, passing us by in our daily lives, going unnoticed.

-Naba Mehdi

You are my person!

So when I think of writing a blog about someone, doubts creep into my mind, all sorts of things, what might people think, a waste of blog and everything. I don’t agree with that,  I also remember Meredith Grey from Grey’s Anatomy saying,
‘You need to take time and tell people how you feel.’

Well, what better way than this.
In this blog and the one next, I’ll introduce you to some people very important to me. This is my way of saying thanks for sticking out for me.

Hey Erum Aslam,
I can see the smile and surprise on your face. I also know how your heart missed a beat just now and now you stopped to notice that!
This one’s for you love!

I have known this girl for not more than 6 months probably. We ain’t same class even. Just some bus fellows! I don’t know if we are best friends or not. We never talked about that because we always have something real and serious to talk about.

We tell each others our problems but not every one of them rather we tell each other our feelings, those that we feel everyday, in different seconds.

Baby, you are my person! Like Meredith and Christina!
You don’t judge me. I tell you something and you tell me all those past and future feelings surrounding it. You understand me.
You write so deep and true that sometimes I’m scared you might be a better writer than me!
You are one hell of a deep person and an old soul! You give respect to things that they deserve.
You are a warr;or! Yes, with a colon! We are both writers so we know what that means! You can fight anything and anyone! Don’t give in to people. Don’t surrender to your parents! You hold the world within you! You are that big inside and that strong hearted!
Yes, we have both got a black heart, but who cares, black is my favorite color and it so is yours!

Stay original, honey! Make yourself proud! Start writing more to make me proud!
Believe in yourself! Do what feels good! You have this one life!

You are my person, love!

-Naba Mehdi.

Choosing Your Own Family.

So we all have families and those of us who don’t have them, we want them. Family is kind of what we live for, who help us, sticks by us in sickness and in health. Family is a really funny concept now, ( I mean not disrespect), there are some seasons and movies now a days which just emphasis on the importance of family and they are always there with us in the time when we really need them.

Family is constant, it’s defintions for us varies.

Usualy what happens is, your parents and siblings are sonsidered as your family, they teach you that you need only trust them and that the rest of your blood relations maybe your familly but you can not really trust them or count on them.

That’s what I don’t like. I don’t agree with such implications. Family is someone you love and they love you, those who give you the extent of the love you deserve, those who keep up late at night not because you ask them too but because they can feel it inside of you.

That’s family is for me.

Being a Pakistani family, I have a lot of cousins. Its normal. 15-2- close and than there are those distant ones. You grow up with them, think of each other as brothers and sisters until someday someone plants the seed that only siblings are real family.

I grew up with two girls my age, I took them as my sisters, always thought of them as one, until, my own sisters grew up now, its supposed to be this way that I must be comfortable with my siblings, they are my sisters and my family but I am more comfortable with the ones I grew up, the wave of feeling I get for them is more sisterly than I ever imagined possible for myself feeling. They are my family.

Along with my sisters i grew up with brothers, too. They are older than me. 8 and 9 years older. Now the funny thing is, they are my cousins but I always called them bhai (brother) because that is what they are too me but in our society, cousin marriage is legal and mostly found, keeping that in mind no one thinks that cousins may actually be brother and sisters too. When i tell people about my brothers they look at me suspiciously as if the next thing i might say is that i am secretly in love with them. But what is that is not the case. What if the feelings i have for them may purely be brotherly and there’s for me sisterly. I feel it as insect. I know that is not what is it, but because they are brothers for me, it feel it incest when someone says about it.

That’s not it. Family is not only blood relations, it can also be people you meet along the road, those you touch your soul, you call them friends, some of them I call family.

I had two best friends, them I considered family, a boy and a girl. Not only friends but family. I would stick by them. Be there for them and they have proved to be there for me. People called us names, raised fingers at us but because we were a family we stood by each other.

Its not even religion limited. My aunt was a hindu. My brother in law a Christian but once they came into this family, my family, I have began to love as my own. They are my own. I love them and they love me.

That’s the point. Don’t think that only your family, or parents or siblings are your family. Your family is who you choose. Who you choose to love and protect. Who you want to see thrive and for who you’f give away your life. You can have brothers and sisters of your own choosing. That’s what family is.

I have my family! Both my brothers and sisters and friends. They are my family. I love them as much that I can’t hear anyone make accusations about our intents for each others. Even them about each other.

That’s it. I have chosen my family. They are mine and i am there’s. I am not always be with them. We may vary on our paths but no matter the millage between us, the love we keep for each others in our hearts is and always will be as pure as anything ever can be. A one word and we’d be there for each other.

So choose your own family and love them with all you have. Because in the end, family may be all you got.

-Naba Mehdi

Be kind and Humble.

We meet new people everyday. Some pleases us and some we don’t like very much. Those we like, we try to stick around them. Get to know them, understand them, stand by their sides in all through life. They mean something to us. We care about them. There longs a lust within us that has eyes only to understand them, see through the dark parts of them.

That evolves as our purpose.

Yet, so consumed by them we miss out on someone far more important than them. Some one we need to know and understand. We need to start loving them and that is possible only if we acknowledge them.
That is none other than ourselves.

The first aim that we need to have is to get to know ourselves that is if we want to make this life meaningful. Personal-discovery!

We are given a brain, a mind, a soul, a physical body. That’s what we are made up of. We know it yet we never acknowledge them. They make us whole but we keep them all apart from each other, probably why our brains don’t work that much or why we do not have a rather active conscious or why we are not fit in health.

But we go on pretending that if that’s not the case as if getting to know yourself is not a bit important and getting to know other people, trying to love them is. If you do not love yourself then how could you love someone else? You don’t tell your children about it, don’t talk to them about it, then how are they supposed to know, how will they ever learn to love themselves, learn the flaws in them.

Be kind and humble with yourself. What you desire is right and yours. You are not wrong or crazy, just a little different and that is no crime, being different.

Why most people choose to take their lives in their own hands and end it is because they want to love themselves and they do but the world they live in won’t let them and then they prove to be the bravest of us all and kill themselves. Put yourselves in their shoes and walk a mile!

Thus, getting to know yourself is important. Learning to love yourself and be comfortable with yourself is necessary. We need to stop looking for others to comfort us when we have ourselves for that, us, who better to understand out brokenness then us.

I do not yet know how to get to know me. No one talks to me about it so i am figuring this out on my own. But i try to build a bridge between my brain and physical being so my mind and soul can reunite once and for all.

P.S: Getting to know yourself is not realizing what you like to eat in dinner or which is your favorite color rather your dark and deepest thoughts and desires that you won’t even let surface to the realms of your brain, those thoughts and making peace with them, that they are indeed right and you love yourself enough to make them come true.

-Naba Mehdi

Demon inside.

This is me. A bad and ugly picture. A one I would or no one else really would share on their social media accounts. Its not suitable.

I agree.

I agree, its that evilish look that this picture presents. A demon sort of. The Satan maybe. But what if its really me. What if its what I look like from the inside. None of us are pure or holy. We all have demons inside us. A monster that is filling us all from inside.

Lets being at the beginning.

When we come into this world, we are neither fully holy nor a monster. There is a tiny part of us, inside of us that is a demon child, a monster at birth. That’s it. That’s all the evil part. And there is this pure, this holy part of you. You are full of it. Outside and inside, that’s all that occupy you. The greatness and softness and being nice and polite and kind and pretender and all the world demands of you. You rejoice it. You rejoice the fact that you have something the world love, praises. That maybe you are one of those few people of the world who are actually true.

So lost in this flattery of outside. We forget that one little part of us, the demon child. We pretend that it doesn’t exist to begin with. And carry on with our lives. That monster grows though because no matter how much we deny its existence, it’s still there. It’s still a part of us. Us all.

That’s what darkness inside of you is. That’s what makes you feel so dark and dusty because while we are busy pleasing the world outside by our sweetness, that monster grows, it feeds on our soul, beats the tiny shreds of kindness we have, the dark wins over light. Its all happening, all inside of you or have had happened.

This darkness is an army, an army of none other than the monster you neglected all your life. Once it has taken over. Once it has over thrown the kingdom and sits on the throne inside your head, that when you realize of its existence. That’s when it hits you. That is when you fall back on the chair with a full pull and shake your head in your hands hoping to whip it or move it, dis-balance it but you fail miserably for it has roots deep, so deep that no matter how much you shake it, they won’t shrill an inch.

You fall into depression. You are scared. You resent the monster that now, you fear people may see it and resent you so you put on a face.  A face of pretendence, a face of pure goodness and nothing else. You heal yourself from the outside, shield yourself from any attack, the shield is strong, none can penetrate it but you feel like dying just the same. You feel as if someone is sucking the life from you. You gasp for air but none comes for your aid. Weird you think, it surrounds you, you inhale it, you feel it, feel it touching your face, nose and eyes and ears but none seems to be working its business.

Why is it happening to you? You never did anyone wrong. You were always good to everyone. Yes, you were, to everyone but one. There is this one, important than everyone else, the one inside of you. The one you have always been so ashamed of to show to the world. That’s what killing you. Revenge is a fatal thing, my friend.

That’s what happens. That is why most of us are scared when the lights turn off, when the world you live in becomes is dark because that starts remembering you of the darkness and the monster that now you hold in you. It becomes hard for you to breath and you shout for someone to switch on the lights and you sigh then.

This is me, the real me. Maybe and probably I’m worse then this, more deadly and fatal and dark and the monster inside may be worse then all of yours but I am not scared of it. I am not ashamed of it. I am not wearing that flesh anymore. I am telling you of the a flesh-less me that hungers for love only. I accept this demon inside of me. This monster. I am not pretending. I am not a pretender. I am not holy or pure. I do bad deeds all the time. Things i should not but yet still I am comfortable them most of you.

This picture symbolizes that! That I am a monster, I am but just ashamed of it. Not of who I am.

-Naba Mehdi

 

Letters To Myself.

Dear me,

I am someone who can not share my feelings with anyone or tell them if i am sad or need help. I keep it all to myself and the place inside my head. Its Okay. I can take it. I have began to like Solitude. I have trust issues. I do not trust a single soul on this Earth or  the sky. Mainly because i have been let down so many times and enormously misunderstood. Lets keep it all aside. The people in this world haven’t been fair to me and in return i don’t like them.

The reason I typing this is,
I can’t write. I don’t know why but I can’t and I can’t tell anyone about it. Not that I don’t have any friends. I do. But I just don’t want myself to find in vulnerable hands again. It has been this way for so long. I had been fighting my demons. They hold the reins of me day and night, it kept on going until words found me.
Those people who do not believe in demons will find it even harder to believe in words. They have given up, those people. Fortunately, I am not one of them.

These words have been mine. I need not even tell them what i feel, they just understand the silence. I have been able to trust them blindly and I love them. They don’t demand anything and manipulate themselves into befitting my every need.
I am a 17 year old girl! Wild. Stupid. Young. It just falls into that. I am no one, just a kid, who knows nothing. I have not seen the world yet and so does not have the right to be sad or depressed or anything. I am just a kid.
That’s how the adults take it. I am just an ant in the world full of elephant. Words don’t let me feel that way. They does not make me feel like I am a kid and that i need to grow up to own them. They just let me have them. They are kind.

Sadly, for the past few months I haven’t been able to write. Its as if they have denied me. Like maybe, broken up with me. I don’t know what i did wrong. I’m access denied.They are maybe angry at me, I don’t know why, they won’t tell me but they won’t me embrace them either.
No one knows about this, because they don’t care. Adults don’t have time to realize that I am no longer bleeding words and people my age are just messed up in their own messes.

I was  writing this on a paper and then I would have put in an envelop and stacked it somewhere never to be found like many others but then I thought, Why not type it and post it on my blog. Its not like that anyone is going to take it serious because lets be honest, no one thinks that a teenage blog is worth reading for it will definitely be about a bad break up.

Now that i have typed 521 words, i feel good. It’s getting out of my system and guess what, who made it possible?
Words scribbled on a page.
I am gonna make it up to them. I have to.
But what lesson I’ve learned from this, no one is going to be there for you. You are all on your own. It may not seem like it but deep down it is. You just have to make peace with yourself, Love yourself and find what you do and make it happen.

I know what i want to do. I want to make people bleed reading my words! Words that i have written for them!

So, there Naba. Do not fret. You have yourself and these words of your. Beg to them if need be. Let go of everyone else and everything else. They are yours. You will find them along the way. And, most importantly,
I am always with you!

Yours Sincerely,
Yourself.

——————–

To the readers,

Don’t worry, I know, I wasn’t supposed to write it. If one day I manage to become a successful writer, it can be bad image for my CV.
I have written 11 previous post for all them out there. Keeping them in mind. Trying to be there for him. This one I need to write for myself. I owe it to myself and to these wonderful words, to claim it out in the world that i need them.
And also, once I’ve grown up, this post will help me remember what it’s like being a teen and misunderstood, so that i make act as words and help them, like these have helped me.

-Naba Mehdi

The Happily Ever After

Fairy tales taught us, after every bad time there comes complete and utterly everlasting divine, that the struggle that we pass always gives its fruits in finally finding happiness for all our lives. The happily ever after. We used to read and fantasize about them when we were kids.

Then we grew up.

We began facing difficulties and as time went on got so caught up in them that, little time was left for us to read fairy tales anymore. Nor did our parents insist on reading them to us at our bed times.

So, we started keeping them at the back of our minds, hoping to one day find, one for ourselves.

Time further grew on and so did the difficulties of life and we started seeing the fairy tales as hope for us. We started living for them, to achieve them, to do the inevitable and make them come true.

Happy endings are what we started aiming for. Living life without any struggle, a loving partner, everyone around us emerged in undying happiness, the the happily after ever in short.

Blocking all realities, we started on the path to make our own fairy tales yet convinced nonetheless that doing so is child’s play and grown up don’t invest in such hubris.

But,
The painful part is, there are no true happy endings. No one, can and ever gets one. No matter how desperate.

These are merely illusions. Our own way of escaping the inescapable. For the truth is, we often find ourselves in the happy arms but misinterpreting them we think that they are here for good.

Sadly, no true endings are ever happy. Nothing, ever ends in happiness. So how do we propose to end our lives happily, finding that extreme pleasure in the peace of mortality.

This doesn’t mean out lives never entertain us with moments to make us happy, for it does. Our problem is, we stretch it too far, trying to make it last forever. Nothing lasts forever.

When the time comes of life offering us a chance to be happy, it must be felt that way, in those moments and availed at its fullest.

For happiness isn’t a state. Its a feeling and no feelings are ever solid, they are liquid. They keep on flowing.

-Naba Mehdi