Being not sad.

I am not sad. It is weird, not being sad. I have spent so much time and energy into being sad — an awful feeling. I’m not sure how I got over being sad. A friend of mine messaged me a couple of days ago and as the conversation continued, they said: Let me guess. You’re sad, right? They didn’t believe me when I said no.

It is weird, this feeling. Good, but weird. I am so full of life and so full of admiration for anything and everything around me. I am in awe of the universe and the sheer magic that holds everything together. I cannot fathom how everything is so put together and just so connected. This post is not something I like to put on my blog usually, because maybe I’d get bored if I had to read this on someone else’s blog. But this is my blog, I guess this belongs right here.

I haven’t kept my promise of writing regularly and I am a little disappointed in myself because I thought I’d be able to do it but I didn’t! Oh well. I can still try. I have written some things in urdu, and I really really like them too. I guess I might put them up here although I only have one person here who can read urdu (are you still here tho?).

Tonight is a nice night and perhaps I should sleep but the only real worry I have is that I haven’t written anything creative in a while. Except those urdu pieces. So. I hope I still can. That is like my only talent if I don’t write stories then I am the world’s most uninteresting person ever. I mean, I have a social life but not very happening. I am very ignorant and truly boring. I’ve read TWO books from the 1st of July till today. That is TWENTY days. I waste a lot of time and I have to hold myself accountable for that because wasting yourself is all fun and games until you realize you have to live with yourself. I am currently trying to read two more books and pretending to read a despicable third one as well. I have a month and ten days to actually do something productive that will help prolong this sense of contentment.

The powder that I put on today has a subtle smell that reminds me of very happy days in the past, and that is a nice feeling too. Today at five in the morning, it smelled like the first day of school: exciting but utterly terrifying. I’m not sure why, but it did. I love summer mornings and nights. Everything is so alive! I can babble for hours on my blog because this is me speaking to my mind, but I really should stop. I just hope I find something to do with my time and my life that helps me before it is too late. And by too late, I mean this magical feeling wanes away and leaves me exhausted with life. Humans are a truly magical phenomena and I see that in everyone, especially me. And I really have to stop using the word magical.

If you know a website where I can download pdfs of books for free, please do tell me. I’d be so grateful. And please keep me in your prayers. And please smile and stop and look around you. Smell the air at 5 in the morning. Whatever you’re going through, you have strength in you to overcome it. Pretend you’re in a movie. Everything will turn out great in the end, but for now, the plot must thicken.

I’m sorry for the errors in this post, my hands are so clumsy it worries me. I also have a hard time keeping my balance. I’m not sure why this happens, but it does. Maybe I should look for exercises to help. Anyways.

Rab Rakhan.


Eid again.

So it’s been eid here again. I mean, around everywhere. I think there’s too much pressure on eod to make it a happy, joyous occasion. We’re always trying to have that lit eid and those gram-able pictures that we forget to live in the now. What are lit eids anyway? Anything that you document is no longer lit. It’s the moments where the entire fam is sitting in the living room, joking and shouting away, well that’s “lit”. The rest is just pretentious. But we are always so focused on what’s not there. We always forget.

I’ve been upset a lot, lately. There’s loads of reasons, but mostly it’s just this uncontrollable sadness. I’m sad. Why? You have everything, hence you must not be sad. But I am. There’s been lots of negativity recently. And it gets too much at times. And I dislike it. And even when I put things in the simplest way possible, it doesn’t get better.

This morning I was sad. Last night I was sad. I woke up to someone saying something that triggered me. Not as in itt made me angry, but it made me sad and I wanted to end the sadness. I’ve been having lots of thoughts lately about wanting sadness and suffering to end. But it obviously does not. After the elders had had breakfast, I heard someone tell me to clear the table. I heard that, and I stood in the middle of the kitchen and the dining table for some time. I was still sad. Are you okay? I heard someone say. I turned around. Yes, I was okay. I went to my room and fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later. Someone was standing at the door shouting at me. It’s Jummah. It was hard, but eventually I had a bath. There’s a dinner tonight. I’m dreading it. I can’t even stand my family, it’s so exhausting. This dinner! I do not want to be hugged.

Deleting this soon.


She just sat there, singing inside her head. Sometimes it felt like the screaming and shouting and crying never stopped, it felt like hors had passed and she still sat there on the sofa, looking at the people in front of her, supposedly her elders. You can’t think rationally. That was one allegation. Well, in that moment, no one was thinking rationally, except her, obviously. She was proud, though, that she had developed this special mechanism of removing herself from situations and analyzing them as if she wasn’t part of it. Every few minutes, she’d look down at her hands and remember her tea, and take a sip. Eventually, she had nothing to do. She couldn’t interfere, it wasn’t her place. But she sat and thought of all the scenarios where she could’ve intervened and saved a lot of trouble for a lot of people. Oh well, maybe one day when she was somewhere where she was valued and respected. A far off day, indeed. Tonight, she must sleep. The only way she avoided thinking. The only way she avoided all unpleasantness. But although she did fall asleep at first, she woke up after a half hour and found she could not sleep. This hadn’t happened to her in a long time. She could hear voices in the next room. Unpleasant. She wished she could go back to sleep. But she couldn’t. Her head was spinning, even though she was lying down. Funny. She felt as if someone was rocking the bed. She raised her head, there was no one. Now she felt nauseous. Nothing she could do would stop the noise from pouring into her ears. Well, time to sit outside. The only place that had some peace. It was a summer night. It was hot. The mosquitoes charitably added to the bites on her legs and feet. It didn’t matter. Right now was about God. She looked up. Before she could get a word out, someone called her inside. She sighed and said, “You know, just help.”

Perhaps peace was not for her. Perhaps she would never find peace in her heart, or around her. Perhaps it was better to not be after all.

na thā kuchh to ḳhudā thā kuchh na hotā to ḳhudā hotā

Duboyā mujh ko hone ne na hotā maiñ to kyā hotā

–Ghalib, meri jan.

(Rough translation: When there was nothing, there was God. If there was nothing, there would be God. The act of being destroyed me, what would I be had I not been?)

All time favorite couplet.

Rab Rakhan<3

Taraweeh Chronicles

Today I am sitting outside a masjid. The rest of my family is reading taraweeh, I am not, for whatever reasons. There are SO MANY kids playing here. I was sitting on the swings but then I decided to go somewhere else because they can be so n o i s y. It’s rather nice here. It’s dark, and there’s some dead leaves around so when I walk they make that crispy sound I love. But there’s also so many mosquitoes and my feet itch like mad. I would sit inside the masjid where it’s nice and cool but then I’d have to be super quiet, and I don’t want to be. I’ve been thinking a lot about a lot of things, and I want to put them out here on my blog, but I don’t know how to start or where to start.

Yesterday a little girl came up to me and said, I want to go on the swings. So I told her it’s my turn. She said why aren’t you praying? Don’t you pray? I shook my head and said no. I don’t pray. She was so shocked, the expression on her face was priceless. But you’re big! Why don’t you pray? I just don’t. Poor kid.

(Disclaimer: I do pray, I was just messing with the kid.)

There’s so many stories I have from taraweeh. I don’t really like praying in congregation. It’s very stressful for me. But oh well. Right now I can smell cigarette smoke but I don’t know where it’s coming from. And Lord. These mosquitoes! I’ll come back and edit this post and make it worth your time. Or I won’t. Anyways, this was just to show you guys I am actually back and I wasn’t just saying so in my last post.

Oh God. Now one of the kids has started crying because of the swings. On the top of his lungs. And when he stops, another will start. I don’t like kids. Pray for me.

Rab Rakhan❤️

Casually sliding through

I’ve been away from here so long, it feels like I’m back home. like I was away or something. I’ve come back here with so many ideas and well, a freshser mind, but with worse typing skills. Although they should’ve been amazing by now but eh I have clumsy fingers so what.

It’s funny how I’ve been thinking about coming back to this space for so long, and for the past week everyday I’d think today is the day I start blogging again. But for some reason, I wouldn’t find time. And today, as I type away at 2;32 am waiting for sehri, I am amazed. I logged in after a LONG time and I had no idea what today was. TODAY IS MY BLOGGOVERSARY. It’s been THREE years since I started The Rock in the River and created my online personality; thari. Well, it’s not that different from my real life personality, but I have to conceal some part of my personality that I don’t have to here. I’ve missed this space. I have a goal now: I will blog, if not daily, then twice a week. And if not even twice a week, then once a week. I need to organize my thoughts. So, that means blogging more informally, whenever I have the time. SO, literally, in the bus, or waiting in the dentist’s office, on my phone, on the laptop, anywhere, I’ve not been in a good place mentally and I need to figure out why. Because, at the end of the day, I am the only person who can help me. I’ve met some really amazing and some really shit people this last year, so its not been very dull. I want you to stay with me, to not lose hope in me, because before when I used to blog, this community was super supportive and inspiring. I need that back in my life.


For now, I have to go. It’s 2;40 and I have to do my sehri, a day of pretend fasting ahead! see you all soon.


Turmoil, turmoil.

31st of October, 2018. Wednesday.

It is Halloween. The western world might celebrate this, but we do not. It is simply not part of our culture. But where the rest of the world puts on scary masks and dons costumes, we have horrors of our own. They don’t wear masks, but they have beards and turbans, their shalwars always reveal their ankles, and are quick to sort out the people of hell and heaven, as if they were not the representatives of God, but God themselves.

Slogans are being chanted, cars and tyres set on fire, the roads blocked, all sorts of public transport is closed. Those who did not find out about the protest soon enough are stranded in universities and  offices. Those who are brave enough to venture home reach after hours of delay with tales of terror and violence.

I was fortunate enough to get home on time before all the roads were blocked, some of my classmates were not. One girl who came from a nearby city has no means to return home; the city has been sealed by the maulvis, she seeks refuge at a relative’s house.

The Supreme Court has acquitted am illiterate woman in a blasphemy case. The woman had been awarded a death penalty in 2015 but inconclusive evidence couldn’t hang a woman unjustly. It was a rather shady case from the start, not enough witnesses, not a very thorough investigation either. A case suspiciously hyped for no apparent reason. The Tehreek e Labaik has always been sensitive about the Prophet (S.A.W), but so has the rest of the nation.

Tehreek e Labaik demands the generals of the Armed Forces rebel against the army chief. They also demand the people rebel against the supreme court. Death to the judges, and death to the poor woman!

There is an anthem that goes viral, “Na bijli dou na paani dou, bas Aasia bibi ko phansi dou,” (don’t give us water or electricity, just hang Aasia Bibi). It sends a shiver down my spine, so many people against one illiterate poor woman! So much hate, for one innocent person! So many people suffering, because the maulvis are determined to have one person hanged to death for their beloved Prophet (saw), the man who preached PEACE and HUMANITY!

The mobile service is shut down.

1st of November, 2018. Thursday.

The next day, the Prime Minister of Pakistan Imran Khan addresses the nation, telling them to stay calm in the wake of agitation, for the Supreme Court upholds only Islamic Law and the decision was made in accordance with Islamic jurisdiction. He also warns people of rebelling against the state.

At night, the petrol pump owners are worried. With all roads blocked and no way to supply their pumps, the fuel reserves are low.

Young men, armed, force the markets  to shut down. People all over are now stuck in their houses, or others’ houses, glued to the TV screen, waiting for it to all be over. However, in the ten o clock news bulletin, all negotiations with the Tehreek e Labaik, now clearly a fanatic organization misusing the name of religion, are still unsuccessful.

Schools and universities are closed again. The board of Intermediate and Secondary Education postpones all exams and practicals to be held on the 2nd and 3rd of November. Some roads are opened.

The mobile service is still not available.

2nd November, 2018. Friday.

The motorway is opened. All major roads are closed. However, the motorway is closed again. Some people are stuck on the motorway, no way of going back.

The headlines show only the protests and nothing more. Fuel reserves are running out. Already, some of the major pumps are closed. Vegetables and fruit, meat, everything has its supplies blocked. Broiler chicken jumps to 220 rupees per kg. With a shortage of food, prices go soaring as there is now no one to check the prices.

Friday is already a high-alert day, but heavier security than usual is ordered particularly around the minorities.

Images of burnt rickshaws and motorcycles go viral on social media.

The Prime Minister leaves for China on an official tour.

A major leader of the Jamiat e Ulama e Islam is stabbed to death at his residence. 82 years old, stabbed 12 times during the fifteen minutes his driver went out. The motive is unclear; Maulana Samiul Haq was a supporter of the protests so the TLP are not likely to have anything to do with it.

The government and the TLP reach an agreement: the TLP stops protests and the government puts the name of Aasia bibi on the Exit Control List, the people arrested after the 30th of October will be released, the TLP puts in a “sorry for any inconvenience” as an afterthought and gets away with it.

3rd of November, 2018. Saturday.

Things go back to normal. The roads are open, every day life returns to the usual, people start worrying about the economy again as “130.5 rupees per dollar” flashes on the screen. Khyber Pakhtun Khwa announces a day of mourning for Mualana Samiul Haq.

Aasia bibi’s lawyer, Siaf ul Mulook, boards a flight to Europe saying his life was in danger and he “needed to stay alive”.

These are my personal opinions only, and are not meant to offend anyone.


I had wanted something that was, well, hard to get. Not impossible, but hard. And, well, I didn’t get it. It was a hard time for me. I had wanted this so much, so incredibly much, that when I didn’t get it, I was heartbroken. It was like all my dreams had shattered. I thought I was over it, that it seemed to matter much less to me, until now. I saw the picture of someone who did get what I had wanted, and had prayed for two (or more) years.

All the emotions came back. A million and one thoughts crisscrossed my mind, with one thing in mind: I didn’t get it. Why? I asked Allah a thousand times. Why hadn’t I been able to get it? Was it because I didn’t want it enough? Was it because I wasn’t good enough? I knew I had tried my best; but the epicentre of the pain was one big w h y.

How could this be “better” for me? My life after that was one black abyss of nothing. I had dreamed and day dreamed and hoped for this one thing so much, that now, I wasn’t sure what to do. I could try again, but who was to say this time wouldn’t be the same?

And then the familiar feeling of dread: my entire life would be one of inconsequence. I would have no place among the world and I hated this feminine body even more. But that was life, I guess. Perhaps my life would be a suffering. What force could I bring against fate?