#NaBloPoMo

My Obituary

Posted on by Nida S.

 

www.inkriched.com

 She hoped to be remembered for even a fleck of goodness present in her. And for none of the bad.

She had simple thoughts, complicated aims. She dreamed of being a better person; of doing the greater good. She didn’t think she got far.

She needed contentment, confidence, and freedom. She fought with herself for all those things. Some of the answers were in her head. Most were in her heart.

She had passion. She had a voice. It remained muffled in her early years. It took on wings as she grew older. She felt more alive  with every flutter, but at times, less content.

She loved. But she could have loved more. She cried. But she could have cried less. She laughed. But she could have laughed a lot more. She hoped. She hoped plenty.

She found God in the small things. That’s where HE smiled back. She had faith. A resolute star in her sky, that showed her she was getting there.

She lived a life of love. Noting more. Nothing less. And for that, she was forever grateful.

*************************************************

Writing my obituary  was Holistic Wayfarer’s idea. A fellow blogger, mentor and a mind-blowing, fantastic  writer!

Here’s the original idea.

Over at ‘A Holistic Journey’ (www.holisticwayfarer.com)

Thanks HW 🙂

 

 

Never a ‘GOOD’-bye for me

Posted on by Nida S.

www.inkriched.com

How can ‘bye’ be good? I have hated goodbyes since I was a chubby girl with unruly hair and a big appetite for ice-cream and tears. I cried hysterically every time grandparents left after a visit. I cried plenty when schools were changed every other year. That meant an addition to my list of friends  whom I’d vow to keep in touch with. I had a long list.

The mere thought of leaving a loved one makes all the organs in my body sink, like I am on the world’s most dreadful roller coaster. I feel my head swoon with dizziness. Loss of perception and speech defects materialize as I stand trembling. You’d think this was a case of a brain aneurysm. But no. This is just me waiting to bid farewell.

I remember when my brother left for higher studies in Canada. My mother and I were a hysterical wreck at the airport. Thinking about it, I feel embarrassed for Baba. But that’s just the way we were. Every year my brother would visit us for the summer and after three months of a ‘family reunited’, the entire sobbing episode would replay; like an insufferable sequel of the English patient.

Coming to Canada, I thought it better to work on my goodbye-phobia. I worked on it all right. If sniffing and a sulky face throughout the flight counts. Or when my parents came to visit last year. The dreaded time arrived sooner than I’d expected and there I was looking for my biggest prescription glasses so my  puffy eyes wouldn’t be too obvious. That’s how hopeless I am. A couple of days ago my mum-in-law went back to Pakistan after visiting us. The pounding head and the gulping-down-tears-so-hard-that-my-throat-hurts returned with a vengeance. It took me an entire day to go tidy up the guest room.

There is never going to be a GOOD bye for me. People are going to come and go. I will have to suck it up and brace myself. Some farewells will be sudden and catastrophic. There will be goodbyes where I won’t be able to say hello again. I will just have to make do with my incapacitated skills and a hefty tear-extinguishing device if possible. Because after all those years of creating tear-falls, my eyes can’t take it anymore. No exaggeration here because even a few seconds of tear spurting causes my eyes to swell up like a baboon’s behind. The itchiness and hammering headache that follow – well that’s another story.

In Islam, we use the words ‘Khuda-Hafiz’ of ‘Allah-Hafiz’ (may God be your guardian) in place of a goodbye. Even Goodbye essentially means the same – may God be with you. It should have remained Godby, Godby’e, Godbwye, God bwy yee or God be wi’ you; earlier versions that did justice to the true meaning. The etymology of Goodbye is flawed. You can only wish for God to protect the person leaving, but saying ‘good’ ? Seriously?

At least I can’t.

National Blog Posting Month - November 2014

I am participating in the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) – November 2014. This is an awesome venture of Blogher.com. In their own words:

“Every November, thousands of bloggers commit to posting daily. But it’s about much more than getting that post up—it’s about community and connection. It’s also about honing your craft, challenging yourself, and taking your blog to the next level.”

I will write every day of November. This is my eighth post.

#NaBloPoMo – Day 8

 

My words give me wings

Posted on by Nida S.

I feel like a young kid again, tipsy and ridiculously in love. You know how everything looks less unnerving, more poetic, and most exhilarating? Yes, that feeling. That is exactly what’s going on in my over-cooked, writer brain. It’s my love for words, yet again. It’s my love for a profession I dare say is mine. All mine.

Sitting with family today, I realized how everyone has an interesting story to tell. I realized how consciously aware I had become the past year or so. I wake up each day in a living, breathing story. It’s never simple and it’s never not simple. And that’s the beauty of being a writer. It’s all in front of me, I just have to look deeper. From the way a person nods his head when pretending to listen, to the way a person twitches her mouth while watching television. From a crunchy leaf silently gliding in autumn, to the rhythmic breathing of my children sleeping at night. From an ecstatic mother with worried eyes, to a callous murderer with a soft corner. The world beneath the cracks. The universe beyond the light. It’s all magic.  Everything has more meaning than before. Every action tells a tale in someone else’s book, on some distant paper; a  spoken word, an unspoken thought, an imagined act, a lived dream. How can you not fall in love with life all over again?

I have gushing respect for people who love sharing stories and quirky anecdotes from their own lives and from others. We all know such people. A grandparent, a favourite uncle, a friend or a colleague. I could never do that. Not by speaking out anyway. So I took to written words as my LEGO blocks. I committed to a lifelong adventure.

Because you know what, my words give me wings. And if you can fly, you can do anything.

 

National Blog Posting Month - November 2014
I am participating in the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) – November 2014. This is an awesome venture of Blogher.com. In their own words:

“Every November, thousands of bloggers commit to posting daily. But it’s about much more than getting that post up—it’s about community and connection. It’s also about honing your craft, challenging yourself, and taking your blog to the next level.”

I will write every day of November. This is my seventh post.

#NaBloPoMo – Day 7

When feeding the homeless becomes a crime

Posted on by Nida S.

Reading bits about terror attacks, disease and sexual assaults in today’s news was already unbearable. And then my eyes caught this.

A 90-year old humanitarian got arrested for feeding the homeless in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I re-read everything  because I thought maybe it was some sickening fiction. No I had struck luck. This was atrocious non-fiction at its best.

Homeless activist, Arnold Abbot, the founder of the NGO Love Thy Neighbour Inc. was told to “drop that plate right now” by a police officer and then arrested. Who would’ve thought, Miranda rights for culinary crimes? Abbot has been feeding the homeless for over twenty years and despite the risk he is still adamant. Huffington post reported Abbot’s simple reasoning as, “These are the poorest of the poor. They have nothing. They don’t have a roof over their heads. How do you turn them away?”

The horrifying fact is that it is not just Florida, but a lot of other states in the US are also implementing this bizarre law. I already have a problem with laws against feeding birds in many parts of the globe. But this is an all new level of the ludicrous. The mayor of Fort Lauderdale Jack Seiler thinks that prohibiting feeding of the homeless is going to help eradicate homelessness. Sure, ‘starved’ people will eventually be ‘dead’ people. That’s one way to go about it. Mr. Seiler, while you’re at it, why don’t you set up laws against pain medication for chronic diseases like cancer and HIV? After all scientists are working to find their cures. Why waste so much time and money on making pain killers then? Please do something tangible for the less fortunate like increasing employment opportunities and education for them. In the meanwhile, let Mr. Abbot do his job. 

I know almost everyone reading this will show disgust and shock. Yet what’s frightening is the fact that even though a majority of the population raises fingers, it is eventually a handful of people who have the final say. Economic downfall is one thing but a society where stray animals have more rights than humans is something else.

Back home, I can go out in the streets and give food to anyone I want. A dog, a cat or a human. You’d expect more from a super power such as the US wouldn’t you?

National Blog Posting Month - November 2014

I am participating in the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) – November 2014. This is an awesome venture of Blogher.com. In their own words:

“Every November, thousands of bloggers commit to posting daily. But it’s about much more than getting that post up—it’s about community and connection. It’s also about honing your craft, challenging yourself, and taking your blog to the next level.”

I will write every day of November. This is my sixth post.

#NaBloPoMo – Day 6