An Open Letter to Everyone

My whole life has been a struggle. Against my parents, to not confine me for being a girl. Between my parents, who gets to keep the eldest daughter. Against the so called *ghairatmand*, in reality, the *chu*ya* mentality of this society coercing me into a corner, shattering my dreams, and quieting my blunt tongue.

Torn between teh dilemma of my mother and father:
Do something good: meri beti hai, zahir si baat hai.
Make a mistake: tumhari beti hai, tum sambhalo isse.

Never has my mother hugged me and said she was proud of me.
Never has my father appreciated me on anything.

When the time came to choose my field. And I expressed my wishes to pursue cricket professionally, and photography as a part-time profession, hell broke loose.

I was always known as the devious one-the troublemaker-the badtameez child in the family. As a closed off child, I never spoke my mind, carefully concealing all my emotions under a cover of either jokes or rage. Little did anyone know of the tornado brewing up in my young mind.

Are they, repercussions of my actions worth losing my individuality for? Are they, really?
It kept me awake through the night.

Since childhood, I have been bombarded non-stop with statements which make my ears want to go deaf.
*Log kia kahenge*
*larkian ko ooncha bolna zeb nahi deta*
*zubaan chalanay ka haq kisne dia hai tumhe*
*tameez main raho*
*lipstick halki karo*
*dupatta theek karo*
*doosray ghar main kon bardasht karay gah tumhara yeh bachpana*

Don’t talk to much. Don’t laugh too loud. Don’t stay out too late.

Masla yeh hai nah, ke logon ne baat karni hai. Banda jo marzi kar le, baatein zaroor banein gi. Toh behtar hai ke fit in honay ki koshish main, aur apne ghar walon ki so called izzat ka pass rakhne ke chakkar main beshak apne khwaab chaknachoor ho jayen, apni zindagi ka satyanas ho jaye.

Gandhi once said: You will guard your wife’s honour and be not her master, but her true friend. the same goes for mothers, sisters, and any other woman you consider responsible for your respect.

Truth be told, in more than most cases, men do not genuinely give a damn to what happens to their women. Had their *izzat* not been attached to us, they genuinely would have never cared. It is this dubiousness, this hypocrisy, this attitude which is more than apparent to those who can see, which sows the seeds of resentment and rebellion in my heart.

Resentment towards this lowly and backward way of thinking. And towards men, who encourage and enforce their women to bind by it. And also towards women, who raise their sons to do so.

Rebellion: protecting myself, is rebellion. Driving my car alone, is rebellion. Sitting at a dhaba for chaye, is rebellion. Laughing to my hearts content, admist the chatter of my friends, girls as well as guys, is rebellion. Deluding myself into thinking no one is staring, blurring the eyes staring at me with contempt and hunger, and the catcalling into an irrelevant background. It makes me smile a little more, laugh a little louder, feel a little more elated. These what appear to the average Pakistani as wrongdoings, are what give me a sense of freedom. A sense of ownership, I’m responsible for myself, my actions, my protection. In these innocent acts of mine, did I find my mental peace. My spirit to fight, my desire and will to not fit in with what I knew as norms, but make them fit themselves around me.

This is one thing I wish and hope to accomplish. And that, In Sha Allah, I shall.

A Sleeping Cancer

Just when I finally got used to the idea of working my way out alone, being happy alone, not being completely dependant on someone when it came to the twisted emotions that live in me.. hope was quiet. Hate lived. Love died. I was cold, inside out.

I loved black-for it represented my past.
I loved red-for this damaged and bloodlusted soul of mine.
I loved white-for every stain on me was so easily visible.

Then you happened. I fell in love with the way you looked at me, spoke to me, touched me without using your hands, left me breathless but still full of life.
I succumbed to addiction: even the pain was pleasure, I was too glad to go be able to go through more, as long as you stayed.

Jo.. my jo *sobs* I still don’t get why you brought in labels. Made me say yes to leave. Still don’t get why you took the chance. Still don’t get why we needed to be in a relationship to be everything.. it broke us. We were working fine. Working fine without romancing in every conversation and working fine without the days we went without talking, the insecurities we stopped mentioning, the hearts that stopped connecting.

I’ll never stop hoping you come back.. I won’t stop looking for you, I definitely eln’t abandon you, ever. Never in a million years will we be anything less than best friends.
A part of me wants to make you fall in love with me again, and never let you go, another, to do the former just to pull myself away. A part of me wants to let you in to see the consequences of your actions, and burn your soul the same way you burned mine, another, to caress you, love you, heal you, and keep you happy.. *cries*

My perfume reminds me of you.
My jacket reminds me of you.
Everyday when the sun sets, I miss you.
Every night I sleep without talking to you, I crave you.
I cry.
I cut.
I shiver even inside my razaii..
I.. I love you.
What have you done to me.. you didnt even explain.. leave alone apologise. What did I do to deserve this..I wasn’t this bad of a girlfriend…

Bloodstained Cities

Istanbul is by far the most beautiful city I have ever set eyes upon.
Attaturk Airport: Layers upon layers of clear glass windows, a hum of indistinct chatter, the view of aiplanes with colourful tails lined till the horizon. Boeing’s belong to Turkish Airlines, white bodies, red tails, and their trademark bird printed on it dotted the runway. A plane took off every few minutes, and I was equally eager to see each on taxi. Vans which seemed tiny in comparison frisked around with flight kitchen supplies, immersed in their own routine.
A massive Duty Free, a purple strip running all around it, lit with what was an endless pattern of birds, mosques, and mountains. Racks lined with assorted chocolates, from Kitkat to Thorton’s. More extravagant sections dedicated to luxurious brands such as Hermes,proud glass drawers showing off the Mont Blanc and Jacob & Co they held.
In the lounge of the “Ataturk Hivalimani” there was a curious mixture of bored and exited people. Some bobbing up and down on their toes, others lying on comfy chairs, many with their noses in a newspaper or tabaloid.
We live in a world where mummifying humanity and ransacking cities is a norm. Henious crimes are committed in the name of religion. At first they fueled these elements, now the cat has been let out of the bag. Now they can kick back and relax while we bear with the repurcussions of their actions.
Never did I imagine this beautiful airport to be stained with blood, Istanbul being home to cries and gunfire. I’m tired of seeing one city after another fall prey to violence. And selective humanity on part of the stronger nations-taking note and reacting to the same anguish differently-depending upon wether the country is Muslim or not, wether it is developed or not, wether it is a Western one or not. 
This is cruel and it needs to be stopped. At the rate of which the things are going, an economy parallel to ours may be set up soon. And we shall stand nowhere. Release the doves, surrender love. Win the wars before they begin. Make a change. And start, with the person you see in the mirror.
Be nice, be tolerant. You may be an Aethist, Agnostic, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish, Budhist, or Hindu. Does it really matter?  Humanity comes first.

This is it, Michael’s Xscape

This is my tribute to our King of Pop, Michael Jackson.
It has been seven years since he left us. Yet, he remains alive in our hearts, and his music & lyrics shall be cherished-for now, and forever.
Long live the king! #MJForever
I have titled this poem after Jackson’s last three albums,including two of his posthumous albums. This Is It, Michael and Xscape: all in a sentence.
We love you Mike, and we always will. Here’s to endless singles on the Hot 100, the shows you never performed, to the fans who never got to see you, to the July you were going to see us in, but you left. Left us, a little too soon.
*breaks into a sob*
Please tell us..if you’re okay…

Your voice hits the notes so heartily,
You fit the bill for a living legend perfectly,

Do you know where your diehards are,
Because its now 12 o’ clock,
And we know you’re out somehere on the streets,
Just imagine how heartbroken we are,

So Mikey are okay, are you okay, are you okay Mikey?
So Mikey are you okay, please tell us, if you’re okay.

Accused him for child abuse, demerol and morphine,
You tried to drown him, even as a teen!
Dammit he’s a human, just like you just like me,
How i wish to serve him a perfectly brewed cup of tea,

So Mikey are okay, are you okay, are you okay Mikey?
So Mikey are you okay, please tell us, if you’re okay.

Watchu gonna do, you ain’t no fan if his,
look what you put him thorugh, now that he’s the blue gangsta

The press and paparazzi circling him like vultures,
See him rollin’ trynna wash away his colours,
Checked everywhere from Mexico to Chicago,
Okay everybody that’s a wrap, HOHOHO!

So Mikey are okay, are you okay, are you okay Mikey?
So Mikey are you okay, please tell us, if you’re okay.

He’s right: they really don’t,really don’t care about us,
Its his life, he can do as he please, whats with all the fuss
He can be God of his own world in his own way,
Paired with an addiction, I hope it doesn’t trash him away,

So Mikey are okay, are you okay, are you okay Mikey?
So Mikey are you okay, please tell us, if you’re okay.

Despising your silence, craving your presence,
Believers wish you well forever,
Cham’on King its now or never!

So Mikey are okay, are you okay, are you okay Mikey?
So Mikey are you okay, please tell us, if you’re okay.

An Open Letter to Shahid Afridi

This one for you lala,
This one for Pakistan’s ‘Boom Boom’

Aight, so firstoff, confession time!
Despite loving you, and maintaining the stance ke Afridi team main bowler aaya tha, tukkay par chal jaye toh chal jaye, naa chalay toh gaalian mat dia karo, I have always been a strong critique of your inconsistency and even questioned your place in the team as an all rounder.

Anyways. Lala, nevertheless, we love you. More than you can ever imagine. Koi aur out ho toh wicket girti hai, lala out ho toh wicket toh girti hi hai, hazaron TV band, aur 18 corore logon ki umeed toot jaati hai.

Afridi is that one name everyone in Pakistan knows, legit, everyone, chahay cricket ki alif bay pay bhi naa pata ho. My dadi included, hates cricket, doesn’t understand why we’re so tense, and keeps telling me to not waste time and study everytime I’m watching a match!! Even she knows Afridi 😂❤️

“Yaar dua karo lala aaj chal jaye”
“Oyeh kuch bhi ho sakta hai, abhi Afridi ne aana hai”
“Allah mian please please Afridi khara rahay, baqi khair hai”
“Match toh waisay hi haar gaye hain, Afridi ki batting dekhay baghair nahi jaana ghar”

Aisa khiladi dobara nahi aaye ga, aa hi nahi sakta. I’m short at words to thank you for giving us these beyond amazing two decades!!

Although, at times, *flinches* you’re over rated. At times, banda sochta hai yeh team main kyun hai, na bowling, na batting, par Afridi ko nikalna gunnah hai, kia karen. Afridi is known for doing as he pleases, and not following suit, yes, but just some advice: retiring when the entire world wants you to keep playing is just one place, you might, might find pleasure in following suit 🙂

P.S Cricket won’t be cricket without Shahid Afridi!

Yours Sincerely,
A loving Pakistani,
~Komal

For He Who Shall Never Understand

I hate it when you sleep without a smile on your face. I can’t stand it when you don’t talk to me. I hate being compared..I’m stingy and possessive and protective..and..I just cant help that..thats. Just. Me..

I know you hate it, The same way you know I shall try to change. I know I hurt you, even though I did not mean too. I know you still love me, the same way I still love you..
You want me to sleep. How am I supposed to do that..? Do you still not know, I’m not one who can sleep after making a dear one’s heart ache. Do you still not know, muting my chats won’t change the fact that I shall be here, for you, forever. Do you still not know, nothing lasts forver. Forever is a lie. Its a few moments, only some scattered memories, and some broken people, who we find peace with, who we find love in, to create a dellusional image or forever, which is soon teared to shreds by the sharp blades of time..

Its the pain which we bonded over, its the reflection of myself I see in you, its the version of me I see trapped, bounded by the cold chains of mistrust, draped in darkness. I wish to free you, but I am afraid for it wil hurt you. I am afraid you will misunderstand me, I am afraid you will leave me. For I reflect you, the same way the calm waters of the lake reflect their surroundings. But I am no lake, I am no lake. I am the sea, deep and ferocious-giving great pleasure to everyone on good days, devouring the strongest when rage rushes through me. With folds and folds of undiscovered parts of me, the best of me, lies where it is darkest in me. I would be brave enough to venture into you, but I know you…

I know you, I know you enough to know you shall dash towards the first ray of sunlight which penetrates its way to eyes, but it isnot the same with me. I am a woman, and that is what makes me follow my heart over my eyes, and my consience over my heart.

Dear Daddy

I try to hold my tongue, to push my feelings aside, but lately, they’re getting harder to hide.

You warned me to stay off drugs, warned me of warm brown eyes with a heartbeat. You knew I was always yours, you knew I would never let you go, however much I wanted to. You hurt me before any boy had the chance. You threw me into the depths of what the world knows as depression. Both of you need to leave me alone already. Everyday, its screaming at me and telling me how terrible I am. Its making me replay every single mistake I ever did in my whole entire life, which by the way, is a mere sixteen years, out of which I got your affection for, umm, how long? I guess I leave you to figure out that part. It humiliates me on a daily basis, and its made it impossible for me to be happy-happy in the true sense of the word. I’m so sick of its controlling grip over me, the sooner you call it off, the better I will be. Don’t let it come back either. I never want either one of you to be a part of my life again. I hate you both, and myself too, for ever letting you inside my head.

We’re often silent, but we’re screaming inside. I miss the old, happy me; a laughing household; a carefree attitude, not having to worry about weather we’ll be able to put food on the plate or not. You don’t understand my silence, how will you ever be able to understand my words? It gets harder. Every. Single. Day. And honestly, I don’t know how long I can handle it. Thanks anyways.

Hope you’re happy with her and your sons.

Sincerely, me.