Heavenly Muse

I love to speak. Being a female there is nothing new in my just uttered statement as every woman has more or less inclination to speaking bout rather talking about different matters. But I really love to talk since my childhood when I was not even aware of gender discrimination. Fluent flawless speech is my weakness. I often think about the variation that exists between vocal cords of different people. I get tackled by the charm of beautiful, thundering, sometime smooth or Husky voices especially in documentaries where narrator’s voice is responsible for creating a magical realm that can captivate the Viewers. I few hours ago .I heard a documentary in the voice of Dilly Barlow ’’. Wow.Amazing.Superb. And I dedicated my post to her and all those people who make this tool of communication ‘’language’’, more attractive for all of us.

Keep remember your past if you don’t want to make same mistake again and again. Forget your past; never look back, if you want to move ahead. The most obvious advisory statements, that everyone listen in one or other day dy of one’s life. Both attitudes are contradictory. Isn’t it? But you know what I do. Though I am not a famous personality nor I have achieved something very special in life yet my sharing has some worth .you know why? I belong to the most widely spread type of human beings. I belong the category of common man.ooops common woman infect, J The same common man who survive through thick and thin yet his existence remain undistinguished. A common man who put in every phase of his life yet his endeavors remain untocied.Well its very big topic. Let’s come to the point. What I do when comes the matters of opting or discarding my past. I show a 50/50 attitude. I forget the people who did wrong with me, but keep remember the circumstances that led me towards t...

I am not a good photographer at all. I usually take blurred pictures even with a properly tuned digital camara.But sometimes it happens that we feel ourselves too compelled to do something that I can’t even think about doing in normal situation. And days of exams cannot be considered normal days at all. As I am mingling with final exams of my boring diploma, I was jolted by an innate photographer hidden somewhere in me. Today I was sitting in my university ground and saw a rotten fallen tree and just found nature’s crafting .Give It a look.:-)

I always try to personify any feeling by explaining them in terms of tangible human behavior. Though it’s weird yet it works. As it become easy for me to mend myself .As last night I was thinking about the feeling of jealousy .I was trying to portray what exactly happens while a person becomes the victim of such a poisonous emotion. Then it reminds me that when I caught the infection of chicken pox at the age of 4, there was sheer itching on my face. But my mother asked me not to rub that itching spots as it would ruin my face. She told me to be patient as once the infection would be cured so thus the itching. Then I came to the conclusion that jealousy is like a constant itching. Every time you feel it, you want to rub yourself .Friction produced heat. Itching boils down for a moment. But it again appears. Constant rubbing reddens your skin and then there appear scars. Scars continue to exist for few days and left behind constant mark. The force you invest in rubbing your own ski...

Today my father gave me a Hug. Wow! It felt me so special. Very reassuring as it assured me my father’s love for me. Very protective as it gave me a feeling of being inside an aura of affection. Very calm as it soothed me while I was out-raged by a hell of reasons. I and my father, were having a kind of continues arguments since last many days. But today I had a quarrel with my younger brother as he did something wrong .I wept a lot. I was so disturbed .But then among such a teasing moments I got something. A hug –From a father to his daughter- I know everything will be fine. Soon the differences of my younger brother with rest of the family will boil down. Yet the affectionate gesture of my father will always be with me.

Where is my knife? You know I can’t use any other thing for cutting these vegetables. My mother would shout like this whenever she could not be able to find an old knife (that more looked like a dagger) while working in kitchen.Infact that knife has a complete history. My mother used to say that that knife was a production of her grandfather (maternal) ‘s genius mind, when he was in Kenya .My mother would add more spice to her narration by saying that he used to build home with wood and live near a wild forest for gathering timber. During His stay, he made this knife for himself and then it handed down in mother 's family.My mother eventually had this Family monument. We got so amazed by listening this story as it was astonishing for us ‘’The journey of a knife from Kenya to Pakistan. Then my mother had another antique dresser ( a sort of) which has an embellished and emotional history. My mother was very dear to her grandfather (paternal).She spent her childhood in his company...

I am feeling so empty today as if I am having no control over anything happening around. Then following few lines seemed of doing a catharsis of my perplex condition. “ All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew nothing, yes, I knew nothing. And so words became void of meaning. I have arrived too late at ultimate uncertainty . ” Ezra Pound