Hero

It feels great rescuing people when they are in trouble. Even if, sometimes, it means taking the blame on yourself for what others did. But often, instead of becoming the hero, we become the bad-guy. Fingers are pointed at us and we are rebuked for things we did not do. Its hard, so we consider running away from it and telling the world that it wasn't us: that we were just covering up for them. But even though we want to, we don't because we feel that if we were to leave them like this now, why did we save their butts at all. So we stay quiet and bare it on our chests. Hell yes, it is difficult and it does suck being grilled for things you did not do. But sometimes, all it takes is a meaningful thank you, from the person you saved, to make taking all the criticism, feel worth it.

Endings...

Every story has got to have an ending. So we plan them ahead and then run them over and over a million times in our mind. We anticipate what’s going to happen, how people will react and what they’ll say. Then we decide what we'll say or how we’ll react. Maybe that we won’t get over excited and just smile instead or that we won’t cry and keep the people around us strong. But the thing about these plans is that they are just piece of imaginations. And we imagine them because, in our minds, we can make them as perfect as we want them to be. In real, however, these plans almost never work. Sometimes the timing is a mess; its all too quick and we can’t finish the line we practiced we'd say. Sometimes we anticipate the wrong reaction. And sometimes we don't even know ourselves. So we don't get our perfect endings and it sucks. But ultimately, we realize that the ending doesn't really matter. The rest of the story does.

Messy Times

There are times when we want to be alone, quite and just slow everything down 'cause everything is a mess. We walk quickly to avoid people from talking to us, look at our phones blankly and type randomly to make people think we are doing something really important because we cant show and tell everyone the way we are feeling. So we hide it. But there are people who get us. People who know how that something's up when we get lost in thoughts when other people are talking to us. People who can stare us in the eye and tell that we are faking a smile. So when they ask us to talk and tell them whats wrong, sometimes we burst out with anger. Because we are confused and scared and annoyed. We tell them that we are perfect, they should stop caring about us and mind their own business. And we tell them that all we want is to be alone.
But sometimes, in those times, one of these people sitting right beside us; poking us in the arm and asking us to tell whats wrong is exactly what we need.

No, I didn't get this chocolate for you. Its for me, Okay?

We need things, we want them. There are times we fight for them and there are times we don't. And even if we dont, we are all a little selfish. Sometimes because we don't want things for others that we do for ourselves. Sometimes we are selfish because we have to survive so we can't think about anyone else, because if we do, we'll just die. Sometimes, we keep things that we wouldnt if we were not afraid that other people might keep them and we are confused. And sometimes we are selfish because, for once, we want to be there for ourselves. And for all the times we've nodded with a smile on our face, when we are dying to shake our heads to a 'no', sometimes we deserve thinking about ourselves and saying no. Sometimes, we deserve being selfish.

Fear

We don't like being scared. And when someone asks us about our fears, we laugh and tell them we aren't scared of anything. Because we want them to know that we are brave. But we all are a little scared. Sometimes we are scared of what might happen in the future. Sometimes we are scared of the things we did in the past. And sometimes we are just scared of being scared. What we dont realize is that its okay to be scared. Being brave doesnt mean that we are not scared : It means that we are scared but we can face our fears. It means that we look it in the eye and be able to fight it. Being brave is looking down from a building for a acrophobic and stepping in water for a hydrophobic. So, fear isnt that bad at all. Sometimes fear is what we need: A little push that makes do things that we wouldn't do otherwise. And sometimes, fear can be awesome.

You've Changed

ABC: You've changed.
Me: What is it that has changed about me?
ABC: I think..umm *after a while* I don't know, you have just changed.
Me: Okaaay, so is it good or not?
ABC: Its sort of both.
Me: Right.
(An awkward silence ends the conversation)

Nobody wants to change who they are. We want to stay like we are, forever, because that is who we are. And then when someone comes up to us and says that "you've changed", we refuse and we try to show them that we are still the same.
But people come and go. They affect us and leave their marks all over us. Sometimes we get hit. We fall and we've to get back up on our feet. Sometimes we learn new things. They overwhelm the things we used to believe in. And we grow to become who we are now. We are so scared that we refuse and we try to tell everyone around us that we havent changed, just to make ourselves believe that. Because it hurts leaving things behind. And its hard adjusting our lives to what we have now. But we have to adapt to change and move on, because if dont, we will be left behind. And you know what? Change isnt that bad. And often -if you accept it- you'll find it to be one of the best thing that has ever happened to you in your life.

Letting Go

I remember the day very clearly. It was the junior-school-assembly day. The compere, singer and the quizzer for the day was yet to be choosen. I was roaming anxiously outside the teacher's office, waiting for her to call me and my classmate inside the office for the final audition. The teacher called our names and we entered the room. She asked us to sit in front of her and recite the script that she had asked us to learn. I was nervous. I recited what I remembered with a few mistakes. When I was finished, it was the girl's turn. I looked at her nervously and waited for her to recite the script. I wished for her to not be good but she recited the script with almost the same mistakes that I had made. As she finished, I looked up at the teacher for her to make the decision. She considered for a moment and then looked at me and said "I think you should do it".
Phew! What a relief!. The girl congratulated me with a smile on her face. Yes, it was a major relief and I was happy. I had got the parts I wanted and the glory was all mine.
But just a few days after this incident, I got to know exactly what she was feeling like when she congratulated me and the courage it had taken her to smile at me. It could feel it now. So I realized that sometimes, its good to give up on something you really want just to make others happy. Yes, it takes a lot of courage and maybe you'll miss the glory and the happiness for the time. But you'll probably end up earning an incredible friend. You'll feel happy and you wont regret giving it up because sometimes letting go of what or who you want for someone else IS the best thing todo.

Choices

In real, nobody wants to the most evil person like "Mojo Jojo" and "Him" from the powerpuffgirls. Nobody thinks they are wrong. The villains, thieves and other people who we are made to believe are evil, aren't. Sure, the deed we do might be wrong but we think we are just being fair and reasonable. Our motives and intentions are pure. Even Voldemort has (technically had, he is dead haha) his true-blood mania which is why he kills people. But the thing is, we ARE wrong. We might think we are doing the right thing but we are NOT. So the problem is here and its that we have given up thinking. We CAN distinguish between the right and the wrong and we DO have choices. And yes, sometimes the right choice is hard and far-away, but we do have it and its OUR choice to choose the easy way. And so in the end its all on each and everyone of us: on what WE think and what WE choose.

Reason To Smile

Its around 3 AM on the clock and I am on my way to the airport. I am on the backseat with another person and alot of luggage. I am sleepy and tired. I hear the person sitting next to me call my name. I turn my head  to look at the person. The person says "thank you for it. I loved it" and hugs me. I am not tired or sleepy anymore. I am smiling now. I nod and tell the person that it was no problem. I feel happy now. I feel sort of proud.
The day before, I threw the person a surprise birthday party. It was a success, the person got surprised and everything was perfect. I had worked hard all day to get the whole thing right. Five minutes before the surprise was supposed to take place, I was so disappointed. I thought it was ruined. But it wasn't and everything turned out to be fine in the end. The next day, the person had to catch a flight and leave the country.

And so, at 3 AM, I am in the car to see off the person. I was tired but I feel glad now and the tiredness feels worth it. And it makes me think that sometimes making someone else happy makes you even happier than them. And all the problem you went in, for them, feels valued. Once in a while you should stop thinking about what you want and what makes you happy and try to find out what others want and what makes them happy. And sometimes, that alone can give you the joy you never thought of.

You Deserve It

I close my eyes and block out all the voices around me until they are nothing more than vague whispers and I ask God for what I want. "Please please please" I say silently and I wait for the miracle to happen. And when it does, it gives you happiness that is indefinable.
But once in a while you dont get what you want. And once in a while "the" thing is something you really really want. And thats when you get disappointed. Maybe you can hide it with your usual laugh, but its there and you ask God "why?".
You know, in your heart, the answer to the "why". You know you can't expect miracles to always be miracles. And you know that sometimes you've got to just accept what you deserve even if it might be the last thing you want. And sometimes you just have to be thankful for all the things that you DID get instead of crying over the things you didnt.

Its Twelve

Its strange how I longed for growing up. I would wait impatiently and count the minutes for the clock to strike twelve. The twelve of my birthday. My wait would end to start an amazing day when I would have a perfect day at school, when I would get home to get kisses and hugs from my family and finally a perfect cake to cut with my perfect family around me, clapping and singing. And I couldn't wait for another amazing year.

But year by year the definition of amazing just wasn't the same as it was the year before. Yes, there were more people wishing me a happy birthday but I think it was like something that you HAD to do just because Facebook said it was my birthday. And people who hadnt talked to me in ages would wish me. It had no meaning. The expectations that I had been led into having from all the amazing years now led to disappointments. And the growing-up that I had been longing for now made me wish I was a kid again so I could feel special atleast on the day that was supposed to be mine. And then finally the twelve was start of just another day. Tic. tic. tic.

Escape

I was panicking. Running away from what I had done, I couldnt stop even for a while to catch my breath(This time I had murdered my sister :| ). I ran and ran until it came into view : A big, beautiful, white house with royal blue windows that stood alone on the sandy shore of a sea. In my mind, I knew it was my house. I stood on a flat hill that overlooked the scene. A cold wind blew in my face and I wrapped my arms around myself. The scene was breathtaking. I felt relaxed and calm. I felt saved.

One more time I had this dream. Yes, I am a dreamer. But unlike most of my dreams, this one was clear. My escape for the mistakes I have made is always my home. Not that I dream of murdering my sister or doing it and running to my house but for every mistake I make, I have a home where I can go to and I have people in it (with or without my sister ;) ) who are ready to help me out. Home is where I can be myself and still be accepted. My home is my escape.

Chota Sa Babu

My friends loved how everyone in my family was so close, how we celebrated literally everyone's birthday, and hung out so much. "You family is the coolest", "You have the best family in the world", "You family is awesome", "I simply LOVE your family" they would say. And everytime they did, I would light up with pride.

 Being the youngest in my family, I was always adored by my parents, grandparents and siblings. I was the 6th-born and the only male child. My eldest sister was 16 years older than me. To her, I was her brother but she always treated and loved me like her baby. She would play with me and do whatever i asked her todo and I have no memory of her ever yelling at me. My attachment to her never lessened. As time went by, she got married and left our house to live in USA. The first time she visited with her first baby, I was so jealous. I wanted the attention that she used to give me. During that visit, I missed her alot even though she was there, with me. I would spend time trying to get her attention. I would make up stories about myself just to make me seem more interesting to her. I wanted to be her baby like before.

 My other three sisters loved me just as much. They would help me out with my homework and tests. And as they grew older and got jobs, they would buy me almost everything I wanted and they would bake or make anything I asked them to. They would never let me down and always stood behind my back no matter how much I screwed up.

Youngest of the five was the sister I was closest to. She was two when I was in my mother's womb. And everyday, she would tickle my mother's tummy and ask her when the baby is going to come. As I grew up with her, we became good friends. We would scratch and hit and chase each other but when the other wasnt around, we would miss each other like hell.

Saudi Arab was the country where I was born. After living my first 3 years in Dahran, when I came to Karachi, I discovered that I had cousins too. The three of them were about the same age as me and my youngest sister. The five of us started spending time together and we became closer than ever. We would share our secrets and go crazy in public and we became best friends. We used to do everything together.
Next to my grandparent's house lived a famous squash player, Roshan Khan. This one day we found their phone number and we started making prank calls everyday. Until one day, someone from his house came to complain about us. Our parents scolded us so much.And we walked to our rooms sulkily to think about what he had done.

My birthdays were always amazing. They were planned days or even weeks before the actual day. All my relatives would come and I would get HUGE presents. I remember a birthday when I went to my mom and asked her what had she got me for my birthday. She said she hadnt got anything. She had, but everyone was to give their presents before I cut the cake and I would open them after I cut it. But I asked my mom to please give me the persent then and there. So she took out a big gift from her closet. I opened it and saw what it was. And then my mom carefully wrapped it up again. Now I would open it up again after I cut my birthday cake and no one would know. It was our little secret. My parents, although never accepted the fact, but would 'mostly' buy what my sisters wanted. With me, it was always.

I never got to see my paternal grandparents. They died before I was born. However, my maternal grandparents made sure that they loved me enough to make up for them too.They would look after me and love me like no one else could and what they said about me always mattered so much. I was proud of being one of my grandmother's favourites. And my grandfather didnt love me any less. One day, I remember, when I went to his house, he said "Oh boi, look at you, you are growing up to be more and more handsome everyday". I stood up on my toes and laughed with pride. They next day, I told all my friends that my Nana thought I was becoming handsome.

My aunts and uncle were amazing. I remember the day when my uncle told me that he would lock me up in a room if I didnt eat the chicken. I had never tasted chicken before that, but when I did (with his fear) I liked it and since then, chicken is what I survive on. And this one day my aunt made me eat mutton. It was also on my not-to-eat list. When I got to my mother, I cried and told her how she had tortured me with mutton. And although I didnt like mutton even after that, I cherish the memory they left me to smile on.

And now I realise why my friends were jealous. They envied the awesome people in my life.

I Am There If You Need Me

I had the same dream again.
I am running and running in a place with nothing but sand. I can see a wall with a gate. I am trying to reach it, get near the wall. But no matter how much I run, I never seem to reach the gate. I am tired of running and I am out of breath, but I have to keep on running to reach it, to touch it, to open it and go on the other side. I cant stop even when I want to. I dont know whats on the other side. I am just running towards it because its the only way out. People I know are there too. My family and my friends. But they all seem like a blur as I run past them. They are all smiling, weirdly. And they all shout as I pass by them, "I am here for you, if you need me". I dont know why am I the only one running and why it is that only I want to reach the gate.
And everytime it ends the same way.
Running towards it, I fall and the dream is over.

In my subconscious mind, it made sense. In my conscious mind, I didnt. Why was I running towards something that I had no idea about. Why was I running away from my own people and Why was I running towards the gate when everyone was there for me to help me out. What was I running from. Nothing made sense. But then, it did.

In the back of mind, I heard what someone had said to me on the phone : "If you want any help, you can text me or call me or email me anytime you want, and I will be there", I visualised the mail that another person had sent me : "You have people who are there to help you out, and I am one of them", I recalled a message on a live-chat that said "You know that Mustafa, right? that you can come to me if you need help" and I remembered how someone had defended me from the fingers, that people pointed at me.

And I realized what I was running from. I was running from them. I was hiding for the the things I had lost. And I was running because I couldn't walk with my chin up. But they didnt judge me or think any less of me for what I had lost. So I smiled at what a fool I was, because I could walk with my chin up in front of them. They loved me, I realizred, the people I loved, loved me too.

And the realization of being surrounded by such beautiful people, erupted a calm of hallelujah and thus silencing the chaos of my thoughts.

Sound Of the Waves

A wind blew on my face as I stared blankly into the darkness. The moon, hidden behind clouds, gave faint outlines of the things before me. I couldnt make out what the things were and I wasnt even trying to, I was just staring blankly.

The watch on my wrist said it was 1:46 AM. It was a hot summer night but somehow the wind had given me shivers. It wasnt because I was afraid. Or maybe it was, I couldnt think. In the quietness of night, I could hear the waves of the sea, a block away from my house. The sound soothed me and a strange feeling of comfort made a tear roll down my cheeks. I could think again. So I thought about the things people had done to me, things I had done to people, good memories, bad memories and so much more. They made me smile and cry. I thought and I thought as the time tick-tocked away.

The call of Azan made me realize how much time I had spent. It amused me how my legs werent aching with pain because of standing on the same place for hours. I wasnt tired at all but I walked to my room and lay on my bed. And I closed my eyes, smiled and went into a deep, calm, comfortable sleep.

I woke up, a little late, in the morning. But when I did, no more did I want to cry over my past like everyday before.
 Maybe I had moved on or maybe I just grew up. Or maybe I just learned to live life.