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Pakistan Kills 2, India Kills 2…

I was going about with my morning routine; tea, breakfast and reading newspaper. Then I came across this picture which moved me to tears….

An innocent kid weeping incessantly over the mutiliated body of his father. The question isn’t here who did it. The question here is why? And for how long????!!! 
Pakistan kills 2, India kills 2. 
Children from both sides become orphans. Women from both sides become widows. Hostility grows. And for what? Only to satiate the egos of a few politicians? What personal enmity you and I have with Pakistan? Or what personal enmity does a kid or even an adult in Pakistan has with us? Nothing! 
But this killing is unstoppable. Blood is shed over and over again. We discuss this over and over again. But who listens? 
Hate has made us hopeless maniacs. We follow the herd and join the ‘I Hate Pakistan’ club. Without even knowing why it came into being. Without even knowing our follies. 
But how does that matter to this little kid now? He has lost his father forever. A father, for god’s sake! I can’t imagine in my dreams living without my father. I commit mistakes. I prance around proudly. Why? Because I know my father is there to protect me always. 
But this kid’s father was there to protect to us all. And he died. Mercilessly. 
We weep when an Indian soldier dies. But rejoice when a Pakistani soldiers dies. Why? Wasn’t he a father? Or a son? Didn’t he have any family that will mourn just like this little kid?  
How can we be so negligent towards the emotions of their families? Why can’t we all come together and stand firm on the face of the governments of both the countries that we don’t want violence. If you guys have a problem, then just stop talking. Why kill innocent people from both sides??? 
My heart pains… 
Love and respect,

H💔

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Agony Of A Chopped Tree

I was planted,

Then I was watered.

I was taken care of,

With undying love.

 

The world was a sanctuary,

Full of nothing but merry,

Where I could rejoice,

And have my own voice.

 

Then I started to spring,

And heard a bell ring.

They are on their way!

But I can’t even run away!

 

“Who would come for my help?”

I couldn’t resist but yell.

The thumping of their feet,

Echoing a drumbeat.

 

Chop! Chop!

The first of my branches dropped..

Ruthless maneuvering I could see,

Nobody to help a feeble tree.

 

This went on,

For long.

I was in utter pain,

Alas! It was their reign.

 

I was told to serve others,

And in the process self-smother.

Their faces had grins,

While I was dying from within..

 

Who do I tell that I want to grow?

And not to become an art of Michelangelo.

Their craftsmanship would cut me into dices.

And they would all call me priceless!

 

My agony was their ecstasy,

And it was my only legacy.

To serve, I was nurtured,

In the end, brutally murdered..

 

XOXO,

H ❤️

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My Journal: The Unconditional Love In My Life

What is unconditional love? Let me give you a perfect example. Perfect, because there can be no love as unconditional as this one.  

My mother gets up in the morning, and goes to the kitchen for two hours straight to prepare breakfast, lunch and snacks for me. 
My life has been pretty hectic these days. I stay at my workplace for a good 10 hours. And she makes sure that I’m doing fine. From cutting fruits for me to lunch and then my evening tea and snacks, she makes me wonder how she does it all. Instead of the fact that she, too, works as much as me (life of a banker). 

And to top it all, I was diagnosed with wheat allergy. But she hasn’t budged at all. Now she does double the work she was doing earlier. From making separate breakfast and lunch for me, she has given me a thousand reasons not to worry about my health condition. Ever since I’ve been diagnosed with this pathetic wheat allergy, she’s been hooked to YouTube to find about the dos and donts and the perfect diet.

 

Is there any love as unconditional as this? 
I don’t think so. 


XOXO,

H ❤️ 

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My Journal- Day 2

Today I came home early so I paid a visit to my nanaji. He was ecstatic to see me. And what really touched my heart was when he literally requested me to spend at least one hour with him on weekends.

 

Here I was, thinking, that nobody really needs me or feels happy around me and here I have, one of the most important persons in my life, begging me to come see him more often.

 

Life is, well, simple. Sometimes.

 

My co-workers detest me, to say the least. Every day I spend a good amount of time anticipating the reason why I am the most hated person at my workplace. And then there are some who brighten my day up and vice versa.

 

One thing struck my mind today. While ‘dealing’ with our fellow humans, we totally forget that they are humans! That they have complicated lives like us. That they go back to their deep, dark secrets and feel guilty. That they’ve been used. That they’ve been lied to. That they’ve been mistreated. That they’ve things they can’t really tell anybody.

And yet, we somehow, very easily indeed, blurt out harsh and mean words. And forget about being guilty about it afterwards.

 

Imagine a world, with clean air. Clean air. With no hate. No lies. A world that is painted in soft hues of pink and blue. With a tinge of greens and whites. Pastels all around. Happy people. Smiling at strangers. Youth helping the old. Clean air. Clean atmosphere.

 

Well, the chances are really bleak. But fantasies never hurt. Humans never hurt if treated properly.

 

What have we all become?

 

XOXO,

H

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My Journal- Day 1

Life is what you make it. And we make it step by step, day by day.

 

Today was also a stepping stone towards something great. Yes, I’m a believer. I like to believe that something great is waiting for me. And if I don’t work for it today, I might miss on the opportunity.

 

My banker life is sort of an assignment. It is not what work I do. It is how I do it. And I choose to do it with integrity. Work is worship. That is going on in my mind right now. I’m serving the public. It is their money that we have deposited in our bank. And they have an absolute right to ask a hell lot questions. There shouldn’t be any chance for me to feel irritated. Instead, I should be more convincing.

 

And the battle to be convincing is eternal.

 

And then, there is team work. It is not what I expect it to be. Some of my co-workers inspire me, while some teach me valuable lessons.

 

But there is this voice that keeps telling me that I am an employee of the bank and I have the power to bring the CHANGE that I want!

 

Peace.

 

XOXO,

H

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The Mistake We All Make.

I’ve been apprehending the past couple of events and I can’t help but blame myself for everything that is wrong right now. I think it’s high time that you, too, should blame yourself for it.

 

‘The Mistake’ is our sympathy for the poor.

 

I want to put it straight. Stop showing sympathy for the poor. I may sound like a shrewd woman, but I’ve got my reasons.

 

Let’s go back to the days when we were young. Some of us didn’t have a scooter, or even a bicycle. But today, each one of us owns a car. Big or small doesn’t matter. The point is, we all have worked hard, our parents have worked hard to give the luxuries that we have right now.

 

In my case, my father is a self-made man. He came from a remote village in Punjab and went on to become a prestigious banker that he is. He has earned respect and wealth in equal proportions. His father, my grandfather, also started from a scratch. He joined the army and went on to raise four wonderful kids who made him proud in the entire village.

 

Same goes for my mother. She has also worked hard her whole life in a job that she despises, but still works to give us a better life. Her father, my maternal grandfather, was the first one to move out of the village and went on to become a reputed government official. People still talk about his courage, wit and humanitarian deeds to date.

 

My point of shedding a light in my personal life is to enlighten us all that if these people have broken the norms prevailing in their societies and come out of a poverty-like life, then why can’t every poor in India do that?

 

I know my parents and grandparents aren’t the only ones to have written a successful saga of rags to riches. I know that in each lower middle-class, upper-middle class and the rich family, there is embedded a story that will inspire us all.

 

I once read about a statement given by former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan about giving something for free to the poor. He said,”One should not create a situation where people do not value it”. He was talking about the food subsidies in India.

 

A bitter incident took place in our family last month. My cousin sister was about to get married in a month. So, obviously, everybody was making arrangements for cash because there was a huge dearth of it due to demonetization. One of our maids who had worked in our home for like almost two years took away 24,000 rupees from the cupboard. We were unable to take any action because marriage was round the corner. After the wedding, my brother took her to the police and said to her that these are the same people who used to teach your kids, provide for their education and gave a lot of free stuff to you and this is what you did! Her simple reply was, “So what?!!”. I was astonished.

 

This is what proves the very point Kofi Annan made during his comments on the food subsidies. If we give everything that we, otherwise, pay for, for free to the poor, they just won’t value it. They will create a kind of feeling that they are entitled to get certain things for free. And hence, we kill the very urge for them to work hard to create a better future for themselves. We always make a hue and cry over the number of poor people that are present in this country.We always blame the government over not showing enough care for the poor. But, think for once, that if our parents or grandparents would’ve gotten the same facilities for free, would they have worked hard for it?

 

Feed the poor. Feed the hungry. That is the kind of help that they need. But anything beyond that, will turn disastrous.

 

I know there are people who really need our help. Like the orphans, or the differently-abled, or the aged. But showing sympathy to the poor and simply giving them money so that their present becomes better is just not okay! Let them work hard for it! This is the very reason that begging is a CRIME in India. Do not promote this kind of behavior.

 

Instead, create opportunities. Opportunities that can turn their lives around. Enlighten them. Create a fire in their hearts to really work for everything that they need.

 

This is the only way we can stop making ‘The Mistake’.

 

XOXO,

H

 

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I Am My Own Prison

They are on my lips,

But they fail to come out.

My thoughts have no way out.

 

They rise and fall,

Like the mighty waves.

But then a sudden halt.

 

My wings were not chained.

I flew above the sky.

But now I feel tamed.

 

I am in my own prison.

I wanna rise.

But it seems to be a distant vision..

 

They say they all love me.

But their sounds are pain in my ears.

I’ve lost my glee.

With my ashen face,

I roam around.

I am my own enemy.

 

Been a while,

Since I enjoyed.

And had a real smile.

 

Nobody can save me.

I am imprisoned.

No one to hear my desperate pleas.

 

I wanna do what I like.

Not to please them all.

I wanna live my life.

 

With clipped wings I try to fly,

But fail miserably every time.

My hope is now dying.

 

My cries die before they come out.

I lie wailing from the inside.

Let me live before I’m completely washed-out!!

 

XOXO

H

Posted in blog, blogger, bloggers, blogging, blogging 101, blogs, childhood, dreams, inspiration, Life, love, peace, personal, short story, Uncategorized, writing

Chronicles Of My Nana- 2

A day after my birthday, on September 17, he took me and my brother to a stationery shop to buy me gifts. I was a nerd and hence bought a cool Harry Potter exam cardboard and a few gel pens. I was in the seventh grade back then.

 

A year later, he took me to another stationery shop to buy me pens. We spent some half an hour there and in the end I bought an 8 rupees pen. He laughed at me saying that 8 rupees weren’t enough for the amount of hard work the shopkeeper put in to show me all kinds of pens.

 

He has the most childlike laugh. My nana, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. He has got a hearing problem, but that isn’t an obstacle to us having fun. He cracks the funniest of jokes and laughs loudly. Oh! How I miss seeing him laugh.

 

Now, all he does is, ask me whether he will ever be able to go on shopping with me. And he’s waiting most eagerly for our Diwali shopping ritual. We would go to Jawahar nagar camp and buy packs and packs of dry fruits, biscuit packing, diyas, candles and what not!! We would also go to Ghumar Mandi and scan the whole market for some good Diwali gifts. Today, he told  me that he’s gonna miss all those fun moments this time.

 

I remember the time I had to leave for Bangalore. During my last moments in Ludhiana, he was so anxious, sad and what not that he was moving swiftly, here and there, began making tea for all of us and spilled it all over the kitchen!! It was all haywire for him. It was like, two best friends are separating. The feeling was, well, devastating…

 

He has had two operations when I wasn’t with him. He’s been sick for almost three months now. Totally drained of his energy. But still, sometimes, when he smiles, it’s like everything is back to normal.

 

This Sunday, he was telling me the stories of Jawaharlal Nehru and Dr. Manmohan Singh. It feels good to listen to him when he talks with great enthusiasm. Though he has been sick for a really long time, he still knows about what Modi and his government is doing in Kashmir. He was comparing the policies of Nehru and Modi. I love having these short and meaningful discussions with him.

 

For almost two years, I would take him to the bank every month to withdraw his pension. He would walk into my room exactly at 9:30 a.m. and we would reach the bank by 9:45 a.m. irrespective of the fact that it opened at 10 a.m.

 

In 2015 when I was hospitalized, he would visit me everyday in the morning. He’s someone I love looking at. You know, how sometimes you’re at absolute peace, you feel tranquilized. That’s the exact feeling I get when I look at him. He emanates optimism, his face has a soothing effect. I have put my feelings into a lot of words, but I don’t think I can ever do justice to how he makes me feel.

 

I love sitting beside him. It takes away all the tiredness of the day. He’s my strength and my weakness. I have spent all my life with him. And I want to live my life the same way. He would come at 4 in the evening and I would make coffee for both of us. He would drink it and then say, “Coffee is more beneficial than tea.”. And he wouldn’t say it one time or two times. Each time we have had a cup of coffee, he would say the same sentence!!! And then we both would laugh.

 

People say they get bored at home. They’ve got nothing to do. Well, I feel the most entertained at home because of my crazy little family. My grandparents (nana-nani) are the world’s best entertainers. Each day I would go to their place and we three would chat for hours.

 

My life is complete. Because I have the love which people yearn for. I have my nana. I have my nani.

 

P.S.- Click here to read some more amazing stories about my nana 🙂

 

XOXO,

H ❤️

The Distant Freedom

I met a boy,

Distressed beyond words,

Crying relentlessly,

His appearance was shabby.

It was my curiosity,

That led me to him.

“Why are you crying?

O! Little child?”

At first he was a bit startled.

Looked at me straight in the eyes.

Then a weak voice came out,

“Nothing… It’s nothing.”

Now that I observed him,

Closely.

I couldn’t let him cry,

No.

So, I gained a bit of courage,

To ask this weeping, innocent child,

The cause of his distress.

This time, 

He was less wary of me.

Somehow, we both connected.

A feeble voice struggled to say,

“Baba is beating maa..”

And there I was,

Standing,

My hand on his shoulders,

I was speechless.

I was grappling with words.

What do I say?

How do I console?

How do I tell this little soul,

What his father is doing,

Is awry, beyond words..?

This guy lives a mile away,

From my neighborhood.

Fell in love,

With a damsel,

A heart that loved all.

People all around,

Frowned.

Love before marriage?

O! They were all embarrassed!!

Alas! Their love story,

Was short-lived.

Just like many,

We witness daily.

My friend had a dream,

To paint this world red,

The color of love.

She held her brush,

Dipped it in crimson pigment.

As soon as she took the brush out,

Her father held her hand,

Threw the brush away,

And placed a book there, instead.

She now lives a life,

In strife.

Disputes, her existence.

What was so wrong with the brush,

Anyways?

There’s a girl I see,

On the traffic signal, everyday.

Greets me with a huge smile,

And extends me a flower each time.

Wears a torn frock,

Always barefoot,

Hair gone blonde in the sun,

Skin, dry and broken…

I buy a rose from her,

For ten bucks,

Thinking,

I have bought a piece of bread for her.

And then we part ways,

Only to meet the next day.

I see, and I remain quiet.

I choose.

I choose to remain quiet.

Because I have the FREEDOM.

Yes. The FREEDOM.

Domestic violence.

Well, I should remain in silence.

Two hearts,

Forced to be apart.

Sounds too amusing,

For a gossip to kickstart!

Dreams of youth,

Kept under wraps.

This word ‘freedom’ that they taught us,

Well, it was just a trap!

Children asking for money,

On the streets.

O! Poor thing.

I may as well give.

But taxes?

Eh! How can I give it a miss?

Freedom has come down to,

Being a relative word.

For some,

It is a right.

To some,

It doesn’t come,

Even after a fair fight.

Only those celebrate it,

Who overlook its true meaning.

For the real thing is,

Freedom has never been ours…

 

P.S.- Be it Bhagat Singh, Chandrashekhar Azad or Jawaharlal Nehru; we Indians have always loved our country. Since past 70 years, we are celebrating what has gone by and keeping our eyes shut to what is happening. Winning our country back from the Britishers was not freedom. Doing anything that doesn’t harm anybody is freedom. And I’m sorry to say, that freedom has not arrived yet. So, why not work towards it? Why not work to make our beloved country an ideal country? Let’s leave all the apprehensions behind. Let’s unite in uniting this country towards the cause of love; love that has shaken the very being of the strongest of hatred prevailing in this world. For, we live only once and let’s unite to make this one life worth living 🙂

 

Happy independence day, my fellow Indians 🙂

 

XOXO,

H

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Pakistan’s Obsession With Kashmir

#IAMBurhanWani #IndiaCantSee #LetKashmirDecide

 

“141 die in a brutal Peshawar massacre”

“Women students killed in a bombing in Quetta”

“Amjab Sabri shot dead in Karachi”

“Twin suicide bombings hit Peshawar church; 127 dead”

 

And many more headlines like these.

 

I am not a Pakistan hater. I sympathize each time some untoward incident happens and takes away the lives of innocent people (not Pakistanis, nor Muslims), but people, human beings to be precise.

 

And we are all aware how convoluted Pakistan politics is. Youth icon Imran Khan celebrates the failed coup attempt in Turkey and ‘encourages’ Pakistani people to welcome a coup in their country, too. A country which celebrated the handover of power from one democratically elected government to another in 2013 (though, reports came out that the elections were rigged), is being told to give up all of that. Bravo! We all know how dictatorship has ruined Pakistan. We all know how dictatorship has ruined nations across the world. But, yeah, Pakistan Tehreek-e-insaaf chief endorses that very ideology which has prevented Pakistan to flourish.

 

Male-chauvinists lambaste a girl who wanted to shun the norms set for women across the society and the result is her being brutally murdered by her brother. Though, I am glad that her death was mourned over by majority of Pakistanis. But accept it people, it is us who are responsible for her death.

 

I sometimes wonder what is so wrong with the ideology ‘westernization’? Aren’t there people living in the West too? Don’t they have any feelings? Are they all bad? Then what harm is it that when someone tries to embrace the western culture, he or she is shamed to such an extent that they lose all hope in their very own ‘cultured society’? Thank you people for inciting the murder of Qandeel Baloch.

 

Some retards think of it as an act of bravery to shoot innocent, unarmed schoolchildren in Peshawar. There is some utmost sense of satisfaction that these retards feel while carrying out such ghastly coward acts. Similar to it is the Quetta attack where these retards killed innocent women students just to prove that women are fit to be housewives. Well, they feel threatened of these brave women and hence, they decide to silence their burning hearts with suicide bombings.

 

Why am I picking on the worst in Pakistan when it is like my dreamland? Well, I’m sick and tired of Pakistan’s ‘utterly obnoxious obsession’ with Kashmir. I don’t say that India is a perfect country. I won’t justify it. And I’ve got my own political views. But, Pakistan has this peculiar habit of putting their nose in everything ‘bad’ that is happening in India. It’s like, they’ve got such strong views about us Indians as if we are some outsiders and they are the victims of all the ‘injustice’ taking place in India. And I don’t know when they will realize that Kashmir is a part of India. And no matter how much they like to endorse this view that India has forcefully held Kashmir, they will never be able to prove it.

 

There are people like Shah Faesal out there in Kashmir who are realizing that all this ‘Azadi’ game is futile. If you want a better life, you’ve got to go the traditional way- education and a good job. But no, the Pakistani propaganda is to cripple the Kashmiris and make martyrs out of several Burhan Wanis.

 

One armed Burhan Wani dies and Pakistan announces a Black Day. But what about those unarmed, innocents that die everyday in Pakistan? Well, Pakistan is an intelligent state. They’ve got an answer to every question I’ll put forth. The innocents that are dying each day inside the Pakistani territory is all India’s fault just like the ‘innocents’ like Burhan Wani dying in India is India’s fault.

 

It is high time that we all realize that there are two nations- India and Pakistan. Not a saint (Pakistan) which is always crying foul of a devil (India) forcefully holding its self-declared child (Kashmir). And it is time for us Indians to realize the same too. Let Pakistan be, what it is. But I guess the firing (virtual) won’t stop anytime soon. It pains me to see that even the youth, which were the only hope, are also die-hard enemies of the two states. Nobody really endorses peace. Because hate sells faster than love. Can you imagine Modi winning an election by talking all sugar-coated stuff for Pakistan? Same for Nawaz Sharif and the likes of Imran Khan?

 

Nobody is ready to accept this fact. We all go on and on strewing hate at each other as if we have looted and killed each other’s family members. We all have been blinded by these hate-strewing politicians. But no, it is too straight a fact to justify it all, isn’t it?

 

Aren’t Indian army-men braving the stone-pelters in Kashmir? The army-men who are one among us. Born in ordinary families like ours and trying to save innocent lives. How hard is it to believe this fact? No one in Pakistan cries and photoshops stupid pictures when Indian army-men die, and that too daily. Children become orphans when their brave fathers die fighting the terrorists in Kashmir. But no, it doesn’t really matter. Why? Out of my understanding…

 

So, I urge all Pakistanis to get over their obsession of Kashmir and their never-ending hate for India. It won’t budge us Indians to think any less of our Kashmiri brothers and sisters.

 

That’s all I gotta say.

 

Praying for my Kashmiri brothers and sisters.

 

XOXO,

H ❤