Tag Archives: writing.

Just ✍️ writing

Yesterday while having my evening meal, I watched TLC. I’m amazed at the hooking up of women with younger men who are years younger than themselves. Both of them should have their heads examined. There must be some catch of which I’m not aware, because I see more, and more women doing it.

Another thing which I saw was fighting over issues which could easily be resolved. I kept wondering what they saw in each other. A woman who have some grey matter should think how much longer a young man would stick by her side once he gets his residence status. He would be forever sneaking glances at younger ones Marriage is a state of give, and take between a couple.

I personally feel women being a weaker sex should be preferably younger than men. Women after menopause age quickly, and besides she is the one who bears children, take care, and looks after her home.

Seeing the endless fighting soured my mood, and I switched to Hallmark, but that didn’t do anything to uplift, because it was showing murders. I left watching to say my Isha prayers, and prepare for bed.

Locked Out

What were we thinking off? Son, and I. Simply I don’t remember. We stepped out of our balcony doors, and Son pulled the mesh door shut so that any unseen errant fly, or mosquito lurking there didn’t get it into their tiny heads to head indoors, and later do their annoying buzzing around us, or suck our blood unbeknown to us.

Meanwhile my pot full of chickpeas was bubbling merrily inside on the stove. I had meant to be outside for just a few minutes. It turned out to be anxious half an hour, because we couldn’t get in. The mesh door got locked, and despite Son trying to get it open, it wouldn’t budge.

Son tried all his maneuvers on the mesh door, but it wouldn’t open. Nobody was passing on the footpath beneath the balcony, so that we could tell someone to help us. Finely Son did something to jiggle it. I rushed inside to look at my pot of chickpeas. Thankfully there was still enough water in it before they could have burnt.

Son likes home cooked chickpeas for chat, salads, or added to rice. He says it tastes much better than the can variety. I boil a whole lot, then store it into portions (needed for any dishes) in the freezer. Then I take out a portion when I want it.

To this day when I step out into the balcony to water my plants, I’m careful with the mesh door. I close it to leave a half inch gap. I wouldn’t want to be outside waiting for an undetermined time till someone rescues me.


Good manners are the mark of royalty, that’s what I was told as a child. I was instilled with proper etiquettes — how to sit, how to walk, and most important how to behave. Sadly that’s no longer the case with most people I come across. Rude behavior appalls me, and I’m left thinking something must be very wrong with me if every time I take it to heart someone’s rude behavior.

Most of the time, I try to overlook as in the case of youngsters. I blame it on their thoughtlessness, but what about the older generation? Common courtesies are not followed, as standing when a lady enters a room, or greeting her first. It may seem trifling, but my late husband was a true gentleman in his behavior. Secretly I used to be irked when I would see other men not behaving the same way.

Back home youngsters are told to greet their elders first when they see them, even if they don’t know them. Here they don’t say a word. They behave as they are not in the room. I’ve grown immune, and I behave the same way as if I don’t see them.


I meaninglessly wander in Walmart, while Son talks with a neighbor from his former neighborhood. From previous experience I know he is going to talk for a while, and unless he finishes his natter, we won’t leave, though we are done with shopping.

Telling Son I would be in the tables’ area, I look for a writing table. I badly need one, but I have been putting it off. I will be using it for two purposes — writing, and sewing.With the recent buying of a sewing machine, the matter has become some how urgent. I can’t keep removing my sewing from the dinning table when it’s time for meals. It’s really bothersome.

The ones available are not to my liking. I will look for it somewhere else, when next time Son is available to go with me to the shops. Meanwhile I wait for him to finish his talks, and idly look at the merchandise trying to occupy myself.



Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


No Letter

Audience of One
Picture the one person in the world you really wish were reading your blog. Write her or him a letter.

Image thanks to Google

The words are so muddled in my head

They go round and round to peter out

What do I say, what not to say

A difficult choice to write about

Mother, father, I have yet to decide

No decision yet, so I better be quiet


I Hang On

In Good Faith
Describe a memory or encounter in which you considered your faith, religion, spirituality — or lack of — for the first time

I hang on to God. When I face disappointments in life, and I am feeling terrible; questions does arise in my heart.

Why isn’t He listening to me?

Why doesn’t He answers my prayers?

Why doesn’t He take away my suffering?

He answers it in 89th Chapter of the Quran Surah Al-Fajr, Ayats (verses) 15-16

15. As for man, when his Lord tests him, and thus gives him honor, and bounties, he says, “My Lord has honored me.”

16. But when He tests him, and thus restricting his provision for him, he says, “My Lord has disgraced me.”

I look at my Blessings: my children, a roof over my head, health, the food I get to eat, I feel ashamed of myself at feeling discontented.

If there weren’t inconveniences in life, it wouldn’t have been a life?

I count my Blessings, and feel better.

My earlier writing on the same subject:

Attention WordPress: since last December, I stopped connecting to the grid.
From Jan 1, 2015 I stopped receiving the daily prompt letter.

What is to be done?


Write Another Day

Daily Prompt: Brevity Pulls
“I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.” — Blaise Pascal
Where do you fall on the brevity/verbosity spectrum?

I have nothing to write
And nothing to say

For a day I waited
And it is Saturday

I will go back to sleep
And write another day


You Belong With Me

Part One.
Imran was in his fourth year of Medical College. He liked Aeysha from day one, when he had first met her. The four years of studying together, had brought them closer to each other. He had been to her home, several times during the past year. Aeysha’s mom always hugged him, and her father would chat and joke with him, like he was his own son.

Imran was waiting for them to graduate, before asking her parents permission for their marriage. He was also looking for an opportune time to talk with his father about Aeysha. He felt strangely bashful, discussing the topic of his marriage, with his own father. He kept putting off the talks.

The College closed for the summer vacations. He was home with his parents. His mother had prepared all his favorite dishes. His mother pampered him, being the only son. He had two older sisters, both married having their own family life.

As they were having their dinner, word came that his father’s close friend Tahir, (had been sick for a while) had taken a turn for the worse. They hurriedly finished their meal, and left for the friend’s house.

It was a dismal scene. The friend’s wife and daughter Lala had tears running down their faces

Imran’s father bent over his friend Tahir to hear his last wish. Imran heard his father saying, “It will be done, as you wish.”

With a look from his father, Imran’s mother took out a heavily worked, red, kamdar dopatta from her bag. She dropped it over Lala’s head. She hugged and kissed Lala with the announcement, that Lala was now betrothed to Imran.

Imran’s heart filled with anger at his parents’ high handedness. He had never thought that such a thing would happen to him. Nobody would ask his opinion. He unwillingly, subjected to Lala’s mother’s embrace. Inwardly, he was cursing himself.

A minute later, Tahir breathed his last. Sorrowful cries rent the air. He saw his father sobbing for the first time in his life. His own world had disintegrated, right before his eyes. (To be continued……)

Next Friday, 2nd part.
Photo Credit: Google.


You Belong With Me


Five Items

What are the five items you must have on a deserted island?


Just visualizing myself on a deserted island gave me the creeps. If this happens in reality I think I will have a heart attack there and then. Good! It will be the end of me, isn’t it?

First of all a knife is a must to have in such a situation. A knife has multiple uses. You can defend yourself plus need it for cutting anything.

Second thing: I would like to have are matches.

Third important item is an ax. It will be handy in building a shelter for myself.

Toothpaste and soap. I feel miserable if my teeth are not brushed. With a foul smelling mouth I will be in the dungeons.

Water and a water container is another necessity.

All this has been depressing. I am a creature of comfort. Going for two days I pack a suitcase full of things I think I may need. My husband would ask me sarcastically when we would leave our home, “Anything left in the house?”

I hope to God, I am never ever shipwrecked.

Five Items