Foodie

There are some people who have an obsession. Obsession of food. They don’t care what it is, how it’s made or what ingredients it contains. They just love having something to eat all the time. There is almost no regard of calories or fats that plague them or make them feel the need to be cautious in what they eat because that’s how they roll. They are foodies and they love food in all it is natural and cooked glory. I claim to be a foodie too but let me tell you that there are different kinds of foodies.

There are those who just eat, eat and eat because they feel it’s a necessary job that they were specifically sent on earth to do. They will eat just about anything, as long as it has a taste that appeals to their taste buds. Then there are those who love eating but they have a different approach towards their food. They will want to make sure that it is cooked right, that its ingredients are all fresh and clean and that the cooking place it’s cooked in, is a clean domain.

They will eat but with care. But they love food nonetheless and that’s for sure. I am one of those. The ones who will want to make sure their food is cooked right and in a clean place but that doesn't mean I’m a freak with the minute details. In general it is implied that a foodie will definitely have more weight than the average normal person because well, that’s how they roll. Eating is their passion and obsession. But here I am, a foodie and not even the size of a normal human. In fact skinny and underweight will be an adept term for my size.

Eating is something I love but what they see is someone who probably under nourishes herself and that’s just fine. After all I look anorexic yet eat everything I want to. 

-Salwey

foodpanda.pk

In this box of ash I stay.

In this box of ash I stay,

Powdered and silk, if I may,

Incognizant of the outside world, you might say,

Lost in my own realm, aloof from the social fray.

Alone and maimed I lie,

A prisoner of my own thoughts in which I fly,

Keeping myself to me, not letting the closest one to pry,

Because in revealing my true self I shy.

I live in my small ash world,

Shielded from the sour words people hurled,

In my own dimension I am constantly whirled,

So, in a little box I reside, alone and curled.

The ash is my dwelling,

Despite how bright the promises seem compelling,

I’m a hostage of my own life of grueling,

My world is not black and white; gray is all the gelling.

From my eyes.

Springing up.

What being on lax and three stings make you write. 

I am wondering right now, how and why can music impact me so much?

Music, something which i'm not supposed to listen to, but i still am committing the sin. Deadmau5.
I guess it is the ring i need. Ring to my thoughts.

The sinking feeling of the drop gets me shallowing deeper.

I would sit and stare at my laptop screen for hours and wonder about the words i heard yesterday. Is life really dependent on morals and ethics? 

Can you stand still,

Can you dance with light?

Can you hold this moment in your hands?

If you ran back, 

When this time has passed,

And relive this memory in your head,

Together we control the sunlight,

Yeah we control the sunlight.

This is one smooth track which gets me thinking. You are wondering how i survive without music otherwise eh?

Morals and ethics.

I was brought on this topic last night only and honestly, i haven't been able to sleep well even with lax as now all my mind is gripping on about is whether any of my actions all my life have been ethically sound and held moral values or not?


The thread of thought started weaving its way to my gray cells and it became a net wider and more tangled than i could have imagined. Surely, my actions were contrary to that of ethics and morals. What do i do wrong? 

Not much except i sit and negate my gender and my age. According to the society i confirm to, i am supposed to be mellow. Covered. Quiet. Dependant. A girl. 

So yes, I am a girl. The word reminds me of my cousin, who was born and bred back in my punjabi village and her teacher made them learn the alphabet as "Jee For Grill' Instead of the accurate "G for Girl". So to date, that poor girl calls herself a grill. 

Okay. I got diverted.

Even the institute I go to, I am not accepted fullheartedly because i like to sit with my legs on the chair. There are demeaning remarks passed because i prefer denial when it comes to my gender. People would put their hands to their mouths and make the 'haww haye' face and start going judgy. 


I am made fun of because i usually enter with earphones in my ears, sneakers and jeans on. Boys around. Too bad the world doesnt see the boys as friends. Too bad that their eyes can only filter the friendship between a girl and a boy as that of a flirt-relationship. I am passed looks by grills because i dont apply make up and i come with a washed face and scanty color on my cheeks. I am called names because I have a redbull in my hand. My laptop swinging around in one arm and laughter emanating from my lips whenever i see my friends. 


The small group i hang around with accepts me. I think. But now there are issues with that too. So i would just sit with the few of my friends and live my moments of denial in perfect bliss.

So morals.

Is engaging in a relationship with future risk on the infinite scale against the laws of morals? I think it is. But what about having fun in life? Having pleasure in life? But that is immoral. But ..but.. but we're supposed to have fun right? Because life is too short? Right? RIGHT?!

No. We are not. 

Because there is an accountability test to every action of ours. Every move we make, we will be judged by a higher power for it. And till that time comes, we must remain in limits and live as per the moral values which are predetermined by the society and religion we conform to, whichever it may be.


And how in the name of holy dash did i come up with this? A saint like friend made me realize where i was headed. Where he was headed. 

So, now it be morals ad ethics to what i will conform to. Thats where i am headed. For there is nothing more in this world to look forward to.


Everything has an end. Everyone leaves. And as everyone leaves you alone so in the end, you should be able to look back and see the moral values shadowing your actions. And then be proud of it.


Try to lessen the regret-chapter from your life. It should only be a small appendix, not the entire background story.

Hypocrite feelings

On emotions I lose control,

When past memories upon me fall,

When long-gone moments still in my heart, stall,

When the book of my life before my eyes begins to unravel
When the beating of my heart becomes unstable.

Quivering lips and a tearful eye,

I sit alone in my gloom and warily sigh,

These old times, to which I’ve bid many times good bye,

Still haunt me; day and night, for I,

Am losing control on emotions by and by.

One harsh word from dear mother;

My heart fails; a tear drops; then another;

A small token of love seems impossible from her,

So I sit back; alone in myself and I holler,

Alone to myself; for now, only one person bothers.

I’m glad to shove my feelings down,

To gulp down my emotions and not frown,

To enjoy this life without a mourn,

But how can I be a hypocrite to myself now?

When my heart bleeds tears? HOW can I not make a sound?

Isn’t killing one’s self respect enough?

Does the world still have to be that rough?

Why do they burn the skin after painfully peeling if off?

And ha! Never feel secure, because in the end,

Or along the mighty way, hurt, pain and disappointments in your face is shoved!

Succumb Pain.

A hard drink wont cut the pain you hold inside,

Sleep is yet another vain attempt you might try,

Mutilation only leaves scars of pain behind,

The pain is a shadow, always following, Bear that in mind.

The cries and echoes will scream in your ears,

Blurred images will materialize momentarily,

You will have no idea where to go; your presence will add to your fears,

Insomnia will breathe in and out, your rest shredded by shears.

Does your hand shiver at a mere touch?

Do you cringe at the memories you lived so much?

Tears never drain out any emotion ever,

The reminiscence only becomes stronger, lasting forever.

How can you even try to forget the past?

It chases hard, as if spells of gloom were cast.

The memories of love over rule the pain,

So you’d sit in gloom and feed on that feeling of drain,

Never had you thought of being in this trench,

Alone you are now, crowded is the audience, and you on your loneliness bench.

This hollow cavity pulls you deeper,

How cunning it is you ask? Steeper, mate, very steeper.

This punctured heart will never heal,

And for the things you’ve been through, trust me, it takes good guts to feel.

. .ProcrastinatioN. .

JEE NAHI. That is NOT procasti ka nation. It’s a word. Angraizi ka word. Jee, Pura ka pura.

One hell of a long word dewd. Considering what it means: Defer, Delay, Postpone, Put off etc. With that length, one would even procrastinate the use of this word.

Khair, moving on. 

In the old times, procrastination used to be an illness, a disease, like whoever used to procrastinate anything was considered contagious venom; okay, yeah exaggerating a bit; but you get the idea right? Okay, now don’t go too faaaar back in history, just the times when Pakistan was born: Everyone was working, active, alive, passionate and ardently involved with something or the other. Be it education or politics. But now. Well, the situation speaks for itself. 

Now consider us. We are lazy. We are tired. We are always bored. We are always putting things off. We is us. Everyone. So, basically it is like the awaami procrastination. Now as this has become an awaami masla, I will adhere to it bit by bit.

Politicians: Here, like, here in Pakistan, the situation is a bit comical. There will be no finger pointing at any politician of Pakistan as this blog is not a biased blog, but Imran Khan is FRIKKIN awesome! Okay, no more names.

Our government has always got more sinister issues to worry itself on. Like who is going to Dubai for the weekend, who is going to visit Sarah Palin, who is going to rest in Paris for a while; while the talks take place in the middle of their expensive lunches and spas. But stuff like, KalaBagh dam? Nope mayn, that is ridiculous decision making aint it? Who would worry about water issues till the tap runs dry and one is under a shower with shampoo and soap on? Or why waste a meeting protocol unless the awaam is out on the streets burning tires and ravaging like new-born samurais? These bijjy people wont budge. Because, oh wait, these politicians have other grave issues to worry about, right? 

Students: This hardly requires a big hefty paragraph. A simple statement does it dewds. Students study in the last week before exams; oh and no, the timetable and registration is done MONTHS earlier. So, yeah, one statement and the reader is enlightened with the procrastination details.

Teachers: Ooh, My personal favorite. The teachers are also, after all humans. And this fact was for those maniacs who think otherwise. Khair, the teachers case is a bit interesting. Their procrastination is shadowed, curtained and a bit vague. But see, the teachers go super duper slow and all nicey nice in the first two third of the semester/term. Whats wrong with that you ask? DEWD, have you seen or been THROUGH the pace in the last one third of the semester/term? They are usually [not all ;)] all fired up. Full on junoon, jazba and energy. Mutlab, students ko samaj aye ya na aye [again, not all] but no, train kay driver bun gaye hain ab, train ko rail gaari ki tarah nai, ROCKET ki tarah urana hai.

So yeah, that’s why the vagueness of the teacher’s procrastination is very gehri. Because they show their jalwa riiiiiiiiiiiight at the end.

So yeah, Procrastination is EVIL laydiss and gentalmayn. It is an evil SO deep which has the ability to seize your junta away from you, it can make you sit in a second attempt of an exam and worse, it may lose you your income; i-e your students. So kindly refrain from it.

But, kabi kabi chalta hai. Do not taynsun. [tension]  

HAWW HAYE!

OH MY GAWWWWDDD!! ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN!?

Yes, well, that is the exact response I got from a girl when I replied to her probing questions about my online life. No, I hadn’t answered that I was creating a website that would kill every tenth user, nor was I planning on taking over MSN for that matter. I had merely told her: 

‘I am not on facebook’.

So, what is this CRAZYY hype about it anyway? I WAS on facebook. Period.

The fact that people probe sooo deeply in one’s personal online life is under rated. Heavily dude. Now, considering that an online life IS personal [word consideration used only for those people who think otherwise! -.-] why is the world So confident in asking WHY you aren’t on facebook? If I had asked the same person, OH MY GAWWWWDDD!! ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN!? subsequent to a question relating to her prospective husband or current suitor… I would probably have been labeled as a ‘creep’, ‘curious cat’, ‘interference ki daadi maa’, ‘nosy aunty’ and WHAT NOT!

But no, there is this annoyingly true unwritten rule that the online life is on-the-line for everyone to stalk, probe, like, question, hate etc. Because, its facebook only dewdd!

I would like to question these dewds, why would you want to know if I am on facebook or not? Especially when you are SURE that I would never make the mistake of clicking on ‘confirm’ to your umpteenth friend request. I mean, I am sure you and I would HARDLY exchange any ‘omg hiiii’ or detailed life stories on our *inboxing*, so the point of our friendship on FB is probably fake right?

Khair. I can rant about this for hours and hours.

The point of this small thing is that SO WHAT is someone is NOT on facebook? Why have people started judging their peers etc on the basis of their online presence? Why is the fact that someone who is not comfortable in that oh-so-magical-arena­ not digestible? Why do people label the non-facebookers as ‘haye becharay introverts’, ‘becharay’, ‘allowed nahi hoga’, ‘probably have a psychological issue of non-socializing’ or ‘weird person mannn!’

The truth maybe…:

The non facebooker probably had a BAD stalker.

The non facebooker probably had TONS to study.

Or the non facebooker probably got tired of staring at pouted pictures and poses against parked BMWs.

The non facebooker maybe had a family. You know, the REAL kind? Where there is usually one mother and one father, no not the 5 moms and 6 dads facebook walay. Real human beings. Homo sapiens. Jeetay jaagtay.

OR maybe, the non facebooker actually has a REAL life. Life outside answering ‘whats on your mind’ everytime you open the browser. Life outside 398 friends when the non facebooker only hung out with 7-8 of them. Life outside a page FULL of other people’s life stories.

Or maybe, just a normal life. Like it used to be

So to all those dewwdds kindly stop probing in our personal lives, yes beta, the online life IS personal. Unless you don’t mind me asking how YOU felt when your mum spanked you with a jharoo and the intricate details of that incident, feel free. You would know my answer anyways. J

.>Disclaimer< This is a mere expression of personal experiences and responses and in no way attempts to jeopardize the goodwill of Facebook. <Tada-bliiiing>

Offish [2]

How much one expects of others?
Why does one always end up being the only one who bothers?
They all say life is short, live it fully.
Ha! Honest statement that is; fully is not truly.

One may engage in a dizzying drink,

Feeling every breath, and this heart? Does nothing but sink! 

Why can't the world be less scary, for real?

Why do people cheat, why never show what they actually feel?

 

The happy cheerful life was all past,

It was bewitching, spells of care and trust as if were cast,

But now its all a dead maze,

All the clarity of that trust is buried. Deep in a distant haze. 

Flag-Jhanda

Me: Hayee.. When will we reach? This train journey is nauseating!

You: Yeah.. am tired too!

Me: Hey listen, did you lock all the doors and all before leaving? Considering you were home and I was out the whole day?

You: Yeah I did. Just did not go to the terrace or chhatt.

Me: hmm.. not an issu- WAIT! What? Why?

You: terrace per jaa ker kia kerna tha? Jhanday ko fold kerta?! Haha.

Me: Meaning? *fuming*

You: I mean… I was not going to go up the stairs just to bring the jhanda down yaar!

Me: MEANING?

You: whaa-a-t? the breeze wont hurt it. And trust me, the crows and eagles have better things to do than disturb our flag.

Me: *calming down* <clenched teeth> I did not get a chance to see the flag but where did you buy it from? Araam say mil gya tha na?

You: What was the issue in that? Nukkar walay baba say le lia tha. Very reasonable cheap rate mein.

Me: Do you realize what you just said?

You: Whaat?

Me: Do you know what a flag is? By any chance?

You: Yes. I mean, DUH! Its not something holy or something. Just a representation yaar. Chill ker.

Me: NO! *anger seething* You know what it is? I WILL TELL YOU what it is! It is the only non-verbal, non-text iconic graphic a country is symbolized with! Two colors our poor flag rests on. Deep green and stark white. These two invariant tones are seen trashed together and swaying with the support of a thin stick.

Is my point coming to the surface? No? TSK!

You: Kiaaaaa?!

Phattay huay jhanday

Me: Well, for a start, kindly look around.

You: *looking around*

Me: *slaps forehead* NOT your compartment smarty pants! But around, OUTSIDE your humble habitat. Do you see a bluish tint where the crescent and the star should be? Oh, and is a strip of white flashing behind? Yes? No. NOT ON THOSE FIELDS! But in your hardly-in-attendance imagination.

You: hainjee? Jee? Haanjee. Dikhta hai.

Me: *poses a know-it-all pose* THAT my friend is the reality! <hell of a serious tone> The basting of a flag has become such a mundane, low-on-priority-list task that the only flags hoisted high up on the chats are the one-silai walay.

You: *staring into space, ogling the fields*

Me: Uff. No, this is not a tailor-master-lesson-of-how-to-sew-a-flag. Trust me.

You: oh, good. Jee continue.

Me: okay. I will deviate a bit. Emotional deviation you know. You know the happiness I felt at age six when I raised my very own jhanda on my chhatt’s railing was.. <deep breath>.. Incomparable. I was hopping up and down. [yes, I have a thing for Pakistan. And it is called patriotism wala love]. The green and white flashing in my eyes was so soothing that I cannot describe via the medium of mere words.

You. Ah-aan. *all interested type look*

Me: But, now will you Imagine.. just IMAGINE my sadness coupled with heaps of fury when I witnessed the crescent and star torn away because of the samandar ki hawayen. And that, my friend is what constitutes to the reason behind this magnanimous issue I’m discussing. The hint of blue gaping at ur ogling eyes when you look around.

You: baat tou theek hai.

Me: Aur tou aur! The people who sell these jhandays, who tou bus miskeen shakal bana ker kehdetay hain. *screws face up together and speaks in a wheezy tone* “kyunki hawayen to taiz hoti hain baji, jhanda tou jhanda hai, Phatna hi hai”. Mutlab app check kerain na confidence! Sahi hai. Phat jata hai. BUT NOT ON 16TH OF AUGUST ONLY!

You: J..j.jee. th..theek kaha. Phat-ta tou hai hi..

Me: SO WHAT if it phatto-fies? CAN’T YOU..er.. not you, the rest of you, spend a few extra bucks in showing off [trust me, best choice of word] showing off your patriotism? Jhanday walay nay esay jhanday diye hain you all say. Can’t you go and SEARCH for a good quality jhanda? Saal mein AIK din ata hai! But, kyun kerayn? We’ve to buy all the latest lawn kameezes and the latest kurtas na. Aik matching frill k liye gulf k 100 chakkar lag jayen gay. But for the flag? Nukkar ka baba bahut achay jhanday bechta hai.

You: *shell shocked* Woah. Chalain.. We’ll discuss this again later I hope-

Me: Excuse me? You’re staying here and listening to this. Hmph.

You: Sa-a-ahiii.

Chipkey huay jhanday

-To walls and To the dandas

You: Kia mutlab?

Me: oh bhae. How should a flag be?

You: Err.. clean?

Me: *smacks head hard* -Ouch! Well. NO! it should be lehraofying in the hawa and not chipkofied to a) the walls or b) the thin danda.

You: Ooo.

Me: jeeee! A flag should be swaying in the breeze. Not to forget, it shouldn’t even be wrapped around its danda.

You: you surely have a point, ma’am.

Me: You haven’t heard the most important issue as yet.

You: *about to get up* wait- there is MORE?

Me: Yes, what do you think this flag business is anyways? Some kind of a joke? Haan? Haan?!

You: N..no. 

Biiiig flag and smaallllll crescent and star

Come on! SERIOUSLY?! 

You: what’s that supposed to mean?

Me: Dude, listen up. A flag isn’t some palate where any and every nukkar wala baba exercises his artistic skills. It has a STANDARD! It IS a standard. The crescent and star occupy a certain-Standardized portion of the green area of the flag!

You: Yeah I get that, but where is this coming from? Exactly?

Me: Have you seen the flags which are big and mighty and have a 50 ft length?

You: *all excited excited* oh yesss!

Me: have you noticed how minute the size of the chaand and sitara is in comparison?

You: *thinking* oh. Point.

Me: So. Yes. Exactly my point. IF one buys a big mighty flag [especially the big big firms and banks on I.I. Chundrigar road] then one should MAKE sure that it is proportionate enough to be called a Pakistani Flag.

You: You have a very valid point with sound judgement.

Me: *all flattered*

You: but you know this is not that pressing a matter-you know what I mean?

Me: *eyes red, nostrils flaring, nose screwed up in anger* ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Wait. Let me calm down. <breathes in and out> Okay. How about if I say its your birthday today.

You: oh wow. That’d be an awesome example.

Me: And I get you a face-picture-cake. Like the ones those fancy bakeries make?

You: Wow, I’ve never had that stuff before.

Me: and how about I tell u that the baker ACCIDENTALLY used the gooify tool of photoshop and made your nose the size of Pinocchio and your eyes the size of a mole?

You: *eyes red, nostrils flaring, nose screwed up in anger* ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?

Me: See? The reactions are identical. So. Never forget that if Pakistan cannot speak for its image, there’s no use to care about it either. Never forget the amount of qurbaanis the people have given to give you a place in this land. To GIVE this land alone! And surely never forget that just like your birthday is so very special to you, the birthdate of Pakistan is also very special.

You: Yeess-

Me: Pakistan is our watan for God’s sake. The ONLY watan we have! At least pay tribute to its image properly. What with all the politicians stuff and the media crap the image of Pakistan internationally IS losing face magnified to the power of googol! But You can make a difference. So start by this small contribution of your part as this. Buying a proper flag.

You: I must say, interesting insight.

Me: Well, what can I say? This was, indeed a very refreshing train journey.

You: Wouldn't disagree oooooone bit! *beaming*