Unanswered Questions

How could I become like this
How could I be so wrong
How could I become so difficult
How could i be so cold

I want to make things right
I want to turn back time
I want to grab a hold
to the things that i made them go wrong

I want to be the one
who is cherished by someone
This is not who I want to be
Who i have really become

How could I become like this
How could i be so wrong.
How could I become so difficult
How could I be so cold

I never answered the qestion,
I thought they were wrong,
I can laugh all I want,
I wish to have given all.

I thought they couldnt understand
I wish I had understood
I thought i needed time but
I spent it long ago

How could I become like this
how could I be so wrong
How could I become so difficult
How could I be so cold


Pangrams – Sentences containing all 26 characters

So I have Been searching for sentences that contains all 26 character’s we all remember

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

So This sentence contains all 26 characters but it itself is 33 characters long.

my girl wove six dozen plaid jackers before she quit

my girl wove six dozen plaid jackers before she quit

I am actually thinking about making a typeface from people’s handwriting so I need sample’s of how they write all the character’s. I thought pangrams are the way to go. So I went on the Internet and found plenty of pangrams some of them were not in English or they had words I couldn’t understand. Below is the collection of sentences I could find:

  • The five boxing wizards jump quickly.
  • Mr. Jock, TV quiz PhD, bags few lynx
  • Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.
  • Jackdaws love my big sphinx of quartz.
  • Sympathizing would fix Quaker objectives.
  • How quickly daft jumping zebras vex.
  • Jinxed wizards pluck ivy from the big quilt.
  • Five quacking zephyrs jolt my wax bed.
Public Junk dwarves hug my quatz fox

Public Junk dwarves hug my quatz fox

The ultimate pangram that made sense to me was :

TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox.

A long one but has common language words:

A quick movement of the enemy will jeopardize six gunboats.

“Taarna Band Karo – Mard Bano” – Challenging Gender Stereotypes – Bolo Bhi

Tarna Band Karo Bolo Bhi

The idea behind the series of pictures, starting today, is to question social issues and perception relating to gender rights issues in Pakistan. The  topic of the post”Tarna Band Karo – Mard Bano” or (non-literal translation) “Real Men Don’t Stare” is intended to start a debate on the whole notion of being “real men”. The picture in itself questions “Kya yehi hai teri mardangi..”   raising questions at gender stereotypes.

It is a jab at the notion itself, that we hear, across cultures,the idea of “being a real man..” which usually entails certain characteristic most of which have to do with a show of power and strength. Not only are these ideas a false sense of gender identity but they perpetuate emotional and (sometimes) physical violence and gender discrimination.

The idea doesn’t only impact women but primarily men, where society sets standards on ways in which they should behave and interact. The whole concept of “men will be men..” and that “men stare because that’s what they do..”  only reinforces harassment and objectification of both men and women.

Social perceptions and traditional character attributions need to be challenged. The perceptions around gender roles are striking similar across different cultures. These need to be questioned, sometimes reclaimed and definitely debated.

via “Taarna Band Karo – Mard Bano” – Challenging Gender Stereotypes – Bolo Bhi.

Maya – A true Story

I wrote this story on the 9th of December 2011. I was actually doing this for an assignment it was supposed to be a favor to a friend he had to submit a story for his English assignment. I remember the date because something happened that day I will tell you what happened that day but first read the story that i wrote it was a two pages story so please excuse me if I rush in the end of the story

In the midst of cold bleak night, a thunder-like sound wakes the occupants of Greenland valley. It was the beginning of a war between France and Germany. The noise roared every-day and a few hours of quite were the only moment for the Jackson’s to think of their life.

The Jackson family was a little family that lived in the distant area of France in a city named sedan. It was the time of World War II. On 27th January 1940 sedan got heavily bombarded by the German fighter plane. It was the day that nobody believed, what will come and yet so soon.

Mr. Jackson was on the way to home from the church when the first plane passed and the voice shattered the quiet neighborhood and it was that voice of shattering wood and glass and a boom that was heard across the city. Siren went off as it was to alarm the people of sedan that war is on their doorsteps and panic and fear can be seen on every face as they rushed and ran through the streets to get to their homes and somewhere safe. Mr. Jackson rushed through the crowds that running passed as the second bomb hit the house nearby “chaos” that was the word that described the situation and all of the people looked at the sky as the plane’s passed. Jackson came to his house and found this family in the basement it was dark and humid, his wife and daughter hiding under a table. Jackson came and got the hold of them as he would protect them from the fire and smoke that can be smelled in the home and screams can be heard from the agonizing and tormented bodies that suffered the sudden pain.

A flash of light came and filled the basement and the little girl lost her conscious. Hours passed as the planes flew across the city and breathed fire. Two days passed and the people that looked for the survivors searched the debris that was once where people lived and children played. A voice that got the attention of Thomas and he started digging the remains of what used to be a house he called for help from the people who was there to help and after few hours a little girl was found safe and sound in the arms of a man that was recognized as the father of that poor child. The little girl was named Maya by the family who got her possession.

The first few years passed rather well for Maya the new family she got looked after and the lady that was now known as her mother was a lovely lady merciful and  kind-hearted and her new father was a businessmen, but dark days never left her and came again and filled what was left of her world. The new father she got lost his life as he was traveling in a train accident the news was brought by the partner in work.

Maya now a 15 year old girl she was starting to get a hold of the life she started working in a bakery for the money she needed for her studies. She was taking lessons from an old lady that taught her English reading and writing. She was sharp and easily grasps information the old lady had to give. It was part of her daily routine to go to a nursery and help the kids in their daily school work.

Two years passed as the little Maya got bigger she saved money and moved to Frankfurt. The old lady her mother died from fever after moving on to Frankfurt it was just another misery she went through and now she was all alone she started baking cookies and setup a stall in front of her house from where she earns her living. Some months passed people started recognizing her by her cookies business. She gained popularity people came from distant places as her business grew. One day a man came and brought some cookies from her, after eating those tasty cookies he asked Maya where she learned to make those cookies, after having some chit chat he introduced him to her that he was not an ordinary man, he was a famous article writer who wrote many column on food and traveling. He proposed her to explain her story to him, so he could write an article on her. After telling the whole story, he started crying and patted on her shoulder. He was so impressed by her that how she managed her life from the day she lost her family till date, so he decided to write a column about her life and her tasteful recipe which she learned during her struggle for life.

After the article published people read and many people searched for her existence, to help her by any means they could possibly do, some entities also seek for her and helped Maya to grow her cookie business from a stall to shop. She hired some pastry chefs and grew her business more vast time by time. She entirely changed the look of her shop and re-decorated the interior. The theme she applied on her shop was the time she remembered as the days of the War. She baked cakes which look like beautiful houses surrounded by jellies and chocolates which look like soldiers pointing Guns at their house. Children’s as well as elders loves those emotions passed through her cookies, cakes and pastries. Many people came to enjoy the War theme; many came to consolidate their feelings. As time passed her recipe spread all over France, people came from far lands to eat her cookies. Maya was 23 years old when she had accomplished what seemed impossible for a normal person she had her own business running and saved money for her living and for her future.

Generations passed, there is still a shop named “Jackson Bakers” in Frankfurt that can still be found easily in downtown where the same War Themed shop is still running and selling their famous War cookies, cakes and pastries. It is the reminder of that little girl named Maya who survived during World War, where so many lost their life and loved ones. Maya fought the battle for her life which was worse than the War between the countries.

Well that the end of the story now to the real story after writing this and emailing my friend the story i went to bed it was about 6:00am well yeah i know it was late but hye! I didn’t have to go to any office or school. so I went to bed and I woke up that sounded like nothing I’ve ever heard it was not thunder-like as I told in the story above it was much more horrifying sound. I couldn’t think of anything that explains that noise as soon as I woke up I was moving around the house checking on everyone of my family and trying to figure out what made that noise I noticed murkiness outside my balcony but neglected it as I thought it was fog few minutes passed but we weren’t able to find anything that explained the noise. We noticed the fog clearing and heard some people saying something in loudly so I went in my balcony and looked outside I saw some people gathering around I couldn’t see clearly as there was a tree blocking my vision I saw some other men going towards the crowd I shouted and asked them “what happened” and the answer was “bomb blast”. It was 7:08am in the morning when the blast happened it was across the street about 30 meters from my home what my window glasses were shattered but the tree saved my home from the blast wave the people living on the floors above me suffered more losses.Below is the link to the actual news:


I can say that we cannot imagine or put the hardships in words people go through after those incidents.I was not able to imagine what the family of those martyrs that were standing there to protect us while I was sleeping went through. So I am here writing about those wonderful people that died in these bomb blasts those innocent people I was bot able to do anything for you but I would give anything to stop something like this from ever happening again…

If You Could Save Only Eight Books… Part Two

Just a Reminder to read these Books

Paul Sutton Reeves

As mentioned in my previous post, I’ve invited some of my favourite bloggers to share with us the books that they’d reprieve from their collections if they could save only eight of them. First up is Lauren Sapala. Lauren has an excellent blog crammed with practical advice and inspiring ideas for writing. It can be found at laurensapala.com. Before choosing her eight books, I asked Lauren to tell us a little about her writing.

I started by asking her how long she’d been writing. “Since I was a child,” she told me, “but I started seriously writing in 2006.” To date she’s written four novels and a short story collection and is working now on a fifth novel. I asked her how she’d describe her writing style and subject matter. “I write dark autobiographical fiction, and dark literary fiction. My writing deals primarily with addiction, alcoholism, and psychological dysfunction.”…

View original post 446 more words

Taqdeer “Destiny”

Aik Patta tha akela

Urta rehta

Hawa ke dosh pe

Apni hi moj main

Bholi si soch main

Lehrata gir jaa

Phr uthta


Ooncha aasman chone k lye

Hawa k zor pe

Lekin kuch to tha

Usse rok leta

jakar leta

bandh deta

Phr chor Deta

Ik Ehsaas

Ik Chahat

Ik Rifaqat

jo usse yaad dilalti

Aik Aahat

Aik Qurb

Aiks Lums

Usse Wapis Bulati

Lehrata bul khata

Wo neeche aata

Aur choom leta

Us Zameen ko

Jisse chone ki chahat

Usse Hosh Sambhalne se thi


kitne chehron ko bardasht kerta hon main
apne lafzon se is dard ka izhar kerta hon main

kitne chehre chupa lete hain ik chehre k peeche
her chehre ko perhta, jaanchta phr afssos kerta hon main

mere kehne se nhin uth jate hain unke naqaab
sare-aam kerke unhain ruswa nhin kerta hon main

ik nai kahani hai her taraf her mor lekin
apni kahani adhoori phr pori kerta hon main

ye kahani teri ya meri nhi hai Abdul
her insan yehi sochta yehi kerta hon main


Ik Baat jo Main Keh Sakoon Yehi Arzo hai ab talak
Na hon faasle ab darmian Yehi Arzo hai Ab Talak. . .

Meri Be-khudi ka Qaraar tu meri justuju ka payaam hai
Meri dharkanon ko mile sukoon yehi Arzo hai ab talak. . .

Mera jism bhi tu meri jan bhi tu meri koshishon ka ajr hai
Is mehnat ka mujhe sila mile yehi Arzo hai ab talak. .

Main jo Chalta hon in raston per bhatak jata hon in sapnon main
Is saraab ko ik disha mile yehi Arzo hai ab talak. . .

Ik sansani si hai ruh main ik kapkapi si hai jism main
Tujhe dhoondta hon main her taraf mujhe mil jae tu bus ab

Mujhe mil jae sabr bus yehi Arzo hai ab talak. .
Teri dosti meri zindagi teri be-rukhi meri maut hai

Meri zindagi ko jila mile yehi Arzo hai ab talak. . .
Teri be-rukhi meri jan-e-man tere husn ki miraas hai

Teri ik nazar jo idhar pare yehi Arzo hai ab talak. . .
Teri ruh ko jo main chu sakoon tere humqudum jo main chal sakoon
Isi lamhe ki mujhe talash hai yehi Arzo hai ab talak. . .


Kabhi inkar krdena Kabhi Iqrar krlena,
kabhi is khuwahish ka aakhir tum bhi to izhaar kerlna,

Main khuwabon ko aankhon main basae rakhta hon lekin,
Tumhare dil main kiya hai iska tum bhi to izhar krlena,

Nhi is dil ki qismat main agar tum nhi to phr,
Kisi choti si baat per kabhi takrar krlena,

Kabhi inkar krdena Kabhi Iqrar krlena,
Kabhi is khuwahish ka aakhir tum bhi to izhaar kerlna,

Zarorat nhi mujhe teri ye kahe tumse kabhi koi,
Tum uski baat sunne se phele inkaar kerdena.

Kabhi na keh sakonga tumse “main tumse pyar kerta hon”
Meri bechain zindagi ko tum aakar khushhaal kerdena.

Kabhi inkar krdena Kabhi Iqrar krlena,
Kabhi is khuwahish ka aakhir tum bhi to izhaar kerlna.

Mere dil main ik ajab zindan qaim hai,
Isse tum khol ker mujhko pus aazad krdena.

Nhi hai shoq mujhko is tarha se rooth jane main,
Tum aakar khud bhi kabhi mera deedar kerlena.

Kabhi inkar krdena Kabhi Iqrar krlena,
Kabhi is khuwahish ka aakhir tum bhi to izhaar kerlna.

Nhi is dard main koi kisi ka humsafar hota,
Ye sahil door hojae to phir inkaar kerlena.

Is kefiyat ka main bhala tumko bataon kiya,
Mohabbat tumko hojae tu bus Insaaf  Kerlena.

Kabhi inkar krdena Kabhi Iqrar krlena,
kabhi is khuwahish ka aakhir tum bhi to izhaar kerlna.