Driffi's Blog

How i look at life

The Kiddy Insider

Adulthood, Marriage and my kiddy insider

Adulthood, marriage and me

Ok so here I am; writing about something which I myself just haven’t had a hang on yet. I have lived a life filled with people, filled with kiddy cousins and friends. There was no trace of responsibility, no sense of any discipline and no sense of actually considering the fact that I am a grown up adult and a responsible working woman who is also married?, which means I am the one supposed to take life really seriously, really responsibly…..gulp…… here comes the twist!.

In my part of the world marriage ; especially a girl’s marriage brings a lot of responsibility to the girl which also means that this is the time she should act maturely and start taking life seriously. But no in my case it was the absolute contrast, time before my marriage was spent in shopping which meant lots of time outside home just having fun, roaming about in the malls and markets with my cousins. When we would reach home after having done lots of enjoyment, after having had dinner outside somewhere, having had ice-cream or coffee or just anything which could bring some sense of joy to us and yes a little bit of shopping; we would act as if oh my god we are the most responsible beings around here, trying to do the best shopping for the arrangements of the shadi. These visits to the market were subsequently fixed at times to meet my fiancé.

Then the marriage ceremony came and all I was interested was the dance preparation of my cousins and my dress. I don’t know maybe there might have been moments when I took it seriously but they were just too minute to gain my attention. Then finally the day came … I was all ready wearing my red wedding gown and oh boy I looked great and I was just flying in the air. All I cared about was that I am just looking awesome.

I wonder where does all the emotionalism come into Marriage in the movies since that never happened with me; I remember floundering in air assuming myself to be at the top of the world, to be the most prettiest, the princess of the day… I know it sounds too filmy I suppose but that’s how I felt?

Today I am busy working in a corporate organization; attending so called serious meetings (where everyone’s supposed to nod in the most intellectual manner as if he/she just knows everything and that no one else has ever been more serious and professional then him/her), being married for more then an year; attending in- law parties with great sophistication (or atleast trying my level best to be sophisticated) driving my own car (ofcourse
my dad’s car to be precise), cooking food and everything else which a proud adult does or would be doing.

But everyday when I’m driving home or I am making food there’s this kiddish voice in my mind “see I did it, oh my God I did not make any mistake today”.
Then there is always this scene at work when my boss calls me in and I walk in with the utter most serious attitude (as if no one else ever was more serious).

Then comes the session of attending a meeting and the kid inside me peeps out sheepishly through the glasses ( I tell him to go back) and there I am again in a serious conversation with someone assuming maybe that’s how one is supposed to act. (The kid inside me is constantly peeping out and making funny faces as I glare at a few slides which are just too cluttered ……. I don’t know what to call them but the ones which just go totally above my head … I again tell him to sit quietly. He goes & sits at a corner with a sad face ).

I wonder why don’t other people’s kiddish insiders peep out or maybe I m the only one with this kid inside me? Will this kiddy widdy inside me ever grow or I will have to live up with him forever?

Then after work the responsible me comes home and takes the role of a responsible Bahu & a responsible wife (ok now after spending more then 1 year with me; my hubby knows I am not all that responsible afterall ,actually he kinda knows my insider now). And I am the one on which my father in law and mother in law can count on in times of trouble or help.

And then comes night time where I can just go into my room, talk to my hubby or meet my friends or cousins and relax. Then comes out the real me…. The kid who was peeping outside my glasses is set loose now to do whatever he wants to do.

And this is the session when I can give a whole account of the serious me in the most hilarious and most comic way to my friends;

“and then I nodded, yes sir I’ ll get it right away and you know what?, I had lost it some 1 week
back and I didn’t even know where to look for”

or maybe I would be telling them

“ and then my father in law asked me ok can you please get me the juice in the fridge and I nodded yes and how I slipped all bad in the kitchen with the juice spilled all over the kitchen and myself and how I ended up lying to him ‘actually abbu zee must have drank the juice as I cant find it’ and how he believed it while I spent most of my evening cleaning the kitchen”
Then there are days when I just look around at people! People my age but can end up with an excellent extempore on huge conversations without having to gulp their first bit of sputum. People are so aware of the political scene that they also end up remembering the exact figures (I also tried so hard to remember the exact number of villages damaged in the floods or the exact details of the Japan catastrophe but…. I guess at the right time I never got to remember them)

I then look at myself and I see someone who just hasn’t been able to change even after so many serious incidents like marriage or job. I look back at things which just went excellent and……actually I m not able to remember any. I think of not putting so much strain on my mind so I think of all the times when things did not go right and oh boy……just with a single click my instant mind computer has opened like 100 new windows? All with a different visual and a different theme. Ok so let’s look at one:

This one begins with me and my hubby sitting in a hotel (some good hotel to be precise), its hardly been a few days since our marriage and how I m trying hard to be the sophisticated me and viola…I stand up to get the food from the buffet and the fork sitting very next to me is on the floor with a loud “thud” and everyone around me just turns to see who it was…I just turn away to the buffet area hoping every one assumed it was someone else … yes my hubby knew it was me.

I think that maybe its this marriage or this new job and maybe I need to be a bit more serious, I convince myself that ok now its time to grow up (Now telling oneself to grow up at such an age is already very weird and late when one has already crossed adulthood ages back and when one is stepping into their oldie 30s)
I end up coming home acting all serious and all responsible. I decide to do everything on time and to keep everything in its exact right place. I take care of the pile of clothes that had occupied the corner of the room since a week because since I am going to be all this new responsible me I have to keep everything in place.
My Hubby asks me “whats going on?, why are you acting so weird”

I say “Nothing, I have decided to be the responsible one from now on” he looks at me again and pops out in a big laugh

“You and responsible???hahaha cut that out … be normal now”

And I just cant understand why me being responsible can’t be normal. Everyone else is?
Then I realize that I need to live with the fact that no matter what ever I do this kiddy part of me will always remain alive and which will help me remain lively in today’s depressive world. I guess everyone in today’s time needs to keep their kiddy insider alive so that the tragedies of the world may seem a bit diminished.

“Oh Forgot, needed to write a looonnnnggg report on an event”………..see you soon.

So do you also have a kid inside you?


Walking in the Darkness

As he sat in his reading chair; the light from the window opposite the reading table shone directly into his eyes; blinding him out for a moment. He raised his hand to cover his eyes but then something happened. He began staring into the deep sun light.

Then he fanatically began scrolling and searching through his drawers. There were papers and old books all dusky, he scrolled through them frantically to find something; papers falling on the table, books peeping out of the half closed drawers. Then he sat down on the floor frantically looking at the papers as if trying to find something. But there was nothing there. He gave out a loud sigh and began looking at his wrinkled hand. “I am old aren’t I” he questioned himself. And then started to rub his hands over his face; as if trying to feel the wrinkles or trying to recognize himself? But this didn’t satisfy him.

He got up and began to rush but then he looked at the room. On the front wall was a huge portrait; he couldn’t recall of whose. There was an old Victorian pair of chairs placed below the portrait and next to it was the door. It opened into the terrace where there were two plastic chairs and a table and lots of potted plants. The weather seemed fresh and he could feel cool breeze on his face. He looked around to find another door and there it was on the second wall; closed. He went up to the door; placed his hand on the knob but didn’t seem to open it. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t open it. Was it locked? What was with the door? He sat on the floor again looking with pale eyes at the door; like a little child unable to open a lock.

There was a little mirror on a table besides the door; he picked it up and began staring into it strangely; there was an old man in the mirror with wrinkled skin, hazel brown eyes and white hair. He stared for a long time as if he didn’t know who the person was in the mirror.

He reclined his back to the wall and began staring into the space. Don’t know how long he stayed like this when he heard a knock on the door with someone saying “Baba are you in there?”. He didn’t respond; “Who is Baba” he wondered?

And then a 15 year old boy opened the door and entered the room and began talking to this old man “Baba you are here; God Ammi is looking all over the place for you; here take my hand; what are you doing on the floor?”

And the boy handed over his hand to the old fellow; to help him get up. But the old fellow still didn’t respond; as the boy’s hand touched him, he gave out a little expression of uneasiness and then stood up.

“ Baba you are alright na” the boy asked again and the old man responded in a very unsure way “ye..yes”

“Why didn’t you come out then instead of sitting on the floor”

“The door…. I couldn’t open the door, how do we open these doors?”

And Ali knew what had happened.

“See Baba you hold the knob and turn it right”, did you get it?. “Oh ok ye..yes I get it”

Then The Old man began looking strangely at Ali.

“Baba; you do recognize me don’t you? I’ m Ali, your Son”.

“Of…Ofcourse I recognize you; how can I forget my son?”; and he held Ali’s Hand; still seeming unsure of the whole situation.

The young boy took him into the lounge and helped him settle on the table where lunch was served. The Old man settled and looked into Ali’s eyes as if unsure why he was brought here. Ali nodded as if trying to say don’t worry I’m coming and walked into the kitchen;

“Ammi, Baba is here, please come so we all can have lunch”

“Oh yes where was your baba? I was looking all over for him?”

“He was in the study; don’t worry hes here now”

“He is alright na?” his mom looked into his eyes questioningly?.

“Oh yes ammi come on; he’s absolutely fine, you women are always freaked out”

And his mother gave him a queer look.

But deep down inside he knew he wasn’t alright.

“Time has come when he has begun forgetting usual daily chores; time has come when he has begun forgetting his own family. Time is quiet near when he’ll even forget how to eat or drink and Ammi needs to be very strong for that time”; thought Ali as he looked at his mother happily making fresh chapatis for his father. Then he turned back to look at baba; who was busy making sketchs on the table with the fork.

Bitterness Inside

So here it is. I have come to a few realizations about myself in the last one year. I have come to realize that I am an unhappy person by nature, that I am bitter inside….that I have bitter thoughts about almost everyone; towards almost every thought and the worst thing is that I am not even ashamed about it. Though the bitterness doesn’t come out in front of most people, but the bad part about this is that the bitterness does come out in front of the very few people who somehow matter to me; which shouldn’t be the case I suppose. This bitterness comes out in front of people from whom I expect a lot but I end up getting nothing. This bitterness has left me hollow inside….. Shallow ….. it has made me unable to trust or rely on anyone. It seems like I am on my own and this will be like this forever.

I just came across a line by someone that they had trust issues since childhood. I somehow realized that same is the case with me and I didn’t realize this until a few years back that I have trust issues, I hardly trust anyone except myself. I don’t expect people to do anything for me and when they do; it either surprises me or it ends up leaving me guilty. One more realization I got about myself is that I become guilty very quickly and people have taken advantage of this fact. What amazes me is that why wasn’t I ever able to realize this fact that I do get guilty very easily and there are a certain set of people who actually try to make me guilt conscious and I guess they have been successful at it to in actually being on my nerves for days.

These days it seems like I am all alone in life.. I guess I was always like this; sad and lonely. Life and its complications just made it a bit easier to forget. I have also come to the realization that maybe dreams really don’t come true …… my dad struggled all life and even today he is in a struggle… so my dream of becoming a very rich person one day is not going to be fulfilled atleast not in this lifetime; maybe my children might see a better tomorrow but that needs time.

“Go Green for Inquilaab”


This is certainly one of the worst times in the history of Pakistan with a complete downfall of almost everything in Pakistan. With a severe blow to the economic infrastructure, skyrocketing prices and inability of the government to provide the very basic necessities of everyday life (no gas for cooking food, no cng resulting in almost no transport for the huge majority of our population travelling by public transport and unaffordable petrol prices) let alone providing a decent living education and a decent lifestyle; we certainly don’t have any idea where this nation is headed to.


With more than 115 people dead in a single day in Quetta, Swat and Karachi and the brutal target killing of hundreds of people happening in Karachi, Peshawar and other areas on a regular basis it is not surprising that almost every person be it a youngster, an elderly or even a child; everyone is moved by the situation and a deep sense of frustration is creeping amongst them all. In this situation the protest held by the families of the deceased in Quetta gained strength when people from almost every sect; every city rose from their homes and joined hands for justice and a change in the government of Balochistan; the result was very encouraging and it proves that if our nation stands united it can defy against almost anything in its way and if we all stand united; there is a chance of a major change or “Inquilaab” as I put it in Pakistan. Because an Inquilaab is desperately needed in Pakistan otherwise we are on the verge of a complete failure.


Taking into consideration the changes that took place in Balochistan after the protest somehow I am looking forward to the long march. Though I am not a follower of Tahir ul Qadri but atleast the agenda; the questions behind the agenda and the huge number of people gathered to support this cause is giving me hope that this maybe the beginning of a change.


At this point we all as a nation need to stand united and fight in whatever way is possible for us especially the youth needs to play a strong role here in protesting for change since this is everyone’s responsibility; not only as a Muslim but also as  Whole Nation to protest against the wrongdoers and fight for our right. The media needs to play a positive role as well and instead of making pathetic plays based on oppressed women and family politics or political talk shows or a bunch of women sitting in front of the tv in the morning discussing their lunch menu; they need to make inspirational programs which should not only add moral values to our nation but also give them inspiration to stand up and fight for their right and fight for a better tomorrow.


Today there should be no Shiia Sunni, No Hindu Christian, No Ahmedi. No MQM, no PTI, no PPP, no ML instead today everyone needs to “Go Green” ; today everyone needs to stand for the solidarity and prosperity of Pakistan as one nation. Today everyone is Irfan Ali Khudi;everyone is a fighter for “Inquilaab” and establishment of Peace and Prosperity in our Country. Today everyone needs to “Go Green”.


The Jewel Valley and its Gems; Their Shine Long Gone


8:00 AM

 “Dear Diary, Its a bright Mingora morning here in Swat Valley; I just had my breakfast and now heading towards school. Last night I saw a strange dream. There was this lamp in middle of a dark jungle. Some people were trying to put it off because it seemed different and brighter, but every time they did, little fractions of flame lit up again, in different colors, lights and styles. I smiled on their nuisance, they couldn’t understand, ‘lights cannot be put off so easily”


As I read this excerpt from Malala’s Diary my eyes are wet with tears. This depicts how she was filled with optimism and hope, how her bright eyes shone with pride when she talked about her city Swat, when she talked about her father and when she talked about herself; being the first Pakhtoon girl from Pakistan to be nominated for an award.

Malala Yousafzai was a 14 year old child who wanted to study, to become a doctor one day and help humanity. I don’t know if she will be able to fulfill her dream now. Her Father; a renowned activist in Swat operated a Girl’s school. As he said in an interview “I fell in love with Malala the moment I set eyes on her as a new born” His eagerness to work for the education of little girls probably dates back to that day when he wanted his daughter to study and go ahead in life. He knew Malala was no ordinary child since the very beginning.

Malala came to public attention in 2009 by writing a diary for BBC Urdu about life under Taliban militants who had taken control of the valley. At that time she was just a little child of 11 years old and a time when she should have been talking about dolls, about colors and all the other childhood joys; she wrote about guns, about artillery, about fears, about death. As I read through her diary I couldn’t help shed tears when I scrolled though her descriptions of the Taliban, how hundreds of girl’s schools were burnt down, closed. I was sad at the fact that the girls couldn’t afford to wear school uniforms and instead wore plain clothes to school because otherwise the Taliban would be after their lives. And this is what happened…finally a Taliban succeeded in aiming a shot at little Malala.

I was compelled to think that is this still the 21st century? What disappointed me even more was that how were we all so naïve to this all? When I scroll through her diary I see how free access the Taliban had to FM at that time, how they were authorized to freely lurk and kill who so ever they didn’t see up to their mark?. How they so conveniently destroyed hundreds of girl’s schools in Swat; a city which was once one of the most beautiful expectacular reservoirs of natural beauty in Pakistan; a place where tourists from all over Pakistan and the globe came to visit.

I was sad to feel that when elite class women were busy shopping for expensive brands, lawns and what not in cities like Karachi and Islamabad; a woman was not even allowed to go to the market to buy day to day groceries in Swat. I was sad to imagine when so many socialites and elites send in their dumb children (those who are not actually interested in the studies but just the package of going to England) to places like England, when our politicians are able to afford luxurious security protocols for their children even in universities like Harvard; these innocent little children are not even able to go to their local school.


 I began to remember a description from “A Thousand Splendid Suns” by  Khaled Husseini where he describes how the Talibans did not even allow women going off to hospitals and how many women died during child birth just because they were not given access to a health facility.


The world needs to know that this is not what Islam is. The Taliban are clearly following some other God or Belief; this is not Islam which is certainly a religion of peace. Islam teaches equality between men and women; Islam tells everyone to get education, even women; we clearly have the examples of Hazrat Ayesha who taught women and also practiced as a tabib.

At one extreme is the Talibans and at the other extreme is the US with its constant bombing at numerous regions of Northern Pakistan with Drones; numerous lives almost every day are being taken in this. They attack whole weddings, schools, Army Bases claiming Taliban presence and whole families are swiped off; people who survive are left paralyzed. Is this what Pakistan is? And at the end all we do is open the NATO supply again just because they supposedly apologized? Is an apology just enough for all the lives they have taken? What if Malala had died in a drone attack instead? What would they say then? Would they still consider it manslaughter?.

s our country also turning into another Taliban led Afghanistan? Is this our future? And who is responsible for this? Where is the government at this point? I think it’s high time and we all need answers. We need to make ti clear to the world that we can’t sacrifice any more for the so called war on terrorism in which what I see is that only the common man is dying; no one else is affected.

Eid Times

Its 2012 and another eid is here ….. With so much branding and hype by the masala channels, fashion designers and cell phones about all the glitz and glamour behind eid it seems as if eid only revolves around colours,around glass bangles, around huge family feasts with women all dressed up in designer wears and men wearing branded starched kurtas; but there is another reality behind this eid.

Theres this face of the shop wala who has worked hard throughout this month so that he can buy the dress he wanted for his little three year old daughter; he will probably skip buying a dress this year too and anyways his master gave him one of his branded old kurta, yes its a size bigger but he will manage.

It is eid day and a little kid is going with his father and mother to meet his grandma; all wearing new clothes trying not to make them dirty standing at the rikshaw stand. From behind his mother the little boy is sneaking out looking at all the glamorous shiny cars passing by while his father is trying to negotiate with the rickshaw wala …. He looks at his father’s tired worn out eyes wondering if he will ever be able to own such a car?

The moon has just set in for eid and an old woman wakes up her old husband. He wakes up; searches for his glasses since he is too excited about calling his son,daughter in law and his sweet 5 year old grand son named ali who calls him dada. It is a small five minute chat with them and their little Ali and they have to hang up since international calls cost a lot. The old parents have mixed feelings of joy and sorrow on their faces as they again look at their quiet empty home.

Maria looks out of her window in despair at the tall sky scrapers  below trying to find the moon the government has just announced. This will be the third eid she will be celebrating away from her parents after marriage. She calls them and talks to her little sisters who are all excited and about to go out for mehendi. Maria looks around again after the phone at the huge empty walls missing all the bangles and the colours back home wishing when will she be able to go back and meet them again. Eid brings all the memories back to her.

Its eid dinner and everyone is dressed up wonderfully; the whole family is gathered and there is an excellent feast. A family comes in and everyone gathers around them with happy eyes. They just had a newborn and the little baby looks like an angel sleeping in his fathers lap while his mother looks at him with loving eyes. A middle aged couple is sitting next to them; they look at the little angel with longing eyes…… Eyes filled with tears and sorrow….. This is the tenth eid they are celebrating with empty hands ….. Without children. The wife hates such feasts where she has to gather and look at complete families….. Children running around, women gossiping about how expensive schools have become and how their sons/daughters are so naughty and drive them crazy. She doesnt have any complains to do … Which makes her feel even more incomplete.

To me Eid is all this. It is another year of longing,another year of despair; yet another year of Hope.

Sohni Dharti Allah Rakhey….


“Sohni Dharti Allah Rakhey Qadam Qadam Aabad tujhe…Qadam Qadam aabad”

 (Beautiful Land… May Allah Bless you with Prosperity…. A never ending Prosperity)

Even today when I listen to this melody I cannot help but shed a tear or two from my eye. My heart still aches when the poet prays for this land… My Land and I cannot stop but look at the sky and say a silent prayer to my God “Oh Lord please protect my Land; please bring peace and prosperity to this land”.

I look out of the window and see children wearing green shirts and playing cricket in the streets. And why wouldn’t they? It is the match season. I cannot stop but give out a big smile; after all; cricket is the pride of our nation. Yes people try to ruin it; they always have and I frown at the thought of Omer, Amir and Asif but then I ease out at the thought of Wasim, Imzamam, Shoaib Akhter, Afridi, Imran Khan and many others!. Why do we not remember the good done to us and only stick to the bad and outcast?. Has this become a national habit of letting the good things go and stick to the bad ones?.

I am lost in the long controversial discussions coming on every channel each day and switch the TV off in despair believing that there is no hope and that probably I will move out one day too. But then I look back into history; how one of the most successful lawyers in our history sacrificed his whole life for this beloved country. How a Nawab of India chose to come and live in this country and left all the riches and luxuries of his life behind him. (Liaquat Ali Khan).  Life could have been much easier for them but this was the way of life they chose for themselves.

Every other member of the youth today can choose their path for themselves but it is today only when this land needs the youth the most; I wonder when would we ever truly apprehend this?.

I envy the handsome salaries my fellow colleagues earn in foreign lands and I look at my meager income with disgust and believe that it is Pakistan which has given me nothing but this disgrace. I forget the degree; the education I earned from no other place then this land. Money was always secondary to us Asians wasn’t it? It was family values which always came first! When did money suddenly become so important to me?

 I look at the slumber colony of the poor next to this lane. It is 14th August and these poor children have decorated their roofless huts with green flags and are crying out loud “ Jeeway Jeeway..Jeeway  Pakistan”. I bet they don’t even know the meaning of the lyrics but their eyes shine with love and pride whenever they cry out Pakistan as loud as their innocent throats can allow them. When in time did I lose this love; this passion for the green flag? When was the last I tried to celebrate 14th August with true zeal & enthusiasm? I do not seem to remember?

I go and visit a friend of mine who lives in England and boasts how life is so glamorous and comfortable there. I have no doubts either since I know she is right. She cannot stop praising the gora log (white people) of how organized; practical and loving they are and how us Pakis are totally pathetic and disgusting. I stay quiet. A friend of hers calls (A gori friend to be precise) she has just broken up from her second husband and wants to meet my friend since she is depressed. I ask the reason and get to know that her husband was cheating on her with another girl. I wonder where her parents are at this crucial time and I get to know that they have long been shifted to the old homes sanctuary. I walk out silently to a nearby café in search of Halal food and wonder…”this is their choice of life; this is what the gora people chose… but what did we choose?”

I wonder why did we only adopt the negativities of the west instead of adapting the good only (like organization, law and rules) and retain the good in us?. Even today parents are the most respected members of ones family in my part of the world and never can anyone back home even imagine sending them to a sanctuary. Marriage with all its odds is still a strong constitution back home so why should I resent those gora peope who have lost the true essence of life? Of relationships? Why cannot I be happy at the thought that I belong to the land of the Pure?

Back home I see a Pathan man entering the chai wala’s place looking for some job and people begin to look at him with suspicion since he wears a simple shalwar qameez and has a long grown beard?. Some make fun of him and say Taliban is here. I wonder have we forgotten Jansher, Jahangir and Imran Khan who belonged to the same clan and who brought much pride to our nation?  Through my eyes I see a poor man displaced from his home; from his people because of a stupid war. I see a man who has lost everything that he owned in a war which was not even his! I see a man who wants to begin a new life in an alien city but does not know where to start. He does not know Urdu since no government was able to establish a strong education system in his part of the country. I look around and I know no one could see through what I just saw.

When will we try to look beyond all that is dark and dusty and begin to value what is true and needs to be cherished forever on this Land? When will we try to remove the dirt from all that is so precious and beautiful in this land?

There is just one voice in my mind and my eyes are wet… Sohni Dherti Allah Rakhey…….

Just Another Place

She was walking by the port… Port Grant to be specific. Everyone around her seemed to love the place, their eyes filled with sparkle. They were happy to see their city being lit up again with lights, with people all around. She stood there staring blankly into the water; into the drowning sun. She did not belong here. Life had taken her to almost 5 cities since her childhood and around 8 different schools. She was never able to maintain a sustained friendship because she was never there for long. The moment the bonds turned strong; she was bound to leave!. This was the dreary part of her life; belonging to a broken family.
Every now and then she was moving; sometimes with her mother and the other times with her father. She somehow learned to lock her heart… learned not to indulge in friendships which would never last and break hearts in turn. She learned never to relate to a city since she never belonged to one. And today she stood here with people who loved this city like anything. She was amazed at their reactions, how a little incident in the city made their hearts pound. Why doesn’t it happen to me? Why am I never moved by anything anymore? She’d always question herself.
She was in a relationship now; a steady one with bonds and contracts but she did not know how to maintain one and how could she? The only bond she ever had was with running away; of escape.
She had lived a life where she did not meet her parents for ages and did not even want to. Her spouse was amazed how she did not seem to miss them. She was in turn amazed why he loved his folks so much? And did he actually love them or was it all fake? She knew she did not trust anyone and she also knew that she would not be able to develop the trust for another ten or twenty years or maybe never.
She knew that half of her life had passed in this race; that no place seemed familiar to her anymore. Nothing gave her good memories and she had lost the touch of even creating any memories. She just did not have the heart to tell this to her spouse. How could she tell him that I do not trust you? That I do not love your city? That I do not relate to it? The city about which he had more than a dozen stories to tell while she kept listening to him silently? What would she tell him? She did not relate to this city even after living there for more than 8 years.
He loved to tell her how mischievous he was as a child and how she longed to have had a childhood like his. How she always envied his wonderful childhood. How she envied his parents who still brought gifts for him even though he was above 30 now; how they still celebrated his birthday. This made her all more miserable and more guilty that she envied none else than her own husband? But this seemed to be the reality. When he would tell her stories of his childhood filled with fun and thrill all she could see in her mind would be the long lonely cold nights; night when her parents would fight and turn away; nights when she was all alone crying over the misery her parents brought to her. And though now she had a better life but why did she not relate to it? Why did she still relate to the lost childhood?
He loved to take pictures and upload on the Facebook but this did not matter to her. He loved to create memories while to her memories gave pain and nothing more. How hard he used to try to break her glass but the harder her glass turned. She liked it that way because getting close meant getting hurt.
How she longed to tell her parents just once how much she loathed them … how much she hated them for not being there when they should have. How she despised them for giving her all the miseries other people did not relate to.
If only they could ever understand how one wrong decision completely changed her personality? How she hated to relate to anything in life. How she hated to be weak ever in front of any one.
But she knew she would never tell them. She knew she would never tell this to anyone around her as this was her deep dark secret; a secret to be kept hidden till the death.
And just at this she turned her gaze around. Winds blowing through her hair and the sun going down. She was snapped from her thoughts with the call for popcorns and she turned around to her husband with a smile on her lips. She looked around the glitz and glitter around her… it was a nice place indeed; but just a PLACE like any other one.

Meetings Meetings Meetings

So when was the last time you stepped out of a meeting looking like that? When was the last time you found your Key customers asleep during a conference which was of much importance to you? When’s the last time you yourself were confused and drowsy during a meeting? Not very long ago? Oh just last week?….I thought so.

Corporate meetings are an event where everyone comes in with a very serious mode hoping to listen to something very important and to be able to learn something new every time. When Newbie’s in the industry like me go to such meetings, all they can be amazed at are the extent of seriousness prevalent at the meeting hall. “Are we all supposed to be actually so serious?” one wonders.

There are long discussions and talks about finance and other measurable parameters, about numbers, numbers and numbers (Phew……all of the stuff we used to run away from; in school)

I believe meetings could be more fun if they were more interactive, if they were in lighter modes then the current ones and if they did not deviate from the actual paths. 

Another aspect is that corporate meetings are a good forum for communications between employees outside the digital format and outside our cubicles (The so called “office ke chaar deewari” we get so used to…that we prefer meeting screens more then meeting peopleJ)

Regular measures to improve Face to Face Employee interaction and small employee gatherings should be taken from time to time.

Medical Meetings and Conferences have a totally different genre of seriousness and boredom. Maybe all those long years of studies and research renders doctors to have just lost even the very last touches of Humor (except for some exceptions of course?).

Medical meetings are endless presentations based on facts and figures and lots of information for the practitioner but at times the slides are overloaded. At times there is a group of junior doctors sitting at the corner, constantly busy in a long never ending chatter. (Its not their fault probably… I bet they can’t understand the heavily loaded slides)

Not everything about meetings is serious after all. There is always the “tea and cookies” break when many people like me (or maybe just meL?) give a big sigh of relief (“Atleast something to open our mouths for…😉”) so enjoy your cookies now.

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