Unexpected Celebration

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Write about an unexpected celebration.

From the land that is witness to millions and millions of real tragic stories, comes this fake one…..

” Ehlaam, you are the noor (light) of my eyes…”

” But Babba it’s 3 days now. Nothing has happened. It’s real this time. Everyone…”

“No! And no more arguing. You must stay with your Aunt while I go fishing with the other men.”

May be it was her Babba’s moist eyes or may be his stern voice or may be both that stopped Ehlaam from arguing further.

The thought that Babba might never let her go to school again made her tearful.She trudged wearily behind Babba.He knew it was hurting Ehlaam but he didnt want to lose her like the rest of his family. He lead Ehlaam to her Aunt’s house.

Aunty took Ehlaam inside the house while Uncle and Babba left right away. The coast of Rafah had opened for them after a very long time.

Aunty constantly peeked out the window. When she thought Babba and Uncle were gone quite a distance from them, she took out a packet and handed it to Ehlaam.

“Your father understands that if you are unsafe, you are as much unsafe here,in this house, as in a UN school or any other place in Gaza. He is scared. When he comes back we will talk to him. Dont worry about anything.Your Uncle got this for you. Get dressed and go to school.”

Ehlaam hadnt smiled like that in days. It seemed years to her.

She quickly tore the packet and took a moment to admire her uniform. It looked old but was neatly ironed.

” It was my daughter’s..” aunty said..” She was just like you..eager, intelligent…”

Ehlaam knew her cousin had died in the blast 2 years ago. Aunty noticed the smile on Ehlaam’s face fade away. She told Ehlaam all the funny stories about her naughty daughter that she could recall as she helped her dress. She told Ehlaam that she will as much fun her daughter had at school and gave her an apple before she left.

Ehlaam walked as fast as she could. She stopped by her home,atleast what used to her home before the blast destroyed it, her family and forced them to move to the shelter for the displaced. She pushed back all the horrible memories of that night and focused on retrieving her books from the ruins.

When she found most of them, she headed towards the school.

She wasnt taken aback by the battered building. She saw holes in the walls, broken window panes and the unexploded missile in the playground. But she was glad that the building was still standing.

When she reached her class, the teacher had already started the lesson. When the teacher permitted,she rushed in and took her seat. She spotted all her friends and they were delighted to see her as she was to see them.

The rumble was pushed to the walls.The benches were mangled.  Most of the board was blown away so much that the next class and everyone in it were clearly visible and audible.

But Ehlaam had become oblivious to the  reality or anything that suggested her reality the moment she stepped in the school.

It didnt seem like anything less than Eid to her. She was dressed in her new uniform. She was among her friends. They had their modest lunch. Drank water without having to think about storing it. They played. They learned and even though it got a little boring,the happiness never left her.

She was celebrating. Her freedom. Her life, even though there wasnt much in it. Finally, it felt like she was living and that in itself was a celebration for her.

22 kilometers away…

Babba and Uncle hadnt seen that kind of fish in Rafah before. The fishes were big and of different kinds.They jumped right into their boats ,the moment they set the trap.They knew they were experiencing  some kind of natural phenomenon. They thanked Allah and were about to return to the shore when a warship  opened fire. And Babba took one to the chest…..


pic by:Tawfeek GIbreel

#savegaza #endtheseige



Angels and Feathers

Somewhere not too far away, a boy had a wish. And like all other kids in the Land, his wish was to fly. Day and night they tired, but in vain.

They gathered the grass, sometimes the leaves. Never really knowing if that is what they need.

The Supreme One of the Land,when found them lost, had Mercy and granted a pair of Angels to each.

In their own ways,the Angels guided their kids like the Earth and the Sun to a sapling. There were some Angels and their kids who collected the feathers.There were some who made the feathers. They all had their ways.

Soon the kids began their flight. Some flew away with their Angels and some left them behind.

The boy watched the other kids as one by one they dissapeared in the clouds. He felt only envious. The more time he spent with his angels, the better he understood that they had no such ways as the other angels.

Some days he would try. Some days he would give up. Then  one day his angels got him feathers. He made his wings and with one tap, he was off the ground. He rolled as he rose higher in the sky. He spinned and flew around in a loop.

He loved the wind in his hair and warmth of the sun on his face. He let himself fall only to rise again just in time. The feeling of exhilaration and sensations of a leaping stomach never leaving him.

It was a while before he looked around his Angels and found them below,smiling at him.

It took even longer before he noticed their bruised wings.

His heart was filled with disapointment. His happiness lost its meaning. His thought he would drown in that disppointment when the light of gratitude saved him. He saw his Angels differently now. Nothing seemed more significant than them. Their happiness holding more meaning than anything else…

Yes, every Angel has it’s way. And his plucked out their feathers so that he could fly…





……In Four Sentences!

I have a favourite historian (yes, thats true… #immaBgeeky)

Charles A. Beard. And from his work, that which impressed me the most are these four lines.

All the lessons of history in four sentences:

  1. Whom the God would destroy, He first makes them mad with power.
  2. The mills of God grind slowly,but the grind exceedingly small.
  3. The bee fertilizes the flower it robs.
  4. When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.

This seemed fun  and I thought why not give it a try.

Number One:

All about Indian Sports in 4 sentences-

  1. Cricket (Men’s league)
  2. Cricket (just the men’s league)
  3. Cricket (only the men’s league)
  4. Sania Mirza is married to Pakistani batsman Shoeb Malik.

Number Two:

All the Entrance Exams ever in 4 sentences-


  1. Anything extremely irrelevant to practical life and the professional courses.Something like my family’s archaelogy.
  2. QUESTION-Your aunt has 4 kids.
  3. What is your aunt’s son’s  uncle’s 3rd daughter’s nephew to you?
  4. ANSWER-For you to get an admission, the right answer doesnt matter until 5000 other students get it wrong.

Number Three:

All the debates on social media in the comments section ever…in 4 sentences-

  1. Troll A– 2+2=8
  2. Troll B– Whatever and 2+3=8
  3. Troll A– Well, guess what, your mama is..**CENSORED**
  4. Troll B– oh yeah…my God is better thsn your God…..

And so on….




Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time

On an important day, you get stuck in a bathroom. What happens next?

They said this house was haunted.The decaying walls and scattered junk didnt bother me. It is our refuge.  I recall every last detail searching for something that would suggest anything other than the reality. But everything just made it more evident.

The very unusually fuller street. The guy who deliberately pushed a man,quarelled with him before shooting him.The scream that I cudnt control. Someone hitting a woman on the head with a stone. Some being dragged out of a house. Someone trying to buy his life with a gold chain.The maniacal slogans. Someone grabbing people one after the other and beating them unconscious ..or dead….

Someone charging towards us and our escape.

Those people looked more possesed to me then this house.


My friend cries.I know he is scared for himself,for his family. But that doesnt stop me fom getting irritated. I took to the restroom. I continue to worry, dread…hope…untill I hear footsteps and more slogans.


My friend and I frantically try to open the door. I hear men laugh. I hear my friends final scream and a loud thud.

I back away from the door as I see blood flowing in.

Do they know I am in here…Will I escape again…

Death now or nightmares from now on……

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggersby BlogAdda.


One Lovely Blog Award


I am nominated for the One Lovely Blog Award by: http://matthewalesci.wordpress.com

I couldnt be more delighted and I thank Matthew Alesci for the nomination. If you like being spooked and love all things scary, go give this guy a follow!

The rules of the award are:

  1. You must thank the person who nominated you and include a link to their blog.
  2. You must list the rules and display the award.

  3. You must add 7 facts about yourself.

  4. You must nominate 15 other bloggers and comment on one of their posts to let them know they have been nominated.

  5. You must display the award logo and follow the blogger who nominated you.

7 facts about me

  1. Food is my soul mate.
  • I have a social justice beast in me that is hard to control.

  • I love to think I can ride bikes, sit calmly through horror movies, enjoy being high up and at the edge or even climb the ladder but I can’t and I am too scarred to even try.

  • I am horrible with spellings. And to avoid embarrassment I write different spellings if the word is coming up more than once. So it seems like an honest typing mistake. ( check point 3 and 7 for instance)

  • I am not into music of any kind.

  • I am not into sports of any kind.

  • God knew I would be scared of heights, so He didn’t make me tall.
















    Good luck! Cheers:)