My Dear Arfa!

I wish I would have met you at least once so I could gather just that bit of inspiration from you that made you so connected with your homeland, Pakistan. Nevertheless, you left us at such a time when the nation needed to learn from you. Needed to learn the sincerity, passion, aspiration and the aim to dream high and striving to put it together. When you talk to GOD, let him know that you wanted to do so much for all your friends here but you didn’t get enough time. Don’t be harsh to HIM my dear because you know what? HE knows that your friends are going to make all your dreams come true. Arfa! you have made all the daughters realize that they can make their parents feel proud in front of everyone. You have made all brothers realize that sisters are the best friends they can have around who will always be there to help their bros out. You are special and special people have lots of things to achieve in this world and hereafter. May be you have a better task to do and that’s the reason why you left us. I am just saying this to hold my tears honey! I’ll rise up everyday thinking about your bright smile that you gave in all your interviews, all your pictures. And those shining eyes that had held enormous dreams in them, waiting to come true in a blink. Oh dear! the way you sang Anokha Ladla in one of your interviews, it just made me so proud of knowing you. I miss you!

Keep shining in the heavens! And yeah, spread all the love there now!

Love,

An Admirer.

I love nights during the winter. They’re so …calm. Cold. Silent. It’s like … almost pleasurable. The sound of breathing through a cold-stricken nose. Every click of the mouse. Every tap on the workdesk and every step towards the refrigerator. Every time the two pant-legs of my jeans brush against each other and make that swooshing sound. Every time the cold, dry Karachi wind find its way in through the window and makes the curtains uncomfortable. Every time I move a little and the chair squeaks. How my bathroom door makes that scary movie sound when I purposely open it so slowly that it’s almost painful. To wait. To hear the sounds.

I like winters. They somehow make being depressed justified. It’s like, I have someone to blame now. For wearing grays, for not wanting to get out of bed, for being lost in the world of my vivid imaginations. For not having him by my side.

It’s like I have a reason for my silence.

P.S. I know it’s destructive but winters make me want to smoke.

P.P.S. I lied when I said I like winters.