Carry the weight

I just lost my mother 7 days ago. She passed away during her sleep. Everyone goes through this ordeal, right? No big deal. Let me tell you why it is very complicated for me. My mother was not by far the best person in the world. My brother had molested me for several years starting from when I was just 9 years old. He told me that “he was trying to make me free with him and siblings from other countries undress and touch their sisters all the time. And, I was overreacting.” All those years I blamed myself thinking that I was overreacting to things. I still remember how disgusted I felt when he touched my breasts and my vagina. My mother, she knew all about it. She threatened me that if I tell someone, the family would be destroyed and it would be the end of the world. So, it went on for the next 8 years. I had tried suicide so many times. Last year when I had told my sister and the rest of the family, my mom denied everything. And, not to mention, supporting the culprit. Both of my parents did. Their logic was “IT’S A MALE THING AND THERE WAS NO RAPE” I felt the pain of losing them both that time. I got to know that grief causes physical pain. Now that my mother has literally gone, I don’t know how to feel anymore. There’s a crushing pain and underneath it lies an ocean full of hatred. I feel numb. Am I being a bad daughter for speaking against my criminals? They outcasted me emotionally because I had dared to accuse their son. My life has become a nightmare I cannot wake up from. And, despite everything I loved my mother; underneath the ocean full of hatred. I tried my best to make her happy but, in the end, I failed. I failed because I stood up against the molestation. We read about child molestation all the time. However, very few of us know how it kills a part of you; the best part. I am so damaged that I don’t know I can ever be happy again. I have traveled through madness to find me. And, I don’t know if I can lose myself again for the death of someone to whom my life did not matter. Sorry ma, I can’t forgive you; not this time.

Advertisements

You don’t own me

I woke up very early in the morning to go to the library. Now don’t roll your eyes on me. I have an exam tomorrow. I felt a peace knowing that there was no notification waiting for me as I had deactivated my facebook couple of days ago. I smelled a cup of tea and instantly went up to heaven. I was then instantly brought back to earth with a WhatsApp ping. sigh.
This is the time to mention that I had ordered something online couple of days ago. I activated my facebook just to check the status. Then I started scrolling like that bad itch you cannot get enough of. And, when I finally checked the time, 5 hours had passed. I have an important exam tomorrow. And, I wasted 5 important hours doing nothing. Literally nothing.
This brings up a very important question: Are we being a slave to social media? I mean, what’s the point of knowing what your sister’s friend’s cousin ate for dinner? If things go on like this, I will end up regretting when it will be too late. And I think the bigger question here is: What will the future look like if we waste our times like this? I know, you are gonna tell me “to live my life or YOLO” but SCROLLING is not LIVING.
With that note, I am deleting my facebook. All that anxiety is simply not worth it.

The nothingness of mind

Boundaries have always seemed absurd to me. Why do we focus so much of our energy on dividing and making things small? The boundary of races; the boundary of religion; the boundary of preferences. I don’t know why it makes sense to other people. It never to me. Life is a beautiful piece of art: Fluid but also somewhat structured.

Mixed reactions of dream coming true!

And, here I am after 2 years. I started writing a book at the same time I started writing this blog. I was having jimjams. It was so exciting. Never thought I would ever write even though writing has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I never told anyone. I was hesitant and embarrassed and thought people would love in my face. Blogging gave me confidence. Seeing all the bloggers, from around the world I got motivated to continue writing and I found writing to be liberating. Now, I have finally finished my book. It is a covernovella. I would write a novel, but it already took me two years. A novel would take me at least 5 more years and I didn’t want to turn into a garbage. Besides, I have a new idea of which I cannot wait to start writing. I have self-published it on Kindle. It has been less than a week. I know I am no J. K. Rowling but it is enough for now. The fact is, for a girl who was hesitant to say “I love writing,” it is more than enough. Now I don’t know if it will be a hit or not, I do know this… it’s a milestone, from which I cannot go back and I won’t. My finals are knocking at the door. I have always been a good student. Or, at least, in the university. And, now I am not even bothered. Nothing seems to matter to me anymore. I have finally done what I have loved for the most of my life. This book might be good or it is a complete piece of shit I don’t know. But my brother says, “Shit is better than nothing!”

I would love some reviews though if it is no trouble. Currently, it is on free promotion.

here is the link: S. M. Afrin – White Heart

Am I pretty?

Have you ever stood in front of the mirror wondering if you look better than other girls or not? I bet you have. In fact, most of us have. There’s no shame in it. It is worse in teen years. We spend most of our time wondering if that certain girl from class or work look better than us. Speaking of which, I have noticed a strange behavioral pattern in South Asian people in YouTube. Most of them really care about what the rest of the world thinks of them. I know their culture is the shame culture, but this is not it.

Be that as it may, I used to care about my appearance so much that it would take me an hour to get ready before going out to buy some onions. People would keep staring and stuff. I won’t lie by saying that I didn’t enjoy it for a while. Then a phone company took my photo as a part of their advertisement. There were giant billboards all over the city with my face on. People gave hundred kinds of reactions. But I? I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t get that feeling of achievement and I realized how I was wasting my energies on all the wrong things. I was like, “Ok people it has been established that I am not bad looking. I’m not wasting any more of my time in this silly race.”

I am a person with thousands of possibilities ahead

A few days later, I was watching a travel channel and I realized how much I didn’t know nor seen. From there, my thirst for knowledge began. I read everything I could get my hands on. I learned Morse code just for the sake of it. After finishing something, I get this feeling which I cannot quite express. It is like a breath of fresh air. It is quite liberating.

The more I faced obstacles as a girl, the more I studied. The more I was seen as a silly person by my male friends, the more I worked hard without being a showoff about it. The funny thing is, those male friends are not as close anymore as they used to be. They preferred being around silly girls which made them feel intelligent. It is silly, I know. But it also told me that I should change the crowd.

The curiosity of knowledge can be very addictive. Now when I talk about moving out of the city or even country alone, some people tell me, “It’s a big scary world for one girl.” And, I smile at them saying, “Girl? I left that contest a long ago. I am a person with thousands of possibilities ahead.”

lost & found

I am the youngest in the family. There’s a decade of an age gap between my siblings and I. My brother and sister born two years apart. Basically they are friends by birth. I had always been trying to fit between them, but every time I fell flat on my face. Hallelujah, birth of self-esteem issues. And, I am from a family where no one bothers unless you are physically ill.

Like my other two siblings, my parents got me admitted into the most posh school in the city at that time. I found the girls funny always talking about dolls and dresses and the boys fighting over nothing. They used to have cliques at the age of 5 which seems hilarious now. As you can guess, I obviously couldn’t make any friends. I used to walk around alone during tiffin break and get bullied by a senior. I still have no idea what her problem was with me. Clearly we had never met before but she used to stand in my way and abuse me without any logical reason.

My class was very competitive and I wasn’t a bad student. I used to secure my place within the top 10. However, that ever going contest started to seem funny to me after a while. And, I gave up after a few years. You can ask how an 8 year old thinks of all these? Truth is I don’t know the answer yet but I clearly remember how I felt or how the weather was. With having no friends, there was only little I could do. I struggled to make new friends and eventually, I had become the class clown. Everyone used to make fun of me and my curly hair. After 5th grade, it became mostly about how rich you were. Money never had the pull on me even though I come from a middle class family. My parents didn’t spend on anything else except for studies. In their words, we three siblings were their wealth for which they got rewards; my other two siblings are in very good stages in their careers. And me? I don’t know where life takes me. After all, I am still 21. As I was saying, I used to face bullying every day. I cried when no one watched while praying it to be over. You have no clue how much words can hurt. That unbearable pain in chest because you cannot share your pain with anyone.

Two years before high school, I had to change school. I just couldn’t take it anymore. In the new school, people seemed to welcome me with open arms. It was a breath of fresh air. There was little competition, but the “how rich are you?” contest were nowhere to be seen. I learned how to connect to people; understand their words if not spoken out loud. I had my first relationship. Everything seemed just perfect. I became one of those popular people; everyone chanted my name everywhere. I seemed to enjoy that for a while. Then I realized that I was an introvert person and all those popularity hurt my privacy. So, I didn’t stay there to complete my high school. After finishing high school, I faced the first breakup. I couldn’t breathe. My whole world started shaking beneath me. I learned how anxiety could be a bitch. Either it was nagging anxiety or not feeling anything at all. In order to go on, I let the pain motivate me. The more pain I’d get, the more I’d get motivated. What I didn’t realize was, I was drowning myself slowly. I had tried to kill myself twice. It’s safe to say I’m struggling with depression and bullying for the most of my life. And, I didn’t get help when I needed it the most.

Finally, I had this eureka moment after 20 years. I decided to change the way my life was going. I started writing. I know I’m no J.K. Rowling, but I found it rather refreshing and therapeutic. I also started meditating which helped a great deal. I learned to let go of the bad things and finally allowed myself to be happy. I had this great self esteem issue. I used to shy away from meeting new people in fear of rejection. Now, I’m not afraid of rejections. All I’m saying is, those celebrity books about depression won’t help you unless you allow yourself to change; to be happy. Depression is a curse. It doesn’t completely go away. But it’s your demon; it’s up to you if you give it the power to ruin your life.

I see humans but no humanity

I know it’s not 16th century anymore and atheism or whatever you may call it, is perfectly normal. But you have to understand, when you grow up in a very religious atmosphere and also the youngest child of the family, there’s always a pressure to fit in. The idea of religion has always been funny to me. I don’t like the term “atheism” either. It sounds full of negativity. Well, I don’t not believe in God. I don’t want to corrupt the purity of my feelings with two thousand years old hypocrisy. I believe in humans and humanity; I believe in love. And, let’s not talk about the devil. We sometimes cannot face our own actions so we created an evil fantasy to blame and named it devil. Poor fellow.

As I said, I was brought up by very religious parents. I have to keep pretending to be a religious minded person when I know this is nothing but just some nonsense. One of my siblings once told me “I’m ashamed of you” when I was younger. My mother thinks that I have a disease and keeps praying to God to cure. I know, the height of irony right? So yeah, I’m used to getting bullied by my own family. Turns out, in a town crawling with closed minded people, it’s a pretty big deal. Who would guess, right? In some countries, extremist stab people for being an atheist or agnostic, whatever you call it. I have read almost all the major religious scriptures. They are filled with.. (I don’t know any decent term for “bullshit”). So much negativity! People are killing or bullying each other in the name of religion. I wouldn’t name any particular religion because this has been going on longer than any current religion. I still don’t understand, what’s the point in all of these? Why can’t we be just humans? No tags. Just Humans.

The next perfect line

“Writer’s block” these two words used to be my fantasy. I remember thinking like “what is it like to feel like? Is it even possible?” When I was almost half done with my book, my fantasy decides to turn into reality. In simple words, I’m stuck. It’s not as heavenly as I imagined it to be neither cursed. Not cursed because it saved me. Before my head used to be buried in financial reports of various companies while my heart used to calculate taxes. I was a funny creature, I must say. Now when I face writer’s block, it is actually the time when I am too curious to know what happens next. This one question “where to go from here?” starts spinning in my head like a movie. When I write two lines after two months every part of my body starts dancing. It doesn’t matter if it’s worth reading, but for me, there’s nothing compared to this feeling. I can say, it has been like finding a flashlight in a very dark room.

Living in my skin

How is it like to be born a girl? I know we all are princesses in our heads and to our dads. (I’m a queen though) but what of the world? In most places, being a girl is still a curse. Some don’t treat us like a person as if we are some kind of alien species. Even in most of the religious scriptures, they mentioned us like a second grade human. Probably the reason behind my questionable faith. I don’t want good grades or a promotion just because you want to sleep with me. I don’t want to be laughed at when I suggest the best option. I don’t have to be dreaming about a husband a dozen of kids. For once in my life, I just want to be treated like a person. I just want to feel safe in my own skin.

The city of ruins

It was a typical day of summer. I was sitting on my computer daydreaming. My mother was snoring softly. Suddenly the ground beneath me started shaking. Thought I was probably feeling dizzy for over-stress or something. But no. It was an earthquake; rather a mild one. Mom came running into my room urging to go outside. But I thought I would rather wait it out. The truth is, I was too lazy to get up from my chair. I thought my mother likes to panic over absolutely nothing. After a while, I turned on the TV hoping to catch up previous day’s game and all I saw was what remained of a once beautiful country Nepal. It was very painful to watch and imagine what they must be going through. Frankly, I do not intend to experience that to myself. But what would anyone think in that position? I don’t know for whom my heart aches the most – those who have lost their lives or those who have their loved ones disappear under rubbles before their eyes and could do nothing. I can relate to the pain they’re feeling deep inside of their chests. The pain caused by loss and helplessness; what you could have done to save the one you never imagined you’d live without. Some nuts said, “It’s God’s will.” How can the loss of eight thousand people be God’s will? I almost punched a senior for saying that. Now I feel crippled just by watching the news. I feel the loss of those souls and also feel helpless thinking if there was anything I could do to save every one of them. I know the fact that, I am only human who cannot fight a natural disaster. And, I live thousands of miles away. But the heart doesn’t have a mind to reason with facts. Even though I am not really what you call religious, I do pray for them – for those who have lived and bear the loss of their loved ones with them.