Inside Jokes

Its the little snippets that you share with a loved one, locked in a bathroom or a hello every morning with that cute stranger in the coffee line on your way to work. 

Its that stupid cup cake bra of Katy Perry's that you made fun off. And the month after that which consisted of your conversations, starting with or including cupcakes and Katy Perry. And now everytime someone mentions those Sugary Delights, you search for your friend in the crowd and burst out laughing. Or your remember her with her incredibly loud cheerful laugh. And smile longingly at that memory. 

Its that moment when you see a pretty looking building in the middle of a restaurant hub and you ask whether that's a restaurant as well. You are looked at incredulously and are told that its some rich Sheikhs grave. Apparently the Souq is named after him. And you believe him. And than point out his stupidity when in fact you were the fool all along. 

Its those moments that no one else except that one person will understand. Someone other than them will never find cupcakes as hilarious or get the meaning of your hello. 

Because its not for them. 

You are lucky if you have those. 

Moments. Inside jokes. Not the friends. 

It doesn't matter who the person is. 

Stranger or foe. A memory has been made for life. A joke formed. 

And that person all of a sudden has been embedded in your mind. 

Every time you pass that restaurant, those expressions will be on your mind. His crooked nose, him doubling over in laughter while crossing the intersection will play in front of you. 

That time you walked home all the way from Villagio and was nearly killed at the traffic lights. The "I told you so" plus the death glares you got from that family friend will be remembered.

Or the time you and your brother made an elaborate story of your other sibling stealing Raisins from your Grandma's cupboard to give to his five year old girlfriend. No one else other than the three of you will find it funny. 

These cannot be made. 

Or talked. 

They are spontaneous. 

Instant. 

You cannot force them. 

It happens when it happens. 

Or it doesn't happen at all. 

You are in luck if it does. 

...SAP...

Letters To The Moon # 1

Photo by Saleha Jamil.

Dear Moon,

You and I have a very strange relationship. You are the only thing that has entranced me every time I look upon it.

Yesterday, I was hanging clothes outside, on the wash line and I saw you. You were gleaming like morning dew on a freshly blossomed Rose.

The stars aligned themselves in a way so that when you come out, you are the only one shining. And they are just Mustard in a Hot Dog, helping you look your best.

I don't think you need that.

You are perfect the way you are. Because you like me have a story. Those marks, craters, dents and blemishes you bear are the signs of your tale.

I look at you and wonder how you can be so beautiful despite bearing so many marks. Its like you have been hand painted to look wounded yet pretty as a new bride.

You are like a victory mark for people like us. Ordinary people.

We have reached you.

Put a foot on you.

And now we have achieved something. Something that defines us to our generations. Our greatness. Our accomplishments.

What do you think ? Do you agree ? Do you want to be a part of that victory ? Or do you want to be left alone ? Do you ever wonder why someone did not ask you ? Why someone did not care about you ?

Do you ever feel like you have to fulfill expectations ? What if someone does not think that you are as worthy as you yourself think ? Or someone thinks that you are useless ?

I think that you are just a pawn in our game. The game that we win. And the people around us clap. They cheer on us. They look at you with contempt. Because everyone wants to see who lost to us.

So in a way, you are not that different from me.

Yours sincerely,

SAP

......

The Creative Me # Painting An Aztec Eiffel Tower

Keeping up with my new goal of updating this blog. I am going to start another new project called, "The Creative Me". Now, I am not an artist but from time to time, my creative side likes to peak out and show itself. And those rare moments find themselves captured in different things, like an idea or a sketch.

I love doing different things. And I love originality. Even if something has been done over and over and I love it, I tend to think of a different way to execute it.

I have incorporated Tribal or Aztec print in the tower because its crazy trendy right now and I absolutely love it.

I have been wanting to paint an Eiffel Tower in my room for quiet some time now. But it got delayed for one thing or another. I finally finished it. And the best part is that I managed to take pictures during the process.

The only reason I was able to do that was because it took me a week to finish painting it.

Its really easy. It takes you about five hours from sketching to painting the tower.

But if you are lazy like me or have irritating guests staying over, it might take you longer.

The sketching part which was way easier than I had thought.

A much clear shot of the pencil sketch. 

At this point, I was sure that I had ruined the wall. Because it looked so bad.

A little better but I was still skeptical.

Now it had started to come around and look like an Eiffel Tower.

Chevron is my 4th or 5th love. 

A table was needed because I am only 5'4. I came this close to falling off the table at least thrice.

Tada !!!!! The magical tower with its full glory. Without the top, it looks like a king without a crown.

Here you go ! This is what I call beauty. I was going to cry.

One of the things, I suck at, taking pictures. Need a professional photographer in my life !

By this point, I had cleaned my room, hence a much presentable state of my room.

Me, trying to act like a photographer and one picture did turn out alright. So proud ! 

....SAP....

Sometimes Cinderella Doesn't Need Glass Slippers

Art is a mess. Its a literal mess.

When you say art, I do not imagine Vincent Van Gogh with a brush in hand, moving swiftly and gracefully, painting The Starry Night.

I see myself. As an 8 year old girl, sitting cross legged on the floor, a huge chart paper in front of me, markers, colour pencils and all sorts of nick knacks  surrounding me, while I am in my own world, busy sketching Cinderella.

And that also from a sticker. I only want to paint Cinderella and could not find the perfect pose of her. So I end up sketching her from a three inch sticker.

The eyes and the hands. They are the hardest to draw. I have to erase and than try again. After 20 tries, I like it a little. But painting is still left. Out comes the water paints, brushes and a glass of water.

And the mess starts creating itself.

First the water spills. Always the spill first. The brushes never go in the palette, instead on the floor creating a scenery of their own.

By the time that 8 year old girl is finished with her Cinderella, she wipes her hands on her jeans, gets up, spilling more water, steps back and takes a look at her creativity. Fold upon folds of the frock painted sky blue, her eyes a brilliant gleaming black, a Yellow Daisy in her White gloved hands and that sparkling ribbon on her neck.

One eye is bigger than the other, nose is crooked and her arms look chubbier.  The dress is more blue from the middle. And worst of all, she is out of space on the huge chart paper, so now Cinderella is without her Magical Glass Slippers.

But its art. Its perfect.

....SAP....

Coffee Rants # 2

The best thing about not being in school anymore is that when the clouds decide to have mercy on you and shower themselves, you get to ditch your class and go Salsa in the rain.

Every year, that one day would come when it would rain in Qatar and we would be sitting in class studying Orbital hybridization. We would beg our teacher to let us go out and enjoy the weather but that day rarely came when the teachers were generous enough to understand our melancholy. Instead we would sit there looking longingly out of the window, listening to the drip drip of water calling us towards itself while the teacher went on and on and on about formation of Blastula. Once it rained in our half hour break and to say that the school went crazy would be understating the obvious. It was a little like giving free Ice Cream to a bunch of 5 year olds.

Today, however, I went crazy. Yes. We are that crazy people who dance (its like watching clowns hop around)  in the Winter rains while a little afraid of being struck by lightning. Although I have always wanted to get some sort of super power. So there I was playing football in rain while shivering to the core. And just having the time of my life. Have you ever attempted to drink rain water ? I did and ended up choking.

And then came the water fight. A sane person would think that why would you have water fights in rain. But its a tradition in my family. When we lived in Pakistan, after the rain, everybody would get their water guns and hunt down every damn bottle in the house. Then came the die hard decision of making teams. And cheating your own team. It was just another thing to have that kind of fun with all your cousins and all you had to fear were your mothers kicking your butts.

So right now, I am sitting here, drinking coffee, while going down the memory lane and being thankful for all those wonderful times and the beautiful weather outside. For us thunderstorms are a sign of good weather. And I know that by now, all the roads of Qatar are going to be submerged in water, the only time I appreciate Land Cruisers.

I hope everyone has a day as amazing as mine. Drink loads of coffee and be thankful for the life you lead.

Adieu !

S

.....

Its Ramadan Kareem

The month of blessings and beauty is here. That one month where we get to polish ourselves and wash away our sins. That one month where blessings are countless. That one month where we are forced to review our actions and better them. Ramadan is here. Ramadan Mubarak !

I always hope that when Ramadan finishes, I would be the same person I was in Ramadan. I love the routine of it. Getting up for Sahoor at 3:30 in the morning. Barely eating something in my case. Then after praying Fajr, sleeping peacefully till you can which is till Duhr. And then sleeping again. Getting up again at Asr and that is when the day starts. My mom has given the responsibility of everything to me. So I am pretty much done. But Ramadan leaves you with sore legs, peace, serenity and a satisfaction.

 My dad always says that we are not just prohibiting ourselves from eating or drinking. Its a bigger picture. We need to stay from lying, back biting, cheating and anything else that makes you less of a person. Ramadan prepares you to live your life in a better way the rest of eleven months as well. I hope that this month be as blessed and beautiful for everyone as it is for me.

...SAP...

I dream - Poem

I dream

Of flying high

Of running fast

Of who I am

I dream

Of doing it

Of getting it

Of achieving it

I dream

Of soaring like an eagle

Of singing like a nightingale

Of fluttering like a butterfly

I dream

Of roaming the streets of London

Of climbing the Eiffel Tower

Of boating in the Venice

I dream

Of having riches of a king

Of having contentment of a beggar

Of having patience of a saint

I dream

Of being kind

Of being generous

Of being honest

I dream

Of beauty

Of integrity

Of hope

...SAP...

Definition Of Beauty

Today, it is my parents 20th wedding anniversary. And I am so proud to be there daughter. If someone asks me to define beauty, I would simply say that it is my parents. Two people who work from day to night to make sure that I could achieve everything I want. If I have something good in me, it is because of them. They are my mirror and I want to be their reflection. 

They are the kind of people who if go from a gathering, the whole gathering will talk about them for days and in good words. In a 5 minute meeting, people ask for their phone numbers. And do not even ask about their social circles. I do not have that and I probably never will.

Somehow over the years they made it work. Whenever I see around myself, I see people getting divorced and fighting all the time, not talking to each other for days. That is the time when I thank Allah for giving me such a NORMAL family. Believe me, it is very rare these days. And somehow my belief becomes a little strong. Because they have sacrificed so much for each other and than for us.

Don't get me wrong, they disagree like a pretty normal couple and argue over it and then we are asked us to take sides. That sight is one to watch. But when they agree on something then believe me they are like a wall in which you cannot put a dent. So our best strategy is not to let both of them agree on the same thing. Works every time for us. Not really. (Guilty grins).

Recently, I asked my dad to tell something to my mom about me and he said, sorry you want the bull to be charged at me. That ain't happening girl. Go tell her yourself and have the bull after you.

Once I remember, a family friend of ours said that it would be so cool if we could choose our parents ourselves and my mom said, you will get the chance in paradise. Truth is I will still choose the parents I have today. Who fret over every single little thing like drinking milk.

We were on Umra in Makkah and my dad couldn't go. I was using my Qatar's international sim but I couldn't recharge it from KSA. SO I asked my dad to send me credit from Qatar. The whole day passed and I didn't get the credit and I was like, OMG, Sumaica, he forgot. He actually forgot to send you credit. But when I checked my balance was QR 100. At that moment I realised that the world can move from one place to another but Asad Latif Piracha will never forget anything that his daughter asks him to do.

I wish them all the best for their life together ahead. May they live for a thousand years. May all the happiness of the world be theirs. May they bicker and argue like kids at times but support each other at all times. May they live to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary and I get to be there to make fun of them and remember all the good old golden days. May they always be the best parents that they always have been.

HAPPY 20th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY !

P.S. Dedicated to my not only beautiful but out of this world parents, Mr and Mrs Asad Latif Piracha.

...SAP...

Teenage Is Like A Bud

When I became a teenager, it seemed like a fantasy with so much excitement and beauty in it. But in these five years of my teenage I have realised that when people said that teenage is the most difficult phase of your life, they were right. Somehow all that I went through from the smallest things to the biggest made me realise that teenage is not the fantasy that we all think it is. You see, sometimes the silver lining of even this cloud dims a little bit.

You make decisions that will effect the rest of your life. And you do not want to end up regretting it. But teenage is a very young age to determine the rest of your life. As adults you know what you have to do even if you do not want to do it. You know the difference between wrong and right. How can you expect a 16 year old day dreamer to choose what kind of profession does he or she wants to pay their bills and taxes in future? You go through everything that adults do. But difference is while they are 36, you are just 16.

Picture taken by Sumaica Asad Piracha

Teenage from a perspective is the most cruel age of your life. When you are an adult, somehow you are strong enough to stand up for yourself. But not as a teenager. You are bullied, made fun of, and expected to do well in all walks of life. No screw ups. Sail your ship in the right direction. 

Nobody cares about the fact that you are still like a bud. It takes time for a bud to blossom. It needs work and attention. And when it blossoms. Its hidden and true beauty is there, right in front of you. There is a big difference between a bud and a flower. A bud is very delicate, pretty but not with its full glory. Moreover, a bud is dependent. Whereas a flower is strong, beautiful and independent. You need to water and take care of the bud in order to get the beauty of flower. You need to protect the bud from all kinds of storms. Just like that, teenagers need someone to water them with the knowledge and guidance of solving not only everyday matters but also life making issues. 

"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship". -Helen Keller

Storms, rains, come our way. People, young and old try their best to pluck and destroy us, so we may never be as beautiful as a flower. But we need to understand that we are NOT helpless like a bud. We have the power to make them stop. We are the power. We may be young and not fully blossomed. But we are not weak. We are strong. We are what the world needs right now. We are the change in the world. We are the revolution. We the buds need to be strong so that we can fully blossom and be a beautiful and independent flower and make this world a garden worth praising.

P.S. For all those teenagers who think that they do not matter. They matter. They just need to see it.

...SAP...