Lahore, Pakistan

My story stems from a society that pities you for being a daughter. Consequently, i owe all that I am to my Parents for their constant moral support and love. My goals in life are simple - to find success and live happily with my loved ones.

I am someone who is keen to take deep dives into her core. Writing is one of the strongest means to let your inside out. It keeps you indulged and alive. Sometimes, you don’t need people to hear you rant or express your feelings. At times, you just need a pen and a paper to put your feelings into words. I strongly believe that writing can help de-clutter your mind, unwind after a grueling routine or even find an escape for a while. At times, it can even help you understand your thoughts better. It helps me reinvent myself, and gives me clarity.
Art is another love of mine! My profile backdrop is one of my creations. I hope to post my work very soon, as I am fairly new to Biopage.
My first post, "The life of a soldier"
is the story of my late grandfather, who was a solider, and later an Army General. He was, and always will be my role model. I love him very much!
Follow me for more meaningful stories.
Cheers! ^_^


On Social Media

A letter to myself

Jun 07, 2018 1 year ago

Dear future me, Although life hasn't offered the most clarity, you've come a long ways. You've learned to let go of fear and embrace beauty and pain for what life is. As beautiful yet terrifying as it is right now for me and was back then for you, you've yet still managed to have an abundance of love within your heart to give to everyone. I am certain that this quality of you and me will always remain. You have a heart too big for your body. You ride the waves of life with such ease now. Sometimes, it makes me want to catch up to you faster because often times, when I hit a tide, I seem to crash. I know that my life in the moment is a web of tangled and intricate experiences and emotions that have helped mold me into you. Trust me, I am working every single day to make myself better for you. You're “old enough to know better but young enough to do it anyway.” So, laugh about all the silly mistakes I'm making at the moment and be grateful for that because it lead you to be who you are right now.

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Disorderly - poetry novella

Jun 02, 2018 1 year ago

My new poetry novella! Unpublished, but I got my personalised print out! I'll be posting bits of it very soon!

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I still remember my mother frantically waving goodbye with both empty hands swinging in the air on the day I left her, for the last time. Life has not been the same since then. Occasionally, I hear her innocent chuckles across the halls of my house and when I follow them - helplessly detecting the source; they become distant and then finally faint. The traumatic memory has forever engraved a feeling of guilt in my heart- the guilt of not being able to protect my most prized possession. Darkness descended, the water was calm, and the moon barely visible through the cloud cover. "Son, will you come back soon?" Mother inquired hesitantly. I had joined the army a few years ago and since then, life constituted of endless travels due to my strict schedule. As I packed the last of my things, turning towards mother, I saw the worry that lurked in her blue eyes. I held her bony hands with their calligraphy of veins, and assured her that I would be back the next morning. The night came down like sheets of silver knives; blinking my eyes continuously, I made an effort to while away my fatigue and stay alert, for I was part of the battalion watch guard of the line of control. Just then, I heard briskly walking footsteps approaching towards me. "Sir! Sector 9300 is under attack! Immediate orders have been issued for Battalion 194 to change posts." As the envoy marched away, I felt sick to my stomach. A cold fear rushed through my veins. It occurred to me, that sector 194 included my own residence! Upon reaching the site, I felt a strong taste of metallic fear in my mouth for the sky was bleached white with drifts in it of what first appeared to be red smoke, but then proved to be blood red dust. Broken, shattered pieces of glass, destructed buildings and fallen trees lay amidst a mesh of blackened faces with streaks of blot clot. The streets were dark- not just dark, but pitch dark. Marching through the mist of thick grey smog, searching endlessly for my resident, I was praying and hoping that Mother would be alright. Adjusting my eyes to the gloom, I saw the figure of a woman. As I came closer, the silver splintered brown hair and velvet wrap illuminated my thoughts. Her face was barely recognizable due to the immense destruction. With eyes suffused in tears, I took off my jacket in vein and gracefully covered her body. She was gone and there would never be another like her; an overwhelming personality with a soothing spirit and a voice that could move crowds to both tears and laughter. If only I had not left her. If only I had never said goodbye.