Lies and Liars.

As a kid I was always told about this One God. Who is the most just, the most understanding, caring and gives you whatever you ask for.

“He’s your Lord, you obey Him and He gives you all that you ask for,” they said. I was 7 and I believed them.

As a kid I was told of how there is no one more sincere than your parents and family in the entire world.

“We’ll always want your best,” they said. I was 8 and I believed them.

As a kid I was taught to get excellent grades and study hard.

“Good grades will make your life better someday,” they said. I was 9 and I believed them.

As a kid I was taught never to talk to strangers.

“Strangers will only use you. Stay away from them. They are dangerous people!” They exclaimed. I was 10 and I believed them.

As a kid I was taught never to let anyone touch me.

“It will ruin your entire life,” they said. I was 11 and I believed them.

As a kid I was taught never to go near drugs.

“Drugs are poison.” They told me. I was 12 and I believed them.

I was 16 when the questions started.

“Don’t talk back,” they said.
“Why do you always stay quiet?” They asked.

“Study hard,” they said.
“Why don’t you ever take your nose out of books?” They asked.

“Get out of your room and go outside.” They said.
“Why are you partying every weekend?” They asked.

Well how about, fuck you?

Fuck everything.

Fuck religion.

Fuck family.

Fuck grades.

Talk to strangers, till you find your favourite one.

Do all sorts of drugs, till you find the right one.

Let people kiss you and touch you, till you start liking it.

Talk back as much as you like; lock yourself up in a room; do whatever the fuck you like.

Because people lie. People lie all the fucking time. And they always will.

The truth is, there was no God when I needed Him the most. I tried obeying Him and yet He never gave me what I asked for. And was anything but just. So of course, people lied about this one.

I saw dads rape their own daughters and brothers rape their own sisters. I never really trusted my own parents with what’s going on in my life because every time I did, they insulted all my life decisions and never once did they stand by my side. So what’s the whole point of their sincerity? 

People fucking lie because there isn’t anything more enjoyable than flunking exams. There isn’t anything more pleasing than being abandoned by God; kicked out by family and not being able to think straight because the alcohol has finally gotten to your brain cells. There isn’t anything more satisfying than feeling your lips burn with ruthless kisses and a stranger’s hands all over you. 

And at that one moment, you’ll realise, your entire life had been full of lies and liars.

-The truth I learnt after spending 24 years of a life full of lies.

Author’s note: I know this is a little blasphemous, so if this causes any offence to you, you may ignore it instead of throwing hate and arguments at me. Thank you.




Parents nowadays are always complaining about their kids. Especially, the teenagers.

“She is so misbehaving. I was never like that when I was her age.”

“He is always locked up in his room. Always lost in his own world and doesn’t talk to anyone.  Makes me want to unscrew his door once and for all.”

“She is always sleeping. What on earth will I do with this girl! She barely takes any sort of interest in the household. Oh dear lord, what will her in-laws say about my training?!”

“No need to return back home if you don’t score at least 3A*s.”

These are some very common lines almost all the teenagers hear in their houses every day. Almost all the parents are annoyed by today’s generation. But have you ever once, sit back and thought, what led to this frustration, distress, misbehaviour, isolation and numerous diseases at such a young stage in your kids? The plain answer to this is, you, yourself.


Parents nowadays lack the sense of understanding to a dangerous extent. The kids instead of sharing their issues with them are rather scared to tell the truth that is eating them up with every moment passing by. Why? Because there is a fear of rejection. Being judged. Being laughed at. By their very own parents.

Majority of the parents proudly claim “Oh, we are very understanding towards our kids.” Or “My kids share everything with me openly.” Well, with all due respect sir/ma’am, you know bullshit about your kid’s life.

You don’t have an idea of half the impact your fights with each other leave on your kid. You may not have an idea of how your daughter splits her wrists every night just because she feels fat. You may not have an idea about the massive amount of cigarettes your son smokes out of depression just because he is scared to fail his exam and disappoint you. You may not have an idea that your rude, misbehaving daughter cries to herself every night just because she thinks she is not a good daughter. You may not know that your little girl sleeps a lot just to escape your taunts.

You see, there are two things you have to understand. Firstly, teenage is a strange phase consisting of numerous mood swings everyone has to go through, once in a lifetime. It leads some to frustration, some to depression, some to isolation and some to even recklessness. You went through it too but seems like you have forgotten your time. So secondly, as this time period is already hard on the kid, he demands support, understanding and attention instead of everyday taunts, scolding and constant comparison with other siblings.

The more you restrict a person from something, the more he does it. This is a natural phenomenon. This is the exact part where you are going wrong in parenting.

You have a daughter with a reasonable dressing but you still push her to wear what you approve of. You think that would make her dressing more decent? Oh, no. It will just annoy her and make her rebellious. Your kid scores decent grades with a B or C in one to two subjects but you still force him to get no less than 98% in every subject and leave all other hobbies. Oh, please. You won’t even be getting an 80% in the next term. Get ready for an F in two to three subjects this time. Not getting your kid the cell phone of his choice, putting up a different WiFi password every month would lead to them getting involved in family time? Oh, you wish. Intruding in your kid’s social life won’t keep them safe but make them even more secretive about their things. Forcing your kid into a profession he doesn’t fancy won’t lead to them making money and being successful but surely develops a whole lot of depression in them.

You see, it is you who is responsible for the state your kids are in today. You are judgemental but not understanding. You taunt them instead of consoling them. I can assure you, that even if one of my family members reads this, they would go all berserk and say all kinds of things like, “Haw haye, kessi baatein karti hai ye larki. Astaghfirullah.” Or “Tauba tauba, aaj kal ki bachiyon ka koi haal nahi.”

Anyway, saying that it’s only your child who is messed up, misbehaving and rebellious is just absurd. 90% of them are just as disturbed as 90% of you are doing parenting in the same way. I might be just 16, but I do really hope to do parenting better than the parents nowadays.

Author’s note: I talked to lot of kids my age in order to write this. It is my personal favourite as it is the truest I have ever been. I really hope you like it!

The diary of the lover of a drug addict.


I thought about my life, with my legs dangling in the swimming pool, while smoking a cigarette. My life had changed. I had changed. The smoke full of nicotine, leaving my mouth in rings, was the clear proof of that. I smiled and extinguished the cigarette by smashing it with my palm on the ground beside me. Oh, how I used to loathe smoking.

My thoughts got disturbed when suddenly the phone in my back pocket buzzed and my automatic speaker called out the caller ID. It was Jack. I sighed and kept on ignoring the ringing. I had been thinking to leave him since a month or two. It was such a hard thing to do for me and therefore I wasn’t able to gather up the courage to do it. The thought itself, as well as the summer breeze blowing around me, made me shiver. I wrapped my arms around me and sniffed. I never thought I could be this weak.

What was now to leave, anyway? Nothing was left to leave anymore. He had given up upon us a long time ago. We were just ‘best friends’ now. He had broken up with me. because he had become a drug addict and thought I didn’t deserve him anymore.

His love for drugs more than me. Sometimes. I could never give him the joy and pleasure, the magic potion he injected into his veins every day, did. I hated myself for that. He was still in love with me and needed me more than ever. How I could I leave him this easily?

He used to be a different person. He never was as emotionless as he was now. He used to tease me and laugh with me. We used to compete with each other in basketball matches as well as school exams. Teased each other for being more cheesy. Danced on “there is a light that never goes out” and stole a few kisses. We were so unlike the teenage couples in our grade, The thought made me smile.

I did hate him, at times but I never regretted anything. I had a firm belief in the saying: “Never regret anything that once made you happy.” Once? He had made me the happiest. Every single day. I had the best of times with him. How could I, ever, reject that?

I just knew I had to leave him. I had all the words in my mind now, for the final goodbye. I wiped the tears travelling down my cheek, took out my phone and dialled Jack’s number.

“Hello, Cara?” Oh my god, I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” He exclaimed. I nodded even though he could not see me. He was so excited to even hear my reply and kept on telling me about his basketball match. “Trust me, you are lucky to have the best basketball player as your best friend and…” he carried on. He had always been good at basketball. The best, in fact. I smiled. I wasn’t hearing what he was saying anymore. I cut the phone.

Although I knew what I wanted to say, at the important time I could not open my mouth. I was like his only friend. He told me everything. Shared everything. Who would be there for him if I left? Who would he share his sorrows and joys with? The answer to all those questions was no one. That scared me.

Oh, how I wished I had just another teenage crush on him and was not in love with him. I was his cure. He was my disease. I was saving him while he was killing me.

I walked back to my home as the sun had set. My phone was ringing and my thoughts were in a haze while I was laying on my bed, trying to concentrate on my book. It was funny how I used to love reading so much and now, even it didn’t interest me anymore.

I didn’t know what had struck me, but I shut the book and put it down. I picked up my phone and dialled Jack’s ID.

“Heyyyyyy Cara….” he slurred. I knew he was drunk. I would even miss his drunk calls, later. At that moment I knew I had to do it. I had to leave him. I had to leave him in order to live. I had to be selfish for this one time. I had to live. Not only for me but for the people who still cared for me and could not see me destroy myself.

I was on the verge of crying but somehow I managed to gather up the courage to leave him. I sighed.

“Goodbye, Jack. I hope you have a nice life ahead.” I never waited for his reply. I threw away the phone, which, fortunately, broke. I had left him. I had finally done it. My eyes welled up realizing what I had done.

I did not leave the house for a week. A week later, I bought a ticket to Australia and left. I have to leave this town, city and even the country, I thought. I could not resist the place I had have so many heart-wrenching memories in, anymore.

It was time to start a new life. I told myself. But, would I, ever, be able to erase these beautiful yet heartbreaking memories from my mind? That was what I did not have an answer for.

Author’s note: Wrote a story for the first time. Well, this is the last extract to a long story. Would you believe me if I tell you I wrote this in my English exam? Haha, I still don’t. I was sorta blank and had no idea what to write so well this idea popped in my mind. And guess what? I scored the highest in this part of my exam. Still, astounds me. I was rather expecting a psychological class after this, to be honest. This is a personal favorite. I hope you like it too!

Till the universe resurrects.


Author’s note: Author’s note at the start this time just to warn you for good. Don’t read this if you have a tendency to break over past memories. I hope you will like it. Not really one of my best. Thank you.

Who says we will break apart and never confront each other?

Who says we would leave each other and the paths of our lives will never intersect again?

Because I know they will, again, everyday.

Our lives would intersect each other’s when our thoughts would collide everyday, at the same time.

While I am pouring coffee at work I might remember how your eyes used to crinkle everytime you smiled. Smile a little at the thought and spill steaming coffee on my hand. I don’t think the burn would hurt so much.

You might someday, while taking a morning walk, remember how we used to make fun of each other, knowing all along how no other better individual existed in either of our lives. Maybe the thought will make you smile and sigh loud enough for me to hear even when I am miles away.

We will confront each other every night. In our weakest and naked forms. When we lie awake, cursing at life and destiny; deep down knowing it was us who ruined it.

I perhaps always will miss the coarse touch of your smooth hands on my waist.

You also may possibly yearn to hear my voice one day and miss how I would scream at you when you made me angry, because my love, I did care.

I will always long for you till my last breath.

I will crave to hear your voice every night at 2 am when I am laying awake all alone.

I will love you till the day my existence and this universe resurrects, darling. That day, I promise, I will move on and start a new life once again.

Drugged me into the scariest nightmares.

3rf She lays there in the corner, Flowers in her hair and rings through her lips; She counts days with every cigarette smoked, The smoke escaping her lips is pure divine; She thinks she’s the ash that crumbles down, But what she does not know is that she is the nicotine that makes you want her more. Author’s note: It was a short, 2-minute poetry for a close friend.

He was my destination and my devastation.


The love of my life,

Sweetness poisoned;

I want to wrap my arms around you,

Embrace you for what seems like forever;

Listen to your violent heartbeat and shallow breaths,

You smell of my favourite cologne with a hint of cigarettes;

I want to whisper beautiful yet deadly things through your ear and pray they enter your heart,

To let you know how perfect you are;

But for once, I want you to listen to my heart too,

Listen to my breaths too;

But how will you ever, listen to a heart that never beats and a corpse that never breathes?

Author’s note: A personal favourite. I hope you like it!

She was a miracle that happened to me.


Her slithering touch. Her gleaming eyes. The way she looked was accompanied with the way she spoke. How could such elegance and beauty be placed on stake of my sensuality? It was a quest of hunger. I could feel the heat radiating through her. The trouble was all mine ever since I laid eyes on her. Who knew I was the victim this time? The criminal was much more prestigious.

Author’s note: Second poetry. Late post. Forgive me.

Our freedom fighters gave away everything for us. What did we give them?


We can’t even imagine what our ancestors had to go through in order to get us this country. How many lives were lost. How many desires were sacrificed. How many mothers held the slaughtered bodies of their sons in their hands and still didn’t weep but looked at them with pride. How many people, even who were well settled, left their homes and everything behind just to make an independent country; just for the mitigation of their coming generations. Their wishes, property, respect, dignity, families, EVERYTHING was thrashed. We just simply cannot imagine. Because if we could have we wouldn’t have been wasting our freedom like this.

  MILLIONS of poor Muslims from all over India rushed to the new homeland of dreams when British imperialism announced the partition of India in August 1947. The Indian subcontinent was divided on a religious basis, which made way for hatred and communal violence between Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims in which around two million people were killed. Millions of people migrated to Pakistan for a better life for them and future generations. But their dreams have been shattered by the parasitic ruling class and successive governments. Chronic poverty, unemployment, hunger, super-exploitation, repression, injustice, police brutality, religious extremism, military domination, and the rotten capitalist and feudal system, are the everyday realities faced by the masses after 67 years of independence. The majority of the population is still living without proper healthcare, education, sanitation, clean drinking water, housing and transport. The masses feel betrayed by the ruling elite, the majority seeing no future. Feelings of disappointment and desperation are running high. IS THIS WHY OUR ANCESTORS SHED THEIR BLOOD FOR? They did it all for us and we gave them noting but disappointment. Imagine someone who gave away their life just to fight for independence or Quaid-e-Azam seeing this country, Pakistan -the country of dreams- in the state it is now? Won’t they be hurt? ‘Hurt’ is quite a small word. Won’t he be disappointed see the youth today? The country, that was made on the name of Faith, has totally forgotten Islam. The youth today is influenced by the West and are going after their practices and lifestyle. Admit it! History is repeating itself. WHY DON’T YOU SEE IT? Angraizon ki ghulaami se azaadi paai, aur ab khud chale jaa rahe ho unke ghulam banne.

 Tell me about the last time you thought of doing something for Pakistan? I bet, you can’t remember. That’s because we never did a thing for it. We lack the spirits our freedom fighters had when they were young. We lack the heat rushing through their veins for independence. And you know why? Because we got a free country for ourselves without any struggle; without any enslavement; without any assassination at the hand of non-Muslims. It’s high time. We need to do something for this country and fight for our pride so that we don’t lose the independence we got 67 years ago after the loss of so many lives and so many struggles. THIS COUNTRY IS OUR PRIDE, OUR IDENTITY, OUR FREEDOM AND WE ARE THE FUTURE LEADERS. And as he said,

“With faith, discipline and selfless devotion to duty, there is nothing worthwhile that you cannot achieve.” ― Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

Happy Independence Day, to you all.

Good art is pain, aggression and gratitude.


Being a good artist can be the easiest yet the hardest thing in life. Look around you. Everywhere you see all the best and most successful artists of all times have a story behind them. Be it a writer, a music artist, a poet, or an artist or anything.

There are a billion writers, poets, singers, artists, in this world but a very few get somewhere. And an even fewer amount of them are remembered by the coming hundreds of generations. The very few that are remembered for ages must have had three characteristics: experience, talent, and passion. But the main essence in an artist’s art is ‘pain.’ Pain gives away experience, nourishes the natural talent and induces the passion. More the pain, better the art.

There comes a point in almost everyone’s life where you have gotten so hurt that life holds only two options for you: self destruct or build up a new life. The decision is totally in one’s hand to choose.

Majority goes with the first one, considering it the easier one and destructs themselves. They live and depend on different sorts of addiction and drugs. Of course, the devil has a bargain for addiction. A short term good feeling in exchange for the steady melt down of one’s life. They despair and wait impatiently for the absolute end to their destruction. But little do they know, more you run away from your fears, the nearer they get.

The rest of the people go with the latter option. They have been hurt, burnt, thrashed and discarded too. But they decide to live a new life. A new life that revolves around a clutter of pages and the ink of a pen; or around the beats of drums, a rhythm of strings and the melody of his own voice; or around a canvas and psychedelic paints.

A writer escapes his pain through words;

An artist lets out his agony by screaming it out through colors;

A singer gives away his distress by singing his heart out;

The best and most successful artists writings, poems, songs or any kinds of art have an outburst of emotions present in there even if the producer is unaware of it.

The same way the best and most successful artists are the ones who never did it for fame, money or even success. They are the ones who didn’t even have success, money or fame anywhere near their thoughts when they first stepped down on the road of art. They wrote, sung, painted because they themselves wanted to. Needed too. They had to let out their emotions some way and they find art as their way.

Honestly, the easiest to write is when you are feeling real low or real high, let’s sum it up by saying when the emotions are way too intense and hard to be kept in. If that’s when you write, not a thing can make your writing less perfect.

“Do you think I have potential?” She once asked him.

“I think you are talented and passionate, my dear. More than you think and less than you expect. But there are a lot of people with talent and passion, and many of them never get anywhere. There is only the first step for achieving anything in life. Natural talent is like an athlete’s strength. You can be born with less or more ability, but nobody can become an athlete just because he or she was born tall or strong or fast.  What makes the athlete, or the artist, is the work, the vocation and the technique. The intelligence you are born with is just ammunition. To achieve something, with it you need to transform your mind into a high-precision weapon.”

“Why the military metaphor?” She frowned. 

“Because every work of art is aggressive, my love. And every artist’s life is a small war or a large one beginning with oneself  and one’s limitations.  To achieve anything you must first have experience, ambition and then talent, knowledge and then finally the opportunity.” He told her.

As for what my experience tells me, being an artist isn’t an easy task. All them artists you see showered with fame are not what they seem like. They have a whole lot of secrets buried in their hearts. They are the ones who have the most psychotic lives and minds yet appear to be the most civilized people you have ever come across.

‘I should be a traitor to my art if I were to borrow my sitter’s eyes. The face is a marvelous mirror that reflects most faithfully the inner most of the soul; the artist’s business is to see that and portray it; otherwise he is not fit to be called an artist.”

Hence, it is not the clothes he wears or what he looks like that tells you about him. It is the art he produces that tells you the most about him.

Author’s note: Just a philosophy of mine, I posted. Others might have different opinions, but oh well. I hope you like it. And yes, I took that extract from The Angel’s Game, most certainly one of my favorite books. Thank you so much for reading. Feedback would mean the world to me.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.”

‘The hardest things in life certainly come free to us.’  Falling in love with someone you can’t have is one of them hardest things. We hear about ‘love’ all the time. Love songs, love stories or love quotes. It all seems cliche unless you yourself are in love. It all just fascinates you all and you start to anticipate what love really feels like. Ignorant of what it is they decide to name the best feeling they experience with anyone ‘love.’ No. Honey, love and infatuation are two very different things.
 There is no appropriate answer to ‘When do you know you are in love?’ You just know it when it’s time. When your entire life fucks up right in front of you. When you don’t care about yourself anymore and they are the one ruling your life. Love is not always about butterflies, flowers and kisses. It is about sacrifices and compromises. It is about rejoicing your similarities and respecting your differences. You don’t even care if they are no good for you. You want them. You need them. You crave them the way you have craved nothing.
 Love is insanely amazing. It is the biggest risk one can take yet such a beautiful mistake. But again, we are just sad kids searching for happiness desperately. You utterly lose yourself to them, happily.
‘Love is strange. Sometimes it makes you crazy, makes you burn or breaks you down.’
 Love can be for anyone. They can be 2 kids drowning in the abyss of darkness just holding hands. It can be heart-breaker unaware of how she’s heading towards getting her own heart broken this time. It can be a smart-ass going crazy. It can be a beauty-queen thinking she isn’t good enough. It can be someone who gave up on life a long time ago finally finding a reason to live his life again. Love always has an effect on people. Always. One way or another. Maybe, in the most unexpected ways. Even though we hate to accept it, we know how much of an effect they have on us and our life.
 She once told him, ‘We fall in love with the people we can’t have.’ ‘Bullshit. I believe if you really love them, you get them in the end no matter what,’ was all he said. She just laughed at this.
 Well honey, loving you forever can’t be wrong. Don’t worry, I will forget your charming laughter, your husky voice, or how your eyes crinkle when you smile. Don’t worry, I will erase all the promises you made to me, all the things you said, still echoing in my mind.  Your soul would be haunting me for eternity and I’m not even scared. Neither do I have regrets because I chose this. I chose you. And it would be a privilege to get my heart broken by you, darling.
Author’s note: It is kind of mandatory for almost all young writers to write on ‘love’ so I gave it my first shot. I hope you guys like it! Feedback would be really appreciated. Thank you!