"I ve written this poem in response of a challenge from my friend Ibrahim...i hope u ll enjoy it.. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious...This is meant for Educational purposes only... Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental :p"

so here we go...

Oh God! No girls and i am loosing my teens
Ravenous for "the hot shot" since my eighteen's
I wore a suit and some gaudy looking jeans
In pursuit of adulation from my dream's queen

I m so shy........i don't know why
Even "ibi" has a gf so i have to try
I gotta get a girl before Feb 10th
All i need is a smidgen of strength

The girls in my class are all too fat or lean
Still they envisage themselves as beauty queens
Of loving beauty they all float with grace
If only they could just hide their face

Well i ll make a few exceptions,
I cant break hearts
Some are really cute
And a few really smart

It happened just once
I endeavored to win a heart
With my eyes wide shut
In dark i threw the dart

Its a few days back
That i saw this gorgeous girl
Disguised as a dewdrop
In those red rose's whorl

Her waving brown hair
Oh God!! Those curls
I felt like "Jack sparrow"
And reckoned her as my "pearl"

As i approached her stumbling
My heart skipped a beat
I breathed some air
And tried to sound neat

I said............Oh!!! the princess of my dreams
If other girls are milk,then you are the cream

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
sugar is sweet,
and so are you.

She replied....Oh!! my boy
Kind, intelligent, loving, and hot
This describes everything that you are not

Your roses are wilting,
Your violets are dead,
the sugar bowl's empty,
and so is your head.

With pain in my heart, tears in my eyes
(damn, I'm so good at telling lies )
My feelings for her,no words can tell
Except for the may be....."Go to hell"

Being single now
seems my fate
I am the only one left
Without a soul mate

My friends brainstorm me
Like they really care
But none of them is single
And this is not FAIR

(farhan)

2 comments

11 comments

Not about being a pious sage or something.

We all seem to be very taken to the fact that people are bad. And that our society is mean and double faced. And well pretty much everyone is ****ed up.
There are ways to perceive this. It won't be something new to say that we make a part of this all and we ,as much as anyone else, do influence and contribute to the general behavior of society as a whole. Or we justify ourselves in our own way and choose to judge the rest. Or merely agree and move on. But somewhere, we need to stop and think where we, as an individual , are heading. How much have we gotten to know and more importantly, assessed ourselves. It takes guts to admit one's faults. Really it does. Its like sometimes you argue just for the sake of proving yourself right even though somewhere, you secretly concede to the point being said. Thats called being a self righteous jerk. But, If there is a road to improvement(and there should be, shouldn't it?), its acceptance and then working on it.

The person one is usually the most concerned about, is oneself. And that is the most important existence on planet we need to be true to. Foremost. We can console ourselves and justify ourselves that we be the perfect people around. And not take a moment to judge others. That is, but natural. That is, but not right.

We ,the self righteous lot, are very “calculated” and “wise”. Not so naïve to suddenly weave bonds of trust. But cautious not to divulge one's secrets or true thoughts. Weave a facade around ourselves of perfection and originality. Be the best person there is. Oh and also the impression of ourselves that we get philosophy. And are leading Aristotles ourselves. We are all powerful orators really. And morally sound too. Despite the stark contrast in whatever we say or do..

I guess no one likes to think too much because its such a waste of time when we can listen to some uber cool songs and sing along the lyrics and stuff. Or stalk people and extract some “oohs” and “aahs”. Or well, the usual other day to day activities. We all do that. But, we also think. Somewhere, at the back of our mind, we all are trying to get things to make sense. Trying to perceive them right. Grasp them like some formulae. We also form opinions and hone our thoughts and beliefs “our” way. One which is limited and biased. We learn too. Not too sure how flexible any of us is, but well we do pick up something along as we roll on. And typical of us, we live life the same olé way- learning , regretting, ups and downs, forging things, actually being honest at times and a lot more.

Its hard to not be influenced by people around us. Sometimes we cave in to peer pressure and try imitating just to be “accepted”. We all have a different story, right? But then, how to demarcate between what is right and what we do ,blinded by self righteousness, and justifying ourselves easily? There are different ways for everything but truth is universal, no? Why ought there be any difference? Either we twist facts so much so as to fit our definition of truth or well, we need to admit our flaws and work on ourselves.

Passing judgments is quick. Assessing oneself is oh well something outrageously wrong.

Its really all about getting back to basics and strengthening them before working onto deeper stuff. It may be enjoyable at a point to stand and have a laugh at someone, but really what makes you think you are not being laughed at? Or that some supremacy eludes you from the rest? The first person to point a finger at, is yourself. We know it. But practical application is severely limited to the point of complete absence.

Oft discussed this maybe, do give it a thought where are we heading to. Its not like we know our destiny already. We do have the power of choice. It may all be pre-written, but you don't see that written part when you decide on something, do you? So, make an effort. Do think positive. Do think about helping someone or being nice. Yes, its true that at times you need to show people they are wrong. BUT let yourself be shown too where you are going wrong. Years from now your priorities will change. And obviously all will head for a greater dispersion. And seemingly the stuff which seems so interesting at the moment, will be but a thing of past. So set your priorities right. The first one being what type of a person you are becoming and if that really is how you want yourself to be.
Imagine yourself walking a long, straight path. Crumpled leaves beneath for a dramatic, lonely effect? Imagination really. So, somewhere, when you are focusing on those thoughts at the back of your head and not paying heed to the chorus the singer has broken into, imagine yourself there and think. No one's perfect but we can always try. Just trying to be honest. Not to fake it or pose. We do. Every small thing so much so that it becomes our reality. And we don't really ever bother when the transition takes place or that are we even right? Small actions do show a lot about our perfect selves though. Here is a tiny example. Most of us use the government's laptops. Few are confident enough to carry it in that bag with those bright yellow words sewn on top about our CM. That, of course, couldn't be removed like the one printed on the laptop's front. I covered that with a Kemcolian sticker I promoted around for KAPS.

Talk about originality...

5 comments

Everybody gives off an aura, some people make you want to sketch, and some inspire you to write.
You make me want to bake.

Muffins, lots and lots of them, half because that’s the only thing I know how to make and half because you deserve muffins.
Nice people deserve muffins, don’t they?

I am impulsive , but in my impulsiveness I was true, this is as complicatedly thoughtless but the fact is that as forlorn and unaffected by you I maybe now , but in the moment that I thought about baking you muffins , in that moment I was true to that thought.
Few people can make you want to bake for them.
You were my first, the first person to evoke the baker side of me and that is the most hurtful thing. I wanted so bad to bake you the damn blackcurrant studded beauties and come prancing to you in the sunlight carrying them.

A part of me still thinks you are truly bewildered, taken away by my passion, my craze and you were just framed in all your innocence.
Your innocence was all I fell for.
Turns out, yours was just another mask.

One, twenty one guns, straight through my heart and I still don’t know what’s worth fighting for.
I thought I had come a long way from that scared kid, alone with her lunch box on the bench; I thought I had learned, grown.
Grown eviler.
Smarter.
But it’s just a smokescreen, just a decoy.
Even now, all it takes is a smile, a measly smile, to make me trip.

But that was no sunny, friendly smile.
By God, I have been frowned upon, looked down upon, but never have I ever been smiled upon like that.
It was the scariest smile that has ever been cast my way.

It was a smile that left a word hanging between us.
The word “maybe”, the million possibilities of what could be and how much it would injure if nothing were.
It was the scariest smile ever for it had subtle unmouthed suggestions that lurked deep beneath your thin lips.
Why lead me on and leave me on the crossroads?
And what about the labyrinth inside my eyes, I swear I didn’t just imagine you getting lost in them.
Through a speedy blur I have seen your eyes follow me.
You should have kept them to yourself.

I still think you deserve muffins.
But it’s a pitiful pacifier because we are two worlds apart.

I am the twisted person with an alter ego huger than you could ever manage.
You, you are one with the shy, conscious walk, the restrained manner
I am the loud, shrieking banshee; you are the calm before a storm.
Two poles apart, we are.

I thought it were words that connected us, but that is in a parallel universe.
Words don’t suffice.

I still am convinced this isn’t over but I am not one for going after charitable goods , this I tell myself again and again.
This has to end.
And I don’t know who started this but I’ll be the one to end it.
I am not doing this for my ego, but for the sake of our sanity, both yours and mine.
Mine is dependent on yours, yours on her.
One sided love is such an insult.
Time to do away with the batter, no baking today.

She doesn’t look like she can bake crap , hmph.

3 comments

Braving the Odds

by MN Sermiki (3rd Yr MBBS)

As a part of the routine practical classes of 3rd year MBBS i was attending the orthopedic ward earlier this year in March. There i happened to come across a little girl with rounded cheeks and an innocent smile on her face. She was accompanied by her mother. I, together with my fellows, decided to take history of that girl i.e to inquire of her reason for visiting the hospital. After the initial protocol we asked her what brought her to the ortho-ward. She didn't tell anything except to show us both her arms. I was shocked to see two lifeless arms dangling by her side. Her mother told us that she has been suffering from this condition since birth. In order to find out the real cause we asked her mother regarding any complications during the delivery of her daughter. Her response was in affirmative:Breech birth, a condition whereby a baby is delivered foot-first through the birth canal instead of head-first as happens in a normal birth. To add to the complication was an inexperienced midwife who aggravated the delivery and resulted in this unfortunate birth. While her mother was busy with our questions, that little girl of 11, sat silently and listened to our conversation. She might had no or a little idea at that time about her condition but judging by the peculiar position of her arms and hands ,my fellows and i had already made a diagnosis in our minds: little Saira was suffering from Erb's Palsy.

Erb's Palsy,simply put, is a condition in which there is weakness or paralysis of the muscles of the shoulder and the arm. The classic position of the arms is an inwardly rotated arm with an extended elbow and a pronated hand-thus also called as the 'policeman's tip hand' or the 'waiter's tip hand.' Our shoulder and arm is supplied by the Brachial plexus which is a fine network of nerves having their origin in the neck. Nerves from the neck traverse the region above the clavicle to enter into the arm. The brachial plexus in addition to innervating the shoulder and the arm also supplies the forearm and hand but the nerves involved are different. The muscles innervated by the upper trunk include Deltoids, the main abductor of the arm; Brachialis, the flexor of the arm; and a number of other muscles of the shoulder. Injury to the upper trunk of brachial plexus occurs in a variety of conditions that involves an excessive increase in the angle between the neck and the shoulder as occurs during an accident or a mishandled normal/breech delivery case as happened in the case of Saira. Excessive force applied to pull the baby out of the birth canal may result in injury to the upper trunk and, consequently Erb's Palsy. Injury can also be sustained if the said trunk is severed on account of stab or bullet injury. Worldwide cases of Erb's Palsy has decreased(1-2/1000 birth) owing to better techniques and advancements in medical science yet some cases do arise in areas where the quality of health and awareness both are low.
When asked about Saira's education her mother told us that she has been going to school since her childhood. Now she was studying in class three. She said this with an obvious air of pride which was emanating from her speech. She would take her to the school every morning and then wait there till the classes ended. My fellows and i were overjoyed to hear that. However the most amazing part of the story was when she asked little Saira to write her name for us. We were a bit taken aback on hearing this that how could she write with both her arms paralyzed. But there it came, slowly and quietly, placing the lead pencil between her right big toe and the toe next to it she positioned herself comfortably and then wrote her name in Urdu. I stared at that writing with awe!neat and perfect. All the time she was doing this and her mother told us that she is among the best students of her class. Little Saira was now beginning to blush. Redness filled her cheeks and she lowered her gaze to her bed but she had no idea that how her perseverance over the years has made her parents proud. Now it was not only the parents but i myself too who was feeling pride in her. She was not allowing her condition to overcome her determination and the more she grew the more mature was becoming her determination to excel and to show to the others that look i have defeated my fate and now its me who is going to architect my on destiny.
Back at my hostel i was thinking that how great these people are who changed the world despite being handicapped. My mind clicked on Beethoven and Helen Keller who did splendid works in their lives albeit physically impaired. These are but just two instances of the hundreds of such examples. Saira’s condition may reverse but her ambitions won't. She has come this far and she will go further and further. These are the people who are not just special because of some physical defect rather they are The Special people who conquer the world by sheer determination. For me these are the true heroes.

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Naamoos e Risalat walk and

Kemcolians' perspective on blasphemy

Written by Faiza Ali Kamboh
(2nd year AHS )

Muhammad ki mohabbat deen-e-Haq ke shart-e- awal hai

Isi main ho agr khami to Eman naa mukammal hai

The people all over the world who read and believe in

''LAILA ILLAHU MUHAMMAD UR RASOOL ALLAH''

are the Muslims...and they are called Ummat-e-MUHAMMADI.

Love for our Religion and Prophet is part of our Eman!!!

“INNOCENCE OF MUSLIMS”is the movie that shocked and shattered the Muslim world. One can tolerate many things but no one can tolerate anything against his/her religion.I was born muslim,to love MUHAMMAD salla la hu alihw wasallam is in my blood..After the promo of movie on youtube, Muslims started protest all over the world. And in many countries its promo was banned but it was not banned in pakistan.i was surprised,no one from Govt of Islamic republic Pakistan said a word for it,newspapers were filled with routine politics and crime news,TV channels were showing same old glamorous stories but only mobile phones were showing that something has happened in the world which is going to test our EMAN..the sunday Evening,I received a text by one of my seniors showing call for protest in Patiala ground at 10:00am on Monday.

the next morning, students gathered in patiala block.protest started with the name of Allah..hafiz mazher furqan(final year Mbbs) invited Muhammad sufyan for recitation of Holy Qoran..after that,Hafiza Samra Saleem(4^th year A.H.S) was called upon for naat..

Hafiz Mazher Furqan told the hadees..there are three degrees of eman,“Whoever among you sees an evil action, let him change it with his hand (by taking action); if he cannot, then with his tongue (by speaking out); and if he cannot, then with his heart (by hating it and feeling it is wrong), and that is the weakest of faith.” and now it is time to show our Eman and our love for our PROPHET PBUH.

He callled Qasim Omer(final year mbbs) on the stage..he said''we are suffering from these situations because of our own deeds .Wee have left Quran pak and Sunnah.. Rasool Pak S.A.W.S forgave every person except the one who disrespected Him and ordered to kill them even if they were holding Kabba's cover..he gave the examples from history that the punishment of the “gustakh-e-Rasool”is only to kill him.he said we need the spirit of Ghazi Ilm Din shaheed and Amir cheema shaheed.Now Jihaad bil qalm,jihal bil lisan and jihad with power is duty of every Muslim around the globe..there are 558 ayats about jihad in Quran. you can criticise taliban,jamat u dawa and lashkir e taiba but u cant deny 558 ayahs of Quran.

After marvellous words from \Qasim Omer, Ayesha Noreen(4^th year A.H.S)was called upon the stage..she said that non muslims are doing this because we are silent in the response..Anyone can make cartoons and fun of Him,we are silent .because we have become senseless. Hazoor pak SAW calld Ummati ,Ummati till His last breath.and what we are giving Him in return???? she explained that according to the constitution of every country no one can hurt any body's religious emotions..then why the muslims are always being hurt???we cant bear this disrespect of our Prophet..

After Ayesha,last speaker Ahmed Bilal came forward,he gave the reason behind such acts of non beleivers.he said that they want to know that either Muslims have some flame of Eman in them or not. while using our technology and their way of living.he said if we are not on the highest degree of Eman ALHMDULILLAH we are not on the last degree of eman,and today's protest is its example.

He said in 2005,they make cartoons of Prophet SAW we protested peacefully.

in 2008,they announced to burn Quran,we protested peacefully

in 2010,they organized a competition of making cartoons of Prophet,we protested peacefully

they prisoned our sister Dr.Afia siddiuqi ,we protested peacefully

and now they disrespected our Prophet and they are demanding same thing from us..

now its enough,we will not only reach American embassy but we will also reach white house..you cant humiliate a great strength of the world like this...

we have to wake up now and do something practical for the love of our Prophet SAWS.

He quouted ''lato k bhoot bato se ni manty'' and they wont understand without solid steps. we would have to tell them how much we have love for our Prophet S.A.W.S

Muhammad Sufyan(4^th year mbbs) came forward and recited Darood o Salam to Hazoor Pak SAWS.

Ahmed Bilal was called upon for dua..he prayed that may Allah bless us with highest degree of eman.may Allah give us the courage to teach them lesson.at the end of this session,there was a walk from patiala block to the M.S office.students were holding play cards.Voices raising from the crowd were Allah hu akber,YA Rasoollulah and ghulam hain ghulam hain rasool k ghulam hain.crowd demanded to hang Terry Jones..

from the m.s office back to anatomy gate walk was ended..

I has studied a translation of ayat from Quran Pak.

''We are enough for you against the mockers''(al hijr)

bt as a muslim and His ummati it is our duty to stand up against this shameful act.

,i remembered a hadees..

The Prophet said "None of you will have faith till he loves me more than his father, his children and all mankind."

na kat maru jb tak me khaja yasrub ke hurmat per

khuda shahid hai kamil mera eman ho ni skta

Walk ended but the question is

why only the Muslims are being made fun repeatedly????

why the so called super powers and judges of the world cant see this disgrace of humanity??????

did Muslims ever tried to make fun of any religion???????

why the so called ''alam brdar'' of human rights understand that they hurt the biggest population of the world????????

3 comments

The strange thing is, our happiness doesn’t last forever. Well, truth be told, nothing does. But even the existence of our source of joy is sometimes hard to comprehend. Looking back, we reminiscence of all the great times that we ever had; that one news that made us jump up and down with ecstasy; that one particular surprise that our friends threw our way that unexpectedly made our day; that one exam we finally managed to live through; that one get-together that gave us the chance to laugh our heads off at familiar jokes with some old faces. Yes, we remember those moments very well, but somehow, the feelings that went with them are so strangely disconnected with our present that we find ourselves wondering disbelievingly about those little moments we lived. Some fragments from Utopia they might seem.

And yet, its those sad times we suffered from that stand out most vividly in our memories. We can relate with that pain given any hour, any time, any day. Yes, those moments of anxiety, grief and heart-break truly have the ability to crush us even years later. Somehow, that sorrow becomes etched into our very being, and this time it’s the emotions that you very well remember. It is like an unwanted burden. Even the joyful moments we muse over are immediately followed by a shear longing and we find ourselves wistfully sighing over them. The downfalls, aches and losses seem to be up our sleeves almost always. We bury our loneliness by engulfing ourselves with the light of today but often our dark fights to surface. Our present is persistently accompanied by a looming dark.

So it’s a constant struggle between the optimist and the pessimist within us. Its the fight that keeps us going. It’s the battle that lets us live another day. Its that tiny courageous voice that urges us to move forwards despite our wounds. Its that will that forces us to drown our misery one more time, but not letting ourselves sink with it. Its that sight that forces us to see the silver lining, shun the dark and grab on to our joyous moments, howsoever far-fetched they might seem. Its that humility that enables us to count our blessings and just be happy.. with whatever we have, or had. Its that resolve that allows us to come to term with ourselves, and then strive to become better.

A struggle it is. Between our lights and our darks.

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Hush reality, step softly... My heart dreams of peace, it slumbers deep to flee from thy brutality....

All the charms and accompanying allures may only shine so bright as to blur your vision of the bitter facts hidden beneath. They come with a pretty mask but all it takes is one scratch to see the monster lurking beneath.

We live in a materialistic world and everything comes with an expiry date, as soon as it’s reached … all that you once so preciously kept is now good enough to be thrown out the window! It’s like every smile; every reason to rejoice is more of a time bomb ticking away… As soon as the time runs out, your world of hopes, expectations and petty dreams will meet its fall, leaving you with nothing but smithereens and; a condolence in form of “wake up call”…

All these thoughts flowing in, as birds gliding; all these hopes ascending like eagles soaring … alas, unaware of the ruthless nature of gravity... it can only tolerate your ascent to such a height before it pulls you back down, the fact being the larger you are, the more it would hurt…

Musingly enough, the Divine One crafted life to be like a bouncing ball with invincible inertia… Resistance and gravity seem equally futile…. It would take you up to the climax, where your ecstasy knows no bounds…. but after a moment or so, too brief which often seems…. an unforeseen downfall is to follow, with everything you ever believed in, also coming tumbling down.

And each time I fell, my heart cried out loud with my soul seeming to shed brine as well… and I’d wonder why…. why He chose this turbulence to be the mode of my life? Was he just breaking my down so he could build me back up again… was he letting things fall apart so better may fall together? Or was I the stallion that must be broken down before it’s built up? For they say

A heart can only be unsealed after it’s broken….

I don’t know… I can’t say for sure… I am still learning, I am still growing, I am still evolving and I am ignorant! But after all the ups and downs, all the expectations shattered, all the hopes demised, all the dreams unrealized, all the secrets unveiled and when all former glory to misery came… I realized that despite all my efforts to forget Him, He never left my side. Despite all opportunities wasted to please Him, He never let me down… When I failed to acknowledge Him beside me, He still never abandoned me.. All the trials and tribulations though not as harsh as those of many others.. I came to know that He will always be there for me… I repeatedly fail Him but He never failed me… All the crap life has put me… has put us through, it has only been just a wakeup call to make us realize the one always masked truth…

So can you open your eyes yet? Or is your slumber just too deep???

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Something I found while stumbling.. a few heart-rending anecdotes. Author unknown but whoever the person is, he sure knows what he is talking about.

*Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V* ;)

1. First Important Lesson - "Know The Cleaning Lady"

During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"

Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.

"Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say "hello."

I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.

2. Second Important Lesson - "Pickup In The Rain"

One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.

A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.

She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home.

A special note was attached. It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others."

Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.

3. Third Important Lesson - "Remember Those Who Serve"

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked. "50¢," replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.

"Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?" he inquired. By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. "35¢!" she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left.

When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies. You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

4. Fourth Important Lesson - "The Obstacles In Our Path"

In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.

Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand - "Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition."

5. Fifth Important Lesson - "Giving When It Counts"

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it if it will save her."

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?".

Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.

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By Anam Tassadaq
Of 4th yr

Sleep was altogether gone. Her mind taken over by melancholy. Or more aptly a void. A lifeless abyss. A poignant silence. This was the day she embraced life. And death. She was totally oblivious of her beating heart, and her consummate insanity. Her gray matter had only a vague perception of her surroundings, and to the fact that she was alive. All that she was sensate to was a brazen tempest inside her wetware, an overwhelming blather, spawning within her an urge to jump off a high cliff, to live, and to die. She had been rambling through the city, with an air of surprisingly unruffled nonchalance. But there still were moments of sanity, a long forgotten connection with reality. Saneness abruptly snapped. And there she was, on the Brooklyn bridge, standing all alone. And still. For the past five minutes. Or hours. She had no idea.

She stood there, silent and bewildered. The wind dallied with her disheveled curls, whispered into her ears. She could hear the occasional horn of a passing car, the distant cackle of a child, or the buoyant patter of passers-by. She could feel the bridge, the metal and the concrete. The water, still as the ineffable placidity on her pale face, spangled in the moonlight. The full moon provoked her thoughts. But she stood there, numb and indifferent to the life around, asphyxiated by the normalcy in her surroundings. This was the moment she fathomed her dying sanity, and heard the insistent cries of the desperate silence entrenched deep into her. She was constantly rubbing her hands against the diamond on her finger. It reminded her of something beautiful, and painful. She tried hard to remember what it was, but the effort drained her of her already withered puissance, her neurons reluctantly giving in to the amnesia.
Her mind was achingly tied-up, taking her through a reminiscence of noxious desperations, hopelessly cobbling up absurd plans. She wanted to run through the entire city. From Manhattan to Brooklyn. To New Jersey. She wanted to get to the top of the Empire state building, to gaze down upon NYC. She wanted to go to time square theatre for one last time, and to bunjee jump off the statue of liberty.
But she kept staring at the water below. And the water kept gawking back, not daring to take its glower off her even for a twinkle. She tried to think straight. ‘I think I’ve gone mad’, she beseeched herself. ‘Or maybe you were born this way’, came the solemn rebuttal. She could feel the chilled wind, now spanking her face, trying to hold her back, asking her not to do this, compelling her to believe in her sanity, begging her to go back to life. She wouldn’t listen. She was now ravishing irresistibly in her impeccable asininity.
And voila! She jumped, into the water, into its limitless bounds, into the abysmal chasm of her fragile mind. The water strived to grab her, endeavoring to give her back to the city. And to life. But death was imminent, and achingly sought-after. The water, remorseful at the brevity of her life, vacillatingly fondled her. Loathing its own powers, it faintheartedly succumbed. She breathed her last. The bird burst into flames, and from those ashes, rose a fledgling phoenix, reborn anew to live again!

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Dear Aunty

I am mad and devastated and i can kill her right now!! My best friend ditched me!!!!! I can't believe she can do this to me!! She broke up with me over a dumb a** guy and what more, she's been nagging me, spreading all sorts of shitty rumors about me in the hostel!!! And everybody believes her and she has ruined my reputation.. I am going to teach her a lesson but at this moment i don't know how to tackle this mess?!!! Help me!! I can't concentrate on anything!! Its getting on my nerves!!

Khoon Ki Pyaasi

Dear Khoon Ki Pyasi,

Best friends bhe kia cheez hotay hain! When I was in ninth grade, I had a total of twelve best friends. We were this huge gang of chattering, giggling girls and we all wore our hair in thick, tight chutyas that glistened with mustard oil. Sometimes, during break-time, when the teachers weren’t watching, we used to lie down in the grass, all twelve of us, and knot our braids together to make one long chain of mustard-scented hair. We told each other the chain was as strong as our friendship and as sweetly-scented as the secrets we shared. And then we’d laugh and sing “Zindabad, Zindabad, Ae Muhabbat Zindabad.” in our best bathroom voices ever.

You see, despite being the bestest friends ever, we were all severely in love with the same dark-eyed guy. The world knew him as Mr. Dilip Kumar, but for each one of my twelve best friends, he was just Devdas. Unshare-able and exclusive! So to keep a balance between our friendship and love, the twelve of us made a secret pact to stay together forever. We’d live together and die together, so that nobody could outlive the other and we could all have exactly equal chances to run away with Mr. Kumar one day and live happily ever after. We spit on our little fingers and made a pinky swear so it was pretty serious business!

But my dear blood-sucking wehshi churail, your problem is just way too much for a pinky-swearing, simple-minded Aunty like me. Aj kal ki larkyaan bhe na! So much drama happens in your life all the time. You break a nail and the sky falls. You lose a guy and the earth stops spinning. You love like anything and hate like mad and you could reduce a guy twice your size to tears with your craziness and you’d STILL be called the weaker sex! Ae ki mazaaq e!

Sweetie, regardless of the fact that your friend is putting the global population of female dogs to shame, I would advise you to take it easy. Breathe in. Count to ten. Breathe out. Go dip your brains in a bag full of ice because the way I see it girl, they’re burning red-hot and you’d kill yourself with a stroke if you didn’t cut yourself some slack. Rumors are like Sahir Lodhi. They might look like gold at first but if you give em time and take a closer look, they turn out nothing more than a big pile of ****! What they say, they say. Let them say. You just paste the biggest smile on that beautiful face of yours and go sip on some milkshake from Piccadilly (Pentiaan da ho gya e! Mubarak hoey!) Being happy is the best revenge, baby. So have an awesome time doing it!

P.S. I was the shortest, fattest and probably the least good-looking among my twelve friends and yet I’ve outlasted them all. I’ve seen twelve funerals and borne twelve separations, one after the other. And in the meantime, I’ve waited fervently for a call from a certain dark-eyed guy who lives far, far away, so we can run away and live happily everafter. Life’s funny that way. Keep hoping. Keep living. And keep looking for friends wherever you go. You never know, lightning could strike.

Good luck!

Aunty ji.

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What I would do…

You tell me you would go to the beach with me, walk with me across the shore and talk to me all night.
You wait for me to smile at the prospect.
Instead I wonder if I would ever be that mundane with you?
NO.
I would make a moustache on your face with foam and drizzle chocolate sauce on your hair and scoop out your kind, kind eyes and put in M&Ms instead.

I would carve out pumpkin look-alikes of you and hang them from the ceiling and dance to Soley underneath them.

I would force myself in your dreams each night and possess you wholly. Then I would never let you wake up.

I would hit you with a pillow and bruise you and then make you burnt pan cakes to cheer you up.

I would buy you goldfish in plastic bags and put them in lemonade instead of water.

I’m sure the fish would still survive, how hard could breathing in lemonade possibly be?
Then I would convince you that liquid out of plastic bags tastes amazing.

I would make you teach me how to play soccer and be rudely offensive about Barca just to annoy you. I would catch you in the fishnet that you have put up as a goal and carry it to a giant spider web and leave you there entangled in net and white strings.

I would spray paint your car and set it on fire. Then we’d rejoice in the flames.

I would go scuba-diving with you and your body would dissolve in the sea , letting the fish you drank free , leaving behind the disheveled hair and the awestruck expression you wear so well.

I would be the monkey on the neem ka darakhat outside your window.
I would sneak in stealthily one night and watch your chest move while you sleep. I’ll stab you when your expression is most serene, straight in the heart and then watch you die.
I will drag your body out the window and make it float in the river.
A perfectly hushed up romance it would be, ending with you drifting away in the waters at dawn.
The secret of my insanity would be carried away in the blue.

Then I would sit by your grave all my life.

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AN ACCOUNT OF DISJOINTED EMOTIONS

by Sania Mumtaz Tahir (1st yr)

The morning you wake up and you don’t even remember yesterday is the day when you learn a new life. No matter what you went through, it’s through; striding ahead, with no regret because of the simple fact, “No one else cares.”

Being away from home, in a hostel gives one the only lesson that family has no substitute. Life doesn’t cease for anyone even for a fragment of second if you fall. They won’t look back and wait for you, if you are left behind and they are running late. Bitter but true, they aren’t our family.

The first year here is the year we make reputations that will last for the next four years. It’s a time when we sit by the side of window and stare at everyone, observing and assuming, then see something else and forget about the first altogether. It’s a time when you do something; people talk for a while and shut up as soon as they find something better to talk about. It’s a time when you make friends, some that you yet don’t know might last forever and some who leave you for a better thrill in life. You see people changing good 18 years of life in weeks just to run in the race of desirability, pomposity and liberty.

In your dorm, you see the faces unravel and bang! The contrast from the apparent outlook. The thing that always makes me laugh is that Thanks Heavens!! People don’t really know what you are made of. Fun for the sake of fun, things you have never done in life with occasional bouts of sorrow and best part, you share it all with your friends.

Friends?! You can never really tell who is or isn’t your friend because the only being you have to trust is yourself. There are people who are your friends but you can’t bear them and there are people you like and you haven’t even greeted them. But friends! The only life saving factor in a place filled with familiar strangers. In a sea of two-faced humans, the few friends of yours stand out for you. Sometimes you don’t mean to do it but you one nice smile gains you the respect that you learn to cherish and sometimes a simple act of ignorance makes you lose your respect. All in all survival is strife.

Opinions and judgments are feared deep down by all. Some are striving hard to hold up their lifelong reputes just to see them being shattered and spilled like pearls sprawled on the floor. Still others are trying to take a fresh start, build new faces and even succeeding a little at first. But as it happens, in the end all of us have a story to tell of broken dream, a mortifying humiliation, a regret in past and cause of courage that kept the going.

Charm of getting ready every day, looking good and having your friends compliment you needlessly and truth-lessly, ends in a few days. Getting ready? Ekh!! In the end you don’t even comb your hair. And seriously it’s a fact, no matter how gorgeous a girls or how cute a guy looked one day, it will all be swept away by the wind into the abyss of past. What remains is the way you hold yourself up. Yeah! Sure, don’t care what others say, yet they will talk all they can. The image you leave being is what this place makes you. No one is going to care at the end whether you wear “Chinyere” or “Prada”, it’s only your personality that matters; for the sole reason that we have to live together and that is not a joke.

At times when I descend the stairs that lead to Patiala block and see the pathway, sometimes crowded and at other times deserted, there is one thing that is always there; the gray prints of those who have gone behind us. Walking through the corridors is like living 151 years of history the people who have had the privilege of being written in the history of this eternal legend.

Life teaches you so much at each step and just at the moment when you are sure as hell that you are mature. Maturity is nothing else but to live without a past. So sadly, you can never be mature enough.