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Kind of People you can meet at a funeral



My grandma recently passed away…. and finally, we have the kind of stereotypes that you can meet at the funeral. My day was sad, I was depressed since I was very close to my grandmother as I spent my childhood days in her home. I saw the people, not caring about the death and just playing their usual roles.. starting from a woman, who pretended that she is going to cry, and then the other second she did not.. she stopped asked for directions, and that’s it… she is fine.. that’s more awkward as it gets … the real-life actors are distressing because they are trying to act sad and they are not so they leave holes in the plot. I saw people coming, and pretending, coming and pretending that they are actually sad, but no one cried because they don’t have a place in their hearts for humanity. I am talking about the closely related relatives, obviously, my mother cried, her sisters cried, but their cousins. None of them, no one was feeling sad, they were as fine as it could get.

I saw the kind of guy, who was not religious when I saw him young, and even today I know that he is not religious, but the whole day, the very day he was summoning people like a religious scholar. He sat with few guys, and never literally stood from the chair the whole day, just jibber-jabbering the religious complications. Anyways, this is the kind of the guy, you will always find at a funeral, I call him the, “wanna be religious guy”. I saw married perverts, I know a pervert when I look at him, they have no respect for women in their eyes. You just need to look at their eyes, and their secrets will be unlocked. Trying to stare at women, even at a sad funeral day.

Then you will meet those aunties, after the big sad morning, I finally sat on a bench, with a fan over my head and one of my aunt came and literally said to me, that you have found a good spot because there is a fan over your head. This is the last thing, that you can say to a person when he is trying to mourn the death of his grand mother. Because I don’t act, like you guys, I didn’t say the same line, that people say to each other on the funeral to my mother’s brother, my only uncle. The famous line is, ” It was meant to happen, you did what you could, so you don’t have to worry, it was meant to be.. so don’t worry, you took care of your mother, don’t worry”.

I was basically hating all these people, because that looked like they were performing this funeral act, making a sad face, imitating their lonely sad character, that was never even present in that situation. So don’t do it, don’t play it, just hug the guy who lost his mother, and that’s it. Because obviously, you don’t have any memories to recall about the person, so what you can do is, just to play it normally. Obviously, you are not sad, so be that as it may. Then I met the youngest cousin of my mother, and I had memories of him watching the Lord of the rings at his home with a small TV. So, I had a conversation with him, and I realised he might not be educated, but back in the day, I used to think that he was educated. Since he didn’t even know what is GPA. Huh!!! Anyways, when I told him this memory in my head, at first I thought he remembered. But then, I realised that he doesn’t remember. Since he said that he watched it in my grand mother’s house, I never saw him there, I saw him in his home watching the movie. I never even saw him once visiting my grand mother’s house. Anyways, he was trying to make conversation, so he tried his best…. then again, he was a lost man..

When I was in the graveyard, there were only two men who were crying, me and my uncle ..who lost his mother… no one… no one else even tried to shed a tear. I don’t want your to shed a tear, but no one even wanted to come near to the grave. This makes me sick, people were awkward, people were acting, and people were not sad at all, again not even the close relatives. That leads us to our last funeral guy, the guy who comes and he wants to talk about him and himself only. He wants an audience, so he starts talking about things like, he was given a seat in the election, he saw this 10 million deal happening in front of him… and then he goes blah blah … and i had enough of him and left the scene … with him talking to his foolish audience, who were listening to him like bunch of nobodies…. we can call this guy, ” A wolf in sheep clothing”, yeah because he looked like a sheep but when he started talking he was talking like a wolf…

Finally ended my day… and i have realised why i hate the funerals, not because its a sad day but because you meet a bunch of actors playing their respective roles…

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Последняя сигарета, которую я закурил!




Последняя сигарета, которую я закурил! Не очень короткая любовная история

Все началось с того, что я закурил сигарету в старом парижском районе, чтобы побороть холодную ночь, услышав громкие возгласы за спиной. Ночной клуб, перед которым я стоял, был переполнен людьми. Люди пытались вести себя по-человечески бесчеловечным образом, клубы никогда не были моим делом, как я могу согласиться с жужжащим трансом, когда о связях не может быть и речи. Я несколько раз пытался смешаться с высокими битами, но это казалось предлогом, чтобы потерять себя в необычной среде, но моя ловкость построена на сознании. Или я совершенно прав, и такие места предназначены не для того, чтобы быть собой, поэтому вы можете быть как можно дальше от реальности.

Транс возник в первую очередь для того, чтобы гармонировать с бессознательными уровнями нашего мозга, как только он сможет настроить свою атаку и преуспеет, вы двигаетесь вперед, и каждый удар контролирует ваше тело. С тех пор, как бессознательная часть вашего мозга была запутана и покорена высотой тона и битами, создаваемыми музыкальными инструментами. Такой человек, как я, слишком много знающий о трансе, должен был бы влюбиться в него, но, наверное, я никогда не склоняюсь перед контролирующими людьми. Однажды я знаю, что он предназначен в первую очередь для того, чтобы контролировать меня, мои чувства оживились и собрали разумную армию.

Все это очень вдумчиво, исходит от человека, который позволяет сигарете съесть свой мозг. все дело в человеческих предпочтениях, мы предпочитаем делать то, что кажется правильным. Я докуриваю сигарету наполовину, ее обжигание безвредно для моих губ, хотя оно смывает слюну, которая намеренно вырабатывается моим телом, оставляя после себя ряд табачных токсинов. Но это то, что делает табак, медленно пожирая ваше благоразумие, чтобы привить слабоумие, и тогда вы ходячий раб табачной палочки; Курение сигареты — это не более чем Asininity.

Он! Посетитель не лезет на бис… les derniers morceaux sont les plus excitants ! C’est là que réside la vraie saveur… (на французском)

Привет! подожди, не бросай… последние кусочки самые захватывающие! Вот где истинный вкус… (Это английский язык того, что она сказала)…

Она запретила мне бросать сигарету, вместо этого с силой схватила ее…. Давайте снова представим сцену в замедленной съемке… она подходит ближе с предостережением поглядывая на мою сигарету, чтобы я не мог совершить последний акт, акт бросания недокуренной сигареты, а потом.. она сказала то, что я написал ранее… и просто взяла мою сигарету, даже не спрашивая разрешения.. не то, чтобы меня волновали эти последние огрызки.. но ее захват был активным и энергичным.. если точнее сказать, то это была резкая атака!

Теперь я собираюсь произнести несколько слов, которые большинство англоговорящих туристов считают волшебными словами и используют их как привилегию перед теми, кто не говорит по-английски. Хотя английский для меня даже не родной язык, именно им я как турист часто пользуюсь для общения.

Извиняюсь! Но я не говорю по-французски! Но это не открыло никаких непредвиденных дверей.

Vous êtes paresseux.. и английский перевод звучит так: «Ты ленивый»… (Она ответила)

Размышляя над взятой сигаретой, я сказал очевидное слово! …..Какая?

Я имел в виду, что ты ленивый! (Она снова ответила на мою реакцию)

Вы можете себе представить французский акцент, но, как я уже говорил вам, она взяла верх так быстро, что из 100 раз у меня был 1-процентный шанс отреагировать. Увлекшись остатками той сигареты, она попыталась заговорить с тем самым хозяином, который закурил прелести этой обжигающей бумаги и табака. Впервые в паре в качестве туриста? да, просто в гостях у нескольких старых приятелей. Но откуда ты знаешь, что я здесь впервые???? Марка сигарет у вас иностранная, иначе вы бы привыкли к местной. Итак, вы имеете в виду, что кусок, который вы только что вырвали у меня, который должен был стать частью парижской истории, в конце концов… не стоил даже выкуривания… вообще? (сказал я с паузой).

Правильный! (при этом кивая)

или, как вы говорите по-английски, что это было ….sheeth….. (Даже слово «Shit» звучало как Пророчество в ее европейском акценте)..

Ты хочешь придти ?? … Ах! Нет… Клубы – это не мое… (Я показал полное равнодушие)

Ну, я шел обратно к себе домой..

Ох! Для меня стало неожиданностью, что совершенно незнакомой женщине понадобилась компания, когда она возвращалась домой..

если вы думаете об этом… то я не путаин (она имела в виду шлюха или шлюха.. я знала это слово, клянусь свободой моих друзей) и это не какой-то развод… я знаю, что мошенники так говорят.. но я я не ходячая парижская афера… иначе, если бы я захотела.. я бы давно вас надула….

Она разбирала меня по частям… Я думал… у нас было всего несколько минут общения… а она говорит… давно…

Я знаю, о чем ты думаешь.. опять.. Я заметил тебя в баре, твои друзья разговаривали с тобой по-английски.. и иностранцы разговаривают с мишенями.. (она имела в виду.. момент, когда мы начинаем говорить по-английски, возможно, она имела в виду ходячие мишени, но и говорящие мишени тоже казались актуальными… не так ли??, ведь мы становимся легкой мишенью для мошенников)

Итак, мы, парижане, тоже легко замечаем людей, говорящих по-английски… но вы кажетесь другим… ваш акцент немного отличается от акцента ваших друзей….

Я думаю, теперь, когда вы завершили свой психоанализ на мне, вы, вероятно, могли бы догадаться, откуда я… Ваши друзья выглядели так, будто они были из Индии, я не видел никого, у кого была бы каштановая борода, как вы говорили с акцентом и был из Индии.. так что я не знаю, вы мигрировали в английскую страну…

Вы, кажется, немного сбиты с толку прямо здесь! (это был первый раз, я чувствовал себя ответственным)


Блядь! она отобрала у меня эти несколько минут удовольствия.. (пришлось кивнуть)

Аминь! из Пакистана…

Вы с севера, потому что у них были родовые связи с Александром? Вы правы, но я не с севера, я на самом деле с юга, и я благословлен теплом и солнечным светом.. поэтому большинство из нас, живущих на юге, в основном коричневые или темно-коричневые, и поправлю вас говорят о людях, которые живут в Хунзе.

То же самое и с некоторыми европейскими странами… так почему бы не клубы… это не культурная вещь в Пакистане…

Что ж! это более простое объяснение, но иди и посмотри на моих товарищей… как они счастливы!

Тогда давайте снова, и на этот раз, я буду главным… снова.. она схватила меня за руку без моего согласия и повела внутрь… заряжаясь через толпу, а затем она подключила громкую связь к своему телефону и вставила один наушник. мое ухо, а другое в ее .. и начала писать кому-то .. вдруг ди-джей начал играть мелодию … и она тоже включила ту же мелодию в своем телефоне ..

Я ничего не сказал ей… и она ничего не сказала мне… мы начали медленно танцевать, это было так незаметно, что моя бдительность упала, и мелодия начала резонировать в моем мозгу. Мое тело испытало странное и любовное ощущение, мои глаза излучали живость, ослабляя мою хватку за реальность. Это было похоже на плавание по воде, даже полная сила производит меньшее смещение, глядя на цель, казалось, что мы приближаемся к ней, но она все еще кажется очень далекой. Ее прерывистое дыхание задавало тон, ее раскрасневшиеся щеки возбуждали мой пыл. Снижаю уровень стресса, ломаю все острые напоминания о клубах, пропускаю воспоминания, не уделяя должного внимания. У меня не было выбора, кроме как уступить этому дивертисменту, она знала весь сценарий, а я был всего лишь пешкой, следящей за движениями ферзя. Она тянула все ниточки к моему телу, и я был на ногах после ее феерии.

Когда он остановился! Это было похоже на начало! Новый мир, в который я попал!

Теперь, когда мы направлялись к ней домой, все, что происходило, было для нас ошеломляющим сюрпризом! Почему я хвастаюсь о ней? это, вероятно, из-за ее господства, которое завладело моей душой. Она нарушила мое молчание.. Итак… Как это было?

Тихий опыт, но сколько раз вы делали это… у вас явно были связи с этим ди-джеем! (Я выплеснул всю свою проницательность)

Да! мы все делаем, на самом деле, большинство моих друзей являются деловыми партнерами в этом клубе. Когда-то я был ди-джеем, и я до сих пор иногда могу взять на себя управление, когда кому-то нужно, чтобы я прикрывал их.

Ага! ты четко знаешь свою музыку, и как на нее реагировать!

Как реагировать! не могли бы вы сделать мне комплимент, что я очень хорошо танцую! (Она возвращалась ко мне)

Взглянув друг на друга с нежными улыбками, я посмотрел вперед, на коварные набэи пар, сплетённых врассыпную. Это походило на лабиринт, который должен был заставить вас не заметить свое собственное жилье, людей, ожидающих совершения преступления, предлагающих вам наркотики. Это было скорее пугающее и мрачное приветствие, чем приглашение со стороны не очень спокойных соседей пар. Я слышал, что Париж является нервным центром парфюмерии, и парижане часто демонстрируют такое восприятие, используя качественные духи, чтобы выделиться среди остальных европейцев, но я чувствовал что-то другое, вижу разницу между токсичными отходами. когда вы пьете воду, а потом выбрасываете остатки, запах может быть не таким неприятным. Но когда вы пьете только пиво, а в вашем желудке так много пива, что ваше тело вынуждено выбрасывать остатки, тогда это становится высшим уровнем зловония. Не меньше, чем уровень радиации, который никогда не должен испытывать человек, но на самом деле он ядовит; оскорбительно для вашего тела.

Если бы она читала мои мысли, она могла бы наказать мою задницу полиции, что я, вероятно, беженец, пытающийся домогаться парижских женщин.

Простите за запах, в этих кварталах он становится все сильнее и сильнее! — произнесла она (вероятно, человеческие чувства реагируют так же, и у них есть способ взаимодействовать друг с другом).

Что ж! Я как раз думал о том же, о том, что Париж так вкусно пахнет!

Да, не очень вкусно, но убийственно в этих маленьких кварталах… а мне нравится жить в этих маленьких кварталах. Мне не страшно, потому что я знаю свой путь, и люди знакомы с местными жителями, но я понимаю, что туристу должно быть трудно пройти через эти темные кварталы.

Но можно сказать, что в этом уникальность этого района!

Ага! сильный запах мочи!

Она смеялась!

Посмотрите наверх, уже около полуночи, общежития не пускают постояльцев на крыши, так что это либо люди сигнализируют другим, чтобы они кого-то ограбили, либо одинокий кто-то пытается покончить жизнь самоубийством. А нормальные парижане, которые работают с 9 до 6, никогда бы не оказались там в полночь, они уже спали.

Никогда не представлял Париж тихим местом, где люди в одиночестве совершают самоубийства (мне было любопытно узнать больше)

Вы знаете, что Франция занимает второе место в Европе по количеству самоубийств?

Нет! это?

Да ! а уровень самоубийств во Франции составляет около 18 на сто тысяч, а среди женщин, вероятно, около 7 на сто тысяч.

Я надеюсь, что этот бедняга просто хочет ограбить туриста, я указал в сторону парня, который сосредоточился на нас, а затем внезапно исчез с крыши.

Ты просто напугал этого беднягу, он может подумать, что мы из полиции, или мы собираемся вызвать полицию. Итак, это парижский секрет, храните его, и он должен умереть вместе с вами.

Так где именно ты живешь?? Я имею в виду, как называется эта местность… потому что я всегда смотрю на карты, а с тобой рядом я не смотрю ни на одну…

Можно сказать это северный 18 и 19 округ, погуглите и остальное узнаете..

И поверьте мне, в этом районе так много коротких путей, откуда эти люди могут убежать, и у вас нет шансов их поймать!

Покажи мне что-нибудь из своего ценного имущества…

Ну, у меня есть моя сумочка и… дайте ее мне..

А потом.. Я был свидетелем того же самого момента, как она выхватила мою сигарету, она выхватила мою сумочку и побежала, и тогда я закричал…

Я должен преследовать тебя!

Если тебе плевать на свою сумочку… (она закричала и быстро повернулась к… да)

Когда я побежал и увидел своими глазами, это было кладбище, и она смеялась, и звала меня по имени..

Аммар! Поймай меня, если сможешь! ты ленив …

Я подумал.. Я еще не сказал ей свое имя, она перебрала мои вещи..

Я не вспотел, но после полуночи туристу страшно гоняться за девушкой на кладбище, у которой его кошелек, в котором он хранит свои водительские права, удостоверение личности, кредитную и дебетовую карты.. еще что-то…

Я явно терял ее, и она не собиралась останавливаться, сейчас я пытался ее найти минут 10, но она уже ушла. Ее даже не было в моих глазах, я кричал..

Привет! Я даже не знаю твоего имени, и это становится слишком для меня.. Я думал, что мы просто играем в игру…

Кто-то крикнул с крыши! (Не больше, она давно ушла)

Это вывело меня из себя, черт возьми. Это был рывок, внезапный шок, а потом я начал проклинать себя, как я мог быть таким неосторожным, я даже не знал ее имени, как я мог написать на нее заявление.

Если я вернусь в бар, он идет. это будет долгая ночь… а потом я начал пробираться по своим следам, следам, испорченным этим непредвиденным спором. Предусмотрено для дотошных людей, но для таких, как я, это было неизбежной опасностью. Отдать мое ценное имущество совершенно незнакомому человеку, который даже в одностороннем порядке отобрал у меня сигарету, было риском, сравнимым с тем, чтобы поставить стакан на край плинтуса!

Я буквально столкнулась с шквалом вопросов, и на лице моего друга было видно разочарование… Они буквально сказали мне, что, по их мнению, меня лучше оставить в покое. Но они никогда не знали, что я имел наглость отдать свои вещи совершенно незнакомому человеку. Такой человек, как я, является истинным определением доверчивости, меня легко обмануть и обмануть только потому, что я воспринимаю окружающих меня людей, ведущих себя так же, как я! Но это факт, что такие люди, как я, всегда будут попадать в такие ловушки! Мы запрограммированные дураки, ослепленные своей природой, сборище болванов и тупиц, сохраняющих позитивное восприятие этого мира.

Это будет долгая ночь, мы столкнулись с большими трудностями, отвечая на все медные вопросы, их расследование было больше сосредоточено на нас. Они скорее обвинят нас и посадят в тюрьму за халатность, чем выслушают нас. Их намерения были ясны, ты дурак, иди сам разбирайся со своим дерьмом. Француженка Коппер постоянно говорила: «Туристы тупые», и я, наконец, набрался смелости сказать им. Эй, я знаю, ты говоришь глупо. Но если вы не знаете имени человека, с которым тусовались всю ночь, то вообще сложно что-либо доказать. Итак, я был в фазе принятия, а не спорил ни о чем, это была работа моих друзей. По их лицам было ясно, что я испортил им ночь, и они могли бы гулять и развлекаться, а не ночевать в этом удушающем полицейском участке. казалось, что все бездомные пары вызвались провести ночь в полицейском участке, чтобы они могли чувствовать себя как дома, а не спать открыто на улице, но здесь, в полицейском участке, за ними присматривал полицейский. Они думали об этих полицейских как о своих официантах, которые будут приносить им вещи, все эти запертые парни выглядели счастливыми, поверьте мне. Ну, я первый раз в отделении милиции, слава богу, это не я кому-то сделал что-то ужасное, это я жертва. Что ж! кого я обманываю, даже если бы я хотел совершить преступление умышленно, я бы даже не совершил его. Итак, это одна вещь, которая не в моей лиге, если бы я был Томасом Эдисоном, пытающимся совершить преступление, он сделал много попыток, чтобы добиться желаемого результата, я, с другой стороны, потерпел бы неудачу даже в 1000-й раз. время думать, что я собираюсь совершить преступление. Или Шекспир назвал бы книгу о моем персонаже «Неудавшееся преступление слабоумного».

Я рассказал им все, что мог об этой девушке, они сказали мне, что у нас нет личности, тогда это займет какое-то время. Один из полицейских также сказал моей подруге, что это преступление может быть раскрыто только в том случае, если лицо, его совершившее, захочет в одностороннем порядке прийти в участок и признать, что оно совершено. В противном случае это погоня за дикими гусями. Обсуждая все возможности после этого досадного события, мы пошли к моему другу и уснули, как будто нам было все равно. Ну, они спали, как будто им было все равно, но для меня это было тревожно, я думал, что могу ошибаться, я наивный парень, но иногда я могу понять людей из глубины души, но я действительно и по общему признанию потерпел неудачу на этот раз для создания правильного представления о человеке.

Глядя на пустые бутылки из-под шардоне, из которых мой друг выращивал свои растения, каким-то образом пал жертвой сна, естественного забвения и расщепленной реальности, а мои эмоции пытались опрокинуть исход ситуации, изменив временную шкалу произошедшего, внутри моего сна. Но даже во сне я очень старался отменить окончательный вердикт, могло быть и лучше, если бы я вообще никогда не закуривал ту сигарету. Я должен был быть внутри своих друзей, наслаждаясь и критикуя музыку и различные ее формы. А потом мое внимание переключилось на похожую песню, мои сны начали гудеть, я напрягся, запутался, что реально, а что сон, если мне придется проснуться, если это слишком хорошо, чтобы быть правдой, чтобы сбежать от последнего ночь.

Это был просто мой рингтон, жужжащий у меня над головой, и я проснулся, как зомби, пытающийся понять, мертв ли ​​он и должен ли он проснуться, чтобы заняться своими делами. Итак, я посмотрел на свой телефон, и звонок шел с неизвестного французского номера, а затем он закончился. Я открыл свой чат, с моими страшными веками.

Привет! Доброе утро!

Прости за прошлую ночь…

Затем местоположение было передано!

Назовите меня на 104! Я впущу тебя!

Не приводи полицию… смайлик!

Теперь я должен был убедиться, если мне все еще снится, что кто-то пишет мне, действительно ли это она или нет. Если меня будут обманывать дальше. Может быть, на этот раз она думает, чтобы выжать из меня больше. Может быть, это не ее место, это место ее подруги. Я хотел написать ей в ответ, что это говорит мне ваше имя, то, что вы сделали не так.. но потом я подумал.. ладно.. Я бы просто сказал… Я буду там через полчаса, я жду свою сумочку!

Мои друзья спали, я им ничего не сказал, просто собрался и пошел к ней в квартиру, как она и сказала звони мне на 104. Я думал, что я жертва, если я собирался сделать это правильно, я сделаю это сам. Итак, я пошла туда одна и, что удивительно, она встретила меня с улыбкой и ввела…

Доброе утро! Ты мне не ответила..и я могу понять..почему ты так себя ведешь..но сначала..а она стала смотреть мне за спину..Ооо!

Нет полиции! (Ааа, я ожидаю от тебя большего, ну после прошлой ночи.. я имею в виду).. она хихикнула, а затем спросила…

Хочешь кофе?

Я думал, она принесет мне мои вещи!

Что ж, я здесь не для того, чтобы подружиться с вами, надеюсь, мы сможем уладить это как взрослые люди!

она принесла мне мою сумочку и я все посмотрела, ничего не украдено..

Я использовал твои вещи, чтобы связаться с тобой!

Я не понимаю, для тебя это все было игрой, ты же знаешь, я потом в милицию пошел!

Я знал, что вы можете, и потому что я не хотел больше беспокоить вас… и я действительно сожалею о напряжении и проблемах, которые я вам причинил.

Она принесла мне кофе и печенье…

Я никогда не собирался ничего у вас красть, но потом я решил, что если я должен сделать это памятным для вас, вашу поездку в Париж, тогда мы должны встретиться в другой день … поэтому я продолжал бежать, и я знал, что вы не сможете продолжать поднимись со мной.. как я уже говорил тебе.. но я также могу понять с твоей точки зрения, что прошлая ночь могла быть для тебя ужасным сном…

Я никогда не спал! Я просто думала, почему такой человек, как она, любит красть мою сумочку, я не знаю, наверное, иногда мои стереотипы бросают вызов моей наивной натуре. Я до сих пор думаю, зачем тебе такое!

Я не знаю Аммара! Наверное, я немного предприимчив и нестандартен, а ты нет!

Она проболталась, и я не смог их поднять!

Я имею в виду тех, кто стоит за пределами клуба, погруженный в свои воспоминания, особенно после ковидного времени, а когда ты турист, ты должен как минимум получать удовольствие!

Хорошо! Хорошо! перестаньте меня осуждать, я могу не любить клубы, я много чего анализирую, я все время разговариваю сам с собой, очень трудно объяснить свои мысли людям. (Я хотел легко объясниться, не хотел высказывать свое мнение).

Итак, Твои мысли пытаются меня понять?

Ага! просто пытаюсь разобраться в этом… и что делать дальше…

Следующий ?? (она спросила меня из любопытства)

Я не мог ей сказать… Я думаю, что я скажу своим друзьям, и если полиция снова попытается связаться со мной, что я буду делать… но я разберусь!

Я должен идти! когда я собирался уходить, она сказала… (я думала, ты другой)

что ты имеешь в виду? (застала меня врасплох, потому что это должно было быть то, что я мог ей сказать)…

Я не видела растерянного мужчину, я видела мужчину, который был более живым и внимательным к своему окружению (извините, если мой английский плохой) она продолжала объяснять… Я чувствовала себя другой рядом с вами, я чувствовала себя больше рядом с вами… и я думаю, это просто еще одна причина встретиться с вами здесь снова .. так что, если вы хотите присоединиться ко мне, мы, вероятно, можем выйти наружу .. Я хочу показать вам кое-что!

И остановись… что бы ты ни говорил…

Размышление! ( я произнесла )

Я сопротивлялся изнутри, но я хотел испытать острые ощущения, которые она предложила! Я думаю, я хотел прыгнуть в сумасшедшую поездку и погрузиться глубоко в это безумие, обрезав свои нити с изощренностью и убедительностью!

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Story Topi

The Last Cigarette that I lit!




It all started when I lit a cigarette in an old Parisian neighborhood, to contest the cold night, hearing the huge cheers behind my back. The nightclub that I was standing in front of, was overcrowded with people. People were trying to behave like humans in an inhumane way, the clubs were never my thing, how can I concord with the buzzing trance where liaising is out of the question. I tried it multiple times to commingle with the high-pitched beats but it seemed like an excuse to lose myself in a peculiar environment but my adroitness is built around consciousness. Or am I totally right, and such places are designed to not be yourself, so you can be as far away from reality as you can.

Trance emerged in the first place to harmonize with the unconscious levels of our brain, once it is able to set up its attack and succeeds, you move along and every beat controls your body. Since the unconscious part of your brain has been tangled with and conquered by the pitch and the beats set up by the musical instruments. A person like me, who knows too much about trance, should have been in love with it, but I guess I never bow to a controlling kind. Once, I know that it is designed to control me in the first place, my senses have invigorated and assembled a sentient army.

All of this is very thoughtful, coming from a person who is letting the cigarette eat his brains out. it’s all about human preference, we prefer to do what seems right. I am halfway down my cigarette, its scorching is benign to my lips, although it swipes away the saliva that is advertently produced by my body leaving behind a series of tobacco toxins. But that’s what tobacco does slowly gleaning your prudence to instill imbecility and then you are a walking slave, to a tobacco stick; Smoking a cigarette is not more than an Asininity.

Hé! attendez ne le jetez pas encore… les derniers morceaux sont les plus excitants ! C’est là que réside la vraie saveur… ( in french)

Hey! wait doesn’t throw it yet… the last bits are the most exciting! That’s where the true flavor lies… (That’s the English of what she said)…

She forbade me to throw my cigarette, instead grabbed it forcefully…. Let’s imagine the scene again in a slow mo… she is coming closer with a warning eyeing my cigarette so that I cannot commit the last act, an act of throwing my unfinished cigarette, and then.. she said what I wrote earlier… and just took my cigarette without even asking for any permission.. not that I care about these last bits .. but her takeover was active and energetic .. if I put it precisely, then it was a brisk attack!

Now, I am going to utter a few words that most of English-speaking tourists think of as magic words and use them as a privilege over non-English speakers. Although, English is not even my mother tongue that’s what I use often as a tourist for communication.

Sorry! But I don’t speak French! But it didn’t open any unforeseen doors.

Vous êtes paresseux.. and English translation is that “You are lazy”… ( She responded )

While pondering upon my taken cigarette, I said an obvious word! …..What?

I meant you are lazy! ( She responded again to my reaction )

You can imagine the french accent but as I told you before that she took over so quickly that out of 100 times, I had a 1 percent chance to react. As she enthralled the remains of that cigarette, she tried to make some conversation with the very owner, who lit up the delights of that scorching paper and tobacco. First time in pairs as a tourist? yes, just visiting a few old mates here. But how do you know it’s my first time here???? Your cigarette brand is foreign otherwise, you would be accustomed to a local one. So, you mean that the piece, you just snatched from me, that was about to become a part of Parisian history eventually… was not even worth the smoke ….at all? (I said it with a pause).

Correct! ( While Nodding )

or as you say in English that it was ….sheeth….. (Even the word “Shit” sounded like a Prophecy in her European accent)..

You want to come ?? … Ah! No … Clubs are not my thing… ( I showed my complete disinterest )

Well, I was walking back to my home..

Ohh! Comes as a surprise to me that a total stranger needed a company while going back to her place..

if you are thinking about that … then I am not putain ( she meant a whore or slut.. I knew the word, by the liberty of my friends ) and this is not some scam… I know that’s what scammers say .. but I am not a walking Parisian scam… otherwise, if I had wanted .. I would have scammed you a long time ago….

She was picking me apart, piece by piece… I was thinking .. we just had a few minutes of interaction… and she is saying … a long time ago…

I know what you are thinking.. again.. I noticed you in the bar, your friends were talking to you in English.. and foreigners are speaking targets.. ( she meant.. the moment we start speaking English, probably she meant walking targets but speaking targets seemed relevant too…isn’t it?? as we become an easy target for scammers)

So, we Parisians can also easily notice people who are speaking English… but you seem different .. your accent is a bit different from your friends….

I guess, now that you had completed your psychoanalysis on me, you could probably guess where I am from… Your friends looked like they were from India, I haven’t seen anyone who had a brown beard like you spoke with an accent and was from India.. so I don’t know have you migrated to an English country…

You seem a bit confused right there! ( it was the first time, i felt in charge)


Fuck! she grabbed that few minutes of pleasure away from me.. ( I had to nodd )

Amen ! from Pakistan…

Are you from the north, because they had ancestral links from Alexandar? You are right, but I am not from the north, I am actually from the south and I am blessed by the heat and sunlight.. that’s why most of us, who live in the south are mostly brown or dark brown, and correct you are talking about people who live in Hunza.

Goes the same for some European countries … so why not clubs.. is not a cultural thing in Pakistan..

Well! that’s an easier explanation, but go and check out my mates .. how happy are they!

Then let’s get in again, and this time, I will be in charge… again .. she grabbed my hand without my consent and took me inside… charging through the crowd, and then she plugged her handsfree in her phone and put one earbud in my ear and the other in hers.. and started texting someone .. suddenly the DJ started playing a melo tune… and she played the same tune in her phone too..

I didn’t said anything to her … nor she said anything to me… we started dancing slowly, it was so discreet that my guard went down and the melody started to resonate in my encephalon. My body went through a strange and amorous sensation, my eyes were unsheathing vivacity slackening my grip on reality. It felt like floating on water, even the full force produces less shift, eyeing the destination felt like we are closing-in on it, but it still seems very far. Her intermittent breaths set the tone, her flushed cheeks aroused my ardour. Alleviating my stress levels, breaking all the poignant reminders of clubs, passing over the reminiscences without giving any due attention. I had no choice but to concede to this divertissement, she knew all the script and yet I was just a pawn following the queen’s movements. She was pulling all the strings to my body, and I was up and about after her extravaganza.

When it stopped! It felt like inception! A new world that I have stepped into!

Now, we were heading to her place, whatever was happening felt like a startling surprise! Why am I gushing about her? it’s probably because of her ascendancy that has taken over my soul. She broke my silence .. So… How was it?

Quiet an experience, but how many times have you done this… you clearly had connections with that DJ! ( I spilled out my entire acumen )

Yes! we all do, actually, most of my friends are business partners in this club. I used to be a DJ once and I can still take over sometimes when someone needs me to cover for them.

Yeah! you clearly know your music, and how to react to it!

How to react! cant you give me a compliment that I can dance very well! ( She was coming back at me)

Glancing each other with gentle smiles, I looked ahead towards the devious nabes of pairs, weaved to amiss. It seemed like a maze that was bound to make you overlook your own place, people waiting to commit a crime, offering you drugs. It was more of a scary and dark welcome rather than an inviting gesture by the not-so-calm neighborhoods of pairs. I have heard that Paris is the nerve centre of perfumes and Parisian often demonstrate such perception by using good quality perfumes to stand out from the rest of the Europeans, but I was smelling something else, see there is a difference between toxic waste. when you are drinking water and then you discarding the remains, might not smell that bad. But when you are only drinking beer and there is so much beer in your stomach that your body is being forced to expel the remaining, then it becomes the supreme level of malodorous. No less than a radiation level that man should never be allowed to experience, but it is actually noisome; offensive to your body.

If she would be reading my thoughts, she could have sanctioned my ass to the police, that I am probably a refugee trying to harass Parisian women.

Excuse the smell, in these neighborhoods, it’s just getting stronger and stronger! she uttered (Probably human senses react in the same way and they have a way to interact with each other )

Well! I was just thinking about the same thing, that Paris smells so delicious!

Yes, not quite delicious but murderous in these small neighborhoods… and I like to live in these small neighborhoods. I am not scared because I know my way and people are familiar with the locals but I understand it must be difficult for a tourist to go about their way through these dark neighborhoods.

But you can say, that this is what’s unique about this neighborhood!

Yeah! strong piss smell!

She laughed!

Well look at the top, it’s around midnight, hostels won’t allow the guests to access the rooftops, so this is either people signaling others to rob someone or a lonely someone trying to commit suicide. And normal Parisians who do 9 to 6 would never be up there at midnight, they had already slept.

Never quite imagined Paris to be a quiet place, where people would suicide lonely (I was curious to know more)

You know France is ranked second highest for suicides in Europe?

No! is it?

Yes ! and the suicide rate in France is around 18 per hundred thousand, and probably it is around 7 per hundred thousand for women.

I hope that poor dude is just looking to rob a tourist, I pointed in the direction of a guy who was focusing on us and then suddenly vanished from the rooftop.

You just scared that poor guy, he might be thinking we are from the police or we are going to call cops. So, it’s a Parisian secret keep it and it has to die with you.

So where do you live exactly ?? I mean what’s this area called.. because I am always looking at the maps and with you by my side, I am not looking at one..

You can say this is northern 18th and 19th district, google it and you will know the rest ..

And trust me there are so many shortcuts in this neighborhood, from where these people can run away and you have no chance of catching them at all!

Show me any of your prized possession…

Well, I have my purse and … give it to me ..

And then.. I witnessed the same exact moment, how she snatched my cigarette, she snatched my purse and started running and then i shouted…

Am I supposed to chase you!

If you don’t care about your purse…( she shouted, and took a quick turns towards a…. yes)

When i ran and saw with my own eyes, it was a cemetery, and she was laughing, and calling my name..

Ammar! Catch me if you can! you are lazy …

I thought .. I haven’t told her my name yet, has she gone through my belongings ..

I was not perspiring but after midnight, it’s scary for a tourist to chase after a girl in a cemetery, who has his purse, in which he has kept his driving license, his identity card, his credit and debit cards.. whatnot…

I was clearly losing her, and she had no intentions to stop, now I had been trying to find her for about 10 minutes but she was already gone. She was not even in my sight, I shouted..

Hey! I don’t even know your name, and this is getting a bit too much for me .. I thought we are just playing a game …

Someone shouted from the Rooftop! ( Not anymore she is long gone )

That took the bejesus out of me, It was a rug pull, a sudden shock and then I started cursing myself how could I be so careless, I didn’t even know her name, how would I fucking file a report against her.

Should I go back to the bar, it is going. tobe a long night … and then I started tracing my back footsteps, footsteps that are blemished by this unforeseen controversy. Foreseen for meticulous people but for people like me it was an inescapable danger. Handing over my prized possession to a total stranger who even took my cigarette unilaterally from me was a risk comparable to putting a glass on the edge of a plinth!

I literally faced a barrage of questions and disappointment was apparent on my friend’s face… they literally told me that they thought I would be better left alone. But they never knew that I had the audacity to hand over my belongings to a total stranger. A person like me is a true definition of gullible, I can be easily fooled and tricked, just because I perceive people around me to behave in the same way that I do! But it’s a fact people like me will always fall into such traps! We are programmed fools blinded by our nativity, a bunch of nincompoops and dullards who keep a positive perception of this world.

It’s going to be a long night, we faced a lot of trouble answering all of the copper questions, their investigation was more focused on us. They would rather blame us and jail us for negligence than listen to us. Their intentions were clear, you are stupid, go and sort your shit out yourself. The french lady copper constantly said, ” ces stupides tourists “, and I finally had the courage to tell them. Hey, I know you are saying stupid. But if you don’t know the name of the person you have been hanging out with all night long, it’s hard to prove anything at all. So, I was in a phase of acceptance, rather than arguing about anything, that was the job of my friends. Their faces made it pretty clear, that I have spoiled their night, and they could have been hanging out and enjoying themselves rather than spending the night at this suffocating police station. it felt like all the homeless pairs have volunteered to spend a night at the police station so that they can feel at home rather than sleeping openly outside but here at the police station, they had been looked after by the policeman. They thought of these policemen as their waiters, who would bring them things, all of those locked-up guys looked happy, trust me. Well, it was my first time at a police station, thank God, it’s not me who has done something horrible to someone, it’s me who is the victim. Well! who am I kidding, even if I would have wanted to commit a crime intentionally, I would have failed to even commit it. So, that’s one thing that is out of my league, if I would have been Thomas Edison, trying to commit a crime, he did many attempts to achieve the result he wanted, I, on the other hand, would have failed even the 1000th time thinking that I am going to commit a crime. Or Shakespeare would have titled a book on my character, ” An imbecile’s failed crime”.

I gave them whatever I can about that girl, they told me, we don’t have an identity, then it’s going to take some time. One of the police officers also told my friend, that this crime can only be solved if the person who committed it wants to unilaterally come to the station to accept that she committed it. Otherwise, it’s a wild goose chase. While discussing all the possibilities after the aftermath of this unfortunate event, we went to my friend’s place and slept like we didn’t care. Well, they slept like they didn’t care, but for me it was troubling, i thought i could be all wrong, i am a naive guy but sometimes, i am able to understand people from deep down inside but I truly and admittedly failed this time to create a proper perception about a person.

While gazing at the empty chardonnay bottles, that my friend used to grow his plants, somehow fell victim to sleep, natural oblivion, and a split reality, and my emotions tried to overturn the ruling of the situation by changing the timeline of what happened, within my dream. But even in my dream, I was trying really hard to overturn the final verdict, it could have been better if I had never lit that cigarette at all. I should have been inside my friends, enjoying and critiquing the music and different forms of it. And then my focus was diverted to a similar song, my dreams started to buzz, I was getting tense, confused as to what is real or what is a dream if I have to wake up if it’s too good to be true to escape from last night.

It was just my ring tone, buzzing over my head, and I woke up like a zombie trying to understand if he is dead and is meant to wake up to go about his day. So, I looked at my phone and the call was coming from an unknown french number, and then it ended. I opened my chat, with my dreading eyelids.

Hey! Good morning!

Sorry for last night …

Then, a location was shared!

Buzz me at 104! I will let you in!

Don’t bring the police … smiley!

Now, I was bound to make sure, if I am still dreaming that someone is texting me if it is really her or not. If I should be scammed further. Maybe this time she is thinking to bring more out of me. Maybe it’s not her place, it’s her friend’s place. I thought to text her back, that tells me your name, what you did was not right.. but then I thought .. okay .. I would just say… I will be there in half an hour, I am expecting my purse!

My friends were sleeping, I told them nothing just got ready and went to her apartment, just like she said buzz me at 104. I thought I was the victim, if I were about to do this right, I will do it myself. So, I went there alone and surprisingly, she greeted me with a smile, and brought me in …

Good morning! You haven’t responded to me .. and I can understand .. why you are behaving like that.. but at first.. and she started looking behind my back..Ohh!

No Police! ( Ahh, I expect better from you, well after last night .. I mean).. she giggled and then asked…

Do you want coffee?

I thought she is gonna brought me my stuff!

Well, I am not here to make friends with you, I hope we can settle these like mature adults!

she brought me my purse and I looked at everything, none of the things were stolen..

I used your belongings to contact you!

I don’t understand, was it all a game to you, you know I went to the police station afterward!

I knew you might, and because I didn’t want to bother you anymore.. and I am really sorry for the tension and trouble that I have caused you.

She brought me coffee and cookies …

My intention was never to steal anything from you, but then I decided if I had to make this memorable for you, your trip to Paris then we should meet another day .. so I kept running and I knew you would not be able to keep up with me.. as I told you ..but I can also understand from your perspective that last night could have been a horrible dream for you …

I never slept! I was just thinking, why would a person like her, like to steal my purse I don’t know probably sometimes my stereotypes are being challenged by my naive nature. I am still thinking, why would you do something like that!

I don’t know Ammar! It’s probably, I am a bit adventurous and out of the box and you are not!

She spilled the beans and I was unable to pick em up!

I mean who stands outside of a club, lost in his memories, especially after covid time and when you are a tourist, you have to at least enjoy yourself!

Okay! Okay! stop judging me, I might not like clubs, I introspect a lot of things, I am talking to myself all the time, it’s very hard to explain my own thoughts to people .. like right now there is cogitation happening my mind … I meant (I wanted to explain myself easily, didn’t want to speak my mind)..

So, Your thoughts are trying to understand me?

Yeah! just trying to make sense out of this … and what to do next…

Next ?? ( she asked me out of curiosity )

I couldn’t tell her … I am thinking what am I gonna tell my friends and if the police tried to contact me again, what would I do… but I will figure it out!

I have got to go! when I was about to leave she said … (I thought you were different)

what do you mean? (took me by surprise, because it should have been what I might have said to her)…

I didn’t see a confused man, I saw a man who was more lively and attentive to his surroundings (Excuse me if my English is bad) she continued to explain… I felt different around you, i felt more around you … and I guess it’s just another reason to meet you here again .. so if you want to join me we can probably go outside.. I want to show you something!

And stop.. whatever you said…

Cogitation! ( I uttered )

I was reluctant from the inside, but I wanted to experience the thrill that she offered! I guess I wanted to hop on to a crazy ride and dive deep into this madness by cutting off my strings with sophistication and cogent!

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29 years




My 29 years on earth were interesting but under-rated and now I feel scared to step into my thirties. I travelled, became a teacher but then I got back to where I was. Unemployed, single and broke, because for me long-term planning is not attractive. People are married, some have kids, some immigrated to Europe, but I am still trying to find the bits and pieces that would complete my stability. Life seems like oblivion, a dream of realities that are un-achievable. No motivation or have I achieved everything that I wanted. I know its human dilemma, we always think about the good times, because no one wants to remember the bad moments when they are happy. They say we have books and manuals written for everything, books sent by GOD, and some written by wiser men. But they talk about groups, not individuals, people like me have manuals of their own. I thought sometimes to write a book full of my life experiences with others, what problems did I encountered when I was a teenager and then adult for my generations to come. But it will always fall short, life is never the same for everyone, it can happen good and bad, but it cannot happen likewise for everyone at the same time.

I always got 7th position until 8th class among 62 boys, I never felt any motivation to do well. Being lazy and irregular was my only good impression. But then a woman changed me, she told me manners and gave me motivation. I got better in my class because she used to bring me wisdom every day and I was afraid that it is not going to be the same. Then I lost her and lost my motivation too. Time passed but a ray of hope came and one day I found her name on a list with mine, she was looking to attend the same university but I shrug off my shoulders, thinking it is someone else. Then I saw her sitting behind me in the exam, she never whispered nor did I.  Just to get a single glimpse of her, I had to finish early and wait outside for her. My sight confirmed it was her but then I was afraid that these four years in the university, can go both wrong and right for us. I never felt that with anyone, she used to stand on my feet while dancing because she fell short. I understood, what does it mean to kiss someone, feeling someone so close by my heart, I can easily smell her soul.

Then again, a long pause in life took me to incredible adventures, I met people, understood them and understood their problems. I realise there is always someone, somewhere in the world, who is surrounded by more problems than me. Divorce, breakups, abuse, cause us depression and if it was all written to happen then we could have been happier by avoiding, forgiving and forgetting. I found someone again, far away from where I was born, on alien land she asked me to meet her in the hospital, having no understanding of the local language I went to look for her. Mingled with people, took a little bit of time to adjust and with flowers and chocolate that are my two companions or compatriots when I visit the sick, were by my side, listening to the song of light, I get so close to her, but she was frail and being operated so she could not extend any gestures.

Love is a taste, and my taste buds are no stranger to it. I fell in love with a girl when I was just 14 years old, the time was naïve and inappropriate, but she was young and enthralling about her beauty. The love affair went on and off, but there was nothing among us that could tie us stronger, so I let her go. She got married happily, but I did predict that this will not be for so long, a woman of liberation cannot live in confinement. The truth becomes reality and she got divorced and it was not easy for her to cope with the pain. Pain is felt true when weaknesses are targeted, and then identities are tested. She lost her identity, experienced fits, and was given electric shocks to remind of herself. Humans are not resilient when they tortured against their beliefs and even then she gains her consciousness and understood the grounds of reality. Being true to her self, she demanded my possession, but she wanted me to abandon my family. I had to decide if I would choose love over blood, and I am a coward when it comes to blood, I was unable to surrender against my own will. I decided the second time, she is not worthy. And she disappears in thin air, and I don’t see her coming again.

I always fell short of justice, whether it was love or family, my proposals were never fulfilled. As a child, I was a victim of abuse, my faults were little and less troubling. I hardly remember that I hurt someone in my childhood, but I remember those hard-ass beatings by my father that use to broke my small body, but with time I got accustomed to it. My father used to make little money, so every now my mother tortured me psychologically, bragging about the money and its importance and why a human should praise it. My love for fiscal accumulation started the day when my mother married my father. My mother was from a middle-class family but there is no justification, how she got married to him. Since all my father had was a shattering home, that I feared would someday fall upon us. My father lived his whole life with tools of carelessness and with ideas of impracticality. I heard stories of wisdom from him, but I never watched him once practising the same.

Stuck among my destitute one day I tried to kill myself in the bathroom because my mother was beating me continuously since it was my only wish that could come true. But the plan failed, I was not ready to feel the pain of death so I decided that I will leave my family.  One day, over a dispute among my parents at the dinner table, I stood and disappeared. I could not take any more, because our children came into the world without a purpose and our parents think us as a lost cause. I wandered on the strange streets with no acquaintance, looking for a purpose to my life, but I found misery and all I experienced out there was floundering. I realised I had no clue about my life, that’s why I am lost. I came back home to find the purpose with a lesson learnt that life is never without meaning and if I ever try to bring another soul in this life, then there should be a purpose, otherwise, its another body looking for a cause. Being broke was my lesson of human hunger and starvation. Having no money in pockets and having a lot of it, I have seen both the times, what I know is; I was never happy.

My outings in school were no tales of a champion, I never danced with geeks, nor I trained with precocity.  I always meddled in between, with little optimism about my future. But I realised that I can exchange wisdom if I am not gifted with it, then I will learn and practice. And then I experienced intuitions because parasites were growing in my brains. Those who were gifted felt short of their knowledge, since there motivation. To jolt my life, destiny fought me with both hands and with a bare-knuckle. I once fell down the roof my house, and the ladder down raging on my small body broke my right hand into pieces. Doctors make sure I don’t ditch the incident with a normal bruise, their incompetence left me with an abnormality. I cannot turn my right hand with 360 degrees, meaning I would fall short of one more ability. What about those, who have no legs to walk or run and no hand to write or eat. But being stubborn is in my blood if my parents were rude to my existence, then I was rude to my failures. My rudeness was my ally, it worked like a shield for me that was keeping me intact while I was facing failures. When I was knocked down it was my rude behaviour, that took those shots on the chin and made me resilient. I ignored the ill-times when I realised it can bring no good to the future. Being rude to my parents would have made me empty from inside, so I thought something else to be rude at.

There was one time, I had saved 10,000 Pakistani rupees in a million years by giving tuitions and by teaching English to people. A small-town guy like me who was saving every penny thought he could buy something for himself but then challenges came forth again, beating my front door like they bought my property. My father went ill, a heart attack, the tobacco he chewed whole life was trying to chew him now. The ambitions of pleasing myself were lost again at the cost of injections, prescriptions and tablets. I abandoned the pain again, let it rot, and let it understand that it had no place in my heart. What I was looking for was something stable, something that I can hold on to for a longer-term. I thought my traditions would provide me for me, so I hang on to that intuition. I decided I will follow the norm, go at a girl’s house and get married. My mother was insisting the same, so I decided in favour of that opinion. We want to a girl’s house, when she came to sit along, it felt like she was watching a horror movie. Then my Spidey senses were pounding upon the gates of negation. How could I not bow against them, I flew away from there, without doubting my mind, because that girl was screaming loud, that she does not give a fuck. 

My mother tongue is Urdu, Pakistan’s national language. Due to British colonialism, both Indians and Pakistani people try to become as efficient as they can while learning English, and especially at speaking. The upper class in Pakistan mostly speaks good English, the middle class, however, mixes it up with few words of English in a sentence of Urdu. Teachers gauge a student’s intellect based on a student’s English speaking power. Almost all of the presentations are given in English, even when there is no need to speak it in front of all native Urdu speaking individuals. Language is always the need of the moment, a tourist will always be happy to speak a local language because he knows that’s a comfortable mode of exchange. I understood that my English has to be good, not only good but I have to have an accent. I watched tons and tons of movies, learnt the dialogues, practised them, tried my accents in job interviews. I always felt the interviewee was influenced by the English speaking power, then I started writing because I hardly saw people writing passionately in my society. Wrote my first novel, it was fiction a story related to world war 2.

I got my first job not because I had an engineering degree but because I wrote furiously, I passed the test and interview because the interviewee read my book. I was the only person who got a job, just after the completion of the degree. But here, people are more concerned about their field jobs, for instance, if you are an engineer then you should be doing a job related to engineering. That’s a really silly concept, one should do a job where one should feel comfortable because we don’t learn much in bachelors, what we can learn is from our practical experience and so did I. I was doing like hard labour at my first job, management pushed me and I took it on the chin and worked harder and harder every other day. I went to work at 9 am came home at midnight. I saw people leaving the job just after their first day of training because they were not motivated like me and they probably did not have the burden to make money on their shoulders as I did. I was tough to nails, so did not give up and when I was leaving my job I was offered a much better salary and a management position but I left because it was not what I thought can be done continuously. When I left my first job, I was trained so I started working as a freelance writer and I was making good money from it.

I was watching a series, where the guy was trying hard to be a civil engineer but he was a teacher. When he started teaching he felt more comfortable, there was only one thing that I thought I might not be able to do in future and that was teaching. And then one of my friends, asked me that he needs an electronics engineer as a teacher, so I took that job and I realised the same that I like to tell people about my experiences and I like to teach them. I wanted the youth to grow and to become good leaders, I wanted to encourage them about their future. I started the Research and development department in the college and it was a success, students were involved in the RND and were working on different kinds of projects, that I assigned them. We won many competitions related to electronic projects, we proposed many viable solutions to the people to automate their lives. But, I was angry because I saw corrupt people there, who were not educated and who were just occupying their seats because of their political influence. I tried to inform various things about the upper management but no one was listening to me, but I was making more enemies, people were following me and people were watching my actions because I was fearless and I never stopped asking things about those people. Naturally, they want me out of the college, so I saw a huge slump in my salary, my salary was halved and I had no choice to leave the college, I left the college for one shift, but then the management ordered me to leave the college for both shifts. Many students were concerned about their final year projects, but I had no choice. Now I am 29 years old trying to figure out what should be my next move, now I think I should become an entrepreneur. So, To all those who are reading this now, life is not an easy task, so do justice by it and never falter by it as it comes forth with challenges.

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The introvert




Thunders apart the skies, the rain was raging into my memories. Sad stories of my past were battling within the circus of the mind. I have always walked on a rope with fear of falling, but this time I have lost all consciousness and I was about to fall. There were few hours left until dawn and then I will be sentenced to death. Orange jail uniform was tightening closing down on my body, and I want nothing but the independence, free will to walk out, an open mind to do what I want. But I was a captive within my mind. I was finding ways to break out from the jail, but whenever I tried to dig a hole there was insecurity and lack of confidence that put me again behind the bars. I was counting every second until my body is hanged and my soul runs free because I have lost this fight to my body, a body that never responded me in case of survival, a body that never backed me when I was lacking confidence, a body that perished when I was stuck in a problem. The jailer was recalling my official id: Stayrude2037 to ensure I would be ready at exact 6:00 am for my execution.

37th was my position out of 50 students, until 10th grade, since I was afraid to ask questions from teachers who scolded me. But did I ever try, the answer is no. I was questioning things but not more than I was questioning myself and not more than the consequences of my actions. Am I born to underachieve, that’s what crossed my mind until I lost everything dear to me. I saw people performing on stage, and the awards were handed over to them, never have I ever tried to be on the same stage, because the fear in my mind has consumed my morale and left me clueless. 20th was the time I realised and understood things as compared to those who easily managed to do things as far as their understanding capabilities are concerned. If in this world I was fit to be something was an inmate called “StayRude2037”. By this time, I have forgotten my name, since I would be better remembered at my 30th birthday as inmate “StayRude2037” rather than my name. Stamping me with the failures in life, when I start losing friends at an early age. My jokes made no sense, my personality had no upbeat about it. I merely laughed around someone, I merely had someone to share my tears with. In my thirties, I learn to get failed, but I never got up, the pile of failures has buried my dead body before I was even dead.

Time was getting closer, I was continuously reminded that I had no place to live among beings and I am no character to be granted a happy life on earth and I should be returned to God. So, that a better version of me could be sent to replace my entire being. And the time came, the jailer opened the lock of the cell, asked me to accompany him. He was sure, that I am satisfied with this end but deep down inside but I was not. Since I remember, I was seen as deliberately silent being, who contributed nothing towards society and often called a loner.  The jailed called my code, “StayRude2037” its time, you will be executed exactly at 6:00 am. I was asking my self what was my crime, he kept insisting me to move forward. Then I realised it’s the time to stop this for once and all, I asked him to help me run away. But he said I don’t know the code to the big gate, only you know it. I said you have jailed me; how can I know the code.

 He reminded, no it’s not my jail, I am merely a character in your mind that you have created yourself. Have I been doing this to myself the whole life, have I given this authority to others for judging me for who I am. Have I been jailed within my mind, this whole time and have never the courage to break the shackles and to run away? But, have I been the only one telling my self that I would never achieve my Goals. Yes! This is it, it was me who failed me. Therefore, it can only be me who will free my mind once in for all! By, this time I wore failures on my sleeve and I walked towards the big gate with a big heart, to win, not to lose and to run away leaving behind all the failures in the past. The Big gate in front of me was a large and humungous but it a small code is required to unlock it. I knew the code my whole life, but it was lack of confidence that stopped me to overcome these situations. Every time, the jailer called my id, it reminded me of my failures but it was the code to crack all the happiness I needed. So, I entered, “Stayrude2037” and then came the bright light vanishing all my miseries and burying them to the ground. I shrugged my failures and torn the piece of paper in my pocket that said, “You are an introvert, inmate “Stayrude2037”! So my advice to all of you never gets framed by the opinions of others and what they think of you and your personality. Try to break the shackles, because words like introvert are designed to hold you back down, so stay rude to your problems, not to people around you, stay rude to your miseries and fight them back, love your loved ones and used them as a force, stay rude and fight the bad in the world and be a force to reckon with.

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