Post # 14 - What drives a person over the edge?

I’m not a fan of Sushant Singh Rajput. In fact, I’ve not even seen any of his movies. And yet, the news of his death rattled me completely. What demons was he battling on his own? Demons so big and strong that they didn’t let him reach out to others? Didn’t he have anyone to talk to? A friend who could hold his hand and hear him out without passing judgement? Someone who could talk him into going for therapy? Wasn’t there anyone? In the endless contacts on his phone and friends on social media, was there no one to talk to? 

Mental illness is one of the most taboo subject in our society. What will your reaction be if your mother, father, sister, brother, spouse, child, friend, colleague told you that they’re suffering from depression? Will you listen or will you judge? Ask yourself this question. It is people like us, you and me, who fail to accept the symptoms of depression in our loved ones because how can any one we know be unhappy or heaven forbid, be ‘depressed’. 

Depression can be treated. It can be fixed. It doesn’t have to lead to suicide. The most important thing a person suffering from it needs, above all else, is for somebody to hear him out without judgement, prejudice or fear. And if you are that ‘somebody’ then I beg you to pay attention, show empathy and keep track. Maybe your follow-up might save the life of the person. 

I will turn to books for solace. Books on mental illness with happy endings and maybe some with not-so-happy ones. I’ll sign off with this inspirational quote from Matt Haig. 

“Depression is also smaller than you. Always, it is smaller than you, even when it feels vast. It operates within you, you do not operate within it. It may be a dark cloud passing across the sky but - if that is the metaphor - you are the sky.”

Image: Google

Post # 12 - 'The Girl Who Saved Christmas' filled me with hope to bursting point

Hope. It’s an emotion we all experience everyday. Or almost everyday. A simple Google search of this four letter word brought up many definitions/meanings.

“…a feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen.”

“ Hope is an optimistic state of mind that is based on an expectation of positive outcomes with respect to events and circumstances in one's life or the world at large.”

Never has the world collectively hoped for the same things. Hope that people suffering from the virus will recover. Hope that this virus will spare us, our loved ones, our country. Hope that the old ways of life and living will return soon. Hope is a powerful emotion. It is uplifting and maybe, who knows, magical too. 

Even though hope is a powerful feeling that carries a lot of positive connotations, it is a little hard to come by in this crazy time. Locked in our homes, away from our loved ones, living a life which we had only ever come across in books or movies - it is tough to feel hopeful. When ever I’ve found myself spiralling down into the ‘rabbit hole’, I have turned to books. No matter what my state of mind may be at a given time, I always believe that there is a right book which will help me, alleviate me, motivate me or fill me with gratitude and hope. 

I did find myself going a bit over the edge a few days back. There were the usual signs - agitation, a sinking feeling in the stomach, spurts of anger and a longing for things to be different. I knew I had to find my next read quickly and that, too, something which was buoyant and uplifting. While searching through my book shelves for the ‘right’ read, I picked up and put down many books - a collection of essays by Zadie Smith, Slaughterhouse 5 and even, The Hobbit. Just as I thought I’ll have to fall back on my usual book saviour, P.G. Wodehouse, I came across this lovely book which my niece had gifted me last year around Christmas and I instantly knew that this book was going to save me. 

This is the second book in the Christmas titles by Matt Haig. My very first book by Matt Haig was The Humans which I read only because it was a selection for our Karachi DWL Readers’ Club. Haig is not an ordinary writer though his writing might come across as simple. He is one of those writers who keep you glued to the story so that you just can’t help but finish his book. Also, I feel, there is an element of crazy in his work which has made me read other novels by him. Most of his books, even the ones based on vampires (The Radleys), are oozing with hope and good cheer. Writing, I think, is an outlet for Haig to deal with his own depression and anxiety. I’ve read his books in times of mild distress (A Boy called Christmas  - when I was trying to conceive. The Radleys - during my pregnancy and The Girl who saved Christmas - now) and they’ve always brought a smile to my face. It sounds a bit cheesy but trust me, his writing has the power to improve one’s mood unless you’re a total snob about books. 

Happy, or something close to it, is what we need to be at the moment as the world stands at the brink of collapse and everyone hopes for a miracle. A miracle is what the ten year old Amelia Wishart, the protagonist, wished and hoped for too. Her mother died on Christmas eve and she was taken, by force, to a workhouse. Alone, orphaned and friendless, her only hope was Father Christmas. Unfortunately, Elfhelm, where Father Christmas lived amongst the elves, was facing a crisis too. Trolls attacked the elf town on Christmas eve, even though they had agreed on a peace treaty (sound familiar?) and Christmas had to be cancelled. Though Father Christmas got Amelia’s letter and that of many other children, he didn’t possess magic, toys and the sleigh to carry out his job. With Father Christmas thus restrained, Amelia’s wish remained unfulfilled and she stopped believing in magic, in goodness and even in Father Christmas.

“She realised that this world, and everything in it, belonged to men. Except Queen Victoria. The only way to be female in this world, Amelia thought angrily, was to have a crown on your head. Because really the world was run by men. Cruel, unthinking men who didn’t and would never care about the wishes and hopes of a ten-year-old girl like her. Men like Officer Pry. Men like Mr. Creeper. Men who thought they were doing good but who were really doing harm. And yes, even Father Christmas. Yes, especially him. Father Christmas had made children believe in magic when actually a lot of life was very unmagical.”

Hope has a strange, resilient power. Even if a smidgen of it exists in the world, it can make a difference. Don’t lose hope is a phrase oft repeated. Sometimes it might sound hollow and superficial but it is anything but that. Things do work out for the better even if they take some time. In Amelia’s case, it took an entire year for her life to turn around. For it was only after a year that Father Christmas was able to deliver toys to the children around the world on Christmas Eve and Amelia was first on his list. However, he didn’t know the change in her circumstances and address (since there wasn’t any Google in London during Victorian Times) and thus had to conduct an almost door-to-door search for Amelia. He had quite an adventure of it too as he met the young Queen Victoria (owing to his sleigh crashing through the window of her room in Buckingham Palace) and a young Charles Dickens. In fact, it was Father Christmas who suggested that Dickens write a book on Christmas. Fancy that!

Charles Dickens and Father Christmas

‘I have been sitting upstairs at my desk every day for five weeks trying to think of a new story, but my mind is barren and empty. I’ve been getting the mobs. People liked my last story a lot and now I worry I will never be able to write another. Presently, my mind is as foggy as the River Thames in March. I have no idea what to write about next. 

Father Christmas smiled. ‘Christmas! You should write about Christmas!’

‘But it takes me months to write a book. How could I write about Christmas in, say, March?’

‘Christmas isn’t a date, Mr.Dickens. It’s a feeling.’

Father Christmas saw the writer’s eyes light up like windows at night. ‘A Christmas story? That’s not such a bad idea!’

What follows after these two encounters is some hard core action which I’ll leave the reader to discover himself/herself.

This book has everything to uplift one’s mood. Christmas and all the joy it brings is, indeed, a feeling because even though it’s April, I felt all warm and fuzzy with hope and joy. Another uplifting feature of the book are the strong female characters. Amelia, who never gave up hope that she will escape from the workhouse, with or without outside help. Mary, the kind woman at the workhouse who added sugar into the food or ‘slop’ to make it a bit better for the young kids who worked there. The young Queen Victoria who extended all her help to Father Christmas although he crashed into her room with reindeers in the middle of the night. But humans aren’t the only impressive characters in the story. There is the elf Noosh who is a doting mother, a journalist and a conscientious citizen. Also the Truth Pixie who always tells the truth no matter what the consequences and helps Noosh uncover some interesting facts about the Troll attack on Elfhelm. 

Books have power. Some more than others. This isn’t a book that will change your beliefs or cause a revolution or make you start believing in magic. What it might do, like it did for me, is uplift your mood. It might also make you realise that even though sometimes all hell breaks loose, things do get back to normal (in some cases, even better than normal). It just takes some time. The important thing is not to lose hope and remember that there is no impossible. 

Post # 11 - Missing Routine Life? You're not alone.

How many of us have not complained, over the years, about our boring routine lives? Almost all of us. We’ve lamented over how our lives are like clockwork - that we’re just slaves to the clock and hardly ever get time to ourselves. Almost all of us have wished, at some point or the other to press the pause button on our busy schedule. Be careful what you wish for, I’ll say, for someone has been listening and has pressed the pause button for us. 

I stepped out of the house some days back to buy groceries and the sight was unnerving and disturbing, to say the least. Shops closed, roads deserted, and hardly anyone around. Those who were out and about were shielded behind a mask and maintaining a distance of 3-4 feet. In a city where finding parking is next to impossible there is, now, ample parking space but no cars. We have accepted this new mode of lifestyle, albeit reluctantly, as our current reality and are adapting ourselves accordingly. Where once thermometers were used to check for fever only in the hospitals, they are now being used everywhere, including outside Agha's supermarket. 

Will things ever be the same again? 

This is the one question which is, I’m sure, haunting all humanity. Will things ever be the same again? How will we all emerge from this epidemic? Bruised, yes, but bitter? Or grateful, humble and more tolerant? Only time will tell. And at the moment, we have a lot of time on our hands.

So it goes. 

Reflect. Be kind. Read. Laugh. Smile. Express gratitude. Pray. Whatever you do, don't lose hope. 

Post # 8 - COVID-19 and Us

The world is at a standstill. As I write this, Karachi is also experiencing a partial shutdown. Schools, most offices, public spaces, malls, restaurants, gyms are all closed. Only grocery stores and pharmacies are open. It is surreal, yes, but also scary on many levels. Firstly there is the fear that I’ve met someone recently who had the virus but didn’t show any symptoms. Secondly, when will it end? Thirdly and most importantly, how will it end? Watching the news has now, more than ever, become a nightmare as reports come from all corners of the world of numbers and statistics. Panic buying and hoarding has started across the world including Karachi. On a lighter note, we have run out of hand sanitisers but we still have ample toilet paper!

Our local government has taken some very strong measures and right now, I think, the Sind Chief Minister is probably making the most intelligent decisions regarding preventive measures. A lot of us, too, were in denial. We were convinced that just washing hands, drinking ample fluids and gargling will help us through this while we go about our regular life. I started raising the alarm ten days back about social distancing in my immediate family and friends circle but I wasn’t taken seriously. Thankfully my hue and cry did make them consult family doctors and many events in our immediate and extended family were cancelled/postponed. I’m hardly stepping out of the house but when I do, I carry a spray bottle full of a mixture of water and Dettol. I’m disinfecting everything which comes in the house. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. I have two different age extremes in the house - my elderly in-laws and my 2.7 yo twins. I might start permanently smelling of Dettol after all this is over. 

When will all this be over? When will the world heave a sigh of relief and go back to normal life? Will we ever be able to go back to living as we did before this virus hit us and turned our world topsy turvy? I think there will be a paradigm shift as far as our basic lifestyle is concerned. Or will we go back to our lives in the same manner pretending all this was just a bad dream? 

Building a virus free lego city with
friendly dinosaurs!

In an ideal world, people will turn to books in this difficult time and find solace in stories. They will realise that books provide the perfect escape, even momentarily, from the dreariness and morbidity of being in lockdown. They will read to each other and talk about their most or least favourite books. They’ll go through their bookshelves and find hidden gems which they had bought but never read due to lack of time. They will develop an appreciation for the philosophy of bookworms - with a world full of so many incredible books, who needs people all the time? In an ideal world, yes, that might just happen. 

Act responsibly. Wash your hands. Maintain social distance. Stay home and read a  book. Be grateful for your health and that of your loved ones. Say a prayer for the doctors and nurses who are at the frontline and fighting this virus all over the world. Most importantly, don’t forget to wash your hands. 

2019 - The End

It's that time of the year when we make resolutions and revisit the various highs and lows of 2019 that we collectively, and individually, experienced. It’s also that time of the year when a gazillion posts about how you can become a 'better' person fill up the internet and Facebook starts sending everyone their respective 'highlights of the year'. Which makes the end of the year a little more overwhelming than it already is or needs to be. 

How was 2019 on the beanbag?

I walked into the new year with an armful of resolutions, a self-help book (which I still haven’t finished) and a Google sheet. This sheet became something out of a horror story after a couple of months. The thought of this daily accountability, though very exciting at first, soon became a nightmare. Even though it did help me get into the habit of performing some tasks, there were others I didn’t or couldn’t do every day and the sight of these incomplete tasks made me loathe the sheet. So I abandoned it and decided to focus on the big and some not so big goals I had set for the year.

The one big learning I’ve come away with from this goal setting process is that achieving anything requires resilience and consistency. No matter what the world throws at you, you’ve got to stick to your path. If you stray from your path, the big bad wolf will come after you and we know what he wants. I was able to do some things this year which I had not thought possible. At the same time, there were some other things which I failed at miserably. Does that make 2019 a bad year? Not at all. On the contrary, it was a year full of learnings and personal discoveries. 

Major takeaways from 2019:

1. Read for ten minutes everyday. There is no maximum limit.

2. Talk to Allah. There is no better meditation than prayer. 

3. Don’t be afraid of the world. Write, perform, create - on YOUR terms. 

4. Take more risks, Farheen! Be bold and make a statement. Whether it be through your attire or your posts on social media platforms. Get moving girl!

5. Wear more saris. Investing in lawn suits is ridiculous.

6. Spend quality time with the twins. In a couple of years they’ll be off to university and then I’ll miss not being with them. 

7. Take out the DSLR. Take pictures. Find beauty in ordinary things. Make an effort. You’ve done it before.

8. Write the twins’ journal regularly. Write in your own journal regularly. 

9. Be kind. Be patient. Be kind. Be patient. 

10. Focus on your health. Do what makes you happy and content but do it diligently and sincerely. 

Signing 2019 off with some words of wisdom from my favourite bear, Winnie the Pooh. "Don't underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear and not bothering".


Note: Some of the highlights of 2019 on the beanbag. You can read about them here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. Whew!

Photograph: I took this pic of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet at the Flower Dome in Singapore during our visit in Nov-Dec 2019. 

Post # 29 - The Real Monsters aren't wearing Costumes

I recently re-read George Orwell’s 1984. It wasn’t an easy read and maybe I might never have re-read it had it not been the October selection for the DWL Karachi Readers’ Club which I moderate. If you’ve read it you’ll immediately understand why it’s a difficult read. It is a bleak, dark book which depicts the worst in all of us. It makes you cringe with fear and doubt because of the one question that seems to scream out from every page - what if this happened to me?

The book covers torture in detail and though nothing gruesome is described, there is enough to make you wonder what happened to the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay. One of the torture methods described in the book is taking prisoners to a place called Room 101. Here the prisoners are made to face and experience their worst fears. It might be the fear of drowning, of fire, of starvation or like in our protagonist’s case, a fear of rats. The book shows how a human being is willing to go to any length, is willing to betray anyone, is even willing to have his family slaughtered rather than face his/her worst fears. 

My worst fear, for the longest of time, was numbers. Any mention of math froze me. Studying math was my worst nightmare. Math exams felt like facing a shooting squad. Discussing the paper afterwards felt nothing short of an interrogation. I think if I was taken to Room 101 during my student life, I’d have come face to face with complex mathematical equations. 

Fear can be of anything. Growing up another fear I had was of the video camera. This was during the 90s when mobile phones existed only in books or movies and the handy-cam was all the rage. My cousins had one and their favourite thing was not just to make a movie of get togethers but also to immediately connect the camera to the television and make everyone watch it. I was never photogenic and a combination of bad skin, frizzy hair and ill fitting clothes made viewing myself on a large screen even worse. When the handy-cam used to come out at family gatherings I tried to avoid it as much as possible, ducking into another room or covering my face with a book or a newspaper. I never fully escaped it though. Big Brother always managed to get me. 

I was never afraid of the dark or of sinister creatures hiding under my bed. I was afraid of being judged and criticised. I was afraid of sharing my writings - both prose and poetry with others and this fear is still there. For the longest time I was afraid of not blending in with the majority.

Unlike vampires, witches, zombies, ghouls or banshees, these are solid fears. These fears can actually shape us and if not checked, can define us. Now my biggest fear is parenthood. Whether I’m doing right by my children and being a good mother to them? It’s very easy to tell them the boogie man is coming if they mis-behave but inculcating fear into them of other creatures who are different can plant a seed of distrust which can snowball into something more complex as they grow older. My daughter is already a bit scared of the dark - I don’t know how it happened but it has and now I have to, somehow, help her overcome it. She isn’t afraid of dogs. Nor is her brother. And the way they play and run after our pet cockatiel makes us worry about the safety of the poor bird!

Fear is not a bad thing as long as it doesn’t take over our lives. Being afraid isn’t a handicap as long as you have the courage to address that fear and overcome it. And what I’ve realised is that one cannot live a wholesome life if there is a fear of failure or judgment haunting us at each step. So, this halloween, tell all the scary monsters to go away. 

Post # 22 - giving up, starting over

The struggle is real. 

This year I had decided to make some changes. You’ve heard this before but I’m going to put it out there AGAIN. I’ve taken some steps towards change but I still feel that I need to do more. One of the things I’ve done, which I never did before..like ever, is to read some good self-help books. The one I’m reading currently is Brene’ Brown’s Rising Strong and if you’re wondering why I’m taking SO long to read it (since I mentioned it here on the blog way back in March) - it’s because I’m afraid. At the end of each chapter there is a bit of a summary which not only helps to outline the chapter but also makes one think of how it all applies to their life. When I finished the first few chapters, I sat down and went through the ‘Owning the Story’ exercise. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Walking into my story, accepting all the good, bad and the ugly with honesty, wholeheartedness and a desire to change required courage. 

So, has the change started? 

The one thing I’ve come to realise is how much we overuse the word, change. It isn’t easy to bring about change when you’re living a regular lifestyle. If you have a set routine and you want to bring about ‘changes’, it requires much more work and motivation than say a major change like moving houses, or starting a new job/school, or starting over after losing a loved one. In these instances people around you are willing to give you space to settle into the change. But bringing about simple changes in your routine in a house which is functioning in a certain way is a task even Hercules would have found daunting! 

Does that mean I can never bring about the change I want?

No. It just means a) I have to work harder to implement the change and b) once I can bring about the change and it produces certain desired results, others will also respect the change and be willing to accommodate. 

Simple, right? 

Not exactly. There is nothing simple when it comes to bringing about change. It needs effort and guts and willpower and a whole lot of gritting teeth and losing sleep. It also requires a lot of self-love and kindness because there are no instant results and at each step of this journey I need to be aware and accepting of my story. The past one, the present one and the future one I hope to create.

 

Rising Strong - Brené Brown

Image: Google 

Post # 21 - The point of it all

Seriously, what’s the point of it all?

I ask myself this question now and then. It’s a question which indicates that I’m going through an existential crisis. Which is something a lot of us go through several times in our lifespan (if anyone tells you otherwise they’re either lying or they don’t know that what they’re going through or went through is known as an existential crisis). 

I’ve been re-reading one of my favourite novels by Nick Hornby - Juliet, Naked. The last time I read it was in 2010 and I wasn’t going through any major soul-searching dilemmas at that time so I had forgotten that this novel screamed existential crisis at almost every other page. 

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great book, probably one of his best novels. I loved re-reading it but what I had missed the first time was a) that this was a coming of age story but of adults which kind of translates as mid-life crisis and b) the protagonist, a woman, was roughly the same age as I am now when she started questioning where the last fifteen years of her life went. Her questioning brought to the surface some tough questions of my own life and doings which eventually culminated into this one observation/question:

What’s the point of it all?

I’m at a strange place in my life. I want to write but am afraid of it. Not of the hard work involved but of exposing my vulnerabilities. It takes a lot of courage to lay yourself bare which is something I realised and took inspiration from when I read the book, It’s Not About the Burqa. This collection of essays from female British Muslim authors was very inspiring. Some of the stories were so, so personal and painful yet the authors penned them down and shared them with the world. Is writing a blog everyday also something like that? No, not really. Especially when everyday you check your site and realise, with a sinking heart, that nobody is interested in your writing. Which brings us back to the original question.

Seriously, what’s the point of it all?

I know this sounds a bit like a very sad cry for help but it isn’t that at all. Okay, maybe just a bit. And in case you feel like sending me a nice email or leaving a sweet comment, please feel free to do it. Now is a good time. NOW is a very good time. 

[This is post no. 3 of my #dailyJuly series on the beanbag].

Post # 17 - Motivation is a bitch

It’s not easy to find motivation. Or to remain motivated. The only thing that makes it appear every single day is the strong desire inside you, deep down, to change your life. 

I’m going to share a mini-story here. Of a time when I did find motivation. When the desire to change my life was so strong that I literally made things happen that nobody ever thought me capable of. I still remember sitting at the canteen at my college in Pindi and sharing a naan samosa with a close friend. I had turned to her and said, ‘You know, next time this year, I’ll be in Karachi studying at IBA’. She made an encouraging comment but later admitted, after I had made it into IBA, that she never thought I’d be able to do it. But I did. And it took a lot of hard work. 

Sometimes when I look back at that summer when I was preparing for the IBA test, I go into shock. I followed a very strict time table. I woke up at Fajr and and I still remember how when a part of me wanted to go back to sleep, another part, the motivated one, would force me to get up and sit down to study. I’d use timers for breaks and timers for studying. I was living at my grandparents house and distractions were always knocking at my door but I had developed the strength to keep them out. I worked so hard that there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I’ll not make it. 

And I didn’t. Not make it. I made it and realised after a few months that it was probably the worst decision of my life. But that is another story for another post. What I’m saying is that after that one summer, I haven’t been able to recreate that same level of dedication and motivation for any other activity. Maybe once when I did that workshop while I was working in 2008. That was also a life changing moment but another life changing moment happened at the same time and the latter completely overshadowed the former. 

I have a supporting husband and incredibly supportive in-laws. Why am I not able to make it happen? There are three things I want to do this year. Write. Yoga. Makeup. Why is it so difficult to do it? What’s stopping me? June is almost at an end and if I don’t make the changes now, I’d never be able to end the year on a different note.

So am I going to keep sleeping and hope motivation will come knocking at my door or am I going to pull it out of the rabbit hole and bring about the change I want to see? 

The question is, how badly do I want this change? Only time will tell. 

Post # 15 - So, what do you do?

I hate this question. I’ve always hated this question. Its prequel is the question we’re asked during childhood and our teens - so what do you want to be when you grow up? I hated this question too. I realised, soon, that whatever I’ll say won’t be the right answer. No matter what I decide to become, everyone will have an opinion on it and growing up I found it very difficult to find support for pursuing a career in fashion photography and journalism.

Anyways let's fast forward to the present. Going to new places and meeting strangers makes me anxious because at some point, this question always comes up. Almost everyone expects you to state your profession and it can become a bit tricky when you don’t have one. 

I’ve had this problem time and again. I feel a knot in my stomach and my voice takes on a defensive note when I’m asked this question. Why? Because I know that my long winded answer will be judged by the other person. That if I say I’m a mother of twins who reads, writes and dabbles a bit in makeup and yoga, the other person will either a) have a glazed look in his/her eyes before I’ve even finished my sentence, b) smile and say nice meeting you before quickly moving onto the next person or c) immediately start talking to my actor husband about his latest project. 

In this day and age, we need labels. Why? Because everyone puts us in a box according to what we tell them about us. The labelling is done for future reference and if our label isn’t worthy enough, we are easily discarded. I’ve become more and more dependent on others now when I go to a new gathering. I use friends/hubby dear/family as a crutch with strangers because I know that if linked with them, I’ll be put in a box worthy of attention. Even writing this is making me sick. But it’s the truth - over the past few years I’ve really struggled with my self image and thus, self-worth. The real question is, who is responsible for it? Society’s limited standards or my own demons? 

Today, while sitting with a group of strangers at iftar, I faced the same question. I gave a confused reply but I did mention what I do ( work at Desi Writers’ Lounge) and write (even if it’s just blogging). Then the topic veered to my twins and of course, once the twins come in the conversation, they overshadow everything! The two women I was in conversation with were both accomplished working women and golfers. In fact, one of them had a son who was a very good golfer at the young age of 14. When I asked how he manages to balance school and golf, the older lady replied, quite forcefully, it’s all about passion. If you’re passionate about something, you will find a way.

And a lightbulb came on. It’s not important to have a designation but it’s important to have a passion in life and see it through. I can be anything I want to be but if I don’t have a passion for it, a drive to be the best at it and see it through, I’m just going to be a nobody. Even if I start working in an office and get a designation, if my heart isn’t in it I’ll not be excited to talk about it. If I’m passionate about writing, makeup and yoga and those are the things I want to be identified with, I need to work on them and own them. For by owning them will I excel in them and be proud to say them out loud. To complete strangers. To everyone.

So, what do I do? I write at beanbagtales.blogspot.com. I dabble in makeup and and am thinking of taking it up as a career soon and I work at Desi Writers’ Lounge, a stellar organization which promotes new writing from South Asia and the diaspora. I run their book club. Come and check us out every last Friday of the month at Liberty Books next to BBQ Tonite.

And if you’re among the a, b or c categories mentioned above, I’m not interested in talking to you anyways.


Image: Google

Post # 14 - hania aamir's instagram post on acne made me so happy

Recently, the actress Hania Aamir posted pictures of herself with acne. It was brave of her. Actually, it was super brave of her and I applaud her for her courage. In this day and age of Instagram perfection, it’s not easy to show one’s flaws, especially if you’re in the entertainment industry. Acne can happen to anyone. It’s just that no one, especially on social media, wants to talk about it. Nobody wants to show it. All we ever see of influencers or celebrities are picture perfect, air brushed, photoshopped images with perfect skin and hair. And seeing such images everywhere when we aren’t perfect can really be debilitating. 

I grew up with acne. It started in my teenage years and continued into my early twenties. Whenever I complained to my mother/grandmother/friends/older cousins I was told that it’s hormonal change and there is nothing I can do about it. Wrong. I could have done something about it but this was the pre-Google/You Tube age (yes, I’m ancient!) and all I had access to was home remedies. 

One of these home remedies absolutely destroyed my skin. So I had a beloved Uncle who dabbled in homeopathic medicine and I begged him to give me something that would cure my acne. He told me of a home made concoction which included Stillman’s freckle cream, calamine lotion and something else. I was supposed to put it overnight and then wait for the magic to work. I did as I was told and in a couple of days I had the most horrific outbreak of acne on my forehead. Pimples covered every square inch of it. I was 20 or 21 and I had the worst possible acne ever. The worst. Seeing is believing. And I believe I have a picture of it too but I'm not sure that even after all these years, I'm brave enough to share it. 

The early twenties is a difficult time in one’s life. You’ve just stepped out of your protective teenage years and are trying to make sense of the world around you and your place in it. The last thing you need is a face full of acne, a drab wardrobe and frizzy hair. When I look back at that Farheen, I’m filled with so much love for her. Nobody really took my acne seriously. Not even the dermatologist. When I went back to Pindi for my summer holidays (my father was posted there during my first two years in uni) I was adamant to see a doctor. I went to this famous doctor at CMH who was supposedly the best dermatologist in town. When I went inside and told her my problem she, instead of being sympathetic and helpful, looked annoyed. I guess fixing patients with major skin ailments had made her take a very sorry view of acne. She prescribed me…wait for it…calamine lotion! I’ve also been prescribed steroids and birth control pills. I never tried any of them on my skin.

I suffered from low self-esteem during my teenage years and in my early twenties. It wasn’t that I was surrounded by perfect looking girls but let’s just say I knew my shortcomings. And acne was one of them. Frizzy hair can be tamed by a good blow-dry. Imperfect teeth can be hidden by keeping the mouth shut. But acne, there is no escape from it. It is there on your face like a stamp. Like a permanent ugly tattoo which you can’t do anything about. You can see the sympathy or at times, disgust in the eyes of others when they look at you. But what is the absolute worst is facing yourself in the mirror everyday. 

I no longer have terrible acne thanks to my wonderful dermatologist who I met when I was 27 years old. His treatment saved my skin and made me so happy. I still get jittery when I see a pimple rearing its ugly head. However, I’ve learned to live with the occasional breakouts and with the Korean skin care method that I’ve been doing since September last year, I’ve been pretty acne free. But posting pictures of myself with acne was and maybe is still a big no-no. And that is why I found Hania’s post so courageous. What also endeared her post to me was how relieved it must have made young girls who follow her on social media and might be suffering from the same problem. 

Acne happens to most of us. It’s not something which can’t be cured but it’s also not something which won’t disappear with time and the correct treatment. Having acne is alright. It doesn’t change who you are as a person. You have the right to dress up, apply make-up, go out and have fun even if your face has a few yellow pimples or is red and blotchy. Don’t let skin come in the way of life. Acne can be fixed. You can stop acne from coming back but you can’t stop time. Maybe I wasn’t the best I could be because just when I thought I was invincible, I’d see my reflection somewhere. But in all honesty, I didn’t let it come in the way of having fun. And I was lucky there weren’t smart phones at that time (yes, I am that ancient!) - it’s always so easy to dispose off physical photographs!

Post # 8 - embracing vulnerability, finding courage

If you're familiar with my blogs or know me in person, you'll know that I've always struggled with my writing. The problem was not with the stories or essays I wanted to write. The problem was my approach to it. Whenever I sat down to write, before putting down even one word on the blank screen or paper, I'd build a fort around me. A fort with strong walls and a moat with blood thirsty alligators. The purpose of this fort was to ensure that my vulnerability remained behind walls and did not creep into my words. 

The more I stayed away from writing, the stronger this fort became. And I never tried to destroy it because I was afraid. There was this deep rooted fear inside me of what might happen if I let my vulnerability leave the fort. This fear has not come overnight but has developed over years and years. Once I started thinking on this, incidents from my life started playing like a film reel, showing me in progression how the seeds of this fear were planted.

What made me started thinking about this after all these years? It was a talk by the famous American researcher-storyteller, Brené Brown, which suddenly rung a bell. It was some months back when I, quite by accident, came across her Ted Talk titled, The Power of Vulnerability. It was the title that caught my attention and then what she said left me in shock. It felt as if she was talking to me. Just me. 

Before I go any further let me clarify that I'm one of those people who doesn't read self-help books. If a friend recommended a self-help book, I'd make a face and proudly proclaim that 'I-don't-read-such-books'. But over the years, cracks have started to come in the facade of the fort and when I heard Brené Brown talk, I knew I'd found the right person.

Vulnerability, according to her, is the birthplace of creativity. The one thing she said that really resonated with me was, 'tell the story of who you are with your whole heart'. 

How can you tell YOUR story with your WHOLE heart when you've built walls around you? And trust me, it isn't easy to break down the walls and let yourself be seen. It took me a few months to actually trust her words and destroy the fort. Even now, as I write this, a few remnants of the fort still remain, but I've managed to let my vulnerability escape and let it come through.

So, from today, I'll like to tell my story with my whole heart. I don't know if it will resonate with anyone. I don't know if it'll make an impact in the life of someone. What I do know is that I need to tell my story. But more than that, I want to tell my story.