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 # 28 - Finding Your Story

We start weaving our stories the very day someone asks us, what do you want to be when you grow up? Growing up, this was my least favourite question (read an earlier post I wrote here). No matter what answer I gave, nothing seemed to please the grown ups. I always wanted to be a writer but when I used to say it out loud the usual response was yes, that’s nice but what is it that you want to do when you GROW UP? Their complete disregard of my writing ambitions confused me. It made me feel inadequate and somehow in the wrong. So I changed writer to scientist. At five years of age I had no real idea of what a scientist does except a  vague notion that he/she goes into space. The answer worked and the grown ups, except for some annoying ones who pressed me for more details, were generally impressed or amused or both. 

Our environment often starts killing our story before we even get around to writing it. 

Here’s my story. I loved to read and write. At age six or maybe seven, I was creating my own stories and telling them to whoever cared to listen. I went everywhere with a bag, an old Saudi airline one, with my stash of books and stationery items. If we were visiting a house without kids our age, I usually sat in a corner of the room (under my mother’s eye of course) and busied myself with the contents of my bag. Sometimes, I wish I could do the same even now!

I grew up in the 80s in a regular Pakistani household. At that time the focus was only on studying, getting good grades and choosing a rewarding profession. That reading and writing could become a profession was something nobody thought of, least of all me. Instead of being proud of my creative endeavours, I was mostly ashamed of them. Reading and writing was all very good but if you barely passed in the math exam in grade 8th, nothing else mattered. I know it’s important to get good grades in math but how come nobody berates a math genius for being below average at writing stories? 

Stories aren’t important. Math is. 

Which is why I never showed the novel I had completed in grade 8th to anyone. I was ashamed of it. I didn’t make a stand and say, so what if I barely cleared the math exam - I’ve written this novel. I’ve created something. But I was afraid. I didn’t have the courage at age thirteen to talk about this beautiful story I had written. Instead I destroyed it, page by page in the small pond in our backyard. 

We can’t write our stories in isolation. We also can’t write our stories if we’re governed by fear of being judged and shunned. Most of us never get to write our stories, our way - we just follow a socially approved narrative. 

Which is why I didn’t fight against all odds and become the writer I wanted to be. I was always afraid to be a non-conformist. I was afraid of doing something which might generate comment. For the longest time my greatest fear was not of failure but of others. It is still there because such fears are hard to get rid of but its impact on my life is almost negligible, thanks to the love and support of my husband (who never really concerns himself much with the opinion of others!)

But growing up there weren’t many people who were willing to allow me this leverage. I followed a very traditional academic path and finally graduated from one of the top business schools of Pakistan. Even during my time there I dreamt of working as a journalist or a writer. Immediately after graduation I got a chance to work with an amazing editor for a fashion magazine. And you know what I did? I walked away. All the voices around me kept saying things like, you’ll work for such a small sum in a magazine place? With this degree you’re going to just sit in an office and write articles? Will they be providing pick and drop? I got a chance to re-write my story and I screwed it. 

But life works in mysterious ways. Even when we think we’ve reached a dead end, it gives us another chance to re-write our story. 

Are we ever in control of our story? My answer is yes, we are always in control of our stories. Even if external factors create situations which aren’t to our liking or which tend to make us deviate from our plot line, we can still be in control of certain aspects of our story. We can choose to be the hero of our tale or we can choose to be the victim. The latter role means we’ve surrendered our story to the powers that be. So many of us who choose to be the victims of our tales end up empty from the inside - never living to our fullest potential. I know it because I’ve succumbed to playing the victim card. It’s a miserable state and while in it, I did lose control of my story. So how did I regain control of my story and come back in the driving seat? The answer is simple. I started contemplating on my mortality. 

There is nothing which shakes you to your very core than the thought of death. 

Me =Writer. Reader. Traveller. Flower lover. Photographer. 

We all have to die one day and we all assume it’s sometime in the distant future. But death doesn’t work that way. And when you start thinking in this manner, the layers of doubt start to peel off. You dig out your superhero costume from the corner of your inner being and start living your life on your terms. At least that’s what I’m doing at the moment. I’m re-writing my story once again. It’s arduous and daunting but it’s also very liberating and fulfilling. And that’s how life should be.

Own your story. All of it. The good parts, the regrets, the achievements, the failures - embrace them all. Forget about what the world thinks of you, how do YOU perceive yourself? What is the role you’re playing in your own story? Are you the victim or the hero? Above all, be honest with yourself. Only then you’ll be able to change your narrative. And if you’re able to change your narrative and re-write your story, you can change your life. You really can. 

Post # 26 - Show and Tell

Aren’t our lives all about showing and telling? 

This week the twins had to take their favourite toys for ‘show and tell’ to school. I found it very amusing because both N and Z don’t have a favourite toy as such. They have a few favourite books but those, too, keep changing every day if not every couple of hours. They never really warmed up to stuff toys or action figures (not yet!) and there isn’t any toy as such that they can’t live without. I did send them along with one toy each (and tried to impress upon them the night before how much they love that toy) but as expected, they didn’t say a word about their respective toy to their class mates! Toddlers are little people with a mind of their own.

Wait, is this the beginning of a lifetime of show and tell? It might sound a bit crazy but seriously, what are our lives all about? Everything we do - the way we dress, talk, the accessories we have, the cars we drive, the clubs we belong to - they all tell a story about us. They are silent markers of who we are in the world. They help us to create a perception of perfection and happiness without revealing too many details of our lives. 

Social media, though, has totally changed how we view others. Now we don’t even have to step out of the house to show and tell. All we need is a camera, some lights and a decent backdrop to create a perception. The internet has allowed us to step away from reality and create an alternate world. A world which might not always be based on truth but which others out there might be taking to be true for us all the time. Putting perfect family pictures of holidays, weddings, birthday celebrations, work achievements on Instagram and Facebook helps us to show others the so- called perfect lives we are leading. We show and tell what we want to. We hide the imperfections, the daily disappointments, the mundane realities of our lives and only highlight the very best. 

What’s wrong with that, you might ask? We have a right to show and tell what we want to, don’t we? Yes, but in doing so haven’t we all become narcissists or even worse, Dorian Gray? Which is disturbing at so many levels. Let’s take our toddler class as an example. Your child might take a simple dinosaur  - the plastic ones which don’t do much but stand on the floor - while another kid might bring some really fancy toy. How is your child going to feel about it? Isn’t he or she going to come back and say, I want that toy or can you please buy me something nice for my next show and tell? 

And before you give me a lecture on how to raise kids who are above all this material mumbo jumbo, think about yourself. Take a moment and tell me when was the last time you scrolled through the net - Instagram, Facebook or whatever else and didn’t go, I want to buy that or I wish I had that?

Showing and telling, that’s what life is about. It’s up to us to decide what we want to show and how we want to tell our story, if we want to that is. Or maybe Calvin is right, 'Everybody wants the same old thing.'

Images: Google

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 # 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 # 9 - The cause and effect phenomenon

We are all familiar with the cause and effect equation. Certain actions lead to certain effects. 

Eating too much (cause) = weight gain (effect)

Smoking = lung cancer

Drunk driving = accidents

It's quite simple, isn't it? Your action creates an impact, not just in your life but in that of those around you also. If you look up the phrase cause and effect, you'll come across this definition:

Cause and effect is a relationship between events or things, where one is the result of the other or others. 

The problem with us is that we only apply this principle to a catastrophe. We never think how much this principle governs our everyday lives. Every word we utter is powerful and has an impact. Our words, our expressions, even our tone can create a ripple effect in the lives of those around us. And this effect can be both positive or negative. Yet, we never really pay attention to this as we go about our everyday lives. 

I was like that. It was in ninth grade when my bestie told me (and only a BFF can and should do this) that girls in our grade had developed a dislike for me because I was very sarcastic. Especially when I played a team sport. Thus, I was one of the last people to be selected in the team. Not because  I didn't play well but because my constant criticism of my fellow team mates had a negative effect on everyone. I was shocked. I had never imagined that the comments I was making on and off the field were creating so much negativity. It was an eye opener and even though I didn't change overnight, I did make an effort. I'm actually still making an effort. Whenever someone makes a plan with me, personal or professional, guess who is the one who shoots it down immediately. *raises both hands* 

I've been thinking a lot about cause and effect since I've had the twins. Sounds very dramatic, doesn't it? My life changed when I had kids type of statement! But in all honesty, even with them, I'm still struggling with how to control my tone, my expressions, my words so that they don't get negative vibes from me. And it isn't easy. To remain calm in the middle of the night when a cranky toddler wakes you up and refuses to sleep requires a LOT of patience. 

But my life doesn't revolve around my kids only. There are so many others who I come across everyday and I know that a kind word, a smile, a warm greeting can lift the spirits of the other person. And maybe the positivity that my action generates might make their day better and subsequently the day of all others they interact with. Even if it just brings a smile on their face, it is enough. Every little action matters. Because I matter. As a person. And in the end, it all does come back to you, good or bad. Karma happens. I know it seems like a scenario out of a movie but then, movies are also made around stories from real life. Well, almost!

 

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.