Anonymous

Anonymous

The blogger wishes to remain anonymous.

Did you just call me a “bhangi”?

It happened again; this time in a closed setting with a small group of people. We were just a bunch of colleagues having fun, most of who will probably have a good laugh and forget about it in within the hour. But will I forget it so soon? My past experiences, the history of which is entrenched into my memory, remind me that perhaps this will not be so easily forgotten. I believe the last time something like this happened was back in school, during my O’ levels; then too, between a group of friends. I don’t seem to remember ...

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My hidden miscarriage left me broken and alone – while he moved on, happily

I waited too long to write this story. Allow me to introduce myself. First-generation South Asian Muslim, daughter of two hard-working parents who just wanted to provide the best life for their children. Born and raised in New York, it was confusing and difficult to balance ethnic culture with western culture, on top of balancing my faith in Islam. Even more importantly, it was difficult trying to establish myself as an opinionated woman in the very patriarchal culture, founded both in the western and South Asian culture. I was 15 when I first met him. Two years older, tall, smart, same ...

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My teachers refused to teach me because they “weren’t in the mood”

When I joined my high school, my fluency in Urdu sucked. My accent, vocabulary and my pronunciation of the language was so bad that when it was my turn to recite anything, the whole class would burst out laughing. My teacher never said anything to me and only corrected me where I was wrong. He would smile and tell me to go on. On some occasions, he would make sure I was the one who read out loud. Never once did I ever feel threatened or discouraged. Over the period of two years, my Urdu improved and my vocabulary got so much better ...

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A letter to my abuser: You took advantage of me and made me believe it was my fault

Hi, I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know I’ve been avoiding you for quite some time now. Even when we’re at the same place at the same time, I act like I don’t know you’re there. But isn’t that funny? How I’ll always greet you sincerely, but try my best to avoid you for as long as possible? I can’t look into your eyes. I’m sure you’ve noticed. Why? Because I remember everything. I remember how aggressively you asked me to look straight into your eyes as your hand went inside my shirt. I stood there, unable to move, ...

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Does Al-Huda have strains of Taliban ideology within its teachings?

The founder of the Al-Huda Institute, Dr Farhat Hashmi, has said that her institute cannot be held responsible for the acts of her students. The statement came after it was revealed that Tashfeen Malik, the woman who shot dead 14 innocent people in California last week, attended Al-Huda International Seminary’s branch in Multan for two years in 2013 and 2014, and left without completing the diploma course. But class fellows have said that Malik attended Al-Huda between 2007-2013. This is just one of the gaps between the narrative that Al-Huda is giving and what friends of the California shooter have told the media. What role ...

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After 11pm, the IBA Boys Hostel turns into a prison

I am a resident of IBA Karachi’s boys hostel and I am at an age where I feel most of my memories are yet to be made. The old alumni of this hostel, many of whom have gone on to become CEOs of giant corporations such as Asad Umer, recount their personal anecdotes with remarkable gusto. They always say that the best reverie is hostel life. My personal experience of a hostel is that it is a place which grooms a person with the spirit of brotherhood and instils confidence through experiences of independence. However, the current administration of the IBA Boys Hostel, headed by a professor of IBA, Jami Moiz and Warden Mujahid ...

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When I had to save myself from depression

My colleague said something (not) funny again and the room roared with laughter. Knowing that I did not share the mood in the room, I grabbed my tea and headed for the corridor. That long corridor with a single window was my solace. There, I rested my head against the wall and stared out for a while. This was my routine to de-stress my boiling brain. I closed my eyes in a futile attempt to give my superbly loquacious brain some rest. Sometimes I wished I could run far, far away from the noise, nuisance and people, and sleep for eons. Other ...

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Can the US government kill American citizens?

After the uncovering of a leaked document in the United States, White House officials are facing criticism over an internal memo that was acquired by NBC News.The memo regarded drone strikes and how the US government is allowed to strike Americans with drone attacks if they are suspected or known to have any past or current ties with al Qaeda or any other wanted terrorist organisation. Naturally, the White House faced a huge backlash when the memo was discovered, but still kept their ground and insisted that they complied with US law and the Constitution, even if Americans are the targeted ...

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Drones strikes and Obama, two things I’m not voting for this year

After what seems like a quick four years, elections are only a month away in the United States and the two candidates are Mitt Romney of the Republican Party and the current President who is up for re-election, Barack Obama. Whether the American citizens like it or not, Pakistan is a strategic ally in the so-called ‘war on terror’ and relations with Pakistan have never been so important. Pakistan also has its share of issues and dissatisfaction and hatred for the United States is definitely one of them. Of course, this year election year is important not only for ...

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What it means to be human

With God’s choice, you’re matched with a life, A simple lottery number, you are born into the very rich, The very poor, The simple middle.   You ask questions, But the answers are endless. Tiny prayer offered before a scarce meal, Gluttony at it’s finest and greed sky high.   Our world becomes demoralised, By the second we hope. I pray, She withers away,   He needs a casket, But who can afford one? One human race, Divided into many useless groups.   Who do you follow? Your mosque, Your solitude. Your mosque, my fear.   We are simply animals, No better than mere animals. Why bark, When we can think?   An explosive made, You’re a martyr. A gun shining, In the rays of the sun.   What will you prove, To your god today? Minutes, hours, Days ...

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