Little after that it was me sitting on the floor with most of my stuff lying infront of me; my birthday cards, post cards, couple of my tiny picture frames, drawing of my niece (Shermeen's) when she was hardly 4,
How they both have looked after us in past few days reflect too much of their wonderful grooming. They both, along with their better halves, have been extremely hospitable.
There were times when I could read anything like anything. May it be about muder, abuse, violence, you just name it and it's gone down to my sub conscious. But I think parenthood has taken that nerve away from me now. Your child becomes your strength at one point and at the very same he/ [...]
Since Allah blessed us with the whole cliff, so my dear father decided to call it Pines Cliff; after ofcourse, the famous pine tress of Abbottabad.
New chapter of your thrilling/not-so-thrilling life starts. Your teeny tiny world switches from parents and siblings to one person called Husband. You get so involved in him that your observational skills infact get polished nothing more.
I believe every place has a history, an untold story, a tale, rewritten and proofread by history and the passing years. Living in the heart of Nawabism (for the lack of a better word) was proving to be pretty boring for this Army Wife.
The Nawabs, had they been alive and present in my brown textured walled living room, would frown upon me with looks of displeasure and disgust as I sat there complaining of boredom to a somewhat sleepy and humidity stricken Sajjad. “You think this city would have more entertainment! It doesn’t even have a cinema!” I proclaimed in a dramatic voice. This, followed by a ranting of how busy the Husband is and how we have not “explored” the city yet and how hot it generally is, as though we had just shifted to a cute little town in Italy.
The morning passed away with the usual…
View original post 657 more words