Second By Second, When Disaster Struck

First second: Men running around, while shouting at each other, playing football in the sand.
Second instant: Dad pacing from one end to the other, within the hut.
Third second: Everyone has crowded papa, so much so that I could not see him.
Fourth second: Someone pushed me forward. I saw my aunt rubbing papa’s feet, he held my hand and tried hard, it showed, to smile.
First minute: Two of my uncles carry him to the car, while my aunt is starting the engine.
That’s what I remember when my papa, aged 39, all of a sudden fell sick while we were on a picnic. It was my aunt, Faiza’s birthday; who is the youngest of papa’s sisters. My father was rushed to the hospital from the hawk’s bay. My uncle’s speed must have been way over the limit as they managed to reach the hospital in seven minutes straight. This in itself is a miracle. When they went on their way, those left behind started looking for keys and started collecting things to leave. Then everyone realized that we did not have the keys to one of the cars.
To top all of this, another uncle of mine has a heart problem. He always carries the medicine that was needed now. Today, of all the days, he had some work and could not join us. That being the case, even the mobile signals were pathetic at the beach, so we did not get any updates on papa. When we came, we had three cars one of them had gone with the patient, while the other two were parked in the garage. The problem was that in the hurry to take my dad to the hospital, no one got his car keys out of his pocket. We tried every possible way but it was futile, so in the end fourteen people forced themselves into a Khyber. (This is a very small car, big enough for maximum five people.)
We went to our oldest Aunts house. (Before my readers get confused I would like to point out that my father has seven sisters. And most of them live abroad, but this time only one of them was in Dubai while the rest had come to visit. This picnic had been planned for them.) After reaching their house, everyone got cleaned up and were waiting anxiously for any news available. Even before I came out of the shower, this feeling of dread came over me, and I heard cries from the room. I came out and knew that he was no more. To top this, one of my cousins who has, God only knows what against me, came up to me and told me in cruel and plain words, “Your papa’s dead.”
I acted like I had not heard her, but I knew she was saying the truth. Faiza took me and my elder sister to another room where she thought she could break the news calmly to us, while trying her best to comfort us. But it was too great a pain to be soothed by words. Every one kept saying, time will heal and that times the only cure to get you all through this. My mother was thirty three years old when this calamity struck. I was ten years old, while my older sister was thirteen. My younger sister was five months old that time, so she has never seen my dad. Although, she has, but she will never remember him laughing like me and my older sister does. She will not remember him making jokes just to cheer us up whenever we were down. The stories he used to conjure up, whenever I used to say that I am too scared to sleep at night. Or else, the times when papa used to tease ma. Words cannot explain the huge loss that we went through. It would not be wrong if I said that we are still learning to get used to it.
I was always a rebellious being. People failed to understand me. I could relate to my father most of the time. I think he might have seen himself in me. He loved me for speaking my mind and never caring about what others might think. This was something that I guess he had not yet mastered. I never realized it, but after his death, I had gone into a shell. Like I guess most people do when they experience life changing circumstances and certainly counts as one. I had started spending a lot of time alone; right now I do not remember what I used to do all that time. My mother talked to my teacher about this, who then talked to me and gave me quite a lecture. She emphasized on the fact that I must not be scared to miss papa and it was alright if I never said all the things that I had wanted him to know. My teacher made me talk that day about my father’s death, the way he had died, something that I had never done before. At that time I thought she’s just making me cry harder, maybe it’s a new kind of therapy but I understood later how important it was to express all the emotions and the feelings that were deep down inside me. Feelings and emotions that I did not think I had.
It was so sudden, everything at that time, that now I cannot take anything for granted. Even though, at times I must be doing exactly that, but it has made me realize facts. The fact that we are given life, a good one, one in which we have the basic necessities and after that much more, all these blessing must never be taken for granted.

Quest For Work!

My Quest For Work days started approximately an hour after i got to know that I did not get in. I had applied at Indus School of Arts and Architecture, I passed the test but well, I got a Hitler for an interviewer and everyone knows how that goes. Better not to recount that sad story or I might just take up an hour or two just describing her, I'm amazed how scores of adjectives are zooming in and out of my mind, just thinking of her (ruthless, cold blooded and predator). I shall try not to get carried away.

Since November, I have been thinking non stop of writing, which is a passion of mine. I seem to have started to concentrate on how the reporters write their articles in the newspapers. Plain without feelings or emotions just facts, completely neutral. I can just imagine the rush while running on the streets along with a cameraman. Being a journalist would definately be an awesome idea. Keeping that in mind I started, non-stop, sending my CV to Dawn, the leading newspaper group in Pakistan. With my friends help, i got to know the Dawn News Channel was also looking for interns. So I found a friend who worked there, he helped me out. Hence, i submitted my CV to him, he told me its too short and i need to make it longer by adding "stuff" to it. He then told me to send it to another address (someone from the Human Resource Department). I did as was told, to receive a dead reply, which thanked me for sending my CV and informed me that there was no post left open.

While reading Devil Wears Prada, It got me thinking again about how Anne Hathaway got into an enormous firm where she did not fit and came out doing well. Me? Still wasting time, sitting at home each and every day. And I thought I should start making photocopies of my CV. And pray to God that someone might be interested in hiring an A level graduate or else be interested in letting an Alevel graduate learn from them! What could the downside be to this? Nothing worse then still sitting at home, something I think I'm getting rather good at and used to. Tomorrow is a new day and i 'will' start afresh and dropping my CV at every imaginable magazine and possible newspaper. And also check out School of Decor, which are arts classes. My life long partner one could say.

After this i started thinking of making my own mark, I thought of this amazing company, Repair On Call. Due to the rains and weird traffic congestion, there is a huge market gap that i have difficulty in believing no ones thought of. it would be so cool so go save someone from Tariq road or the very congested these days Kala Pul road. all because numerous, maybe even 80% of all Karachi roads have been dug and the damage repairs taking too long causing more damage. would it be awesome to not feel scared and drive around knowing that ME the repair on call company head has everyone back in Karachi :) maybe I'll think of expanding soon. Just need sponsoring. plus i was thinking of interning at my uncles office. he deals in purchasing and selling of cars, I'd rather get to know how cars work, in order to know how to repair them. Then i could employ a dozen or so workers who go save people for me. Ingenius!

My main feild that i hope to go for and excel in is Advertising, the creative side of it. To work for some big shot company. Making or Designing advertisments or slogans or banners. I would love to intern at some advertising agency these days when im free. Lets see what life being forth. :D