While in conversation with her thoughts and dreams:
Aarfeen is an incompetent,
no, she is a failure,
she is nothing;
she can never do anything, people shouted,haha! (smirkingly)
Dreaming everyday, “she” wakes up with these echoes, considering all these voices of her reality, not only that she considers, but they are the eminent, horrible sparks of her life as well.
“Aarfeen” always used to think that, “What if a girl wants to fly as high as mountains kiss the sky, what if a girl craves to wear the fabric of optimism, what if a girl wishes to fight, a fight against all the stereotypes lingering since she first took her breath, and what if a ‘girl’…?”
All these are the questions that roves in her mind all the time but she is coerced to put a full stop and question mark to stop her voice.This “what if” has a long trail in her life since the time she was persecuted…! no doubt this word “persecuted” has become so familiar to us that we take it as normal as our daily routine.
Every time death inhailes her when the momentsof sigh visit her mind with a hammer always pounding. “what if I haven’t gone there and not being unfurled and thrashed off my clothes through his igneious claws? what if I wouldn’t have to wash the inner and outer rims of my lips? what if I had killed him with a dagger? what if…?,” eyes with strange hollownwess, she thought, laying shattered, one hand rolling her hair, , when her mother’s voice interrupted her next horrible question ‘what if…?’
Mother exclaimed with joy, “Aarfeen, see who has come?” Sprawling, she tugged her duptta and came out.
“See, your uncle’s family is here,” her mother continued.
She smiled happily, and continued to hide the scary wrinkles of having another bucket of discourgement. As discouragement is the only word to paint her into nothing. She has split versions for whatever she is or she will become, as always digging into the aura of thoughts, she would live eminently. She has become the one who tries to festoon herself with the word optimism, and still every second tumbles into pessimism.
Calling her “Na-Laiq” they (guests) reposed and slacked back.
Looser, incompetent and failure are the words who have been made the food of her soul. She is the one who always stuck in her own thoughts not by her own content but shaped into.
“Aarfeen, are you listening me? I have called you ‘hundred’ times and you are paying no heed what I am saying, come, and serve the lunch,” her mother instructed her., though she had called her just ‘three’ times, she smiled contentedly.As she is the only reason she is living.
She always used to think that, “life itself is a game which can overturn any time but we, as people, consider ourselves as gods who try to rule on others’ life. People never give a break to let them live to their own will, in fact they shape a nut of their own wills which, they make so hard to break.
She was such a girl who never took interest in studies but she craves to tell, “People need to know what makes me not to study?”
And then she answers herself, ” the answer is ‘PEOPLE’. They have changed me into failure, the ‘insult’ which they use to inflict, is the reason. They have torned me so much that I personally got a victim of my own lingering pain.
She thought again, “people need to know that internal pain is much dreadful than the physical one. You know what makes life more dreadful? dying again and again in your unconscious.”
Only because of this dilemma she has started desiring about the destructive things which she faced in past, because there was no way to get out of them and whenever she tried to come out of them she was murdered for her survival. Every day she was intoxicated with insult and this made her extremist through which she got into the habit of liking and hating people at extreme.
She used to share with others and believe that, “The thing is life never seems long enough until you taste insult and failure as you have to chew wild moments in order to taste happiness and “I, being a survivor of life” have started to digest all the offence either by blinking my eyes so not to scroll down my tears or by ignoring.”
She used to shout loud, “YES, I HAVE PROVED MYSELF AS A SURVIVOR.”
Aarfeen is the girl who use to inspire herself saying, “People have owned my soul and I am the one who is trying to save myself from drowning my flesh in this cruel river of blood.”
“Being a victim of many men, my own self, I ask them, “do you know how it feels when you lay every night and think, Okay! no problem if this was a bad day, tomorrow will be good when I will not open my eyes and will find a life hereafter? or do you know how it feels not to share and unable to live a life? or do you know what internal death is? or do you know what it seems to be awake every night with the horrible thoughts standing at your head with a sword to kill your dreams? or do you know how it feels to feel guilt of you own existence? or do you know how it feels like when you make your whole life on a different mode but only in your head? or do you know how it feels not to be loved but to act? or do you know when loneliness hammers in your heart every moment and every time with much force than before? or do you know how it feels to stand at such a high place but with zero confidence, the confidence which they have already sucked from your soul.” She breathed hardly as another thought joined the previous.
Commencing from a middle class family, she has been fabricated since her childhood by the bunkum and redundant talks and the icing on tha cake were our Tv dramas stuffed with such unnecessary fantasies.
Being born with fantasies , they had become her superlative and culminating ally. Aarfeen like other girls use to think that, “one day a ‘prince charming’ will come and all the adversities and problems will end up and my depression and hatred for men will end up.”
But the thing is we are this much infatuated and haunted that we don’t wait to foresee what the fact and phenomena is. But both, the problematic and the the sterling thing is that a girl can never think and expect bad, even if she knows until the time reaches. Same was the case with Aarfeen.
And then She became the life observer saying, “what I have seeked from the span of my whole life is that, if someone is weak, no matter he/she is weak in studies or status, people compel them to become more heart broken instead of uplifting their souls. They go for the materialistic things with materialistic bodies to sale the spiritual souls. People are dripping others into the well of pessimism.”
But still, she chose to wear the fabric of optimism as she was aware that it lasts longer.
And then, life turned the pages and penned down her fantasies. But remember fantasies remain fantasies. It was a cloudy day which was later proceeded by rain when the mug of her life started being filled when “Ashir” came, they both made the souls poured out into one bowl to get them mixed and trimmed with the beater of their love.
She always used to think that “Love doesn’t exist until it gets licensed. I have waited for a long time to greet and meet him, for the time I am speaking, is the moment I am sketching and portraying the whole “girlkind.” And every girl itself knows the worth of that day herself. But unfortunately it is a fantasy again, fantasies always remain fantasies as somehow they deciet realities. Life never stops till the former happy days but these happy days become our life in the wildest ages.
She told herself, that when life smashes you, its not actually life its all the devilish forces in shape of people, and when men can be practical in persecuting then why doesn’t a girl can use her power to be active in saving?
But? she answered while tearing and pulling her skin out of bones, “it seems as if I am literally joking apart, I don’t have such physical power infront of ‘man’, so here I am again with my head down, scars on my back, victim of his hideous hands, with my ribs broken down, my lungs out, my hands behind, caught in a rope, how cruelly decietful these men are!” tears started falling hard while tapping against her cheeks and neck, and then suddenly they dried.
Then, a wining tone came on her face as if she is saying that, “Conqueror I am, Survivor I am,” because somewhere in her mind she has a spark of hope, that after this fleshly game, the night of flesh will end and “life” will come one day may be for once in my life again.
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