Life wasted

 I think I have wasted my life. Having all this hate inside me. What is happening? Why do I feel like crying all the time? The thing happening in Afghanistan or is it my kids not doing their assignments properly. My husband is not buying a house. I will always be living on rent. I don't know if my kids will become doctors or engineers. My diabetes is debilitating. I just can't do anything. 

I am checking the assignment of my students and I feel like pulling my hair thinking they have just copied off text from the comprehension instead of writing their own answers.

What am I actually sad about?

Am I sad?

I feel like crying that's for sure.

I felt like crying when I read about Afghans

I felt like bawling when I read about the women and children being killed without any rhyme or reason

I felt weepy when I saw the persecution of minorities, the destruction of their worship places

I felt lost when I see my own self in the mirror

I have wasted my life

I have not contributed to society

I can't do anything

Unforgotten

  I happened to watch this marvelous work. It was about unsolved crimes that just drifted down the time with history. Cases that couldn't have been pursued because of missing bodies. It is remarkable the way cases are treated in Developed Countries. I think this can never be replicated here in Pakistan.  We usually don't look after our missing dead. The way cases are treated here is an example of phenomenal incompetence. 

They showed a murder in each season; an unsolved murder per se. The way the police doggedly pursues the case and takes upon leads, it is very unlikely that a developing country like ours will have a justice system like this. 

Explosions or Implosions

I feel like my mind is going to explode. I want to express myself, but am unable to. I have to write a report. A major one to be submitted on April 15, 2018. I feel as if we are being forced to write an ode to something that was not taught to us. We attended a PGCC (Post Graduate Certificate Course) and it was a futile effort to come up with some healthy practices for the classroom via this course.

Age

I would like to think I have lived some milestones in my life. I got good grades in University, an okay job, respected by some, marriage and then kids. I started working again. When I first heard Wide Open by Chemical Brothers. I felt as if my existence got questioned. The words for song go like
(just copied these off google)

"I'm wide open
But don't I please you anymore?
You're slipping away from me
You're drifting away from me

I'm wide open
But don't I please you anymore?
You're slipping away from me
You're slipping away from me"

I feel they used the analogy of a football game. Where there has to be teamwork and the synergy usually results in a satisfying end. 

"One day just gonna see me
Look back and forth from the ceiling
(I'm wide open) some day love's gonna hurt me
Turn back and soon I'll believe it"

I think it was the video that left me mesmerized. I kept listening to the song over and over again. I have been at it since last year. 

SIgh

Now the cranberries is playing. The lead singer just died out of the blue. I was sad. I can't help myself. I feel sad very easily. 

Being a Teacher

I like being a teacher. It allows me to indulge in concepts that I will not be touching with my own son for a few more years. There are students

A lifetime in Matiari - Part 2

It is so refreshing to hear about the educational streaks of the Memon family of Matiari excelling in Medicine. 

A lifetime in Matiari - Part 1

I am no anthropologist, neither am I ever going to be at the level of all those who are the citizens of this extraordinary place. I say extraordinary because it is certainly not ordinary. Matiari is a city of Saints. Well you've got saints in every nook and corner of Pakistan. Our forefathers have been from here so we've been given the on and off visit. But I personally have never ventured outside the havelis and family relatives house. I've never explored Matiari. But I've read about it. It looks beautiful in pictures. I have seen the narrow ghitti (streets) and its naali (open drain) and the occasional feaces floating in that, rushing to the car. Aside from the business of flies, you've got a scourge of mosquitoes in the evening when it's the season (which seems throughout the year), but you get to see such beautiful countryside when you're whizzing past it.
The people of Matiari add to it ordinariness, I meant extraordinariness. You've got snitches, a variety of fiends, a sensational array of back-biters, of course the lovely aunties who don't fail to surprise you being well-endowed with gossip about your forefathers.
Since people of Matiari have never been too keen to educate their girls a special vacuum has existed parallel their home-lazying skills. The families of the well-off don't want their girls to learn or move on ahead with simple skills like cleaning up their surroundings, they would rather a helper does it for them. They are not taught how to talk to people who are waiting on them hand and foot 24 hours, so a small mistake is most likely to remind them of their social strata. Oh the agony! It is very despicable when you see centuries of slavery turning around into more slavery. Okay there's no bonded labor but there isn't paid labor at times too.
Matiari is going to give birth to a special strata of society that is not educated but at the helm of decision making for the city. The ladies have been not been allowed to pursue education except a few cases. The men are super-involved in their what-abouts. So, thats about it.