Sadaf Shahzad's Blog, page 6

Good Girls Don’t Have Opinions

“Dekho kitna bolti hai!” (Look how much she talks) If you have ever been forced into a gathering of relatives, neighbours or friends you did not know even existed, then you have probably heard this often. This is accompanied by disapproving stares (How rude!) and finger pointing at the unfortunate victim of interfering judgemental aunties and sometimes even uncles. (Hey! It’s a progressive society and metrosexuality is supposedly attractive.) They promptly launch into a discussion of how disrespectful it is for young girls to speak in “grown up conversations”. They rejoice in exchanging heroic tales of exposing the true character of such unsuspecting girls, who are frankly a danger to our gentle and refined society.

This begs the question :”How does a girl’s voice suddenly disappear the day of a party?” Perhaps, it is tradition for young ladies from respected households to strike bargains with Ursula, the Sea Witch, “under the sea”. In this case, they do not give away shimmering mermaids’ tails for shapely human legs. Rather, they lose the power of having a voice.

It is perfectly understandable when my mother pulls us aside before a party to say: “You girls stay quiet, you are children. Just greet the guests politely.” Considering how fond aunties are of making a mountain out of a molehill, I am thankful for her protective instinct. It’s not like I find any joy in their pitiful racist gossip anyways.

Returning to the aunties’ observation of a young girl being “tez” (Sharp) and “chalak” (Cunning) if she adds in her two cents to a public conversation. No, these are not compliments at all. It reminds me of a scene in Disney’s Mulan. When the Chinese emperor’s councilman comes to Mulan’s village demanding one man from every family serve in the emperial army, she pleads her disabled father’s case. On the sexist councilman’s remark, her father says, “Mulan, you dishonour me.”

Apparently, the norms of Ancient China and modern Pakistan are not so different. Adding logic and voicing a personal suggestion could strip away your family’s honour. Now this foolish dishonourable act has stained her character for all eternity. She has a brain! *Gasp* She can make her own decisions! *Double gasp* She has, Heaven forbid, opinions! *Cue fainting of delicate natured aunties*

She has thrown away her entire future with a few careless words. “But, I think…..”. Why oh why did she feel the unnatural urge to think? Her mother beats at her chest in mourning. Her father wonders how much money he will save now that her dowry is out of the equation. Her sisters curse at her fretting that  society might assume the disease of “feminine thinking” runs in the family like diabetes. All the while, the young woman in question sighs in irritation at all the needless drama unfolding before her. She pities those who waste their time and energy on it.

Let us now delve into the serene life of the lucky young lady who has miraculosuly gained society’s approval. Glowing with pride her mother gushes, “My shy daughter hardly ever speaks in front of strangers”. Translation: “I have trained my daughter to serve mutely and jump on command”. Me: “Can she also fetch and roll over?” In short, the naive lady believes she has raised her daughter to be the perfect wife and daughter-in-law. The only question the girl will ever ask is :”Aap chai mein cheeni kitni lyngy?” (How much sugar would you like with your tea?)

Give Her a Break (Part One)

Sophie was enjoying herself. It was the first day of twelfth grade and everything was just as she had always imagined it would be. She could almost feel the excitement buzz against her skin as the returning second years swarmed through the college gates. She scanned the crowd for her best friends while expertly dodging the shoves generated by overly enthusiastic hugs accompanied by high pitched squeals. Thankfully, the guys preferred bumping shoulders and fists over the joyful public bouncing the girls were partial towards. She had just caught sight of Sam striding towards the café in pink heels when a carelessly swung giant handbag nearly knocked off her glasses. On the bright side, her yell of surprise had drawn the attention of Sam, who was now hurrying over as fast as her shoes allowed. “You okay girl?” Sam asked with concern. “I was afraid this would end up like a scene from Sleepy Hollow!” Sophie clutched her head and groaned in reply unable to give her retreating attacker a piece of her mind.

Fortunately, they finally reached the café without further accidents and collapsed next to Sarah and Aly. As both girls were busy texting, they failed to notice them until Sam exclaimed “OMG! You guys will not believe who I just saw practically seducing our Math teacher!” Two heads eagerly whipped around to face them at that juicy piece of gossip. Sophie got up to enfold Aly in a hug but she was instantly held at arm’s length and scanned from head to toe. “That shirt cut was barely trendy like six months ago Sophie. For a second there I thought you were one of the teachers!” Aly said shaking her head in disapproval. Sighing Sophie moved on to greet Sarah who suddenly seemed conscious of her own top from last season. “Come on, Sam spill!” Aly nearly shouted out in impatience. “Well,” Sam begin drawing out the word slowly, “It was that total snob Laila! You know that Kardashian wannabe who everyone says got lip injections during the holidays?” There were gasps from the other two as Sophie interjected, “I bumped into her at the mall a few days ago. I didn’t think she looked like a duck.” Sarah snorted at that statement. “Oh please, your nose is always buried in a book. You never notice such things.” Sophie opened her mouth to argue just as the bell rang and they all hurried towards their classes.

The girls made plans to go to the movies later that afternoon to celebrate their first day back as no assignments had been handed out. Standing in the queue for popcorn, Sophie shifted her weight from one foot to another and watched Sam throw up her hands in exasperation at the ticket counter. She could hear her friend yelling from all the way over there. “Four! I said four!” Sam screeched at the poor guy on duty. “Are you deaf or too stupid to count?” Thankfully, Aly and Sarah showed up in time to pull Sam away from the panicked guy who appeared to be stuttering apologies. Sophie rolled her eyes at the scene. Sam was way too dramatic about everything from breaking a nail to her cat getting run over by the neighbour’s car. Oh and how could Sophie forget that time her brother yelled at her in front of everyone for taking his car without permission? Sam’s mascara had completely transferred from her lashes to her cheeks by the time she finally stopped sobbing into her pillow. “What a drama queen!” she muttered under her breath as she found her friends in the third row ogling a passing couple and giggling like idiots.

“Isn’t that Ruby?” Sophie inquired as she glanced over at the girl smiling shyly at cute guy who was obviously trying to impress her with his witty one-liners. Sarah threw a malicious look in Ruby’s direction as she let out a bubble of laughter. Her companion seemingly pleased with his success, grinned from ear to ear. “Yeah, that’s her. Home wrecker!” Sarah snarled in response to her question. Comprehension dawned on Sophie’s face and she sighed inwardly. Ruby must have earned that title because she was guilty of appealing to a guy Sarah had set her sights on. “I have been inviting him to the movies with us all week but all I got were lame excuses!” Sarah whined loudly. “It’s his loss”, Aly patted her knee trying to placate her. “Yeah”, Sam piped in, “Ruby isn’t half as pretty as you Sarah.” Sophie forced herself to nod along at the appropriate places to stop Sarah’s grumbling. Fortunately, the movie started at that moment putting an end to the annoying conversation.

The next day they met in the main hall of their college and were almost swallowed by the animated crowd of first years pouring in for their orientation. Moving to stand with the other seniors, they scrutinized the newcomers for potential prey respecting the long standing tradition of ragging. “Look at that one!” Aly suddenly pointed at someone just entering the hall. Sophie craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the first year but she was hidden from view by a burly boy who looked hopelessly lost. “Her sleeveless top looks more like the strapless variety”, Sam snickered next to her. “Did she run out of cloth for her trouser?” Sarah added laughing at the unsuspecting girl. “No scarf either,” Aly noted smirking. “Looks like another one of “those” girls who is just begging to be branded with a distasteful nickname.” Frustrated at not being able to see the first year, Sophie took two steps forward before stopping in her tracks as the crowd parted to reveal the newcomer. Her friends were openly laughing by now but their laughter died in their throats as Sophie calmly stated, “That’s my little sister”. Storming past them to meet her sister, she heard their gasps and almost felt the shame burning their faces.

-End of Part One-

Cookies and Constellations (A short story inspired by true events)

It was hot. Too hot. Zoya’s dupatta seemed to tighten like a noose around her neck as sweat tricked down her spine. Surely she should not be feeling claustrophobic in this large room with the air conditioner on full blast. Then why did her heart hammer as if she had just run a marathon? She would have screamed but suddenly it felt like all the air had left her lungs.

“So, what kind of cuisine do you cook well dear?”  The high pitched nasal voice left a ringing in her ears as she turned to face the speaker. “Uh, well my father always loves it when I make his special breakfast cheese omelet,” Zoya replied attempting to plaster a polite smile on her face. Across the room, her father beamed with pride and affection. On the other hand, the middle aged lady’s unimpressed expression did nothing to calm her nerves. Her mother quickly jumped into the conversation to salvage her culinary reputation in front of prospective in-laws. Zoya listened as her mother narrated a story from the previous Eid, when she had prepared exceptional biryani. Apparently, all the guests had generously showered her with tons of praise. Strangely, Zoya remembered it as the never-to-be-repeated-Eid-biryani-fiasco. They had been forced to order takeout to feed their guests. Predictably, the lady could not stand it any longer and launched into a saga paying homage to her son’s perfection.

She had heard horror stories about such visits before but had always treated them as exaggerations. Now, Zoya could sympathize with generations of poor girls exposed to this sort of trauma. Instead of a seemingly innocent proposal, it was playing out like a deal with the devil: a fight for her very soul! Earlier in the day, she had somehow kept it together while helping to prepare a grand welcome for the expected guests.

Her mother had the whole house in uproar, snapping at anyone who dared to stand idle in her presence. She could not remember the last time her house had looked this immaculate. Delicious goodies had been brought in from the local bakery, including her favourite cookies. “Everything has to be perfect for this afternoon’s tea!” her mother had constantly stressed. Zoya had observed her sister’s failed attempt at sneaking a cookie followed by loud reprimanding by their mother. Within minutes, sharp maternal scrutiny had shifted her way as the critical gaze had landed on a clock. “Why are you not dressed yet?” the frazzled hostess had demanded in a panicked tone. Rushing into her room, Zoya had hurriedly dressed while rummaging through her limited cosmetics’ collection. Her hair had just not been in the mood to settle down and she had been worried about tripping in her only decent pair of heels. “Everything is happening so fast!” she had complained to herself. Looking back, that was probably why she was caught unawares by the current situation.

Sighing to herself, Zoya tried to believe that patience was a virtue and prayed hard to get out of the present predicament in one piece. The shuffling of feet and creak of sofas brought her out of her reverie. “We will let you know of our decision then”, the lady stated in a regal tone as she walked towards the exit in her now familiar stately manner. Concealing her relief, Zoya joined in the polite farewells, bracing herself for the in depth analysis that was sure to continue in the following days.

After hearing no news from the matchmaker or the family in question for three days, her mother’s patience finally cracked. As she left to make a phone call to the matchmaker, the atmosphere in the room turned alert. Zoya pretended not to care but her pounding heart betrayed her true emotions. She didn’t lift her gaze as her mother returned and sank into the chair next to her. “Unhone kaha k sitarey nahi mile (They claimed that the stars did not match)”, she revealed in an unbelieving murmur. As Zoya’s head snapped up in shock, a moment of stunned silence descended upon the audience. Then hysterical laughter burst out from the corner her sister occupied. She was dumbstruck by the sheer absurdity of the statement. As far as Zoya was concerned, she had just dodged a bullet.  A glance at her father confirmed he was red faced and fuming with barely restrained rage. With great effort, it seemed, he kept his composure and stalked out of the room. Her mother made to follow him in her trance like state but stopped short as her sister blurted out, “Tmhare sitarey gardish mein hain Zee! (Your stars seem to be in revolution Zee!)” As Zoya watched her sister side step a well aimed smack on the shoulder from their mother, she had a feeling this was only the beginning.

Can I Love Myself If I Am Fat?

Hey guys! We all are, unfortunately, keenly aware of society’s primeval obsession with body image especially a woman’s physique. Recently, I came across a video titled “Women’s Ideal Body Types throughout History”, which compelled me to take a closer look at what sort of figure is considered acceptable by today’s society. Naturally, the first thing that popped into my mind was the idea of being “fat”, which is considered almost blasphemous now. Not only women but men too have been caught up in this tornado of “Fat is ugly”. Even as children, the “fat” kid is the butt of all jokes and ridiculed for no other reason than his weight being different from his playmates (If he is lucky enough to even have some).

The slightest hint of chubby cheeks and protruding belly or the poorly disguised suggestion of dieting by a friend, family member or colleague is enough to send us into hysterics. Phrases like “forever alone”, “I am turning into a pig” and “I can’t go out looking like this” start floating through our minds feeding our insecurities. Hold on a minute! What does gaining a little weight have to do with being attractive, marriage prospects or facing other people? Uhhh….apparently everything! Me: “Hey, I thought this was the 21st century of mature and civilized humans. Man has reached the moon for Heaven’s sake!” People: “No darling, beauty is still skin deep and fat people should be exterminated because frankly, they are an embarrassment to modern beauty”.

I may be alone in my “radical” theory but I possess enough knowledge of biology to understand healthy body weight so, I beg to differ. As most people remain unaware of their normal BMI according to age and height, they push their body to extremes trying to achieve what society terms as the “ideal body”. Every time we comment on someone’s weight, we are fuelling this ridiculous notion of an unrealistic body type. We are oppressing others by forcing them to conform to modern beauty standards, which are unattainable for the majority. Factors such hormones, stress, anxiety, activity levels, deviation from routine and even weather contribute to changes in weight. Fluctuations of a few pounds are completely normal so relax!

I was the lame chubby kid during my school days in my childish mind. Teenage years were a struggle and I constantly found faults in my appearance. As a result, I remained conscious about my figure and predictably unhappy about it. Eventually, there came a time when I realized that my happiness depended on people’s twisted judgment of my appearance. Gradually, I learned to love everything about my body and I believe that is probably the most attractive thing about a person. Never let anyone make you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. People are never going to be happy with you even if you bring them the moon and all the stars in the Milky Way! The day you understand this is the day you will realize that you are perfect in your own way.

[image error]

Be Happy

Till next time! Keep those endorphins flowing and smile!

Why Are Nice Guys “Just Friends” to Most Girls?

Hello! Today I will be exploring a dilemma that causes a lot of confusion among guys about what girls find attractive in a man. We all know that one guy who is super nice and yet that quality actually seems like a female repellant when you glance at his track record with the ladies. You know the one! He is that lucky guy who has tons of female friends but no girlfriend. So does that mean that every girl dreams of being with a deeply disturbed, blue-eyed, control freak always in the mood for “kinky-fuckery”? The answer is hell no!!! No girl wants to be with a Christian Grey unless she is so lazy in bed that she would rather be tied up then lift a finger to touch the guy *50 Shades mini rant over*.

So what is the poor nice guy doing wrong? The truth is that the majority of men, especially desi men, have a very limited and primitive idea of “manliness”. Their idea instantly conjures up an image of a silver backed male gorilla banging his fists against his chest in a bold display of dominance. What desi men fail to understand is that they have been gifted with a tongue unlike an ape. Unfortunately, when they do make use of this blessing, their vocabulary mostly revolves around choice curse words, grunts, yells, not-so-witty one-liners, crude pick up lines handed down generations and rare heartfelt confessions about their “difficult and unfair” lives.  A “real man” has giant muscles, “swagger”, a killer attitude and an explosive temper, gives one word answers, acts broody and distant for no reason, looks at women as if he possesses Superman’s X-ray vision, stalks random women at bus stops, prefers to use his fists in a conversation because talking is for pussies, is always unhelpful particularly when it comes to house chores and acts gross in general. Since there is no effective way of getting around a man’s perception on this matter, girls have been deeply influenced by the desi male’s mental sketch of “mardangi” (manliness).

If a guy does not demonstrate some of the aforementioned “manly” qualities characteristic of the desi Y chromosome (Yes, I am sure it will soon be scientifically proven that desi men have unique Y chromosomal DNA) every now and then, the girl’s mind will fail to place him in the category of men. As a result, his chances of building a romantic relationship with her will fizzle out faster than Afridi exits the pitch after being catch out without fail in each match.

Now, that I have revealed the BIG secret about why desi girls don’t think of nice guys as more than friends, the reality feels pretty twisted and just plain wrong. Good men are a dying breed and really need to be appreciated more. Alas, we cannot ignore evolutionary trends and must adapt to our changing habitats because it’s only survival of the fittest here. Until next time, Good luck!

Greetings Readers!

Welcome to my blog! I am The Desi Dragoness, a twenty something science geek with a passion for reading and writing fiction. I have always wished to explore my creative side more so I finally decided to take the plunge into creative blogging. I adore paranormal fiction and dragons are my favourite mythical species so naturally I chose to be one! I will be basing my blog posts on lots of different ideas I come across in my life during interactions with various types of people. I also plan to add some short stories in the future so I am excited about that. Cheers!