And today I celebrated the Mac-clean Day =)
I cleaned my Mac and took several pictures. Now I'm dying to have a carrying case for my pwetty Mac. Why don't they have cases like HP and Dell? Or even more smarter ones? :P Too bad, such accessories reach Pakistan very late :(


I <3 my Mac =)

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So today I went to the Shooting Range for my first lesson. And it was hell fun. Actually there wasn't any female over there except Miss S. But she was practising at the 25-mtr Pistol Shooting Range. I had to try Rifle Shooting, though Pistol sounds hell awesome. Anyway, I met the OIC there, and he asked a CPO (Chief Petty Officer) to train me. CPO uncle was very kind. He took me to the 50-mtr Range and briefed me about the position and safety etc. of the rifles. He loaded the magazine with 5 bullets and I shot them. All went out of the target! Haha. And they went "way out" of the target :D My coach is a nice guy. He again loaded the magazine and asked me to try again. This time I tried to position myself properly. I tried again. Again all 5 shots went out of the target. Although it irritated me a lil, but I then figured out the problem.

The problem was with my eyes and vision. When you're firing from your right hand side, your right eye should be open and left eye be closed. By default, I can keep my left eye open and right closed. :/ Anyway, I decided to cover my left eye and try again. But since you need to hold the heavy rifle with both of your hands, I found it hard to focus on the target and to keep my right eye open. Anyway, I tried and shot bullets. Out of 5 shots, 4 hit the target! Yahoo! :D But all 4 were out of the rings. :(

Now that I have figured out the problem, I have decided to wear a band with a paper/ cardboard on it blocking my left eye, so I could focus the target with my right eye. I hope I improve from now on. And I'd borrow the band from Miss S. She's got the same problem too :( Will write more on Monday if I go to the Range (InshaAllah).

Cheerio folks =)

Courtesy: Google Images.

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Lost!

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In our country, judiciary has been restored lately. This reminds me of a story told by our Auditing professor, Mr. Yusuf Abid. Here goes the story:

ایک طوطا اور طوطی اڑتے اڑتے ایک جنگل میں پھنچے ۔ وھاں بالکل سنّاٹا تھا ۔
طوطی بولی: یھا ں ضرور الّو رھتے ھونگے جبھی یھاں اتنی ویرانی ھے۔
طوطے نے اس کی ھاں میں ھاں مِلائی۔ اتفاق سے ایک الّو ان کی یھ باتیں سُن رھا تھا ۔ وہ سامنے آیا اور ان سے بحث کرنے لگا ۔
طوطی بولی: یھ ھمارا تجربہ ھے کہ جھاں الّو ھوتے ھیں، وھاں دوسرے جانور رہ نھیں پاتے۔
جب بحث ذیادہ گرم ھونے لگی تو طوطا نے طوطی کو چلنے کا کہا
اس سے قبل کہ وہ دونوں اڑتے، الّو نے طوطی کو پکڑ لیا ۔ اب بیچارہ طوطا بڑا پچھتایا ۔ اس نے خوب منّتیں کیں کہ اسے طوطی واپس کر دی جائے مگر الّو نہ مانا ۔ خیر معاملہ عدالت تک جا پھنچا ۔

چونکہ جنگل میں الّوؤں کا راج تھا لہٰذا جج نے بھی اُسی الّو کے حق میں فیصلہ دیا اور کہا کہ واقعی طوطی الّو کی ھے ۔ طوطا بیچارہ روتا دھوتا جب اپنی طوطی کو چھوڑ کے جانے لگا تو وھی الّو آیا اور طوطے سے کھنےلگا : یہ اپنی طوطی واپس لے جاؤ!
طوطا خوش بھی ھوا اور حیران بھی ۔ جب اس نے الّو سے وجہ دریافت کی تو وہ بولا : میں تمھیں صرف یھ بتانا چاھتا تھا کہ اس جنگل میں ویرانی الّوؤں کی وجہ سے نھیں بلکہ انصاف کی کمی کی وجھ سے ھے ۔ جس جگہ انصاف نھیں ھوتا ، وھاں کوئی بھی رھنا پسند نھیں کرتا ۔ اور یوں طوطا اپنی طوطی کو لے کر وھاں سے رخصت ھوا ۔



I really liked this story. And this is so true - a country where there is no justice, people don't like to live there.

With the judges and CJ restored now, I hope and pray that the people of this country get justice and support just and fair decisions. Ameen.

Cheerio folks =)

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Our dearest maid has gone on vacations, again! And now things are going to get tough for me. Why? Because:

• I've to teach Bushi, and myself too :/
  
• Plus, I'm feeling feverish these days :/
  
• Plus, our place becomes so dusty after every 10 minutes :/
• And then, I'm having green tea these days so I need to work extra to reduce myself :P
• And... that's it :D

So, Ema aka OLPM has to get back in action, whether she likes it or not :D

Prayers needed.

Cheerio folks =)

PS: I miss you, our dearest maid ;)

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This post is about silly me's silliest dreams. :) There's usually a season when I dream a lot, and sometimes I just don't have any dreams. Lol. Weird, I know.

Usually I see seas or rains in my dreams. And they say it's a good sign. A year or so ago I had a dream that I had ... :D And even today I had a similar dream. Lol. And it is so dead weird and funny, I can't even write about it here :D I've told just 2 of my friends about it. And I so hope they both keep that in their porous tummies, else... :D

May be after a few years when those dreams come true, I post about them. But till then why don't you guys tell me about your weirdest dreams ;)

Cheerio folks =)

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You should never cry over spilt milk.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Unless, of course, you are stranded on a deserted island and a magical genie shows up and offers you a lifetime of pleasure, fame, and fortune in exchange for your last glass of milk and you leap with glee and nearly spill your milk, then after you sigh in relief that it hasn't spilled, you step on a clam shell and drop the glass, causing the genie to disappear and leaving you to live out your days on a diet of coconuts and dead seagulls.

:D

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I have always been passionate about shooting. The first (and the last time) I ever shot a pistol was almost 10-11 years ago at Fort Qasim. And even before that I've done rifle shooting too at our NORE-1's residence. I've heard my Nana used to go for hunting and it had always seemed an enjoyable sport to me.

Anyway, I went to PN Shooting Range, Karsaz, after my classes. I met the officer there and he briefed me about the basic things and fee structure. He then directed me to the OIC (Office Incharge). After talking to him for 5-10 minutes, we went towards the Shooting Range - the Rifle Shooting area. There I met Miss S., my junior in the university. She gave me the overview and we then watched people shooting at the targets. That was fun. There were Naval officers from UK, China, France, Bangladesh, and Australia. [These people are actually visiting Pakistan on Exercise Aman (Peace) and also took part in Shooting Competition]. When Miss S.'s turn came, we were called for refreshments. Although I wanted to go home as my tour was almost over, but the OIC insisted that we all should go for refreshments. There was actually the prize-giving ceremony being held in the Pistol Shooting area, and later there were refreshments to be served.

The ceremony was fun too. The French XO (Executive Officer) won the most 4 medals and the winning trophy. He later came to us and the Chief Guest introduced us all. The CG said that this French guy doesn't like to talk in English, but he came to give the bouquet to us (of course, any one girl would have taken it away). He presented the bouquet and a girl from our group accepted it. I talked to that guy in french and he and the CG were so delighted, the bouquet was taken from that girl and was given to me :D

So this was the end of my day at Shooting Range :) From March 24, new session would be started, and I'd InshAllah be joining from then :)

Prayers needed. [Pray that someday I own a pistol or a rifle of my own] ;)

Cheerio folks =)

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I have always been very particular when it comes to brushing teeth, or personal hygiene, on a whole. Recently I have started using Colgate Max fresh (with cooling crystals) instead of Medicam. And from the past two days I've been brushing my teeth like a desperado :D I once heard on TV that we must brush our teeth for at least 5 minutes. Earlier (with Medicam) I used to brush for some 70-90 seconds on average. And with Colgate, I brush for even more than 5 minutes :P And fortunately, my teeth don't even bleed now :) Yay! And then I check my shiny teeth for the next 10 minutes :D And then I put my poor tooth brush and favorite toothpaste back in their places. Just today I noticed my toothbrush closely. The bristles have bent sideways, and it gives such innocent looks to me :$ Awww :(

My mouth feels fresh now. Brushing teeth had never felt that good. Thank you Colgate :)

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Bushi: What's the past tense of Blend?
Me: I think it's the same - Blend!
Bushi: Not blended?
Me: That's usually used as an adjective, like a "blended coffee"
Bushi: And what's the future tense of blend?
Me: Same. Blend!
Bushi: Huh? Example please.
Me: It's like: I blend something yesterday, and I blend something today, and I will blend something tomorrow as well. [Yeah, yeah, I know it's an ultra lame example, but I had to make him understand somehow]
Bushi: Oh! Your vocabulary is so limited!!!!!

:O

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I have no clue where to start from. I should probably start from Monday, Feb 23, 2009. A fresh new day for us. I dropped my Dad to Shifa Hospital for his regular medical check up, and headed to university. I was in class at 10:15 am, when he called, and said,
Dad: "I've called Abdullah to pick me up from Shifa".
Me: "Nah, I can come. After 15 minutes I'd be free, I'd come to pick you up"
Dad: *hesitatingly* "Don't worry. If I'd need you, I'd call you".
And these were the last words that he spoke to any one of us. I was the last one from our family whom he talked to. I just cannot forget his words and his ever-content face.

On my way back to home (from uni), Mommy called me. I was near the colony so didn't pick up. The moment I stepped in the house, my Mom told me that Dad fell in the hospital. She was hell worried. At once, I quickly got into the car and sped towards Shifa. On the way, she told me that Biya received a call from the hospital that Dad is in a serious condition and that we should reach the hospital in max 30 minutes. Shifa is like on the other side of the city. I was racing at 70+ speed. It was hard to keep my Mom calm, to hide my own emotions and to reach Shifa as quickly as possible. But I had to be strong! At last, we reached there. We quickly went in the Emergency. We were guided to ICU. We were so out of our senses that we went to the CCU. Mom was trying to ask the nurse, while I was madly searching the cubicles for my Dad.
Mom: In which room is Mr. Siddiqi?
Nurse: I'm sorry?
Mom: Mr. Siddiqi? Rooh-ul-Amin Siddiqi?
Nurse: Where have you been guided Ma'am?
Mom: ICU!
Nurse: This is CCU, Ma'am. But please sit down and relax. I'd bring you a glass of water. Don't worry. Your patient would be fi...
Before she could complete her sentence, we were out of that place. I have no clue why I climbed the stairs. I think I was searching for ICU. I heard someone say that it's on first floor. But it was not on the first floor of that building/ department. When I was on the first floor and unable to find ICU, I asked a medical assistant to guide me. He quickly told me the directions and with the same speed I rushed downstairs. Finally we found ICU. Found my brother (Abdullah) there. He didn't tell us anything, just asked us to pray. I called Nani ammi and cried. She got worried too. Asked her to inform all our relatives. Later we were told that my Dad fainted near the dispensary. A young man, round late 20s, brought him to the Emergency and dialled various numbers from my Dad's phone. We were also told that he got 6 cardiac attacks in 60 minutes! The doctors did the Cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) (or simply chest compressions). Later when that didn't even work, they had to give him electric shocks. He was on ventilator. How painful for my sensitive Dad.

Once I was allowed to enter ICU. I was horrified to see him. He was surrounded by huge machines. Different machines gave different, fluctuatuing readings. I was going numb. I don't know when my brother held me tight and the only thing I asked him was, "Papa will survive na?" I just couldn't resist my tears. He helped me walk out of the ICU. His eyes were closed. I so wanted to kiss his hands but I couldn't. I was extremely extremely scared. After 2-3 hours when I went again in the ICU, I saw my Dad moving up and down. I almost screamed and called the nurse and asked her what was happening to him. She told me that now he was breathing on his own. Earlier it was just the machines. I was then told that his BP was 53/30. Can you imagine? I was told he was regaining his BP. Earlier it was ZERO! I have seen his BP shoot up to 160/120! I was told that when he fell at the Dispensary, his sugar level had shot to an alarming 570! That's the "Death Level", as they call it. Today I was told that doctors said there just 1% chance of his survival. It would be a miracle if he survives. If he does, he'd stay paralyzed. His brain had stopped functioning the moment he had fallen down.

I remember in Feb 2005, he had his angiocardiography. His medical report stated that out of the 4 arteries, 3 were completely blocked, and the 4th one was 80% blocked. Roughly, it means that only 5% of his complete heart was functional. 95% was blocked! This is the miracle with which he survived for 4 complete years! My Dad's heart specialist never used to believe him. He would look at the reports, then at my Dad, and then back at the reports, and would say, "Siddiqi Sahab, today I got to know miracles do happen!"

When at night, we came home from Shifa, we all were very tired and worried too. But doctors had reassured us that his pulse was getting back to normal (earlier, there was no pulse). That night I had two dreams; one in which I saw my Dad very happy and healthy, and the other scary one, which came true the next morning. Around 2 am, my brother called the hospital staff and they said he was recovering. Momma and others were relieved. Probably that's the time when I had that dream. In the morning, around 6:30 am he passed away. And probably that's the time when I had that nightmare.

I was told at 8 am. I was sleeping, when Biya came in my room, her frozen hands squeezed mine and she started crying. I screamed like anything. Right next to my room is our beloved lawn. Mommy was watering the plants with my younger brother (Mars). Biya covered my mouth quickly and whispered, "Ammi doesn't know". Ammi had heard my scream and sent Mars to check. He came and saw me crying. When he innocently asked me, I lied that I had a nightmare. I REALLY wish it was a nightmare! Biya wanted to make Ammi have breakfast first. If Ammi doesn't eat breakfast on time, she starts having migraine. I got up quickly. Went to the kitchen, asked our maid to prepare kebab sandwiches, went in Mommy's room, took a dress out for her, and told Biya to send her for shower. I hadn't had the courage to look into my Mom's eyes and resist my tears. I went past her almost thrice, but didn't say Salam or uttered any other word. I sent her for shower, quickly cleaned my room, then her room, picked up my Dad's valuables (his wallet, check books, keys), locked them up in a drawer, locked other cupboards, slid the keys in a keychain and put the cell phones, keys and other stuff in a purse (which stayed with me at all times).

My Mamoo, Maami, her Ammi (who is also my Dad's chachi and Mom's Mumani) came to our place. We told them not to tell Momma. The moment she came out of the shower, my Nani Ammi and other Mamoo and Maamis were there. When she saw so many people at an unsual 8:30 am, she got bewildered. And she started crying when my Mamoo said, "Allah ki cheez thi, Allah ne ley li". Nani and Biya were holding Ammi. I was sitting in a corner. Even at that time I was too frightened to sit with her. I didn't want to accpet the reality. I was under the impression that she still didn't know. I was going through a very weird, and a very unexplainable phase of my life. [Astaghfirullah] I had lost faith in Allah. I thought we were cheated. I didn't pray the whole day. I didn't want to recite Quran. I staye away from my Mom, who needed me the most at that time. People started pouring in. The whole setting of our house was changed. Everything was pushed to the corner so that more space could be made for the people to sit and pray.

I was thinking that when all these people would leave, Papa would come. And I'd serve him a glass of water as usual. Like I said, I didn't want to accept the truth. I don't know how many times my Maami took my name. It was when she jolted me that I came to reality. She asked me softly, "Beta, Papa ka Ehraam kahan hay?" Upon hearing these words I wanted the earth to open up and gulp me inside! I was silently cursing everyone around. But of course, either I would be knowing or Ammi would be knowing where his Ehraam was. I didn't realize this thing then. I was just looking in the void space and was praying for all of them to leave and my dad to return.

Bushi had gone to school. When he returned, Papa's dead body was beofre him. How painful for him. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't even cry properly. Even I was held tightly by my Phuppo. I was getting out of control.

First day I didn't cry that much. Again, my mind wasn't accepting it. The second day also passed like that. But at night, when I was sitting in Dad's room, away from Ammi, in the middle of too many people, I realized that he is no more among us. He won't ever come back. Even if I start praying for him, he won't. With this thought, tears started running down my eyes. I quickly went in my room, as I'm one of those who can't cry in front of anyone. I closed the door of the room and started crying. I was screaming badly, punching my bed. It was after I don't know how many minutes that Biya came. I even pushed her away and asked her to leave me alone and let me cry. After that Lala came in searching for Biya, then Bhabi, then Maami. That day I couldn't properly cry my heart out. I should've locked my room.

I never knew I was that attached to him. I thought daughters are attached to their moms, and sons to their fathers. I was wrong. If I ask him for anything, the next day that thing used to be in my hands. I was such a pampered child of my Dad. That day I just asked him to bring me Muffin tray, and he brought a lot more baking accessories with the muffin tray. He's the one who bought me MacBook. He's the one who has gathered a million and two things for my dowry. He would keep me involved in his financial matters. We would discuss political programs. He would laugh at my crooked jokes, my idiotic accent. He would appreciate my burnt roti. He was the one who could even bring me stars if I had ever asked him to. It pinches me everytime that I never cared for him as much as I should. He used to call me his "Baita". I always acted like "Daddy's Little" and never grew up and took things seriously. I have to grow up now. I have to become his "Baita".

I'm gonna miss him with every passing moment, with every passing day. I am proud to be his daughter. I ask all of my readers to pray for him (loads and loads please), and to pray Allah to give me strength to accomplish all what he wanted me to achieve successfully. Also please pray Allah to infuse kindness in me, and never ever make me proud of any worldly thing. Ameen.

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