But life goes on…

Written by Kanza Naseem

Death is hard. We have lived to see people in pain, and watched them deteriorate into nothing. In the end all we are left with are memories, like deep cuts in our skin which scar so horribly, every time they are touched they bleed, seems as though the cut becomes deeper, similar to how we fall so far deep, in to water. The fear of it all takes over. Suddenly you can’t seem to breathe, somewhere, somehow we are supposed to learn that its just life, and this is the way it works. We never do, there is no time, ‘bury heads in sand, but our future’s in our hands, it means nothing, if I haven’t got you’.

A persons touch can leave you breathless. Every aching moment when they pass away makes no sense. For a while you just want everything to stop. You want to stop zhurting and feeling pain, just until everything is over, so you don’t have to deal with it. It’s natural. ‘That’s enough for now’

Everybody moves on, it be too soon for some. We like to hold on, clutch onto hope, so tightly, that we forget what people meant to others. We went slowly we took it easy, we stood still. Somehow we forget that others didn’t, they did not stop, and wait for emotion. They persevered, their grief is over, ours has just begun. We mourn what we have lost, on our own, sometimes its better this way, no body understands now. Grief meant their problems have disappeared (not), they let go to soon, we were not ready. Now we are. ‘And I’ve been knocking but no one answers
And I’ve been knocking most all the day.’

Time is a healer, we are supposed to understand, not forget. We never do, its easier to forget to get caught up, with other things, to bury ourselves with work, tasks things to accomplish, goals, a light to chase. Its all fear of some sort, how can we understand it? For it takes over everything, its seeps in to every empty crack, there is no balance, no way, or one to stop it. In summer we plant our seeds and hope to watch them prosper in to something beautiful, a sweet pear, and oozing ‘tamato’ 😉 a flower, we are consumed in their beauty. We forget come autumn they will fall, and disappear, in to the winds they blow, where they end up nobody knows, everything is meant to fade. ‘He must have been a gardener that cared a lot. Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop, Now we pray for rain, and with every drop that falls. We hear, we hear your name’ ♥ We are blinded by lights, which make things look easy. Feelings are not. They take over. They don’t make sense they make things difficult.

This is reality, it’s your grief, and it’s allowed; this is your life. It hurts and sometimes it’s supposed to, it bruises but somehow you have to feel it, you have to deal with it, fear is uncontrollable, but it always will be. Use your pain to come out the other side stronger and always remember someone’s watching over you.

The Relationship between late night Television and Sandwiches

Written by Fatima Majoka

Toast a largish piece of bread with a slice of cheese until it starts melting, lay on a cutting of salami, add a crunchy salad leaf and cover it with a half fried egg sprinkled with a pinch of salt and pepper. Top everything with another piece of bread and press it gently until you hear the satisfying plop of the yolk breaking. Now bite into the contentment. Sip some soda in between the bites as you watch senseless late night television.

This had been my ultimate treat after I had put the kids to sleep, for years their bedtime ranged between ten pm to two am and I led myself on to put up with it by dreaming about this very moment. Of course most days I went to sleep while putting them to sleep or would be too tried to even sit on the sofa and some days there was nothing left in the refrigerator to make a sandwich out of! But the addiction to this, the moment of satisfaction, that bite into a big juicy sandwich was what mostly kept me going through. So much so that it became almost an addiction. I wanted to savor this feeling of elation every single day; it was my drug of choice. Cold chicken sandwiches, garlic mayo and leftover sandwiches, mince beef and cheese sandwiches and when there wasn’t anything else boiled eggs and tomato sandwiches. Needless to say I could whip up a sandwich anytime and from almost anything.

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Then quite dangerously I started buying foodstuff that complemented my sandwich addiction, I started getting DVDs to make my sandwiches worthwhile and drinking more and more soda to make everything last longer. So much was my ‘me’ time taking over my life that I would resent anything or anyone that came between us. I wanted to be home on weekend nights and even wanted my husband to go to sleep early so I could enjoy this time by myself. I dislike guests staying late and hated it if the kids got sick and I was too exhausted to stay up for my addiction.

At one point; around 20 pounds overweight and quite mentally deranged, I realized that this was becoming a very ‘unhealthy’ obsession. Late night high carb food and resenting your own family has its toll on your mind and body. I do enjoy my sandwiches but now I make them for picnics or weekend movie dinners with the kids. And yes I am much healthier, still a little obsessed but with healthier things now.

What it’s like to be a Foodie!

Written by Fatima Fizza

Edited by Pragya Shrivastava

The importance of cooking was made clear to me in that one month which I had spent in a single room of an Army mess. I had never really considered cooking as an important act in my life. My mother cooked and when she was tired or needed help our trusted manservant of long would pitch in and his food, although not exceptionally good was passably bearable. On weekends, holidays and trips abroad we ate out, Mediterranean, seafood from around the world and pizza were the staple favorites of the family (it wasn’t easy to agree on a single restaurant since we were a large family).

Even while travelling we mostly stayed in furnished apartments to allow for the occasional ‘roti and salan’ craving to be easily fulfilled. My mother, may God keep that excellent woman in great health always made it seem so easy. Then I got married and moved in with my in-laws. My mother in law was a keen cook too and despite being a working lady her kitchen ran smoothly and staple homemade food kept my stomach satisfied.

Although there was a difference in taste and variety, my inner cook still lay sleeping and setting foot inside the kitchen was not something I did much often except for the occasional baking. Cakes and Pizza I can bake since I was in grade school and except for a few special dinners and an occasional soup I was not tempted to be in the kitchen.

Then there came that one month when I was stuck in a single room and even though the mess waiters lined up daily to receive orders for any menu on this side of the Kabul River, whatever they presented each evening tasted oddly alike and of nothing I could put my finger on. So, it was this oxygen food (tasteless and odorless) that made me start wishing for a place of my own which must include a kitchen. The moment my husband and I shifted into our first new house, I focused on setting up the kitchen first (which is one place in the house where a woman who cooks spends a good part of her life).

IMG_2369With the expert help of my mother I did go about this task and started this wonderful journey of self-discovery which is cooking. Cooking is the other side of the coin which spells Foodie!


I am the average woman, trying to run a house, bring up well behaved children and balance relationships all the while trying to make something of my life. Unlucky to have been born with absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life, I have been lucky to have life throw me a pretty amazing mix of everything and I have been learning on the job. I am an avid lover of nature, i love to read and write and occasionally paint. I’m blogging to share my personal experiences in case they prove to be of help to other thirty somethings and if not then be a source of amusement and humour. So do forgive me for my excesses in advance and comment to share your own take on my musings.