Thursday, December 29, 2011

Growing Cyber



“Why is this video so slow to load?!” asked my mom is frustration. The year is 2011. The internet speed is faster than ever.

“That’s a 12 minute video. The traffic is too much. It’ll take some time” I said. Mom just grew more frustrated. She didn’t want to wait. She is new to the cyber world. Not very new; 2 years max. She is only used to the zooming speed of the business Wi-Fi connection.

For a moment, I paused and pondered over the growth of the cyber world.

My father has always been a gadget guy. He would know about every new gadget introduced. So it was not a shocker when his beautiful daughter (Meeee) started using the internet at the age of 5. In this generation, toddlers surfing the web is no news. But remember, I am talking about the year 1999. I can’t say internet wasn’t common that time. It was. Cyber caf├ęs used to be open in every street because many of the people did not have computers back then. We had a computer at home (Of course we had!) with the net connection.

I used to see beautiful dolls and colourful pictures when my sister sat on the computer. Being a 5 year old, I was a stubborn little kid and demanded I get to use the “com-pi-cuter”- as I used to call it. Though resisted at first, my father grew tired of my whining and let me use it. He opened up Paint for me and showed me how to colour. I was hooked. It was amazing to colour without using actual colours!

It was entertaining for a while. Then I grew bored of it. I wanted to use the internet. I did not know what it was called then. All I knew was that you could see Barbie pictures in it. After a lot of whining (again!), my father instructed my sister to teach me how to use the web-  www.barbie.com that is. My sister being 9 years old at the time wasn’t much pleased with her younger sister using the internet. She was jealous because she never got to use it at my age. She reluctantly asked me to type “w w w.”.  I took around 10 minutes to find all the letters on the keyboard. I turned to my sister to tell me what to do next. “Hit enter you idiot! Don’t you know anything?! Urgh!” She screamed and walked away. She was just displaying the usual tantrums of the older sibling.

Thus I entered the intricate web called the internet.

Since that day, I slowly taught myself how to use the web. It was really hard for a child with no guidance. At times the whole computer would just get stuck and I would slowly turn and walk away because I had no clue on what to do with it.

If you remember, we did not have Wi-Fi that time. We had to use a wire to connect the computer to some socket. You had to type in a password and user name and click connect’. A weird noise would come up. Everyone that used internet before the Wi-Fi would know what I am talking about.  After the noise dies, you are connected to the web. Until you disconnect, you won’t be able to use your landline. If you pick up the phone, the weird noise would start again and the net connection would die.

Dad used to give me and my sister half an hour each every Friday to use the internet. Half an hour a week!  Today, half an hour online would swiftly pass by within seconds. That too the internet then was the slowest you could imagine. The snail used to drag and drag and drag and finally the page would load. You could never even imagine loading a video and watching it. The half an hour given would go off in just loading. But I and my sister, being young then probably, were satisfied. 25 minutes were all we needed to go to the Barbie website and play games there. The last 5 minutes, we would just look here and there figuring out what else to do.

As we grew up, so did the technology.  Dad upgraded the internet and made it Wi-Fi. We did not have laptops yet then. Therefore a wire was used to connect the computer to the modem. Internet was available 24/7- but it was protected by a password. Every Friday, dad would grant us one hour. That was that. The speed was still dead and slow but we were fine with it because we were used to that.

As time passed by, dad started forgetting, intentionally or unintentionally, very much to our benefit, to switch off the modem. We started using the web almost as often as every day (Lame. Hah). The cyber speed was very high and it started increasing with every dying day.

That brings us to today.

“Why is this video so slow to load?!” asked my mom is frustration.

“Mom!” I sighed. “You should have used internet in my times. Then you would know what slow is.” 

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Life In The Next Centruy

There was this essay competition held in a school for the students of Abu Dhabi. i took part in it and won First place. we had to write a 1500 word essay on  a topic given at the moment. As to prepare for the competition, i wrote this the previous day. Its not 1500 words... but somewhere near. 


Living in the future

Flying cars? Servant robots? Houses on planet mars?  What exactly does the next century look life? Will I be affected? Will you be affected? Will life as we know it, change?  Every human being is by himself a futurist; predicting what will happen in the years to come. While no one can predict the future with accuracy and precision, every prediction still has its own touch of hope and belief that someday, something will change.

To understand what the difference will be in living in this century and living in the next century, we must compare what life was in the last century and what life is in the present century. In the last century, women were still fighting for their freedom. Building were only 5 storey’s tall. People needed to travel long distances to communicate to their loved ones living far. Everything of ease today was a thing of complication then. As the century turned into the new one, progress was made in every nook and corner. Women were free in most of the countries. The introduction of internet and mobile phones enables easier access to everything worldwide. Communication was now possible with those living in the opposite lands of the earth. With progress came more complication. Cyber crimes increased and more and more problems were created. This is the difference between the past century and the present.
When the topic about the future comes up, everyone likes to imagine flying cars zooming past the buildings. People carrying oxygen tubes everywhere because oxygen is apparently in high demand in the future. Everyone has a robot pet or a robot servant who massages your shoulders as you drive your fuel less, driver less, powerful vehicle through traffic less skies. The funny fact is that this was the image drawn up by a futurist in the 19th century when he was asked about what the next century would look like. The concept has still not changed and people still believe that one day, our dreams of doing nothing and still having everything will come true.

Human behavior is sure to change with the change in lifestyle. It is believed that the poor is bound to increase more in number in the coming century rather than reduce. The rich will keep getting richer while the poor continue becoming poorer day by day. This shows the core of human behavior that love and affection towards those below us will reduce even more in the future. Human beings will be more proud of who they are and what they are. They will reduce into humility less form of animals.

Destruction will be everywhere. In the past, to achieve greatness, a war was sure to take place. War, in the past century was of sticks and stones that break our bones. With the change in century, I believe that in the next century, the commando in chief will just sit in a huge office in America and tap a red button on his touch screen. The next thing you know, a city has blown up in Kuwait. Hiroshima Nagasaki situations will be rampant and wide. Brothers and sisters of the same womb will fight each other with no trace of love left.
 Life will be valueless with the population rising every second. Giving birth is no longer a tough and painful 10 month wait. With the new and improved robot wife, you can get pregnant today and give birth the next week- just like popping an aerated balloon. If that itself is painful, you can design your virtual babies with the exactness and perfection you want, send in your gene code and have them delivered at your doorstep in a week. You are a mother in a week. Viola!

The relief of being born in the next century would be of being freer. Every child born into this world will be free from the evil of being subject to slavery or prostitution. But the chains of the so-called free technology with bind the child from every side. 

I was too lazy to write a conclusion.. 

Monday, December 26, 2011

Heartbreaks And Suicides

I plan to join a Journalism Mass Media and Communication college in India after i finish my high school. My folks had agreed to it... until recently. 

This 17 year old cousin of mine in India is/was (no clue!) wildly in love with some college dude. Her family disapproved the guy and forbade her from seeing the guy. As cheesy Rom-Coms go on, she attempted suicide by slashing the nerve on her hand. No laughing matter, this caused an upheaval in my dad's family. There was tension all around. Alhamdulillah she is fine since she did not cut deep enough. How a person can take the life given to them by god is just jaw dropping. 

This incident also caused a problem for me. My father, who is already worried about raising two girls, told my mom that he is no longer willing to send me to study in India. Trust issues. He is scared i may go the wrong way. As i have said earlier in my posts, the society i live in, frowns upon the acts of romance between those unmarried to each other. Therefore, my dad believes that a girl's mind can away off and i may go wrong. Sexist much? I was furious. I suppressed all my feelings and held on to my chastity and dated no boy at all (with small exceptions of crushes) and finally my dad thinks i may go wrong. Really?! Now i need to somehow make my dad understand that i am not a feeble being and that i am a lady of my words. God.. give me strength! 

Talking about suicides and suicide attempts... I had written on this topic last year in my old blog. I'll post it here since i liked it a lot. 



A SUICIDE NOTE...



Monotony is the main reason why I have become an ardent reader. Today, boredom steered me to a suicidal note left by a teenager. A tad more investigation and I found out that it’s not the case of ‘a’ teenager… this is a grave and sober case of ‘many’ teenagers that take their life. Suicide, though being a frequently heard expression, always sends a tremor down every one. And today, I was the recipient…I winced reading the brutal, grief striking stories of students ending their lives just for petite cases like being rebuked by teachers to major events like anti-gay bullying. It is already a struggle to live through the teen years encountering something new about yourself every now and then. To mount it all with bullying is a vast burden and sadly, some just don’t have the strength to hold on. Life is priceless … everyone says so and everyone knows it. But does everyone actually take heed ? I doubt it! Islam has prohibited human beings from suicide because life is a reward given to us from the Almighty and we should do all we can to continue safeguard it. But when time proves challenging… when actions are heart rupturing … when words harm mightier than swords, don’t we, for an instant at least, loose the desire to live? Many of us revive from this situation, but the aching truth stays fact… that some don’t. They believe that suicide is the solution to all their glitches. Oh how mistaken they are!


Every 90 minutes, a teenager somewhere in America kills himself. “It's more than just common, it's probably at epidemic proportions,” said Dr. Lawrence Levine, Bristol Hospital. The rise in the rate of teen suicide - 250 percent in the past 30 years - has caused it to become the nation’s second leading killer of young people, after accidents!
When a family member commits suicide, the entire family is plunged into confusion and grief. Life is instinctually valued by all of life's creatures. Even a blade of grass or flower fights for the privilege of life. When someone close to you voluntarily ends their lives, your entire value system is thrown into question. Family members may also be consumed with guilt, thinking that they somehow should have seen the signs that led to the individuals suicide. Group therapy with others who have experienced this trauma as well individual therapy may be necessary to help cope.
Toby, a loving little beagle, is still howling for his owner to return home. But 18-year-old Scott Hanelt, who hung himself in a park just before Labor Day, is never coming back.
"Toby's really lost," said Scott's mother, Cathy Hanelt.

When Scott chose to kill himself Aug. 27, he deserted much more than just a confused dog. His family, and scores of friends, are also grieving. "If Scott realized how much pain he left behind, he wouldn't have done it," his mother said.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

To Change Or Not


They say change is inevitable. Change is good. This week has been a week of major changes for me… thus turning the second week of December 2011 into a memorable one. Or more like a week I would never ever forget in my entire life. If I do, I’ll just have to read this blog post again.



I’ve been living in a tiny (literally) two bedroom apartment for 12 years of my life. We have been forever trying to change, but somehow fate just wouldn’t show up. The hike in rents of apartments in Abu Dhabi caused more trouble than that that prevailed. A normal two bedroom apartment is AED 70,000/- average ( $ 20,000 roughly) annually. How would an average employee of say, AED 10000 as salary survive in this horrible apartment rent hikes? Torture much?

 *Returns back to the topic*
My sister is getting married next year and we want her to stay with us occasionally. So that stood as a problem because we, a family of four, barely fit into the flat. So that’s when the final decision was made that come what may, we’ll change. When you are ready to pay any amount, everything is available to your door step. So we found this flat next to Abu Dhabi Mall and all preps were done to move in. On December 13th, I moved into my new flat which is HUGE for a person that lived in a tiny flat for 12 years. That was the first major change.

As I said earlier in my previous post, 14 years of my student life ended the next day… 14th December. I just noticed that 14 years ended on 14th. Awesome. Haha.

If you know me, you’ll also know how loud and firm my voice is. Though I used to hate my voice before bcz I used sound like a boy and couldn’t sing, there is not a thing I would change about it now. That’s because now I know why I have this voice. What I have noticed for years now is that I kinda have the power (haha) to make people listen to me. I can make a good evil dictator with the voice I have. I can order to lock up the unscrupulous people o f my school behind bars. HAHAHA!

Back to being realistic, with my voice, I can easily make a statement and convince people. It true somehow. I had a cold the day before I was shifting to my new flat. After shifting, my body didn’t adapt well with the present air in the new apartment. I woke up in the middle of the night, actually crying in pain and knocked on my parents’ door to wake them up. You know those nightmares where you want to scream but you are just too scared and no voice comes out. Well, my situation was more of a reality. I tried to explain my situation to my mom… but all I could manage to do was show actions. Not a sound came out of my mouth. I could scream and all you would hear was “ah” in the lowest possible way. Things were good till I went to school. It was the last day of my school life and I had lost my voice; the one thing that carried me forward in my school social life. What surprised me was, I did not need my voice to communicate with my friends that day. If I wanted to say something, the whole class would drop into a void silence and just look at me while I try my best to speak. The class of 26 chit chatting students actually bothered to be quiet to listen to me. Now you know why I love them. At the moment, right now when I’m typing, I still haven’t regained my voice. I’m maintaining silence and resting my voice because a huge event is coming up and there, I don’t think 40 students are going to be silent for me to talk.

What I am basically trying to say in this post, is that changes take place.

 I changed my apartment- A good change.

14 years of my school life ended- A sad change.

I lost my voice- A bad change

Whatever it is, change happens. What we have to do is move on. My school life ended… as sad as it is, I know when school ends, college starts. Losing my voice was hard. But I learned a little more about my friends from that.

Change. It’s inevitable. 


Sunday, December 11, 2011

Fourteen Years


It’s ending.

Fourteen years.

Fourteen years of sitting in classrooms and listening to boring teachers.



Fourteen years of sharing a bench with different kinds of students- the nerds, the jocks, the emos, the cool ones, you name it. 

Fourteen years of having to fake signs in test note books because you just couldn’t afford to study with “Harry Potter and the Chamber of secrets” on TV.


Fourteen years of doing the summer vacation assignments on the day before school re-opens.

Fourteen years (not exactly... I was a really small kid for 7 starting years) of crushes on boys of the same age.

Fourteen years of not wanting to wake up early to go to school because sleep is just too important.

Fourteen years of strangers to friends to best friend … just so that the next year it goes from best friends to friends to strangers.

Fourteen years of talking for hours on the phone with a friend with whom you just spent 7 hours of school.

Fourteen years of wearing casuals to school cause its your birthday and you get concessions from teachers. 

Fourteen years of stupid restrictions of constrained freedom. 

Fourteen years of doubting who you are. 

Fourteen years of hope that someday I'll become something... that someday I’ll be someone. 

Fourteen years of just being a child … making mistakes… getting sent to the Head’s office.  

Fourteen years of believing that school will never end… that you are stuck in the dark hole forever. 

I woke up today and the only thought on my mind was that it ending. All those dreams, aspirations, hopes. Today, I know what I want to be in my adult years. Today, I know where I stand in the crowd. But somehow that isn’t giving me the happiness I believed I would get. I know I’m wearing the nostalgia goggles now. It’s a figure of speech where there is an imaginary bind around you making you want to hold back to the past and not let go. It’s just like when you are going to break up with a guy because he doesn’t respect you and all you can think about are the fun times you had with him. I am really done with school. I don’t ever want to go back to studying in a school. But I would definitely give my all if I had a chance to have the school break periods where all the lunch boxes are like free food for everyone. That is what school has been for me. Friends. If I ever want to go back to school, my friends will be the only reason because who wants to go back to a school of restrictions?



I’ll be wearing the nostalgia goggles for some more time. But it’ll wear off within time because the next stage of my life excites me just too much. The much awaited college.  

But this will always remain in my mind. 

Give me some sunshine
Give me some rain
Give me another chance
I wanna grow up once again




Friday, November 25, 2011

School Trauma

I am one of the lucky (or unlucky) few who got to study at two completely different schools for the exact half of my school life. I did my kindergarten to grade three and my high school (grade 11 and grade 12) in IIIS and my grade 4 to grade 10 in OOEHS. I am taking a great risk in writing this post since I have no intention in praising my school. Rather I am planning on bitching about it and help free my out cry for freedom in the school grounds. 








IIIS is school divided into three sections- Boys and Girls. Boys are haraam (forbidden) for girls- according to the school authorities. Though both the sections are situated in the same compound, we are ordered to treat the Boys section as a different world of forbidden fruits (LOL).  If any girl is caught looking outside the window to the common ground, she will be summoned to the Head Mistress' (Lets call her Lady H) office and asked to explain why she had looked outside. Ok. I was exaggerating a bit. but 3/4th of it is true. Being brought up in a co-ed school for 7 years, I have a lot of friends who are boys and completely staying away from them and not talking to them was weird for me when I joined IIIS. But survival skills did kick in and I adjusted. Its been nearly 6 months since I actually spoke to a boy. Not a big deal. But its still weird. 






Facebook is another forbidden subject in IIIS. When I was in grade XI, the Lady H summoned the whole class  of 26 students to the front of her office and asked us to stand in two separate groups of Facebookers and non Facebookers. Of course the non Facebookers were very less in comparison to the criminal group of Facebookers. At that time, I was an avid FB user though I wasn't an addict. Lady H turned her attention to us and asked us what we use FB for. Now there is a silently know rule that you are not allowed to answer Lady H when she asks you something when she is angry. That is because the questions she asks when she is angry are usually rhetorical questions which require no answers. She did not exactly tell us to delete our accounts from FB.. but she did reach very close to it. She raised her voice at us and asked us how many boys we keep in contact with online. She wanted to know what we spoke about and why we spoke about it. Her face turned into a scowl when she said that she knew we all chatted with many boys of the same school. He voice was filled with disgust at what we teenagers did. After an hour long of constant Blah Blah Blahs... we were asked to return to class and never speak about Facebook ever again in the school premises. To date, I don't know what had caused this up rise of events though I strongly believe its those spies in the class. Spies... That's another story! 




Wednesday, November 23, 2011

I Shall





I shall pare a rose from my heart
And bleed to give it colour

I shall mold the linings of the clouds
To dance an anklet on your ankles

I shall fetch the cuckoos from the heavens
To sing for you to appease your ears

I shall slash my skin and make a hide
To warm you through your plights

I shall give you my eyes eternally to stay
So that you see how stunning you are

I shall brawl the battle of the worlds
To prove to you that I am stanch

I shall rest my head on the trails
If you assure me your smile

I shall swim the seven fatal seas
And mount the seven lethal hills

I shall live forever to shield you
Or die to grant your desire

I shall do what no one may
If your shall promise to be my bride

Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Anonymous "Thing"

The urge to write this post has been running wildly in me for a long time. Since I turned 17 last month, I finally got the closure I needed to write this post. My weird school keeps special classes for us XIIth graders on Fridays. It is weird because Friday is the only common public holiday for everyone in the UAE. I am forced to wake up at 5:30 AM and catch the running bus at 6:15 AM. The morning is usually very cold and boring and the roads are almost empty. I often see a Pathan (Pakistani male) lurking here and there. For so long have I hoped for something interesting to happen that one day something did happen. But let me point it out to you, as my post titles gives the surprise away, it wasn't interesting. It was exactly the opposite. 


The public road cleaner comes around at 6:30 AM every day to pick up the trash littered around. Since I had to board the bus at 6:15 AM on Fridays, the road used to be always littered. This particular day, instead of the usual garbage, the pavement on the side of the building ground was clean. That is, except for a god-awful, pink coloured, unfamiliar "thing" on the side. Yes, trust me, it was unfamiliar for me. As disgusting as it looked, curiosity got the better of me and I moved in for a quick look. There, on the path, was a thing i have only seen in my science textbook (My generation is blessed with sex education... haha )... A condom. It was repulsive and I gagged. Every week since then, I  used to see this on the pavement. Still feeling repulsed, I started closing my eyes and walking thereon. Not a good idea, I later understood, when I bumped into that lurking Pathan one day. 


Believe it or not, this is not a usual sight for people in a Muslim country. Or any country I suppose. I decided to take a different route to the bus stop. Friday came and I reluctantly walked through the other side. It was along way and I wasn't happy. This thought just popped into my mind all of a sudden. "I wanna know if that man got banged last night." And yes my friends... I walked back to that path and as if waiting for me, it was lying over there. Since then, I overcame the "problem" of the situation and every time I see it on the pavement, I know that someone got lucky last night. 


As the song in "How I Met Your Mother" goes... 
I Say Bang Bang Bangitty Bang ... I Said Bang Bang Bangitty Bang 
... Always wanted to sing it out loud!  

Saturday, November 12, 2011

A Million Heartbreaks

Every girl dreams about the day she would get married to her prince charming. He is always this very handsome, very charming and absolutely irresistible guy that was sure to break a few million hearts on the wedding day. Since the day I came to know about weddings and love, I had this bad instinct that I wouldn't have a prince charming. Or at least he wouldn't be "charming". Therefore I used to asses the guys I met on the basis of looks, style, taste, family, orientation, and where he lives. You see, we South Indians don't have love marriages. Its is usually slightly frowned upon. The parents of the girl find a groom that they find suitable and presents him in front of her. She has the final say to reject him or take him. While looking for a groom, the parents check on whether he is friendly, educated, highly positioned, non alcoholic, non smoker, non druggy (?!) and whether his house is near by. They look for convenience and most of all, a good family and bright future for their little girl. As a teenager, I started checking out guys 4 years or so elder than me, just to make sure there were good enough men left for me to get married to. Two guys seemed to top my list. Let's call them Moron and Dumbass. Dumbass is another story, another time. 

Moron... Oh that boy had a way with girls. He was handsome, adorable, a mommy's boy and very well behaved guy. He was my sister's classmate during her college years. That is how I first met him. I knew, from the first week of knowing him and hearing a lot about him from my sister, that he would top my list of "Men I Want To Marry". He stayed nearby (somewhat) in my homeland. Oh how I believed that he would be the man for me. Not before long, he stabbed me with a virtual fork by tagging me as his "sister". That was that for a long time. But I believed that someday, I would get the nerve to confront him and somehow or the other, get him in my house. 

Two days back, I received a heartbreaking and shocking message. Moron, the guy that I so longed for, was getting engaged. He was only 21 years old! As insane as it sounded, it was true. That was the heartbreaking message. The shocking message came after. He was getting engaged to my childhood friend, BigMouth. I was helpless. When she called to tell me that she was getting engaged to my sister's friend, I just smiled and let it slide. The only humor I could find out of the situation was that once long back, BigMouth had bitched to me about this guy in her school that was a huge flirt. She told me she hated that guy. I laughed on recalling the thought, because she was ultimately getting engaged to the same guy that she once bitched about. 


My heart was broken when the ever single and hot guy became engaged. I knew, from the list of "congratulations" on his Facebook wall from a million girls, that a million hearts were broken too