The Next Best Thing

I stopped believing in horoscopes and astrology the moment I began thinking. What we read below our astrological signs, is nothing but a collection of a person's—a lunatic's—wild and unrestricted assumptions. Their primary objective is to mislead us, and deprive us of our individualistic thinking. 

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

—Andy Weir

Helplessness.

The Dolphin Force is Punjab's new batch of peacekeepers. 

I've been bit.

The pain has dwindled a little; his venomous teeth have dug indentations into my arm. On every single one of my efforts of soothing the remnants of the agony, I wince. My hands are red with blood, the sight of trickling red liquid on my fingers frightens me.

I am dying. 

I hear him howl. It, howl. He's no longer human. He is no longer unconscious, the way I left him with a blow to his massive, furry head. Its head. 

Fright makes me run. I stumble, fall, rise then repeat. 

Stumble, fall, rise, repeat...

His howling sounds distant, soon, I am succeeding! By every passing second, the earsplitting scream of my pursuer fades. There soon comes a time when I can't hear it altogether.

I sit myself down against a tree, the pain in my arm, rejuvenated. Concentrating on my breathing helps. I regain focus. But the pain steals it away from me.

After a while...

I fall asleep. 

There's nothing but darkness around...

Am I dead?

When I open my eyes later, I know that I am alive. 

When I first rub my arm, I feel strong muscles. Hair...

I start walking, trying to find a way out. I come across a pond instead. My dry, aching throat controls my motions and in a few seconds, I find myself drinking.

It doesn't take much time to notice my horrid reflection...

The toll of transmission.

I am a werewolf.

Colors, splattered or thrown all over me...

I am yet to experience the feeling.

When I and a friend of mine began debating over whether the festival of Holi should be celebrated as a Public Holiday for the related minorities, the argument didn't last long. He asserted that because the Muslims in India are not being given their religious liberty, we should do the same with the Hindus here. This isn't what he actually said. But what he did might as well be written like the above.

What did I say?

I told him that he's in the wrong.

Why should these people be not given their religious freedom? I believe this was a much-needed move, declaring the festival to celebrated as a public holiday. This means that Pakistan is finally setting itself free off the chains of conservatism.

This means that the change that we've been waiting for has begun to appear.

Dear Diary,

A lot has happened.

For starters, Meghan Trainor's recent single is officially the best thing that has happened to me. I have the song on repeat, and can't stop rocking out to the beat! Every time my ears start hurting from listening to it with a such a loud volume, my head iterates this line from the lyrics:

NO NO NO!

I am not the only prodigy of my university, I learned today. Serendipity led me to someone's Facebook profile. And I shouted almost instinctively when I saw that person's cover photo. My senior, whom I've sent a friend request, lead his team of genii and secured the runner up's spot at a tech and design competition—I think—held at NED. That's right! NED! The best engineering university in the city!

I have begun my preparation for my next victory; hopefully, it'll be so. Participating in competitions has a thrill of its own. The moments when your name is called, and when you're handed that shiny trophy you've had your eye on throughout the entire award-distribution ceremony, until you're called on stage and then after, when it lies in your hands...

Are magical.

Can I repeat my success? I must!

I've been hanging out with my playlist and my laptop, blogging and listening to music; celebrating the end of our mid-term examinations. I think I did my best. What my answers are actually worth, is for the teachers to decide.

Since my blog is, like, my third diary, I don't hesitate to write here whatever I want. I know a classmate of mine disapproves of this; I saw her laughing at how ridiculous my personal posts sounded to her.

Well, I have this for you: I don't care a bit about what you think!

Even now, as I write, Meghan Trainor is singing inside my ears!

I've chosen to not abandon my degree program. I think I can get to the end. With arms and legs intact. If I can get through the mid-term, I know I'll survive in the future, too.

The hurdles in my journey as a writer/journalist have begun to uncomfortably rattle the jeep I'm driving. My proposals to well-known companies are being ignored, I still haven't caused the "stir" I was hoping to cause with this blog. No matter how hard I try, I can't imitate Perez Hilton. At times, I tell myself that this was all a big mistake; that this blog really was a mistake.

Something overwhelmingly optimistic inside my head tells me to not stop trying, no matter what.

I still don't know how I'll get my poems published. You just can't thrive as a writer in this...tabooed country. No one from here, succeeds here. Everybody who is anybody from Pakistan, is nowhere to be seen. They're all fulfilling their dreams abroad.

I guess I'll have to follow suit.

There is so much to be done! I have a whole literary legacy to start! But I am yet to decide how to break down the wall bricked in my path. What is even more frustrating and horrifying, is this realization: the wall is of my own making.

Am I not trying hard enough? This is probably it.


After an entire minute of jerking my head left and right to Meghan's "No".


Oops, got carried away. I think the song is so cute, and I think it's so sweet, as per the lyrics. But let me stop you there, before you speak, the song really is amazing. Give it a shot?

I better resume reading Glass Sword from where I left. There are more, waiting to be read.

Yours, truly.

—Samee

I am crouched behind a wall.

The cameras scrutinizing these hallways have been hacked shut, probably the work of our tech expert. When I first joined the Resistance, the higher-ups never deemed me capable enough for field work.

All of that has changed, now.

When they discovered that I, too, am an Anomaly, they saw me as a threat; an end to their entire operation. I was locked away, starved for days. They finally came to their senses, not too late, and realized what an asset I could be. I was pampered, fed, and given importance. My training began and I proved to be one of their best. Soon, came my promotion.

I remember the bold, red ink that said: You've been promoted!

Many in the Resistance still don't trust me. Can't blame them. It is out of the ordinary; an Anomaly helping out the Normals. Why I have chosen to side with them, is better kept unsung.

Crash!!!

Something shatters. I hear heavy boots, making their way closer. With every step, the noise becomes more audible. I dare to peak, and don't like what I see.

Soldiers.

I stand upright, and flex my muscles. I decide not to use my powers; like always. I retrieve my gun from its holster, count to three, then dash into visibility.

Bam! Bam!

I had the element of surprise on my side, hence the victory. What these two were capable of, I'll never know. The Anomaly Alliance usually has Fires for field work. Not that they would've burned me or anything.

No other Anomaly can beat me. Or so, say the Resistance thinks.

I still don't use my powers.

I quickly activate my VR Map. It disperses a holographic imitation of this building's architecture in front of me. I locate myself in it, then the point of my destination: The Containment Zone.

I am here to free the unwilling Anomalies; a traitor, here to free more traitors.

I merge with ease in the shadows, and climb the flight of stairs keeping me from The Containment Zone. Emerging from below, I can see someone, standing as if expecting me.

It's him.

"Get out of my way." I say, coldly.

"You don't have to this! We'll take you back. Just stop this!"

Idiot, still holding on to the stupid hope he's been fed with.

"I won't say it again, get out of my way." I hiss at him.

To my surprise he takes off his gloves and prepares to fight me. The nerve! I think quickly, and determine that a bullet through the head of my former best friend is not a possibility. He'll use his powers all too quickly and freeze anything I throw at him.

With only temporary hesitation, I decide to do what I have never in a long time, not since I killed my mother, accidentally.

I'm going to use my powers.

"If I kill you, it'll be your fault." I mock him.

His face exhibits not even a single emotion. He's entered his fight-mode. No more sympathy from him. His tightened fists start emitting smoke, the fingers of his hands turning blue. He raises them in the air and then slams them on the ground. His ice speeds its way in my direction, freezing the ground in its wake instantaneously, getting closer by each passing second.

I imitate his actions; undoing his attempt.

That's what I can do: shut off another Anomaly.

The frozen ground now melts, there is water everywhere. Using his perplexity against him, I pull my gun out and shoot him in his legs. He falls to his knees, screaming in pain.

I walk to him, the entrance to The Containment Zone is right behind him.

"Why?" He says, lying trembling on the ground.

"This is war." I say, and shoot him in the head.

They feel hypnotized when they look in his eyes, mesmerized. What they see are diamonds, glittering blindingly. When he flickers his eye-lids, the dazzling light is enough to illuminate the dark. They feel both awe and envy, when they look at his face. 

I stand alone.

My hands are chained to the ground, the length of my jangling captors allowing me to stand upright.

A thousand glare at me.

There is fire in their eyes, the contempt I can see is unbearable.

Something is weighing me down. It is like a million rocks are hanging from my back. 

The fire in their eyes increases.

Something inside of me dies.

I know what it is.

My spirit.

But, then...

Pure fury is what I feel next.

My imprisoned hands burst into flames, breaking away from the chains binding them to the earth.

The weight that felt like rocks, now feels light.

I glance down at my shadow.

I have wings. 

The fire in their glare is no match for the one in my hands.

I start running, my wings flapping behind, readying to lift me up into the sky.

With a single jump, I am high up in the air.

I stare down below, at the glaring crowd.

They are nowhere to be seen. 

I continue flying. To the top.

They can never destroy my spirit. 

Slowly, so achingly slowly, they trickle down her cheeks, lying dormant for a few seconds on her chin, then landing abruptly on her folded knees. 

There is a table in front of me. 

I and my dad are not on talking-terms.

He has lost all hope in me.

He thinks I'm a failure.

This is a fine addition to the list of things that I have to prove wrong.

It's quite a list, I have.

Assuming that you are strong and can stand alone, with no one beside you, can be a fatal mistake; the very mistake that I have committed yet again. When I glanced around today, seeking the companions that I believed were standing next to me, I saw no other living soul. There was nothing but thin air surrounding me. 

It was Ariana Grande and her single, Focus, humming in my ears and containing all my attention to listening to the music. I was less conscious about how my classmates again were making fun of me. And more attentive to how the rhythm kept changing and how engrossing the song kept becoming with each passing second.

I was, as per the lyrics, focusing on her.

Miss I'm-so-fucking-cool of our class made a snappy comment about me. I don't know how I ignored it, but I did. I usually would've made a scene, being twice as mean and making the surrounding others automatically dislike me.

Thank God; it didn't come to that.

It would've been quite a scene. 

It was be-yourself hour in the cafeteria. Working with my two best friends on a presentation of ours and a project, I felt like I had someplace to belong. Someplace to feel at ease.

I ignored all the laughter intended for me. All. Of. It.

Today in two words: educational and successful.

My dad thinks that I am a pawn or something, which he can place wherever he wishes to fulfill his wants and needs.

What about my wants and needs?

Because of what transpired tonight, my fate has been sealed.

I can't jump ship. Anymore.

I'll now have to study Software Engineering, no matter how bad I might be.

A new tutor will now make my days more...wonderful.

Than they already are.

This was betrayal.

He had assured me that I had his permission of changing my degree program.

He led me on.

Then...

Betrayed me.

He opens his eyes. 

Everything is blurry, unclear. 

He can't move his hands when he tries—he can't move.

A few seconds after his eyes adjust to the dark, he again tries ascertaining his surroundings.  

It's a web! A spider's web.

He's tied to a spider's web...

The web appears to be never-ending; the points of its origin invisible. 

He tries to pull free his arms, but is only met with failure. 

His limbs are spread wide apart, glued to this prison of his. 

After what feel like hours to him, begin the vibrations...

Something becomes visible in the distance. 

It comes closer, its structure becoming more clearer.

It is a creature.

Horror grips him. 

When he realizes...

The creature is a spider. 

A blood-thirsty spider...

Coming closer by every passing second.

To quench its thirst.

A foot in front of the other. 

The dark of this tunnel may be frightening; but not frightening enough. I continue, despite the illusions my brain creates to deter me from the exit. 

I have no complete memory of how I got here; just broken images. 

I have been walking for hours. Sweat trickles down my back; bathing the cloth of my clothing into saltiness. The wet garment sticks to my back, making walking through this silent, abandoned tunnel even more unbearable.  

I realize after my feet begin to bleed, that I have been trudging barefoot.

I feel like I'll never get out of here.

I remember now...

Choosing wrong led me here. 

I chose wrong. 

When the light at the far end first makes me blink and shield my eyes with my hands, I know that I've begun to hallucinate. But I learn soon that what I can see is light.  

The light at the tunnel's end!

The exit; my way out!

I fasten my slow, tired pace—pure joy pouring energy into me.

I am getting closer.

Closer.

But.

My mind registers an eerie detail: the light is advancing towards me...

With such ferocious speed, agility...

My jubilation dies immediately when I have successfully solved the puzzle.

It's a train.

Straight from the news:

Wild accusations.

Former Karachi Nazim, Mustafa Kamal mired MQM with wild accusations yesterday. He burst into a fit of tears to emphasize the importance of his conjecture. Many believe him to be in the right; however, the victimized political entity has categorized all of his allegations false.

Hand in hand with MIT.

Ahsan Iqbal—Federal Minister for Planning, development, and Reforms—is seeking a collaboration with MIT to construct a modern university here in Pakistan. Meeting up with with celebrity-scientist, Nargis Mavalvala, a profound discussion took place regarding this collaboration. He also met with other higher-ups related to MIT.

Secret Changes.

Our good old Safari Park is supposed to go through some changes soon. A meeting of the concerned directors took place and discussions were held to make the suggested changes feasible.

New liver-transplantation center.

Our CM has inaugurated a liver-transplantation center at the Gambat Institute of Medical Science. His revealed that the institute will soon be granted the status of a university. The center is to provide free-of-cost liver transplantation.

Agricultural dilemma. 

Foreign officials have declared that Pakistan needs to better its agricultural production, for there might arise more problems similar to the Thar Famine if this issue isn't paid heed.

 Against street-crime.

With the help of volunteers, the CPLC, the police and the rangers have sworn to eradicate the number of street crimes in the city.

Release of Zootopia.

What might be the next best animated feature, Zootopia was released world-wide today. The creators of Frozen and Big Hero 6 have joined forces and this masterpiece came out as a result. Movie critics are yet to present their critiques.

That's all.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. What I see, are bruises, cuts, and scars of countless struggles. What appears is rough skin, blemished. A look at my eyes reminds me of all the times spent in corners, shedding tears. What is no longer conceivable is the glint of ember in my irises. 

There's always more to people than what they let on.

The lectures I sat in today were like masquerade balls; everyone had a mask obscuring their faces. There were a few that slipped, and the faces that I saw underneath, were horrible.

Like the face of a classmate of mine, making a scandalous remark on my helping out a rather withdrawn girl of our class. Like the face of this very classmate, when I tried to help another student. Like the face of the other student above, that I tried to help out. Like the faces of the students I had learned to believe in, snickering away at me...

They were simply horrible.

These people are something else entirely to my face, but completely different individuals in my absence or when my back is facing them.

Nothing I say gives me the respect I want. No matter how fake I am to them, no matter how much
"niceness" I fake to earn their sincerity, I get none.

I guess I'll stop now.

It's time I put on a mask of my own.

And blend in.

I find myself pondering over the same question.