She entered my world when I was six years old. But I am certain that there is a place in my memory bank where she resides from earlier times but I can’t see her face or give any vivid details of that time. Its just a feeling – just a whiff of a delicate perfume you once smelled and could not let go.

I am not one of those who take part in chain letter activity.

Simply put, chain letters business is not for me. I do not understand why they are circulated. There used to be a time when the receiver was asked to send letters to 40/50 people. I got such letter in mail, in Pakistan some thirty years ago. How can a college student send 40/50 letters to ….who? class mates? and where to get the ….cost of mailing? My monthly college fee was 20 rupees and even that was considered high for crying out loud!

Again – I do not understand why they are circulated , and why people fall for the good fortune promised in the last lines of the letter? Surely the originator is making a fool of his victims and having a good laugh? This is all I can think of.

But yesterday I broke my promise … ignored my resolution and forwarded seven chain letters to my friends. Why? after holding on to my promise for some thirty + years? Let me explain.

It was a picture of a bursting star … a phenomenal picture … something really ‘out of this world’ the sender had named the picture “the eye of GOD.” It truly looked like an eye and the first glance definitely sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to share it with my friends. The letter wanted the receiver to send out to seven people. Not bad; seven is not too many. I carefully selected seven friends who I knew have a soft and polite demeanor and would not get upset on this intrusion. Then there was a promise of reward too. Very good! The wouldn’t mind!

So I forwarded the message seven times. And now that I had finally taken a plunge, I decided to wait for the “definite Reward” “Send seven copies and by the end of the day something good will happen to you. The chain must not be broken”

Ok, so lets wait for “something good.” I saved the link, didn’t let the chain to break. I must get my reward. I shall not go into details but I will say that I was inconvenienced. Can I call this “reward?” definitely not.

I am back to my resolution.

Blogging is good. it gives you a chance to unload. Its a kind of catharsis.

Let me regroup my thought process:

My son sent me a ninety years young person’s blog page. I call him young because he is mentally alert and thinking his own thoughts. Not only thinking but sitting down to write them for the whole world to read. I think about ninety years of experiences,… places he went, people he met, friends he made and friends he lost. Heartaches and happy moments, …. ninety years worth blogging ! Isn’t blogging wonderful?

I am one of those fortunate people who people trust with their secrets. They open up their inner souls to me. I have never breached this unspoken, non written contract titled ‘your secret is safe with me’ Actually the word secret is never mentioned; neither by me nor by the other person. They just feel comfortable talking to this good listener who never judges or starts advising, giving examples of
other people.

When you are hurting inside you just want to talk, express your grief out loud, like talking to yourself … you don’t want any advise. I say that because I know that.

In my school days I got pushed by two girls behind me who were fighting over something. I fell on the marble floor. My forehead hit the floor hard and there was blood on my face, my clothes, on the floor.
The house nurse took care of the cut and the word was sent home for some one to come pick me up. My brother was sent to get me. He looked at me sternly. Once we were out of the school he jerked my hand and said, “hasn’t anybody told you to look where you are going? Always a mischief maker”. I was hurting and the pain was not making me happy either. I wanted someone to hold and hug this nine years old; not admonish. I didn’t say anything but I really wanted to sock his jaw… about ten years my senior!

That was Pakistan … many, many moons ago.

Sorry, got carried away. Back to blogging.
sometimes someone asks, “how do you write? where do you get your ideas from? what makes you pick up your pen and start writing? Do you make things up or they are real stories of real people …. Do you think I can also write?” all kinds of questions.

I don’t know how many people I might have told to test the waters. “Everyone has a writer hiding inside… or waiting to be discovered. ”

“how can I do that?” next question.

Its so easy. Start with keeping a journal. Every night before you go to bed, open your journal and start writing. Just about anything that comes to your mind. How did the day pass, for example. Soon you would lose yourself in the maze of your mind.”

Did I say mind? hmmmm. mind.

We will talk about mind some other day.

riffat murtaza.

A man feared his wife wasn’t hearing as well as she used to and he thought she might need a hearing aid. Not quite sure how to approach her, he called a family doctor to discuss the problem. The doctor told him there was a simple informal test the husband could perform to give the doctor a better idea about her hearing loss.

Here is what you do, said the doctor, stand about 40 feet away from her, and in a normal conversational speaking tone see if she hears you. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response.

That evening, when the wife is in the kitchen cooking dinner and he was in the den. He says to himself , ” I am about 40 feet away, lets see what happens.”. Then in a normal tone he asks, “Honey whats for dinner? ” No response. So the husband moves closer to the kitchen, about 30 feet from his wife and repeats, “Honey, whats for dinner? Still no response. Next he moves into the dining room where he is about 20 feet feet from his wife and asks, “Honey whats for dinner?” Again he gets no response. Now he walks up to the kitchen door ; about 10 feet away. ” Honey whats for dinner?” Again there is no response. So he walks up right behind her.

“Honey whats for dinner?”
” James, his wife says, for the FIFTH time I’ve said CHICKEN!

Cary Grant is said to have been reluctant to reveal his age to the public, having played the youthful lover for more years than would have been appropriate. One day, while he was sorting out some business with his agent, a telegram arrived from a journalist who was desperate to learn how old the actor was. It read: HOW OLD CARY GRANT? Grant, who happened to open it himself, immediately cabled back: OLD CARY GRANT FINE. HOW YOU?