Daily Archives: June 24, 2015

‘Favorite Hobby’ by Rafia Sajjad


Art and music are two of my hobbies. I am rather obsessed with both the acts. It has always been my passion to have a career related to art and music. A life full of creation and rhythm is a life full of bliss!

Imagining a place filled with unique pieces of art and making up song lyrics in my head have played a vital role in my life.

When I was younger, I was a habitual singer who never seemed to hold her tongue. Nobody seemed to mind me chanting all the time. It helped me be more focused, not like some children who used to wander about in class like sleepy bears. However, the teacher used to hear my childish voice every lesson and pretty much got irritated. I bet she envied my angelic voice and could not take it anymore.

Even though she made a fuss about me crooning most of the time, not concentrating on my work, it never seemed to change me until the time my teacher complained to my mom. That was when I got a whole lecture, thus, preventing me from singing in class

I felt as if my educator despised me of such a small thing. My mom gave me a cold glare as she was told about my behavior in class and from that time onwards I became a shy hamster.

But that certainly did not mean I lost my interest in humming along to the jolly, melodious tunes that filled me with content.

On the other hand, fine arts fascinated me as I saw people coloring, using different mediums. Going to art galleries and studying the paintings made me engrossed in the idea of me wanting to be an artist.

Thank God! None of the teachers seemed to have a problem in my liking of arts and crafts. My parents encouraged me to draw. It illuminated my life and seemed to draw a vivid picture of existence.

Watching others paint and embellish objects always grasped my attention and made me fall for it every time. As art is known as one of the major subjects in schools, I, now, take it and draw freehandedly.

I have learnt so much throughout the years about the ways, for instance; using pastels, water colors, acrylics and other mediums. As for music, I have had phases where I got intrigued with different genres like rock, pop and many others.

All of this has made me develop and grow up. These two, for me, are linked together with my life as music makes me feel more and more focused and art is like a part of me. When I attempt drawing while listening to an infinite amount of songs, I feel tranquil and composed as if I am an escapade into another world!


‘Favorite Hobby’ by Fatima Malik


Happiest Hello and hardest Goodbye – a phrase that describes my hobby perfectly. Leaving it means going away which is harder than words can describe and it just leads you to coming back again and again.

When you realize you have to leave, you have an inner debate with yourself or maybe debate is a small word to describe it, you start fighting a case against yourself in a court with the jury, the judge and a lawyer against you. Your lawyer has all the evidence against you and the jury supports him but in the end who wins? You win, like always.
See, you can win when all the odds are against you! I was never the one to like good byes, they just made me emotional, yet I guess you just get used to it when you got to say good bye daily. Huge thanks to mobile phone companies and the wifi due to which the good bye is even harder.

The sun shines, the smell of pancakes reach your nostrils but no, I do not like good byes.

“Come down already!” My Mom shouts daily.

Yet, how can I leave the one thing I enjoy the most? Do people not get how important it is to me? I cannot stop thinking about it, I think about it in school, during lunch, while swimming, while reading and even when I am with my beloved friends. It is addicting, is it not?

One more thing is for certain, I could not agree less with the people who say,
“Why fall in love, when you can fall asleep?”

Yes! Sleeping indeed is my favorite hobby. People may call me lazy and what not but honesty, I could not care any less. People will never understand how hard it is to leave my fluffy cushions and my comforter every morning. Monday mornings are the hardest.
That is why I tend to sleep till four on the weekends and every day, all I think about is getting back to my bed because sleeping makes me happy and I strongly believe in doing what makes you happy. I inherited this from my Grandmother who also believes in doing what you love. Hence, I shall sleep whenever I want to, wherever I want to – if only that was possible all the time.

‘Describe an important decision you had to make and its outcome’ by Rafia Sajjad


Zoned out, Tabitha stared at her aunt while she was yelling profanities at her. Once finished, Tabitha snapped back to reality as she realized her aunt was shaking her arm.

“But Aunt Mary it is my choice. I do not have to depend on anyone for anything. I am old enough.” Aunt Mary had been the cruelest person in Tabitha’s life since her parents had passed away. Aunt Mary shouted, ignoring her niece’s words of defense, “I. TOLD. YOU. THAT. YOU. WILL. STAY. IN. THIS. VERY. HOUSE. UNTIL. YOU. GET. MARRIED. That is it young lady! No ifs or buts.”

Teeth gritted, eyes bloodshot, face tense, Tabitha strode towards her room and sobbed. She felt as if her pitiless aunt dominated her life and would literally dictate her what to do.”

“I just want to be free,” she murmured, almost inaudible. Poor Tabitha could not even snooze after all the weeping. She could not stop thinking about this. Every day it was the same conversation about staying in a prison-like home with a sadistic human telling her what to do.

Until midnight, she considered the thought of staying home for the sake of her aunt or run to chase her wildest dreams. Finally, she realized why her strict relative wanted her to stay. It was obviously because she cared! Her aunt did not want her to be out there on her own all by herself because she was worried for her only niece.

Depression took over at this thought. She has to choose whether to fulfill her phantasms or sit at home and watch over her aunt. She deliberated about the same topic again and again until sleep took over and clouded her thoughts.

The next day, Aunt Mary sat on the sevenseater, leather covered sofa, daydreaming while sipping her morning decaffeinated coffee. As soon as she saw Tabitha, who had dark circles under her sunken eyes, looking like a pale ghost, Aunt Mary called her over, showing her sweet side.

“What?” Tabitha asked rudely. “Umm…look I am sorry for being a mean-green-bean…I want…you to live a better life but-” Before Aunt Mary could proceed, Tabitha interrupted, “Then why do you not let me make one choice of my own. I always agree with you, do everything you say.” Aunt Mary’s eyes widened and the only word that escaped her pursed lips were, “I…I am…” but her voice trailed off.

“Look, I thought about this, okay? I know you want me to stay because you are concerned,” Tabitha explained. “I want to go out there, explore the world, learn new things, and meet new people. This is my life! I want to be recognized, do something that would benefit people and I want to be a role-model for them. None of this would happen if I stayed at home and did absolutely nothing.” Her aunt remained silent the whole time, analyzing the desires of her trapped daughter-like niece. “You can come with me. I swear it will be fun.”

At that last sentence, Aunt Mary looked up, nodding, agreeing with her.

After a few months, Tabitha and her aunt had set off to live somewhere else. They, together, explored poorer cities and helped the people there as much as they could. Because of this, numerous people had begun to live a contended life with less hassles and anxieties.

Tabitha got and did what she wanted to and her aunt realized that freedom was important. She even perceived that she was wrong and Tabitha had always been right for her justice.

‘Describe a day in the life of a schoolgirl in the year 2040’ by Zoha Sarim


Danielle’s hand shot out from under the warm covers to brush over the touch-sensor of the beeping alarm pod. A chill crept over her bare arm as it registered the colder air outside the quilt. She slowly turned her head to see the time, her eyes moving sluggishly. 6:45, the clock projected on the wall in big red numbers. Rays of sunlight peeked through the light-sensitive windowpane, slightly illuminating the room. Danielle took a moment to compose her thoughts before springing out of bed and getting ready.

Covering up her scars and bruises was the most difficult thing when it came to school and the general public. Danielle looked down at her wrists that had multiple slits permanently etched on her skin. A fresh cut from last night throbbed with pain. It was still pinkish, and the skin around the cut was puffy and tender. The pain she got from cutting helped her deal with the pain of her life. She had been adopted by her aunt and uncle at the young age of three, a fact she found out on her twelfth birthday, two years ago; however, no one thought she knew. Her mother frequently beat her, leaving brown-black bruises and marks all over Dani’s body.

Ignoring the dull pangs she felt every time she moved her arms or shoulders, Dani used her spray-on cover-up gun to conceal the signs of her suffering. Tan cream covered up the scratch by her collarbone, the bruises down her arm, the slashes on her wrists. The cool spray made her skin prickle with goosebumps. Satisfied with the cover-up, she slipped into her drab school uniform: a stiff, starched white button-up tucked into the waistband of her black trousers. She slipped the blue windcheater over her head and stepped into a pair of black pumps that pinched her toes. She pulled her shiny, black hair into a tight ponytail, before slinging her bag over her shoulders and walking out the door.

The sun beat down with unrivalled intensity, making Danielle squint. She pressed her finger on the fingerprint sensor on her hoverboard, and the mini engine burst to life. Her hoverboard moved speedily and the wind whipped her hair. She saw the plain, square-shaped, many-windowed school in sight before her and sped towards the building.

The rest of her day passed by in a blur, her aches taking center stage. She remembered the smell of disinfectant and sweat in the gym; the cold steel of the tables in the biology lab, leeching the warmth from her hands, and the hard, unforgiving chairs of the classroom desks before she returned home.