Rest Well – (1973–2013)

IN THE LOVING MEMORY OF PAUL WALKER

Paul Walker

The times through which we are passing have afforded to many of us a confirmation of our faith. Needless to say, I spent my isolation period watching and then re-watching movies. I wish I could describe the dismay that flashed through my soul as I realized how many great actors, who helped made our childhood awesome, are not with us anymore.  So here is the beginning of a series of my tributes to all the incredible personalities we have lost. May peace follow them.

Having finished the fast and furious series yet once again – not to mention more in-depth this time, I have finally discovered the element that I was in search of: a visual bond that my own self created with the lovely Brian O’Conner in the movies. It was not the mask he was wearing as Brian but the person he was behind it that always made it enthralling. Paul Walker, a charismatic visionary with a nice touch of showmanship in him – in other words, a role model waiting to be emulated, through his actions or whatsoever it was, always helped show me a totally different aspect of the world. It was inevitable to see him void of emotion. And for people like us, who only get to see the stars they like on a small screen – an old television, it was everything to brighten one’s day. Imagine passing through the most difficult period of your life and the slightest thing you wish to adapt is positivity and strength, and people around you fail to give even a quarter of it. Yet a person, who oughts to be a thousand miles away, is able to achieve the milestone through the merest of his actions; who continues to be a source of entertainment, inspiration, and hope; who subtly revolutionizes the ideology of doing everything you love while living just one life; who helps you draw away the fear you have of sharks just by being on a screen and speaking a language that is not even your first – all of this, and everything else he did himself or was a part of, is what made him different from all the others. His speech of love in all forms, and love being the solution to all problems, is enough to scrutinise what an incredible human being he was and will always be. I may not have the power to bring his heavenly self back to life, but I have the power and hereby full authority to write about him as much as I have of him in memory. Let’s together remember all the beautiful people who we have lost but are watching from the skies above. Let’s not forget: the ones who love us never really leave us. They stay somewhere closer – if not around us then inside us.

So let the light guide your way, hold every memory as you go. And every road you take, always leads you home. HOME. It’s been a long day, without you my friend, and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again. We have come a long way, from where we began. And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again.

A Letter to the Society of Today

(Letter from a child’s point-of-view. The following information has been collected by the writer herself via an online survey and children’s responses. Reader’s discretion is advised)

Dear Society,

I am not a warrior; I am a child. Battling with you since the second I was born. And today I give up.

For once, look at my eyes now void of emotions. Feel my painful cold body longing to be embraced by you in acceptance. The sore of my feet is yelling as if tired of fighting a war for peace. Dear society I am dying under the pressure that you’re exerting, the hatred you imposed, from the true uncommon scarcity; I can’t breathe. Dear society I am dead, and now you have to dig a grave, to bury me alongside my dreams, my belongings, and a terrible fate. Dear society…

I am now the voice of a child who effort-fully makes his way to the school. Gender fails to work there. There he is incessantly judged, bullied, and made to believe he is worthy of zilch because of his distinct bodily and facial appearance. He’s laughed upon the shape of his body and how he moves. But he is waiting at a corner with a mournful face, for you to accept him the way he is.

I am now the voice of a teen who is laughed upon the color of her skin. A girl whose appearance in society is questioned by almost everyone she meets. Whose darker shade of skin is compared to those with lighter. There is no selective humanity, she did not enter the world stamped as ‘black’ or ‘white’, still, she’s suggested to apply tons of supplements for a better skin tone and forced to use various products, and treated inhumanly. But she is standing in the middle naked, waiting for you to accept her as the very beautiful human being she is.

Somewhere amongst you is a unique little child. He fails his academics but guess what? He’s truly unstoppable otherwise. Intellect depends on how you define it: it’s the way you interpret. You line in-front of him an army, and show him how his personality clashes with all the others. I am now the voice of that child. A child who’s not allowed to dream. Who’s been rote learning ever since he learned to write. He is not and should not be held within the rampart of enforcement. All men, are by nature, equal; external distinctions, whatsoever they may be, are worth nothing. He’s waiting for you to accept him. The way he is. An artistic soul. Hold his hand. Bring him closer to your chest. He’s gonna change the world alone, I tell you that

I speak on behalf of a boy who is told not to cry on account of his superior gender. Who is mentally disturbed but is considered to be a mental asylum drop out. A boy who is stereotypically excluded from your kind only because he asked for a hand he could cling to. But he’s waiting for you to come hug him-a society that gave him nothing. He is waiting to feel the nectar of love. Tell him it’s going to be okay. Accept him, let him cry. I guarantee you he’s gonna be okay.

There’s a young angel from amongst you who is yelling to the brim but whose voice fades away in the noise of his parent’s arguments. Who is told that it’s going to be okay if his family breaks apart. And that he should not be drowning in the emptiness they created. I speak on behalf of the child who is asked to choose one from both his parents. Whose nights are butchered by the loath of others. But he is still yelling for you to hear; drown with him and bring him back. He deserves life. Accept him

I am now the voice of all those girls who are barbarically murdered for the sake of honor. A little girl who is sexually abused by many people but still she’s at fault. A little girl, whose age is close to that of my younger sister, is labeled as a prostitute, a slut, a whore. She is classed as immortal and increasingly alienated by you when she in actuality had fallen victim to the misogynous acts of a heartless man and chose to free herself. This girl is incredibly strong and deserves justice. She’s waiting for your support. Give her that. Accept her-  let her in.

We were born as humans – why is there a visual border of classification that separates one from the other?  Why is that we have formed rules and regulations that don’t have any possible origin? Why have we put a limit on our thinking and are bound to impose our rants on others? We are all here for a reason- an experiment, a humanly trial. And we are failing it terribly. My letter aims to highlight those problems that would act as an eye-opener for the society of today. ‘Accept them’ is an initiative to troubleshoot some horrendous problems that we ourselves have given birth to. Let’s just start accepting people from all races, castes, and creeds. Lets put an end to distancing ourselves from people that are different than us. Everyone is unique. Let’s just start treating them like that rather than humiliating them for being flawed human beings.

Looking forward to becoming part of a society more mature and humanized than this.

With hope,

Manahil Mansha

Say NO to plastic straws

The word plastic itself has become a threat to our planet & yet we are unable to provide its alternatives. Eliminating plastic straw usage rarely requires a drastic change in behavior. So why are we not working on it? To begin with, I am a 17-year old environmentalist from Pakistan and I want my voice as a citizen to be heard.

Globally, it is estimated that over 100 million marine animals are killed each year by plastic waste. Not to your surprise plastic straw alone is responsible for killing half of them. Many turtles, that have been killed by consuming debris, had plastic bags or fishing line in their stomachs, some as small as half of a fingernail. But does it ever make us feel less human? Not even close, because we always mistakenly consider Earth to be our inherited property, when we share our planet with a huge range of other organisms and we have no right to drive them to extinction.

Every single day, half a million straws are being used. Each year, one million seabirds and 100,000 marine animals die from ingesting plastic. It takes 200 years for a single plastic straw to decompose. Do your part and say NO to plastic drinking straws NOW.

Stephan Hawking

‘while there is life, there is hope’

(in the loving memory of Stephan Hawking)

Stephan William Hawking, born on January 8, 1942, Oxford, England- met his end on March 14, 2018, Cambridge. Hawking studied physics at university college oxford, completing his phD in 1966. An English theoretical physicist whose theory of exploding black holes drew upon both theory of relativity and quantum mechanics, working with space-time singularities later in life.

This man, Stephan Hawkings that is, plays an important part in my life. For most of you all, inspirational might just be a figure usually hiding behind a face of a person who when stands on the stage gets attention of a crowd comprising of million people. But this guy in the picture who couldn’t move, who was diagnosed with AIS/MND at only 21 and was given 2 years to live. A man whose only motive was to radiate hope and light, and love(which he did): is my inspiration. He never stopped moving though, and not only to outlive his doctors estimations but to complete his very best work(a brief history of time, and brief answers to big questions) His intellect and zest for life inspired me and the world to be curious, and is one of the most formidable examples of triumph of the human spirit.

From everything he taught about life, success and never giving up, from intelligence is not your IQ to there’s a way out of blackhole and that mistakes are important. From sowing seeds of being curious in us to teaching us to be persistent. Everything. Every word that he said himself or through the robot wired to him^^is stoned to my heart today, and will always be.

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There’s no special day to remember this scientist, not any day is close enough, I just want to make sure that I write of him as much as I have in memory; fearful of forgetting it in the future. Since we are not going to hear from him any sooner, and the book- brief answers to big questions, being his last would always be a tragic piece due to his absence, I hope he’s glad while looking us through the skies-now that a blackhole is finally discovered. I hope he’s glad to see people following what he hoped from us to do. I just love him, an old man, quite matching his age with that of my grandfather. Seems crazy right? But I do, and there’s no denying it. I love this old man, with a wild sense of humour, crazy mind and beautiful eyes. RIP, Sir Stephan. Rest well

Let us Dream

I am a troubled child when it comes to psyche, over whirled by a sea of emotions that escort me down my self esteem. Growing up everyday unveils a-lot of different arenas. Take my inability to dream for example. Being in an ecosystem of 7.53 billion people makes it difficult to do what your heart says or more appropriately its difficult to follow your dream. Each day starts with day light stretching itself out, while I linger forward in life, staggering each moment defencelessly. Thats where things take the wrong turn. Like me, most of you all, have started to pass life and stopped living it. We have collectively killed our dreams and passions. There’s no denying it.

I like to write when I don’t find people to talk to, or when I don’t want to talk. There are a lot of moments when i find myself in a very miserable state- followed by shots of anxiety. Home become foreign and parents become foreigners. Darkness strides forward and then its all murky.

We live in a place where we are manufacturing robots under names of children/graduates. No-one allows their children to do what they think is right. There’s a lot of chaos. Every other day you shut yourself under the languor that doesn’t belong to you. A friend of yours gives up on his life because he wasn’t supported. Your elder sister is alienated to get married so that she can start her family when she has a brain of phoenix. I am compelled to continue on, because although its not true for every person on Earth, its true for a vast majority- that you follow the trial that’s ancient -and if you walk past, you’re screwed. I am no one to change the world, I am a troubled child, but together we can. Don’t follow the group of stereotypes. It’s going to lead you nowhere. There’s no better feeling than doing what you like, can be photography, videography, sports, astronomy, writing or research. Its just a random thing to write about not giving up on people, your dreams, anything. Be you, don’t give up, and if you do, no one else is going to be responsible

You’re only ever born with life that’s your own property. Everything else thats stringed to you is not your responsibility. It’s like seasons see, things come and they go. But if for some sake you end up doing something you don’t want, it will start choking you. Come on! Its not that big of a deal, is it?

My High-school/College

I remember last year’s summer break, not a good weather to mention- prior to my guitar lessons, but end of school parties, one day or the other were fab. Had never known what an incredible high-school journey would be waiting ahead of our lives. Following is a journey that began rough but ended seemly; lets give this ride a read, shall we?

Pretty much weary of writing regardless of the fact what genre it is to be the very least. Chopped by the heat, frailness, and self presumed languor, every moment seems as an eternity. And why get over it? I had terrible months if not a whole complete session to build a bridge over the bitterness and getting over it. Some people call it emotional breakdowns, while others don’t consider it a count. Barbaric- the hell it is.

I have had this perpetual inclination of making friends where ever I go. And it serves pretty good in times of need. However, it’s not as tender as it seems to be. I mean we all agree we need friends to live by, right? there’s no denying it, and I am not against the idea of this inclination that with time starts growing alongside you, but once you taste the sourness, leaving handful of people who live within you- it’s decisive. College/highschool (whatever you may call it) made me learn that the harder way, in which people I grew up with in school were ghosts to me in the fresher’s start. Each one of the person a disciple of the other and that too coming from people mistakenly known as my friends earlier in life. It was hard, and it has to be. Who doesn’t want to be friends with people who know you since primary school days, all the gossips, whereabouts of school days, pre adolescence crushes and worthy friendships. Coming this from me isn’t an exceptional illustration because I am just as normal of a human being as you are and my thoughts (no matter how bewildered they are) still praise the people who were and are in this 17 years young life. You always need people to lower your burden with, the boulders like incidents crooking you down, and if you don’t have them you start turning into a bad person. In my case I had some people (not to mention we didn’t get along for so long) who were there but never helped. One of whom I was cracked by the most, creeps, the decipher, the fink, smacking my trust on my face, crushing to pieces and then ‘whoosh’ demons and I, air and painful silence in between. Wouldn’t be wrong if I say I have seen alot lately, but the most important factor is that there is always more to come no matter if you think it wouldn’t. There’s always a certainty that not all angels will transform into devils and if they do- a room for new will always be open.

Just during this period which lasted for two months, eventhough two months give an impression of 2 yeah 2 fucking months only as people say it but the hell you know how furious they make you, when you don’t have separate room to sit in and take a walk along or have a cup of coffee in a different cafeteria and having those chilly breakfasts while hiding somewhere because its just the awkwardness that makes room elsewise. Or you can say one must be prepared for the long outrageous encounter. I had that too, a couple of times, nothing new just my luck always. Over this stodgy, colourless, and stale,whatever, came a massive flip in one’s luck (as in my own) and my inclination of what if everyone else is gone, what if I had cried alot for them unknowingly, you know what— lets get over it. lets stop drowning before hitting the ground. And savage, there I meet more people who gave me so much to hold on and be alive for. And so is the purpose I am writing this. So that when I read this in the years to come, i am reminded of the debt I owe them each effing moment. That epoch with me, that was over and the only thing keeping me sane was the ability of blending with new people. And God knows how much obliged I am today to forecast about these mates who totally gave me a new reason to revive. From helping me in studies, and attending my calls one day before the f exam and teaching me topics better than any teacher ever had in school and inviting me to hangouts and lastly seeing my fat ass tears falling and never letting them go in trash. It did magic and worked for me as a rehab, like wow thats the power of beads rowed in a pallet only if the thing holding them is loyalty and never ending kindness. Also the boys who were brothers to me one way or the other and a few of them would do me my unfinished homework in exchange of a treat in the canteen at the lunch and so much more. It was how this whole year ended in a wrap. Still my skull is taking long to absorb as if its empty as a hamster though the date reminds me it was all an year ago. And yet again i sit back with no coffee in my hand, but a window on my side and a journal on the other. ‘sighs’. maybe if I weren’t I, or maybe if I didn’t let my intuition overcome me of fear that was slowly darkening my heart, or if I hadn’t let my nervous breakdown teach me ways to be more heavenly of a lunatic, I wouldn’t have been me, trust me, atleast not while I am still afraid of the dark and while I still have demons in my heart.

The purpose of this extract is to share my first year experience and help let go the hate that has been consuming me from a long time. No one’s worthy of zilch, hate, and oppression. If by any means you find yourself diagnosed with depression because of a pathetic junior year, just know you’re not alone. Things happen. What matters is how you find a way to deal with them in a way they cause you minimum harm. Focus on the light you have. It’s all that matters.

 

with immense love, (blue heart..)

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