She's a Woman

Hello everyone!

Okay so, I have been thinking over a couple of things lately, and I just knew I had to put it up as a post. That’s what our blogs are for, right? The best way to share our thoughts and have others tell their views about it. Sadly, I didn’t find that certain something in me to write it properly. So this post is going to sound pretty random, kindly forgive me for that.

To start with, I am totally against the people who think having a baby boy is better than having a baby girl. Society has developed so much, but even today, there are people who prefer having a boy over having a girl. I mean why? Is it the poor baby’s fault that it’s a she? We read in books that in Saudi Arabia, before the dawn of Islam, people used to bury their new born alive if it was a girl. Okay so we are civilized enough not to do it today. But how better are we today? I take immense pride in saying I belong to a learned and educated family of Lahore. Someone in my distant family had a baby girl and strangely they didn’t call up and tell. We heard it from somewhere else. Around a month later, I got a chance to talk to the parents and what they said just disgusted me. They told me they’d been happier if it was a boy and then they would have gladly come to tell us the great news. I felt sorry for the poor fellows. The father was a Chartered Accountant in some well known company and the mother was an Architect, working with one of the leading architects here in Pakistan. We’ve all heard education polishes us. Well does it?

Last night, we had someone over. It was papa’s friend from a long time back, quite younger than him. But it’s like, I remember him from the earliest time my mind can take me to. Now, uncle had brought mithai (sweets) because he had just become father of a son. I knew very well he already has three daughters and he never did that when they were born. I grew sad at the thought.

Are girls secondary to boys? Rather, is there any comparison? I don’t think there is, because society is not complete without either of them. Are such people not as happy as when a son is born? How can a parent’s heart be so cold? I fail to understand! How can they be like that? And people, that doesn’t stop here does it? This is just the beginning for those poor girls and goes on and on throughout their lives. Well in most cases it does. I have gone over this debate with my mother quite a many times and she always makes a point to tell me that papa and her were as much happy to have me as when they were when any of my brothers were born. Probably happier.

She is a woman. With courage, with strength, with that something beautiful about her. Can't they see she's the one who's gonna be papa's little girl or the one right beside her mother helping her with chores when she gets old and can no longer do it. She's gonna be that person who will always sacrifice her own happiness for the happiness of others. Can't they see, she's the one who bears all that pain just to give a family their heir? And they feel sorry when she is born! Huh! It's sad, it's so unfair... it's such an animal like behavior!

Well that’s all for now. That’s one less on the list of things messing up with my brain these days hehe! You guys are just wonderful, you never complain do you? Hehe!

Till next time, take very good care of yourself and those around you!

*Hugs*

The 'Femme Fatale'

The sky growled and it thundered loudly. The earth was damp with heaven’s waters. Not a care of the world. She enjoyed it all, every drop of it. It was something she felt very close to. Rain… when her femininity seemed to come alive and take over her completely. The look in her eyes maddened him. He leapt to grab her hand, push her close to him but she escaped narrowly. Laughing and giggling, her eyes danced as the sound of her laughter spread like magic in the air. She was playing hard to get. The little crazy creature had him running after her for days, a trance that was taking over him with every passing day. He had to have her! There was no end to this madness that now raged within him like a wild fire. She was an amalgamation of beauty, femininity and something so vividly sexy. Her alluring mass of long, thick hair reminded him of wild waves… proud and powerful. Her eyes looked like innocence captured on canvas to the very perfection of a human hand.  But wait… she was giving him that look again… oh when she looked at him like that! Her eyes turned wicked now. It was a challenge. She was part angel, part devil, and the way she changed with them was what turned him on. She knew this game too well. Up until now, he charmed the very alluring of women, casting a spell on them till they could no longer bear to be without him. They flocked around him, some fought over him, some cheated for him, some claimed to have found a deeper meaning to love. But he knew it was pure lust, mere desires of the body, that were as momentary as they could really be. His fleeting affairs with the very “sought after” women had blessed him with an arrogant air about him. He was the kind of person who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer… but the beauty that his eyes beheld seemed to take immense pride in breaking every shred of manly ego he had in him when it came to his sensuality. He was frustrated now… she was enjoying this.

“Listen to me!” he called out to her. She heard him alright, but she didn’t stop. She was pacing fast now, going further and further away. He followed her, deciding not to give in if that was what she wanted him to. Two steps more and she looked back. A smile at the end of her full lips and that touch of naughtiness in her eyes lighted something in him again. She walked in a steady rhythm now, a proud rhythm with sensual movements clearly visible as the rain drenched her on and on. He was under a spell. He knew he had let go of even the very last bit of pride in him by following her like that. But he was doing it, partially amazed at his helplessness.

It thundered again. He knew a chance when it came. He leapt forward, grabbed her by her tiny wrist and pulled her towards himself. He grinned to himself as her eyes looked at him in bewilderment. She put on a brave face and met his eyes boldly. The eyes were doing it again. With a blink they were soft, like a baby’s, but continued to grow aware of their power as the gaze held longer. He was watching her now. Closely. The way her damp hair fell on her face… tiny drops of water trickling down her high cheekbones, down onto the earth from her delicate chin… Strangely, she smelled of the fragrance of damp earth… no... She smelled of jasmines… it was hard to make out. Her eyes blazed with a passion new to him. He had only seen weak women till now, the ones that were weak at heart and character, the ones who’d do anything to get him for a one night stand, hence his low opinion of women. But this girl seemed to challenge his entire knowledge about the female sex. She was hard to get, harder to soften up, impossible to tame. She had an air of dignity; an inner strength one couldn’t help sensing. Yet she seemed like the rest, alluring, sensual, suave. She knew the power she had over him and she knew the art of using it. Yes, it was an art for her. She was like a painter, painting his heart with a new color with wild strokes of her brush that almost killed him each time. Her full lips had an enticing delicacy to them that added to the glamour she shone with. He had never felt so numbed. He had never known the power of a woman over him. Had it been anyone else, he would have found himself in a momentary complex, yet she had a strange grace that whispered all his fears off. It was her “saving grace”, he decided to call it that. His arrogance faded and he softly let her hand go. She blew a kiss and she laughed and walked away, enjoying the rain as an innocent child would… wild and free.

She was “femme fatale”… in the best of the meanings. She could slay his heart with one look if she wanted to… yet she chose to show him something he never knew. She knew how to create magic; she knew well how to burn something wild and unforgiving in him. Her body could create desires untamed, yet her generosity could rouse a love that also knew how to gain respect and admiration.

She was, in every way, a woman. The perfect femme fatale.