Its been ages since I wrote here (more of a diary kinda person) or that I blogged. Sometimes I feel what should I write or blog about. Everything is out there, everything has been expressed, abused, marketed, sold.. what even is left for me to tell. Social media has taken  over our lives to such an extent that sometimes even I’m trapped inside of it. I then distance myself but eventually find myself crawling back into it. Why though I ask myself? Why can’t we just stay put without the desire to know everything or read every new piece of information or theory. Why cant our minds just embrace all that is already within us and ponder over it rather than googling mindless and baseless things. I think I need to start an intervention on living life without the mindless clutter; without feeling the need to post a picture or any other mindless thing for the sake of sharing just due to boredom. I think we are so conditioned to post anything online that we don’t even stop for a moment to ask ourselves the intention behind it. Why are we even posting it? Why do we take it upon ourselves to educate everyone around us? Do we even apply whatever random quote we share into our lives even? Is life only an online version of ourselves and do our relationships need be under online disguises and pretexts? It’s actually sad and miserable. Come to think of it. It’s literally like slavery without knowing how deep this bond goes. I think we are over using or rather abusing technology to the extent of not even knowing our true selves. Who are we even? A two-line description on our social media page? A photo of some quote posted online? A memory in which we are tagged? Who are we? Just an online avatar. Its scary. If we truly and consciously think , it seems so fickle and feeble. We are so hungry over any new social media platform that we don’t even take a day to get on to it. First there was Snapchat and everyone was hooked and I thought maybe this is the ultimate tool now, anything after it will only be pale in comparison. But no, upon came the Instagram story. A rip off of Snapchat agreed but suddenly Snapchat community started posting less on it and more on Insta stories and that too within three days of its launch. Now Whatsapp stories! We are in one big mess, no?  It’s actually hilarious in a sick way! What are we hungry for? Maybe our mind can’t just ‘be’ and we can’t sit still without clouding any empty space in our mind with just about anything. It’s like we are afraid or even uncomfortable with our pauses. It makes us feel ‘unproductive’.

Lately, life has shifted towards the ‘how’ of doing things and thus the dilemma of voicing our thoughts and showcasing our lives through social media has made me question the need/motivation/intention behind my/our actions. Now I can mostly speak for myself but as an audience as well of this social media I can see things from a different perspective. The patterns I see are sometimes disturbing. Mostly, the show-off culture which is a by-product of exaggeration of emotions. It is sad to see friends who slipped away from life because though they post every minor detail on social media yet can’t get back to you in real life. ‘Real life’or whatever is left of it. Sigh. No wonder the prospect of Artificial Intelligence (AI) taking over us seems to be a reality. Then maybe all the pretence would end and our ‘real self’ will emerge? Who knows. Just the fact that I have to communicate through my blog speaks volumes of the involvement of social media. As long as it is not superficial and abused. I can only end by pressing on two things: self-monitoring and knowing your intentions behind whatever you are doing. As a famous line goes ‘may our lives be as cool as our Instagram accounts’ ;) 


Easy Chicken Mince

There are days when you have so much other house work that you want to invest in some smart cooking. I found this recipe on the very famous website for Pakistani cuisine ‘khanapakana.com which translates to cooking food in English. Link: https://iffatspace.wordpress.com/recipe-collector/. I scoured this and found a gem which I am definitely keeping. A very easy and spicy chicken mince recipe http://www.khanapakana.com/recipe/3f9c1b62-bcc9-4200-80c4-65907a83f265/tasty-mince

I made this recipe in just 2 tbsp of olive oil and blanched the tomatoes plus removed its skin and seeds (you can skip this totally) The recipe was quite spicy so I omitted sprinkling the all spice powder (garam masala powder) in the end but since I love cilantro I topped it with almost 2 tbsp of it. I sliced up half a carrot as a side as I am trying to incorporate healt and nutrition in my diet.

Enjoy and stay healthy! Tasty Chicken Mince


Her hands swirled in the air in clockwise and anticlockwise motion as if waving some spell. Her eyes seemed to be fixed at some point in infinity. Her lips pursed tight and then breaking into a smooth smile. Her hands now working ferociously makes her smile gigantically. Eyes now shining with pride; looking assertive across space. Her feet as if tapping smoothly on some invisible escalator. The back now arching for a final showdown while the neck straining for perfection. Hands falling dramatically into the air, waist thumping like a beating drum, legs landing softly yet with force onto the stage, eyes closing as if her heart gave away and then opening wide with force at the last movement. She is standing there, breathing hard; her soul wisps out from the corner of her eyes.dng


Lying wasted in a pool of creative spill, books strewn everywhere, her head dizzy with all the noises rummaging inside; words, prose, imagery, metaphors all bouncing off each other, creating a static clutter. She felt nauseous with each creative swirl inside ‘I have to let it go’ she shouted, feeling helpless and incapacitated to move.

The energy draining her out, she grabbed a pen and paper, wrote in a frenzy, her hair disheveled, eyes bulging out, her breathing shallow, sweat all over her exhausted face, she wrote it all, till the last drop and passed out with a crooked smile upon her face; words forming a tiara on her head. She looked ethereal, somewhere between life and death, the moonlight spotted her words which read ‘I murdered myself today, these words are just blood stains’. blood-wall-murals

Sweet September

Days swift by, clouds disperse, night reveals itself and longing dies. Only a stab of pain remains while tears ease the wound. A tormented sigh hangs over head and a thick cloud of disgust. Oh how I fight it off…and jerk it off! Releasing myself from these unwanted sorrows…feel an inch taller and a breath looser. Suffused I am, Oh so suffused in His Mercy! I howl a sigh of ecstasy, eyeballs in a trance, my soul swirling inside in jubilee…my eyes close…I sleep a sweet sleep…I dream a little dream; of dawn and bright new beginnings, of blushing cheeks and a fluttering heart, of forests and not just trees, of You and Me and the Universe in between.

14th Sept 2014


As I stand and gaze

Days go by

Reality dawns on me 

with an intensity

You Oh! who get so disheartenedthe-sky-is-limitless-floriana-barbu

You are merely a speck

Speck, having the universe inside of it

Itching to explore more horizons 

My illusory universe so limited

With ideas, opinions and perceptions

Want to kick box my way out 

of these self-assured boxes

and see the expanse inside of me 

float away my days

gazing, wandering


25th July 2014 


25th June 2014,

4:07 pm

 When the artist inside me kicks

The world spans out in shades of grey

Repels me away from everything humane

Me, my, myself bursting into loneliness

Until a void sucks me in..

And I stay cocooned in nothingness

Compelling me to see colors again

Each hue radiating a different beam

Each beam dancing a different tune

Every tune roaming in space and coming back at me

A different wavelength

A different vibration

A different me…

Me; an iota of this Universe

>> I want to hear the truth in lies and I want to understand truthful lies << stardust


The night was studded with stars and its shine twinkled in her trinkets. Her eyes were alight with dreams knitted over years of innocence. She was exuding varied emotions, of joy, pride, happiness; all of them merging to create a tiny teardrop which rested on the brink of her eyelashes. 

She stepped forward on the path chalked out for her and changed the gears of her destiny. A new journey spanned out before her, its vastness reflecting in the breath of her eyes. She heaved out a sigh and itched to look past. Turning around she saw the trodden path which seemed to bid farewell; relieved to find exactly how she left it, she moved ahead with a trembling smile and heavy laden eyes. The journey has already started… she realized. 


The new sights and sounds encapsulated her. Trying to absorb it all, adding details to it, her canvas was expanding as moments turned into minutes. After a while she had a certain grasp over her journey and discovered new milestones, challenges, all adding a spark in her aura. As the path chalked out before her, she decided to let go of every moment and merge it into the abyss of unexpected. From there the real journey expanded and gave the lflower-crown-1iberty and freedom to fly towards uncharted territory. 


When the stillness around you and inside you speaks so much that you listen with every rhythm and beat of your heart. When the eyes can discern long journeys just by peering into the wilderness of silence, looking beyond the frames set by nature. When the mountains, trees, leaves, rocks, valley all reverberate together in one soundless echo; echo which gushes like harmony in ears and you feel weightless inside your heavy body. Every atom in you, in a trance…!sufi

Confessions Of a Poet

What is poetry? A hormonal imbalance? Or side effects of a disturbed mind? Why are poets viewed as people who had nothing better to do than to just put feelings/moments into words? After all they are just feelings! Big deal.

Then why do I see poetry in everything Allah has created? Why does the morning air, broken buildings, a child’s smile, birds flying, spin my mind into a whirlpool of happiness? Why does life’s mundane things seem to sing to me, seem to rejoice with me? Why do I find beauty in chaos? Why does the night studded with stars make me stop everything and just gaze? Why when I express my gratitude in poetry do people think its some lower order thinking when instead it takes me to a higher Being. 
Let me confess, I’m grateful that Allah has given me the power to spin a web of words so bright that I can climb onto its ladder, ascend and bow to Him! Its His doing. The words are not planned; they merely flow from my being and for this I secretly feel like being the chosen one or the lucky one. This capacity to express my inner world in allegories and cryptic language makes me feel complete, understand the jigsaw puzzle pieces Allah wants us to put together; then why people think that we are in actual quite illogical, living in our own fantasy? Because frankly, do we even know if its air that we are really breathing? (yes, this is taken from Matrix) Is this colour really called red? Is this emotion really called anger and is negative? Is poetry really just a meaningless scrawl of words? No, we don’t!Jackson_Pollock_No7_1950
Like love, poetry is subjective for everyone, though it is objective. Since we can never be objective about it in action but only in intention it flees away into everyone’s subjectivity. Why? Because we forget that everything came out of love and only love, instead we turn it into some kind of a negotiation. That is no poetry. That is no love.