Grandpa

I was woken up by a loud noise. I rubbed my eyes and took a look around the room only to find that everyone was asleep. The noise that I had heard was the one in my head. Every year whenever there’s a festival, I am woken up by the same loud noise. Since I’m a festive person, this works for me.

So I run to my mum (who’s sleeping too) and try to wake her up. “Go back to bed,” she says, checking the alarm clock. “It’s only 5 a.m.” “But you’ve gotta wake up, its festival time.” “Send her to Amma,” says dad with his eyes still closed. Amma is my grandmother. Everyone calls her that. Everyone! Even the people in the colony. The joy that I get from hearing that is phenomenal.  So I rush to the main door of my house to swing it open but, how on earth can a tiny, 6 year old girl open a big wooden door? After trying several times, I give up. And so does my mum. She gets up from her bed and opens the door for me.

It’s a 2 minutes’ walk from my place to Amma’s. The door is open and this gives me more happiness than any truck full of chocolates would ever give because an open door indicates that Amma is awake. “Eid Mubarak,” I greet as I let myself in and see Amma in the kitchen. She’s a lovely person. The moment she sees me, she showers me with hugs. She smells good. It’s the attar, I’m sure.

“Eid Mubarak,” Maamu (my maternal uncle) says. He comes in, greets and hugs everyone and hands me a bunch of beautiful red roses. The fresh smell of the roses makes me miss Abba (my grandfather) more. “All set to meet Abba?” asks Maamu.  I haven’t met Abba in a year. I nod in a yes and smile at Maamu.
After two hours, all my cousins assemble near Amma’s house. Everyone is excited to meet Abba. Maamu takes the lead and we follow.

After walking for about 7 minutes, we arrive at the place where we meet Abba every year on Eid. We let ourselves in. Another minute’s walk, takes us to that place where he sleeps. There he is! There is Abba. There he lies, in his grave, peacefully. We shower his grave with rose petals and pray. I don’t remember my grandfather’s face. I was 2 years old when he passed away. The only thing I remember is his beard. My mum says I spent every minute of my existence of those two years with Abba. I guess that’s the reason why I miss him so much. Every time I go to his grave, I never feel like leaving. I wanna stay there, near him. 
I’m 17 years old now. It’s been 7 years since I met Abba. It’s Eid, today. And I wanna go to him again. But I can’t. My mum says I’ve hit puberty and girls become sensitive to the negative energies around.

Eid will never be the same again. And I will never see Abba again.

Emily

'Go away, Em. I don't need you. You're of no use to me, anymore.' The words kept echoing in Emily's mind. Such words can be very traumatizing for a 15 year old girl. Especially, when they're coming from your father. The one man in a girl's life, who's supposed to be the one that'd never hurt her and would always be her first love and her hero. A hero! That's what Emily considered her father as. A hero. It was really difficult for her to believe that he was the same person who fought a case against her mother, for her custody. The same man who'd pick her up from school when they would have a fight in the morning, before going to school, only to tell her how sorry he was and how much he loved her.

Emily trusted him so much. And why wouldn't she? He is her father, after all. They had been through so much. They had been through the worst phases of life, together. There were days when there was nothing to eat. Days when the only money left was the few coins, which were always there in that drawer, which was rarely opened. But they survived through all the darkest hours and now, they had the luxury to buy whatever they wanted. It was time for them to live the brighter phase of life together, but her father had decided to go the other way. He decided to live this better phase all by himself. He was being selfish. Emily knew she had been used by her father to gain sympathy from the society. The divorce had made him a different man.

Some days, her father would sit beside her, on her bed and tell her stories and make her feel lucky to have at least got a father who loved her so much, if not a mother. Whereas some days, she would have to lock her bedroom door from inside and keep a knife under her pillow before sleeping, because she would be just so scared of her father. Ironically, she was scared of that person who's supposed to be her protector. Even his presence alone scared Emily, some times. She feared him. Fear is not good for health. When fear crosses the line where it can't be felt anymore, that's when one should start worrying. And that's what exactly happened with Emily. She couldn't feel anything anymore.
*******************************************************
"Are you still mad at me, Em?" asked Andrea.

"Yes, you said you'd come to meddle in if you see Paul troubling me again, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. But I'm sorry, I couldn't gather the courage to do so. He is so scary. And he's our senior."

"Whatever, Andy. I never should've believed you."

"Hey, don't say that. Look, I promise I'll rescue you from not only Paul, but all the other jerk-erflies who roam around you, next time onward. And why only jerks? I will always be there whenever you'll need me. I swear."

"Yea. Okay! I gotta go now. I guess dad's here. I'll call you later. Bye."

*******************************************************
"Hey dad. How was your day?"

"You disappoint me so much, Emily."

"What are you talking about? What happened?"

"You don't deserve a father like me, Em. I want you to leave now."

"I don't want to leave. This is MY house, too."

"No, it isn't. Get out."

"Fine. If that's what you want."

She gathered her belongings and took one last look at her home. Or at least she thought it was her home. Emily wasn't surprised when her father asked her to leave. He had said that a lot of times, before. And she had decided that if he ever said that to her again, she'd leave for real.
**************************************************

"Hey, Andrea."

"Hi. What happened?"

"What's up?"

"Er. I was just going to bed. What happened?"

"Oh. Um. My dad asked me to leave the house. And I don't know where to go at this time."

"Emily, my god! I wish I could help, but you know I can't. You know how my mum feels about you."

"Dude, its not my fault that my mother left me. Okay? Why don't you shove this thing in your mum's brain and ask her to calm her ass down?"

"Emily, you can't talk about my mum like that. Before I say anything bad to you, I'll just put the phone down."

Emily had never talked to anyone like that. She couldn't believe that it was her mouth all this came out from. She was helpless now. It was 10:30 at night and she had nowhere to go. And right then, the thing she was afraid of, happened.

When she gained her consciousness, she was in, what looked like an old basement, trying to catch her breathe. Her body was aching and she felt pain in her genitalia. She was old enough to realize that she had been raped and she started to sob. The tears wouldn't stop and she sat there crying, for what seemed like forever. The pain was excruciating and yet, she gathered whatever strength she had and searched for an exit. She was hungry, by now.

When she got out, it was a deserted street and it was still dark. She didn't have her belongings or anything. After walking a few meters, she felt tired, so she stopped and stood under a streetlight. She felt safe under it. For once she felt like she was in light. She didn't realize when she had fallen asleep.

The sound of whispers of people woke her up and she found herself surrounded by strangers. So many of them. She didn't say a word and the strangers just kept staring at her. No one offered to help or comfort her and she was in too much pain to ask for any. So she merely closed her eyes and sat there paralyzed.

***************************************************
Emily woke up sweating. Her hair was wet with her sweat and she was panting. She picked up her bottle and drank some water. She rubbed off the sweat from her forehead and took several breathes. She looked around the room and found herself at home. And she smiled. She smiled because it was just a dream and it wasn't gonna happen in reality. Again!

So, she lied down again and closed her eyes and thought about how she had come here after what she had gone through. What happened after what she dreamt about, played in her mind and she fell back, asleep.
*************************************************


"Hello?"

Emily felt a pat on her shoulder and she opened her eyes. It was an old woman.

"Are you okay? Where have you come from?"

Emily didn't say anything. She didn't nod or move. And just when she was about to say something, she burst into tears and the woman hugged her. The woman noticed that Emily was wounded, so she offered to help her. And Emily didn't refuse, either.

10 Types Of People You Meet At The Gym

10 TYPES OF PEOPLE YOU MEET AT THE GYM

Lately, I’ve been observing the people I work out with. There are all kinds of people and I find them amusing so, I’ve decided to list them out.

1.       The Cosmetics’ Shops:

These are the women who come to the gym like it is a pub. They literally take the time out to get all decked up. They wear the darkest lipstick from their collection, apply eye liner like it is free for them and to top it all, rouge? Rouge is like their best friend. Pink to be precised. Because no matter what your skin tone is, pink is your only choice.

Seriously, no one is looking at you. NO ONE!

2.       The Work Out Freak:

This is usually a guy. He is so engrossed in his work out that he doesn’t care about what the other people think. He spends like 4 hours at the gym and still feels like he should give more time to his body. Seriously, as much as an inspiration this guy is to many, he also is a reason for many people’s inferiority complexes.  This guy freaks you out, admit it.

3.       The Selfie Bees:

Now, this bee is buzzed, ALL THE TIME. They want a selfie of everything they do. They are buzzed about every freaking machine. So, their time at the gym is something like this;

Treadmill, SELFIE! Cross-trainer, SELFIE! Exer-bike, SELFIE! Toilet, SELFIE! And if this was not all, they are excited about the mirrors, too. And then, you know what they do. CLICK!

4.       The Fashion Divas:

These people come to the gym wearing the sexiest outfits, which are not even made for working out. Their outfits either make them uncomfortable, or make us uncomfortable. These divas are found at everybody’s gym. They’re rarely found working out. They are usually texting. And it is yet a mystery what they’re texting about, because they do nothing but text.

5.       The Smarty Pants:

They are the people who flaunt what they know. They want everyone to know what they know. Ever seen anyone who is fluttering like a butterfly from one person to another, telling them how to work out? That’s your Smarty Pant right there.

6.       The Disinterested Beings:

We all feel sorry for these people. They are absolutely disinterested in working out, but since they’ve heard so much about their ever-increasing weight, they have no option but to get down working on that bod. So, you’d never see them being all focused on their workout. They are just there to stay away from those who tell them how fat they are.

7.       The Greek Gods:

The Greek Gods!! They have such perfect bodies that you want to hug and slap them at the same time. The reason why they are working out is still unknown. Admit it, the Greek Gods are one of your reasons for going to the gym.

8.       The Lost Souls:

They are kind of the entertainers. They do not come for working out. They come to sit. And they sit. And sit. And sit. And when they realize they’ve sat for too long at one place, they get up and find another place to sit. And they sit. And the best part about them is they don’t stare at anybody or anything. They stare at the floor, like they are doing some kind of a profound thinking, while they SIT.

9.       The Texty Texters:

These are a bit different from the fashion divas. They dress up normally, but what attracts our attention is their fingers going all, “tick tick tic tick.” Why? Why? Why would you even come to a gym and text when you can do so many better things? And no, I don’t mean take selfies or anything, but just STOP TEXTING. They’re so engaged in texting that they’re not even aware of what they’re doing and the next thing you know, the cross-trainer that they are on, has gone on a pause mode, like 5 minutes ago.

10.   The Expressive:

We have all seen this one. They are known for their workout faces. Because when they are working out, and if you only see their faces and not their bodies, you’ll think that they are pooping. In fact, just to let out a personal thought, I think it is what their sex face looks like. I am just saying, because you never know.

So, this was my list of the types of people you meet at the gym. I’m sure there are many more, but these are the only ones that I have seen.