I have written on many topics during my last 12 months on Medium. Some articles are good and some are bad. They all get mixed up and stacked up with time so I decided to compile them all in one story for anyone curious enough to read. (I’ll not include the ones I don’t like much)
So, I am dividing them into categories.
Here are my pieces of fiction:
Pakistan is the country where most of the people are ready to do anything in the name of religion. The rat children of Pakistan are a glaring example of it. If you have happened to spend some time in Pakistan and had the opportunity to travel through the country. It is quite probable that you would have seen some beggars wearing long robes with very small heads and flat foreheads that give them a look of some rodent. They are called the ‘Rats of Shah Dola’.
Shah Dola was a Sufi Saint of the subcontinent who lived during the era…
The concept of learning about new things every day made me create this publication. Jogi is a Hindi word that means a Fakir or a mystic. A Jogi travels through the world to gain wisdom and knowledge.
In this era of the internet and social media, we are just one click away from people all around the world. Knowing others and their lifestyle, culture, and traditions, is very easy now. That’s why the name of this publication is Social Jogi.
If you are a wanderer who has many stories to tell, then you’re welcome to be part of the Jogi…
I hope you all had a good week. My week was productive workwise.
I have found a contract-based writing job on UpWork so I am very happy. I used to sleep all day and stay up all night because my husband never sleeps at night and I always want to match my sleeping pattern with him so that we can spend time together. But due to this new job, I had to wake up at 9 am every day.
I also found out that working while sitting on a sofa is not very good for me. So I…
I hope you will be doing fine and staying safe. I had to switch my name back to my official name because I was sending this profile as my writing portfolio to the clients and they thought it was someone else so I am back to Sheeba, which is my official name, in order to avoid confusion.
Yesterday there was strange weather here in Islamabad. I had been writing for almost four hours when it suddenly got very dark, like instantly. …
First of the weekly letters by the editor
Dear writers and readers of Social Jogi, I am the editor of the publication. Yeah, most of you don’t know me because I don’t use any social media, and to be honest, I was not very active here on medium too for so many weeks now. This letter is the first of the series that I am planning to write every week.
I’ll divide the letters into three segments, my personal note to all of you, top stories of the week, and top poetry pieces of the week. …
And some other techniques to help when you are suicidal
Being a daughter of mighty and cold Himalayas, I hated cold showers. Living in a poor family it used to be my biggest dream to have a geyser in my bathroom. It’s really funny how this fear of cold shower turned into my life-saving mantra.
When I was married to a monster of a man, I was way too young to understand that mental and physical violence I was enduring by him, was actually a crime. …
When I hear of children who are afraid of monsters, I really wish I had such fears as a child. So that I could run to my mom and hug her. I would feel safer hiding under her Dupatta. But unfortunately, my mother was the cause of my greatest fear as a child.
Ever since I remember, I used to be afraid that my mother will leave us one day. I have a vague memory that she was getting ready and I asked her where is she going and she said, “nowhere”. …
तालाब सूख पत्थर भयो, हंसा कहीं ना जाए
पिचली पीत के मारे, कंकर चुन चुन खाए
تالاب سوکھ پتھر بھیو، ہنس کہیں نہ جاے
پچھلی پیت کے مارے، کنکر چن چن کھاے
The pond has turned into stone but the swan doesn’t go anywhere,
In the memory of past love he stays while eating pebbles.
Kabir Das was an Indian mystic poet. His words are hard to translate and I could only try my best. His words are too deep for any other language than his own. Kabir is someone who is loved by people of all religions. He never…
On a cold evening, watching sunset
I had my sister on my knee,
Very cold, very hungry…
Life getting darker
Along with the horizon…
My young back burdened and aching,
My lungs hurting from the icy air…
I was about to close my eyes forever,
That’s when I saw the golden thread…
Among the last rays of the cold sun,
I pulled on it and hid it in my bosom…
It was the golden thread of hope!
I keep picking up the pieces of my torn soul,
All day long,
And when I come home,
I sit there…
A Kashmiri woman overflowing with stories about life as she saw it