The dream world of Plain Jane.

As shallow as it sounds, I wanted to be a model at one point in my life. I saw nothing’s wrong in that— Because, YOLO– except for my looks. However, my family saw everything’s wrong in that, inlcuding my looks. Perhaps, they were just fulfilling their role as a family.

Personally, now I think, what the hell was I thinking? It is my standard question after I am over my crushes. However, I tend to ask myself this, even now, when I am not exactly over picturing myself, getting pictured for Vogue. Haha.

I have always been, I mean since my teen, camera conscious. I HATE getting pictured at Shaadi-s. There is not a single time, while getting a picture taken with a group, I was not asked to look at the camera, put back my hair, as hair are always falling in my face and of course, SMILE. The last bit is what I hate the most. I mean, if I had to change one thing about me after my name, it HAS to be my smile.

Speaking of which, I mean seriously what the hell was (am?) I thinking? Even my name is not models wala. I mean, at the started of her career, she has already graced the covers of high brow fashion like W and Vogue, with a perfect combination of cute and s***(sorry can’t help, my middle class values), she is the perfect model and the next big thing in the modelling world. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the new sensation on the block, SAYEEEDAA ABEEEDAAAHH BOOKHAAARI. I mean WT%^$%^^^@%^*. How in the world, can I even think of becoming a model when I have sucha old school name? You don’t imagine Abida as a cute-hot-chic of a model. You imagine Abida as someone fat, short woman,  praying on Janeemaz with a tasbeeh in her hand. I think, more than my looks, it is my name that is the biggest hurdle on the way of my modelling career. Abida and super model, just don’t go along. There’s something terribly wrong in that.

If it were up to me, I would name myself, Alexandra. Alexandra and super model? Umm… I know, Alexandra sounds more like a warrior woman. But I would rather be that. I mean, I can be a warrior woman posing for my interview magazine. A hot warrior woman. Teehee.

Also, though I can’t imagine myself, going under the knife, though if I had to, I would definitely go and fix my smile. A perfect smile a way to become a super model, and it is a way to many many things if you still don’t become one.
I think, my name and my smile are the two things that are barring me to become a model. Though, I am not photogenic. However, thanks to photoshop that problem is solved. I have to say, I am not comfortable with photoshop-ing myself. I never photoshop my pictures. Yes. I take selfies. But since, I don’t photoshop, and I have it quite clear that I am not an A-list looking lass, I “cant” (not don’t, I CAN’T) upload my pictures. Sorry, followers, readers and stalkers. This is more suspenseful than whodunit by Agatha Christie. Let’s hope, you don’t I-cant-believe-the-culprit but had-already-figured-it-out. I mean I have dropped enough hints.

Not exactly off topic but still. I don’t understand the stigma attached to modelling. Especially, in out society. I think, it is the only profession that boost you ego. I mean, if you really look, whatever we do in our lives, is to look good. We eat fine food, to look good. We wear stylish, nice cloths, colors that suit us, to look good. We strive for a comfortable lifestyle, so that we be less stressful, less depressed, less wrinkly, less bad skin, basically, to look good. Oh, and we do nice things and be nice with people to look good too. And here, there’s a profession, where all you need to do is to LOOK GOOD, and it PAYS you for that.

How cool. I mean, awesome. I wish, I could become a model. Then I would have no complex over the way I look. I would not be whining about it all the time at my Godforsaken blog. But instead, people would be lauding me at their blogs. Whata life would that be. I wonder, I wonder.

To court, with law…

Today was the last day of Court before Summer Vacations. And I am feeling exactly the same as I did, last year on this day, which I shouldn’t. I was new then, not that I am not new now, considering how frequently I am asked “Are you new?”. But I was new then. It had only been 6 months that I was going to court, and I was still getting used to the life’s-on-the-drive, I had plunged into. It was still hard for me to get up early in the morn, fly to court, climb up and down in the court, for god knows how many times, wait for hrs for cases, stand for hrs with my boss to assist him and then to drive straight to office and burry my face in files and try to make sense of what I write in my drafts and then head home when the sun is a lot cooler and the day insist on being darker. Those were very hard times. “Very”, because I had not gotten used to it. These are hard times too. But at least I have gotten used to it. I think the solution to every problem lies in “getting used to it”. If it pains, get used to it. If it hurts, get used to it. If it disses, get used to it. Yes IT for who disses.

AND it for every lawyer who has given me a hard time so far. So far, because may be, for future ones, I will invent something even better and bitter. AND bi***IER.

So anyway, I was saying that I still find it hard to cop up with all of that. Just not harder. And as funny as it sounds, I am still gonna miss court, for many reasons, but two for the most. For one, black coat….wearing it. Second, the clashes of egos….witnessing it.

You know, as they would say, life is like high school? Well, that’s a simile. Now, know what a metaphor is, because that’s even stronger, Court IS high school. You get up in the morning, wear your uniform, go to your respective court, stand up for your lordship, proceed with your case for which you are sometimes appreciated and most of the times, well you get the drift, sit in break time eat and gossip with your friends, then go back to your respective courts, present your case

and by the time you are done with the court, you are worried about preparing your next day’s case. But what make it all SO high school like are the stereotypes, the high school stereotypes.

Wait for my next blog entry to find that out!

You may think that I am obsessed with court. Well, yea I am. I am a very obsessive person anyways. Be it anything… courts or my looks or… OH about my LOOKS… another reason why I like court is that I LOOK a lot younger and less uglier in uniform. They often mistake me for a student. Awesome na? Umm, except for this one freaking time, when this idiot of a lawyer called me MOHTARMA….WT#@^$#*^%(&%^(%, LOOK AT ME, I AM TOO BABE TO BE MOHTARMA. He is on my revenge list now, I will beat the mohtarma outta him, sometime in future.

So, anyways I love going to courts… as a lawyer (thought, I should clear that). It’s amusing to see burgers and ban kabab-s mingling(not really) together, sitting on the same bench, eating in the same bar room and wearing same cloths, though different brands depending on their affordability. And despite all of that, you can spot the class differences, just by their appearance.

Now, if you are thinking that I am going to bash the rich and glorify the poor, then let me tell you, if anything, I grew up without the typical hatred for people living on the other side of the bridge. In fact, I appreciate their class, demeanor and the fact that their tharkipan is MOSTLY in passive mode (Here, I am talking about the REAL burgers, not the wannabe-s mind you!). The only thing I dislike about them that I can’t afford to be socially as liberal as them. I wish I could be. But the middle class values in me, bar me from doing so. Therefore, despite they are the lot I like, I can’t be friends with. And I have already told you that what I think of the have-not-s. So there is no chance I am even saying hello to them.

And there lies my ONLY problem with going to court, that I don’t have a company. I sit all alone, all quiet…AND I know that I look so weird with my uncombed hair everywhere and WTH expression on my face. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know who to be with.

I stand alone in court. And nobody gives a flying %$%#$%*&%&%(. Except for the times, when someone sitting next to me lectures me on wearing a “little” make up to court, or tells me that I should be socializing instead of living in a shell, or when my boss says “relax, abida betay relax”, only then I realize that perhaps I don’t go as unnoticed as I think I do. And notwithstanding it should all hold me down, it actually boosts my ego and I pat myself that I, at least, stand out of the crowd…for different reasons, though.

And, court gives me hope that if I can survive a day here, then I can survive anywhere. What doesn’t kill you make you stronger… and wiser. And a blogger.

So, here’s to court, for showing me what I could never have seen. For giving me what I could never have gotten. AND for making me what I could never have been.

I already miss you.

A perfect afternoon.

Afternoons: my favorite part of the day. I don’t think there is any time of the day as diverse as afternoon. Perhaps, that’s why it doesn’t even have its name. It’s actually after noon, and could be named before evening too. Or say, between noon and evening? Whatever it is, and whatever it could have been.   Afternoons have always been unflappable, amusing and well assorted, to me.

My idea of a perfect afternoon is to sit in a room that has a lot of windows. Especially, the kind I have posted in the below picture.  I wish I knew what such window is called, I always liked brick windows. This one is not exactly a brick window, however, quite similar. I want one like this in my dream house, which, considering the peanuts I get in the name of salary, isn’t possible in this life, but hope is all we have, and hope is all we can, so, YES, We can.


So, I was saying, I like to sit in the afternoon, in a room full of windows. At my house, drawing has the largest number of windows, and in my dream house, my room would have largest number of windows, like the one in the picture mentioned.

Sitting in a room with windows bringing the light inside, along with warm breezes. Nothing gifted by Marhoom Thomas Edison, but bestowed by Mother Nature, by the virtue of comely afternoon.  A room where shadows try to overcome the sun rays and the warmth coming from outside, is in constant battle with coolness of the evening taking shape. A room where the hustle bustle of the day reinforces the silence within and all the shades of grey float on the day light. A room where every contradiction, complements each other, is, my friend, a perfect afternoon. 

To look good, without making an effort to.


I took this picture on my way back home, yesterday, in the slums nearby my place. I always wanted to. Since the time, I first saw it. I still remember, around 5 years back, when I would visit to see my house getting constructed here, I would keep looking at this tree until it was out of my sight. I still do it. And I don’t care, if I bump into another car, it’s worth it.

I only wished that it weren’t in the slums, so that I could get out of my car, and took a picture of it. But in my heart I knew that the slum is enriching its beauty.

Most of you would think that my fascination with this tree is due to the fact that it has red leaves. No, it is not. Though, you can’t deny the fact that red is a very eye catching color and it has given this tree the same effect.

However, what strikes me about this tree is that it looks good. Without making ANY efforts to look good, it looks good.

It is real.

Nothing hidden, nothing concealed.

It looks good, without making you doubt if there’s anything done to it to make it look that way.  It looks good, the kinda good that makes you feel good by looking at it. It looks good, so good that it doesn’t frighten you but it is good in a very appealing sort of way. 

Its beauty lies in its genuineness.

Perhaps that’s the reason why, I didn’t care yesterday. I didn’t care that I was in my pink PJ-s and a grey Tee with uncombed hair, decided to stop and get out of my car near that tree, and took this, if I may be a lil immodest, beautiful shot.

PS: The kids in the picture were too eager to be in the picture, without showing that they were. And I, kinda sorta type of like their attitude.