Sobia Rizwan is a British journalist, and this time she chose to write an article about Pakistani weddings, inspired by her cousin's wedding in the USA.
Shehzad Arshad is a confident lawyer from Lahore, who just happened to be attending the same we...
Look guys, I know Shehzad's behaviour might come off as annoying or jerk-ish (not a word, I know), but I'm trying to highlight an important issue of not just mental health, but male mental health, which is often stigmatised because men are stereotypically supposed to be 'braver', and are not meant to display emotions.
Shehzad's mother passed away from cancer, but he didn't just lose one, but two family members at the same time, and because of a horrible crime. He is traumatised, struck by grief, and maybe because of certain judgemental aspects of society, he has no idea how to seek help.
I'm not defending his actions as his writer, but sometimes a little understanding goes a long way. Yes, Sobia doesn't have to tolerate all this, but she is, not because it's her weakness, but because this is what you do for family.
Family doesn't give up on family. You won't give up on your siblings or parents if they go through this, so why spouse? And that is exactly the belief that Sobia is following.
I'm not giving excuses for male behaviour. Toxic behaviour is a whole separate issue.
Thank you for reading this lecture. I just wanted you all to know what I'm trying to highlight.
Let's just hope everything works out for both Shehzad and Sobia.
*
Meanwhile....
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Hello! Or shall I say 'Mew'?
***
Rohail
I was shaving in the morning, when I heard the sounds of small footsteps. I turned and saw Inara standing in the doorway that connected the bathroom to the bedroom. "Hey there, Princess!"
She smiled up shyly at me. "Bubbles in the garden?"
It was a Saturday morning and the kids were home from school. One of Inara's favourite activities was to play with her kitten in the garden.
"Sure, sweetheart." I continued shaving.
She stood there, staring up at me, so I reached down and lifted her up, letting her sit on the counter. With her tiny little finger she touched the shaving cream on my cheek. "Are you old?"
I chuckled, surprised. "What?"
"Old people have white hair on face!" She giggled. "Like Santa!"
"Are you actually calling me old?" I rubbed some shaving cream on my face and rubbed it on her cheek as well. "Now you're old too, grandma."
