… That tonights gonna be a good night … that tonights gonna be a good night… that tonights gonna be a good, good night!!!

I love the contentment that comes with having loved ones come home There’s nothing like it. Speeding across open boulevards, singing, dancing, totally off key, letting your hair down.

Alhamdolillah, it’s the best ! May Allah keep it that way, always! Ameen!

It’d been a long time since she had had time to think. Or maybe she had just chosen not to. But this voice in her head came up time and again – so this must be what thinking sounded like. She shifted uncomfortably. The rocks were pointy and her flesh was complaining. She hesitated before adjusting herself – perhaps if she rocked a little, maybe she would be able to prolong the pleasure from this pain. The ocean roared, echoing her own anguish. The waves rose, higher and higher, before they crashed, one big gasping sob after the next, spraying her with the surfs tears.

A stray tendril of hair blew across her face- an invisible hand trying to wipe away the damp. She smiled at the irony. The person she needed was far away – on a mission, he said. He was gone for long long periods, even more so lately. Something had been amiss since his past few visits. His eyes didn’t meet hers, and he shied from her touch. His big bear hugs had reduced themselves to chaste kisses on the head. She ached inside for his touch, for his warmth, for the reassurance that she felt in his arms.

Evening was falling. It was getting chilly. She rubbed her the flesh above her elbows vigorously, trying to stay warm. A sharp pain shot through her left arm. Tears filled her eyes, and overflowed. She winced. The bruise wasn’t getting any better. Perhaps it was her heart that wasn’t healing. She had become so disillusioned with their relationship. He, who would tenderly kiss her goodnight, now displaced his affection by throwing her down the stairs, or beating her with the iron. Her arm had been a particularly nasty blow. He had struck her with a heeled shoe.

Tears fell down her cheeks. What had happened to the promises never to hit her. Where was the supposed fulfillment and content he used to promise her before they eloped. She had willingly left behind oppression. Now she missed her mother. Alone, with no one to talk to, all she seemed to do was cry. It was almost all there was to do. She lived alone. Slept alone. Ate alone. All the neighbourhood women kept their distance. They heard the shouting, and her cries late into the night. But no one stepped forward to save her, even when she was being beaten to within an inch of her life. Na rey baba, who wanted the jhanjhat.

She was drowning. Suffocating within herself. The way he had kicked her till she lost the baby. Smothered in the love inflicted by his father. “Hopelessness lies at the outermost limits of intense longing”, she’d read somewhere. Oh yes, it was from that Premchand book. What wisdom there was in his words. After all, what did life have to offer her now. She had chosen this road, she should suffer it out, her relatives had laughed. To hope was futile. He was gone for long periods, yes, but he left his indelible marks on her life. Even when he wasn’t there, they were watching. Watching and waiting. Even one slip, and she was dead.

She lived in fear, and he was the one spreading it. She had suspected her had gotten involved with the wrong crowd. It had all begun when he decided to journey up country to find a job. Times were hard, and with a baby on the way, their savings couldn’t have lasted very long. She had planned to put her education to good use, and get a respectable teaching job. But then she had gotten pregnant. He had put on a brave face, decided to play the role of the provider, and set out to find a job. Days went by, there was no word. Days turned into weeks, and her panic grew. One day, a slight knock was heard on the door, and she rushed to open it – just before she got to the door, she was overcome by a bout of heaving, and when she had wiped the spittle from her face, she found an envelope under the door. He had written her a letter. Relief brought angry questions to her lips, and she asked them aloud, even though he couldn’t hear her.

His mobile had gotten snatched. She shook her head at the news, he was so stubborn, he wouldn’t replace it. But his note was full of hope. He had found a job that would suffice. He would send home money every month, and as soon as he found accomodation, he would send for her. A home, he had enthused. A home at last. This hope had sustained her for the first few weeks. Then, slowly, she’d gotten lonely. Money was infrequent. Some nights her stomach would cramp with hunger, and she would press her parched lips to the tap for water. Loneliness turned into desolation. A few months passed. The season changed. She had started out in the spring of love, weathered the summer of fruitfulness, and when she had all but given hope, he turned up at the door.

He stood before her, gaunt, and bearded, clutching her letters. Unopened. All of them. About twenty. She had jumped into his arms. He stood, stiff, unmoving. She had looked up at him questioningly, the voice in her head wondering why he didn’t seem happy to see her. He had kissed her on the head – a fatherly kiss, and walked away. She had run after him, clutched his arm, eyes wide, her voice cracking with tears. She hadn’t seen it coming. The large crystal vase had come flying at her temple. The world had gone dark. When she had woken, he was gone. From there on the terror began.

He had returned some days later, begging, wheedling, apologizing. She immediately dissolved in tears and forgave him, clutching him to her chest, trying to heal the wound he had left inside. Even then, he grabbed her by the arms and shook her hard, and told her not to touch him. Her questions went unheard. His guilty conscience had made him enter a vicious cycle of abuse. Now he didn’t even offer apologies.

She rose, stood and faced the wind. Night had descended. Her body hurt from being in one position. She strolled under the stars. What a ride her life had been. A year had past, living in fear. A year had past since she’d lost her child. Darkness had become a familiar friend. The waves lapped the rocks gently, swooshing as they emptied the crevices in the rock surface. It would be so easy to walk into the water, and vanish. No one would miss her. Her footsteps took her forward, then back.

She walked headlong down the rocky strip. The stars twinkled down at her, aligned , guiding her towards her final jump. Suddenly, she stumbled. Her foot hit something warm, and wet. She jumped. Her hand went down to investigate. The clouds parted, and the moon briefly shone through. It was blood. A scream rose in her throat and choked.

A hand grabbed her from behind and spun her around. “Quiet. Say one word and I’ll show you what else my knife can do.” She froze. Felt his hand travel over her throat and come settle on her shoulder. “I’ve seen the way your husband has been treating you. I’ve been watching you, silently, patiently. Waiting for the right moment”. She stammered out “Wh-who a-a-are yo-you?”. She could feel the smile in his voice. “I’m just someone trying to give you the new life you crave. The life you deserve”.

“Wha- What have you d-d-done?”. She felt faint.

“I’ve given him a taste of his own medicine. He was asking for it, saala! A woman is not to be taken for granted”.

“Why are you still here?”. The fear inside whispered that maybe tonight was the night she really would die.

“I was waiting to show you his face one last time.” And with that, a match struck in the darkness and filled a lamp. “I will show him to you one last time, and then shove his body to eternal death. This is how you will end your memories of him – put them to eternal death. But before I show you, you must answer me one question”.

“Anything”, she said, desperately wanting to get away from this man.

She smelt a cigarette being lit behind her, and heard him take a long drag. “Why did you forgive him, over and over again? Why did you take him back?”

She smiled. A tear rolled down her cheek. “He was all I had”.

The man took another drag. “You have more than you realise. You just need to take the time to look around”.With that, he swung the lamp over the body.

She gasped.

Bloody, distorted, mangled wounds stared up at her. Blood had flooded the rock pools. His eyes were open. Vacant. Empty.  She saw the lips that had caressed her flesh. Bile rose inside her, goosebumps covered her body.

Her defender spoke – “You like what you see?” He reached down, stubbed his cigarette in the corpse and blew the lantern out all in one breath.

She turned to her side and retched. The heaving wouldn’t stop. When her body finally stopped, she looked up and found her defender was gone.

The night was dark. She stood alone, under the stars. She understood. They hadn’t been guiding her to an end. They were guiding her to a new beginning. There was nothing but silence – silence and waves. Freedom assailed her nostrils. The smell of smoke lingered in the cool air – the smell of revenge.

Breast Cancer has become more and more notoriously common in women of all ages, striking when least expected. The idea of cancer scares people so much that they resist learning more. Well, no longer. The World Wide Breast Cancer website has come up with really cute animations, coupled with facts and information about how to self check yourself at home, and how to indentify “bad seeds”. They do it in a way that helps you move past fear, and enhance your understanding.

These are the 12 signs of Breast Cancer. For more info, visit http://www.worldwidebreastcancer.com/

Click the image for more.

So this phone, with the wifi, under the S5230W, and the s5233W costs a grand total of … 35,000 Rs.!!!

No way in hell am I paying that much for a phone – especially one where I hate the touchscreen friendliness.

Story quoted from (CNN.com)

LOS ANGELES, California (CNN) — Patrick Swayze, whose good looks and sympathetic performances in films such as “Dirty Dancing” and “Ghost” made him a romantic idol to millions, died Monday. He was 57.

Swayze died of pancreatic cancer, his publicist, Annett Wolf, told CNN.

Swayze’s doctor, Dr. George Fisher, revealed in early March 2008 that Swayze was suffering from the disease.

“Patrick Swayze passed away peacefully today with family at his side after facing the challenges of his illness for the last 20 months,” Wolf said in a statement Monday.

Most recently, Swayze starred in A&E Network’s “The Beast,” which debuted in January. He agreed to take the starring role of an undercover FBI agent before his diagnosis.

The network agreed to shoot an entire season of the show after Swayze responded well to his cancer treatment. … READ MORE

Funky!! Run your mouse over the images

http://www.artistsindevon.com/water/water_1.htm

My latest love in life is the Samsung Star S 5230 – also known as , the poor mans Iphone. What had me most excited was that it had widgets for everything, along with being a touch screen and being super affordable (15,500 rs). Amazing right?!

I got an opportunity to use it, a friend who owns it pointed out to me how hard it was to use the touch screen – u have to almost hit the screen with your finger to make it move or slide, and I’m guessing thats where the stylus comes in handy.

Another major draw back was that it didn’t have wifi – and this was getting to me to the extent of not wanting the phone any more. Well, That has finally been resolved – Samsung has finally launched a version of the phone with Wifi, called the S5230W, and according to various sources, the wifi phone will be launched in Asia and Middle east with the name Samsung Star S5233W, it has been launched internationally in early September, but is yet to come to Pakistan.

So look out for it – with all the features it has, it makes it worth dealing with a difficult screen. Given below are the specs

So, if his brains are in his pants and he’s always scratching around there…he’s just thinking, right?