My Silent Half
Writer: Sabah Nour

It was Monday- the gloomy Monday again….Another day of hope in eyes filled with ambitions.

But with swallowed pride, I felt crushed. I sat on my balcony, depressed. Should I cry because, I’m a woman?

Sitting there and looking at the sad view of Monday evening, everything seemed so joyless and unfriendly. The question torturing me was, WHO AM I?

I- I…. I am Sabah, Noor…Sabah Noor, yeah.

That’s all what I AM? Recognized by just a name?

There should be some reason of my existence. I don’t want to be a star that glorifies the sky but only get counted for its beauty. I would rather love to be a gem on the ring which is desired by the masters of all.

But the riddle of life crushed me beneath. I was bound in chains made out of memories and hopes. I want to liberate my soul from those chains. The more I desire, the most it plays. Fortunately, I know the game is still young.

Pakistan was going through horrible crisis. The depression had gone deeper and had squeezed the stock market to the core. Thousands of people lost their jobs, businesses shut down everywhere, terrorists were roaming free on the streets. The lower and middle class were in the grip of devastating depression and were committing suicide. Graduates were struggling and shaking their fate to find a job. Then there were those who never got the opportunity to make education their priority and had to leave their studies after matriculation. They are now selling toys on the streets and yes unfortunately most of them are women, who quit education due to early marriage or due to there fact that the education of the son of the family was more important than hers. Is this what the women. were born for, born to suffer?

Fresh graduates were all wannabes, though unemployed, but with eyes filled with wonderful dreams that would never come true. Looking at the uncertain situation of the country, being a sweeper would probably be the only unwanted but possible dream that would come true.

seemed like the world had disowned me. I had reached the depths of depression and despair. I could not find a reason for my existence. The walls were closing in on me. I watched the earth swoop up and down. I could hardly breathe, eat and talk. The pain was excruciating. I lay on the floor…staring at the clock. I felt like the clock seemed to be racing faster and faster…The sound of it was going to burst my ears. I was unable to move. I felt lost. WHY?!

I could not define….

As I looked from my balcony towards the sky, I felt dislocated. My heart sank.

At times changes in my moods continued. I was always unreasonably frustrated, happy and suicidal or numb. But the grievance and sorrows would become the power of my silent half, I never knew….

I hated Thursday the most because I was always caught up by the rich and influential bullies in my college.

Their names? God knows!

Unfortunately or fortunately, I was the only good looking nerd who came from a middle class family who would go to school with an unfitted bulky uniform that was torn and shabby. They would make fun of me and I would shake my head in embarrassment and walk away. At that moment I never could find much heart to fight. Every night waves of depression would hit me and I could hardly sleep. Finally, I gave up and the next day went straight to the principal’s office. I knocked at the door.

A voice came from inside the office,

“Come in.”

When I walked in, she was seated behind her desk and said

“Hello, Sabah. It’s you again. What can I do for you?”

There was no warmth in her voice. It demotivated me even more. I thought she would hate me for my guts. But then I asked myself “What the hell have I gotten myself into?!”

She asked me to sit down but I stood there, the feet did not move, I was paralyzed.

She was staring at me. My heart started to beat faster and faster. I was puzzled.

She repeated. “How can I help..?” words were hesitating to come but they did.

Yes…..yes….ummhh…No! But – nothing… Sigh! Her lips tightened for a moment.

She asked, “Nothing? Are you sure?”

I nodded. I was too upset to speak. I turned around and walk to the door, broken from inside.

That day I did not know what I had to do to make my inner self strong, to know the reason why was I born. I wanted to know “THE POWER OF MY SILENT HALF!”

It was the sign of my smallest yet biggest failure of my life. I couldn’t “win over myself” .The life I wanted to escape from was right there in my face. All I could do to ease my frustration was to tear off my books, the golden door which would lead me my goals.

I cannot live my life that way. That embarrassing day could have been the beginning of my confidence but it ended up too soon. I kept wondering there has to be a way. THERE HAS TO BE A WAY!

Everything, in life, is a test. Your failures are known to all but one needs to keep working on themselves to let the world know who we are. All we need to do is just say to ourselves.


That moment I had not achieved my goals but I felt pleased to strengthen myself to make a change. Why happy?! Wonder why?

When you have lost everything in life and when you have nothing more to lose. You stand up to explore your inner self in isolation .. If you do not encounter a face inside you, You begin to win!

I felt like I’m starting to recognize myself. The more I wonder about my sorrows the more it motivates me that I H-A-V-E TO C-H-A-N-G-E it. The only way to reach the sky is books which would help me to speak up. My words are gems that need to be mined on a paper.

I came home after a tiring and an uncaring day. I knocked at the door. My mother opened it. I did not know my mother had been studying my mood for a long time. Nobody could understand whether I am sad or happy but my mother acted as a detective on that matter.

She seemed quiet. I came in. She was standing besides me. She moved closer. I looked at her, stunned.

My thoughts were racing. There was so much tiredness and weakness in her eyes. She could hardly speak. We seemed like a living dead.

Sabah, I see in your eyes, the sadness.

There was a silence. Neither was she blinking nor I.

My words were untold, my eyes spoke everything….

I walked away, questioning myself. From where I should begin to explain how much broken and lost I am. My sorrows were squeezing me. Everything around me made me lose my confidence day by day. I started making my own way………..no way.

I started hesitating and getting embarrassed. I strongly hated myself. When I think about making my life better, it becomes bitter.

My memory recalls one by one in a flash and everything that weakened me came in front on my eyes. I foresaw a darker future already but I desperately wanted “A Life”.

I had always been a bright student in my class since childhood. I was very content with my teachers but the fate hated to favor me. There was a drop in the economic condition which was eating up the people and inflation smashing brutally, corruption was at its peak.

Due to financial crisis I had to leave my school and unwanted but forcibly I got admission in a little school near my house. My father could no longer afford the previous school. I got four months late admission. Those four months I so wanted to pass real fast. But the faster I wanted, slower it seemed to be going. As if walking alone in an empty street in a huge thunder storm… my life was more like a suffocating misery because I fortunately knew the power of knowledge can not be lost at any cost.

I never liked my class, teachers and friends. The teachers were always frustrated, students were unfriendly. I could hardly “learn” in such an atmosphere. But I still keenly wanted to go to school. It is better to learn a word and achieve than to be ignorant and die in poverty.

My class was on the top floor. My school bag was too heavy because of bulky books. It was more like a suitcase. My shabby uniform was dark brown. Every morning I felt like a soldier going on a march and climbing up to the K2.

The teachers were always aggressive. I didn’t ask anything if I didn’t understand what they taught. I had a fear of losing respect. I started losing my confidence.

Half of my mates did not care, half were used of being taught that way and were becoming parrots like me. Then I didn’t love to study anymore……

One day, miss X entered the classroom. My friend sitting right next to me whispered with a mischievous smile.

“Ye gussay wali teacher hain”

Unfortunately I was in a BIG trouble.

The teacher had a look at me….starring, walking around me like as if it was my Court Marshall. She was studying me. She stopped.

“How much work have you completed yet?” She asked. I wondered what to reply. I already knew about her aggressiveness. I was lost in my thoughts. I spoke to her in a soft voice.

“A bit, Ma’am…I’m a new………” I went on to explain.

She suddenly shouted in a loud tone, “Haath agay, Haath agay!” with a broad steel ruler.

“But- “I said.

My little hands were cruelly beaten for such a lame reason. My big eyes were in tears. I still remember the pain, the insult and her tone which killed my innocence.. The more I try to forget the most it hurts. I felt guilty for days. I was embarrassed. I went home, heading to my room as fast as I could go, not wanting anyone to see me sobbing as I did not want to embarrass myself any more. I lay on the bed, my head under the pillow and there again! I mumbled something, slunk out, cursing myself. I had a deep sense of anxiety and isolation. But it was not the end.

Due to frustration I was engaged in arguments with people, the arguments were so terrible and bitter sometimes. At many stages of life I had failed and was in despair. I was unhappy but still making an attempt at finding “The Power of My Silent Half.”

I realized after so many years of struggling experiences that this game is unpredictable but competent!

I asked myself,

Do I love the feeling or worthlessness?

Do I feel that you don’t deserve your success?

Do I have a feeling of guilt?

Do I believe that when we have to die alone, we should live alone too? If I would have had the guts to answer all these questions before, I wouldn’t have been regretting all my life. Sometimes, opportunity hits straight to our gate way. We have to capture it before it’s too late.

So, no face, do I love to live this way or prefer to commit suicide?

My isolation and grievance made me think. Death is not the answer and I can not quit so I chose to discover myself, to win myself!

Then I think…

I closed my eyes. I was lounging in my chair and started to think about all those things in the world which do not go according to our will nor can we make them. If one is happy

with us doesn’t mean the entire world would be happy. Somewhere, someone would always hate us for no reason.


If I say I should get extra attention and people should love me because I care about them or because I’m pretty and rich. But is that it ?!

There are billions out there as same as me, billions I tell you!

What makes me different is only…………”time.”

I made my goals my hope. Hope to learn everything. For me, hope is more than goals because goals can be defined and are limited. I want to go beyond….and this madness,

can make me achieve my goals in a day or even hundred years.

Knowledge is my weapon and time is my bullet………now It only takes a bullet.

There are many incidents that occur in our lives but there is always that one incident which alters our lives and shows us the reason for our existence. Our silent half is present somewhere inside us. It just takes a moment for it to sink into our hearts. We cannot victimize our hearts no matter how much time is rude to us because “Even the time is ours.”

We have to learn from the real illusions of life. It is a teacher of unpredictable bitter lessons. Someday time will also be optimistic. That day you will get the part of yours. And the elevator will go up!

The sea of gloomy days has dried up. The Sun of hope has risen with the sharp rays of light piercing through the clouds of despair.

The longing to do work has arisen in my heart once again that beats on the rhythm of life.

We are born once, but some of us die everyday. I died once but I will reincarnate everyday…..learn every day, live every day.

Today, I live.

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