Small Packets



Who do you think is a father, a dad, a papa ?
No one really thinks about it. He is a person who is always there, sometimes in the background and sometimes standing next to you. He is a part of who you are. You never notice his presence as he intermingles his aura with your own. He has tremendous love for you. His first small packet.
You call out to him and he replies without wasting a single second. He is your backbone, your support through life. God made mother to love you but He made a father to guide you, to teach you, to be your role model. His second small packet.
Hardly ever would you acknowledge his presence. But when you dont see him for a whole day, you get restless. You call him several times until he picks up. You breathe a sigh of relief and then your self-centred person comes back and you ask for something in the same instant. He doesnt tell you off like your mother. Instead he smiles and promises to get the thing for you. Always! His third small packet.
He makes a home for you which he decorates for you. Painting your room with your favorite colour, buying the things you want. He gets all that you ask of him and many times even more than that. His fourth small packet.
He helps you get the best college. He supports your education and degrees. He helps you to stand on your own feet. He does everything in his power to help you earn your livelihood.
His fifth small packet.
Then he spends lavishly at your wedding making it the best day of your life. Buying you jewellery of your choice, all the expensive dresses for all the functions and events. He buys you wedding gifts. He hands you over with such pomp and pleasure.
His sixth small packet.
He cares for your children when they are born, He loves them even more than you ever could. He takes them in his care till you do your day’s jobs making motherhood seem quite easy.
His seventh small packet.
He does it all for you from the day you were born till the day he dies. That is the love of a father. He truly is your backbone through thick and thin.
You dont value what you have. You only realize the importance of something when you lose it. You disregard his small packets. You dont really see all that he did.
Lucky are those who receive all the seven packets in life from their fathers.
When it comes to me, I only got four of them.





Departed Soul

Lying, face down, towards the rugged, coarse ground
Enveloped in my miseries as I lay
Erasing all signs of sanity, all pale like the coarse sand below
I recall, I remember, I bring it all forth
My pain, my loss, my salvation
The cause for my exile, the root of my shreds
The day when the foundation shook
When my heart took leave and ran off
To the desert, into the unknown.
Empty me with an empty chest
I grieved for the snatched soul, for my shattered hope which could never be whole
That day my exile began
And I continue with my punishment
I continue to tread on thorns
I burn the soles of my feet
I walk the road of fire
Carrying my miserable self forward
My misery, my companion
We all mourn the deaths, the departed souls.

Shifa Naseer

My Blank Pages

I look at his picture
A tender and kind face
My heart melts at it
Twisting into agony
At his absense.
My first Blank page.
After school, standing alone
Walking alone, out of the gate
Pained to see what I dont have
Longing for it, my heart wails in vain
My second Blank page.
Coming home to a lonely mother
A rebel of a brother
Silence reigns, forever remains
I stare with a dread so deep
Rips my heart as I collapse and weep
My third Blank page.
The holes I see, the gaps I feel
No one knows what air I breathe
A blank diary with faded white
Crinkly and fading fast
As dust to dust it goes around
My blank pages keep turning along.

Write Something To Remember Me By

I am leaving you here
Baby, I dont want to go
But I must as its necessary
Know that I love you
Believe me my love is true
I will miss you dear
As much as you will, maybe more
I will remind you of all the beautiful moments we had
Remember them and cherish them
Do write for me, dont cry for me
Know we will meet again
Till then hold on to my memories
When you feel sad, when all seems bad
When you miss your dear dad
Write something to remember me by
Say what you feel
It will take time for you to heal
Write for yourself, write for me
Engrave in stones our lovely lives
So write to remember me by
As I miss you as much as you do

Posted from Shifa Naseer’s Phone

The Story Of The Signature

I copy other people’s signatures easily. Well I used to but then left it off. I used to copy signatures that impressed me.

One day dad and I were sitting and just having a random discussion. I used to love asking him questions as he always had answers to all of them. He never disappointed me. So I asked him about his signature which he used to display proudly. I asked him about it. He told me that no one could do his signature to perfection. He had designed it himself and only he could do it. He said it with an air of pride which amused me. He even mentioned that not even I could do it.
That did it! I challenged him right there that I would do it if given time. Dad was so confident I wont be able to do it that he said to take all the time I needed. So we had a deal!
For four years I practiced the signature. I did it again and again. In the end, on 5th december, 2010, I did it! I perfected his signature. The one in the picture is done by me.


As I did it, I shouted aloud, “Papa! I finally did it!”. I looked around and realised I was alone in the room. There was no one for me to share my victory. My dad was long gone by then. I didnt tell anyone about it but today I felt I should finally share my silent victory. 🙂

Posted from Shifa Naseer’s Phone