Postcards from a stranger


Remember a time before social media when we actually used to write letters? Ya, write! There was such a time, oh so long ago. 

Nowadays though, I feel the pressure of a word limit on my thoughts. And like that wasn’t enough. it also has to be perfectly worded before it is spewed onto the poor, unsuspecting world, via hashtags of course. But don’t get me wrong,  I do adore Twitter, I really do. Where else could I do my controlled ranting? 

Now back to my point, and of course there is one, writing letters and postcards. Whatever happened to that glorious habit? 

Nobody has the time or the inclination anymore, I am told. Sure, but not @appleglutton (look her up on twitter, will you?). This lovely girl, takes the time out of her day to snail mail handwritten postcards to strangers (at no cost to you, may I add) just because she wants to make the world a happier place. 

Its as simple as that. 

And it really did make me happy when I recieved that post card from her. Right from seeing a post mans face (yea, three cheers to this guy still making a living) to the flutter of butterfly wings that I felt when I read her words on a card. I must have read it a few hundred times. Oh irreplaceble joy! 

In a time when post means nothing more than ‘posting’ a status update or a virtual ramble on facebook or twitter, here’s a girl who posts, old school style. At the Post office, you adorable fool. 

Thank you @appleglutton for making the world a happier place, one postcard at a time.  

P.S: Don’t judge my scrubby nails in the picture. Wait, whats my excuse? oh ya, got no time for that manicure buddy. 



Wattpad! Watt a discovery


I have finally got myself out of my comfort zone guys, yes, it has happened.

The shy has been banished and punished into a corner and it now dies a slow death while I happily upload and share my stories on this newly discovered internet wonder called Wattpad, I apparently have been a member since the last two years and obviously I have no memory of this, maybe at that point I was still squirming and rolling in the shy.

Do read my stories and give me all your comments on Wattpad, I look forward to them all, the good, bad and the ugliest of them all, throw it all at me.

You can find me @lailazafar, see, its that simple.

img-thingHappy reading ūüôā

Decisions have been made.


They say (now don’t ask me who “they” is, I am just bringing to life buried hearsay), that one can¬†be as lazy as one wants¬†to be but if we¬†really want for something, the universe does conspire your path towards it (Wait, i just remembered, ‘they’ is¬†“The Secret”!!). This¬†has happened to me.¬†I have turned.

How this came to be? You ask/wonder?

Yesterday was the day it all came upon me, above me, from under me. You get the picture, it engulfed me. My soul was getting the jitters.

So, this is me, i like the idea of a job. I really do. I like a routine. I like the feeling of responsibility that you get paid for. (Hell knows you do not get paid for housewifery) but as i sat in a meeting yesterday surrounded by morons arguing (over something that honestly flew and fell over my head), it struck me.

I¬†don’t want to¬†do this anymore but the thought disappeared again under emails and files.

The day is over, I get back home, i see an email and then another. Emails that make a difference to my life, finally!

Note: Yes, these exist, my friends.

One said that, I had been accepted into a Fiction writing course and the other one, that my MS had passed through its first stage of editing.  

Instant Decision: Quit corporate morons before i hit 35.

Conclusion: The only life i want to live is one where my only problem is a spelling mistake


What i learnt Travelling with the Ladies. Part I



1) Let it hang loose, lie on the beach in a swimsuit and a belly. Doesn’t matter no ones looking at those unsightly parts.

2) Open fantasizing about Hugh Jackman with¬†the occasional Ooh’ing and Aah’ing is¬†allowed, profanity and explicit naming of body parts no bar.

3) Girls travelling together get brave with the flirting. A friend, one that i cannot name simply because what happens on a holiday stays there ( Travelling with the Ladies, Rule # 6), sent a note to a cute boy sitting at the bar and guess what that lead to? A long midnight walk across the entire stretch of the Island that we were on. We parted as friends and all parties involved were happy. The End

4) Talk. Talk and more talk. Just imagine a holiday and all you do when you are not eating, drinking, under water or in the loo is talk? No girl can ask for more. Fun

5) ¬†Wear all the clothes that you wouldn’t wear otherwise simply because your husband/boyfriend thinks that your tush looks bigger than it should. Ah, it felt good to wear those comfy, ankle hugging floral pants. All day and all night.

6) French fries. My husband is supportive of everything i do but even he wags his finger like a reprimanding teacher when i order up sized extra fries. On a girl trip, I had a full plate to myself. The logic? ‘You are on holiday babe, go ahead!’, you betcha i will!

7) Point 7 is an offshoot of point 4 with a twist. There is talk and then there is bitching. My husband ignores me when I switch on my bitch mode but with my girlfriends i went right ahead. Joy to the world.

8) I came back to a husband who allowed me to travel by myself. A trip out without him was not only good for me, it was good for us.

Travel, it’s good for you.

But travel with the ladies, its good for the soul.


Runaway Indians celebrate Independence day !!


I am the progeny of the Gulf Dream, born and raised in Dubai, I am ashamed to say that I can’t read, write or even pretend to understand my mother tongue unless it’s actually my mother speaking it. So I step back today and wonder, what am I celebrating today?

Convieniant also that it is the weekend.

But on a more serious note, Indians are the least race proud people I have ever come across, we are the quickest to to bash our own country,¬†the anti government and political rants can go on and on for hours and through an entire case of imported ‘Fareign’ Whiskey. Boys spend hard earned INR’s only to go abroad and never come back and the girls are quick to follow, they always happen to find their soul mates abroad.

We Indians just want to run away from India.

So what are we celebrating?

Do we really need a Bollywood and an Oscar award to feel those fleeting moments of pride.


International Love Muslims around the UAE month


Whoopee doo !

It’s the month of Ramadan again and i would like to take this post as an opportunity to wish all my fasting brothers and sisters a peaceful and a meaningful month.¬†

Meanwhile yesterday, on my commute back home, a girl was intensely fighting with the driver to pick her up at 2 because that was her Ramadan timing. And heres the best part, she’s a non fasting Hindu.

It is amazing how every other day, week and month of the year, we poor Muslims get nothing but slack, bad press and a lot of hatred. Even in Dubai. Muslims are not a very loved lot. I know that we are just tolerated because it is a Muslim country but come Ramadan and the Non Muslims want to be treated like Рhold your breathe Рthe Muslims. 

So dear Non fasters, Please understand that Ramadan is not about you. 

On that note of cryptic, i cheer on those fasting.



We all need some saving.


Know the guy that flies around in his underwear and a cape? He’s pretty Super but he needed a Lane to really save him. Save is the keyword here, I think almost everything uttered has the action ‘Save’ in it, for instance, ‘I need caffeine’, ‘Where’s my Marlboro?, i need a smoke’, ‘I’m starving, need sustenance’, You see where i’m going with this.

In my daily commute, i sometimes use the metro rail. On a particularly tiring day, I wasn’t ready for the work after work, Gym, cooking.. it was all too much, i needed to catch my breathe, so i got off at a random, empty station and waited till my beat fell from crazy heart to ‘ok i’ll live’.

When i saw another one, sitting there and crying.

‘Is this the station for criers, the hurt and the tired?’

I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there. The recorded voice announced that the next train was up its track, would be here in 2.

I was good and sorted but what of the secret public crier? An oxymoron if i ever heard one, but she pounced up and got onto the train, I did too. She was ready-to-go by the time she got to her stop and walked out like she hadn’t just wept her secret 2 stations before.

I smiled for her, for myself.

There are some of us, not very articulate about our feelings, not very kind when it comes to sharing and cruel when asked if we need help but we still need saving.

Just like the Caped Super Underpants Man.

P.S: This post and it’s contents are dedicated to my Best friend Saher for never telling me to ‘Get over it’ and listening to the re-runs of my life. Thank you and a very Happy birthday to you. Belated. Of course, you forgive me that, because you always do.