These days I’m thinking too much, which is the requirement of a certain decision that i have to make on my own. I believed growing up would be very liberating but I never knew making decisions independantly could drive me to the edge. Some times I wish someone who knew better would make the choices for me. I guess that as you grow the more you learn the less you know.
In case you’re wondering about the matter I have to ponder upon ….its related to the academics facet of my life, but that is not the subject of this blog. I was going through some article today on surrogate mothers in India,that how poor women rent their wombs to complete strangers in return for a better life (like living in apartments) . It provoked me to think that despite enjoying all the basic necessities of life and more, I still get worried and concerned over small things. While there are women(also men, I don’t mean to be gender biased) out there who are going through so many hardships in life (which I can’t even begin to imagine) just to achieve the level of comfort I already take for granted. I sit here fretting and agonizing over a small decision, when I should be thankful that atleast my choices are not governed by dire conditions.
In the end I’d like to thank Allah(swt) for his blessings and pray that may the entire humanity find peace and harmony in them and amongst them. (Allah willing)
In addition to the above post I'd like to share a video here with you which is relevant to the topic of my post here. Hope you'll appreciate it:

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There are certain moments and instances in your life which make you say “What the hell was I thinking?” I recently asked myself this question when by a sudden whiff of inspiration I volunteered to compete in the teacher’s relay race for my team on the sports day, during which I fell head on and severed every muscle, tendon and ligament in my left leg. Maybe I wasn’t even thinking otherwise I would’ve realized for the hundredth time that I’m just not the sports material.
I’ve had some painful experiences with sports prior to this very new and fresh incident but it seems like I’ve never admitted my defeat. I’m so blinded by my love for sports that each time I’m willing to give it another chance. In junior school I took part in some parade, in which we had to practice every afternoon continuously for a month. Although the final parade went well but through out the month not a day went by when I didn’t wake up screaming with a pulled muscle and my parents would rush in to the room to massage my legs. My younger sister got so used to my “blood scurdling” screams that after a few days she just went back to sleep right after I’d shocked her out of it with my torturous bellowing.
The second bad encounter was in high school when by a stroke of luck and the talent for fast dribbling I ended up in the girls’ basket ball team. The experience wasn’t too bad but I faced some difficulty gelling in with the team. For all they cared about was breaking their long, fragile nails while “Dribbling the ball”. (You can hate me for it but I’ve never been the nail growing kind. ).
After basket ball came the badminton mania. I had everything required to play the sports …passion, talent and time, but for all this to last I needed stamina. Unfortunately, after a few good and fast shots in the beginning my arm would start aching and the muscles would go numb and this prevented me from giving a consistent performance. Alas! I gave up on badminton as well.
Sports has been an on and off relationship for me which I’ve tried to save at the cost of my tissues. If it still hasn’t worked out then I guess it is time to say good-bye and move ahead with life and walk my own “Track”. But surely one never knows when, where and how we meet again and my passion for sports is revitalized and then ……..“Ouch!!!!**&%^&%”…..

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