I find this to be a most unsuccessful venture, Gandalf. Things have taken an awkward turn for the worse as I find myself unable to confide in the Osamas, yet simultaneously unable to exit the frame of mind which compels me to confide. It’s a dilemma of no small proportion, but one which I find myself unable to resolve at this point. Come on Taha, let’s be witty. You got this. Just a few more days till surgery. Then you can reset everything and mentally start over. That’s what these things are, right? Rebirth of a kind. I want to be reborn. COME ON! I’m reborn every few hours, Gandalf. Maybe I don’t want to be reborn. It’s a bit exhausting. Or rather, I wish this mundane cycle of non-karmaic reincarnation would just screech to a sudden halt. I want to grow. My character needs to grow. Were I in a book, I would be wholly unappreciative of my character in that book.
It’s been a couple of hours since that last paragraph. Things are much the same. I want to get started on my goal of compiling random family histories. I may as well begin here. It was a dark and stormy night.
OJ first. Mother’s family is the one they primarily interact with, father’s not so much. Mother moved from Khi to Sialkot, lived with her chachas and phuphos. Her father worked in Khi, and her mother passed away. One phupho, called Mina, was apparently a very scary woman. Additionally, she was even scarier back when she could walk, unlike in OJ’s time. She was divorced, and OJ’s mother had many theories on the divorce. Divorced women apparently are those who facilitate “fasaad”, or instigation. She would slap people in fits of rage. She was a teacher.
One chacha got engaged to a girl who lived nearby, in front of the school where Mina taught. Mina once stopped at the fiance’s house, where they had a fight, and Mina assaulted and cursed at all involved parties. This broke off the engagement.
ewww, this is not scary. Gandalf. I hate boys.