It was later that I learnt how to sprinkle in videos.
Three thousand views! Yaaaaaaaahoooooooooooooo!!!!!!!
What seemed like a dream once has become a reality now! I would recommend that as you read the post continue playing the above you tube piano piece.
So coming back to the three thousand views. Probably a thousand are mine, but you guys have made the other two thousand ones possible and all of you deserve a big thankyou!!!!!
How it began...
It all started when my brother made the blog for me, designed it and named it. I chose the pink background. I started very simple and my initial posts are still my favourite e.g., A fairy tale; Valentines, what, where. The post that I hate most is Eclipsing. Its just useless. My brother asked me to remove it if I donot like it, but I won't as I did spend my precious time on it.
The technical bit.
Initially I used to add pictures. It was later that I learnt how to sprinkle in videos. At times the songs were absolutely out of place. I was usually listening to the numbers while typing the post. There would be some very serious discussion going on in the post and in came the song. But the problem was that I also seriously liked the songs!
Promotion it is
In the start whenever I used to promote my blog, Seema used to shake her head horizontally and smile to herself, but later she just let me be. Just recently my brother also made these little advertisement papers, the size of our NICs, which I distributed to all possible. I guess that gimmick added a few views. By the way I also have a fan page on facebook zarka speaks. Do visit and become a fan. That way my posts will haunt you the minute they are posted.
A lot of people wonder how I get the time to write. But I just love it. This blog is like my baby and by the end of a few months it will be an year old! A lot of people want me to write revolutionary pieces. To write how bad our country is. Yes bad it is, but its the only one we've got. If its bad we have to make it likeable. Its us who can change. And you do not need huge changes. Just simple plain honesty.
Till then I ll write whatever fancies me. My castle, my rules!
Drenched out after the clinic and finally at home.Had pulmonology clinic today.During clinic as I stared out the window, I could see the elegant Rangoonwala building.On its right is Home economics college.Behind it is a mountain,which has been craved to accommodate houses.There is a skyline of palm trees.Their grace is unmatched.On the road traffic continues,the same city witnessed killings of 38 people . . . As the clock ticks four I reconfirm the tea arrival time from the nurse.I go for a check in the staff lounge, there is no tea though.On my return the nurse tells me that in room three, three patients await.Oh well!I enter, they are from Afghanistan,and do not understand urdu.Ask I introduce myself one of the patient says in fine English,"please speak in English".And that's the only fine English he knows, these are followed by phrases, and then words.Fifteen minutes elapse and I m only done with two.I feel like banging my head.The third one again has nonspecific s...
Once upon a time, there were five beautiful girls, and one handsome boy.Their names were Hajra, Nosheen, Ayesha, Zaina, Zarka and Anwar.They were all wonderful doctors,nicely trained, kind hearted people.Fate bought them all together in the month of October, in Pulmonology rotation. . . . . Their first week was with Dr Ali Zubairi.One of the most fun weeks.Few patients, plenty of doctors.Dr Ali Zubairi read their follow ups and corrected them with his black pen if required,and wrote “”good’” if the follow ups excited him. One of the patients had tuberculous effusion, chest tube in,she was 16,small for her age, but with a very sharp brain.She passed a vibrant smile, whenever they meet her. Then their was this asthmatic lady whose wheeze continued despite optimization.Dr Ali Zubairi asked her if there was any family history positive for asthma.She went blank.Two days later when she was a little better, she told Dr Ali Zubairi” the other day you were asking me whether anyon...