Member-only story
About Me — Fareeha Arshad
I write to save lives…or perhaps just mine.
I don’t remember when exactly I realized that I had a writer in me.
But I remember that I knew how to tell stories — funny, colourful, and unheard stories. When I was six, my younger sister, who was two at that time, was victim to most of my make-believe stories. I say ‘victim’ because she believed it all. Then, as she grew, she caught hold of my made-up stories.
My biggest fan didn’t enjoy my work anymore. That’s when I realized that I might not be such a great storyteller after all.
Much later, when I was twelve and a half, my parents got me another beautiful sister. I was overwhelmed with the happiness of being an elder sister to another tiny human. I could finally tell my stories to somebody. I begged God during the nights to grow her up as soon as possible. I was very relentless, even as a twelve-year-old. Every morning after I woke up, I would rush to my parents’ room only to find my baby sister still a baby.
Now, you might think that I was stupid enough to believe that something like that would happen overnight or perhaps wonder if I was twelve and still dumb. I was not. It’s just that I believed in miracles a lot more than I do now.