When I did Yes E X

The Girl Who Knew Too Little

They thought she was invisible.
They were wrong.

In a busy chai shop on the border of Lahore, Zara served tea to dozens of strangers every day. 

She was 24, wore dusty pink shalwar kameez, and always had henna-stained fingertips. 

No one looked at her twice.

Except one man.

He came every Tuesday at 9:03 a.m., always ordered karak chai, always left a folded newspaper on the table—even when he didn’t read it.

 Zara noticed things. 

That’s what she did. 

That’s what she was trained for.

But she wasn’t a spy.

Not really.

She was a listener, a forgotten category in the intelligence playbook. 

Recruited when she was 17, trained in silence and survival, Zara's job was simple: observe, remember, report. 

Never interfere.

But one day, the man didn’t show up.

Instead, someone else came.

A woman. Same seat. Same time. Different energy. 

She smiled too easily. Her nails were clean. Her watch ticked too softly. 

Zara knew instantly—this woman wasn’t here for tea.

She was here for Zara.

That night, Zara didn’t go home. 

She slipped into the shadows of Lahore’s older districts, unlocked a dusty locker at the train station, and pulled out something she hadn’t touched in years—a leather-bound notebook marked only with one word:

RAW

Zara wasn’t Pakistani.

Not really.

She was born in Delhi. 

Her father was killed in Kargil. Her mother disappeared in Karachi. 

And for 7 years, Zara lived a double life—serving tea by day, listening for names, codes, faces... and disappearing by night into a network of whispers.

The woman returned the next day. 

This time, she wasn’t smiling.

“We know who you are,” she said softly. “So does ISI. They’re coming.”

Zara didn’t blink. “Then you’re late,” she replied, sliding a paper napkin across the table.

On it was a name, scribbled in lipstick: "Ayaan J."

The woman’s smile returned, sharper now. “You're burning the bridge, aren't you?”

Zara looked around the café—her life, her cover, her safety net—and stood up slowly.

“No,” she whispered. “I'm lighting a match.”

And with that, she vanished into the crowd.

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Thorns of Reflection for Channeling Oscar Wilde's Legacy

Looking at the thorns reminded me of the story of Oscar Wilde. Thorns are meant to pierce, whether it's to cut through a dosa or to sift through matters of the heart.

In the literary landscape, Oscar Wilde stands as a towering figure, renowned for his wit, flamboyance, and tragic demise. 

His life, marked by brilliance and controversy, reflects the complexities of human nature and societal norms of his time.

Born in Dublin in 1854, Wilde exhibited intellectual prowess from a young age. 

His education at Trinity College, Dublin, and later at Oxford, where he excelled in classics, laid the foundation for his literary career. 

Wilde's sharp intellect and penchant for aestheticism propelled him into London's elite social circles, where he became known for his wit and flamboyant style.

Wilde's literary career flourished with the publication of his plays, essays, and novel. 

His wit and satire found expression in works like "The Importance of Being Earnest" and "The Picture of Dorian Gray," which challenged Victorian moral values and hypocrisy. 

However, his flamboyant lifestyle and openly homosexual relationships drew the ire of conservative society.

The turning point in Wilde's life came when his romantic involvement with Lord Alfred Douglas led to a highly publicized trial. 

Wilde was accused of "gross indecency" and subsequently convicted and sentenced to two years of hard labor. 

The trial marked the downfall of his career and reputation, leading to his exile in France upon his release from prison.

Despite his tragic end, Wilde's legacy endures through his works, which continue to captivate readers with their wit, humor, and social commentary. 

His exploration of human desires, societal norms, and the pursuit of beauty transcends time, resonating with audiences across generations.

As I gaze at the thorns, I am reminded not only of Wilde's literary brilliance but also of the complexities of human existence – the sharp edges that can both wound and inspire, much like the dual nature of Wilde's own life and work.

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कांटों को देख आस्कर वाइल्ड की कहानी याद आ गयी। कांटे तो भेदने के लिए होते हैं चाहे वे डोसा खाना हो या ❤ छलनी करना हो।

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🌟 Dive into the timeless brilliance of Oscar Wilde's legacy with our latest article, "Thorns of Reflection: Channeling Oscar Wilde's Legacy"!

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Midnight Meows A Tale of Curiosity and Compassion

Midnight Pursuit: A Cat's Love and Unlikely Connections

Midnight Whiskers: A Tale of Lost Cats and Unseen Neighbors

Yesterday at 10:45 pm, my doorbell sounded "tring, tring" and I opened the door, although I was wrapped in a towel because I had just taken a shower. I found a young girl, aged 30-35 years, standing in front of me. I was inside the door towards my flat, and the girl was outside in the gallery. I tried to hide my body by opening the door only halfway since my towel covered only the lower part. I asked her what she wanted.

She showed me her mobile phone screen, where a photo of a cat was displayed, and also handed me a paper on which something was written. She told me that she was looking for her cat who was missing. I was surprised a little bit with her search at 10:45 pm for her lost cat. I did not read her paper because I did my best to hide my body inside the door. Only the head was outside the door. Moreover, I gave a quick look at her mobile screen to see the cat. The cat had white and black spots. I responded to the girl that I did not see it.

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The girl turned back in the gallery and started to walk. I closed the door. But I was curious who this girl was and why she was looking so late at night for her lost cat. After closing the door, I turned back and walked a few steps, but my mind was curious to know who she was. Whether she belongs to the building or what? Moreover, I was a little bit impressed also by her facial look and her search for a lost cat. Sure! She loves her cat, that's why she was searching for her.

Also, I wanted to know whether she is an outsider and how she entered the building because there are many crimes in which people enter a home for robbery or for occupying the flat. I heard a story from one of my friends. When my friend reached her flat, she found that a young girl was trying to have a look inside of her flat and thus, trying to identify whether someone was living inside the flat or not, thus, they could target the flat for robbery or enter the flat for living. By law, it is difficult to expel them outside of the flat. Moreover, my curiosity was to know whether she is an outsider or not. So I turned back, reached the door, opened the door quickly, tried my best to hide my body, took out my head outside of the door, and asked her if she lived in the building.

She answered me positively, informing me that she lives on the next floor. I was surprised that she lives in the same building and also on the next floor, but I don't recognize her. This happens in every building. Most people don't know each other, although they live in the same building. I know only a few of my buildings, although I have been living in this building for the last 4 years.

Moreover, I started to remember a similar event that happened 8-9 years ago when I was living in another building, and that building belongs to a university. At night 1 am, the exact time I don't remember, but I was sleeping at that moment. My doorbell rang, I woke up, left my bed, quickly put on my dress, I opened the door, my neighbour, who was a young girl from Morocco, was in front of me. I asked her what happened and what she needed. She asked me if I had sugar. I was surprised why she needed sugar at 1 am at night. Moreover, I quickly entered the kitchen, took sugar, and gave it to her. Then I closed the door, entered my bed, and slept. After a few days, I shared this story with my friends, and my friends started to have fun, telling me that I did not understand what she exactly wanted because no one needs sugar at 1 am at night. I also gave a smile. These are small stories of life but always give a smile on the face.

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राजा रानी

एक है राजा एक है रानी दोनों मर जायेंगे खत्म हो जाएगी कहानी