Publishing Information

Table of Contents
Acknowledgment i
Preface ii
Short Stories 3
-The Long Lost Twin 4
-The Miracle of a Greeting 6
-The Prom Dress 8
-The Owl’s Gaze 10
-Loneliness of a Crowd 12
Memoirs 13
-A sad moment
-An embarrassing moment
Travelogues
-Maldives
-Sights and Sounds of LSE
-Bentota Island
-Las Vegas
AutoBiography
-My Birthday
Letter
-To a Friend
-To my mother
Play
-Labyrinth of Lies
-The Modern Workplace Dilemma
Essays
-Beauty Standards
-How our Culture celebrates woman’s suffering
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude towards Allah the Almighty. Without His blessings and
guidance, I would not have been able to reach this far. To my Mom and Dad, thank you for making all
of this possible, for always prioritizing my education, and for creating a safe and nourishing
environment for me at home.
To my friends, Rahimeen, Fatima, and Zoha, thank you for filling my life with laughter, joy, and
warmth, even when the world outside feels too cold. Your constant presence and support in my life has
made me feel loved and a little less alone and for that, I will always be grateful. To my little brother
Zain and my sister Zoya, thank you for always bringing me coffee. I’m afraid that is the total extent of
your contribution to this book.
I would also like to thank the Lahore School of Economics for providing the resources and the
conducive environment essential for the completion of this book. Lastly, my heartfelt thanks to Ms
Syrrina Haque for her invaluable support, and for being a constant source of inspiration and guidance
throughout this semester.

PREFACE
‘Anecdotes and Afterthoughts’ is a tapestry woven from the threads of my very own experiences,
thoughts and personal anecdotes. A vast collection of essays, stories and travelogues that have defined
me and shaped my life into what it is today. Each of these essays and stories represent an aspect of my
life or what I stand for.
Within these pages, lie stories of laughter, unexpected outcomes and lessons learned. Tales that have
broadened my horizons and reflections that give meaning to this world. The book comprises of three
short stories, each comprising of different characters, elements and genres.
A collection of personal essays written over the span of these few years, along with travelogues and
memoirs. I hope as a reader, you can find humor in these anecdotes, inspiration from these enlightening
experiences and a sense of connection into the universality of human emotions and experiences.
 Short Stories

The Long Lost Twin

Will was on his way home. His footsteps were heavy as his shoulders hunched forward with the weight
of his textbooks and school work. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadowy figures
across the street. He was tired, it had been a long exhausting day. He had stayed back at his school to
work for his science exhibition.
To his surprise, he had no missed calls that day. No calls or messages from his mom and dad asking him
where he was. This was unusual. Will's parents were really protective of Will. Normally, if he had
stayed back this long, his phone would be buzzing with notifications. This time, however, complete
silence.
He pushed the creaky gate open and stepped into the yard, his mind wandering off to the taste of a
home-cooked dinner as his stomache growled with hunger. As he entered the house, a strange feeling
gripped his chest. The aroma of his mum's homemade lasangna filled the air, but something was off. He
rounded the corner into the dining room, freezing dead in his tracks as the site unfolded infront of him.
Seated at the table were his parents, chatting away with a boy. Will could only see their backs, but
something about the boy made his heart pound rapidly in his chest. He struggled to comprehend the
scene before him. Sat right across from his parents was a boy. Red flannel shirt, big round glasses and
short clipped hair. He looked just like Will. Or maybe it was Will. The way he spoke, the way he picked
up his fork and stabbed the tiny piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. Will stood there, frozen.
His parents didn't seem to notice the difference. They sat seated in their own chairs, chatting away with
this mysterious imposter.

Panic seized him, and without a word, he turned around and fled, his footsteps echoing in the empty
hallway. His parents must have heard him running, he thought. Or maybe they were too consumed with
their own conversation. He stumbled out of the front door and into the cool night air. He had to get out
of there, to clear his head and comprehend what he had just witnessed.
Confused and scared, he stumbled on to the porch of his bestfriend's house. He rang the doorbell,
collapsing onto the couch in a feverish haze once he was inside. His mind swirled with questions. Who
could that boy be? What was he doing there? How did his parents not notice? Is that why they never
called him? Was he completely losing his grip on reality? Or had he accidentally stumbled upon some
twisted conspiracy?
Morning dawned, and Will lay down on the couch, burning up with fever. Despite his friend's protests,
he insisted on returning home. He had to confront the truth, he had to figure out who this intruder was.
As he made his way to the familiar doorsteps, his resolve wavered. What if he was simply imagining
things? What if it was all a dream? What if this was just his parents playing some elaborate prank?
Summoning every last ounce of courage left in his body, Will pushed open the door and stepped inside.
His mother stood before him in the kitchen, her expression a mix of concern and confusion.
"Will, why aren't you at school? Dad just dropped you off." his mother asked, her voice tinged with
worry.
"I...I wasn't feeling well," he stammered, his throat tight with emotion. "I thought I should just come
home." For some reason, Will could not bring himself to tell his mother what he had seen. What if she
thought he was insane? This situation was far too unrealistic to believe anyways. Will hurried to his
room, ignoring his mother's questions, his heart pounding in his chest.
Alone in the silence of his room, Will waited, he was determined to sit tight and wait for this intruder to
come back. Hours passed, but there was no sign. Will was ready to confront this imposter. Doubt crept
into his mind, mingling with the fear that had gripped his heart completely.
Finally, unable to bear the wait any longer, Will ventured out into the long hallway. His parents were
nowhere to be seen, their absence amplifying the already deafening silence that engulfed the house.
With trembling steps, he made his way to the dining room. His parents sat in the dining chairs. They
looked up at him and asked 'Where have you been, Will? You haven't left your room all day?' Will let
out a breath he did not know he was holding in. The intruder wasn't coming. Things seemed normal. He
sat down on his chair, and poured himself a glass of cold water.
Days passed, Will had decided to push that incident towards the back of his memory. Maybe he had
imagined it all. Maybe it was all a dream. He decided that he would not spend any more of his time
worrying about the weird incident that night.
One night, Will came back home. He went up to his room to get changed when he heard his parents call
him downstairs for dinner. He sat down on the chair when he noticed his mother had made lasangna
again. He chuckled, as he thought of the incident that had taken place a few days ago. 'You guys wanna
know something crazy? The last time you made lasagna, Mom. I came home and saw you both having
dinner with a boy who looked just like me. I freaked out so hard, I slept over at Tom's. Anyways, I'm
sure I had imagined it all, its stupid.'
Then there was silence. He looked up at his mom and dad. Their faces pale as a ghost. 'W..What day was
it?' His mom asked. '19th of October, I think. The day of my science exhibition.' Will's mom and dad
exchanged worried glances. Their bodies immediately freeze up. 'We need to talk Will', his dad
muttered.
'What is it guys? You both are freaking me out.’
"You had a twin brother," his mother whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "He died a few days
after being born, so we never told you. We didn't want to burden you with that kind of grief. He looked
just like you."
Will's dad looked at his plate, he could not bring himself to look up at Will. 'He died.. He died on the
19th of October.'
The table fell into complete silence. Reality dawned upon every single one of them. They sat,
goosebumps and chills running down their spines.
Will's world had just spun out of control as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The boy he had seen
at dinner, the boy who looked just like him, was no one other than the ghost of his twin brother.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he let the truth sink in. Will felt a sense of peace settle over
his troubled soul. For some weird reason, he felt at peace knowing that the intruder was his twin brother
and he had not imagined it all.

The Miracle of a Greeting

The fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead, casting a glow on the copper wires Emilia tangled
and untangled. The usual chatter of the law firm had died down hours ago. All that could be heard now
was the rhythmic beating of the electric clock posted outside the elevator Emilia was working in.
Emilia was the Head of Repairs at the Johnson & Mayson Law Firm. She had worked there for 10 years
now, starting as a junior-level technician and making her way up to the Head of Repairs and
Maintenance. On this specific night, Emilia sat on the white marble floor of the elevator, a screwdriver
in hand. It was way past the firm's closing time. She was determined to fix the malfunctioning elevator
before the Senior Manager of the Firm came over for his monthly visit.
She had figured out the cause of the malfunction. The entanglement of the wires had resulted in bringing
the elevator to a shuddering halt. 'This will be an easy fix', she reassured herself as she took a long deep
breath. Needless to say, she was extremely exhausted. 'Knackered even', as her British co-worker would
often say and she'd laugh in agreement.
One tiny flicker of light. Then another. Maybe this was a surge in power, a momentary interruption, but
as the elevator plunged into darkness, she felt her chest constrict and her throat tighten. Panic took over
her entire body. She threw the screwdriver on the ground and rose to her feet. In the bleak darkness, the
silver elevator doors glistened. She started to bang against them, screaming at the top of her lungs.
'Help!!!' 'Someone please help!!! I'm stuck in here.'
No one responded. There was nothing but silence on the other end. She screamed and screamed and
screamed, her voice eventually growing hoarse and her palms turning red from the impact of banging
against the door. Emilia collapsed on the floor. She was trying to make herself calm. Her claustrophobia,
which had always been there since childhood, tightened its icy grip. She sat on the floor, barely
managing to take any deep breaths.
But the calm was a distant land. She could physically feel the walls of the elevator closing in on her. Her
breathing techniques were not working. She took out her phone, cursing herself under her breath that she
had not taken it out earlier, only to find that there were no signals. She turned the flashlight on, relieved
that there was finally an end to the darkness that surrounded her. There was very little solace she could
find, however, her battery was almost about to die too.
Panic morphed into cold, cold, ruthless dread. How long had she been sitting there? It felt like hours, but
at the same time, it felt like merely a few minutes had passed. It was a strange, unknown feeling.
Exhaustion settled over her like a heavy cloak. The frantic and rapid beating of her heart dulled to a light
thud. Reality was beginning to sink in- no one would come and save her until morning. Everyone else
had left the building. If there was someone, they probably would not hear her due to the massive size of
the building. Soon, resignation and frustration replaced the terror that had taken over Emilia's body.
She sat down on the floor now, trying to focus on the rhythmic tick-tocking of the clock outside. In a
way, she had accepted that no one was coming to save her. Her breathing was getting shallow as
struggled to let out even and steady breaths.
Almost out of nowhere, a sound pierced the deafening silence. Her ears shot up. A faint creak, barely
audible, but it was there. She heard it right from outside the elevator. Her eyes glistened with hope as
she looked longingly at the thin separating line of the two elevator doors. The sound grew louder as the
thin line grew wider. Almost suddenly, the elevator door surrendered its hold. A thin sliver of bright
light sliced through the darkness as the silhouette of a man covered her vision. The man held a flashlight
on her face, and she struggled to open her eyes properly.
It was Mr Wallace, the night guard. His old crinkled and kind eyes looked down at Emilia as he held out
a hand for her to hold. Emilia struggled to let her voice out. 'Th..thank God!' she croaked as she stood up
to her feet. She felt dizzy and it took her a second to regain her balance on the steady ground.
'Emilia?' Mr. Wallace called. 'Oh you poor child, how long have you been in here?'. 'I don't know Mr
Wallace, a few hours maybe. I..How did you know I was in here?'.
He chuckled. 'There are about 60 people who work at this building. Yet you are the only one who says
Hi to me in the morning. The only one who asks me how my shift went at the end of the day. I had
noticed you had come in the morning but you hadn't left. That made me suspicious.'
Emilia smiled back at Mr Wallace. 'It took me a really long time to find you.' He helped her out of the
elevator, and into the familiar lobby that she had been wishing to see. The lobby that now felt like a
haven. As the cool night air washed over her, the tightness in her chest seemed to loosen.
In this world of towering egos business meetings and expensive suits. A simple greeting had managed to
save her life. A simple act of kindness that had forged a connection, a companionship, a friendship.
Emilia thanked Mr Wallace, holding out her hand in gratitude.
As she stepped out into the cold winter breeze, she couldn't help but smile. Mr Wallace's kindness and
warmth lingered long after his smile faded into the night.
Somewhere between almost losing her life in an elevator and admitting complete defeat, she had found a
friend. She knew someone was looking out for her. Someone cared enough to notice that she had not
been there. Someone cared.
 The Prom Dress

Myra clutched her mom's vintage leather purse tighter, her heart pounding out of her chest. Every clink
and clank of coins was a little victory, one more step closer to her dream. Unlike Cinderella, Myra
wouldn't be going to prom in a lavish and beautiful carriage. Her 'chariot' was a rusty ten-speed bike, its
old handlebars adorned with mismatched white and red ribbons – a testament to her creativity and love
for all things vintage and thrift. But tonight, Myra wouldn't be invisible. She would walk in with her
head held high. She would make heads turn. Tonight, she would rule the school ball. Or so, she thought.
For as long as Myra could remember, clothes had been a battleground for her. In the fluorescent and
unflattering lighting of the school hallways, Myra navigated a sea of disgusted stares, punctuated by the
occasional snicker. She was practically invisible. She never actually considered herself to be pretty.
Even though, she had her mother's green eyes and dark cherry-red hair. She navigated through the
school hallways, feeling as if her old clothes were taking away any tiny sense of confidence she had. Her
classmates were a parade of the latest fashion trends, their clothes adorned with brand logos like flags
claiming territory. Designer handbags, designer watches and expensive perfumes. You name it.
Myra, on the other hand, existed in a world of old and ill-fitting hand-me-downs, each garment a piece, a
relic from someone else's life story. Never her own. She didn't own much. Her parents worked day and
night just to get food on the table. Clothes were never really a priority. But for Myra, they were the only
thing she seemed to care about. And why wouldn't she? Did she not deserve to wear the most beautiful
garments and feel confident? Like every other color. This was her dream.
The itchy wool sweater that smelled faintly of vanilla had probably belonged to a sweet old lady, while
the little pink floral dress screamed of a childhood spent frolicking through fields– a life that felt a
thousand miles away from Myra's cramped little apartment. The taunts were like a dirty swarm of flies
constantly buzzing away in her ear, a constant reminder of the invisible line that distinguished her life
from her classmates.
Myra, however, was not a damsel in distress. She was a warrior. She dreamt of this night. The night
when she'd make up for all the times she couldn't dress the way she wanted. She knew she would wear
the best dress at the party. She'd be prom queen. Days, weeks, and months were spent dreaming of this
exact moment.
Myra had started working a late night shift at her local diner. The pay wasn't a lot, but with her hourly
wage, she'd put aside money every day to make sure she bought her dream dress. A stunning long
emerald green dress made out of silk. She knew that was the perfect dress. It went perfectly with her
dark cherry-red hair.
The prom was just one day away. She had finally reached the exact sum of money that was required to
purchase the dress. She wakes to the store. Her tiny crochet wallet was in her hand. As she stood outside
the beautiful store with the big ceramic pillars, she couldn't help but notice that the dress was not on the
mannequin anymore. Her heart sank. She ran inside the store, her heart dropping to her stomach when
the dress was nowhere to be found. She approached an elderly saleswoman, looked at her with her big
gleaming eyes and asked where the dress was. 'Oh Dear! That one is sold out.'
Myra felt her dreams had been crushed. All of a sudden, it all seemed pointless. Being prom queen,
wearing the overly expensive silk dress. It was all stupid. She walked out of the store. Her shoulders
sagged with the weight of her disappointment.
She went back home, knowing she was going to skip prom now. She couldn't go without a dress, and her
dream dress wasn't hers anymore. She collapsed on her bed, face down, and started to sob. Hours went
by, and before she knew it, she dozed off onto the bed.
The next morning, she woke up from the sound of her alarm clock going off. The disappointment from
the day before came crashing down on her. She thought today was going to be her day. She slowly got
up and started making her way downstairs to the kitchen.
As soon as she descended the stairs, a silhouette of a dress caught her eye from the corner of the room.
She turned to find a beautiful dress hung up on the living room closet. It was emerald green, but instead
of the silk, it was lace. The hem was adorned with tiny silver gems and the dress looked straight out of a
fairytale. She stood there, too stunned to believe the site in front of her. Her mom tapped her shoulder.
'It's yours', she said. 'Do you like it?'. Myra was too stunned to speak. This dress was beautiful, even
more than the emerald green dress she had wanted. 'Whose is this mom? Where did you get this?' She
asked. 'Nowhere, it's my prom dress. I made some adjustments to it for you. Now go, get some
breakfast, you have a long day ahead of you.'
Myra smiled. It had all worked out in the end, she did not need the silk dress. Today was going to her’s
anyway.

The Owl’s Gaze

Dr. Aria Morris was a seasoned psychologist. She was known for her dedication to studying and
examining the complexities of the human mind. Yet, nothing could prepare her for the mystery that
would slowly unravel and hijack her entire life. Sometimes, the human mind would do everything it can
to repress the truth. In the deepest darkest parts of the brain. But the body keeps score. And it can bring
out the truth in ways we cannot imagine- or comprehend.
It began innocently. One patient. Then two. Then three. Then way too many. The weird part? They were
all having the same dream. Every single one of them. A recurring dream featuring an owl peering
intensely through their bedroom windows. A gaze so intense, it would jolt them out of their deep
slumbers. They would wake up feeling scared, agitated and confused. Its piercing gaze would appear in
front of their eyes, at the most random times of the day. It would haunt them for days, sending chills and
shivers down their spine.
Dr Morris, who initially thought it was just a manifestation of the subconscious mind and its fears,
decided that this was something entirely else. It was a strange coincidence. Intrigued and intensely
puzzled, Dr Aria decided that she would get to the bottom of this. She was about to make it her aim for
the coming days. To decipher the meaning behind this extremely cryptic but spine chilling dream. After
some extensive research that yielded no significant outcome, she decided that she had to go for a new
approach.
One by one, she started contacting all her patients, presenting them with a consent form. They were
being asked to enter a psychological study into their dreams. Electrodes would be attached to their
scalps and an EEG scan would be performed to study their sleep activity. This was a good idea. Dr Aria
was determined and hopeful that this would lead her to answers.
As the night of the study approached and the patients all settled into the clinic, Dr Aria got to work. She
waited and waited and waited. The patients had fallen asleep a while ago and now Dr Aria was present
alone in the room, looking closely at the monitors attached to each patient.
1:55 am. Then 2:36 am. She was sleepy too. But her determination kept her awake. As the witching hour
approached, she had retired back to her seat and desk. She slouched back, feeling increasingly overcome
by sleep. All of a sudden, almost simultaneously, the monitors started beeping. She rose to her feet, her
eyes wide awake now. Each patient had simultaneously entered a state of paralysis, and the monitors
were buzzing with brain activity. This was very unusual. How were all the patients having the dream at
the same exact time? She stood there, her body stiff with confusion and anticipation. Almost on cue, the
dreams came to a halt and just like that, the monitors steadied. This experiment of hers had given rise to
more questions than answers. Dr. Aria was now determined more than ever to get to the bottom of this.
Morning approached. She decided she needed to consult a spiritual guru. She wanted to understand the
interpretation behind the dream. She wanted to know what it meant. She reached his house. It was an
old, dusty bungalow that stood tall in the middle of a garden. The grass looked like it hadn’t been
mowed in a while and the flowers were all wilted and sad. She was half ready to turn back on her heels
and leave, but just then, the door flew open. She walked inside and greeted the man who stood tall in
front of her. He wore prayer beads in his neck and his outfit was a dust old black cloak that looked like it
had not been washed. She took a seat across from him.
Aria explained everything that had been happening. The guru looked at her with a knowing smile.
Something about this expression felt eerie and uncomfortable. He told Aria that she had to figure this out
on her own. This quest of truth would lead to answers she wouldn’t like and she had to do this all alone.
Aria went home. She was now even more confused than she had ever been. She did not understand what
the guru meant, but one thing stood out to her. “You have to do it by yourself.” She got into her car and
drove to the clinic.
Once she was there, she took a sleeping pill and swallowed it with some water. Then she set up a
camera, attached the electrodes to her scalp. Slowly, she could feel herself drifting away into sleep.
Hours went by, she was still in deep sleep. When it came around to 3 am, her body, like all of her other
patients, went into paralysis. She, however, was wide awake. Unable to move an inch of muscle, her
eyes shot up. It took her a minute to realise where she was, and then reality sank in.
She was not in her clinic. She was in a hospital bed. There were no electrodes. There was an IV attached
to her wrist instead. The memories started to flood in. The owl on the tree, its eyes sparkling and
gleaming in the dark night. Aria was too captivated as she drove her SUV across the highway. All of a
sudden , she was met with heavy impact. A truck had crashed into her. Hence, the reason why she was in
the hospital. She looked around frantically. The patients had not been real, the dreams had not been real.
It was just a fragment of her memory. Her subconscious reminding her the last thing she saw before she
crashed into the truck. Dr Aria sat on her bead, heaving and panting as if she had just run a marathon.
The body does keep score.
 The Loneliness of a Crowd
Emily sat alone on her bed, the deafening silence being punctuated by nothing but the rhythmic tick tock
of the wall clock. It was her birthday, and no one had come. The only guest at her party appeared to be
the loneliness that had become a frequent visitor. She had sent out these beautiful, cream colored
invitations. She had been so excited. And yet no one came. As hours went by, she knew it was time to
start taking off the decorations.
Tears welled up in her eyes. Why did no one like her? She had put so much effort into tonight’s party.
Everyone probably had better stuff to do, right? She thought to herself as she slouched back into her
bean bag and stared up at the ceiling. The room had started to feel too suffocating, her anxiety made her
feel like the walls were closing in on her. She walked out onto the balcony, and took a seat at the chair
that was set outside. As she looked up at the sky, she saw a shooting star glide across the sky, like a
splash of white paint across a canvas. She rose to her feet as her hands instinctively came together. She
looked up at it and wished. She wished for popularity. She wished for friends. And more importantly,
she wished to be liked. A gleam of hope in her eyes, she settled back into her chair and closed her eyes.
The next morning came by. She went to her closet, pulled out an old sweatshirt and her old dirty white
trainers. She grabbed an apple and set off to school. As she entered the hallway, all heads turned around
to look at her. Feeling a little conscious of herself, she started walking to her locker, being greeted
enthusiastically by the people who occupied the hallways. She was confused. Why was everyone saying
hi to her? The bell rang and she walked to class. Upon entering, everyone turned their heads around and
waved and smiled at her. She was utterly confused. She had never gotten this much attention before.
She could not believe it. Was she suddenly popular? Did she have friends? As she took a seat, everyone
around her seemed to want to talk to her. She shuffled around in her seat awkwardly. She did not expect
this 180-degree change of events. Yesterday, she was a girl who had no one present at her party. Today,
she was known and liked. All of a sudden. Just like that. She knew she deserved this; she had spent way
too long being ignored and mistreated. She deserved to be popular and have friends.
For the next few days, Emily would walk into school with a smile plastered on her face. She was happy.
For the first time in really long, she was happy.
But as the weeks passed, she began to notice a deep and hollow emptiness gnawing away at her heart.
Her new 'friends' seemed more infatuated with her popularity than with who she truly was as a friend.
They laughed loudly at her jokes and invited her to birthday parties, but there was something superficial
to their interactions with her that left her feeling hollow and alone inside.
Emily longed for genuine connection and real friendships, for someone who would see past all of her
popularity and appreciate her for the person she was underneath. But whatever happened, she couldn't
shake the feeling of loneliness that lingered deep beneath the surface of her 'perfect' superficial life.
Amid a crowded room, surrounded by all these people who claimed to be her friends, Emily felt more
alone than she ever was before. She realized that true friendship couldn't be bought or wished for—it
had to be nurtured through years and years of companionship and understanding.
With a heavy heart, Emily made her way back to the roof where she once stood and wished for friends.
As she looked up at the sky, she realized that this is not at all what she had wanted. True happiness
didn't come from the number of friends she had or the number of friends who attended her party. It came
from the depth of the connections she shared with others.
And so, Emily looked up at another shooting star. This time she made a wish again, not for popularity or
being liked, but for the chance to find genuine friends in a world that often felt way too cold and
indifferent. And as she closed her eyes and whispered her wish into the night sky. She couldn't wish but
smile.
Memoirs