123 Countries…And Counting!

photo for blog

Did you know that my blog has been read by 123 countries and counting till date? Unbelievable, right? There are a total of 195 countries in the whole world, and 123 of them have read my humble blog!

I started blogging way back in 2015 at the age of 9. I’ve been through such a long journey since I started, and learnt so much along the way! For as long as I can remember, I have always loved to write. I recall writing from as young as the age of 4! And before I could even write, I expressed my passion of writing through drawing! From there, I built up my skill in writing. I can see now why Mrs Mom says I was ‘BORN TO WRITE!’

The main purpose of me launching this blog was to encourage more people to read and write. Reading and writing open up the imagination and increase creativity, which is why I think it is very vital in today’s modern society. It’s important to challenge ourselves to read every day, however much you do, because reading leads to writing. Whether you read one page a day or one chapter, you just need to remember to keep it consistent, the same way with writing too.

I Thank God for blessing me with my greatest skill, writing, because without it, I wouldn’t be who I am today! Also, I want to take the opportunity to THANK all the people who have been reading my blog and showing me immense support! I mean, 123 countries? I couldn’t ask for more! I can still remember when I went for my interview at King Edward’s School, the interviewers were surprised to find out that an 11-year old boy could attract readers from all over the world! To be able to write is one thing, to get people from over 100 countries to read your work is a completely different story!

Without my family, teachers, friends, and of course, you PAWSOME readers, I wouldn’t be where I am today! I really appreciate all your kindness and PAWSOME support. Keep calm and carry on reading so that TOGETHER WE CAN CHANGE THE WORLD!

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You’re Not ‘Special’, But You Can Change The World!

 

 

WDSD QuoteEvery 21st March marks World Down Syndrome Day, bringing awareness to everyone about people with Down Syndrome, or ‘SPECIAL’ people with ‘SPECIAL NEEDS’. Special? Where’d that come from? Yes, they may be different, but they still live among us in the same way that we do; they eat, sleep, breathe, walk, talk – just like us! Yet they are still being labelled differently from us. I personally disagree with labelling them special.

The world calls people with Down Syndrome, autism, or other syndromes ‘SPECIAL’ and they are said to have ‘SPECIAL NEEDS’. They think sugar-coating ‘disabled’ will lighten the effect, but from my humble point of view, it only hurts even more. For a start, being labelled differently means that they will only be separated from the crowd. It makes them feel alone and puts them on a different path from us in life. Do you realise that we are pushing them even further away from us? Since ‘special needs’ is just a polite term for something else, it may come across as sarcastic to people with Down Syndrome too! It also makes them feel more dependent because if they have ‘special NEEDS’, they would have to be treated specially by a specialist.

Why is this happening? They are just normal people! Sure, they may be different in how they act or look, but aren’t we all different? God made us in all different forms, shapes, sizes and colours, and while this is important to keep in mind, it is also important to remember that we are all from one human race! So even though you think you are ‘softening the blow’ by using a positive word like ‘special’, it only makes them feel different in a negative way! Try putting yourselves in their shoes! I know I wouldn’t want to be labelled ‘special’ the way they are! They want people to recognise their differences and understand their feelings, which I am sure is also true with the rest of us!

So what do we call them then? Why not try calling them by the name their parents gave them if you know them well, or if you don’t, respect the fact that they are humans as well, then recognise that they have Down Syndrome, autism or anything of the sort.

Let’s not label them ‘special’, but recognise their illness! This way, we can study them, recognise their needs, identify the assistance they require – and help them break through. Instead of putting all the responsibility on the parents, we should take it upon ourselves to play a role in helping them. Whether you’re a friend, neighbour, or simply a member of the community, you should help them every chance you get! Rather than making them fit into our world, why not we try to fit into their world? If we can understand them, this will help them to live among us and make it easier for all of us! Be it at school, in a workplace, or in public places, this awareness will help us blend into their world!

We also need to be aware that people with Down Syndrome are with us every day, therefore, we need to know of the vital importance of WDSD! This knowledge is key in understanding the diverse people of today’s world. So, please, oh please, keep in mind before you call somebody with Down Syndrome ‘special’, just think – maybe they aren’t so dependent! Maybe they could go on to do great things in the future! Maybe they could CHANGE THE WORLD!

“I see people with Down Syndrome more superior than me – after all, they do have extra chromosomes!”

– O. Mukhtar O. Mukhlis

21/03/2018

p/s: I’m an 11-year-old writer, and this is my humble point of view.

 

The Three Not-So-Little Porkers – A Twisted Fairy Tale!

showcase bookcase

Note: This is my piece of writing that won a place on the Showcase Bookcase in my school – enjoy!

Let’s have a little chat about ‘The Three Little Pigs’. Classic fairy tale: trio of porkers, big bad wolf, he blows to houses down, third pig gets revenge and everyone lives happily ever after. Almost everyone seems to believe this sugar-coated porky pie and nobody has heard me speak up before. I’m the wolf: Wolfy dé Wolfa alá Carté Costa Ice Cream Martinéz Belle Pepper Rodriguez Gogo Pasha délá I-Have-Very-Nice-Fur Growl Wolf. You can call me Wolf. My friends (yes, I have friends) call me that, but my nickname is Mozart (Wolfgang Amedeus Mozart…you get the idea). People hate wolves. It could be because of our appearance – hey, I’m not the one who decides we’re born big and ugly. You’ve just got to learn to love us! The fairytale you’ve heard is totally wrong – yes, your parents have been telling you fibbies! I’m going to present to you the TRUE story, which is all about an asthmatic wolf and a missing inhaler…

Way back yonder, in a time when fairy tales were the bee’s knees, I used to live in Far Far Away – you know, the place where a little ogre named ‘Shrek’ lived. Now, back in the day, I had a terrible case of asthma, and on this particular day, my inhaler was missing! I checked my house:

  • Top to bottom
  • Left to right
  • Back to front

I scoured every nook and cranny, but my inhaler was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it hit me! I could just trot along to my neighbour’s house and inquire there – genius! So I sauntered down Fairy Avenue until I reached my neighbour. Now, you see, pigs are probably the dumbest animals in the universe (after humans – no offence) and my neighbour was, sadly, a pig. God couldn’t be that cruel to him! This pig must have lost his marbles, though: his house was made completely out of cotton wool – it ruins the quality of the pig juices, you know. So it’s no mystery why I accidentally ripped out the door when I tried to knock on it. The cotton wool got stuck to my fur and there were several clouds of the stringy white stuff floating in the air. What a shock to the ecosystem. It’s bad manners to barge into somebody else’s house demanding a missing inhaler, and I didn’t want to make a downright rude first impression by doing that, so I gave him a little yodel:

“Little Pig, have you gone to market and are you still at home?”

To my disappointment, he didn’t yodel back. I had nearly agreed on the decision of wasting my money on another stupid inhaler when a tingling sensation took hold of my chest: my asthma was kicking in. I spluttered; I coughed; I ‘poofed’ down the house – unbelievable, huh? My asthma must have been stronger than I thought! Then do you know what happened next? When the dust cleared, I caught sight of the first little porker: lifeless as a hamburger. He hadn’t gone to market after all! Now, I knew that when somebody dies, they bury the body, but I couldn’t let them do it to this perfect meal, so I did the only thing I could to help him: I ate him up.  Imagine it was the question ‘Do you want to eat me?’ and the options were ‘yes’ and ‘yes’. No choice, right?

My asthma had calmed down, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back! So, I set off to the next closest house in search of my pesky inhaler. This next house was the abode of the first little pig’s brother: Pigsby The Second. Yeah, he was a pig, but he was even more crazy than normal: he suffered from a mental condition. He would just change personalities this way and that. You would never know what he was going to say next! This was a genuine mental pig on the loose! Poor Pigsby’s condition also affected his common sense – his house was constructed of sticks. When I knocked on the door, I heard a slight cracking noise, but it remained stable. I decided to call out, “Little Pig, have you gone to market or are you still at home?”

And guess what he said? “Take a hike, Wolf, you’re trespassing; leave me to rest and stop fussing!”

Then he said, “Oh wait, you can.”

“But he can’t!”

“Maybe he can.”

“He’s a wolf!”

“And?”

“He’ll eat us!”

“So? I like being eaten!”

“You total ninny! You’ve gone nuts!”

“No, you’re nuts!”

“Wait, we’re both nuts! Hahaha!”

As the lunatic waffled on, I felt yet another weird sensation rising inside of me: I spluttered; I coughed; I ‘poofed’ down the house! You’ll never guess what happened next – that whole stick house fell flat to the ground! In the sea of debris was the second hog: ready for basting. He’d have done better to go to market. Now, the authorities would bury this guy too, so obviously, I had to help him: I ate him up. Think of it as a double deed for a good cause.

My stomach was now terribly full (there went my diet) and still, I hadn’t uncovered the secret location of my inhaler! So, the only choice I had was to walk up to the house right in front of me: the home of Pigsby Sr. I gave this pig just a little ounce of respect because of his brains: his house was made completely out of brick-hard bricks – well, the point was that it was bricks. I rang the doorbell (modern!) but nobody responded. I called, “Little Pig, have you gone to market, or are you still at home?”

And you won’t believe what he jabbered back:

“Get outta here, Wolf – don’t you dare touch my house ever again!”

I was just going to give him a piece of my mind when I felt another asthmatic reaction coming on: I spluttered; I wheezed; I ‘poofed’ down…a flower. Then old Senior yelled, “Missing inhaler, my foot!” Now that set me off, and at the perfect time, too. The police drove up just when I was making a scene, pounding on his door. I was locked up and shut up…until now…

My PAWSOME Mother!

mothers day

Let’s face it: without mothers, we wouldn’t be where we are today. They’ve been there from the start and they’ll be there till the end! They’re always there to help, purely out of love! And that’s what Mother’s Day is all about – celebrating just how great mums are.

Mrs Mom is a great example of a brilliant mum! She was always there by my side, helping me as I went along. I could never forget all those moments we spent together! She would always get me involved with things around the house, like cooking up some new dishes with her or making a brainstorm of story ideas to tell to each other. That’s really why I’ve been blessed with the talent of writing right now, because it was Mrs Mom who spotted my passion, and she guided me through the steps! So, I have her to thank for getting me where I am today. Sure, may be the writer behind this blog, a journalist for my school newspaper and Pobble’s youngest ever guest blogger, but remember, behind every great star, there’s a mother with double the greatness!

As I mentioned, it’s Mother’s Day, and I think a gift is due for all of Mrs Mom’s brilliance! We should all be celebrating our mothers every day, but I guess Mother’s Day is just that big marker for every year. So on that note, here’s my marker.

A Little Ditty For My Mother Witty

By Omar Mukhtar The Pawsome Lion

Dedicated to Mrs Mom for Mother’s Day

You’ve put up with all the Mother’s Day gifts,

The pink and purple hearts,

You’ve shouted “Yay!” for – ahem – dandelions,

And all my meSSy arts,

Yes, I may have hated all those greens,

I may not be the cleanest,

But can you forgive me after I say your homemade mop’s ingenious!

My exercise books might be shoddy,

On every page’s a

DOODLE

But still you had a heart so big to keep the whole caboodle

And so today, I say “Hooray!” for now it’s MOTHER’S DAY!

For years of love and thought and care, like this I will repay…

Happy Mother’s Day, Mrs Mom! You’re absolutely PAWSOME!

p/s: What does YOUR mother do that makes her so special to you? Share in the comments below!

Into The Forest, But Never Out…

spooky forest background

The sun was high in the sky, but did not illuminate the dismal forest much, as its shine was filtered through the foliage of the dense forest canopy, leaving only a few rays of light touching the ground. Even so, there were many things to keep me relaxed while walking through such a place. The psithurism, for instance, was very calming as it travelled into my ears. The sweet scent of flowers and wild berries was quite soothing too. Other than the fact that the rest of the forest was not quite pleasant, one could agree that it was quite an enjoyable walk.

But, there is always a chance of an unexpected event ( a abad one, too, that is) happening at a time like this. And so that was the case for me. I realised that the air wasn’t quite as warm as it was before. I pulled my coat tighter around my body. The lovely aroma which had so wonderfully tantalised my nose whilst wafting through the air no longer lingered near me. It seemed unearthly for everything to change so suddenly. But then, I was walking through the forest in the middle of nowhere; anything could happen, what with the lack of light and vast air space. I told myself that I was just imagining things. I shook the thought off.

I continued on my journey for about 10 minutes, maybe 20, and just when I thought everything was going fine, I came face to face with another obstruction, the biggest one of all.

CRUNCH! The leaves behind me rustled. A few bushes shook. Somewhere in the forest, I heard the unmistakeable cry of a human. Now I was worried. My rapid breathing filled the air: it seemed to encourage the trees to whisper back. SNAP! A twig broke. Another scream. All my surroundings seemed to revolved around me, and just as I was about to turn and run, I met the worst thing I could have ever imagined: Him…