Please Help! Princess Latifa Of Dubai Is In Extreme Danger

Princess Latifa, a daughter of the ruler of Dubai, is in extreme danger because her family members have imprisoned her for attempting to escape. They have also captured some other princesses. I believe that they beat and abuse them like animals; and, they are maintaining false stories about “loved and protected princesses” in the media. You can watch her entire story on the site #FREELATIFA. You should share this post or post something about Princess Latifa on your social media accounts while using the hashtag #freelatifa.

I must comment that I have to firmly believe Princess Latifa’s story simply because I feel forced to do so. Several years ago, around 2012 or 2013, a close friend of mine suggested that I should apply for jobs in Dubai. He said it was a great place for women who wish to work; and, it is very well-built. At that point in my life, I was planning to get a job and be married soon. I started thinking after what he said; and, something just kept hitting against my mind like ice cold water. It was the thought: “Don’t go there. Dubai is actually bad for women. It doesn’t show on the surface; but, this is still there. There is a chance of being trapped there as well”. I asked the voice if it was sure; and, it repeated itself. I hear these voices every now and then because I am telepathic; I even get precognitive dreams, which means that I can definitely conduct telepathy during the day as well.  Make sure to click on the links where I am discussing my abilities before you read Princess Latifa’s comments.

So all of this public image that he’s trying to portray human rights, its bullshit.

He’s the most evil person I’ve ever met in my life. He’s pure evil. There’s nothing good in him. He’s responsible for so many people’s deaths and ruining so many people’s lives.

He doesn’t care about anyone. Source: Sheikha Latifa Bint Mohammed Bin Rashid Al Maktoum Princess Dubai Royal Family Full Video

So you see how crushing one woman can crush the rest as well as alert the rest. This is called the Amplification effect, which can be played in real life and during sleep. Of course! if average women can play the Amplification effect during the day, then so can the telepathic women except that they do this differently sometimes.

I must comment that there are many princesses like Princess Latifa except that they are not privileged enough to have their stories flashed on mainstream channels like BBC. People need to learn to watch out for them! This is why I am running a Facebook group called “Forgotten Femmes” to help abused women. After I took the responsibility of the Facebook group in 2013, I had time to learn about Human Rights and Women Rights. I learned mostly on my own because I needed time before making the next set of moves. In 2018, I came across the Human Rights Watch webpage and found the following data on UAE/Dubai.

UAE law permits domestic violence. Article 53 of the UAE’s penal code allows the imposition of “chastisement by a husband to his wife and the chastisement of minor children” so long as the assault does not exceed the limits prescribed by Sharia, or Islamic law. Source: Human Rights Watch, UAE.

When Princess Latifa’s story emerged in the news, I felt baffled. I knew it was easy to change this into a conspiracy theory, which is what’s mentioned in the BBC video, “What happened to Dubai’s Sheikha Latifa?”, as well. Even then, I feel forced to write this down because of the voice I heard, Latifa’s story, and feedback provided by Human Rights Watch. Please help the women of this world if you can!

Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

Using a Layered Approach with Writing Therapy

Writing Therapy can be used to allow locked emotions and feelings to channel outwards, which allows for self-validation and  healing. I have been using this technique for a while; and, I have realized that one must use a two-step approach in order to be able to compose something proper.

Step 1: Expressing Your Raw Thoughts

This step is tricky because there is a strong risk of your emotions overloading you. I usually take lots of rest when I perform this technique. I have also found out that it is easier to record myself then to jot things down. Writing down is slower than letting it out in a recorder. Also, recording is faster and it helps you manage your frustration over lack of time. You will realize later that it is not frustrating to transcribe the videos because your brain has already finished thinking. Now, its just a matter of time! In this phase, you can either blurt everything out as it is or you can use the methods offered in Writing Therapy.

Step 2: Integrating Research

This has to come after you have finished some part of your first draft. Only in some cases, the writer already have an idea about what he/she is going to research after the completion of step 1. This phase includes thorough research; and, I strongly recommend that you read only your favourite authors. The idea is that you are managing your therapy while feeling attached to someone who is worth your time. Be thorough and learn the keywords that are related to your personal issue by reading the newspaper or talking to a writer or editor. Then, it will become easier for you to research helpful articles like “The Threat of Stereotype” or “Defeat the Self-Defeating Behaviour Understanding and Overcoming Harmful Patterns“.

You will notice that this therapeutic technique will help you learn how to be patient and how to cope with your circumstances simply by challenging you mildly. Enjoy yourself!

Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

How My Intellect is Destructive and Constructive

I have superior intellect because I am lucid. I do not fall under the regular Genius category. But, if you were to expand the scope of the IQ test a bit, then you will be able to notice my genius intellect. Here is how my intellect is very destructive and constructive. I know lots of very bad cases of workplace abuse. How did I come across so many of them in such a short period of time? How did I write the content for my first book? You can easily say that I am bringing them towards me. But then you can always say because it’s out there. You see this line is so hazy that you cannot see the truth. I mean there was always a chance that I was going to be taken by a good team; I say this because I had good teams before. But that did not happen. You see why this line is so vague!

I just remember praying to God that He may grant me knowledge. And the next thing I know is that a lot of weird things including workplace abuse and more vivid lucid dreams happened really fast. It’s like I was triggering something big without realizing it.

When I say a whole lots of things really fast, which leaves you with the need to sort things out, then it’s because you are looking at a very large jigsaw puzzle that has just opened for me to play with for some reason. Here is another odd aspect of this entire set of experiences where I was repeatedly put through workplace abuse: I was sometimes left completely unharmed and other times with deep (physical, economical, and psychological) injuries. Regardless of everything, I was left alive and sane so that I may recover and write things down. Not to forget that every time something bad happens, some people just come forward and give me the right set of answers. For example, several individuals came forward somehow and solved different pieces of this very large jigsaw puzzle on separate occasions.

Can you see now that my intellect is destructive and constructive and that it is designed to eventually free the innocents including myself no matter what the cost is.


Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

An English-Hindi Romantic Song I Have Always Loved

This story is from when I just a teenager. I am writing it here because I have found out that I still like the same kind of songs as before.

Once my Pakistani friends (schoolmates) asked me to sing them a song and sing all of it. Reality is that we used to sing a lot; and, we also had assemblies in our high school where I used to sing with the rest of the youger women. So I started doing some research to find an easy song to sing. Of course! I knew many Hindi and Pakistani romantic songs; but, I was not willing to sing them because I couldn’t understand their words fully. Their words felt too bare and frank to me, something that I never fully understood. After reviewing some songs, I ended up finding “My Heart is Beating” from Hindi movie, “Julie” (1975). I loved it so it was easy for me to memorize it and sing it back. My friends loved it when I finished singing. The fun part is that the singer sings one of my nicknames, “Zu Zu”, which is short for “Arzoo”.

Now head over to the Poetry and Spoken sections and read or listen to some of my poems. You are going to notice that my mind still works the way it used to work when I was a teenager. I have learned to write more bare and open songs through experience. But the reality is that I avoided such songs when I was younger because I used to experience pain while thinking about these words. I did not realize what it was until I got older. Truth is that all poets experience pain when they create or sing.

Oh! Two other things that influenced my decisions to sing are 1) a funny voice that comes in my head and asks me not to sing or to sing a particular song; and, 2) additional questions that just arise after hearing certain words. When I got out of my teenage years and started studying Philosophy, I realized why I keep asking more questions instead of singing certain songs. For example, when I used to sing the song “Pardesi Pardesi” of Hindi movie “Raja Hindustani”, I would get stuck on the word “Ishq” (love); and, I would ask myself odd questions like what this all means and why are they both crying. It’s because such questions can only be answered through readings and research.

Please enjoy my favourite song, “My Heart is Beating”.

Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

Pickled Mangoes and Potato Tikkis

Because I am a lucid dreamer, my choice of foods is different to begin with. I pick things that I love; people who have seen me around my favourite foods tend to discuss my reactions for pretty long. Here I will discuss two of my favourite foods.


I have always loved mangoes and I have always eaten all sorts of mangoes including pickled mangoes. When I was younger, I did not knew why I felt like this. We did not had Internet in the Pakistani city I was living in at that time. So I couldn’t have just researched this online. When I moved to Canada, I used the net to find out that mangoes actually improve dreams. I was picking on mangoes by using my gut feelings. Stupendous! Check out this story from my childhood.

Grandma had spent an entire day peeling and cutting raw mangoes and spreading them on Charpai. “They will dry in several hours from now,” she told herself as she walked away from the courtyard. She felt delighted and upset at the sight of her two grandchildren who seemed to be waiting for someone or something at the entrance of the courtyard. The boy was dressed in a red-stripped ironed shirt and brown knickers while the girl wore a light pink cotton frock and matching hairpins. “Two of you should go inside now. Courtyard is not for you now,” Grandma warned them sternly since she was aware of their rebellious ways. But, they managed to crack a tired smile on her old face as they gave her that wide-eyed innocent look, the one they had reserved for special occasions such as brainwashing opponents. “Please don’t go in there. I am drying mangoes there. It’s for food, and we will eat it later,” Grandma felt compelled to explain herself to her kindergarten grandkids. “Ok Grandma! We won’t go there,” the girl promised her and smiled at her in hope that she would let her and her brother off the hook. “Heaven knows what they are thinking,” Grandma huffed and puffed and went inside the house.

“Let’s go inside. I don’t want to upset Grandma,” the boy told his sister as he tried to drag her back. “Please, I want raw mangoes. I want them. You should try them too. They are so tasty. Please!” the girl decided to cast the final stone of uprising that will most assuredly create mutiny on board. “OK! Hold my hand. I will help you get them,” the boy finally gave in to his younger sister’s wishes.

Holding hands, they ran away towards the courtyard. Upon her brother’s instructions, she hid herself under one of the Charpais. He scooched right next to her and comforted her. Bravely, he extended one of his hands out and examined the Charpai for some ripe raw mangoes. He snatched two pieces and gave one of them to her sister. They both enjoyed the sour mangoes peacefully as its taste made them imagine themselves to be as rich as the Ruassian Tsars. Without realizing, they had finished several of Grandma’s precious raw mangoes.

They had been hiding and eating there for around an hour and now their tummies had become slightly upset. The girl started crying,”How are we going to come from underneath the Charpai without being seen? The courtyard is so big and it is surrounded by so many rooms. Somebody might see us coming out from our hiding place. Mom is going to be angry when she finds out that we got cold while sitting under the Charpai,” she sobbed slowly as he hugged and comforted her and ignored that mild headache she sometimes gave him. “We will make a run for it when nobody is watching us,” he promised as he stealthily stepped out in the open. Nobody was there; to his surprise, the courtyard was deserted. “Come out, we are safe,” he reported to his sister who was very pleased to see his safe smile. Then, they made a run for it again while the girl peeked over her shoulder for Grandma who might attack them with pickled mangoes like a ferocious Terminator: Grandma loads mangoes in the rifle and fires. Bam bam bam. ‘Tis cracks their bums. K.O.

“What happens when Grandma finds out that we emptied almost half of the Charpai?” the girl whined again hoping that her brother will fix that too. “She will think a storm came or some animals ate them,” the boy laughed heartily as he took his sister safely inside the house. And thus, their rather scary and thrilling adventure ended.


I have always been in love with potatoes although my mom used to complain that potatoes can ruin your figure. I could not help her at all when she would say this because my mind used to go out of control at sight of potatoes. When I left Pakistan and got into Canada, I researched this as well. I found out that potatoes have vitamin B6 that boost dopamine and serotonin production. Thus, potatoes relax you a lot and can cause great dreams.

We had some servants who would take care of us. One of them was Amma NZ who was usually busy taking care of the kitchen and food—we used to call some of our female employees “Amma”, which means “Mom” because they were also our nannies. Amma NZ was an old woman who used to pray a lot and still looked really beautiful despite all the wrinkles she had. Here is how I used to request her to cook me some potatoes.

“Amma, Amma”, I screamed after I got home from high school. I was so stressed because the equatorial heat was too much for me to handle. “Amma, make me something from potatoes”.

“Oh! You aren’t even breathing properly. Slow down! Maybe you are really tired. What happened? Drink some water Arzoo. What happened?” Amma tried to calm me down once she saw me in pain of some sort.

“Amma! Just make me something from potatoes”, I requested in a stubborn manner just like a child would have.

“Sure! What do you want to eat Arzoo?” Amma asked me in a gentle and loving tone.

“Amma! Just make me anything. Potato Paratha, Potato Tikkis, or French Fries. Please! I just want potatoes”, I told Amma as fast as I could.

“Please be quiet Arzoo! Hush, Hush. You ate potatoes yesterday,” Amma tried to quieten me as she cooked the lunch for the family.

“Amma! Don’t worry too much. Make me something easy to cook like French Fries,” I begged again.

“Arzoo! You have no shame, child. You ate potatoes yesterday and then day before yesterday. How many potatoes do you want to eat? Oh God! I think you are going to finish all my potatoes,” she complained in a frustrated tone.

“Amma! Please! I have known you for so many years. Please negotiate something. How about one and a half potatoes?” I tried to make an easier demand so that she may comply.

“Negotiate? Where did you learn this word from, my child? From dad, did you? You are using this new word to bug me, aren’t you? I know that your father sits in his office and talks like this. You must have caught it from there. OK! OK! Sit down and don’t worry. I will iron the clothes and then cook french fries from only one and a half potatoes. Not more than that! Then, don’t come in the kitchen and ask me for extra goodies. Seriously! Your mom is going to be so angry when she notices that the potatoes have gone missing,” Amma screamed the last sentence in anger.

“Amma NZ! Thank you! I love you so very much,” my mood brightened as I hugged her.

While Amma NZ was frying fries for me, I went back to the kitchen and jumped at her from the back. She screamed in surprise because she got scared.

“Now what Arzoo? Why are you not leaving the kitchen to me? I cannot believe that you are back. I am not going to make your chips like this. You bug me too much,” she fired another set of complaints at me.

I got so worried that I won’t ever get my french fries from her and that she would be annoyed at me. “Amma, Amma, please let me see what you are cooking so far. I could smell these from my room. I couldn’t resist the smell so I came to check. Aha! They are almost golden brown. Please put some red chilies and salt in there,” as usual, I protested for spices.

“Waaaah! Arzoo! This is sounding so unhealthy to me. You have no shame. How much spices do you eat, Arzoo?” Amma tried to make fun of me so that I  may feel ashamed and forget about adding flavour to my fries.

“Amma! Amma! Stop! Stop! Please just do what I ask you to do. I will leave the kitchen then,” I decided to stick around and bug her further. It was so fun connecting with her. I loved her a lot; and, she was so beautiful and funny too.

“OK! I will throw a handful of spices in there. You are forcing me to give you spices. I cannot believe this! OK! You can have these. Please, be happy about this,” Amma NZ commented as she cooked like an expert.

Soon, she threw a plate of golden brown and spiced french fries in front of me. “Here! You just eat this. You are probably not having lunch now. I made lunch for you as well. Now that is going to get wasted,” she grumbled again as she lovingly gave me a tissue paper to clean my hands.

As a result of this drama, Amma NZ was angry all day. And, I just ate my potatoes and burped a lot. I slept really well after eating fries; and, I think I missed my lunch.

After a couple of days, I came back to bother Amma. “Amma! I want more chips,” I said as I drank some water and eyed her carefully.

This time, Amma started laughing. “Your fun isn’t over yet, I think,” she replied as she stared at me dotingly.

“Thank you Amma. I love your laughter,” I held her arm and paid her a compliment to make her smile again.

“You know, I just checked the rest of potatoes. There are really less left and some of them have worms on them. I need to throw the bad ones. Forget it for today. Eat an ice cream instead,” Amma immediately made an excuse and tried distracting me with ice cream.

Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

Psychic Feelings Create a Nudge At One’s Heart

Psychic feelings push you to do something that involves stepping out of one’s daily routine behaviour—I have noticed this about myself ever since I gained sufficient awareness and knowledge to notice myself and others in detail and react or cause someone else to react. For example, today is Sunday; and, that is why I wanted to rest all day.  I was not thinking of opening the door and stepping outside. However, after eating my brunch, I felt like walking towards the door. I eventually opened and peeked outside for newspaper. There was nothing there so I closed the door and walked away. I ate some more food and relaxed. Then, for some odd reason, I started walking towards the door again. I opened the door again; this time, I felt like peeking at the other side of the rest of the door, the area that usually remains hidden from sight because only one side of the door actually opens. And, there it was! There was a parcel there; and, I knew that it had been sitting there for some while. I picked it up and brought it inside. So that is how psychic feelings keep tugging at my heart until I find out what exactly is going on. If you have known me somehow and observed something about me that isn’t making much sense, then know that I can get like this whenever the need arises.


Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

Becoming Alive Again

I had lots of female friends in Pakistan. Because I was a Muslim girl, I only hanged around with girls. Being around with boys was out of question unless they were my cousins, my classmates, my teachers, or friends of my family—this changed when I grew older because now I had to meet my colleagues as well as men I felt interested in. So when I was younger, mostly my female friends offered me all sorts of enjoyment.

They always held my hand when I was sad; spoiled me with movies, snacks, and sleepovers; studied together and danced at weddings together; and, broke some critical rules to make me laugh. We used to have so much fun together but that was our daily routine. Gradually, something inside just died due to the fact that I got so used to everything. I needed to try new things out. But, I didn’t fully realize that this is what I needed until I arrived in Canada. I was just a teenager back then; obviously, I was pretty confused.

In Canada, I was lucky enough to meet a Buddhist Chinese-Canadian girl, L.C. She felt so awesome because she used to add a new idea inside my young mind every now and then.Yes! She was the one who got me into reading newspaper and articles related to global affairs. I felt that I became alive when she came in my life although she was just like the rest of the girls. She was a bit different than the rest because she was telepathic; that is why she could create a “lock and key” mechanism inside my mind. Whenever she talked, it felt like a mirror. Sometimes, she would say things that I needed to hear; and sometimes, I would say things that she needed to hear. We were like that despite the fact that we belonged to different cultures and religions.

Around 10 years have passed since she left me due to her domestic abuse issues—I have always known that the second L.C. would be abused, I will be abused somehow as well. But, I still miss her like hell! Ever since she has left me, I have waited for her and thought about her every year. I have scanned the web; and, I have failed. I did find out the name of the city she went to; but, I was unable to find out her address in time because we had to move away as well. I have some great friends but they cannot replace her. Her memories are so fresh in my mind that I woke up today thinking about her and ended up making seven audio recordings about how we used to be. I intend to publish this in my short story/novel “She: The Mirror”. I recorded myself crying over her because her memories are so fresh that these sting like fresh wounds. You know after ten years passed, I realized that I have lost a real sister.


Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

Celebrity Drawings: Mohamed El Baradei

Mohamed El Baradei is an Egyptian diplomat who was awarded the Nobel Peace Price in 2005. He won this recognition for attempting to prevent nuclear energy from being used in military operations.

CNN provides the following facts about El Baradei: He began his career in 1964 as an Egyptian Diplomatic Service. In 1984, he became the Legal Advisor for  the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA). In 2013, he gave up his position as the Vice President of Foreign Relations so that he may be able to protest the police response to anti-government demonstrators.

Here is his official website. Content is in Egyptian language though!

This sketch is based on the picture that is here.


Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.

How Do I Handle Different Data Collected from Different Islamic Sects?

I am not a scholar of Islam; but, I do attempt to learn from scholars and religious texts. I definitely have a copy of the Bible and the Quran in my room; and, I read the Psalms of David when I have time on my hands. I grew up as a Sunni Muslim and found out that certain practices did not make any sense to me. One of these traditions involved visiting the tombs of some religious authorities and praying to God there. I felt that this contradicted a fundamental Islamic teaching, which was that you can pray to God almost anywhere except for really filthy places. Of course! You can still pray for the deceased at the cemetery; but, the Sunnis are using the dead religious person as a means of conveying their prayers to God. However, in Islam we are told to pray directly to God. After finding these contradictions, I started enjoying myself less when my family would visit the tombs of religious figures. Saying all this, I must note that I still think that praying only at Prophet Mohammad’s tomb is very important because he is the leader of Muslims.

When I moved to Canada, I found the Internet. I researched Islam and found out that it was difficult for me to discern what was going on due to too much data and lack of knowledge about how to figure out which texts are considered more accurate. Instead, I started reviewing articles that are backed by some well-known and credible Muslim scholars; and, even then I preferred to use common sense while analyzing these texts. And, pretty soon I realized that I was not sticking with everything some sects like Shia, Sunni, and Sufi were teaching  me; and, so I took bits and pieces out of everything and created something that stuck more easily inside my mind. I know that God rewards people based on effort and not accuracy. I also realized that the scholars couldn’t force anything on me; and, that their aim was to just to share their knowledge and let people decide.

First I thought that my personality type—I have lots of traits of an ENFP—does not like controlling people or too many strict rules and that this played a critical role in how I learned about Islam. Another fundamental thing that I realized through experience is that I couldn’t stick with my religious beliefs simply due to some scholars. I have always wondered why I was doing this; and, in 2018, I found an answer for this question. It was in the YouTube video, “Rice University lecture about Muslims in Usa With Craig Considine and Mujahid Fletcher“. At 5:40, the screen at the back displays a slide. Pause there and read. It is showing the results of the “Latino Muslim Survey” that was conducted in 2017. This survey discusses why Hispanic Latino Americans are becoming Muslims. 71% of the participants said that they are “not very or not at all influenced” by “a particular religious leader” and 96% said that they are “not very or not at all influenced” by “an inner city ministry or outreach program”. So this answered my question. Apparently, I am again choosing common sense when I am deciding not to follow Islam simply because someone is telling me to do so.

You might find it funny that I think of myself as a Sunni Muslim because I have redefined the word. “Sunni” means the “one who follow Prophet Mohammad’s example”. The way I learn is very difficult to manage. For example, while studying at the university, I have always participated in extra private sessions with professors in order to add more stuff to my existing knowledge. Those who know me very well understand why I need to do this. Lastly, it is very easy to think of me as a non-practicing Muslim. For instance, when I feel down, I listen to all sorts of songs and this helps me boost my mood. During these moments, those who are watching me from distance including those who attempt to keep me depressed think that I am not a practicing Muslim—they don’t realize that I cannot really sing all the words of a song given that I don’t fully believe in those words although I find it funny to watch them being sung by someone else. This is why I remind myself that God does not judge through solid lines but in a very creative way; and, that in real Islam there are many levels of faith (by “faith”, I mean how one feels about practicing Islam) and not just one accepted level of faith.

I think more or less almost everyone studies Islam this way.

In conclusion, I can clearly see why non-Muslims including atheists used to love Prophet Mohammad (peace be upon him). He allowed them to choose Islam, other religions, or even atheism simply because this choice is given in the Quran. I can clearly see why an atheist told me that he loves and respects me a lot!

Copyright © by Arzoo Zaheer. All Rights Reserved.