Reema Ayub – Where Psychology Meets Corporate

There are times when what appears to be affection is, in reality, nothing more than biological programming—disguised by sweet words, spiritual phrases, and intense attention. This is particularly evident when men display an unusual fixation on deeply personal aspects of your life, such as your menstrual cycle, your period products, or your emotional journey toward self-love. To understand the truth behind these behaviors, we must look beneath the surface. When a man takes excessive interest in your menstrual cycle—frequently asking about your premenstrual symptoms, closely observing your mood fluctuations, or even expressing an inappropriate curiosity about used sanitary products—it is not necessarily a sign of emotional intimacy or deep connection. More often, it reflects the unconscious mechanics of mating psychology. According to evolutionary psychology, human males are biologically predisposed to detect signs of fertility. Your cycle communicates essential information—not only abou...

It is 46°C outside—the kind of heat that makes tar melt and sanity evaporate. Inside poorly ventilated buildings, the temperature offers little relief. Yet, in this sweltering, unrelenting heat, the double standards of patriarchy remain astonishingly cool—insulated not by logic, but by centuries of gendered hypocrisy. Picture a typical workplace somewhere in the subcontinent during a blistering heatwave. Men comment freely on how unbearable the heat is, both outside and indoors. They shift away from their female colleagues, remarking, “Ladies have it easy,” as if discomfort were distributed by gender and not temperature. When a supervisor approaches, a male worker jokes, “Do pardah, the manager is coming,” as though modesty were a uniform women must don at a moment’s notice—like soldiers bracing for battle. But amid all this heat, a single question never gets asked: Why is modesty always a woman’s burden? Women, like men, are biological beings. We sweat. We overheat. We suffer rashes, ...

Festive occasions such as Eid and Christmas are culturally linked to celebration, joy, and communal abundance. However, for millions living below the poverty line, these days pass much like any other—marked not by festivity, but by endurance. The scent of food may waft through the air, but the kitchen remains quiet. Greetings may echo in the streets, but the home stays heavy with unmet needs. In Pakistan, as in many other low- and middle-income countries, poverty is not merely a lack of income. It is a deeply embedded psychosocial stressor that profoundly shapes mental health and emotional well-being. While official statistics offer insight into the scale of poverty, they often fail to capture the daily lived experiences of those navigating life on the margins. According to the latest national and international estimates, approximately 39 percent of Pakistan’s population currently lives below the poverty line. This figure has grown in the wake of rising inflation, economic instability,...

In the course of my clinical work, I have encountered countless individuals who carry a quiet and invisible weight—an emotional heaviness that follows them from one room to another, from one relationship to the next, and across the years despite countless attempts at new beginnings. Time after time, they find themselves circling back into familiar emotional traps, unable to escape a pattern they cannot fully name. More often than not, what binds them is unhealed trauma. One truth that has become inescapable in therapeutic observation is this: unresolved trauma does not remain static. It evolves, replicates, and draws further wounding into a person’s life—not because fate is cruel, but because the unconscious mind is deeply loyal to repetition. When we fail to bring our earliest wounds into conscious awareness, they begin to write the scripts of our adult relationships, influence the people we gravitate toward, and even determine the pain we repeatedly allow. For individuals living in t...

I have sat in too many living rooms where proud fathers delivered lectures about honour while their daughters stared at the floor, their questions trapped behind tight lips. In Pakistan, India and Bangladesh—whether at home or in immigrant communities abroad—one rule seems carved in stone: forbid pork and forbid any conversation about sex. The first injunction belongs to faith; the second is a cultural add‑on, yet it is enforced with even greater zeal. Islam does not outlaw knowledge. If there is a ḥadīth that bans sex education, I have never seen it—and I have searched. What I have seen are girls who reach adulthood without knowing what virginity means, how manipulation works or how predators cloak themselves in the language of temporary love. When those girls lose what society calls their “honour,” they are neither consoled nor questioned with compassion; they are simply condemned. A familiar pattern unfolds. A young man flatters a girl—beautiful, unique, destined to be his. She beli...