HAPPY NEW YEAR....!!!!!

On the eve of every new year, i have traditionally had lot to say. Review of the year gone by and the resolutions for the year ahead have been part of an annual pratice for me for many years. This year too has not been without its fair share of sweet-bitter memories. I found a new friend and lost my dearest uncle. It also took me to my ancestral village and my childhood town after a long time. A year marked by exhilaration and exasperation all at the same time. Usually this day signifies an end and a new beginning. However,funnily enough, my whole year was so full of many small beginnings and ends that the symbolic significance of the last '10 sun setting on the horizon seems to carry not much meaning. Nevertheless, the fact remains that it is a new year night tonight and tomorrow is a new year.
So i will try to feel the newness.


HAPPY NEW YEAR PPL!!!

Whither Pakistan !!!

It is a cold sunday afternoon today. Karachi's temperature has plummeted to 7 degrees centigrade in the last couple of days afflicting cold, cough and flu to many including myself. Each season has its own pace and it is so infectious that everything around starts moving along at the same velocity. Winters are slow and quiet in nature and so becomes life in winter-slow, quiet, frozen and dormant. However, winters have not had much of an effect on the political horizon. International stage of politics looks as hot and happening as ever with no dearth of interesting and at times sensational news. Wikileaks saga is far from over while all the countries are huddled together at the cancun, Mexico, trying to reach at a hitherto elusive climate change agreement. India continues to flex its diplomatic muscle owing to increasing economic clout while the western world and some countries in the pacific remain ever so apprehensive of china's inevitable rise. New alliances are being formed and new partnerships forged as the balance of power in the world undergoes some significant changes. A new world order is emerging. China, India and Indonesia in the south and south-east Asia, Turkey in West Asia and Brazil in the Latin america are fast emerging as new centres of global power. Their ascendant global clout is underpinned by remarkable economic growth which in turn is a result of stable political system in these countries. On the contrary, Pakistan has remained in a perpetual state of chaos and political instability thereby ever on the verge of economic collapse. Notwithstanding this, the powers that be in Pakistan continue to look for strength and power at all the wrong places,in the strategic depth in Afghanistan, in our nuclear arsenal, in provoking war-hysteria against India and in our zest of matching bullet to bullet and missile to missile with India. Such skewed priorities have landed us into this mess that is Pakistan today with terrorism wreaking havoc all over and a poor economy making life unaffordable. Yet it seems we are not ready to learn any lessons. People remain a distant priority as ever. Aspiring to be a global player and having a say in the world affairs, Pakistan has to first start with ameliorating the lot of its populace. The real strength can be drawn from the people who are prosperous and happy.Investing in the people and their lives can make this country a land of healthy and happy people. This is when people become a resource and real engines of progress and change. Educated, healthy and prosperous Pakistan will also be a secure Pakistan. Pakistan that gives respect and dignity to its people will also be given respect and esteem in the comity of nations.

how true....

Action is the antidote to despair---Joan baez


This is very truly said..

child in me.........

Time has really gone past quickly especially my adolescence. How did i become an adult from a child, i did not realize. True, the childhood is long gone, the child in me has stayed back. One small child is in me. I am pregnant :DDDD Hope i always remain one.

tired.....i am going to sleep.

We sleep.
Steadily darkness overtakes.Sun goes down, lights go out, eyes shut and we sleep. Dogs woof to reassure themselves that they are the real ones and their competitors in the human form are now asleep. The watchman whistles to reassure us that he is awake while we sleep.
After a long, never-ending day, night eventually arrives and we sleep. No matter how bad the receding day might have been, we sleep. we sleep to put an end to the day that just refuses to end. We sleep because we are tired. we sleep because sleep gives us chance to dream. We sleep to wake up another day and make a new beginning. A fresh, new start.
We sleep because we have to remain awake for long. However,right now, we cannot take it anymore.We cannot remain awake. Thus, we sleep.
Good night. ZZzzzzzzzzz......

Some women find the word aunty offensive....

It was funny.


Today, i referred to a woman as aunty and she looked offended. In spite of the fact that her age, she must be in her late 40s, and more importantly her appearance completely justified the epithet. Anyways i didnt mean to hurt her.I apologized.

Floods: we will all be affected....

Floods continue to wreak havoc in Pakistan. Travelling down from up in the north, the angry waters have destroyed many things along the way. However, its direct victim has been the village Pakistan. The villagers who keep the economic wheels of Pakistan that is primarily an agrarian country moving. Yet and yet! they remain on the lowest rung of the social ladder, bending under the burden of the privileged Pakistan that literally feeds on the toil of the folk in countryside. To make matters worse, these floods have devastated their already lifeless lives. In this backdrop, we the city-dwellers can no longer remain ensconced in the comfort that waters won’t touch us. Well, the water may well not touch us but the misery will. This is so because when the wheel stops moving in the village, we all come to a grinding halt.
People in the villages of Pakistan are equally important, if not more. For decades the state of Pakistan had forgotten and forsaken them until the nature’s fury chased them out of their anonymity and obscurity. Now, let’s turn this challenge into an opportunity by not only returning them their lives but also making sure that they are not out of mind once they are out of sight.

Stories out of floods...

The floods have thrown up some incredible survivor stories of courage, faith, desperation, fear, misery and miracle.

The following are a few of them:


1: BHOORI- THE SWIMMING COW-SAVED OLD WOMAN

“Allah saeen karam karaisy na Bhoori” (Allah almighty will bless our bhoori) says the 70 year old widow zainab bibi in her native seraiki as she addresses the cow which shakes its head in response.
Flash floods in dera din panah(kot addu) separated zainab bibi from her family of 30 members comprising her children and grandchildren.
That’s how she tells her story:
“ I was sleeping in the courtyard near the cattle pen while my sons and their families were present on the roof-top when a gush of water threw me up. Moments later Bhoori came from nowhere and I clung to her neck. We floated around for many hours and it was around fajr (dawn) that I finally felt ground under my feet. It was bhoori that brought me to a dry spot from where our neighbours brought us here(a relief camp near muzaffargarh)”
Zainab bibi is optimistic about reuniting with her family soon. For now, she only has the company of her cow, Bhoori.

2: FAMILY ATE LEAVES TO SURVIVE

Finally it was left to Mother Nature to save the lives of shamsher sial and his three children. They remained perched on a tree for two days after flash floods hit their village near bhakkar. Once they survived the deluge, their next main challenge was to find food for themselves as no relief goods could reach them.
Shamsher tells his story:
“We spent the whole of last Wednesday and Thursday on a charpoy we had placed on the branches of a tree. Some of my relatives did the same to save their lives. During the two days, we ate leaves to survive. It was only after the water had receded that we were able to climb down and proceed to the embankment.”

3: MAN RISKS LIFE TO SAVE HIS BUFFALOES

Everyone present at the Qadirpur embankment near Sukkur noticed a ‘drowning’ man who was floating at a considerable velocity in the water-hundreds of thousands of cusecs flowing mercilessly- but the man was not alone and nearly a dozen buffaloes were floating with him as if they were weightless.
“Leave the animals and just come out” shouts a rescue official at the embankment. But the ‘drowning’ man flows past, ignoring the advice and continues his desperate attempt to steer his buffaloes out of water. To the astonishment of many, he succeeds and manages to come out of the water along with his herd.
The man is clearly shocked and exhausted to the extent that he fails to realize that his lower garment is missing. Rescuers cover the shivering man with a sheet. He identified himself as Deen Mohammad and after a few minutes he is back on his feet, guiding his cattle.
Deen mohammad recounts:
“They are my family. They feed my children. When the soldiers came to rescue us in boats they refused to allow my cattle on the boat. So I sent my family on the boat and stayed behind. This morning I decided to try my luck and entered the water along with the cattle. It was scary.”

Call for Pakistan!!!

The much awaited monsoon came but it was not alone. The rains were accompanied by floods as the rivers bloated and reservoirs overflowed inundating towns entirely and rendering people dead, injured, lost and homeless. To add insult to injuries, the state agencies seem clueless. In a state with as little resources as Pakistan has, in the aftermath of such natural disasters, the people throughout the length and breadth of Pakistan should spur into action, mobilize their resources and extend helping hand to our fellow citizens in distress rather jeopardy. The job of saving Pakistanis and later rehabilitating them should not be left to the government alone. All of us who can should come forward and help.
It is a call for Pakistan

when living longer becomes a problem.....

Shada islam’s column in today’s Dawn(31st july) brings to the fore a strange problem that the eurpoean world is faced with. It is known as the problem of ageing. It refers to the phenomenon which is the result of increasing life expectancy of the population at large. Due to advancement in health sciences and improvement in medical treatment, diseases that were once fatal are now being cured thus leading to the increased life span. Besides the standards of living, the standards of dying have also risen incredibly. However, the flip side to this is that number of the old people continues to rise and their ranks swell while the birth-rate in Europe continues to fall. This ever grey-ing population burdens the country’s budget and financial resources with its increased needs of health care, frequent medical attention and the pension fees. Besides, labour shortages slow down the economic growth and national output. Because people are living longer, the state has to take care of them for longer time thus adding increased burden on the exchequer. Shada quotes EU social affairs commissioner Laszlo Andor as saying, “The number of retired people in Europe compared to those financing their pensions is forecast to double by 2060- the current situation is simply not sustainable”
While Pakistan continues to grapple with the population explosion and its concomitant problems of providing basic amenities to all the citizens and turning the population from a liability into an asset as majority of the population of Pakistan is young, Europe mulls over how to increase its population and how to deal with its older generation whose number rises steadily.
I wish we could swap our problems.

nazim hikmat----in solitary

These days, i am in love with nazim hikmat
A "romantic revolutionary", indeed.
Have a look at his following lines:

LETTERS FROM A MAN IN SOLITARY

1
I carved your name on my watchband
with my fingernail.
Where I am, you know,
I don't have a pearl-handled jackknife
(they won't give us anything sharp)
or a plane tree with its head in the clouds.
Trees may grow in the yard
but I'm not allowed
to see the sky overhead...
How many others are in this place?
I don't know.
I'm alone far from them,
they are all together far from me.
To talk to anyone besides myself
is forbidden.
So I talk to myself.
But I find my conversation so boring,
my dear wife, that I sing songs.
And what do you know,
that awful, always off-key voice of mine
touches me so
that my heart breaks.
And just like the barefoot orphan
lost in snow
in those old sad stories, my heart
- with moist blue eyes
and a little red runny nose -
wants to snuggle up in your arms..
It doesn't make me blush
that right now
I'm this weak,
böyle hodbin
this selfish,
this human simply.
No doubt my state can be explained
physiologically, psychologically, etc.
Or may be it's
this barred window,
this earthen jug,
these four walls,
which for months have kept me from hearing
another human voice...

It's five o'clock, my dear.
Outside,
with its dryness,
eerie whispers,
mud roof,
and lame, skinny horse
standing motionless in infinity
- I mean, it's enough to drive the man inside
crazy with grief -

Again today, night will fall in no time.
A light will circle the lame, skinny horse.
And the treeless space, in this hopeless landscape
stretched out before me like the body of a hard man,
will suddenly be filled with stars.
We'll reach the inevitable end once more,
which is to say the stage is set
again today for an elaborate nostalgia.
Me,
the man inside,
once more I'll exhibit my customary talent,
and singing an old-fashioned lament
in the reedy voice of my childhood,
once more, by God, it will crush my unhappy heart
to hear you inside my head,
so far
away, as if I were watching you
in a smoky, broken mirror...

2
It's spring outside, my dear wife, spring.
Outside on the plain, suddenly the smell
of fresh earth, bird singing, etc.
It's spring outside, my dear wife, spring,
the plain outside sparkles...
And inside the bed comes alive with bugs,
the water jug no longer freezes,
and in the morning sun floods the concrete...
The sun -
every day till noon now
it comes and goes
from me, flashing off
and on...
And as the day turns to afternoon, shadows climb the walls,
the glass of the barred window catches fire,
and it's night outside,,
a cloudless spring night...
And inside this is spring's darkest hour.
In short, the demon called freedom,
with its glittering scales and fiery eyes,
possesses the man inside
especially in spring...
I know this from experience, my dear wife,
from experience...

3
Sunday today.
Today they took me out in the sun for the first time.
And I just stood there, struck for the first time in my life
by how far away the sky is
how blue
and how wide.
Then I respectfully sat down on the earth.
I leaned back against the wall.
For a moment no trap to fall into,
no struggle, no freedom, no wife.
Only earth, sun, and me...
I am happy...

nizar qabbani's poetic influence

This is what influenced nizar qabbani;

........."When Qabbani was 15, his sister, who was 25 at the time, committed suicide because she refused to marry a man she did not love.During her funeral he decided to fight the social conditions he saw as causing her death. When asked whether he was a revolutionary, the poet answered: “Love in the Arab world is like a prisoner, and I want to set (it) free. I want to free the Arab soul, sense and body with my poetry. The relationships between men and women in our society are not healthy.” He is known as one of the most feminist and progressive intellectuals of his time."

"when a man is in love how can he use old words?"---nizar qabbani

Monsoon is here,,,finally.

Finally the monsoon is here, belatedly but here nevertheless.
Megha, Malhar, sarang, varsha sing whichever raag you know....It is here.
Let’s see how long it is going to last.
Although it reached Karachi a few days back, it is only today that it has rained unabatedly.
Yet another monsoon, yet another cycle completed and a half of 2011 is gone….
But for now, the weather is brilliant and the ambience is beautiful, LET’S SAVOR IT.


Have happy and safe monsoon!!!!

Shame on us.....

Rape a girl in Pakistan and move on.

The victim will not speak out against it for fear of earning ignominy and a social stigma that stays forever. She will curse her fate-not the rapist- and try to do the impossible i-e forget about it.

But kainat soomro did not forget what happened to her on Jan. 10, 2007 as a student of class eight. She was gang raped. Nor did she keep quiet. Kainat protested and clamoured for justice.

What happens next?

Well, welcome to Pakistan.

“Five fake FIRs of murder, theft and other crimes were registered against her and her family at different police stations to pressure them to withdraw the case and settle the dispute through a jirga”, says Kainat.

Moreover, “because she had refused to withdraw the case, they murdered her brother after kidnapping”

The complicity of Police in the crime should not be appalling to any Pakistani who lives in this Land of the Pure. What is shocking, however, is the naivety of kainat.

How could she even think of pursuing the perpetrators!

And how dare she violate the norms by breaking the silence!

Why did she not keep mum about it, gulping down the pill of patience like so many kainats along the length and breadth of this country do!?

Thus, she had to be taught a lesson and if she learns the hard way, so be it. Here falls her brother.

See, it’s simple.

In this fast moving world, you have fast food and that too while driving through. Similarly, rape and move on. And if some mad girl like kainat tries to block your way, you know how to still go through. Besides, you can always teach her a lesson.

Indeed! We are moving fast and making progress.
SHAME on us...

Watching 3 idiots and thinking.....

How often we complain about the uselessness of our education system. It is characterized by rote learning and conventional pedagogy that discourages critical thinking and reasoning. But at the CSS level, one had assumed that the things would be done differently. However, it is sad to find out that, in the name of ‘exam-oriented study’ or ‘smart study’, the same old techniques are being used by the aspirants. The techniques that aim at picking and choosing, eschewing what is deemed as unimportant in the light of past papers, preparing pet answers for the oft-repeated questions, confining yourself to the same old couple of books that gained currency and popularity because some candidates in the past happened to clear the exam with flying colors courtesy these books. Worse, some do not even bother to read books and content themselves with the notes prepared by successful candidates. Notes prepared by the candidates who proved to be successful would surely possess the important points in a concise manner. However, reading notes alone won’t help you in forming a perspective and proper understanding of a particular subject. These and many such techniques have now become part of revered traditions flouting which amounts to no less than social deviation. This is so mostly because the paper patterns and the marks criteria themselves seem to protect this tradition rather reinforce it. When the stakes are so high that your career depends on this examination and when these old techniques, strategy is too serious a word to be used for preparation methodology, have paid off and continue to do so, why would one risk adopting a different(read rational) method.
But even if you tend to think zara hatke-the thought that has now come to be identified with the movie 3-idiots and its three idiots, you will soon be reminded, “IT IS A RACE AND READ TO PASS THE XAMINATION,,mazay baad mein lena”
And in any case, CSS is central superior services, the most prestigious examination in Pakistan for the most prestigious job and the “idiots” are not supposed to do it.

Calm down just for a while....

It is lots of noise all around.
Everyone seems to be in a hurry. Some are running and others are taking giant strides, doing many things at a time, thinking many thoughts at once. But in this bid to keep pace with time, we are missing out on some essentials. In an attempt to do all the things all the time, have we realized that actually we are not doing lots of things too.

When did we last sit idle and did just nothing, absolutely nothing-doing nothing has a charm of its own, try it.
When did we last try and listen to the sound of silence, deep silence
When did we last count the stars in the sky while wondering at how some lit brighter than the others and imaginatively connecting the stars into some kind of shape. You know, it is curious how many games one can play with the stars in the sky.
When did we last sit in the laps of our moms and asked her to lullaby us to sleep. True, we are grownups but we are never too big for our mamas laps.
When did we last play with kids and brought smiles to their angel faces
And when did we last look back. Undoubtedly, we are too preoccupied with the present and our eyes all affixed at the future. Yet, it would be worthwhile to revisit the past. Unearth the old photo albums that would be lying somewhere in the closet covered with the dust of time. Try and dig out old copies, notebooks, old diaries, and see what comes to your mind while looking at them. It is going to be some experience, I bet.
Besides, a peep in our past will help us see our present in a proper perspective. Moreover, take some time off from the daily routine of your mundane life and walk your way into the past. Pay a visit to your alma mater. Go to your universities, colleges and schools and try to identify the places where you used to sit, play, sing or as in my case even dance.
( I have just been to NED university and it wore a deserted look as the vacations are underway. But this gave me an opportunity to spend some time with NED alone and give her yet another final kiss. One day I will visit my college and school too.)

See! There are so many things that we miss out on , in spite of our fast pace or perhaps because of it.

No wonder we don’t know that the air has a music to it. Some sort of tune constantly plays in the background, in the air or perhaps the sound comes down right from the sky. But how would we know it when we have not even listened to it in the first place. And how would we listen to it when we don’t even care to pause for a while and give an ear to the air or listen to what it has to say or look around and appreciate the goodness spread all over. But no, we are too full of ourselves to look beyond and in any case time is running out.
I am not preaching medievalism here and I am too proud of what the modern man has achieved to spurn it. This progress that we have witnessed in the last few centuries is our collected heritage and we need not be apologetic about it and rather own it. But, progress aims at making better use of machines and not making machines out of human beings. Yes, we are human beings rather individuals with our respective individuality. Let’s not lose it…
Run as fast as you can, dream big, achieve even bigger but at times- just at times -stop. Take a deep breath and appreciate small things around you.
To begin with, lets try and walk slowly today with small steps while i go to sleep. dont wake me up plz...ZZzzzz......

Tryst with monsoon---awaited

Karachi had an early taste of monsoon. The southwest winds of summer make the monsoon and it usually breaks in pakistan by the mid of july continuing for sometime well into august...Whereas,this premature rain,caused by cyclone,was a one-day affair, as far as my city is concerned. It went past, thankfully without much damage. Rains in our country,besides water,bring host of problems. Yet,they are hugely important for an agrarian country like pakistan that is energy-starved too.The Scorching heat that precedes monsoon makes it even more desirable.

But, there is another side to rains, especially monsoon rains, that appeal me the most.It is its aesthetic aspect.The fresh ambience, fragrant smell rising from the mother earth,the green looks greener and the air catches a romantic feel-and curiously enough, there is always a distant sound of music in the background that you can listen. who plays it!?
"The people lift their face to the clouds" as khushwant singh describes," and let the abundance of water cover them.Schools and offices close.All work stops. Men, women and children run madly about the streets, waiving their arms and shouting "Ho,Ho"---hosannas to the miracle of the monsoon"
and you know what, when it rains, peacock dances!!! isn't it fascinating!!....






P.S. Reading a good book by the window,or in the balcony, while it rains, is a life time experience...........WOW!!!!!.....

he was happy .....

I have just come back from my friday prayers.
Mosque was full to its capacity and as usual i found place for myself outside the mosque in the street where carpets were laid out for the late comers. Maulana Sahib was about to start khutba.
I sat down and in front of me ,at a decent distance though,stood a home with door half opened where a boy was seated. But he was no ordinary boy and it is because of him that i am writing these lines.
The boy was harldy 7 years old, seated on the wheel chair, his hands were little bent and his mouth dribbled saliva as he looked out at the people who had assembled right outside his home for friday prayers.
I kept looking at him and at last succeeded in getting his attention. Now we were both looking at eachother. I smiled at him, he smiled back. I winked at him with my both eyes, he winked back. I winked again and he winked back.I shook my head and he did the same.He was trying to talk to me in his own language which although i could hear but not decipher. We seemed to enjoy each other's company but just then he was wheeled back into home and the door was shut.
This brief interaction with the young lad left a deep impression on me. I realized my eyes were moist. And a host of ideas crossed my mind.
-Why is God so unjust with the boy?
-And more importantly, why does the boy not realize this?
Such children have come to be known as 'special', 'disabled', 'specially abled' and with many such names but to me the boy only looked HAPPY. He was happy, carefree and was enjoying the moment. He was not complaining and neither was he sad or agitated at his state of life. He was just happy about it and very very peaceful.
On the contrary, we ,the so-called 'normal people' , fret all the time and continously remain in a state of anxiety and discomfort not appreciating what we have and always sulking over what we dont have. Thanklessness has marked our lives which have become increasingly automaton and the basic human attributes are very conspicuous by their absence.
I think we can all learn a great deal from that 7 years old boy who is bound to wheel chair with hands that are bent and mouth that dribbles saliva but he knows how to smile and be happy.

When it rains......

When it rains, peacock dances.
Isn't it fascinating!

About her.....

Why did God create her?
It is more a complaint than an inquiry and she often makes it.

Who is she?
Our society has given her many names.... she is a mother, a sister, a daughter, a wife, beloved, depository of family's respect, centre of man's wildest fantasies and frustrations. By casting her in these roles and these roles alone, our society has rendered woman meek, weak and vulnerable, an object to be used, misused, re-used and thrown away. She has been cowed down, muted and enchained. She is smothered by walls and veils. For her, Life is just a four letter word.

But, isn’t she also a human being?!

Yes, a human being.

She is an individual. She thinks too and she too has her own set of reveries, dreams and aspirations.She wants to breathe freely and speak loudly. She wants the stalking eyes shut. She wants to participate.

She wants to live.


Let her………

NED is over and....

I have just recently graduated from NED University....The university life spanned over four years and what four years they were!!..............
They had everything in them. But, its over now.
NED is over and time moves on....


P.S. The convocation is around the corner.

Ned Times

Our days at NED are about to end,
This moment is strange, strange blend,
Of pleasure and pain,
Of sunlight and rain.

When we first came to NED ways,
I still remember those early days,
What dreams we had in our eyes,
What hopes we had of touching skies,
You may think that we were naïve,
But dreams and hopes are still alive.


NED times were full of life,
It was all love and no strife,
How carefree were all those days,
Still locked up in my gaze.


Corridors, canteens, benches, stairs,
Labs, library, classes and its chairs,
Teachers, friends and some pretty faces,
All have left their indelible traces.

How swiftly the four years have gone-by,
I hardly realized its time to say good-bye.
But no good-bye to the rhythms and rhymes,
Of Ned times, Ned times, Ned times………..

Final Kiss

‘So, are you leaving?’ she asked with a somber look on her face and mysterious depth in her eyes.

‘Yes, I have to.’ I said.

Silence stood like a living entity between us.

It was here that I first met her four years ago, and here I am, after four years bidding her farewell.

How time flies!

The four years seem but a moment.

After a long pause, I managed to say, ‘but before I go, let me thank you.’
‘For what?’ She asked as if she did not know.
‘For everything.’ I responded quickly.
‘For making me what I am.’
‘For adding a beautiful chapter to my life.’
‘For making my life memorable.’ I continued turning nostalgic, ‘do you remember all the fun moments we had?’ I wanted to take her down the memory lane just to delay my departure. ‘Do you remember our friends; they were all real characters’ now, we stood in the past.

I continued,’ I can never forget the Madness of Mudassir ‘mady’, how his ‘pagalpan’ always made us laugh, how we all loved teasing him. He really was a punching bag for all the class. But let me say, he sings quite well -do you remember the songs I used to sing with him, specially the one I had written for you, I hope you liked it-and what can be said about subhani’s spontaneous sharp witted answers, what a funny guy he is. I can still picture the innocent face owais used to make whenever faced with teacher’s wrath, as if he is the only saint amongst us all satans and how can I forget some incredibly strange voices out of abbasi’s throat without anyone getting to know that it was him. Reminiscence of fahad’s ‘uncensored slip of tongue’ in business communication class still titillates me. Farhan’s ‘clean’ jokes, imran’s self pampering, sadaf’s innocent questions, anish’s scolding to farhan-now that is called woman empowerment, hira’s unwavering punctuality even if ‘mauj barhay ya aandhi aaye’, qayoom’s meticulously made lecture copies, faham’s flattery of teachers,javed’s freezing ‘thand’ attitude, shahab’s gait, shahani’s originality, under nourished mairaj, and over nourished anser…………..Phew! What fun, what times, what memories.’

Wanting to hear from her, I asked, ‘You too must have enjoyed it all; you too must have laughed at all, do you recall?’
She was so lost in the thoughts of past that I had to shake her back into present.
She finally spoke, ‘waqar, I do not only remember all this but it will reverberate deep inside me forever.’

‘Forever’ she repeated sighing deep.

‘Every good thing comes to an end, that’s the norm of life, fresh water runs on’ waxing philosophical she continued, ‘so you too have to go ahead but remember wherever you go and whatever you do, my name will always be associated with you. Please take care of it’

‘I will.’ I assured her.

She held my hands into hers and said, ‘you have a new life waiting for you but I hope you won’t forget me.’

‘I can not.’ I replied with strange certainty.

‘Whenever you need me, you will always find me here’ she said as her eyes went wet.
‘Thanks.’ I muttered overwhelmed with emotions I gave her a final kiss on her forehead.

Time was up.

‘Good bye NED.’ I said to her on the way out waving my hand in the air.
‘Good bye NEDian, until we meet again.’ I heard her reciprocating.

Sindh and religion.....

In the world where countless people have been killed in the name of religion, where the biggest challenge to the global peace is inter-faith hatred, intolerance,bigotry and fanaticism, where person is judged just on the basis of his religion and not conduct; Sindh is a pleasant exception.
In sindh, religious minorities especially Hindus have been living for centuries and they are completely imbibed into the society. They have earned a respectable position for themselves and their religion has never been an impediment. Religion is not even a factor in Sindh.

I remember in larkana there used to be my favourite sweet shop-it might still be there- and it was run by a Hindu owner. I used to love his sweets and infact they were very famous all over the city. His business thrived.
Some of the best doctors in Sindh are Hindus and patients throng their clinics without any religious considerations.

While recalling her childhood memories, my mom tells me that in her native town shahdadkot, most of her neighbourhood homes were that of Hindus. She remembers how they used to celebrate eachothers' religious days-which include diwali, holi, eid, dussehra on the eve of winter, to name a few.The exchange of goods,gifts,meals was the norm. Marriage ceremonies used to be very colorful, my mother tells me, as singing and dancing are at the very core of Hindu traditions.The unity was exemplary and it still is.

But this sense of religious harmony and tolerance is not something that is learnt or imparted.It is ancient. It emanates from within the soil of sindh. It flows in the Indus which is sacred to Hindus as they believe some part of the Veda was written on its banks.It comes from the sufi character of Sindh which is characterized by Love, Peace and Harmony. It has been reinforced by great men like Bhittai, Sachal Sarmast, Qalandar Lal Shahbaz, Udero Lal, Baghat kanwar ram and the list continues....The scenes at Udero Lal's shrine in themselves are a living manifestation of Hindu-Muslim harmony.
There is no place for prejudice in Sindh and the world should take a leaf out of its book.


P.S. According to the national census of 1998-the latest census held in Pakistan-there are 2.3 million Hindus living in Pakistan. And among them, 85% live in Sindh.

kite runner and Afghanistan

Following excerpt from "The Kite Runner" very poignantly tells us something about jinxed land called Afghanistan.
It is a letter from hassan-a poor hazarra boy- to his master and chidlhood friend amir agha telling him about himself, his life and afghanistan. Its written in the backdrop of Taliban's rule in Afghanistan. Afghanistan, what a strange fate this land has. Monarchs,palace intrigues,coups,foreign invasions, civil wars, talibans and foreign occupation again...It has had everything. But besides being a playground for the 'Great game', 'warm waters', 'stragetic depth', 'Islamic Sharia' etc...let us not forget that Afghanistan is also a place where people live...Did i say live?!!!?
Following excerpt is the story of afghanistan from this very perspective of common man.

Lets read it;


In the name of Allah the most beneficient, the most merciful.
Amir agha, with my deepest respects.
Farzana jan,Sohrab and I pray that this latest letter finds you in good health and in the light of Allah’s good graces. Please offer my warmest thanks to Rahim Khan sahib for carrying it to you. I am hopeful that one day I will hold one of your letters in my hands and read of your life in America. Perhaps a photograph of you will even grace our eyes. I have told much about you to Farzana jan and Sohrab, about us growing up together and playing games and running in the streets. They laugh at the stories of all the mischief you and I used to cause!


Amir agha,


Alas the Afghanistan of our youth is long dead. Kindness is gone from the land and you cannot escape the killings. Always the killings. In Kabul, fear is everywhere, in the streets, in the stadium, in the markets, it is a part of our lives here, Amir agha. The savages who rule our watan don’t care about human decency. The other day, I accompanied Farzana Jan to the bazaar to buy some potatoes and naan. She asked the vendor how much the potatoes cost, but he did not hear her, I think he had a deaf ear. So she asked louder and suddenly a young Talib ran over and hit her on the thighs with his wooden stick. He struck her so hard she fell down. He was screaming at her and cursing and saying the Ministry of Vice and Virtue does not allow women to speak loudly. She had a large purple bruise on her leg for days but what could I do except stand and watch my wife get beaten? If I fought, that dog would have surely put a bullet in me, and gladly! Then what would happen to my Sohrab? The streets are full enough already of hungry orphans and every day I thank Allah that I am alive, not because I fear death, but because my wife has a husband and my son is not an orphan.


I wish you could see Sohrab. He is a good boy. Rahim Khan sahib and I have taught him to read and write so he does not grow up stupid like his father. And can he shoot with that slingshot! I take Sohrab around Kabul sometimes and buy him candy. There is still a monkey man in Shar-e Nau and if we run into him, I pay him to make his monkey dance for Sohrab. You should see how he laughs! The two of us often walk up to the cemetery on the hill. Do you remember how we used to sit under the pomegranate tree there and read from the Shahnamah? The droughts have dried the hill and the tree hasn’t borne fruit in years, but Sohrab and I still sit under its shade and I read to him from the Shahnamah. It is not necessary to tell you that his favorite part is the one with his namesake, Rostam and Sohrab. Soon he will be able to read from the book himself. I am a very proud and very lucky father.


Amir agha,


Rahim Khan sahib is quite ill. He coughs all day and I see blood on his sleeve when he wipes his mouth. He has lost much weight and I wish he would eat a little of the shorwa and rice that Farzana Jan cooks for him. But he only takes a bite or two and even that I think is out of courtesy to Farzana jan. I am so worried about this dear man I pray for him every day. He is leaving for Pakistan in a few days to consult some doctors there and, Inshallah, he will return with good news. But in my heart I fear for him. Farzana jan and I have told little Sohrab that Rahim Khan sahib is going to be well. What can we do? He is only ten and he adores Rahim Khan sahib. They have grown so close to each other. Rahim Khan sahib used to take him to the bazaar for balloons and biscuits but he is too weak for that now.


I have been dreaming a lot lately, Amir agha. Some of them are nightmares, like hanged corpses rotting in soccer fields with bloodred grass. I wake up from those short of breath and sweaty. Mostly, though, I dream of good things, and praise Allah for that. I dream that Rahim Khan sahib will be well. I dream that my son will grow up to be a good person, a free person, and an important person. I dream that lawla flowers will bloom in the streets of Kabul again and rubab music will play in the samovar houses and kites will fly in the skies. And I dream that someday you will return to Kabul to revisit the land of our childhood. If you do, you will find an old faithful friend waiting for you.


May Allah be with you always.

Hassan

Kite runner; Brilliant

I had read khalid hosseini's best sellers book "The kite runner" some two years ago and i was aware then that i was reading something brilliant.
Around that time, the movie on the book had already released with the same title. I had read the book and surely i wanted to watch the movie too but it is only today,after two years, that i actually got to watch the movie. And, i loved it.
It is always difficult to adapt a successful novel into movie and do justice with it.How often we see great works of literature being ruined into awful cinema.
Movies are not meant to replace books.Nevertheless, movies are an important and increasingly interesting medium of story telling too.
Some people maintain that movies make mind indolent and you get everything prepared whereas books make your mind work and you recreate the written word to form images and impressions in your mind. Whatever the case may be,i wont like to put movies and books in a boxing ring and let one punch out the other.Honestly, i am very fond of good movies as i am,ofcourse,of good books.
Getting back to the khalid hosseni's novel turned into movie. Well, as i mentioned earlier, a tough job indeed but a job well done.
Yes, the movie "KITE RUNNER" doesnt disappoint. Infact, it makes you appreciate the novel even more. From characterization to the screenplay to acting, direction and sound track, everything seemed to be in place. But a special word for cinematography,i must write..It is beautiful and ,truly, my fragmented and broken lines cannot pay enough homage to the great piece of camera work and lighting that the movie can boast of. The sky and flying kites, the landscapes, busy bazaars and deserted streets are portrayed remarkably. Brilliant book and brilliant movie.

Isolation is dangerous...

Isolation is dangerous.
It makes you lose touch with reality. It concocts world around you, which exists only in your imagination. It gives you false consolation that you are doing fine because in isolation, you are only competing with yourself. It retards your progress. It makes you slack and complacent. In this era of information, isolation is very dangerous.

Little things...

Little things are not of little importance.
When big things dont work, often little things do. Little niece's smile,little nephew's dance, distant sound of great melody, favorite half an hour comedy play on T.V, little corner of sunlight in winters and shade in summers, little patter of rain and the sweet smell it produces, these and many other little things can make you forget even the worst cares of life and for the moment you start living, living in the present, for the present.
Little things are not of little importance.

On the road, alive, alone...

Every individual is different.
Although experience of other people who have 'been there and done that' may help but it is only by living it yourself that you can find out what works for you and what does not.On your own. It is not easy and there are no short-cuts. It is long road,often bumpy, and what makes the journey even more difficult is the frustrating uncertainty about whether it eventually leads to the destination or you are going astray.

Tired....

In this fast moving world it is important to keep running persistently.However,at times,it is equally important to get tired.It is necessary to stop-sit back with eyes shut and,for once,do nothing.Just nothing,absolutely nothing.Deeeeeep silence.
Yes,i am tired and it feels good to be so.