When it rains, peacock dances.
Isn't it fascinating!
Friday, February 19, 2010
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………
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………
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
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.
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………..
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.
‘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.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
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.
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
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
Sunday, February 7, 2010
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.
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.
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