Notes from CSA, Lahore

So here we are. It has been really long since I last wrote here. And I had already intimated about it here in my last posts. The last time I wrote here I was in Karachi and living a different life. Now, I am in Lahore and with a different kind of existence. So much has happened in the intervening past month and there is so much to write home about. And yet, lo and behold, I have not been able to do so. What a pity!

CSA

The schedule here at CSA is a very hectic one. Unnecessarily hectic. CSA is supposed to groom civil servants for the future. But, at times, it feels that there is too much emphasis on the form and too little on substance.A lot of time is spent on trivialities. Nevertheless, there is a lot to learn for a person like me who has not had a very wide range of exposure in life as yet. One gets to meet different people from different backgrounds. One competes and co-operates with them. In such a milieu, one gets to learn about one's strengths and,more importantly, about one's limitations and weaknesses. So the process of learning is under way and, most of the time, at a subliminal level.

Lahore!

Lahore has also been a welcoming city. I have not been able to explore much as yet. Nonetheless, it has impressed me with whatever little I have seen, tasted and observed of Lahore. Lahore has retained its connection with the past. There is a strange, hoary feel to it. Having come from Karachi and having spent good last eight years there, juxtaposing karachi and lahore is inevitable. However, I must wait. I have a lot to explore in both cities to be able to come up with some reasonable comparison. Nevertheless, some observations are in order. The people here in lahore seem more kind and temperate and generous. Whereas, generally, the karachi dwellers are frustrated, angry and short-tempered. Perhaps it has to do with the condition of the city. Poor law and order,coupled with poor transportation and high population, has been the hallmark of city in the recent past which in turn seem to have defined the character of the city and its dwellers.  Lahore, on the other hand, can boast of a relatively good public transportation system and of course a better law and order condition, by far.

Got to go!

I got to go. But before I leave, I must admit that I have not been able to read anything. Yesterday I went to 'Readings' and bought books, a lot of them. I have also brought some eight books with me from karachi. As for studying them ,I don't think I am going to find some time here to do so. Moreover, there is this strange mantra in place here at CSA which says that we are here to enjoy and somehow reading books does not fall into this category. The unnecessarily hectic schedule at CSA too does not allow the probationer to engage in some pleasure reading. Speaking of books and reading, I must mention that I am part of literary club here at CSA and it will of course entail some reading and some writing. Hopefully. Let's see. Good bye till we meet again. Hopefully soon.

Shopping blues...

I have never been a shopping enthusiast. I am a reluctant shopper. Thus, when I was faced with a long and important shopping list for CSA, I hesitated. The past one month has been spent in this terrible task. It is not easy to shop despite the fact that I do not bargain nor window-shop. Although I have almost, yes almost, come to the end of buying, I am still reeling under the weariness caused by it. I do not know if you can relate to it or not, but most of the time,I would go to buy one thing and end up buying something else. On at least two occasions while I had set out to buy myself a few shirts and waistcoats, I came back with nothing but books worth rupees two thousand and three thousand. Besides, there are always these familiar woes of size and fitting and ,intriguingly, you realize them only at home and not at shop when the merchandise is being tried on. Thus, return and exchange follow. I am sure all shoppers must have been through it at one point or another. Or at least I hope it is not peculiar to me. Moreover, if the shopping is prolonged ,as it is in my case, there is an additional reason to feel frustrated. You buy one thing initially but after some time, while you are still working your way up the shopping list,you find its still better version. And you laugh a helpless laugh.

Intangible burdens

It is curious, isn't it? 

Burden of the intangible is invariably heavier. It is so perhaps because it has to do with the mind. Anything that weighs heavily on one's mind takes its toll. Yes, the mind is there to do the thinking. But when it does so ceaselessly, one feels burdened;burdened with the loads of disconnected thoughts and blurred images. How I wish I could tell my mind to switch off for a while, take some rest and begin anew, afresh later. But I know it would be futile. My mind is disobedient. It does not listen to its landlord. Hence, it continues to run. Which is also why I sleep late these days. One can't sleep when the mind is awake, alive and kicking( at times, it feels,even literally so)

 

 

P.S. I have been writing here after a hiatus. And the hiatuses may become more often in the coming days. Busy schedule will keep me from writing my blogs. Let's see.

Reason to smile

Today,I received a phone call from principal of the school where I had taught almost a year and a half back and that too for just two months.She called me today to know if I could join back. She also added that the students still remembered me and spoke highly of me. Obviously, I had to express my regrets for not being able to join back since I am leaving for CSA. Nonetheless, it felt good,really good, to know that one's work is being remembered fondly long after one has left. And yes, I had worked with my heart. It was my first ever job and I had given it everything.Which is why I was expecting to hear back from them. Hard work and sincerity of purpose are some of the basic virtues and when they are recognized, one feels good. Hence, sleeping tonight smilingly.

Good night.

Progress ?

Ever since I have taken to iphone, I have not been able to read any book. The last book I had read was almost a month ago and it was Beckett's famous play 'Waiting for Godot'. Iphone is a big distraction. True, it overwhelms one with a lot of information. The description of the world as a global village now seems a pre-iphone one. Today, the world is in one's pocket. Yet, there is a big flipside to it. In this flood of information, knowledge has gone missing. Knowledge is about connecting the dots. It is result of a slow, careful sifting of facts, perspectives, observations and experiences. In its absence, large trove of information made easily accessible to us by Wi-Fi connected smart phones is tantamount to the large collection of jig-saw puzzle pieces which refuse to come together to form a coherent picture. Of course, I am going to try and strike a balance. I am going to continue to make use of iphone to remain informed without allowing it to eat into too much of my time and hence prevent me from reading books.

 

P.S. Readying to go to Civil Services Academy for CTP. Preparations are under way, slowly but surely.    

Some disjointed notes

I am tired tonight which is a sort of good news.It means I'll be able to sleep forthwith.Of late, I have been remembering my childhood days more often. Few days back I dug out my album of childhood pictures and showed it to mom & dad.They were amused to see the different poses I had struck for photos & instructed me to keep them safe. Dad too showed me the pictures of his youth and seemed quite boastful about his handsome looks & flamboyance. To be fair to him, he had every reason to brag, for he did look quite impressive in those pictures from yore. I am teaching current affairs at Uqaips these days. I am doing rather well. The students seem to be enjoying the class.The jam-packed class is also helping me to further sharpen my articulation. I have begun to think of myself as an orator. I know this is an illusion. And like many illusions in the past, time will erode this one too. Meanwhile, I have found a familiar face from my childhood in the class at uqaips. I recognized him. The boy used to study in the same school as I. I was many years senior to him. But he now looked completely grown-up with a little stubble.He was a kid when I had last seen him and so was I. Time does fly...good night.

Long walk to freedom....

Mandela's autobiography "Long walk to freedom" is a long, lengthy book. Written mostly in a matter-of-fact manner, the book would not have been as captivating as it is, had it not been so important.Moreover, I might not have brought myself around the idea of reading the book, had it not been for the following two reasons:

One, Mandela is in hospital and, imminently, may breathe his last there. This is a sombre time to remember the man and pay him respects and tributes. Reading Mandela and, in doing so, walking that walk with him is my way of paying homage to the legend.

Two, it is Ramzan and I had the leisure and the quiet of the ramzan nights to be with Mandela, every night till sehri.

Mandela; the name itself has become a by-word for struggle, sacrifice, commitment, sagacity and magnanimity. When I became politically aware, Mandela had already fought his battles and won them, retired from active public life and assumed legendary status of mythical proportions.His name served us the purpose of a ready-example to be used in essays and speeches.His greatness was taken for granted and hence I never really bothered myself with as much as learning about the man behind the legend or his long, torturous journey. This is of course until I read "Long walk to freedom"

Mandela’s journey is not only a journey towards freedom but also towards greatness. His story makes it absolutely clear what it takes to be great in true sense of the word.  And it is not a walk in the park (pun intended). The long walk to freedom is full of supreme sacrifices. It is easy to read and watch the journey from the safe distance and feel awed, inspired and excited with adrenalin pumping and skin breaking into goose-bumps every now and then. It is different and unimaginably difficult, however, to live it. And that is what separates the ordinary from the great.  Mandela is great because he walked that walk unflinchingly and persistently despite innumerable sacrifices, dangers and hardships. What kept him going was not any tangible, concrete physical reality in front of him but an ideal which he could only imagine.

In Mandela’s own eternal words: 

• “During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die”

His sacrifices alone are not what make him great. It is also his sagacity. At different stages of the struggle, it was primarily Mandela, along with some of his like-minded comrades, who adapted it to the changing times. Whether it was about turning ANC into a mass movement or forming a militant organisation or beginning the talks, Mandela always took the initiatives after judging the flow of circumstances and most often correctly. In this sense, Mandela comes across as someone who had his hand firmly placed on the pulse of time, a true sign of a great leader.

‘Long walk to freedom’ can also serve as a text-book and a guide for any freedom fighter. Mandela’s story in many ways represents the stories of freedom fighters treading the uncertain and unsafe path toward their cherished ideal of freedom.

Political prisoners will also find the book and especially its chapter (Robben Island: The dark years) very interesting and relevant.The chapter is obviously about his experiences at Island prison. However, it is also interspersed with many a musing and anecdote about jail life where getting an access to some of the basic things such as cigarettes, newspapers, proper food and clothing, books and information is an adventure unto itself.

In my view, ‘Long walk to freedom’ as opposed to many other autobiographies is not an exercise in self-praise and self-projection. It is honestly written without an attempt to hide and cover-up the inevitable low moments. Its primary purpose is what makes the book important as I mentioned in the beginning. It is to document in great detail one of the most glorious chapters of modern history and that too with the pen of its protagonist.

Also mentioned in the beginning is the fact that the book is mostly written in the matter-of-fact manner. However, it is interlarded with some reflections, truisms and anecdotes. In some passages, Mandela also waxes lyrical.

One example of such a passage is given below: 

• “I love playing with children and chatting with them; it has always been one of the things that make me feel most at peace.I enjoyed relaxing at home, reading quietly, taking in the sweet and savory smells emanating from pots boiling in the kitchen. But I was rarely at home to enjoy these things.”     

And quite befittingly, Mandela waxes lyrical about freedom in the final few pages of the book and I end with the same. 

• “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”  

• “…for to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. The true test of our devotion to freedom is just beginning.”

My 26th birthday..

It is my 26th birthday today. No, I wouldn't react today in the manner I had reacted here two years back.

Instead, I will try and reflect on something more important. Although I am tired and don't feel like writing too much right now, the birthday must not be wasted and it must be marked with some introspection and reflection. After all, it is a milestone.Yet another year of life has ended and not without giving me some food for thought. 26 years are enough,perhaps more than enough,to learn a little about oneself and about one's place in the larger scheme of things. As for the former, I can say a thing and a half but the latter is still an unknown. Yes, it is such a pity that I don't really know what it is that I want from life. I realise that it doesn't suit a grown-up like me to talk in such terms. This crisis of purpose is best suited to someone in his early 20s.By the age of 26, one is supposed to have at least a fair idea of what it is that one has to do, if not already doing it. Thus, nothing to show for 26 years on this count. Nonetheless, it is not all that dismal and empty when it comes to getting to know oneself better. Here too, however, I have learnt more about what does not work for me than what actually does. Hitherto, I have always been waiting for the 'ideal' moment when everything will fall into its place. It looks obviously the wrong approach. Naturally, it never worked for me. Hence, a truism; Don't wait for things to happen.Make them happen.

I have learnt another lesson which is also no revelation and very obvious. It is at times very important to be able to say NO. Hence another truism; When you can't say yes, say NO.
While looking back, it has to be also said that I have not been able to do justice to my capabilities. True, I have won many admirers along the way and received many flattering accolades. Yet, it would not be off the mark to suggest that on many occasions I have let myself down. I need to repose more confidence and trust in myself, at least as much as others have in me.. Let's hope I learn from these lessons. 

P.S. Happy birthday to me :-)                  

Ramzan is under way...

Ramzan is under way. We had planned to go for Umrah for fifteen days. The visas took long to be issued and eventually we received a response in the negative.Owing to some construction work underway around Kabba, the process of issuing visas has been slowed down and the number, reduced. Thus, we are not going for Umrah anymore. I was not excited in the first place. I did not have the yearning. I am not a religious man nor am I spiritually too strong. Don't get me wrong. I am a believer. I am neither atheist nor agnostic. I believe quite strongly in His existence and in the unparalleled example of Prophet Muhammad's life (P.B.U.H) . It is just that I am not as yet a good Muslim, 'religiously' or ritualistically. Nonetheless, it is a work in progress. Thus, the denial of visa did not make any difference to me. However, for my parents, especially my mother, it was not that simple. Her eyes welled up with tears. Denial of visa was taken to mean the denial of His blessings and much more. God willing, their yearning will be answered soon and my parents will be able to feast their eyes on the holy sites of Mecca and Medina. As for me, I am too fixated on the here and now to think about the hereafter.Days go by mulling, and at times fretting, over how to do something worthwhile and about whether I am doing enough.It is a little jumble in my head. Clarity is missing. As a result of which I have taken recourse to books.I have realized that it helps. I am feeling much better. Thus, when in doubt, READ.

 Since it is ramzan, my nights are spent reading Mandela's 'Long walk to freedom'. It is a good time to be with Mandela as he fights his last battle.

 Viva Madiba... 

Monsoon of discontent ?!

There is something wrong somewhere.There is something missing.Or perhaps something is amiss. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It had promised to be different. I am living someone else's life. I am enacting someone else's role.What happened to mine? Whither my life?

It seems to be the case of what is called variously as "Midlife crisis", "Existential crisis", "Existential angst".

Call it whatever you may, the fact remains that it isn't an enviable feeling. It is 2.30 at night and while the whole family is fast asleep, I remain awake and write and give way to my discontent, for otherwise I would not have been able to sleep. 


P.S  A certain nagging feeling is tugging at my heart for past few weeks. It is a strange feeling, one of loss and being lost.

 

Ancestors, no more...

And my paternal granny, hereinafter referred to as "daadi", passed away in the wee hours of June 2. Her death has come close on the heels of my maternal granny's demise,who is hereinafter referred to as "naani". "Daadi" had remained feeble and ill for quite some time. Her condition is said to have worsened irreversibly when she saw the face of my "naani" at her last rites. She was hospitalized soon after. She remained in the ICU and on ventilator for eight days and eventually breathed her last. She was around 90 years and hence died of old age. 

The death of my grannies in such quick succession means that suddenly our ancestors are no more. My maternal grandfather had died even before I was born and my much beloved paternal grandfather "Baba" died in 2011. With the death of my grannies, the breed of "babas" and "amaas" have become extinct for us. Although the death at the "viable" and "die-able" age of 80s and 90s is not accompanied by the tragedy which is a natural concomitant of an untimely death, the resultant void is all too real and hard to fill. 

There is a place for these old, wise ancestors in this fast, modern world. Their experiences and observations of the yore provide a useful insight into the ways of a bygone-world. Barring a few conversations with my "Baba" in which I tried to drink deep from his folk-wisdom, I had very little pleasure of striking long conversations with my ancestors. And now, they are no more. 

May their souls rest in peace. 

R.I.P Granny

My granny has passed away today. She was around 80 years old and a little ill for the last few days..

I woke up to the sound of my mom's wailing for her mother. She was informed of her death on the phone call from Larkana. My mom lost her mom today and I, my granny. Although I wasn't very close to my granny at all, the death and that too in the family leaves one not only sad but also a little troubled. It once again serves to remind how tenuous the life in fact is and that everyone will have to go one day. It makes one wonder at the way life completes its cycle and the rites and the rituals that accompany one's birth and death.

While the Mom and Dad and two sisters travel to our ancestral village(Shahdadkot) to attend granny's final rites, I stay back and sit here and write and think and wonder and try to reconcile with life as it is.    

Rest in Peace, Granny.

Post-script: Musings on final result

My parents are happier than I thought they were. Since yesterday, they have received a few calls from distant friends and family members congratulating them on my success. Thus, it seems even an allocation is good enough to send and receive congratulations, a great source of happiness and pride for my parents. 

My father keeps asking me if I am sure I am going to get allocated, to which I reply that I will be. It looks certain(hopefully). I had set such high standards for myself and now it seems even an allocation, and in a relatively respectable group, will do , for now. 

Musings on final result

The final result of CSS-2012 was announced on May 20, 2013. 

It has resulted in ambivalent feelings. Not sure whether I should be happy at what I have achieved amidst such a cut-throat competition or sad at how much better it could still have been.

Although the full picture of the result is yet to emerge, it is clear that I am at least going to get allocated but perhaps not in the top-notch groups. I might end up in OMG or less.

It has been a long journey and one which is still far from over.

My parents are happy that I will no longer be an unemployed man and that I am going to be a CSS officer after all. They must also be feeling a little sorry that mine has not been a stellar performance, something that they could give congratulations for in the family and friends. They don't give me this impression at all. They look reasonably happy, relieved and proud of me. But, somewhere deep down their hearts, they must be sorry too. This is not to detract from the fact that my performance has not been too bad. Considering the fact that my subjects were hugely out of favour with the examiners this year, I wasn't expecting any skies. Having said that, I was expecting better than what it is turning out to be. For fear of being misconstrued as thankless, let me say it clearly that I am not particularly unhappy. To be able to stand at 186 in Pakistan out of first 10066 and then 800, there is surely a lot to be proud of. Moreover, I stand a good chance to get allocated to OMG which is my 5th preference anyway, despite my low-scoring subjects and unprecedented competition in Sindh. Thus, performance is undoubtedly good. The ambivalence, however, is born of the high standards that I set for myself and high expectations that my kith and kin attach to me.  

It was my first attempt and there are two more attempts in which I can make amends for whatever I could not do in my first. I am receiving congratulations from my friends and accepting them with a glee. Heart goes out to many of my friends whose chances of even an allocation are remote if not dead. 
Despite my moments of skepticism, I am a believer to the core. And I thank God for the good result and for giving me something to cheer about. 

I hope when the full picture emerges, it turns out to be even better than what I imagine it to be. The result has also shown that I can do it and do it big the next time so the hard work will continue.      

a mindset

It is about the mindset, a sickening one. This story from Afghanistan has sad resemblance with the state of affairs in some sections of Pakistan. Nevertheless, Pakistan has succeeded ,at least inside Parliament, in overcoming such senseless opposition to some progressive pro-women legislation. Implementation to such statutes remains questionable.

Here is the link to the story in today's paper:

http://dawn.com/2013/05/19/afghan-mps-block-law-on-womens-rights/

 

answers

After reading a few columns, op-eds, et al, I have figured out the answers to my questions and they are as follows: 

1) Everyone expected PML(N) to emerge as the single largest party but everyone also expected a hung parliament and no one, even for a single moment of indiscretion, suggested that any one party can form a govt. on its own. But, Lo and behold ! PML(N) is poised to form a govt. almost on its own. So, what are the reasons behind its such a stellar performance and how could it defy all prediction and analyses ?

 Ans: NS protected his own vote base and further consolidated it by a relatively good performance in Punjab. PML(N) also made inroads into PPP's vote bank due to PPP's misgovernance and its explicable non campaign. Imran's message did have an appeal and did charge up people, but not many. The high voter turn-out and first-time voters did not all go to IK. Instead of neutralising each other's vote-bank, both IK and NS ate into PPP's base, NS more than IK by virtue of its not so narrow focus on the urban base alone.

2) Are the PTI men in KPK entrenched seasoned, old politicians or new faces, political non-entities swept into power by IK wave ?

Ans: Yes, the majority of them are new faces, first-timers in the parliament, barring a few seasoned politicians such as pervaiz khattak, yousaf ayub khan and sardar Mohammed Idrees-all three have been ministers before. Eleven debutants belong to Peshawar and to PTI.

3) Does the PPP's brilliant performance in Sindh owe it to strong individual candidates or the Bhutto romance and blind reverence for 'TEER' ?

Ans: Primarily, it is the strong individual candidates who are responsible for PPP's victory in Sindh. True, the Bhutto romance still holds a sway to some extent, the emotional appeal has weakened a great deal. Had not it been for the strong individual constituency politicians, PPP would not have been able to do so well on the basis of  'Bhutto romance' alone. Thus, it would be wrong to suggest that the Sindhi electorate continues to vote for Bhutto.Bhutto romantics exist in Sindh, but too thinly stretched out to make an electoral impact.Sindhi voters vote for their individual candidates who they think will provide them with relief, once elected.  

P.S. The last answer, however, is subject to further analyses and scrutiny.

understanding election results; 3 questions

My three election questions. Looking for answers to understand why the results are the way they are. 

1)  Everyone expected PML(N) to emerge as the single largest party but everyone also expected a hung parliament and no one, even for a single moment of indiscretion, suggested that any one party can form a govt. on its own. But, Lo and behold ! PML(N) is poised to form a govt. almost on its own. So, what are the reasons behind its such a stellar performance and how could it defy all prediction and analyses ?

2) Are the PTI men in KPK entrenched seasoned, old politicians or new faces, political non-entities swept into power by IK wave ?

3) Does the PPP's brilliant performance in Sindh owe it to strong individual candidates or the Bhutto romance and blind reverence for 'TEER' ?

 

Of books and fathers

I picked up 'Aag ka darya' to read. I had bought this book from 'THOMAS & THOMAS' way back in 2005, as per the date scribbled by me at the time. However, I never quite brought myself around the idea of actually reading it. Now, I am trying to voraciously read through all the books that are placed on my shelf, while I can. I started with Hanif's much-applauded debut novel 'A case of exploding mangoes '. I followed it with Obama's memoir 'Dreams from my father' and a few days back I took up Qurratulain hyder's magnum opus "Aag ka Darya'. I knew that I was reading a classic since I had heard and read so much about it. I'll have to admit that the first part of the book was a little difficult for someone like me who was reading Urdu fiction after a very long time. And since the first few chapters deal with a period (around 4th century B.C) which  was dominated by Hinduism as well as Budhism, idiom of the era used in the book is not yet completely familiar to me. However, that is not the reason why I have put the book down. Yes, I have stopped reading it. This is so because I wanted to first read a few other things so as to be able to appreciate the book in its entirety. Two important streams run through the entire course of the book.One, historical and the other, civilizational. The book employs a transmigratory  technique to trace the historical processes which shaped the identity of our region. It also deals with the important 'whys' and 'hows' of the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan. Thus, in order to be able to appreciate the book even further, I need to first familiarize myself with the history of the region since the ancient times. Although I have read many history books, I don't seem to have retained much of it except for a very fine sketch. This,coupled with my father's constant exhortations to read history and eschew fiction, has led me to put the novel down and pick up once again Nehru's 'Glimpses' . I remember a few days back while I was driving to library with my dad alongside ( he accompanies me, at times, to bring the car back), he asked me once again to read history to which I replied that I had read it already in Nehru's 'Glimpses'. As I pulled up the car outside library, my dad advised me to read the books that Nehru had read to write his 'Glimpses'. Thinking how easier it was to say what to read than actually, and at times painstakingly, reading them, I immediately responded , 'I too will have to go jails to achieve this.'  Leaving my father behind laughing at my remark, I entered library. Perhaps with that one little remark, I have saved myself from having to read those big history tomes, at least for now. Nonetheless, history is important. And hence, I am making a brave attempt to once again pick up 'Glimpses' and I intend to follow it with Nehru's "Discovery" and Aitzaz's "Indus saga" and a few more before I go back to Quratulain hyder, lovingly called 'aanie aapaa'. Long wish list, I hope it materializes. Distractions, all of you, stay away!!....

DREAMS FROM MY FATHER- a review

so the book is finally over.It took me relatively longer time. This is so primarily because of my intermittent nature of study these days. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant experience. Both Obama's story and the manner in which he has narrated it are poignant. His reflections and revelations, ideas and convictions, observations and experiences make for an interesting study. Yet, it must be said, the book might not have been as captivating as it turned out to be, had it not been for the fact that the author is now the US president. This single fact provides the single most important relevance to the book. Hence, when one reads about his critique of runaway consumerism in New york and its slavish imitation in Djakarta and Nairobi, one can't help but wonder and be amused at the contradiction as now he ,himself, is at the helm of affairs in a country which is considered to be the epitome of free-market economy and its concomitant consumerism.His principled opposition to the aid-politics and dependency syndrome in the Thirld world  and  his not so thinly veiled contempt for the unholy alliance in which big companies from rich countries use pliant governments in poor countries to extract maximum economic benefits make one question, at least one's own self, how did this man manage to become the president of US. The stories of his vast travels which took him from Hawai to Indonesia, India, Kenya and even Karachi reassure the reader that finally White House has the occupant whose exposure is vast and varied and who knows better. Not only does Obama come across as a well-read man, his study is diverse too. It is not restricted to one version-the victor's version-alone. He knows about different perspectives.His understanding of colonialism, its effects and aftermath appears to be particularly keen. He knows exactly how the person in the thirld world country thinks and how he views the U.S. This is a far cry from the usual "white" presidency or the general U.S public, both of which show remarkable sense of ignorance about the "other" parts of the world. As for the personal story of Obama, being black in america and its many consequent personal insults and collective pain do not make him bitter. He abhors blind nationalism, crying conspiracy or playing victim. He takes up his share of responsibility and he works. True, he too had his moments of doubts and weaknesses.Still, he never gave himself up to any parochial prejudices. It was an act of walking on a tight rope which he found himself doing constantly.  Without being seen as someone who is co-opted and without being labelled as disloyal to his community, Obama wanted to believe in the inherent goodness of all human beings and not let his world get compartmentalized in the black and the white. Despite his foregoing belief in common humanity, Obama remained alive to the fact that he was black after all and can be seen constantly reminding himself about his responsibility towards the black community, be it via community organizing or Law.

The book also makes it abundantly clear that the man was not born with a silver spoon. Obama has experienced poverty first-hand. He has spent a night without a shelter in New york and on a cramped cot in Kenya. He has travelled in cramped vehicles and ,at times, while standing most of the way with his head stooped due to low roof bus.

Obama's language in the book is quite rhythmic for the most part. However, a few paragraphs leave much to be desired. The length of the book too could have been reduced by a quarter. At times it does give reader an impression of a drag. Nevertheless, the book manages to hold  interest of the reader till the very end. The highlights of the book are Obama's reflections, monologues, the big questions he asks himself and the last few lines of every chapter. The book can be adapted into a movie, since it is written with such a detail of all the sights and sounds and smells.

Overall, the book is a good read and if nothing else, it will at least help you get a better understanding of arguably the most important man in the world right now.  

Looking back....

I have been reading Obama's "Dreams from my father". It is an interesting book and is having a strange effect on me. I have only read a first few pages and am already thinking about my own past, my childhood, teenage, and adolescence which , in my case, spans over university and library life. I suddenly realise the importance of remembering the past and of recording it. In the hustle and bustle of everyday life and in our exuberance to keep pace with it and in our notion of 'living in the moment', we tend to undervalue our past, if not completely disregard it. We consider reminiscence a distraction at best and an utter waste of time at worst. However, past holds many things, some flattering and not so flattering, some bring smile and even laughter, others embarrassment, relief and lots of 'if'- 'would that'-'wish'

In my case, it is equally true. I spent first eighteen years of my life at Larkana and it seems as if it was long time ago. I never looked back. Every now and then, my conversations with my mother did wander off to the not-so-distant shores of Larkana but never quite enough. I got so unnecessarily busy and absorbed 'in the moment' that Larkana and its people, my childhood friends and neighbours rarely occurred to me, barring a few moments, a few phone calls, two fleeting visits and one glance at my school. This is so despite the fact that the time spent at Larkana was so fulfilling and enriching. Here in Karachi, the phase of university life which spanned over four years ended and I did not look back yet again. However, it is not all that unusual. Life after university, and outside university, is like this. It does not give you an opportunity to sit under a tree, catch some breath, look back and reminisce good old campus days. The jostling begins. The naivety of your youthful dreams, claims and aspirations begins to dawn on you. The limits to what you can actually achieve begin to become clearer. It is not that simple, after all. You are not that special , after all. You do pick up a few successes along the way but they do not come without your share of failures too, both personal and professional. This post-university phase of life saw me seated behind a carrel no. 25 at DCL, Karachi. Dickens says, " it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us." Such were the two years spent at Library and , although everything hinges on the result, it looks like the phase of library is coming to an end and so is my blog. In short, it is important, at times, to remember past, if not to learn lessons and to see what we could have done differently then to just savour the memories and to appreciate the years and the life we have spent and,more importantly, to come to terms with it....

Reading a book

I have been reading(and watching) about Obama these days. This man has something in him. His story is intriguing and interesting. Young(activist-intellectual) Obama is more fascinating than the stoic man that he becomes when he is in the white house. We do get to see the flashes of his exuberant youth days when he is on the campaign trail with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His detractors love to dig deep into his past to find something with which to reinforce their claims that Obama is not a "Pure American" (don't ask red Indians what it means), that he is actually on a socialist mission(citation: see his mentors as well as healthcare and tax agenda) and has a soft corner for Muslims(citation: middle name 'Husein' ,Cairo speech, cold relationship with Netanyahu ) and he is there to preside over the demise of American 'exceptionalism' (citation: he reads the book "The post American world by Fareed Zakaria" ). The absurdity of such claims is axiomatic. Leaving such ridiculous claims aside and also a more reasonable critique of his policies at home and abroad which have been a disappointment for every naive observer who believed that somehow Obama would free himself from the imperatives of American establishment, I am more interested in reading and studying Obama's journey which led  him to be the unlikely president. His book "Dreams from my father" makes a good starting point. Hence, I am reading it....      

a point of view

Since the past few days, one story in the news has been intriguing my mind. It is everywhere; on the social media and news channels,dining table discussions and now in the supreme court. It is the case of the murder of a 20 yrs old Shahzeb in Karachi. Tragic as the murder of young Shahzeb is, the overwhelming attention paid to it in a country, and in a city, where daily loss of lives has now come to be dismissively described as a mere number, an arithmetic, is interesting as well as intriguing. How is the murder of Shahzeb different from the scores of others being committed daily in this ill-fated land of ours ? What makes this death worthy of so much attention of the institutions and airtime in the media when many other innocent faceless, nameless Pakistanis continue to die in the dark alleys of anonymity ? These questions are now beginning to be asked. To be sure, every death of an innocent person is tragic.Our heart goes out to the parents of Shahzeb and his loved ones. Hence, without detracting from the woefulness of Shahzeb's murder, it is important to analyse how and why it managed to garner limelight where others fail. 

The reason why this story continues to resonate so loud and clear is because of its simplistic narrative. It fits in well with the perception, real or imagined, of ruthless, arrogant and illiterate feudal lords on the one hand and the young, good looking, educated, civilized and urbane middle-class on the other. It was the binary reduction of the story to this simplistic generalization which helped it become a sort of cause celebre. However, it did not become so instantly. Media had to work overtime by creating a parallel between this ugly incident and another one unfolding across the border in which the Indian middle-class rallied around the death of a rape-victim. We have this predilection for measuring our progress against the benchmark of the progress made by our neighbour which we love to hate, something aptly reflected in the following sentiment of a cricket fan "Beat India in semis, whatever then happens in the final is inconsequential." Hence, how could our media and 'civil society' (whatever it means) lag behind their Indian counterparts which, of late, have had many reasons to take to streets (and to special TV programming and social media activism) , most notably in the case of Anna Hazare's 'crusade' against corruption (whatever happened to it).  

So, those of you who are wondering why the case of Shahzeb's murder is receiving the attention which even the en masse killing of Shias don't , well, Welcome to the unequal world where every life is not equally important. While we will have to put up with the way things work here, we hope and pray that the culprits in Shahzeb's case are brought to justice. Now that the murder of Shahzeb has received the kind of attention that the killing fields in karachi and Balochistan don't, the case should be taken to its logical conclusion. The parents of Shahzeb need solace, though nothing can make up for the loss of a young son. As for the parents of anonymous sons and daughters who get neither tombstones nor epitaphs let alone candlelight vigils and facebook pages, they might have to wait indefinitely.   

  

Of Calendars-Gregorian and Personal

Yet another New Year.  Isn't it already an oxymoron ?
Irrespective, the threshold marks nothing extraordinary on a personal level. Since our lives are not built around calendar, we will continue,as before, waiting for our own little milestones somewhere around the corner. In fact, we have our own personal calendars with different timelines marking many a beginning and end. However, since the world is celebrating "New Year", I hope the excitement around will rub off on me and help me renew my energies and spirits in order to keep moving on my own little calendar which is still not near any threshold.