something i fell in love with

Recently, i.e. yesterday i came across this beautiful beautiful poem written about two years back by a very close friend of mine, a piece of writing that really humbled me, i dont know if that friend would like to be named but i wanted to share it with everyone, i fell in love with the poem the minute i read it...here it goes...

"Teray wisaal k aagay, mera wujood mila

Wo teray rubaru aakay, mera sukoot mila

Mila woh khwaab ka tukra jo kho gaya tha kahin

Wo sab tasawwur main jo ho chuka tha kabhi

Wo sab, sach ki tarah la-mahdood mila.

Meray adraak k pannay pallat sakkay bhi nahin

Patanahi dil ko yakeen mila k na mila...

Magar yeh sach hai! koi saraab nahin

Ehsaas tau hai, keh haan koi hai milla"

Alphabet Iftaari

Ramazan is here and I am here too, to touch upon this very serious issue. Very very serious.

It's the first roza and we have been invited to X and Y’s place for their son’s birthday party cum iftar(S and T their sons, U the daughter). So far so good. I get ready and drive the car with my mom and dad clutching the edge of their seats and shouting at me to drive carefully. That happens daily so nothing new. Anyways, by pure instinct I get the car to the place (since X and Y shifted there only recently)

After the salam duas the men all get busy in their stuff women in theirs. By stuff I mean the normal lanter banter. By that I mean gup shup. So far so good. People arrive, and here I’d like to introduce my new characters which are the protagonists and antagonist and agonizingogists of the event.

A and B, their sons C and D, and daughter E

F and G, their sons H and J, and daughter K

Now copy this key onto another empty page so it's easy to refer to.

Ummmmm, I guess I should get to the climax straight away.

5 min to iftaar:

H: mamu 5 min reh gaey hain aa jain

Dad: acha

4 min to iftaar:

ABCDEFGHJK: skibiniksidlksdokaodsfkalsdaskd;l

3 min to iftaar:

Me: (texting texting)

2 min to iftaar:

Silence

1 min to iftaar:

Silence

IFTAAR:

Suddenly time comes to a halt. All life stops dead in it's tracks. There is nothing left! Nothing right! Only food!!!!! Perfect demonstration of the theory of relativity…one person, two hands, limitless possibilities. A huge plate in one hand the other darting towards various dishes like a poisonous snake, snap snap, and the plate was full……….there’s still no stopping at that, pakoras keep falling like men in world war II, bang bang…aaloo walay…bang bang bangan walay…bang bang khali walay!!! Then dahi bhallas, fruit chat all into one plate as I looked at the scene in amazement…this cant be true…

B: C beta jaldi ao apki plate hogai, an D aur E ko bhi bulao

And she fills the plates, two more…the same way, same slick movements, murder she wrote. Yes that’s right for all the other people watching all the yummy food being passed down in inheritance, this was equal to murder!! My dad held an empty plate in his hand as he too admired the swiftness of the assassin…

G: ye kya baat hui B, mere bachay to reh gaye

B: bhabi han g han g, ao J idhar ao tumari b plate bnaoon…U aap b ao jaldi…

And then as A-Z looked as B filled plate after plate of Ramazan goodies while otherts watched.

Obviously A and F were pretty satisfied their children were being fed.

Time goes in slow motion, and the plate sequence is on loop. My dad still stands with an empty plate, and he being the eldest there I kind of feet for him. All the other people, oh who am I kidding, most of the plunderers are only momentary onlookers….anyways all the astonished people are still watching dumbfounded when finally normality is restored.

G: beta J idhar ao plate le k khali hogai hai

Somewhere in the room

Anonymous: Hassaan apne kuch lia nai abi tak

Forca Barca

Incase someone decides to visit my blog and think they’ve come to the wrong place well not really. Just a template change, I wanted to stick with the plain black one but then I came across this. Since the new season has just begun and we’ve already won a trophy, this is to celebrate that.

Forca Barca.

the fall

The blade cuts deep into you and you stop feeling the pain that you are meant to feel. Blood paints yours clothes red, the red deepening into a black slowly but constantly. It trickles down the fibers of your clothes leaving a few droplets everywhere as a sign of a long gone calamity. The cut deepens and so does the color of the blood, your smile stays the same, there isn’t even a flinch from you. The expressions don’t change. You don’t bite your lip or clench your fist. Maybe you do feel the dampness of the blood soaked clothes but you choose to ignore. Your gaze fixed in mid air. For a moment, I think you are going to scream but your smile deepens into a more satisfied curve. Everything around you is soaked in the aroma of fresh flowing blood. But you don’t even smell that. The cut which is deep enough to carve out a valley of flesh continues to grow, the blade continues to work as the flow of blood increases to an incessant stream. I want to stop the blade, but the resolution on your face binds me within my own self.
Suddenly the stream of blood turns to a proper fountain. Then two. Everything around you including your face your hair is painted in deep red, time comes to a halt, the lively fountains shoot your blood everywhere, I am not spared. I know it's too late. Your blood red face still carries the smile, the blade takes this as a cue to drive deeper. The fountain is dwindling, it's throw decreasing to a stream again, then a trickle, like everything is going in reverse motion. Suddenly the blade stops moving there’s no more to cut.
You finally look down, not without an effort. Your wrist hangs only by a tendon, drying up. There’s no more blood left to flow. You always trusted the blade to stop? The smile vanishes, I cant make out your expression. In what seems like a moment, you fall on your side.
You fall into your own pool of blood.
There’s something in your eyes, but it cant be a tear.

Whats the best way to drown your thoughts out?

I sat on my pc waiting for it to wake up from it's sleep. It's surprising I have so much on my mind these days I hardly get time to get proper thinking done! It's crazy. Like thought clashing a thought. Often I try to compartmentalize my mind for the purpose of giving my mind a break but I always fail to do that, probably because some thoughts refuse to go away or even give others a bit of space. I don’t complain, because I love them, but just to give it another try, I am trying to do it with the combination of music and blogging. Dunno if it's working
I always thought what it felt like to be high on happiness, not the crazy happiness that makes you scream, but ummmmm the crazy happiness that gets you imagining lovey dovey songs all the time with you in them, you hum half of the time tunes you never liked, smile at every freaking thing and then suddenly, like after being high for a very long time you suddenly go down, rock bottom. Pretty bad feeling and nothing happens really to bring the feeling about. And right then everything goes down with it, and all you can do is try to drown out your own thoughts the worst form of evasive action a human could take, but sometimes you really really have to, just to simplify your life. I was just wondering what’s the best way to avoid that pit after being high for such a long time. I guess there probably isn’t a way. I hope this post isn’t too non sensical, I just feel really good about my blog so I m posting it.

.

When light begins to disappear,
when night begins to show,
set my withering heart on fire,
we'll walk in its fading glow.

Rain rain

Rain rain,
lets play the game,
of hide and seek,
and stop and freeze,
from blue to brown,
to black with sounds,
the thundering wind,
and leaves that sing,
and sway with might,
left and right,
wait for you,
the green and blue,
unite the two,
and brew the brew,
of mango trees,
and clouds' fleece,
of little girls,
with waves and curls,
untying their hair,
to let the air,
fly them away,
where it may.
.
Rain rain,
lets play the game,
of storytelling,
of stellar dwellings,
of lands unseen,
of heavens green,
where you were born,
where every song,
is sweet as cane,
o rain o rain,
make us sane,
bring the change,
wet the tracks,
and mend the cracks,
bring us smiles,
and all this while,
stay right here,
and watch us cheer.
.
Rain rain,
dont play this game,
of going away,
leaving all grey,
and leaving alone,
like many have gone! 

I'll be there

You can turn your back on me when you want to,
you can stab me in the back,
you can throw sticks and stones,
you can break all my bones,
you can leave standing all alone,
you can decide not to text nor phone,
you can tear each one of my poems,
you can prove each one of your blames,
shove in flames,
all the times,
all the memories,
that sing like sweet chimes,
you can bury me down below,
not 6 feet but 7 layers and more,
you can make me walk the plank,
or leave my canvas totally blank,

practise all you can on me,
the world is not for the carefree,
i cant let you go alone,
on this road full of pricks and thorns,
whatever you do and whatever you can,
remember you'll not make me an angry man,
you can try
to disappear,
to duck,
to hurt,
to ignore,
to refuse,
to confuse,
i don't care,
whatever happens,
I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!

A Revolution

Your ragged blue cheeks,
you filthy lowlife scum,
damnation your fate,
they pronounce you deaf and dumb.

Your bloodshot eyes,
you dream of the sacred,
they trample you underneath,
your love is their hatred.

Rise from your ashes,
rise to flesh and blood,
awaken your heart and soul,
rise from bloody mud.
The time has come,
to fly the flag of the COMMONS,
to rise against the oppressor,
wakeup your fate now summons.

Blood,
sweat,
tears,
you gave,
its time,
to have it all back,
yes there is a crack,
sharpen the saw,
its time to draw,
your map your land,
use your own bloody hand,
lowlife you were,
filthy yes SIR!
the oppressor shall bow,
to its own slave right now,

and your ragged blue cheeks,
and the clothes you wore,
are no more torn,
ragged no more!

Our colors

Grey and blue,
thats the hue,
of bloody leaves,
and sorrow's dew,

of soot and smoke,
of ties that broke,
cough and choke,
the dreams we drew,
of bodies that fall,
hearts they maul,
of death's toll,
the soulless crew.

grey and blue,
yes thats the hue!

Heart and mind

Heart: i wanna write a post

mind: haha, watch brazil vs usa instead

heart: ummm okay, can't i do it while watching?

Heart (again): you stupid idiot! Its football. You dont stuff while watching football.

Mind: quiet!

Heart: so the match is over, now?

Mind: sometime in this life try giving me a break!

Heart: oh yeah you give me a break!

Mind: from wat?

Heart: from watever

mind: haha okay lets write a post

heart: thats more like it, about wat?

Mind: how'd i know?

Heart: how'd i know?

Mind: how'd i know?

Heart: how'd i know?

Mind: then forget it, it was your idea

heart: okay lets write our dialogue down

mind: the fingers are already doin that...oh wait haven't they messed up our dialogues?

Heart: genius its your fault, your job is to remember stuff

mind: oh yeah? Do you ever let me be free? You always have a new PROJECT coming up to keep me busy

heart: haha projects

mind: cant even think of a better word

heart: haha bloody wannabe thesauras

mind: technically you are bloodier! :)

heart: and since when have i been technical?

Mind: haha, our dialogues aren't THAT mixed up! Haha

...

When the wind stops blowing, all you can hear is your own heart. Sometimes it whispers, i remember mine used to. It used to talk.
Now, for some odd reason, whenever the wind stops blowing, i can't even feel if my heart is there. Either it has given in to my mind or i'm always so preoccupied that i let it go unnoticed.

Wait, i think i'll make a conscious effort to get the whisper back.


But, i cant pray for the wind to stop blowing right now, can i???

Late night stuff

I get these late night excitement pangs every other day for the past one week when all of a sudden i start feeling great.

Tonight, its Criss Angel who triggered it, walkin on water, though usually i'm pretty skeptical in believing in that kind of stuff, but i kind of wanted to think this was happening. So, a mental note, this was happening. What impressed me was what he said, he said something on the lines of "i want people to see that we can break free from the limits".
Limits are something i always believed to be relative. Dreams can be followed and can come true.

The second thing was pappu sain's performance. I've an obsession with percussion instruments and i literally fantasize about them. So he performed in his famous manner, goin round and round like an unhappy merry go round, and he played some really really complex stuff.

The final nail in the coffin of my sleepiness, was the national anthem of spain playing. I love it when national anthems are played at the start of football matches. So it was spain vs newzealand...and puyol the great man is playing...awesome...i'm supporting brazil thou...

Anyways, its an exam on tuesday, and i so hate it. I've just mailed mubi "hey i'm bored" and i am coz noone's talking...

Damn, torres scores a second. GOD save the newzealanders...

The most controversial post of the year......NOT

There's something i've been wondering for the past few days. To some it may sound very obvious and the question may appear very stupid, but then again all great ideas are termed nonsense in the beginning...a word of caution though, this question isn't great at all!

The question is, can you take a bath in pitch black darkness, would you know which of the parts of your body is where?
Secondly, can you eat in the dark without missing your mouth with a spoon?

I asked four people, here're the responses
mahru was the first one

mahru: o yes you can, you've had this body for how long?
Mha: one day,
mahru: and hows that true?
Mha: humans grow up, natural phenomenon, bodies change, you wont know
mahru: sigh!


The next one was jaws

jaws: i've never done it
mha: kabi to?
Jaws: nae, oh yes, but i've eaten in the dark, i've never missed my mouth but kabi aise hota k chamach khali wapas a jata plate se


faizi was next
faizi: nahaya nae kbi andhere may, but itna bewakuf to koi nae k chamach mu may na jaey
mha: but what if you want to rub your face but end up rubbing your armpit?
faizi: hahahahahahahaha
mha: sigh

the last one was SG, i texted her the second question only
sg: i cant eat in the dark because i've to separate all vegies
mha: i didn't mean that, i meant k can you miss your mouth?
Sg: hahahaha you dont know where your mouth is? You're crazy hahahaha
mha: i was just asking
sg: hahahaha you're a crazy guz
sg: guy*
mha: i have another question too, can you take a bath in the dark? I didn't ask you coz i thought bathing is a private affair and girls shouldn't be asked.
Sg: hahahaha yes you can, you can do both
mha: oh i thought i had this special ability to do stuff in the dark
sg: hahahahahahahaha you're so crazy
mha: hasna bus karo


so my question is answered, 75% of the population can eat in the dark, while only 50% can bathe in the dark. Which section of the society are you? Either you're with us or against us!

humari librari and other stories

I’ve never been in the computer section of my university library for a proper reason. A proper reason would be something related to engineering or my course work etc, since the library is called National Library of Engineering Sciences. Initially I’d facebook here but some sadistic administrator banned it. Though blogger is still safe from the guy.
When you are in the midst of so many computers and so many people you are bound to look around. I mean stealing glances doesn’t hurt does it?? The first thing you’d notice is that there are separate rows for girls and guys. Initially I thought the restriction was only self imposed by the students, but that day, an unsuspecting pair of opposite gender were working on a single computer (the girl was instructing the guy as is normally the case at uet) when the sadistic admin arrived

“Aapko pata hai ye yahan allowed nahi hai??”
“Sir Kaam kar rahay hain”
“Sorry, uth jain aaap”

so much for an interactive society.

That same day, I noticed this pretty girl using facebook in the library. I so wished the admin would catch her red handed, which he did, haha, it was kind of embarrassing bnut that very thing happened to me too a few days ago, he was like

“Appko pata hai facebook allowed nai hai yahan??”
“Nai sir”
“Chalain ab to band karain”

!@%%%#@#@ . whats with not letting people relax.

One good thing about this section of the library is that almost always its air conditioned, whatever happens, they don’t switch the ACs off, for the sake of computers I guess, I sometimes think what would the admin say if I sat here all day pretending to do work. Its too boring an idea to give it a try but I think I’ll convince someone to try that out for me :p

Now I’m not really a show off but sometimes, showing off your talent isn’t too bad. Most of the people here are actually looking at their keyboards looking for letters, then poking at them with single index fingers, get the idea??? Pretty bad typing speeds. Someone once told me

“ye typing tutors se speed nai ziada hoti, chatting se ziada hoti hai”

so using msn in the olden times worked then! This dude sitting on the next computer was also a victim of lack of instant messaging experience so while he looked for words and handled the mouse rather UNdexterously, it made it a point to type real fag as seldom at the keyboard as I could and making CLICK CLICK noises with the keys. Although I must admit the keyboard is so pathetic that I’m hating it and wondering if all the vanity is really worth it…btw, just in case people might be wondering, I don’t type too well, just a case of ANDHON MAY KAALA RAJA :p :p :D :D

Btw, I’m in really high spirits these days coz my team won the UEFA Champions League. All Hail FC Barcelona…..FORCA BARCA.... I mean I’ve been in pure ecstasy these past 2 days, dancing alone infront of the tv, texting people like crazy, I cant stop I just cant stop. We are the first Spanish team to get a treble, La Liga, Copa Del Rey and the Champions League, and that too after beating Man United 2-0 in the final. Carles Puyol the captain played like a true captain, and a true Catalan. I mean wow. And Messi, the kid is magical. I have a shair for him to end the post with

“Zara dekho to Faraz, ajab naat hai ye kaisi
Ferdinand aur O Shea k beech se header maar gaya Messi”

Waah Waah Muqarrar

of looking back

The sun turns yellow from orange as the world wakes up to a brand new morning. life opens its eyes to fresh day, as the birds realize its not the same 24hours. It seems as if everything in the universe has this realization at exactly the same instant, a realization that a Today has become a Yesterday and a new Tomorrow is knocking at the door. But not everyone appreciates this extra sensory perception, not everyone grabs it, people have different attitudes, different reactions and different ways to handle the present.
Amongst all these people, some are particularly clingy, they are not letting go of their yesterdays, and yesteryears. They cannot, for some reason let go of memories, sweet or bitter they might be. The new dawn signifies for them only the start of another 24 hours, to be spent in the memory of a past, in the memory of memories. How many of us do not realize the importance of moving on in life. Of sleeping over things that trouble us. Of letting go of friends, family, love and everything that doesn’t want to hold on to you. Certainly, so many of us claim to be able to get over stuff pretty easily, but one fleeting glance at something from the past and your lost in nostalgia once again. No matter how many things change around us, the heart refuses to budge, it refuses to wipe of each and every sign of the past. I think I’ve been wrong in my assumption. Almost every one of us has this trait and its not special to some people only. Therefore, is there a chance that this is a design characteristic in all humans?? But then why would some people act like nothing affects them, like they remember r miss nothing at all??? Is it possible that they really have succeeded in achieving what we call perfect control over their own hearts?? Maybe yes, because I have seen people who’ve slept over things so easily that it shocked me, who chose to ignore such elemental stuff that in the end, I was made to think that this is really possible, rather, even easy for some.
I’m not passing any judgments on anyone, and I’m not saying which of the options is better, every man’s heart is for himself, so is every man’s mind. People can choose to let go of their memories entirely, to move on, but it comes at a cost. The sacrifice has to be made. The cost is a part of your own self. No matter how resolute and ambitious one is, we are bound to leave a part of us in our memories. We leave ourselves behind, not just our footsteps or images, but parts of our own selves. Life goes on from there, people say “and there was no looking back”, but there’s no such thing as that. Everyone looks back, its like an instinctive action. But not all of us want to recognize what we’re seeing when we look back. Some, just choose to ignore or act ignorant, these people, have made the sacrifice.

Realization

What good is a heart that doesn't miss a beat? What good is a heart that doesn't jump, that doesn't laugh or cry, that doesn't melt when needed to?

What good is a mind that doesn't wander, that doesn't delve into its own deep forgotten secrets, that doesn't lose itself in memories?

What good is a soul thats never been looked for, that has never seen the outer world, what good is a soul that has never flown?

Wat good is pleasure without pain, triumphs in vain, joy without sorrow, a certain today without an unpredictable tomorrow?

What good is life without its glitches, without potholes, traps, heartbreaks, failure...death.

Certainly, its no good!

Where to look?

Where to look for life?
wherever there is strife,
where torture and struggle romance,
someone lost in hope's distant trance,

where to look for joy?
where sorrow is treated like a toy,
where oblivion is the way to live,
hopes they take dreams they give,

where to look for hope?
where lives hang by the thinnest rope,
which winds of despair threaten to break,
someone stands with eyes closed and faith that wont shake.

Untitled

Never let people grow on you to the extent they overcome you. Then, every small step of theirs causes a butterfly effect in your life.
Life's too precious, too important for that.
At every point of my life, i meet people, who grow on me, absent-mindedly. I need to stop that.
Need to cut it out!

Damnation

The little girl smiled at her father through the car window, waving back at him from the confines. The father held back a sigh, and put his best face on to wish his child goodbye, the mother sitting in the driving seat, trying not to look in his direction. The little girl's expression changed from a smile to a straighter face when she realised her fears were real, her father wouldn't be going with her. As the car started crawling, her waving became less enthusiastic and more lost, waving like one does to clear thick mist or haze. She cocked her head in the direction of her father for as long as she could and when the car turned a bend, she was gone.
The father let a tear drop down his cheek, he had never thought it would really come to this. Everytime, separation seemed a possibility, he thought such things happen to people in movies, and not normal people like him. Normal people who go to the office, work hard all day, come home, have a beautiful wife waiting, a beautiful daughter to tell stories to, things for these people seem perfect. Perfect but all of sudden they're made to realise life isn't a movie. Things could go wrong all of a sudden, and could stay that way. Happy endings aren't a compulsion.
He turned his back on the road, almost making a metaphorical statement as to never get out of seclusion again. But he knew picking up his pieces was the important thing to do. Yes it would sting, but it had to be done. He'd see his daughter again, maybe after months, but she'd never be the same. She'd know she could live without her father. She'd have understood that he was never an essential part of life for her, he thought. And then, he'd remain a nominal figure in her life. She'd call him dad, but wouldn't be with him. How unlucky to have someone who could care, and let them go.

He went inside and looked at his wife's picture, her flowing name of hair took his heart away the first time he had seen her years back, and now it brought only painful memories. Her eyes looking at him, though now he knew they had stopped looking for him anymore, her nose her lips, all belonged to him once, now seemed part of a beautiful portrait. Her slender hand underneath her chin gave him aching reminiscences. He remembered the hand from all the long walks around the endless web of streets, pointlessly roaming around, hand in hand. He remembered the hand from the first time he asked her out for marriage, the first ring he gave her, the first promises they took, the first time she held their daughter, the first day she took her to the new school, but most of all, he remembered the hand that signed heartless piece of paper, that decided his Damnation. He hated every bit of the picture and he loved every bit of it.
All this was too heavy for him to hold back so he let go. The walls listened in silence as his tears slid down his cheek into and around the slit of his lips. He sat down, half embarrassed at his weak self, at his helplessness.
That very moment he questioned his beliefs about his ego, his own selfishness, his selfrespect. He wished he could turn things back, and he'd be more careful. But life doesn't give two chances to everyone. He knew he had burnt all his ships, and the ashes were slowly being swallowed by the sea of time. One day, he'd probably learn to live with it, but this wouldn't be a solution. This'd be another kind of Damnation!

innerself

It’s no use running away from yourself. One day, your inner self is going to catch you or at least catch up with you. No use lying, ducking behind excuses, hiding behind unimportant stuff and small talk, no use telling yourself you can go around your problems, no use playing hide and seek, no use covering your face every day with fake emotions, trying to bury the real ones underneath the skin, no use trying to get used to compromises that are infact not compromises at all, utterly painful conformities, no use thinking things should be left the way they are, no use pitying yourself to the extent that you start feeling good about the pain, the problems. Its all futile. In the end, you’ll be sitting back trying to relax but won’t be able to. That’s when you’ll realize that the mistake you made all through has taken so much of yourself away, your faith, your trust in yourself. You’ll realize what you’re going to do now should’ve been done ages ago, should’ve been done from the start.

But its never too late to take a look in the mirror. Its never too late to befriend yourself. Its one of the easiest things to do as well if you realize.

Of children and men.

The world seems meaningless to a bunch of twelve year olds, jumping about their set of marbles, watching them go east west north south on the earthen floor. Their clear and hazy bottle greens sharp contrasts to the pale earth, making it easy to spot their slightest move. As one sits and powers a Finger-slingshot, aiming at another kid's marble, the other children watch in anxiety, one of them in fear. If it hits, the aiming kid gets up and rejoices, the owner of the hit marble clenches his fists at his luck, but the effect is cancelled out. In a second or too, all glee all gloom turns to concentration for another round of marbles, and emotions.




Seven or eight white scalped men take their chairs in the southern corner of the park, chatting incessantly, unfazed by hundreds of people walking and jogging about them. They sit down in a ring, call the waiter out for a round of tea and then shut the world out of their minds. For them, the world consists of 60 year old retired men, and women. One of them begins narrating an experience, another one joins in, another cuts it out, another diverts it to another more engrossing experience, subjects change, its like shuffling through a deck of cards, no one knows the next topic. For a moment or two, one or two of the old men get into a heated arguement, the rest donot wish to stop them, for two reasons. First maybe this heated arguement reminds them all of younger times and secondly, they all know that thanks to bad short term memories, this arguement would remain an arguement, and the very next moment, life would be normal. The waiter distributes the tea and leaves, the ambience not the least altered. Its like the whole scenario is taking place in a bottle, the cover of which can only be removed from the inside.




A kid from the marble playing group and an old man from the tea sipping gang are walking down the small street. While neither talks about their little worlds, they connect. They walk hand in hand. The grandfather knows the boy wont understand what they talk about all day, because he's yet to see most of it. And the kid knows that his grandfather won't understand his love for marbles and would scold him, maybe because its been a long time he hasn't powered a finger-slingshot!

TO OUR LOVE

70 gruelling minutes, and it has come down to this. The score 0-0. Chances missed will be regretted. A match that challenges the physical strength of each one of the players, each one giving the match their everything, heart, body and soul.

Players and spectators line up for the penalty shoot out. What an unjust end to one of the best matches, leaving it all to chance. What a cruel way to end it.

The last penalty kick, team mechanical has already missed one. One kick of the ball separates tears and hope. If shamsu scores, electrical wins. The somalian coolly taps the ball to the right of the keeper. The players in blue erupt in celebration, those in red, hang their heads.

I quickly turn around, and walk back to where my clothes lay and start dressing up.

What a match...this is why we love football, its the most emotional game of the world, it takes you to another world. Whether you win or lose, with every match, every pass, every moment you love increases. Skills, become meaningless. Your determination, love and passion is what gives you wings.

This goes out to the greatest game in the world, and every player who lives the spirit of football.

Feel good inc.

He crosses the road, with one thing in mind. To be one with the one thing he loves the most. He steps ahead, takes strides, worries, shrugs and does everything to dispel any memory of his past. The darkness adds to the mystery of the moment, to the pleasure of oblivion. The mountains stand tall behind him, the oceans vast and deep infront. The salty smell of asphalt punctures the otherwise numb nerves, giving him a reminder about some of the good things about life. About where does the road lead to? Goes into one big road? Which goes into another big one and another and another? Until it becomes one great road. Does it really have an end? As he steps back and forth about the place he's standing on, he tries to retrace the steps of another person, who perhaps has never been there. But if its one great road, maybe somewhere else in the world, maybe on a road just like this.
His eyes search for an unlikely mirage, for any kind of illusion. Hallucinations, he doesn't like. A dark shadow, leaps at him slowly blotting his heart out until the heart's ready to produce shadows of its own. To haunt other people like him to surrender one day, give up hope, and cry to the music of memories.
This isn't the life he dreamt of. Its better or worse? Noone knows.its just a question with an insignificant answer, so why bother? Every day is different from every dream.

Anoinkyalylylom

Do we all need an anchor point in our lives? Right now, i really feel i need something to hold on to, something to be my anchor point. I dont know what that exactly means but the word Anchor describes the thing i'm searching for at this point of time. But what exactly is it?
I tried to find it out from Mahru. She said, get married. Then she said, make yourself your own anchor point, i didn't understand both the ideas. How that'll bring a centre of gravity into my life. I know she prolly was kidding about both the ideas, but i wasn't. I've always loved change. But change without a centre of gravity goes on to lead one astray probably. Maybe.

Goatee

My goatee, my goatee, my goatee has finally finally grown to the point of no return, yes, no stopping from here on inshaAllah...i might post a picture sometime soon inshaAllah, right now i'm getting conflicting comments from everyone. People hate it, and people like it...but i accept it makes me look a little scary, coz its gone pretty long!

Lahore, Pakistan.

The more i want to write about what's happening around me, the more it seems i've lost the ability to write. Such heavy is the air in my country. Such dark are the times.
We, who got this country as a gift from Allah, who rewarded our forefathers for their sacrifices, have failed to keep its flag up high. We've shamed it in the world in every way possible.
We begged.
We killed our own people.
We cut our own country apart.
We fed on it every single day.
We pulled eachother's legs.
We desecrated our judiciary.
We dishonoured our parliament.
We forgave people who ruined this nation.
We gave the reins of our country into the hands of the most corrupt people.
We defamed our greats, our legends, our saviours.
We shunned popular opinion.
We crushed our poor.
We fed our filthy rich.
We promoted racism, class boundaries, prejudices.
We lost all our morals.
We let go of our legacies.
We discarded our culture.
We transformed our country into sheer mockery.
We did all we could to insult it.
We let go of our forefathers.
We forgot our history.

But alas, we couldn't stop at that,
WE ATTACKED OUR GUESTS! we couldn't provide them with security...we pakistanis who took pride in calling ourselves the most hospitable nation, we deemed it more appropriate to give our governor more security than our very honourable guests from SriLanka. What a shame.

We are sorry. We apologise to the entire SriLankan nation for hurting their trust. Our policemen were martyred trying to save you, maybe that'll show the purity of intent we have.
But think about us, at this moment. We as a nation have been destroying ourselves, with help from outside.

To Mahela Jayawerdene and his men,
we really are a hospitable nation, but we are victims of terrorism. Our friends are their enemies. Whoever these culprits are, they've been making us walk the plank everyday every night. We're sorry you had to go through the trauma, we'd have given as many people as needed to save our guests the slightest bit of discomfort, but sometimes a mixture of badluck and ignorant rulers makes that impossible.
The entire pakistani nation loves you for saying that you'll be back to pakistan. Even if you never come back, saying that is enough.





"ye jo wakt hai mere shehr par,
isse izn day k safar karay,
isse hukam day k chal paray,
meray aasmaan se dur ho,
kisi maujzay ka zahoor ho"


bun to gaya tha Pakistan.
Ab uth k rahay ga pakistan.
Pakistan Zindabad.

Mera mulk, may hukamraan, may shatir.

Ye jo beess crore hain,
jehl ka nichore hain,
tareekion may doobay huay,
dil b inke chor hain,

inko tu daba k rakh,
neend ka jaam pila k rakh,
uthay to sehla dijiyo,
khauf tu inmay basa k rakh,

ba shaoor jo in may uthay to,
zehr pyar se pilao to,
khamosh wo b ho gya,
jabar, agar phir uthay wo to,

ye jo tera mulk hai,
ye teri hi to milk hai,
karachi lahore teri zameen,
tere khel ka maidaan to hai,

ye jo sab ghareeb hain,
inke kya naseeb hain,
zindagi maut maut zindgi,
ek dairay may muheet hain,
to inko tu pisaey ja,
mustaqbil ko inke khaeya ja,
khoon sab nichore lay,
khazanay apne bnaey ja,

ke ye jo tere log hain,
kuch in may bas tere log hain,
pait or niyyat bharta ja,
paisay k sab ye log hain,

tjh ko bura bolain to ye,
keh day tu inse datt k ye,
beess crore ko sula dia,
kya kumm hai mera kamaal ye?

(inspired by habib jalib's main ne us se ye kaha)

The journey

Cutting through the river of time is a tiny vessel of existence. Our existence. As we grow up, our ship moves through thick and thin, through crest and trough, looking at hundreds of rocks that either mark our way letting us know how far we've come or stand in our way, making us think of ways around them. I wonder how many of us have stopped at these very rocks long enough to forget they're not their homes. Certainly, i've done that, i've let somethings grow on me to such a frightening extent that in the end, it was impossible to differentiate myself from them, to uproot them from my body and soul...i anchored at the wrong whirlpool, and i got stuck. I'll do that again, and again and again, against my own will, and again...till one day, accidentally, i'll either have a broken anchor, or will have an appropriate place to drop the weight. We all live to see that day, some of us have well defined goals, others just have indicators that let them know that probably they've come close to realising their goals. But some of us, wander around without aim without direction. The problem with this kind of people is that they're happy to be lost, they are oblivious to the greater causes that this long journey was meant for. They start off, party on their way, and all of a sudden, come to a halt, no land nearby, they're marooned. Depressing...there's noone around, only vultures flying over the corpses of dreams that were never dreamt! And then, lives of such people become lives no more!
Some of us, make ourselves a bubble. In that bubble we take in all the other ships boats that we want and leave out undesirable. Then, that bubble in itself becomes a small world, and slowly the outside world fades away. Untill one day, an iceberg strikes the bubble, bringing down all the ships inside it. That iceberg could've been avoided, had the ships not been blinded by their protective bubble, had not been in a fall sense of security. But now, all that remains is a broken world of triviality, a bird flies overhead, looks at it, and all it sees is a spec in one corner of a huge river.

Each river has its conquerer, except this river of time. God has created it in such a way that it can act as an antiseptic to wounds or provide a current to ride on but it cannot be overcome by humans. The reason probably is that all our goals our destinations are there along the way in the river, we've to work within the boundary to realise our dreams.

Annihilation.

"From dehumanization to arms production,

for the benefit of the nation or its destruction,

power is power, the law of the land,

those living for death will die by their own hand,

life's no ordeal if you come to terms,

reject the system dictating the norms,

from dehumanization to arms production,

to hasten the nation towards its destruction,

its your choice, your choice, your choice,

peace or annihilation!"

a perfect circle

Bad hair day

I love change, and i have variable hairdos every single day. For some reason i cant reincarnate any of my hairdos and eventually, everyday, they turn out different, variations of my own hair. That is a good thing and a bad one in itself. Good in a way that i dont have too many consecutive bad hair days. And bad in a way i dont have too many consecutive good hair days :(

i see so many people, some of my friends, who have such constant hairdos. It appears to me they take their hair off when they go home and stick it back on. Obviously not true, but seems really like it. Pamy, majid, butt, anas, and the list goes on, and i wonder why they dont get bored of their hairdos. Maybe its me who's weird, or maybe i forget what hairdo i had on the preceding day or something like that, short term memory loss...though i guess i use a pretty good brand of hair products, garnier is nice aint it? Not showing off, totally not...just wondering how to bring this bad hairday to an end. A little water?

weird stuff

I always wonder about a lot of stupid things in my mind. Just pointless stuff that fascinates me, like when I take my glasses off I equate what I see to what a normal person would see on a computer screen with messed up pixels, or I always try to make sense out of the number plates of cars, phone numbers, id card numbers, roll numbers and every number that I come across, I try to connect stuff like that. Then sometimes, I just sit there, and try imagining time as a solid dimension and feel it passing through my very skin, gives me a creepy feeling that I sometimes like and sometimes don’t, depending upon what I had been doing in the preceeding moments. Sometimes I just lie on my bed late into the night and pray to God to give me a punctuated sleep so the night may seem longer than it does if you sleep soundly. Whenever sitting idle, I try to connect all the sounds around me, I try to imagine them as a part of one symphony played by time and space and almost everytime, I find a rhythm that keeps me occupied.
I wonder about lots of other weird stuff too, but at the end of the day it gets me absolutely nowhere. But I understood one important thing about myself from all the sessions I’ve had with myself, that the more I wonder, the more I am at ease with my own self. Its great to be around so many people, I realized the importance of friends many years ago, but its also extrewmely important to have yourself around you. To live a life where you are not emotionally dependent on any other human.
I know this is something that fundamentally seems impossible but it isn’t. we need to realize that whatever happens, people walk in and out of our lives. Some come closer to us than the others, but that is just state of mind, which is not impossible to alter. Time, as it passes, it alters the state of mind, it takes the effect of people out of it. Only when you stop being emotionally dependent on people can you break free of your little bubble. Otherwise, people, the closer they are, the stronger they bring you down if they do. But Allah has given all of us a parachute, so that when we are in freefall, we can always slow down. If we practice hard, we can even stop in mid air. That is the feeling that very few get to experience. To be able to stop in mid air, to free yourself from all forces, and that too taking advantage of your grief. That is one difficult stunt, but its not impossible. Grief and lonliness, we need to realise are just states of our fickle mind. They are nothing real, just reminders that yes you are alive. Like pain. Pain goes away as soon as you start ignoring it. Like itching, same thing. Like all other feelings that tend to bring you down. They carry with themselves a message, that you can break your fall, and you don’t need someone else to do it.
We should thank Allah that He has given us the ability to be emotionally and in all other ways dependent only on Him. In reality, we actually are, only we fail to realize. And we give so much attention to our own states of minds, that more often than not, give us false answers.
I’ve realized that humans, are all alike, they’re all like me. The only difference is that I can train myself to be always around for me, obviously with the help of Allah. But people will continue to walk in and out. I know, I’ve been downright dejected a number of times because of people, but I know that was a part of the learning process. Relationships, might continue, might end. You cannot waste yourself in hope or despair about people. There’s a lot more to tend to. This world, this universe is expanding, its growing, let’s not make our hearts smaller. Whatever happens, life goes on.

Fickle feelings

Wandering around the streets of this city full of life,
the brightly lit embellished alleys of human joy,
sunshine of the most festive sun attempting to bathe me,
in its colours its hues all shades that seem high!

Yet my heart flinches at every step it flips and swirls,
fails to be one with the city of joy,
refuses to mingle with the mingle of emotions,
uneasy, awkward, fickle emotions it wont buy.

A faint yearning one of its kind,
one that looks for things beneath the skin, the cover thats so fake,
one that refuses to be one with the many,
the many who preach love yet nurture and hate.

I walk empty headed empty chested,
like a lifeless body floating on the sea of time,
yet i'm closer to this thing called life than them,
them who stopped searching and couldnot find.

Their smiles carry tears like their cupped hands,
their faces speak of joys but their hearts know its an illusion,
their eyes are pursed but mares try to penetrate,
what they mistake for satisfaction, is confusion!

I wonder how not caring can make you happy,
when something that enormous is missing from everything,
that something that turns these dreams to reality,
puts your heart at rest, true joy it brings.

Wandering around the streets of this city full of life,
i carefully look for what is missing,
but i see void all around me,
songs laborious their hearts refuse to sing.

I wonder if we can bring it back again,
i wonder if the world will ever laugh again,
the sunshine, when will it turn real?
These alleys i wonder, when will they see light once again.

Early morning images!

My dad's reading the Quran. I've to interrupt him to ask for money and to say goodbye, he watches me do my hair and put on a cologne. Maybe he's thinking who am i doing all that for.

My neighbour, Uncle Abdul Raheem is standing outside his gate, in a shalwar and banyan, always doing something or the other, mostly to his small bunch of plants.

The aunty at the corner, is reversing her car out of the garage, going to drop her son hisham off to college. He cant hear properly, but i heard he's a pretty good footballer.

As i cross the gate of the TNT colony, which is adjacent to my street, i look at the Suzuki Dabba which i once had to push as it broke down early morning, and i feared getting late for the bus. In the end, i managed to catch the bus but had to catch my breath later.

At the end of the street, i've to turn right, but i take a look to the left, at that pretty girl's car standing outside her house. Sometimes there is some activity around the car, giving me a little hope of her glimpse but almost invariably, its her father cleaning the car or something. By that time, i get a little restless about my bus, because i've missed it many times due to my wandering spirit!

As i turn right, i see either salman uncle or his father cleaning their blue vespa scooter. Its always an awkward moment as i get confused between waving my hand or nodding my head or saying Salam aloud, but in the end, it never really matters. Either, they dont even look up, or even if they do, the eye contact lasts a second so its over before it starts.

Afnan's bhai's car is always being dusted outside his place. Once i asked him who does it, he said, they've hired a guy to do it,i wondered how khwar but then everyone has their means of earning attached to someone else's needs. Sometimes, just as i'm passing his house, afnan bhai steps out of his door and joins me for a short walk to our stop.

As i look to the left, there's the famous doongi ground, and it always carries a scene which i normally dont get to see anywhere else. There're people running with their dogs and surprisingly, with their lambs! Its a funny funny scene as the lambs pant to keep up with their owners and the owners pant to keep up with the dogs! respectively that is.

Finally, i see a trio walking towards me, 3 elderly uncles, always engrossed in some discussion or the other walk towards me. If they see me, we exchange greetings, but usually they're pretty busy. I only know one of these guys, the other two, i always wonder who they are.

And my bus stop is here. All the above images tag my way as i walk from my place to my bus stop which is hardly two hundred metres away. Its funny how detailed my surroundings are so early in the morning.

But one image i'm really scared of is the bus driving away and i can only watch it from a distance. This happens sometimes. Some freakin times.

Sheeshay

I just came back home, was out with yasir and others. And i had the worst sheesha ever, and i'm goin sick sick sick sick...all hazy in the head...all sick in the guts...bitter sweet in the mouth...weak in the legs...Damn it...i'm sooooo dizzy..
So this sheesha gets me a little high. More than a little. I dont smoke thank God, maybe thats why i cant tolerate sheesha even. Generally it gets me all light headed but today was different it got me all heavy in the upper story and i sat in minigolf letting me head wander here and there and there and there telling stupid stories...

All that, because there's been stuff on my mind. i've been wondering if my blog has turned into a Personal Blog i mean i hardly post anything of interest to people, therefore my dwindling readership, but then again, sometimes giving an insight into your life enhances your readership, thats wat our news channels taught me.
City42, an addition to the hateful bunch of news channels reported yesterday
"meera ka challaan ho gya"
Damn it and that was a breaking news! Well, its not their idea of a joke i know, i know the channel pretty well they've been covering the stupidest stuff. So i was wondering about the entire scenario...

Cop: rukiye g
meera: yaas
cop: sheesha neechay karain
meera: window pehle hi open hai...aap btain what happened?
cop: apka challan hoga, 500 rupay ka, apkay sheeshay kaalay hain
meera (taking off her sunglasses): you mean my night sunglasses?
Cop: nae g, apki gari k sheeshe
meera: hmph, tmko pta hai may kon hun?
Cop: nae
meera: may meera hun, meera chaudhry
cop: meera chaudhry? Chaudhry kbse?
Meera: i mean i'm called meera only clear? Okay? Okay?
Cop: oh Acha, 1000 ka challan phir
meera: non sanse, may nae challan dungi
cop: madam ap parhe likhe logon ki tarah bat karain ap parhi likhi hain.
Meera: you two paisa man! May aitchison college se parhi hui hun, mje pta hai kaise tm logo k sath baat karni hai

the cop smiles within

cop: aur may kinnaird may zer-e-taleem hun
meera: tau? May ja rai hun
cop: bb, bahir a jain

meera, scared now, comes out.
Meera: daikhain bhai main ek ladies hun aise na karain janay dain
cop: but apke sheeshay kaalay hain
meera: tau?
Cop: illegal hai ye
meera: Acha daikho bhai mje nae pta tha, maine to is liay lagaya tha k mera rang na kharab ho.

The cop disregards everything and hands her the ticket. She takes it sits in the car, puts her sun glasses on. By the way its 9pm. Night it is,and she drives away. Life isn't easy for meera, being who she is. God save our film industry and our news channels.

How an Idle becomes idler.

Love.

I get up everyday for my university, lazily stagger to the washroom, say my fajr prayers and dressup and leave for the bus stop. I always wonder about you, about you getting up.
Whether you put your right foot out of the bed first or the left one. What do you think of first when you get up. I wonder whether you look in your wardrobe everyday deciding what to wear? I wonder how you gulp down your breakfast tellin your mom you're getting late and set out to your university.
I have a bad habit of wondering about you. I got this habit from a person called Love. He told me that people in love are people gifted. They can put themselves in the places of people they love and be one with them. He told me to try it. At first i didn't believe, but then it happened like it was natural. Intuitions turned into assurances, and i could feel one with you. Love also said that its not that difficult to separate yourself from the person you love, but its impossible to get away from Love himself. I didn't believe at first. But then i lost you.
I still wonder about you, i'm one with you. But you dont have a face. You dont have a body. You're just a walking incarnation of Love that i sometimes wonder about. I haven't forgotten Love, he still meets me sometimes, like the white bearded magician, it points towards different forms of you, but never forces me to fall for any.
Last time around i told Love: "this is no use, why do you change your subject every moment, when you know i wont fall for it so easily, why do you want to convince me like that?"
he replied : "because this way you'll know for sure what is your destiny, and who's your face. This is my way of telling you this is not the one for you. That you need to walk and walk, run in search of your own magnum opus."

An epic

Roger Federer vs Rafael Nadal, Australian Open 2009 final.

4 hours 20 minutes

five sets

Rafa wins. The King loses.

At the awards ceremony:
roger: "ah, its killing me" and breaks into tears, a legend breaks into tears.

Rafa comes up, hugs him, consoles him like a brother, a friend, and
rafa: "i'm sorry roger, i know how you feel. But you know how big a champion you are, and you're one of the greatest in the history, and you will break Pete Sampras' record"

Rafa! You've won me over, love you for being so humble, and for loving the king and respecting him.

Roger! You're the king of tennis. No matter what happens, we love you!

All hail the King of Tennis, and the Matador!


P.s. I was close to tears as well...

Early morning music

I wrote such a long post, sitting in the train, when suddenly my cellphone ran out of battery. How does it feel? Not too bad, because it was one of the most hopeful posts i've ever written if there is a post of that sort.

Anyways i'm going to pindi and then will be going off to muree inshaAllah from there.

The earlier post which obviously noone will ever see was about change and how i love it. And how getting over things feels like. Right now it feels on top of the world, hamza's still sleeping and imran's still reading mario puzo's dark arena, infact he just finished it, and i'm listening to pink floyd's comfortably numb. Lol, what an unapt song to listen to now, but i love it, and i dont love much of pink floyd just a couple of psychedelic rock songs is what i can normally get into my brain, lol.

This post is pretty different from the last one. Its goin to be about the songs i just listened to.Ummm,starting with some indian song called aja nachle, its a dance number and i always feel like swinging to the beat, then Dancing Jodi from rab ne bna di jodi, love it too, drifting away by faithless, fall for you by second hand serenade (jeddah gave me the song and i loved it), mezarkabul's those who died alone which is a wonderful wonderful composition..., katy perry's i kissed a girl (lol), reminds me of the video haha...hum hain iss pal yahan from the movie kisna, jay z's dirt off your shoulders...passive and orestes by a perfect circle, gardish by karavan, comfortably numb by pink floyd...numb encore...and most importantly, my favourite anthem of all times, One by Metallica...i love it, i love wat lars ulrich has done in this song, he's just a great drummer...sigh, the train's slowed down again, i wonder why, lets go and check out...its kharian!

PreudoNickography--My nicknames over the years.

I've wanted to write this for a long time, though it might put my reputation on the line, but then again a blog is supposed to be pretty honest, isn't that so? Well, for some people, its quite personal, for me its funny. My nicknames. I never had a permanent nickname, one that all people would call me for a long time... But the nicknames i've had been quite funny, and these nicknames never fit me, or maybe that is what its like in my opinion only.
Anyways, i'll try to list down and explain all the nicknames i've had, i'll try to do so chronologically, and i hope i succeed in that. So here it goes:

Honey:
Blush blush..i dont know why i had this nickname, my old neighbours aunti fari, baber bhai and kanvel baji used to call me this. And i was pretty much a little kid at that time...so its understandable i remember quite little of it.


Hassu:
its obvious, pretty obvious. Hassu from hassaan. And it was given to me by maryam and maham, later sahar baji and other cousins started calling me this as well. I accepted that open heartedly.

Hussi:
damn i never knew that hassu could metamorphosize into this. Once asad, read hassu in my inbox, and tada...he and mohammad spread the word and some days later i was being called hussi! Which rhymes with a pretty objectionable word! With a pretty objectionable meaning!

Chira:
once during my O levels, i had a haircut. I came to school with my newly found spikes and i was greeted with the most irritating nickname me Chira, which is the young one me a bird. That was one nick i used to hate, and finally got rid of it.

Bhagwan:
now only 3 people call me that, and nomatter how much i tell them its not good to kid around with someone's religion, they wont stop. The history behind this is pretty complicated. Now a friend of mine once said "hassaan ki maths bohat ala hai". Now that particular friend of mine said that very thing on a number of different inappropriate occasions. So umair khan said "FRIEND X to hassaan ko bhagwan manta hai". Goldi and Leyla followed and the name stuck!

M.h.a:
well thats my self proclaimed nickname, i only realised my full name stands for this when i came to the uni. A few variations are also available.

Bachay:
zaeem baig's own variation of mha.

Armature:
amir shabbir's variation of mha.

Haks:
besides being my email address, haks became my football call for imran, and yes, abu talib calls me that. It has more to do with his being cool than considering me cool lol, abutalib that is.

Kitten:
one of my closest friends, mahru, calls me that, why? I dont know, i told that friend i'll be more happy with a tiger. I guess its coz of the moustache. Lol.

Muffin:
same as above. Though this is the lesser used one.

Guriya:
i had long hair, i wore a band playing football and i had a goal keeper called abdullah. He once said i looked like a guriya while playing, so the name stuck with him and the bajwas. I've to live with it. English translations like Baby Doll are also used.

Saana:
i call imran maana, he calls me saana.



One disadvantage me blogging from my cell phone is that i cant change the dont. So pardon me if the above was difficult to read. One advantage is that i can blog while i'm in my bus, on my way to the uni!

For Palestine.

I saw this beautiful piece of poetry in a local magazine. This is by the great Faiz. Its beautifully written and is so full of feelings. As a tribute to the struggle of palestine, and to the people of palestine, those who live in this world, and those live in the other, i post this.


"Mein jahan bhi gaya arz-e-watan,

teri tazleel k daaghon ki jalan dil may liye,

teri hurmat ke chiraaghon ki lagan dil may liye,

teri ulfat teri yaadon ki kasak sath gayee,

teray naaranj shagoofon ki mehak sath gayee,

saaray undaikhay rafeeqonn ka jilo
sath raha,

kitne hathon se hum-aghosh mera hath raha,

dur pardais ki bay-mehr guzargaahon may,

ajnabi shehr ki bay-nam-o-nishan raahon may,

jis zameen par bhi khula mere lahoo ka parcham,

lehlahata hai wahan arz-e Falasteen ka 'alam,

tere a'ada ne kiya aik Falasteen barbaad,

mere zakhmon ne kiye kitne Falasteen aabaad."

Faiz Ahmad Faiz

Exams and More Important Issues

I messed up, i messed up i messed up i messed up...i'm sooooo stupid...Damn it...i messed up my exam yet again...

Okay so this was question number two, it was balancing of reciprocating masses and blah blah...i messed it up first, cut out the whole question, did it again, happy that i'd get the whole ten marks, and when i came out, i found out that i, who was telling everyone to take angles anticlockwise had made that same basic stupid mistake...Damn it...and talk about theory, i knew none of it...so there goes my gpa...oh and btw the exam was mechanics of machines final...

Enough of the exam, i've decided that once its over its over...

To more important issues, i've to decide a new look for myself...the one i've thought of is more on the lines of Che Guevera, more appropriately my version of Che...so i've to grow my hair and beard...and i'm doing just that...an alteration is that i'm growing my moustache once again huhuhahaha...but i started to think when someone said to me "Hassaan have you dyed your hair?"...actually my hair turned dark brown from black, and then the front strands have started going lighter and lighter all thanks to football in the sun...obviously i'm not gonna do anything about it, but just as it is, it is a thing to worry about, because that adds to the white strands of hair i already have...and that gives my mom a reason to grill me for using gels and hairsprays...but all the above was just a prologue...the real issue, what look should i go for? All kinds of suggestions are welcome...

I cant believe i'm asking this question on my blog, lol, but i really am bored...

NATIONAL INTERESTS VS INTERESTS OF THE NATION

Amongst all the cries of the crusade waged by Israelis, i find time to ponder. I ponder over all of us, i look into the hearts of the muslim nation. Or the muslim nations! Nations because we let ourselves to be ruled by the changing demands of our so called fickle national interests.

NATIONAL INTERESTS they say. Keeping quiet at such an atrocity, why? For national interests. Not condemning it full heart and soul, why? NATIONAL INTERESTS.

What is a nation?

Wasn't the muslim ummah supposed to be a nation? Ask anyone and everyone would answer that yes muslim ummah is a nation. Well it so is not.

Last week, Hugo Chavez, head of venezuela's government, decided to expel the ambassador of israel from venezuela. Why? Because he said he was one with the people of palestine, supported them and as a protest he cut diplomatic ties.

Venezuela isn't a muslim nation. Its not even near palestine. They have nothing in common. Then where did their national interest go?

Actually, our leaders and our people abuse the term national interest. If we cared about national interests we'd raise a firm cry against the atrocities committed by israel. Yes our people are rising in their ranks, though not exactly united but they are. But when we look at the attitude of our governments, everything comes down like empty foam.

Pakistan, Kuwait, Saudi Arab, U.A.E, Oman, The central Asian republics, Egypt, Jordan, and so many other rich countries, sit, watch, request the WEST to put pressure on Israel. Why? Because they're too worried about their separate national interests to care about the real interests of the NATION. You question, what is this real interest? This is unity, this is morality. Our nations have been robbed of morality, of pride, of unity, its funny you call us NATIONS when actually that is an exact opposite to what the concept of NATION is. The gulf countries care about their relations with the US, so do we. National interests. Huh.

We watch when our brothers, our sisters, our sons daughters mothers fathers are butchered. We watch their blood drip slowly. Our arab countries watch it being neutralized by the dark colour of oil. Pakistan cannot say anything because obviously our rulers consider the US a close ally and thinks US is playing a part in stopping Israel. Ha, what an oxymoron.

First, we were separated into NATIONS ideologically, then our interests separated, and now our morals, our emotions. Its a crusade we need to understand. Afghanistan, Iraq, palestine, who knows what next. And we have ourselves to blame.

Geographical boundaries are not there to divide our hearts, they're there to tell the world that yes, more than 70 countries in the world form a muslim nation.

I detest our leaders. They're epitomes of ruthlessness and helplessness. But its important to remember our leaders come out from amongst us.

Bravo mr zaradari for honouring Richard Boucher and Joe Biden with Hilal-e-Quaid-e-Azam, i bet the Quaid would be proud.

Thanx for spitting in all our faces.

And to all the muslim leaders, kudos, did you even remember this ayat of the Quran?
"and hold fast altogether to the rope of Allah and donot be divided amongst yourselves"

your majesties! did you even care to read the Quran before setting out to rule us?

Darkness

These past few days have been marked with the blood of hundreds of palestinians, and with the rubble of the city of Gaza. The first day of the attack, the news channels showed heartwrenchingly gory scenes, of bodies lying in a scatter and people carrying their loved ones the nearby hospitals.
A week later, the situation has worsened, and its sickening. The world watches one country bomb another to ruins, literally to ruins. The victim's so called brothers, playing silent bystanders to the show, trying to condem the oppressor, scared of unknown consequences, or maybe just being diplomatic. Noone dares to make a move, or make a strong statement, why? Noone knows why, maybe thats how the world is now, we are so divided that we cannot even come together to save a brother. Perhaps we're all concerned about our own benefits that we wont achieve, we all know that in our heart of hearts.

I know from experience that the silence of friends is much more painful than the actions of our enemies.

Two days ago, i saw more disturbing images on tv. Images that brought my heart down like the buildings of gaza. The first clip was that of the hospitals of Gaza. They were all in mayhem, people lying everywhere, on beds, on the floor and the rest in arms of their loved ones. The reporter said there's a shortage of medicines, space and if the situation continues, power will be cut off from these hospitals. I wondered like i wonder a lot of times that what it would feel to be in the skin of the palestinian father who held his son with a deformed face, covered in blood and flesh exposed. Seriously, the feeling was that of rage.
The second clip was that of the city of Gaza, or what remained of it. They were coming down to their foundations, after tolerating tons of gunpowder and metal. The city already appeared in ruins, it seemed uninhabited and uninhabitable, there was no sign of life at all. The reporter said that there was no electricty in the entire city, and it had become the city of darkness. The images painted the dark picture.
But all this was nothing compared to the last piece of news, one that i saw in The News. A picture of half the page rested in the middle of the story and that picture said more things than a thousand words could've said. That picture was of 5 bodies wrapped in white cloths, the sizes of the bodies all different. The story was that of a family, which had to witness the deaths of five of the daughters of the house! Their ages 2 to 15 years old! I wondered which side of collateral damage were they on. I was surprised how the Israeli Terrorists had taken such an act of tyranny in their stride. But most of all i was worried about our silence! 5 beautiful children, bombed. An entire city reduced to ruins thrown into darkness.

Maybe its not Gaza or the people martyred over there that're the biggest casualties. In actuality our nation, our unity have been bombed. All of us have been thrown into darkness.

Its not the five girls who are dead, they've been martyred, hence they'll live. Its us, who have failed to live. All of us.

I just opened the creat a new post wali window and closing it back. I've so much in my mind but somehow, i really dont have what it takes to bring it out.
In other words i'm procrastinating...lol...