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)