Thursday, December 24, 2015

Hajira - Few comments

After the last post on Hajira (HERE), a few pondering comments came. (You may not agree with all, but they are worth sharing). Putting 4 of them here

(1)
"I find it very inspiring. Till the day of judgment, for any Muslim, hajj and umra will not be completed unless he or she follows Hajra's footsteps. Imagine that she was a black woman. Most probably a slave. But Allah was so impressed by her struggle that this sacrifice will be repeated till the end of humanity. No other woman has such value as she does. A mother. Who was trying to find water for her baby in the desert."



(2)
Kaaba has very less to do with the Prophet Mohammad. As it was built by Ibrahim and Ismaeel, the whole place is an ode to his family. Tawaaf has been going on for thousands of years. The Arabs used to say namaz, hajj since Ibrahim's time. The Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) changed how it was done, but the basics remained. Saii is done as a ode to Hajira. Tawaaf starts and ends from Muqame Ibrahimi. The whole idea of Ahram for men, where they cannot hunt, wear perfume, and cannot wear sewn cloth, is almost like a cave-era man, where he walks and walks, spend a night out in the open, sleeping on the ground etc. It is a very non-Mohammedan concept.

(4)
 Kaaba was integral to Hijazi Arabs as Abrahamic ritual. Muhammad never wanted them to feel offended. Do you know alif laam meem allegedly, in the beginning, was a tribute to 3 goddesses in Kaaba: Azaa, Laat, and Manat !!!

*

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

On "Hajira" - (I cried for my Mom)

A beautiful post on Hazrat Hajra's motherhood from Saugoree uncle


"I cried for my Mom: I really did cry like a baby. Muslims are all well aware of the rituals of Hajj and Umrah. One of the rituals is "SaƩe" (Brisk walk or run between Safa and Marwah the two small hills in the Haram in Makkah Mukarrama) God liked it so much that He made it a ritual for all times to be followed by Muslims who go for Hajj or Umra. Have been there many times and did it regularly during my Hajj and during my previous Umrahs. This had not occurred to me before.

Last Umrah was last week and while busy performing, my thoughts went to Bibi Hajira who was overtaken by the worry of her baby (Ismaeel AS), lying in the desert "unprotected" except with prayers of the Father and of his mother who also had to search for water as he was thirsty. Mothers know it well. Fathers probably not so well. The real pain in the heart for the baby. God so liked that feeling of the motherhood that He made it a "celebration". How much worry and pain she (Bibi Hajira) must have gone through while going on the hill to look for water for her thirsty baby and then keeping an eye so no wild animal attacks him. Then there was a low-lying part of the distance between the two hills where she could not see the baby so she would run, hustle or rush to get back higher so she would not lose sight of her baby. Praying all the while to the Almighty to solve the problem of her thirsty baby. No mention there of her own thirst and physical distress all alone with that baby, not thinking of her own problems that her Husband had left her there with the baby all under the "orders of God Almighty".

And suddenly I was thinking how my own mother must have brought me up worrying and being concerned about my well being etc. Of course she has been dead over 45 years now but my heart started crying and I was suddenly shaken, I found my throat choked and my eyes filled with tears and I found myself crying loud .  (Read  Saugoree Uncle's full post HERE)

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Hajira

(One of my friend just came back from Mecca. He said)

Mecca main sab se ziyada jo cheez mujhe jazbati kerti hai - woh Hajira ki mamta hai.

Jab tapte sehraa main aap ko aap ka mard choR ke chala jaaye - aur aap pe aik choTi si aulad ka bojh ho - aur nannge pair aap ko paani ki talash main sargardaN phirna paRe to - aesi mamta ki azmat ka bayan kese ho. 

Sare manasik main se Safa aur Marwah ke beech doRne se ziyada afzal  amal kiya hoga?


Related post HERE .

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

On "Genius of Mr Bean"

I think Rowan Atkinson is one heck of a genius. I had watch Mr. Bean here and there, laughed but never paid much attention till I saw his movie Mr. Bean's Holiday. I became fan of his genius. If you have time, watch following 5 minutes of clip. It teaches us how we complicate our lives, when things can be done very simply and can be enjoyed.

(non-youtube link: HERE)



https://youtu.be/jtqpuYvOfHY

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Aik purani adat

Years ago - I made a habit that if I see a friend or an acquaintance in my dream, I call (or now text) them. Over years, it has brought a lot of surprises and joy - just making those short social calls. Also, it tells other people that you remember and care for them - and it is one good thing that you can do to yourself and other people, in this racing world.

Monday, December 14, 2015

Famous Blue Raincoat

Read or hear below lyrics of the following song: "Famous Blue Raincoat" 

It's a letter from one man to another man in a love triangle. I pondered for a while. It is actually a thank you letter from a man to another man as he took care of the dilemma of a woman (his wife) who loved 2 men at a time! A unique angle of a lover's triangle. 



It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening

I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record
Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her, That night that you planned to go clear

Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you, you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat, was torn at the shoulder

You'd been to the station to meet every train,
and You came home without Lili Marlene
And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief  Well, I see Jane's awake

She sends her regards

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer, What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I'm glad you stood in my way

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Well, your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried

 And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her, That night that you planned to go clear

Sincerely, L Cohen

Wednesday, December 09, 2015

Stuck between "Naseh" and "chara-saaz"

Mirza Ghalib ne kha tha

Ye kahaN ki dosti hai ke bane hain dost naseh
Koi chara-saaz hota, koi gum-gusaar hotaa

Meri saari zindagi ye khawhish rahi ke main Thomas Hardy ke novel, "Far From The Madding Crowd" ke kirdar 'Gabriel Oak'  jesa dost ban sakun - magar 'Naseehat' aur 'charasaazi' ke darmiyaan itni patli lakeer hai ke us pul-siraat se guzarna aksar na-mumkin ho jaata hai.

Meri zindagi main aese kai moR aaye jab kai dost mere paas gum-gusaari ke liye aa ke bethe magar - aik dost ke naate - mere liye zaroori tha - ke main unhe talkh baat kehta - unhe unki galtioN ka idraaK dilaane ki koshish kerta. Isi chakkar main kai dostiaN toot gai.

Kisi ne aik aam si, be-wazni nazam aaj forward ki thi - magar sach hi hai

Tuesday, December 08, 2015

Galata Tower

Mere auto mechanic ka taaluq Istanbul se hai. Choti si dukan hai. Imandar aadmi hai. Main gaari ke chote mote kaam usi se kerwa leta hun. Hum use 'Jibran' bulatey hain.

Main ne zindagi ke baRe baRe sabaq kitaboN ki bajaaye aam insaaon se sikhay hain - ke insaan hi is kaainat ki sab se bari kitab hai.

Kal Jibran ne mujeh bataya ke woh 2 hafte ke liye Istanbul ja raha hai. Main ne yunhi rawani main kaha: "You just went there last year. And, if I am not mistaken you were there a year before too". 

Jibran hasne laga aur phir us ne mujeh ye kahani sunaii:

"I was born and raised in Istanbul. I got married and had kids while in Istanbul. I was an extremely ambitious person. I did well in career and made good money before even I reached 30. Luckily I got good wife and 2 beautiful children. I wanted to make more money. I sold my business and  moved to USA. But still I had some payment to come from my sold business. The guy who bought my business start giving me run around. I had to call every other day, and when that didn't work, I had to personally go there few times - but to no avail. Overtime I got angry, furious and almost mad, as it was a huge amount of money. My wife, friends and family advised me to let it go as I was doing well in USA - but now it was more a fight of ego, sense of getting conned and revenge. One day, I literally start having idea of killing or physically harming that person. That night I saw a dream that I am at top of Galata Tower (Istanbul landmark) with my 2 kids - and though I am there holding them, one after another my kids slipped from my arms despite holding them tight and fell down from tower and I see their bodies dead on floor from top of tower. Impact of that dream was so intense that I was unable to function for 2/3 days. Turkey is a sufi land of Hazrat Rumi. I took this as a divine message that my actual asset are my kids, revenge will eventually hurt me and money does not matter. As soon as I understood that, I was all calm - and since that day I never worried about loss of money. I do travel to Istanbul every year not only to see my family but also to sit near Galata tower sipping turkish apple chai  reminding myself that important lesson of life. You can call it my annual spiritual pilgrimage."


Monday, December 07, 2015

'Keep Moving'

As they say in Africa: "When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground with him."


My initial inspiration for writing stories, learning lessons of life, and thinking out of the box came from my Nana (maternal grandfather). I used to spend hours and hours just sitting and listening to him. To make a long story short, I still get excited when I hear older people sharing lessons from their lives. In this regard, my favorite article is from Khushwant Singh HERE.


A week ago, I enjoyed reading Dick Van Dyke's book 'Keep Moving' on a similar theme. He is now almost 90 and thinks the following five things matter in life.


1. Family and Friends - particularly children.

2. Habit to Question things, concepts, and curiosities around

3. Appreciation of good Music and the ability to dance to it

4. Reading and having books

5. A good sense of humor


I loved his comment: "Collect experiences, not memories." (Take away lesson for me from his book).


I honestly believe that good sleep and good dreams are essential for the healthy psyche of any human. He says forgiveness is the best sleeping pill at a philosophical level, but pragmatically, if you write down your to-do list for the next day (or try to write down your emotions) on paper, it will make you light, and you will sleep better.


I have been writing diary since the age of 19, and this practice has helped me.


*

Saturday, December 05, 2015

On "Fiction Literature"

I absolutely subscribe and sold to fiction for following reason:

“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” ― Neil Gaiman

Friday, December 04, 2015

On "women's intuition"

Somebody forwarded following quote to me and I tend to agree with Rudyard Kipling!!

Tuesday, December 01, 2015

On "sorrows of a widow"

"Don't you know that widows or divorced women often have children by the new husband, which resemble the old one?"

A powerful line from 'He Who  Gets Slapped" - a  classic century old American drama and film, actually an adaptation from Russian literature.

Sunday, November 29, 2015

On life and her stories

As I came back to town after Thanksgiving - I was shocked to know that uncle of one of my very close friends is dying in hospital. He was healthy, wealthy, walking, talking, and a kind of arrogant man who was full of pride till two days ago. When I saw him in ICU surrounded by machines and many drips, I shared my shock with one of my friends; he texted back following to me:

 "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." --Macbeth from "The Tragedy of Macbeth" (Act V, Scene V).

 On a similar note - as people many times ask - what drives me to write human stories, here is the simple answer

*


Friday, November 20, 2015

On "Facebook updates"

I have been culprit of this. I have my load of difference with Ashfaq sahab but I have extreme high respect for his thoughts on many matters. I learned a lot from following

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Read here on wikipedia on origin of this famous poem

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning’s hush 
I am the swift uplifting rush 
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night

Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die

Sunday, November 15, 2015

On "Misery and Beauty of Travel"

Due to various reasons, I got stuck in unknown and undesired places a few times during my travels. Though very frustrating, in retrospect, I value those times. As I had no option but to regurgitate my feelings, I sat back, examined my life, and tried to judge it as a third person from far.

Once stuck in a tiny small town of upstate New York due to massive snow, I had the most peaceful dinner (steak cooked by an older man) under very dim light at a small eatery adjacent to a motel. It was nothing but serenity in my heart - the steak was tender, the silence was priceless, and the moonlight after the snow was magical. The next day, I had to walk to a small store in foot deep snow to buy food. A mother and her little girls ran the store. Happiness on their faces to find a customer told me how important it is for people to pay bills on time. It was a very humbling experience.

 Driving through Alabama, my car broke down, and I had to wait three days in a tiny town. I had no choice but to sit on the balcony all day and read a book - and watch people going on with their life. It dawned on me that we all are just characters on a TV screen. The script is indeed written somewhere else. I became less judgemental of people since then.

 When I had a two-month gap between my residency and board exam, I took a road trip and drove I-90 across the continent from West to East Coast. On the first night, as I entered Idaho, I was exhausted. I stopped by at a small gas station. I saw a sign of "psychic." He gave me graphic details of my life for the next 20 years. Many of them turned out to be very real and in the same manner!

 Not very long ago, two old hostesses of not a very fancy 'Bed and Breakfast' in a small town in France fought with a taxi driver as I missed my train as he didn't arrive on time. They forced him to drive me to the train station for free.

 I encountered good and bad people, but I found humans helping and of good heart in general. The family has opened doors on me in the pitch darkness of the massive wilderness of Indiana. In Ottowa, a bartender has cooked fresh-cut fries for me knowing I am hungry. Denny's waitress had let go of half my bill in Kentucky as I was short on money, and my credit card didn't work. It was in Turkey that I was served free breakfast only because I was from Pakistan! I have people buying a subway ticket for me in Quebec as I struggled with the machine due to the language barrier. I had the best samosas of my life in the far land of Tanzania. Forget humans; I had bears on the highway staring at me but let me pass without harm.

 I have no regrets of unkind hosts, harsh weather, getting mugged (once), missed flights, broken car, long lines, dirty motels, sleeping in rest areas, etc. - as these all made me witness the beauty of humanity from very near.

*

Saturday, November 14, 2015

On "not valuing eternal moments"

As, I was cleaning my old emails, there was a years years old email sitting there. I am glad it was still there to remind me that we are cruel people. We never value present eternal moments of life at those given moments (Idea behind this post). I wish, I have understood the beauty of heart of another person at that given moment. I lament my kamzarfi of not to appreciate beauty of those moments as they happen. We are idiots, at least I am.

When I left the town after residency and went back to re-visit. One woman I adored a lot. We realized we cannot be together due to our religious, family, color, language, cultural and circumstantial differences.

It has some explicits. Read at your own risk but I believe explicits is the beauty of this letter.


"Strange thoughts. It is like you never came. And when you were here, it was like you never left. Fuck you, doctor. All my frustration of not being touched by you just merges into one word. Fuck you. You and your touch. You inside me. The pressure of your body on my body. The weight. I never knew simple lovemaking is so good. The look of your face when you are about to climax. The constant kissing. Your eyes. I think unlike as you were with me before, we did not talk as much as I would like us to. Your hands. Doctor, it was domestic almost. We getting ready to go out. I was wearing make up, you were changing clothes, I was correcting your collar. Fuck you. Just fuck you. 

The sex was like movie kind of sex. In the middle of all the lovemaking, the idea that you may not love me the way I love you. That my emotions for you are may be too strong for you to handle. It makes me feel strange that actual physical part of lovemaking can be so good. That it can sustain for more than few minutes. That somebody can devour my breasts. That I can kiss you for hours. That I can climax twice in a day without self-pleasure. Fuck you. You are a motherfucker. Touch my arms. Touch my back. I could taste my vagina, the smell in your mouth. The kiss on the lake. Just fucking disappear. I should have ask you about normal things like flight, weather, family, work. And you will forget me and my touch. But I will not forget. I will not forget. Before, I missed you more than your touch. This time, I will miss your touch more than you. You are an asshole. I hate you. The rage that I feel inside is overfuckingwhelming.

So angry. Cannot live with you, cannot live without you. A kiss on the side of lake, a touch of hands while sitting together, having a hot chocolate. Dreaming of living with you in the sun."

Sunday, November 01, 2015

On La of Ilaha!

"Khuda ke raaste ka musafir banne ke liye khuda ko manna zaroori nahi" 

Jab ye baat main logon se kehta hun to log mujeh hairat se dekhte hain - magar ye sach hai

Ilaha ki rah main lailaha ki kai mazilain aati hain, shakook ke samandar aur be-yaqeeni ki waseeh khaleejain haail hoti hain - kaa'baa o kalisaa ki kashmakash chalti rehti hai - Us se ghabraane ki ya gunah ka aehsas rakhne ki zaroorat nahi - It is absolutely normal!

Bande ka kaam sirf chalna hai - Sach ki talab agar raasikh ho to ye manzilain guzar jaati hain.

Ilaha ka suraj lailaha ke andheroN main hi chamkta hai



Thursday, October 29, 2015

Maryam

Jab peechle saal main Rome ja raha tha to Elsa (my co-worker) ne mujh se kaha mere liye Bibi Maryam ke naam ki tasbeeh (rosary) le aana. Jab main wapas aaya to usne mujh se poocha: "Tumhe Vatican main sab se achha kiya laga?"

Main ne Jawab diya: "Maryam ke naam ki tasbeeh"

To hasne lagi aur kehne lagi: "Tum to Vatican ja ker bilkul hi isaaii ho gaye ho?"

Main ne kaha: "Ye baat nahi....magar jun jun meri umar guzarti ja rahi hai...main sochta hun Ibne maryam to saare zamane ke dukhoN ka madawa kerta tha - magar Maryam apni aulad pe hota zulm dekh ker jis dukh aur karb se guzarti hogi, to us bechaari ke aansu kaun paunchta hoga....."

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

On word "Whore"

On my one previous post (here), 'Beyond' wrote a comment. I agree completely and don't feel like adding anything except to answer that probably we use monogamy as a tool to treat our insecurities.

 "I feel sad for a whore in any case. The term itself is very derogatory towards female gender. There is no male equivalent for men in common language. The idea that a woman will know men better if she has sold herself physically is revolting. It may be true but paints a very bleak picture of this world. Why is the idea of marriage so appealing to masses? If a woman is with several men, it is considered a taboo. If she is married to a man, all is well. Monogamy makes us very comfortable. Please blog about it mystic, someday."



Sunday, October 25, 2015

Clay pots

For the longest time, I remained curious about the fascination of artists with clay pots. Once, a priest told me that bible symbolises human souls in bodies, similar to perseverance of treasures in clay pots. I came across the following quote and felt like sharing.


Saturday, October 24, 2015

Walmart

If you want to destroy a community, culture or a town - built walmart there.


Sunday, October 11, 2015

Maujeeza

Log kehte hain paani pe chalna maujiza hai, magar main kehta hun - 
jeese zameen pe chalne ka saliqa aa gaya use maujeeza mil gaya

~ Annonymous

Saturday, October 10, 2015

One ER doc

(A conversation with one of my desi ER colleague)

"Tum itne pur-sakoon kese rehte ho?"

"Jab poora din ER main logon pe yak-dum aane wali aafton se nipat ker ghar aata hun, to ghanton sochta rehta hun ke insaan ki zindagi kese aik lamhe main badal jaati hai. Saari kahanian, saath khaRe ghar wale, unke aansu....... Sab ko lagta hai pur-sakoon hun magar andar toofan chal raha hota hai"

Friday, October 09, 2015

On 'Ultra-short stories' - 2

On one of my previous post on 'ultra-short stories', (here) someone left a short but a powerful comment

my two words story "she lived"  ~

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Suqraat ka piyala

Yesterday one friend said a beautiful sentence in between conversation. I am not sure he himself even noticed it, but I loved it. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am surround by intellectually dyslexic people


Ų³Ł…Ų¬Ś¾Ū Ł†ŪŪŒŚŗ Ų¢ŲŖŲ§ Ų³Ł‚Ų±Ų§Ų· Ś©Ū’ Ł¾ŪŒŲ§Ł„Ū’ Ł…ŪŒŚŗ Ų²ŪŲ± ŲŖŚ¾Ų§ ŪŒŲ§ Ų§Ł…Ų±ŲŖ 


۔

Monday, September 28, 2015

On "Social Pressure"

It is unfortunate that due to media, movies, magazines and in general - society has put so much burden on a common regular 'joe and jane' person to look "good"!  Being a physician, I have seen many women suffering from dreaded complications (and I mean dreaded) from undue and unneeded procedures! Many women have been rendered depressed and clueless. Again it's unfortunate. I was told by one plastic surgeon that now men are under pressure too. He has more men for hair transplants, tummy tucks, botox etc.

Personal grooming, being healthy and cleanliness is another thing but to have perfect body image is undue expectation from a self.



Sunday, September 27, 2015

Intern

25 years and Robert De Niro continue to amaze me! His new movie with Ann Hathaway is another gem which moviegoers should not miss. It's all about putting people at comfort and peace. You may disagree but I see this as a mystic movie as Ashfaq sahab used to say: "Allah aap ko aasani de aur aasani taqseem kerne ka sharf de".

It is a story of a young married working self-made woman who at surface looks having perfect life but going through issues in life - and how a chance encounter with a 70 years old man put her at ease! Simple but beautiful.

Trailer here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6dKhzYgksc

Friday, September 25, 2015

On 'ultra-short' stories

I developed interest in writing or reading 'ultrashort stories' when our tenth grade teacher gave us an assignment to write a "three words story" after giving introduction of allegedly six words story of Ernest Hemingway  - "For sale: baby shoes, never worn"  (there is a controversy about his authorship).  I remember my story was: "Main Insaan hun" (I'm a Human). Somebody forwarded this ultrashort story to me, and I loved it.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Interesting quote

Very interesting observation. Let me put my comment after quote

"WHORES, ANNA ONCE READ, make the very best wives. They are accustomed to the varying moods of men, they keep their broken hearts to themselves, and easy women always ease through grief." ~ From Chapter 3 Jill Alexander Essbaum's “Hausfrau.”

I fully agree with above. Also, man needs to be very careful in cheating or deceiving 'whore turned wife' - as if she turns angry, he may not be able to bear that burnt, or she may ditch him in blink of an eye. 

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Life after delivery

In a mother’s womb were two babies.  The first baby asked the other:  “Do you believe in life after delivery?”  

The second baby replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery.  Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”
  
“Nonsense,” said the first. “There is no life after delivery.  What would that life be?”  

“I don’t know, but there will be more light than here.  Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths.”
  
The doubting baby laughed. “This is absurd!  Walking is impossible.  And eat with our mouths?  Ridiculous.  The umbilical cord supplies nutrition.  Life after delivery is to be excluded.  The umbilical cord is too short.”  

The second baby held his ground. “I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here.”

The first baby replied, “No one has ever come back from there.  Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery it is nothing but darkness and anxiety and it takes us nowhere.” 

“Well, I don’t know,” said the twin, “but certainly we will see mother and she will take care of us.”  

“Mother?” The first baby guffawed. “You believe in mother?  Where is she now?” 
 
The second baby calmly and patiently tried to explain. “She is all around us.  It is in her that we live. Without her there would not be this world.”  

“Ha. I don’t see her, so it’s only logical that she doesn’t exist.”  

To which the other replied, “Sometimes when you’re in silence you can hear her, you can perceive her.  I believe there is a reality after delivery and we are here to prepare ourselves for that reality when it comes….”

Thursday, September 17, 2015

One fine read from Zia Mohyeddin

This is one miscellaneous read from Zia Sahib from Urdu literature - particularly first part on woman !!!! - in 2 Parts


Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Jibran says

"Keep me away from the wisdom which doesn't cry, the philosophy which doesn't laugh and the greatness which doesn't bow." ~ Khalil Jibran

Sunday, September 13, 2015

One common literary misunderstanding

Most people think following famous shyr belongs to Mir Taqi Mir, probably due to style of its baher but it is from a relatively unknown poet Zia Azimabadi, who came after Ghalb but died at young age of 19.


Ų§Ś© Ł¹ŪŒŲ³ Ų¬ŚÆŲ± Ł…ŪŒŚŗ Ų§Ł¹Ś¾ŲŖŪŒ ŪŪ’، Ų§Ś© ŲÆŲ±ŲÆ Ų³Ų§ ŲÆŁ„ Ł…ŪŒŚŗ Ų§Ł¹Ś¾ŲŖŲ§ ŪŪ’


ŪŁ… Ų±Ų§ŲŖŁˆŚŗ Ś©Łˆ Ų±ŁˆŪŒŲ§ Ś©Ų±ŲŖŪ’ ŪŪŒŚŗ ، Ų¬ŲØ Ų³Ų§Ų±Ų§ Ų¹Ų§Ł„Ł… Ų³ŁˆŲŖŲ§ ŪŪ’


Wednesday, September 09, 2015

On 'Wars'

Note: Last week's picture of three-year-old Aylan's dead body at the beach shook the whole world with shock and grief. (I am purposefully not posting that picture). It started a massive exchange of emails between friends. I am posting stories of 2 of my friends who suffered the plight of refugees in the 1971 Pak/India war. I am not writing personal notes, as stories are enough to describe the lifelong psychological miseries of war.


(1)


The image of a Syrian child reminded me of myself. I was five years old when, one night, my father woke me up at 3 in the morning to walk out of our house quietly. We walked for 30 minutes and boarded a bus from Jessore to Khulna to Chittagong, a port in eastern Bangladesh. I was shipped from one hand to another hand to finally board 'safinae arab' (ship from Pakistan). It took 16 days in the Indian Ocean to eventually reach Karachi. I am alive and kicking, but hundreds of thousands perished in 1971. Images of Civil war, blood, army boots, rifles, crying women, screaming children, and dead bodies are as vivid as they were on that day. My childhood is connected to the image of EPR (East Pakistan Rifles) invading our house to search as they suspect we are hiding Bengalis!! (and we did :)) - I was told I spiked a fever that day. All night of March 25, 1971 - there was no electricity. We hear sounds of gunfire in candlelight (My experience of shama har rang main jalti hai). The following day, the 'talao' (lake) in front of our house was full of dead bodies and blood. We had two flags in our home - of Pakistan and of Mukti Bahini - depending on who is in charge of the area. It was interesting - we protected Bengalis, and Bengalis saved us, giving us safe passage (at least earlier in the chaos).


I was born in Karachi. My father made the mistake of sending us to school in East Pakistan as Christian schools were very good for education. I guess he was not competent to read politics. It is unfortunate how West Pakistan was kept in pure darkness. Our relatives in Karachi didn't believe our plight, though they were helpful. Later in the war, there was no distinction between friends and enemies at one point. Mukti Bahini kidnaped my father, and he was almost killed. They only let him go because he spoke Bengali fluently and Urdu in Bombay style. It took three years before my father made it to Karachi.


That image of a Syrian boy brought back thousands of lost pictures, like getting handed from one person to another, as we switched small boats (called launch those days) - finally, it was a big ship. People take pride in war, but human miseries on both sides always take huge tolls and usually go undocumented in history. When a human suffers - ideology, language, culture, and religion lose meaning. --- Jab aurat bazar main jism bechne nikalti hai to poori insaniyat be-maani ho jaati hai (Manto)


(2)


For the first time in 44 years, I am penning something over that traumatic lifetime tragedy. I went through almost identical after the 1971 fall of Dhaka. My father had a solid pro-army reputation and owned a wholesale cloth business. Ironically, Pakistan Cloth House first got burnt in New Market Dhaka with a Pak flag over there. I had vivid images of many horrible events followed by that tragedy. That particular night of December 16, I can recall, we were hiding in the house of our nani's sister, who was married to a Bengali lawyer, the only interracial marriage in our family. Mukti Bahini boys broke in upon hearing some of us Urdu speaking and hiding there. Just that one particular vivid image still brings shivers to my spine. Abbu was on the bed with a blanket up to their head. Ammi opened the door and spoke to those guys in Bengali. One of the boys shouted. There was a wristwatch of abbu shining out of blanket. He fired a bullet, and I started crying. Ammi said something to them again, taking me in her arms, and they left. We survived that night and took shelter in a dargah, not to trouble our hosts. Then it's a long story. We traveled by air to Calcutta from Dhaka, then by road to Patna till we reached the Nepal-Bihar border town, and stayed in Kathmandu for seven months till repatriated by Pak govt and reached Karachi on January 3, 1974, by Afghan airline planes. The last thing I still remember is the large Qandhari apples served by the air hostess!


My father hated the Bengali language, never tried to learn it, and ridiculed my mother because she had mastered it! Luckily, that expertise saved us from our house to the airport, where my other siblings were forcefully kept quiet not to utter any Urdu word. Abbu decided to leave all the property and arranged our exit. Plane taking off from Dhaka airport still gives me heartache, and landing in Karachi airport after nine months via Calcutta, Patna, and Kathmandu is still nostalgic whenever I board or land airplanes. The feeling of being free to speak Urdu when we touched Pakistan airspace is priceless; that's why abbu always insisted that whatever he lost to come to Pakistan meant nothing. He used to say: "Bengali daulat cheen saktain hain, qismat aur aqal nhi." He started here from scratch again. And Ų§Ł„Ų­Ł…ŲÆŁ„Ł„Ū Ų¹Ł„ŪŒ Ś©Ł„ Ų­Ų§Ł„.


I never could come out of those images. Though very vivid, the pictures kept on taking shapes with continuous tales heard from grandparents, parents, and older cousins...dead bodies on streets...jiye bangla shouts...arsons...agents (some fake, some actual) taking money to get people across borders...changing residencies...lost childhood. I don't remember playing with toys and growing up by passing those years. I was 8 when we finally reached Pakistan.


When humans suffer in wars, zaban, aqeeda aur watan ki two kori ki auqat nahi rehti aur jaan bachane ke liye log aag ka darya paar ker ke mehfooz jagah dhoondte hain. In any warthe worst sufferers are women and children. Just spot any war in any country and follow the plight of their women and children in the following years. This pic has already made an unprecedented impact, just like in 1972 when a naked Vietnamese girl was made after the US napalm bombing and that dying kid in Darfur who was pictured moments before being eaten by vultures.


*

Monday, September 07, 2015

Sonya

(Previous 2 posts on Sonya here and here)

Ye 2004 ki baat hai

Meri residency ke baad pehli job thi. Sonya hamaare hospital ke cafeteria ke kitchen main kaam kerti thi. Uski umar 20-22 se ziyada nahi hogi (Allah jaane ab kahan hai). Main bohat arse tak usko hispanic samjhta raha. Main aksar usko hospital ke bahir tight jeans main cigarette peete huwe dekhta. Aik din hospital main kaam kerte huwe mujeh raat ke 11 baj gaye. Main hospital ki cafeteria main pauncha to sonya kitchen band ker ke safaii ker rahi thi. Mujeh dekh ker Urdu main boli: "Doctor sahab! kitchen to close ker diya. Magar aap betho main kuch le ker aati hun."

Sonya mere liye andar se grilled cheese sandwich aur chicken noodle soup le aayi. 

Sonya se main ne kaha: "Tum desi ho? Mujeh to spanish lagti ho". Woh samjh gai main ye baat uski jeans ke hawale se keh raha hun.

 Usne mujeh bataya ke woh UK main aik Pakistani ghar main paida hui. Usi ke hawale se pehli baar mujeh UK main basne wale PakistanioN ki halate-zaar ka pata laga ke kese bohat saare Pakistani welfare pe aik ghetto - below the line of poverty - zindagi guzar rahe hain. Sonya ne aese hi ghutan ke mahol main aankh kholi. Us ne saara bachpan aik ke baad dusre 'foster homes' main guzara. Na to school theek naseeb hui aur na hi koi college. 19 baras ki hui to koi lalach de ker Chicago le aaya magar uski niyyat koi aur kaam kerwane ki thi. Sonya women shelter main chali gai aur phir kisi tarah hamare hospital main job kerne lagi.

Sonya ki kahani sun ker main ne kaha: "Tumhe gussa nahi aata?"

Usne jawab diya: "Jab mere Allah ne mere liye aik cheez likh di hai to main kaun hoti hun shikwa kerne wali" - Ye baat sun ker mujeh halka sa jhatka laga jo har lamhe Allah se gila-mand rehta tha.

 Ye woh zamana tha jab main apne bete ki bimari se pareshan rehta tha. Jab main ne use bataya to bare sakoon se boli: "Jis ne zindagi di hai, wahi sahet bhi dega aur in choti choti bimarion se usi ka immune system strong hoga. Aap doctor zaroor hain magar nafsiyati tor pe bohat insecure hain." - Ye dusra jhatka tha.

Allah pe us ka iman is qadar mustahkam tha us ki annkhon aur chehre pe sirf itminan tha. Use hamari tarah koi jaldi nahi thi. Aik din cafeteria ki lambi line se meri jhillahat dekh ker boli: "Sir! ye choti choti batain sabar ki training hoti hain. Line main khare ho ker dusre insaanon ko dekha kijye, dil ki duniya aasooda ho jaaye gi." - Sonya ne bachpan main hi burhapa te ker liya tha.

Sonya ko UK ke foster homes main reh ker tight jeans pehnne ki adat ho gai thi, use cigarette peene ki lat lag gai thi. Is liye yahan masjid nahi jaati thi kiunke log use misfit samjhte the. Woh ghar pe hi namaz parh leti thi. Agle 6 mahine usse se baat hoti rahi (phir main ne Chicago choR diya). Roz woh koi aesi baat keh jaati ke main sun (numb) ho jaata. Aik din usne kaha: "Mujeh Allah ki talash nahi. Woh to har su basa huwa dikhta hai. Main to uske andar apne aap ko khoj rahi hun"!

Jab main ne Sonya ko bataya ke main kal Chicago choR ke ja raha hun to boli aap 2 ghante baad mujh se mil ker jaayye ga. Woh job se ghar gai - mere liye Suraf falaq ki khubsurat hand embroidery le aayi. Kehne lagi: "aap ka masla zindagi ki 'rat-race' hai - isi ko hasad kehte hain. Yahi shaR hai. Yahi Uqad hai. Yahi Gasaq aur Waqab hai - Khalaq se uth ker falaq ki fiqar rakhaiN, sab theek ho jaaye ga" !

Kamini saare lafzoN ki tafseer aur mere andar ki har bimari ki taabir - aik lafz 'rat-race' se ker gai !!!!

10 baras baad jab main ne naya house khardia to living room main Sonya ki embroidery aawezaaN ker di. Log aate hain, mujh kafir ko dekhte hain, phir deewar pe surah falaq ko dekhte hain - woh kiya samjhaiN har roz yahi surah falaq meri naal kheench ke rakhti hai - Aur - Allah Jaane ye ilm kis falaq se, raat ke kis paher, us ke bandoN ko ataa hota hai - jo na to kisi library main dekha aur na kisi aalim ko kasab huwa.

Sochta hun Muhammad ki Iqra wali baat theek hi hogi !!!!!


You may hear this post here

Sunday, September 06, 2015

Mehman

Jab log aap ko apne ghar pe 'invite' kerte hain - mehmaan bulate' hain - to apni zaat ka aik hissa khol dete hain jahan se unki kai bariikiaN aur kamzoriaN bhi jhankti hain. Ye aitmaad ka aik izhar hota hai. 

Bahir jaa ker us ghar ki kisi se buraii kerna bohat hi be-zarf si baat hai.

Saturday, September 05, 2015

Sureh Falaq (Sonya - 2)

Sonya (here) ne aik dafa aik baat kahi thi - jo mujeh aksar yaad aati hai ke

"Sureh falaq sirf us waqt nahi paRi jaati jab haasidoN ka dar ho, bulke jab khud ke dil main kisi ke liye hasad paida ho to bhi ye us aag se bacha leti hai"

Sochta hun - ye Allah ke kese bande hain jin ke diloN main paRa ilm na to kisi tafseer main parha aur na kisi maulvi se suna. 

Friday, September 04, 2015

On "Urdu"

If you are an Urdu lover - its a must watch. Javed Akhtar on history and dynamics of Urdu.

 

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Woman

I am not sure if this is really from Osho (Bhagwan Rajneesh) as I never read or follow much on him (pardon my ignorance). But I liked this quote on internet


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

On 'Final Good Bye'

Recently I had a friend who let me go - and that's ok - eventually, we all moved out in our respective trains from this central station. I was sad for a few days. It reminded me of dialogue from the movie 'Life of Pi" (I don't think this line was in the actual novel).

"I wept like a child, not because I was overwhelmed at having survived, although I was. I was weeping because Richard Parker left me so... unceremoniously. It broke my heart.You know, my father was right. Richard Parker never saw me as his friend. After all we'd been through, he didn't even look back. But I have to believe that there was more in his eyes than my own reflection staring back at me. I know I felt it - even if I can't prove it. I just wish...            

You know, I've left so much behind. My family, the zoo, Anandi, India - I suppose in the end the whole of life becomes an act of letting go. But what always hurts the most is not taking the moment to say goodbye.......... And I know he was a tiger, but I wish I'd said: 'It's over. We've survived. Thank you for saving my life. I love you, Richard Parker. You will always be with me. May God be with you."


Note:  It's a beautiful mystical novel of a fight of oneself with his or her own inner ego. Unfortunately, the movie, though keeps you occupied and done very well - failed to convey the actual theme of the novel.

Previous posts on the movie and the novel here and here

*

Sunday, August 23, 2015

React or Respond

Internet pe phir kisi ne ye baat forward ki to peechle janam ki aik baat yaad aa gai.

Jab hum college main naye naye gaye to bare jazbati hote the. 1984 ka zamana tha jab General Zia ki hukumat ne students pe haat daalna shuru kiya. Hum us ke khilaf roz pathrao kerne, jaloos nikalne aur police ki lathi, aansoo gas khane - college ki saath saRak pe nikal jaate. Tab hamare aik teacher hume roz rokte aur kehte: "Bure halat React kerne se nahi, soch samjh ke Respond kerne se theek hote hain". 

Aadhi umar guzrne pe samjh aaya, waqiyaat pe hamara koi akhtiyar nahi, woh hote rehte hain - hum ya to react ker ke bigaR lain - ya soch samjh ke respond ker ke - zindagi main aage barhte chalye jaayaiN.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Qabile parastish

"Qabile Taarif hai woh shaks jo jalte makan se kisi bachhe ko bacha laaye, magar qabile parastish hai woh shaks jo jalte makan se na sirf bachhe ko bacha laaye bulke us ke khilonoN ko bhi bacha laaye"  
(Jan Novakoff)

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Tourist

A tourist visited a Sufi.

He was astonished to see that the Sufi's home was a simple room.
The only furniture was a mat and a kerosene lamp.

Tourist :"Sufi, where's your furniture?"
Sufi : "Where is yours?"
Tourist : "Mine? But I'm only a visitor here."
Sufi : "So am I !!"

Sunday, August 09, 2015

Tohfe

"Kiya ye sach hoga ke - jab doston ke tohfe khona shuru ho jaain to dostian bhi toot jaati hain"

Saturday, August 08, 2015

Sufism and Homosexuality- On submission

Sufism has always been alleged either subtly and at few places loudly with practice of homosexuality. Tons of articles have been written on it and writing anything further here would be a cure of insomnia. Personally, I never found any evidence throughout history which attest, condone or provides any evidence of encouragement of this practice in any sect of sufism. I believe whole confusion arise from the notion in literature of sufism in which sufi praises, call or beg his hadi or mursheed as a male and label himself as his bride - like Maulana Rumi for his master Shams Tabrizi or when Amir Khusrow says: Mohay suhagan kini, rey mosey naina milaayke ( You've made me your bride, by just a glance). (see here)

After above said, I had an interesting conversation with one friend on psychology of submission between man and woman, and use of this psych in sufi practice. By nature Man carries a huge inflated Ego and in his own brain he (likes to) see himself as a God who can provide, nurture and protect against any afat. And woman by nature seeks a perfect man whom she can submit to seek all these and feels complete. As Bashir Badar said beautifully:

 Mujeh apni chadar se yun dhaanp lo, 
Zameen aa'sman kuch dikhaii na dey

I was told above explanation does not hold any water in modern time. I disagree. Man and woman are creatures born with given psychology. And why man seeks woman is another topic.

On side note, submission or to pretend submission is an art and may become a weapon of manipulation, through which woman since time of eve is fucking man's mind!

Friday, August 07, 2015

Zakat (Jurmana-2)

Main ne aik blogpost (click Jurmana) pe Naeem sahab ka zikar kiya tha. Unki 2 aur batain mujeh yaad aati hain. Ye woh umar thi, jab aadmi dusroN se bewaqoofana sawal pooch leta hai, aur bolne se pehle sochta nahi. Main ne un se poocha:

"To phir aap kitne muslman hain?"

Unhon ne jawab diya: "Qalma parh ker muslman ho gaya magar namaz nahi parhta, roze nahi raktha. Haj ab tak nahi kiya - magar haan zakat zaroor hisab se de deta hun?"

"woh kiun?"

"Woh is liye, ke main ne zindagi main dekha hai ke aik insan, dusre insaan ko sab kuch muaaf ker deta hai, magar ziyada ter log aik dusre ko paise muaaf nahi kerte - insaan lalchi aur harees jo thera. Rab ne insaan ko apni surat banaya hai, to sochta hun namaz roze, haj se to bachat ho jaaye gi magar zakat dusre insaano ka haq hai, woh mujhe nahi choRain ge - aur is muamle main na rab choRe ga. Bus khud ki bachat ke liye ye technical game khelta hun"

Main is mantiq pe sir khujata reh gaya.
  
Ye duniya ajeeb ajeeb hoshruba insanon se bhari hai !!!

Thursday, August 06, 2015

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

A quote

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.  ~ Aristotle

Monday, August 03, 2015

Small things matter

Q: Daddy ! why it is necessary to shut off cell phones in theater?
A: Because such small things matter in life.

Sunday, August 02, 2015

Minions

(On central theme of movie minions)

Insaan ne apne irtaqa' ke agaz se hi apne khuda ki talash ki hai.

Aur khud hi apne har purane maa'bood ko sangsaar ker ke
aik naye maa'bood ko tarasha hai.

Kabhi janwar ki to kabhi pathar ki pooja ki hai. 
Kabhi suraj ke aage jhuka hai to kabhi ilhaad ke gaar main jiya hai. 

Jang-o-jadal ka shikar hua hai
aur kabhi bhoot pareet ko jaancha hai

Kabhi do khudaoN ke beech pees ker dui ki bu se bezaar hua hai. 
to kabhi Yagana-o-yakta ka janjaal saha hai.

Us ne wahid se wahdat ka safar kaata hai. 

Isi chakkar main shaitani quwwatoN ka aala'-e-kaar bana hai. 

Aik khuda ke sir pe taj pehna ke, 
usi taj ki talash main sayyaroN se aage ke jahan ka mutlashi huwa hai

Insaan ne ye safar  sirf aik dusre ka haat tham ke kaata hai
Insaaniat ka ye safar hi shayed mantaqi ut-tayyar ki kahani hai

 (Movie trailer here)

Listen audio of this post below

 

Saturday, August 01, 2015

On 'Hurting'

"Muhabbat ki sab se ahsan surat kiya hoti hai?"
"Jab ye khayal rahe ke mujh se kisi ko koi takleef na paunche"

Friday, July 31, 2015

Coffee Cup and Professor


A group of friends visited their old university professor. Conversation soon turned to complaints about 'STRESS' & 'TENSION' in Life. Professor offered them Coffee & returned from kitchen with Coffee in different kinds of cups !!! (Glass Cups, Crystal Cups, Shining Ones, Some Plain Looking, Some Ordinary & Some Expensive Ones)

... When all of them had a Cup in Hand, the professor said:- "If you noticed- all the Nice Looking & Expensive Cups are taken up, leaving behind the ordinary ones! Every one of you wanted the Best CUPS, that is the source of your STRESS & TENSION !! What you really wanted was "Coffee", not the "Cup"! But you still went for the Best Cup. If Life is Coffee ; Then Jobs, Money, Status & Love etc. are the Cups!!! They are just TOOLS to hold and contain Life.

 Please Don't Let the CUPS Drive you !! Enjoy the COFFEE!!!

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Blessing

"You look very happy today?"
"Somebody said something amazing to me"
"?"
"You are a blessing. This one simple sentence means a lot to me."

Thursday, July 23, 2015

"Mum"

In response to my previous post 'Patricia' (here), Uncle Saugoree posted following bio-portrait

" When in UK many years ago I was working in a 'peripheral' hospital "House physicians/surgeons including senior and 'registrars' were mostly "foreigners' except one Englishman. We were all housed in residential quarters with attached kitchen and some food stuff was supplied by the hospital if someone would not like to eat in the hospital doctors dining room. We were served by maids who would sometime also cook for us Indeed some ladies had learned desi "curry" cooking from female Indian doctors (and yes we could get poories). These maids 'served' doctors very well. One of them was elderly but loved us all and sometimes in bad weather someone from us would drive her home when she finished working. Because of her 'devotion' and love we called her "mum" except one Indian doctor who always called her "Mrs. Thrower' (That was her name) and we all would object to his behavior. Just one example of her "motherly attitude" and why we called her "Mum": One evening one of us complained about the poor quality of fruits being served supplied by the hospital. Next day we got good quality fresh fruits on our table. Yes, you guessed it right. Mum bought from her own pocket from the market so that we do not complain any more."

You can read at his blog http://saugoree.blogspot.com/2015/07/mum.html

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Mukammal Aurat

"Tum saat samandar paar ker ke sirf mujh se milne kiun aaye ho. Kiya mujh se muhabbat kerte ho?"

"Muhabbat to nahi kerta magar haan - Is liye ke main dekhna chahta tha mukammal aurat (complete woman) kesi hoti hai?"

"Ye mukammal aurat kiya hoti hai?"

"Sarapa-wajood-e-Zan insaan ki zindagi ko rangoN se bhar deti hai. Woh jo Faiz ne kha ke

Champaai rang kabhi, raahat-e-deedaar ka rang 
Surmayi rang ke hai sa’at-e-bezaar ka rang 
Zard patton ka, khas-o-khaar ka rang 
Surkh phoolon ka, dehekte huwe gulzaar ka rang 
Zehar ka rang, lahu rang, shab-e-taar ka rang

"Phir?"

"Phir ye ke  jab woh teen dusri aurton ke saath mehfil main bethti hai, to aap ka jee chahta hai aap sirf usey dekhain. Us ki muskurahat sab se munfarid hoti hai - jis main garmi bhi hai, harkat bhi, tawanii bhi - Us ki aankhon main bala ka samandar hota hai"

"Magar ye to bohat si aurton main hota hai?"

"Haan magar mukammal aurat woh hoti hai, jo wisal ke baad bhi mard ko baar baar apni taraf khenchti hai. Jese koi badshah Qilaa fatah ker ke phir wahiN laut aaye. Bas ye aik aesa imtiaaz hai jo mukammal aurat ko baqi aurtoN se afzal kerta hai....Yahi woh mukammal aurat hai jis ki tasveer sadioN se har musaweer ne banane ki koshish ki hai' .