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