Gar Mujeh Is ka YaqeeN ho

It is questionably attributed to Chekhov that: "Any Idiot Can Face a Crisis; It’s This Day-To-Day Living That Wears You Out!" Like any other human, I have my those days and certainly many of my friends around. Years ago, I used to find solace in Faiz's following poem - and then life went on another path - but today after years I felt like listening again - talking to myself! - talking to my those friends!

Gar mujhey iska yaqeeN ho, mere humdum, mere dost
gar mujhey iska yaqeeN ho, ke tere dil ki thakan
teri ankhooN ki udasi, tere seeney ki jalan
meri dil_jooi, mere pyar se mit jaey gee
gar mera harf-e-tasalli voh dava ho,
jis se ji uThey phir tera ujd.ra hoa bai_noor dimag
teri paishanee se dhul jaiN yeh tazleel ke daagh
teri beemar javani ko shifa ho jaey

gar mujhey iska yaqeeN ho, mere humdum mere dost

 roz-o-shab, shaam-o-sehar, maiN tujhey bhelata rahoon
maiN tujhey geet sunata rahoon, halkey sheereen
 absharoon ke, baharoon ke, chaman_zarooN ke geet
amad-e-subh ke, mehtaab ke, sayyarooN ke geet
tujh se maiN husn-o-mohabbat ki hikayaat kahooN

 Kaisey maghroor haseenaooN ke barfaab se jism
garm hathoon ki hararat se pighal jatey haiN
 Kaisey ik chehrey ke Thaihrey hoey manoos naqoosh
dekhtey dekhtey yaklakht badal jatey haiN
kis tarah aariz-e-mehboob ka shafaf bilor
yakbayak baada-e-ahmer se dehak jata hai
 kaisey gulcheen ke liye jhuktee hai Khud shaaKh-e-gulaab
 Kis tarah raat ka aiwaan mehak jata hai

 yoonhee gata rahoon, gata rahooN,
teri Khatir geet bunta rahooN, baiTha rahoo, tere Khatir

par mere geet tere dukh ka madava hi nahi
naghma jarrah nahi, moonis-o-gum_Khuwar sahi
geet nashtar to nahi, marham-e-azar sahi
tere azar ka charaa nahi nashtar ke siva
aur yeh safaak maseeha mere qabzey main nahi
 is jahaN ke kisi zee_rooh ke qabzey maiN nahi

Haan magar tere sewwa tere seewa tere seewa

Wrong Number

Someone emailed me following ultra-short story, after reading our previous musing on it here (with request to keep it anonymous

"Wrong number", Said a familiar voice.

Line of Oldhood

Aadmi zindagi ki tamam tar tawanii ke saath chalta rehta hai, bulke doRta rehta hai
 - aur phir aik dam se ek din ehsaas hota hai ke umar ki aik lakeer aai thi jab

umar kab ki baras ke sufed ho gai

Perdes

(This blog is more of a portal of people living away from their land of origin)

Following is a piece of conversation, I thoroughly enjoyed - and speak a lot of brain drain from third world countries. One of my class fellow recently received a letter confirming his full professorship in Medicine in one of the top ivy league university. I called him to congratulate.

"Yaar! bohat bohat mubarak ho! Duniya ki sab se bari university main full professorship of Medicine - woh bhi itni young age main. I am really proud of you".

Us ne zor ka qehqaha lagaya aur jawab diya:

"Bhai! main to yahan sirf roti kamane aaya tha! magar in haramioN ne kisi aur hi raaste pe laga diya"!!

L'Esprit de l'Escalier / Moazzam Sheikh

If you ask me to pick 3 top writers of South Asian origin in North America: I will put in descending order: Rohinton Mistry, Jhumpa Lahiri and Moazzam Sheikh.

Unfortunately, Moazzam sahab remained interested in teaching and translation, and never went beyond short stories. He has been mentioned as Woody Allen of South Asian genre but I feel he is more like a Saadat Hasan Manto of second generation Desi-Americans. I wish someday he writes proper full blown novel.

He carries a sharpness of dagger in his sentences and usually at the end of the story leave a lot to readers' imaginations. Let me write one line from his short story "Invisible Strands" - "..he couldn't like a nation (germany) that lost 2 wars in a row..".

But his story "L'Esprit de l'Escalier" is so far the best work I read. It is a story of a young man who is left emotionally weak due to abusive father and possessive mother. It is a story of a kid who cannot establish assertive relationship due to psychological traumas. Let me-write lines from story that may convey the depth of his writing:

"...Regardless of what mother said about you, you being a dirty old man, a skirt chaser, a wife-beater, a son-beater, I knew there was another you buried in you, half dead, half alive, and I kept searching for that half-alive you, in you, but you tried your best to not bring him along. You hobbled without a shadow. I knew you were going crazy, suffering from some kind of chemical imbalance that most men in this world suffer from. And do you remember ? You liked to put on your father's ties you had saved for so long ? You liked them so much. You told me I could have them when I grew up. But I didn't want those ties. You cursed mother out of habit and chemical imbalance. I wanted to break the cycle. Although I don't have your ties, I am not so sure I have been able to break the cycle. Partially, I have become like you, incapable of being happy, and partially like mother, unable to pull myself out of depression, unable to stop eating  and eating, bloating, drawing a blank."


(Related post: A quote)


* L'esprit de l'escalier is a French term for the predicament of thinking of the perfect reply too late.

Kamzor lamhe - 2

(Almost 10 years ago, I blogged a little post on kamzor lamhe here )

Har insaan ki zindagi main 2 tarah ke kamzor lamhe aate hain. 

Aik to woh jis main insaan maayus ho jaata hai, bad-dil ho jata hai, ro paRta hai, udas ho jaata hai, zabt ke saare bandhan TooT jaate hain, insaan kisi ke aage vent bhi ker leta hai.

Magar aik kamzor lamha woh bhi hota hai jis se insaan dusre logon ke haaton do char ho jaata hai.  Jab insaan ko apni izzate-nafs bachane ki zaroorat paR jaati hai. Insaan ki self-respect dao pe lag jaati hai.  Ye woh lamhe hote hain jab khamoshi jurm ban jaati hai. 

Ye woh lamhe hote hain, jin ki aik saa'at main sadioN ki qayamataiN saath guzar jaati hain

Mujeh zindani main kabhi kisi baat ka regret nahi raha: siwaaye un lamhoN ke,  jab mujeh apne aap ko bachana chahiye tha, bolna chahiye tha, walk out ker jaana chahiye tha, aehtjaj kerna chahiye tha.... 

Sabir hone main aur kamzor hone main aik bohat hi baareek lakeer hoti hai.

On "Antagonism of Two Basic Needs"

(Taken from Bron Zeage' novel Nina September) - here

“There is something you have to understand.” The tone of his voice changed and Little One knew he demanded her complete attention. She shook her head to clear the images of last night and prepared to receive her lesson.  “We are all born with two basic needs in our heart. The first is to feel safe and secure. This is what a parent does for a child. The child does nothing in return. It is unconditional love.” Little One felt a twinge in her belly. It was a strange lesson for someone who never had a parent. 

“My parents never made me feel safe and secure,” Little One said quietly. 

“You don’t know,” he replied. “Leaving you at the Home may have been the best they could do, it may have been the only thing they could do. You were safe and secure, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Little One answered. She was glad her face was turned away from Daddy. “So, what’s the second need?” She tried not to sound petulant.

“The second need is to feel valued and desired. This need is so strong, we will eagerly give up all safety and security to pursue it.”

Cross-pollination

There was a farmer who grew excellent quality corn. Every year he won the award for the best grown corn. One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors.

“How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year???????” the reporter asked.

Said the farmer, “Didn’t you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn.”

So is with our lives..!!!

The fact is, none of us truly wins, until we all win!!

Life of Potato

~ ke danaa khak main mil ker gule gulzaar hota hai

Recently one of the portrait of organic irish potato sold for 1.08 million dollars. Though I still think it was an idiotic affair but it led me to dig into news further to understand what makes the buyer so interested  in spending such a huge amount of money.

And it was interesting!

Potato never sees good weather and stays in dirt! Potato's life is full of misery but at the end it provides taste to all human foods. Best time to harvest potato is in fall until the tops of the vines have died! and it needs to finish its life beneath the soil in dirt before winter, and need to be shoveled before frost arrive. It is a very delicate tuber and can't be allowed to freeze.  Does following line sounds familiar to you: 

"The skins of mature potatoes are thick and firmly attached to the flesh. If the skins are thin and rub off easily, your potatoes are still too ‘new’ and should be left in the ground for a few more days".

On "Chemical Dependence"

I blogged various times on depression, schizophrenia and other so called "mental illnesses". One of my friend is courageously fighting bouts of depression and wants "not to be dependent on chemicals", and trying to wean himself off anti-depressants - probably as it is a stigma in our cultures and societies. But more and more we are learning that these are not psychological diseases but are physiological illnesses. And in the end, we all are dependent on chemicals as our symbiotic relationship with nature. From ayurvedic and homeopathic medicine to modern pharmaceutical treatment - or from addiction of coffee to simple massage of warm water - we are, in one way or another, dependent on chemicals.

My finest lesson came from a 80 years old patient in clinic who came to find a new doctor as his previous GP died: I asked him: "how he made it to this age without any major medical problem, and still looks 60?". He replied: "My previous GP was smart enough to know that my only problem is insomnia, and he was gracious enough to prescribe me a sleeping pill for every night. I slept well in last 50 years and it kept me away from other illnesses".

Ibne Maryam huwa kare koi
Mere Dard ki dawa kare koi

I don't want any other Mani in our communities !!!!  Here

Related posts ; Here, Here

On "One Unique Edge" / Dr. Bawani

Over my career, I had hundreds of residents, fellows and other house staff working with me. Most of them finished their tenure and moved on with their profession. Some were excellent and some were mere mediocre. But one fellow who is still remembered in our department was Dr. Bawani. It is now almost 3 years since he left after his fellowship as a vascular surgeon. It led me to think what made him so different from others as be punctual, hard working, intelligent, good bed manners etc. should not be factors as many many others have all those. Actually, what made him unique over hundreds of others is one of his unusual habit. After every surgery, he used to draw a beautiful picture on paper of vascular bypasses done, label it - and to be a part of medical chart. It made things very easy and visual for non surgical staff as they exactly knew what happened in OR.

Those of us, who find that one unique distinguishing edge in their work makes a real difference.