Interesting perspective on love

 

Cobra Effect

Checked few references before posting. Seems like a cedible story

 

 دہلی کے دو بڑے دفاع تھے‘ سانپ اور ساون۔ 

دہلی میں ساون کا مہینہ بہت سخت ہوتا تھا‘ مون سون شروع ہوتے ہی آسمان دریا بن جاتا تھا‘ یہ بارش دہلی کے مضافات کو دلدل بنا دیتی تھی اور یوں فوجی گاڑیاں اور گھوڑے مفلوج ہو کر رہ جاتے تھے‘ بارش کے بعد حبس اور ہیضہ دونوں حملہ آور فوج پر حملہ کر دیتے تھے‘ سپاہی وردی اتارنے پر مجبور ہو جاتے تھے لیکن آفت کم نہیں ہوتی تھی‘ اسہال اور قے اس کے بعد اگلی مصیبتیں ہوتی تھیں‘ یہ مصیبتیں ابھی جاری ہوتی تھیں کہ پردیسیوں پر مچھر بھی یلغار کر دیتے تھے اور یوں لشکر ملیریا میں بھی مبتلا ہو جاتا تھا‘ حملہ آور فوج کے جو سپاہی ملیریا سے بچ جاتے تھے وہ کوبرا سانپوں کا نشانہ بن جاتے تھے‘ دہلی کے مضافات میں لاکھوں کروڑوں کوبرا سانپ تھے‘ ہندو سانپ کو دیوتا مانتے ہیں‘ یہ سانپ کو مارتے نہیں تھے چنانچہ دہلی کے مضافات سانپ گھر بن چکے تھے‘ یہ سانپ بھی ملیریا کی طرح تخت کے محافظ تھے‘ یہ حملہ آوروں کی باقی ماندہ فوج کو ڈس لیتے تھے‘ یہ سانپ تیمور کےلئے بھی مسئلہ بنے اور جب 1857ءکی جنگ کے بعد انگریزوں نے دہلی پر قبضہ کیا تو یہ ان کےلئے بھی چیلنج بن گئے‘ انگریز سپاہی روز دہلی میں کسی نہ کسی کوبرے کا نشانہ بن جاتے تھے‘ آپ کو آج بھی دہلی کے گورا قبرستان میں ایسے سینکڑوں انگریزوں کی قبریں ملیں گی جن کی موت سانپ کے ڈسنے سے ہوئی تھی‘

 انگریز دہلی کے سانپوں سے عاجز آ گئے لہٰذا انہوں نے ان سے نبٹنے کےلئے ایک دلچسپ سکیم بنائی‘ انہوں نے دہلی کے مضافات میں ”سانپ ماریں اور انعام پائیں“ کا اعلان کر دیا‘ انگریز اسسٹنٹ کمشنر سانپ مارنے والوں کو نقد انعام دیتے تھے‘یہ انعام چند دنوں میں تجارت بن گیا‘ دہلی کے لوگ کوبرا مارتے‘ اس کی لاش ڈنڈے پر لٹکاتے اور اے سی کے دفتر کے سامنے کھڑے ہو جاتے اور اے سی کا اردلی سانپ گن کر انہیں انعام کی رقم دے دیتا‘ یہ سلسلہ چل پڑا‘ سینکڑوں لوگ اس کاروبار سے وابستہ ہو گئے‘ دہلی میں سانپ کم ہونے لگے یہاں تک کہ ایک ایسا وقت آ گیا جب سانپ کے شکاری سارا دن مارے مارے پھرتے لیکن کوئی سانپ ان کے ہتھے نہیں چڑھتا تھا‘ اس صورتحال نے ان لوگوں کو پریشان کر دیا‘ کیوں؟ کیونکہ سانپ کشی ان کا روزگار بن چکا تھا‘ ان لوگوں کو سانپ پکڑنے کے سوا کچھ نہیں آتا تھا اور دہلی میں سانپ ختم ہوتے جا رہے تھے‘ ان لوگوں نے اس کا ایک دلچسپ حل نکالا‘ سپیروں نے گھروں میں سانپ پالنے شروع کر دیئے‘ یہ گھروں میں سانپ پالتے‘ یہ سانپ جب ”سرکاری سائز“ کے برابر ہو جاتے تو یہ روز ایک سانپ مارتے‘ اس کی لاش لے کر اے سی کے دفتر پہنچتے اور انعام لے کر گھر واپس آ جاتے‘ سپیروں کا روزگار ایک بار پھر چل پڑا مگر یہ راز زیادہ دنوں تک راز نہ رہ سکا‘ انگریزوں کو اس کاروبار کی اطلاع مل گئی‘ وائسرائے نے میٹنگ بلائی اور اس میٹنگ میں سپیروں کو انعام دینے کی سکیم ختم کرنے کا فیصلہ کر لیا‘ انگریز سرکار نے ہرکاروں کے ذریعے دہلی کے مضافات میں منادی کرا دی ”کل سے سانپ مارنے والے کسی شخص کو انعام نہیں ملے گا“ یہ اعلان سانپ پکڑنے اور مارنے والوں کے سر پر چٹان بن کر گرا اور وہ لوگ مایوس ہو گئے‘ اس وقت ان لوگوں کے قبضے میں لاکھوں سانپ تھے‘ ان لوگوں نے وہ تمام سانپ مایوسی کے عالم میں کھلے چھوڑ دیئے‘ وہ سانپ دہلی اور اس کے مضافات میں پھیل گئے‘ یہ سانپوں کی نسل کشی کے دن تھے‘ سانپوں نے انڈے بچے دیئے اور یوں دہلی میں انسان کم اور سانپ زیادہ ہو گئے‘ انگریزوں نے تحقیق کی‘ پتہ چلا یہ سانپ انعامی سکیم سے پہلے کے سانپوں سے دس گنا زیادہ ہیں‘ اس صورتحال سے ایک اصطلاح نے جنم لیا‘ وہ اصطلاح تھی ”کوبرا ایفیکٹ“ آج بھی جب کسی برائی کو مارنے کی کوشش کی جاتی ہے اور اس کوشش کے نتیجے میں وہ برائی دوگنی ہو جاتی ہے تو اسے ”کوبرا ایفیکٹ“ کہا جاتا ہے۔

A quote

 

Teacher! (rather ustad)

When Dr. Abdus Salam won the Nobel Prize in December 1979, he issued a request to the Indian government seeking to locate his teacher Professor Anilendra Ganguly, who had taught him mathematics at the Sanatan Dharma College in Lahore. However, following Partition, Professor Ganguly had migrated to India. Finally, two years after winning the Nobel Prize, Dr. Salam went to pay his respects to Professor Ganguly at the latter’s residence in South Kolkata on January 19, 1981. 

The teacher was feeble and unable to sit up and greet him when Dr. Salam visited him in his house. Dr. Salam took his Nobel medal and said that: ‘Mr. Anilendra Ganguly this medal is a result of your teaching and love of mathematics that you instilled in me,’ and he put the medal around his teachers’ neck,”

 

Religion and Science

Religion and Science can't be defined better than this.

 

 

Zindagi ki aik kask

 Ye aik ajeeb si baat hai

Qudrat har insaan ke dil main  - zindagi ki rah main - aik kaash - aik kask - choR jaati hai

Kaash main aesa ker leta/leti

Kaash main wesa ker leta/leti

Kisi ko muhabbat ke raaste main galat faisle ki kask, kisi ko shadi ke muamle main kask

kisi ko 'career' main koi 'opportunity' choR dene ki kasak

Yahi kasak saari zindagi insaan ki kick bani rehi hai - jis ke saahare woh aage baRhta rehta hai - I guess a form of psychological compensation.

Aga Hashar ki aik ghazal

 Although Aga Hashar is known in Urdu literature as a pioneer of drama/theater, he was a good poet too. We rarely hear/see his poetry. Here is one

Interesting take!

Still not sure if I agree with this but find it thought-provoking. 

 

 

The judgement of a split second

 It was 2017. I was in London for a conference. As it was hard to find a cheap and decent hotel around the conference center, I stayed away from London in a smaller town named Burgess Hill and decided to take the bus - I explicitly remember bus # 523. It was summertime, so it was good to walk and enjoy the bus ride.

One eve., as I was on this side of the road, I saw bus #523 at the stop on the other side of the road. I thought I could jaywalk the main road and catch the bus. I had an old English man standing beside me. He said: "Don't Do! There is no way you can catch that bus". Knowing my skills of catching buses from Karachi, I asked, 'how you know?' He smiled in the classic English style and answered in an accent. "I know because when you live in an area for decades, you gain enough experience and the skill of judgment of a split second." 

For many days, I thought about his notion of the judgment of a split second. Indeed, when you get experience in any matter of life, what makes you superior to a novice is a split second, which makes the difference. The whole wisdom is about gaining that split of a second.

Why we want future

 

Fourth Wall

 Insaan zindagi main baRe drame kerta hai - aur jawani main kuch ziyada hi. 

When I was 19, I gave an audition at the Karachi Arts council for acting. To imitate India, Pakistani actors were getting serious about formal training in acting. To make a story short, I was selected (which I never pursue after a few classes). The first lecture was from actor Talat Hussain. On that day, I realized he is indeed an actor of high caliber with a depth of knowledge in literature and human emotions. On that day, he said a beautiful thing.

"Actor's biggest obstacle is the fourth wall. An actor on stage has three walls around him but there is an unseen wall between him and an audience. You need to learn to break that wall and connect with your audience. That's the only skill you might need all your life even if you are not an actor. You will need this everywhere. This skill of connecting with the soul and psyche of your audience to strike the cord is the essence of your success".

Ana'a

 

Patthar

 The following is considered the hallmark poem of Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi. Reportedly was written when a student at the National College of Arts, Lahore made his sculpture. The photo was taken at that moment and history and poem both were saved.

پتھر - احمد ندیم قاسمی

ریت سے بت نہ بنا اے مرے اچھے فن کار

ایک لمحے کو ٹھہر میں تجھے پتھر لا دوں

میں ترے سامنے انبار لگا دوں لیکن

کون سے رنگ کا پتھر ترے کام آئے گا

سرخ پتھر جسے دل کہتی ہے بے دل دنیا

یا وہ پتھرائی ہوئی آنکھ کا نیلا پتھر

جس میں صدیوں کے تحیر کے پڑے ہوں ڈورے

کیا تجھے روح کے پتھر کی ضرورت ہوگی

جس پہ حق بات بھی پتھر کی طرح گرتی ہے

اک وہ پتھر ہے جو کہلاتا ہے تہذیب سفید

اس کے مرمر میں سیہ خون جھلک جاتا ہے

ایک انصاف کا پتھر بھی تو ہوتا ہے مگر

ہاتھ میں تیشۂ زر ہو تو وہ ہاتھ آتا ہے

جتنے معیار ہیں اس دور کے سب پتھر ہیں

جتنی اقدار ہیں اس دور کی سب پتھر ہیں

سبزہ و گل بھی ہوا اور فضا بھی پتھر

میرا الہام ترا ذہن رسا بھی پتھر

اس زمانے میں تو ہر فن کا نشاں پتھر ہے

ہاتھ پتھر ہیں ترے میری زباں پتھر ہے

ریت سے بت نہ بنا اے مرے اچھے فن کار 

Paradox of history

As I was watching the USA's election in the doctor's lounge, one old-timer physician made an interesting comment: 

"It is interesting that in history, people have switched sides. In the Civil War, Republicans were in the North led by Abraham Lincoln and were anti-slavery. Pro-slavery conservative white democrats dominated the South. One hundred sixty years fast forward; the North is full of socialist democrats, and the South is red, more conservative states. Unfortunately, this is true throughout human history. Victims turned into aggressors; defenders became attackers; pacificists generated into warmongers; anti-this and pro that switched to anti-that and pro-this; and builders turned into destroyers or vice versa. Pick any nation, religion, or culture - you will see this phenomenon perpetually happening".

*

Kausar

 "Mubarak ho, beta ya beti?"

"Kausar" !!!

(I didn't know, Kausar means daughter too. And, it is used in the most loving term)

A quote

 

May 23

 One of my friends twice in a week make the same mistake with the subject line "May 23" on the Title slide while we were working out presentations for students for October 23 and November 23.

I asked: 'Why you are so obsessed with  May 23?'

He is from Chandigarh. We converse in Hindi. He said: 

"Yaar duniya main kuch taarikhain aesi hoti hain, dimag se chipak jaati hain.......I was in deep love with one girl back home in India. Unfortunately, it didn't work out. It's now 28 years but still whenever it's 23 my hand subconsciously type May 23. It was her birthday......... Yaar ye ishq aur lagao bari zalim cheezain hain. Lagta hai sab kuch bhool gaye, magar saath chipki rehti hain............I am a geriatrician. You know in senile dementia and Alzheimer's, people recall their past vividly. I deal with this phenomenon every day. Mere yaara it hurts".

Art of life

I enjoyed this quote very much. I think it is true. It all depends on how we find that line of passion in our everyday life.

 

One spanish folklore song

 I was 17 years old when I and one of my friend read two books by Mustansir Hussain Tarrar (aka chacha). One was "nikle teri talash main'" and other was "undalas main ajnabi". We literary planned to run away from home so we can go to Europe like he did. We went to Liaqat national library in Karachi, photocopied maps, drew our route, collected all details of the train route, and youth hostels along our route. We made our passports. This was the time when Iran and Turkey's borders were open for Europe. As it was bound to happen, someone came to know of our secret plan, reported to the family and it took another 25 years before I saw Europe in true sense! What took away our breath was chacha's flow of writing. It was mesmerizing. 

Salmon Run

 Salmon Run is one of the most intriguing phenomena of nature. I was first told about this by one of my patients, a professional fisherman in the pacific ocean. I didn't believe him. But when Google came, I learned he was right. Salmon can go as far as Japan but will return to spawn at her birthplace. She will spawn, become colorless, and act like a dead, so her eggs stay protected (big fishes don't come near/eat dead fish). 

Once her children leave for the river, she will die at her birthplace.

*

Aqlima

 I don't think anyone knows for sure but it is said that Aqlima was a sister of Habil and Qabil (Cain and Abel), and use to see fighting them from the mount. Fehmida Riaz described the agony of a woman in this beautiful poetry.

Note: Please see Saugoree uncle's comment in the comments below

Al-Nabi

 Here I am attaching the weblink of the Urdu translation of Khalil Jibran's famous book: "The prophet". This is one of the most read books in the world. I was 16 years old when I read this book. For months, I was in ecstasy and re-read its chapters again and again. This was a new world for me. Though over the years, I grew out of this book as harsh realities of life took a toll on childhood innocence. But this book is still very dear to me. There are other Urdu translations too, but I think this one has the best flow (By Habib Ashar Dehlvi).

http://www.mediafire.com/download/5t1y3y3r1d30zpb/Al-Nabi_-_Khalil_Jibran.pdf

(this is a download link, and will ask to get save on your computer. I have a copy. If you feel unsafe. Send me an email at zindagikidiary at yahoo. I will send you the copy).

Death - A ritual

 One of my close friends is in a home hospice due to metastatic colon cancer. Unfortunately, diagnosed too late. Despite COVID, I took a flight to go and see him. I was fortunate to spend some quality time with him (we were up till 4 AM for two days). There were many private talks, a lot of private messages for friends he is not in contact with. Together, we laughed browsing Facebook & Whatsapp memes, feel dejected on Pakistani physicians soulless politics, listened to Rafi Sahab songs, and searched girls we knew in college days. We drank a lot of chai made almost every couple of hours by his wife and puffed cigarettes.  

I realized the impending death of a known person is a powerful force for introspection. It makes you let go of many things, forgive many people, and look for forgiveness. He was happy to see me as we both were hard-headed at one point in our lives. We had arguments, and friendship has its ups and downs. When I was leaving, he said a beautiful thing with his usual smile; 

"Bhai, maut bhi aik rasm hi hai jo har insaan ko bilakhir nibhani paRti hai". (Death is also a ritual every human has to go through)

The year 2020, on the bright side, bring a lot of humility for me. I guess it made me relatively more humble and a feel-blessed human being. The return flight was somber. The flight was empty. I didn't even read the book. I quietly sipped some cold water. I am glad I skipped the mindless presidential debate. 

Worst thing to teach children

 Yesterday I got a piece of very sensible advice:

"Apni aulad pe sab se ziyada zulm tum us waqt kerte ho jab unhe nafrat kerna sikhate ho"

(The worst thing you can do to your children is to teach them to hate)

Immigrants!

-- فلسطین سے تعلق رکھنے والی عربی زبان کی مشہور شاعرہ فدویٰ طوقان کی ڈائری کا ایک ورق ---

مشمولہ: "عربی ادب میں مطالعے"، تحقیق و ترجمہ: محمد کاظم، سنگِ میل پبلی کیشنز، لاہور

آہ بہار! جس کی سانسوں میں شباب کی لپٹ ہوتی ہے۔ میں اپنی رگوں میں زندگی کو سرایت کرتے ہوئے محسوس کرتی ہوں۔ میں ابھی مشوار سے واپس آئی ہوں۔ آسماں پر چودہویں کا چاند تھا اور ہوا میں ہزاروں خوشبوؤں کی مہک تھی۔

میں ابھی اپنی دوست "ا۔ ن" کو اس کے خط کا جواب دوں گی۔ اس کے خط ہمیشہ موت کے ذکر سے بوجھل ہوتے ہیں۔ میں اُسے اپنے سفرِ مشوار کے متعلق بتاؤں گی کہ میں وہاں کھڑے ہوئے کیسے سوچتی تھی کہ اپنے دونوں ہاتھوں میں اس کی مٹی بھر لوں اور اس کی ہوا میں اتنا سانس لوں کہ میری طبیعت سیر ہوجائے اور میں کیسے اس کی پہاڑیوں کو دیکھ کر خواہش کرتی تھی کہ کاش ان میں سے کسی کی چوٹی پر پہنچ کر میری زندگی ختم ہوجاتی۔ ایسی جگہ پر موت کتنی مرغوب ہوتی ہے جہاں قبر میں پڑے ہوئے انسان کے جسم سے جنگلی پھول اور بیلیں بھوٹ نکلیں۔ 

میرا دیس کیسا خوب صورت ہے! یہ کیوں کر ممکن ہے کہ میں اس کے سوا کسی اور زمین پر جان دوں۔ میرے پیارے مہاجر انسانو! یہ کتنا ستم ہے کہ انسان اپنی زمین سے دور کسی اور زمین پر اجنبی ب کر مرے!۔۔۔۔۔۔ صرف اپنے آباء و اجداد کی سرزمین میں انسان اپنے آپ کو پھلتا پھولتا ہوا محسوس کرتا ہے اور اپنے اردگرد پھیلی ہوئی زندگی میں اسے ہم آہنگی کا احساس ہوتا ہے۔ 

A web!

We all are connected in a web of grey zone. As Mir Taqi Mir  said 

 nāhaq ham majbūroñ par ye tohmat hai muḳhtārī kī 

 chāhte haiñ so aap kareñ haiñ ham ko abas badnām kiyā

 

A Unique thought

We pass our death anniversary every year without knowing the date!  ~ Anonymous

Modern Medicine and the Shadow of Illness

 This is a cross-post from another physician. This is an interesting essay from Aasim Hasany, a physician at McMaster University.  It is an interesting read for physicians who struggled to put science in the broader context of spirituality. The link is at the end. It is part of a magazine, which itself deserved to be bookmarked.

"When we set aside the lens of the mechanistic worldview and open our “inward eye,” we begin to see the human body as a spiritual theophany (tajallī) rather than a complex earthly machine. The organs of our bodies and our physiological processes reveal themselves as more than impersonal instantiations of “laws of nature,” for they are existential symbols that teach us about our journey from God and return back to Him. 

 When we move beyond mechanism, the cell is no longer a factory processing the code of DNA into various proteins but a symbol of how “divine writ” (kalām Allāh) is transcribed, translated, and concretized in specific formulations in the universe. The lungs are more than bellows moving air in and out of the body; they are a symbol of the soul, which expands and contracts with the coming and going of divine inspiration (nafas al-raĥmān). Likewise, the heart and the blood circulating through its network of arteries and veins represent the spiritual center (qiblah) and the pilgrims who travel to and from this center in order to transmit and receive the blessing of God (barakah)."

Link: https://renovatio.zaytuna.edu/article/modern-medicine-and-the-shadow-illness

Tennis - a game of life

 I think it was 2017. I was on my way to the UK for a conference. I met a sports correspondent sitting next to me. She specialized in Tennis. Although I grew up watching Cricket and like any sports, I learned my lessons of life equivalating in Cricket, the first time I realized that Tennis is more of psychological sports than a physical one! Now, this was a novel concept and made me interested in Tennis. She gave me two books by Timothy Gallwey on Tennis to enjoy on my trip. 1) The Inner Game of Tennis and 2) The inner Game of Stress. These books were eye-openers.

I recalled these books as Novak Djovick is barred from participating in the US Open after he innocently but angrily hit the ball to a line judge. Now, this is a massive blow to a World-Class so far unbeaten champion in 2020. This is seen in the Tennis world as a crime or sin or an indelible stain, as Tennis asked for very high-level mental discipline during times of stress. 

Now here is the question I asked myself: If I am at glory in my life and a moment due to my one innocent mistake, I lose my reputation: How will I handle that?

I need to see how Novak Dijovick will handle this.

You may watch the incident here: https://youtu.be/Gwr8DffGoRg

Babul Mora - Neyhar chuto hi jaaye

 Considered ever classic 'bidai" poem, sung many times by classical singers as thumri in raag bharvi and performed with kathak dance (see youtube link at the end of post). It was written by the unfortunate last king of Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah (a sad story of a good man who was born at the wrong time in history). Allegedly, he wrote this as he was banished from Lucknow to Calcutta by English.

بابُل مورا، نیہر چھُوٹو ہی جائے

بابُل مورا، نیہر چھُوٹو ہی جائے

(چار کہار مِل، موری ڈولِیا سجاویں (اُٹھایّں

مورا اَپنا بیگانا چھُوٹو جائے ، بابُل مورا۔۔۔

آںگنا تو پربت بھیو اؤر دیہری بھیی بِدیش

جائے بابُل گھر آپنو میں چلی پیّا کے دیش ، بابُل مورا ۔۔

O My father! I'm leaving home. 

O My father! I'm leaving home. 

 The four (palanquin) bearers lift my palanquin. 

I'm leaving those who were my own. 

 Your courtyard is now like a mountain, and the threshold, a foreign country.

I leave your house, father, I am going to my beloved country.

Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3VvhvBUSak

Post Mortem

 "Sir! agar zindagi main koi galti ho jaaye to kiya kerna chahiye?"

"Sab se alag ho ker apne saath waqt guzarna chahiye. Apna analysis kerna chahiye. Apni kamingiyon ka idraak kerna chahiye. Zanjīr-e-roz-o-shab ki is tuti hui kaRi main, matame waqt ki is ghaRi main, apni zaat kā labāda utar ke, apna post mortem kerna chahiye"*

"Is se kiya farq paR jaaye ga Sir!"

"Kahin kisi amal main koi pukhtagi aa jaaye gi"

* words shamelessly taken from Faiz' poem  'ye matame waqt ki ghaRi hai'

Aaj Jaane ki zid na karo (full version)

 I have written on this blog before also that "yunhi pehlu main bethe raho" is the most beautiful experience of relationship. Finally found the full version of Fayyaz Hashmi's poem. The last stanza is rarely seen or sung*, which is equally poetical. 

*https://youtu.be/hBvdIsBmQ6g (Fardia Khanum)

https://youtu.be/wGwHQYtvNRw (Ariit Singh) 

آج جانے کی ضد نہ کرو

یونہی پہلو میں بیٹھو رہو

ہائے ! مر جائیں گے، ہم تو لُٹ جائیں گے

ایسی باتیں کیا نہ کرو

تم ہی سوچو ذرا کیوں نہ روکیں تمہیں

جان جاتی ہے جب اُٹھ کے جاتے ہو تم

تم کو اپنی قسم جانِ جاں

بات اتنی میری مان لو

وقت کی قید میں زندگی ہے مگر

چند گھڑیاں یہی ہیں جو آزاد ہیں

ان کو کھو کر کہیں جانِ جاں

عمر بھر نہ ترستے رہو

کتنا معصوم و رنگیں ہے یہ سماں

حسن اور عشق کی آج معراج ہے

کل کی کس کو خبر جانِ جاں

روک لو آج کی رات کو

گیسوؤں کی شکن ہے ابھی شبنمی

اور پلکوں کے سائے بھی مد ہوش ہیں

حسنِ معصوم کو جانِ جاں

بے خودی میں نہ رسوا کرو

فیاض ہاشمی

Ancestral Maths

 

Snake and Ladder board game

 We all grew up playing ludo and 'Sanp-siRhi'. I didn't know that the Snakes-Ladders game was invented two centuries before Christ in India. It was a game created to teach ethics to kids. There is a link from "Times of India" after this poster. Enjoy.

Link: https://bit.ly/2EPz304

A different angle to prayers

 

Najjo

(Beside Manto, Abdul Majid Salik himself described this encounter in his book: 'Yaran-e-kohan')

 ایک دفعہ عبدالمجید سالک کسی کام کے سلسلے میں حکیم فقیر محمد چشتی صاحب کے مطب پر گئے۔ وہاں مشہور طوائف نجو بھی دوا لینے آئی تھی۔ کھلا ہوا چمپئی رنگ، سر پر ایک سفید ریشمی دوپٹہ جس کے کنارے چوڑا نقرئی لپہ لگا ہؤا تھا۔

سالک جو پہنچے تو حکیم صاحب نے اس سے کہا: "یہ تمہارے شہر کے بہت بڑے شاعر اور ادیب سالک صاحب ہیں۔ آداب بجالاؤ۔"

وہ سروقد اٹھ کھڑی ہوئی اور جھک کر آداب بجا لائی۔

پھر سالک سے کہا: "یہ لاہور کی مشہور طوائف نجو ہیں۔ آپ اس کوچے سے نابلد سہی لیکن نام تو سنا ہوگا۔"

سالک نے کہا: "جی ہاں! نام تو سنا ہے لیکن نجو بھلا کیا نام ہوا؟"

حکیم صاحب فرمانے لگے: "لوگ نجو نجو کہہ کے پکارتے ہیں، پورا نام تو

*نجات المومنین* ہے۔"

 (اندھیر نگری۔۔۔ از سعادت حسن منٹو)

Loser

(the content of the following post is graphic) 

 I was born and raised in the slums of Bogota (Columbia), in an area called San Cristobal. I grew with drugs, gangs, prostitution, kidnapping, ransom, gambling, and all the evils of poverty. We were called 'ganchos.' I was respected from early on due to my courage and terror. Soon I rose to the level of Don. Now let me correct you, we were evils of the society but a blessing for the neighborhoods. We provided free food, secured 'ollas,' gave church donations, and brought education to children. I enjoyed getting indulged in alcohol, drugs, and women. Over time, bad habits start taking a toll on my health. To sustain my manly prowess, I start using a higher and higher dose of viagra. One night, we kidnapped a girl of another gang half of my age. She was pretty Hispanic lolita. As I was trying to perform, and she lay her legs open, I could not get any movement in my genital. She starts laughing. She picked gun from the side table, put on my head, and said - "You are already dead, loser." And she kept laughing. It was a blow. I never respected women. I didn't even respect women in my family, including my mother. As I came out of the room, I was sweating. I didn't tell anyone. It was such a hit. I never lost to dreaded gangs, policia, or any danger what so ever. To be a loser to a Chiquita was a huge blow. I learned power never lasts. Sooner or later, another powerful will replace you. I quietly left the town. I worked on farms in California. I married and adopted two kids. Last year I got diagnosed with unusual cancer. I will die soon. A Muslim man once told me that in their holy book, it is written that in the end, we all are losers. I didn't bow to all mighty. I might never. I still have questions unanswered about injustice on this earth. But I learned life is a peace only when you lie low. No power, no viagra, or no gun works - only love and good deeds to humans around you.

Zameer Jafri ki aik ghazal

 Zameer Jafri made his name in Urdu poetry as a "mazahiya shayer". As said, comedy requires immense emotional depth. Read his real gem - one serious ghazal. It is said that a good ghazal requires preferably small bahar, appropriate auzan, and unique khayal. (Mir Taqi Mir legacy).

کپڑے اپنے گھر کے ہیں

دھبے دنیا بھر کے ہیں

باہر کی کوئی چیز نہیں

سارے دکھ اندر  کے ہیں

کیسے کیسے دکھ دیکھے

کیا کیا عیب ہنر کے ہیں

مسجد تو بنوا لی تھی

پتھر سب مندر  کے ہیں

منزل پا لینے کے بعد

جھگڑے راہگزر  کے ہیں

مٹی ہم سے روٹھ گئی

گاؤں بھی پتھر  کے ہیں

Armageddon

Over centuries, humans in every genre, including religion, science, philosophy, or mythology, have argued instead guessed about Armageddon's nature. Due to my recent heavy involvement with pandemic patients' care, I recalled my old interaction with an Australian archeologist I met during travel. He told me:

 "I am 70 years old and have studied many old civilizations. I concluded that humans tend to survive wars, diseases, and catastrophes. All societies, civilizations, and cultures run their bell curve. They rise to their glories and fade away in the books of history. If Armageddon is supposed to happen, and this planet needs to get destroyed, my prediction is will happen in a moment! It may be an asteroid hitting a planet or a global nuclear holocaust. Although it sounds scary, there is a solace that suffering would be very short!"

*

Difference in lifestyles of West and East

 As I took a much-needed break while covering sickest of sick COVID patients with ventilators, ECMOs, and tons of drips - I entered our breakroom looking to get some chai. The only reason I am surviving and keeping my sanity intact while working with these patients is an unlimited supply of chai. Thanks to a few desi nurses around me. As I settled on the chair, took out the mail I bought from home to see my pending bills, one nurse chimed as she handed the mug full of khusbudar ilachi wali chai,

"America aur hamare mulkon main saari zindagi bus 6 lafzon pe ghumti hai

America main: Get the bill, pay the bill

Aur udhar apne India main: chai bun gai, pi ke jaana"

Why we get old

(A conversation with a 92 years old COVID patient)

"So what you are telling me, I assume you do not want any chest compression, electric shock, machine to breathe for you, or any artificial measure or medication to prolong your life. What I am saying is not to attempt to resuscitate you, what we call DNR?"

"Yes, doctor, I lived my life. Despite all troubles, I already enjoyed my life. Now it doesn't matter; I lived for 90 years or 900 years. I worked at Las Vegas as a backstage worker. I think, onwards, it would be just a stretch of the show. For a long time, I wondered why we need to get old? Now I know, the old hood is a blessing. It makes acceptance of death easy. It let you wonder about life - with all its beauty and its cruelty. It makes you let things go. It let you forgive all humans who did wrong to you. It makes you value love, and time people shared with you out of their own time. In the end, it makes you smile. Yes, please let me go peacefully".

At the moment of death

(A conversation with a COVID-19 patient who survived)

 "You almost died that day. If you remember, you asked me to make sure to inform your family. How did you feel before I put you on a ventilator, and we all knew this might be your last conscious moment?"

"It was interesting. At that given moment, there was a massive surge of acceptance to death. There was no fear. I was even devoid of any faith or religion. I didn't care if God exists. Suppose there is anything after death, well and good. If it is all over, let it be. Interestingly, I was still worried about my youngest child, who is still not grown up. Otherwise, no possession mattered".

Lupus in Fabula

'Lupus in Fabula' is an Italian idiom which literary means “the wolf in the fairy tale.”

What it means when life is going smooth, everything feels hunky-dory, as we say in Urdu: "ravi har taraf chen hi chen likhta hai" - the tragedy (wolf) will strike.

I remember my father reminded me of this lesson many times to stay ready for rainy days in sunny days. What a sensible advice it was!!!

Shape of continents and human behaviour

I have mentioned anthropologist Jared Diamond before at this blog (here). Nowadays, in my isolation time I am reading a book, "Atomic Habits". It is a very mediocre book but it mentioned an interesting theory of Jared Diamond about shapes of continents and human behavior.

"Continents that are spread out in an east-west direction, such as Eurasia, had a developmental advantage because of the ease with which crops, animals, ideas and technologies could spread between areas of similar latitude. Continents that spread out in a north-south direction, such as the Americas, had an inherent climatic disadvantage. Any crops, animals, ideas and technologies had to travel through dramatically changing climatic conditions to spread from one extreme to the other. .....................Technologies such as gunpowder were able to migrate 6,500 thousand miles from China, where they originated, to Western Europe, where they reached their apogee, in a matter of centuries. The wheel, on the other hand, developed in southern Mexico, never even managed the 500-mile journey south to the Andes."

You can read the whole article here. https://www.pbs.org/gunsgermssteel/variables/continents.html

Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi writeup

One thing which always bothered me about Qudratullah Shahab and his friend circle including Ashfaq Ahmad is their relentless support for dictators in Pakistan. This one small writeup from Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi is a historical piece on death of 'mazahimati adab' of Urdu literature.

Humorous but true

Surgery and Painting

Unfortunately, I am stuck in ED/hospital/ICU with patients pouring due to COVID.  As I was about to make my exit from hospital, I met Dr. S. We both are living in isolation for last 4 months.

Dr. S is from Lahore but practicing general surgery here for the last 40 or so years. He is volunteering out with COVID patients as we are running short of staff. We both tested negative for COVID on July 3 (thanks to PPE availability in the USA). He asked me to celebrate and have dinner together at his place.  He loved to have a glass of wine with Mehdi Hasan on iPad and cooking his own dinner. Kudos to him, he cooked beef biryani and grilled chicken wings for me with my favorite flavor of garlic parmesan.

I have been to his place before but not to his house upper storey. This time he showed me his paintings at his studio and media room. They were just beautiful. It ranges from women's' figures to nature as well as abstract paintings based on Ghalib's poetry. I learned painting is his other passion and a way to soothe stresses. No wonder he is always so calm.

I asked: "Surgery or painting! ye combination mujhe kuch samjh nahi aaya?" 

He replied: "Socho to asan si baat hai. Main surgery bhi painting hi ki tarah kerta hun. Incision se le ker last stitch tak aaj bhi main har kaam khud kerta hun. Surgery aik delicate art hai. Bohat dhiyan aur compassion chahiye. Painting kerne ki adat ne Mujhe aik achha surgeon banaya hai. Tabiyat main therao aaya hai.....Mujhe tab tak tassli nahi hoti, jab tak patient kuch hafton baad followup ke liye aata hai, aur stitches ke nishan bamushkil hi nazar aate hain".

Old Couple

What a striking painting depicting a couple who is long-married, stayed together, develop differences but can't get away from each other. Painted by Achim H. Pollert.

“Partition”

(Relatively way less written about Lord Mountbatten, the last viceroy of India. Most of the history is either written from the biased eyes of India or Pakistan. Here how his mission was described factually in poetry by W.H. Auden, a British-American poet of that era, who witnessed the great partition sitting far away.  The poem was written in 1966. As he said in the last line, fear of  Lord Mountbatten came true and he was assassinated 13 years later of the poem (1979) but by his other enemy, IRA (Irish Republican Army).

Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,
Having never set eyes on the land he was called to partition
Between two peoples fanatically at odds,
With their different diets and incompatible gods.
“Time,” they had briefed him in London, “is short. It’s too late
For mutual reconciliation or rational debate:
The only solution now lies in separation.
The Viceroy thinks, as you will see from his letter,
That the less you are seen in his company the better,
So we’ve arranged to provide you with other accommodation.
We can give you four judges, two Moslem and two Hindu,
To consult with, but the final decision must rest with you.”

Shut up in a lonely mansion, with police night and day
Patrolling the gardens to keep the assassins away,
He got down to work, to the task of settling the fate
Of millions. The maps at his disposal were out of date
And the Census Returns almost certainly incorrect,
But there was no time to check them, no time to inspect
Contested areas. The weather was frightfully hot,
And a bout of dysentery kept him constantly on the trot,
But in seven weeks it was done, the frontiers decided,
A continent for better or worse divided.

The next day he sailed for England, where he could quickly forget
The case, as a good lawyer must. Return he would not,
Afraid, as he told his Club, that he might get shot.

On Amish People

When I came to this country, I didn't have much money to take airplane rides. For my residency interviews, I relied far large and wide on cheaper Grayhound buses. First time I saw Amish people at Cleaveland bus station. At first glance what impressed me is the calmness on their face after their attire, beard, and hanging too close with each other. Over the years, I grew huge respect for them and their lifestyle. Later in life, while driving through Pennsylvania rural roads, I certainly enjoyed the positive vibrations of their farmlands.

This is the first time I read this comprehensive review on them. You may like it (and beautiful pictures).

https://mydailymagazine.com/facts-that-can-change-the-way-you/50/

"The Amish people treat Demut – humility – and Gelassenheit – calmness, composure, placidity – as important qualities. They strive to stay humble and calm, rejecting what they call Hochmut, which translates to pride, arrogance or haughtiness. With their simpler and more modest ways of life, they shun modern technologies including cameras. They also don’t paint. So when a loved one passes away, they don’t have any way to visually remember them but only through their actual memory."

Ego

ﻟﭩﮑﺘﯽ ﺗﺨﺘﯽ

اﯾﮏ ﮐﻮﭨﮭﮯ کی 

ﺗﮩﺬﯾﺐ ﯾﺎﻓﺘﮧ ﻃﻮﺍﺋﻒ ﻧﮯ

ﺩﺭﻭﺍﺯﮮ ﮐﮯ ﺑﺎﮨﺮ

ﻟﭩﮑﺘﯽ ﺗﺨﺘﯽ ﭘﺮ ﻟﮑﮭﻮﺍﯾﺎ

ﻋﺰﺕ ﺑﺮﺍﺋﮯ ﻓﺮﻭﺧﺖ ﮨﮯ

ﻣﮩﺬﺏ ﺣﻀﺮﺍﺕ

ﺁﻧﮯ ﺳﮯ ﭘﮩﻠﮯ

ﺍﭼﮭﺎ ﻏﺴﻞ ﻓﺮﻣﺎ ﻟﯿﮟ

ﺍﻭﺭ ﺟﯿﺒﻮﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ

ﺍﺷﺮﻓﯿﻮﮞ ﮐﻮ ﺍُﻭﻥ ﮐﯽ

ﺗﮭﯿﻠﯽ ﻣﯿﮟ ﮈﺍﻝ ﮐﺮ ﻻﺋﯿﮟ

ﻟﮩﺠﻮﮞ ﮐﻮ ﻧﺮﻡ ﺍﻭﺭ

ﺟﺬﺑﺎﺕ ﮐﻮ ﮔﺮﻡ ﺭﮐﮭﯿﮟ

ﺍﻭﺭ ﺧﯿﺎﻝ ﮐﺮ ﮐﮯ

ﭼﭙﻠﻮﮞ ﻣﯿﮟ ﻟﮕﺎ ﮐﯿﭽﮍ

ﺻﺎﻑ ﮐﺮﮐﮯ ﺁﺋﯿﮟ

ﮨﻤﺎﺭﺍ ﻓﺮﺵ

ﮨﻤﯿﮟ ﺭﺯﻕ ﺩﯾﺘﺎ ﮨﮯ

ﺍﺳﮑﯽ ﺑﮯ ﺣﺮﻣﺘﯽ ﻗﺎﺑﻞِ ﻗﺒﻮﻝ ﻧﮩﯿﮟ

شراب ﮐﻮﭨﮭﮯ ﻣﯿﮟ

ﻭﺍﻓر ﻣﻘﺪﺍﺭ ﻣﯿﮟ ﻣﻮﺟﻮﺩ ﮨﮯ

ﺑﺎﮨﺮ ﺳﮯ ﺧﺮﯾﺪ ﮐﺮ

ﻭﻗﺖ ﮐﺎ ﺿﯿﺎﻉ ﻧﮧ ﮐﺮﯾﮟ

ﺍﻭﺭ ﺩﻻﻝ ﮐﻮ ﺣﺮﺍﻡ

ﺍﯾﮏ ﭘﺎﺋﯽ ﺍﺩﺍ ﻧﮧ ﮐﺮﯾﮟ

ﺍﺳﮯ ﻣﻌﻘﻮﻝ مُعفضہ ﻣﻠﺘﺎ ﮨﮯ

ﺍﻟﺒﺘﮧ ﺑﺎﮨﺮ ﺭﮐﮭﮯ ﮔﺌﮯ

ﭼﻨﺪﮮ ﮐﮯ ﮈﺑﮯ ﻣﯿﮟ

ﺩﻝ ﮐﮭﻮﻝ ﮐﺮ ﭘﯿﺴﮧ ﮈﺍﻟﯿﮟ

ﺁﭘﮑﺎ عطیہ مفلس لوگوں کے  

گھر کی عزاتوں کو طوائف

بننے سے بچانے پر ﺧﺮﭺ ﮐﯿﺎ ﺟﺎﺗﺎ ﮨﮯ

ﺍﻭﺭ ﻣﮩﺮﺑﺎﻧﯽ ﮐﺮﮐﮯ

ﺭﺍﺕ ﮐﮯ ﺁﺧﺮﯼ ﭘﮩﺮ ﻣﯿﮟ

ﮐﻮﭨﮭﮧ ﺧﺎﻟﯽ ﮐﺮﺩﯾﺎ ﺟﺎﺋﮯ

ﮐﯿﻮﮞ ﮐﮧ ﻓﺮﺵ ﮐﯽ

ﺩﮬﻼﺋﯽ ﮐﮯ ﺑﻌﺪ

ﺗﮩﺠﺪ ﮐﯽ ﻧﻤﺎﺯ ﺍﺩﺍ ﮐﯽ ﺟﺎﺗﯽ ﮨﮯ___

sawal

Defining moment

Pandemic has caused domestic fights to go up. I am not surprised. One of my close friends called me to go out with him as he had a huge argument with his son who is finishing college, has no job but needs to stay home. His son left the house to stay with other friends. We went out. I listened to his part of the story and his venting. In such a situation I try to use the middle ground of being a charasaz and being a naseh. During our conversation, he said a beautiful thing.

"Every relationship has a defining moment, and I don't want this fight to be a defining moment of our relationship. I didn't want to be a spineless father who tolerates bad habits - but at the same time, I don't want this fight to be the turning point of our relationship. It just doesn't worth."

سولہ سنگھار

Some people may find it interesting. Indian culture is well known with the word "sola singhar" for makeups used by women. When a woman has 16 singhar means she is fully 'beutified"!

1. مانگ کا ٹیکا
2. مانگ میں سیندور کی دھار
3. بندیا
4. آنکھ کا کاجل
5. جھمکا یا بالی
6. ناک کی نتھنی
7. کلائی کی چوڑیاں
8. ہاتھ کی انگوٹھیاں
9. ہتھیلی اور دوسرے حصوں پر مہندی کی نقاشی
10. کمر بند
11. بازو بند
12. عطر یا خوشبو
13. گجرا
14. پائل / پازیب
15. بچھیا (پیر کی انگوٹھی)
16. ہار۔۔۔۔۔

Nadan Insaan

Insaan bhi kitna nadan hai 

- pehli aadhi zindagi cheezain jamaa kerne ki koshish main laga rehta hai
~ baqi aadhi un ko bachane ki fikar main nikal deta hai...

A simple comprehensive guide

Irrfan died

What a deep soul he was!!!! - no words!!! - RIP my friend....You will always live in our hearts...You did your part way par excellence than all of us.

Note: Irrfan never liked Khan to be added to his name. I took Khan from his name. Also, I am not sure why he always insisted to use 2 r in his name.

Daffodils نرگس

Last year I was at the Lake District in England - where William Wordsworth wrote the all-time famous Daffodils poem. It's mind blowing beautiful there. Here I found the Urdu translation.

‎ایک دن

‎صورتِ ابر

‎آوارہ میں 

‎یونہی تنہا چلا جا رہا تھا کہیں

‎گوشہ نہر میں

‎نہر کی لہر میں

‎گھاٹیوں اور پہاڑوں سے مڑتا ہوا

‎بےنشاں راستوں سے گزرتا ہوا

‎دفعتاً

‎ جھیل کے اس طرف

‎یہ نظر جو اٹھی

‎دیکھتی رہ گئی

‎ان گنت

‎بے بہا

‎گل سنہرے تھے نرگس کے 

‎بکھرے ہوئے 

‎ہر طرف جابجا

‎رنگ بھرتے ہوئے

‎رقص کرتے ہوئے

‎جس طرح جھلملاتے ہوئےکہکشاں میں ستارے سبھی

‎اس طرح بھر لئے میں نے اپنی نظر میں نظارے سبھی

‎اور کچھ دیر کو بس کھڑا رہ گیا

‎حسن ایسا کہ بس دیکھتا رہ گیا

‎دیکھتا رہ گیا 

‎سوچتا رہ گیا 

‎رنگ اور نور کا کیا خزانہ ہے یہ

(!‎اے خدا بس ترا کارخانہ ہے یہ)

‎مدتیں ہو گئیں

‎میرے دل میں کہیں

‎وہ جو نرگس کے پھولوں سے مل کر ہوئی

‎وہ خوشی نقش ہے

‎دو گھڑی جو ملی

‎زندگی نقش ہے

‎آج بھی مضمحل میرے جذبات ہوں 

‎خواہ صدمات ہوں

‎یا کہ تنہائی کے چند لمحات ہوں

‎جگنوؤں کی طرح 

‎نرگس آتشیں

‎وہ حسیں 

‎ہم نشیں‎میرے دل کے بہت پاس آجاتے ہیں 

______________

‎اسنیٰ بدر

Daffodils - By William Wordsworth 

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

The Story of Richard Phillips

Aik din Salahuddin ne mujh se kaha tha: "...bahir azad phirne wala har koi naik nahi aur jail main band har koi gunhagar nahi. Insaan ka faisla kerne wali yahan ki adalat nahi, sirf Allah ki zaat hai"
(here)


Richard Phillips spent 46 years in jail for a crime (longest wrongful prison in the US history) he never committed. But what makes this story unique is how he faced that injustice, how he kept his soul alive with poetry and painting, and how he smartly learned to forgive people who framed him.

"He read art books from the prison library for technique and inspiration. He admired the work of Picasso, Da Vinci, and especially Vincent Van Gogh, another man who suffered, locked away in an institution, struggling to keep his sanity. Van Gogh and Phillips kept on painting...........The better he got, the more he enjoyed it. Painting became an addiction. He woke up and couldn’t wait to get breakfast, drink his watery orange juice, and come back to his art. By then his roommate would be gone for the day, in the yard or at work, and Phillips could turn on his music. Outside inmates yelled, guards barked, dominoes fell, ping-pong balls smashed, showers hissed, toilets flushed, televisions blared, but Phillips put in his headphones and drowned it all out. All he could hear was John Coltrane or Miles Davis, focusing his energy, guiding his next brushstroke."

Read the full story here: https://edition.cnn.com/interactive/2020/04/us/longest-wrongful-prison-sentence/

من آن ترک طناز را می شناسم - حضرت امیر خسرو

(Traslation done by Hazrat Sufi Tabassum)

من آن ترک طناز را می شناسم

من آن شوخ بد ساز را می شناسم

اس ستمگر، بتِ طنّاز کو پہچانتا ہوں

اس کی بے مہریِ انداز کو پہچانتا ہوں

شبم تازہ شد جان بدشنام مستی

تو بودی، من آواز را می شناسم

کل عجب کیف میں اک مست تھا دشنام طراز

تو ہی تھا، میں تری آواز کو پہچانتا ہوں

بہ بینید تا می توانید در دی

کہ من آن سر انداز را می شناسم

اس کی اس سادگیِ ناز سے بچ کر رہنا 

اس کے شرمیلے سے انداز کو پہچانتا ہوں

نہ بینم بسویش ز بیم دو چشمش

کہ آن ھر دو غماز را می شناسم

اس کے چہرے پہ نظر ڈالتے ڈر لگتا ہے

اس کے دو دیدۃ غماّز کو پہچانتا ہوں

ز من پرس ذوق سخن ھای خسرو

کہ من آن رہ و ساز را می شناسم

پوچھ مجھ سے کہ ہے کیا ذوقِ سخن خسرو کا

اس کی میں طرزِ سخن ساز کو پہچانتا ہوں

اردو ترجمہ: صوفی تبسم