Dichotomy of society

 

A teaching strategy

ایک استاد کہتے ہیں

میں ایک پرائمری اسکول میں منتقل ہوا۔ پرنسپل نے مجھے تیسری جماعت پڑھانے کے لیے دیا اور اپنے دفتر بلایا۔ انہوں نے کہا: "میں تم سے صاف صاف بات کرتا ہوں۔ ہمارے اسکول میں تیسری جماعت کی تین کلاسیں ہیں۔ اس تعلیمی سال ہم نے باقی اساتذہ کے ساتھ مل کر فیصلہ کیا ہے کہ ان میں سے دو کلاسوں میں بہترین طلبہ ہوں گے، اور جو تیسری کلاس تمہیں ملی ہے اس کے تمام طلبہ ناکام اور ناامید ہیں۔ اگر تم ان میں سے تین یا چار کو بھی بہتر بنا سکے تو تمہیں پورا احترام ملے گا، اور اگر نہ بنا سکے تو کوئی الزام نہیں، کیونکہ ان کے والدین بھی ان کی کمزوری جانتے ہیں۔"

استاد کہتے ہیں:

میں کلاس میں داخل ہوا اور ہر طالب علم سے پوچھا: "جب تم بڑے ہوگے تو کیا بننا چاہتے ہو؟"

کچھ نے کہا: فوجی افسر، کچھ نے کہا: ڈاکٹر، اور کسی نے کہا: انجینئر۔

یہ سن کر میرے دل کو بہت خوشی ہوئی اور میں نے کہا: "الحمدللہ! ان کے خواب اب تک مرے نہیں ہیں۔"

اگلے دن میں نے طلبہ کی نشستیں ان کے خوابوں کے مطابق بدل دیں: افسر ایک ساتھ بیٹھیں، ڈاکٹر ایک ساتھ، انجینئر ایک ساتھ۔ اور میں نے ان کی کتابوں پر ان کے خواب کا لقب لکھ دیا:

افسر محمد!

ڈاکٹر عبداللہ!

انجینئر خالد!

پھر میں نے اپنی تدریس کا آغاز کیا اور اپنے ذہن میں یہ بات بٹھا لی کہ یہ سب طلبہ دوسرے بچوں کی طرح ہیں، یہ کمزور نہیں ہیں۔

یقیناً ان میں سے کوئی غلطی کرتا، کوئی سستی کرتا، اور کوئی ہوم ورک نہیں کرتا وغیرہ۔

یہاں سزا دینے کی باری آئی!

لیکن میری سزا مختلف تھی۔ میں انہیں نہیں مارتا تھا، بلکہ صرف ان کا لقب چھین لیتا تھا، اور یوں ان کے خواب چھین لیتا تھا۔ پھر انہیں ایک خاص جگہ بٹھاتا تھا جسے ہم نے "گلی" کا نام دیا تھا۔ یہ انہیں بہت تکلیف دیتا، اور وہ اپنی پوری کوشش کرتے کہ دوبارہ اپنی کرسی اور اپنا پسندیدہ لقب واپس حاصل کریں۔

اس طریقے سے طلبہ کا معیار بلند ہوگیا۔ وہ روزانہ ہوم ورک کرنے لگے، دل لگا کر پڑھنے لگے، اور آپس میں اچھی مسابقت پیدا ہوگئی۔ میں کبھی کبھار انہیں تحفے بھی دیتا جو ان کے خواب کے شعبے سے متعلق ہوتے۔

پہلے سمسٹر کے آخر میں میری پوری کلاس کو پڑھائی، اسکول اور استاد سے محبت ہوگئی۔ اب شاذ و نادر ہی کسی کو "گلی" میں بیٹھانا پڑتا۔

سال کے آخر میں، الحمدللہ، میری کلاس نے باقی دونوں کلاسوں کو بڑے فرق سے پیچھے چھوڑ دیا۔

پرنسپل اور دوسرے اساتذہ نے مجھ سے پوچھا:

"خدا کے لیے بتاؤ، تم نے کون سا تدریسی طریقہ اپنایا جس نے ان بچوں کو اتنا بدل دیا اور ان کا معیار حیران کن حد تک بلند کردیا؟"

تو میرا جواب یہ تھا:

"میرا تدریسی طریقہ اور انداز تمہارے جیسا ہی ہے، فرق صرف اتنا 

ہے کہ میں نے ہر طالب علم کو اپنے خواب کا دفاع کرنے پر لگا دیا۔"

عربی سے ترجمہ شدہ 

On irrationality of human mind to manage money

In 1971, Yale professor Martin Shubik invented a game that highlighted one of the most powerful psychological traps.

He auctioned off a dollar bill to students with simple rules: the highest bidder wins.

But there was a twist that proved just how irrational humans can be. 

Here’s how it worked: 

The highest bidder wins the dollar, but the second-highest bidder must pay their bid and receives nothing.

Everything seems rational until the bidding hits 95 cents.

Now, the second-place team faces a choice. 

They’re at 90 cents, so if they stop now, they lose 90 cents.

But if they bid $1, they only lose 5 cents (so they bid $1).

Now the other person is at 95 cents.

This is where psychology takes over.

The person at 95 cents thinks: “I can bid $1.05 and lose 5 cents instead of 95 cents.”

The other bidder at $1 thinks the same thing: “I’ll bid $1.10 and only lose 10 cents instead of a dollar.”

Back and forth they go.

Shubik regularly got students to pay over $3 for his dollar.

The record in his class was $204!

Two students spent over $200 combined so one could “win” a single dollar bill.

Three forces create this trap:

First is loss aversion: Losing $95 feels twice as painful as winning $5 feels good.

Second is commitment escalation: Each bid makes you more invested in winning. You’ve come this far, so why stop now?

Third is competitive arousal: Once someone else is bidding against you, it becomes about beating them, not the dollar.

Your brain simply stops calculating value and just wants to win.

Marketers use these exact triggers every single day.

Here’s how this get used in your ads :

Create micro-commitments before the sale with quiz funnels, email captures, free trials, and more. Each step makes backing out feel like a loss.

Show competitive dynamics like “387 people bought this today,” or “Just 99 left in stock.”

Add escalating bonuses like “Spend $50, get 10% off. Spend $100, get 20% off.”

Sex and Love making

"It was a good sex."

Us ne bister pe lete lete cigerette sulgaya, aur kush laga ker boli:

 -  Jise tum sex kehte ho, main 'love making' kehti hun !!

The leader

 

Parents are the best role models

 

Father of thousands of orphans

عبدالستار ایدھی صاحب سے پوچھا گیا کہ مغرب میں بے حیائی بہت ھے ‏کنواری عورتیں ماں بن جاتیں ہیں - ‏انہوں نے کہا  شاید بنتی ہونگی مگر میں تو اتنا جانتا ہوں کہ ادھر پاکستان  میں بائیس ہزار بچوں کی ولدیت کے خانے میں میرا نام لکھا ہے۔

 

On "Fallen Youths"

 “Why are we worn out? Why do we, who start out so passionate, brave, noble, believing, become totally bankrupt by the age of thirty or thirty-five? Why is it that one is extinguished by consumption, another puts a bullet in his head, a third seeks oblivion in vodka, cards, and a fourth, to stifle fear and anguish, cynically tramples underfoot the portrait of his pure, beautiful youth? Why is it that, once fallen, we do not try to rise, and, having lost one thing, we do not seek another? Why?”

~Anton Chekhov

Sharpasand

 Someone asked to see a Pakistani TV drama: Sharpasand as I love Nauman Ejaz. What a spontaneous actor he is.

Due to my work's heavy schedule, I was able to see only the initial 3/4 episodes - but I realized:

"Hum sab ke andar aik farasat ali khan rehta hai'

Teacher

 As someone beautifully said - and has been told in all cultures across the globe:

"A teacher is equivalent to a father, as he is the only person in this world who want to see you more successful than him or herself"

Muhabbat ka hisaar

 Suna hai,, bohat ziyada mohabbat bhi saamne wali ki jaan le leti hai

Aadmi kisi ke gird muhabbat ka hisaar zaroor rakhe, magar itna bhi obsessive na ho jayye ke agle ka dum ghut jaaye..

Messiah (vs doctors/physicians/providers/MDs etc)

 Lately, as modern medicine has advanced, many terms have been invented for medical care providers. There is only one thing that distinguishes any medicine man or healer from run-of-the-mill physicians/providers..

"A Human Touch"

Unfortunately, now I see fewer and fewer doctors touching the patient. The warmth, healing power, connection, or even, call it a placebo effect—all have been lost in modern medicine by the loss of just one small gesture.

We are now more and more treating numbers, charts, labs, and computers. AI is making it even worse!

AH!

An important peace of Karachi's history

 

He who stands up for an ignorant people...

It is often said that when Che Guevara was finally captured in his Bolivian hideout—betrayed by a shepherd who revealed his position—one of the astonished soldiers asked the shepherd:

 “How could you betray a man who spent his life defending people like you and fighting for your rights?”

The shepherd, unmoved, calmly replied:

 “His battles frightened my sheep.”

This story reflects a tragic reality in history: many who sacrifice for the oppressed are ultimately abandoned by those they defend.

A similar episode took place centuries earlier in Egypt, during the French invasion led by Napoleon Bonaparte. The Egyptian commander Mohamed Karim (1751–1799), who valiantly resisted the French in Alexandria, was captured after a long struggle.

The French court sentenced him to death, but Napoleon intervened, saying:

 “I regret executing a man who defended his homeland with such courage. I do not wish history to remember me as a killer of heroes. I will pardon you—if you can pay 10,000 gold coins as compensation for my army’s losses.”

Karim laughed and replied:

 “I have no such wealth, but the merchants of Alexandria owe me more than 100,000 gold coins.”

Napoleon granted him time to collect the sum. Karim, still in chains and surrounded by soldiers, was taken to the marketplace. There, he pleaded with the wealthy traders—men for whom he had sacrificed everything—to contribute to his ransom.

Not one merchant stepped forward. Instead, they coldly accused him of being responsible for the city’s devastation and their financial troubles.

Heartbroken, Karim was led back to Napoleon. The French commander then declared:

 “I will not kill you because you fought against me, but because you sacrificed yourself for a cowardly people who love trade more than freedom.”

Years later, the reformist scholar Mohamed Rashid Rida (1865–1935) reflected on such tragedies, writing:

 “He who stands up for an ignorant people is like one who sets his own body on fire to light the way for the blind.”

Three Lessons of Life

 

There is no single ‘right’ answer

 Carl Sagan once told his students in an assignment:

“There is no single ‘right’ answer — what matters is the clarity and strength of your argument.” 

That’s the real spirit of learning — to question, to think, and to reason with coherence. 

Ear is a womb

 

Individual vs humanity

 

Yaap!

 دشمن مرے تے خوشی نہ کرئیے

 سجناں وی مر جانا

Unt aur Kutte!

 

Dina Wadia to her father Jinnah

 

Farz aur nafal

 Ye duniya Allah Mian ke hoshruba bandoN se bhari paRi hai. Kal aik sahab farmaane lage:

"Farz to jun-tun dil kaRa ker ke paRh leta hun, magar asal namaz ka maza to nafal main aata hai! Farz chuTTi hai to chuT jaaye per nafal paRhte raho!"

Main ne poocha: Is baat ki kiya mantiq

Jawab mila: "Farz to dande ke zor pe hai, per nafal to khud ke dil se hai,, asal baat to wahi hui"

Two Kinds of People

 There are two kinds of people in the crowd.

First, who wants everyone to know who they are. Second, who would prefer no one know them.

My bias is that the second type of people are deeper.

As Ghalib said:

So true

 

یہ گزرے ہوئے لوگ، گزر کیوں نہیں جاتے

 تاریخ کی قبروں میں اُتر کیوں نہیں جاتے

یہ گزرے ہوئے لوگ، گزر کیوں نہیں جاتے

جون ایلیا | کتاب : کیوں

Guardian angels

 You are lucky if, in your dominant hand, you have a line running parallel to your life line (sister line) at your thenar eminence (Mount Venus). This is your guardian angel. And, if it runs throughout your life line, you are super lucky.

-          Aur jante ho ye guardian ángel kaun hote hain? ye tumhara koi buzurg hota hai. 

Jis ghar se buzurg aur unki duain chali jaain, wahan se zindagi bhi ruth jaati hai - bohat akeli ho jaati hai!

ملو ہا

(Nasir is a good friend, and an excellent poet)

میں نے موہنجو ڈارو دیکھا

میں نے ہڑپہ دیکھا ہے

کیسا عجب زمانہ تھا وہ

زیادہ تو معلوم نہیں

لیکن ان گلیوں میں پھر کر

یہ تو سمجھ میں آتا ہے

لوگ اکٹھے رہتے تھے اور

سارے مل کر کھاتے تھے

کھیت میں ہل چلانے والا

کاریگر ہو یا ہو کاما

سب کے گھر اک جیسے تھے

ہر گھر کا دالان تھا اور

ہر گھر کا دروازہ تھا

گھر کے باہر نالی تھی

 اس کے اوپر جالی تھی

اس میں تھی نہ کوئی مسجد

اور نہ کوئی مندر تھا

اس میں کوئی محل نہیں تھا

لڑنے کے ہتھیار نہیں تھے

اسلحہ کا گودام نہیں تھا

کھیتی باڑی ہوتی تھی اور

خوب تجارت ہوتی تھی

راوی سندھ سے بحری بیڑے

بحرِ عرب سے ہوتے ہوتے

دجلہ فرات کو جاتے تھے

میسوپوٹیما کے باسی

ان کو ملوہا کہتے تھے

کتنے ہزاروں سال پرانا

ایسے لگتا ہے کہ شاید

صدیوں بعد بھی نہ آ پائے

ایسا تھا وہ عجب زمانہ

یورش یا یلغار کوئی تھی

کیسے اُجڑ گیا وہ دور

دریاوں نے رستے بدلے

یا قسمت نے موڑا موڑ

شاید اک دن ایسا آئے

یہ عقدہ بھی حل ہو جائے

میرے جنینی دھاگوں میں

میرے وسیب میں مجھ سے پہلے

 رہنے والے

جن پرکھوں کی تاریں ہیں

اپنی کہانی کا کچھ حصہ

وہ تو لکھ کر چھوڑ گئے ہیں

میں ہی ایسا ان پڑھ ہوں

جو بولی وہ بول گئے ہیں

میں وہ بول نہیں سکتا

جو گانٹھیں وہ جوڑ گئے ہیں

میں وہ کھول نہیں سکتا

میں جانوں کہ میرا ان سے

 کیا ناطہ ہے

مجھ کو اس ضرورت کا

بالکل نہ ادراک ہوا

حیف ہے مجھ پہ

مجھ کو ان سے

اپنی کوئی نسبت کا

بالکل نہ احساس ہوا

ناصر گوندل

حلقہِ اربابِ ذوق، نیو یارک

ہفتہ، ۲ اگست، ۲۰۲۵؁ء 

Murshid says!!! - Profound

 آدمی وقت پر گیا ہوگا

وقت پہلے گزر گیا ہوگا

جون

Badnasseb Kaandhe

 Kitne badnasseb hain woh kaandhe - jin per kabhi kisi bachhe ne aankhain nahi mondi!

Peace

"Wine or Woman?"

"Peace!"

Decisions

 One thing I have learned from taking leadership courses from many gurus is that it's not the decision itself that matters, but how you live with it.

Getting people up

 During our residency, we learned about a legendary Pakistani resident who was fired not once, not twice, but three times from residency programs.

Accidentally, I was scheduled to interview him as a senior resident in my third year for his fourth time as a resident.

After the interview, I told my program director (PD), "I don't think he was fired prior due to any unethical act, but he is very dumb!"

My PD looked at me and said, "Now that he's got us, I guess this is our job to get him up."

Fast forward 30 years -

That Pakistani resident is a well-published professor of Cardiology in a highly esteemed University Program!

One needed addiction

The addiction to one relationship keeps a human away from many other addictions

A Persian Saying

 

Wolf and Sheeps

 

Islam's Greatest Stories of Love

 I assure you, you will love this episode on PBS

https://www.pbs.org/show/islams-greatest-stories-of-love/

A kid in the window

 

Anger

 

On the right side of the history

اگر آپ حق کے ساتھ نہیں کھڑے تو پھر تاریخ کو اس سے کوئی غرض نہیں کہ آپ مسجد کے حجرے میں تھے یا طوائف کے کوٹھے پر ۔

‏۔ڈاکٹر علی شریعتی‏ 

chand gharian yahi hain jo azad hain

I was lucky in life to have such cherished moments. 

 Waqt ki qaid main zindagi hai magar 

chand gharian yahi hain jo azad hain

 

A harsh truth of life

 Well…. She has widely metastatic parotid cancer, and should have been dead months ago. I think the financial toxicity is greater than moral burden what social work or patient advocacy can offer.

(A text)

Watch, Time and Living

I still kept the watch my father gifted me on passing metric exam

Every morning at 7:30, old Martin would open his tiny watch shop in the heart of the city. At 78, his hands were still the steadiest around. People said he fixed watches the way a healer tends to wounds—with infinite patience.

One rainy afternoon, Daniel, a 32-year-old executive with a face etched in stress, walked in. He dropped his luxury watch on the counter:

“I need this fixed urgently. It’s lost two minutes in a week and I have important meetings. Can you have it ready by tomorrow?”

Martin looked at Daniel first, then at the watch.

“Watches are like people,” he said quietly. “When you rush them too much, something inside starts to go wrong.”

Daniel glanced impatiently at his phone.

“I just need it to work perfectly.”

“It’ll take three days,” Martin replied.

“Impossible! I’ll pay double if you have it ready by tomorrow.”

Martin shook his head and put the watch in a drawer.

“Come back in three days. In the meantime, take this.”

He handed Daniel an old bronze pocket watch. Daniel took it reluctantly—he didn’t have a choice.

Over the next few days, Daniel noticed something odd. That old watch kept time differently: some hours seemed to last forever, others passed in a flash. During boring meetings, the hands barely moved. But when he had lunch with his little daughter, time flew.

On the third day, Daniel returned—intrigued and a bit unsettled.

“This watch is broken. Time moves irregularly!”

Martin smiled.

“It’s not broken. It’s tuned to your soul, not to satellites. It measures time by how you live, not just by numbers.”

He handed back Daniel’s repaired watch.

“This one will lose time again if you keep losing your life.”

Daniel stared at both watches, confused…

“People check the time a hundred times a day, yet never seem to have any,” Martin went on. “Perfect watches on empty wrists.”

“So what do you suggest?” Daniel asked, genuinely interested now.

“Understand that there are two kinds of time: the time that passes, and the time you live. My father told me: a watch can count seconds, but only your heart can count moments.”

“How much do I owe you for the repair?”

“For the watch, fifty euros. For the lesson about time… you pay by living differently.”

Weeks later, Daniel came back and left the pocket watch on the counter.

“Is something wrong? Did it break?” Martin asked.

“No,” Daniel smiled. “I want to buy it. I quit my job in the city. I’m opening my own business here, with hours that let me pick up my daughter from school.”

Martin answered:

“The most valuable watches aren’t sold. They’re passed down. Keep it. One day you’ll realize the most important punctuality is being present when life needs you.”

That winter, Martin passed away. In his will, he left the shop to Daniel with a note:

“To the one who learned that fixing watches matters less than fixing lives.”

Now, if you visit that little shop, you’ll see a sign on the door:

“We don’t sell time. We remind you how to live it.”

Sometimes we need our watches to stop—so our hearts can start beating again.

Saadequain poetry - without comments

 

Ultra-Short Story

 He trembled in his heart, and called after years.

She said with quivering voice: "wrong number"

Some Spouses

 Some spouses want their partner to walk behind. Frequently, they turn around and find no one!

One of the most hard hitting sentences from the English literature

“Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy”

F. Scott Fitzgerald

On Parenting

 

دو چیخیں مارو تو بیٹی۔ ‏

 

امرتا: بچے پیدا کرنا کونسا مشکل ہے ، ایک چیخ مارو تو بیٹا اور دو چیخیں مارو تو بیٹی۔

‏کیرت: بیٹی کی دفعہ دو چیخیں کیوں؟

‏امرتا: ایک چیخ درد کی اور دوسری غم کی۔

‏(امرتا پریتم) 

Viktor Frankl

 Viktor Frankl, an Austrian neurologist and psychiatrist, used his profound Holocaust experiences to create one of history’s most impactful psychotherapy approaches – logotherapy. His harrowing journey through concentration camps significantly shaped his work and philosophy, making his life and career a testament to the human spirit’s resilience even in the darkest times.

Born in 1905, Frankl had always been fascinated by the human search for meaning. As a young psychiatrist, he believed that this quest was the central force in human life. This belief was severely tested when, in 1942, Frankl and his family were deported to the Theresienstadt concentration camp. Later, he was transferred to Auschwitz and other camps, enduring intense suffering and the loss of his parents, wife, and siblings.

Despite the brutality, Frankl found that those who maintained a sense of meaning – even under extreme hardship – were more likely to survive. His own survival in the camps and his ability to find meaning in his suffering led him to develop logotherapy, a psychotherapy approach emphasizing the importance of finding meaning in life, regardless of circumstances.

After surviving the Holocaust, Frankl returned to Vienna and became a prominent psychiatrist, writing extensively about his experiences. His most famous work, "Man’s Search for Meaning," is a powerful account of his concentration camp experiences and insights into suffering, human resilience, and the pursuit of meaning. The book has sold millions of copies worldwide, inspiring readers to find purpose and strength in their own lives.

In logotherapy, Frankl emphasized that while we cannot control our circumstances, we can always control how we respond to them. He argued that even in the most hopeless situations, like those in the camps, individuals could find meaning by focusing on their inner strength, relationships, or a higher purpose.

Frankl’s teachings resonated deeply with people from all walks of life, offering hope and inspiration to those grappling with existential questions or trauma. He believed that discovering meaning could help individuals not only survive but thrive, even after immense suffering. His work has influenced generations of therapists, spiritual leaders, and individuals seeking to find purpose in their own lives.

Viktor Frankl’s story is one of courage, determination, and the unbreakable human spirit. Through his work, he demonstrated that even in profound suffering, we can find meaning, achieve personal growth, and attain inner peace. His legacy continues to guide those facing life’s challenges, reminding us that the search for meaning is the key to healing and survival.

Beauties and the Beasts

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Quote - Men, Women and Peace

Men settle where there is peace, women bring peace where they're treated well. 

No! I didn't

 

Sheedaa Paindo!

(Shared by a physician at a doctors' group)

Once upon a time long time ago as it was story time for grandma to tell the same story every time over and over again. But grandma this is the same story from last night. Ok then make your own story . No knowing then as child that I will make my own stories one day. So many stories that time has printed in my mind.

The story of a eucalyptus tree in neighborhoods I wanted to carve my name on it and saved my spending money to buy a knife but I couldn’t hurt the tree housing hundreds of birds and bees. But I wanted to write my own story as grandma told me every since long time ago when life nascent and air was fragrant with wild flowers.

Neighborhood was sparsely populated. Morning time was of empty street as all of us were gone for the day to schools. We all had our jute bags to carry around as sitting mats. Late afternoon was playtime kicking football and winning everything. A bunch of us kids had our neighborhood to ourselves and no one from across the railroad tracks could come and play with us. We believed we were a superior class and didn’t want those inferior kids to play with us.

And then there was Sheeda Paindo.

He did not want to play with us and we didn’t care . He told us that Bashir Bhai told him not to play with us. Bashir Bhai was a lorry driver and we his hero but meant nothing to us the superiors. Sheeda was a skin head and a silly smile the hallmark of his face. We all went to the same school and after fifth he was gone and we did not miss him and his silly smile. He was inferior to us and not worth anything anyway. Life unfolding and time had its own story,, our own stories  Our gang was dispersed and we had our fate and destinies to follow.

All of us went our ways and I forgot to carve my name on the eucalyptus tree. I gave my pride possession, my knife to my younger brother. It made him happy and I didn’t want it anymore.

From Nishtar to New York was journey of hopes and dreams. Of trials and tears. Of torture of residency to triumph of making it happen.

Life had come a long way from dusty streets to glory of life.

My grandma was old and I had to see her one last time before her sunset . I wanted to hug her one last time that I was a big doctor in America. She did not know what America was and told me to come home to old street but I had my destiny and dreams to live. I had to write my own story like she used to tell me every night, make your story.

I needed a car visit her. Where can I rent a car ? You remember Sheedaa Paindo? He owns a rental car business. My jaw dropped. I must see him now and ask for a discount. My met him in his office. He was sitting in a stuffed chair and I was offered a cold drink out of a box. He was happy to see me and offered me a car rent free for the rest of my stay.

Thanks Bhai Sheedaa for the offer.

No Sheeda , I am Chaudhary Abdul Rasheed.

There was no silly smile on his face.

How life balance itself!

 

How we mature

 

Vestis virum facit

 I am not one of those for various reasons, but its nice to be well-dressed.

In Latin they says: "Vestis virum facit" 

means, clothes make the man

Fleas

 (shared by a colleague)

An old colleague in the residency days used to quip: "We internists are like fleas!" 

" How so?" I asked. 

"Well. When the patient is dying, and while we fleas preside over the death of the patient! We general internists, cardiologists, nephrologists, and infectious disease specialists are the only ones hanging around! The surgeons are first to sign off when they see a dying patient, the GI guy, after having scoped up and down, is nowhere to be found! The Family Doc mourns the loss of a patient from the practice, while the hospital admin celebrates fewer losses from the DRG."

(unfortunately, the way healthcare has evolved in USA, I have to agree with this).

Tolstoy says

 

Shareef Khokhy Walla

(Shared by a physician at one of the WhatsApp group)

It was always a drag everyday in summer time.

All my friends were gone for summer holidays visiting far away cities. Innocent letters were exchanged from far away places with strange names and silly stories, Occasionally a photo with a pride possession of a bicycle.

It was a small town and street were empty and silent. But there was a library with newspapers and ceiling fans. A water cooler in the shadow of old brick walls.

The Liberarian with a sullen face was always stuck in a chair next the reading room. Those were the times to seek refuge from hot sun and dusty streets. That was shade and shelter with lots of books .

What a hidden treasure.

First thing in the morning was to go nearby Khokha owned by Shareef Khokhay Wala, a watering hole in the morning to get a quart of yogurt with thick creamy layer of the top to be swiped on way home. A quick breakfast with lassi and prathaa was swallowed and morning cool evaporated by fiery sunshine. Next chor was to the bazaar  crossing over the railway tracks to pick up fresh vegetables from Abdullah Jan who always added free green peppers and coriander. On way back home a stop at Khokha was a  must for bottled soda and tiny bite of Barrfee the best in town and alway in short supply. Shared was a tall bulky guy and had gentle demeanor.

I had secretly account for my special treat depending on prices of vegetables to hide my little quarters hidden from my mother quoting higher prices. My mother never questioned the daily values of prices, she knew it all along but never questioned. Lunch was always on time as near by tandoor had time limit and I was the  guy to do it right…,always one roti short , one disappear mysteriously on way home.

One day I left home to go to Nishtar , never to go back home.

Every once in a while I visited home on vacations always had my bottle of soda and bite of barrier but now Shareef refused to accept any money because I was a Doctor Saab.

Many year later I met him in Queens , NY.

Shareef Saab , I did not pay you for last treat , I owe it to you. He smiled and said he remembered.

Time has vanished like fog after sunrise but I still remember Shareef Khokhay Wala.

Practice!

 

Evolution

 

Decisions

 

From the eye of a woman

‏منو بھائی کہتے ہیں "ایک عورت میرے پاس آئی جس کی آنکھیں سوجی ہوئی تھیں بے چاری روتی رہی ہو گی. اس نے کہا کہ ایک بچے کی گمشدگی کی خبر دینی ہے. اس نے کہا: چھ سال کا ہے، سات سال کا، محمد انور نام ہے اس کا.

میں نے کہا کپڑے کیسے پہنے ہوئے ہیں؟ اس نے بتایا کہ نیلے رنگ کی قمیض ہے ‏ہوائی چپل ہے۔ میں کہا شلوار؟ اس نے کہا کہ سفید، مگر اب تو میلی ہو گئی ہو گی.

اُس عورت کی اس بات سے میرے ذہن میں ایک عجیب سی بات آئی کہ اگر اس بچے کا باپ ہوتا اور خبر لکھواتا تو اُس نے سفید شلوار ہی لکھوانی تھی. لیکن ماں کیوں کہ اُسے روزانہ دُھلی ہوئی شلوار پہناتی ہوگی، تو اسے اس بات کا ‏احساس ہے. اس لیے اگر بہن بھی ہوتی تو یہی کہتی کہ اب تو میلی ہو چکی ہو گی. اس سے مجھے یہ احساس ہوا کہ عورت اور طرح سوچتی ہے مرد اور طرح سوچتا ہے.

ماں اور طرح سوچتی ہے بہن اور طرح سوچتی ہے، باپ اور بھائی اور طرح سوچتے ہیں.

اس بات نے مجھے ایک نیا احساس دیا کہ چیزوں کو اور ‏حالات کو عورت کی نگاہ سے دیکھنا بھی بہت اہم ہے.

یہ شاید ٹراٹسکی نے کہیں لکھا ہے کہ

"If you wan to change the situation, look at the situation with the eye of a woman".