Nightmare

Is baar bhi jub meri aankh, us khawab se khuli to mera poora badan paseene se sharabor tha.

Ye khawab main ne jub se hosh sambhala mujhe aksar aata hai, jis main aik khunkhuwar, gali ka mela kutta (stray wild dog) - jis ke badan pe kaale kaale daag hain meri taraf dekh ke bhonkta rehta hai. Jub bhi ye khawab aata hai, uske kuch hi dinoN main koi na-khushgawar hadsa zaroor ronuma hota hai.

Ab ki baar ye khawab thora mukhtaleef tha. Is baar us khunkhuwar kutte ne bhonkte huwe mere chehre ki taraf chalang lagaii - phir hosh nahi raha ke kiya huwa!

Aankh khuli to tez bukhar se badan garam tha, poora bister tar tha, dharkanaiN tez thi aur aik anjaane khauf ne poore kamre ko apni girafat main lapet rakkha tha!

A note on Dr. Abdus Salam

(A note on Dr. Abdus Salam 12th death anniversary)

Dr. Abdus Salam ko kaun nahi janta. He won nobel prize in Physics for his work in Electro-Weak Theory.

After he won nobel prize, Prime Minister of India, Indira Gandhi, immediately invited him to India but he replied: "First I want to go to my own homeland, though I have strong desire to visit India but only for one reason - to see my primary school mathematics teacher - whose enthusiasm and encouragement for subject lead me to nobel prize".

Jise bachpun main achhe ustad mil jaayain woh bare Khush naseeb hote hain.

"The Scream"...aur Dadi Kulsum

Montreal ki sard raatoN main, main ne jub pehli baar Rohinton Mistry ki Kahani “The Scream” parhi to mera pehla reaction ye tha ke: “I didn’t expect such a mediocre work from such a big writer” but …I was wrong.

Rohinton Mistry’s short story “The scream” has recently been published with simultaneous impressive combination of 'mix media' artistic drawings of Tony Urquhart. It’s a project of World Literacy of Canada.

Jub main Montreal se Toronto wapas aaya to Amma ne kaha: “Jaane se pehle Kulsum Dadi se zaroor milte jaana, agli baar tak shayed woh is duniya main na rahain”. Main Kulsum Dadi se milne gaya to haddion (bones) ka aik dhancha bister pe para tha. Woh mujhe nahi pehchaniN. Kuch alfaz unke honton pe aye magar kisi ki samajh naa aaye. Kulsum Dadi ki umer 89 baras hai. Unhon ne khandan ke har fard ko godoN khilaya magar ab aalame-nazah (death bed) main pari hain…..To my doctor eye she appeared very anemic.... Ghar walon ne bataya, 'decub. ulcers' ke baais...... she is in severe pain... 'Hospital bed' ka intizam hai aur timardari ke liye full time ‘caretaker’ hai magar jis azziyat se woh guzar rahi hain main use koi naam nahi de paya.

Mujhe us aik lamhe main, jub Kulsum dadi ki aankhon se aansoN ke do qatre dhalak ke side pe gire – Rohinton Mistry ki kahani “The Scream” main chupe dukh ki gherayion ka andaza huwa. Aik umar raseeda shakhs apne aakhri ayyam main jis nafsiyati ‘mind set’ se guzarta hai woh mujhe samjh aa gai.

Main ne us kahani ko aik baar phir se parha…aur kafi dair tak airplane ki seat se sir tikaye betha raha………….There is a reason, I think Rohinton Mistry is one of the greatest writer of modern time!

Embraced by Desert

(Heard while talking to someone in a coffee shop)

Main ne apni zindagi ka beshtar hissa 'indian civil service' main guzara. Retire hone se kuch arsa pehle meri taayinaati (deputation) "district churu” main ho gai. Ye ilaqa Rajhastan ke shehra (desert) main hai aur shayed naqse pe dhundhna bhi mushkil ho. Wahan din main darjaye harart 50 C tuk aur raat main shadeed sard ho jata hai. Main akela wahan chala gaya. Dil main yahi sochta raha ke: ‘Kaun jaane, kese ye din katain ge’. Ajeeb ajeeb hol (fear) dil main uthte rahe.

Pehli subah, sawere sawere meri aankh khul gai. Main ne jese hi darwaza khola, aik taza hawa ka jhonka aaya aur mujhe yun mehsoos huwa jese – “I have been embraced by cool breeze of desert”. Main ne hulke hulke suroN main indian classical music laga di. Itni dair main naukar shave ke liye paani aur garam chai le aaya.

Subah sawere ki us thandi ‘breeze’ aur shehra ke us sakoot main jo sukoon pinhaN tha, woh na to mujhe America ki kisi wadi main mayyasar aaya aur na hi inglistan ki sard raatoN main.

Desert has its own beauty !

Lotto

Is blog pe main ne apni aik cousin sister ‘Nagin’ ka zikar kiya tha (here). Main jub bhi Canada aata hun, Nagin ke haan hi therna hota hai. Ab ki baar bhi Canada aaya to Nagin ke ghar thera. Aik Sham, Nagin apne bachhon ko le ker mall ki taraf ja rahi thi. Main bhi saath chal para. Mall pe Nagin ‘Lotto’ ke stall pe khari ho gai.

Main ne kaha: ‘ye kiya adaat tum ne apne saath laga li’.

Nagin ne jawab diya: “Mujhe bhi pata hai, lottery niklne ka chance lakhon main aik hai magar apne bachhon ke saath ‘lotto’ is liye khelti hun, ke mere bacchoN ka zindagi ki anhonioN pe iman qaaim rahe. Zindagi ki khubsurti inhi choti choti batoN se saji rehti hai. Hafte ke 2/4 dollar main itni saari umeedaiN aur khushiaN, bhale kuch der ke liye hi mil jaain to kiya bura hai” !!

A conversation

While roaming on streets of Toronto at midnight, looking for "Tim Hortons"....but both quiet - apne apne khayaloN main gum...

"Tumhe Pakistan yaad aata hai?"

"Kubhi kubhi"

"Ziyada ya kum?"

"Kubhi ziyada kubhi kum"

"Jub ziyada yaad aata hai to kiya kerte ho?"

"Mehdi Hasan ko sunta hun"

"Mehdi Hasan kiun?"

"Kiunke jub Pakistan yaad aata hai to uske saath woh sab chehre bhi yaad aate hain jin se hum mohabbat kerte the aur un mohabbatoN ko Mehdi Hasan Zaban de deta hai"

"hmmmm"

............phir khamoshi

Maqsood ki Imandari

Agar aap ye blog parhte rahe hain to aap ko andaaza hoga ke meri nau-umri aur nau-jawani ke din Karachi main guzre. Main pehli dafa Rawalpindi/Islamabad gaya to meri umer 24 baras thi. Mujhe Abbu aur Amma ke liya Canadian Immigration ke kuch papers jama kerwane the. Abbu ne kaha, Karachi ke halaat ki badolat behtar yahi hoga ke tum haat ke haat jama kerwa aao. Hamare mohalle ka aik lurka Murad Ali Rawalpindi main naukri kerta tha. Chandni Chowk ke qareeb usi ke makan pe therne ke plan bana. Chalte huwe abbu ne koi 5000 rupe alag se mere hawale kiye ke agar zaroorat par jaaye. Main ne woh paise patloon main daal liye.

Main aur mera cousin nazeer ba-kheriat Murad Ali ke makan pe paunch gaye. Murad Ali ka aik aur room-mate tha - Maqsood. Maqsood ka kamra kafi bara tha. Main aur Nazeer usi ke kamre main ther gaye. Main ne raat kupre badalte huwe patloon se 5000 rupe nikale aur sink par rakh ke bhool gaya. Subha hui to Murad Ali aur Maqsood to kaam pe chale gaye. Mujhe 5000 rupe nahi mile to Maqsood pe shaq guzra. Main ammi abbu ke immigration papers jama kerwane Islamabad chala gaya magar poora din dil hi dil main kurhta raha. Nazeer jazbati aadmi tha, is liye usse zikar nahi kiya ke Allah jaane kiya afat dhaye. Hum Islamabad se jald hi laut aaaye. Murad Ali aur Maqsood sham 6 baje kaam se wapas aaye to Maqsood ne pehla kaam ye kiya ke almari se 5000 rupe nikal ker mere hawale kiye aur kaha tumhari amanat sambhal lo. Mujhe apne aap per bari sharam aai aur usse bhi ziyada sharam us waqt aayi jab Maqsood ki kahani suni:

“Maqsood ke waldain 1947 main bihar se hijrat ker ke East Pakistan aaye. Jub 1971 main Bangladesh bana to Maqsood ke khandan ke saath bhi wahi huwa jo wahan har Bihari khandan ke saath huwa. Maqsood ke walid ko Mukti-bahini waloN ne goli maar di aur ghar walon ke saamne bari bahen ki izzat lut li. Us ne ‘talao’ (lake) main chalang laga ke khud-kushi ker li. BalwaiyoN ne baqi khandan ko saari zindani ye gum sehne ke liye zinda chor diya. Maqsood ki amma baqi 4 bachhoN ko le ker muhajir camp main mehsoor ho gai. Wahan se girte parte 2/3 baras baad woh Karachi paunche aur ‘Orangi town’ main thikana kiya. Maqsood ki amma ne kisi local factory main naukri ker ker ke 4 bachhoN ko bara kiya. Maqsood ne B.Com kiya to Amma ko naukri churwa di aur ab 3 behnoN aur Amma ka kafeel tha. Jo kamata tha woh guzare aur behnoN ke jahez ke liye jama ho jata tha”

Maqsood chahta to asani se mere 5000 rupe harap ker sakta tha, magar in halaat main bhi usne imandari ka daman nahi chora.Ye meri zindagi ke sirf woh 6 din the jo main ne Maqsood ke saath guzare magar har cheez main who hisab se apne paise pehle aage barha deta. Mujhe nahi maalom Maqsood ab kahan hai magar imandari ka jo sabaq woh mujhe parah giya, saari zindagi nahi bhulta. Ab bhi jab dostoN main “soldier system” ke hisab se paise nikalne ka waqt aata hai to meri koshish hoti hai ke sab se pehle apna hissa de dun – shayed mere andar bhi Maqsood ki imandari ki aik choti si ramaq jag utthe !

Aik Shair

A thought provoking shair of Abdul Hameed Adam.

"Khuda kee zaroorat naheen Adam mujh ko
abhee to mein koee insaan dhoond'ta hoon."

On Obama's win

As written by Adnan:

"I do have to say, the Americans have impressed me. This is the same country that let Bush be president for two terms, and clearly elected him for one (the second) term. And despite the smear campaign run by the Republicans, they still elected Obama.
Muslim. Arab. Pals around with terrorists. Socialist. Marxist.
And still, they elected him. Thank you for showing politicians that smear campaigns are awful, and they should not work."

Read very intelligent full post here

Salim Kausar

One of my all time favourite ghazal from Salim Kausar

People's Disease

Being a physician, one lesson I learned : "People's disease is a very private thing and it should not be brought for discussion unless and as appropriate needed. People get hurt !"


Azam koi dus baras mera class fellow reha ! Pehli se dasweeN jamat tuk hum aik hi class main rahe. Azam ko shuru se hi darde-shikam (Abdominal pain) ka problem tha. Diarrhea kubhi itna shadeed hota ke dinoN school se gaib rehta. Aksar class main use vomitting ho jaati. Aksar khabar aati Azam hospital main hai. Kai baar hum use uski amma ke saath clinic ya sarkari hospital se aata dekhte. NaweeN aur DasweeN main Azam mere saath tha. Bohut dosti rahi. Phir main aage chala gaya. Azam kisi aur college chala gaya. BarsoN beet gaye.

Jub main ne residency khatam ki to state license ke liye mujhe kuch papers attest kerwane school jana para. Azam ab bhi school ke aas paas usi makan main rehta tha. Junhi main school se nikla woh aik dam se saamne aa gaya. Ab bhi yunhi dubla patla jism tha. Lagta tha bimari ne uski jaan nahi chori thi. Jub salam dua khatam hui to mujhe kuch samjh nahi aaya ke kiya baat karun. Main ne be-khayali main poocha: "Ab tumhari bimari kesi hai ?" Us ke chehre pe aik rang aaya aur guzar gaya. Usne gol mol sa jawab de diya, magar meri baat se use jo takleef hui woh saaf ayaN thi.

Aaj bhi uska chehra yad aata hai to dil main nadamat aur aik kasak si uthti hai !

Phantom of Pleurae

"Human lung is covered with 2 layers, visceral pleura and parietal pleura. Inflammation between these pleurae cause pain and difficulty in breathing".

Jub main residency ker raha tha to hamare aik Korean pulmonologist the. Bare Allah wale aadmi the. Aik din unhon ne hum se kaha: "Human relationships are like 2 pleurae together. If they develop friction and inflammation but have no choice but to live together - causes severe pain with every breath. And let me tell you its not easy. Sometime there is no apparent reason for pleural inflammation. All workup remains negative. Kind of idiopathic.. But pain remains there - severe pain with each breath. Manytime human relationship turns into what I call Phantom of Pleurae".

Human Touch, Women and Business

Mere aik dur ke chachha the. Hum unhe Shaban Chachha kehte the. Wese intihai be-zarr se aadmi the magar Allah jhut na bulwaye, thore se sust (lazy) bhi the. Saari zindagi idhar udhar choti moti naukrian kerte rahe. Aur agar kubhi karobar main haat daala bhi to woh unki sustravi aur ziyada sote rehne ki adat ki badolt beth gaya…

Akhri baar unho ne ‘North Nazimabad’ ke ilaqe main aik choti si bakery kholi. Main jub kubhi us ilaqe se guzarta to abba ki nasihat ke baais unki bakery pe salam kerne ruk jaata. Ab ki baar bhi karobar ka wahi haal tha aur who phir bakery band kerne ka soch rahe the. Pore din main bakery ba-mushkil koi 40-50 rupe ki ‘bikri’ (sale) kerti.

Koi 6/8 mahine baad amma ne bataya ke Shaban chachha ki bakery khub chal pari hai. Mujhe bari hairat hui. Ab ki baar unki bakery gaya to customers ka aik jame gafir tha. Faraq sirf itna tha ke ab bakery chalane mein Gulshan chahhi ne unki help kerna shuru kar di thi. Main ne Shaban Chahha se poocha: “aakhir aesa kiya majra huwa ke bakery aik dum se yun chal pari?”

Chachha ne jawab diya: “Tum to jaante ho ke ye saara residential area hai. Ziyada tar gharelu log ya khawateen hi hamari customers hain. Tumhari gulshan chachhi ne logon ki dukh dard ki kahani sunna shuru kar di (I knew her from before; she is a very good listener). Customers ko is bakery se cheezon ke saath dukh dard ka madava bhi milna shuru ho gaya. Phir who aros paros ke logon ke liye kubhi ghar se pakore to kubhi gulab jaman paka ke laane lagi. Dusri taraf Bakery ki bhi halat durust ki. In sab ke baais peechele 8 mahine main tumhe ye sun ker hairat hogi ke meri roz ki sale 5000 rupe ho gayi hai aur bare dinoN pe to ye 9/10 hazar tuk ho jaati hai”.

Kiya ye sach hoga ke: Women due to their ability to create 'human touch’ are better salespeople than men?

Confabulation

Few days ago, while I was traveling in an airplane, I noticed my co-passenger had a traveling magazine which I didn’t have in front pocket of my seat. I asked to have it for few minutes as I am always intrigued with natural lakes of USA. I looked at the relevant article but instead of giving back, I put magazine in my front pocket without realizing that it was not airlines’ but his magazine. He asked for his magazine back and I embarrassedly returned it.

Bachpun main bhi aksar aesa huwa ke, main ne zid pakar li ke ye khilona ya flaN flaN kitab meri hai. Amma ne ya bhai ne samjhaya tub kahin samjh aaya ke ye meri cheez nahi.

Zindagi main bohat si cheezon ke baare main hame ye aehtmal rehta hai ke woh cheez hamari hai magar ziyada tur cheezain bus kuch der ke liye hi hamare paas mustaa’r (on lease) hoti hain. Is aehsas ko – jis main ke ye tameez kerna mushkil ho jaaye – ke kaunsi cheez hamari hai aur kaunsi nahi – ya jis main ‘reality’ aur ‘fantasy’ – khalat malat ho jaaye- ko confabulation kehte hain.

Confabulation is defined as the confusion of imagination with memory.

Khalil Jibran apni kitab “The Prophet” main likhta hai ke asal main aulad bhi hamari nahi hoti. Hamare bachhe hamare nahi, waqt ke bachhe hote hain.

Abhi kuch hi dinon pehle main ne Nazeer Akbarabadi pe aik post likhi thi. Zaalim kiya sach likh gaya hai:

Sab thaT para reh jaawe ga jub laad chalega banjara

A quote

"A man could lose all his decency faster than any other thing he possessed: money, health, love"

(From Moazzam Sheikh's short story 'Monsoon Rains', when central character Masud walked to his naukrani basti in pouring rain whom he used as sex slave).

Kaifi Aazmi

What a ghazal from Kaifi Aazmi !

Woh bhi sarahney lagey, arbaab e fun kay baad
Daad e sukhan mili mujhey, tarkay sukhan kay baad

Deewana'waar chaand say aagey nikal gaye
Thehera na dil kahiN bhi, teri anjuman kay baad

HontoN ko see kay dekhiye, puchtaiiye ga aap
Hungamey jaag uThte haiN, aksar ghutan kay baad

Ghurbat ki thandi chaa'oN meiN, yaad aayi uski dhoop
Qadr e watan hui humeiN, tark e watan kay baad

Elaan e haq meiN khatra e daaro rasan to hai
Lekin sawaal yeh hai kay, daaro rasan kay baad?

Human emotions - healed or numbed?

A cross-posting of a paragraph from Aisha's recent post. It tells a lot about humans reactions to overwhelming emotions

"A group across from me drink cocktails engaged in casual conversation. Politics, I think until I hear them. A meeting of those with missing family. One lady with a page boy cut and blue jeans talks about her father. He went to Nepal and never returned. The other, a son in Iraq. "Do you think we'll ever know what happened?" Ms. Page asks as she takes a sip. A lady with coke bottle glasses shrugs as she looks at her nails. I'm amazed by how neutral they seem. They could be discussing the weather for all the emotion revealed. Maybe time heals? Maybe it numbs".

You may read whole post here

Father

Interesting Ad. (thanks to karrvakarela for tip)

Nazeer Akbarabadi

Nazeer Akbarabadi was an unique urdu poet. In 18th century era, when everybody was writing difficult classic urdu, mostly 'ishq related' ghazals, Nazeer wrote for and in simple common man language. In that time period, poetry in small 'bahar' (like of Mir Taqi Mir) were valued but Nazeer wrote in long 'bahar'. First time when I read his "sab thath para reh jawe ga, jub laaad chale ga bangera" in 10th grade, I loved his 'laffazi'. Ye woh umer hoti hai jub lafzon ka khel dil ko bohat bhata hai. Than, there was a point, I thought - what a big deal writing in such long lines? But when I gained more sense of world (did I?), I realized that his "laffazi" and long "bahar" make sense, as it send a strong message of core meaning. I doubt, he ever wanted to be famous. It is said that, 98% of his work was never found.

For any literature/writer/poetry we all go through 3 phases 1) enjoying its obvious flavour 2) criticizing it 3) understanding its core and value

A quote on life

"sometimes there is no such thing as right decision, we have to do what we got to do, as long we accept the responsiblities of the choices and stand by them...it always works"

(From a single working mother of two teenagers)