Chinook.: Where it leads me!!

We come across new information and knowledge on daily basis while watching television, reading a book, chatting with a friend on internet or talking with people face to face but often the information is lost as we busy ourselves with the next activity. In each of the new information is the potential to become one's passion and destiny. If we trace the start of our hobbies, occupations, interests, likes, dislikes, ideas and desires we will find that some where some day we heard about our future interest, desires etc and then we build on that information and turned it into our interest and made it part of our personality. For example when I trace my interest in world geography I find that one of my friend in primary school once showed me the map of Africa on his journal and I was fascinated by the squared and rectangular shaped countries ( Ghana, Ivory Coast, Togo, Dahomey) as they looked very beautiful on the map. I asked my father to buy a globe for me. He was pleasantly surprised that I was asking for a globe and he happily brought a globe from his nest visit to Karachi. I started spending hours and hours to locate countries and then started reading about their culture and history. I wonder if I had not built on my interest in maps after seeing that colorful map of Africa in my friend's journal would I be able to develop my interest in history and culture of these countries scattered on maps.
All of these thoughts have given me an idea to pick any topic from our daily interactions and then find more about it and see where it would lead us. It may lead us to new interests, places or people and enrich our life in ways we never expected.

For this experiment I have picked up "Chinook" from the chat with my cousin who lives in Canada. He mentioned about Chinook that it blew last week and melted the snow quickly. I was amazed by the information that there could be hot winds in such a cold climate that melt the snow. I am building on this information and lets see where it leads me.

You.

You are my imagination, you are my fascination
You are my fantasy, you are my reality.
You are my punching bag, you are my consoling pillow,
You are my teether, you are my soother
You are my lottery, you are my trophy
You are my Lolita, you are my Cinderella
You are my Gandri, You are my sundri.
You are my date, you are my fate.

Sustainable Tourism....seems interesting.

So finally I am at the stage where I have to do my first Independent Study for my MS degree. I have started doing secondary research for my area of interest and it is Sustainable Tourism. In Sindh, what I have seen from my preliminary literature review, much has not been done in this area and I feel that if I do the research to find the potential and problems of ST it could become a seminal work for my PhD. ( I am right now thinking of terminating my studies at MS). The area on which I want to work is Nagar Parkar. It is a small town in the South East of Sindh surrounded by India from three sides. It has Karoonjhar Mountains in its back ground and scattered Jain temples on its plains. The local tourism potential is very high keeping in view the presence of natural and cultural tourist attractions. I have been to the area in 2000 and 2003 and have good local links there to pursue the research the only problem is that its more than 5 hours journey from Hyderabad. I want to work in this area but I am thinking to do my IS first in a near by area on the same topic and then if I things move in the same direction as I hope for than extend the research to cover Nagar Parkar for any funding organization. I am working for my research proposal and do want to get over it as soon as possible to actually start working on the research. It's going to be exciting but I have to keep a vigil on my habit of procrastination because this habit keeps popping its head too often.

Not my kind.

I am sorry and would you please leave. Leave from my life as if you never existed. Don't get the impression that my smiling and behaving nicely towards you mean I want you back. No, I just want to give you a nice valediction. I have lost interest in you and I am moving forward. You are not my kind and thanks for letting me know this so early. Bye.

Udero Lal.

After a long time I went to a visit to Udero Lal. Udero Lal is famous for the resting place of a saint " Udero Lal", who is respected by both Muslims and Hindus. It is the place where you will find mosque and temple side by side and both Hindus and Muslim devotees coming inside the tomb from the same door. As I stood there I thought that we should make known the sufi culture of Pakistan especially in Sindh and Punjab provinces where extremism doesn't exist and religious harmony prevails.

Home away.

I am in Karachi since last few days and my stays in Karachi are getting prolonged. My classes are scheduled on Sundays too to cover up the loss of classes due to October 18 unrest and secondly I am working here on a feasibility to establish a business . I am missing my home.

Lost but not defeated.

The taste of loss is not as bitter as I was anticipating. The fear of dreadful was killing me but dreadful failed to kill me. It is over and I have lost the battle. I fought till end and never quit. I am bruised and lost in oblivion. Licking wounds, empty handed and alone I reflect and say to myself never mind you followed your dream. I have nothing except my intact self esteem to challenge again the forces who think I am a history. The loss I endure is far more dear to me than the gains that tempt me to forsake my ideals. I am biting my time to reenter the arena.

Of Love and Insanity.

I read a real life story titled "Of Love and Insanity" in the Bangladeshi newspaper The Daily Star. The story is of a young lower middle class guy who fell in love with a girl six years senior to him and belonging to an elite class. The common story is narrated poignantly. I especially like the comment of the writer about love. Here it is

"Stories in real life end in such prosaic ways that one wonders what is the meaning or purpose of all the heart-rending, foolish happiness and sufferings that precedes them. Why do we get entangled in the cobwebs of lunacy called love, when the endings are almost always so mundane?".

Yet we do fall in love, there is no escaping from it. I believe tribulations and elations experienced in love make one wiser not to fall in love again. Love brings pain and severely hampers the cerebral function and eventually brings a period of depression from which the sufferer recovers with phenomenal efforts and at great cost of time. Despite all the sufferings a lover must endure there is no point regretting the experience of love because not to fall in love is to live life too safely and insipidly. I do agree with the conclusion that the endings of love are mundane but without love the beginning and middle are mundane too. With love some part of life becomes exciting and even the mundane ending of love gives life something to reminisce. This isn't a bad deal, is it?

Doris Lessing wins Nobel Prize in Literature.

Since last few years I am following the literary world with interest. I read literary blogs and book review sections of Guardian, New York Times and Dawn. The literary blogs I read with most interest are Chandrahas' The Middle Stage and Laila Lalami's blog. I was keenly waiting for this year winner of Nobel Prize in literature. The announcement has been made finally and its Dorris Lessing of England who has won the prize. Frankly I have never heard of her name before the announcement of her winning the prize so an internet search on her was inevitable. What I found was an 87 years old self taught writer who was born in Persia (Iran) in 1919 and spend most of her early phase of life in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Her childhood was of much pain and less pleasure and once she commented unhappy childhoods seem to produce fiction writers. Once she asked that what use are men and then answered herself, men had been introduced to "pep up" a slothful, lazy world of women. An interesting answer indeed. Though I believe that all women may not agree to the answer of Lessing. Will I be looking for her books to read? I am not sure. I will read more about her books and then decide if Ireally like to read her books. The most likely book that I will read is "The golden Notebook" as it is considered her best. She is the oldest Nobel Prize winner in Literature.

To a silver star.

The flight was sudden and I found myself traveling millions of light years of distance in a flash. It was a silver star where I landed. I may have seen that star from my home in earth but in my wildest imagination I could not think of reaching that star. I am stunned by my presence on the lonely star far in the galaxy where I see nothing but silver dust and an entirely different composition of sky over me. I have been pulled out of my earthly home and thrown into a new world. The feeling of detachment from everything earthly gives me a feeling of uninvited calm and I feel so lonely that I long for the chaos and mess of the earthly life. Yet the calm all around me is settling on my heart and I feel my nerves relaxed and my senses sharpen.
What was the anxiety that disturbed me while I was on earth? The source of all of my anxiety was in my thoughts, the anxiety was of my own making. What I was fighting for and striving for? Why was I always tense and never allowed myself to detach from the web of mundane activities to create a heavenly calm. Here the silence is profound and I can listen the voice of my thoughts. The voice of my thoughts is good to listen and I regret why I never let silence to prevail there to listen to my thoughts.

I look over the sky and find millions of stars and wonder which one is my earth's star sun. Is it the one blinking on the far southern horizon or the one on the northern sky. I want to talk to the sun and tell it that I am missing its warmth and shine. As I see the sun lost among millions of stars I feel myself so insignificant because having a big powerful sun is what made us human beings think grand. It was so personal to have it as our daily companion that now as it is nothing but one of the millions of stars over there I understand we human being have been living in a state of self delusion. I think about the wars, killings, fights on earth, that earth whose existence is impossible to detect from here and with such spectaculars celestial bodies all around me it would be sheer stupidity to even think about such a wretched entity.

Then a question pops into my mind What has made the earth, sun and universe exist, what has made this silver star alive, relevant? The answer is" my thinking".It is in my mind where universe exists. With this realization I long for my earthly abode to see the rising sun and listen to my thoughts and to live without missing the calm that prevails there too. I can do that now I know.

Smile on your face.

The heart floats on a bouncy sea
Or the sea of my heart is bouncy
I don't know where does the turmoil come from
What I do know is the calm that prevails
whenever I see the smile on your face

Anita Roddick.

When I started my studies in Business Administration I came across Liberation Managment a book by Tom Peters. In one of the chapters he told the story of Anita Roddick, the founder of Body Shop. Simple, straightforward and passionate, Anita Roddick created a special place in my heart as the leader of business world. When I started teaching business subjects I often quoted Anita Roddick's passion for her work. Today I read the news of her death and felt deeply saddened. A great soul has left the world.

An oozing from heart.

Sweetness oozes from heart and satiates my soul. Time stops and the moment envelops me and I become one with nature. My awe of the universe disppears as I stop seeing myself and acknowledge only the universe. The moon, stars, vast sky, cool breeze and I are nothing but manifestation of only one phenomenon. Love prevails and I float in the river of love all around me.

Resolve.

When I am hurt by your words and I tell you that I am hurt, it hurts you and when you are hurt it further hurts me so I have decided not to tell you that I am hurt as I know you never intend to hurt me. In this way I will save myself from further getting hurt.

First time tagged.

This is the first time I am tagged and by no other than one of my favorite blogger Ali.

The rules:

1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts. 2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves. 3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules. 4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and that they should read your blog.

Here are my eight things.

1. I have a peculiar fascination about places and countries in the South. My list of dream destinations consists of places like 1. Punta Arenas ( A town in Southern Chile in South America), Trivandaram ( A town on the tip of South India) 3. Cape Town ( South Africa). I live in Sindh (Southern Province of Pakistan) and I travelled to Keti Bandar recently to fulfill my desire of seeing the ultimate South of Pakistan.

2. I am very clumsy in doing anything with wires, screws, nut and bolts. Sometimes it takes me hours to join two simple wires in an electrical switch or mend a broken telephone wire.

3. I am obsessed with de cluttering. Every week I am seen emptying my drawers and throwing out junk. (I wonder how does the junk accumulate so frequently.) It is a continuous struggle to get my drawers, shelves and closets organized and simplified. My family members say that my favorite hobby is to clean my drawers.

4. I don't feel comfortable in having a number equalling 8. I don't intentionally avoid 8 but I don't feel comfortable when dealing with any number equaling 8 like travelling on 8, 17 or 26 of a month or having my bank account number or credit card number equalling 8. I consider 1 being my lucky number.

5. Travelling gives me immense pleasure. The journey is my destination. The sight of plains, rugged mountains, green pastures, rivers and sands gives me immense pleasure.

6. I cannot sleep without having my eyes covered with a piece of cloth. If nothing is available I place my hand over my eyes and sleep.

7. Reading maps is one of my favorite pastimes. I can spend hours and hours to study the maps of countries and continents.

8. I am very emotionally attached to my students and try to know each of them as an individual. I often remember the birthdays of my students even if I had taught them years ago.

I tag Psyched.

Tryst with nature.

It's been a hat trick to watch sunrise from the roof of my home. Clouds, sun and birds with moon hovering in the opposite horizon make the morning rise a tryst with nature. I feel bringing the nature at my door step and without getting out of my home I enjoy the colorful show as a solo audience. What I like best is the turning of the color of sky from blue to orange in the east. Today it was hide and seek between sun and clouds and I was mesmerized by the glow of sun behind the clouds. I forgot where I was and found myself as part of a great celestial drama. Everyday nature offers spectacular scenes to watch, feel and be part of them but we miss them or fail to acknowledge their uniqueness. As it is said by a classical Urdu poet Mir Dard "Sarsary hum is jahan say guzray, Warna har ja jahan e digar tha". ( We passed this world cursorily, otherwise every place was a world in itself.)

38...so what!!!

Next month I will be 38 years old. When I look back at my last 10 years of life I find myself going through a lot of change. During these 10 years I have suffered set backs, endured difficult times, tasted defeats and passed through the phase of total abandonment by my so called close friends. The last decade has also given me some of the greatest happinesses of my life. I have become far more open, spontaneous, easygoing and carefree than what I was in 1997. I used to take everything very seriously and allow myself no margin of error. Hence I was very upright, fastidious and no-nonsense in dealing with people especially with students. I was respected but at the same time I was a lonely person. I used to wonder why any girl was not in my life. I was well educated, well placed, good looking yet I was a failure in the matter of love. I could talk for hours on current political issues, history, management, economics but couldn't engage a girl in a light conversation. One of my female colleague told me to read literature to understand the complexities of human relationships and particularly to understand female psychology because she felt I was too prudish. Literature didn't help me much to understand the female psychology what helped me most were women themselves. When I started listening to my female colleagues, to my cousins, to my girl students, I found that what women want is understanding of their emotions. All my credentials worth nothing when it comes to winning the heart of a woman because I knew only how to involve the brain and didn't know how to engage the heart. It was big eye opener for me. The transformation of my personality started and I became slowly more open and relaxed. Life became easy for me and I started enjoying my work more. The change in my personality didn't come quickly and easily and it took many years before I was able to get out of the confinement of a nice, perfect and infallible image that I had locked myself into. Then love of my life came. My poem roller coaster describes my sentiments.

Roller Coaster

"I am flawed, erratic and moody
yet you hold my hand all along
not knowing where I would lead you
sometimes we soar as if never to fall
when I become quiet, you wait for my call
my life is like a roller coaster
Love entered in my life when I stopped being perfect
and it was then you told me " I love to ride on a roller coaster.

I am not what I was in 1997 and I will be not what I am today in 2017. I have seen many of my dreams gone shattered and many new dreams come alive. I have met scores of beautiful, intelligent and remarkable women, read rich literature from Kundera to Murakami, travelled to remote and rugged places in Sindh, captured marvellous natural scenes in my camera, listened to intellectual giants and savored quality food during the last decade especially during last 5 years.

I feel young, 38 doesn't describe me. "Cheeni Kum."

A bud.

The touch of bud enlivens my heart. Spirited, gushing, untrammelled flow of admiration from every action has inundated my heart. "It's you, I swear", these words have made my day.

Khamushi.

Ae khamushi utar ja meray dil mein
sunna chahta hun dil kehta hai kiya
bohat hangamay hain dunya main aur main hun dhoondta
ik gosha jahan main or ho mera dil
phir karun ghanton batain apnay dil say
Ae khamushi utar ja meray dil mein

My Heaven.

Books, Paintings, Music and You.

Its time for decision making.

Now a days I have not too much to do. My classes in one of the institutes are over and at my home centre too students have completed their courses almost. So I have lots of time in hand particularly on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I have got rid of lots of clutter. I am also reading my unfinished books. At the same time I have purchased few new books in Sindhi despite self imposed ban on purchasing books. I couldn't resist the temptation of purchasing so cheap books on such interesting topics. I couldn't believe that for just Rs. 100 I got 4 books from Sindhi Language Authority book stall. The books are priceless, I have already got worth of my Rs. 100 when I read in one of the books about saints in Jainism, Hinduism and Buddhism.
In the evening I went to see our neighbour who came back from a visit to India. He is above 60 years of age and a fervent traveller. He went to see his relatives in Rajasthan. He went to Jaipur, Sikar and Bikaner and then further south to Hyderabad. He was all praise for the progress in India. He said that now there was no comparison between India and Pakistan. India is far ahead. The salaries are high there but the prices of goods are cheap. Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs live peacefully. While he was narrating his account of Indian trip I felt disappointment on what we have done with Pakistan. He urged me to visist India and see Delhi, Jaipur and Agra in the first trip and if there is a chance then I must go and see my ancestrol town of Mahedragarh as well.
Karachi is calling me again. I have prayed that I take the better decision. I want to read, travel, write and teach and that's all I am doing. But only teaching is giving me money. May be in Karachi I will be able to earn from my other passions as well. I don't want to leave the things that I love most. The time for decision making has arrived and I cannot escape it. I have to make the decision pretty soon.

In the memory of Dr. Ishqi

The city of Hyderabad once famous for literary and intellectual gatherings is now deprived of such events. When one of the learned Professor of English told me about the organization of a gathering in the memory of Dr. Ilyas Ishqi I decided to attend it. Last night I went to the function and found very few people attending it. There were hardly 50 participants in a city of more than 2 million. Dr. Ilyas Ishqi was no ordinary person. He was an intellectual giant. Born in Jaipur in 1922 he migrated to Pakistan in 1948. His professional association was with Radio Pakistan but his areas of expertise were literature, language and music. He was an expert on Urdu literature. The aspect that inspired me most was his command over many languages of Pakistan. He was fluent in Sindhi, Punjabi and Seraiki. He was one of the top most literary figure who was seen as the expert in Sindhi language especially on Shah Latif though his mother tongue was Urdu. Persian and Hindi were other languages in which he expressed himself in the form of poetry. He devoted his life to spread love among the dwellers of Pakistan especially Sindh. His first and last love was books. He passed away on 12 January 2007. I am lucky to know him as a close friend of my father. Dr. Ishqi came to our home many times to spend time with my father. Hyderabad has lost one of its greatest patron of knowledge. One of his verse is below with my attempt to translate it.

" Harf ki qeemat bay payan hai, harf kay hain imkaan bohat
harf ko zinda karna seekho phir chahay taqdeer likho"

" The price of word is infinite, the possibilities of words are countless"
learn how to make word alive, then write your own fate".

Love You Indus.

I was feeling jaded so I went to see you. O Indus, you are always there for me to rejuvinate my soul. Love you.

It is not over.

You are settled. I am settled. Let the game begin.

Keti Bandar.

On 3rd May 2007 the allure of the distant sea took me to the end of Pakistan in the south to the small port town of Keti Bandar. When I reached there I was convinced once again that fear of unknown lies in our mind not outside of it. I reached Gharo at 9 am where my Memon driver was waiting for me. Without wasting time we moved towards south on our way to Keti Bandar. Passing through the heart of Indus Delta we reached Keti Bandar around 12 noon. The first sight of the sea gave me the pleasure of finding a long lost friend. We entered the town and met Mr. Bukhari, a member of Fisher folk forum, who gave us remarkable hospitality beyond our expectation. The sea water all around us was actually the intrusion by the sea in the lands of Sindh. The intrusion is caused by the lack of flow of Indus river into the sea therefore sea water is gnawing the land each year. Where we saw the salty water of sea there once stood the crops of rice. I asked Mr. Bukhari to show us the roaring sea. He told us for that we had to travel on boats to enter the Arabian Sea. We embarked on a small boat called " Horo" in Sindhi. All the way we saw small islands on which the Debali community of fishermen lives. After travelling for half an hour we saw the high tides of Arabian Sea. We were about to enter into the open sea when I asked the boatman to return to Keti Bandar. After spending sometime there I left for Hyderabad and reached my home at 8 pm.

For more pictures visit my Fotoblog.

Banbhore.

The Mosque of Banbhore, Sindh.

Yesterday I went to Banbhore. When I sat foot out of my home I didn't know that I would reach Banbhore because I intended to go further south to the Arabian Sea coast of Keti Bandar. After contacting some people of the area I came to know that the route to Keti Bandar goes from Gharo, a small town on the road between Thatta and Karachi. By the time I reached Gharo it was already 2pm and when I asked the driver of the taxi how much time it would take to reach Keti Banadr he told me that it would take around 3 hours. So I decided it was too late to go to the place and asked the driver to show me the nearby places. The driver belonged to the Memon community of the town and I was surprised to know that he knew so much about the life in Indus delta and sea. Memons are usually businesspersons. He told me that he was married in the Mir Bahar community who are actually fisherman. Mir Bahar, the king of Sea, has given the name Admiral , the commander of the fleet of navy. We first went to Gharo creek where the fishermen were catching fish and then we went to Banbhore. Banbhore is a ruined city now but it is said that when first Arab conquerer of Sindh Muhammad Ibne Qasim came here it was the bustling port city and called Debal. I took some pictures of the ruined city with the Gharo creek in background. The famous poet of Sindh Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai has immortalized the love story of Sassui and Punnuh through his poetry. Sassui belonged to Banbhore. The first mosque in the Sub continent is said to be built in Banbhore around 712 AD at the time of Arab conquest of Sindh. I came back home with better and clearer understanding about visiting Keti Bandar that I will visit soon.

Wounded Alma Mater.

The massacre at Virginia Tech has blown the hallowed institution of university to smithereens. It is like bombing the mosque, temple, synagogue, or church. No, I am wrong the university is more sacred than the religious centers because here the learned and the learners together are in the pursuit of knowledge the only activity truly epitomizing the essence of being human.

The killer wounded his alma mater and killed her children who were not strangers but his own siblings. Who would now feel safe in the lap of alma mater? The students and teachers will doubt each other; the home of learning has been shattered. I feel the pain of the teachers of Virginia Tech who grope to find the answer to the biggest question of their life why did they fail to pacify the brewing anger of a young guy who had shown enough signs of alienation. Something somewhere must have altered the role of university, teachers and education so subtly that resulting absence of support system for any estranged student turned an ordinary student into the perpetrator of the deadliest massacre in US history.

I do not claim to know America and its culture and how it would feel to be a part of an American university so I am not in a position to comment upon the pressures an immigrant student might have felt that led him to commit mass murder of his own varsity fellows. However as a teacher I think the lacking may lie in not reaching out to the family of the student especially his parents at a time when first signs of diabolical thoughts were detected in his writings. Taking the family into confidence and tracing the causes of his problems might have given the university authorities better clues to know true state of the mind of the embittered student. I feel sorry for the VT faculty and staff who no doubt would have done more had they known what catastrophe a lone student would bring to their institution.

“Give respect to each other, help the weak students to grow, never make fun of any student, never ridicule anyone and always stretch your hand for mutual growth “, this is my message to all the students of the world.

Existentialism. (My 100th Post)

When I got the novel Plague by Albert Camus I had no idea who the author was and what kind of the novel Plague would turn out to be. Later I came to know that Camus was associated with existentialism though he himself preferred not be associated with any school of thought. Camus was once a close friend of Sartre who is regarded as the leading philosopher of existentialism of the 20th century. The meaning of existentialism in philosophy was not clear to me and after searching on net and reading from my introductory book on philosophy I found that existentialist philosophers believe that human beings although have no power to choose the environment of their birth but they do have the power to form their world through exercising the will power. I know that there must be more to the subject than what I have understood but the essence that I got from reading about it is liberating. One can make a difference for better in the presence of overwhelming problems and challenges through resoluteness and will. Plague is such a story where the indomitable spirit of the human beings fought a battle against the plague. Plague struck the people out of the blue and altered their destiny but failed to subdue the will of the people to defeat the dreaded disease. Eventually the people of the town saw the retreat of the plague and began living their ordinary lives again.

My mood is ethereal

The night has fallen and the humming of the fan enhances the silence all around. I am sitting in my study room with a new book around. "...And Another Woman Shall Bear Me" is the collection of articles by Khadijah Gauhar an Afro-Asian writer. I have already finished a couple of articles and surprisingly the first article was finished even before I reached home after purchasing the book. My bike was standing idle for almost a month and I decided to take a ride on it. I went straight to the bookshop to get the book and on my return trip I found my self stuck in a traffic jam. The blockade was so massive that I switched off my bike and opened the first pages of the book to read. I created an island of serenity in the midst of mayhem and started reading the book. As I engrossed myself in the thoughts and ideas of the author I forgot that I was stranded in the traffic jam and the feeling of being in control gave me satisfaction at a time when most of the people seemed frustrated. I read about the author's apathy towards restrictive form of education she got in a school of a Muslim neighborhood of Cape Town in 1930s. As I finished the first article with these words " I believed that the general aim of sound education is to help individuals to grow to fuller maturity; to help them to live well with his or her own world or society", I looked around and found no improvement in the traffic jam. I waited for few more minutes and then turned the bike back to reach home via long route. I am reading the other articles now but I will never forget the start of the book as it was made in very unusal environment for reading. My mood is ethereal.

Curse of a woman

Leave me forever if you so desire but you will long for love and it will never embrace you. Every step forward and every passing moment will lead you to a life where each day ends in the lap of loneliness, ennui will rule your life and tall buildings surrounding your abode will obstruct fresh air and sunshine to enter, the loosening of the tie will not ease your breathing and you will feel your body turning into a concrete. You will watch thousand faces popping out from the dead walls of your forlorn room mocking your highbrow living and you will die all alone in the midst of dark night faraway in time as well in distance from the one who is urging you right now not to leave.

Magic moment

Distnictively tall, having long black hair, big eyes and buxom body with confident and affable outlook she walked effusively towards the garden of our campus. Her untrammelled youth had enthralled me. Next day our eyes met and locked for a split second then drifted away. I didn't go to campus for next few days but on my next visit I saw her seeing in my direction and again our eyes met but this time we smiled. The magic moment passed and we parted.I never saw her again. When I look back at the magic moment it enchants me and fills my heart with happiness.

Irrational son.

Why do I hurt my mother despite possessing ineffable love for her? I think the answer lies in my irrationality when it comes to my relation with my mother. I want to see her always happy. The sight of my mother being tense, sad or depressed shakes my world and I lose my sangfroid and try to make her happy instantly without realizing that she would naturally take some time to get out of her gloomy mood. I become extremely annoyed with whoever causes her bad mood. My extreme agitation affects my heart and brain and I start feeling pain. At this point my mother forgets her own pain, assures me that she is fine and asks me to be normal and there is absolutely nothing that she is worried about. When I hear her I should calm down but then I find myself in a vortex of emotions that keeps spinning my head. Seeing my condition my mother gets stressed and worried and there I feel utmost guilt that in the pursuit of making her happy I have inflicted pain on her. The guilt of causing pain to my mother further exasperates my condition. Finally after hours of talking, expressions of love for each other, promises of taking care of each other and hugging things start to normalize and my mother forgets her pain and smiles as I start my daily routine.
I know I do not deal with the normal swings of my mother’s mood in an emotionally intelligent way but despite my efforts to control my emotions, I lose my control over them and deny my mother her right to be sad, angry or depressed like any other normal human being.

Teaching my veiled students

In my all girls class four of the students wear niqab or veil. Teaching the veiled students was a difficult task for me. I establish eye contact with every student while teaching but I find it difficult to establsih eye contact with girls wearing veils because I thought it might offend them. However without eye contact I found it impossible to teach so I slowly started establsihing eye contact with them. The result was an improved level of communication. Veil ceased to be a formidable barrier as I started focusing on the non-verbal aspects of voice to compensate for the loss of facial gestures that are so important to know the level of comprehension of students.
I haven't seen the faces of my veiled students but in my imagination each student has a face that may not correspond to the actual face but that face smiles, questions, concentrate and performs all the gestures while I teach. I determine the obscure facial expressions of the students through the tone and pitch of their voice and their body language. Those who cannot see with eyes have thousand other ways to appreciate the beauty of world, so if facial expressions are missing there are ample ways to communicate effectively with veiled students.

Heart wrenching

Bob Woolmer's death has shaken the Pakistani nation. "Bob Woolmer has died", the news muted all the tirade against Bob Woolmer by the jingos of Pakistani cricket. In our frenzy to castigate the team we forgot what the toll it would take on the coach and players. Although exact condition of his mind at the time of his death would never be known but the pressure build up following the deafeat of Pakistan may have been too much for the man to cope who had dedicated his life for cricket and in the night following the defeat he collapsed. The Woolmer wanted to quit as the coach of Pakistani team after the completion of his contract in June 2007 to spend more time with his family. He was under tremendous stress and far away from his home in an alien island he couldn't make it to the morning. The headlines of the papers are filled with praise for him but he is no more.

Naxalites of India

The terror attack on the police station in Bijapur by Naxalites as reported in Hindustan Times is deplorable without any doubt. However I was surprised by the scale of killing in this attack and concerned that something terrible is happening in India that is not getting due coverage in international media. The under privileged class in India feels itself trounced under the feet of bourgeoisies who are rapaciously gulping Indian resources to imitate the lifestyle of the citizens of western world. The naxalites represent the reality of interior India that is obscure to the western reporters who are dazzled by the glitter of Bollywood and dazed by the success of Indian cyber world companies. India has aligned itself with the capitalism of US and the socialist ghost of Nehruvian era has been exorcised from its economy. The backlash by the Indian down trodden is feeble yet it is gaining momentum day by day and the time is not far away when the news of the emergence of a leader of Hugo Chavez stature from the little known states of Chhattisgarh or Jharkand would take the world by surprise. In the eyes of western media India is beautiful, democratic, vibrant, progressive, secular and the darling of the west yet in the dark jungles of far off India Naxalites have become the voice of oppressed Indians who find themselves languishing in the India that has no resemblance to the India portrayed in western media.

Abhorently Haughty.

After reading the post Let us trade with Pakistan on Amit Varma's blog IndiaUncut one cannot miss the sense of self righteousness that is prevailing among Indian intelligentia. The simplistic approach of Indian writers of squaring all blames on Pakistan for the troubles in Kashmir is of no help to take out the billions of people of sub continent from the quagmire that we are facing for decades. The worsening of the situation in Kashmir cannot be attributed solely to Pakistani support of the insurgents there. The sooner Indian intelligentsia realizes the bungles of its own government the better India would be in a position to win the hearts of ordinary Pakistanis who really want to see relations between India and Pakistan strengthened. The mess in Indian held Kashmir has to be sorted out. The blame game must stop if Indians want that they should be truly accepted at a higher moral pedestal by ordinary Pakistanis. Haughtiness of Indian political writers is putting off the Pakistanis who want to be the partner in achieving the cherished goal of long lasting peace in Sub continent.

Exclusive Kiosk

Time has stopped in my mind whenever I think of you. What I find there is a tall, fair girl with big eyes and blonde hair sitting on the black leather sofa in front of me in the sumptuous office of an advertising agency where both of us had gone for an interview in a June evening long time ago. I never knew those brief common moments of our lives would leave a permanent mark on my mind. You went back to your own world leaving me behind to reminisce the joy of your brief company. I have captivated that moment or that moment has captivated me, I don't know what I know is that in my imagination I have made an exclusive kiosk where I marvel at your natural simplicity. When I am not with you in the kiosk I imagine you are glowing in the light and I am wondering whether the light is coming from the sun or you.

Keep shining, keep glowing.

You cannot give me " nothing"

I ask from you nothing. Will you be able to give me nothing? No, you cannot give me what I ask. If you try to give me nothing in what shape will you give it to me. Will it be in the form of ignoring me but ignorance is not nothing. In your attempt to give me nothing you are trying to fulfill my desire thus performing the act of lovers who try to fulfill the desire of their beloved. If you intentionally deny it and give me something in the form of attention, affection, love or presence you will be doing something that is also the act of a person who may be on the path of falling in love. The other option of hating me is not possible because nobody hates anyone for asking for nothing. If you hate me for asking for nothing than this itself is the affirmation of your love for me because that shows you want me to want something instead of nothing. You cannot give me nothing. You are doomed.

Gone to Canada

Z is my first cousin. We were born six months apart, I being the elder. We went to the same school and spent 12 years till we pursued different careers. He left for Canada yesterday as an immigrant. I don't know how would I fill the time in the evening when I need a friend to talk about sundry topics like my poetry (that he regarded as merely puerile...) my real or imaginary flirts, our married lives, old friends, politics, philosophy, his chats on yahoo in religion rooms, his friends whom I don't like, (I think these friends were just a wastage of time). There was a sort of tacit agreement between us not to try to change each other though we may advise and suggest what we feel was better for each other. I have spent years and years of close friendship with him and there was hardly a day when we did not talk or meet each other. As he left for Canada I feel a portion of my life vacant. I know I can keep in touch with him through net and call him on phone as well but it will not be the same as it was here. I wish him success and hope to see him soon.

Colors of Holi

When one of my hindu students came to study I asked him did you celebrate holi. His answer was no. I was surprised but he explained that the fun of holi was to celebrate it with family and his family was scattered in Karachi, Hyderabad and his village. He told me in childhood when he used to celebrate it his grand father always told him not to throw colours as they would spoil the floor. He explained that the colours available in Pakistan are hard to get rid off and even after a week they remained on skin and he had to cleanse the body with kerosine. I was surprised how come here the water colors are not available. He may be right...I don't know. Was he hiding something or scattered family and caustic colors were the causes of such a bland holi day in the life of a hindu guy.

Sindhi

Last week I met Mr. Abdul Qadir Junejo, a famous Sindhi writer. It was an intellectually satisfying meeting. I told him about my interest in Sindhi literature and my efforts to excel Sindhi language skills. We talked on diverse matters ranging from gypsies to Portuguese attack on Thatta. On my request he recommended me a Sindhi novel " Rehji Wiyal Manzar" that I purchased next day. The novel is a love story developed in Sindh University campus in Jamshoro. I have picked few new words of Sindhi and I am enjoying the novel. My fluency in the language is improving and one of my student was surprised when he found I could speak Sindhi. I remember those days when in the university I used to fumble in speaking Sindhi and people used to smile on my clumsy efforts of speaking the language. Learning of Sindhi has been a long journey for me. There are few words that only Sindhi speakers could pronounce correctly like Bba, Jn, Gn and my Sindhi friends used to ask me to say JnJn and I was unable to speak. Through practice and efforts I can now pronounce the peculiar Sindhi words correctly and I feel great about it. My journey to explore Sindhi continues and the greatest reward is the enhanced feeling of belonging to Sindh and its people.

Janay do

dil ka har bojh utar janay do
na roko ashk beh janay do

teri zindagi say jo chala gaya
aay jo uski yaad to aanay do

phir kabhi, kabhi na ai ga
hamain hal e dil sunanay do

main khud bhi so hi jaun ga
pehlay khabon ko sulanay do

bat hai tai dar nahin kholna
phir kiyun isay khatkhatanay do

zindagi bhar ka hai saath lekin
main aur dunya goya anjanay do

Son of the Sea

When I boarded the bus to come back to Hyderabad from Karachi his face struck me immediately. He had a very dark complexion that became starker due to his shocking green dress. The seat beside him was empty and there I sat. I asked him is he from Thar, the remote desert in the South East of Pakistan. He looked like a Thari but he replied no he is not from Thar. He was from a small village along River Indus in the north of Hyderabad, Sindh. He belonged to the community of fishermen known as Mallahs. Mallah literally means the boatman. He told me he was coming from the sea after fishing there for a month and going back to his village. I asked him about his life on sea and his eyes shined as he told me that the life on sea is wonderful. He spend nearly a month on sea catching fish. Fishing has been their livelihood since centuries. The take all the food on the boat and spend days and nights in open sea. During the nights they dance and sing. Finding me interested in his work he asked me to go along with him on a fish catching trip. I liked him, his simplicity and sincerity. He was the son of the sea. His dark complexion was the making of years of exposure to the heat of sun. I enjoyed his company and said good bye to him before getting off from the bus.

On a weight loss jaunt

It has been 5 days since I am on a diet and eating only chicken and salad. It feels good but pounds are yet to shed. I want to lose weight to look great and feel great. I am enjoying the change in diet.

Delhi once again

I dreamt of Delhi again. It was a saint's tomb and I was sitting with the disciples. I introduced myself to them as Pakistani. When I saw outside it was a ruined masoleum and in the back ground I saw Qutb Minar. I had an idea that it was the tomb of Hazrat Qutbuddin Bakhtiar Kaki.

Cynicism must not prevail

It was my last lecture of the course in an MBA class. As has always been the case I urged the students to be genuine, creative and forward looking. One of the students quipped that all our strategies and analysis would be of no use because in Pakistani environment an illiterate boss would scuttle our ideas and demand blind compliance of his orders. The mood of the class changed as if all their studies are in waste and they cannot make any real difference through their efforts once they are out in the field. I vehemently opposed the belief that out there in the practical life they would face ogres. Subscribing to the idea of cynicism tantamounts to accepting the role of education and educational institutions as ineffective and by the same token it would mean that my standing as a teacher has no impact on the outside world.I tried to defuse despair by injecting hope among all the students and exhorted that no matter what circumstances you face keep the negative thoughts away and concentrate on delivering the best, certainly, you can and will make a difference. The cynicism must not prevail because it would paralyze your limbs and mind and leave you frustrated. You must give yourself a full chance in life by continual improvement in your education and skills. Do not succumb to cynicism because if you succumb I would lose my pride as a teacher. I have seen success and the seed of success is born in the mind, here right here in you.

Your hand

Your hand slipped away and I was lost
I am looking for that hand to find me back
Do you know how much I have missed you
In thousand dreams I have kissed you
Time sepeartes you and me
it's increasing, it's decreasing
the feel of your hand is still with me
and that gives the clue of my being.