Best Moments in Reading

"The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you'd thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you've never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out, and taken yours. " (History Boys-The Movie)

Respite

With the call for the Morning Prayer his eyes groggily let themselves open.

Lying in bed with that distinct smell of hospital ward all around felt strangely soothing. It seemed justifiable to find himself there; a necessary conclusion to all the nonsense that was piling up in his mind. How during the past few weeks he had wished to fall ill just so he can get a break from life itself. It always felt like as if a stage is being set for something far worse or like sitting in trenches just before a massive war is about to be waged; the deathly silence before the first shot is fired.

There was no familiar face around except for that nurse engrossed in a women’s digest, leaning comfortably in her chair. They had got acquainted as he had shifted from consciousness to unconsciousness during the past week.

“Allah will suffice thee, and He is the All-Hearing, the All-Knowing” (2:137), he loved reciting this verse from Quran. It was the verse on which blood was spilt when trying to save her husband; a wife’s fingers were chopped off. He was not sure what made this verse so special to him. Was it the words which consoled him even in depths of despair or the impact of that event where love made someone parry a sword with bare hands?

Lying there in the bed was like being in a state of deep meditation; the lying Buddha. For quite some time he had wanted to shy away from daily routine and spend some quality time all alone. He envied the saints for whom the worth of this world reduced to nothing. What a blessing that could be, he wondered.

The television was muted and one of those nauseating political talk shows was up; Pakistan’s way to tackle Indian soaps. The incessant prattle was getting on nation’s nerves. At least the world hasn’t changed since he was admitted to the hospital.

He had regained consciousness and it would not be very late before doctors discover that. He closed his eyes ridding his mind of all that was past, present and future. He had to cherish those few moments of bliss before he was discharged and flushed out into the world.

Birthday Betrayal

Memories can be like those obstinate candles on the birthday cake, refusing to blow out. Flickering and reducing but relighting all the same.

In a final showdown they are extinguished and taken out but leave the cake eternally marred.

Mind: Look! What mess you’ve gotten us into.

Heart: You could have stopped me; it’s not my fault that your reasons failed.

Mind: I admit failure but why do I have to pay for your mistakes?

Heart: As if I have never paid for yours.

Mind: With you safely ensconced in that chest-box, I don’t see a way out.

Grey Wolf - Mustafa Kemal by H.C.Armstrong

Fundamentally a revolutionary and with no respect for god or institution, Mustafa Kemal was a true fighter. List of his achievements can easily confound the mind. From epic victories against fierce enemies to taking out Turkey from dregs, his strength and stamina were unmatchable. Single handedly he fashioned the entire nation on new grounds and paved way for a better and prosperous future. “Turkey for Turks” was the only aim throughout his life.

Conservatives might flinch at most of his actions but there is no denying the fact that he was a mountain in the face of an alarming number of external and internal problems. Abolishing the caliphate and putting an end to the centuries old rotting system was not an easy job. He had to change the whole mentality and induce a new spirit in the nation. Arts were modernized and Arabic characters of language were changed to Latin to end the superiority of handful of priests, remnants of the historical relic, the caliphate.Eons of oppression and manipulation at the hands of degrading clerics had shut all avenues of change. It needed an overhaul, a revolution.

Revolution did come; founded in blood to ensure its permanence. “Some of you may agree or may not nonetheless it will happen, only some of your heads will fall in process”, Mustafa said to the Grand National assembly, on their refusal of his proposal that the sultanate should be separated from the caliphate.

He firmly believed that there are no oppressors or any oppressed; there are only those who allow themselves to be oppressed. With this notion he led his people by hand along the road until their feet were sure and they knew the way.

In an almost story like manner the author, H.C. Armstrong sketches the life and works of Mustafa Kemal, the founding father of modern Turkey. The somewhat boring details which are usually part and parcel of such books are engulfed in such a manner that you feel like reading a great novel. It was certainly a wholesome read.

About Belonging Somewhere

Binoche: Don't you ever think about belonging somewhere?
Depp: The price is too high...You end up caring what people expect of you. No?

(Chocolat)

Jadu ki Japphee - The Magical Hug

In the 5th season of Grey’s anatomy, Virginia Dixon, the cardiothoracic surgeon with Asperger Syndrome required a tight hug to relax the sympathetic nervous system and slow the heart. It calmed her nerves.

I guess there is a scientific explanation for the magical hug after all :) We can never have enough of them.

What Crime? What Punishment?

Four school children shot dead and six wounded.

Crime: Dared to get an education and belonged to a different sect

***

Woman's nose, ear chopped off

Crime: Suspected of having an affair

***

12 year old girl and an 11 year old boy found dead. Boy had received a bullet in his belly while the girl had received a bullet in her head form the rear. Girl's head was also found smashed with a blunt weapon after being shot to conceal her identity.

Crime: Unknown

***

Dogs let loose on a fisherman. His face was mutilated and injuries due to dog bites could prove fatal if not treated properly.

Crime: Refused to give fish free of cost to a feudal lord

***

We need to reconsider our claim on being called humans.

Dr. O'Malley: Is it possible ...do you think...to love two people...at the same time?

Dr. Burke: I don't know...I am still hoping it's possible to just love one person.

(Grey's Anatomy S03E23)

Compassionate Capitalism

My nana abu once told me that there are only two ways that a person is going to listen to you; if you can benefit him or you can harm him. I remember my father and I looked at each other and shifted disagreeably in our seats.

The points of view are understandable though. Nana abu has lived his life dealing and negotiating in the business world and definitely the Hippocratic Oath which my father took, couldn’t have given much insight into the ruthless minds of businessmen. My dad thinks that if any member of our family starts selling hats; children without heads will be born (such is the extent to which we could suck in business).

Different fields require different attitudes but do businesses have to be completely deprived of compassion? I guess they need to be. When profit is the goal, leniency and mercy take the back-seat and in our part of the world even honesty goes and sits beside them.

Where running businesses could be a cold-blooded affair, it is nice to see that many companies in Pakistan are realizing their social responsibilities and fulfilling them in a remarkable way. Some of the examples I have seen and heard are

* Depilex - Smile Again Foundation
* Bahria Town – Muft Dastarkhwan
* KFC – At some branches all the employees are physically challenged
* Gourmet – At the end of the day bakery items are sent to Shaukat Khanum Hospital.

These and many more examples of compassionate capitalism are certainly praiseworthy and can make a huge difference if all the money making giants start to chip in.

Seeing a loved one leave for another country...

N : Can't I hibernate till he returns?

Make it a double!

Watching an Indian movie in cinema and joining facebook in one day; that is how impulsiveness is defined in my dictionary. Interestingly even a month ago if someone had offered me any one of them I would have politely declined with a 'never'.

Indian cinema with its slapstick comedies and redundancy of dance numbers has become unbearable. Of course there are a few classics once in a while but usually it's the same run-of-the-mill, two and a half hour long agony. So, I always managed to find a better use of the two hundred bucks I was going to spend on it.

The surprising part is that I actually enjoyed the movie or was it Ms. Monteiro; either way with this new multiplex just around the corner, it would not be a bad idea to drop by in the future. At least it made me realize that we can very comfortably bade farewell to lollywood forever unless there are more Khuda Keh Liyais.


Secondly, I know facebook is something so common that getting excited over joining it seems absurd or in the words of Moni Mohsin, paindoo pastry. Well, it's not the case if you're the person who is destined to become that old lady with hundred cats. Like that social experiment in which a girl who was raised in jungle was brought back into the human society; she was never able to acclimatize herself and eventually died. I am not dead but yes, the feeling has been mutual.

Facebook is actually managing friendship virtually but I guess that is the way to go. My boss at the last internship was truly taken aback when I told him that I’m not on facebook and still manage to survive somehow. Then on the last day of my internship my immediate supervisor in his farewell talk also pointed out that this whole introvert thing doesn’t work anymore; you have to take initiatives.

Thinking about this, other than feeling like an intruder there is a major reason why I dislike these initiatives. I don’t know what I’m afraid of? Maybe that it would break the spell once I get to know more about a person or even bad, it would bring out the worst in me. We can be so stubborn about our points of view that no matter how many facts and figures you present contrary to our views, we won’t budge. It is considered a bistee(insult) to change one’s views. People who can kill their children in the name of honor; how they can ever digest so much humiliation?

Similar Yet Different

While waiting at a car-wash I was thinking that at times two people like these keys can look very similar...

But on a closer inspection we realize that they are destined for different fates altogether.

Justification?

Is there any justification not to love those who are so dear to us just because they will leave us eventually and it would hurt so bad?

A random verse from my diary. Unfortunately this and many others were jotted down during the period when I didn't bother to write the name of the author. So, i'm clueless about the origins.

There goes the nirvana

The bike breaks down in the mid way with mercury kissing 48 °C; I have to drag it to a repair shop hardly half a kilometer away and the rest of the day I am looking around for someone to acknowledge the mega task I have achieved…

Its lunch time and the greasy baingans don’t show much prospect. I don’t have to think twice before I ring up the pizza guy. Well, at least I have to reward my self for the Herculean task earlier that day.

As a matter of fact as I pass through my life, I hardly think about these things for which people have to adjust their budgets for the whole month and still I am capable enough to be critical about the softness of the pizza’s crust. From buying clothes to dining out in a fancy café, it is never a major point of consideration. The ease with which life is being lead is a blessing beyond all measures. Still, I somehow find time to complaint about issues which are worthless when compared to all of these perks.

These sudden realizations make you feel blessed; sitting under the sacred fig you feel tantalizingly close to unveiling the mother of all veils but then you bite at the slice of pizza and to aid its movement you sip the chilled and bubbly coke and with it goes the nirvana.

Infectious Laughter

I just had to post this video. It has never failed to cheer me up and it just might bring a smile on your face as well…

Decoding or Creating Mess?

It was perhaps Marina Khan, who once said on a cooking show that when we are in school we crave to enter the university where we would have unlimited freedom and once in university we pray to enter the practical life and for the studies to finally end. Unfortunately when we face the pressures of that life we wish to go back to school again.

True, although in my case I want to take an about turn before I have tasted the practical side of life. Life has been good in theory. Internships have been more than enough glimpse into that world. Either I have made a major boo-boo in selecting finance over marketing or it’s just this darn boring internship I am doing.

Either the case, basking under the school memories is soothing, when the biggest worry was that instead of one; two exercises were given for homework. Moreover, 90s were less complex. I don’t blame our elders for remembering their simple yet less complex 60s and 70s.

Between the incessant vibration and ring tones of this age peace and calmness have lost their way. In our effort to decode life, we have created a huge mess and I don’t think we remember which piece is going to go in first.

A will for all seasons

Hazrat Sheikh Khutli's (R.A) will to Hazrat Ali Hajveri (R.A) ...

For the past few weeks I have involuntarily kept repeating these lines to myself. People have cried defeatism and whole lot of other things. The initial fear being becoming less ambitious but these words don't really have to hold you down as you kick start rather they can also sooth you once you have crossed the finish line. Not necessarily if you are the last one to cross the line but even if you are the first, this piece of advice can be helpful. Ramifications and interpretations of this will can be endless and profound.

Cry what they may, life does become less complicated.

The Portrait of Myself

‘Only once I have been made quiet and it was when somebody asked me, who are you?’

This statement can be interpreted in equally plausible ways but from personal experience it is like someone holding a mirror in front of me. Like the picture of Dorian Gray it shows all the vileness inside me, the hollowness of my own soul…the fake fat life form.

The moment you think about criticizing someone or even raise an eyebrow, that ugly reflection sneers back at you. Dispersing the illusion of your worth and slaughtering the chimera of being separate from the rest of the world.

Head bursts & Heart breaks

I don't know which one is worst. Is it when the head bursts with anger or is it when the heart breaks with pain?

Last Chance Harvey

Perhaps it was the state of mind I was in which made me feel that it is the most beautiful movie I have ever seen. I think I wouldn't have rated it so high if I had watched it during run-of-the-mill days but it was certainly beautiful (Yes, I am saying it again).

With Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman you can't complain of acting. It was remarkable. The script was sharp and humorous and it all added up to a memorable experience.

It also had one of those scenes which I simply adore; chance encounters of two complete strangers…Sitting in a café, one is reading a crappy novel; the other had a shitty day and their lives suck big time. The chat which follows is witty and intelligent. The words are well weighed and meaningful; straight from the heart and the smiles are genuine and carefree. Small details are enhanced and world around those two individuals is shut out with all its ugliness. Do things like that happen in real life?

Gardens in bloom

With nothing worthwhile to say, I decided to upload these pictures which I randomly captured except the rainbow which I have borrowed from a friend. Unfortunately by the time I saw it, it was too fade to be captured.

The Petunias are from our garden (I have no contribution in their looking this good whatsoever). Rest of the pictures were taken at the campus and the poster on the top was designed for the spring festival which we organized at the department.

Amrita Pritam - Raseedi Ticket

I have just finished reading Amrita Pritam’s autobiography, Raseedi Ticket. I hadn’t read any of her works before and it was a nice introduction indeed. I would also recommend reading this article; it gives a good insight into the life and works of Amrita Pritam.

My rough translation of a few excerpts from Amrita Pritam’s Raseedi Ticket.

“The wedding procession had arrived and dinner had been served. Father got a message that if a relative asks; tell them that this much money has been given as dowry. Father took this message as an indication. He didn’t have that kind of money, he panicked.

We fretted for hours. A friend of my late mother who had come that day as a guest understood everything. She took us aside, removed the gold bangles from her hand and placed them in front of my father. Father’s eyes had tears but for me seeing all this was worse than death.

Then we got to know that the message delivered earlier wasn’t some kind of indication rather a way to satisfy some relatives. Mother’s friend put his bangles back on. But it feels that moment, during which she removed those bangles, as a symbol, will always remain standing in the history of world’s goodness.”


"My writings; poem or prose…I know are like an illegitimate child. The reality of my world fell in love with the dream of my heart and this banned union produced my writings.
I know, my writings would have a fate like the fate of an illegitimate child and it would have to face the frowns of the literary society all his life...”

This poem below was written on the massacre of 1947. It would be a good idea to listen or read the original version first. Here.

'I call upon Waris Shah today: speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love
Once, one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga;
Today, thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah:
Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab,
Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenab flowing with much blood.
Someone filled the five rivers with poison,
And this same water now irrigates our soil.
Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded?
And all Ranjha’s brothers forgotten to play the flute.
Blood has rained on the soil, graves are oozing with blood,
The princesses of love cry their hearts out in the graveyards.
Today all the Kaidos have become the thieves of love and beauty,
Where can we find another one like Waris Shah?
Waris Shah! I say to you, speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love.'
(Translated by Darshan Singh Maini, Studies in Punjabi Poetry)

Big Achievement !

X: It would be a big achievement if someone hailing from a middle-class family could manage to bear the expenses of his own marriage.

Z: By the time he retires, all a person wants is to have enough money so that he could marry off his children and buy a 5 Marla house (after some thought) and perform a Hajj if some money is left.

A SMS Survey

Simply reflects that how much I like to waste my time. The period during which I am supposed to go through the first chapter of “Futures and Forward Markets”, I am tabulating this thing. It was a grueling HTML practice, making and aligning those cells.

Anyway, below is a table showing the results of a sms survey. The participants were required to answer in yes/no keeping me in mind. I thank you all for your brutally honest replies. It wasn’t easy to digest the bitter truth. However, it was interesting to know that somehow I manage to be quite less boring without being a lot funny.

The last column does deviate a bit from the average but who knows better than mothers :)

Fighter	N	N	N	N	N	Y	16%
Shy	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	N	83%
Selfish	N	N	N	Y	N	N	16%
Crazy	Y	Y	N	N	Y	N	50%
Sincere	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	100%
Liar	N	N	N	N	Y	N	16%
Rude	Y	Y	Y	N	N	N	50%
Caring	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	100%
Friend	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	100%
Talkative	N	N	N	N	N	N	0%
Funny	N	N	N	Y	N	N	16%
Boring	N	N	Y	Y	N	N	33%
Loving	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	Y	100%
Sweet	Y	Y	N	Y	Y	Y	83%

P.S. If you too love wasting time and want to chip in, please feel free to do so.

Change is the routine of life

It was in Dewan Singh Muftoon’s ‘Naqaabl-e-faramosh’. It read that when I die all I want is a few thousand in my bank and a few million at my funeral procession.

Accidents make me contemplative and especially when I’m involved in one. Surprisingly I remember the exact thought which crossed my mind when I fell. Just before my bike toppled I was happy that the last thing I had done was to recite a Surah (One of the sections/chapters of the Quran). Not that I would have gone scot-free for this act on the judgment day but yes, a sinful life would have ended on a nice note.

I know after reading this people would be like, “For God’s sake man! You were hit by a bicycle; don’t make such a fuss about it”. I know it sounds funny but somehow it really made me think what I would have left behind. Perhaps the answer lies somewhere in this sms I got a while back,

“Whatever happened, is happening or will happen…It is all for good. What have you lost for which you cry? You didn’t have anything in the first place. Whatever you have was taken from this world and whatever you have lost will be given back to this world. Whatever you own today was someone else’s yesterday and will be someone else’s tomorrow. Change is the routine of the life."

Ya Khuda - Qudrut-ullah-Shahaab

While reviewing this book, a young journalist, Azhar Sohail wrote in 1985

“It was perhaps 1959. I saw my father bring home a small book. While he read the book, he wept incessantly. When he was finished I grabbed the book from his cupboard, completed it within an hour but didn’t cry.

Four years back I read the book again and there were tears in my eyes. Then like a bolt of flash I understood that this book makes you cry when your conscience has matured”

I have just read the book. It didn’t make me cry but yes, I felt this unexplainable anger. I still don’t know at what I was angry. Was it the shallowness of mankind, moral degradation of self-proclaimed religious scholars, depravity of political leaders or was I angry because even after 60 years we are standing exactly where we started. We are still being led by those scholars and leaders. We haven’t learnt a thing.

The book tells the tale of the atrocities faced by a girl at the hands of her own countrymen when she migrated from India in 1947. How she died again and again before her last death. How her colorful and fancy dreams about the new nation were battered and bruised after coming to Pakistan.

It is a far greater tragedy being betrayed by one’s own people. Reading this book is like getting resounding slaps on your face because the story is true and all the characters are real. All those characters are still very much part of our society. They still roam around; prowling and hunting for more. Their thirst is insatiable. This book only tells about one of the thousands such stories. Qudrut was right in saying,

“While I waited at the Wahga Border for my relatives, I witnessed scenes which even after thousand attempts my pen is unable to write down completely”.

Such was the horror of that calamity and such is the sorry situation of today’s Pakistan.

Kindness of Strangers

This is one of the stories which truly warms the heart, gives a hope...

After spending a weekend away with my adult son, I was so impressed by his generous heart, I sent him the following e-mail.

"Dear Son, I want to thank you for teaching me a very valuable lesson in life by the great example you set. When we were eating at that cafe in Bondi and a person who’d ordered his burger didn’t have enough money to pay for it, without a moment’s hesitation, you leant over and put the extra $2 on the counter...

Read the complete story at

http://www.readersdigest.co.nz/content/stories-of-kindness/2/?commentPageIndex=0&orderCommentsBy=0

Scream Bloody Murder

‘Scream Bloody Murder’, this is the name of the documentary being aired by CNN these days. It covers the horrors of genocide. Christiane Amanpour, CNN’s chief international correspondent takes her audience through a very dark chapter of history, smeared by the blood of millions of innocent lives; starting from the unspeakable atrocities of holocaust to the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia, Iraq, Rwanda, Cambodia and Darfur. The reporting was fierce, the images horrifying.

I was certainly taken aback by her portrayal of the Bosnian genocide. Reporting live from that region in 1990s, the way she questioned the then president of United States, Bill Clinton, about taking necessary steps to avoid the massacre was astounding. I never expected something that impartial from a Western journalist. They usually always carry a tinge of bias along.

Later on it wasn’t surprising to read blatant criticism on her reporting of the Bosnian Genocide in this documentary as well as when she actually reported from Muslim Sarajevo back in 1990s. She has been accused of being a Muslim-sympathizer, being born to an Iranian father and having led her early life in Iran until the Islamic Revolution. Her answer to this criticism is worth mentioning,

"There are some situations one simply cannot be neutral about, because when you are neutral you are an accomplice. Objectivity doesn't mean treating all sides equally. It means giving each side a hearing."

Facade of Love

Facade of an eternal love
The veil finally lifted
An over dragged play
A very predictable climax
Still a round of applause
For the players who persisted
Had something up your sleeve
You knew the game well
Waited for the moment
Ultimately…cheated
Lines, colours and imagination
The composition is revolting
I’ll keep wondering why
The picture was painted

27th February, 2006. Published in US Magazine, The News

Am I to be Blamed?

"Intense, ambitious and only slightly panicked, Kate Winslet is the finest actress of her generation." (Mark Harris, Time Magazine).

Enchanting it is to think that this is the Hanna Schmitz of ‘The Reader’. Transfixed and spell bounded, I kept looking at this cover page of Time magazine for a whole one minute. Am I to be blamed?


http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1880401,00.html

Same Road, Keener Eyes

Destination: Islamabad, Reason: Business, Date: 22nd March, 2009.

1:30 pm: The bus hostess has just finished praying, invoking divine help and blessings for the journey. First in Urdu and then in a very well-rehearsed English she has asked the passengers to fasten their seat belts which seems not made for my girth. She has also made clear that according to regulation number xyz (don’t remember) smoking is forbidden in the bus. No wonder my Dad always insists on taking his own car.

Fortunately there are no kids in the bus this time. They can be a source of unlimited torture. Once coming to Lahore from Karachi by train, there were three implacable children sitting at back. By the time we entered Punjab, I felt like strangling them. Don’t be so shocked; wait till you experience that kind of trauma.

When I was young and my Dad used to take me to zoo, museum or any other trip, he always asked me to write an essay after coming back. Not that I ever wrote it but today I feel like the same old boy. Baba, here you go. I dedicate this to you.

2:30 pm: We have been served snacks in not so good looking lunch boxes. Let me guess first, a tiny packet of biscuits and a sandwich. Let me open it now. 3,2,1...Wow, we have got Lays ladies and gentlemen. This pack of chips has taken Pakistan by storm. They are everywhere and have become our staple diet. It is so much fun to eat them during lectures because as they say, you can’t hide the crunch. I don't know why we do it. We somehow feel manlier by taking such risks(panga to be more precise).

There is an old couple sitting across the aisle. Somehow they seem too cozy for such an age. Way past love's usual expiry date. The fat lady behind me (I haven’t seen her but she just sounds fat) is ceaselessly blabbering. My mother says she sounds like the protagonist of the book she is reading, ‘The Diary of a Social Butterfly’.

3:30 pm: I wonder whether the capital of the country has changed since I last visited it five years back. I still expect to inhale the usual fresh and scented air of the city. The balance of power is shifted though. The General has left and a democratically elected government holds the reigns now. The Lal Masjid showdown is kind of over. Safely sitting back in Lahore, we saw the whole incident unfold. Many innocent lives were lost and strong repercussions are still being felt to this very day.

4:30 pm: The salt range has started. This extraordinary terrain was the thing which made me cry when I first travelled by motorway. It still shakes me up. The infinite curiosity is ignited. I want to tread these hills like an avid archaeologist or paleontologist. I want to explore this region. In my hand is a book, ‘Geometry of God’ by Uzma Aslam Khan. It tells about the expedition carried out by paleontologist in this region in 1980. They found evidence of the oldest known primitive whale, named PAKICETUS (Pakistani Whale). It lived 50 million years ago and had an amphibious lifestyle and ranged in size from small dog to large wolf. It looked something like this.

6:15 pm: Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.

Interview by The Pakistani Spectator

The Pakistani Spectator (TPS) is an independent blog rendering views, news and opinions on Pakistani politics in specific and world politics in general with respect to Pakistan. They have been conducting a series of interviews with notable Pakistani bloggers, writers and web masters.

My interview was published today and you can see it here.
http://www.pakspectator.com/interview-with-blogger-hamza-ahmad-qureshi/

I would like to thank Ms. Ghazala Khan and her team at TPS for this opportunity.

My Not-So-Perfect Chocolate Mousse

Well, of course it's not perfect. I can work on the presentation a lot more; the taste was scrumptilicious though. It should be served in martini glasses (if I ever found them) with a swirl of whipped cream (which I didn't have at that time) on it. Chocolate shavings should be more visible, I shredded them too finely. Moreover, I took it out from the refrigerator after just an hour. Huge mistake!
I'll definitely post the picture of the improved version when I give it a try again. For now, I am thinking … cheesecake!

INGREDIENTS

• 150 g dark chocolate
• 4 egg whites
• 2 tbsp sugar
• 2 egg yolks
• 1 tsp orange zest
• 2 tbsp of unsalted butter (optional)
• 2 tbsp of coffee (optional)

METHOD

• Melt the chocolate over a Bain-main until smooth. (You may add butter in it)
• Beat the egg whites to soft peaks, sprinkle over the sugar and continue beating until a stiff meringue a minute or two later. (Soft peaks can be refrigerated for a while for better results)
• Beat the yolks with orange zest.(You may use coffee as well)
• Whisk the chocolate into the yolks.(Chocolate should be preferably at room temperature)
• Fold in a spoonful of whites, then pour the remaining whites and fold gently to combine evenly. (Don't stir, it will ruin everything)
• Pour the mousse in a serving bowl, cover well with plastic and refrigerate at least a few hours.(Some say at least 8 hours)
• Serve garnished with whipped cream, chocolate shavings and a little orange zest.

Diagnosed

Reading the blog, My Evolution, I finally found a diagnosis for myself. I’ll copy a part of the original post here.

“Volume Obsessive-Compulsive disorder (VOCD) is a mental or personality disorder… Under this disorder folks need to adjust their TV s volume to a specific number, otherwise they get a bit uncomfortable or disturbed… Some believe that it’s common among mathematicians or somehow or the other associated with the fields of accounting/ business/ finance minded folks…”

I always had this repulsion towards odd numbers. Volume should always be in even numbers. Somehow they give a sense of harmony :).

Masala vs. BBC Food

People at Masala tv really thought they could match Heston’s perfection, Rick’s experience and Nigella’s desserts? Well, they just might if they gather up some courage to cut short program timings. Just listen to the running commentary for minor details, making every move visible to the hapless viewers. From picking up the vegetable from the table top to taking it to the wash basin, opening the tap, washing it properly because it’s healthy, closing the tap because wasting water is not a good idea, bring the vegetable back to the table, pick up the knife... be careful when using it…

Audience is forced to listen to chefs’ constant chatter and yes, they talk a lot. It would also help not to provide every program with its very own dedicated phone line. Cooking show cum family drama is nauseating. The chefs start to sound more like agony aunts. Brigades of aunties call from all over the country, inspired by chefs’ loquaciousness and making sure that the entire family (including 3 and 4 years old chintoo and mintoo respectively) get to talk to the chef and his very pretty sidekick/co-host before putting down the receiver.

Then there are the accents and postures. I didn’t know if you have to cook pasta properly, you are not allowed to speak normally and have to twist and coil your tongue to make sure that the food tastes right out of a kitchen in Rome.

What happened to the good old aprons and toques? Do you have to look like an American brat before you make an American pie? Some chefs and almost all sidekicks/co-hosts are dressed to perfection. Flowing dupattas, shimmering jewelry, thick makeup; quoting a marketing teacher, “very cute but no!”

A little bit more professionalism and a lot less cuteness is needed.

Perhaps a comparison

STAGES OF NAFS (SELF/EGO):

• Nafs al-kamila : Perfected Self, Union with God, Attainment of Universal Consciousness.
• Nafs al-mardiyya: Satisfying Self, Total Submission, Merging of God with the Individual.
• Nafs al-radiyya:Fulfilled self, Initial Merging Union of the Individual with God.
• Nafs al-mutma'inna: Tranquil Self, Degree of detachment from worldly concerns, Increasing awareness of the Presence of God in all things.
• Nafs al-mulhama: Inspired Self, Beginning of genuine spiritual integration, Release from turanny of physical instincts & desires of the ego.
• Nafs al-lawwama: Blaming Self, Awakening of Conscience, Realization of one's actions.
• Nafs al-ammara: Commanding Self, Entirely governed by passions & instincts(False Pride, Greed, Envy, Lust, Back Biting, Stinginess, Malice).

MASLOW'S HIERARCHY OF NEEDS

I don't know whether a comparison exists or not but yes I wanted to see and analyze these pyramids together. In Maslow's pyramid there is an increasing indulgence in self as we go up while in the former pyramid, same amount of effort is being put to detach from the self.

Think, Not Believe

In the book ‘Labaik’ when M. Mufti asks Qudrat as to why he adds ‘maybe’ to every answer he gives. Qudrat replied, “Because only God is all-knowing.”

I was taught very early in life to be very careful when uttering the words, ‘I believe’. One should rather replace it with ‘I think’. ‘I believe’ is like putting a period; barricading reception and creation of new ideas. It renders one incapable of budging from own viewpoint and does not give way to someone else’s thoughts.

Think of the immense vastness of space and then say, ‘I’. Saying ‘I believe’ is similar to that. It creates the same sense of insignificance.

I have reserved ‘I believe’ for the places where according to Zulfiqar Ahmad Taabish; wings of reason and intellect get burnt. The dimension where a little spark of love is all what is needed to do the trick.

One can always argue that even in those regions one should keep the channels open and not block them with ‘I believe’ but I have observed that you can think only to a certain extent; after which things start getting messed up. This shouldn’t be a good enough excuse but sometimes it makes life a lot less complicated if we just let go. It feels great and of course you're not hurting anybody.

Domestic Happiness

Marriage is not only a physical relationship and people usually mistake the bond between a husband and wife as a love relationship. This is a huge misconception. In fact marriage is an institution where people learn to live together. They learn to tolerate other’s weaknesses, likes, dislikes, and all types of irrational behavior. They teach themselves to mold according to one another and learn to accept the difference of opinion. Smoothing out the sharp edges of personality; people get a lesson on kindness, forgiveness and how to keep other happy. Finally when the children become part of the family, people adopt to the ways of selflessness and sacrifice, leading to domestic happiness.

Translated from Mumtaz Mufti's Talaash.

Talaash ( The Search ) - Mumtaz Mufti

True to its title, in the book, the author has set out on a journey in search of answers. Answers to the questions, we are too scared to ask. Although till the very end he maintains his lack of knowledge on the subject but manages to hint towards our dilemma and its possible solution.

We in our ignorance have separated the two aspects of religion. One being the form and other, the spirit. Serving and feeding the form while completely and conveniently disregarding the spirit. All our efforts have been concentrated to bedeck the exterior and subsequently we got lost in the embellishments. It never crossed our minds that maybe the fact that our neighbor has eaten to his full is more important than arguing about how high should the shalwar be while praying. The flag bearers of truth, justice, equality and tolerance lost everything to the form; lengths, widths and count.

An impregnable wall of “respect” has been raised rendering people incapable of understanding the religion. God has been portrayed as a father figure, someone to be feared instead of a mother figure, someone to be loved. This gives out a very stern image and disheartens the youth.

People are discouraged to be critical and to ask questions. Religion has been made mysterious, a secret which only a selected few can understand and comprehend. We have let those few lead us by the noose and they make sure we never raise our heads, which would jeopardize their authority. They try to make to make the whole thing complicated with piles of books consisting of mere rhetoric. In reality the religion is not that tricky. Those who claim their special right on religion have shut their minds and keep gloating that their knowledge is complete, their word is final and cannot be challenged.

Unlike the popular belief religion pushes us to reason and explore. Science and religion do not have to negate each other. The former can help us better understand the latter. It is the character which is in dire need to be overhauled. The true essence needs infusion.

Beyond Tragedy – Kathleen Kennedy Townsend

In this month’s Reader’s Digest I came across this article by the daughter of late Robert F. Kennedy. It describes how death has been always present in her life and how she coped with the untimely loss of so many family members at a very young age.

She writes,

“…We acknowledge the pain and the loss. We develop rituals – religious services, music, funerals and wakes – where friends gather, hug one another, cry together and share stories and laughs. And we remember. I don’t like the saying, “Time heals all wounds.” It is not true. Years later, people can still be terribly sad and miss their mother, father, child, sibling, friend. Scars remain unhealed."

I always get baffled by the sheer courage of people who withstand something as shocking and terrible as death. The mere idea of losing a loved one is enough to make one shake. Kathleen writes about how her father dealt with the death of his brother, John F. Kennedy.

“On the day that President Kennedy was buried, my father gave me a note…what he wrote to me did not convey fear, anger, or bitterness. He did not speak of revenge. He focused on the future:

Dear Kathleen,

You seemed to understand that Jack died and was buried today. As the oldest of the Kennedy grandchildren, you have a particular responsibility now – a special responsibility to John [my cousin] and Joe [my brother]. Be kind to others and work for your country.

Love,
Daddy

CAN YOU IMAGINE, in your own moment of horrendous loss, reminding your child – and reminding yourself, really – to turn outward, not inward, to perform works of kindness and not of anger and revenge?...”

Yes, it is hard to imagine. Times like these can make one self-centered. You want the world to revolve around you. You want to be left alone but at the same time you want someone sitting right next telling you that everything will be alright and he/she will never leave you.

Based on her personal experiences, Kathleen shares some lessons she has learnt over the years.

“…go to the funeral…it’s there you mingle with families, listen to them talk, and lend your full support. Death opens an enormous hole in the heart. A funeral brings together those who can help fill that hole.”

I know how hard and difficult it can be to console someone who has just lost someone. There is absolutely nothing to say. Words lose their meaning and start sounding too small and pretentious. I always think that there is nothing one can do or say which would somehow lessen the mourner’s pain. I think in reality we don’t want to let that pain go away. Anything contrary to it is considered an insult to the departed one.

Maybe it is. If I die and have the chance to look over my funeral proceedings, it would be nice to see a couple of tears gracing my remembrance.

The writer also goes on to explain what could be done in a case like this,

“…it is better to be rejected than never to try at all. Your friend can always resist the effort...But it is hard to imagine anyone not appreciating it…The outstretched arm, the warm embrace, the freshly baked cookies, or the fragrant flowers do not replace life. Not by any means. But they do say to a grieving friend, “You are loved, you are cherished.” ”

http://www.rd.com/your-america-inspiring-people-and-stories/kathleen-kennedy-townsend-looks-beyond-tragedy/article102047.html

In Search of Originality

In search of the original, it might not be unusual to first tread the swamps of unoriginality. There is always a chance that you might get stuck in it, unable to budge and finally drowning in it. The mud creeps in your body, barricading everything which might have given vent to an original idea.

Count them lucky who pass this swamp and enter that hybrid zone where originality is the toddler, led by a firm hand of unoriginality. At first the walk is shaky and it is difficult for the little one to maintain his posture but he gradually learns, finding his feet, trying to balance himself. Finally considering himself capable enough, he lets go of that hand. Instead of following the old and worn out paths, he can now pave new ways, explore virgin lands and set fresh landmarks.

But it is always a good idea to look back at those old paths once in a while. Maybe there was a turn we missed or a sign we overlooked…Perhaps there is someone out there who needs our hand.