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.

Daughter of the East

The sun has set in the East
Pain and sadness house the heart
I goad the ashes for a hope
Mourns a nation torn apart
The bog rejoices its success
Though her specter shall prevail
Sounding the reveille
Till democracy takes its revenge

These verses were penned down last year. I guess it is necessary to give an idea about the time frame because the lines have somewhat lost their shine.

11:30 pm. 27th December, 2007, standing outside the PPP regional office, looking at the lambent tongues of flame, a hope burgeoned in me that this might lead to a chain effect(don’t read revolution); ousting of the junta and installation of democratic leadership. Hope was fulfilled but certainly not the way I wanted.

Did we learn anything? If the people of Pakistan get a free and fair chance to elect new guards for future security in the next elections then we just might had.

Good Will Hunting

Finally there was something worth that one and a half hour. I truly regret not getting my hands on it earlier. Every scene was a pearl in a string. I would resist the temptation to write down every single dialogue over here and restrict myself to a few.

First there was this scene where Will is having an argument with a big-headed Harvard first-year grad student (Clark) who was trying to make Will’s friend Chuckie look bad in front of girls. Will comes in and shuts him up by telling that he is just repeating some previously crammed lines from a book and doesn’t have any original thought on the subject. The last line is what answers a lot of questions. I think this what matters in the final analysis. Here is an excerpt

Clark: Well, as a matter of fact, I won't, because Wood drastically underestimates the impact of social -
Will: Wood drastically underestimates the impact of social distinctions predicated upon wealth, especially inherited wealth"? You got that from Vickers' "Work in Essex County," page 98, right? Yeah, I read that too. Were you gonna plagiarize the whole thing for us? Do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter? Or do you, is that your thing, you come into a bar, read some obscure passage and then pretend - you pawn it off as your own, as your own idea just to impress some girls, embarrass my friend?
Clark: [looks down in shame]
Will: See, the sad thing about a guy like you is, in 50 years you're gonna start doin' some thinkin' on your own and you're going to come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life: one, don't do that, and two, you dropped 150 grand on an education you could have got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library!
Clark: Yeah, but I will have a degree. And you'll be servin' my kids fries at a drive-thru on our way to a skiing trip.
Will: That may be, but at least I won't be unoriginal.

Skylar and Will have this energy or some kind of vibe which makes everything around them 'comfortable' when they are together. I don't know how to explain it, maybe that is what good chemistry is all about. I liked the way Sean described soul mates, not to mention Will's reply.

SEAN:Do you have a soul-mate?
WILL:Define that.
SEAN:Someone who challenges you in every way. Who takes you places, opens things up for you. A soul-mate.
WILL:Yeah. Shakespeare, Neitzche, Frost, O'Connor, Chaucer, Pope, Kant--
SEAN:They're all dead.
WILL:Not to me, they're not.
SEAN:But you can't give back to them, Will.

There are many scenes which I would have loved to share but someone who hasn't seen the movie would be somewhat lost. Taking an excerpt out is pretty brutal. It's like breaking that string, the charm of looking it as a whole is far greater. I'll end this post with this clip.

Enigmatic and enchanting. Perhaps it was Will's turn to face some originality :)

Starting Afresh

Perhaps I read this story in Bustaan-e-Saadi. Neither I remember the exact words nor am I able to find the book. It was about a very old person, who on being inquired about his age, replied that he was merely four years old, adding that it has been only four years since meaning of this life has dawned upon him so he had decided to disregard rest of the sixty meaningless years (or something to that effect).

Looking back over the years and the idea of disregarding them in a jiffy seems welcoming, brooding over them does not. So much time has been wasted. Still don’t know and understand a lot many things. Never learnt them and might never get the chance to do so. The vague desire of man to be homo universalis...

It would be nice to move on, start afresh. But what guarantee does one have that ten or twenty years down the road one wouldn’t stumble upon a new meaning, a new horizon. The previous one was just a mirage, another run-of-the-mill trick out of the great magician’s bag. Idols smashed down, and principals torched. Life would be again on the crossroads. Then once again this urge to trample over the bygone years would seethe but it would be the threshold of that troubled, twilight period which Turgenev describes as the one when regrets come to resemble hopes, and hopes are beginning to resemble regrets, when youth is fled and old age is fast approaching. The decision would be much difficult then.

A Gamble

All the aces of my life
willingly proffered to her
She had nothing to lose
I, everything to gain
cognizant of previous wounds
Inner-self demurred temerity
Effacing every doubt
letting her complete me
Took her time, had her fill
But left without a goodbye

12th December, 2008. Published in US Magazine, The News

Of Parenting

When you were young and accidently broke your mother’s favorite vase, did you simply collapse with fear? When your father used to come home, did you with the rest of your siblings scatter away turning out T.V, DVD Player as you flew the coop? Did you have to think a gazillion times before you could go up to your parents and say,” I made a boo-boo and I am sorry”?

If my long term memory serves me right, corporal punishment was never an option in our house. All I remember is a blow on the back from dad while studying for mathematics’ examination (I am sure it was unintentional) and a slap or two from mom (purely intentional) for pestering her. At first I thought these were the perks of being the only kid but this punishment thing simply doesn’t run in the family.

After so many years, I wonder, would have I turned out any different if answers to these questions in the first paragraph had been in affirmative. Most probably I would have. Would it have been worth it? I don’t know. It’s all relative. The temptation and ability to blab out everything at the end of the day to my folks is something I cherish. Best present a parent could give to his/her child. Many a times I simply didn’t do something bad, because I knew I would ultimately let it all out. They would come to know and there is no hiding from them. I knew I wouldn’t get a beating but still I was and am scared. Mental warfare at its best.

Worst times have been those when intentionally or unintentionally this communication gap was temporarily bottlenecked. As soon as you find yourself not answerable to anyone, problems start brewing up. Mr. Know-it-all smarty pants ends up creating one heck of a mess. Our lives would be much simpler if these communication lines are kept live and running.

I once read in Reader’s Digest to consider your children as grown ups when they stop asking you from where they came and stop telling you where they are going. I think no matter how much we grow up we should always let them know where we are going. They may not always like it and we may not always agree but in the end it works out for the good. One could never find a better cushion to fall back on. They are your first and last line of defense. The chink less armor.