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.