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.