↑ Grab this Headline Animator

Thursday, September 29, 2005


cc: knock knock
t: :) bolo
cc: aaj kal sub peace ki baataiN kar rahay haiN
t: nau sO choohay kha ker billi chali haj ko
cc: :)
t: how are you doing on that quiz?
cc: the colour and model of the white cadillac convertible seen winding the hilly roads in most indian movies circa 50s?
t: blue vespa?
cc: name the two accessories used by most fathers-in-law in those movies
t: pugree and hookah ( taking off pugree meri izzat aap kay qadmouN maiN hay sarkar
cc: nah....dressing gown and an unlit pipe! ...why does that actor who runs up the hills, down the valleys, for hours on feet, sometimes on horseback and who appears in the nick of time to utter the fateful "yeh shaadi nahiN hosakhti hay!" never out of breath?
t: good direction?
cc: nope
t: good script?
cc: :)...why does it rain in song sequences?
t: for sound effects?
cc: the average age of the actor who happily yelps "maaN tera beta imtihaan maiN pass ho gaya"
t: 35
cc: ur score is improving
t: my score or my hit rate
cc: i will call M this minute
t: say hello to her:)
cc: am bored...need to challenge myself
t: go talk to the recalcitrant on the sajil board
cc: i said b--o--r--e--d... not s--t--u--p--i--d
t: : bura kyuN maaNti ho...was just a suggestion
cc: what is wrong with you muslims?
t: hunh (there is so much wrong with us...dunno where she is going )
cc: (bura maan gaya hay shayad)...meant why are muslims so defensive?
t: we have the book
cc: but you don't read it
t: true...but it is still unchanged
cc: then what good is it?
t: it is a torchlight in the right hands
cc: or a carte blanche to kill innocents
t: let's nip this here, another time?
cc: cya
t: tc


cc: buzzzz
t: bolo
cc: r u proud
t: proud of what
cc: proud to be whatever you profess to be
t: guess more thankful than proud to be alive...breathin'...aware...unlike them insecuristas
cc: insecuristas?
t: gimme 2? let me look for it and paste it here:
insecurista n: singular
a person who displays one or more of the following symptoms:
a person who is insecure about his/her world view, mental outlook, physical self, who froth easily, provoke unnecessarily, have deep seated complexes camouflaged with righteous indignation, think s/he knows the value of everything when in reality s/he knows only the price, henpecked, in lousy relationships with their spouse and children, and a menace and a danger to themselves if left untreated e.g. most abdul-hates
cc: perplexing... how can anyone survive with so much insecurity and hatred
t: spreading their misery all around:) ... beginning at home, office, city...
cc: i have an aversion to anyone who is not modest
t: ...there ...u just about eliminated most desi males:)
cc: serious!...i know so many very talented people...and the common thing i find is the more talented they are the more modest and humble they are...
t: a variation
cc: variation?
t:... of the less one knows the hotter one gets...the more one knows the humbler one gets
cc: yes O wise one
t: yeh kis say bat kar rahi ho?
cc: aap say
t:.. then cut the crap pls.
cc: :)
t: sunil dutt died
cc: ismail merchant too
t: did ur mother teach you to speak ill of the dead ?
cc: u referring to that insecurista abdul hate?...the one who called ismail a muslim and then abused him on UP?
t: he almost did it once b4...when malika pukhraj died...he baited me...i declined and he acknowledged his mistake re: speaking ill of the dead
cc: the depth of degradation
t: that is why i say my God and my Muhammed (saw) is not the same as his...and it burn his pseudo self no end;)
cc: yeah that proud me – proud u fallacy
t: we are all God's children
cc: ignore him...let him rot in his hell
t: chalo bhago:)

Hatred Intolerance bonding: Allah, Qur'an Dividing

in the KU seminar room an inquirer wanted to know
'is your Allah and your Muhammed* same or different?'
the hijabs and the beards looked askance at each other
'my Muhammed* said...' quoted one brother breathlessly
'my Nabi* said...' counter-thundered another brother
'but the Qur'an says...' a sister vainly interjected
pandemonium reigned amidst chorus of 'qaal ar rasul...'**
we who practice submission to the will of the Unseen
united we are today in hatred and intolerance

kalashnikovs separated bodies and souls amidst
proclamations testifying to the Greatness of Him
'inna lillah e...' too bad bhai, you know they were shias
too bad...they're sunnis...ahmedis...barelvis...deobandis
'laikin woh tO bhai tha mera...woh tO beh'n thee meri'
we who practice submission to the will of the Unseen
united we are today in hatred and intolerance

returning to the frozen north marvel i at the irony
the very religion that divides brother and sisters
is held in scorn as an evil force for west's voodoo wrath
and for all of them here, all of them there are bad, very bad
hatred-intolerance bonding: Allah-Muhammed* dividing

* peace be upon him
** thus spoke the prophet…


bs & aj

cc: u there
t: momento?
cc: read bs?
t: that nt fellow's?
cc: no not that bs
t: phir kaunsi?
cc: bina shah
t: binoo?...nah...let me check it out
cc: here
t: shandy
cc: what is shandana got to do with this?
t: nothing
cc: then why you mentioned her?
t: hmmm...why?...perhaps there is a linkage somewhere...or the wires are crossed;)
cc: ah, you mean when bina shah writes on main page shandana follows soon
t: tum chalaak ho
cc: what do you think of angelina?
t: i don't know much about her
cc: always obfuscating
t: always truthful
cc: chalo jhootay
t: :) gtg


cc: kaisay ho
t: breathin'
cc: woh tO pata hay…can see ur moving fingers
t: am in rehab
cc: since yesterday
t: since leaving the womb
cc: (kabhi kabhi iski baatain ooper say guzar jaati haiN)
t: am i losing you? we're in it were since we left the protective womb
cc: a'haan (kuch smajah nahiN aa raha hay)
t: look try to see life on earth as a transient stop between the womb and the grave
cc: that is the life between birth and death (maiN kitni hoshiar hooN)
t: yes. this is the journey of rehabilitating our selves
cc: with scriptures?
t: with uses of faculties
cc: aaj kya hay
t: victoria day
cc: oof hoh...i meant aaj kya baat hay jo itna falsafa baghaar rahay ho?
t: aisay hee kal raat yeh 'rehab' wala khayal aaya tha
cc: hmmmm
t: friedman, dimanno, my friend siddiqui
cc: who? what
t: google toronto their op-ed and page 3 pieces...thomas, rosie and haroon
cc: what about
t: islam, qur'an, desecration
cc: what is your take
t: respect for the word of God should translate into deeds by the followers...most muslims do not understand...are shallow, emotional and maneuverable...those who read with understanding do not speak up...often and

IMs on reasoning and praying

cc: busy ho
t: nahin bolo
cc: why r some people so hateful
t: traumatic psychosis
cc: leading to neurosis?
t: sometimes
cc: is it genetic?
t: hmmm...dunno for sure...could be acquired...could be programmed
cc: hmmmm...that explains it
t: explains what?
cc: reasoning with them
t: why would u be reasoning?...cross the street and move on
cc: my programming :)
t: :)…you are programmed to talk to stone sculptures
cc: hey don't go there...u have ur stone cube too
t: good point:)...tho to be fair i meant the laughing buddha statue on ur coffee table
cc: badmash
t: :)
cc: so reasoning is futile
t: reasoning is not futile...praying is
cc: will come to praying reasoning can work
t: hard work...the blinkers on their minds are set with crazy glue...
cc: but nothing is impossible
t: :)
cc: why r u smiling
t: how long a list u want?..of people u cannot reason with?
cc: ok what about praying
t: praying? cricket and kashmir
cc: cricket and kashmir?
t: yup, millions pray for a victory;)
cc: :) have a nice long victoria weekend
t: will survive:)

pristine truth

pristine truth
s/he mayn't be ever claimed
s/he is neither the pristine truth
nor polluted falsehood
a chimeric illusion, cerebrate cognition
is that truth God
s/he is neither the pristine truth
nor polluted falsehood
a chimeric illusion, cerebrate cognition
people talk
let them ...
the pristine truth shall never fade

woh such jo kabhi jhoot na hoga*
woh jo kabhi na milay ga/gi
woh such nahiN hay
jhoot bhi nahiN hay
weh'm hay, khayal hay woh
kya woh such khuda hay
woh bhi kabhi na milay ga/gi
b'jooz is kay woh such nahiN hay
aur na hee hay woh jhoot
na weh'm hay woh na kahayal
log kehtay haiN
logon ko kehnay dO
woh such jo kabhi jhoot na hoga*

*i don't know whose line this is. it is one of those lines you read and gets inexplicably impressed on your mind.

chalaak, cute, crazy

part I
cc: did you find your voice
t: no, but N lost his voice;)
cc: he has a voice, aren't u a tad jealous?
t: bzzz, tweet tweet, meow, peep peep, moo, caw, cuckoo, arf or woof, hee-haw, coo, quack quack, ribbit, honk, cackle, neigh, roar, squeak, oink oink, bleat, howl ...these are voices:)
cc: u r not kind to marques, eliot, desani, mahfouz
t: how can u even compare them to N?...yes am not kind, charitable
cc: charitable?
t: by withholding my comments
cc: you censor urself?
t: sometimes:)...when someone abuses talent
cc: what would u have said?
t: dysfunctional word groupings groping to act as a dysfunctional story written by a dysfunctional writer at a dysfunctional and highly under the influence period of his dysfunctional life vainly exposing the dysfunctionality of living under the dysfunctional minarets in a dysfunctional country occupied by a dysfunctional army-mullah conundrum over a dysfunctional bleeting populace:)
cc: wow, what does that mean?
t: ask H
cc: he loves him
t: that is why u should ask him:)


part II
cc: knock knock
t: brb
cc: just a quick baat
t: bolo
cc: can I borrow that dysfunctional baat?
t: depends – as long as am not involved
cc: no I want to use it on the dusk thread with minor changes
t: hmmmm…all of them will gun 4 u;)
cc: I can manage the event
t: chalak chohkeri!
cc: cute chowki:)
t: crazy chowkie
cc: get it copyrighted
t: like the valve?
cc: like the valve...gtg...thanks

part III
t: you haven't used dysfunctional on that board yet
cc: been thinking
t: don't do's early
!@#$^%&%&^*^+_))(*&&&...(garbled message)
t: you okay
cc: u don't have to be so cruel this early
t: sowee...rah? (does that mean i can be cruel later?)
cc: ozer needs a valve job more than the amended dysfunctional quote
t: is that a pre or post beejay realisation?
cc: pre...on the first board the impression of 'managing the event'
t: but he is an event manager!
cc: i think ozer is kardesh/salim
t: u think so?
cc: wait
t: churchillian!
cc: churchill?
t: '...time'll tell...'
cc: no... call it a strong feminine hunch
t: oh that…oos bus kay aagay tO hum sub bay-bus haiN
cc: fem-hunch is not a bus
t: theek hay...laikin humlog to bay-bus haiN na
cc: am outta here, cya l8r

part IV
cc: knock knock
t: bolo:)
cc: amrita thinks ozer has a voice
t: (yawn) haven't we been over this recently
cc: i forgot...spare me the list...(he was about to go on that tangent...oink oink)
t: (samajhdar ho:)...not a serious query?
cc: (oho something serious descending)...
t: does arundathi roy have a voice?
cc: yes
t: a literary voice based on a solitary book?
cc: she has written essays
t: yes...let me rephrase...100 years from today...what would they be saying about her?
cc: 100 years from today i'd be dead
t: (jawab hee nahin hay)
cc: (kal ka kis ko pata)
t: conjectures?
cc: based on one book...she would be dead meat:)
t: agree...she would be lost in a host of talented writers
cc: who do you think would be kicking?
t: hard to say... i'd be dead too;)
cc: chalak badmash:)
t: :)
cc: voice!
t: style!
cc: voice!
t: style is all i can concede...voice is an assignation by others on the deceased...mostly;)
cc: gtg
t: bye

men's issues

cc: you don't know when to stop
t: hunh?
cc: your poem said it all - should've stopped there
t: oh the compounded waste...nah...had to bring out the other stuff too
cc: did u see maya's pix
t: nice teeth
cc: put up yours
t: i am modest
cc: shandana was a funny
t: she has a way
cc: you mean she has a voice
t: ask h if she has a voice;)
cc: u r still smarting from his remarks
t: no why should i resent his opinion?
cc: he meant well...
t: of urdu we have had similar fact such debates are never ending and almost always inconclusive
cc: what were the debates in urdu about?
t: a'dub barai a'dub vs. a'dub barai fun
cc: fun as in fun?
t: pretty close:) is art or craft
cc: ah passion or craft
t: or a acquire that voice (shrug)
cc: u should get a voice
t: and u should decide if you belong to ed or er
cc: what is ed or er? i do not belong to a club that would have groucho;)
t: :)...prelude ditch to ed or er
cc: (there he goes on his wonky pitches)...ok serious?
t: never!
cc: what are men's issues?
t: ask someone issues would be very similar to yours
cc: i meant an average man's issues
t: (larki insult kar rahi hay)
cc: come on don't be afraid to tax ur brain
t: hmmm 1: girls, 2: girls, 3: girls..4:...exhibit A: one-world, exhibit B: cayenne;)
cc: (interrupting) achcha ab soach ker batao
t: 1: education (leading to career leading to gals)
t: 2: career (following education…leading to gals)
t: 3: money in the bank (flashier car/fancy clothes...leading to gals)
t: 4: finally a catch...the gal...( then children leading to loss of interest in that gal...and following other gals)
cc: think i get the drift (yeh to waq't zayah karnay per tula hu'a hay)
t: ( ab dobarah itnay serious sawal nahin poochay gi)
cc: will give you a raincheck on this..let me know tomorrow
t: sure (sochna hee paRay ga ab - yeh peecha nahiN choRay gi)

kaisa such?

bachhchay sub ma'asoom hotay haiN
suraj mashriq hee say hota hay
tulu aur such, such hee hota hay
rung such ka kuch nahiN hay
lOg apni apni lens ka rung
oos such per chaRha daitay haiN
magar yeh such kaisa such hay
jaaN jo youN zayah karta hay?

Marketplace Sad'r City

Marketplace Sad'r City
at the busy intersection
the mother in black chador
clasping the hands of a child
with baleful eyes and shy smile
a ragged doll pressed to her bosom
cacophony of the bazaar
a car, like any other car
one moment and a cascading
inferno raining mayhem next
people shouting, cursing His name
running in every direction
stunned, felt something hit my foot
it was a small hand clasping
another hand very tightly

sad'r bazaar
ik na bhoolnay wali muskurahat
khail rahi thee oos ma'som kay labaouN per
ik haath maiN maaN ka haath, doosray may ik guRRiya
achanak hu'a ik dhamaka aur phaila
her soo' dhuwaaN, sho'lay aur aah o pukaar
is afra-tafri may paire m'ra jo takraya
tou dekhay do haath - aik chota aik baRa haath


what's the harm
in loving her today
a little more
despite hallmark's
efforts to seize (the day)
here is to Moms here and there*

*my mom, God-bless is no longer here

the cycle

both incomplete
without drops
carried by the
lazy cloud


tum nahiN
neend nahiN
kya pyar
isi kO
kehtay haiN


yaad t'ri kis goshay maiN rehti hay
gar ooska pata chal bhee ja'aye
tO kya mitaee ja sakhti hay?

occupying army


since you are new around here let me just remind you of something that you may not know about some of us:

in addition to this: I am against the loss of a single life be it at the hands of an individual, institution or state that you have very conveninetly overlooked because it may not sit well with your personal ambitions, agenda or world-view... i have been continuously (and for some friends irritatingly) harping on occupying army in pakistan...nothing would improve in pakistan till the occupying army is housed in its proper place...

now, let me explain nothing

pakistan has a myriad of problems...chief among them the following:

* lack of strong, functioning and trustworthy institutions (that india has been developing since 1947)
* distrust and intolerance of government, institutions, individuals
* absence of accountability, goodwill and tolerance
* runaway population, lack of services/facilities for the ordinary citizens

some of the above are inter-dependent and overlapping...but you get the picture?...unless pakistan has at the least an independent judiciary, legislature and civil services (police and other law enforecement agencies):

* no religious minority or sect would feel safe in pakistan
* women would continue to be treated as chattels
* absence of timely and fair legal remeides will lead to violations of law
* civil society will continue its erosion
* rule of jungle will hold sway

hence my seemingly incessant hammerings at the occupying must must go!...

-only then can pakistanis really hope to embark on the long and arduous rebuilding process
-only then can intolerance be replaced by accomodation
-only then can a ray of hope can shine
-only then can national institutions reaffirm and offer hope for the minorities, the downtrodden, the disenfranchised, the women
-only then can (we) pakistanis begin to crawl back and be a good neighbour, a good corporate and world citizen

hope you and others now understand the perpetuating harms of the occupying army


#81 by ana
Re: # 64
the problem i have with every and any ill being blamed on the occupying army is precisely that every and any ill cannot be blamed solely on the occupying army.

ana #81:

i respect your input

and miriam ... i could have added this ps: in # 82 also...fickle memory;)...khair...

" its hunger to grab a bigger share of power they would not hesitate to make a pact with the saint, the devil, the pariah or the powerful...and we have seen this in the past 57/ 58 years...they bring out mqm when it suits them, have pacts with mullahs when it is in their interest..."

now specifically to the point ana addressed...

india is not a glorified example of minorities right...not by far and not yet!...however...when we compare india to is far ahead of pakistan...(yes i will get a flack for saying this from the usual suspects...but this is the truth....despite gujrat, kashmir, christians being burned alive...forget that preacher`s name...sloan?...and all the provocation by their rss mullahs)...


imho since the divide they (indians) have developed (and are developing) strong basic institutions...because of these khaki meddling in civilian affairs the divide and suspicion across all line...class, religion, exploited to the fullest...christians, hindus, ahmedis, barelvis, deobandis, sunnis shias...everybody falls victim to this divide and rule mentality this with no credible institutions... the egalitarian aspects of a society are not allowed to build up...the khakhis both inculcate and exploit intolerance to the hilt...(yes, back to k(h)akisatocracy)...which is why in my humble opinion....:)
(05/06/04 )

occupying army

...give me any problem in pakistan and i will give you a two word answeroccupying army...try me :)

to blame the feudals only is beating the dead camel while pretending it is alive

over on the sajil board (incest and underage ward`s sexual abuse) romair was gingerly heading in the right direction when he mentioned that and other related issues from the perch of law and order

* the occupying army is the root of all evil in pakistan
* the occupying army is the current God, Mohammed and the Caliphs all rolled into one...ok Ram, Guru Nanak, Krishna, Budda...Jesus...did i miss anyone?...insert your favourite diety here....
* the occupying army...ok enough...some of you are irritated by repeated mention of won't mention it again in this thread...but on the odd chance that some new readers are not sure where i am coming from...( the other query...where am going is also speculative at best) i will explain:

on the eight day....biblical reference for the unbelievers;)...He pointed at the faujis and manage... the world knows by now, they have made a holy mess of it!...enough is enough say foes and friends alike...send them back to barracks under full civilian control like happens in most civilized countries…(certain politicians in the beltway who have a penchant for talking about democracy but dealing with autocrats, k(h)akistocrats, ailing oligarchs, monarchs, and small time tin-pots excepted)

ok, back to why i think they are the root of all evil in Pakistan long as they are remotely close to power:

* they will not let any national institutions flourish
* there will be no independent judiciary
* there will be no independent civil service
* there will be no accountability – external or internal
* nobody will be answerable to the public
* no orderly political institutions would evolve
* jungle raj will prevail under army raj

...i have to mention india...sorry if it gets anybody`s goat...both countries got their independence at the same time...while we may argue if it is more democratic or less when compared to other countries...nobody can deny that is largely a democratic set-up with functioning institutions...where the ordinary citizens exercise power to throw out their state or national governments every so many years...while there is rampant corruption...the big difference is when push comes to shove the ordinary citizen is may take longer for him to be heard...but he is heard...compared to Pakistan...everyone feels there is more law and order there...briefly...they are stumbling toward the ideal, liberty, freedom, pursuit of happiness, freedom from persecution...


pakistan is regressing...the faujis are forever looking to increase their share of the their zeal they have overthrown common sense...they forget that if there is no country there won`t be an army...they are a law unto themselves...there is no law for the ordinary citizens...

…this needs to be looked at more closely…

…on books pakistan has all the laws it needs to exist as a civil society…mostly good...some bad ones…the people…or the judiciary is not empowered and independent enough to knock down the bad ones...the legislature is cowed and manipulated...(remember saima sarwar imran?...) ...when justice is denied what do you think ordinary citizen can do>...the options are to take law into their own hands...or to approach the dons in their turf for remedial justice...the bugtis, the mqm etc. often provide justice by default to the ordinary citizens...

...and this is with the full blessings of the army raj...( i promised you i won`t use that phrase in this post)...along with these petty warlords the army also uses mafia to rule...

..if you want I can develop this even more...but i better end this here...the army has to go back to the barracks under full civilian control...and let the civilians resume their long trial and run for a viable political system beneficial for the populace without army interference


clean kitchen

...the kitchen is sparkling clean:) significant half is away for the i was up early after a restless troubled night...fetched the weekend paper from the door...and in a timed frenzy of multi-tasking i put the toast in the toaster, water in the kettle, whipped eggs and turned up the heat for the pan, added some salt and pepper and retrieved a cheese slice...then i started thinking about some words to compose...and then mind drifted to zehra's pill piece...and the reaction of some desi men...and yes...was reminded of ammi saying 'beta her kaam dhiyaan say kya karo'...

...but wait!...between my description of the kitchen activities and recollection of ammi's saying there was a cyber interruption...something spilled over and some things got burnt...because my mind was busy elsewhere...khair...pyar or the fear of the pyar is a sufficiently strong motivation or deterrent (shrug) that i forgot the verse and starting cleaning up after the er...happenstance...we do not want to leave any evidence for the mistress of the kitchen...she can be very unkind sometimes:)... friends, i did feed myself and left the kitchen sparkling clean in the aftermath:)

...(sigh)...chalo aaj ka din aur shub bhee guzar ja'aye gi



general comment on Parents & The Pill

...yara the whole desi perspective on sex stinks...on sex? it stinks on just about everything;)...we know that...but do not admit it...storks still carry babies down...bhagwan ki kirpa say, Allah kay ehsaan say bachchay paida hojatay haiN! education is a taboo subject...sometimes i think we are slow...and dichotomy starts right from the home...hiding behind faux-talk of morality and culture ( and i am not even bringing religion here)...khandaan and upbringing....we bury our heads in the sand...and just in case some nut-case mulla gets uptight with this...let me add not talking about sex, pill or condom usage only...

...the younger generation for ever pushes the another era they used to smoke and return home after freshening up with elaaichi (cardomom) or paan thinking their elders would not suspect that they have been is a game...each generation knows what the other is up to...that they chose to turn their head and hide themselves away from the truth is their fault or mechanism to deal with it...take your pick

...replace elaaichi with pill or condom...

...and yet there are holy desis who make fun of the writer (zehra) even taunted her to be more explicit...another publicly proclaimed her sad for their comprehension skills and for their pathetic life they lead...for the vicarious pleasure they seek....she has said what she wants is they who take vicarious and perverse delight rather than seek or discuss the truth!

...certain make it most segments of pakistani society are sick indeed...mullahs routinely abuse their young wards...nobody makes an issue of it in any concerted way...(instead they do not shy away from hurling qur'an ayahs and hadiths as if they were cluster bombs to annihilate the skeptics) no wonder those abused children abuse others when they grow up... hold hands and walk the bazaar...married couples cannot...even within close families...couples have to sit apart...all in the name of some faux sense of faux regression the desi would do victoria proud

...and before some mulla-wannabee accuses me of being an exhibitionist let me remind them that is not what i am writing about...i am discussing decent and forthright both the generations...and if it includes discussion about that aspect of life we call sex, so be it...

summing up...each generation pushes the envelope farther and farther...the older generation has the experience if not the direct knowledge of what the younger generation is up kidding aside...time to get real...

and a post script to above in another post to hamidm:

hypocrisy rules

you got just about everything right...but i am p-off at not only the older generation...if you re-read i was careful in apportioning the blame between both generations...(sorry zeh'r but this is true too)...

in the desi context both generations share the blame...treading the thin line occurs in both faces are my friend used to say in a different context gar tum may himmat hay tO baghawat karlo/ warna jahan maaN-baap kehtay haiN shaadi karlo...perhaps...

...just perhaps the younger generation is slightly more at fault...they want the independence and freedom and yet want to retain a fig cover...and in that they put the older generation in a bit of spot...

another post on the zehra pill piece:

i forget who mentioned here that when their daughter is a certain age they would return back...khair is my take:

two/three years back...i had a informal seminar-interview session with the students of Islamic Studies Dept at KU...(that's another story)....and another one at an 'art' school in defence....students were 16-22 years of both sexes...the format in both places was similar....i would ask questions, they would identify themselves and answer my queries...

at this art school...every question i asked the students the principal sahib would answer instead...and in one of his responses he drew a line...'us vs. them'...he opined that here in the west the students were immoral, used some point i pointedly asked him to be quite and let the students answer my questions...and in response to principal saheb's tirade i asked the students if they were aware of what goes on in the west...yes in a chorus they replied...

then after more prodding one student said...'Sir, everything that goes on there goes on here...the principal saheb's jaw dropped..."our parent's do not know most of it...let me give you an innocent example...if there is a jam session here...all of us would attend...but nobody would mention it is jam session or a dance session...we would just say there is a lecture at the school...

recall what I wrote about elaichi in an earlier post?

sex, drugs, immorality is as much prevalent in today's kids there as here...with one stark difference...over here there are well publicized programs by the school boards and cities and municipalities and tv channels promoting drug awareness, drug abuse, unwanted pregnancies etc. ...over there...elaichi...


smoldering without oxygen
its way out, fighting the plains
pee(a)king at the top to breathe
and burn
to raze and level in its swim
through hills, lakes, valleys and plains
spouting nourishment off its bosom
to feed
so the strive begins anew and
gets buried down once again
deep down

significant / insiginificant

helps ululate
and pullulate

when in love
world fritters
when out love
it's light out

ataullah & company

a battered truck pulled in the lot
the faded sign on its side door
read ataullah & company
an old man, face taut, weather beaten
emerged from the truck and sat
at the far end of the thatched roofed stop
intently he gazed at the dottle
then tapped it on the clay ashtray
once, twice, thrice.....till the dottle fell in
restocked the bowl with tobacco
retrieved from a lined leather pouch
tapped it down with his fore finger
satisfied he smiled and lit a match
puffed on it quickly while the lit match
circled the pipe's rim clockwise*
at the other end of this stop
hamid sipped his second cerveza
wahid toyed with his remaining lunch
and i gently nursed the cohiba
as the cars and and trucks whizzed by
and the crows debated jinnah
or gandhi or lahore or delhi
i couldn't care less and shooed them away
the old man, pipe now freshened up
mistook my shooing for a wave
came over and pulled himself a chair
i offered a shake '...ataullah?'
'no,' he smiled and said 'i am satan'
'where are your horns?' quizzed hamid
satan's wrinkled face a weather map
of high and low pressure build ups
lines scurrying, dipping and curving
as he smiled the wrinkles formed crescents
how can this man be satan thought i
looks can be deceptive said his eyes
'if you really are satan
why are you not leading us stray?'
asked hamid, not one to hold his peace
'nah,' the old man said as he inhaled
'no need to, my work is done here.'

the sun was up and we were in no rush
the old man sensed our eagerness
puffed on his pipe and continued
'aye i knew him when he traversed
the sands that hid the wealth beneath
measured his steps, words, actions
voice of Allah named him his followers
i who served Him since eternity
bidded my time to checkmate him
his followers with conviction
spread his influence east and west
soon they ran out of zeal and vigour
they forgot how patient i could be
i rest, waiver nor falter ever
nothing is oblivious to me
sunnis, shiites, sufis all whimper
slaves they are of a mecca
that i created in their minds
i swear by my Allah who favoured
clay over light, me over you
even Muhammed will disown you
there is nothing more for me to do.'

at the Ka'aba pilgrims are required to circle anti-clockwise

classroom woes

...the inability of the occupying army to deal with the looming crisis in Pakistan....ok let's dispense with the white-wash...democracy and all that blah blah...and about how the power is transferred to the people...more blah blah...

...(came across these figures about four years ago from the then sec. education...a laeeq relying on memory and am searching for more current numbers)

...every year more than three million young Pakistanis are added to the school going age...between the stretched educational resources of the GoP (digression: the defense related expenses eat up between 48- 66+ % of the budget - depending on how you add up) is the low down:

number of new school age children..........3,000,000
based on an average of 30 children
per class—number of additional class
rooms required.........................................100,000
new class rooms provided by govt...................10,000
new class rooms provided by madrasah............6,000
new class rooms provided by pvt groups.........3,000

yearly class rooms shortfall.......................81,000

...that is 2,430,000 plus children that are added every year to the numbers of uneducated...and this folly is compounded every year...millions of hopeless soul scurrying for petty existence and fodder for physical and mental there any wonder the literacy rate is going down...(so much for Madrassahs and Schools …not to mention law and order…infra structure development...women issues, gender inequality, honor killing...heck, just about everything except nuclear arsenal and land grab by the faujis? sure there are saner minds in the fauj that have figured this out have come to realize that the pie is shrinking and the occupying army's share cannot be increased beyond a certain point...remember Pakistan, no pakistan army...perhaps that is the driving force behind the fauji's push for a solution to the Kashmir crisis (Indian Troop Reduction in Kashmir: Merely Symbolic?) that the meager budgetary resources can be allocated to developmental fields…a bare minimum level of economic prosperity is introduced to help the pie expand...and with a bigger pie the percentage yield for them will become bigger too...


we were young, the night old
donning coats and gloves
as we left she told me
'i do not understand
things some people say'

with mind elsewhere, said i
'sub theek hay, sub theek hay
her baat aakhir kahaaN
samajhnay samjahanay
ki hoti hay bhala'

an evening by the sea shore

time, tide, child
forever move forward
delete tide
it comes forward, recedes
delete child too
child grows old
then turns child again
journeying from one womb
to another
is that moving forward?
that leaves time all alone
as the straggler at the fair
wandering alone when
everyone has left the grounds
time - ever in short supply
we have aplenty


dL wrote: The Brit Desi is an odd creature. Similar to the North American version at a very basic level in the sense that they are all immigrants. But beyond that they seem to have evolved into complex disparate societies. The pull of home on first generation Pakistani's (can't comment on South Asians as a whole) seems a lot stronger in Britain - maintained no doubt by the insular set ups around mosques - schools - communities that they have established. In the immortal words of a Pakistani Embassy employee "hum ney to apna chota sa pakistan banaya hua hay ... yehean tak key paan bhi nahien ch'hora". And the final insult was the chappie who came back to his desk ... to a beeping fax machine. It had just churned out a whole application including passport copies. The chap picked up everything ... waved it in the air ... called out "fax fax aya ... kissseee ka hai" . This to a room populated by just two waiting individuals ..... then chucked the whole pile into the bin .... and calmly went back to a remarkably strong smelling lunch.

I have no issues with the lunch ... or the paan ... but in the "rarified" environs of grosvenor square it jarred ... just a little.

What it does is make you wonder about the definition of civilization. What is it that makes the madness that defines our cities not so civilized ? Who decided spitting paan or refusing to queue is not quite civilized ? And what is it that makes places like chandni bar, southall seem odd in england ... maybe if we were chinese, we'd find china town which no western city seems to be without equally odd ...

and why does it seem odd and slightly sad when 40 (or any other) something desis sit around throwing fivers at delectable young things ... maybe because we know how hypocritically conservative they are in the sacred environs of their own homes ...



...imho it all boils down to responsibility... for brevity's sake would you allow me to use one word desi to describe all south asians?...the desis display this innate sense of responsibility which is uniquely locale if something in the ground they are standing upon triggers their behaviour pattern...

but first let me tackle responsibility...

* it is a behaviour pattern cognizant of consequences
* it is inculcated and bred through familial & cultural conditioning
* once cultivated and grown it should not change (ok this needs to be qualified...but you get the drift?)

notice the irony in the bold up here?

the desis disobey and break minor laws ( e.g traffic violations) in desiland without any impunity...and yet the moment they are in a land with better regulated laws they fall in line and most of them become good corporate citizens...hence my illusion earlier to locale based sense of responsibility...

and now in context of the execution of this responsibility by the desis veering between dichotomy and dilemma...the one you captured so well in the embassy clerk:)...(will stay away from tackling the civilisation bit for now)...the dichotomy bit have already outlined earlier wrf to locale based sensibilities...

and...the dilemma...that could be a manifestation of the severe identity crisis...(now i will further narrow down the definition of the desi to mean the pakistanis...the indians would have to come up with their own rational for their aberrant behavior;))...following a religion that they have been told is the key to here and hereafter...and how glorious it is they fail to see any manifestation of it around them...what they see is mere lip service paid by everyone around them...and real worldly success eludes the true believers...and the more disillusioned they become...instead of pulling themselves up by the boot-straps they are advised (almost) to give if naozobillah Allah is a fool who would tolerate back to the dichotomy...they mean to be good...a good father/husband/muslim whatever...yet cannot give 100 % effort as you pointed out they pretend to be what they aren' places where they can act it out without effort...citing dogmas...home mostly, social settings, mosques...and when they do not want to pretend...then they find outlets...

(notice, i had a hard time resisting using the said person following the said dictum said this or did that;))

...what the clerk did in the pristine ( am sure) surroundings of the embassy block...or what desis do at halal wedding receptions...yes, halal food, and no no liquor to be served...and their intermittent rush to the parking lot...with one car serving as the dry-bar...or the begumaat in karachi sipping drinks from tea cups so as not to violate some obscure sensibilities...somebody please stop me...

dichotomous detrimental dilemma ...what else?


t: how r u
cc: theek hooN, aap?
t: chirpy
cc: i knew that
t: how?
cc: am psychic u know
t: yes, i forget;)
cc: ah well, i'm more clever than psychic
t: (puzzled look icon)
cc: and more charming than clever
t: and more chalaakoo than...
cc: no, more graceful than charming
t: did i mention the valve?
cc: yes dear you did to that guy;)
t: (she took the hint)
cc: (what does he take me for)
t: you are quite chirpy too
cc: same sun, same shine here too:)
t: aur kya
cc: u were confrontational on saad board
t: i liked most of his observations except that one sentence but he was gracious
cc: women do get shafted everywhere
t: :)
cc: you snickering?
t: you could have chosen another word
cc: (clenching teeth)
t: look, i do not know about this particular place...but most bars in india are just a front
cc: (he thinks i am naive)
cc: u heard from nawab
t: no, been a while
cc: subroto must've dispatched him to the dog house
t: perhaps, he has a cat too
cc: begum?
t: perhaps
cc: gtg
t: cya

guilt / nidamat

guilt driven deeds
momentary relief
irreversible fissure

izhar e nidamat
waqti tashaffi
daimi tishnagi

vain thought / fuzool khayal

vain thought
if that

fuzool khayal
gar woh

yeh jaan

bus kay
bus maiN
hay na
bus kay
yeh jaan
aap kay/ki

the last line can be read two ways and changes the whole poem


bharosa na karna
sha'er e na'tawaaN
ki baat ka
mudattON say faraib
bardasht kartay hu'aye
bun gaya hay woh
faraib e mujassam

nee poda shavi

nee poda shavi
cc: that age is so long
t: intentional:)
cc: i was waiting for the other shoe to drop
t: he took a long time to produce the card i had to record it faithfully
cc: yeah i read it, poor nurse
t: are you being charming or cynical
cc: am never cynical
t: ah, then why is the screen hotting up?
cc: menu ki pata
t: don`t say that
cc: you want me to say nee poda shavi
t: this sounds even more gruesome
cc: it is! can i ask you something?
t: achcha
cc: when did you get over sylvia?
t: plath?
cc: no the other sylvia
t: i don`t know any other sylvia
cc: and simone
t: simone de beauvir?
cc: nee poda shavi
t: hunh?
cc: joan
t: of arc?
cc: toronto ka kishen kanhaiya
t: kya bakwas hay
cc: and mary?
t: don`t even go there...i`m not that old!
cc: this is fatwa/blasphemy material! so you do confess
t: confess to what?
cc: never mind
t: i just read urstruly recruiting ntsyed
cc: oh they are a tag team
t: who urstruly and ntsyed?
cc: arey nahin urstruly and echoboom
t: that is old news:)
cc: lack of faith makes for strange bed-fellows;)
t: i wouldn`t go that far:)
cc: nee poda shavi
t: some day i will block you

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

renewal tajdeed

famine--of intellect
abundance--of multitudes
light--on essence
shadow--on love supreme
past--a mirage
present--mirrorring indulgences
future--hopeful fog

qay'hutt--qay'hutt ur rejaal
ifra'at--jum'may ghafeer
roshni--mahiyyat per
sa'aye--shauq per
maazi--faraib e naz'r
haal--ak's e riyakaari
mustaqbil--ghubaar e pu'r ummeed


enquired fire
of the bomb
reason for envy

kaha aag nay
bum say
jalatay kyun ho
hum ko

my heart: yeh naazuk dil m'ra

my heart: yeh naazuk dil m'ra
the size of fist
myocardium muscle
works smile to smile
spells infarct
when infracting
controls destinies
weighs ounces

have one, can't spare
and don't understand
the diverse interest
in its repossession
hai m'ra yeh naazuk
zakhmi, zaalim dil

bajan Ashley

bajan Ashley
mrs ashley from barabados
was another immigrant here
we worked in the same firm, she was
a single parent raising chuck
then six, with an infectious smile
a lovable cuddly bear

twice each year
at the summer island picnic
and the x'mas kid's party chuck and
other kids would play and have fun

ten years later

a dark wintry evening
rushing home saw some teens emerge
from the corner variety store
three of the five youths were black
all of them wearing baggy jeans
ill fitting clothing with hoods
then the rage, instinctively i
felt the wallet
moved to more lighted area
and ran a preventive check list
all the while straining to hear
the footsteps following me
one of them caught up with me and
said, 'hello mr temporal'
'hello chuck, how are you,' said i
visibly relaxed with a smile


when my sons were growing up
wwf* was the rage
wrestlemania was
world cup, super bowl, stanley cup
rolled into one
i decided to reason
with their obsession
'all these matches are fixed,'
i said and went on
as elders do in vain
with unlistening youth
at some point my son said
'dad, if i was your father
and was trying to shatter your dreams
how'd you feel?'
i learned and withdrew

*world wrestling federation

said the soldier

said the soldier
going to the front
should i die
and find
there is no heaven
i'll kill myself

how did you propose? asked my son

what words did i use?
the power of words
the magic that transports
to the caves in the desert
tumbling the crest of waves
in a sealed ship with species
in the tundra with moving mountains
at dusk in the battleground
now full of whimpers, whispers and red
long past the dawn's bravado
when the opponents eyeballed
full of regurgitated beliefs., fired
in the invincibility of their swords
the cloaked lady with the lamp
tending tirelessly
abel and cain killing
again and again and ...
the kufans, the nazis, the punjabis

must stop here, even today
the injustices and savagery
everywhere is unsettling so

son, there were no words
written or spoken
just a glint in the eyes
that said it all
sans words

on a sail boat

for sail boat thanks to jonathan

adrift in mid ocean
sans anchor
edibles running low
how long my dreams can put up with me
am beginning to talk with myself again
she abandoned me too
why are dreams like women?
so serene yet so elusive
adrift in mid ocean
even my rocking shadow
is not talking anymore
wonder what to do...


life -- a series of mishaps
happening and waiting to happen
evolution, devolution
ravaged, disparaged
caught in the flux
foggy, full nor empty
mixed and deflecting
real is unreal is real
you are me, i am you
but leave my books alone, please!
walking on clouds
makes pot holes no less hurting
rupturous tempests
within skeletal confines
ricochet pain and helplessness
till shadows desert
.....(still working on this poem)


mausam kuch thaka thaka sa tha
hum bhi kuch thakay thakay say thay
achanak ik mo'ajzaa hu'a
ik leh'r e tabassum jub phailee
qaatil kay labouN per, thakan m'ri
janay kahaN kho gaee

wordlessly / khaam'ashi

she conveyed her
dreams, doubts, aches
don't know where she is now
this respect for speech
she taught me

qayam rakhtay hu'aye
oos nay raaz e dil a'yaaN kya
dil maiN nihaaN khaab o khauf oojager kyay
lafzON ka yeh ehtraam
hum nay oosi say


muskurahat tuk
hee rehti…

chaand aik
waa'aday hazaar

two days or four
will come

hate kills

taghayyur I
aur lOg

taghayyur II
badaltay nahiN


i was violated
do the learned judges

maiN mukhtaran
zyadaH paRhi-likhi nahiN
laikin janti hooN yeh baat
zyadti hui hay m'ray saath
zaalim thay woh sub
aur paRhay-likhay yeh qaazi
jaahil haiN sub kay sub

so what?

room with a view
shelf full of books
enough in the pantry
and in the kitty
just enough
to pay the utilities
--humble goals
for a modest existence

then past the allotted
three score and ten*
i cease to exist

* the biblical reference to 70 years


snow flakes float
from where
the words of God
used to descend
playful, cajoling, gliding
touching buildings, trees,
hearts young and old
then the ground
where they embrace
and yet again
losing individuality
under the collective weight
of furtive embraces
and silent screams

falling leaves, floating
gliding, descending
like the words of God
rustling leaves,
ginger footprints
rustled souls

despite the cacophony of everyday din

a silence in which stillness stood out
a repose in which God stood out

and that smile


the unpoet says
unlove her
let the silence
drown out all sound.

float and fall like flakes
in a suffocating embrace
to the ground
unloved and undead

yaade e raft'gaaN

lethargy, missed chances
newer alliances
or more than six degrees
of inseparation
which is it i wonder


some things do not clear up
even after the haze, smoke, fog
lifts, it must be the curse
of believing, thinking or living
and living we remain doomed

blame - two versions

blame ver 01


blame ver 02

markers, mileposts and milestones / youN hum chaltay rahay, youNhee hum chaltay rahay

markers, mileposts and milestones
marching, wading, trudging, passing
sad villages, mourning deserts
happy plains and bustling towns
markers, mileposts, and milestones
anger, argument, agreement
marking memory's slow journey
the destination elusive

weary, no shadows or lean-to
bone penetrating exhaustion
crumbling, giving into sleep
ending one more forgotten tale

youN hum chaltay rahay, youNhee hum chaltay rahay
kuch oojalay maiN kuch andhairay maiN
ranj kay sootoon ki oodas roshni talay
malal ki sang e meel aati raheeN
musarrat aur bahar ki manzilaiN
humsafar, aur woh lamha bhee aaya
na hay koi nishaaN had'd e nigah
na koi sang e meel kay soostaa laiN
kuch chaltay chaltay thuk say g'aye thay
kuch uljhan hui thee na paa ker manzil
musafir nay bay saaya bayabaaN maiN
chaader tani aur abdi neend so gaya
lO yeh kahani tO khatam hui

a simple poem

love me or let me go
the crooner sang
as i channel surfed,
ate, walked, read,
intermittently gazed
at this ball point
wrote, paused and
pondered over the feel
of all the pens have possessed
ball points with medium and fine points
blue, black, red, even green
old fashioned ink filled pens
ah the old parker
the zee nibs, the ink pots
stained hands and clothes
the set of unused calligraphy pens
pens with cushy holders
handcrafted tops
folding pens for travel
thin pens, modulated pens
and remenisced
the feel of my favourite pen
a pen warm and flowing
comfortably imprisoning wayward words

laikin kalam qal'm ka marhoon e minnat kahaaN?
a'sl kalaam ki aamud hoti hay
phir woh sadiON seena ba seena
musafat tay karta hu'aye
safha e hasti say safha e qartaas per
kabhi youN muntakil hota hay
kay paRhnay wala baisakhta bOl oothay
'wallah! kya baat paida ki hay
yehi baat tO m'ray dil maiN thee
yehi baat tO maiN kehna chahta thaa...'

flow not from the pen

through the centuries, bosom to bosom
to brain to charged impulses to fingers
to pen, to ink, to paper
the journey enigmatic, long, intricate and involved

the moving pen flawlessly writes
simple, loaded words
i get up
fetch some water
return, read, surf
write and rewrite
as the crooner sings
...or love me forever...


a rape is a rape is a rape is a rape

he said
they reiterated
in unison
some even chided
o chaddho jii, it was just a rape

are you deaf, are you blind?
i've been violated!

words did not leave her mouth
she stood her regained ground
like a real man

the eunuchs were heard repeating
a rape is a rape is a rape is a rape

sh'aeri kya hay

alfaaz ka khail
haroof kay daanON say
lafzON ki tasbeeh
aur tasbeeh may muqayyad
woh khayal aur jazbay
karaiN jO tarjumani
oomungON, tajrubON ki
paRh ker jinhaiN
ho paida
ehsaas e hum a'hungi

ru'ut/ khaleej/ ras'm

aap haiN, hum haiN
khaleej phir yeh kaisi?
in mausamoN ko tou
badalna hee hota hay
per aap ko hu'a liya
kaisi hay yeh na'ee
ras'm e wafa janaaN?

bay and king

bay and king
putting their faith
in credit cards
the mascara covered faces
and snuggling
against the biting chilly winds
in the wake of skyscrapers
and farhad
in thoughts, wondered
while his shireen waited under
the leafless tree for spring to come

bay and king
tilsim e card per eemaN laatay hu'aye
falak bOs eemaratouN kay sayouN maiN
yakh thappaROn say daaman bachatay
tez ter qadmON say woh chalnay walay
gaaza aalooda chehrouN ko dekh ker
khayalouN maiN kho gaya woh farhad
tur'k e watan kya thaa jis kay lyay
taa'bir oos ki is bar'fzaar maiN kahaN
woh tO waheeN kisi khizaaN aashna
darakht kay chun-chun sa'aye maiN khaRi
aa mu'd e bahar ki muntazir hogi

*Bay and King is a major intersection in the business district of Toronto


was lucky
had to face
one trial

the world.....

khush qismat tha
ik aazmaish
hee say guzra


happy valentine: unhappy valentine

happy valentine
shab o

unhappy valentine

chalo, mitti pao*

the sun, pupil shrinking bright
cold, piercing bones, touching soul
some moving sprightly
tsunami will be unleashed if they don't
others languid, feeding pigeons

over there, dark laden clouds
ominous tidings
rewarding rich, striking the poor
nature, not fair!
why nature, are we...?

the blind and deaf cleric
conditioned, to rain fear and fury
after being told
'to you, your grave: to me, mine'
clueless, cue-less, c--t-less

listless, languorous, limp
vainly control covetous
not knowing........

*c'mon, throw mud


what is pain?

dictionary definition: An unpleasant sensation occurring in varying degrees of severity as a consequence of injury, disease, or emotional disorder.

another more elaborate one: 1 a : a state of physical, emotional, or mental lack of well-being or physical, emotional, or mental uneasiness that ranges from mild discomfort or dull distress to acute often unbearable agony, may be generalized or localized, and is the consequence of being injured or hurt physically or mentally or of some derangement of or lack of equilibrium in the physical or mental functions (as through disease), and that usually produces a reaction of wanting to avoid, escape, or destroy the causative factor and its effects b : a basic bodily sensation that is induced by a noxious stimulus, is received by naked nerve endings, is characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leads to evasive action

by implication it is obvious that this refers to the pain in the recipient


what of the pain felt vicariously that often rivals or exceeds the original pain in intensity and tribulation?...the sensitive and ultra-sensitive are afflicted with sufferings associated with this vicarious absorption of a sense this maybe an emotional disorder of the first definition or the mental hurt of the second definition...

a manifestation of this transference of pain is to be found in some creative artists, writers and social workers...they instinctively and naturally feel the pain of others and depict it on their canvas or writing...perhaps not always...

back to some questions

why is that some people feel other folks pain as if it is their own ...or worse...and...why do some people are so desensitized that they do not feel any pain?

...the pain of hunger...for a pain one cannot forget easily...if one has suffered the pangs of hunger for any extended period of time...yet...most of us...decent middle class folks i feel do not really share this pain with the real sufferers...i can volunteer a personal own memory of real forceful hunger is so distant as to be academic... when i see a bloated-belly hungry child a la Oxfam my reaction is more of disgust than a sharing of the pangs of hunger in that child...

similarly...the pain of love lost is such a distant repressed memory for me that when a dear one suffers through lost love I feel I am reduced to offering blank platitudes...

this is so dichotomous that sometimes i feel like kicking myself...

yes, i do feel the pain of that karachi doctor( dr. shazia khalid) if she was blood...strange, dichotomous and yet so human!...let's get back to impersonal...

what causes this transference of pain? why is this transference selective? why does the recipient sometimes suffers more?

...there is one aspect of this that i approve of...however it is transferred...this transference keeps the memory of the pain alive...and results in alleviation of that pain sometimes...

petrified forests, ossified selves

cascading leaves
wind whipped clouds
floating faces and forms
words whipped into frenzied submission
long haul truck's dusty imprint
highway hypnosis
dreamy mirages of the subconscious

yesterday's half full moon
today's full sun
cascading ruminations
over searching shadows

kal shubb adh mah ki chandni thi her soo'
aaj puray suraj ki tamazat
kal bhee woh thaa yaheeN
aaj bhee hay woh kaheeN

id or ego, fact or fiction
sense or sensibility
who'd tell
the moonlight serenades which moon
the shadows nurture which truth
the dark runs from which light
why is death aloof and oblivious

ana, ya wajood,
feh'm ya ubhaam
yaqeen ya wiswas
koi batai humaiN
chandni bhala kis chandini maiN khailti hay
chand kis chanda pay mit'ta hay
shama kis sa'aye ki muntazir hay
andhera kis chiraagh ko dhooNdta hay
yeh ujala kyuN itna muheeb hay
naz'r kyuN naz'r aatee nahiN
yeh shish-jehat tariki
kyuN ujalay ko yu'N jakaRti hay
shikanj e zeest maiN

in the humid whirlpool of nightmares
fission of dreams, desires, doubts
emerging, merging, submerging
laughing, dodging, hurting,
reconciling, deluding, fusing
unrequited dues of divinity
with wary aversion, the living pay
taxes on the air they breathe

ahl e nashaiman ka dar'd
kaisa hay, kya hay ilaaj
hum na samjhaiN haiN phir
samjhaiN kya khak

hay bus maiN kahaN humaray
zindagi ka dard na koi ilaaj e zeest
utaro saleeb say ik na'aye maseeha ko
zeh'n kay aasmaaNouN say kisi mehdi ko

the leaves scattered
forests petrified
selves triassic rock
once living
still living
though more dead...

remote car starters

Some winters ago we had two couples over for dinner. After a long and pleasant evening they prepared to leave. One of them dialed a number on her cell phone and punched in some codes to start up her car parked outside. These remote starters had just come into service here.

To give the car engine time to warm up the interior we made small talk.

I turned to that couple and said, "We had remote start-up facilities in Pakistan in the 80s."

"We did?" a surprised Faraz asked me as others looked, while his wife Sarah smiled.

Faraz is the only friend I have who does not know how to drive a car. Nahid chauffered him in Karachi and does so here in TO. "And this remote starter also cooks and makes...."

running on empty

should have stopped
and filled her up
but against prudence
i pushed on
destination miles away
and the needle cavorting E

turned on the radio to distract
the host was discussing
environmental abuse, ozone depletion
careless rape of mother nature
bemoaning our ungratefulness
how we destroy earth and self destruct

dislike large gatherings
those bloated egofaces
knowing all the prices
but not the values

looked for a familiar faces in naught
then got stuck with a brazen brash
i-am-god young man
bragged about his world
i smiled, and nodded occasionally
for maybe half an hour
all this while
images of polluted canals and rivers
indestructible plastic bags
flying in the wilderness
waste clogging drains and pipes
dead marine life
shrinking forests
played on my mind

finally when he paused
or i tired of smiling
he looked at me
for a nod or a comment
and i looked at the watch
hmmm…having shown my face
now i can safely exit
looked at the young man
one last time and said
you're running on empty

lost in dupont circle

why are you so sad
i heard a distant voice ask
oblivious to the din
of automobiles and people
circling in the evening
thinking of a far off land
and a damsel there

aap ka ism e shareef kya hay?

sitting on a park bench
in the island, with leaves
slowly floating down
sunlight cascading
i was startled by the query
and reflexively ran a list
of all that i had eaten or drunk
in the past twenty four hours

and failed to reply

aap ka ism e shareef kya hay?

the query was repeated
this time i looked around
and saw a smiling couple
with an apolegetic smile
i answered their query

some years they'd spent
as peace corp volunteers
in india and conversing
in chaste urdu, in an island
in the nation's capital
my sadness drifted away

only later it dawned
i hadn't answered
their original query

kahani aik cup ki

m'ri kaitli maiN
yeh oobalta paani
janay kitni musafat
tay ker kay aaya hoga
ab'r e rehmat jo giri hogi kaheeN
aabshaar, waadi, jharna, jheel
darya aur reservoir say guzartay hu'aye
is kaitli maiN aaya hoga

pyaali say ooth'ta hua dhuaaN
woh pyaas oojager khushboo
woh chiski jiski lazzat
youN naqsh rehti hay zeh'n maiN
jaisay oos shOkh ki muskurahat
bachchay ka khil khila ker haNsna
jaisay saahil kay kinaray
chandini ka raq's e hayat
t'ray chehray per

laikin koi batlai humaiN
is pyali maiN
woh baat kyuN nahiN

Thursday, September 15, 2005

alone / tanhai

waning crescents
transposed crosses
reversed swastikas
blind to light -- sun, moon
painting with brushes
dipped in whims, doubts

l - o - v - e
d - e - a - t - h
lonely too

living vainly
dying vainly
defying logic
the human spirit
lonely remains

ghat'ta chaand
maa'koos saleeb
ulta swastika

roshni o tareeki
beenai na aashna
musawwari ghar'q
wahimay waswisay maiN
muta'assib aur na mO'tabar

ish'q mehjoor
maut tun-tunha
zindagi khOkhli
shaoor e insaani
mantaq say sadaa jehad'aara
mehjoor o majboor

saal aaya saal gaya

saal aaya saal gaya
kuch khoya kuch paaya

is saal bhi hum nay hasb e maamul
bay-dimaghi say chalai apni gaRi
aur baar baar bachchay haiN hum
khatarnaakk hadsON say

karaiN kya, kabhi iski baat
kabhi ooski baat, kabhi yeh khayal
kabhi woh khayal, kartah rehta hay
gardish zeh'n kay her dO kounON maiN
aisay maiN saRak per dhiyaan
kaisay rakhay, kaun rakhay?

mera eemaan tO yeh hay
kay ooper zaroor koi hay
jO is nacheez kO youN
rakhta hay apnay amaan maiN

khair dOsto, na'aye saal ki aamud hay
d'ua hay yeh naya saal aap sub kay lyay
lai khushiaN aur achchi sehat aur sab'r
oon badnaseebON kay lyay
jinhON nay apnON ko khoya

mauj der mauj

mauj der mauj
is not real
merely an illusion
--a perception decorated
with imbedded prejudices
and ensconced with our fears

another day, another year
will we still feel what we feel now?

the shores of our perception
awashed in self created waves
tend to get out of hands at times
frolicking on the serene beach
thousands of miles from our home
or eking hungry subsistence
out of the villages by the sea
mother nature reminds us
of its power of disillusion

baat do'or ki nahiN hay yara
qareeb hay woh waq't, qareeb hay
jub humari zaati tsunami
humaiN safha e hasti say
youN mita daigi kay b'jooz
jo'ost'joo aur kaavish kay bhi
nishaaN na naam mil pa'aye ga

na tu, tu rahegi na maiN,
maiN rahooNga

ik naee haqeeqat lay gi
janam aur yeh zaalim duniya
youNhee rawaan-dawaan rahaygi

another day, another year
will we still feel what we feel now?
na tu tu rahegi na maiN
maiN rahooNga

hell / jahannum

cleaning the windshield
the nose-tip, ear lobes
and the finger tips
became numb
then started burning

hell, my friends
could be freezing too

gO kay pehnay hu'aye thay dastaanay
gaRi ka sheesha saaf kartay hu'aye
oongliaN jalnay lageeN meri

khayal aaya dil maiN meray dostO
jahannum sar'd bhi hosakthi hay

sukoon say shikayat

meri dunya
sufaidi dhuli hay

gham e gardish hO
gham e janaaN hO
koi khalish koi kar'b hO
sub per if safaid chader
chaa gaee hay

suraj ki tamazat
ish'q ki garmi
jub is chadar ko pighla'ayegi
meri dunya
meri paraishaan hangama khez dunya
phir lOt aa'aye gi

rocket attack: 20 killed

temprature 'n injustice
falling snow weaves a smooth
white primordial carpet
virginal looks the landscape
and across my serene world
newspaper headlines scream
rocket attack: 20 killed

this relationship between
temperature 'n injustice
can be so perplexing

zool'm aur darja e hararat
bar'f gir rahi hay aur zameen per
chandni phailti jati hay her soo'
her sheh ujli aur saaf o shaffaaf
aur m'ri safaid dunya kay oos paar
akhbar ki surkhi chillati hay
bum dhamaka: bees fauji maray

zoolm aur darja e hararat ka
yeh rishta kitna ajeeb sa hay

under the peepul tree

crawling between machine gunning rickshaws
chromed, gaudy,and polluting buses
sitting stiffly in a sub compact
behind chauffeur or bearded driver
in upholstered seats, windows tinted dark
cursing the traffic, ignoring the melee
could hack only so much of pollution

took the first turn left and that street
looked vaguely familiar
passed by this freshly painted wall
then it suddenly registered
where did that peepul tree go

the walls were low, people friendly
when beneath the peepul tree's shade
we had locked eyes for the first time
she of quiet charm, grace and few words
she of that ready smile and zest
cosmic sitar played its tune
the peepul danced at the rendezvous

it faced the heat, drought, sun, neglect
fetching only what it needed
providing sanctuary and shade
till twisted insensibility
caused its demise

concrete sprawls killing nature
the walls grow, higher and higher

there was a time when walls demarked
now they imprison those inside
each inhabitant a prisoner
suspicious, hostile and fearful

here in the 'burbs we have no walls
yet we do not know our neigbours
over there high walls, same results
life is perplexing, not simple
times change, yet they remain the same

jibal al tariq/ gibraltar

dimagh ki rahaiN jO maflooj hON, tO kya
rooh ki kashtiaN jala bhee daiN, tO kya

tamam um'r sa'yON ka peecha karaiN, tO kya
mumkin nahiN saayouN say farar, tO kya

sa'yON kay bhaNwar maiN gar doobay, tO kya
fana kya, kuch fana hu'aye, tO kya

if the veins in the brain got fried, so what
if the grounded soul-boats were burned down, so what

we incessantly pursue the shadows, so what
not possible to escape all shadows, so what

if shadows desert us in quick-sand, so what
destroyed some, the chase of shadows killed some, so what

busy wrestling

the other evening a new friend asked
you appear so calm and unruffled
it's hard to believe you are temporal
smiled and looked away not revealing
you can't spare time for fighting mortals
when you're busy wrestling gods and demons

on zardari`s first exclusive interview after release

Last night on Ary saw Zardari act incumbent
Earnest, passionate and waxing eloquent

He talked of eight years of incarceration
And how it contributed to his maturation

Missing his children's growth due to separation
And denied universal charges of corruption

Alternately he beamed reason and compassion
And spoke of no need for street demonstration

Alternatively he invoked the ghost of Zulfi
And praised his wife and erstwhile leader Pinky

Said unconvincingly about his mortality
A dead Asif would mean party vitality

Spoke of dialogue and reconciliation
And denied with Murteza any altercation

Glossing over differences with Pinky
He drew bedroom and boardroom for a not-twinkie

My take is despite repeated references
And for Zulfi and Pinky show of deference

His ego is as bloated as Mohterma's
And his respect for her and dad is pro-forma

And since we all live in men's unforgiving world
Out of Party one of them will be swirled and hurled

The popular party with the people's mandate
Is not big enough for two egoistic mates

have a safe thanksgiving

there is music in the air
it is dark already at 11am
rain will turn
to season’s first snow
and will bring road accidents
we learn not
from adversity, each year
more lives are lost
in first snow

we breeze

who doesn't

it is 2pm
flurries are acoming
and the skies have lightened

the music now a throb
dull, distant, drab
pain now
more familiar and friendly
than music, books, ashes

the virgin snow will melt
new leaves will herald new seasons
new words will be imprisoned
new music will be scored

straight and in circles
we will continue
our travails and travels



Life Rosary

amidst thorns

soul diamonds

melting identity

strange riverbanks

conjoined words

keyboard warriors

defying reason

four wheels
going places

function of

kahaaN na dhooNda
dil may paya

nigah ka takrao

ana ka takrao


nazarON ka tasado'om

jhuki nazraiN

those lips

those lips

rosary words

in rosary

lonely cloud

fight back
fight back echoes air
tinnitus or sound impaired
some move on

not all battles are worth
taking up swords for
young and eager smiles
cascading from where frowns showered
pyrotechnic of sunshine and joy in the air

hay nahin koi kaam aaj mujhay
fasoordagi say, ranjishOn say
shukranay ki takrar
hay her soo' aaj
aaj - mustaqbil ka pehla din

time to step out
a ginger step at a time
to newer smiles
on today's faces
a vacillant step on the road
to tomorrow's salaam,*
orig(11/13/04) revised (06/02/05)

operation cleanup

in Ranchor Line ka Firangi Syed Ali aka wajahat writes:

Operation cleanup is now a forgotten event in the history of Karachi. It began on the onset of an army major being killed by the gangs of MQM. It was a flexing of political muscle that went too far and with BB's vengeance laden agenda and armies contempt of Muhajirism, Operation cleanup began.

operation cleanup what a misnomer...through the rangers the occupying army in collusion with beyzameer bhutto unleashed the might of the state terror on the innocent and unarmed civilians...mostly sindh...while the rest of pakistanis played flute on their charpoys and prayer their failed attempt to curb the hooligans of seemingly fascist MQM...led by one time chicago cabby altaf in self imposed exile in London, where he has reputedly acquired british nationality as well…his one time nemesis Bhutto also in exile presently...started off a APMSO (All Pakistan Muhajr Students Organisation in Karachi University and used by gen zina ul haq and ISI as a prop against beyzameer’s hold in sind province...having killed her father zina was wary of beyzameer’s power base...once the cat was let out of the bag or the pandora’s box was opened there was no return...APMSO developed in MQM (Mohajir Quomi Movement) and single handedly revolutionized Pakistani politics..its cadres belonging to lower middle class won seats in both the provincial and national assemblies...lessening the hold of the feudals and the establishment backed parties notably the jamaat e islami then a power horse in Karachi and sindh...

...back to operation cleanup...i think the officer in charge was general farhatullah babar...currently a PPP senator...under him a systematic holocaust was unleashed on muhajirs mainly in sindh province...students were picked up from schools and colleges, even from dining tables in homes in front of their families for questioning never to return alive...thousands killed in one of the biggest and least widely reported systematic massacre of a its citizens by any government....thousands died in such encounters...thousands still missing...not one person accused of this gross inhumanity has been brought to court...

...its earlier manifestos and articles and books on MQM that i have read suggest an alarming resemblance in attitude and philosophy to late g m syed's Jiaye Sindh movement...

...later the name was changed to Muttahida (United) before a began an unsuccessful foray into other provinces...making some headway in baluchistan and multan but not in the frontier and Punjab the feudals thwarted its the Muttahida is essentially back to its muhajir roots...some say a very fascist party...

...with his strong vote bank MQM is the third largest political party in Pakistan and currently in bed with its former victimizer...yes politics makes for strange bedfellows...

for my Indian readers: altaf hussain is karachi's bal thackeray: his MQM cadres are the most organized and disciplined group outside of the occupying army...relying on brute force and violence if threats and innuendos fail, to extract bhatta…ransom or forced illegal taxes...from unsuspecting citizens...some of it is spent back in running charitable clinics, dispensaries and in aid of orphans and widows by the khidmat e khalq committees...and some is siphoned off abroad...his party loyalists reportedly have to take an oath on their lives to do his bidding...his core vote bank still virtually intact from karachi to sindh interior like sukkur, hyderabad etc. ...and he flaunts it too...last year he asked some MNAs and MPAs to resign and in bye-elections his own replacements handily won...but despite his strong and intact vote bank he lives in the shadow of infamous ISI...not daring to return from self imposed exile...his paranoia of accountability...fears of facing the wrong end of the gun…since violence begets violence...keeps him in london from where he addresses his followers by long distance telephone speeches that sometimes runs into hours...)

excerpts from intezar hussain

two excerpt from Intezar Hussain’s Nazariyay Say Aagay
Sang e Meel Publications, Lahore
ISBN 969-35-1594-3

Firaq Gorakhpuri Ki Ikhtilafi Aawaz

'Mazhab o millat o siyasat aur samajiyaat kay tamam eh'm pehloo'ouN say kaheeN zyada qeemti meray lyay ghar aur ghareloo zindagi say muta'aliq wajdani kainaat ki ehmiyat rahi hay. DevRhi, aangan, choola chukki, khanay peenay kay bartan, rozaana istaimal ki doosri cheezaiN, ghar maiN bachchouN, aurtON aur deegar afraad ki ba'ahmi jazbati yakjehti, sad'haa rasoom, ghar kay raat din, gharaz yay kay ghar aur gharayloo zindagi say mutaalliq choti say choti joozyaat ki paakeezgi aur oon say hum a'hangi ka ehsaas. Ee'say maiN qadeem Hindustani saqaft ki buhat baRi deen samajhta hooN. Jahaan tuk is besh bahaa daulat ka ta'allooq hay Urdu sha'eri maiN sannataa nazar aata hay, kaheeN kaheeN is ki kuch jhalkiaN Anis kay marsiouN maiN mil jaati haiN. Kabhi kabhi Nazeeer Akberabadi kay yahaaN ghar baar ki tasveer kushi hui hay. Laikin aik tO is qis'm ki sha'eri yaa ghar ka mauzoo Urdu sha'eri maiN buhat kum aaya hay aur agar aaya hay tO oos maiN woh ma'soomiyat woh thaith aur mutarannoom insaniyat, woh rooh ki ghehra'eeyouN maiN uter janay wali baat nahin milti jis ki nishandahi shru hee say Hindustan ka a'dub aur doosray fanoon e lateefa kartay rahay haiN.'

...and later

'Kaash Ghalib nay apnay Ajmi has'b nas'b per fakh'r thoRa kum kya hota. Arey is say achchay to Allama Iqbal rahay. Oon ka takhayyul baishak arb o ajum ki fizaaouN maiN parwaaz karta raha magar oonhaiN apni a'sal yaad rahi:

MaiN a'sal ka khaas Somnati
Aabaa m'ray Lati o Manati
Tu Sayyaid e Hashmi ki aulaad
Meri kaf e khaak b'rahmin zaad

snow flakes or mushroom flakes

...this is an experiment. the first poem is repeated again with added nuances. read on you will know.

snow flakes or mushroom flakes

a lazily floating snow flake
glided past my window
a white nebulae in reach
waltzing poodle's ears
but this sliver is different
it did not descend the white carpet
just lazily floated from one end
of my nightmare to the other

a mushroom cloud
showering shivering silence
--invention of the wheel
to the proliferation
a downward spiral
in death and mutilation
mistaken for progress

a cotton snow flake
dabbed with attar
rolled into a pinch sized ball
and ensconced in helix
would not have bothered
if I could have maintained
my respectful distance
no, not possible
at 35,000 feet
that pungent redolence
creating an everest lava-ache

another cotton snow flake
four of them really
size of moth balls
rolled and crushed
placed in nostrils and ears
--a final closure

other pure white snow flakes
continue to fall on the road
and transform to slush

snow flakes!

* * * *

...have repeated the same poem this time with some highlighted words...this is an adding nuances and further dimensions to the poem...the highlighted words in this poem as separate urdu poems that would add nuance and meaning to the original...i hope...

* * * *

snow flakes or mushroom flakes

a lazily floating snow flake
glided past my window
a white nebulae in reach
waltzing poodle's ears
but this sliver is different
it did not descend the white carpet
just lazily floated from one end
of my nightmare to the other

a mushroom cloud
showering shivering silence
--invention of the wheel
to the proliferation
a downward spiral
in death and mutilation
mistaken for progress

a cotton snow flake
dabbed with attar
rolled into a pinch sized ball
and ensconced above middle ear
would not have bothered
if I could have maintained
my respectful distance
no, not possible
at 35,000 feet
that pungent redolence
creating an everest lava-ache

another cotton snow flake
four of them really
size of moth balls
rolled and crushed
placed in nostrils and ears
--a final closure

other pure white snow flakes
continue to fall on the road
and transform to slush

snow flakes!

* * * *

a'las'sub'h kal dabay qadmoun youN kaun chala aaya meray dil maiN?
bundh dareechay, bar'f her soo', khunki, aur tapish oos ki baanhouN ki
taqaza e mehman nawazi say jo majboor honay lagay hum
'phir koi d'rao’na khaab dekha hay? aao aaghosh maiN aajao!'

maalik ko zara awaaz daina bhai
zaroorat hay oos ko ghulamouN ki
hum jo sadaa khilaouN maiN taktay haiN
humaiN bhi ik maalik ka hay intizaar

um'r zayah kardaitay haiN lOg
muhabbat ki joostujoo maiN
itna pyar paya qismet say
kodak moment hay her lamha
youN hee hum maray jatay haiN!

muskurahatouN ka bundh, aansoo'ouN kay sailab kO
ik aur Kodak moment maiN aisay piro daita hay
kay siskiyouN ka shOr o fughaaN, hasratouN ki jheel
pyasi dharti ka daimi khwaab e hasrat banta hay

'aao, chalay aao'
'aao, chalay aao'
maiN pukarta raha
hal'q mera khushk hu'a
ak's munjamid raha

chaudhary rehmat ali

THE HISTORY MAN: Bringing Rehmat Ali home - Ihsan Aslam...chaudhary rehmat ali was in interesting figure...ihsan aslam is a big fan of him and has dedicated some web sites to his memory... also k k aziz has written on rehmat ali too...chaudhary rehmat ali co signed a pamphlet Now or Never first published it on 28th January 1933 in...(historical context: presiding over the All India Muslim League session in 1930 at Allahabad allama iqbal voiced the first cogent appeal for an independent Islami State in the sub continent that culminated in the Pakistan or Lahore Resolution of 1940 calling for muslim states...) which the first mention of the newly coined term PAKSTAN was this is not a typo...there was no I in the original of the original four signatories to this pamphlet is still alive...aslam khattak...chowk writer zeejah's uncle...he must be in his 90s...

...sometime between 1935 and 1949...he developed a history of mental illnesses...depression and temporary insanity...little is known of that period of his life...

...after that first pamphlet that coined PAKSTAN...he wrote several others...declaring India Dinia ( check out other interesting links from here)...

...his illness and depression was enhanced when he lost his family property at the time of partition...Rehmat Ali did return to Pakistan after 1947 and as aslam points out was 'hounded' out...actually he was deported back to UK...he roamed the streets of Karachi rambling obscenities against quaid e azam... UK he reportedly died a pauper...

...Chaudhary Rehmat Ali has a place in our history...but i disagree with those who want to restore his rightful place...whatever it means...yes he coined the word...and at one point was a leading proponent of Pakistan in the UK he did not return back to india to participate in the freedom struggle...his efforts should be put in perspective...

spring is in the air

(for khamkwah)

...three days back there was just this tinge of cool in the air...needed a light jacket for the evening walk...leaves had started turning paler...made a note to myself...should go on that drive up north one of these days to catch the fall fireworks...fall is absolutely gorgeous and those who have not experienced it miss an experience...

...there is a highway in US that comes up north through NY state and up Vermont...think it is 80 or is the one that is consistently voted the top three of the most scenic route in the US...we were driving up north to vermont and the fall...confession: for a person who does not like driving with a passion that drive was one memorable drive...the countryside was on fire...leaves with different hues of yellow-orange...the grounds covered in more leaves...chill in the air...a tizzy freshness in the nostrils…heralding the coming snow...and the way my mind is programmed...i imagine not the falling leaves and oncoming winter but visualize the newer leaves that will be adorning the branches in the spring...tiny microscopic leaves that one usually does not notice at all in cloudy winter days...

(digression: just like we never notice baby pigeons...only full grown pigeons...saw this display of jamil naqsh at the mohatta palace...there was a period in his life...from 70 to early 90s when he was fascinated to the degree of being obsessive with pigeons in his paintings...looking at that collection i wondered first about not having seen any baby pigeons in real life...have you?)

...ut one day the sun breaks through the clouds and suddenly we notice the chill in the air giving way to fresh warmth, new leaves on the tree...suddenly we hear the birds chirping...squirrels scurrying on the ground...up from their hibernation...and just the visualization brings smile to of life continues...

...for a karachite even after these years the four mergers are always fascinating...karachi has only one season...or a variation of one and hotter:)...and this merger of spring into summer into fall into winter into spring is always interesting and invigorating...perhaps this is why my glass is half full even when empty...

NGOs in pakistan


...there are hundreds of NGOs that work in Pakistan and the third world and do a reasonable job...many of them shoe string operations staffed by dedicated is amazed at their resolve and ability...and they deserve all the kudos and help the expats can extend them...medicins sans borders is one of familiar with some of them...dr. cassim degani has been visiting Afghanistan and other troubled spots regularly and his efforts have been acknowledged by many including our (Canadian) governement...

...and then there are others… with almost unlimited resources, with huge offices, cars, buildings and paid staff and relatively little to show for their involvement in the outsider would never guess....because they are good in projecting their know...seminars and shows and functions with properly placed media coverage...

...dr. iftikhar ahmed earlier of CUNY and other institutions, currently of Karachi one of the editors of BETWEEN PAST AND FUTURE: SELECTED ESSAYS ON SOUTH ASIA by Eqbal Ahmed Edited by Dohra Ahmed, Iftikahr Ahmed and Zia Mian--Publisher: Oxford University Press has written two exposes on some of the big NGOs operating in Pakistan…those two articles were not accepted by any major newspaper in Pakistan for publication...on several occasions in the past have asked him to submit those two articles to chowk...each time he promised to do so...he is fighting some personal demons and since am not longer there am unable to pursue the submission with him...if there is someone in Karachi reading this who has access to him and can get him to submit those pieces they would be very revealing of the roles of some major NGOs in the third world...

dr.iftikhar ahmed is a nephew and pervez hoodbhoy is the son-in-law of late dr. ekbal ahmed

sindhi poetry

If anybody is interested in sindhi poetry…you have to know sindhi script…wish they were translated or transliterated…Sindhi Literature

naam may kiya hay

a hundred years from now the world would perhaps still remember ghalib, tagore, hitler, but will forget sharmeeli, chanda, jaan, that man/woman on the terrace, you, me...

naam maiN kya hay
yeh tO dastoor hay duniya ka
na apni marzi aa'aye
na apni marzi chalay
kuch haNsay, kuch haNsaya
kuch rO'aye, kuch rulaya

zun, zur, zameen
aur mazhab per
kiya fasaad barpa
ma'soomON ka
kiya khoon kharaba

ab dekhO haiN kahan go'om
aglay zamanay kay woh
firOn o jaafer o sadiq
na naam na pata milta hay
hum-tum kis shumaar maiN

ab batao mujhay
what is in a name?

Thursday, September 08, 2005


Jawahara the dilemma i face with fives is who do i tag in the end...honest...can think of bina and jonathan...she tagged bina...and lo!...beenoo tagged jonty...and am so preoccupied with the or this in a poem...

the would leave the vagueness in and this would introduce a personal angle that i want to step away from...yet the references and build up relate with the individual...nightfly (no she does not blog) suggested the so will go with it...

sorry is a high five tho':)

fragrance of
freshly scrubbed bodies
folded in vaults
of memory's cobwebs
taken out to breathe in
triggered by other memories
saved in reseal-able plastic

cuffed fragrance floating
a flotilla of redeemed memories
navigating an ocean of cobwebs
a faint breeze of a ghost's wake
rhythmically moving
the curtains of cognition
one moment, one day year, one span fragrance

the fragrance of life-
sustaining umbilical cord
placed in jars, destroyed
untiring strive beginning
of a lifetime search
recreating that lifeline
cosmic, invisible
tenuous, tentative, throbbing
a cord that transmits
joy and sadness
and emotions folded in plastic --
shattered laughter shards
suppressed sighs, withheld sobs
that can travel the cobwebs
of this cosmic cord
by rains, clouds, discords

losing way, dazed
but indomitable spiders
re create that cord

only to fold the memories
at the end of the sojourn

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

manoRa mandir one approaches Karachi from the sea the first thing one sees is the lighthouse of Manora Island...more on this lighthouse and the breakwater built in the 1800s later...

...Manora has a population of approx 25,000 and has three naval 'establishments'...the central chunk of the island is civilian occupied and accessible to the public who come here on holidays on colourful boats from Keamari Port...there is also a much longer road access via hawkesbay and sandspit...

...there is a street in the middle that leads to the beach on the other side of the is lined with shops that sells curios and fish dishes and ornaments...this street reminded me of a similar bazaar scene hundreds of mile south in Kanya Kumari...the street leading to the temple of Swami Vivikananda on a rock at the confluence of Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea...

...just before the beach there is cut off on the right...a small path that leads past a smelly garbage dump to a Mandir..the only surviving Mandir on Manora...

...there is also an abandoned church... they are maintained speaks about our attitude a lot

...the tiny church is in a off limit area…at the foot of the light is barricaded and sealed...

...the mandir is in a public area...its walls and interiors are crumbling...and when i wanted to have a look inside i was gently persuaded not to as it was unsafe...gently ignoring the advise i peeked in...and retreated quickly to stop the ladies in our group from taking a peek...the sanctum sanctorum was being used as a change room by the picknickers...

...M, BS, SS and others were shocked at the gross disrespect...

...there may not be any Hindu families living on Manora Island today...the Evacuee Property Board or the Dept that looks after Minorities' Interests should look after and protect this place of worship...considering the decibels raised in righteous indignation when something happens to abandoned mosques across the divide this is not an unreasonable demand...

...while this Mandir may not have historical parallels with Babri Musjid....both do have a few things in common...both were places of worship, both were abandoned by their congregations, both were in disrepair...

....sadly this is not an isolated case of dichotomy...there are many more temples and gurdwaras in the interior that are in disrepair or have been annexed or razed...


Karachi History

"The area that now consists of Karachi was originally a group of small villages including Kalachi-jo-Kun and the fort of Manora. Any history of Karachi prior to the 19th century is sketchy. It is said that the city called Krokola from which one of Alexander the Great's admirals sailed at the end of his conquests was the same is Karachi. When Muhammad bin Qasim came to India in the year 712 he captured the city of Debul. It has been said that Debal was the ancestral village of present day Karachi. Although this has neither been proven or disproven.

It was in 1729 that Kolachi-jo-Goth was transformed from a fishing village to a trading post when it was selected as a port for trade with Muscat and Bahrain. In the following years a fort* was built and cannons brought in from Muscat were mounted on it. The fort had two doorways, one facing the sea called the Khara Darwaza or Brackish Gate and one facing the River Lyari called the Meetha Darwaza or Sweet Gate. In 1795 the city passed from the Khan of Kalat to the Talpur rulers of Sindh.

Karachi had gained in position as a major port and was hence becoming an important city. The importance of the Indus and Sindh led the British to capture the city on the 3rd of February 1839 starting an era of foreign rule and colonial subjugation that was to end in 1947. A famous quote about Karachi attributed to Charles Napier is "Would that I could come again to see you in your grandeur!". Napier's quote would prove prophetic, as it was during British rule that Karachi would grow as it's harbor was developed. On the 10th of September 1857 the 21st Native Infantry stationed in Karachi declared allegiance to the Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar and joined the cause of the War of Independence of 1857 but they were defeated by the British who reasserted their control within a matter of days."

*...the fort mentioned in above must be the one in the older part of the city...there is another fort built by the talpurs on Manora has been renovated and well maintained by the is the headqaurters of the Pak Marines and off limit to the civilians--t