Monday, 28 January 2008

Lethargic Syndrome Lethargy

Lethargic: The quality or state of being drowsy and dull, listless and unenergetic, or indifferent and lazy; apathetic or sluggish inactivity.

I have been allegedly accused of being a lazy bone by my very own entity. Its nearly dawn and I am in bed. Snoring loudly, half open mouth, drooling out of control, eyes shut and deep in the valley of dreams, yes that’s me. Its dawn, the sun is high up in the wide blue sky, welcoming a new day. The bed sheet is creased and the blanket’s roughly spread across a shaggy mass of body, yes that’s me.

Its almost noon, the birds have long been singing the morning song and are now flown far in search of food. The maid’s done her work and is heading home wards. The lectures in the university have been delivered and the canteen food is long been eaten and hopefully digested by the hungry carnivorous beings. Someone’s still in bed, yes that’s me.

The rush hour is at its peak, higher than Mount Everest’s peak. Horns are honking, engines are burning, traffic signals are shut, and it’s the police warden, whose hands are in constant movement, signaling the traffic to and fro. He is blowing hard in his wet and germ infected whistle. Beads of sweat are trickling down his sun burnt face and neck. Even his tummy’s growling with hunger and thirst. A breathing body is still in the warmth of the cozy bed, yes that’s me.

The afternoon’s meal is cooked and served and the table is already cleared. The curtains are drawn to prevent the scorching sun rays from breaking in. Nevertheless they have still found their way through the space between the curtains. The pace of the day has slowed down; we know that’s how summers are in Lahore. The TV is on and someone is flicking the channels while the eyes are heavy with sleep after a day’s hard work. At least I am out of bed and ready to procrastinate for the rest of the following day. I know I have a huge to-do list stored in my cell phone, written on several post its, also on a random piece of paper. Just after waking up I made a mental note of all the pending work to be done. Not bad at all, I have managed to go this far! Since I have broken the record of last weekend’s 24 hours in bed; its time I deserve a lavish treat. After all everyone needs to appreciate themselves once in a while. That’s the way to keep you motivated, energetic and always on the move.

Saturday, 26 January 2008

Ironic as it gets

"The unsavoury deportation of Chaudhry Wajahat Hussain, the brother of PML-Q President Chaudhry Shujaat, alongside Shujaat's son after they were both detained for 24 hours at London's Gatwick Airport, underscores the increasing hardships faced everywhere by Pakistani travellers. The prominent PML-Q leaders were reportedly questioned about alleged involvement with terrorists, after a tip-off by the Spanish police which had recently rounded up Pakistani's said to be involved in terrorism."

"...the action taken shows that Pakistanis are looked at with growing suspicion almost everywhere in the world. Visas are increasingly difficult to acquire and the procedure set in place by various countries can take months to complete. In many cases, even students who have gained admission to institutions overseas have been denied permission to take up their studies at them and tales of harassment or tough interrogation at airports around the world remain commonplace. Young men frequently face the greatest difficulties."


excerpts from The News editorial


Where do we stand in the world? As the worn out, "developing country", largely exploited at the hands of the "developed nations" and yet abused as "most dangerous place in the world is not Iraq but Pakistan". As the citizens of Pakistan struggle every day to get their share of electricity, gas, atta and now even face CNG shortage; President Musharraf is pleading the West to see Pakistan from a "Pakistani's eyes". How ironic are our lives going to get?

Wednesday, 23 January 2008

the city i belong to.

The city of Lahore


When I first set foot in this city at seven, little did I know that I would actually fall in love with Lahore. It is the city of my parents and their parents. Their childhood stories of the old Lahore delights them and how it has changed over the years deeply wounds my heart. Over the years I have developed a new found love for a city so rich in culture, traditions, food and heritage. When the city bleeds I bleed. When its soil is jaded I feel the burden of it on me.

Today the picture of Lahore is dilapidated. It stands as an over crowded city in the midst of the chaotic bustle of life and haphazard urbanization. A city famously known as city of gardens, rich in Mughal heritage, historical twelve gates; today is crammed with beggars, pollutant auto rickshaws, donkey-drawn carts and automobiles running fanatically- breaking all laws and order(if any).

The old city/interior is something to treasure for years to come and generations to see. The sad part is that even my generation has found it’s already ruined. Taking its last breaths “andoroon shehr” as is called has lost its charm and opulence.

Ugliness in its worse form is engulfing the city. More than it could have bore, the city has been plagued by innumerable terrorist attacks, bloody strikes and Lathi charges. The city has reached the threshold of its vulnerability that has been taken advantage of rather ruthlessly. Weighed down by layers of dust to undue political gimmicks all has washed away the charm, the true essence of Lahore. The soul of the city has been raped and we have stood as mere spectators amusing ourselves with decaying of a city that is a part of us.

much more to say but for the time being nothing more.

3 weeks of yawning

SIGH.....what brings me here is not my desire to avalanche my disturbing thoughts to the poor souls reading this. i am in a poignant mood to keep the thoughts inside for a while and decay me some more. its just that i wanted to prove something to someone although i had to email before i even started off with this. crazy as it gets i had to log in.....


what shall i write? think. think. think. thinking...its happening don't worry its going to come. and walla. something to write about:D Heath Ledger only 28 died yesterday. well i didn't know that guy's name just face until today! i remember back in A levels there was a hype when the controversial movie Brokeback Mountain hit the cinemas and reviews came pouring in soon (thanks to piracy). This evening as i was 'surfing' through different channels Ledger's face once again slided in and i remembered hes the same guy from Casanova.
i have this terrible problem in learning the lyrics of songs and even my own poems for that matter and as is obvious faces too. sounds dangerous. lets just put this thought away for a while.


what a shallow piece of writing! alas!

Sunday, 20 January 2008

pretending he just doesnt see?

how many roads must a man walk down
before u call him a man?

how many seas must a white dove sail
before she sleeps in the sand?

how many times must the cannon balls fly
before they are forever banned?

how many times must a man look up
before he can see the sky?

how many ears must one man have
before he can hear people cry?

how many deaths will it take till he knows
that too many people have died?

how many years can a mountain exist
before its washed to the sea?

how many years can people exist
before they are allowed to be free?

how many times can a man turn his head
pretending he just doesn't see?

Bob Dylan.

Thursday, 17 January 2008

The Crack of Dawn 1st dec 007

Last night when I lay in my bed, I knew exactly what I wanted to write. It was a sad night. I have been reading a tragic story of two young lads in Afghanistan during the Soviet rule. My eyes were puffy from crying over the tragic destinies the protagonists held for themselves. Then I wonder if I was really crying because of the book or was there something else mounting inside me.

It was almost dawn. I had been up to offer my fajr prayer and sat on my bed, switched on the Ikea table lamp and turned to the pages that unfolded a chain of events that brought me to tears yet again just like I had wept the last night. I decided to read no more.

Outside the window a new day had begun. The first light had seeped its way with the rising sun which had been there all the time just that we think it drowns everyday. Soft virgin air blew and the morning pale blue sky conquered last night’s mistakes.

It is early dawn, around 5 Am when the mulvis have given Azan and the mosques have created an ambience for the followers of Allah Almighty to bow their heads to seek redemption; ask for mercy, thank the Creator for the bountiful blessings and hope to keep them going in times of suffering and turmoil.

After I had closed the book and let the characters stay where they belong, I slipped in the warm bed, cozy from my last few hours’ impression. Dawn, early hours of the day. Peaceful and serene. The sky above and the trees below. Pages from the book fluttered as I curled myself underneath the brown and cream blanket. I dreamt. Perhaps the characters from the book escaped through the rough pirated pages and penetrated my dream. Dream I forgot. Blurry images and strong impressions dawned on me as I sank back into the oblivion.

Utopia No topia!

Helpless. Period. I feel even more than just helpless. What precisely does the government or the higher authorities in whose hands we have been thrown mercilessly think they are playing with?

No electricity, no gas, no wheat. The focus is on these presently ( there is a long list of things denied for over 60 years by the changing governments having one thing in common though…) For an average Pakistani these are just few of their primary needs. And this is no new story. The poor of the country that make up the majority of the populace has no access to the any of the above mentioned. In the days to come it seems they would become some alien things to us. Talk about going back to Stone Age with no power supplies and no gas! Walla!

How exactly are they going to survive? Bogus terms and words that mock us- “Parha likha Punjab”, “Peoples’-cum- Dynastic party”, “President”, “Democracy”, “Free and Fair Elections” are not what the compatriots want. They are not going to die dreaming of these or perhaps that is what’s actually happening.

A breathe of fresh air, clean water to drink, wheat, adequate gas supply in the harsh winters (esp. in the post earthquake hit northern areas-another tragic story though), secure lives. Basic facilities. Why have these basic needs become a luxury for only this nation?

Perhaps because our “guardians” know how to keep the hungry, naked and the uneducated busy in the battle to survive while they play the ruthless game politics politics on the expense of some precious lives.

I Walked Miles and Miles

I walked miles and miles
Days, weeks and years slipped away.
Many dusks and many dawns,
Many suns and many moons,
Accompanied me through waters and winds,
Yet I walked miles and miles.

My breath fought back rains and storms.
The sand dunes disguised a new face, everyday,
Drenched in rain,
I lost my way many times,
Broke down and cried,
Yet I walked miles and miles.

The horizon was far away,
Many illusions on the way,
Delusions that left me maimed,
My muses already gone away,
But I walked miles and miles.
The inward fire blazed outside
The desire was still alive,
Like the soaring bird in the sky,
Thus I walked miles and miles.

Unending days left me silver and grey,
Time and destiny were there to betray,
I learned my way, unlearned it again,
For I wanted to travel the journey unknown

And so i walked miles and miles

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