at the sky

its a beautiful day outside.
mammoth of thick gray clouds spread across the wide sky, dominating the hot ball of sun might be a depressing sight for Londoners. but in Pk a rare moment of sun out of sight is a blessing especially during this season. well its equally delightful to see the sun back after a heavy monsoon shower coz then the spell of humidity suffocates you like anything.
however today is neither sunny nor humid..its just perfect.mashallah.
its breezy, cool, a couple of dark clouds moving in a slow rhythm, migrating somewhere else.
its a day to look at the sky. my fascination for the sky, the clouds is evergreen. Newton looked down towards gravity and questioned it and i, the genius queen look up at the sky and still question gravity :p no sense made right? a blog friend recently told me one doesnt really have to make sense out of our writings all the time, guess i am sticking to the advice hehehehe
back to the sky.
unusually i didnt take any pictures of the sky or the clouds today. it was just me, the jhola( the swing) and the sky. the ultimate experience. i took of my slippers and crossed my legs and sat all comfy on the jhola and swung myself a light ride. the cool breeze did the rest. the wind blew softly and calmly in all directions. sometimes a gust of wind blew to my right. sometimes to my left sometimes only to move the leaves at the top branches of the trees. like the yoga masters i took a lot of deep breathes in and out, in and out, in and out until finally i decided its enough before i do something with my only pair of lungs :P a lot of oxygen to last a couple of days huh :P
as i looked at the sky, the bushes and the trees around me rustled and scuffled amongst themselves as the wind played along.
butterflies are a rare sight these days..and as i think of the butterflies and even saw one pretty little thing today fluttering away to the wind, i remembered that its been LONG since i have seen any 'jugno' the one Allama Iqbal wrote about, the exotic tiny creature that comes with a bulb ;)
the sight that spellbinded me was of a bird high up in the dark cloud laden skies flying away in a specific area right within my range. right then a flock of pigeons flew above me. then a pair of 'maina' ( i still dont know what breed they are called in english) they landed their flight in the lawn; totally comfortable with my humanly presence just nearby. i didnt mention the dragon flies hovering above me and they dont fascinate me, nope they dont :P they scare me a bit lol.
so it was these dragonflies and butterflies on the lowest level of the sky, a bit above were the sparrows, the flock of birds that just made an appearance, and on the highest level where i could just see a tiny figure of bird, wings spread wide, flying with the winds or against...

paranoia

shes high, shes low, really dont know but somethings wrong. kneel, deal or let just be..its all so hard. is it a dream? is it a dream or shes just off herself.. secrets she kept even from herself, but wasnt she told that hiding secrets' second name is hypocrisy?
you push a chair and throw a file, show your attitude and have no regrets, unluckily it goes down in the pit for your knees are stuck and you fail to get up to level your attitude. oh what a fall, gravity pulls. literally. and so it pulls her back to earth.
It was the distance she walked that ended so soon. she stood there for a couple of seconds. Not a sound in the air, not a cloud in the sky, not a drop in the river. it was a dream and she woke up. the suffocation furthering in a choke broke the abysmal silence.fists clinched, a deep breath in. feels like the lungs would burst like two big balloons pricked by a pin. the explosion is worth the wait i guess....out of her dream, into reality yet all seemed surreal, invincible. she struggled to untangle herself from the bundle of darkness consuming her deep into the pit. no two ways, no choices, only a one way that too closing on her. breathe, breathe with no air around. walk, run,jog, save your life with no earth beneath. she decided she doesnt want to fly.the need to walk, to feel the earth beneath her bare feet surmounting... she didnt want to soar in the air without having felt the sand shes made of. she didnt want the harsh winds to blow her away before she could smell the wet earth...

a paper fluttered to the wind and it said "freedom of soul a mocking reality". what she meant by that she wasnt aware. so what does it really mean? how could freedom of ur inner self become a mockery?

Iraq's future?

Women and children suffer the most during times of war is not a new phenomenon. It is a reality as old as war itself. What Rumsfeld, Rice, and other war criminals of the Cheney administration prefer to call "collateral damage" translates in English as the inexcusable murder of and other irreparable harm done to women, children, and the elderly during any military offensive. Not only is the U.S. occupation starving Iraq's children, but occupation forces regularly detain them as well. It is common knowledge in Iraq that there have been child prisoners in the most odious prisons, such as Abu Ghraib, since early on in the occupation. While most, if not all, corporate media outlets in the U.S. have been loath to visit the subject, the Sunday Herald in Scotland reported back in August 2004 that "coalition forces are holding more than 100 children in jails such as Abu Ghraib. Witnesses claim that the detainees – some as young as 10 – are also being subjected to rape and torture." In June 2004 an internal UNICEF report, which was not made public, noted the widespread arrest and detention of Iraqi children by U.S. and UK forces.

excerpt taken from Dahr Jamail's article.

more on this link

few days ago as i turned over the pages of the newspaper, i came across another similar news story that stated: 'Hundreds of children held by U.S forces in Iraq...'
children in Iraq held by the military authorities as of May 12 are 'imperative threats to security'

Bunyan

for days i have been out of writing material. a lot, A LOT going on in my mind (yes i can think) but theres some unforeseen force that's just not letting me put the thoughts into words. so tired and bored i was browsing through different blogs today and i came cross this really interesting one where i read the poem i am posting below. its an all time famous Punjabi poem"Bunyan"by our prolific poet, Anwer Masood . totally hilarious and fun. its difficult reading punjabi in roman so for convenience theres a link where its being recited.

bunyan lainay jaanday ho
bunyan le ke aunday ho
paanday oh tay paindee nahin
pai jaye tay laindee nahin
lai jay tay doojee waree pan jogee reahndi nahin
bunyan mein dayaanga
pao gay to pay jaye, lao gaye to lay jaye, lay jaye tay dojee waree pan jogee reh jaye
bunyan meree waddiya, bunyan meri top dee
waddiyan noo pooree aaway nikkayan day naap dee
cheez huway asli tay moonhon pey hee boldee
top naalon goree lagay rassee otay dol dee
jinnay waray chaho tusee ais noo haundalo
phir pawaein bachayan noo jhangian banalo

pity the nation

written back in 1930s the following words are so apt to our current situation that one cannot help but get goosebumps


Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting, and farewells him with hooting, only to welcome another with trumpeting again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.


khalil Gibran
The Garden of the Prophet

Lahore and summers

I'm not a summer person. when my friends and cousins living in colder parts of Europe envied my privilege of being able to see the bright sun and summers, i used to envy them back. Their idea of a perfect holiday destination are places like Jamaica, something sunny, a lot of sun to feel on their skin and mine somewhere cold, somewhere chilly and snowy.
Unknowingly i simply fell in love with winters a long time back and have ever since been a faithful admirer. with time, however, i have come to discover the beauty of summers, the fun, the colours, variety of sumptuous juicy fruits and chilled sherbets and shakes. well its not all about eating and drinking as it may sound. to my amazement this year round i think i will be slanting myself towards summers. the best, the most cherishing time that summers in Lahore offers is the monsoon. despite the scheduled load shedding/sharing stunt by our lovely WAPDA continues to create havoc in our sizzling summer lives, weirdly though, i m still enjoying summers with full zeal and zest!
Today and two days back Lahore was blessed with plentiful of rain (though i came to know that it rained more where i live as compared to other places) The reason i am exceptionally happpy today with a triple 'P' :D is perhaps coz i woke up to the sound of the rain beating against my windows. it was loud and bold, like someone shouting my name from far away.
As the trees on my either side swayed to the motion of the wind, i walked to my own beat of music, something within me.sunset today was remarkably beautiful. there were shades of pink adoring the sky near the bright, vibrant orange sun as it sank down towards the earth or so it seemed. as i walked nearer to the bright orange fire, it hid behind the building and moved far. dark, heavy, colossal clouds were shapes of an eagle and i even saw some other funny shapes, my imagination going wild HA!
As the lights go out at a different time than usual i m going to head towards the kitchen and start on my 2 classic magnums feast which is another highlight of summers:D:D:D

zits

i am addicted to this comic strip. in case none of you noticed, i once put up a link to this comic strip page :P. anyways i love it. and this strip reminds me that i too gallop down the stairs and my mum says the exact thing. LOL but i dont ask 'ppl do that?'

p.s the image doesnt get any bigger. i m afraid you'll have to click on the image to get a bigger version.

perfect signs

hahaha this is the funniest so far. it says: wearing shorts/nickers in food street is strictly prohibited/restricted.



in case the writing is unclear it says: 'shoplifters will be beaten,stabbed and stomped.Survivors will be prosecuted'
lol, now thats the thing to do. well this sign hangs on the wall of a hip(ya i think it is,m an old fashioned person dont realy know if its still in with the youth:p) ice cream parlor Hotspot.



stole this sign pic from the internet.
the word 'judge' caught me attention :P



hmm now thats interesting. do you notice the tiny writing, the last line it says about the bridge? lol i loved this sign. good idea put up a sign to warn of the sign itself!


such a teaser. i think this would be the favourite sign of office goers here. too bad we dont have proper signs for lets say a road under construction or the one that says bump ahead. its only when you reach very near you realize that the road's closed or smth :P

i had to upload this!

one way convo.

mobile rings at 3.00 am in the morning.
i m sleeping a deep peaceful sleep, probably dreaming about chocolate or smth else :p
mobile rings again and again and again, around 5 times by which time i m awake.
i try to trace my cell, oooooH, close, i was about to lose it to gravity. phew, thank God it didnt hit the floor yet again. gravity is such a mystery :P
so the phone kept ringing the sixth time and now i am wide awake, out of my dream world. thank you so much caller.
who is it by the way, i wonder?
my eyes heavy with sleep defend themselves from opening even a lil, tiny inch. anyhow, the seventh time i stare hard at the screen and see an unknown number. so its some smart guy probably belonging to some owl specie (coz i have heard they remain awake throughout the night) playing with new/old/whatever cell phone.
i pushed the accept button. why not have a little chat with the caller? wow brilliant idea! but one side chat is even more fun, so i will let the caller do all the talking.

caller: hello?
hello many times perhaps
me on the other end set the cell on the side table.

5 mins later

caller: ab call accept ki hai tu baat bhi ker lain (such a squeaky voice,ew)

me on the other end. sleeping.

umm, ugh, uff

i ate a lot of water today. yes its been hot, really hot, no adjectives to support the intensity of the heat. all i remember is i ate fajitas Sicilian pizza, thin crust,garlic bread, salad and watched 27 dresses with my friend Rohma and had a lot of fun. it was great till then. later as the day grew old i found myself seeking refugee towards the refrigerator. and so i ate a lot of water, ice cubes yes thats what i meant. i love frozen water, i loved 27 dresses, loved the food :D but i hate, loathe, abhor, detest the generator(in my neighbour) roaring 4 times since morning. what a horrible non eco friendly invention! i am just so upset with myself. i dont know what that has to do with the dreadful invention, no, no i am not the inventor. i really dont want to know what i just wrote, i am in a trance, a bad one.
a day that started with good food, fun, friend, a movie progressed into um, ugh, and uufffs.

where art thou

Where art thou?
I search for thee
Among the millions
Hiding somewhere amid thy peers

Where art thou?
Looked for thee
Through the long poignant nights
Seemed like a hundred years
Thousand breaths and yet less
I grew old and stayed young
Through the pensive adagio nights

Where art thou?
Thy glint and wink
And like a wicked magician
Mesmerizing and tantalizing
Suspended thou fly
Conquering the deep blue sky

Where art thou?
High above my entity
Far beyond my reach
Thy splash across the canvas
Of blue, purple and frost.
Like a child so mischievous

Where art thou?
I solicit thine guardian
To decipher the riddle
That leads to thee

In the myriad of stars
One that I lost
Is the one that they found?
Shining so vivid
Secretly in a tryst

The night dawns
With all its valor
Floating, sailing, soaring
The stars shine
Where beneath I stand
Holding my hands
In a wish so intense
Longing to touch
The magic they hold

flashback syndrome II

here i go again when my series of faint blasts from the past. theres an overwhelming flow of past memories occupying me these days and so i often find myself swinging away with a few blurry images from different times during my childhood. dont worry, unlike part one, this one is just tit bits from the past :P enjoy

one funny and really faint 'waqiya' (incident) i remember when i must have been around 4 is as follows. we used to come to Pakistan to spend our summer vacations. half of our summer was spent with my nano and mamoo. Used to be fun times with a hot summer, my mamoo's motor bike rides and ice creams and mosquitoes, frogs; the latter two being rare back home. frogs. this one is about this tiny little frog that my mamoo put in my brother's shalwar kameez's pocket. lol. i remember my brother running towards the washroom and trying to empty his pocket. mamoo's mischievous laugh and my bro's amusement on the prank trails behind the frail curtains of my memory...
my mother's birthday. she wore a yellow dress, with a black net dupatta. she clipped her hair in a dull gold hair clip, and a prim puff of hair settled right in the front( fashion in those days). with a big smile on her radiant, young face (with a huge frame of spectacles) she knew what i hid behind me. the reason i remember this piece of memory so well is that it was recorded. my birthday present to her was a picture of my mum, a rather comical one with just three locks of hair standing straight on her head. i remember how ma loved her sketch that i drew for her :)
i used to have fastidious habit of being ultra particular about the socks i used to wear. 9 out of 10 times there was bound to be some problem with my socks with one of its loose threads inside tickling my little toes.
while making breakfast for myself early in the morning today i gave myself a generous chuckle. as i pushed down the bread loaves into the toaster, i remembered what a silly kid i used to be( i still am, the latter :p) gadgets have always been something above my IQ level, seriously. i have never been good, not even average in science and thus my ignorance. now that explains my deplorable grades in o levels *blush*. coming back to the way my kid hood imagination worked was rather amusing. i picked up this weird idea or created my own that there are two tiny men with spades down there in the toaster, who on pushing the button start to throw coal on the bread!!!
well the above came a long with me and then unknowingly i forgot all about this scatty idea; the heavy built two tiny men with torch helmets working down in the toaster left me.
i once shaved the head of one of my many dolls in the dark of night and oh hell, how victorious and evil i felt that night.my partner in crime was my crazy brother. on waking up the next morning, however, i had forgotten everything about committing such a deed with my poor lil dolly with yellowish curly locks and kept on looking for it later to have realized what a cruel owner i was.

guess i am done for today. hopefully syndrome 3 wont show up :p

OMG!!! i have started crying on fairy tales!!! this cannot be. what has come over me?!!
a person as hard and impassive as me could not ashame herself by such an act of sensitivity!! perhaps this is just a moment and it will pass, ya this possibility makes more sense.
*phew*

Din kay ujalay say,
Raat ki chandni say,
Mast hawaon’ rangeen fizaaon say,
Behti aabshaaron say,
Suraj ki laali say,
Samandar ki lehron say,
Phoolon ki menfil say sajay chaman say,
Titliyon kay rangon say,
Nanay parindon kay kafalon say,
Gum naam galiyon’ aabad shehron,
Dilon kay mailon,
Kudrat kay hassen manazir say door,
Aaj ka insaan kahan kho gaya?

Unchii amaraat kay undar,
Bund darwazon,
Andhayray kamron,
Lambi gariyon mai,
Jhoot kay samandar mai,
Paisoon say khailta,
Dil behlata’ Khuda say chupta milay ga,
Insaan ho ker insaan say daray ga,
Insaan hi ko muhafiz keray ga,
Khawhishon aur aarzon kay peechay bhagta,
Iman ka jhanda uthaiy,
Dilon mai nafrat,
Labon per muhabbat,
Aur haath mai khanjar liyay,
Aaj ka insaan,
Who jaa raha hai,
Dhaltay suraj kay saath,
Dupta jaa raha hai,
Kahbi na taloo honay kay liyay.

the above is something i wrote around 4 years ago. now that i read it i still find it lacking in something. obviously i dont write well when it comes to Urdu, cant really justify the beauty of the language.