You got the LOOK !

Whenever I asked my beloved husband for permission to go to my mum’s house…hmmm

He used to give me the LOOK…the look which always made me remember one of my uncle and his half paralyzed state due to which the right side of his mouth was disfigured and his right side lips dangled loosely giving an impression that he is trying to whistle from right side…moreover…the stream of saliva ran out of his mouth whenever he saw food or juice.

And remembering my uncle because of my beloved husband’s look was a torture to me….and he kept torturing me as I kept asking him for permission to call upon my mother.

I was tortured and the irony was I can’t tell him that what is torturing me…on the contrary I believed that my rush to end our conversation at once after his scornful look gave him confidence that he delivered the message to me...a message not to let me go away…a message of not leaving him…alone.

Nevertheless…I always tried to escape that LOOK…I was bound to ask for his permission to visit my mum’s as she is old...she is alone and she needs us and the torture goes on.

One day…however…I tried to clearly see at him…at his face…even when he was giving me that LOOK….

I told him about my uncle’s and why I remembered him on the precise moment of our quarrel on “to go or not to go” to my mother.

He instantly….corrected his facial expressions and looked into my eyes….”you are not serious?” he asked me with a smile…

“hmm ….well I am serious about it you may ask any of my siblings about my uncle’s condition and you know what…I was the one who always spent most of the time wiping his saliva while I sat besides him with my glass of juice/Pepsi.”

“Why you always sat besides him with glass of juice when you knew it will start his saliva over which he didn’t have any control?” He asked thoughtfully.

“It seems like…torturing… to me!” He said again excited jumping up to the conclusion.

“hmm….you guessed it right…it was torture to the poor man…and that is exactly what is torturing me now…”

I felt the sudden weight on the corner of my eyes and soon found out that the weight was actually the tears...on the edge of my eyes ready to wave out but somehow sticked to my eyelashes.

I am quite happy that my husband has stopped giving me that look but I often remember my uncle and the way I have been with him…gives pain and regret….hmm….

May Allah forgive me and overlook my sins. Ameen.

Yellow Fellow !

Have you ever felt conscious eating a banana whilst out in public?

For the record...I have...hmm....

And I did the other day when sitting in the car in a petrol pump after realizing that the banana...in question...was huge.

A few men in petrol pump suits pottered about the yard...probably having a good laugh at my expense.

Maybe paranoia was taking over a bit but I couldn't help thinking that....that banana was to blame for their sudden burst of hysterics.

I peeled off the skin and continued to eat....hmm....trying my best to ignore anyone in my vicinity...but it was no use.

We are talking about good handful of nine inches...my hand clasped around it as I continued to place it in my mouth...devouring it with satisfaction...hmmm....in a matter of minutes.

I didn't lick my lips afterwards...for fear of causing increase in hunger for all the people who were looking at me.

I don't know what it is that makes me feel this way...hmm...

Perhaps I just need to get a grip.

If people come to the house and I'm eating a banana I get mysteriously embarrassed at the actual putting it in my mouth...when..let's face it....what else can we do with a banana.

I grew up on them...

I've loved them all my life...

I think I'll cut mine up in future.....hmm....

Publically(not) a public.

I always think of myself as a PUBLIC person.

A person who don’t think of herself as unique or different and I always try my best to fit in the PUBLIC or common masses.

Only...I have always a thing about public facilities (toilets); a thing that consist of being reluctant to use them.

I knew there was a reason why I prefer to avoid the public toilets...hmm...

I was reminded at the supermarket over the weekend...after approaching the ladies...which is rather inconveniently situated next to the men’s.

The aroma hit me like a slap in the face as I turned into the corridor…seeing a man walk towards me…bow-legged and adjusting himself.

The stench came from the door he had just gone through and I was most relieved at the prospect of having separate toilets.

The lady who strolled in front of me turned round and pulled a face.

I struggled to breathe and didn't dare open my mouth to say anything in case the fumes hit the back of my throat....hmmm...

What was revolting was the fact we weren't far from the fruit and vegetable area.

When we were in Bangkok in last December…most of the toilets we used in shopping plazas’ were pay-only.

And was definitely worth it because they were all clean, bright and displaying fresh flowers by the sinks; each had plenty toilet paper and decent locks on the doors.

I'm not the most hygienic person in the world…being a working woman and going home after 7:00pm everyday means cleanliness isn't always an option.

Using the facilities in places like supermarkets shouldn't be a nauseating experience; if a shop or organisation provides toilets they should be checked...cleaned and...in this case...fumigated.

hmm…me and my experiences….sigh…

Few Stories !

Justice

One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked upon him; and they say that one of his eyes was out and that the empty socket bled.

And the prince inquired of him,

"What has befallen you?"

And the man replied,

"O Prince, I am by profession a theif, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now, O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver."

Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed that one of his eyes should be plucked out.

"O prince," said the weaver, "the decree is just. It is right that one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas ! both are necessary to me in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave. But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in his trade both eyes are not neccessary."

Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came.

And they took out one of the cobbler's two eyes.

And justice was satisfied.

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The Fox

A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said,

"I will have a camel for lunch today."

And all morning he went about looking for camels. But at noon he saw his shadow again....

and said....., " A mouse will do."

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Said a Blade of Grass

Said a blade of grass to an autum leaf,

"You make such a noise falling ! You scatter all my winter dreams."

Said the leaf indignant,

"Low-born and low-dwelling!

Songless, peevish thing !

You live not in the upper air and you can not tell the sound of singing."

Then the autum leaf lay down upon the earth and slep. And when spring came she waked again - and she was a blade of grass.

And when it was autum and her winter sleep was upon her, and above her through all the air leaves were falling, she muttered to herself,

"O these autumn leaves !

They make such a noise !

They scatter all my winter dreams."



By: Khalil Gibran.

The Differentiator - (Al - Furqan)

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Above Picture : Ummat 24-Nov-2010
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In the name of God, the Lord of Mercy, the Giver of Mercy

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Al-Furqan is a Meccan sura that starts with a denunciation of polytheism, then deals with the disbelievers' arguments against the Prophet, the Quran, and the Day of Judgement. It warns them of their fate, citing examples of earlier peoples. The sura describes the power and grace of God, and ends with the qualities of true believers (verses 63-73).
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Ayat 41-42:
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Whenever they see you (prophet) they ridicule you:
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'Is this the one God has sent as a messenger? He might almost have led us astray from our gods if we had not stood so firmly by them'.
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When they see the punishment, they will know who is furthest from the path.
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Someone gives me surprise...rather heart attack by writing a ridicules comment that our Holy Prophet (pbuh) killed a person in the war of Badr, because he used to make fun of our Prophet(pbuh) face - God Forbid.
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When I came back to my senses after the shock I asked her to give me any evidence and she gave me the reference, she told me that she read the article from Hafiz Ibtasam Ilahi Zaheer in Daily Newspaper Ummat.
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I tried to convince her that it may be a misunderstanding and she should delete the comment right away from her blog as our Holy Prophet (pbuh) has never ever hurt anyone...more over killing is far away from his (pbuh) nature.
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But she sticked to her....whatever...you may call it.
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When we know some one....when we love some one...when we admire and like someone...
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And if some other...or anyone come to you and tell you something wrong about your loving one...something like..I have heard about your loving one that he is a killer....what would you do?
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You not going to publish it right away on your blog...or you not going to write it in your diary....
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You would first ask the loving one about the truth...or you will check it or try to find out the truth....if you could not find any relative evidence you will go back to the source and ask him to give you the evidence. Only than you will believe that your loving one is a killer. Otherwise you will just dis-regard the whole conversation.
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The above article...has nothing to do with our Holy Prophet (pbuh) killing a person - God Forbid. .
When you are in war...you can't choose people...whom you going to kill. You can't make decision that...ok...this person was mean to me and now its my turn to kill him brutally...you kill because this is war and who ever come in your way.
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And you don't termed the soldier a Killer...soldiers (when are in war) are not killers.
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Even then...if we consider the above article that there was a man who used to ridicule Holy Prophet(pbuh) and was killed by Holy Prophet(pbuh) in war of Badr....it was not intentionally done by Holy Prophet(pbuh). He came in the way and Holy Prophet (pbuh) killed him...end of the story.
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Yes...than Allah termed the whole situation in a way...that...in this way HE gave the final end to those who used to ridicule prophet(pbuh).
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It was destined by ALLAH(SWT) that Holy Prophet (pbuh) killed the same person.
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And our Prophet(pbuh) did not mentioned a word of killing him because he used to ridicule his(pbuh) face - God Forbid.
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I am also like to know from Scholar Hafiz Ibtasam Ilahi Sahib that if he knows so much about the occasion than why not mentioned the name of the person who was killed (as he mentioned).
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But...
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What my point is here....
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I just want to know...that where is our believe and faith?
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Where is our sense of respect to our Holy Prophet(pbuh)?
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If someone...in coming days tell me that Holy Prophet(pbuh) lied - God Forbid...so would I going to publish it on my blog ???
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Shouldn't my duty be to shut the whole conversation without listening more or reading more???
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Shouldn't this is my faith who keeps me on the believe that Holy Prophet (pbuh) was a complete and perfect human being man and free of all conviction?
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How would I as a MUSLIM....believe such articles and more over publishing them on my blog?
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I strongly detest such kind of act from any one who did it...just to find some extra spice and add extra strength to her article.
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When since childhood as a Muslim we read all about our Holy Prophet(pbuh) merciful nature...do we need any kind of confirmation from any scholar?
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"The City which had treated him(pbuh) so cruelly, driven him and his faithful band for refuge amongst strangers, which had sworn his life and the lives of his devoted disciples, lay at his feet, his old persecuters relentless and ruthless, who had disgraced humanity by inflicting cruel outrages upon inoffensive men and women, and even upon the lifeless dead, were now completely at his mercy.
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But in the hour of his triumph every evil suffered was forgotten, every injury inflicted was forgiven, and a general amnesty was extended to the population of Makkah...."
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Syed Amir Ali in "The Spirit of Islam."

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Calling before him(pbuh) the populace of the vanquished city, he addressed them with...
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"What do you expect at my hands today?"
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His(pbuh) people had known him too well, even from his childhood so they replied,
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"Mercy, O generous brother and nephew !"
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Tears came into the eyes of the Prophet(pbuh) and he said,
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"I will speak to you as Joseph spoke unto his brethren, I will not reproach you today; go you are free !"
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And now a scene was enacted of which there is really no parallel in the history of the world.
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God Almighty testifies as to the lofty and exalted behaviour of His Messenger -
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As regards all standards by which human greatness may be measured, we may well ask, is there any man greater than he(pbuh)?
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In reply, we too can say once more,
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No....
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No ! there is no man greater than Muhammad(pbuh).
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Muhammad (pbuh) was the greatest man that ever lived.
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Subhan Allah.
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The Keys !

In my purse are keys to other worlds.

I keep them in a small notebook.

I put them there whenever I find them.

Sometimes I find them at work…and other times when I’m waiting in line at the grocery store.

I even find them at hospitals.

I’ve found a door.

I check my notebook for the key that fits.

I take out one of the keys and put it in the lock.

The door opens and before me is my imagination.

It flows out of the door and through me onto the pages.

Sharia Law and the Constitution

On November 2, 2010, Oklahoma voters approved a ballot initiative that would forbid state courts from considering Islamic law, otherwise known as Sharia law, in reaching decisions.

Six days later, a federal judge temporarily blocked the law from going into effect while she considers a lawsuit challenging its constitutionality.

Muneer Awad, an Oklahoma Muslim and executive director of the state’s Council on Islamic-American Relations (CAIR) filed suit last month against Oklahoma’s recently approved ballot measure that bans Sharia law in the state.

Mr. Awad says it is all about his “constitutional rights,” and a ban on international law and Sharia Law is “an enduring condemnation of Islam.”

After Awad’s lawsuit, a judge put a temporary restraining order on the law, and in a hearing on November 22nd extended the injunction, which expires November 29th.

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Reason behind the ban:

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In the November 2010 election, Oklahoma voters approved a referendum (officially known as State Question 755) that would add one new paragraph to the Oklahoma Constitution.

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Among other things, that paragraph states, quoted:

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The courts shall not look to the legal precepts of other nations or cultures. Specifically, the courts shall not consider international law or Sharia law.

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Reason behind the Law suit:

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The Islamic community in Oklahoma has complained about the past actions of the state legislature, including a proposal to forbid Muslim women from wearing head garments in driver's license photos and refusing to accept a Koran from a Muslim advisory council at an official state ceremony.

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Proponents of the anti-Islamic law measure have cited a New Jersey family court judge's decision not to grant a restraining order to a woman who was sexually abused by her Moroccan husband and forced repeatedly to have sex with him.

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The judge ruled that her ex-husband felt he had behaved according to his Muslim beliefs and that he did not have "criminal desire to or intent to sexually assault" his wife.
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Muneer assures Oklahomans that there is no "threat of an Islamic takeover of state courts." He also states that Oklahoma is singling out Islam.

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Therefore, not allowing Sharia to dictate law is against his First Amendment rights.

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It’s a fascinating case and- -in my opinion- -not a slam dunk for either side.

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But even if the law is upheld, it could lead to some strange consequences.
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We’ll find out more as Awad’s lawsuit makes its way through the courts.

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Sources: Fox News & Internet.

MYSELF

In my childhood….I watch MYSELF drawing a red line…

MYSELF started drawing the line on my sketchbook…soon….ran off the paper….

But MYSELF keep drawing the red line along the floor…..

And than on the wall….and right out the door…..

I shouted for MYSELF to come back….but WHY I AM WORIED?….I said to me….

MYSELF….will soon run out of crayons or may be get tired…..

One hour… two hours…

I get up and shout again.

No answer.

So….I followed the red line.

That was thirty years and twenty thousand miles ago.

Once…I can’t see the line…

But soon found out….Oh….it’s there….just too faint for me to see.

But now I can.

And I will follow it...

Until....

I find MYSELF.

Peacock Feet !

Too bad...hmm...that the peacock can't wear shoes.

Otherwise he would have not felt embarrassed to see his feet whenever he preparaed to dance.

The sight of them always brought tears to his eyes.

What a blemish on his God gifted beauty...hmmm...

A few days ago...I met one of my cousins..called...hm...HANDSOME...

Who had stirred so many young ladies hearts and was more than welcome in any relative's house anytime of the week and any time of the day.

We had an understanding that we have understanding...though neither one of us figured out that it was mere likeness in our thoughts and witty concerns about family matters.

Of course...I had a crush on him...hmm...only...I was 18teen that time.

Once his mother visited us and stayed for dinner...I was at my most efficient that night and was playing smart...only...in my dreams...

When we met again in one of the relatives' marriage ceremony I asked him how his mother felt about our house and her visit to us.

He said...his mother forbade him to talk to me again...to my surprise I asked him why...he...said nothing...just looked downwards...staring at the floor...

After my same enquiry again...he said..."why don't you wear shoes when you have guests in your house?"

"I don't have to..." I said..."carpeted floor don't require me to wear shoes.."

"So you can wear socks...instead..." he snapped.

"And what has that to do with your mother's visit to our house?"

"Mother said...your feet are like peacock's and nobody in the family has such big..blemished feet..."

"hmmm.....where is your opimism...at least she thinks I am a peacock??"

But anyway...that was the end of the story...soon after his graduation he went abroad for further studies and I heard nothing from him since then...
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Until...last week..in one of our relatives' birthday party...when I first met his dashing...lovely wife...I din't know her....
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I thought she is one of the family off springs who lived far far away in heaven and I never had a chance to meet them so it was a good opporunity to learn more about them....
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I felt awkward when I saw him with a paper glass of kashmiri tea in each hand coming towards me....and....
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I grabbed the nearby corner of the table to maintain my balance...of course I don't want him to see me trembling or shrugging...he is still handsome...and complete in his beauty...
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Even I tried to avoid eye contact...he introduced his wife to me...with a grin...I smiled too...a bit confused...and then our eyes met..soon after that...we both looked at his wife's feet..
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Then we looked back in each other's eyes and burst into laughter....never minding his innocent wife's presence....
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I said to myself...still the understanding between us two...exists...
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BTW: His wife has her stiletto open toed heels and her feet were perfectly beautiful.
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So girls: Never go bare foot to your guests...it might overshadow your beauty...see what a loss I had !
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hmmm....

Confession !

Getting honest…

It is tough for me. I am a perfectionist.

I like to have everything neat and tidy...all my ducks in a row....

...and I often consider myself at my peak proficiency level if everything is checked off my to-do list before the end of the day.

But on the contrary…if I admit that…I am not at all perfect…hmmm…

How does this confession sound?

Yes….I sinned….messed up…I fell short…tops my list are rarely checked.

And while I confess my sins to Almighty...

HIS grace and brilliance is breathtaking…and…my defences are blown away…all of my protective walls have come down.

It means…

I am admitting my unworthiness…and now there is nothing left.

World's Appart

I went to the Abdullah Shah Ghazi shrine this Thursday as usual.

It was cool and damp and quiet…the way a shrine should be. May be because it was the second day after Eid.

A woman in a black shalwar suit walked by my side where I sat with a few books sprawled about.

The woman sat down besides the big metal box people use to drop Charity money…few steps ahead in front of me…and began reviewing one of the various binders and books that were piled on the table on her left.

I was imagining away from this world and trying to ignore my beloved husband’s pleading eyes…who was sitting far away on the other side of the shrine in the male area…to finish my prayers and stand up to walk out…

I was trying to touch the dept…the calm…the quite and peace of my inner world with the slow beating of my pulses…when I was repeating my Maker name in slow but in rhythmic lyrics and was really enjoying it…hmm...

When I heard this hissing sound.

I figured it was a pipe or something.

The hissing became louder…like an angry whispering…and suddenly morphed into this screeching voice.

I looked up and saw it was the woman in front of me.

She was alone…nobody either male or female came with her…her back toward me…and shaking violently.

She held her hands were in the air…as if begging some imaginary monster to please leave her alone.

Maybe she's practicing her opening statement in her grave, I thought.

Then she began whimpering and shaking her head…shielding herself with her bony hands.

Suddenly her voice changed into this guttural voice and I could hear her cursing and whispering and shrieking insults and obscenities like "Idiot!" and "Hell You!"

Needless to say…I was disturbed and was angry.

I tried to concentrate …but my heart started thumping so loudly in my ears…I couldn't hear myself think.

Maybe she had Tourette Syndrome. Tourette Syndrome was better than just plain crazy.

Maybe she was possessed. Or maybe she had multiple personalities -- that would explain the different voices.

At any rate…I had to wrap up myself to go back to the entrance area where my beloved husband already moved…and slowly took my books so as not to disturb the Scary Woman.

I was actually expecting that she will going to attack me…teeth baring…fingernails outstretched.

I seriously think if she dared I would have give her big hit on her face for disturbing me…
hmmm…

But she didn't.

Friendly Bakra !

To know about last year's Bakra- the goat....click here

Human life and Bakra life are both very interesting..hmmm....

As a Friendly-bakra…you have bakra-friends and talk about bakry and shepherd….grass and leaves.

For the past few years…this has been the bulk of Friendly-bakra’s existence.

Now that friendly-bakra is in a big city…friendly-bakra see this whole other world…the world of humans.

And friendly-bakra makes so many human-friends.

It's a world where all of a sudden your shepherd invite you over to check your teeth…and you begin attending humans which give you amusement.

And only now Friendly-bakra realized that there are two different worlds…because friendly-bakra’s former bakra life seems like a distinct segmant of his life.

Friendly-bakra recently noticed a growing distance between him and his bakra-friends.

“Maybe we just have less in common now….given that they talked about grass 99.9% of the time. Or maybe it feels like the grass takes up 99.9% of my time…if not my thoughts”.

Friendly-bakra also noticed that a few of bakra-friends have gone out of the flock without inviting him or saying good-bye.

When he was in small city…they'd shoot a baahh-email during the week asking if he wanted to see the new flock or farmhouse opening up and check out the 'bakra' there.

Granted…it could be because Friendly-bakra is not as fun as he used to be.

But a part of friendly-bakra suspects that it's because he is no longer in the market and wouldn't delight in the adventures of meeting suspiciously attractive sociopaths...as he has been sold to a lady who is trying so hard to make him a friend.

So friendly-bakra talked about his recent issues with his new lady owner-cum-shepherd….and after a little thought she agreed with friendly-bakra:

“I do know that…even with the human-friend…it's important to maintain one's bakrafriendships.
Because without the bakras….where would bakra be? So you have all my support to mix –up with other bakra...hmmm.

I never wanted you to leave your bakra-friends !“

Friendly-bakra told her that everyone goes through at least a couple emotionally traumatizing events in her/his life…like I will…as friendly-bakra knows well that soon he will be sacrificed…and in the end…friendly-bakra get through it with at least a little help and support from his bakra-friends.

Friendly-bakra has seen too many times where a bakra…once find a human-friend…will "disappear" on his bakra pals.

But sooner or later one realized that how important it is to remain in contact with other bakras.

So Friendly-bakra’s mandate to himself is this: I maintain and nurture my bakrafriendships.

No matter which world I'm in.

The Replacement

hmmm…pieces of shattered glass lay everywhere on the floor…

It was so sudden and so immediate that I couldn't do anything…only to let the mirror fall on the floor…watching it…let it broken into pieces soon as it hit the ground with sudden crashing…shrilling voice.

I sighed on the wastage of my precious mirror…hmm...bent down and stretched one of the hands to pick the pieces…

And readily take it back as one broken piece went deep into my finger…the blood started rushing out from the finger I left the pieces and turn to my wound.

Shattered glasses were still everywhere on the floor…like hopeless pieces of trash…and the beauty of the beautiful glass seemed hopelessly married and wasted.

Once…they were together made a complete image...a complete figure.

The designer who made the mirror carefully kept it far from extra burden or weight…careless on lookers…every break…every cut and every strain.

That’s how with so much care and all time support…the maker finally sell it to one buyer and what she did soon after the mirror landed on her ground?

She let it break…sigh.

But no worry….the shattered looking glass is gone.

The brokenness is replaced with another complete image from the same designer.

Only the useless...rubbish pieces of glass left behind few haunting reminders of what I once treasured more than anything else…and on breaking how deep it gave me a wound.

But this is life…we suffered and our broken dreams…shattered hopes and aspirations lay everywhere like useless pieces of rubbish…destined to fade away…and even though our heart suffered the wound…

hmm....it keeps hoping.

And our hope is greatly dependent on the Designer…the Maker…who must have something in replacement for us…

Who would offer something exact…something which match the empty space brought by the broken dreams in our heart.

It is then that I realize…as I never may have realized before...that the blows that I thought were aimed by Satan to destroy my mirror…my heart...

My Maker used to build my heart up…to make something beautiful in the replacement of the broken pieces.

“It is amazing what God can do with a broken heart… if we let Him have all the pieces.”

There is nothing too broken for myMaker to transform.

Nothing too shattered for Him to use.

It takes time to heal the wounds.

The dreams may change.

The hopes…plans and aspirations we held dear may not remain the same…but from those broken pieces He creates something new.

He always have the replacement.

The Discovery

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"Our Soul discovers itself when we come into contact with a great mind"
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Sir Muhmmad Iqbal

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And my soul started to discover itself almost one year before when I first join the Shafique Sahib class.

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And since than I really wanted to make a seperate blog for his lectures so that I can make a post and can easily find them when reuired.

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It is all...what I understand from his teaching and would be something sometimes when I don't undertsand at all.

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But now my aim is to put everything in writing (in typing).

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Please visit my new Blog "The Discovery" and tell me how you feel about it?

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I would be grateful if you guies take out some time for my newly born blog.

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Waiting for your responses.

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Take Care.

Cursed Mask

I have so many masks. These blessed MASKS.

Since my childhood I am using each and every one of my mask to protect me from being discovered.

Believe me….I am afraid of being understood..hmm

My masks keep me at distance with this world…its people…its hopes…its desires…its truth…its lie.

I have painted my masks beautifully and use them artistically.

When I was a little girl and came about these masks…it was very hard to put them on…cause…that time...hmm...

I was fond of fresh air and my eyes were in search of truth and my ears wants to hear the beautiful songs...life sing for me.

But soon after first heart break…I become afraid of people…what they going to say?

I should be ready to be crucified by their interrogation…and in my youthful terror….

I pick one of my mask – and put it on…soon…I start smiling…

I felt my dead face…tearful eyes behind mask…but was relieved to know that I am undiscoverable….

hmmm…lot easy way to get away...yeah???

That’s exactly what I think and that’s how I start carrying them with me all the time…

Sometimes…I have to show my sorrow…sometimes my laugh…sometimes my love…sometimes my hatred…sometimes my labor…sometimes my hunger…sometimes my intelligence…

I am now…in a habit of showing what I am not…at that precise moment….
I am now in a habit of prevailing the truth….
I am now in a habit of not saying I should be saying…
I am now in a habit of telling lies…
making fun of other people…
manipulating events…
showing off…

My intelligence…my words….my sighs….my smile…my sympathy….my concern….all of them are my masks….

These cursed masks….which made me what I not used to be….these cursed masks made me evil…these cursed masks made me fool in my own eyes.

I am now tired….tired of these masks….

I want to throw them…get rid of them…why not any thief steel them?

So that I can shout with my throat out and cursed the thieves but would be relieved in heart.

I know…I will be lonely without them…but I know I would be free without them…

I would be free with my loneliness…

I would be able to mingle with my self…

I want my face back...hmmm...

Iwant my face to be touched by radiant sunlight…

I want my soul to be inflamed by love…

I want to shed my masks.

Territorial Creatures

Children can be territorial creatures.

More often than not...if I'm chatting with a spoken-for parent (either mother or father)...

Their children will soon thereafter trot over...throw her/his arm around his/her parent...

Nuzzle his/her face into parent's neck....and smile at me....

Or engage in some other equivalent behavior to mark his/her territory.

I find it amusing and almost interesting that the children considers me (everyone who took the attention of their parents) a threat.

The other day...hmmm....

A similar incident occurred with a twist.

I was walking down the street when I beheld a cousin....with her six years old son....holding hands from a distance.

I guessed it would be nice of me if convey my regards to my cousin....but as I am not a starter....

I mean I never start a conversation myself unless I find someone very very interesting and want to know more about him/her...

I gazed at the long haired mother as they neared me...and pretend that I didn't see her at all and tried my best to make myself prominent to her so that she can come to me.

...my cousin unknown to my utmost pretensions come to me and we start chatting freely and friendly.

The six year old saw me talking to her mother and immediately began swinging their held hands exaggeratedly....pulled his mother closer to him....and then gave me the eye(almost).

All the time I was trying to tame the child but he kept his distance....

Finally...we walked to our destinations without incident.

Again....amused....that I was considered a threat.

Indeed....children can be territorial creatures.

But then I think who else have such love for us?

To mark us....their own territory and to protect us from outsiders' eyes?

hmmm....children are beautiful...creatures...gift of Allah.

I had Hoped !

So one of my cousin called me and after few snapping remarks he finally throw the question on me....and it hit me across the face...hmmm...

And I struggled with it for a minute or two.

“Is it everything that you had hoped it would be?”

I looked back over the past couple years...and weighed the moments...and tears fell unheeded as I remembered…

Moments when my world seemed caved in and my heart ached from being broken in ways that I didn’t think could ever be repaired.

Moments when I stood on the mountains and looked down to the valleys and realized what it will be like to truly “mount up with wings as an eagle”.

Moments when I waited in the darkness....uncertain what the next step would be.

Moments when I was afraid. Moments when I simply had to trust that He knew best in the end.

Moments when I first tasted True Love. Moments when I lost.

Moments when I won.

Moments of wondering- why, how, when.

Moments of revelation.

Moments of sorrow and moments of joy.

The past few years held my life’s saddest and its happiest moments...and my heart still ached from wounds that feel too fresh to touch just yet.

But the tears weren’t for the painful moments and wishful longings for things that might have been that can never be.

They were for the blessed reality that there is One who is greater than all these things.

One who does exceedingly...and abundantly above all that we can ask...think or even begin to imagine.

One who gives us those moments on eagle’s wings of pure happiness.

One who can heal even broken hearts.

One who walks beside us...and who carries us when our feet are too weary to walk.

In the sorrows....I found beautiful treasures of the heart that I could have never known...

In the moments of uncertainty....I found trust growing stronger.

In the moments of happiness...I tasted Heaven’s joy.

In the quiet moments...I learned to listen.

In the brokenness...I learned to be complete in Him.

Not a moment was a wasted moment.

I looked at my life and saw that....instead of just what I had hoped for in my most cherished...unspoken dreams...my God had given what I couldn’t even hope for....

So dear Cousin....Yes....this is everything that I had hoped it would be.....

To Allah be all glory !

Did Ibn-e-Safe read George Orwell?

“Why I write” (1946) is an essay by “George Orwell” detailing his personal journey to becoming a writer.

In the article George Orwell basically pointed out the basic motives for any writer to write.

He categorized them four in number and told that they exist in different degrees in every writer…and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living.

I am quite surprised to learn that the hand out which Ahmed Safi (son of Ibn-e-Safi) gave me in today’s workshop was an article by Ibn-e-Safi… “How I start writing?”

I was astonished to read the resemblance one can point out in both the articles…

Of George Orwell’s “Why I write” and Ibn-e-Safi’s article “How I start writing”

Although their lives were in many ways different but the reason they both put forward which intrigued them to write are almost same.

But before going to the main points George Orwell and Ibn-e-Safi put forward to write I would say more on the construction of both the articles.

While Orwell wrote about how he has developed the unpopular mannerisms in his school days due to his father absence on the other hand Ibn-e-Safi told us about his interest in books which made him quite different from other children who used to spent whole day outside and thus both the writers were left alone to themselves and they kind a like their solitude.

Both the writers had the same way of taking inspiration from other writers while young and both had a good way of escaping from reality into their dreams where they found them as a quite different person which shows how strong imaginative power both the writers had.

With the growth of mind and defining of concepts they recovered from so many different stages of literature and art and kept going on.

As Orwell write “the writers subject matter will be determined by the age he lives in but before he ever begins to write he will have acquired an emotional attitude from which he will never completely escapes. It is his job to discipline his temperament and avoid getting stuck at some immature stage.”

Orwell..tried poetry as his first writing art….became an editor to a school news magazine….

Ibn-e-Safi…too…tried poetry…criticism…before he finally started writing suspense novels.

Both our writers went through the same series of realizing what they should do and what form of writing is most suitable for them.

Orwell’s four great motives for any writer to write are the same which intrigued Ibn-e-Safi to write….

1: Sheer Egoism: Desire to seem clever…to be talked about….to be remembered after death….

Ibn-e-Safi was with his friends and had a strong conversation on suspense literature…his friends believed that the suspense literature is accepted only with vulgarity and that intrigued Ibn-e-Safi to show them that people can accept literature without unnecessary luridness.

2: Aesthetic enthusiasm: Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and right arrangement. Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another. Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not to be missed.

Ibn-e-Safi…in the same article said that “people think that I am not writing good stuff for people and thus not generating art…literature…they don’t think that my writings are constructive and I should start writing something constructive….but I believed that I never forget to write about contemporary problems…in my novels one can find one way or other the basic concepts of getting rid of them…but my main aim is to promote happiness and joy…and I don’t think it’s bad either…I want people to find chance to forget all about their problems while they read me and I think if they do…this is my biggest achievement”.

3: Historical Impulse: Desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.

1947…when people were dying due to the partition of India and Pakistan and killing was seems to be righteous in both the parts…Ibn-e-Safi was looking into the matters and was busy in finding out what went wrong….he was captured by the unfair manners people were in to and looking to find a way of cure…

And thus he concluded that due to the weak law enforcement everyone was free to kill and rob. He believed that prosperity of any country depends on their citizens understanding and respecting of state law.

4: Political Purpose: Using the word “political” in the widest possible sense. Desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other peoples’ idea of the kind of society that they should strive after. Once again, no book is genuinely free from political bias. The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude.

No one, ever had read Ibn-e-Safi can’t say that his novels didn’t contain any political issues or impulses. Matter of fact his novels were rich in politics and state affairs.

I believed that this realization of similarity between the two writers have given me so much insight that increased my belief and faith on Ibn-e-Safi being a great writer.

Friends Indeed !

This is Angelina Jolie, The Goodwill Ambassador of UNHCR.....and a world known 34 years old actress.

She visited the Pakistan on 7 September 2010 for three days.

"It's clear this crisis is far from over," she said. "People have lost everything: their homes, their belongings, their crops and cattle, and their livelihoods. Long after the cameras have gone, people will be struggling to rebuild their lives."

"One problem does not negate the other, one headline should not pull focus from the many complexities of the situation in Pakistan," said the Goodwill Ambassador, stressing the need for continuing efforts to support those in need.

But this is not the only person working for Pakistan. There are lot of other people who are using their individual capacity to work for displaced due to the recent flood in Pakistan.

One among them is Dr Hina, Urooj, Rizwan and Komal...along with other friends.

Though they didn't named their group yet but Urooj has developed a new blog for their activities which you can follow on the link : http://helpingfloodvictims.blogspot.com/

And I after reading and following their activities would say that what Urooj has said about her blog could be best suited name for their group too...... Friends Indeed !

Yes...they are the Friends Indeed who always welcome friends in need.....Good thing about their group is...they have not only the male doctors but female doctors too. They carry not only the food but medicine too.

I just met Urooj and happy to hear about their recent activities...as both Rizwan and Urooj told me about their future plans....

They want funding and resources to make rehabilitation plans and to give shelters(ready made tents) which can serve as a short term home until they can go back to their own lands.

My beloved husband has agreed to help Urooj and her team to get their small - self made NGO registered with Pakistan Government so that they can expand their activities.

I have nothing much to offer to her....for which I felt sorry....but I promised her to promote and to find someone to provide us TENTS.

I hope best for Urooj and others in Friends Indeed team and wish them all the luck.

Blessing in Disguise !

Few days ago...someone told me that Pakistan is a cursed country....and this broke my heart...hmm...

Of course as a nation we are having the worst time...but it doesn't mean that we are being CURSED....

Allah forbid....it is a very BIG word to use for the sufferers of today....

Yeah...at times....we may look at those who face an extremely challenging journey through life and wonder:

why do they suffer so much?

Why are they going through great trial and tribulation?

What have they done to ‘deserve’ immense pain and adversity?

And Our questions need not be left unanswered.

We look to the Quran where we are told that the righteous and wise Almighty Allah is directing the path of those in the midst of a hard journey with purpose.

Allah is blessing these people through their suffering.

Blessing?

How can good come from pain and sorrow?

God’s ways are certainly not like our own natural ways.

For those of us who choose the road less traveled…their journey is through a harsh wilderness.

Most of us on this path experience obstacles along the way...but a few seem to suffer hardships and one setback after another through a good portion of their lives.

Ans YES....as a nation we had choose a different path...a path of our own. We strives for and worked hard and pray for our separate COUNTRY....PAKISTAN.

For whom the Lord loves, He chastens.

When someone is going through severe trial time and again...God is showing he loves this person.

My MAKER will not try us more than we can bear.

It hurts when a person is tried – being polished...shaped...sharpened and refined by tools and fire.

Is God too harsh to bring a person so near to a breaking point?

No – He is merciful and just and will not give those He loves a trial greater than they can bear.

Also...He will always provide a way to escape.

All things work together for good.

Even though we may not understand how anything good could come from pain or sorrow experienced during times of trouble...we can be sure that all will work out for God’s glory in the end.

We can pray for and encourage our fellow-sojourners who seem to be fighting a tougher fight than we are, but we need not worry.

We can be assured that those who are suffering from great and sore troubles are loved by God and have been given great strength (for their strength is made perfect in weakness).

In the end...all things will work together for good.

And....we should have faith on our Almighty Maker...hmmm....

Pakistan Army!

“Never forget that you are the servants of the state. You do not make policy. It is we, the people’s representatives, who decide how the country is to be run. Your job is only to obey the decisions of your civilian masters.”

This was said by Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah to the group of army personnel on 14 August 1947 in the lawns of the Governor-General’s House.

Obviously, the Quaid’s words did not have any effect on Akbar Khan (Major General) present in the meeting, who a few years later, tried to topple the government of Liaquat Ali Khan in what came to be known as the “Rawalpindi Conspiracy” case.

This attempt has been repeated a number of times since and has been successful on at least four occasions since the Quiad had uttered those words in Karachi.

I am sorry to say that since the birth of Pakistan, we had an organized army but no political leadership conversant with statecraft.

It is, therefore, not surprising that the political leadership found itself at the mercy of bureaucrats and the military, and with the passage of time their vulnerability increased.

And that is the case even today, that’s why few of the politicians are seeking Army to come forward. When country is in need and we are asking for help from almost every country of the world, why not seek help from Pakistan Army?

This had happened before when Air Marshal M Asghar Khan wrote to Pakistan Army to come forward and took the charge of Pakistan, because he believed that rigging took place in 1977 elections.

Some of political personnel criticized M Asghar Khan for writing this letter, which they believed invited the armed forces to take over the governance of the country.

Army is under the oath to obey the “lawful commands of their superior officer”. But to differentiate between a “lawful” and an “unlawful” command is the duty of every officer.

By keeping the check on Army, and giving them lawful exercises we can use them for betterment of Pakistan since they are not involved in battlement (nowadays).

I don’t understand that why our politicians feel so insecure under the shadow of Army while I believe the citizen find themselves more secure in presence of Armed Forces?

The reason…is same….our politicians lack the credibility…and that’s why they don’t want anyone to come forward to help Pakistan as if once someone do good job here will be enlighten to the citizen and it would ruin their business.

Philippines mourns !

Few days ago Khurrum Ali Shafique Sahib sent me news link and said that we should keep in touch with other country’s grief too.

There was an angry policeman – Mendoza- in MANILA, Philippines cause he lost his job…I think he was not only angry…but deadly angry.

15 tourists from Hong Kong stepped in the bus as hostages to fortune because the same bus was taken as a hostage by that angry policeman.

While the government was busy in botched negotiations with the angry policeman...he killed 8 out of the 15 tourists one by one.

For some personal reason…this tiny news article on the Yahoo News (htt://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100824/ap_on_re_as/as_philippines_bus_hostages) made me very sad:

A heartbreaking picture emerged of the victims — a mother of three who lost her husband and two daughters, a teenager oblivious of her parents' death and a tour guide who aspired to become a yoga teacher.

"I thought I would fight for survival so I could take care of my children, but two of them have already died," a sobbing Ng said Tuesday.

Philippine Interior Secretary Jessie Robredo, who is in charge of the national police, acknowledged Tuesday there were problems with how the crisis was handled.

He added, "All the inadequacies happened at the same time."

I don’t want to talk about how Hong Kong’s sorrow evolved into the outrage and how deeply the officials of Philippines government felt the damage this incident would bring to their tourist industry…all of them seems to concern about the unfortunate incident.

But what satisfied me is that the angry policeman was shot dead by one sniper (obviously a government officer)…had it been in Pakistan…the killer would have been easily loosen away.

My condolences to the bereaved.

Drinking from the same well !

As a wedding present, relatives from New Maxico gave us this unique wedding vase.

'

My sister-in-law told me the double opening represented the fact that now we would both drink from the same well.

'

Which sounds so funny that time...

'

hmmm....sorry I don't like to drink from the same glass if someone else has drink from it untill it is washed again....
'

A few months later, I was reading Dr. Laura Schlessinger's book "Proper Care and Feeding of Marriage", and found much same the symbolism:

'

"Consider coming together with your spouse at the end of the day as an opportunity to drink from a well. The water doesn't come up out of the well by its own force; you actually have to do sonething active to get the water to soothe your parched lips.

'

"....When at the end of the day you yearn for some relief from the day, prepare your mind and heart...get ready in your mind something you're going to say to be fresh water to your spouse's parched being."

'

(Dr. Laura Schlessinger, Proper Care and Feeding of Marriage, pg-89)

'

Now each time I see our New Mexican wedding vase on my kitchen shelf...I am reminded not only do my beloved husband and I share everything, "drinking from the same well."

'

But when I cheer and encourage him after a long day...I find the same refreshment as he responds to me lovingly.

'

And we both find joy and rest drinking from the well of our love for each other...hmmm...

The Miracle of Sunrise !

Today I got up early and sat before my open bedroom window and watched the sun rise up above the near by buildings and trees.

Its light was softly glowing long before it actually could be seen…and then…suddenly…it burst forth upon the building tops…down into the streets and into my window to shine across the room in such a radiant way that one could not help but feel the warmth shine right into the deepest parts of the heart.

It reminded me of another kind of sunrise:

The sunrise that broke through one of the darkest and deepest moments of our life…for which all the Pakistani life is waiting….hmm.

The sunrise that came slowly at first…so much so that I could hardly dare to hope it would ever really come…and then…as if in time with a great unknown orchestra…it broke forth…sending its bright and warming rays to the farthest corners of my heart.

It did not take all the pain away…no…for pain is not a part of darkness…but the darkness…the deep black that blinded our eyes from seeing beyond the moment…was gone.

And as I sat…quietly thinking of the road that I had travelled in the dark…I realized that it is true.

Had it not been for the darkness…I could never have rejoiced as I do now in the breaking forth of the sunrise.

Had there not been moments when…by faith…I held on to what I knew was there but could not see…the sunrise would be but commonplace and ordinary.

It was then I realized that:

“We can only appreciate the miracle of a sunrise if we have waited in the darkness.” ~unknown

My Maker has promised that every dark night has an end.

There will be a sunrise…a glorious…beautiful sunrise someday.

It might seem like the night will never end. Perhaps some of us…Pakistani thinks that they’ll only see the glorious dawning in the place where He makes all things beautiful...all wrongs right...but let me asure you that the morning will come.

The darkest is before the dawn.

Just hold on a little longer…my dear country-fellow because the morning is coming…and the sunrise will be worth it all.

Last Portrait of Mother !

This article I read in "THE NEWS" of 4th July 2010 by Umber Khairi. And I just cant get the spell of it out of me even now...it says like that...



"A portrait of a corpse has won this year's British National Portrait Award.

Dephne Todd's "Last portrait of Mother ", depicts her recently deceased mother, painted in the refrigerated room of a funeral parlour. It is a strange portrait; the subject is dead and frail and her skin is pale and yellow, yet the painting manages to evoke a sense of life and morality.

Painted on two canvases put together as a sort of step formation, the portrait is neither very large nor very overpowering but it does have the quality of staying with you long after you have actually viewed it, and it does resonate in one's memory.

The portrait is almost like one of those 17th centuary still life works, which incorporate a sense of decay into an artistic composition - with fruits rotting or worms crawling into the picture's space. But there is no rotting in this portrait; here the emphasis is on the fragility and frailty of the old person's body. As you look at it, you think of people - especially PARENTS - who you are unable to really help as age sinks them into the physical deterioration and plonks them on to a sickbed where you can but stroke their hand or prop up their pillows.

There has been some adverse reaction to the pertrait. While some people have found it macabre, others have criticised Todd for "exploiting" her 100-year old mother in death.

But Todd says her mother gave her permission to do the portrait last year, and some people talk of the pisture as a "devotional portrait."

The actual picture is not very good in visiblity as I took it from my mobile from the newspaper. I search the websites but couldn't get the picture.

Anyhow, I dowloaded another picture by Dephne Todd :

Dame Janet Abbott Baker
by Daphne Toddoil on board,
198736 in. x 24 in. (914 mm x 610 mm)

Given by Daphne Todd, 1988NPG 5987

I know I am afraid....to loose my mother. It is a universal truth that we all have to die one day but seeing someone aging and dying especially when the one is your parent is so....so....sad.

I am not ready to let her go. I am not ready to even think about letting her go. I am not ready to live without her. I am not ready to see or feel or meet without her. I am not ready to progress in life without her. I am not at all ready to age without her.

I am not ready....at all....hmmmm......

Golden Era !

Literary imagination is an aesthetic object offered by a writer to a lover of books.

.

There were times when I used to envy my brothers because they can go outside late night almost midnight to get the books from the street corner libraries.

.
Sometimes, when I blackmail them by crying and sobbing they took me too.

.
It was almost 3 X 4 space under some apartments’s step.

.

And it consists usually Ibn-e-Safi’s books.

.

The librarian was a young man of 21 years…may be.

.

And he was famous of his being so stick on returning the books. His name was Sagheer Bhai.
.

The Library got some rules:

.

1: You cant take more than three books at a time.
2: If it is a new book of Ibn-e-Safi , you cant keep it more than two days with you.
3: Only on returning the books you already have, can take the new books.
.

If you violet any of the above rules, librarian has the rights to cancel your membership.

.

My brother got the membership of the library by paying only 25 rupees.
.

That library served as a meeting point too.

.

After the long hectic day Karachi-est meet there and talked about so many things from politics to games…from cinema to religion.

.

The library was so small that no one can stand in it.

.

Librarian has the list hanged out the door and everyone used to search his required books and then order it to Librarian.

.

He used to go inside and take out the books for the readers.
.

It has few benches and pews outside on which people used to sit and entertain themselves with the hot discussions of that time.

.

And then it became a fashion to young boys to establish a library soon after they are old enough to manage it.
.

“I tried to establish one too….” Shafique Sahib said with twinkle in his eyes.

.

I have noticed so many times that whenever people talked about their childhood…they got twinkle in their eyes.
.

“ Well….soon after when I collected 100 books, I didn’t wait and asked my father to let me open my own library.” He goes on with smile on his face.

.

“Then I clean the garage and place my 100 books there but as I was only 9 years old I had no idea of how to lend books and didn’t asked for any deposits to safe my books from stealing or “never returning” lead to once given never returned scenario.

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And soon in almost three to four days my all books were gone with no idea where and who had took them.
.

This gives my father opportunity to close down my library”.

.

hmmm….I am sorry to hear that Shafique Sahib…you have my deepest sympathies.
.

My beloved husband told me that he followed one of his uncle one day, as he was fond of him and found him always missing from home in evenings.

.

One day when he went to meet his uncle and didn’t found him asked about him and was told that he can find his uncle at Nagan Chourangi on such store.
.

When he reached there he learned that his uncle owns the small library and was busy in reading.

.

His uncle refused to meet my beloved husband as it was his reading time and asked him to come some other time.
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“Uncle has such a small libaray but I saw people coming and taking books from him.”

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The fashion…or the custom or the pattern of having these small libraries starts when Ibn-e-Safi has started writing for young generations.
.

His books were so famous and so very acceptable to the common mass of the Pakistan that the craving to have his books read led so many people to open up such libraries.

.

I can only imagine that golden era when all the city were full of such small libraries and young

generation was so into the reading habit.

.

The failure to read good books both enfeebles the vision and strengthens our most fatal tendency—the belief that the here and now is all there is.

Kaghazi Phool !

Yeh loag pathar kay dil hain jin kay
Numaish-e-rang mein hain dubay

Yeh kaghazi phool jaisay chahray mazaaq uraate hain aadmi ka
Inhay kaash koi yeh bata day maqam ooncha hai saadgi ka

Inhain bhala zakham ki khabar kiya-Teer chaltay hoyee nahi dekha
Udaas aankho mein arzoo-Kaa khol zaltay hoye nah dekha

Andhera chaya hooa hai in kay aage haseen ghaflat ki roshnee ka

Yeh gulshan mein jab gaye hain bahar hi lootne gaye hain
Jahan gaye hain yeh do dilon ka karar hi lootne gaye hain

Hai dil dukhana hi in ka shaiwa inhe na ahsas ab hai kisi ka

Mein jhoot ki jagmaati mehfil mein aaj sach boolne laga hoon
Mein ho kay majboor apne geeton mein zehr phir gholnay laga hoon

Yeh zehr phir mita day nasha gharoor mein doobi zindagi kaa

Yeh kaghazi phool jaisay chahray mazaaq uraate hain aadmi ka
Inhay kaash koi yeh bata day maqam ooncha hai saadgi ka


***************************


There is nothing quite as painful as going to a holiday party full of five hundred people dressed in aptly stiff suits and grand clothes.

I saw them and talked with them and they responded to and in turn asked questions.

So they seemed like they were human.

They breathed...hmmm

They ate....hmmm

And I assume they had pulses...too...

But beyond their trite quips…intellectual banter and plastered smiles….

I wondered…was there anything more?

Were they really human?

It was amazing.

These "people" "Kaghazi phool" they were completely hollow.

Empty walking things that appeared to be humans...but were in fact not.

Is this what greed…lying…cheating and disloyalty did to a person?

Suck their souls and leave only a collection of self-important anecdotes in the husk of their former selves?

In one of the more interesting five-second conversations…one of the seemingly human things shook my hand and asked…"What may I ask is your name?"

"HR" I replied…forcing a smile.

"Ah HR" she replied,

"What a remarkable name!"

"hmm....thanks," I replied...thinking it was quite unremarkable.

I looked around the lawn and realized the gray-haired woman probably never encountered HR before otherwise she must have long ago moved forward.

After five or six-hundred of these short conversations…I realized my initial conclusions were correct.

But I became even more curious.

How did they do it?

Were they really this vapid….through-and-through?

Were they at one point…real humans who became the un-dead?

Or were these real humans posing as the un-dead posing as humans to blend in with the un-dead?

Soon…the mind-numbing effect of the party coupled with the numbing loud music gave way to a headache.

I was feeling pain -- this meant I was alive.

This meant I was at least human....ohh....how can I prevent myself to become "kaghazi phool"???

World within Me !

"...I may not be able to change the world

I see around me....

...but...

I can change the way I see the world..

..within me."

During the conflict of facebook I talked not to so much but few colleagues and found them incredibly unaware of the severity of the issue.

They shut me up by talking about "Freedom of Speech" and "Liberal act".

Once or twice I did think about it in my heart but than again that anger grow out of me from no where but I am definite it was deep in my heart.

This issue is bigger than so called Freedom of Speech and Liberalism.

This issue is bigger than us and our so called community in which we find pleasures and have freedom to meet anyone anytime.

It is not because I am showing off or over reacting or exaggerating the issue.

For God sake...we can't even think about drawing the picture of Muhammad (pbuh) and people are asking us to draw his (pbuh) cartoons?

I have decided to quit facebook as soon as Pakistan take back the ban from it. Though I can access it from my office but I want to do it when it has no ban on it at all.

Besides all its breaching of personal information and giving away the personal names or addresses to the advertisement companies...

I am quite firmed about deleting my account and I want to mark it on account of their failure of providing us (Muslim) the security and facilities to participate in the community without the danger of being attacked on our faith or believes.

It is advised by Allah as well to quit the company of those who don't talk nicely with you or taunt you on your faith even if they are your friends or family.

People might think of me as fanatic or hypocrite but I will let them cause I dam care what they think because I know they don't have time to think about me at all.

Talking about Migration of Muslims from Mecca to Medina or Migration of Muslims from India to Pakistan.

I think we are on same state and our turn has come to decide whether to remain where we get birth or have our childhood memories or to left the place to find new place where I may find better options to fulfill my needs and carry on with my beliefs easily and with freedom.

I know its quite a difficult position....cause I have been through this situation for few times in my life.

When my father has to leave one place to other because of his postings from one city to other in job. We had to pack up and to leaving so many things behind sometimes made me so sad. We couldn't make friends easily because we didn't know how much time we going to spend at one place and thus was afraid to make any strong relationship with any stranger.

So most of the time I remain stranger to so many girls in the class and to teachers. I never collected so many things because most of the time my mother has to leave things behind cause of the heavy weight of suit cases.

But now I think that situation was much better as we already knew that sooner or later we had to go.

What about those who didn't know about leaving and suddenly - they have to.

And most hateful part is that you want to migrate because of anger or threat either of your life or your faith....hmm...means they didn't have any choice.

They travelled long way on the red hot sand with no water and tree in sight. They travelled without money or food with them.

Most of them were poor and nobody has promised them for the good future where ever they were going but they continued...what was the force driving them was the love of their beloved (pbuh).

Most of them were weak and illiterate and they always listen to what their heart has to say to them...they always let their heart talk to them...they never shut their ears from their heart and thus their heart demanded to leave the place where they cant find peace and freedom.

They found peace in taking Allah name and talking about HIM. They find peace standing behind or besides HIS messenger(pbuh).

They first time taste love and care from SOMEONE who had been always upon them but they never tried to see or seek.

Allah has granted them the art of reasoning of facts and figures but they didn't tried that art before. They had forget and don't know how to revive whatever they had forgotten.

Messenger(pbuh) bring their memory back to them. And they understands the reasons of being lowest of low.

Messenger (pbuh) told them how to praise and make ALLAH happy.

Did he (pbuh) asked anything in return? Did he ever commanded or asked for any favour? His(pbuh) shyness and humility made him (pbuh) more famous and everyone come closer to him (pbuh) once came in contact.

What give them surety that if they leave their birth place and went to where their beloved(pbuh) gone would be the good decision?

No one ! But they continued...why because they loved him (pbuh).

And thus the love of (pbuh) brought peace and tranquility to muslims of Medina and migrants of Mecca.

I am not sure how I am gonna relate my leaving "facebook", as I don't have anywhere else to go. It is like I am out of sphere of world and now I am out of gravity. It is up to the space now where it took me and what planet it land me.

But I am not afraid cause 1) I am doing it cause of my faith and beliefs; 2) I respect my beloved Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) and don't want any company where I may find people making fun of him (pbuh); 3) My heart told me to do so...

hmm... So I am quiting facebook : http://www.quitfacebookday.com/

Muhammad (pbuh) - the Greatest !

If greatness of purpose,
smallness of means
and astounding results

are the three criteria of human genius, who could dare to compare any great man in modern history with Muhammad (pbuh) ?

The most famous men created arms, laws and empires only. They founded, if anything at all, no more than material powers which often crumbled away before their eyes.

This man Muhammad (pbuh) moved not only armies, legislation, empires, peoples and dynasties, but millions of men; and more than that the altars, the gods, the religions, the ideas, the beliefs and the souls.

On the basis of a Book, every letter of which has become law, he (pbuh) created a spiritual nationality which blended together peoples of every tongue and of every race...

The idea of the unity of God, proclaimed amidst the exhaustion of fabulous theologies, was in itself such a miracle that upon its utterance from his(pbuh) lips it destroyed all the ancient superstitions....

His(pbuh) endless prayers, his(pbuh) mystic conversations with God, his(pbuh) death and his (pbuh) triumph after death: all these attest not to an imposture but to a firm conviction which gave him(pbuh) the power to restore a dogma.

This dogma was twofold, the unity of God and the immateriality of God; the former telling what God is, the latter telling what God is not...

...."Philosopher, Orator, Apostle, Legislator, Warrior, Conqueror of Ideas, Restorer of rational beliefs, of a cult without images; the founder of twenty terrestrial empires and of one spiritual empire, that is Muhammad (pbuh).

As regardless all standards by which human greatness may be measures, we may well ask, is there any man greater than he(pbuh) ?

(Lamartine, Historie de la Turquie, Paris 1854, Vol II pp. 276 - 277)