Requiem for the Vertical Man

To be dead is to escape accountability; no more squinting into fold-out maps to make a living, in apprehension and fear, for the errors and failings don't cling to you the way they did back home.

Good old days with life giving order to the unshaped and the un-orderly, creating constellation within and around its many followers, with the entire mechanism of the host geared to accommodate the travelers adrift across continents and languages, floaters wrapped in the dull overbearing gaze of a sound thought.

A case of freedom boiling down to a pattern, a level and a norm; when to reach out to the man next to you, the buddy floater, was to violate the rules of the constellation within and without; and would he ever get to hear you, and in which language?

That is the mathematics of individuality wearing itself out, burning down to sheer multiplication of seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades; each withholding a broader freedom within a nutshell.

Take a picture along now if you will; bring it down with you if it serves anything at all. Make it vertical, clad in fabrics making waves, now mere ripples silhouetted in memory.

This post was originally published at 6S, the writer's community site.
URL: http://sixsentences.ning.com/profiles/blogs/requiem-for-the-vertical-man

DOUBLE STANDARD

Note: "TARIQ MIAN" is one of the CONTRIBUTORS to this Blog titled "Thinking"

 

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Double Standard

Our beloved Pakistan is infested with hypocrites

Allama Iqbal's vision of Pakistan never came true because of the  mysterious death of the FOUNDING FATHER followed by the assassination of Prime Minister Liaqat Ali Khan (by the anti pakistan elements) four years later.

Due to its orphanage so early, the struggling nation failed to flourish. Sixty Five years later, the left over portion of the tarnished country is in the deepest trouble and is struggling desperately to stay afloat - but the crook captain and his loyal cronies are the major hurdle.

"Sorry Mr Jinnah! we didn't follow your sayings."

We apologise Allama Sahib! for bringing Pakistan very close to the verge of disaster through electing the goofs and for letting the most corrupt rogue regime continue.

Buying and selling of votes for both the National Assembly and the Senate  has been the norm for the sham democracy; hence, there is no room left for a level playing field. 

Indeed the country has very huge reserves of gold and coal and a lot of other natural resources, yet there is moral  bankruptcy, administrative paralysis and sub-standardard governance.

The sucking rulers are either too naive or playing real vampire to suck till the last drop of national blood is gone. 

As soon as the country's lifeline  dries out, the vultures would  prey upon the remainder left over dead portion.

The patriots need to stand up as it's never too late to get back on the right track through a positive change for the better. The people must come out for democrtically choosing the good ones (honest and efficient candidates) and rid the country of large population of ruling vampires. Then would come the good news of appropriate governance in the best interest of the country and its people.

BUT remember the "Feudality Cleansing" is  the pre-requisite. LONG LIVE PAKISTAN

Romance

Hello everyone. I'm Hamza and this is the first time I'm doing a guest post on any blog. And I am thankful to HR for providing the opportunity and honor of writing a post for her amazing blog. Given this is my first time, please ignore all the mishaps and blunders. :)

_____________________________________________

It's extremely hard to live in Pakistan and ignore the problems this nation is facing. Even if you manage to avoid the news channels and the papers, everyday life makes one ponder upon the numerous problems of  the country. From the poor streets to the majestic palaces, Pakistan is submerged in a sea of issues. 

Naturally, in such a condition everyone is an intellectual/thinker/philosopher OR pretends to be one. Everyone comes up with their own solution for the problems. Different people, different opinions. According to some 'corrupt politicians' are behind all the problems and for some everything's a 'Jewish conspiracy'. You know what I mean.. We are not even clearly decided what is the reason behind all this chaos.  

Likewise, I have my own opinion about it, too. I believe that it is the lack of romance which is behind it all. Wait, don't get me wrong! I surely do NOT mean the kind of romance we witness in Indian films or Pakistani parks. I mean the 'other kind of romance'.

I suppose I'll be rather incoherent now. Because I've no idea how to make myself clear. Nevertheless I'll give it a try. I mean the type of romance Iqbal did, Rumi did. The romantic romance. To think of the impossible in a hapless situation. To think and believe in things that seem totally out of the question at that time.

We have to inject some romance into our lives. We've got to stop asking questions like ,"How can this happen?"  "Kaisey theek hungye halaat?" We've got to BELIEVE. Because belief is even more important than work. Than anything.

I think Pakistan, this world need romance, romantic notions and romantic people. Not everything is math, somethings are supposed to be like that. 

Stupid yet meaningful. Romantic yet practical.
What do you think?

Faith

Thus they died without severe struggle…

hmm....resigned….trusting in God…

thankful for release from a suffering life…deeply assured that a better existence lay before them….

They from the joining of force seemed preparing for an early death…

The incident happened on 7 April 2012, in which 139 soldiers and civilians were trapped under a huge mass of snow.

The intrepid troops of the Pakistan Army continued the search and rescue operations day and night and have finally succeeded to dig out dead bodies of two martyred soldiers have been recovered by search teams in Gayari Sector, Siachen.

Although I had an idea that there can’t be anyone living in there under the huge burden of ice...hmm...even then I prayed so long for the rescuers to find living soldiers.

But all of the hopes fade away when I heard the news last night.

They all were human being…sent in this world to have a family…life…and they did have it…but their departing without saying goodbye is unbearable.

This is the worst your loved one can do…they can die anytime without saying you goodbye.

So be careful about your loved ones…if you have anything good to share with them...share it now…it may be your last chance. 

I salute all the martyrs of Gayari Sector, Siachen.

May Allah rest their soul in peace…Ameen.

Every Writer’s Room

1.

Under the pretext of writing, every writer worth his salt has come to know himself through the greater pain that drove him, the ever blind literary godhead oblivious of the pain of the underdog at its disposal, all the while knowing little of it as the hammer does of the nail.

Zoom in to read if you may, and you would know that every writer but strives to write his own epitaph, the glorious finale that will outlive the skin and bones, because who knows it better than a writer that how much has been forgotten in the name of remembrance.

Memory that finds itself on the paper, however inaccurate, is infinitely superior to a truth unknown, an over settlement of grievances between a sterile truth and the blind propensity that drives to bleed on the sheet of paper.

All writers want a thousand pages that will tear this planet in half, more halves the merrier.

2.

Under the guise of writing, there is a cold calculating act of telling people who they really are, to make them choke on their convictions, dissolve the molecules fretting about in their brains.

Most writers think better in the sunniest hours of their every day life, because that’s when the show is on at its incredulous best. Every man caught on the mystery camera, a victim of his surrounding, wary dissatisfied soul in civility and in rage against the reason of his age.

Reflections against the window view of every writer’s room and nothing more, with every man on the street being a well known superstition in abundance, offering a higher form of poetry, more in motion than in verse.

This post was originally published at 6S, the writer's community site.

URL: http://sixsentences.ning.com/profiles/blogs/every-writer-s-room

If The Stone Sinks ...

We visited Khewra Salt Mines two weeks back.There we saw a mysterious lake,about which our guide said, " Throw a stone into it. If it sinks , your wish will some true! " It was a joke. Lake water in Khewra Mines is laden with high amounts of salt , increasing its surface gravity so much so that its impossible to drown a human, let alone a stone.I wrote a little poem about it.

Before you let your
tempest thunder
and
shower me with
cold-hearted censures;

Throw
as if by accident,

few words of love
as lifebuoy
as salt,
to keep me 

from drowning.

 -S.H

                                                        Posted From Sunrays

Dark Place

I am sorry if I don't make any sense here. Took the inspiration from Ursula K. Le Guin.

Success is somebody else’s failure...hmm.....

I want to talk about failure.

I want to tell you simply that I am failed.

Because I am a human being and failure was inevitable.

I met disappointment....injustice....betrayal...and irreparable loss...because simply I am a human being.

I find myself weak where I thought myself strong.

I worked for possessions and then find they possess me.

I find myself - - as I know I already have - - in dark place...alone...and afraid.

What I hope for now....only I can be able to live there...in the dark place.

As a woman....that dark place is the only house I can own without any other fight. I have my own room there.

In that dark place I am no more foreign....I am the native of that dark place.

I hoped I am never victims..hmm....but I have no power over other people.

And when I failed giving someone else a big success....and defeated....and in pain....and in the dark...then I remembered that darkness is my country....where I live and this gave me smile.

My roots are in the dark....the earth is my country.

Why did I look up for blessing -- instead of around....and down?

What hope I have lies there?

Not in the sky full of orbiting spy-eyes and weaponry....but in the earth I have looked down upon.

Not from above...but from below.

Not in the light that blinds...but in the dark that nourishes...where human beings grow human souls.

After all....one day we all have to settle in that dark place. Consider me...I have already accepted it.

Qillet Hee Qillet-wah Zardari sahib wah



Just to begin with, Zardari jee

$600 Million of Pakistani poor people in your Swiss accounts can provide  a quick fix beyond any doubt.

YOUR HIGHNESS,  your nation will be grateful for your action  - to bring back the economic normalcy so that life comes back to the right track.

*******Remember Zardari jee you once said, "Pakistan KHAPPAY."

 

Friendship

It would be good to know whether such thing as friendship actually exists.

hmm....I do not mean the opportunistic pleasure that two people experience in encountering each other when they think the same way about certain things at certain moments of their lives...

When they share the same tasks or the same needs.

I strongly believe...none of that is friendship.

Sometimes I almost believe it is the most powerful bond in life and consequently the rarest.

What is it’s basis?

Sympathy?

A hollow...hmm....empty word....too weak to express the idea that in the worst times two people will stand up for each other.

 Or perhaps it’s something else….perhaps buried deep in every relationship between two people is some tiny spark of erotic attraction.

Here alone in the forest....trying to make sense of life....I thought about that now and then.

Friendship...of course...is quite different from the affairs of those driven by morbid impulses to satisfy themselves in some fashion with others of the same sex.

The eros of friendship has no need of the body…still I am blank.

Photography From CN Tower

This is how the scenic view is when looking from the CN Tower, I hope my audience would like all the following snap shots done by me.

No Title Post !

I woke up and saw a doctor….hovering so near my face that about to touch my nose with his…

"hmm….what happened?"  I said meekly…

Doctor showed me his hand and put out of my face suddenly...

"How many fingers did you see?” the doctor asked. 

“What? You didn't let me count them...hmm...” I said....still dazed….

“hmm….six?” I added.

“Ahh...Close enough” the doctor cheerfully announced ...

“Now stand up and take off your coat”.

I was not  wearing my coat and I quickly pointed it out to him.

“That’s odd” he said....“here....have another drink”

"hmm…this is strange ..since I didn't have a first one yet"....I said meekly again still dazed.

I didn’t recall getting there at all...hmm....

“How did I get here” I asked.

“Never mind that” he answered with glittering eyes getting his big hammer out of his small coat pocket...

“Let’s see what happens after I bang this again on your head”.

And I woke up again.

But I didn't remember when I dozed off....first time...hmmm....strange !

Ready to decide ?

There is a big list of things….which I don't know.

How long...hmm...I don't know for sure.

But it's long.

Very long.

I don't care about my ignorance of mundane facts....like the Earth's circumference at the equator....or who's has been punished by the court and not rendering his resignation…or who is playing in next cricket match.

I leave all this to Google…or…my beloved husband.

What bothers me is that I don't know how the decisions I make today will impact my tomorrows.

When I had my mother I used to ask her everything and always make the decision on her advise…

I don't have confidence on me…my decision making is always…very…hmm…well…what I can say…very improper…

It boggles the mind...sometimes when you have to make a choice and you find yourself all alone to decide...

hmmm...may be I am too childish...to start a life of my own...where I am the master and the solo decision maker.

What should I cook...where should I go for a picnic...what should I wear...these are all little things...and I can decide easily on them...

But decisions like...whom to meet...whom should I be nice with...whom should I avoid...how to keep the family intact together...how to have a positive impact on people and relatives...and where I should be investing my time....are some strong decisions where I always needed my mother's advise...

hmm...and since I don't have her advise now...I am scared to be openly with people and scared to render my decision to them...hmm...

My open decisions  may hurt them....hmm...

Between me and Zainab (My Niece)

She pointed on the bookshelf and asked me…

'Then who wrote those? Poppy Alla'

'hmm….they are Bronte…Wilde..Collins...and… "

“Where they live?” She interrupted…

‘hmm…it does not matter where they live now…dear…’

'Why?' her big...black eyes flashes with astonishment…

'Because they all are dead…dear…so they are with Allah now....'

'You mean all of them…dead…'

I smiled...on her innocence....

'hmm…yes…dear'

'But Poppy Alla whyyy?….' She complained with sudden tremor in her voice…

'hmm….because they lived their life and then they come to an age where Allah want them to….'

'No!' She interrupted again…

'I want to know why you read all the dead people…Poppy Alla?'

hmm...

Broken Circle

HR always wanted to have a small circle of people around her so that she can give her full attention to those who are in her circle
so no one feel that HR is busy and is not paying attention to the relationship..hmm....

And one day someone asked HR how and from where she get the inspiration for her blog post?

And I said…it is easy…when inspiration does not come to me I go to the inspiration...I go to my mother or my beloved husband.

My inspiration was my circle…and thus I revolved around and round and in round.

There were sometimes few other things too in life...work...routine…siblings…colleagues…who gave me little reason to write about them…as well....(sometimes they inspired me so much that I thanked GOD so many times not to have them permanently in my life...hmm) 

But most of my writing revolved around two people.

If I started from my beloved husband...my next stop was my Mother…if I started from my Mother...my next stop was beloved husband again and it was sometimes amaze me so much that how I am managing my blog to just talking about these two people all the time and had never felt chocking with same people… same stories…same life…so much in routine almost robotic.

My mother had an outstanding life story...she didn’t get hardened by the hard work she did all her life…she had a soft heart… a big heart...she had a motto…keep the stomach around you full till the throat.

My pilgrims to her were almost every day…after work…I used to spent my evenings with her…listening to her new plans about family...siblings...house…business…in directly I went to her for the inspiration and she did inspired me.

I learned from her that we should always be fair with people and always pay our duties to the fullest no matter how people treat you.

My beloved husband has a soft...romantic… rather comical existence in my life…I treat him like a pet (I hope he don’t read that)…he inspired me too…sometimes romantically…sometimes comically.

He also has a motto....which I am still trying to have understanding with...

But inspiration from him had never completed itself unless I received the dose from my mother and same went for my mother.

So they both were inter related to each other to provide my pen (rather the key pad) the reason to think…smile…write…and share.

Mother’s passing away...broke down HR’s small circle and now she has to learn new ways to gets the inspiration…writings…sharing.

And she has to add few more stations in her life now.
Few more reason to be inspired with…
Few more people to have common goals…roads…or even common sense(which is indeed not very common) …hmm…

Any suggestions....?

Gotta sell it !

hmm…so my beloved husband again bought what I never ever bought if I had been with him on shopping today…

and I told him...

I have a rule:

The fancier the label...the amusing advertisement on television...the worse is the product.

I made this rule based on the assumption that the more a company spends on..

A) Label design…
B)Television advertisement…
C)Newspapers adds… …

the less they have left over for quality parts...ingredients...manufacturing…or anything else related to the actual product. 

Good products don't need eye-catching gimmicks or advertising to get you to buy them.

You can sell them in a brown paper wrapper if you wanted to.

rant..rant..rant…blah..blah..blah… …

that one day I will even write a book about this…’

He said…’Yeah and you should have an orgy of blood…sex…and explosions on the cover.’ ...

Me...’why would I ?  it would be a book on selecting good stuff for beloved husbands...when they go for shopping alone…’

and he declaim... ‘Hey, gotta sell it, right?’