I just cannot stop laughing…

Ashley Simpson whose song ‘pieces of you’ was enough for me to decide never to lend my ears to her brand of music, ‘allegedly’ had a nose job done. I am using the word allegedly because she has refused to be forthright about it.

When asked if she had indeed had a nose job done, she giggled and said:’ Maybe…who knows’.

Who knows? How can someone’s nose come in contact with a sharp object, modify the way they appear forever and not know anything about it. I mean come on!!! At her age, even the tiniest of pimples doesn’t go unnoticed.

The things people say in public!

I am working on a documentary about the repatriation program of Afghanis. While working on the script, I started thinking how much can a person’s life change. Living in Islamabad, I have come across many afghanis. Back when I was in school, I remember this old afghani lady who used to pick paper out of garbage cans. She used to be dressed in this big frock and used to come to our place quite often. My mother used to make lunch for her to eat and she would sit in our porch and try conversing with ammi and me in her broken urdu. One thing I distinctly remember is that she always kissed my mother’s hands before she got up to leave. I was in my pre-teens and couldn’t quite understand why she was like that. Ammi always told me to be kind to her and any other afghani I came across because she said they were ‘uprooted’ and ‘lost’.

Years later, I remember I was in college and going somewhere with bhai. We stopped at a traffic signal and this little afghani boy jumped in front of our car and saluted my brother. He was really cute so my brother called out to him and asked him where he was from. I still remember him sayin that he was from kachi abadi (a mud house village). My brother asked him again which country he belonged to…and he replied kachi abadi was his country. For the first time I understood why my mother called that woman uprooted and lost.

His was a generation without an identity.

Though I didn’t get to go for hiking as I had wanted to, I did however have a really great weekend. Just to be on the safe side, I went shopping after I left office and bought myself Richard Nixon’s book ‘In the arena’ and a ‘Gone with the Wind’ DVD. On my way home, I asked Sana to meet me for a walk as we have not gone for one in a while now. The weather was simply beautiful. It had rained a little earlier and the light wind was just what was needed. We started our walk and right in the middle of the track, it started pouring again. Sana and I took shelter under a canopy and enjoyed the rain till it stopped and out came a beautiful rainbow.

I started reading In the Arena in the evening and found the book better written than Bill Clinton’s. I am not finished with the book but I found some very stimulating lines. Here’s one passage I particularly liked.

‘Defeats are poison to some men. Great men have become mediocre because of inability to accept a defeat. Many men have become great because they were able to rise above defeat. If you should achieve any kind of success and develop superior qualities as a man, the chances are it will be because of the manner in which you meet the defeats that will come to you as they come to all men’.

I watched first half of Gone with the Wind on Saturday night. It’s a long movie alright! I have not read Margaret Mitchell’s book but from what I had read and heard of Scarlett O’ Hara’s character as someone to be simply ‘hated’. While I was watching the movie, for some reason, I saw her as someone who though consumed of love for another man, was more in control of herself and adaptable to her circumstances than anyone else around. True she didn’t have Melanie Wilkes’ gentleness but if she had, she would not have survived the series of blows she and her family received. Her character to me seemed like it was a lil’ ahead of it’s time. Though, I do think she was rather foolish in one way. While she realized the importance of money as a necessity to ensure a comfortable life, she totally overlooked the importance of her family and Rhett.

I absolutely love the character of Rhett Butler. Formulated on the adage that ‘reformed rakes make the best husbands’ Rhett was certainly a good husband and a great father. He was interesting and charming and though his character was given to making money in anyway possible, I think he was more honest than any other character in the movie.

I’ve been a fan of Errol Flynn, Jimmy Cagney, Humphrey Bogart and Clarke Gable since I started watching old Hollywood movies on TNT. I only wish I had watched ‘Gone with the Wind’ a long time back. It is certainly a masterpiece!.

A human mind really is a very wonderful thing. It think about complex issues, work non-stop, often even in our sleep and when you think that you will write it all down…it goes blank.

Yesterday, Abu and Shan were not home and Bhai and I felt very lethargic so we watched movies. First we watched ‘Force 10 of Navarone’, an old Harrison Ford War movie and then ‘Shall we dance’. The latter though a typical Hollywood movie, contained something that got me thinking. It was cheesy but it sounded right. The question I have been asking myself for quite sometime now …why do people get married?

Here’s the quote from the movie that made some sense…

“We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

Like I said, it’s cheesy. But really, is this why people get married? Because in someway, we are all seeking immortality through another person, so that no matter how we live our life, we have not gone down the lane alone!

After watching the movie I offered my prayers while Shan and Abu came home in the meantime. I was dead tired but Shan was not! Next thing I know he had persuaded me to a game of chess. I could very well have been playing my first game of chess considering my troops were massacred!

Weekend’s here and i really have nothing planned. I don’t have a book to read, or a movie to watch or go anywhere in particular. If I am really lucky, Shan will take me hiking tomorrow. I really want to go…it’s just been too long.

Shan’s here!!!

Finally after months, 5 of our family of six are under one roof and InshaAllah Aban will be here as well in June. Twenty more days inshaAllah till we are all together.

Abu hasn’t been feeling very well lately. The past ten days have been especially trying as his work hours have stretched incredibly what with the final budget days. This has taken a toll on him and his health. Yesterday, after Shan, Abu and I offered our Maghrib prayers, I saw my father struggling to get on his feet. The idea of my very energetic father having to make an effort simply to get up is simply nerve wrecking. While for parents the concept of their kids growing up is pure joy, the mere thought of seeing one’s parents grow old is just too painful.

I can’t help but wonder how our lives change. Despite the fact that I hardly see any changes in our day to day life, it still is altered every day irrevocably. How the daily stagnation results into a lifetime of changes is beyond comprehension.

My brother Shan has changed too. Although, as a sister I love both bhai and shan very much and admire them too for their achievements, I respect them for totally different reasons. While Bhai was always calm and mature, Shan was the one always getting into trouble. He was truly the youngest of the family with his list of demands. Now, while bhai has his set of achievements professionally and academically under his belt MashaAllah, I see Shan as someone who has taken brave decisions to be the man I know inshaAllah he is going to be. He has grown a beard, is offering his prayers diligently, stopped listening to music and instead has downloaded the Quran on his MP3 player. And most of all, he has truly learnt the message of Islam. He has learnt to control his temper, has become more respectful towards my parents and Bhai, he’s been here a week almost and hasn’t once picked on his food. Only months back, potatoes and legumes were the total constituents of his diet. Now, he eats whatever Ammi cooks. No more tantrums. I am MashaAllah very proud of him.

And it makes me wonder, while my younger brother has taken such leaps in his life as a person, why have I deteriorated? What is stopping me from becoming the person I always wanted to be?

Tomorrow is 19th May. I associate this day with two of the finest people I knew. My nana ji and Saddy’s father. Nana ji passed away five years ago and Saddy’s dad last year. I can write a lot about both of them. But I truly don’t think I can. I know that the love my nana ji gave me and the kindness saddy’s dad showed me is simply unparalleled. They are part of my prayers everyday…and I wish I could have learnt more from them.

Have you ever loved someone very much without ever really knowing what that person meant to you?
Have you ever taken the love and blessings coming your way completely for granted?
Have you ever thought that someone will always be a constant in your life?
Have you ever thought that the love and smiles will never fade?
And have you ever thought that someone like that will never leave you?

Today is the 9th of May and I miss my Nani very very much. It’s been two years and somehow, every time I think of going to my mamoo’s place, I think of my nana ji sitting in his usual place with his dog and my nani in her usual place with her hands stretched in my direction, eager to take me in her arms.

My problem was that I never thought they would leave. They were my constants. They were always there when I went to meet them, always enthusiastic, always excited to see me. I never thought that I would ever lose them.

I remember very vividly the last evening I spent with my Nani. She was ill and in the hospital. Both my brothers were in the Karachi, and dad was in Vietnam. I thought my nani was just ill and that she will be alright in no time. And I sat by her side, telling her jokes and singing her Punjabi songs. She used to laugh at my jokes and smiled constantly while I sang. I believe it was more out of her love for me, than either my sense of humor or my voice for that matter. And that is the kind of love I never understood and now it’s too late.

Sometimes, when I am down and I feel nothing is going right, I wonder if it’s happening because my nani isn’t around to pray for me.

I wish that she was still alive so she could see her grandchildren married. She wanted to see her grandchildren married. Before she passed away, she collected wedding presents for all her grandchildren and their spouses. Bhai & Aban got theirs. I wonder what she left me. I wonder if I will ever find out.

Last night, after my maghrib prayers, I sat and prayed for her especially. I know she isn’t here but I will still celebrate her life because I know, she is one person who lived her life to the fullest. And that is the legacy she left me.

"let me be sobered by the sameness of life here, let me be soothed and made ready, so that I may learn to do my duty without haste." And again he fell to listening to the silence, expecting nothing--and at the same time constantly expecting something; the silence enfolded him on all sides, the sun moved calmly in the peaceful blue sky, and the clouds sailed calmly across it; they seemed to know why and whither they were sailing. At this same time in other places on the earth there is the seething, the bustle, the clash of life; life here slipped by noiseless, as water over marshy grass; and even till evening Lavretsky could not tear himself from the contemplation of this life as it passed and glided by; sorrow for the past was melting in his soul like snow in spring, and strange to say, never had the feeling of home been so deep and strong within him.
--Turgenev

I have a question.
Can a person get through life without asking any questions?
Sometimes I think I was born to question. I was born to doubt and maybe not in a very good way. Yesterday, I was talking to Hassan. He’s my only friend who even when I am not depressed, which is rare, is trying to cheer me up. So he was on his usual ‘don’t doubt yourself’ track. I told him that I want to doubt because it’s the only thing that guarantees an education. He said a person should doubt only to become certain of something.
How do you know that? How do you know you can be certain of something unless you question it?
I sometimes think that InshaAllah, on the day of judgment, Allah forgives me and admits me to Heaven…I will only ask that I be allowed to sit with Him and ask him all the questions that I possibly can. Given the multitude of questions I have, I think an eternity will be enough.
A couple of days back, we were recording one of our current affairs program and I was asked to participate in it. The program features various political parties and the audience is allowed to ask questions. In this particular episode, former Prime Minister of Pakistan, Ch. Shujaat Hussain was present with his party members. During the show, the head of Public Complaints Department was asked a question regarding internal accountability system. In reply, he made this statement.
‘A political party should not be confused with a disciplinary force’.
Now, this sounded absurd to me and I got up and questioned him, that for all political parties in all parts of the world, the common objective is to bring about reforms for the betterment of the nation. And in my opinion, discipline and reform mean the same thing…just that discipline sounds a little harsh. How can a party represented by a former prime minister make such a statement whereby they consider themselves absolved of the first and foremost duty of any political party? No wonder Army considers itself entitled to bringing about some iota of discipline in the country.
This obviously didn’t go too well with the person I had put the question to. I guess all questions are not good enough to be asked.
Yesterday, Yasir sahib, whom I mentioned sometime back in my blogs, and I sat down to analyze videos of the Pakistani Band’ Strings’. Yasir is currently engaged in producing a Documentary on the phenomenal success of Strings. I believe Strings to be the most prolific band in Pakistan. They made their impact when people didn’t even know Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. They were the first Pakistani band to have their song aired on MTV, the first to have their song featured on the sound track of a major Hollywood Production—Spiderman II. And they haven’t burned out. it was interesting exploring the little nooks and corners of each video, analyzing the concept and editing procedures. I wish I can do this more often. Questioning and exploring creativity is more stimulating than anything else.

It’s working! It’s working!! The ban has been lifted!!! I LIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just when I had convinced my boss and his producer to plan a show on this ban placed on Blogspot…it has started working. I can read my thoughts now!

Which believe me, did not prove to be a very good prospect since I have decidedly been down these past couple of weeks. Thus a perusal of my posts makes me question how easily I let things get to me.

Since, blogger was inaccessible and I figured I spent too much of my free time doing absolutely nothing productive…I searched online and found this amazing online library. Now, the wisdom of Aesop, the Brilliance of Oscar Wilde, the insight of Turgenev, the elegance of Jane Austen, the intensity of Dostoevsky, the feminism of Virginia Woolf and the timeless intelligence of Homer, are just one click away.

Ever since I discovered this website, I have been reading and reading and reading. I’ve read Austen’s Persuasion, Machiavelli’s Prince and am about to start ‘the art of war’, have re-read Oscar Wilde’s ‘the picture of Dorian Grey’ and am nearly done with Turgenev’s ‘the house of gentlefolk’.

Sana told me something the other day that really touched me. When I was teaching a lifetime ago in beacon house, one of my students that I really liked was Zainab Zaman. Zainab was generally referred to as ‘the hell raiser’ by the faculty. Probably because unlike most girls her age, she wasn’t concerned with looking good, was smart enough to know her mind and determined enough to get what she wanted. I guess, she could have been difficult with me as well, but I like girls like that. I guess, probably because I understood her, she respected me. And much to everyone’s surprise, she who was a habitual back bencher, started sitting in the front row in class and when someone tried to distract me, she actually told them to shut up and pay attention. Needless to say, teaching her was a pleasure.

It did get me into trouble because she was bright and as soon as she started paying attention to her lessons, she started securing top grades in Economics. So students and some teachers thought I was giving her good grades because she was my favorite. She was, I don’t deny it. But I only gave her the grades she deserved. This attitude on the school faculty’s part made me reconsider teaching. I eventually left b/c I got this offer from Aaj that I just couldn’t refuse.

Now after this whole preamble, I can narrate what happened that touched me. Zainab’s class is graduating this summer and in their farewell assembly, despite the fact that I don’t teach there anymore, haven’t for two years, Zainab thanked me in the assembly for being someone who recognized the person she truly is. She didn’t have to, but she did anyway. And that means a lot.

I still haven’t heard from FPSC. The case I guess is still pending. I am not very enthusiastic about civil service but nine months training in Lahore sounds exciting. Let’s see where the winds of change take me.

Today brought with it the first rain of summers. The drizzle started around evening but it didn’t last long. However it lasted long enough for me catch quite a few raindrops.

But that is not what makes this evening extraordinary. Tonight’s sky is full of contrasts. I was, as usual on the roof for offering my Maghrib sala’at. After offering my prayers, I sat down on a chair, looking at the sky. I love this place because if offers a spectacular panorama. Since it had rained earlier, the sky on the Murree side was quite clear and I could see the lights shining bright on the Murree hills.
On the Margalla hills, I could see a summer fire, illuminating its part of the sky. The fire, even from this distance, looked menacing as I could see the flames leaping up and down in the sky, trying to lick all that it could.
Smoke rising from the fire engulfed a fair part of the mountains. It spread as far as the Faisal Mosque whose minarets are visible from my home. The smoke covered the lights of Pir Sohawa, which too are very visible in the evening.
When I looked up, I saw the moon shining. Yes, I guess there’s still some romance left between us. It still pays me a visit every now and then in my window and I acknowledge it as a beautiful stranger. I could see big dipper, the first shape in the sky I learnt to recognize. It was the same sky, the same moon, the same stars, the same wind blowing the clouds and smoke about…but a very different me.
Towards the western part of the sky, I could see lightening, clouds ready to pour, winds playing in the sky like nymphs.
It was a sky of contrasts…carrying in it so many aspects of existence…the beauty, the danger, the hope, the immaculate, the blemished, the fear, the possibility, the challenge, the tension, the passion…I could see everything I felt in my life, in the sky.