Tuesday, December 13, 2011

PEACE AND OTHER BULLSHIT!

In the dusty streets of Kabul,
watching the sunset so beautiful,
there was a deadening silence and I wondered, 
"What happened to the Bulbul?"


 If you don’t want peace, well it will still come to you! There is no choice. Today everybody around us seems to be selling peace. They want to make us believe that peace is a fluffy white unicorn with a cute horn in front and who occasionally farts rainbows! They are called “Rainbows of Peace” A part of it is certainly true. The peace they sell is like a unicorn, a fairytale creature which does not exist.

But, the fairytale industry has always been in business and seems like there is no stopping them. They are just too good at it! People however, do get over fairytales. Nowadays it seems that America is selling the biggest fairy tale. Like Captain Planet, it seems to be on a self proclaimed mission of liberating the world. “Certainly world is actually occupied America and it needs to be liberated” read the latest Uncle Sam comic. And ironically all these comics are published under the banner of peace. Peace has been literally torn to pieces! However don’t get confused. The current peace ideology seems so simple. Find a weak defenseless country, bomb it and tear it to pieces so that the bigger bullies can have a piece. The only difference between piece and peace is that of spelling (sensible argument) and it is nowadays portrayed as a typing error.

With the banner of piece so high… hmmm sorry "peace so high" (sometimes it gets really confusing!), all the world seems to be looking towards the heavens and forgetting about what’s happening on earth. They are anticipating the development, liberty, equality, rights… yada… yada…yada… that’s going to come with peace. Peace today is a fully loaded package. It comes with many goodies. Not only one gets to have the peace keepers as his guests, but he also gets to treat and feed them with his resources like oil, agricultural produce, minerals etc. Iraqis, Palestinians and Afghanis seem like the luckiest people of the world! (I am not making anything up, these are the conclusions derived from the definition of peace).

In this year only peace has really changed the world, and the bombing in Pakistan by the NATO (Naturally A Terrorist Organization) seems to have summed it all up! I am really fed up with peace and all other bullshit that is sold. A World War 3 is on the cards. Hardly a few years left for this mega event. Prepare or get perished. Hurry! Limited time offer! Seems like I am off to prepare for World War 3! Are you?

Peace is torn to pieces,
and eaten piece by piece!
And they call it liberation,
then charge the world a fees.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Hajj, Hajjis and Hajeej



All dressed in white,
hearts filled with light,
all long for those blessings,
and that beautiful sight!

So these are the days of Hajj, one of the five pillars of Islam. A lifelong dream of many! People world over arrive in Mecca at this time of the year to perform the holy pilgrimage and so did people from this very of this part of the world. However this part was recently highlighted not for people going but for people who did not go… more on that later… lets first discuss who went there. Well they were all old people… sorry, almost all… or maybe the young looking had dyed their hair. Then they embarked on a journey (I am not talking about Hajj), it’s called the farewell journey where they went to many of the friends and foes and asked for Rukhsati. That done, then others embarked upon a jouney to Mr Would-be-Hajjis home to eat wazwan. Wazwan is their even at the funeral, and you thought it would spare the hajjis, huh! This accomplished, many breeds of people went for Hajj. Someone had worked hard all his life to collect money for this pilgrimage, someone else had waited first to build a house, someone to marry his daughter and some Mr. Smarty Pants had waited all his life so that he can sin to his heart’s content and then come out clean. After all, Allah is all forgiving! Someone even had taken a loan for Hajj!! All of them however boarded the same flight.

But wait! What did they see below from the plane? People same as them, mostly old and some young, with same Rukhsati, same stories, same emotions, and even a person who had taken a loan were protesting. While they had boarded the plane, the protesting mob had been cheated. They were left on ground. Someone had gulped down their money and stolen their dreams. Maybe the thief hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe they were young people who were going for hajj and they did not fulfill the description of the prototype Kashmiri hajji. Maybe he wanted them to wait a couple of years so that they are old enough. But they protested, and rumor has it that the thief has been jailed. After all the authorities are not useless here! And these poor souls are now watching on TV what they could have witnessed live. Maybe some of them will not be alive to go next year (considering their age), buts lets pray they do.

All this drama made me think something’s wrong in here. Even the holy pilgrimage has not been spared. There are a lot of emotions and aspirations attached with this pilgrimage. This is a murder of their dreams and aspirations. Let’s hope this was the first and last of such events.

However these are the blessed days. Really hope someone has prayed for you and me too, and also for the Qurban Kath.

Eid Mubarak!  


These blessed days,
that hopeful gaze,
looking towards the sky,
our Lord we praise!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Fasting (Koushur way)


For the soul that’s ever lasting,
for protection against devils doubt casting,
the Prophet said
“Allah has prescribed fasting”

Now ramadhan is almost over, in fact it will be over within a couple of days. I have heard a lot about the spirit of ramadhan, so much so that my vessel has overflowed with knowledge! Ramadhan is a month when we need to lock our tummies, our mouths too for that matter. Tummies are locked so that we may feel the hunger of the hungry and mouth are shut lest we would speak evil. We are told what the Sahaba used to do in ramadhan and how they used to be. That was the way of the pious, a noble way indeed. But if this was the only way then why have I never seen it anywhere, I wondered.

Bewildered, I asked Jhelum about what he thought regarding this matter and he really enlightened me. He said that although the way of our pious predecessors was the right one, it sure wasn’t the only one. “Haven’t you lived by what is called the koushur way of fasting?”, he asked me. Now that was news for me. Seeing me confused, he educated me regarding this way of fasting. He told me the definition saying that it was coined the day a Kashmiri first fasted. It says, “ When you wake up at sehri and eat so much baete (rice) that your tummy is about to explode and drink so much water that your stomach is swollen, so that you may not feel thirst or hunger for days to come, know that you are ready for fasting. And at the time of iftaar pounce on food as if you are taking revenge for your days hunger.” The definition further states that, “For your fasts to be accepted, it is a prerequisite that your weight at the end of ramadhan must be a few kilos more than what it was before.” And certainly this definition will be incomplete without the mention of meat (otherwise the author would be chopped and eaten by meat lovers). About meat the definition says, “Meat must accompany the baete every time, for fasting will be rendered invalid without it.”(A butcher must have added that part). Now finally huh, I had been enlightened.

After becoming the Buddha (gaining enlightenment) I was on top of the small world I lived in. Suddenly when I turned the globe I could see Somalia in Africa, where people do not eat sehri or do iftaar because they just don’t have anything to eat. Scores of children die every day and many others suffer from malnutrition. Having one meal a day is a luxury. The region is facing one of the worst famines of this century and coupled with the political unrest, the situation has worsened.

The imam in the masjid and all of us too, daily pray for more of this and that and fret about our wishes and desires. But not even once do we hear a prayer for these souls, who at this time when we are feasting, oops fasting, are struggling to survive.

Now however is not the time to think about them, because Eid is fast approaching and we need to decide which cake and what variety of biscuits we need to buy? How many types of sweets and how many kilos of meat is the “koun banega crorepati” question. People die all the time but this Eid will come just once!

The sun has burned their faces red,
The wind is blowing over the dead
we don't care and neither we share
that life saving, loaf of bread

A glimpse of the current famine in Somalia






Monday, July 25, 2011

Treat, Treaty, Treatise and Treatment

In this land water flows,
through hills and meadows,
this is divine blessing,
through sun and shadows!

A few days ago as I was driving towards Baramulla, there was a traffic jam and stuck in the middle of it, I cursed my luck. For a person in the driver’s seat, traffic jam is the worst thing that can happen. While others sitting in the car can relax, the driver has to be vigilant and move 2 meters every 60 seconds, lest he would be mauled by the drivers behind them. If however, you try to be smart and wait for three minutes with your eyes closed and engine off (trying to save the cheap petrol and also conserve your environment) so that there is a gap of 6 meters, to your surprise no gap will be there! Mind you, the driver behind you does not rest. After all, its a busy world. And as I was being tortured by fate, I saw some army men approaching. Within movements the cars started moving again and the jam was cleared. It was as if superman man had come but with the modification that his underwear was not visible and he had a gun in his hands. Driving ahead I came to know that there was no freak accident or mishap. Actually people of some village had blocked the road, protesting against the shortage of water. But seeing the men in khaki approach, it seemed as if their thirst had vanished.

Today there was a jam against water shortage, and tomorrow same will be for electricity shortage. Unlike Kissan Jam, this jam seems quite bitter if you are stuck it and quite amusing if you are observing it (just observe some people the next time you are in a jam).

Now, this jam I was in was not due to lack of roads. It was because people were not provided water. Now we do have a lot of water but we just can’t use it. “Why this sorry state?”, I thought. Maybe we have a treaty to thank for this. Indus Water Treaty is what it is formerly called. “What did this treaty do?” I asked this question to the water tycoon of Kashmir, Mr. Jhelum.

And he gave a strange reply saying, “Some bleak day, a long time ago, they signed a treaty or that’s what they called it. The world at least knew it that way. But inside that room where it was signed, it was known that it’s not a treaty, it was a treat for both of them. They felt great that on the basis of their power, they stripped a nation of its resources and kept it all for themselves. These days people are protesting against a rape, but wasn’t that a rape too. It was also a rape, economic gang rape of a nation.

And to the people of this state, it was presented as a treatise. A treatise which took that many bitter experiences to comprehend, and comprehend they did little. From this little comprehension of theirs, they now demand a treatment for all of this (although they are not even in a position to beg for a treatment). Treatment will be there, but doesn’t appear to be soon. Till then it appears that people will have to enjoy the Traffic jams, Kissan jams, Sil jams, Freshtop jams or as some might argue Brain Tonic jams! But please don’t dump the bottles in me!”


They steal our means,
they steal our dreams,
and then they complain,
Why those screams?

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Beyond barbed wires

Sometimes they were praying, and the memory remains
Sometimes they were crying, and the memory remains
Sometimes they were silent, and the memory remains
Sometimes they were violent, and the memory remains
Walking along the bund I could see the remains of an old bunker. It had always been there but today I seemed to notice it after a long time. I still remember that when I was nine, it was a fully functional one. Then it was abandoned and demolished and we started playing inside it. And guess what… we completely ruined it. We used to play with the clay and sand in those cement bags which had been left there. However there were still some marks pointing to its glory days. As I walked past it, I turned my head back as if I was trying to retrieve the lost childhood from there. But aaahhh!! There was an acute pain in my right foot. To my utter dismay, my foot had landed on a piece of barbed wire and it had pierced right through my sandal. I limped and hopped a few steps and sat down. As blood was oozing out I applied some pressure over my wound.

I then stared at the small piece of barbed wire which had caused me injury. Some part of it was red with my blood and some part was brown with age. I laughed, because ironically I have had a lot of such experiences. When I was born maybe the first injection the doctor gave me was by piercing me with a barbed wire! But that was just the beginning. I found barbed wires everywhere and anytime, in tight, dark alleys and bright wide streets, and covering the houses and sometimes the playgrounds, before dusk and after dawn, in chilly winters and sweaty summers. Deep inside, I always felt as if barbed wires were holding me back from something and stopping me. From what, that I have to figure out.

As I was wondering Jhelum spoke, “It is not just you who always saw the barbed wires and it is not you alone who was hurt by them. Many see them, many have been hurt and many will be hurt by them, but they mostly seem to ignore them as if these don’t even exist or as if they are the permanent unshakable structures defining the boundaries of life. These barbed wires tame not only people but ideas too. They symbolize something; they symbolize who calls the shots and who runs the show. They symbolize a nation bound by slavery.”

Well that seemed to be some added info on barbed wires. They sure seemed to be more than metal wires now! Thankfully, by now the bleeding had stopped due to the pressure applied on the wound. Now it was time for a tetanus injection and they really stick it at the wrong place!

As I was going to the medical shop to get “my medicine” it occurred to me that the barbed wires (and what they symbolize) need to go. It is we who have to remove them, melt them make some toys from them so that we can play happily again. Otherwise our butt will have to bear the brunt! We need to look beyond these barbed wires and reach out beyond them. We need to rid our minds too from the barbed wires. Let ideas and visions crossover. Then certainly, there would be no need of a tetanus injection!

Some are undone by life’s fears
Some by a loved one’s tears
A bloody past and a dark future
That’s how life through a barbed wire appears!
(Sigh!)

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Stranded - between hope and hoplessness

Before hope and after hopelessness
there is hope, even in deserts wilderness
there is hope, before dreams and after dreamlessness
there is hope


“There is always some hope”. I remembered these words of a friend as I looked back at my past. Why only “some hope” and not “enough hope”, I wondered? Is even hope miserly these days? Seemed liked the recent turn of events had drained all hope from me. It is June and the sun is shining brightly but there seems to be no light in life. In this hopelessness I was hoping for hope. Strolling along the bund I sat by the side of Jhelum, hoping it would share some of its hope with me. After many years I was serious today, maybe trying to rationalize hope. But it seemed that, it was beyond the mathematics I knew. Differentiation and integration of emotions did not lead me anywhere. Even the differential equations and matrix equations seemed helpless and hopelessly naïve.

Even mathematics had failed me today, as I couldn’t find the governing equation of life! In this desperation and hopelessness I asked Jhelum to share its hope with me. Ironically it replied, “Hope cannot be shared. It’s something that grows within the heart and dies there only.” I was disappointed to hear his answer. I was desperate and in no mood to hear philosophy. However, before I could lash out at him, he said, “I have been here for ages now. Seems like, I am as old as time itself. From my inception there was some hope with me, always! It kept waning and waxing like the phases of the moon. Sometimes I was full of hope, and sometimes hopelessness seemed to prevail. Sometimes all seemed to go right and sometimes everything seemed to fail. My dear, life is not a cakewalk. Each one has his share of fortune and misfortune. But one must never give up. Hope is always there round the corner. The only problem there is that this life is a maze with too many corners and we don’t know which corner to look at... It’s easy to lose hope in this land of ours, where hopelessness is rampant. Hopes and dreams of a person are killed here, even before they are born. People here seem to have done their PhD's in killing hope… They talk about female infanticide and much more, but hope infanticide never makes the news! I have seen people cry besides the coffin of hope, little knowing that hope and man share a coffin. When a person dies, hope dies and when hope dies, a person dies… But kiddo, as I can see, you are still breathing, so just rise and shine because life means hope.”

All this pep talk had some influence on me, though not much. The sun had set by now and all I could see was a tinge of redness in the sky. Didn’t it seem just like my hope, which had set too? However as I climbed up the stairs, I could see the sun again. Mathematicians say that by this phenomenon one can find the radius of earth. I don’t know this smart stuff, but it seemed that just by changing my viewpoint,my outlook, I could see the sun again. Maybe the sun is always there. Maybe the sun of hope never sets. It just seems to have been hidden from our eyes and all we need to do is change our viewpoint, our attitude and our resolve!

Hope I went to find,
In my heart and mind
I just couldn’t, and then innocence smiled
And lo! Out it flowed from heart and mind

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Zindagee bin Laden

They say that when someone dies
His soul just flies
Free from this world of lies
Into the skies

“So finally Osama bin Laden is dead”. This is what I heard a few days ago. Some 3 trillion dollars had been spent on killing him. "3 trillion dollars! Man that’s a lot of money. An African country would have totally revived itself with that amount of money. Or, what if that money had been given to me?" These were some of the thoughts that were bouncing in my mind as I was walking along the bund. The wind was quite strong and the mighty chinar’s all along the bund were dancing, as if they were rejoicing over my idea of getting 3 trillion dollars or were they just laughing at my foolish thoughts. I would prefer to go with the former assumption; after all, it’s a matter of self-respect!
As I was walking, the 3 trillion figure was still resonating in my mind. In a way Osama bin Laden was the most expensive man in the world. Imagine dying with the satisfaction that you cost your enemies 3 trillion dollars. Bill Gates and Warren Buffett are not even close! In my dictionary that’s an achievement.
Remembering Osama bin Laden, firstly I found that both of us have one thing in common, we are both engineers! Secondly he seems to have been a good man or why would he have come to Afghanistan, giving up all his millionaire luxuries, to fight against the Soviets. I too am a good man or so I suppose (second similarity). At that time he was portrayed as a hero, because he was fighting against the communists and communists “by default” were the bad guys. The communists left and shortly afterwards the Americans too, but unlike them he did not leave the Afghan people, he helped them with his Arab money. No one seemed to have problem with that. But then he became anti-American and a villain. Why? That’s a 3 trillion dollar question. The media never answers it, but maybe it’s because we know the answer!
As my mind was wandering with Osama bin Laden, I did not realize that I was sitting beside Jhelum. I didn’t know how I reached there but as I looked around, I saw ripples on the surface of water. It appeared that Jhelum was passing waves of smiles. I could not understand the reason for his smile, so after greetings of Salaam, I straightaway asked the reason. He had been reading my mind. I wasn’t surprised to hear this, because talking to a river is a bit more surprising. He told me, “Osama died & he died for what he believed in. He had the character to stand up against the forced diktats, occupation and slavery of humanity by people who portrayed their cause as otherwise. Maybe the way he chose was wrong or it was portrayed as wrong.” Then after a short pause it said, “I have looked around myself for ages, and I have seen this nation in slavery for a long time. And by slavery I don’t mean being ruled only. When a child is born in this land these days, he is put in front of the TV. So naturally he grows up following what he sees on the idiot box, thinking they are superior because even his definition of superiority is borrowed from the TV. Thus he is made the devils slave from birth. He is made a slave ethically, morally and culturally. Being ruled over and being treated like a slave is just a consequence. First it was the Afghans, the Sikhs, the British, and the Dogras and now it’s someone else. What difference has it made? Ahhh…Slaves remained slaves, only masters changed! A few people raised their voice against this oppression. They became leaders who were never followed. People were always skeptical about everything. They just couldn’t phantom that someone had really stood up for them. When a nation has lost the battle of “hearts and minds” what can the leaders do? All that people do, is point out the faults of leadership. It appears they can’t think like free, honorable men with a positive outlook. They just don’t have the character.”
I thought that he would go on for an hour, but thankfully he stopped. I guess this was an overdose of slavery for me. I had always thought that I was free, but alas! Imagine my disappointment, arriving with a dream of trillions and leaving a slave!(please don’t laugh)
Walking back towards home I realized that my “Zindagee with Laden” was no different from “Zindagi bin Laden”. His death had just added a few news headlines to my mind and all I had learnt was that Abbottabad is the name of a place in Pakistan. Rest nothing had changed. We were still slaves. We always criticized the leaders and pointed out their faults and judged them on mistakes they committed, not their merits. And if they were/are wrong none of us has the character to stand up as new leaders, because we are too selfish to live a life for others. What a bunch of hypocrites we really are! It’s easy to Tweet about a problem but it takes character to deal with it. We need to change… nay, I need to change…. By now, I realised that the wind had calmed down, there was silence everywhere or was it “calm before the storm?”
In my heart there is a thorn
Maybe since the day I was born
But if this sorry state needs to change
It really has to be torn