Flash back of a golden time

Going through my B.Com Accounting notes and books, as I was preparing for a lecture, I have found this piece of lecture. This is not just a piece of advice but for me its a chain of memories containing so many faces. It has taken me almost 10 years back. "Ten years" as it dates as 25th June 2003. Ohh my God!!! I mean seriously, quite long time ago I was doing my graduation. It has made me to recall one of the warmest afternoon of the season when I entered a classroom so crowded that there was not even an inch to step in. I with my friends made my space near the door just infront of the rostrum. It took me few minutes to understand that it was not a routine accounting lecture. It was something nobody was trying to copy from the board. There was pin drop silence in the class. The mentor (some of you may disagree with terming him as mentor) didnt take a break in his lecture while we adjusted ourselves in the class. It was so rushy that I found no time to take my notebook out of my satchel. So I started writing on my accounting book. He was a medium heighted, fair complexion man with beard, in his late forties age. I can recall his strident voice. He was saying,

"...... bachay zindagi mein ehsas krna seekho. log aik waqt tak apka ehsas krain gay is k bad ye sb tumhian chor jaien gay. lakh cheekho, chillao, madad k liay pukaro magar koi nahi sunay ga. waldain aik waqt tak bachon ka sath de sktay hain, tamam umr wo tumhara hath pakar kr tumhain nahi chla sktay. aik na aik din tu tumhian khud apnay qadmon pr khra ho kr khud chalna he ho ga. tu aaj se kion nahi? hamesha yad rakhna zindagi ki jang hmesha insan ko apnay zor-e-bazoo pr larni parti hay. koi kisi ka sath nai deta. aik do martaba larai kr k dekho, tamash been buhat ikathay ho jaeingay, magar tumharay liay koi nahi laray ga. tumhain apnay liay khud larna ho ga.

Field koi bhi ho, insan baghair mehnat k kuch b nahi kr skta, wo chahay auto mechanic ho, engineer, doctor ya koi business man..... mehnat krna seekh lo aur mehnat ki adat dal lo. is liay k baghair mehnat k naam nahi kamaya ja skta. aakhir ko socho k hum ye kion kehtay hain k flaN doctor say ilaj krwana hay, ya flaN ki dukan se cheez leni hay is liay k unhon ne apnay wqt pr mehnat ki aur naam bnaya, aur yehi waja hay k aaj woh zindagi ko enjoy kr rhay hain. 

Ghareeb k bachon ko tu wesay bhi buhat parhna chahiay kion k us k pas tu koi doosra rasta bhi nahi hota. haan. agar tu walden ne itna kama lia hay k bachay na bhi kuch krain tu b saari zindagi aish kraingay tu phir choice aapki hay.

Lekin aap log, aap sb, dhyan main rakhna, aap log is stage pr ho k zindagi main ab mehnat na ki tu kahin k nahi raho gay. kuch bhi nahi kr paao gay. kion k is stage pr fail honay wala kuch kr he nai skta. mehnat aaj se start kr dain. koi waja nahi hay k nakami aapka rasta rokay. meri smjh se bahar hay k aik student mehnat k bawjood kamyab na ho. IMPOSSIBLE!! ho he nahi skta, mehnat krain, parhain, phir exams k baad meray paas aana k mainay itni mehnat ki thi aur mera result ye raha. InshaAllah jitni mehnat kro gay wesa he phal pao gay"

Once the speech was over students rushed towards doors. I was standing near the rostrum, he came toward me and said, "teachers class mein sb bachoN ko aik jesa parhatay hain" he continued in his same grave accent, "lekin, result buhat kam bachoN se expect krtay hain, aur meray liay tum un mein se aik ho".

Ten years have passed and I am trying to keep his words and those of many others who thought very high for me and wanted me to do something big.

May Allah give me stamina and dedication to fulfill my committments. Amen

Lahore

Iftar at a Bestie's

As soon as I saw her lifting her hands for prayer, I asked her to pray for me as well.
She ended her silent supplications and turned to me. "What do you want me to ask for you?", she asked with a wink. "Forgiveness", I uttered with a sigh, "ask Allah Jee to pardon me". She seemed to remain sarcastic. "And whom you have had raped? So!" "Myself", I lowered my head trying to conceal my tears. "Hahahaa", I could hear her laughter " this is what most of we people do in our life". I wanted to tell her that it is something different. But I know I can never explain this to anybody.

27th Ramadan, 1434
Johar Town, Lahore

Ramblings

She has just left the room and I have switched off lights and slipped in my bed. I am enough tired of the travelling but I know I wouldn't be able to catch my sleep. I reached the hostel in evening. I had much time to relax, had dinner and asked her to make tea.
We both have loquacious nature. Usually on such reunions we both try to get the opportunity to tell the story first. Since last three hours she has been telling me the details of what happened to her when I wasn't here. She must had realized my taciturnity earlier but she didn't highlighted it. Once she passed me my cup of tea she said, "missing home?". I spontaneously replied, "no, not". "Then whom?", she asked. "Not missing anybody but tired", I answered. She said, "OK". I can feel that she wasn't convinced. Our conversation ended. With this silence melancholy of one being surrounded everything around within seconds. She hardly had the last sip of her tea and said, "good night".
This is how I am, making simple things complicated, altering easy truths into hard lies, keeping my feelings confidential, fighting all time with myself to portray myself someone else. Later regretting that why i did so. Why do I keep my treasures unshared. What if I would tell her that I am missing not only someone but everyone.
The act of missing is like dis entwining the thread from a bobbin. One end of a thread tied with something if the bobbin drops from the hand one knows not how far it will go rolling on the floor. Sometimes when you try to stop it, it strikes away unwinding the thread more and more.
When I am writing this, I have travelled much in my mind from one person to another, from one memory to another, from one dream to the next searching that whom I am actually missing.
This search is painful, the memories of the past, the good ones and the worse are filled with many faces, the faces I want to get back and the faces I want to be with and the faces I want to forget.
Yes, I miss you, and I miss them too. But this is not the end of my search.
That is for whom I miss the most -myself.

Islamabad

Fa Sabrun Jameel

wesay tu her waqt aur her kam k doraan mere zehn k pas e parda aik he manzar gardish krta rehta hay lekin namaz k bad, dua main, aur sonay se pehlay wohi manzar ankhoN k samnay aa jata hay. kabhi koi baat aur kabhi koi aur magar wohi. 

un ka is tarha chalay jana hmaray darmiyan se. phir neend kesay aye. buhat daer wohi film kabhi maazi ki yaad aur kabhi aik mustaqil kami k sath mustaqbil ki aik tasveer. main ankhain band kr k leti he thi k achanak youn mehsoos hua k kisi ne sir se aasmaan he khainch lia preshani main uth bethi tu laga k paoN k neechay zameen bhi nahi hay. 

maan baap aulad k liay kia hota hain, pehlay pta nahi chalta. jb nahi rehtay tu ehsas hota hay. woh tu chalay jatay hain sukhi ho jatay hain mgr hum kia kho beth'tay hain tab samajh ata hay.

main yahan aati hoon tu mujhay lagta hay k kuch kami hay, mujhy ghar jana chahiay. ghar jati hoon tu bhi adhoora pan, aik khlaa. youn lagta hay jesay main aik shuttlecock hoon. na yahan tik skti hoon na wahan.

kabhi mujhay un k phone ka intezar hota hay k wo phone pr mujhay smjhaien gay mujhay motivate kraingay mgr jb khud ko smjhati hoon k koi phone nahi aana tu........

kitni kasak hay dil main k mujhy koi khidmat ka moqa he nai mila. kitni aasani se khud ko minus kr lia unhon nay k kisi ka ehsan na uthana paray, kisi ko taklif na ho. mainay tu kabhi unhain ye b nai btaya k main un se kitna piyar krti hoon. mainay un ko btana tha k main un pr kitna maan krti hoon k wo mujh pr fakhar krtay hain. wo mera ideal thay ab realise hua hay. buhat daer baad.

jb wo chalay gaye mainay khud ko smjhaya k hum sb ne marna hay. aur hum aakhir main jannat main milain gay. lekin ye intezar itna kathan itna lamba ho ga ye tu smjh he nahi aya.

hum kb maraingay, hum kab ikathay hongay?

Fa sabrun Jameel

June 12, 2013

Fatima Hostel

NUST

Islamabad

Windstorms

You are the wind
and the glass pane
of my window is broken.

I am the wind
and the glass pane
of your window is broken too.



Sobia Ehsan
NUST, H-12, Islamabad.

In the name of State Saviours

Melancholy prevails all around. Political uncertainty and security issues remain big question at time. On one hand we have around hundred killed in Quetta, still unburied after more than 72 hours of their death and on the other hand, the so called patriotic Islamists are preparing for a march to "rescue the state, not the politics".

A friend has told me about recent fight on the line of control bringing in causalities on both ends India and Pakistan.

I am not much into the politics. I am just an ordinary Pakistani citizen usually concerned about my job, daily livings and family obligations only. I am the one who like many others hear the news of such genocide ranging the death toll tens to hundreds and become sad. At times, I definitely plea Almighty Allah to have mercy on Pakistan or question myself, "for how long this will continue?" but I never get enough time to seriously get involved in it that how can we do something to stop it because I have my own list of issues to get resolved first. I am already bothered by CNG/petrol shortages, rising inflation (esp. grocery), paying utility bills, going office in time and trying hard to maintain zero deficit domestic budget. Such violence issues remain highlighted in my mind only as they remain media highlights. Abusing the government secretly and sometimes openly in my circle is my first and far most reaction.

Receiving birthday wishes from loved ones, I am unable to feel the joy. I am badly stuck with a question. Whom to blame for all such circumstances, the govt., the politicians, the nation, or the external forces?

And yes, here my heart whispers, "blame your own self!"

"Blame myself?" I ask. "Yes, you!" it says, "you are the one among all others who feed them, protect them, shelter them to use the authority they way they want to". “you the intellectuals of this country” it continues, “wedged in the vicious circle of earning, keeping yourself away from political filth, accepting all sorts of impositions, loots, violence, restrictions, and suppression! You are the biggest threat to Pakistan".

I am almost speechless. I am wondering, “Really, am I a threat to Pakistan?”

“AM I?”


13-01-2013
NUST H-12, Islamabad

Emptiness

Walking in emptiness
wondering for meanings
of my being
I find none
joy, pain, light or shadow
but emptiness prevails
and, nowhere to go.
Here I am today,
tomorrow I will be gone.
Longing and suffering
for things- should be done.
Life is disparity
(I hope) breaking into the dawn.






Sobia Ehsan (NUST, H-12, Islamabad)
November 10-11-12

Happiness is everywhere for everyone.

If happiness were ever possible through money and luxuries, rich men would have never been gloomy. Seasons of life are never permanent. Flowers bloom in the spring and get gloom in the autumn. As Spanish proverb states, "There is no happiness, there are only moments of happiness" 

Happiness is not an apple which falls itself or one easily plucks it off. Indeed it is a road which is rocky, rigid, dried and thorny. One has to stand insuperable but he shall find himself frequently unhappy on the road unto happiness. As an old proverb says, “Call no Man Happy till he is Dead.” Indeed, we live, expect, desire, feel panic and never live permanently happy. 

Undoubtedly, route of happiness gets never completed; it is always under construction. 

Therefore, one must try to do noble deeds that give joy to one's soul, the deeds for betterment of humankind. Every individual should strive hard to help in constructing the road to happiness not for himself only but for others around. This might help one to find the treasure of rejoice hidden in others happiness. 

Eternity

And on this path, there befell whatsoever befalls always,
Why lament over it, and why accuse.
And however it came, when oblivion came
Either as an avenger or the aspect of love
This is how we must say adieu.
The sore of heart have gone to their peace, God be praised!
And the sweetness of the lips endures yet, Thank the Lord!
The blessed sleeping the sleep of the blessed
The wanderer taking the pathways once more.
My secret longings,
My dreams and my passions
All the dreams and all the passions which had lived for you
Fail to find the life anew.
Like a song without words,
This neither begins nor ends.
This is eternity.

Sobia Ehsan (NUST, Islamabad)
September, 2012

P.S.: I miss you Abu Ji

Aik Khat

Buhat muddat nahi guzri
Humaray rabt ko tootay huay
Sadian nahi beetien
Tumharay khat ko parhtay he
main pehlay say xiada muztrib, be-chain hoti thi
Tumharay qalm ki jadoogari
tumharay zehn k sb naqsh lafzo'n main smoti thi
Musalsal piyar ki qasmain;
Aadhay adhooray vasl k vaday;
main hr dam khojti rehti;
her aik ik lafz ka mafhoom
khud say poochti rehti.

Magar ye khat!
k is kaghaz k tukray pr
siwaye nam k meray
tumhain kuch bhi nahi soojha.
Ye kitna khoobsurat hay!!


Swaiba EA