Rejoinder to an admonishing friend

I told you during the earliest of our conversations that I am not a great company to keep. And that I’m unfaithful, so to speak, at least in the contemporary measure of this word; that I’m fickle and I lack persistence and my fair dispositions may deceive one to believe otherwise. And you just laughed it off, weighing my directness as genuine modesty. I couldn’t assert more to make you believe at the risk of sounding arrogant; yes some mannerisms have simply grown on me and I don’t find it apt to act contrary to them. But that didn’t mean to undermine the truth of my words in anyway.

And like always, when I eventually resumed my isolation, you were disappointed; disappointed to the point of blaming me for being who I am, for being who I once told you I was. I don’t wish to justify my ways, much faulted and eccentric they may be; and I, by no means, wish to mend them, even when they distance me from everyone. The sheer effort of making others understands simply taxes on my nerves, especially when things far more important are at hand. I may as well embrace my recluse and recline comfortably in my loneliness to attend to certain other urgent concerns; a loneliness which by no means is unwelcome.

Yes I may sound selfish and anyway, I never had any claims to altruism. But I haven’t been dishonest, I’d give myself that. And even my self-centred disposition is entirely to discover things without which, I hold, life is meaningless! So if you were truly devoted to me, even in the capacity of a friend, you wouldn’t find my habits queer and tell me to change them. Rather, you’d simply understand that if I were to indulge in something so dire for my existence, that is perfectly alright.

Anyway, I shall close this brief rumination on the note that I still hold, like I held and confessed, that I am a good-for-nothing person who has absolutely no claims to any noble traits. And I have no shame or remorse over it, any that shall prompt me to change.  And now that this declaration has been formally and publicly articulated, I would at least have an alibi to deliver myself from any untoward expectations in future.

Erratically yours,

The road less travelled by

When we are young, we are sent to schools for education. We are taught what has been passed down, generation after generation. And a part of this age-old wisdom is to make secure choices. And we are forbidden from making bold choices – we are strictly told, times and again, that sticking to the norms, the pre-ordained rules, is the best course. And that anyone who refuses to comply ought to be punished.

That, I believe, is what ingrains in us a fear for the unknown. That’s what leads us right onto the straight road, like sheep to a shepherd, who can move about in the herd but never break free from it and take a course off from that road. This culture bars us from making bold choices; in fact, it hands us an all-new definition of ‘bold choices’ and we, by falling for the same old tricks, albeit presented in a new fashion, believe us as being the rebels, the bestowed few whereas that’s barely the case.

Yet yes, there are those who take the ‘road less traveled by’ and by no means is that choice an easy choice. You are confronted not only by the society but by even your near and dear ones who think that by abandoning the ‘safe’ course of things, you are venturing into the dangerous and uncertain. They tell you all kinds of anecdotes to keep you from choosing it.

But the fact is, the day you choose to comply with the norms and give up on your dreams, no matter how extra-ordinary they are, you cease to live. You merely exist for the rest of your life, doing most of what the society asks you for, following that dull, monotonous routine of things well practiced, well tested and guaranteed as secure choices. And just like that, you pass away with a life that frankly was no different than billions of other beings.

However, if you do choose to overcome all that opposition, a daunting task indeed, and take the path less traveled by, your life becomes a journey of discovery. You get to have all those exquisite experiences that perhaps no one ever had before. Your life becomes a perpetual struggle for the realization of your dreams and you willingly invest you time, your energies and everything you have to make it happen. The very conscience that you have embarked upon the unknown, that there will barely be the beacons of ‘guidance’ all along and that no one will be holding your hand and no footprints to mark your course pre-handedly, the very conscience of it all invigorates every second of your being. And even if you don’t end up where you had planned, and that’s quite improbable, you get to have a life worth-having!! You get to exist and not to live. The fear of the unknown turns into the ecstasy of exploring the new.

Image courtesy garryknight.

When life goes on

The days have passed swiftly and nights have dragged on, morosely.

And I have seen – I have seen winters wither and summers bloom and dreams grow anew every spring. I have seen the dingy ceilings, stifling the air in it’s own arrest. And the heavenly meadows under an overcast sky, laden with flowers, colourful, and the grass, green, which sways with the gentlest breeze as if dancing to the symphony of time. And I have seen life shine in the mischievous sheen of your eyes when you smile.

I have seen days of optimism when everything entices you on to victory. And days when you give up on your dreams as the bitter reality hits you hard in the face. And you wake up from the cozy seat of your car to realize how harsh the wind is when the glass breaks. And the blood, when it trickles down, how it numbs all feeling of horror and fear and all your sensations try hard to concentrate on that far-away, blurred, blurring notion of something, somewhere that was once so beautiful that you had thought that it would suffice. And then, when the grief gushes and pours forth, tearing apart your restraints. But that too passes, and with a sigh, you give up…

…only to rise the next day with a renewed rigour and hope. And in this oscillation between hope and uncertainly, pure joy and dull misery, tiredness emanating from it all and at it’s consummation, another sense of fulfilment…amid it all, life goes on.

A breath of freedom (from being)

I inhale the air, stale with breaths of the walls

drooping down condescendingly upon lowly mortals

I inhale the wind, gusts and gusts of wind

with its acrid bitterness clinging to my lungs

and sucking the life out of me, blurring the scene

I inhale death, and the sky, wind, the blue and grey, all merge

in a violent shudder of elation

that runs down my spine and is quietly grounded through my feet

And I become one with the earth

and the sun and the moon

and every atom in every soul in the universe

I inhale, a large heaving, like waves of a mighty ocean

rising and falling slowly, grandly, extra-ordinarily

and the feeling kills me, kills me with the beauty of its immensity

I submerge myself, go under the water, rise and go under again

feel the water filling my lungs

purging away the vile shades on them, cleansing -

A life-time of ignoble ignorance

The water fills me, makes me one with itself

and I quietly heave, watch the beautiful bubbles rise in crystal blue

with the rainbow colors of a slanted sunlight, still reaching

still reaching, so deep, so remote,(how I wonder!)

But the wave crashes, with a huge sound, deafening but magnificent

and I am planted along the particles on the beach

the tiniest of all and a part of each

Morning in the countryside

The pics contained in the post were originally published at RevolutionFlame. 

It was four in the morning when my brother asked me, “How about a trip to the village?” Despite the oddity of the hour, my answer, as always, was yes. We’ve been partners-in-crime a lot many times and I owed him this!

Before I proceed, let me tell you that it wasn’t a hundred-mile journey or an adventure of that scale since my village is some 20 miles from my home. So Umer took out the bike and we set off. Mark, though, that this was the second day of the Eid. Along the way, it was revealed to me by my eccentric brother (the good-wala eccentric :P)that the special and sudden trip had been embarked upon so as to capture the Sun in its earliest moments rising above the lush fields in the countryside. Khawari much? Not really, for the trip totally paid off!!

We were there before 5 a.m. and the sky was still a dark grey slate, very slowly diluting the shades. Umer and me went off on a stroll together with the camera and captured some fine moments.

Dew drops and the sun

I am in love with this picture. And I can state so without any false displays of modesty since it’s not me who took the picture but Umer. The dew drops looked breath-taking in real, trickling down every single straw in the field. I was doubtful if our humble camera may actually nail them to a recognizable detail but quite miraculously, it did.

Seizing the light

This, too, was Umer’s idea. And he got a truly awesome shot out of it. We were initially sceptical of the lens’ flare because we were taking a head-on shot right at the sun. But the result was fairly good. A better shot may have taken away the flare spreading out of my fingers too. I’m told the flare can also be removed through a fine editing in software like PhotoShop. But I guess I’m too lazy to do that. So you’ve got to deal with it.

We spent a good one hour, taking in the dawn and strolling about the lush landscape. Mornings are truly serene and pure at the countryside, without the din of the infinite, indistinguishable noises that mark the start of the day in the urbane dwellings. The silence, the swish of the wind above swaying paddy fields, the virgin dew drops clinging to the leaf’s very tip, the familiar scent of wood-fired breakfasts being prepared and their thick-curled smoke rising above the mud-baked walls – it was enchanting!!

The sun was beginning to grow harsher now. After snapping at the sun from virtually every angel and being looked at as lunatics by some local passers-by, we decided it was about time we headed back. So we set back to the ‘haveli’ (typically translated as a castle but practically, lot more modest in size and appeal) and had a lavish desi breakfast of heavily buttered parathas and monster-size glasses of lassi. And then getting rather quickly done with the meeting-the-relatives part (a drag!), we set back for home. I must say, though, that it was a trip that well served it’s purpose.

So long, university life!

Do you know how it feels to be delivered of a prison after four years? After being told that the sentence of spending a life of misery at a place where you don’t belong is over? And that you no longer have to put up with the meaningless nagging, the dumb-headed idiocy and the utter nonsense? That finally, people won’t be bickering your head off over the tiniest of thing, just because you didn’t use enough commas or couldn’t address a bald-headed, unqualified, brainless sucker well enough?

Trust me, it feels good!! It is relieving! You are finally able to breathe freedom and feel free of those bonds of incompetence that you had to put up with. Having graduated makes me feel just like that.

I wouldn’t discount the fact that I do miss the shugals of the university life, the hostel nighters, the wanderings, the bunks and the co-curricular. In fact, the co-curricular was the only respite that helped me stay sane and alive while I spent those four years pretending to be a student of Software Engineering. Whereas I learnt little of my discipline itself, I did use university life to participate extensively in co-curricular and extra-curriculars. And that’s perhaps the only thing I can count as an achievement throughout my degree.

So now that it’s over, it feels great. Although an episode remains still, that of clearance and getting my degree, but I wish to spend enough time to get back to normal before I can go back to the retard’s den and do these final acts. They tell I’ll have to get my clearance application signed by every department and some little over thirty clerks. A mighty feat, indeed. Got to need some rest and revival before I get to that!

One thing I’ve learnt through the four years at university and have included in my life philosophy is: never make a compromise on your interests. Because once you do, you are pushed down a road you never wished to take. Once you turn that way, there’s a rare chance that you’ll be able to revert. And so, for now, I am staunchly devoted to pursuing my interests, come what may.

I have seen many fellows whining over the free time they are having post-graduation and missing the university life. Talking about myself, I’m having a perfectly awesome time with my family, finally enjoying humane meals after a long time and able to access internet 24/7, a luxury which was simply impossible back at university and that did me quite some harm!

So long, university life! You were ok while you lasted and I have no love lost over you now that you’re done.

Oh and I have all plans to enroll at a Masters’ degree but I will be far more diligent in choosing a finer place and making no compromises this time!

Ramazan – blessings and the rest

Ramadan used to be a quite a treat for me. I would eagerly wait for the month to come. It changed my entire lifestyle and brought a respite from the regular routine. Over the years, my sentiments towards it have changed greatly. However, it still holds some of its charms for me. There is something very enticing about the aromas of samosas and pakoras watering your mouth in the early evening hours.

However, there are both goods and bads that can be seen manifest in our society during this month. Here’s a quick categorization of both.

The blessings

The cook-ups:

The best part of Ramazan, to me, is simply the exquisite recipes that are stacked away all year-long only to be availed in this month. From pakoras to samosas to new salads and honey-sugared yoghurt – there are some things you get your hands on only during Ramazan. And that too to your heart’s content, though heart’s content quite contradicts the actual appetite which seems gone with a single glass of water after the Iftar. Plus, the hospitality of people is at its prime, disregarding for the moment the logic in sending pakoras or dates to everyone in the neighborhood when everyone already has them as the regular menu.

The slumber:

Being a sloth, to my absolute delight, I can sleep long hours during day and through night without being bothered by my ghar walas – all because of Ramzan. Especially, you can sleep as long as you wish after sehri without being brutally woken at the conventional early hour of 10 in the morning. If you’re fasting, that means you can easily leverage such liberties from your family without any reprimands. These also include excusing yourself off from most of the physical chores and watch TV or get online for long hours and being with your friends for hours to pass the friggin’ long day.

The apparels:

You must have seen a frenzy gripping the ladies of the house as soon as Ramzan starts. The endless search for the right clothes to go with the occasion of Chand Raat and the three days of Eid virtually won’t end until Eid itself. In fact, for the ladies it’s about a lot more than clothes, stuff I can only fleeting remark about – stuff like bangles, jewelry, shoes etc. For us lads, the awesome part is Amma’s insistence upon getting us a kurta which, of course, is a rarity and hence very welcome. In fact, when I went to shop for Kurtas this time, I was quite surprised to see the extensive range available. Thankfully, there were batter designs and material available than the traditional uni-color, meant-for-starch kurtas. In fact, I think I also spotted some red, silky ones for the males, due courtesy to Star Plus for the inspiration, I presume. And I could only gaze in amazement at the bizarre site.

The pains

The pretense:

I hate it when someone gapes at me when I tell them I’m not fasting. The next question is of course an inquiry as to my health which, again, is responded in negative, to their utter disappointment. And then a long, boring lecture starts. I mean, why the hell can’t people fast and then keep that to them. Why impose it upon others? If I fast or not, that’s my personal call – why should anyone else tell me about it!! And there’s the crappy Ikram-e-Ramzan ordinance, a self-ordained necessity from the vile Zia days. You can’t eat or drink in the public without people gazing at you as if they’d gnaw your skin off. And of course you run the risk of arrest for the ‘heinous crime.’ It’s illegal. If you didn’t know, now is the time to beware and choose that remote chota sa khokha for your daily dose of coke and smoke if the desire is too hard to resist. ‘Sano raza lagan dia way tay tou khan daya wain. Teri aisi di taisi!’ is the common public attitude.  Of course those who are fasting have to suffer hunger and thirst but why should they be allowed to take out their frustrations on others by refusing to allow them eating or drinking? And that too under the cover of religion! This is a clear discrimination, an almost inhumane law that calls for an immediate change!

The rituals:

Ah, the rituals. ‘Main nain 10 Quran parhay hain, tum nain abhi tak 1 bhi nain parha?!’ ‘Main 20 nawafil parh kar aya hon, tum at least namaz hi parh lia karo.’ Not an uncommon instance, right? Barely attempting to inculcate what fasting is meant for, most pious brethren go for a ritualistic observance only. They would pray fervently, read through endless Qurans through Ramzan, reciting like parrots who barely understand what they are reciting (and really, I’m quite baffled at the speed – there seem obvious discrepancies in their count), would offer additional nawafil and make regular appearance at the local Tarawih congregation. But when it comes to their attitude, they would barely change any of the vilest evils (evils according to the very moral code they claim to follow) about them. They would still quarrel, still cheat, still be cranky, still shout at others, still lie shamelessly and still do more or less everything they would do in normal days – except with the difference of an ‘Astaghfirullah’ appended at the end of every such thing.

The piety:

What I despise most is when people wear their piety on their sleeves and brandish it like a right to say whatever bullshit they want to utter. If you have a beard, you can tell those ‘infidel children’ on the corner of street to get the hell to their homes and do some ‘virtuous deeds’ and not waste the holy month in playing cricket. And you can also tell the neighbor next door to shut up his stereo, ‘kam az kam ramzan main tou!!!’ You can also coax, rather force your colleagues to accompany you to prayers by telling them over and over again that ‘It’s Ramzan!!!!!!!!’ And finally, you can have lavish iftars after all this ‘hard work’ and an extra-lavish sehri and then go sermon others about patience, fortitude and empathy.

As I stated at the start, the month still holds some charm for me. Even with all that I’ve stated above, I still somehow enjoy the ambience of this month. I mean, ok, I can’t eat publicly when I’m not fasting and that’s a nuisance but still, there’s something about the month that’s enjoyable. Perhaps it’s the change from the daily routine. Or the recipes. Or the nighters that become more frequent. Whatever be it, Ramzan and Eid still have some fun left to them.

Fragments

The gypsy lust of the bygone days stirs yet again.

It’s time, perhaps. It’s time.

Looking back..

A few years into the past I find myself at my working desk at home. My computer is on at 3 in the night and the door is slightly ajar to alert me if someone hears me working this late since I’m not allowed to. I have some books about me, my diary lying at the sofa arm-rest and I’m busy scrolling through debates at the IR community on orkut. I go through a number of threads, post at some, skim through yet others and write an article for YW. I then go over to my blog, make a post, plan some things, scribble down the diary entry for the day, go through the novel I’m reading these days and then sleep at about 4 in the night. And college is at 8:30 next morning.

Fast forward a few years and here I am, stranded at a place which has taken away so much from me that I don’t even find the apt measure to complain. Although I admit I have gradually grown so used of it that I no longer discern a change in myself, but occasional introspection into my transitions still does render me aggrieved. I do try to find solace in that I have earned a degree in these four years but to be honest, I do know the reality of this degree which has lent me nothing but a parchment. And in return, it has taken all that I have held dear and cherished. It took away my passion, my writing routine and my reading habit. I barely ever feel the urge of doing a blog entry or writing an article, despite the extensive respite I have in my not-so-rare idle hours at hostel. As for writing fiction, something I had always planned on doing, it never came to be. I totally admit that I am to be blamed hugely for all this and that if I’d have willed strongly enough, I may have gotten all that I’d aspired for. But the fact also remains that the environment has a strong influence on one and this environment, here at university, has made a terrible recluse of me. I sleep like a druggist, spend hours watching movies and seasons and keep pending assignments and deadlines. Of course I had occasional brushes with success in writing but apparently, I’ve wasted nearly all of them.

Sometimes I simply wish I could go back in time and be in my second year and have that passion back which urged me to write and read unendingly. I wish I could get back that spark which would not let me rest, and the dreams I had, many grand ones, and ambitions of one day making it big in so many things. I know it may seem I’m being thus without any solid enough reason, with still the possibility of a long life ahead. But the fact is, I seem to have lost interest in nearly everything. I am no longer sure what I want to do with my life. I can’t find a course to stick to nor a permanency in my faculties. It all seems to have grown fickle and with it, it’s withering away – like the dull, morose reminiscent of a spent spring. The words flow no more, the stroke of inspiration is long a thing of yore and when I set myself to do things, I do them merely for the sake of completing them – never with that zest for intellectual excellence.

It may well be a phase, a phase of despair that shall pass. And I hope, for my sake that it is. For it seems impossible to live so emptily, so devoid of an orientation that the very disorientation starts to tire down and drain all energy. It’s like being made to live in a dungeon after being accustomed to a dreamland. It’s suffocating and oppressive. And that’s exactly how I feel these days.

 

Trip to Ziarat ‘Zinda Peer’, Hasan Abdal

Before I narrate the details of a recent trip to Hasan Abdal, let me tell you that I’ve been planning this trip since the last three years. So, last Thursday as I sat by the famous uni dhabha, MFC, criticizing Murree Brewery’s lemon malt for being too bland, Zohaab told me he was leaving on the uni route for Hasan Abdal in ten minutes. Mohsin Gilani, another friend, was sitting next to me. We exchanged a meaningful look, the kind of are-you-also-thinking-what-I’m-thinking look and taking a last sip off our sodas, told Zohaab we were coming along.

We were at Hasan Abdal in about an hour and headed straight for Panja Sahib. The plan was to spend some time in the shrine and ‘feel’ some history. On the way we caught sight of an apricot orchard blossoming with white flowers. And thus began the clicking frenzy. It looked truly exquisite. After having some shots, we proceeded further to Panja Sahib shrine. But right at the entrance, we were told that no Muslims were allowed in. It was cruel, we tried some tactics with the guard but he seemed one adamant fellow. Resigning the cause, we changed plans and decided to visit the other important sites around.

On a little distance from Panja sahib is a tomb and a garden bearing the graves of two of Akbar’s famous Hakims. It’s a small grassy patch which is very well-preserved and I can vouch for the fact that at least the three stairs at the entrance are still original. Spending some time there, we decided to visit the Ziarat Zinda Peer next. It’s the mazaar of the same famous peer who, according to the legend, threw a rock at Guru Nanak who stopped the rock with his hand and left the marks on the rock. The mazaar of Wali Qandhari is perched high atop a hill which is quite a distance. We bought some junk food and started the climb through the rocky slope. I was quite shocked to see some people climbing the distance bare-footed. Discerning my surprise, Gilani told me this was one of the many manifestations of ‘Mannat’ people render to the peers. There is also a famous legend that those who are not true-hearted face lots of hurdles and the descent is quite harsh for them on the way back. Needless to note here that our descent was a very easy one!! :P

Anyway, we reached the top of the hill in about half an hour. I was dog-tired, with that stamina of good, ol’ days gone, I realized. We made way to the grave of the peer, took the pinch of salt, being the ‘Tabarruk‘ and clicked around. It was a fine site, with the pleasant wind of concluding winters blowing across our faces and two peacocks roaming around in the open space. Two women sat in the spacious verandah, quietly dropping the beads on their tasbeehs. Few faithfuls reverently took the oil from kerosene lamps and rubbed it across their faces. Yet others prayed in front of the grave. We lurked about for some time and then descended through the stairs to the dairah, right next to the mazaar. Upon inquisition, we were told that a mefil-e-Samaah was held every Wednesday and that langar was available at certain times while the chai-khana(tea house) was serving 24/7. Naturally, we were in the tea hosue sipping warm tea after five minutes. I lit a cigarette, though elbowed both by Gilani and Zohaab for not being reverent enough. I shoved their concerns aside. This is because there’s this thing about mazaars that I like best and which is what lures me to them. And that’s the fact that no one cares to be judgmental at the mazaars. There are no sinners, no wrong-doers. All discriminations are gone, all fatwas null and void. And you can be just you without the fear of being admonished or rebuked. Everyone is too complacent to give a damn to another being. That’s what I absolutely love about mazaars.

So well, after the tea and the smoke, and small chatter with others in the tea house, we embarked back. As noted earlier, the journey down was quite easy and we were at the foot of the hill in no time. It was late already with the amethyst, overcast sky ominously spelling a possible downpour. Before we could get on the bus back to Taxila, though, we had this one last treat of Hasan Abdal, the Raho fish. It was very well-cooked and tasty, so said Gilani. I have no opinion on that, being unable to discern a difference in it and the rest of the fish I have ever eaten.It was fairly good though, I must say.

With that ended our brief trip and we headed back to hostel. And no, I didn’t get back to my room and drop dead for a dreamless sleep. I ticked off three more movies off my to-watch list and got to sleep at 4 in the morning! ;)

A note to certain ‘fellas’

You all stand there at a distance. A distance I have always kept. Why? You would know just now. You stand at that distance because you’re too given to petty thing and bigoted visions to view my life. Because your own pathetic lives do not let you discern what the reality is. With your convoluted sights, you can see nothing. And I don’t have time to hold your hands and take you along the path. With your content smiles, you are wretched beings. And I don’t feel any need to reveal what my life holds. I can’t relate it all. It’s just too…tiresome. It’s like wasting time, time I can spend on far important things. From the distance, you watch the shining accolades and fervently believe you know me through and through. What ignorant morons! And it’s sometimes annoying to see you believe that. Yet, I can’t help you with that either. You can continue to dwell on the other side of that line I’ve drawn and I’ll never let you cross that line. Whatever you do, you won’t look through. You can say all that you want to in your sheer hypocrisies. You can commit all the slander you want, all the calumny you wish to commit. Do it to your heart’s fill. Only, do not reveal your rotten thoughts to me. It only hinders my path.

I don’t need your help, your words or your god damn pretentious, hypocritical smiles. Your praises give me no pleasure. Your criticism and your grandiloquent dispositions and feedback, all of it is meaningless to me. Keep that to yourself and don’t make me pity your more for your utter lack of comprehension. Oh and your best shots, those abstruse discourses, all in it’s form and color have such a false tint to them that I can’t help but laugh at them. They amuse me. Your meaningless lives amuse me. Your desperate indulgences seeking refuge from that void amuse me. It all amuses me so much that I wish to pause for a moment and have some entertainment off it. But alas fellas, I have little time for that.

So let this be known to you: you matter not to me. Your presences amuse me, yeah, but they do not add or remove any significance from my life. You stand and will stand across that line. And that’s where you shall always remain for you’ve earned that.

 



Interview with Us magazine

Click on the image to enlarge.

Originally published at: http://e.thenews.com.pk/1-28-2011/us_page7.asp

2011 resolutions

They say time is money. I believe it is, only if we end up at the right ATM to get the cash! ;)

Here’s what I intend to achieve through the year 2011 if I’m still in the current mode of being at the end of it, that is :P

1- Prepare well for GRE and score real good at it.

2- Go through all those books I’ve been adding to me to-read list.

3- Write more often and try my hands at fiction. Editorial-like writing is starting to bore me!!

4- Be a source of great happiness for my family and teach my nephews many new things (especially Saadi who’s always keen about blackholes and dolphins).

5- Meet my niece when I go back home two weeks later. I guess she is the best gift heavens could have given me for this new year. And I could spend the entire year loving her and caring for her alone!! <3

6- Distance myself from things that seem uncomfortable to me and stop imposing them upon self.

7- Stop wasting time and expend it more meaningfully.

8- Come up with at least three awesome ideas!! ;)

That’s all for now I guess. Oh and also that I’ll be ranting more often on my web space here. So keep tuned in! :P

Harum-scarum contempalay-sion – aka usual rant special edition

I wonder why is it that deadlines keep falling like bombs on my head! I’m barely done with one that the next pops up on my scheduler. And I’ve been late on most of them, nearly all of them. Nothing that I’m bothered about, as long as I’m working on one or the other of them. But heck, sometimes I feel like I should stop giving a damn!! If I had a cozy room here at this darned hostel , I’d have smuggled in hefty provisions of dry fruits and a fair dose of movies(I hate myself for not having profited from Umer’s classy collection when I had the chance!!) and then hibernated for the winters. Of course winters are bliss and I’m not backing off from my self-claimed apprenticeship of Jack London but well…winters are bliss only if you’re either on those snow-caped hills taking on some new adventure or else, lavishing in a snug abode with hours, nay days, free of all occupation. Affording neither of those tendencies, here I am, driven crazy by all those pending tasks and pestering reminders and still freaked out at the pending commitments I’ve made to myself. The prime, for now, is my GRE preparation which seems to be going nowhere with that god damned list of some 3500 vocab words!! Imagine!! And here I lamented NUST walas for making rattay walay tests. In the English section, it’s the word-relationships that’s giving me crack-ups. When you don’t have the slightest idea what the two given words mean, let alone their inter-relationship, you do feel like pulling your hair out! And to top it, you have another eight in the choice options and make a slight mistake and you’d be doomed. Plus, my luck has a natural aversion to guesses!

Finally, the worst part is the project. There’s no getting anywhere with it. I be doomed if I had the slightest idea what am I gonna do next on it, except that I’ve promised my supervisor of the requirements document by Monday. Heavens help me in procuring one!

Anyway, life’s good. Caught the last screening session of ‘Inception’ at Cinepax yesterday. Today was lousy. Tomorrow I plan to check up on Dawn Expo and run some chances against some really improbable luck. Then there’s TEDxMargalla in the coming, on Dec 4 and I’m really looking forward to this one! Got ditched by British Council wallas on a December arrangement or I’d have been at Multan, munching away drumsticks at Sheza Inn by the 2nd week of Dec. Never mind that. I can live through December on the thoughts of Tamasha and post-semester vacations in January. I hope it’d be fun!

P.S. I may be getting another few-seconds-of-fame shot. Details, soon :D

Thirteen random thoughts

1 – Why is it that sometimes you simply can’t feel anything strongly? Like as if everything that happened around you, about you was happening in a state of dream.

2 – People tend to be very judgmental. Very, very judgmental. And yet nine out of ten would very piously claim that they hate to be judgmental.

3 – The more I’ve indulged into my social interactions, breaking free of my recluse, the more it has taken away my ability to write from me. I wonder why.

4 – The mid-semesters are two days away. And here I am, typing away my random ruminations and utterly unprepared for the crappy mids.

5 – I can totally relish coffee and a good company right now – someone I could speak my heart out to.

6 – Why the hell I was so late in looking up for post-grad information. Who on earth would write two fairly objective recommendation letters in this hell-hole for me.

7 – People tend to under-estimate others. Perhaps they are too wrapped in their own cocoons of self-exaltation to forget that the other person really doesn’t give a damn about whatever they say.

8 – Final year and when people tend to lay their hands on every single opportunity of participating in events, I feel very disinterested.

9 – Political science is good. But then again, so is psychology, fiction writing, media arts and lot more. The dilemma lives on.

10 – I realized that rigidity is the death of rationality. No matter where you stand, if you firmly believe that your view is final, you’re definitely wrong.

11 – How do you know when you wake from reality to a dream? Sometimes, your perceptions are too slow for a quick pause. But how’d you know if the very realization of this slowness of perceptions itself is too slow to register itself to you?

12 – Pretension, endless and loud gibberish, flattery – is there a more successful recipe than this to be successful in today’s world?

13 – November is here – and I’ve lost a lot to the twenty-two fortnights since last time we met.