musaafir-e dasht

Following is excerpted from an sms that I wrote to a friend: "...A man loses himself when he loses his centre of existence. It is only then that Life does not remain worth living anymore. The worth of our purpose determines the worth of our Life."

Winters are the most wonderful part of the year. Why. That I do not know; they simply are. For me Winter symbolises 'Life'. A queer relation, I know. But I cannot help seeing the world all gray and cold. Listen to the 'song of the reed' (Yes, I am referring to Rumi) and you will hear how melancholic Life's song is! Yet, there's a strain of joy that keep the notes brimming with life. All may be gray and cold, but it is still bound to end... ...T.S. Eliot once wrote, "In my beginning is my end." I don't know why I feel that it's the other way round... Following is one of my personal favourites on Winter... How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness every where! And yet this time removed was summer's time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widow'd wombs after thei...

... a struggle to delve deep into my 'self'. An uphill task indeed!

Here is a work of art - N.M. Rashid's Hasan Koozagar - which I would like to describe as 'strange'. Just like 'Wuthering Heights' - although there is no apparent similarity of any sort - , this poem has something in it which can only be felt ... and not described! Translation by Frances Pritchett [http://aligarians.com/2006/04/hasan-kuuzagar/] Jahanzad, down in the street before your door Here I am, burnt-out Hasan the Potter This morning in the bazaar when I saw you At old Yusuf the perfumer’s shop In your glance was that brilliance I’ve longed for, wandering nine years in madness During that time I never looked back At my ailing pots - Pots formed by my deft hands, Lifeless creatures of clay, color, oil glaze They whispered: “Where is Hasan the Potter now? He left us, his own creations He created us, then turned away like the gods!” Jahanzad, nine years passed for me As time would pass in a buried city; Clay in the clay-vats With its fragrance that used to ravish ...

Of Poets and Sufis - Some Observations. I have slightly changed the title of this column. Instead of using the word 'mystics' I have chosen to use the word 'sufis'. All the contributors who wrote for this column made me realize that these two words need to be distinguished from each other. The concept of Mysticism exists in many religions of the world. The term 'sufi', however, is exclusively related to the Islamic concept of tassawwuf [which can also not be equated with the Western (read: prevalent) notion of 'Sufism'!]. The question to which some of you quite intelligently and profoundly responded was about poets turning into 'sufis'. And when I mention this term, I am alluding to the age-old tradition of tassawwuf - the tradition in which we find great names like Rumi and Bulleh Shah. Poetry is a result of the creative energy that a poet is endowed with. Poetry, I believe, does not lack reason at all. A poet can and mostly does use reason and ...

LADY UTTERWORD . What an extraordinary way to behave! What is the matter with the man? ELLIE . [ in a strangely calm voice, staring into an imaginary distance ] His heart is breaking: that is all. [ The Captain appears at the pantry door, listening ]. It is a curious sensation: the sort of pain that goes mercifully beyond our powers of feeling. When your heart is broken, your boats are burned: nothing matters any more. It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace. -George Bernard Shaw, Heartbreak House .

"The purpose of my life is to live a life of purpose!"

"We never become. We always remain in the process of becoming!"

"mehv-e-tasbeeh tu sabb hain magar idraak kahan Zindagi khud hee 'ibaadat hai magar hosh nahi" - Jigar Muraadabadi

A teacher at our department passed away yesterday. She taught me for three years and I still can't believe that she is no more. This is how certainly uncertain life is. She was supposed to teach us some courses this semester but she herself never knew that she would never be given an opportunity to join the department this semester. She had been ill for the past six months and cancer was diagnosed when it was in its last stage. And yesterday, she departed. Another death that I came to know about yesterday was that of a young man of twenty-six. He died in a car accident. The only person who supported his family along with his brother's family. And yesterday only, Dr I.S. was talking about death in his class while teaching 'Wuthering Heights'. Death always reminds me of what Iqbal thought of it: "Maut ko samjhain hain ghaafil ikhtataam-e-zindagi Hai ye shaam-e-zindagi, subh-e-dawam-e-zindagi" Death does not put an end to life. It's simply Allah's way of ...

"God made the illusion look real and the real an illusion. He concealed the sea and made the foam visible, the wind invisible, and the dust manifest. you see the dust whirling, but how can the dust rise by itself? you see the foam, but not the ocean. invoke Him with deeds, not words; for deeds are real and will save you in the infinite-life." -Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi, "Mathnawi" How hollow words can be at times... Ask me... someone who always resorts to words, words and words. Let's see where would it lead to. I think I can wait because I am constantly told that "Hopefulness is the art of waiting!" I think I should try mastering the art!

"All is the labour of love..."

Today, a strange thought occurred to me while I was lying in my bed planning to fall asleep: our lives are characterised by a 'how' and a 'why'. 'How', I felt, was all about the years unborn. A question as to how things will turn out to be. But 'why' is the mystery that perhaps remains mysterious throughout. Can we ever figure out 'why' things happen to us? 'Why' do we feel all that we feel? 'Why' are the matters of heart and soul so complex? 'Why' are things related to each other in weird ways... There's an endless series of 'WHYs' that define our lives... This 'why' is an entire experience in itself - at times a very disturbing one.

"Simt ki koi khabar hai na sitaaray ka pata Chaltay rehne ko hee yeh log safar jaantay hain..." ... "Yehi kaha ke meri aankh dekh sakti hai Keh mujh pe toot para saara shehr naa-beena..." I wonder who wrote these verses... I heard them being quoted in my class...

S: Do these ideas jolt you from inside? Let yourself be jolted. You know, a certain kind of skepticism is necessary for all of us. Remember Imam Ghazzali? "Khuda tujhe kisi toofaan se aashna kar de Keh teray behar ki maujon main iztaraab nahi" aapnay ander iztaraab paida honay dain... "tujhay kitaab se mumkin nahi firaagh ke tu kitaab-khwan hai maga sahib-e-kitab nahi" I: But Sir, what if we are misled? Most of us are scared to think for the fear of getting misled. It is so difficult to bear with this skepticism at times... S: Silence ... ... This is more of a thought than feeling, I believe. This shows you are already thinking! Your question has scared me... ... Silence ensues ...

Nuskha-e-haye-wafa, a book that one never gets tired of. On every reading one uncovers a new meaning. A meaning that was missed out on the previous reading! That is what good poetry is - layers and layers of meaning and every layer giving way to a newer, fresher one! From Naqsh-e-Faryaadi Dil raheen-e-gham-e-jahan hai aaj Har nafas tishna-e-fughaan hai aaj sakht weeraan hai mehfil-e-hasti Aey gham-e-dost! Tu kahan hai aaj . . . Sozish-e-dard kissay maaloom! Kon jaanay kissi ke ishq ka raaz Meri khaamoshiyon main larzaan hai Meray naalon ki gumshuda aawaaz . . .

The following article appeared in daily Dawn, June 09, 2007 Why the Zionists believe they are the ‘chosen people’ By M. Shahid Alam NO idea has played a more seminal role in the recent history of Jewish and Christian Zionism than the Jewish doctrine of divine election or chosenness. Since this doctrine is the cornerstone of Zionism, divine sanction for Jewish uniqueness has been inseparable from Israeli exceptionalism and Israeli history. At first, political Zionism had little to recommend itself aside from the mythic allure of the Promised Land. Most Jews greeted the project alternatively with consternation and derision. They could instantly sense that the creation of a Jewish state would give an impetus to anti-Semitism in Europe; the project also struck most of them as a fantastic utopia with little chance of success. The success of the Zionist plan required three steps: persuading Jews to abandon their homes in Europe for the hazards of colonising a backward land, wresting Palestin...

"Dard-e-dil likhoo’n kab tak, jaa’oon unn ko dikhlaa’oon Ungliyan figaar apni, khaama khoo’n-chikaan apna" -Mirza Asad Ullah Khan Ghalib An excerpt from Kamila Shamsie's Salt and Saffron “…On the walls, Sadequain’s pictorial rendition of one of Ghalib’s verses. The illustration showed a paper, half filled with Urdu words. In the foreground, a pair of hands with bloodied fingertips. One hand held a red-tipped quill, poised to scratch a finger which dripped blood. The accompanying couplet was one I could recite at the age of three: Dard-e-dil likhoo’n kab tak, jaa’oon unn ko dikhlaa’oon Ungliyan figaar apni, khama khoo’n-chikaan apna Conventional translations would render it something like this: ‘How long shall I write of my aching heart? Come! I will show my Beloved/ My wounded fingers, my pen drpping blood.”

http://jang.com.pk/thenews/jun2007-weekly/iqra-01-06-2007/index.html#3

Can dreams be disposed off. I do not why but this question struck me today from absolutely nowhere. I do not know the answer. If dreams cannot be disposed off, can they be replace by other, 'better' dreams. But 'better' seems to be a relative term over here. What is 'better'. Do not all of us have our very own criterion to define this term. Or is it time which make things appear 'better' or 'worse' to us. What should we do with questions that do not have answers. Are there any unanswerable questions in the first place. "Sometimes questions are the answers!" P.S. I have not used question marks throughout the post. Why. Let's think about it.

"Ab jo dekhain tou koi asii bari baat na thee Ye shab-o-roz o mah-o-saal ka purpaich safar Qadre asaan bhi hoe sakta tha! Ye jo har morh pe kuch uljhay huway rastay hain Inn mein tarteeb ka imkaan bhi hoe sakta tha! Ham zara dhayan se chaltay… Ab jo dekhain tou bohth saaf nazar aatay hain, Saaray manzar bhi, pas-e-manzar bhi Laikin iss der-khayali ka sila kya hoga? Ye tou sab baad ki baatain hain, meri jaan, inhay Dekhtay, sochtay rehnay se bhala kia hoga? Wo tou jo hona tha, huwa... hoe bhi chukka..." Well, I do not who the poet is!