musaafir-e dasht

Ramadan 14, 1433 AH Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again? - Emily Bronte I set out for the university at around 7.30 am this morning. One of the most pleasant morns in this Ramadan. Alhamdulillah. When I got on to the bus, I was reminded of the book on which I had spent around twenty minutes last night in order to convert and clean up its format to suit my kindle - The Embattled Innocence: Recollections of a Muslim Relief Worker by Suleman Ahmer. After paying my fare to the conductor, I pulled out my kindle from my handbag and started reading the preface and went on to read the first chapter, at the end of which, I was so moved to tears, that I had to shut my reading device off and give myself some time to think, and rethink. By this time, I saw the huge gates of the NED University passing by on my left hand side. I prepared myself to get off at the next stop - my university. In a dazed state of mind, I alighted the bus...

Now here is something for which the Urdu expression, lamha e fikriya, suits best! Please visit THIS extremely thought-provoking post at Al-Miskeenah .

Received the following couplet as a text message from a cousin. Very aptly portrays the state of affairs in the present day world. I don't know who the poet is. مرنا تو اس جہاں میں کوئی حادثہ نہیں اس دور ناگوار میں جینا کمال ہے

An amazing bayaan by Shaykh Kamal urging us to reflect on our present conditions as a people. Hope in the Times of Despair Source: http://alsafh.wordpress.com/2010/08/20/hope-in-times-of-despair/

Okay, now this is something really interesting and indeed plausible. I mean the comparison. Read on, Article: Harf-e Raaz az Auriya Maqbool Jan And yes, I loved the title of the article. Very, very apt. Those who know the complete verse would definitely agree. P.S. Uni's analysis of the Obama-speech is also worth reading.

I remember when I was a child, once going through some very old family pictures I came across a picture in which two extremely beautiful pathaan children were sitting outside a traditional shop of some household items. I remember asking my mother with great fascination as to who these kids were. She told me that when she and my father went to Swat after getting married they took the picture there. And then she started telling me about Swat - the beauty of the place itself and its inhabitants. I also remember she promised me that we will visit Swat sometime soon. A promise that she never fulfilled though. :) But the picture never ceased to fascinate me. Never. The innocence. The beauty. The carelessness. The tradition. And what not. And then came a time when we collected all those pictures in a huge plastic bag and dumped them somewhere in the store-room on the first floor. And today, another picture flooded my mind with the memories of that old picture which once fascinated me endless...

After waking up and before settling down to study in the morning, I thought I should first have a look at today's papers. With everyone around in the house sleeping soundly (yeah it's a lazy Sunday morn), I thought this was the best time to get my hands on both the English and Urdu newspapers... ... I wasn't expecting anything 'good' to have happened but still there was a hope that something positive might have taken place. But no! Similar statements from the PM and the army personnel. Scores of people dying. Scores of them being displaced - have we ever thought what pain this little phrase Internally Displaced Refugee carries in it... ... I shook my head and opened my books with a heavy heart. Lately, I have developed a great distaste for 'discussing' things; specially the current political and military situation in the country. I feel that when we talk too much about it, we lose our ability to think and feel deeply as to all that's going on around. F...

When death and life seem to be intertwined... Maut ko samjhay hain ghaafil ikhtitaam-e zindagi Hay yeh shaam-e zindagi subh-e davaam-e zindagi -Iqbal Decisions. Life. Times when one has to go beyond one's self. Times when one has to submit. Point where resignation is followed by resuscitation. Point where one has to submit to one's Lord telling Him that 'now, I submit'... for Love's sake. Foregoing love for Love's sake. Giving oneself over to Allah. A point where the limitations of tadabeer are made clear to us. A man's worth indeed lies in the recognition of his worthlessness... Bar tar az andesha-e sood-o ziyaan hai zindagi Hay kabhi jaan aur kabhi tasleem-e jaan hai zindagi -Iqbal

... that haunt!

I have been trying to post something on my blog since quite a number of days now. Every time I sign in, I just keep on staring blankly at the screen and then silently sign out. I cannot write. I am trying hard but I still cannot. No, it is definitely not writer's block. I had and I still have so many things on my mind that I wanted and still want to write about but everything now seems to lose its importance. I write. I erase. I write again. I erase again, because one question that keeps on striking my mind is this: 'They words I write, what are they worth for?' And I, have no answer... I feel I am a spectator. A silent spectator, who has no role to play in the drama that is being staged before him/her... ... And yet I know, it is not the case. It is just that pain and helplessness cannot be written in words... Hum dekhain ge Laazim hai ke hum bhi dekhain ge...

Source The world indeed, is a happy place'... Falasteeni Shuhadaa jo pardais mein kaam aaye Mein jahan par bhi gaya arz-e watan Teri tazleel ke daaghon ki jalan dil mein liye Teri hurmat ke chiraaghon ki lagan dil mein liye Teri ulfat, teri yaadon ki kasak saath gayee Teray naaranj shagoofon ki mehek saath gayee Saaray an-dekhay rafeeqon ka jilo saath raha Kitnay haathon se hum-aaghosh mera haath raha Duur pardais ki bay-mehr guzargaahon mein Ajnabi shehr ki bay-naam-o-nishaan raahon mein Jis zameen par bhi khula meray lahoo ka parcham Lehlahata hai wahan arz-e falasteen ka 'alam Teray a'adaa ne kiya aik falasteen barbaad Meray zakhmon ne kiye kitnay falasteen aabaad Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Beirut, '80 For The Palestinian Martyrs Faiz Ahmed Faiz Translated by Daud Kamal Wherever I go, My beloved land, The pain of your humiliation Burns my heart. But there are compensations. Your dignity enhances mine. Your love walks with me. The fragrance of your citrus groves Breathes throu...