Monday, November 30, 2009
Who am I?
I am the eye that searches for the unknown. The lost.
I am the lips that speak the secrets. The untold.
I am the soul that is trapped, craving for freedom. The imprisoned.
And you still ask me who I am?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Whatever it was, I still have not found the answer. I may never find the answer. But this secret may make go crazy. I am getting insane. How to? How to? How to?
How to beat these people? How to???
Friday, August 14, 2009
"Hey, I will call you in a while when I get back home, I think my workers are having fireworks in the rally. Bubye."
I remember when my mom left home and I turned on the television to see a RED ALERT NEWS BULLETIN saying: A bomb blast on the rally of a candidate for elections for Member of National Assembly in the area of Parachinar.
I was thinking it couldnt be. Not possible. We just talked to my dad. His rally was over and they were having fireworks. But then the The News Bulletin said: Bomb blast on the election rally of Dr. Syed Riaz Hussain Shah NA-37.
This was enough to sweep me off my feet. The rest was history. 61 people dead and 232 injured in the Suicide Bom Blast on my father's rally after he was done with his speech. His closest workers were among the martyrs. My dad cried. He cried because he is such a guy who cannot even see an insect dead.
We all mourned for the dead but I remember what happened two weeks later. I still remember:
"Shehroz! Were you asleep? I am so sorry to hear about your dad!"
"What? What happened to him? Must be a mistake my friend."
"No No, turn on the television and watch the news. There was an attack on his life."
"I will talk to you later!"
News Bulletin: A roadside, remote-controlled bomb blew up the SUV of Dr. Syed Riaz Hussain, candidate for Member of National Assembly from NA-37. No further details.
This time I felt like I was dreaming. No one in my family knew about it as it was morning and everyone was busy with their house chores. I call on the cellphone of my father and a voice tells me that the number is powered off. I was shocked, scared, shitty, and could not even cry. I took out the power cable of the television so that no one should see the news. My mom was not home. I call her just to hear her crying because someone had told her already.
"Mamma, I saw the news. It cannot be. It is a lie. It is a mistake."
"Shehroz, then why isn't your father picking up his damn cellphone?"
"Mamma, relax, mamma we need to be careful, he must be busy. I will call his workers and ask them. Mamma, don't cry. Please mamma, I cannot handle this alone. Please mamma, keep it a secret from others till we contatct Baba. Mamma, for me, please stay strong, I am coming for you, stay there. I am coming right now!"
It took us another four hours before we talked to my father who was in the Operation Theatre after the incident. In a caravan of SUVs of my father and his workers plus guards, no one knew in which SUV my father was sitting and yet the enemy had the information. The SUVs in front had passed by the bomb and when my father's SUV approached the spot, someone with a remote control blew up the bomb. My father's guards and driver were severely injured and the SUV became a pile of rubble. They were taken to the hospital. Who could be so merciless to do such a thing to my father who never meant harm to anyone? He never even meant harm to his own enemies!
My father was injured and so were his closest workers. As one worker gave the account, he said "when we reached to the spot and were looking for your father, we saw a body full of blood. The head and face was so bloody that we thought that your father's body got separated from his head and one of the guys started screaming LOOK FOR THE HEAD LOOK FOR THE HEAD!"
Before we could get in touch with my father, people started pouring in our house. All worried. All waiting for the news. Prayers were answered and myf ather survived the second attempt on his life. But those four hours before the phone call from dad were the most difficult moments of my life. My mom crying, my brothers crying.
"I am okay son. I am okay. I am perfectly fine. I will talk to you later, right now I am going to an undisclosed location to rest. I will call you in a while again."
I will never forget that one month full of election excitement and then full of bloody depression. The memory still haunts me! Haunts me every second of my life, yet I can do nothing. You cannot even imagine!!!
When I say I HAVE SEEN THINGS AND I HAVE EXPERIENCED THINGS, I am not lying. All this changed me. Made me stronger, harder and WIERDER. I may have a friendly mask on me but I am different from inside.
Monday, August 3, 2009
It is funny how some people think this moon is such a romantic object. I thought so too and had so many romantic nights just sitting under it and staring at it.
Then it is funny how you hate and blame everything when you are angry. I was angry that day and I blamed this same moon for a lot of things. But then I saw that there is a lot more to this whole shebang.
This same moon watches over the lovers of the night. But this same moon also watches over the hungry and poor of the dark, the forgotten.
This same moon watches over a baby sleeping in his craddle. But this same moon also watches over the homeless and the sick, the forgotten.
This moon watches over the lush green valleys full of life. But this moon also watches over the dead deserts, craving for for life, the forgotten.
This moon watches over all the things we know. But this moon aslo watches over all the things we forget, THE FORGOTTEN!
When the whole world is asleep and forgets that life has two sides, the good and the bad, this same moon is awake watching over what we forget! This moon is not like us humans that it forgets. We are a flawed creatures and we forget. One day we will oursleves become the FORGOTTEN and then even the moon will close its eyes on us!
"I don't know, it has never happened to me before!"
"Ozzy, you are creeping me out!"
"I never laughed so hard that it became like a girl's laughter!"
"Ozzy, stop it! Its freakin' me out! Your laughing fit is getting scary now!"
"I can't stop!"
"Ozzy, breathe, breathe! HAHAHA, you can't even breathe now!"
Oh I miss those days when I used to have those laughing fits where the final level of my laughter would be to laugh like a girl! It all started a week after I met my twin brother Marcelo. We were both ready to sleep in our beds with lights turned off that Marcelo made a small racist joke. It was a pathetic joke but I started laughing. And after about ten minutes, I reached my final level of laughter and started laughing like a girl. I just could not stop. Marcelo was scared. He got out of his bed and turned on the lights to find me lying upside down on the floor and laughing so hard that my face was red and eyes wet and popping out! He had to slap me to get me back to my senses! And after that my girly laugh became famous in the whole school as well as everywhere else. I would laugh in school, in car, in gym, in pool, on road, in bus...EVERYWHERE!
"Hey just wait, Ozzy is gonna laugh like a girl now!"
Oh only Marcelo could make me laugh like that! No one has ever been able to do that. None of my friends who I knew since birth could do that. Even I never knew that I could laugh so hard. I had never reached the full potential of my laugh to see that it is a GIRLY LAUGH!
Ever since I came back, I have not been able to laugh. THE REAL ACTUAL UNFAKE LAUGH. I have yet to experience that in Pakistan. I wish I could laugh again among all these miseries. I wish I could laugh again like a girl and have the time of my life. I still regret accidently deleting a video in which Marcelo recorded me laughing like a girl. Alas! Those days are gone. I have always been known as the SERIOUS SHEHROZ WHO MINDS HIS OWN BUSINESS. But only my true friends in America knew that THIS SERIOUS SHEHROZ is just a mask. OZZY'S LAUGH MAKES US LAUGH!
That is when it became clear to me that SHEHROZ HAS BEEN TRANSFORMED TO OZZY. And when I came back to Pakistan, OZZY'S EXISTENCE BECAME IMPOSSIBLE.
Marcelo, I wish I had known you my whole life; I would have been such a different person. Marcelo, I wish God had made you my ACTUAL twin brother. Marcelo, I wish you were here right now to make me laugh. I MISS LAUGHING. THE REAL ACTUAL UNFAKE LAUGH. THE GIRLY LAUGH.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
"Now you have changed"
"You were better before"
"What happened to you?"
"Hey this is Pakistan now!"
And all I could say to myself was FUCK IT! Yes! Fuck everything! I do not fucking give a shit about anything!
All my friends who I trusted with my life came out to be fake. BLOODY ASSHOLES! I would have given my life for them for I am not afraid of death (if you knew). I am not afraid of death but these fake friends gave me a thousand deaths. If I have changed for them, then don't they even love me to accept me no matter how different I am? Can't they understand that people change? Well, I am what I am and that is enough for me.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Pakistan is my home and America was just a small fantasy ride. But when I came back, I was all pumped up to bring a change in my area and make a difference. Now I realize that no matter what I do, it won't make a difference at all. Poor people will still sleep hungry, sects would still fight on, government would still steal, prices would still go higher and higher, soldiers would still die and country would still fall further. SO WHY SHOULD I EVEN BOTHER? We heard of Edhi and NGOs and many welfare organizations that do a lot of volunteer work but let us just sit and analyze the whole situation and ask ourselves DID IT MAKE A DIFFERENCE?? Did any of those eradicate poverty or brought social changes to our country? I am afraid the answer to this is in the NEGATIVE!
Pakistan was carved out in the year 1946 and its no better than it was then...Countries proceed ahead while Pakistan walks backwards. Every time someone raises his voice to rebel against the system is pushed back and killed or his voice muted!
WELCOME TO PAKISTAN! A MIND-TOORTURING PLACE FOR ME!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Now I know how a soldier feels like when he returns home. Now I know how a mother feels like seeing his child after bearing him for nine months. Now I know! Now I know alot of things. More than anyone. I have changed. Changed so much that nothing will be the same again. Never!
I have realized alot and seen alot. I have experienced alot and felt alot. I have seen both sides of the story, the inside and outside of a stone. I had lived inside a stone and always wondered how the outside was. Now I know. Not inside anymore. Things have changed. Nothing will be the same again. Never!
MEN! DO WHAT YOU WERE DOING!
WOMEN! DO WHAT YOU WERE DOING!
Do not mix up your responsibilities in the name of EQUALITY as a Finance Manager cannot be the same as a Marketing Manager because they both are different but equal in status.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Things have changed. I have attached myself to so many people who I am sure I will never see again. Even if they do promise to come to Pakistan, I do not know if I will be alive to welcome them. Who knows God's strange way of working! I have made friends, fallen in love and had fun and now it is all going to become just a memory. Everything will become just a memory or an internet discussion. I am called a pessimist for thinking like that, but actually I am just being realistic. I have bonded with people here and I have bonded with people from other countries even though I knew and they knew that we would never see each other again. Human nature. Wierd, isn't it? I never expected this. But now I have to survive the pain of letting it all go. I have to endure completely leaving behind my this life and never seeing it again! How will I do that I do not know because I am usually fragile emotionally! I do not express emotions but I burn from inside.
Bye my friends. Good-bye and forget me not, for I will never forget you!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Pakistan created itself out of the dust of an insignificant imagination. It pierced through the impossible and became the possible. And now it is being pushed into the abyss of destruction, the hell of disaster and the fire of doom. Who is to blame? The government or the people? I would blame Muhammad Ali Jinnah for creating a land for these undeserving, useless people who are the fuel for all this trouble and chaos. People blame it on the religious laws or the government policies but seldom would they accept that the fault lies in them. Why not get up and shout against anything that one may feel is worng? Why just sit in front of a television and complain? WHINE WHINE WHINE, that is all we are capable of. Our civilization is old and unique, why have we failed to compete in the world? Are the ideas of Social Darwinism true that one race could be superior to another? If it is, then we have proved inferior to the world and our time is short. Why not rise together and show the world who we are? That will probably not work because you are all busy with your selfish lives in front of your televisions and radios.
I dream of Pakistan as a nation not following some other nation like a pet but a nation of power, might and authority. I feel so small, insignificant and useless to do anything about Pakisatn. I have to wait for now. But I am scared that Pakistan will not survive till I am capable enough to actually do somethng about it. It has reached its critical level when other countries' eyes pop out to take over! America has shown concern over our nuclear power and in near future may attack it with this excuse. Why cannot other countries have nuclear technology and America can? Probably because America wants to stay as the world power but why cannot everyone be equal?
Pakistan is sinking and with it my heart! All Pakistan needs is a Messiah!
Since I came here, I have found out how true my friends were to me all my life. They stabbed me right in the heart so many times that my heart is completely numb now. Who to trust? I am no longer what I was in my school in Pakistan. They all turned their faces away from me. ALL OF THEM! Now, I have to go back and I will again be surrounded by people but will I ever be able to trust anyone enough to befriend him/her? This has surely changed me enought to become cruel and rude. I was always nice to EVERYONE and never selfish but now SHEHROZ has changed. It will not be good for my social life but atleast my heart will be satisfied that I will never be betrayed. If I am bad enough then the friends I will make will not love me because of my position and status but because they would know me deep enough to see why I have become so rude and slefish.
And as for these hypocritical so-called friends, I will show them who I am and make them realize that they have lost my valuable friendship. I would have taken all of them in my boat but now there is only one boat and only one seat for me. I RIDE ALONE NOW!
Monday, April 20, 2009
BUT...on my right ear I heard a voice of God Himself! The most sweet sound I have ever heard! The voice was enough to bring tears in my eyes and to make my faith stronger.
Oh Son of Adam, you asked me to tell you what is right! I told you what is wrong! See what is going around you and think what is wrong. I created you but would you turn away from them the way they did? I crafted you with my own hands which is more difficult than the way an artist makes a sculptor and I love you more than the way a mother loves her child after bearing him for nine months. I took care of you every moment since I made you. You asked me for a car and I gave you a job. You asked me for help and I gave you a friend. You asked me for satisfaction and I gave you family. You asked me for love and I gave you children. You asked me for better jobs and I gave you better education. You asked me for protection and I gave you mother. You asked me for blessings and I gave you a father. You asked me for strength against you renemies, I put you with strong enemies so that you may become stronger You asked for food and I gave you rain. You are fortunate and many are not. Thus, in this time of test will you forsake me? Will you deny the shadow of my hand over your head and start singing and crying like these ignorants who think I would like to be worshipped with music and songs. I only like to be worshipped from within your hearts and not from your mouth with a devil's tongue!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
She was standing there. And I was far away. She was standing there at the bus stop with a swarm of people around her like a bee hive-unconcerned and busy. And I was standing here, far away with my rich friends around me who would give ther life for me. A distance existed between us, a social distance and a cultural distance. I never believed in love at first sight but it is ironic how a thief can turn into a priest and how a priest can turn into a thief. But it couldn't be love. It just couldn't be. Its just a fantastic concept over-exagerrated by stories, movies, poems and songs. How can someone like me be ever involved in a chidish thing called love. I just sat in my car and drove away.
I couldn't sleep anymore. What was it? Why was it? Why is love considered the most beautiful thing in the world yet it is so painful and torturous? My once satisfaction-filled dreams are stolen by a poor girl who I don't even know. She was ordinary looking yet so extraordinary! What was it about her that snatched me away from my carelesness and changed me in a moment. How can a rebel like me change so easily? That is how my nights were spent after that day, questions racing through my mind like eagles soaring towards the ground to catch its prey. I was disturbed and confused. I decide to find her. What a typical start of the love story! It was crazy i knew that well.
I find her at the same bus stop. I park my car far away. She was standing there and this time i was closer to her. I stand by her, she ignores. "Where does this bus go?" I ask. "To the city market." She replies. And then starts what a poet would call a true love story. I would meet her everyday and we would talk about everything. Yet I never expressed her my love nor did she see me in that sense. We were friends and I was more than content with her company. Everyday I would stand in front of the mirror and promise myself to tell her about my feelings but somewhere in my heart I was waiting for something-waiting for a sign from her. I was afraid that I may lose her forever, a dilemma faced by every lover. I decided never to knock the door. Stay quiet and be friends. There was still a distance I could never shorten. What else could one do who never used to believe in love?
Like every love story, there is always a twist that changed the whole direction of the story. She stopped showing up at the bus stop. I never knew her home! How could I be so stupid? I would wait thereeveryday yet she never showed up. What to do? Where to go? OH THE MADNESS AND THE PAIN! Everyday I would imagine her silky hair like a stream of water brushing against my cheek, her breath like spring breeze caressing my hair. I could not sleep, could not even dream about her. I picked the knife and did what I could do to get rid of my pain.
She had died in an accident after meeting me one day and departed from this world leaving behind a secret lover who killed himself. Indeed they met somewhere in the other world and would have blamed each other for never knocking the door!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
One of them was to write HAPPY BIRTHDAY all over Brooke's car and 'Food Wrapped' her whole car using a few rolls of clear food wrap. That was hilarious. The expressions were pricelss once she saw it! It took the elements of spying plus speed plus accuracy plus brains to pull this one off!
Another recent one was when Marcelo and I were going with Kent to an old lady's house to play some games and have dinner. Her name was Mary Spears. Now, the problem was that she had a very nosy neighbor (another old lady) who would spy on all of her neighbors all the time. Guess what we did to her! Me and marcelo walked up to her house and rang the bell. She opened the door and I said "ARE YOU THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR THE ESCORT SERVICE?" Escort is a more polite word for hooker (in this case, 2 handsome male hookers from Pakistan and Brazil). hearing this, she was shocked and said "NO NO I DIDN'T ASK FOR ANY!" At this Marcelo (my Brazilian brother) said, "AREN'T YOU MARY SPEARS?" And the old lady immediately says, "OH MARY SPEARS LIVES ACROSS THE STREET IN A GREEN HOUSE!" The only purpose of this was to test her NOSINESS and stimulate it further. In a matter of seconds, the news spread throughout the neighborhood old ladies that Mary Spears asked for two young, handsome male ESCORTS. Now, her curiousity could not keep her from calling Mary Spears and getting further details. So she calls and goes on, "WHY DID YOU ASK FOR YOUNG ESCORTS?" ANd Mary Spears replies, "OH BECAUSE THEY ARE CUTE!"
Well, we had to tell her that it was a prank. If I was Mary Spears, I would have never told her that it was a prank just to increase her curiosity and spying over the next few weeks!
Death has always fascinated me. As most of my fascination lies in mysteries. The brain, the universe and death are the three most mysterious phenomena.
"Death seems so fascinating.
You live miserably.
And then die peacefully."
You see again I started writing rubbish! GARBAGE GARBAGE GARBAGE!
Those people who know me, they know that I am too lazy...Too lazy to even type my written stuff on computer. And some of those people even know that I do not like to share my written material. Its just that I prefer to keep my thoughts to myself! As half of the time they are completely absurd!
See, garbage again!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Man killing man! Blood and tears wash down whole cities! Even nthe moon sobs at our doings. The sun gets hotter with anger as it sees us destroy ourselves. Is this why God created us? To destroy oursleves? God gave us feelings so that we could feel the burden of our actions yet we all fail to feel! If only we had felt the cries of an orphan, screams of an injured, tears of a mother, anger of a brother, plea of a father and silence of a sister, we would have already stopped this self-destruction. People are butchered like animals in Afghanistan, Iraq and Gaza because only two small groups are not willing to agree on the same terms! Revenge is a poison to this world! Blood is not the cure for loss but salt on a wound! There is no satisfaction in EYE FOR AN EYE ideology. You feel satisfaction only in FLOWER FOR AN EYE...try it, it works!
I know I write rubbish, but how can I transform my heart into words? Rip open my chest and you will see pain. Pain to see you kill yourself.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
For past few days I have been homesick more than ever. I miss my grandparents and parents more than ever. No matter how bad or dangerous my land is, there is nothing better than its hard ground. I would rather tragically blow up into pieces than to live a long life away from Pakistan. My Land, My People, My Home. I was born there and there I shall rejoin with dust. I shall die on it and for it! I have seen and experienced and felt things that no one can understand. I do not want to live a cowardly life like a machine; a life in which you do not even have time for your family and friends. Americans wake up in the morning, eat and go to work. Then come back, eat and work. Then go to sleep. Is this Life? What is the use of earning all that extra salary and getting all those services when you do not know how to enjoy! These people neither live for themselves nor for God. While Pakistanis either live for themselves or for God which makes my land so colorful and lively! People would still leave their homes to go to a mosque even if a rocket dropped a few meters from it. They would still go shopping even if the mall was bombed many times. They would still celebrate independence even though streets are not safe. They would still eat outside even if they know that the food is unhygienic. They would still put all the food in front of their guests even if they know that they won’t have food for the next day. THIS IS PAKISTAN! AND THESE ARE ITS PEOPLE!
Proud to be a Pakistani even though patriotism was never taught in my school (as it is taught in American schools)