Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Baba Again…

And no, you are not to live life on the safe side. No, the goal is not to get out of this life unhurt and with a beautiful, pristine heart.
When you go to God, all that you have for Him to see is a heart tarnished and ripped, bleeding because it has lived to the extreme, aching because it has lived to the extreme; exuberant, winged, proud at its fallen state, sheepish perhaps but never, ever ashamed. So that when He sees your heart, he can see not the traces, but the live scars of a life well-lived.
Be hungry. Know that your heart and soul are not the porcelain dolls in your living room. They are the battle, and they are the warriors, and they are the haul. They are to be the casualty, over and over again.

Now, when I read this, my deep respect for my father increased ten-folds. He is one person I know who has lived his life clean but full of hardships. When he goes to God, he will have a “a heart tarnished and ripped, bleeding because it has lived to the extreme.” When he goes to God, God will see not the traces, but the live scars of a life well-lived. I am not exaggerating but telling the evident truth. I admire him not as a FATHER but as a HUMAN BEING. He fought to bring a change for his people. He failed. He fought again and failed again. And again. And again. Then he struggled to provide us with the best of everything. Struggled. Still struggling. He tried so much so that he did not worry about his life and jumped into the deadly world of politics for his people and for his family. Whoever I meet, all I hear is that DR RIAZ HAS A CLEAN HEART BUT A CARELESS TONGUE. Yes, he has a Careless Tongue which makes him all the more special. He speaks his mind out and is never hypocritical. An innocent man by nature. He is one person who deserves to be confronted with God with tarnished and ripped heart but not ashamed. NOT ASHAMED.

I wish I could stand by him in the same condition. I wish I could be attacked and almost killed for helping my people. Twice. I wish I could get nervous break-downs with the thought of my family’s future. I wish I could stand by him neck to neck in front of God and say: I DID WHAT I COULD!

I wish. I wish I could be like him. But I know that I will never be able to reach his shoulders. I know that I will never have a heart as strong as his. I know that I will never have the strength he has. I know that I will never match his determination. And I lastly, I know I will never come even closer to the Love he has for his people and family. For me, he is a Living Legend.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

That Hot Shower…


There is something about that hot water stream splashing on your head that gets you all thinking; thoughts about life and death, love and hate, past, present and future flow into your veins as if they are a part of your rushing blood. Thoughts become Blood. It is funny how hot shower is the source of many of my essays and speeches and realizations. A billion questions spring up in the shower.

Today, in the shower I reflected upon my past and present. I reflected upon all that had happened to me in my more than 18 years of life. And at everything that happened to me I would ask these questions: Why Me? What if?

Saturday, January 1, 2011

D and F

(So this is my first post of the year 2011. And I dedicate it to someone who has always stood beside me in every thick and thin--Osama Malik)


So, I remember the first time we met during the YES Visa Interviews. I never knew that among all the guys there, this one particular guy would become my best friend. One random day I text him something and his reply was “Who the fuck are you?”
Not a very nice way I say to myself so I replied, “I am the fucker who was with you in the Visa Interviews!”
That is where our bumpy journey started. The journey of a deep friendship.

In USA when I had no one to talk to and when I was in deepest shit and had no friends, it was Osama who guided me out of the whole shit! It was Osama whose e-mails pulled me out of misery. YES, the credit for my success in USA goes to Osama.

Then, even in Pakistan, he always stood beside me during every depressing and foggy phase of my life. Osama would listen to me for hours and hours and give me strength to carry on. Only he understood me. We would bitch about people and we would gossip but never were my secrets revealed to anyone else.


Dude, I know I can’t write a humorous post about the funny times we had together because I am not good in writing but whatever I have written has come from my heart. I may call you a “Chick” now but remember that I am just kidding. I may tease your ‘certain someone’ but you know that I never mean it. I hope you forgive me for everything and anything I have done that may have hurt you and you could not point that out to me.

Remember: D n F.