Grandmother :-D

Grandmothers are the cutest creatures on Earth. Their love and affection is matchless but their cranky mood can destroy mountains and dry out rivers!  I love my grandmother and I believe so does everyone else. I was just a couple weeks old when my grandparents "adopted" me from my parents. There were a gazillion people who criticized my parents for letting this happen. But they made me what I am today. My grandmother spoiled me to the core. I love her.  Grandmothers Zindabad!!!

Fallen

(I am posting after a long gap because I don't know. Do not mind the gloomy tone of this post)


I have kept my emotions locked inside my chest since so many days (30 days to be more precise). I have to keep them caged in the abyss of my chaotic self. I must do this. For my family. And for my self. These emotions are corroding me from inside. Slowly eating me like termites consuming soft, moist wood. Unbearably Painful. If I let them out, it will spread through this Earth like a plague. They will ride to every corner of the world on black smoke and doom every living creature to eternal torture.  Whatever I write will not make sense to you because it is not even making sense to me. My hands are writing but I do not know how to express Or WHAT to express. Malady. Yes. Total insanity. Undoubtedly.

All was almost perfect. Things were going smooth on the front- seat of the roller coaster of my life. Posters here. Articles there. Advises here. Suggestions there. Anxiety here. Dreams there. My life was very bling-bling. Everything was sparkly and shiny. And then THAT hit me. Hit me with full fury like a cavalry smashing with the shields of enemy soldiers. BAM. That is when I lost it. It is the DARK AGE in the history of my memories.

And when the dreams fall crashing on you like shards of glass from a billion broken windows. That is when you realize that there are so many questions without any answers. You come so close to it and then everything just breaks into pieces. It's like when you hold a beautiful rose, you love it for a couple of days. But when you hold it a few days later, it simply disintegrates right in your hand. It's beauty lost. It's magic gone. The sky weeps. The wind wails. The earth moans. Is there a way out? And escape from this flesh and an exit from this world? Freedom forever?

I do not know what the future holds for me. I do not know if I will ever be able to rise again and mount on my horse of life to fight again. Do I have enough strength? I do not know. 

People Judge People

 

A few minutes ago, something happened that has added to my already heavy conscience. I saw a bunch of people in authority gang up on a single person for something he did a day ago and I never spoke a word. What he did was wrong! AGREED.
But…

It is funny how a bunch of over-hyper attention seekers can successfully market their own opinion. It is funnier how even wise people fall for this trap and believe on rumors with no objective evidence. HOW UNJUST!The funniest part is that these people in authority think that they know everything but in fact they are just a toy to be played around with.

I am not taking sides because I never do, all I ask from this world is this: STOP BEING JUDGEMENTAL FOR GOD’S SAKE! You cannot imagine how many hearts you have broken just because you misunderstood the whole scenario thanks to your ignorance. I never judge till I have equally heard both sides of the story, but people in this world do not do that! What a beautiful world we live in. Thank you very much. Please, get lost!

The House of Lost Glory

(The following refers to my house. But it also refers to my ancestors and family.)

This is the story of a house. A house that once stood strong and proud. A house that had power and resources. But now, this house has lost its glory. It has lost its influence and power. It has lost its strength. This house now stands divided with hundreds of holes in its body.

This was MY house. A few days  ago, a bomb blast across the road severely damaged it. Cracked walls, shattered glass, blown away doors, broken windows, damaged frames, dust, smoke, dread and what not!

It is extremely depressing to enter your house without a door. More depressing to see everything lying broken on the floor. Much more depressing to realize that this house stood strong for the last 30 years.

The builders are too old now, the new generation is too young and busy. Who will rebuild the house? Who will restore it to its lost glory? The name must carry on. The glory must be revived. The lineage must continue! The family must rise again!

 

Little Beautiful Things

Oh that swift morning breeze,
The sound of those rustling leaves.
Beauty is everywhere;
Open your eyes and it will become all clear.

Those Little Miracles

 

Who is God? Where is God?

I once got slightly confused when I tried to answer these questions. I would ponder for hours trying to make sense out of everything but then I gave  up because I realized that I was going insane. One night I was so disturbed that I  cried and asked the sky above me, “If you are really up there Oh God, then prove it to me! Show me a sign! Tell me that you Exist! Help me! Guide me! Answer my questions! I AM GOING MAD!”

I never got a reply from God in the form of a huge paranormal miracle or a hard copy of a letter from the sky or even an Email. I was just being too dumb and too naive. Soon, I started seeing these small miracles around me. I started seeing these little signs here and there that slowly answered all my questions. I was seeing things I had never seen before. I was seeing those Little Miracles all around me. And that was the instance I realized that God is really up there.

Miracles are everywhere. You just need to have an eye for them. I started having these dreams in which I would be warned of upcoming dangers and would be given a solution for it. Everything was in codes and secret messages and I just had to focus to unlock them. I did. And then I started seeing miracles not only in my dreams but in my real life too. Starting with that laughter of a baby who was being bounced up and down by his father. That innocent laughter. Dripping with magic so strong that even the worst of moods could be set right with that charming laughter of that pure baby. Miraculous. Nature’s medicine to cure depression.

Then, I looked outside my window and saw a bird making a nest in a tree. It was a miracle how a small bird could make a home for itself all alone using nothing but small twigs and grass.

Then I saw how a laborer was lifting heavy weights with super-human strength. He had to feed his family and the miracle was in his determination to do that!

I further saw many small and unnoticed miracles all around which strengthened my belief in God.

A Toast of Whiskey

 

In 2008, I met a girl named Mehwish Zuberi from Islamabad. I barely talked to her and she hated me for no apparent reason. NO APPARENT REASON!!! So that pretty much tells you how weird this girl is.

Little did we know that someday we will become BESTFRIENDS or ChuddyBuddies as we like to call ourselves. We became the Alcohol Duo: Whiskey and Vodka. And we became the Pant-Stealers! And the Dentonic pair! And the tekeela-shakeela! And the Waheed Murad Couple. If you don’t know us then you will not understand much about us. I don’t care if you don’t understand whatever I am sharing in this post because this post is actually dedicated to my partner in crime, Mehwish Zuberi. She knows all my secrets and I know she will wake up in the middle of the night to help me in any trouble. She is my personal advisor and counselor. She is my conscience. Whenever I am indulged in depressing thoughts or dying with confusion, she has always pulled me out of that! YOU ARE AWESOME! We both make a deadly combination! I will always be there for you…

Now, she is on her way to the Land of the Cool people: LUMS. I don’t have much of a problem with that except that we will be separated! The Twins will go their separate ways and who knows when they will meet again! She will become part of the cool crowd while I will remain a not-so-nerdy-looking nerd.

Haye, the vodka and whiskey will be distilled into two separate bottles and shipped to two different drunkards. The thought of it is depressing. But, God bless Mark Zuckerberg for Facebook!!! We shall never part in cyber-space.

Mehwhiskey, do not forget your end of the deal regarding LUMS! Otherwise, I shall steal back the lucky pants from you!

PS: We may behave like brother and sister, but WE ARE NOT. We are not related at all. She shall never be my sister.

Rainy Peshawar

(Just another of those random 2-minute creations.)

It all starts with a “tip tip tip” like a baby tip-toeing on cold marble floor.
Then it increases to a “sharr sharr sharr” like a coin jar toppled over.
A whiff of wet soil rises up in the air.
The aroma of wet leaves spread everywhere.

The cloud grunts and rumbles.
The mountain and valley grumbles.
The kids jump under the falling stars,
Forgetting all the sorrows and closing open scars.

This is how it rains in my city so divine.
Washes all the dirt and removes all the swine.
Purifies the streets of all the disease and blood,
Its wrath can turn into an unforgiving, revengeful flood.

A Driver’s Life

A person can learn a lot just from driving on a busy road on a hot sunny day. Driving can give some really valuable lessons on living one’s life…efficiently and to the best!

Just like in life, on the road the driver must remain cautious and alert at all times. He must look around and anticipate every move of the other car drivers around him. He must look through the window of the car in front of him to estimate and calculate the movement of the car in front of that! He must listen to every noise and distinguish the useful from the useless. While driving at a high speed, he must watch out for any pedestrian and carefully notice every muscle of that pedestrian’s body to predict his/her next move. Yes, a driver must be in his highest state of alert mind.

With all this stress on the brain and body, a driver must also enjoy the music that is playing on the radio. He must entertain himself with whatever is around him and enjoy his drive. This driver must appreciate the beauty that lines the road; admire the scenery; gasp at the might of the mountains; smile at the majesty of the flowing river. A driver must also realize that the person sitting on his passenger seat is also on the same journey as him and feels the same. He should also realize that he must take care of and respect every human being on the road as they are also on their own journeys of life!

Sometimes, the car air-conditioning stops working and it gets hot. It can specially get unbearable when the car comes to a halt at a red-light. The driver must remain patient and keep his head cool no matter what happens. This driver may also face hindrances in his journey in the form of a traffic jam or a punctured tire but he must keep his head and think rationally at all time. He must hold on to his sanity and perseverance. He must remain steadfast.The driver must not give up.

Sometimes, the journey may get too long and tiresome with constant hurdles, but the driver must not stop. He must drive on. The destination may be just one turn away. He must push himself just a little longer and reach his destination. He MUST drive on. No matter what. He. Must. Drive. On…

Baba Again…

Delirium.
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.
Source: http://saagandparanoia.blogspot.com/2011/01/delirium.html

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.

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?

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.

BEST OF LUCK FOR 2011 AND STAY THE SAME BRO.
Remember: D n F.

And I dream on…

Butterflies in my stomach…Its been a very long time since I experienced that. A very long time. The last time must be in my 3rd grade when I had to compete in a debate competition and I was shit scared. I have come a long way since then. The butterflies in my stomach died long ago except for a couple who would occasionally flutter their wings on certain events like standing on stage or waiting for my result or leaving for USA or falling in love. But never did they flutter again in a massive number in my stomach like that 3rd grade debate competition long ago.

But all of a sudden those many dead butterflies have found life again and their wings have increased in span.Yes, they flutter again. They flutter like crazy. Butterflies in my stomach.

I had always dreamed big. I had always dreamed far. I had always written down on my every notebook’s first page the following phrase: I aim high to reach not only the sky but go beyond!

I GOT INTO OXFORD. Yes, I took a huge leap and I am quite close to my ultimate goal. My ultimate aim of life is somewhat a secret even to me. I even do not know what I will eventually become but I do know that my ultimate target is to be someone so great that pages of history will be proud to have me in its pages. Yes, I am a dreamer. I dream on. I dream that one day I will accomplish my deeply childish dreams…Yes, I dream on like a small child…

With butterflies in my stomach, I dream on…

Fate? Or something like it?

 

Fate works in strange ways. It closes a billion doors on you but opens one huge door better than all the combined closed doors. I have always believed in a somewhat very complicated theory of Fate devised by me. I always believed some part of our Fate was in our own hands. But parts are completely out of our hands. I would not go into that but I will tell you how fate “PLAYED” with my life and then gave me a huge compensation. Gave me something better or more like GAVE ME THE BEST!

My dream was to go to MIT. I had a perfect profile. I had everything I needed to get into MIT. EVERYTHING. Except for one thing: SAT score. I was always successful in everything that I did. I thought I was invincible. I thought I would win it straight and clean once again this time. But like I said: Fate works in strange ways. I got a pathetic SAT score. My dreams crashed and burned. I was devastated. Depressed. Suicidal. My first failure, my first fall from the horse, my first eye-opener hurt more than anything. I heard somewhere that DEATH is very painful. I felt the pain equal to DEATH.

Fate works in strange ways my friends. Before my SAT, I was “forced” to apply to UK universities including University of Oxford. I applied but I knew that Oxford was an impossible dream so I never paid attention to it. I always focused on MIT. But now MIT had to wait till I get back on the horse and try again. I did not even feel like getting back on the horse. I felt miserable. In immense Pain. But something happened and my life changed again. I fell once but I was lifted up so high that I could never imagine that! I thought flying so high would be impossible but my Acceptance from University of Oxford took me all the way to Cloud 9 and BEYOND! Yes, I AM GOING TO OXFORD. “THE OXFORD!”

I am one of the 6 lucky students Brasenose College of Oxford University accepts every year to study Electrical Engineering.

FATE WORKS IN STRANGE WAYS ONLY TO BENEFIT US.

Something is NOT right!

I write whenever I am over-flowing with emotions. These emotions find their way out through a carefully chosen set of words.And today I write again but I don’t know what those emotions are. They are just something inside me bubbling to find their way out. I don’t know what those emotions are. I just don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know and these emotions can’t find the right words. My hands are typing NOTHING. No meaningful words. Nothing. I just don’t know. I feel helpless.

Life is just not fair…

I am a Canary Bird, against the furious gale, flying…
I am a Canary Bird crying, struck down hard…
Did not see it coming, was busy singing…
But knew that the fall will hurt, in the heart!

Life is never fair at a time when you really need it to be. You put in so much effort into something and then you just see all your efforts wash away right when you start believing that Life is favoring you; right when you believe that Luck is on your side. “Luck” is an interesting concept. It has a will and soul of its own. Untamed. Wild. Arrogant. Apathetic. In short: Luck is a bitch. She will leave you for someone else right when you need it. She will make you feel like you are THE ONE and then she will let you fall down and will not even give a shit.

Till few days ago, I felt invincible. I felt undefeatable. I felt powerful. I had too many moments of success one after the other. I came out victorious in every venture I undertook. I wanted this to go on for just a little longer. I was at the most crucial point in my life. And then it dawned on me that good things never last forever. I started realizing that I must learn to “fall” otherwise my first fall would be devastating for me. I never knew my first fall would come so soon. I was not prepared. I was taken by surprise. Alas, the fall destroyed me. It destroyed me from inside. Killed me. And then the second fall pushed me further down.

Yes, Luck abandoned me. I fell. My first fall. And then the second. I can’t get up no matter how hard I try. Unfair Life just ate me from inside like a termite of misery. It hurts. I am hollow. I am weak. No more invincible. Vulnerable. Defeated.

REALIZATIONS!

Last night was full of realizations. Some very pure realizations. And some very scary realizations.

Last week, my maternal uncle got into trouble with his work. His whole career was in jeopardy. This created an environment of tension and depression in our house. There was also a small fight between my maternal grandparents.

Yesterday, I got diarrhea. My grandmother asked me to put the newly-bought bottle of honey in the kitchen but due to an emergency call of nature I had to run to the bathroom and put the bottle on her bed-side table instead and forgot about it.

Last night, around 3 a.m., my uncle could not sleep because of anxiety and instead gets up to drink a glass of water. On the other hand, my diarrhea wakes me up too. My uncle sits outside my grandfather’s room to drink his glass of water and suddenly notices my grandfather struggling to walk out of the room. My uncle plunges forward to hold him by his shoulder and help him. Only words that were coming out of my grandfather’s trembling lips were: Mein Gaya, Mein Gaya, Mein Bas Gaya, Mujhe Apni Shaklein Dikhao, Mein Jaa Raha Hun (I am gone, I am gone, I am gone now, Show me your faces, I am going). Immediately, I run out from the room to help my uncle hold him and walk him to our room. We help him sit down on the bed.

“Sab ko bulao, mein unko dekhna chahta hun, mein jaa raha hun, bas mein gaya!" (Call everyone, I want to see them, I am going, I am gone!).
At that very moment, my crying grandmother sees the honey bottle and just pours some in my grandfather’s mouth. He was repeating the same sentence over and over again. Trying hard to hold back my tears, fighting hard to bury my emotions, I call my parents who arrive within five minutes. My grandfather hugs my grandmother and kisses her forehead and says, “Mein Gaya, Apna Khyal Rakhna!” (I am gone, Take care of yourself). At that instant, tears just break free from the invisible dam I had constructed around my eyes and rush down my cheeks. We give him a glass of water with honey mixed in it. And another spoonful of honey. He slowly slowly gains his energy and enters back into his senses. My father checks his blood pressure which is normal as well as his heartbeat which is normal too. Then, we check his blood-sugar level which was 2 units (even after all the honey we gave him). A normal sugar-level should be between 3.2 units and 6.4 units. At last, we figured what was wrong with him.

His blood-sugar level had dropped so much so that he thought he was dying. He was blacking out! His senses were dull and giving up. The random reflex of my grandmother to give him honey actually saved him. IF HE HAD FAINTED/PASSED-OUT, THE RESULT WOULD HAVE BEEN VERY UNPLEASANT AND UNFORTUNATE.

My purpose of writing this small, emotional incident was to analyze it and define how God designs our lives in such mysterious ways. YES, GOD EXISTS. He is sitting up their on His throne, carefully crafting every moment of our lives and inter-connecting them like threads of a web. Lets look at a list of some of the What-ifs:

1) If my uncle was not tensed about his work and career he would have been fast asleep and my grandfather would have passed out before reaching our room. No one would have known about him till morning.
2) If I did not have Diarrhea, my uncle would not have been able to walk him to the room without tripping over and falling.
3) If I did not have Diarrhea, the honey bottle would have been in the kitchen and no one would have thought about giving my grandfather something as sweet as honey.
4) If we had not given him honey, he would have passed-out and it would have been another long half-hour before we would have realized what was actually wrong with him (going to the hospital and the check-ups would have taken time).
5) If all this would not have happened, my grandparents would be still not talking to each other and our Eid would have been very depressing.

I realized that God is there. I realized that God always carefully designs our lives. I realized that all the events of our lives are inter-connected. I realized that nothing is random and there is no such thing as coincidence. But I also realized that my grandparents are old now. I realized that they are mortals. I realized that Life is never permanent. I realized how much we love each other. I realized how much we care for each other. I realized that I will be incomplete without my grandparents.

ALL THESE “RANDOM” EVENTS WERE SO WELL-COORDINATED AND PERFECTLY TIMED THAT THEY COULD NOT BE JUST COINCIDENCES. This proves the existence of an Absolutely Genius Designer and an Infinitely Skilful Creator. It is up to you to believe or not. I believe.

REVENGE

(This again one of my old poems from the Pre-USA era. This time it’s one of the completed ones.Although it was written years ago, this poem clearly reflects one of the incidents that happened recently in the last 4 months. Don’t ask me.)

What do you think?
You will get away with it?
Never, ever! I shall make sure
That you are punished and that you sink!

You came to me for forgiveness
And I forgave you.
Not knowing that you are a devil,
I struggled to protect and save you.

I gave you shelter and room.
I cared for you like a father.
But you betrayed me like a deceiver.
Now I shall push you to your doom!

The moon scorned me.
The sky turned away from me.
The stars spat on me.
And the Earth warned me.

But I never gave up on you.
I stood behind you.
And I kept pushing you.
And you pushed me too!

You pushed me from a cliff--
A cliff of my hopes and my hard work--
To the abyss of your mischief.
Now I shall pull you with me!

Where will you run now?
Where will you hide now?
TELL ME NOW!
AND TELL ME HOW!

MY Life

(I wrote this poem when I was in 8th Grade. Like all my old poems, this too is incomplete and I plan to keep it that way. I found this in an old dusty notebook I used to keep which had disappeared in the rubble of my busy life.)

My Life is a Story,
Full of Disappointments & Glory;
Full of Ups and Downs;
Full of Smiles and Frowns.
I experienced being a Fallen Warrior,
And sometimes a boring Story-teller.
Now I tell the story of My Life;
How I faced the world’s sword and knife,
Which defeated every man
But not me, as nothing can!

Starting as a Boy so Ordinary,
I began the first page of My Story.
I wrote and then I ripped it off.
It was about how I climbed the ladder of success,
And then how easily I fell off.
People know only about my success,
But don’t know the time I spent in distress…
…

(INCOMPLETE)

Beautiful Mess

It is a beautiful mess I got myself into.

Painfully sweet.

 

Changed me. Evolved me.

(During a small text-message discussion with my friend, the topic of CHANGE came up. She told me how a recent 10-day experience changed her completely. I replied: I have already changed in the past and I won’t anymore or at least anytime soon.)

After this, I tickled my thought-process to figure out what were the significant events that did change me and evolve me into an individual that I am today. When I look back, I find a Gazillion such small incidents.

My grandfather’s table-talks changed me and my grandmother’s caressing changed me. My mother’s hug changed me and my father’s love changed me.

Then comes my school life. My betraying friends changed me and my first crush changed me. My losing and winning changed me and my competitors’ dirty tricks changed me. My every success changed me and being the school HeadBoy changed me. Making new friends changed me and being betrayed again changed me. My teachers’ trust changed me and my best friend's perfidy changed me.

Blast on Baba’s election rally changed me and 70 people dying changed me. 200 injured people changed me and my father’s tears changed me. Another blast on my father’s car changed me and the story of his bloody body changed me. His survival and getting well changed me and seeing him once again changed me. Him losing the elections changed me and shattering dreams changed me. But him being alive and well changed me and his determination to fight again changed me.

Then winning the YES Scholarship to USA changed me and meeting 60 kids from all over Pakistan changed me. Ups and Downs changed me. Small laughs and fights changed me. New great friends changed me and their loyalty changed me.

Getting on that plane to USA changed me and my grandparents’ and parents’ tears changed me. My brothers’ tight hugs changed me. That long flight changed me. The DC nights changed me and finding a true best friend, Osama, changed me.

My loving Host Family changed me and the nice Church Folks changed me. The morning Starbucks changed me and the evening Iced Tea changed me. Those meal-discussions changed me and working in the yard changed me. Meeting 61 amazing kids from all over the world changed and my high school changed me. Finding my TWIN BROTHER MARCELO changed me and being best friends with the ASB President Luke Kneeshaw changed me. Those crazy car rides changed me and Chinese Fire Drills changed me. Stealing road-signs changed me and getting wrapped in Food Wrap changed me. Working at Scone Booth and Mariner’s game changed me and those visits to Federal Way Commons changed me. Watching SAW 5 with girls changed me and then being forced to watch Twilight in Cinema changed me. Pikes Place Market changed me and spotting hot girls changed me. The castle of Stadium High School changed me and the Prom Night changed me. That red Ruby Beatle changed me and that Hulla doll changed me.

Then, saying last goodbyes and knowing that I may never see them again changed me and the final hugs changed me. Those tears changed me and that depressing long flight back to DC changed me. Frustrations in DC changed me and the desire to run back to Seattle changed me. Hatred for some people in DC changed me and then comfort from family changed. Seeing my own home once again changed me and the end of American Adventure changed me. Old friends making fun of me changed me and their criticism of my being different changed me. Missing my foreign friends changed me and getting back to my old friends changed me. Osama’s constant support changed me and Roots College changed me. Working for flood victims and orphanages changed me and constant nostalgia because of my USA experience changed me. Seeing Pakistan deteriorate changed me and people’s ignorance changed me. Every success so far has changed me and winning the HeadBoy elections changed me.

YES, I am a changed person now. I have evolved into something you cannot comprehend.

Beautiful

Some things in life are too beautiful to be expressed by words.

God is too beautiful.

And then Love is too beautiful.

Grandfather (Daddy)

Dear Daddy,

You made me. I am what I am because of You.When I was young, you taught me the ways of an older person. You held my hand and walked me around the house telling me stories of your past; narrating me adventures of far away lands and seas. I will never forget those long table talks and those productive garden walks. YOU MADE ME. You took care of me when others bullied me. You wiped my tears and yelled at those who brought tears to my eyes. You taught me how to fix lamps and switches. I learned plumbing from you. I learned politics from you. We discussed issues which only elders discuss. You taught me how to fire an air-gun. You gave me lessons on how to defend myself and the house. At age 10, you gave me the responsibility of the home’s security. You made me DREAM. You made me GROW.YOU MADE ME WHAT I AM RIGHT NOW!

Now, you are ill. You don’t walk anymore with me in the garden. You don’t talk much on the table either. Daddy, I miss all that. You are getting weaker day by day. Your health is deteriorating. My aim of life so far has been to make you proud. I topped every class, and got great academic and social standing just because of you. I will never forget your life lessons. You gave me so much freedom that people criticized you for that but you always ignored them. Look at me now, that freedom you gave me made me something better than most people. YOU MADE ME WHAT I AM RIGHT NOW!

Daddy, just hang in there. I want you to celebrate with me when I achieve the DREAMS we both had for myself. I want you to see me reach not only the sky but to go beyond. I want you to then go around laughing on the faces of people who criticized you for everything regarding me. I want you to pop a champagne bottle to celebrate my victory just like they do in the movies. I want us both to then sit down and watch Baywatch just like we used to when I was only 7 or 8 years old and people used to dislike that. Daddy, I want you to be around when I reach the final stage of BECOMING WHAT YOU WANTED ME TO BECOME!

I love you Daddy. And I will always love you. I pray a long and healthy life for you.

Revolution!

Dear Pakistan,

I know how you are right now because I see it everyday. I know you are suffering from world’s most terrible illnesses and some of them may even take years to cure. But believe me, one day everything will be all right. One day, all these illnesses will be cured. Just hang in there buddy. Just hang in there a little longer till the youth comes in power. Hang in there long enough till WE BRING A BLOODY REVOLUTION TO CURE YOU! I will wash your streets with the blood of the corrupt enemies. And then wipe them clean with the heads of those who ruined you. Only then will you be cured! Only then will you prosper as was dreamt by our elders. There is no other way. There is no other cure. Only blood and blood only.

A revolution is inevitable. The stage is set, the props are up and the right mood prevails. All that is missing are actors and a director.

PAKISTAN WAS MADE WITH BLOOD AND WILL BE '”REMADE” WITH BLOOD!

With Love,
Syed Shehroz Hussain (Ozzy).

HISTORY

History is not a collection of facts but just a collection of opinions and perspectives. It may be opinions of just one side only or can be of both sides. We cannot ignore the fact that there will always be a certain level of “Historian Bias” or “Ruling-Class Effect” sometimes evident and sometimes concealed in these Pages of History!

(Now consider again the whole history of nations and religions.)

Sit by me, please!

(Emotions make me write. I am not a poet and I am not a good writer, but writing is what helps me vent out my emotions and feelings which I can’t express otherwise.)

No,I dont want a YES,
I dont want anything Else,
All I want is to sit side by you,
And be one of your Special Few.

I know it will never happen,
Flirting is an ineffective weapon,
So I will just sit by you and hear you talk.
Look deep into your eyes as we walk.

Maybe one day you will sit by me and realize,
Maybe one day you will look deep into my eyes,
Maybe one day from dusk till dawn we will talk
Endlessly on and on till our gaze unlock!

I Cried…

I cried today! I  admit that I too have a heart that feels and eyes that fill with tears.Yes, I cried today!

The thought of not being able to do something tortures me. YES, when I realized that no matter how much we fundraise and no matter where we will provide relief, in the end it will not be enough. It will never be enough. Soon the whole hype will settle down and people will start forgetting. People always forget. Its a HUMAN TRADEMARK that they forget easily. I know, soon people will stop giving donations and the NGOs will step in and get going with the government-like corruption. Why did God create such an imperfect and selfish creature? And then gave them a weak heart? And then thrust upon them his wrath in the form of earthquakes and floods?

Yes, I cried. When I realized that no matter what I do, it will not make a difference, I cried. When it occurred to me that I am too insignificant and powerless to do something, I cried.

Every moment when I think of doing something grand and great, I feel like I am just building castles in the sky. Maybe all my desires and wishes and dreams are nothing but castles in the sky. Maybe I am just an overgrown kid who still dreams the impossible. I know people go around saying that Nothing is Impossible. But there are some things that are just never possible. Or maybe I just don’t have the strength or the guts or the resources to make them possible. I will never give up on my dreams BUT maybe one day I will grow out of it and live my life just like the rest-monotonous and insignificant! Or maybe I will become the superman of my dreams!

God? Are You really up there?

In a discussion with two of my senior friends (Abdullah Bhai and Haider Bhai), Abdullah Bhai and I challenged everything that people consider REAL. Haider Bhai was annoyed. Abdullah Bhai and I were the Radical Liberals while Haider Bhai was the Strict Conservative. The following is my ideology regarding REALITY and our LIFE. Do not get me wrong, I am still a staunch Muslim and even according to this ideology, God does exist as you will see in the end! This may seem very wierd and complicated to you. Later I found out that this ideology is partially or mostly similar to the philosophy of SUBJECTIVISM.

What is “Reality?'”

My definition is that ‘Reality is everything that our mind perceives.’

Another definition could be that ‘Reality is everything that the majority agrees upon.’ This I believe is wrong.

 

According to my definition, Reality is ‘created’ by our mind. Our mind decides how and what we perceive. Does that mean whatever we perceive could be wrong? An example of this is that our mind actually decides how we perceive the color YELLOW. How do you prove that the color YELLOW is actually yellow? How do you PROVE that in reality it is exactly like the way we perceive it? This means that every proof we have for things that exist around us is actually SUBJECTIVE. How do you remove the “MIND’S SUBJECTIVITY” when trying to prove the existence of something that you see, feel, hear or sense? I AM THE SUBJECT OF MY MIND AND MY MIND CREATED THE WHOLE OBJECT UNIVERSE AROUND ME. Nothing actually exists, it is all fabricated by the mind!Everything is subjective! Only I exist. For me, you don’t exist. Its like a film being played before my eyes. This ultimately leads to the phrase: “The mind is the god (with a small ‘g’).”

Now, if you argue back by saying that the color red exists because we SEE it and you agree with the second definition of reality, then how would you explain what a color-blind person sees? This is where I see the “flaw”  in the second definition of reality which says that reality is what majority decides on. What if the color-blind person is actually seeing the real color and the whole of majority is in truth color-blind? The first definition of reality can also be explained and proved by the fact that a schizophrenic’s reality is what he perceives and what his mind shows him/her even though it is not real. Thus, there is a possibility of my ideology being correct! There is a possibility that whatever I am seeing is wrong and unreal. What if I am a schizophrenic and whatever I see is just a fabrication of my mind?  THE MIND IS THE CREATOR?? CREATING AN ILLUSION?? For all it is, I could be just sitting in a dark void of nothingness or I may not have a body at all!

How do I prove that YOU exist? How can I do that in a way which does not involve my mind meddling or tampering with the actual reality? How do I know that whatever I am sensing and seeing and feeling and hearing is actually REAL and not just a fabrication of my mind? If I am alone, then does that mean everything around me is an illusion like that of a schizophrenic? Does this mean there is no such thing as religion and family and love and God and hunger and happiness and disaster and history and science?? Is it all made a part of my APPARENT REALITY just to keep myself occupied?? Just to give my mind something to play with? Does this mean I can change my reality if I truly and deeply believe in something and learn to control or force my mind into superficially making it real for me? How did I come into existence then or do I even exist?

After coming up with these series of questions, I reached a conclusion. The conclusion justified the existence of God to me…

When I sit down and think that since my mind is the master and creator of everything, then why can’t I answer some really serious questions like the ones mentioned above? Why is it not possible to come up with the true REALITY? That is where my ‘brain lamp’ lit up. This is where I realized that we are just too imperfect and insignificant to know the answers to such questions. THE MIND’S INABILITY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS IS THE PROOF OF GOD’S EXISTENCE AND A PROOF THAT THERE MUST BE SOME BEING ABOVE ME! This shows that there must be a Higher Being with much more knowledge than my mind to actually know the answers and to have created something as illiterate and imperfect as my mind. A being that gave my mind a BEGINNING but not enough power to come up with these answers. God hid the answers and solutions for this very reason; to prove His own existence without ever manifesting Himself. The following is how I imagine a Higher Being reacting to my questions and my inability to answer them:

God: HAHA, see! You can’t come up with the answers! You are too insignificant! Too dumb! The reason why I never made you that smart was so that one day you realize this! I AM YOUR BOSS YOU LITTLE DUMBSHIT! You will never understand such matters. YOU DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING BECAUSE YOU ARE INFERIOR! YOU ARE MY CREATION! AND I AM YOUR “GOD!”

Identity Crisis

 

As I stand in front of the Devil-Box, I see our past, values, traditions and culture crumpling away right before my eyes. Our forefathers fought and sacrificed to preserve and protect these same values and traditions. But now we failed them. Disgraced their sacrifice. We threw away our culture, beliefs, norms, values and traditions into an abyss of void and blackness and then blindly followed the traditions and beliefs of foreign alien invaders. Witnessing this grieves me! Tortures me! Kills me!

We have forsaken our beautiful Shalwar Kameez for tight jeans and shrunken T-shirts. We have forgotten the true melodies of Sitar, Sarang, Flute, Rabab and Tabla for the foreign Head-banging so-called music which is all about screaming and Boom Booms. We have even started to prefer bland, fatty and disgusting burgers and pizzas over tasteful, delicious and healthy Makai Ki Roti and Saag or Chapli Kabab or Driver Hotel’s Daal with Naan. We would rather have those black or orange sweet and sickening drinks like Cola instead of more refreshing Lassi or Chai or Rooh Afza or Limo Pani.

We have an identity. Or we used too…

Our identity is what make us unique and special in the whole world. Driving madly in bad traffic is our identity. The unhygienic roadside ‘tikka’ and ‘chaat’ and ‘ganey ka sharbat’ is our identity and so is Shalwar Kameez with Chapliyaan or Khhoosey and Eid and Basant. Gossiping and colorful clothes with patterns and embroidery is our identity as well as heavy jewelry and glass bangles and boys kee ‘cheapness’ and girls keh ‘nakhrey.’ Not to ignore same gender hugging and gender segregation. If there was no gender segregation then what would be the fun in ‘Poondi’ and why would girls take hours to get ready to become the centre of all Poondi? This is Pakistan and this is who we are! This is “us” as a nation! The loud, annoying rickshaws and the heavily decorated darling buses with cheap poetry on the rear window, the constant abusing and cussing of politicians and the Friday Namaz when the streets get empty, the hooting and whistling in any social event, these are what define us and give us an identity. These are what give COLOR to our lives and culture! This is what adds SPICE in our lifestyle.

LOVE PAKISTAN. LIVE PAKISTANI.

God and Misery

(While trying to have an intellectual discussion with my best friend Luke Kneeshaw, I stumbled upon a valuable realization. Thanks Luke.)

OZZY says:
 wow! humans sure are a violent creation
God created humans as intellectual savages? civilized zombies?
Luke says:
 Well, I think he made us perfect
we're the ones who screwed it up
I personally think that god is more of a clock maker than a puppeteer
He made up to work and we should be able to do it by ourselves with his help every once in a while
OZZY says:
 you are right! clockmaker no doubt...we screwed ourselves up! he tried to keep us on track through religion...but we used religion to wage more wars.

Remember: God made us perfect. We are the ones who screwed it up. (Luke H. Kneeshaw)