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)

The Silent World

(I wrote this while trying to see and feel the world through Ali Raza’s eyes. Or at least trying to. Ali Raza is a two-year old boy who is deaf. He is my cousin’s son. Really cute. The following is just a portion of the whole writing I have been working on.)

“The world is completely silent for me. Or that is what others tell me. Everything is quiet. I don’t know what “SILENT” actually means. I don’t even what is this thing people call “NOISE” and maybe not knowing it is what “silent” means. Existence of anything remains unknown until and unless someone actually “senses” it. That is how people know that God exists because at some point in their lives, people have ‘sensed’ God and His workings. For me “SILENCE” and “NOISE” don’t exist at all.

I see and feel the world the way others cannot, and others see and feel the world the way I cannot. Or that is what others tell me. If that is the case then I am different. I am special. Every great thinker, philosopher, revolutionary or prophet was different and they saw and felt the world the way others could not. They were special. They were gifted. I am gifted…”

Voodoo?

(Wrote it during a class a day after I found a wierd doll under my bed. Scared the HELL out of me.)

That one Voodoo Doll,
Hidden under my Bed.
That wierd pin,
Stuck right through its head.

IF…

“IF I HAD…”
Things would have been different.
The question now is: DO I WANT IT TO BE DIFFERENT??
Maybe. Maybe not.

Insanity and Life

Its been almost a whole year and I am still not over my USA year. I still miss my time. I am going crazy. Insane. I wish I could relive it all again. Just once. Please.

I am lucky to have met some of the most beautiful people in the year 2008. I wish I could bring it all back. I wish I could be with them forever. First of all, I had the loveliest Host Parents ever. Ryan and Peggy. My American PARENTS. Even though at times I know I annoyed them but they never said a word. Ryan Dad always took care of me like his own true son. Peggy mom always cooked the most delicious meals and not to forget the mouthwatering Desserts she made. They just had a wonderful family who took me under their wings in an alien land. There is so much about them that even a whole book would not be sufficient.

Then comes Luke Kneeshaw (Homo Gayshaw). The one person I admire more than anyone. I still do not know how a popular ASB president came to be friends with an insignificant Pakistani exchange student. I still don’t know. I remember the first time I met him. Then I remember the night I made him and others run away from our house through the backdoor. That really pissed my host family. But my intention was to not disturb them. All the small mistakes I made in USA were always unintentional and I got to learn a lot from them.

I will not say much about Marcelo because just by thinking about him I get tears in my eyes. Still. That may sound gay but I miss him a lot.

After them comes a long list of people I miss extremely and would do anything to be with them again. Luis, Jenny, Franzi, Teresza, Sara, The Exchange Student Gang, The Hauser Family, The Church Folks, everyone related to the Egerdahls.

I am going insane. And I do not know what is the cure to this malady.

Excruciating Pain

(This poem was my way of getting over some recent events. It didn’t help as expected. But it did lighten the burden. Thanks Osama for the suggestion. Here goes another depressing piece of writing.)

This excruciatingly unbearable Pain.
Makes any sane man go Insane.
Please Be Gone. Be Gone. Be Gone.
Leave me on my own, all Alone.

I try to Hang-On with Patience.
But my body Burns with Abhorrence.
My heart Bleeding. Bleeding. Bleeding.
My Soul Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

No more Candles of Hope are Lit.
The Agony corrodes me bit by bit.
This Depression Termite eating.
Slowly Consuming. Contusing. Killing…

The Sound Of Death?

(I was going through my drawer when I came across this poem I wrote in Grade 7. I was a much better writer then than now. But I was all “EMO,” haha. All my writings from my past have always been incomplete. This one too. I will not finish them. You can notice that my old writings were more “artificial” than being close to my real life.)

I hear a sound.
Wolf’s Howl?
Or Death’s Horn?
But it soon came around!

Indeed it was death.
To take away my soul.
For Deed’s Toll!
And shut down forever my breath.

I begged for one more day.
To live and love one last time.
To give away things that were mine.
And tell my family that I cannot stay.

(Incomplete)

God versus Man

“The only biggest difference between God as a Creator and man as a creator is that God does not “lose” Himself in His creation.”

My State of Mind

(When I was talking to my buddy Osama Malik we discussed love and relationships. Only he can understand what this poem actually means and what is veiled behind these words.)

I know it's you
I'm sure it's you
The one I‘ve been waiting for
The one I‘ve been dreaming for

Love? I never believed in.
Fun? All that is to life.
Then How did it happen?
I'm putting my wrist to knife?

Ozzy transformed
Shehroz long gone.
A new being in making.
Old habits breaking.

This new being, a boon?
Only if his heart satiated.
This new being, a bane?
If his love killed and mutilated.

A plague I will become.
My emotions will be numb.
Like a statue deaf and dumb.
For all. Specially for some.

A rising tide
With unbelievable might
None will Oppose me.
None can fight.

Save me. Set me right and neat.
In my making put some sweet.
Or there will be no more beauty.
But only the mighty beast.

Olden Golden Days of Sunshine in the Rainy State

(I wrote this while I was waiting for electrical power to come back. Images of USA life flashed before my eyes. In memory of all the beautiful people I met there.)

Alone. All alone.
In the darkroom.
Thinking over time,
Long passed and gone.

Those days of laughter.
Glittering diamond days.
Eyes full of tears,
During final departure.

I look back with longing.
Those beautiful people,
To be with them,
One final time, once again.

Life moves on fast
Like a horse with wings.
Now I know for sure,
Good times never last.

The Million Dollar Question?

“L.O.V.E is just another word [OZZY] never learnt to pronounce. (Starstrukk by 3OH!3)”

Few days ago, some friends of mine posed the ultimate question: Can Ozzy ever fall in love?

Everyone laughed and replied in the negative. Wow, that is not new. This is not the first time people judge people. And this is definitely not the first time OZfuckin’ZY and “love” and “relationships” have been discussed.

In last few months, something happened. Something unexpected. Something so UNOZZY-ISH. Ozzy fell in love?? Maybe. WHAT? SINCE WHEN? Ozzy himself does not know! It just happened. Happened just like that unheralded.

Yes, “I think” I am in love. In love with someone I have been spending time since October. It happened SLOWLY. But I am still not sure what is the difference between infatuation and love. That is why I am waiting before I take a step further. Plus, I don’t want to risk our friendship so maybe I will never make a move. OZZY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE IS NOT GOING TO MAKE A MOVE? No. Because she is just too innocent, just too simple, just too beautiful to deserve something like “Ozzy.”

I think I should know how to make love to something innocent without leaving my fingerprints out. (Starstrukk by 3OH!3)

Ozzy is changing too. No more flirting. No more playing. Which means that a time will come when Ozzy will CEASE TO EXIST. I have to make a decision after exams immediately. To sacrifice love or to sacrifice Ozzy. The ULTIMATE DECISION!

She is just too precious to lose. And that is why I will wait till the right time comes. For now, EXAMS ARE IMPORTANT for her as well as for me. But YES I am in love and it is the most painfully beautiful experience!

The Inside

I "LEARNT"
To Live With Strangers!
And
To Become A Part of Them!

Now I Want To
Live With My
Own Flesh And Blood,
With My Own Kith And Kin!
To "LEARN" To
Live With Them!

And To
Become A Part
Of THEM!

Bombs and Blasts and Blood!

That one blast took it all away
People die mothers cry every moment every day.

It was a city of joy and a city of fun
Now it's a city where most carry a gun.

It was a city of life and a city of lights
Now it's a city of dead and no more delights.

Same is the story of one survival
It cannot be put into words But I won't forget the fable.

Ask me not what this fable was
For he struggled and fought and lost for a mighty good cause.

All he wanted was to bring a change.
None supported him, calling him a fool and his ideology strange.

He still fought and fought bravely.
But the enemy opposed him with violence gravely.

A suicide bomber tried to bring him down. Many died
Miracles happen. He survived.

A second attempt to blow up his car was not foreseen.
His body bloody and only few helpers on the hostile scene.

He survived yet again. God is on the right side.
United we stand but why always we divide?

 

Dad I love you and will always remain by your side. I am ready to face the gruesome consequences. I am ready to die. For a death on battlefield will be far more sweeter than a death on bed. A death in action will be far more glorious than a silent death. A death for a cause will be far more honorable than a death in vain!

That Morning and That Gun!

As I leave the house front door one early morning, I can feel the
chilly wetness of the morning breeze on my cheeks. I hang the two shot-guns on my shoulder and step into the SUV. There is nothing more exciting than some serious, adventurous fun. There is nothing like hunting. Hunting not humans but animals.

It is said that like a woman's jewelry, a Pathan man's jewelry is
his gun or sword. And there is nothing more beautiful than a polished, shiny gun. It's beautiful cuts like the muscles of a horse. As you hold it in your hands, it fits in your palms like the reins of a horse and gives a sudden rush of unexplainable energy. You feel powerful. You feel wild.

A gun is not for every commoner. Not many people can cope with the
energy a gun provides and cannot handle the tremendous amount of that energy and thus lose their marbles. They go crazy.

Death of a Love

(This poem shows how complicated a simple love can become. A simple poem composed of simple words since i am no fancy poet.)

My world was dark.
And my life was gloomy.
All the happiness and joy
Went right through me.

Then a light shone far away
A light of hope and happiness
Piercing the darkness
And riding towards me.

As the light halted
A few spaces from me
My eyes squinted
But I could clearly see.

The light was something else
Something non human
Something non worldly
The light was from the angels.

Among the angels all departed
But one stayed behind for me
She was magical, mystical.
The angel was itself beauty.

She showed me the world
She showed me life
She made me her world
She made me her life.

A day came for her to depart
Tears rushed down like rain
Oh the agony and oh the pain
You are the Beat of my heart!

If you leave what will happen to me
Are you going and letting me be?
I never knew angels could be heartless
If you leave my heart will be beat-less.

She replied: I have to leave.
An angel must not love a human.
I brought you hope and beauty.
And just fulfilled my duty.

You are my hope
You are my beauty
You are my life
Why such cruelty?

She left me.
My breath left me.
My soul left me.
My body lay lifeless.

Not Human

If you can squeeze out tears from me. Try it. You will not succeed. For I have a heart of stone and emotions imprisoned.
If you can scare me. Try it. You will not succeed. For I fear nothing and Not even death.
Sometimes I think. I think that I'm not human. I think I have no feelings and no emotions. I think I am a statue with no life! The only difference between me and the statue is that I can move. Which makes me dangerous for the world. I think one day I'll be seen as a plague for humanity. For I'm not human. Not human at all...I think.

Relationships!!! Boon or Bane?

Since past few days I have been in a troubled state of mind. My mental condition was eating me from inside like a termite. My thoughts were as confused as a hurricane. I was in love or atleast I thought I was. I later found out that it was nothing but an infatuation. A mere unrealistic crush.

How can two people fall in love just through text messages? How can two people simply fall into a relationship just after knowing each other for a few days and that too through phone calls and text messages? This is not love. This is not what a relationship should start. Relationships are not a game or a toy for two young teenagers to play with! It is supposed to be a life long commitment built brick by brick over a long period of time.

There is no such thing as love at first sight because if there was such a thing, every guy including me then would be falling in love thousand times a day.

I was faced with a situation where I had to decide if it was love or just an immature infatuation between two youngsters. This one girl I knew through texting started getting too close to me and it was ll through text messages. It came to a point that we were almost in a relationship. It was too short a period to be falling in love and too unrealistic a way to get to know each other. And I came to a conclusion that it was definitely not love. Maybe it was my ideology mentioned above or maybe it was that I am already in love with someone else I know for a long time. I am confused. For me, people don't fall in love in a second, it happens over a period of time and no one realizes it. I think I have started realizing that. I am in love with some one else. I am in love with some one I had never imagined. Maybe its not true and maybe this is also infatuation. Maybe this is also an immature crush. But im confused.

Who Am I?

Another surge of random philosophy which no one would understand!

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?

Government Gang

There is a gang network worse than mafia. It steals and kills and no authority can oppose them because they are the authority themselves. This gang has been functioning since a long time trying to drown Pakistan in a sea if miseries. The gang calls itself "The Government."

My Life???

I just cannot live with the fact that my life has no great purpose. I feel I have to do something big. Something important. Something historical. Something unique and dangerous. I am sick and tired of just sitting around and not being able to do anything. I am fed up of watching my father's struggle for power. It hurts me from inside. Why does human life have to be so complicated and so flawed? I am confused. Day and night my ideas and thinking change according to the previous day's incidents. That keeps me confused as to what principles should I follow. My mind is like a wet cement right now and I want it to harden in the right way. I don't want it to be shaped and hardened in a harmful and bad way.

The Secret Ingredient

Since past few weeks I have been thinking a lot about random stuff. Totally random and often useless. But of all the randomness, I have been thinking about the Secret Ingredient of success. The stuff that enabled them build corporational empires and castles. How do they do it? They were never brilliant in their school! Then how did they do it? Big politicians and rich businessmen! Some of them do not even know how to speak in public. Was it their luck? Or was it their ancestors?

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???

Past Memories, Unforgettable!

I still remember!

"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.

The same Moon!

Sometimes, a random surge of philosophy races through yor mind and it just doesn't make sense. Well, for me this is quite often. But all this made sense to me after a while and may not make sense to you since it was something hidden deep in my heart and I had to let it out somehow so it came out in a concealed coded message! Think deeply over the following:


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!

The Famous Girly Laugh

"Dude, are you seriously laughing like a girl?"

"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.

ME ME ME & Friends

Ever since I landed in this God forsaken country, I have been faced with one sarcastic remark after another.

"Now you have changed"
"You were better before"
"So wierd"
"Mr. Flirt"
"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.

I WISH I WISH I WISH

Wishes. We all have wishes. We even have wishlists on facebook. I wish for an iPod. He wishes for a new car. I wish for a bigger television. He wishes for a better house. She wishes for a sophisticated kitchen. Everyone wishes for something. Don't you? I do. And then we start something we never did before. We start saving. Life is always better when you save. They sell CDs and books advising you to budget and save in the right way as if God revealed to them the secrets of finances. I wish I wish I wish and then save save save. But no one ever saved to help. No one ever saved for someone else. No one ever saved to save another life. We are all so happily living in our small close-to-perfect lives that we rarely see outside our airconditioned houses and windows of our tinted cars. We all talk about how our country is failing but have we ever tried to even do something about it? Open up your window and listen closely to the breeze. Just wait for a while and get over the hot weather and listen. You will hear a small whistling sound. Don't be dissapointed and wait for a little longer. Focus and listen closely. That whistle sound is the voice of a young kid whose father passed away and his mother works as a cleaner in a house. He knows that there is no fairy or angel who would fulfill his wish. I wish for my dad to come back to me. I wish I get one extra bite of bread to satisfy hunger. I wish for education. I wish I wish I wish. Did you hear that? These innocent wishes of this poor child are carried by the wind yet no one listens to it. Do me a favor and go sit by a big tree. Close your eyes and do not complain about having no time for this. Just do it. Smell the fragrance of the leaves and flowers. Just wait a little longer. Forget how late you are for your work and concentrate. The scent of leaves and flowers is the scent of a farmer. This scent will speak to you about the wishes if this poor farmer and the only bread winner of a family of eight. He is a human and he wishes too. I wish that my crops grow well. I wish I get some extra money to buy some extra food. I wish my mom feels better. I wish I could educate my sons. I wish I wish I wish. These simple wishes of this sweaty, hardworking farmer are spread around by the scent of the leaves yet every one is drowned in pollution to pay heed to it. If your eyes are opening now, bear with me one more time as I want to wake you up from your deep slumber full of perfect dreams. Turn of every electronic appliance of your house and close every door. Turn off the lights and fans and air conditioners. Sit in absolute darkness and then light a candle. Look at the dancing flame and pay close attention to its flickers. Concentrate. This dance of the flame talks about a girl getting ready for marriage. I wish my father is able to pay off all the loans he took for the wedding and dowry. I wish my father finds will power to live after I am gone. I wish my husband is ever faithful to me. I wish God bless my life and family. I wish I wish I wish. Who will fulfill her wishes? You? Me? How? Because we are so engrossed with our dreams, we forget that all our dreams should focus on a better world. One last time do this with me. Just once. Go sit in your garden near a flower. Wait for a butterfly to come by. Wait a bit longer and do not complain. Pay attention to its every flutter of the wing. Watch closely how it floats in the air and how its colorful wings rise and fall. This rise and fall will tell you about wishes of yet another human being. It will tell you about the wishes of another mother who lost her kids in a bomb blast during war. I wish I could kiss my sons one last time. I wish they find place in paradise. I wish I die soon to see them again. I wish the sound of "ammi, ammi" could again echo in the house. I wish I wish I wish. Now my friends, tell me again what you wish! Tell me again that you want an iPhone or a new laptop or a bigger television or a better house or a cuter girlfriend or an expensive car. Keep wishing. But wish for others too. And pay heed to what others are wishing for! HELP THEM!

Why Bother??

Stuck in the past, i was flown to the future for a year and now I have been thrown back to my past life. Left to rot. That's what I think till now. I am just sitting here and rotting!



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!

My Death

How sweet that death would be
If it will be recorded in the history