Ba’addab, Ba’naseeb

August 13^th 1967. 9:20 pm.

10 year old Abdullah was busy decorating his street in the middle of Mori Darwaza along with other children. They had ripped pages from their notebooks, painted them green and drawn a crescent and a star in the middle with white chalk. Khala Bilqees made them a sticky paste mixing some water and aataa, using which they glued their flags together to the strings. Asghar and Shakeel climbed up every roof in the street, fastening the strings from house to house. All children paused from their work to look at the two eldest with awe every time they did this.

Akbar Baba sat there on the porch of his house with the huqqa’s pipe in his mouth. He watched the children as they gleefully prepared for the big day tomorrow. 20 years ago, he had lost his family on this day of rejoice. Looking at the cloudy sky, he hoped it wouldn’t rain tonight.

‘Babu ji, can we go up to your roof to put up the big flag?’ Saeeda led the crowd of children, carrying a bamboo stick with a green parcham on top, asking for his permission.

Akbar Baba took another puff and scratched his beard. He smiled at the children of all ages, looking back at him with eagerness and fright in their eyes. Then he nodded. A cheer went through the crowd; the kids practically hugged each other. A moment later, a riot broke out between them to decide who was to carry the load of the large flag to the roof top. Saeeda tried to stop them. ‘Array, be patient! Let Babu ji decide it!’

Akbar Baba always made the important decisions of the street. This event was no less. He looked at every individual, searching for the chosen one. His eyes settled on the only small boy whose attention was diverted towards the hundreds of jhandiyaan that canopied above, smiling as the wind stirred them.

‘Abdullah!’ he chanted. ‘Carry the flag upstairs!’

Abdullah, distracted, looked at him vacantly. Then a grin lighted his face and he ran towards Saeeda, grabbing the stick and dashing past Akbar Baba, into his house. The cheering crowd of children followed him inside.

They all put up the flag on the highest point they could, after multiple efforts. When done, they all stood there for a long time, staring at their hard work.

‘Allahu Akbar!’ Shakeel broke the silence.

‘Allahu Akbar!’ Everyone repeated and applause broke out when suddenly thunder startled everyone.

‘Not today!’ Akbar Baba groaned. ‘Allah khair!

Saeeda reached over to grab her brother’s shoulders, drawing him closer. ‘Aapa, is it going to rain? It will wet the flags.’ Abdullah looked at her. Saeeda looked devastated. ‘Pray that it doesn’t. Allah will listen to you. He listens to children.’

As told, the little boy raised his hands, closed his eyes for a moment and murmured to himself.

 ‘We should put it down now, rather then letting it fall to ground if the storm comes. Remember Abba told us its sheer shame to disrespect your country. I won’t let that flag fall down. It holds our pride, Shakeel.’ Abdullah heard Asghar.

The paper flags had begun to wet. Saeeda started to cry. Abdullah glanced at her and looked at the strings. All of a sudden, the winds shredded away a string, causing it to fall down. Without looking around, young Abdullah dived ahead to grab it, trying to save his pride. Before his feet touched a support, he fell from Akbar Baba’s roof, into the street.

Amidst Saeeda’s screams and the boys dashing downstairs, Akbar Baba limped towards Abdullah with all his might. He lay on his stomach, a pool of blood next to his head. Akbar Baba turned him over to check his heart. ‘He’s breathing! Call the elders, take him to the hospital! Bhaag Saeeda, jaa!’ he yelled.

Then he looked at his clenched fist. He reached over to open it, revealing a drenched, crumpled paper flag.

August 13^th, 2011. 10:45 am.

He silently watched the children of his school preparing for the Independence Day celebrations from the window of his office. He was impressed by their devotion. He was glad that one of the things that hadn’t changed even after all of these years of independence was the spirit of patriotism.

53 year old Abdullah was the principal of this school. He had been teaching children Pakistan Studies and Urdu for 30 years, enlightening their lives with the knowledge of their nation, its culture and language. He was a mentor to every one of them. He knew why he could hold his head high with prestige today. His God had rewarded his naseeb (destiny) to compensate the addab (respect) he had shown for his land years ago.

*Based on a true story  

Tumblin' :)

Hey guys, *drumsroll* I'm up on a new blog! Arwa's Android - kinda geeky name, no? I couldn't think of better.

Reasons for a tumblr:

Number one, I'm keeping a secret, shush ;) I felt like making a new space - talk some sh*t - so Android's gonna be some serious me.

This one is gonna be different - I'll be sharing the world, not just me, unlike Introspection.

I'm excited, yayyyyy! :D

 Cheers!♥

Beautiful Love.

Just you and me.

Beautiful,
Is the twinkle in your eyes,
When I see you smile,
At me.

Beautiful,
How you swept me off my feet,
Purely,
So easily.

And when you held out your hand for me,
I knew you knew I always knew;

It's so plain and so perfect,
Don't you think it's so wonderful,
It's a beautiful love,
And I owe it all to you.

Beautiful,
Is the feeling when I look behind,
To find you,
Standing there.

Beautiful,
When you touch my eyes,
And clear those tears,
Away.

And when you save me from falling apart,
I knew you knew I always knew;

I want you to know,
That it's more than just a miracle,
It's a beautiful love,
And I owe it all to you.

Beautiful,
Is the way you teach me,
Little things in life,
Eagerly.

Beautiful,
When you guide me to dance,
Under the moonlight,
In the rain.

And when you make the time slow down,
I knew you knew I always knew;

There's magic everywhere,
It sparkles when you're around,
It's a beautiful love,
And I owe it all to you.

Beautiful,
When you forget the present,
So easily,
For me.

Beautiful,
Is how I deeply care,
About this trust you have,
In me.

And the way my head fits into your neck,
I knew you knew I always knew;

It just needs some evil,
To make it a fairytale,
It's a beautiful love,
And I owe it all to you.

P.S. A Whole New World.

KOSTAL ki 'Jaan Jaye'

Okay so the famous-long-before-they-were-meant-to-be-famous KOSTAL debuted just recently on the screen with their much awaited track, 'Jaan Jaye' and man, everyone is
groovin' with the guys!


When I saw the video; my first reaction was a smile at how cute Ali Saleem aka Begam Nawazish Ali acted in it. It begins as she walks into the kitchen, calling her cook, Omran Shafique aka Rafique and then like a typical Pakistani woman, she scolds him while he meekly smiles. Then she leaves for her car; near which Taha Malik, her gardener (maali), is busy cutting the grass. The moment she's out; Taha or the maali dashes inside the house, awaited by Omran who's already in the mood to party. They turn on the TV and watch pretty ladies on the ramp and then snooze off. *Scene changes*
There are girls and girls, all so thin and lanky and wearing black catwalking and dancing around as the music plays on. Omran starts singing the course and Taha interrupts with his rap and Omran starts up again and then one of the thin girls is sitting on the table coloring her lips when Omran jumps on the bed behind and she signals him to come near at which he pops a rose in his mouth and crawls to her when all of a sudden; the lady of the house, Begum Nawazish Ali opens the door of the room and screams, scaring Taha off the stool and Omran to drop open his jaw.

Wah-oW!

So the best thing about the video is the concept. Like I always cry before; it's the concept that makes a video worth watching. So this one blows off. However, I must say that Begum Nawazish Ali gets all the credit for it. Honestly. She (or he) makes it a good laugh all over. Another thing that adds over to the video is the variety of colour dimensions the director has used. The whole spectrum makes the video iridescent which in turn makes it very stylish and good to the eyes.

The music is not unique; yet it does makes a mark. It'll leave you dancing along the song for sure. However; maybe because I'm no big fan of rap music, I did felt that the little piece by Taha was completely unnecessary. It feels as if he's tried to push himself in the chords where Omran has already made space for himself. No offense.
The lyrics are very chic. Omran sings, 'Meri jaan jaan jaye, Mujhe chaine nahi aaye, Mujhe aisa tarhpaye, Jaisay mann choo jaye..'And the classy tone to his voice just does the trick. Somehow, when you close your eyes and listen to the vocals, it's like Mauj gone groovy.


The guys carry their style in the video (including Ali Saleem) but the models were a fashion disaster. C'mon! What's with the masks? Take them off! And the black color chronology?

So the whole video is a big hit already, for sure I'm convinced. The fact is; only the concept and the vocals make it memorable. It's how Omran 'Har fun mola' Shafique guides the duo to another level of entertainment and how the spectral (here, I derived it out of spectrum) Uns Mufti directs a fine piece for the people to laugh and enjoy. I bet it's number one on your play list by now. hi5!

Rocksalt

This story is derived from my personal experiences. However, all characters are fictional; any similarity to anyone living; a friend or not; is purely coincidental.

Feel free to ask me any questions about the plot. =)


In a state of pure oblivion, surrounded by an array of white flowers, she lay there on the hospital bed covered by a thin sheet. Her pale and skinny feet protruded out of it, showing off three identical scars on her left ankle. Her eyes were closed; either she was sleeping or pretending to be asleep.

From the big window next to the door, Omran looked at her frail body, confounded in the emotions of anger and pain alike. Hamza sat next to me, his arm resting on my shoulder. He stared at the ceiling, perhaps his eyes were too aggrieved to answer me. I understood the agony we three shared right now. The agony of losing a friend and the anger of ripping into pieces, the culprit who did this.

We were alone in the corridor. The silence frequently broke as one of us sighed. Once, Hamza even started to cry.

I had known Rimsha since 2006. We met in November one day at my cousin's wedding. Then we never saw each other for an year. Hamza, on the other hand, had met her last July. I am ashamed to confess that he knows her better than I do.

'Excuse me, sir. The doctor wants to see you.' I heard a feminine voice. 'I'm coming.' Omran answered. He left, followed by the nurse, her anklet clinking faintly as she walked. 'This is Pakistan,' I thought. 'Who follows the rules?'

Hamza stood up and walked towards the room. I followed him. I wonder why.

As he opened the door, we heard a sob. Hamza walked towards Rimsha. She was awake, but motionless. She did not even knew we were here. I decided to stand by the door.

Hamza sat next to her. She looked at him for a second, probably even tried to smile. I am just guessing. She always smiled when she saw him.

'How are you?' Hamza questioned politely. She nodded. Then she closed her eyes. Her dark circles scared me. He took her hand and gently rubbed it.

I closed my eyes as I leaned against the door. I tried to clear my mind from the situation; its memories, its introversion.
I heard her sob again. At first it started quietly but soon she was screaming. I ran towards her. Hamza held her tightly as she cried.
'What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong?' Hamza asked. 'Call him,' she muttered between her tears. 'Call him.'
'Go to sleep. You need sleep.' I tried calming her down. 'Call him.' she said again.

Then she closed her eyes.

We waited for a minute to see if she starts crying again. When she did not, we left the room.

We sat on the bench outside again. Hamza was controlling his tears, I could read it on his face. I knew he was being tortured inside. It was sheer torture he was going through.

'Where does he live?' he asked me, all of a sudden, his expressions vague and vacant.

'Who?' I questioned back.

'The guy she's always asking about.'

'Shahbaz?'

'Yeah. Where does that bloody bastard live?'

'I don't know. I know he's in Troy right now.'

'Oh.'

'I don't think calling him to meet her would be a good idea.'

'I won't be calling him here.'

'What else do you want with him?'

'I want to kill that man.'

'Listen Hamza. Please don't let any of this take over your senses. Don't we have enough to worry about already?'

'Don't you see what he has done to her? She is vacillating between life and death right now! What more do you want?' Hamza spat out his anger.

'You think 'killing' him would be the end of everything, huh?' I had become somewhat angry too.

'Not everything. But at least it will calm down our souls!' he barked.

'Not hers!' I barked back. He was serene now, throwing himself back on the bench. I clenched my fists. Yes I hated Shahbaz, no doubt, but I was never in favour of Hamza either. Chauvinism? Jealousy? I don't know. I knew Rimsha loved Hamza and he loved her back. Omran was married and just good friend to her. Maybe I was the unwanted obtuse angle of the love triangle, after all. Argh! I don't care. Right now, Hamza infuriated me and I couldn't help it.

'Look, I know this is no time to quarrel with each other. So we should better keep to ourselves.' he said, crossing his hands together.

Before I could reply, we both saw Omran coming. He was accompanied by Arwa, his wife.

'What did the doctor say?' Hamza inquired before I could even open my mouth.

Omran looked at Arwa. I sensed something wrong. Of course something was wrong! She was in there, since five days, probably breathing away life slowly and I was hopelessly liverish to everyone she loved. I hated myself right now.

'They say she could go to absolute coma.' Arwa answered.

'No..way.' Hamza mumbled.

'Nothing can be done now. Her brain is too numb to respond, she'll probably forget who we are in some days too.' Omran added.

I gulped in my courage.

We all agreed it was too late to do anything. No one spoke, but we agreed.

Hamza pursed his lips.

Arwa held her husband's hand, tightly, as if she was scared of losing him too.

I closed my eyes.

Then we all heard a sob. Then a scream. All three of my comrades dashed inside the room
in response.

I, on the other hand, stood firm at my position. I was too rude, too blunt to act right
now. I could hear it all; her screams, Hamza's consolation, Arwa's cry and Omran's
whispers.

Then I heard my name. When I finally recovered from the surprise of who called me, I
ran inside, as fast as I could.

You & Me are 'Ready to die'

The door creaked open; giving way to a beam of light to enter the darkness of the room. Me stepped inside, followed by You who was carrying a bag and turned the lamp on. They walked to the table in the middle. While You pulled out a chair for Me to sit; Me grabbed the note they had put on the table before and crumpled it in her fist.

Once they both were seated; You took out the laptop and a pad out of the bag. He passed on the electronic to Me; who turned it on and began searching for her playlist.

You: Shall we start?

Me: Yep.

You: We have...co-VEN's latest track, 'Ready to die'.

Me scrolls and then plays the video.

...And it's over.

You: Carry on.

Me: Okay so; this was a long awaited video of a band. And to be very honest; I didn't find it worth waiting for.

You: Wow. Why?

Me: Well; let's just say I had heard so much about its release months ago and I was waiting so anxiously for another conceptual classic like there had always been from the boys. Another fact that the guys at ROLA are famous for their creativity. The point is; a conceptual video adds a subtle flavour to every song. And especially when it comes to a rock band like co-VEN, people get so tired of watching performances normally. They want creativity! Concept! Especially when the band has such good actors; why not one?

You: What could have been a good concept?

Me: I don't know. Maybe a little political and military flare could have been added. Me think a little touch from Noori's video's could have been an inspiration too. (laughs) C'mon! Mandana Zaidi is one too good director; but all Noori videos are just so similar!

You: (laughs) Yeahh. Ahaan so how about the vocals?

Me: The vocals, however, I'm in love with them! Someone tell Hamza Jafri that his piece in Urdu does the trick in the song! When he says, "chali shatranj ki baazi aur haari haari; Iraqi, Irani, Saudi, Afghani, Pakistani!" I was simply spellbound at how wondrous it is! The lyrics are very good too! Very ravnous and meaningful. Actually; I'm loving the fact bands like these are raising so much awareness in the youth by their songs. I love the beat, the drums this time are too cool! Purely natural. co-VEN's getting better with the music, baby!

You: Of course they are!

Me: And, on the brighter side of the video; let's say apart from no concept; I would give the director an 8 on 10.

You: I saw some ratings online; people think the song is awesome.

Me: It is, apart from the video. The melody of the song was not what co-VEN gave us before. So you know; it was new for co-VEN listeners and therefore they enjoyed.

You: Acha you think the band members lacked something this time? A litlle persona? I felt that maybe it was the couture's fault; but there wasn't much of an attention grabbed by Sameer nor Sikander. Neither was Omran in the video. Maybe because Hamza was singing tou we didn't notice him.

Me: Yeah in a way; I did feel that Hamza stood as a performer this time. I loved the drums, like I mentioned before, but the fact that I didn't notice Sikander himself. I won't say it was the director's fault; maybe it was up with the beat. If you just close your eyes; you won't want to see who's playing the guitar or the drums; you'd want to see who's singing.

You: Haha. So, story's over?

Me: Not yet. Write that the TV guys should play the video more often on private music channels. We need a better horizon for the public to listen to guys like these.

You: Aye.

Me's cell phone rings. She picks it up. After some seconds, she notifies You.

Me: To the boss.

You: (starts collecting the stuff back in the bag) Yeah I got that.

They both leave, turning off the lamp and slamming the door behind.

"It's just You, Me and co-VEN, baby."

A single, solitary lamp swings above them, spotlighting their pale faces momentarily by plain yellow light. The room is dark; dark enough to hide all the graffiti on the wall and the dirty corners of the room. There is a tall wooden table in the middle with two chairs across it on which they both are seated. No more furniture is in view.

You is making 'tick-tick' sounds with his ball-point pen who's end he keeps chewing with his incisors.
Me is drawing caricatures on her pad.

You's cell phone rings. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then it stops ringing.

You looks over at Me, who is sitting opposite him in oblivion. He nods. She notices him and takes out her laptop from her bag in answer. Meanwhile, You pulls over her pad, smiles at her when he sees Zardari's caricature and turns back a few pages to the list.
Me scrolls through her play lists. Eventually, she finds what she's been looking for. She looks at You.

You: Track number 1, 'Sailing Fast'.

Me clicks the play button on the player...The video begins to play...

...And it's over.

Me: (smiles a tremor) So...What did you think of it?

You: (smiles back) Ladies first.

Me: (laughs out loud) Okay...I like it. It's nice.

You: That's all, you want me to write here?

Me: (winks) You can begin with it.

You: So...What else?

Me: I like the vocals. Actually, I love the vocals. There's this very elegance in the Hamza Jafri's voice. A couple of times, I felt it's Sonu Nigham gone all English. (laughs) Funny, though, but I did feel it. His notes are perfect. Quite perfect. The lyrics are good too. At times I didn't really get what he sang though, seemed sorta gibberish, but it was good all the way. He lacks clarity. But definitely not the potential! The best part about the vocals though, is the pride and the chronology of his pitch. His voice is very confident.

You: The melody...

Me: The melody is awesome. Best word to describe it. The drums are played well enough to mark their position above the guitars. I actually enjoyed Sikander Mufti's work a lot. The rhythm is synchronized well all together. Each instrument played its part well.

You: (smiles) And the video?

Me: Very unique. Honestly. The concept is very much alive throughout the video. It's natural, it's creative. Very well shot. I was strangely happy to see the band members are very good actors. The best part was how technically Japan was involved. Very stylish. I'm impressed.

You: Very good.

Me: What did you think of it?

You: Me? It was fun. Yeah. Haha. How simple is that?

Me: (laughs) And I was thinking I was very brief!

You: Nay, it was fine. Now, over to the next. Shall we?

Me: Why not?

You: (reads) Track number 2, 'Boundaries Broken'.

Me plays the video...

...And it's over.

You: (laughs) Hey, nice video!

Me: (laughs) Yeah.

You: Your remarks?

Me: I found the voice clarity perfect this time. Honestly speaking. Very natural. Somehow, I felt the music was not too unique, like I had heard it before. No offense. The video on the other hand, (laughs) blew me off! Who directs their videos? I want to meet that guy for sure! Another spectacular concept. And yes, again, the guys are very good a acting. I could give them an Oscar each for this!

You: Haha, I would go for a Grammy first!

Me: I'm glad to see Omran Shafique in the video this time too.

You: (winks) Yeah, yeah. I won't write that.

Me: I just mentioned it to you. Haha.

You: Anything else you want to add?

Me: Yeah. That the video overpowers the song. I was more interested in watching it than listening to it.

You: Ahaan...Shall we proceed to the next video?

Me: (smiles) Who's stopping you?

You: Track number 3, 'Third World Celebrity'.

Me plays the video within a second...

...And it's over.

You: Hmm...I found it very stereotypical.

Me: There's one thing I don't appreciate about these guys. The lyrics of their songs are somewhat not...my type; I don't know, they're too cliche. At times I don't even get how they conceived it. It's too over rated in a way. I hate to use such 'bad' words for them, since I'm a great fan, but I really couldn't help this time. I love the vocals, yet again. And Gosh, Omran and Sameer were simply awesome at their specific guitars. The drums were fine this time. Nothing too particularly amazing.

You: And the video? You think it was another masterpiece?

Me: Umm...Not really a masterpiece. There's one thing I would mention this time. I like how the members know how to make all their acts a true performance. It's a quality of a true band. I've had the opportunity to see them live once and man, that was one true performance! They involve themselves fully in everything. When Hamza's singing, he sings like this is it! Haha! Awesome. he has his own style when singing. But when he's simply playing the guitar, like with Mauj etc, he's so involved in himself and his instrument. Reclusion is one quality of a true artist. Omran does the same. His guitars are perfect. Alive. You can't take your eyes of his fingers when he's playing. Sikander does it sensationally. He plays as if he doesn't care. Haha.

You: (laughs) I agree.

Me: The video was well shot, on the whole. I saw creativity, and any good director would see that too, but the audience, I don't think they got the whole idea of it.

You: Okay...

Me: I can see it on your face, you're hungry.

You: (smiles cheesily) Yeahh..Had my breakfast at 9 in the morning today. Haven't eaten anything since.

Me: We can afford a tiny break here. The article's supposed to be in the magazine by next Monday, right. Won't take long.

You: Your orders, ma'am! (laughs)

Me: (laughs) Lets go, then.

Me packs her bag again as You clears the table for her. They leave the room, leaving a note stating 'Be right back' on the table and turning off the only lamp that made the room visible.