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  

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!

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.

The Illusionist.

This post is a dedication to a friend. Mera 'close up' dost. :)



"The sunset left a glaze of vermilion against the backdrop of the blue sky..."

And it's over...
Like it was over twice before...
So easily, so hopelessly, so colorlessly.

"As I sit there underneath the warmth of the peach tree..."

You were always there...
To help me out. To reassure me. To secure me. To smile at me. To fly with me. To collect my thoughts and to tie them together. To whisper in my ear that you love me. To inform me it's time I better go home. To welcome me each day with open arms. To share with me your happiness and my happiness together. To advice me. To order me.

"The sweet and delicate scent of the peaches reminds me of the tenderness of our friendship..."

How desultory it always was for me. How cute it always was for me. How magical it always was for me. How memorable it always was for me. How silly it always was for me.

"I breathe in again. A mild breeze blows at my face; its chillness adding flavor to my skin..."

I lost you. And you. And now you too...
Is it God's injustice? Or your veracity? Or simply my unluckiness?

"A teardrop softly kisses my cheek and falls silently onto the leafy bed on the ground..."

After all I tried, my senses had given up to you. They surrender at your thought. They relish your memories. Your charm. Your grace.

"I close my eyes tightly, as tightly as I could. I don't care about the picturesque sight the world shows me..."

And I had thought so much. Planned so much. Lived through so much. Hoped for so much. Fought for so much. Loved for so much...

"I feel numb. Dead. I don't see the vermilion glaze of the sun; I don't smell the sweet peaches; I don't feel the tears rolling down my pale skin; I don't hear the whistling breeze; I don't taste the bitterness of your absence. I'm numb."

I'm afraid I can't write another word...

Unstoppable True Story: The Secret Ingredient that Fueled a Barefoot African Boy From Poverty to Freedom - By Cynthia Kersey

He possessed a five-day supply of food, a Bible and Pilgrim’s Progress (his two treasures), a small ax for protection, and a blanket. With these, Legson Kayira eagerly set out on the journey of his life. He was going to walk from his tribal village in Nyasaland, north across the wilderness of East Africa to Cairo, where he would board a ship to America to get a college education.

It was October 1958. Legson was sixteen or seventeen, his mother wasn’t sure. His parents were illiterate and didn’t know exactly where America was or how far. But they reluctantly gave their blessing to his journey.
To Legson, it was a journey derived from a dream.

He wanted to be like his hero, Abraham Lincoln, who had risen from poverty to become an American president, then fought tirelessly to help free the slaves. He wanted to be like Booker T. Washington, who had cast off the shackles of slavery to become a great American reformer and educator, giving hope and dignity to himself and to his race.

Like these great role models, Legson wanted to serve mankind, to make a difference in the world. To realize his goal, he needed a first-rate education. He knew the best place to get it was in America. Forget that Legson didn’t have a penny to his name or a way to pay for his ship fare. Forget that he had no idea what college he would attend or if he would even be accepted.

Forget that Cairo was 3,000 miles away and in between were hundreds of tribes that spoke more than fifty strange languages, none of which Legson knew. Forget all that. Legson did. He had to.
He put everything out of his mind except the dream of getting to the land where he could shape his own destiny.

He hadn’t always been so determined. As a young boy, he sometimes used his poverty as an excuse for not doing his best at school or for not accomplishing something. I am just a poor child, he had told himself. What can I do?

Like many of his friends in the village, it was easy for Legson to believe that studying was a waste of time for a poor boy from the town of Karongo in Nyasaland. Then, in books provided by missionaries, he discovered Abraham Lincoln and Booker T. Washington. Their stories inspired him to envision more for his life, and he realized that an education was the first step. So he conceived the idea for his walk.

After five full days of trekking across the rugged African terrain, Legson had covered only 25 miles. He was already out of food, his water was running out, and he had no money. To travel the distance of 2,975 additional miles seemed impossible. Yet to turn back was to give up, to resign himself to a life of poverty and ignorance.
I will not stop until I reach America, he promised himself. Or until I die trying.

Sometimes he walked with strangers. Most of the time he walked alone. He entered each new village cautiously, not knowing whether the natives were hostile or friendly. Sometimes he found work and shelter. Many nights he slept under the stars. He foraged for wild fruits and berries and other edible plants. He became thin and weak.

A fever struck him and he fell gravely ill. Kind strangers treated him with herbal medicines and offered him a place to rest and convalesce. Weary and demoralized, Legson considered turning back. Perhaps it was better to go home, he reasoned, than to continue this seemingly foolish journey and risk his life.

Instead, Legson turned to his two books, reading the familiar words that renewed his faith in himself and in his goal. He continued on. On January 19, 1960, fifteen months after he began his perilous journey, he had crossed nearly a thousand miles to Kampala, the capital of Uganda. He was now growing stronger in body and wiser in the ways of survival. He remained in Kampala for six months, working at odd jobs and spending every spare moment in the library, reading voraciously.

In that library he came across an illustrated directory of American colleges. One illustration in particular caught his eye. It was of a stately, yet friendly looking institution, set beneath a pure blue sky, graced with fountains and lawns, and surrounded by majestic mountains that reminded him of the magnificent peaks back home in Nyasaland.

Skagit Valley College in Mount Vernon, Washington, became the first concrete image in Legson’s seemingly impossible quest. He wrote immediately to the school’s dean explaining his situation and asking for a scholarship.
Fearing he might not be accepted at Skagit, Legson decided to write to as many colleges as his meager budget would allow. It wasn’t necessary.

The dean at Skagit was so impressed with Legson’s determination he not only granted him admission but also offered him a scholarship and a job that would pay his room and board.
Another piece of Legson’s dream had fallen into place..

..yet still more obstacles blocked his path. Legson needed a passport and a visa, but to get a passport, he had to provide the government with a verified birth date. Worse yet, to get a visa he needed the round-trip fare to the United States. Again, he picked up pen and paper and wrote to the missionaries who had taught him since childhood. They helped to push the passport through government channels. However, Legson still lacked the airfare required for a visa.

Undeterred, Legson continued his journey to Cairo believing he would somehow get the money he needed. He was so confident he spent the last of his savings on a pair of shoes so he wouldn’t have to walk through the door of Skagit Valley College barefoot.

Months passed, and word of his courageous journey began to spread. By the time he reached Khartoum, penniless and exhausted, the legend of Legson Kayira had spanned the ocean between the African continent and Mount Vernon, Washington. The students of Skagit Valley College, with the help of local citizens, sent $650 to cover Legson’s fare to America.

When he learned of their generosity, Legson fell to his knees in exhaustion, joy, and gratitude.
In December 1960, more than two years after his journey began, Legson Kayira arrived at Skagit Valley College.

Carrying his two treasured books, he proudly passed through the towering entrance of the institution.

But Legson Kayira didn’t stop once he graduated. Continuing his academic journey, he became a professor of political science at Cambridge University in England and a widely respected author.

Like his heroes, Abraham Lincoln and Booker T. Washington, Legson Kayira rose above his humble beginnings and forged his own destiny.
He made a difference in the world and became a magnificent beacon whose light remains as a guide for others to follow.

Pleasantary

Widen your horizons
Close your hazel eyes
Understand that God is never unjust
Think of all the happy things that have happened to you so far
And all that future will one day unravel
Wish of scarlet love and angelic peace
Think about people who think of you each second
Listen to the song of your heart and soul
Watch out for fame and fortune alike
Read your soul mate's mind
Wait for a miracle, wait for blessings, and wait for death
Wait for true love's first kiss
Stare at the best picture you have of yours
Stop complaining
Whistle your favorite tune
Jump on bubble wrap and laugh until tears roll out of your eyes
Touch the moon and wish you were in heaven
Desire for diamonds and pearls
Face magic and tragic together
Live larger than life
Whatever happens, do not stop breathing
So take a deep breath
Deeper
Smile at the thought of your family, friends and embarrassments
Pray for an eternal life after death
Judge your enemies from their faces
Play a card trick and sip hot cocoa
Smell your hair to count the days it's been since your last shower
Kiss a baby's cheek to know how tender and sweet life can be
Hug your mother, if you have never before
Race to the next bus stop
Laugh with others when they play a prank on you
Scream when you meet your favorite artist
At least once, let someone fall in love with you
Take bad news as no news
Become a child when with a child
Listen to the birds chirping and understand their freedom
Cry when you win
Jump in the river, only if you know how to swim
Mourn your bad luck, forget optimism
All good things life gives us, cherish them
And believe in yourself, your ambitions
So when you die
You don't have to blame anyone else for your life
And could peacefully, open your eyes to face the hereafter.