I refuse to choose war over peace.

Star Voice of India, a music program, a final episode of which aired a few moments ago was turned into a patriotic drama today. It is not bad to say how much you love your country, but at a time like this, and with songs which say we will not take this sitting down, with visuals of war and the song with lyrics which are to provoke the nation to raise up and go to war… Ironically the songs have a similar effect and response on this (Pakistani) side of the border too.

For once would this commercial media learn to spread harmony, love and talk about fighting the terrorists and not another whole country which they think is their enemy. And do they think if they nuke A bordering country they will actually achieve something .. ? I mean if today it is Pakistan then tomorrow it might be china or Taiwan or the Tamil Tigers from Nepal. ?

Seriously we still love the talented people who participated in the Star voice of India, we cried when Hashmeet Singh died, we all were shading tears when we were looking at the dead bodies and blood splattered all over in Mumbai terror attacks. We were all with India and the victims of the terror attack, we are still and a few fools cant change our sympathy for those innocents who lost their lives.

The terrorists wanted us to fight, they wanted to start a chain reaction by killing about 300 people, a chain reaction which might take countless innocent lives both in India and Pakistan, hundreds and thousands might just die on a flick of a button, we all know those who will die will only be normal peace loving people, who would never raise their hands to hurt anyone on either side of the border. Yet we are engrossed with the idea and proudly promoting it that on that side of the border live all demons…

Yeah I know such ventures do cash in very well for the media but I must warn that such practices do backfire with catastrophic results. We must understand that to kill a hand full of terrorists a full blown war is not a solution, it is it’s self a problem. I hope they would understand.

When I looked at Aishwarya and Anvesha singing today, despite the choice of songs, despite the tone of the program despite every single sentence which talked of hating Pakistan, which talked of war, my love and affection for Aishwarya, Anvesha, and the common people of India and Pakistan was undeterred, unchanged because I refuse to surrender to the plots of those terrorists who know nothing but to spread war, terror, and hatred.

Is that all so difficult to see ?

I refuse to choose war over peace.

How can we ever thank you enough…

dsc_00131Yesterday was Saturday night, I had been up chasing after my playful cat, commenting on a picture featuring some of my friends, reading a few serious blogs over the blogosphere, and designing an application form for KMB all night.

So obviously I woke up at noon, and as usual for a technology geek, still in bed I picked up my cell phone to check my emails, but instead an sms which had arrived an hour or so back caught my attention. It was an invitation to join a few old school friends most of them “December Pakistanis’ to visit out beloved school principal Madam Najmi. I haven’t met most of these friends in years so seeing them together was an offer tempting enough not to say no to and to top it all a visit to our dear principal, this was an occasion I wouldn’t want to miss for anything.

I had a few unimportant plans for the evening, which were quickly moved, and I was all set to be carpooled to our destination.

During our drive from Gulshan to Clifton to our destination, the old school crowd, all six of us backed like the sardines in a tin gossiped and talked of the old days, the silly questions we asked our teachers and even sillier crushes, the stupid games and mischievous activities we indulged in while at school and all the memories of the silly us kids were refreshed.

For a moment we were not who we are but the same silly kids wrapped in a sense of nostalgia, back at school but with a realization ” Oh! God How silly of us it was”. I guess that is the part of being grownup.

At our principals home, we were greeted with great love and affection, a strong feel of warmth I am sure we all deeply felt. And Madam Najmi’s bright eyes were even more brighter, full of affection and love, glittering with a contentment, for her hard work and the love and knowledge she had given us has nurtured us into fine gentlemen.

For Madam Najmi, it has never been about money, she wanted to bring out the best in every single one of her students, she wanted them to be intellects, different from the crowd. Of course the school also won for her some bread and cheese, but had had to survive, and yes she could have been a multimillionaire only if she would have commercialized education in her institution but rightfully this she never did, which was a very bold decision, because she always remained focused and never lusted for money.

In the end when we were leaving her place to head back home, I realized that this fine old lady has given us something that we cant ever repay for, she has given us that fine personality, that fire to continue, that passion to look minutely into the finer details of thing in life. She is the person responsible to bring that fineness in us which set us apart, she has brought the best out of us. We were fortunate to have her as a principal and even more fortunate to have her with us today.

Right now I am at a total lost of words, my true feelings cant simply be described by mix of some 24 alphabets. I could only but say thank you, but we can so not thank her enough all our lives for what she has given to us. May her love and affection always be with us.

How can we ever thank you enough…

Boss with brains, the size of a pea.

n525727787_1786572_26751I am totally sleep deprived and too tired right now for anything but I have to get this out of my system, I just have to tell this to some one or I wont be able to sleep.

Well I was at this beautiful art exhibition yesterday when I noticed a reporter, his press card boasted his employment with one of the cities leading English daily and he was asking people their opinion about the exhibition I noticed he didn’t had a photographer with him so I asked him what visuals would he be using for his news report of this opening of the exhibition. At which he replied that he has a CD of the images on display and a printed catalogue of the art work, pictures out of which would be used for the purpose. So I replied that the visuals will then be only about the art work and not the opening of this exhibition, I then showed him this image which was in my digital camera at the moment and asked him wouldn’t this image, or something similar would make a better visual shot for the story at which he said something that totally shocked me. He said ” after looking at this picture my boss will say half of the image is out of focus, and he cant use it”. At this statement I decided to remain silent because after that anything said to guy would have been useless.

Boss with brains, the size of a pea.

Shehair (The City)


Makaan ke dewaraoon per bhayanak shakloon ke nishan din raat khoof ka manzar keh rahay hain, yeah itnee khoon ke piyasee hain key chuoo to khaal cheelay daalteen hain.

Chaet khaasta hai jiss say din raat khoon tapakta hai aur zameen say guzray hua maaasoom, mazloom insanoon kee dill hila daynay walee cheekhain din raat ubharteen rehteen hain.

Koi bhee darwaza kholo to insanoo ke lashain, jin say sardnay kee boo umandte hoo, Suit boot main liptee, dono bahain pheylaey mugh say baghal geer hoonay ko kehteen hain.

Hava boghal hai, is kay paas dainay ko siraf ghuthan hain, asmaan hai key sooraj ke tapish say lal hooraha hia, badal bhee is shehair say guzartay ghabratay hain aur agar kabhee guzar bhee jaeen to un say siraf lahoo he barasta hai… aur barish man boondain seesay ke, jo barood kay zoor per zinda loogon ko maut kay ghaat utarnay per tulee rahteen hain

Bahar lagay hua darakhtoon main bhee aab patoon ke jaga zehrelay Khaar ugg aeen hain, agar kaheen koi phool in kntoon kay dermain ugg bhee jata hai too us tak pohanch na too door ke baat, khushboo ko mahsoos kerna bhe namumkin hai, aur aysee matee main ugay ga bhee kiya jo barsoon masoomon ka khoon pee pee ker lal hoo chukee ho –

Is shahar main wehshat ka raaj hai aur kahen kaheen jo zindage kay chand aasaar hain who bhee aab akhree saans laytay dikhtay hain.

English Translation :

The city

The walls of the house, laced with haunting figures, so thirsty of the blood that they would scrape your skin off the moment it’s touched.

The ceiling so worn-out that it drips of blood and the floor, from beneath which the deafening shrieks of the oppressed and innocents of the past seeps out day and night shattering my soul.

Behind the doors, the corpses, rotting and stinking, wrapped in suits and boots, ready to embrace with open arms, thirsty of fresh, warm blood.

The air outside dense, heavy to breath. The sun’s heat baking the sky red hot and the clouds too shy to visit the city, and even if they ever do all they shower is blood. And the rain drops are lead powered by gunpowder, thirsty of blood with determination to eliminate any signs of life.

Even the trees and plants have now grown poisonous thorns instead of leaves, and among them if any flower bloom one cant imagine even to reach close enough to feel it’s fragrance. But what else can be expected to grow in such a soil which has been absorbing the blood of poor innocents since many a years and has now turned red.

Darkness and Horror rules the city, and the few vague signs of life too seems to be on the verge of death.

Shehair (The City)