Mind is like a tin box – that holds every bit of past that one wants to forget but can’t.

‘Why is it tough to forget?’ He asked his friend.

‘It’s because we don’t let go.’

‘Why don’t we?’

‘We expect the return of good time.’

‘Why do we expect?’

‘We expect… because that’s how our mind works. We can’t help it.’

He wasn’t satisfied with his friend’s answers. His shrink had told him there was no coming back of good times. He thought to act on his advice of imprisoning his memories into a small box. He put a few strands of her hair that he had found sticking to her pillow days after she had left, in the bed of the box. Then he put the perfumed love notes sent by her and finally the hankie on which she had embroidered his name initials with red thread.

He drove to the bridge over the river, came out of his car and tossed the box, where they said were the deadliest whirlpools. He saw a tiny dot whirling and disappearing. A strange sense of satisfaction came over him as if he got rid of some obnoxious burden. That moment realism took over him. He was about to move on but… her face still seemed to hung right in front of his eyes. He rubbed his eyes and struggling to grope the smoky images pulled over his car.

He broke into an ironic laughter. He was laughing so hard that the tears began to fall. He said out loud, ‘And the therapist thought that way I’ll forget all the memories. He didn’t know the memory resides in heart and consumes my mind. Will he ask me next to lock my heart and mind in the box and throw it away in the river? Silly… old, shrink! He hissed and drove away struggling with the shadows lingering in his mind, dancing in front of his eyes.

I remember when he used to sing qawwalis along with his uncle Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. I would find his screechy voice in the background quite funny. After Nusrat Fateh Ali’s demise in August 1997, he continued his journey and emerged as a solo singer. In the beginning his voice failed to appeal me. The first time I noticed him was when I listened to Man Ki Lagan in 2003 end. I had bought the otherwise pretty average album of the movie Paap just for that song. The song was soothing and sensual. I think it was penned by Amjad Islam Amjad. So basically Bhatts (Pooja and Mahesh) had introduced him into the mainstream Hindi movie playback singing.

Then there was a long hiatus. In 2005 he sang, Jiya Dhadak Dhadak for Kalyug.He has sung too many wonderful and super hit songs for various movies. But amazingly, I never liked his solo album Charkha which was a big hit too. Below is the list of some of his most popular songs that are my absolute favorite too.

1) Teri Yaad Saath (Namaste London)

2) Bol Na Halke Halke (Jhoom Baraber Jhoom)

3) Naina Thag Laingey (Omkara)

4) Jag Soona Soona Laage (Om Shanti Om)

5) O Re Piya (Aaja Nachle)

6) Teri Ore (Singh Is King)

7) Aj Din Chadeyaa (Love Aaj Kal)

This popular show for children was premiered on 10th November 1969 and it is the longest running American TV show. I remember watching this show on Fridays (weekly holiday) in school days. There would be only one channel (PTV) and we all know it offered very little for kids to watch. I was never a huge fan of Sesame Street. Actually I don’t like puppets much. But I would love their how-to segments. Like how chocolate is made, how recycling is done or how crayons are made. I would adore that part and would wait for it.

But this show is nothing without the various puppet characters such as: Elmo, Bert, Ernie, Cookie monster, Big Bird, Elephant, Oscar the Grouch etc. My favorite character was… hold your breath… Count Von Count (The Dracula). He would be obsessed with counting stuff around. I could identify with him because I too would like counting things… money, coins etc. Okay that was a joke! I would like it so much the way Count Von Count would rise from his coffin!

For me Friday afternoons of childhood and Sesame Street are synonymous.

This show is still running and it is because the kids do watch it and they quite like it. This show has been serving generations. I reckon PTV still telecast it! You can check out the various characters here!

Do you remember writing those corny little stories or paragraphs about the corniest things and situations in the English composition class? Like ‘Rainy day’, ‘My birthday gift’, ‘Village fair’ etc. My blog title is so trite but I’ll try not to write worn out stuff about my fountain pen.

We had started using fountain pen in 6th grade. Before that we used to write with only pencil. Ball point chipped in much later – for me actually after 10th standard.

My first fountain pen was Chinese made [okay its nothing new as almost all fountain pens sold here are Chinese made]. I used it for straight 7 years. In the end its nib turned a bit, it could still write beautiful but used to run out of ink every 10 minutes. So I had to carry an inkpot during exams. Its nib was quite smooth and I could produce my better writing with it. Due to that reason I wasn’t ready to part. Finally I got sick of it and switched to ball points for writing exams.

During my early stint with fountain pen I had bought Dollar’s 717 funny looking and fat fountain pen too. It used to be quite cheap in mid-90s for Rs 6-10 but I never liked its nib. My writing from that pen seemed like someone had unleashed big (blue) ants on the white sheet.

Today that pen came to my mind because it’s still being sold. In 2000-2001 I briefly used the variant of Dollar fountain pen (student pen) too but couldn’t connect well with it – besides I found it cumbersome to wash the pen and refill it periodically.

Actually I’m more of a gel pen person now.

The nocturnal stillness
Absorbs me
Into your memory
That is alive and inflamed
Like a burning log in the fireplace

Meeting the King

A Persian king asked Saadi of Shiraz:

‘On your wandering through the cities of my kingdom, do you think of me and of my works?’

‘Your majesty, I think of you whenever I forget to think of God,’ was the wise man’s answer.

© Paulo Coelho

The Perfect Woman

Nasrudin was talking to a friend, who asked him:

‘Have you never considered getting married, Mullah?’

‘I have,’ replied Nasrudin. ‘In my youth, I resolved to find the perfect woman. I crossed the desert and reached Damascus, and I met a lovely, very spiritual woman, but she knew nothing of the world. I continued my journey and went to Isfahan; there I met a woman who knew both spiritual and the material world, but she wasn’t pretty. Then I decided to go to Cairo, where I dined in the house of a beautiful woman, who was both religious and a connoisseur of material reality.’

‘Why didn’t you marry her, then?’

‘Alas, my friend, she was looking for the perfect man.’

© Paulo Coelho

Pakistan was created in 1947. Israel was created in 1948. Both are ideological states. Both are home to extremist elements. In Israel they are known as Zion. In Pakistan they are called Mullah/Militant/Taliban – or their sympathizer and supporter that exist not just in caves but like Zion in every field of life.

Zia said:

Pakistan is like Israel; an ideological state. Take out Judaism from Israel and it will collapse like a house of cards. Take Islam out of Pakistan and make it a secular state; it would collapse. For the past four years we have been trying to bring Islamic values to this country.

General Zia-ul-Haq (1916-1988), Chief Marshal Law Administrator, Pakistan 1981

Zia for me and our future generations is nothing more than a monster of sort for nurturing the Frankenstein that’s been turned against us. This Frankenstein devours our blood daily yet its thirst seems unquenchable.

IF in all your naivety you believe that Pakistan has nothing to do with Israel or that they are die hard enemies; you may consider changing your view after reading the report called: Beyond the veil: Israel-Pakistan Relations. It has been written by a Hindu for a think tank based in Tel Aviv and I first came across it in The News (Pakistan’s daily) in 2005. It is available online in the PDF format.

This report chronicles all the hidden – in diplomatic jargon – backdoor diplomatic channels between the two ideological states.

So Israel is basically yet another tool for our politicians to run their business and fire up things when needed. After all in their view, Israel wants to eliminate Pakistan because this under-developed, terrorist infested, poor country of 160 million people is a great threat to Israel.

No one realizes we are our worst enemies; the others just take full advantage of that!

People sleep walk and I am sure I sleep write. I have said this on a number of occasions that for some reason when at night the lights are off my mind wanders in the alleys that lead me to creativity. Ninety percent of my fiction pieces have been written that way. For that reason a drafting pad always stays on my side table because such lyrical themes and thoughts are fleeting and I don’t remember a bit when I wake up the next morning. I attribute my mind’s better functionality to the serenity and calmness that prevails at night.

I have a bitter-sweet relationship with night. I like it since it precedes the day – the day that usually cheers me up unless it is marred with some bad news. I don’t like it since my mind becomes quite active so much so that it pushes me into uneasiness.

So I discovered a note cramped under my pillow. It read:

Sometimes I miss you the way

Oasis dwellers miss the rains

My nights are shrouded in strangeness because I miss people at that time. I can write better, plan better and even the oldest and remotest things rain on my mind until drowsiness steals over me. I don’t remember when and how I wrote the above mentioned note. I do miss certain someone but the astonishing thing is that I don’t remember jotting down these lines. That truly makes me feel that I sleep write. I am sure I do.

On the morning of 8th October, 2005 the 7.6 magnitude earthquake had rocked Pakistan. Soon after, Fatima Bhutto left the comfort of her Karachi mansion and visited the affected areas. She visited the hospital in Islamabad, where children were being treated mentally and physically. She spoke with them, spent time with them and then compiled a book about the valor and resilience of those survivors who had lost their entire families.

I wish, I too could write such tales but all I know is that the entire Peshawar wears deserted look – the look of mourning – these days, markets are shut and even fresh fruits and vegetables are scarce in our area. The battered victims are being treated – still many are serious and amid all that chaos several people are in search of their loved ones who have gone missing since the blast. They shuttle between the hospitals, morgues and the blast site but there is no word of their loved ones. Many are left with the last bits of cell phone conversations that they had had with their relatives now haunt them day and night.

The fact is that their loved ones might have been blown to pieces that the rescue workers have been collecting in sacks and burying loads of them without the possibility of conduction DNA test ever.

That is a sheer tragedy!

I came to know of certain stories that are tragic, poignant and heart-rending.

The father of our neighbor’s friend

He had a shop in that market. Somehow he survived and was helping others when one of the buildings collapsed. He buried alive under the debris and lost his life.

Salah-ud-Din’s grief

His elder married brother would sell artificial jewelry on the cart. That fateful day his younger brother, the student of 7th standard, too accompanied him since he was home due to the closure of schools. Both of them died on the spot. When their other brother, Salah-ud-Din saw the dead bodies he lost his senses. He jumped into the canal saying he can still see his brothers and they are alive.

Young electrician from Karachi

A young electrician who used to work in Karachi was on leave. He was shopping for his wedding in the market when the bomb struck and he lost his life.

There are too many other stories of tragedy where the children lost their parents and especially mothers, sisters their brothers and parents lost their kids. But it is difficult to pen them down. The more you listen or read such tales, the more you feel being plunged into an abyss of darkness and hopelessness. All we can do is to pray in such trying times.