Resisting The Stillness Within

Recently I stumbled upon this quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 'What lies behind us and what lies before us, are tiny matters compared to what lies within us' and the irony of me struck me hard.

It was then that I wondered, fake as we are, do we even exist? How many of us unleash what our hearts and minds behold? How real are we?

Our real selves stashed away deep within, covered by layers of lies and deceit, unable to emerge for fear of the blemishes so shameful and of the fingers that are sure to point and the cruel smiles bestowed with such condescension.

What are we constituted of then, I ask?

Who is the person we all see in the mirror?

Could it be the shadow of the feelings our hearts beat on? 

Or is it the image of what is seen reflected in the world’s eye?

How deeply buried could we be, to not even feel the air that blows through the soil or the tremors that course through the land?

Deep enough, I think, to have forgotten what our true identities are, such that we are nothing more than hollow vessels named and moulded to fit the shroud tailored to please what should have never been consequential in the first place.

Photo Credits: Shahroz Hyder Arts

Another consequent question that pops in my mind is that, 'What the true definition of beauty is?' 

Is it dressing up all pretty and snapping gorgeous photos for the world to admire?

Does it lie in unblemished skin and magnificent tresses of hair?

Perhaps, some would look to more idealistic views of internal beauty and aim to achieve the satisfaction of being the 'ideal human being' to attain their definition of beautiful. 

Mayhap, the definition of beauty is in the joys of nature and the symmetrical perfection and unbelievable miracles we get to experience several times daily.

Or it could be that the definition is subjective to the eyes of the beholder. 

Does what one perceive dictate the beauty of any particular thing?

What may be beautiful to one person may be unappealing to another? 

Is that how it goes? 

I really do wonder at times.

So for once, let's just look past all these layers that we show to the world and discover our real being in between the wild forests that grow within us. For once, let's just hurl a stone in the deep stagnant waters of our being and resist the stillness that dwells within us.

Dear Diary, the Lyari gang war doesn't scare me anymore

This article was originally published here.

Day 1

Dear Diary,

Today, I was awakened to the thundering noise of gun fires and frequent gapped blasts once again.

Despite the fact that this is something very normal for us, the people living in Lyari, I still get scared. These horrific noises still send shivers down my spine and my heart sinks with ever boom. Every time I hear a gunfire shot, I wonder who has been slaughtered in this meaningless gang war going on.

Last night, an unknown bullet struck Sara’s father, our neighbour, and he died instantly. I could hear the poor girl screaming and wailing over the loss of her father. He was not just the only bread winner of his own family but also took care of six helpless sisters and an invalid brother.

Sara’s poor old grandmother kept cursing the ruthless and heartless culprits for displaying such barbarity. This incident has frightened me even more. I’ve been clinging to Baba since then. I haven’t let him step out of the house even once. I fear I might lose him if I let him do so and that adds on to my agony.

Now it’s time to sleep. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.

Yours,

Tania

 Day 2

Dear Diary,

Today was one of the best and worst days of my existence.

It was the worst because the bullets went sweeping past the windows, the gaps between those blasts became less frequent and the hurried movements of the gunmen shook the earth, the core of the neighbourhood trembled and the air echoed with gunfire.

I have never felt more horrified. My heartbeat increased so fast that I thought my heart would break through my ribs and come out. I began weeping. I felt worse than a war captive.

But you know what the best part was?

Today Baba finally decided that he cannot live in this warzone anymore! We’re finally moving to another place, a more peaceful neighbourhood. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am.

I might not be able to talk to you as often since from tomorrow onwards, we begin hunting for our new home.

Good Night.

Lots of love,

Tania

Day 10

Dear Diary,

Eight days have passed since I last wrote to you.

Today I want to tell you everything that happened in these last few days but I am blank. Completely expressionless. I have fallen short of words. I want to cry but my eyes have dried up. I want to scream but a lump is struck in my throat.

You must be wondering where I was, right?

Maybe I was busy with the house hunt? Or maybe shifting?

No, I wasn’t busy because of either reason.

I was busy because of the guests that had been coming and going back and forth.

I was busy helping my family survive this crisis.

I was busy because I’m supposed to be a survivor.

I was busy because Baba died.

Yes, my father who meant the world to me died. Baba died. And with him died everything; my fear, my anxiety, my hopes, my dreams and everything else. I died with him. The gunfire doesn’t scare me anymore.

You must be wondering what happened to Baba, right?

The same thing that happened to Sara’s father; he was hit in the head by a stray bullet and died instantly.

Remember I told you I didn’t let him step out of the house?

I didn’t display an inch of leniency. So, he stepped out of the house at dawn, while I was still asleep, to get bread and butter for breakfast. Before stepping out, he told my mother,

“Let me get it done before Tania wakes up or else she’ll keep clinging to my sleeves and won’t let me step out.”

I don’t want to live anymore. I feel like my world is empty without him.

What good did this gang war do to us?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The government could have prevented the loss of so many valuable human lives but what did they do?

Again nothing. Oh wait, they did do something.

They ‘condemned’ it. Why don’t they realise that condemning is something they should leave to us, the ordinary people, and instead they should take some action so that no more Saras and Tanias lose their fathers. Giving us a huge sum of money doesn’t replace the affection and love of our father.

I dont want their dirty money.

I just want my Baba back!!

Can their ‘condemning’ the attack bring Baba back?

No!

They have to realise that this is the time to do something and they need to take some positive steps. They have to. Because if they don’t, soon enough, there may be no one left to save.

Yours,

Tania

Malala Yousafzai, a representative of Pakistan?

Yesterday was yet another big day in the history of Pakistan when a Pakistani citizen, Malala Yousafzai got a chance to address the UN assembly. (Malala Yousafzai was a BBC blogger and an activist of women's right to education. She was supposedly shot by a Taliban gunman on 9 October 2012 as she rode home on a bus after taking an exam in Pakistan’s Swat Valley). As a Pakistani I was pretty excited to see a fellow Pakistani addressing the great UN assembly. I was comfortably seated on my living room couch before the news channels began broadcasting the speech. Malala was dressed as a typical Pakistani girl in light pink shalwar kameez with a matching head scarf and had loosely wrapped a white shawl around her shoulders. Malala’s attire pleased me more than a little and I wished that her speech too pleases me. I paid thorough attention to each and every word she uttered but my hopes were turned into sheer disappointment by the time she finished her address.

I was disappointed in Malala for telling the BIG LIE to the world that there is a country called Pakistan where if a girl goes to school she is shot in the head not just a few girls in a specific region, but ALL GIRLS. I am disappointed in Malala for reinforcing the prejudiced image in the minds of civilized world that Muslims and especially Pakistanis are barbaric and women are treated as cattle. I am disappointed in Malala for so faithfully serving the Jewish controlled media which is giving you unprecedented coverage and persuading world's most prestigious organizations to shower you with honors

I wonder why Malala forgot to mention so many women from Pakistan who have won laurels for the country. Why did she not mention Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy who won an Oscar award for her documentary, ‘Saving face’? Why did she not mention Naseem Hameed a Pakistani athlete, who became the fastest woman in South Asia when she won a gold medal in the 100-metre event of the 11th South Asian Federation Games? Why did she not mention Sana Mir, the captain of Pakistan’s Women Cricket Team? Why did not mention Badam Zari of the Tribal Areas who had the guts to contest in the elections from an area where women are not allowed to vote let alone contest?  Why?

Only if she had known, it was a golden chance of clear the negative image of Pakistan and put ahead of the world a brighter and much more peaceful picture of the country.

As a matter of fact it’s all over again. Benazir’s 'Jamhuriat kay lyay qurbani' is now Malala’s 'taleem kay lyay qurbani'. That’s how the propaganda machines work. Getting shot at is not an achievement. We don't even know the name of the school teacher who escaped the burning vehicle and then came back and died trying to save the children. We don't know the name of the 23 year old girl who stood in front of an Israeli bulldozer and got run over. We don't know the names of these heroes because they don't serve the purpose of the people who own the global propaganda machine. 'It is easier to fool people than convince them that they have been fooled’.

Read Malala’s speech here: http://www.ibtimes.com/malala-yousafzais-speech-un-full-text-1344117

NOTE: This article is purely based on personal opinion and has no intentions of imposing personal views on anyone else.

The True Spirit of Ramadan?

With the Holy Month of Ramadan approaching, we witness a number of people engaged in preparations. Yes, preparations. Sadly these preparations usually revolve around all worldly things. Some people are busy planning Aftar parties, some are found to be preparing large quantities of food items for Sehri and Aftari and others are just to busy to be bothered about anything at all. We would often hear a number of people exclaiming, ‘Oh this time I’m going to throw the biggest Aftar party in my friends’ circle’ or ‘I wish I knew how many Aftar parties I have to attend this Ramadan so I could’ve got a new dress for each of them’. Do we ever hear people saying that, ‘This Ramadan I would seek forgiveness for all my sins and abstain from doing them in future’ or that ‘Instead of wasting my money on Aftar parties this Ramadan I would rather be feeding the poor.

Have we? Unfortunately we haven’t.

We have lost the true spirit of Ramadan. We have deliberately forgotten the real meaning of this Holy month. Today what Ramadan means to us is a month when we stay hungry during the day and party in the evening. It is a month when we can sleep hibernate during the day and stay up all night. It is a month when we can diet and be rewarded for it.

Today the question that I ask you all is that why do we, Muslims, Fast during the month of Ramadan? According to the teachings of Islam this practice is intended to help Muslims learn self-discipline, self-restraint and generosity. To help Muslims understand the agony of the poor and helpless who bear food deprivation for days. Fasting doesn’t simply apply to being hungry and thirsty from sunrise to sunset but it also implies to abstain from all bad deeds and performing all righteous deeds through out this period.

It is the month in which the devils are chained, the doors of Hell are closed and the doors of Heaven are opened. It is that month in which Quran was revealed. It is the month of piety and forgiveness. This Ramadan let us all seek forgiveness for sins. Let us all feed the poor and needy instead of organizing grand Aftar parties. Let us all pledge to live this month in its true spirit and give up all ill practices which corrupt the true spirit.

Ramadan Mubarak!

The Lonely Heart

He was still sitting there astonished and amazed, "No, its impossible! It can't be me" he wondered. Just then the announcer repeated his name once again and he reluctantly stood up and with a slow pace he made his way towards the stage, all eyes followed him. Tears rolled down his cheeks when the chief guest presented him with the honor ;the honor of being the only Asian student to secure the top most rank in that highly esteemed international university. It was the first time in history. The hall echoed with applaud and every single person present there acknowledged his victory. The international media was giving live coverage to the event but he the one in limelight didn't seem to bother about it.

He, the winner, didn't pay attention to anything around and was actually hating every inch of that event. The slideshow of past years  which was racing in his mind made his condition worst. How could he ever forget those scornful looks and pitiful gestures of people who treated him worse than animals just because he was an orphan! And oh how could he ever forget being rejected by childless couples at the orphanage who rejected him solely because he had a dark complexion. And that time when he was only given a meager amount of food to eat and despite his craving for more food he was never given any more food but scoldings and beatings only.

And now today when he is a successful and a well reputed man nobody seems to care that he was an orphan  and......wait  nobody even bothers that he has a dark complexion and despite the fact that there was a time when he was not given enough food today he has plenty of people awaiting to have food with him at five star hotel. H should be happy now, shouldn't he? But no he isn't and often wonders "Ah what a mean world it is ! where everyone is a fair weather friend. Where everyone is beside you when want to share your joy and celebrate your happiness and victory but no one literally no one is is there to share your sorrows and give you a shoulder to cry on and no one to console you.

                                            A thorn is pinching my heart
                                       No one other than pain to hug me
                                            Alone in a sea of emotions
                                               Drowning in feeling
                                                      Why?
                                   Why does everyone hurt me so much?
                                  That only nature and trees bring me glee
                                       My eardrums feel like bursting
                                            When the birds chirp
                                            Why can't I be happy?
                                                I am drowning
                                   The happiness inside me can't breath