Pocketful of memories..

Family reunions constantly dole out a nostalgic extravaganza for the young generation. It’s marvelous to know that our parents had their fair share of frivolity & tomfoolery while growing up. For as long as I can remember my father has never squandered a photogenic opportunity. Any get-together or jamboree irrespective of the size he was always clicking away. The outcome was generally amateurish snapshots nevertheless after all these years when we glance back at those photographs we are overcome with emotions. We gaze at how we have grown physically, shed a tear for those who have passed away and try to reminisce the moment when the shot was taken.

Old Photographs generate mix responses within people. Some are grateful for what they have accomplished, some ponder over how age has caught up to them while others just desire to return to better times. Its frightening to accept crude reality; perhaps we are embarrassed or just not courageous but the perpetual truth is that “Its never too late”. Sometimes an old photograph is all you need to make you remember that this is not how you intended to end up.

Now that he is retired, my Dad plans to sort out his photograph collection, which is very tedious work.

“Why do you fancy doing it?” I asked him.
“It’s been a wonderful life. This my feeble attempt at reliving it again” He replied.

How would you arrange your collection? Would you sort them chronologically or would you segregate those that invoke various emotions within you? Would you tear those that are spiteful and prefer those that are pleasant?

Our own pocketful of memories..

You are invited..

There comes a time when your mom looks at you and gives that look, you instantly know it means trouble. She saunters up to you and the first word that spouts out of her mouth is “Marriage”. You are conscious it’s going to be a lengthy conversation and almost certainly something that you will not appreciate. Don’t get me wrong here; someday I do hope to get married but that day is definitely not in the immediate future.

Some social gatherings you look forward to and others you steer clear of. I am not anti-social but there are some groups that I absolutely hate being a part of. I reckon the MOTHER network works best during social gatherings. Advertising has become an integral part of marriage arrangements. A Typical “Headhunter” can generate a whole list of probable spouses in a flicker. Gatherings are a good opportunity for mothers to update their list and see what’s on display. This unquestionably means that if a mother were searching for someone for her son she would absolutely have to put her son on the pedestal. I like parades they have their charm but I loathe being paraded myself. I abhor being single out in the middle of the room and being pointed out “Look that’s him”. I detest being critique over my form and style.

The scary part is that sometimes mothers use male family members to probe the potential suitor. It’s a worrisome occurrence. As you are seated on the floor amongst other complete strangers you have to maintain your cool & composure. You get startled by the casual greeting and start to think twice when someone introduces himself. Is this going to be an impromptu interview session? I try to keep conversation to a minimal in such gatherings and mostly try to retire with folks I know.

Friend: “Word on the street is that your mom is looking?”
Me: “How do you know”
Friend: “My mom” *smiles* “I think she is pretty serious this time”
Me: “Yeah!! I think my goose is cooked”
Friend: “Man!! You are pathetic, “Marriage-Phobia” that’s what you are suffering from. Don’t you know marriage is bliss” *laughs* "Are you marriage-phobic" *stares at me*

Me: "Negative!! Ofcourse not" *looking bewildered*

Friend: "What are you waiting for?"

Me: "Perfect Stranger"

Discover Me.

Three Bottles of Mineral Water, Two cans of energy drink and I still felt dehydrated. Sitting in an air-conditioned room I was perspiring incessantly. “Why is it so Hot” “Isn’t the A/C not functioning,” I kept shouting. They figured the only way to shut me up was to send me home hence I was given the day off. My body ached, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep and dazed. Gypsy Kings, Nusrat, Abeda all had their chance but to no avail; none of them soothed my restlessness. I turned to read and stumbled upon this..

I ’M nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

On reading the above lines one fathoms the central theme declares being a Nobody is a luxury incomprehensible to the dreary Some bodies--for they are too busy keeping their names in circulation, croaking like frogs in a swamp in the summertime. You might call it a playful attempt at defending the kind of spiritual privacy some people favor.

But to ME this poem is about discovering someone who is comparable to you. Together, the two nobodies can enjoy each other's company and their shared anonymity. As a pair, they aren't really “nobodies” anymore. It’s about the satisfaction of having a friend who understands you and accepts you as you are. This contentment is more important than being admired by a lot of people or being in the "in" crowd.

I think all of us are nobodies till we discover what we really searching for..

Long walks & Pirates..

I strolled along the beach with Emily, her words ringing in my head.

HEART, we will forget her!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth she gave,
I will forget the light.

I have successfully convinced myself that I have moved on and the days of my youth & adolescence are over and I have matured. I have taken that step away from my world of dreams into the realm of reality. I often ask myself if there exists a shred of optimism within me. Sure, I am optimist like any other person, cynically optimist :)

My brother lost his job recently. One moment he was swiftly climbing up the corporate ladder, the next moment he was being laid off. His eventual coerced resignation has shocked him but he has taken it within his stride and is more determine than ever. The closest person to me is my brother and vice versa. There has never existed any sibling rivalry between us and we readily confide our deepest thoughts & worries to each other. It pains me to see him so depressed but I am confident that he will end up with something better.

I wanted to cheer him up so I dragged him along to see the new “Pirates of the Caribbean “ movie. It was highly recommended by someone whose opinions I begun to value a lot. As we sat through that torture we wanted it end abruptly, it was horrific. When you find out at the end that what you've just seen is merely the overture to yet another sequel, you can't help wondering what more can be extracted from this franchise. Gold, me hearties, more gold! Although there are memorable bits and pieces, the new “Pirates of the Caribbean” is a movie with no particular interest in coherence, economy or feeling. When we walked out of the cinema we remembered “The Goonies”; now that was an amazing movie.

Let Peace Prevail..

As the Israeli attacks against Lebanon intensifies, a thought goes out for Lebanese people trapped in this latest onslaught. I called up my closest Lebanese friend, Hassan, only to find out that he too is in Lebanon with his family. His mother was delighted to hear from me but at the same time distraught at the state of affairs in South Lebanon. Hassan & me became good friends during my third university Semester as we both shared a few subjects. I remembered coming back to his house and how warmly his family had greeted me, a complete stranger, as one of their own. The walls of his room were adorned with various photographs of Hezbollah Resistance Movement. He was very passionate about the Hezb and always dreamed about fighting amongst their ranks. I asked his mom for his number in Lebanon; it was good to hear his voice again and assuring to know he was safe. We spoke about the situation and how close to the bombing he was. I asked him to come back as it was the sensible thing to do.

He replied defiantly "You want me to desert my country in its hour of need, don’t you know me Man!"

It seemed like Dejavu, it felt I was still in his room and was he lecturing me about the movement. I smiled and begged him to keep safe. I hope this senseless conflict comes to a quick end as innocent people are bound to suffer most. Hezbollah have attacked an Israeli warship this will lead to serious repercussions that would cause useless civilian casualties.

Allama Hassan Tarabi was also assassinated in Karachi. He was approaching his house in Abbas Town when the bomber approached him and detonated his device. Police said the attacker was killed in the blast and parts of his body were found at the scene. I hope this doesn’t lead to a sea of sectarian violence that has besieged the Metropolis city in the past.

The Kid

Nobody ever grows up quite like they imagined. Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were young? If an eight year old version of ourselves were to mysteriously appear would the kid appreciate what we have become. The only thing bothering you at that age is Math Assignments :)

Once we embark on REAL life we discover its a whole new ball game. As we grow older we just bury our inner child amongst all the worries that we continuously take upon our shoulders. We kill our dreams, aspirations and forget how to enjoy life. Every morning we just lie in our beds sulking over the new day and are never eager to initiate the monotonous routine again. But if we look real hard into the mirror we shall still see that little child looking back at us, inquiring if we are happy now and do we remember all the promises we made to our self.

I don’t remember what I wanted to be when I was eight but I do remember I wanted to always smile at the face of any adversity…and I carry on doing so :)

Value Friendship..

To err is human. We often do things, which we consider to be insignificant, but as time flows by we gradually understand the seriousness of our act. We try our best to repent and implore the hands of time to roll back to the moment where we made the blunder. Broken hearts mend with time but trust of True friend lost can never be earned back. We often fail to realize who are True Friends are? What is their true worth? Superficial things cloud our judgments and we fall short in seeing the true gem that lies within.

True friendship consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and value.

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

I lost such a friend due my own idiocy, though we are still in touch I feel that the trust has vanished and we are just hollow bodies. The most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention…. A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well-intentioned words.

So I devote this Post to you Rabs and I hope you comprehend how remorseful & repentant I am. The Splendor of our friendship was not your outstretched hand, nor your kindly smile, nor the joy of your companionship; it was the spiritual inspiration that came to me when I discovered that someone else believes in me and is willing to trust me with friendship.