Thought of a mini story time, something i experienced lately, here it goes.
Walking to college the other day, I chose the other path, different to what i usually take. Saw many trees along the pathway. Autumn trees full of their colours, shades of reds, oranges, yellows and greens, ready to fall off. For the past couple of days, I've been sceptical about life and it's ways, how it works and what not. It's difficult to make sense of it all sometimes, very bizarre. When suddenly a light breeze made its way through. The yellows and oranges covered my sight, as far as I could see. The leaves blew away with the wind. And the ayah came to my mind,
'Not a leaf falls, But Allah knows' (6:59)
SubhanAllah. It just made me smile. :) No matter how distressed you are, you'll always have Allah around you. If you forget, remember He's nearer to you than your 'Shah-rug!' Much Love, NewbieAround.
There are times in life where you question. Question life, question existence, question ways of everything.
Sometimes they make sense. As a Muslim, you do tend to have majority of the answers, but in a bizarre way, its so hard to still get into terms with what is happening and why.
Life's crazy.
These past couple of days I've been thinking more than usual. I do feel like i think a lot, i just don't know how to put things together. How to make sense of it all.
Why do we do things the way we do? Why do we laugh and cry? What is happiness? Why do we feel? How do we feel? What is life? Where are we going? What are we doing? How can we change? Why do people kill each other? Why are Muslims labelled terrorists when the religion 'they' claim to follow teaches nothing but peace and tolerance? Why do they call themselves Muslims? Why do they jeopardise an already awkward situation for us around the world?
How can Ethnic violence erupt in a country whose basis of creation was freedom in practice of religion? Why do people call themselves Pakistanis? Why can they not be stripped off their identity and transported to a world where them lot kills themselves and lets us all be? Why do they destroy families? Do they have none? Is the urge for power and money and fame and desire so strong that human LIVES DONT MATTER?? How can they take away a father from a child, a son from a mother, a husband from his wife?
Why is no one accountable? Who is the authoritative figure? Who selects them? Why are they elected, if people know they'll be corrupt? Does it not mean those who elect them are corrupt themselves? That's the the only logical explanation right? Corruption of morals leads to corruption in life, anything, everything!
Do people have no morals left? If they have, why is all this happening? If they don't, why do i question, why do i not feel and think like them? Why am i odd? What has happened to everyone's conscience? If everyone wants peace, why do we still have none?
Why are lives of stars, famous personnel and politicians more expensive than that of ordinary people? Do they not live and breathe the same air? Are they not made of the same clay?
There are times when i feel like covering my ears and screaming, times when i want to shove my head into the ground, close myself in a cupboard and never come out, retreat into a cave. Anything, where all these killings and craziness make sense!
Alas, i have no clue, these questions seem so straight forward, but i cant find their answers, they're so twisted and out of this world. I do wonder what I'm doing around here.
Just a random incident that i thought of penning down.
As little kids, Baba (dad) always used to come to our room at night and tell us a story. Us siblings wouldnt sleep without it. It was a norm back then. If he didnt tell a story, he'd come for a good night kiss. Weekends were always fun. Meant longer time, more fun. One day Baba came, lying down, i had my head on one shoulder while my little sister & brother had their heads on the other, all snuggled in for a story. I'm the eldest, and i was 10 at that time. Baba started with his story, a desi zero watt bulb lit the dark room. Baba was in his flow, telling a story when suddenly my little brother sat and screamed 'Baba Maut hai!' Baba was puzzled, so were we. We didnt understand what was happening, mum was there too. Brother kept pointing around the room, and yelled 'Baba Maut hai!' Baba thought, because he was a little kid, 7-8, he might be seeing something, after all, death (Maut) isnt a joke! We all were baffled. those 5 minutes were pretty scary. My brother lisped a little too back then. Suddenly he pointed towards the light. 'MAUT' Only then did we realise, he was shouting out 'Baba MOTH hai!. It was flying around the green light! We all laughed our heads off! It's a day we remember till now! :'D Baba bhi kahay, bachay ko maut kay farishtay nazar aarahay hai! Mujhay tou aqal nahi thi, pata nahi kay guzri hogi! Much Love, NewbieAround.
I've been itching to write this post down, don't know why, but i hope words can do justice to my feelings, here goes.
14th August, a day when we all celebrate Pakistan's independence day. For years it was celebrated with great zeal and zest. I remember the time when we used to go out for shopping, especially to get our Pakistani flags and Jhandiaan (little paper flags). Our streets would turn Green and white when August kicked in. The feeling, is just unexplainable.
Over the years, I saw how the colours rapidly changed, barely any flags around streets as there used to be, the Jazba, to me, seemed punctured too, but nonetheless, days passed, 14th Augusts passed. Every year.
This year round, I questioned myself, what independence was for me? I sit here in wilayt, talking about how i am a Pakistani, how I'm Green, how I would go back to Pakistan, how I miss it! Pakistan turns 65 years old this year, a figure that's just not a number, but each passing day contributes to its survival.
Like always, i saw the colours around me change, more patriotic than i expected, i was over the moon, it felt so good. But then it occurred to me, HOW did we get independence, WHY did we get independence, was it because we wanted to be called Pakistanis? What were all those tales about, stories around partition, people talking about sacrifices, people talking about death!
Death, my friend, is not a joke, those who have experienced a loss around them, know the feeling.
Today, i learnt, the youth in Pakistan is very zealous, MashaAllah. Turning Green still does tell how involved you are, how you take out your precious time and go through the pain of 'creating' a green DP to show your love, because you wouldn't have, if you didn't care, otherwise.
Living here, i was urged to think, my conscience not letting me sleep, until i got the answer. Why do i feel more safe around here? Why are more people, each day moving out, ironic, 'who's stopping them?'. Why do i hear horrible news, every single day? Why am i compelled to changed the news channels, Pakistani news channels, every time a bulletin is about to come? Why do we feel more patriotic outside Pakistan than being inside? (not questioning anyone's patriotism, questioning in general!)
Bomb blasts, political turmoil, terrorism, extremism, rapes, murders, gang fights, killings, abduction, kidnapping, loadshedding be it electricity or gas, horrible education structure what else? How long can it go? Who's responsible?
Too long have i adopted the ostrich approach, each day i plan to be an optimist, each day i wish for things to get better around. I wonder if there's a limit to failing.
This year i realised, we have adopted nationalism as a religion when it comes to events like 23rd march or 14th august, we tend to forget it around the other days of the year. We've forgotten why we got this piece of land in the first place, a land we call home, a land we take for-granted.
Its time to act, a time to contemplate. Its been 65 Years since we got this land, and there's no doubt that we've been rolling down as a state since then, there have been highs, no doubt, but the negativity, the image around, it covers it all up, eats it up like a flame would to wood.
I feel like I'm on a mission, every day, when i step out into the world, fighting with myself, fighting with people's beliefs around me, how they perceive Pakistan, and me being a Pakistani. We all have a duty, we're indebted to our ancestors, to their sacrifices.
Hum Layee Hain Toofaan Se Kashti Nikaal Kay
Iss Mulk ko Rakhna Mere Bacho Sambhal Kay.
Today, I urge every single one of you, just to think, for 5-10 minutes what being a Pakistani means to you, and why, just reflect on Pakistan's history and struggles, and our responsibilities as youth and Pakistanis. Once we realise and act, the sooner the better.
No doubt Pakistan is not just about what I mentioned above, there's so much more. Here's a heart warming video to make you smile.
May Allah instil in us love for our religion, love for our faith, and realisation of how history was made for no one else but US!
Hope you ponder over what's getting old and rusty.
I shall share a story, what i experienced today, for me, words cant do justice to the emotions, here it goes.
Me and my little sister wandered on streets today collecting donations, if anyone had to give any that is. We whined, not very loudly, just amongst ourselves, how hot it was. I know it isn't as hot as around the globe, but for the UK it was a hot day after a very long time.
We saw a man with a push-chair walking down the street. We approached him, the way we always do, & waited there for him to take out change from his wallet.
We saw the little boy, around 4 years of age, sitting there eating his lollipop, but his face was all slimy with his saliva, we thought he was too little, but rather odd for a child of his age. So I asked the man, at the end, if the little boy wanted a balloon, as we had many to give out to little ones to help them enjoy Ramadan, for Dawah and organisation's awareness.
The man smiled at me, with a painful smile, and quickly looked away, saying, 'No, there's no need, he can't see....!'
My heart sank at that moment, I forgot how to take a step. The man moved away. I didn't know what to say. I had the balloon in my hand, it was like as if ,the world around me had stopped for that moment.
Only when something so major comes in front of us and hits us in our face, do we realise how privileged we are. Alhamdulillah.
That kid wasn't a kid we saw him to be. My heart still fills up with emotion. Wallahi, we're so arrogant, so nashukray, so ungrateful.
The point of sharing the whole story was, we bury different things in life, and find it better not to dig them out. Life is full of problems and hard realities. No matter how many times we scream it out loud, we'll never fully repay what we all have, the blessings. The problem is, we forget and don't try in the first place. We forget, every day, how indebted we are as humans to Our creator, we take everything for granted.
May we all learn and practice what we feel and should do as Muslims, in the first place. May we learn to appreciate what we have, and be grateful to our Lord for all the blessings. Ameen.
My world has food, clothing and shelter (Better known as Roti, Kapra aur Makaan). There's no such thing as Electricity (bijli) or Natural Gas' loadshedding. No riots, no drones, no killing for fun and joy. No, nothing.
I am a Pakistani, and very proud of it. I dont say it, I show it.
I live in a world where my Green Passport brings honour and pride. A world, where my culture isn't marred by controversies. Its colours are accepted worldwide. A world where i don't have any enemies. A world, where after a tiring day i can come home and put my stress-stricken head in Daadi's lap, and let her stroke my hair and tell me tales about her time. Times of those struggles in claiming a land they could call their own...
A world where 14th August isn't another date and counting, it's the time where ALL Pakistani's come and rejoice for the birth-date of their beloved country, their identity, their life.
A world where i can enjoy dhaabay ki daal, and a fresh, crispy chapaati. Eat Rus-Malaai, or Gulab jaaman whenever i crave for them. See those colourful Pakistani Trucks make their way to their destinations teaching me a life lesson by one of their witty quotes.
My world is peaceful. I see Pakistanis around the streets with their loved ones having a lovely time. No one is identified by the tribe they belong to, the city or region they are from, the colour of their skin, their language or even religion. I see smiles and cheerful faces blooming from every corner of my picture.
In my world, corrupt individuals are paying the price, not enjoying Harrods or helicopter privileges. The Army, like before, is out there, on the borders and around you, to protect you from evil and enemies. Not like some current instances, enjoying dollars or blood of their own countrymen.
My world also showcases justice. No one is scared of the police as a threat, but they are around as security, no one can scream, 'You know who i'm related to?', because in my world, every person is an individual, and very much accountable.
Very random yet kiddy scenes, I know. My life IS very random. It goes on.
My everyday playlist contains buzzing national songs by Amjad hussain, Noor jahan, Benjamin Sisters and none other than Mehdi Hassan. Songs like; Hum zinda qaum hai, Sohni dharti, Jeeway jeeway, Jug jug jiyay mera pyara watan, Maira Pakistan hai, May bhi Pakistan hoo and many many more.
Everyday, listening to them, i feel this feeling, a national feeling, something i felt as a kid, when 'Pakistan Zindabad' sent chills down my body. As a kid, the louder you said, the more Pakistani you were. I never had the guts to scream out loud. I never could do it. Seemed a bit awkward.
I should've. Was that my only outlet?
Today, i feel like screaming my head off, begging to be heard. What is happening around me? Have I woken up from my dream. My fantasy, my bubble is endangered by reality. I feel so threatened!
But alas, even hiding in my Mum's arms like a little kid isn't consoling me any more.
I want Time to stop. Make a few changes here and there, maybe even rewind a little bit, and adjust a few other things, try to make it perfect, anything. Just to make things work somehow.
The truth is, its not fun growing up in a fantasy. Its very worrying. Even more sickening to see people around you act all normal, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Makes you feel insane and stupid.
Leaving you on a light little note. The other day, while listening to my playlist, a song's lyric caught my attention, and tears rolled down my eyes, i tried to hide as i was on the bus. It went something like: 'Is Parcham kay saaye tallay hum aik hai. hum aik hai?'. My heart meekishly questioned: 'Kis Parcham kay!?'
I remember Family late night tales we had back in the day.
We would all bug our Uncle to tell his stories of survival through the years, because Baba bechaaray was always tired after driving such long routes. But we were ever fresh, always ready for family fun nights, ever ready to stay up till 6am.
We would all gather around the heater, dim out the lights, or if there was no electricity (loadshedding), put up the candles. Wrap ourselves in blankets & sit around in a circle. Bring in tons of 'moong-phallia' (peanuts), 'badaam' (almond) and other dry-fruits. And eagerly wait for the narration that was to come.
From the hot, dusty days of near-Rajasthan region to cold freezing night in the same location. We loved to hear about all the places he was deployed at. Siachen, was a main part of his life. The stories and experiences of those areas used to give us the chills. Horrifying yet enchanting. We were always ready for one.
This one particular story that I can't get out of my head, after Siachen incident is as follows:
Uncle and his platoon, was out and about moving on the Siachen glacier, covering ground and moving up the country, to protect Pakistan from any possible attack.
There was this particular slope they had to climb, with all of them obviously geared up, started climbing up the slope, fixing their tools and moving their feet. It obviously isn't as easy as it sounds. One of them fixed their tool into such an angle, that the ice cracked and something fell down, and a strap peeked out of the inside it too.
What fell down I can't properly remember, but they starting digging for they were curious, like any human would be. They uncovered bodies. Frozen bodies. Bodies of Men in Green. They were stunned. (so were we!) As strong as Army personnel show to be, my Uncle's voice became a bit shaky, but he didn't show a single tear. They surely are trained to buckle up their emotions and stay strong.
While moving those bodies, a wrong angle, and a body cracked. The shoulder-area tore apart from the rest of the body, as it was frozen for years.
This part moved me, and I snuggled closer to my cousins.
Fresh Blood started oozing out. They were all shocked and bewildered, for how could a frozen body still have fresh blood!? The answer was 'Shaheed kabhi martay nahi, Zinda o Javaid rehtay hai!'
They might've been martyred in an avalanche in those monstrous icy conditions, but they were Shaheeds. Martyrs who laid their life trying to protect our motherland.
All our eyes filled with tears.
Uncle told us, we had to be more proud of them, than to feel sorry, because they were brave enough toembrace Shahadah open-heartedly!
Phir eik sakoot sa cha gaya
Asman ko bhi rona a gaya
Phir eik larzte hoee awaz aye
Mera beta tu hayat-e-jawadani pa gaya
At that time, finally, Uncle's eyes started to fill with tears too. He said, 'Dua karna kay tumhaara Chaacha bhi aisay hi jaam-e-shahaadat nosh farmaaye' (pray, that you can say my uncle's a Shaheed too).
This wasn't a story. It was a life incident.
The sense of pride, sorrow and love you feel for these soldiers is extensive and deep. It can't be replicated, and is definitely innate. Not All have the power to stay as strong as these soldiers and face worse for our better!
May Allah accept all the shaheeds, theirurge and desire to embrace martyrdom, May Allah give their families Sabr-e-jameel, and may all of us be able to acknowledge their sacrifices and do something positive for Pakistan. Ameen.
