Confused Nation

Confused Nation

Well, what made me to pen down certain things which have traumatized this nation from a dedicating one to the confused nation. List varies as apropos to their interest and desires. This nation is in trauma from its very birth in the cliché of 1947. Their foreign policy: confused. Religious notions: zigzag in pattern. Lifestyles: copied from neighboring countries as well as the ‘wood’ maxim. Their names: based on celebrities rather than purely spiritual and fundamentalist in nature. Relationships: either based on digests (ive) or hollow united. What we perceive and want to achieve, is something beyond the notion of understanding. Take our foreign policy, we have stranded paths in this sensitive issue. This nation’s policy makers are even confused to which part of the world we should face on and to other back off. Its all based on materialism and opportunity. Like the time mechanism, we have changed our priorities and friendships and in the result got the label of “un-trust-worthy.”

            Take the stratum of religion and we get lost in a hall full of pillars. The pillars are represented by their own colors and flags. Some are white with black shades, numerous in full black with a crescent, greens have also made vast impact, and the list goes on. Who to represent, which one to follow, who to follow, and to whom pay homage. A question still requires answer. In one street we would find various Muslims but with different path set on. We have obtained our own ancestral declarations to call infidels to our Muslim brothers. All would follow the footsteps of one prophet but still they would try to avoid even eating with their Muslim brothers who obey their same prophet to which they show extreme reverence. This is Islamic republic of Pakistan with many shades of Islam like a mirror thrown to pieces, each piece showing the same face. Mercy my Lord.

            The life styles of the people are mixed in nature. A nation whose culture is ill-patterned. Our attire defused. Our language: urd-lingish. We are confused about our language. This nation is not clear about its cultures. Our traditions: stolen. Our rituals: indo-Islamic with the indo part dominant. Few decades earlier, the people of this country named their sons and daughters on the basis of Islamic ideologies but now the trend has changed. New names invented with the glitters of style. They choose such name which show more style rather than meaning. From Islamic names we have converted towards the celebrities names. In all area of life, we are in a divergent in nature. Our goals different, desires materialistic, patriotism just limited to words and devoid of nation. We need a path, a leader. This nation was confused, is confused and praying not to remain Confused.

Pakistan, Youth and its Nation

With due respect, pardons, apologies and sympathies, cretain words with hard tone would decorate this topic. the title over all suggest pleasant rythm but on contrary the stiuation is absurd. Pakistan, for the youth is inversely proprtional in this current situation instead of being proportional through their hardwork, dedication, precious time, and zeal of performing some thing exceptional, but?? Pakistan; a country rich in manpower, blessed with genius skulls, wrapped with minerals and other infinite divine sources but its "youth" endears "rock, pop and jazz", "bollywood and hollywood", "mobile packages", "in the genre of facebook", "in the tweets of twitter", "with the exclamation of Yahoo","sometimes either gossiping through faraz, munni, sheela or zubaida apa" while on the other hand, for sometime in wasting time in luxury of no use.
The youth of Egypt witnessed the dawn of revolution because they used the epithet of Facebook for a positive purpose of "change" where on the other of the mirror, comparison of Pakistani youth with the former brings blurr image of shame and despostion. The purpose of Facebook in Pakistan for youth is listed as:
-photos: so as to impress others with our living standards.
-status updates: to shower the depth of one's knowledge on the public and gain accolades.
-videos- to decorate one's page with attractive lifestyle.
  Entire world especially Europe use Facebook and such replicas of related logos for positive direction where as asian countries for instance in Pakistan, 'Facebook' is a complete code of enjoyment and time wasting machine. Our nation believes in hollow realities such as to achieve something with out the sheer taste of hardwork and dedication. They want to rule the world but through text messaging. The youth of Pakistan envisions revolutions but with headphones on and hip hop rock on. they want to explore Iqbal but only through a like option on Facebook or on certain other cyber networks. They want to invoke the candle of victory but only in the form of candle light dinner with a beloved whereas victory needs preparation.
The dilema of Pakistan is that it is blessed with such youth who may easily haunt a damsel for miles but in case of doing something exceptional for their country is simply a mirage in their limits. They would waste their night hours in false romances, big lies, and false promises but not even a single minute for the welfare of this nation. For pakistanis, cricket is their passion, music their style, text messaging: a source of time pass, headphones with i-pods as luxury, cars as charm and bikes, a passion of wheeling while for them books are like sleeping pills, lectures as universal curse, universities as fashion industries and mosques are for them isolated palaces.
No doubt, this nation is resplendent in every thing but it needs true leadership, shining beacons of guidance, a path full of expectations, a source of dedication and overall; a revolutionary figure.
Pakistanis, a nation full of absurdities, paradoxes and miseries. In the present situation, they believe in three things: cellphones, bomb blast as a part of their life's best memory, and relations (definitions definite). The current scenario displays their attitude a bit naive towards their political mainstream. They are treating their three main party leaders as their mini God and land lords of this country. Their name on bill board appears as: Zardari (passion: corruption), Nawaz (obsession: Abusing and Crocodile tears), Molana(tagged as Diesel-very rare now in Pakistan). The nation on which the founder showered his applauses for being faithful and sincere portrays another three things in which they are beyond the digit One: Hypocrisy, Lies, and Leg pulling. The afore mentioned can be implemented to each straw of the society. The young generation adores three things: Cricket, Fashion and Waste of time. The old ones are counting three things: along awaited miracle of revolution, dreams of theirs in their children, and count their days either reading newspaper or being a great critic from their long experience. Here comes the Girls, they so follow the footsteps of this era and brightens the number Three as through their Dresses, Marriage dreams and Atif, for no reason at all. Fashion and cosmetics are once upon a time now. Politicians of this country are in newspapers everyday with a big of head lines for three things: Corruption, Shouting in the assemblies and Fake promises to fill the printouts of the paper. Our prime minister focuses on three things: Suits, British-cum-Multani English and Entrouage. Well, for our honorable President, I would prefer three things instead of mentioning his: Silence, Prayers (Everyone knows) and Wait. Our women in elite class are busy in their lucky number three: Parties, Gossiping on latest issues, and Famous designers whether European or cursed Asian. In Pakistan, the administration in offices are tuning their flutes with laziness, humbugs and dry paper work which results in nothing.
Now, the question arises, where to find a revolutionary. In papers? In old books? or In our old religious history? If their is ray of hope then it would shine from where? Our young generation is trying to escape from this country. The old one's would hug their death. Women are religiously bound in this so called labeled Islamic republic of Pakistan. Why this country always play the trumphets of its old history written either by poets or partisans of the kings. Why they appears to be in the mirage of their old muslim glory thousand years ago? They endears things which is venomous for both Pakistan and its nation.  If you have the answers then this piece of paper need it. Hoping for the miracle.

Pathos for sale

Her mother noticed. Her arrival was not as refreshing as the case of yesterday, day before yesterday and everyday. She was lost. Her eyes full of grief. Face expressions like a hanging board with an expression “pathos for sale.” She threw her bag like a warrior fully shattered after a defeat. Nothing was there in her life in this life and she sat slowly like a body from which the soul departed slowly. Her mother was observing all around her expressions and physical moves. She came with a cup of hot coffee towards her and placed her hand over her shoulder to ask the reason for all this which she saw. Silence everywhere. Mother’s face worried and silent in fear of any burst whereas she silent due to something on which she was thinking all and all in the passed moments. At last with some sheer force, her mother asked, “silence: why??” with the echo’s of these words, a drop of tear blessed the face of her daughter and she closed her eyes with some questions in her heart.

            “Why the society is not balanced at all? Why people are so cruel? No care, no fear and no shame, why? We are living in a society where there is no honesty, faith in one another, helping souls, care for each other but only materialism, hypocrisy, meanness, and opportunists. We are living our lives like dead souls. No emotions but taking advantage from feelings of others.” Her thoughts were now no her lips and her mother worried for the reason behind it. Battle of thoughts between daughter and mother. One pessimistic for the society and the other, optimistic for her daughter’s safety both physically and spiritually. She further elaborated with her grieved words to her mother in the form of questions that why we are not satisfied at all with what we are blessed. What’s the reason of our dissatisfaction in the things, which are gifted to us by God? Roof, piece of cloth and bread all do we have with its extreme forms still we ask for more in the shades of our greed.

            The coffee is now chilled in the smokes of shattered feelings but still she drank it and her mother was all surprised with open mouth over the act of her daughter. A girl who never touched things, which she never liked. Chilled coffee and stuffs, which she hated in food items. But today she behaved weirdly. Suddenly after much sobbing and tears she promised her mother that she would never repeat all those insane things which she were doing in the past. Her mother asked the reason and she answered, “today I saw an old lady with a piece of two days old bread in her pocket and she was satisfied.” Her mother got relaxed as the answer explained every thing.

New Beginning

In the sphere of darkness, with the flow of fresh air on the carpet of an empty road surrounded by the green belt of trees tuned in the music of rustling leaves busy in hide and seek with the goddess of air, under the sprinkles stars the road was drummed with the sounds of steps. The sounds were patterened in an order of perplexity with the flute of echoing insects. The road wasn't naive to the beats of steps. The yellow belt on the side of the road were the mark line of the steps. The tranquility of the path was disturbed with the shrieking rustles of the paper which were in the hands of the person who at that time crowned the silence with some music of hustles. His face covered with the grass of few patches in the form of brownish white hair forming a look of a man like music maestro. The files were clutched as if they are the decree of his eternal life. Eyes framed like balls thrushed in someone's face mercilessly. traffic-less road, natural melody, resplendent charm of the breeze, and the kingdom of darkness. Thoughts free from the misery of world, nerves busy in the parade of composing the ideals of life and eyes....abruptly squeezed with the lites of a rushed cab apearing from no where...
 The days of childhood in the orchards of peace and tranquility, the crying day on the threshold of school, the winning day of prize with the smile of heavens on his face, the maternal kiss on the forehead, the hand which grabbed like an emotion of eternal, the day of holding the arm of his siblings, love like feelings for a maiden with naughty smile, the feeing of first love with the diction of repeated sentence "can't live without you," the crocodile tears of broken heart which got healed in a week with the repeated notion of "without you genre" the ceremony of graduation with a straight head plunging with the pride of future business tycoon, a debut for the series of interviews for his job with the curse of disappointment, tear filled eyes and hand holding the job letter, blessed love of being a married man with hopes of happiness, the traveling expedition and the last thing due to which drop of tear decorated his corners of eyes was his son newly guest in the corridors of the world. All these floated in his mind in splash of seconds when he encountered that rushing cab realising the departure from this world. His mind lost in the memories of his life in the world.
The cab rushed closely by him and he disturbed the grass floated on the earth with his falling jerks. Eyes closed, mind numb, breath sharp, movement stagnant as dead man. Lost in the valley of fear he was nowhere. His eyes glimpsed darkess of shining eternal bless. With the sound of a barking dog, suddenly he realized his alive state in the world looking here, there and upwards with a sigh of relief. Renovating his memory, he sensed he escaped death in the inches of life. The cab bestowed him a life of new begining by turning abruptly..

Physics: For Pakistani Student

I always perceive worse for those who enumerated the laws of physics. To splash into the pool of physics, for me is such as to curse oneself with no specific reason. Physics is in fact a very boring subject for me and may be for many students who share my point of agenda.

                Physics is about uni-verse in which there is nothing apart from the graves of gravity, which Newton discovered and now we are facing the music of physic-o-phone. Physics is about current through which the tutors are magnifying our heads instead of blushing our souls. Physics displays the power of magnets which are turning us into “mad-nuts.” Physics enforces the law of forces which is applied without law and are deep now into our minds. Physics is the connotation of friction which never allows us to act or react in our class as well as in the lab-oratory for girls. Physics explored the nuclear weapons due to which we are now standing on the verge of death angles. Besides all these side-broad effects, how we perceived physics when the teacher cum dictator delivered lectures without having any specifics of A, B, C of physics, provided us with the knowledge of some physics laws which we took it as listed below:

                While studying “Newton’s law of gravity,” I was wandering like a lonely soul that physics would have been much easier, “if tree had fallen on Newton’s head instead of an apple.” Neither he would have to waste the blossomed sparks of his mind nor would we have to tol-e-rate his logical based illogical laws. Beside the topic of “Newton’s law of gravity” there is another law due to which we are living a life of utter dejection. That low law is named as “law of inertia”. Alas! Life would have been so adorable and without tensions of learning physics if Newton would have secured death while driving a car. But... The angel didn’t confront him to hug him and he proceeded with his research. Nevertheless, I am against all the ci-deviant teachers of English and those who are now ruling the edges of rostrums, who gave an old adage that “as you sow, so shall you reap”. Newton formulated these laws but now we are bearing and experiencing then. He is enjoying his eternal abode but for us, he flourished a well with no water but only tensions of laws and such useless things. I will on my part never ever forgive him for spoiling the life of such innocent students.

                Furthermore, while studying the topic of current, I fancied that how mesmerizing it would have been if the current had induced in the wire without any switch and it may have directly spurted out the teacher’s soul into heaven. It was not hate for our venerable teacher but our sympathy with him.  In short, we tolerated physics for five years with sleeping eyes and slept minds in our class, but now I merely can understand physics more than any subject because I learnt it in the realm of enjoyment.

Dwell of Surprises..

Stars were exploring the belt of sky in the covers of black night with a white blot expressing the emotions of those who were looking at this blot spreading its lightness on every sphere of the world. The blow of breeze was static in nature neither adorable nor abhorring in its composition. For the lights in the street were in blended form: poor absorbing the pleasure of candle, mediocre of that in the shades of lamps whereas rich one’s with their white lights nourishing the whole surrounding in which they have forgotten the miseries of outer world. In the rainbow of lights which was the sole jewel of the locality many people were living their own lives either under the covers of joys and various on the verge of only breathing for the lives with their dear ones. Conditions of families were beyond the line of poverty and sorrows; their lives compass was projecting an angle of inaccuracy. Some were struggling, few passing their time on the paths of dreams, various on the corners of dreadful visions, and only two in the lives of their own, in the beats of their hearts, on the channels of their souls without any fear for the sorrows, beyond the emotion of being sad, far above the feeling of poverty but for each other solely.

            Hayat and Zara: two entities but made for the worries of one another without the sacred satanic emotions of envy, jealousy, hatred and dejection. Their life was nowhere different from the prospects of others sharing the neighborhood with them but their way of life: splendid. After the day when their nuptial knot was knotted with the strings of feelings and affection both of them on both major and minor occasion surprised each other keeping in mind the desires and happiness of one another. With blind words they expressed their affection for each other now and then. Such was an occasion when Hayat was lost in the mind cycles that how to blow up the day and splash the happiness on the face of his life-soul, Zara. All his strength of thinking was focused now on the plans of creating an aura of smiles, joys and closeness. Hayat was wandering in the thoughts of his beloved who was nothing for others but everything for him. Two things deceived his nurturing power of emotions for Zara: her birthday and his helpless poverty. While he was involved in his game of planning, his wife Zara was sitting in front of a broken mirror which was a symbol their married life with blots of dust on it. Zara’s focus was projected on her dress which she wore on every birthday after her marriage and which was the only symbol of her living condition. She tried to make her husband and her soul-partner on every occasion in her sphere of life.

            For in the memory register of Hayat, only two days were of utmost importance: the day he met her and 2^nd August on which God revealed her on the face of earth for him as his life partner in future. Every year, he celebrated her birthday in versatile way beside his poor condition. After their marriage, five years and each year devised aesthetically. First year: with a piece of cake and flower, second year: anklet made of flower with a sweet, third on a cliff in rain with a shawl, fourth in the smiles of tea. All years flashbacked in his thoughts in seconds and tear blurred his eye balls. In rush he ornamented his face with smile as Zara entered the room after dressing up.  With curls of hairs on her right shoulder, smile floating on her lips, eyes down fixed on her hands, and ecstatically covered with maroon sari, Hayat was all stunned, aesthetically lost in her genre, and eyes fixed on her vision, he was all helpless and speechless in respect of her beauty to utter a word. His words got blurred; his mind postured on Zara and heart in prayers to God. She placed her self in front of her and sprinkled drops of water on Hayat to get him back in the world of reality in front of him. In moments he was reminded of the day and his hand flowed straight to his pockets which later appeared with two candles. Lighted both the candles in front of her and produced a piece of paper to her after reading of which Zara’s tears took much time to stop as she was overflowed with emotions. The piece of paper presented Hayat’s affection for Zara and which was written in the shape of such words: “On this day, words and expression are seeking some path to bless you with such prayers, wishes, happiness, beatific smiles, priceless gifts so that it may arouse as the best in your life forever..This is a day on which God bestowed this earth with such a person who bears with affection the feelings of love, adoration, friendship, commitment, sincerity and devotion with care. This day defines all your these attributes in true meanings and you deserve the best on this day as you are the beholder of such tranquil personality with no match. Happy birthday with a wish that your beauty surpass the ledges of everyone's heart, your smile be thrones every individual on and off your surroundings, your care nourishes everyone’s heart, and especially your hair allows me to get drown in the pool of foams. On this day, may God mark your life with the shield of happiness, success and smiles so that the rest of the year welcomes you in the best of its laps and traps. God bless you. Happy Birthday...”

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Fear in disguise

He stepped on the threshold of his flat placing his shoe on something while opening the lock of the door. He moved his feet forward due to which fraction of paper with flour produced a sound throwing the paper to the other side of the corridor. Sound attracted his acoustic senses and he leaned back to observe the reason of sound which fluted from his moving shoe in seconds.  His eyes got fixed on a piece of paper and he moved forward to pick it up as it shaped as letter flapping it up and down to guess the inner core content of the letter as the envelope was with out any title due to which curiosity delivered its norms in the mind of AADRISH.  With beating heart he stepped back into his room and used the top of T.V for his keys, wallet and other minor unimportant belongings which reigned his pockets for years in his life. He avoided following his routine which has been in his veins for decades and attempted with shivering hands to open the envelope. He did and some pearls of sweat crowned his forehead for seconds of his life.

“Better step back.” the only three words inked in the circle on white paper. his face turned pale as he knew the consequences of such threat which was the output of one of his proposal which he sent to a person of means in the locality. Silence prevailed inside and out side of his surroundings. Heartbeats pumped atypically. For his mind was now focused on the sort mirrors of consequences as fear elaborates many hidden things in one’s mind and in the same scenario he was now spell bounded.   Slowly wrapped the paper and placed it back in the envelope of threats and laid upside down in his bed focusing on the whole incident of how he got involved in the situation of bad lucks.  Each and every moment sprinted in his nerves and he casted the moments which he once cherished. While he was in the valley of fears, threats, terror, worries and such emotion which led to miseries, his senses went off into the chapters of sleep.

Darkness and silence with sounds of insects flourished the occasion of night in the valley and area which surrounded his flat. With the thoughts of threats he tried to play hide seek with his fear and involved himself in reading his lines which once were penned in the days of his early immature life. In the mean time  when his eye balls were rolling on the lines of paper his attention got diverted with the sound a car and the persons who jumped from the car were uttering his names loud. “Here’s Aadrish flat.” “He dwells here.” “Knock the door.” “ask him about his intentions.” All these sounds directly struck his eardrums from the holes of the wall and the empty square in the wall decorated with window. His heart throbbed, he felt as if something improper is going to happen with him and many things flashed back in his brain in flip of seconds.  All what he was capable of doing was to just wait for the knock and face the persons who were yelling loudly about him in front of his flat.  The door produced his invitation to face his fate and he opened the door. He shook the hand with pumping heart and asked the reason of their visit. While talking to them all he did was thinking about the means how to rescue himself from the attacks as he was sure these persons are the reality of that threat. Surmounted with such thoughts abruptly his face delivered a ray of smile and satisfaction with sighs of alleviation. With the segments of excuses they departed as they were looking for some aadrish who worked with them and he was about to leave with them to his home town and his friends came here to his flat considering him the same person. Aadhrish surprised on the tale of this coincidence which marked in his life another day of terror.