Soon I got used to the darkness inside.

Tonight has been another one of those sleepless nights. Sitting in the darkness, without the fan, then walking around different parts inside the house without making noise and certainly, I'm good at it. Being a heavyweight but lightfoot for sure.

I have this sad embarrassment in my heart. I mostly hurt the people who love me. It's something I used to deny but let's face it. I'm like that. I question all intentions. Is it the inherent negativity in me? I don't know what I want from the people who love me. Do I want love or is it the fear of losing it that makes me hurt them so that I don't have any attachment to them in case I lose them, which would in turn cause me hurt.

My throat seems like it has been sandpapered. My lips are parched. I didn't cry or scream or weep. I'm taking water, swig after swig... I'm still thirsty. I do feel the need to use the lip balm but I'm too tired to do that. Why am I always tired?

There are many questions that one asks but hides from the answers because the answers are well known. Or one might be too cowardly to face those answers or one just asks those questions because one might want to look great in one's own eyes or even less.

Senate OKs $50 billion more for wars - Politics - MSNBC.com

Senate OKs $50 billion more for wars - Politics - MSNBC.com

Just a fraction of that money could help me get to Harvard, Sloan or UPenn or any of the other Ivy League business schools. Or a fraction of that to an Afghan or Iraqi student. I haven't met Iraqis but I've met a lot many Afghans who could use a good education. Let it not be one of the Ivy Leaguers. Let it be any school, college or university even in Pakistan. But no. Let's fight a war. Kill poor soldiers and civilians because soldiers fight for their countries without asking questions and civilians are of course just collateral damage. In fact, everything's collateral damage.

Or let's say, since they can't give a fraction of that money to fund my education or that of an Afghan or Iraqi, they could give that fraction to the people who've lost jobs due to Katrina or build houses for them, maybe?

Or maybe they could give a fraction of that money to help build a medical and teaching college in Kabul or Kandahar to help eradicate diseases and illnesses related to war and poverty that plagues that nation.

But war is more important. When all the people are dead, we won't be needing those fractions to spend on them.

Though it's an illogical conclusion, but those $50 billion are money well spent.

As for the soldiers and civilians: rest in peace. And for their families? I don't know. Would a sorry help?

Bandeewan

Bandeewan literally means lost. It means that stage before dying, where one is hanging between life and death.

That's how I've felt for quite a long time.

A person becomes bandeewan but for a few seconds; some unlucky ones might be so for days, but who heard of one who was in such a state for years?

When there's no way out, I just stop looking.

To My Rival

To My Rival is a poem by the renowned late Pakistani socialist poet, Faiz Ahmed Faiz. I really couldn't capture it's beauty even if I tried. The real fun of Urdu poetry is reading it in Urdu. It's like Persian poetry. However excellent the translation, the actual essence is lost. The intoxiation that is found in Persian can never be found in the translation. Nonetheless, Faiz is essentially an Urdu poet. Here I've tried a hurried translation of one of his very beautiful and famous poem, Rakeeb Se (rakeeb=rival in love, se=to/adressing someone, rakeeb se would loosely mean adressing the rival in love).

To My Rival

Come let's sit together, because attached to you are the memories of that beauty,
which had made this heart the house of fairies.
In whose love we had forgotten the world
And made the end a novel, a fantasy.

Those ways have known your feet,
which her intoxicating youth fancied;
Through which have passed processions of her splendor,
Of which these eyes have been idol worshippers.

Those lovely wafts have played with you, in which
the sad scent of her raiment still lingers.
The light of the moon has radiated on you through that entrance,
Which still holds the melancholy of nights past.

You have seen that forehead, those cheeks, those lips,
in whose imagination I have lavished my life.
Those forlorn and mesmerizing eyes have been raised to look at you.
YOU know why I have squandered my life away.

On us the favors of the sorrow of love are mutual;
Favors so many that I may lose count.
What we have learnt, what we have lost in this love,
None could understand other than you, even if I tried.

I learnt humbleness and devotion to those deprived;
Hope and loss, the meaning of pain and sorrow, I learnt.
The trials and tribulations of the underdog I learnt to understand;
The meaning of cold sighs and yellow faces, I learnt.

Whenever the helpless sit and weep, whose
boiling tears sleep in their eyes,
The eagles snatch crumbs from the mouths of the weak
They come down in calculated flocks.

Whenever in these bazaars, the flesh of the laborer is sold
Then the blood of the poor is spilt on the roads.
A fire boils inside, burns my heart, don't ask!
I cannot seem to control of my heart then...

Just a Change of Seasons

In a clearing, there's a Jacaranda tree standing alone.

The foundations for a house are being laid around it now. A well is being dug in what will be a lawn in the years to come. Red bricks are lying neatly in stacks.
People are going here and there.
The Jacaranda tree is standing silently: watching. It is mesmerized.
That was Winter.
Now it is spring. Purple flowers carpet what will be a driveway a year from now. A truck unloads sacks of cement.
The flowers are running here and there in the silent breeze. As evening approaches, the men leave and a lone light goes on.
Carcasses of Jacaranda flowers are floating in the well.
Many years have passed. The driveway is red tiles that look nice in the sun.
The well is gone. There is a fountain in the corner, where there is a miniature bridge surrounded by cacti. Empty deck chairs are casting silhouettes in the moonlight.
Leaves and dead bougainvillaea bracts are littering the slightly golden lawn. Soft, white mattresses are being trundled out of the house. The sweeper is trying to sweep all that he can but autumn won't let the lawn clean.
Women are left standing in the lobby. The men are moving out of the gate, past the soft, white mattresses, past the Jacaranda tree.

Only the Jacaranda tree knows that it is just a change of seasons.

Trying Not to Be Earnest OR The Importance of Not Being Earnest

I have decided. Now I just have to stick with it. :D

I'll try to be funny. Yes, I will try. Or I'll "Just Do It"... I have been accused of not being funny, of being arrogant (an accusation that stems from the first) because I only smile (with a slight twist of the mouth, which makes me look horrible, apparently) and that I never say anything. How can I make people understand that I have nothing to say?

I have nothing funny, intelligent or remotely interesting to say. I love to listen but no one believes that. I say, why would you but you better! Or else you'd also think I was proud and arrogant (the question arises: why would I be that for, but that's for another time), which doesn't really matter this way or that but still...

The main point was about trying to be funny so I've decided that I'll use my MSN Spaces spacethingamajig for posting whatever funniness enters this head of mine, if ever!

Do you have to let it linger?

She told me to just let it go.

It's not that easy.

Especially when you're holding onto nothing.

I have been wondering lately. If everyone's the same, then does it matter whom you're with?

Sooner or later, everything will end. At least in this world. To finally have found the answer to that question that I asked many years back, is unsettling.

Is there any redemption?

There's none.

And when I look at my life, I know there won't be any in the next either. There's none for the fallen. Will people think about the woman she was? Will they? Will someone sigh, will someone try to wipe off their tears when they think about her?

Colorado lawmaker: U.S. could �take out� Mecca - Politics - MSNBC.com

Colorado lawmaker: U.S. could �take out� Mecca - Politics - MSNBC.com

Wow! Now that's what I call freedom of speech and nice thoughts. That's really how we should make friends.

Shame.

Mein Yahan Kyon Houn? (Why Am I Here?)

I don't have the answer to that one. Why are you here anyway? Purpose? Reason? Redemption? Faith? Purposelessness? Nothing? Faithlessness? Intelligence or a lack thereof? Love? Hate? Emptiness?

GOD?

YOU?

ME?

what?

Relax. Laugh a nervous thankful-to-God laugh.

I was only kidding. (:

Tum Yahan Kyon Ho? (Why Are You Here?)

Because I'm not feeling well and just have no idea what to do about it. A couple of nights back or maybe it was three, doesn't matter, had to take three tablets to bring myself some rest but felt groggy for the next couple of days (or three).

1. Xanax
2. Lexatonil/nal (forgetting the spellings right now)
3. what was the third one? I think it was either Synergy OD or something else but I just don't remember.

Oh yes I had to take a fourth one too. But that's for stopping my hair from falling and my nails from getting bent and brittle and God knows what else. Yes, I'm getting bald and old at the very ancient age of 24. And no I'm not saying that because in my head there lives a fucked up hypochondriac. The worst thing is that I'm a girl. Only now do I realize that. Quite late. I can't even wish to die. It's too early to die but then again. No, this is not self pity. I just needed to get this out of my system. To maintain it's integrity. *laughs* It's like passing feces. You have to do it or you die.

Went out yesterday, in the scorching afternoon heat and lu (hot wind). There was no ice cream in half of Peshawar (that would be University Town and Hayatabad). Let me be more honest about the truth: There weren't any nice flavors in the bricks and the buckets. Wherever we went there was only Vanilla. VANILLA! VANILLA! VANILLA! How one hates it when it's plain vanilla! Oh and this was the first time in many months that I went out with my cousins or let's say went out at all for relaxation only. It was fun even though my head was boiling and so was theirs. Went to the videoshop to find it closed. So we headed to the old bookshop, which sometimes sells these rare and/or old editions of rare and/or old books if you're willing to rummage through the dust. :D Spending time in a bookshop or a library are the happiest moments of my life. Though I was sneezing but I forgot all about it. I always get a strange kind of high among books. Khair! I was going through the titles when viola! I came upon an old volume of plays by Bernard Shaw. At that very moment, I'm sure my mouth must have been hanging open. It wasn't exactly in mint condition (doesn't matter because I don't plan to sell it or anything, God forbid) and the pages with the date of publication were missing but from the cover, I judged that this might be from the 50's or at the very latest, early 60's. Of course, I could be wrong and it could be much older. But I was happy. Pure happiness it was after such a long time. Such uplifting and pure joy. Inexplicable! Then I found a 1930's edition of another book. Then came the real prize. :D An original and rare edition of Milton's Lycidas. Oh my God! Oh my dear dear God! With introduction and notes AND in MINT CONDITION!!! It might be said that my resultant breathlessness might have been due to the moldy nature of the shop and my asthma but I say it was due to this serendipitous discovery. Yes, serendipity it was for sure. In this happy state of mind, I moved to the section on philosophy. Found a book on Marx and Engels. It's a good thing none of my sisters were around to admonish me against making a whole library of books about these men. :P Anyhow, it was that same state of euphoria that led me to the Urdu book section. I was looking for nothing in particular. Then Manto and Qudsia and Ashfaq Ahmed passed through my mind. I was looking here and there at nothing in particular when I just had a glimpse of a red cover (talk about seeing red) and something really interesting written on it. I couldn't believe my eyes. I took out the book from the shelf, had a closer look at it to make sure that what I'd read was correct. Hahah! Palwashay was the name of the book. It's a most funny coincidence. Not because the book isn't good but because I never thought I'd find a book that carried my name. It was a Pushto translation of the famous collection of poems by Iqbal called Bal-e-Jibreel. So, I added it to my shopping cart and thus my happy adventures at the bookshop come to an end. And all these books for just Rs. 600. Even though, as a student and non-paid worker, I find this a bit too much but well! It's better than when I used to get a lot less books at my father's expense for a lot more money. (The bills always amounted to more than 10, 000 or so at a time). As for myself, I can't even afford to go to those shops anymore. (: It's funny in retrospect but it makes me happy because you can never get first or rare editions from the big expensive shops. After that we headed to this place where they sell this sweetened milk, which is super cooled. I'd never had a taste of that before but the cousins insisted. I must admit it was refreshing but still too sweet for my taste. On we went with our universal search for ice-cream all the way back to Hayatabad, at long last we did get ice cream but not exactly the flavors we were looking for. Yeah, I know, this is not a matter of worldly importance but it was just something normal in such a long time that it seems significant. And mostly because I felt like an alien who is being shown around the earth. Finally found an open video rental in Hayatabad (will be writing about that one of these days) and rented a dvd, which had 5 movies on it. I was feeling lucky about it but when I played it later in the evening, I was disappointed. Camera prints! Pirated crap. That's what we pay for in my lovely country. *laughs* But I watched all of them or let's say most of them.

1. Creep (stupid movie, no storyline, only watch if you want to finally make up your mind about committing suicide)
2. Constantine (didn't look anything like the comic. Hello! Constantine is Mick Jagger! So where in the bloody hell does Keanu Reeves look like Mick? So as an adaptation of a comicbook, it was a horror! The soundtrack on the other hand sounded nice.)
3. The Pacifier (this is for kids: not older than 5 or 7. Or retards! Sorry that's politically incorrect, but seeing that those were the people who wrote, directed and produced the movie, it should be watched by the same kind as well)
4. Diary of a Mad Black Woman (if you want to get diabetes, it's better you watch this movie otherwise, totally skip it. Goodness! The dialogues made me want to puke: Knight in shining what??? I'm not cynical, I like those goofy love stories, where I can sometimes shed a few tears as well but this? OH MY GOD! It's better to watch an Indian movie or soap rather than watch this movie. Huh! At least one gets to see hot desi chicks {I know I'm politcally incorrect this morning :D}.)
5. Hitch (Now here's a movie that I might like. I have to get the master print to watch this one. Seems like a good one!)

There! That's all out. Whatever I actually wanted to say has as usual been lost in this flood of foolish words. Just wanted to say that nowadays, I laugh a lot. It's not like the pretention of old days (few months back? a year back? two, maybe three years...?). It makes me feel amazing. It makes me feel young. Not young by a couple of years. Not young like I'm 20. Not even young like I'm a teenager. It makes me feel like a child. Free of cares and I'm loving it so much but at the same time I'm afraid that I might lose it. This brings back my gone-before-time youth. It's not as if I am old in the sense of being aged. Or maybe I even am but leaving that aside, what makes one young? It's the feelings. Or it's the need to feel feelings. It's the need to laugh like a fool over nothing and everything. To giggle uncontrollably. To be mad without a reason. Not mad as in worthy of being committed to an asylum but mad as in ready to do anything. Let it be the most non-sensical thing. It's the whimsy, the capriciousness. It's the flying in the air. The freedom of thought. Yes, it's the laughter of freedom. Free happiness. It inspired me. It made me want to write again. Something fresh and beautiful. Not about sadness and loss but about being. About moments. I don't know what I'm saying and I don't want to know. I want it to be like that. Peaceful and happy. I wonder if the end is near.

Returning to the Garden of Eros

I think I'm getting better. Healing myself or maybe there's someone or something that's healing me. Then again I wonder if it's healing or an illusion of that? I have been sick for a while now. Getting better always takes time but it also means to leave everything. It means time away from friends, from things that I liked to do usually like photography or painting or just lying down for a rest. Now I'm always sleepless. There's always a storm in my soul nowadays. Or let's say in the past few months but it seems to be subsiding now. Can I say now that I am getting better? That I am getting back to life. Am I in contact with a human being or is it just a dead person like me? Can I have life back into this body? I keep wondering. I think so much it gives me a headache. Then I get feverish all over again. How the rest of my life is going to be effected by that is yet to be seen but it has put strains on my relations with others. On top of that is all the stagnation that plagues Peshawar. At times like these it gets to me in the worst fashion. Am I sick only in the head or is it really a bodily ailment? Heart disease eating the mind? (: I wonder. But I'm getting better and I have to see how long it will last. Can it last forever? This comfort. I have been digging a trench of hate and now when I look over my shoulder I see a mound of love. Could it be love? Or is this mound just a grave for the body of love. I don't know. I think about God. Do I love You God? Do I? I don't know. I have claimed love in the past. So many times, for so many people. Friends, family, earth, this cause or that. But do I love You? What have I ever done for Your love? What have I given in the way of Your love God? I don't know. I am thinking.

What profit if this scientific age
Burst through our gates with all its retinue
Of modern miracles! Can it assuage
One lover’s breaking heart? what can it do
To make one life more beautiful, one day
More god-like in its period? ...

Garden of Eros by Oscar Wilde

Let hope NOT leave us anymore...

Terre
Michel Deguy

Tu rentres. Tu quittes le rivage. Tu retournes en terre. Les amers quittent la mer. Soudain cette moitié du monde qui était en mer redevient terre – forêts, champs, campagne. A son tour celle-ci devient l’océan. Tu reviens au monde des vivants comme un Grec débarqué tournait le dos à l’inféconde. L’immensité se fait solide, moissonneuse, verte et blonde, guéable. Les nuages sont utile. Tu écartes les buissons de la lisière, rentres dans le bois, retournes à l’épais – l’impénétrable. La forêt de chênes chante.
En même temps c’est le temps, le double régime chaque moitié est le tout, dans l’indivsion.
Celle de la sérénité hölderlinienne: l’oubli de la menace, le vaste, la pérennité, le pour-toujours du s’entr’aimer multiple, pareil au spectacle quand le monde se donne en spectacle, l’oisiveté léopardienne; c’est quand les champs et les eaux, les forêts et les fleurs, les nuages et les neiges assonent dans le zèle des saisons.
Avec celle-ci: repoussé, pressenti, ulcérant, le contre-courant funèbre, le complot du destin, affliction et nuisance, la conspiration de la perte, voici la morition des proches, la contagion des maux, l’acerbe érosion, la calomnie générale, l’abréviation de la vie, l’encombre, la terre périmée, l’extermination du passé, le périr.

Let hope not leave us anymore. May that time never come when we have to leave someone or something we care for. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

And all the many things that I can't say in any language, that which has not been said, nor heard, read, written OR felt.

Wires

Wires
by Athlete

You got wires, going in
You got wires, coming out of your skin
You got tears, making tracks
I got tears, that are scared of the facts

Running down corridors
Through automatic doors
Got to get to you, got to see this through
I see hope is here, in a plastic box
I've seen christmas lights, reflect in your eyes

You got wires, going in
You got wires, coming out of your skin
There's dry blood, on your wrist
Your dry blood, on my fingertip

Running down corridors
Through automatic doors
Got to get to you, got to see this through
First night of your life, curled up on your own
Looking at you now, you would never know

I see it in your eyes
I see it in your eyes
You'll be alright

I see it in your eyes
I see it in your eyes
You'll be alright
Alright

Running ... down corridors, through, automatic doors,
Got to get to you, got to see this through,
I see hope is here, in a plastic box,
I've seen christmas lights, reflect in your eyes,

Down corridors, through automatic doors,
Got to get to you, got to see this through,
First night of your life, curled up on your own,
Looking at you now, you would never know...

Wish love was a surity. Why does it feel like that only when someone's far away?

Nous y allions chaque jour

Inspired by Jean-Sébastien Monzani's series of the same name.

Nous y allions chaque jour

We went there everyday, and everyday was the same until that day when she went away...
While people would be home watching movies, we would go there everyday and watch the sun set in the West...
Sometimes our shadows have stood there like the piers at a dawn
Oh, it must have been a grey dawn that day, when she went away...
Remember those wisps of clouds as she slowly turned and walked away
And right before that, her downcast face, those brimming eyes, those trembling lips
I looked away, I looked away...
But in my heart, a hope still tarries,
That she might return and we might carry
But until that happens, I will remember how
We went there everyday...

Needs improvement, I guess but I love it as it is. Phew!

Dedicated to a very special person. You know whom you are

I wrote this for two very beautiful young people, who were a bit shy in expressing their feelings for each other.

24

Phew! 24 years. Still got many rivers to cross. I want to write more but I have a dull headache. Well, birthdays!

I think I miss something in my life...

I had planned that I'll try to write at least one line every day leading to my 25th birthday but guess that won't be possible.

Here they come, the beautiful ones...

So I've been thinking about a few things lately. And mostly laughing and smiling... The life of a manic depressive.

The highs and the lows.
The valleys and the moutains.
The crests and the troughs.

That's the beauty of life. To be riding these waves like a maniacal surfer and then getting washed ashore like the pieces of a shipwreck.

When I joined dA, I joined it because I wanted some technical comments on my work. It wasn't because I wanted to be judged for what I did. No one likes that. Did I judge anyone? No. Did I judge the thoughts and the feelings that someone put into what they did. No, I did not but why do I feel that I'm being judged for these very same things. I put my works here so as to be judged for their artistic merit and not for the subjects themselves. If you don't know me and if you're not God, please do not judge me. I don't like it. It makes me feel smaller than I actually am. It makes me afraid of my own shadow. Makes me want to hide somewhere never to be found again.

I get scared easily. All these sad feelings lurking, lying in wait to pounce on me. Sadness scares me like anything. I'm afraid of it just like kids are scared of the bogeman. I actually feel like it's sitting under my bed and I just can't put my legs down because it will come and get me.

Enough of this. I'm happy right now and enjoying it. Happy without any reason and those who've felt this way know that it's like being on a high (whatever that means). Anyway, I don't think happiness actually needs some reason. You just need to create that place inside your head. Yes, lately, I've realized I love a lot many people. In fact, almost everyone I come across I find myself loving. It's never been easier than it is now. I feel like telling them, yes, I love you. Yes, I do, I do. Again, feel scared of being misinterpreted in this modern world. What a beautiful world it is! No, I'm not being sarcastic. I mean it. Being sick has had this affect on me. In fact, I think this tirade is partly motivated by the sickness.

That's another thing I hate apart from sadness; sickness! Being sick makes me sick. Then there's the L word: Loneliness. I had been lonely for a bit. Yes, for a while I was. I've come to this conclusion (maybe others have too, before me) that being alone sucks. It's the worst thing in the world. You realize soon enough that you're not an island. I kept getting a picture of "The Man Who Loved Islands" by D.H. Lawrence. Often, I've pictured myself as that man and that thought runs shivers down my spine. No more lameduck thoughts for me.

So, what should I say now? Guess, I started thinking again. LOL! Too much thinking and then the thoughts go away. Dissipate. Vanish. Just like ether. I think I'll finish this on the fact that I'm in love. Never found it easier. Never been in love this much and it feels good to be in love with so many people and things.

"Love... love is strange...
Many people take it for a game..."

So, beautiful ones, keep coming so I have more to love.

Poem For Cornelia

Mar 9, 2005

Poem For Cornelia

You looked sad when I first saw you through the window
But then I looked into those eyes, the windows to your soul.
In them I saw a universe taking birth
In them I saw a world taking shape.
In you I saw the changing of seasons.
I saw Autumn change into spring; I saw you blossom
with the plum, cherry and almond blossom trees.
I saw what you could not see and now I know you will see it too
The coming of your spring, for eternity.

MSNBC - Babes Up in Arms

MSNBC - Babes Up in Arms

So much for workers' rights. Ha!

Untitled

...

I called out to my God. I knew that He was in that light or maybe He was the Light.

And I realized, I could be light too. I wanted to reach out to that light and be a part of it. To touch that warm light. And I realized, I could feel His warmth even from such millenial distances. I got up on my feet and started running towards it. But still, I was nowhere near it. The source of the light was constant. It neither dimmed nor brightened. There was no day or night. If there was any, then I was in the twilight. Night lay behind me with a gaping mouth and day stood ahead with extended arms that never quite reached out to me. I thought I was being driven into madness.

So, I realized that in this state, madness would be much better than sanity: running but never quite reaching anywhere.

I called out to my God and I thought I heard humming...

And how fast I ran, faster than the speed of light and still I was far, far away from destiny, from that cool-warm light that was so beckoning and enticing that the feelings of claustrophobia were lost upon me. The percepts of my mind became faster than they ever were.

Sadness turned into happiness even though I was still so far away. It was sheer joy...

Na tha kochh, to Khoda tha, koch na hota, to Khoda hota

July/August 2002: from my little book

A thorn in YOUR flesh

But where was he going? He began to come out of his trance of delight and liberty. Deep within him he felt the steady burning of shame in the flesh. As yet he could not bear to think of it. But there it was submerged beneath his attention, the raw, steady-burning shame.

It behoved him to be intelligent. As yet he dared not remember what he had done. He only knew the need to get away, away from everything he had been in contact with.

But how? A great pang of fear went through him. He could not bear his shamed flesh to be put again between the hands of authority. Already the hands had been laid upon him, brutally upon his nakedness, ripping open his shame and making him maimed, crippled in his own control.

The Thorn In The Flesh
D.H. Lawrence

And how far will you go before you can get away from it? The voices will always follow you as they have been for more than 15 years.

Enjoy the silence now.

Obituary

As soon as I signed in, Asad asks me if I had heard the news and I said, "What news?" With this deadweight feeling that I knew it was not good I told him not to tell me if it was something bad and then it comes, "Didn't you hear about Sir Hidayatullah?

no
dont tell me

And to make the news come slowly, I said, "I wasn't online."

But I had known what was coming. He had cancer but I still asked how and when. It didn't really matter how and when.

Sir Hidayatullah was dead.

He had died the day before yesterday. I cried a lot when I heard it and I cried even as I typed all this.

"I cant believe that he's dead".

He was a great man. Sir was an institution, an asset, that has now been forever lost.

I thought about his kid, the one who was our junior. I liked him a lot. Not just because he was a good guy but I guess mostly because he was that great's man's son as well. The last time I went to IMSciences, I asked him about Sir's health. It was well known in IMS circles that Sir had stepped down when his cancer was diagnosed, and now he was dead.

I dont' know if many people sound my sentiments for Sir but he was one of the first people in my life as a university student to have impressed me. He never taught any of our undergraduate class but we had this confidence in ourselves due to his leadership

It was this leadership that got him into trouble with many of the authorities in the bureaucratic set up of the university. His dream of seeing IMS as a great and independent institute, one at par with LUMS and IBA was shattered when IMS was broken into two pieces due to the vested interests of a few. Though our part of IMS has gone downhill since, Sir's long term vision led the other half to new heights.

I remember the many who used to say, "Sciences will not take off. Sciences is (sir) Hidayatullah's personal pet." I didn't agree with them and he proved it when he stepped down and let someone else take it from there. Even as he was stepping down, Sciences was setting new standards and many of us saw it when we used to visit it. Today that other IMS is headed by another capable head but it was Sir's auspicious leadership, which has put IMSciences where IMStudies hasn't been able to reach yet and maybe not in the next few years.

We've always been the students of Sir's IMS first. The visionary's IMS, the one that didn't want to churn out clods but kids who turned into businesspeople. It was that vision that I remember from my first day in IMS where Mr. Zia ul Qamar addressed us.

"...You are the future of this institution, of this Province. We want you to be at par with the undergraduates of IBA and LUMS. We want that you should look and talk like business graduates and not just ordinary university folks..."

Though that vision was lost halfway through the middle for us, it's still alive for many other people. I wish there were more leaders like Sir. I know there are among us. We might not know it. We might not believe it but it's true. I hope that our part of IMS, IMStudies, will have a renaissance and that it also gets the visionary leadership that Sir had had.

Sir, we'll miss you.

Ushering in the New Year

So it has begun... on a sad note, the year 2005. I can't believe that just yesterday i.e., in 2001, I was only 20 years old. :

Nopes, I'm not feeling sorry about getting older. What I feel bad about is that as a 20 year old, I had positivity (believe it or not!), I was very hopeful about everything (yes, that includes myself as well) and I was wiser. As time has gone by, I've become stupid, negative and downright idiotic with too many expectations and far less efforts to put in. Haaa! I don't have any new year's resolutions as usual. They're made to be broken anyway. BUT! I've decided, I'll try to be a wee bit more positive. Things might not always go my way but then who the hell ever says that things have gone their way; so to hell with perfection. :P