Editor fired after publication of Islam cartoons - Europe - MSNBC.com

Editor fired after publication of Islam cartoons - Europe - MSNBC.com

Don't have anything to say except that there's supposed to be a limit to everything. Does freedom of speech mean letting go of morality? Is it ethical? That's the issue. Does being secular give one the right to play with the sentiments of another who might be religious? When it's the opposite, we all go crazy. What's up with that?

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. (: