LIGHT A LAMP FOR IT IS THE DARK HOUR.: A SON’S NOTE:

LIGHT A LAMP FOR IT IS THE DARK HOUR.: A SON’S NOTE:: Finally he was back in his room after a tiring briefing with the executives of his company, he was highly admired for his research and prese...

A SON’S NOTE:

Finally he was back in his room after a tiring briefing with the executives of his company, he was highly admired for his research and presentation on the task assigned. He entered his room with a smile on his face, which he had from last half an hour. He was happy and contented for that all the hard work he placed in got rewarded and finally he was to board for Kuwait, the very next morning. Placing his lenevo note book on his bed, he didn’t bother to change or even to take his shoes off and threw himself in air. The suspension was short and in a second he was laying on his bed. He thought of sharing the good news with his dad, ........
"he surely will be excited too".
 His hand went into his side pocket for the search of his cell phone, all his actions were being driven by some natural force, a force which a father always share with his son for the bond that had always existed in a father’s and son’s relationship. He opened the contact list and scrolled down through the numbers, but then for a second he stopped, smiled on his ownself and nodded his head

“why am I going through all the list, I know my dad’s number”

“034528…..”he articulated the digits in a low tone while dialing

“I guess I should first tell him that the project faced a big refusal and then, am going to get him with a big surprise by telling him the news other way round”

He told himself while the bell echoed in his ears, how hard it is to control the last moments when you are to tell such news of excitement to your loved ones. You smile continuously, with heart beating like a drum and pumping boiling blood all over your body, you feel like flying high and wish if you ever had wings.

“tooont………toooont ………..”the tone of call continuously echoing

The exhilaration was now flowing out from his body and filled the entire space with an air of glee and delight.

“toooont……..toooont”

His right foot was continuously moving back and forward with little strikes and jerks silently filling the arena with drum beat, a beat which has no sound, but feeling of rhythm and music.

“toooont………tooont”

The clock didn’t strike the next hour, and his feet were no more on the drums, heart drowning slowly into some darkened cave, the aroma of excitement and joy which filled the entire room became odorless. He loosened the grip on his phone which slipped out of his hand and lay on his bed.

“the number you have dialed is not responding at the moment, please dial later”

He closed his eyes and a drop of tear paved its way down to his cheek.

“I wish I could have told you this, I wish ....dad you had lived little more, ...little more to hear this.....i soo wanted you to see this ......
Dad I miss you”

His silence whispered these words in air, silence, as the voice could never reach his father.

  

LEARN AND LIVE

LIFE ....??

(the underwritten lines have been extracted from the writer's article, MY LIFE) 




   The four lettered word, life, though it is short as the life itself but its deep and intricate. I had always been very keen about writing articles and stories, working with pen has always been one of my greatest passion but yet not the only one. I always thought that swirls of pen on a piece of paper are the preeminent way of defining your thoughts and feelings. But despite of all this, when I was told to write an article encircling my life, I was quite bedazzled, and for a week I could not gather myself to write about it, for not because I feared the ink of pen but because whenever I wrote something I enriched it with my true feelings and thoughts and since I had this firm believe of imperfection in attributes of human behavior, I feared that I might translate such nodes of my life which might not carry an impression of morality.            
  I had always wondered about the real meaning and purpose of life, read many theories and quotations but none satisfied my longing. And then it was AL-QURAN who came upon my rescue and I learned from the words of my creator, the supreme commander of the universe, that life is a continuous struggle, to differentiate the right from the wrong, bad from good, evil from virtuous and there indeed defining and building up your own path to heaven.
               How often it is that we stimulate life incorrectly. Children are always taught and infused their purpose of life as becoming a doctor, an engineer, a renowned accountant or a military officer, but how many are taught this lesson of life, the bitter but true picture of life that this world and the life here is fake and has an end, the time scale of which is in the hand of none but ALLAH ALLMIGHTY. So this is how I begin here, with my way of defining life, and this is how I live my life, struggling to determine the right from wrong and giving my utmost to flutter the flag of truth, which needs not to be defined to me as it already has been, the book of guidance for which is AL-QURAN.




LEARN AND LIVE!

SACRIFICE

“Gentleman I have seen your marksheets, you have got excellent grades, you can easily go to any renown university, why armed forces?”

Sir serving my nation has always been my passion.

“But you can still serve your nation by may be becoming an engineer or an accountant or a policy maker.”

Sir I want to serve with honor, respect and dignity and all three of them dipped in my blood. I want to sweat and bleed for this land and in the dark hours I don’t want to have any option other then fighting and sacrificing till my last breath. While in uniform I would know that this is what all I have, I live till the time the green flag flutters.

“hmm you said sacrifice, isn’t it?”

Yes sir.

Well I guess you are going in the right direction then.

These were the initial questions which the deputy president at ISSB centre asked me. The entire four days stay at ISSB centre MALIR cantt was tough and the routine was quite hectic but I was still enjoying every second of it. At the end of each day, I and my newly made friends had something interesting to do. Each morning all the candidates, gentlemen was the name used, had interesting stories to share.

“Yar kal kisi dash dash nay raat pani phenk dia meray oper, sara bister bheeg gaya, room say bahir nikalna allow nae hai warna main chorta nae osay.”

“Oee han yar mje koi jota mar kar bhag gaya.”

“Yar meray room main tw ulloo urr rahay the.”

I could easily recall the last sentence, we were right there hiding behind the curtains after throwing CHAPALS form three different directions towards Ahmed. The first one hit him right on his back while the second and third missed him by inches and made a fly fast salute, Ahmed was half up when the second and third CHAPAL was air borne, and he uttered this sentence.

“Oe yar otho, kamray main ullo urr rahay hain.”

And there he went down again, snoring loud. Ahmed had this gift of snoring loud, it was like as someone was driving a Honda of 1980’s and that too without silencer.

I was brought back from memories of my past to the duty room by the loud, irritating tone of my cell phone. I hated this tone so much but still never changed it.

“AOA ami jan kia haal hain”

“WS, beta main thek hun, tm apni sunao, aur ye batao k chutti kab aa rahay hoo?”

“wo …..ami jan …chutti ..thori si….”

My mother interrupted In between

“bas bas ab koi bahana nae chalay ga, tm aa jao gay to Navy ka kaam ruk nae jae ga, aur beta kuch arsay baad tmhari shaadi hai hamain tayari b karni hai”

I was confused and puzzled. I didn’t know how to tell my mother that current security situation was not very good and we were supposed to be on duty round the clock. I knew that this was the high time when my country and my people needed me and I didn’t want to turn back.

“ji ami jan, INSHALLAH bht jald ao ga”

Suddenly I heard a loud noise of a burst, the sound was massive and I knew that it was the time.

“beta ye awaz kesi thi ?”

“hello …..hellooo”

“beta meri awaz aa rahi hai……hello”

But I was not there to answer as I was out with my men of Quick Response team, the men of Janbaaz force who face the threat at the first line of defence. It was a heavy attack; the entire squad on main gate became victim to the bomb blasts timed one after the other. We were under heavy fire; the entire air was being muzzled by shells and bullets of heavy machine guns.

Three of my men embraced Shahadat, one after the other. It was too dark and it was hard to determine the direction from where the attack was being made, we couldn’t go on with blind firing as it could endanger the lives of my own men, every bullet was suppose to be right on the target.

“Gul Nawaz, I need cover, yahan say kuch pata nae chal raha, mje agay jana hai”

I screamed loud to make Gul Nawaz hear me as the entire place was filled with sound of guns and hand grenades.

“Sir agay bohat fire hai, ap yahin wait karain jab tak next platoon nae ati.”

“tab tak bht der hoo jae gi, agr ham nay yahan say unhain divert na kia tw poray unit main koi nae bachay, just do as I am saying dam it”

I shouted with all of my energy on him.

Gul Nawaz positioned himself on his LMG and opened fire, under cover of which I advanced forward firing from my G3, I kept advancing forward in the direction of fire, I knew I would never go back; all I wanted was to buy some time for the reserve battalion to move in, only few men understand the worth of such trade off, time at the price of life.

I was soon spotted by the NVD carrying snipers and was under fire from three different directions, I took every bullet one after the other right on my chest but didn’t let the enemy to advance forward.

 As I lay down, my blood fills the thirst of my mother land and my sacrifice gives the reserve platoon time to rush in and counter the attack. I can see my journey to my eternal home, and my body wrapped in green flag at my door step, I can see my father standing proud holding my with my white uniform colored red with my blood in his hands, I can see my mother searching for the corner of the house where she could hide and cry for that she lost her only son.

Sorry mom I couldn’t come home for my country needed my sacrifice.

SONS OF MOTHERLAND..!

Mani get up man ... hino pak and abraaj have just arrived and they are waiting for us in your room.

My room ? mani asked without opening his eyes.

“Yes, I made them to sit there and wait for us. I told them that It would just take me 5 minutes to get mani out of his bed. Get up now, it doesn’t look good that they came all the way here for this gathering and we are sleeping here, plus they expect the military people to be more disciplined and punctual and its 10:30 now, you are already 1:30 hour late.”

It was Sunday morning april 2011. Sundays are very special for us. Wearing uniform the entire week and more then that maintaining and carrying its grace, it’s not as easy as it seems to be. Military people always cherish Sundays so much, firstly they don’t have to put themselves into those high long boots and pretend as hard and tough going people with strong nerves who have this great tendency of hearing some CHARMING and OVERWHELMING words from their commandants all the time and still they manage to say ROGER SIR. I had always wondered that this ROGER goes quite side by side with BOTHER; just say ROGER on every order of your senior and he will not bother you, although he knows that saying roger never means that you are doing it, Secondly Sundays give you a day to be your own self. All you have to do is to attend the line phone in a different tone every time and just say “saab to kamray main nae hain, bahir gaye howay hain kisi kaam say”, and of course never attend calls on your cell from unknown numbers.

So it was this special and charming Sunday and Captain MANI was just MANI today, not willing to get out of his bed.

“You must have been on your cell phone the entire night, isn’t it? Hmm let me see who was she.”

My sentence was not complete and mani was out of his bed clutching his sony Ericson Xperia from my hand back which I didn’t resist as there was hardly any note of his life which I didn’t know, rubbing his eyes, with right one half open.

If they are in my room then where the hell I am?

Well you slept here last night while watching that “band of brothers.” Am going down stairs to your room, and I want your ass to be their in next 5 min.

We both always had been keen in gathering our old college friends. Luckily every time we received sparkling and vivacious gestures on our invitations yet every time surprises on the final day with txt messages of apologies from many, plunged with reasons which we never understood.

This time the surprise was the other way round. Only four in total were assumed to gather but ifti came in at the very last second, just at the time when we were throwing light on his scarce and inconceivable qualities. Our remarks didn’t fine ink here not that ifti wouldn’t like them but because on such occurring the sound of beep can’t be placed in and I don’t want this story to find its place in ‘Minto k betareen afsanay’.

The entire plan was to play little cricket and then to revive our energy by throwing our appetite on HALWA POORI.

Mani assessed very quickly that sun was burning hot and it wouldn’t be wise to leave the shelter and play cricket, moreover the pain of losing semi’s against india which he never had suddenly appeared on his ever smiling face.

“To hell with cricket, I can’t even bear this thought that we lost against India.”

Well his plan worked. All of us went into discussing facts that why Pakistan really lost, quitting our plan to play cricket. And of course Mani was at ease, relieved from the thought of playing cricket and delighted that he can lie down on his Molty foam for another hour.

There were laughter’s, moments of joys filled with shouts and sounds of hands striking hands. In the mean time the table for HALWA POORI was being prepared by mess staff. Abraaj and hino pak(our child hood friends, we call them by these names as their first employment after graduation was in above firms), were time and again inspired by how great life is in armed forces.

Obviously we only see the staggering colors of a portrait, the pain of the artist is never revealed and only he truly understands the worth of his art.

Ifti had a sudden call after which we felt that his looks changed. He made another call after that.

“han lalay howa kia hai?”

“kab ?”

“kis jaga par?”

“tu apna bata, teri taraf sab set hai?”

“chal INSHALLAH detail main baat hoo gi phir, ALLAH HAFIZ”.

A sudden silence encircled the entire room. Our eyes were fixed on ifti waiting for him to disclose the matter. He too did not let the suspense to float and after putting his cell phone down, he extinguished the remaining cigarette in ash try and continued.

“yar wo Captain Farhan hai na 116 LC ka”

“han han apna Farhan na”, Mani added

“han wohi, he has embraced SHAHADAT. He was taking part in an operation in Dar-e-adam khel against the insurgents and terrorist group and just about an hour back he got hit and entered the life of eternity.”

INNA LILLAHI WA INNA ILAI HI RA JI OON.

“So the account of our course has opened” I could easily see the pride in the voice of Mani for his course mate embraced SHAHADAT.

“His family must be proud of him”.

But I on the other hand was restless after hearing this, my thoughts were dragged back and I wondering about a speech, Inter Karachi debate contest held in Muhammad Ali Jinnah University about two months back, I still remember the harsh and poisoning words from a young debator namely Qurat-ul-ain leghari, accusing Pakistan army of plundering the national wealth and being unpatriotic, the committee even rewarded her first prize for her perverting lines which amused the crowd. I was hurt not because Captain Farhan embraced SHAHADAT, for it is what I always had dreamt of and wished for, but for the Nation and country for which our lives have been destined for, for my countrymen sleep in their beds worry less, celebrate their Sundays and cherish awards on uttering lines against those who always have laid their blood and sacrificed their lives only to defend them. Farhan recently turned into his 23^rd year of life and he is not the only one buried under the pillars of this country, this country is standing because there are people who are donating blood and putting their lives to behold its pillars, and yet not all of them receive rewards, for we truly understand that survival needs sacrifice of blood and life.

I could see the feeling of sorrow on the faces of abraj and hino pak, may be later they realized that the artist has used too much of red color while making portrait of this life.

“Chalo yar HALWA POORI thandi hoo rahi hai”, I stood up finally and we all went on to the table. For this was another routine day and there was not much to worry.     

LEARN AND LIVE

ye BAHRIA ka COLLEGE hai ...!!

(2003 , was written n den presented by me on farewell day ....class matric)


YE BAHRIA KA COLLEGE HAI
ANDHERU KA YE MU-AALIJ HAI

ROSHNI KA YE CHARAGH HAI
ZAMANAY MAIN ISKA RAAJ HAI

NISAB MAIN BA KAMAL HAI
PAR FESS BE-HISAAB HAI

LARKAY IS K HERO HAIN
AUR LARKYAN PHR B ZERO HAIN

O LEVELS KI KIA BAAT HAI
PARHAI ISS MAIN SHORT HAI

LARKAY LARKYAN SATH HAIN
AUR BETHTAY B PAS PAS HAIN

AAKHIR HAM SAB KI B KUCH PYAS HAI
AUR GIRLS WING ISKI AAS HAI

TOOBA HAMARI B KIA SOCH HAI
K SHEETAN KI TW MOJ HAI

ABDULLAH PARHAI TAWAJJA TALB HAI
K ZINDAGI KA YE BULB HAI

AGAR KOI GALTI HOWI TW MAAF KARNA
AUR MERI YE N'ZAM IGNORE KARNA

YE BAHRIA KA COLLEGE HAI
ANDHERU KA YE MUALIJ HAI .........!!

LIFE HAS TO GO ON..!!

Wow !!

What a lovely evening it is. Look at the sky, I never noticed that even in Karachi the sky can be so clear and yes it’s blue. Look the scattered clouds on sky and the sun hiding behind them and this cool sea breeze, what a blessing it is.

It was though an ordinary Sunday of March but only a young cadet on short leave can have such feelings for a weather in which he had been living from his childhood. Stagnant weather of Karachi never charmed any one except the cadets of naval academy who proceed on short leave on Sundays. So even if you will find a cadet roaming around in scorching sun light on a short leave, he will tell you the same lines that how charming the life is out here.

It was his first short leave after forty days of intense hard training and he did his best to qualify his preliminary swimming and saluting test to get this short leave. Few hours out of naval academy were like he was suddenly in heaven out of hell.

“Independence is such a blessing”

Uttering these words he went down stairs, out of his home.

“I guess having ice cream in such an evening would be a great idea”.

He went off to a near by medical and general store. Al-shifa medical and general store was little extra crowdie today. Since his child hood he had this basic instinct of staring and exploring things. But in that store there was something different today. There were signs of worries on his fore head, his big black eyes never narrowed with such anxiety.

“YA ALLAH”

These were the only words which came to his mind at that moment. There were around 15-20 people of different age group in that medical store, busy in for what they were there but he was amazed that no one noticed what he did.

“so we call our selves as human beings, may be robots are better then us”

He thought

May be what he was seeing was quite normal, something very ordinary, But not for him.

She was bare foot, wearing black large chaddar which was torn out from different places but still her face and head was covered.

“she is coughing very severely, but why is she out then if she is so much ill”

her eyes, how hurting it was to look at them. At times you really find your heart heavy and painful, pain just not for writing but the real pain. His heart was heavy and yes he felt pain in it just because he had a glance at those eyes telling a long story of suffering and misery.

……………..

Her plight was quite evident form her face but at the same time she appeared to be quite timid.

“Shall I ask her for any help which in case I may rent to her?”

“No, I guess she belongs to that breed of human beings who can die in hunger but their self respect never allows them to go out and scream for help”

Her young child was constantly pulling her Kurta and was constantly projecting his hands towards the giant fridge of drinks, uttering in a low, innocent and mournful voice

“ami ….juice …..ami …ami ”

His voice slowly died out, the silence of her mother made him clear that his desire will not be fulfilled.

“That is not for us, it has been made for the ruthless and rich bunch of people around you”

He thought she wanted to say this to her child but he was too young to understand that human beings have classes …and they belong to the poor class.

But he could overlook the tears in the eyes of that young child. He quickly went across to the counter and whispered to Qasim bhai.

“Qasim bhai what ever that women takes, charge her only with 25% of the money and give her a packet of juice with a gesture that its free with the medicine you took”

For an instance Qasim bhai gave him a weird look

“Obviously am going to pay the rest, don’t worry for that”

He started following her. It was not something he was doing unintentionally, he even didn’t have any reason for what he was doing, but still he couldn’t stop himself. His feet seem to be no more under his control.

It was a long walk.

“She has got nice stamina, I wonder how am going to go back”

They crossed different streets, they turned many rights, many lefts, crossed many intersections

“Shit I lost my north”

 He didn’t know in which direction they were going. This colony where ever they were was quite randomly constructed. He was quite badezelled by the way the people were living in that place.

At last she stopped in front of a small corroded steel gate and went inside.

“She didn’t even lock her home”

Locks serve to people who have homes, and this structure does not seem to be one.

Every inch of that place added to her grief-stricken condition, though the place was not more then few inches. Dirt and filth around the corroded steel gate added to the misery of that place.

He lifted his right hand to knock the door.

“But what am I going to do”

He kept standing there, still thinking.

Suddenly he noticed that the sun had completely dawned and his surrounding was as dark as the life in that place. He looked at the narrow passage which he had followed to come to that place.

“I don’t have much time, short leave will expire in next couple of hours and I have a boat to catch”

While standing at Kemari jetty waiting for his boat he thought that there are hundreds of such stories around us, thousands of such young women with dreadful tales of lives and millions of young children dying of hunger.

“Despite of all this, life never stops”

Boat from Pakistan naval academy left the jetty after the cadets hastened into it. It was again heading back towards the academy. After all

“Life has to go on ” 

LEARN AND LIVE