MURGHA AUR MULLA !!

Kahani zara purani hai, koi 3 ya 4 saal nae, bilkay thori zyada purani. Jab mai chota tha, ye nae k ab mera shumar bari umer k logo mai hota hai, abi b ham chotay hi hain aur rang barang ki PARYU^n aur TITT^LIUn mai khelna abi b hamai bohat pasand hai, par oss waqt ..

ham zara zyada chotay the.

 Aur itnay masoom k TITT-liu say ulfat ka hamain pata nae tha, jab kahin koi dikhi mu mor lia. Ab sochtay hain

Haye zalim kuon kia, na oss waqt TITTliun ko yun masalltay na ab hamara bagh ujra hota. Han tw kahani hai Jhelum ki. Subah k 4 bje, nanna abby khullay aasmaan k nechay, apnay nano abu k ghar ki chatt par, aik palang par para soo raha tha. Raat najanay kab taray gintay gintay osay nend aa gai. Taray – jo oss k liye baray dil-chasp the. Karachi jesay shehar jahan  awal tw khula asmaan dekhna naseeb kam hi hota hai, aur agr hoo jae tw taray nahi dikhtay, oss k liye ye aik dil-chasp khel hi tha. Sehar ka waqt ho chuka tha aur dore ufaq par halki halki safaidi andhera mai apni jaga bana rahi thi.

Nanna abby khuwabo mai TITTliun ko kuchalnay mai masroof tha k achanak awaz ai …..

KUKKROO KAROOn ….

KUKKROO KAROOn …….

Wo harbra kar oth gaya, chatt say nechay sehan mai jhank kar dekha to baba ji k murghiun k kandhan k becho beach, aik murgha apnay seena tanay, gala phar phar kar chilla raha tha

KUKKROO KAROOn ….

KUKKROO KAROOn….

Koi 6 murghiun k beach mai aik murgha seena tanay baray fakhar say subah ki Azan day raha tha, aur  ass pas ki murghian ASHK bhari nighahoo^n say osay dekh rahi thien.

“kia khush qismat murgha hai, kam bakht ko aik sath 6 murghia mili hain, ab show mar raha hai”

Wo ye soch hi raha tha k babi ji andarooni kamray say bahir nikal ae.

“Abdullah betay oth gaye, a jao shabash fajar ka waqt hoo gaya hai. Chalo ao ham tmhain masjid lay kar chaltay hain”.

“Baba g laikin aapko kesay pata k fajar ka waqt hoo gaya hai, abi azaan tw nae howi.”

“Beta yahan say masjid thori dore hai aur wahan bijli ka masla hai, laikin murgha bilkul waqt par Azan deta hai aur ham isse say othtay hain”

Wo apnay nana abu k sath ghar say bahir masjid ki janib chal para. Wo hairan tha k kesay bhala aik murghay ki Azan par sab log jag gaye the. Bahir chehal pehal shru hoo chuki thi, jo log Masjid mai janay say qasir the wo apnay kamo ki taraf ja rahay the, zindagi wahan jag othi thi, AIK MURGHAY KI AZAN say.

KUKKROO KAROOn say ……

Aj 13 saal k bd mai aksar yaad karta hun k kuch tw waja hai, k hamaray yahan MULLA loudspeakers par rozanay fajr par Azan detay hain, par najanay kuon phir b Awaz nae ati, aur ati hai tw wo taseer nae hoti  bistar say nikal kar Masjid ki janib qadam bhar jain.

Akhir koi tw waja hai. Naam nehaad MULLA jin ki waja say hamain Deen-e-Islam mai mukammal tor par dakhil ho jana chahiye, ham inhain dekh kar otna hi dore bhagtay hain. Lambi lambi dharian, dil^o mai Quran ki ayaat hifz kiye, hath mai tasbeeh pakray jab ye masjid say bahir nikaltay hain tw kuon ham inn par rashk nae kartay. Jhoot , dhooka, faraib, nafrat ki barzargi, firqa wariat aur na janay kia kia phila kar inn logo nay hamaray dil^o say Sunnat pori karnay ki Arzo hi khattam kar di hai.

Jinhain hamaray liye mashl-e-rah hona chahiye wohi diye bhujha rahay hain tw phr kesay abby ko MULLa ki Azaan par jag ae.

Jabhi  osay ye mehsoos hota hai k

MULLA KI AZAAN AUR MURGHAY KI AUR ..........

LIGHT A LAMP FOR IT IS THE DARK HOUR.: PEACE, IS IT A REAL SOLUTION TO OUR MISERIES?

LIGHT A LAMP FOR IT IS THE DARK HOUR.: PEACE, IS IT A REAL SOLUTION TO OUR MISERIES?: Peace, is it a real solution ?? I never intended scrabbling the nib of my pen on my note pad, transforming ink into words which were to pro...

PEACE, IS IT A REAL SOLUTION TO OUR MISERIES?

Peace, is it a real solution ??

I never intended scrabbling the nib of my pen on my note pad, transforming ink into words which were to projectile into a writing which to some might meant nothing but a path which leads to such dark holes where one might not find any ray of hope and joy. But my fury rose to such level of cataclysm that I had no other option but to be a subservient of my thoughts. I came back home after a long time for a short period of time and found fire and smoke rolling in eyes of every common man around me. I was restless, for that my entire subordination of will, desires and life for my land is doing nothing fruitful. Worried and stressed, for every drop of innocent blood which drops on this land, I tuned in t.v and thought of having currency of the situation. Scrolling down through the channels I got my attention caught by the news caster of Geo news. The news being shown was of salman khan’s new movie Body guard. It was a kind of promo of his movie, such promos which have been a part of our media’s new strategy under the so called campaign of “Aman ki Asha”.

Apart from what harm this campaign is bringing about in our societal values and youth, as that is not the scope of this discussion neither I want to sound a pessimist, rather my concern is just about this so much uttered and discussed word from almost half of a decade, PEACE.

To find an answer I went to the very beginning of the advent of mankind into this world. Since the creation of man in heavens and refusal of Satan to bow and accept Hazrat Adam A.I as a superior, the good and evil got their birth and thus the war began……between forces of evil and good will. Since the very first day till to date their never had been a complete peace, man has always been fighting around the globe, drove by the same forces of good and evil and we all know that the stronger of these survived and the weaker, victimized. Human beings always had two wings, both opposing each other and thus the fight continue and it will continue till the expiry of this world. There only can be one condition in which there can be an eternal peace, the supremacy of one of the wing over the other in such a way that the victim could never raise or think of opposing the vanquisher. You have to decide your place in one of the wing…good or evil, so what are you going to do, either you will join the stronger of them be it any for your survival or you will join the good ones and strive to make it superior.

The world has entered into a new era where the fight after going throw many forms has transformed into many faces, Power politics, media warfare, economic monopoly, intelligence games and the cry for bringing about the peace. We see that the nation so called the world super power is out all large on the mission of bringing about the peace but has caused more killings and sufferings than ever, victimizing only the weaker nations. It is just like being in a fool’s paradise and dreaming about peace which can never be until you make yourself strong enough to defend. The call for peace is just like doses of chloroform, drugging deep into our veins, pampering us to take and nap till a time when the enemy will be on our heads, banging our doors and their we will we…..watching SALMAN’S KHAN, BODY GUARD.

Do you remember, there was once upon a time KASHMIR banay ga PAKISTAN. Where have those slogans gone…that cry and promises of unity gone? Died under the songs of BODY GUARD. It’s been a long time since ANGAAR WADI was last telecasted as now its time for watching BODY GUARD in a 3-D cinema with you girl friend. Every day your Muslim mothers, brothers and sisters are being slaughtered and hammered and where are you? Busy in updating your status. And yes am sure that you are so busy that after reading first 3- 4 lines of this writing you will close the browser down, as it’s not amusing or thrilling. But I can’t let this go for some one has to shout for all those who are suffering, some one has to resist. I decide to join the good wing, what is your decision?

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.