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Monday, September 21, 2009

Eid Mubarak

. Monday, September 21, 2009
12 eulogies





On this day of festivities and joy, I extend wholehearted greetings to all my fellow bloggers, let this day be the harbinger of love and laughter...May the festival of joy and peace bring cheer and gladness to our hearts...Aameen!!!
Eid Aap Sabko Bahut Bahut Mubarak Ho:)



Monday, September 14, 2009

Much Ado About A Tuft Of Hair

. Monday, September 14, 2009
8 eulogies

Four and a half months ago, I wrote " Me Taliban " post in a state of absolute disgust. I could not fathom how such mindless religious profiling could be demonstrated from the highest echelons of justice in the country.

To his credit, Justice Markandey Katju later apologized for his ill-informed remarks and then a week ago, a modicum of justice and sense finally prevailed and the Supreme Court advocated Nirmala Convent to reinstate the student, Md. Salim, back to school. Shooting down the conduct of the school the Supreme Court termed it "ridiculous" and thereby upheld Salim's plea of being allowed to sport a beard in school.

However, this is just a moral victory against the abysmal racial and religious profiling taking place on a daily basis in this nation. Yes, Salim may have been allowed to sport his beard in school but there are many who face similar issues and are subjected to idiotic rulings stemming from deep rooted bias.

I can recount many similar stories without even striving to remember, yes...they are that common.

### A friend's cousin sister went to this convent school to undergo a course in teacher training. 2 days in to the course, and she was summoned by the Headmistress to her cabin and told in no uncertain terms that she would either have to leave the course or give up her usual dress. What was unusual about her dress, she was wearing a hijab. The fact that the headmistress herself was a nun, wearing an almost similar dress raises disturbing questions about whether the school discipline was at stake or was it something entirely different. 

### An MBA graduate filed an application for a passport. He had all his documents in absolute order. Yet three times in succession, his application form was rejected. Despaired yet undaunted, he filed a fourth time on which, some days later he got a call from the Passport issuing authority of the state himself to meet him in his office. there the man told him, "Son, just shave off your beard and your passport will be issued within a month. You see, the world is not afraid of mullahs and moulvis, it is afraid of young minds like yourselves who could turn to terror." Obviously, for the Passport issuing authority a bearded young boy with a certain name is evidence enough to considering him as a potential terrorist.

### An acquaintance working in a reputed international organization started keeping a beard for some reasons. Less than a week later, he was asked a series of questions by his manager ranging from "what prompted you to keep a beard?" to "are you undergoing some religious/philosophic education?". And finally, in no uncertain terms was told to shave off his beard as it was breeding a "sense of uncomfortability" among the  rest of the staff.

These are not mere exceptional incidences but are rather the norm which occur with disturbing regularity. Swept under the carpet mostly or usually labeled under "actions done to maintain the discipline" of the organization, such occurrences highlight the growing sense of intolerance with respect to symbols of a certain section of the nation.

There was this debate on NDTV moderated by Barkha Dutt where this ex army general kept on harping about how some institutions were above the rule of the constitution and should be allowed to formulate their own set of rules. He was of course referring to the army's explicit denial of anyone being allowed to sport a beard except if you are a Sikh. Now, the first question which arises is what's different between a Sikh's beard and a Muslim's beard. Why these different yardsticks. The second question which comes to mind is how the bloody hell does a tuft of hair on one's chin in any way affect his gun toting displays for the army. How can a beard be of any consequence in a profession which requires bravery, spirit, nationalism and professionalism. Hard to fathom.

Another growing belief is that of equating the beard to religious fundamentalism and terrorism in that order. For this belief I have just a couple of disdainful lines.

How many of the 9/11 bombers were bearded. Go check.
How many of the 26/11 terrorists were bearded. Again, go check.

I end this post with a sense of hope still in ,my heart that such blatant religious profiling can be exterminated from the very roots in this nation. The Supreme Court's verdict on the Md. Salim case gives me that hope and I would like to congratulate the Supreme court for it's logical and very needed observations.

I do wonder though, why so much ado about a fistful of hair:(

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Life No More

. Thursday, September 03, 2009
16 eulogies




Shrouded in a mist
Clouded by fate
The sky of my dreams
is beyond the gate

Amidst the transparent hue
It gives me a view
Of the canvas I painted
Which somehow got tainted

I wonder what that is
Those black lines across the art
Are they tears mixed with pain
Or did I use black paint

Where are the colors
Those strokes of valor
The outline and the shimmer
Alas, there is no glimmer

Nonchalantly it tells me
" You will now see
The canvas get ruptured
The dream get butchered "

At the altar of life
Hope is forfeited
No longer a dream
Is left to be greeted

Amidst this ritual
Where life tore the fabric
The killing is mutual
Life too is vanquished

As I fall into the abyss
Perhaps never to return
On my lips is a final wish
To once more see the sun

Can I wipe off the stains
Can I gather the remains
Washing away the guilt
Can I unfracture what I built




Thursday, August 27, 2009

Karoge Yaad To...

. Thursday, August 27, 2009
16 eulogies

Prescript:-  
This is a follow up from Amit aka Hopeless Romantic's When Love Signed On A Blank Cheque ... Please give it a read before reading this...it definitely is worth your time.
For the lazy ones, here's a summary..... Garima and Nitin were to be married but on the night before the marriage Nitin was struck by a celebratory bullet which killed him. Garima is left to ponder on her cruel fate.

 
  
 
Garima stood in her balcony gazing into nothingness. The night which was to be the witness of their togetherness had chosen a different path. A twisted fate had come and drowned her into numbness, leaving nothing in it's wake but memories. Memories of a time much better, of a love eternally pure and of a bond seemingly unbreakable. Memories which refused to leave her, almost overpowering her and making her relive all of them, one by one, piece by piece almost as if she were rearranging the whole picture into a jigsaw puzzle.


Karoge yaad to har baat yaad aayegi
Guzarte waqt ki har mauj theher jaayegi


As the skies opened up to share her grief, she finally gave in. The tears finally broke through, the grief was final, the fate certain. Gazing at her mehndi adorned hands, she wondered who to blame...Was it the person who fired that gun when he could barely stand on his feet ..... was it Nitin himself for coming in the way of that shot which was not meant for him or perhaps it was that bullet which struck her love, tearing some flesh from his body and shredding their togetherness. "Mehndi ka rang jitna gehra ho rishta utna hi lamba hota hai"...as these lines came back to her she could not help but laugh a hysterical laugh at the smug slap that fate had landed on the face of traditions and hearsay.


Barasta bheegta mausam dhuan dhuan hoga
Pighalti shammon pe dil ka mere gumaan hoga
Hatheliyon ki hina yaad kuch dilaayegi


The good or perhaps bad thing about life is that it never ceases. Whatever happens, however one wishes but one wish that is never granted is for life to stop. It is always there and you have to live it. The question remained for Garima...how to live it? The answer for once was not difficult, rather it stared her in the eye...ever so bright even in the darkness of that gloomy night. Maybe it was the shimmering moonlight or Nitin's conviction which shone so brightly. What better way to live than to strive for Nitin's dream. Yes, she would build the orphanage and fulfill his most cherished wish. She would walk the path he had chosen and bring the road to it's destination. And perhaps it would help her to live.


Ye chand beete zamaanon ka aaina hoga
Bhatakte abr mein chehra koi bana hoga
Udaas raah koi daastaan sunayegi


2 years later...
The darkness of that night has somewhat receded now. Her life is now the children who live in the orphanage. Spending time with those children of misfortune, she has learnt how to live with her fate. Life is a wonderful thing nonetheless, inspite of all it's shortcomings and uncertainties...the smile on their faces and their eternal struggle to find happiness in every difficulty makes her proud. It's not that she has forgotten Nitin or the cruelty of fate...she often remembers it even now and always it still brings a moistness in the corners. Running around and playing with the children, sometimes inadvertently when her glance falls on the pathway...there still rises a momentary hope that Nitin may walk through the door, that the hand of fate may just have been a joke. These reveries are soon broken though, what with everyone pulling her from all sides and filling her ears with a cacophony of laughter.


Gali ke mod pe soona sa koi darwaza
Tarasti aankhon se rasta kisi ka dekhega
Nigaah door talak jaake laut aayegi






P.S.  Yours truly has been nominated for IndiBlogger of the Month August 2009 under "Original Literature - Short Stories ... To everyone who visits here,please someone just go and give me one vote. I do not under any circumstances want to start and end the voting at zilch (0). 
Visit here to oblige. 




Monday, August 24, 2009

Greetings, Awards, Birthday and Randomness

. Monday, August 24, 2009
16 eulogies

God, it's been ages since I wrote something @ Sepulchre...am sure the dude's feeling neglected n et all being the equivalent of a drama queen that it is:P

Where have I been this past week...no posts here, no comments on any of your blogs though i have read some of your posts...well, I've been a bit busy and a bit nonchalant about this space. busy in designing and creating another blog which is solely dedicated to the greatest club in the world Manchester United. The blog is now up and running and my personal opinion is that it has come out pretty well for starters. You could have a look at Mancunian Mavericks ... yes that's what it's named "Mancunian Mavericks":)

About the nonchalance part, well was not really feeling up to writing anything, dunno but this is a feeling which is gripping me too often for my liking...am I falling out of love with this space, I hope not coz I really love it here....contradictions, bloody contradictions complicating dear old life:(

Back to the blogosphere, I need to thank and acknowledge the wonderful souls that Stephen of The Solitary Writer and Princess Nuchu of Angel Of Darkness are....these guys have awarded me and for me awards are always "the more, the merrier":)

Ste of course celebrated his 150th post and doled out awards and I consider myself very lucky to be part of his awardee list. He's a great guy, full of humor and fun...writes well especially good fiction.

Princess Nuchu aka Nusrath reached the milestone of 100 posts and celebrated it with awards galore and yours truly was lucky again:) Nusrath is someone I have just started following and as far as I can conclude far from being an Angel of Darkness, she's actually a sweet fairy...writes nice and new styles of poems...and btw, I just love her nickname Nuchu, it's cho cute n all:)

Heartfelt thanks to both of them... *cheers*

Btw...folks Blogger has turned 10 and celebrating this milestone it's going to launch some new added features. A big thank you to Google for this amazing initiative which has given all of us a platform to share our thoughts. 
Happy Birthday Blogger:)



The holy month of Ramzan has come visiting and greetings to everyone!!!
Till the next time, c ya fellas:)


P.S. Hopping on to some of your pages, may not be able to read all the pending posts so forgive me for those I  miss:(





Saturday, August 15, 2009

(I)...(I)ndia...(I)ndependent

. Saturday, August 15, 2009
18 eulogies

The clock has struck 00:00 hrs and the date on the calendar has changed to 15th of August...a special day for everyone out there called an Indian. The very date on which this identity was forged is here again...it's been 62 years now since that fateful night when Indianness became a word in the consciousness of the people of this country and it's been a ride, for sure.

I remember that last year I had written a post on this very day which was so like in character to India itself...in that post I had highlighted the issues we face as well as commented on the progress that we had achieved as a nation. It was a grey post in the sense that the glass was both half full and half empty depending on how you look at it. I had ended that post holding the shining beacon of hope in my hand and I have absolutely no intention of repeating my words with a little bit of shuffling.



So today I am just going to list out a few points which remind me everyday of being independent and of not being the same

  • When I can write here whatever I feel like, without even a whiff of a thought for the world and it's opinion I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can, with a switch of my remote, mute the voice of hate and blind the sight of perverseness, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can walking on the road, look a girl in the eye and make her feel beautiful, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can look someone thrice my age and experience and knowledge in the eye and tell him that I disagree with his thinking, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can offer my prayers in a congregation with a poor tea seller on one side and a business tycoon on the other, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can feel the moistness in the corner of the eyes on hearing Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I have a look at the beaming faces of the students that I teach on successfully solving a sum, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can swoon to Comfortably Numb one moment and croon Hoshwalon Ko Khabar Kya the other, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can stand in front of anyone and speak exactly what I want to, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I cheer a six off the bat of Yuvi one moment and leap in joy at Manchester United scoring against anyone:D, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I can still see that black ink mark on the index finger of my left hand, I am reminded of being independent.
  • When I know what am writing now will be read by people wh I may probably never meet, I am reminded of being independent.

These are just some of the reasons/incidents/actions which keep reminding me every moment of being independent, of living life as a free individual and of knowing that I have an opinion which I can put forth.

I am sure all of you have many such reasons...do share them with all of us.

So this Independence Day, think not of the issues and problems that we as a nation face...there are 364 and 1/4th other days to do that, rather today think of the privilege and pleasure of being independent and soak in this independent air we breathe.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY



P.S. Happy Independence Day to all the people of Pakistan, our midnight brothers and sisters.

P.P.S. Please go and watch KAMINEY...it's a treat if there ever was:)




Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Shades Of Rain~~~Angst

. Tuesday, August 11, 2009
19 eulogies

There is something magnetically attractive between a heavy drizzle and a longing heart...they almost tend to coincide magically...some call it destiny while others call it nature's way of compassion. It will possibly be never ascertained whether the despair inside a throbbing fist sized organ has any remote connection with the encompassing sky giving vent to it's share of load but forever unto eternity the tale of a despairing heart will never be complete without a major mention of the skies tears.

As the rain drops kiss the face and rummage the hair, the self involuntarily goes in a reverie.....while the soothing drops are the harbinger of reliving moments long forgotten, of emotions long buried and of words unspoken.....the ferocity of the same brings back the harshness of life to the fore. A passage of time is relived, a person who was more than self is remembered and a bond which seemed destined is thought of.



The puddles on the road act as a mirror...you can see your whole life in those liquid crystals, they show you those times and the mistakes which you made, but more than anything it shows you that face which was once your mirror and which will always be your life. It reminds you of what could have been, tells you in no uncertain terms what is now and gives you an insight of what it should actually be like. The puddle...it acts as the reflection of your heart, telling you your dreams and your fears.

When the wet hands feel clammy, you start to miss those palms which would once hold your hands, when you fell your wet face you can make out the moist tears which you shed, when the chill sets in you remember the warmth of her embrace and there is not one single thing you can do about it all.



As the water seeps into your very soul the heart weeps out louder than ever, crying out for it's beloved and calling it's soul...the only one who can ever complete him. It sings a song, one of despair and gloom, of angst and remorse, of love and life...and hopes that the wind may carry his voice to her, the rain may carry his tears and time could once again be turned back.

Tera naam maine liya hai yahan
Mujhe yaad tune kiya hai wahan
Bade zor ki aaj barsaat hai
Nahin saamne yeh alag baat hai
Mere paas hai tu, mere paas hai
Mere saath hai, mere saath hai



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Fodder For Thought

A conscience is what hurts when all other parts of your body feel good.

An eye for an eye may make the whole world blind but it's non application will surely lead to the first person becoming blind.

Why be normal when you can be yourself.

If the world wound not suck we would all have fallen off long before.

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Sepulchre Of High Hopes by Saim is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

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