Though I have always been found of Cartoons and the favorite till day are Tom & Jerry. Recently I had the Opportunity to see Curious George, it brought back my childhood memories. Curiosity is something I am born with, rather blessed with from my childhood. Watching Curious George, who is a Monkey and comes out of every situation harmless was a instant tour of my past. Curious George manages to teach kids a lesson but I was not as lucky as this Monkey. I remember the price I had paid for my curiosity and feel lucky that my curious nature has not pushed me over the edge, well....... it still exists and who knows when....
I was seven years of age, but It always felt like if I was 25, which I clinged on to for a while till my wife kept reminding me that I have passed 25 a while ago, but I still feel no older then 26.
It was a sunny bright day and I was on summer vacation with my grandparents, they had lots of cows and all kind of exotic animals. They all lived harmoniously in a large cattle house, it was nothing like a shed but a large bungalow subdivided into different zone which I enjoyed visiting every evening as a ritual to say good night to all of them.
I was found of a bull who was just two years old, I had seen him previous year when he was born but now he was little big bull, I thought he was my friend.
It was early morning and the grazers were getting ready to take the cattle out for Grazing.
I had been insisting to walk the Little Bull, every one advised me against it but I was curious. Why they do not want me to hold the rope of the Bull? They all had to give up in front of my unbending curiosity, so they roped the little bull and told me to hold on to the rope tight and walk along. I was excited, happy and was feeling a real cow boy, but my Imaginary world came crashing down as son as the little bull took off; I am not sure what happen to the little bull but he started running, the rope was in my hand but a large part of it was still on ground around me. I had all the plans to use my muscle power to stop the bull but before I could use my hands and shoulder power to pull the rope I saw my legs going forward and up in he air, the rope was entangled around my legs, now it was scene from a classic comedy, little bull was running and I was not running after, but was being dragged right behind, this little bull went through the whole village robbing me of my dignity and curiosity. Finally I got out of the entanglement but not before loosing back of my shirt along with some skin and the back of my pants was completely missing.
To my surprise whole village was behind be in solidarity, they were really concerned but could not stop laughing, I want to laugh too but I was in quite a bit of pain form all the bums and pebbles on my way. I was too proud to admit that I was hurting, so I picked myself to a big laughter, I tried to check my wallet in the back pocket, there was no pocket... hmmmm I swear I had pants on but now just the front... so some one handed me a Shawl (A large piece of cloth) to rap around. After hearing the exciting adventure one of my uncle who came running behind carried me and took me to the doctor and I was instructed not to sit properly for at least a month, so I had the chance to see the world from a different angle/ perspective.
Now when I am a father, It gives extra precaution alarming bells when my little one tries to pull a Curious George one me!
May be curious George would remind me some others similar incidents in near future and I can write them down In case my curiosity knocks me over the edge in future then my son would enjoy reading some of it.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
A Tale of Two Nations
Not sure why am I missing my Grand mother, May be the rainy day forces me to think of things which often a bright sunny day takes away from you!!
My Grandmother was kind and wonderful women! she has seen tough days in her life, especially when Pakistan was carved out of India, many people know it as a partition of India Pakistan which begin after the British Empire was some what forced to leave India. People were Happy!!! after all it was freedom after many Centuries (Little they knew that they will become slaves to politicians). My Grandmother who lived in a village was very happy to know that finally freedom was on their way, She was a young women with three children eldest being 6 years and youngest a year Old, mood was jubilant every where. Joy came with a limited life as the Gossip was that Muslims were demanding a separate Nation of their own.
Kashmir being the center of Civilization where people from different religions lived for centuries without much religious and cultural differences, in fact their culture begin and ended with Kashmiriat which had no room for violence. It was all going to end, as the religion has taken over the cultural heritage of Kashmir and Muslims (not all) were blood thirsty for any one who was not a Muslim so the saga of Murders, rape, Arson begin with a large contingent of Kabali (Tribals from West Pakistan) assisted by the newly formed government of Pakistan, advanced to capture the Valley of Kashmir. They had clear instruction to invade it any cost and the cost for this was the lives of Innocent women, children and helpless parents.
My Grandfather was in India Army and was posted in Srinagar which is little over 100 miles away from the villagee, there was no connectivity by road, My Grandfathers Brother packed all of his family and loaded them on the horses and left for Srinagar, My Grandmother had gone to fields as usual and by the time she got back half of the village had left for the safer destinations, She was disoriented and did not knew what to do as all the males of the immediately family were gone with all the valuables, she was left with 2 children, a Year old and a Three year old. Few villagers who were still there with a hope that everything was going to be alright but soon they discovered that large groups of Sikhs (sikhnet.com) were coming down the Hills and moving towards Srinagar, They were warning everyone to pack and move as the Tribals have started killing all the Sikhs on their way and they were the lucky ones who could save their lives, they shared the sob stories of their survival as Tribal were not only looting their properties and wealth but also raped young and old alike, some Sikhs fought for their pride but were done to death while the rest were sent on horse backs to inform the Sikhs on the way to head to safer places.
After listening this almost all the villagers decided to Pack and head towards Srinagar including my Grand mother. She was carrying two children and tracking hills to save her two little ones. Being a women and weak she was not able to keep up with group so every group kept passing her. She remembers and mentioned that those were said the terrible days, " People wanted to help you but they were helpless as every one was trying hard to save their loved ones" she mentioned that a group of Sikhs who came face to face with Tribal on a hillock fought them furiously but they were too few and just had few swords against the guns, so they were all chopped to pieces and the women and girls were raped and killed, My grandmother was fortunate to slide of a large hill to save herself and two kids. She was lost had little sense of direction, was hungry, kids were thirsty, she kept walking following the stars and moon. She mentioned that her 3 year old was very wise and would walk a little but walking miles and miles was a daunting job for those little legs, so my grandmother had to carry both of them, she walked she ran without rest whole evening and night.
She finally found a group of people next to the bank of a river resting from the all day and night walk, she was relived she went towards the river on reaching the bank she found it to be steep so she told her 3 year old to hide behind the bush and not move till she gets back with the water. She went down to quench her thirst but her heart to stopped to the familiar cries, it was group of Kublai Muslims along with locals who attacked the tired and resting group, all were killed except few who were left dead but woke up with hand or limbs, She was scared for her 3 year old who was hiding right above the clif, she knew he was very obedient and she will find him right behind the Bush after all the Mehim was over.
She gathered her courage to come out of the river, she saw bodies of men and women chopped into Pieces some were still alive without arms and legs while the rest were headless. she started looking for her son behind the bushes but could not find him anywhere, she stayed whole night looking for him in the same area. She searched all the dead bodies to see if the three year old was killed by the hate mongers, In the process she found a five year old and a three year old sobbing girls who were sitting right next to the dead bodies of their parents.
My Grandmother was tired of looking for her son and finally decided to head on towards Srinagar to save 1 year old son and two girls who were left behind. She kept tracking despite the fact she was hungry thirsty and carrying almost three kids and all alone. On her Journey towards safety and peace she saw an old Muslim man, it was early in the morning and she started crying knowing that this would be the end of all of them, she had almost surrendered but to her surprise the Muslim man took her to a vegetable field and told her to hide there for the day time or she along with kids might get killed. He was helpless to provide her any food but told her she can eat any amount of vegetables and fruits from the field. He was sympathetic and regretted what people were doing on the name of religion. My grandmother along with three kids hid themselves inside the hay, they could see groups of looters moving towards Srinagar, it was understood they were going to take over Kashmir from the Princely state of Jammu and Kashmir. They were all hungry but survived on green vegetables and water, whenever 1 year old was crying she would close his mouth. They made it through the day and started their journey to the safe city or Srinagar. She tracked whole night all by herself along with the kids and made it to Srinagar.
My Grandfather was waiting and he had almost lost the hope of her survival as almost every one else has reached Srinagar and no one had seen my Grandmother on their way. Millions of people were killed so it was obvious to loose hope.
She barely made it to Srinagar where Indian Army was stationed to receive all the refugees, seeing them she felt safer and collapsed, My grandfather was there and he took her to relatives home in Srinagar. My Grandfather never asked her about the Three year old but when my Mom was born they named her after the three year old.
I remember she always had his name on her tongue, even she would call me by his name, she had to correct herself almost everyday, she never forgot about her son though many decades have passed. whenever she started sharing that story she would cry after every 10 minutes, she was never able to tell the whole story but it came in bits and pieces. I grew up with those memories but I never saw hate in her heart for any Muslim.
Once I asked her Granny How come you are so kind to all these workers (who were all Muslims) she replied I wonder if Kulla (her son) is still alive and converted to Islam by People who saved him?
She lived a happy life of 85 years with a nail in middle of her heart which was the Gift of India and Pakistan to Millions of People who lost their loved ones in the hateful air of Partition.
She would always say if her son is alive he be 60 years old he would have his own kids, I wish I can see him just once and tears roll down her eyes. She made sure to celebrate each of his birthday by Distributing sweets in the temple. She never had desire to go back to the area where she lost her beloved son but she always went there with a hope that may be he will be still there even when she was 80, almost 55 years after the partition.
This is just a lonely story of my grandmother there are hundreds and millions of such untold stories which were never told. I hope all those who could not live together in this world because of the religious differences can live in the other world with peace and Harmony.
My Grandmother was kind and wonderful women! she has seen tough days in her life, especially when Pakistan was carved out of India, many people know it as a partition of India Pakistan which begin after the British Empire was some what forced to leave India. People were Happy!!! after all it was freedom after many Centuries (Little they knew that they will become slaves to politicians). My Grandmother who lived in a village was very happy to know that finally freedom was on their way, She was a young women with three children eldest being 6 years and youngest a year Old, mood was jubilant every where. Joy came with a limited life as the Gossip was that Muslims were demanding a separate Nation of their own.
Kashmir being the center of Civilization where people from different religions lived for centuries without much religious and cultural differences, in fact their culture begin and ended with Kashmiriat which had no room for violence. It was all going to end, as the religion has taken over the cultural heritage of Kashmir and Muslims (not all) were blood thirsty for any one who was not a Muslim so the saga of Murders, rape, Arson begin with a large contingent of Kabali (Tribals from West Pakistan) assisted by the newly formed government of Pakistan, advanced to capture the Valley of Kashmir. They had clear instruction to invade it any cost and the cost for this was the lives of Innocent women, children and helpless parents.
My Grandfather was in India Army and was posted in Srinagar which is little over 100 miles away from the villagee, there was no connectivity by road, My Grandfathers Brother packed all of his family and loaded them on the horses and left for Srinagar, My Grandmother had gone to fields as usual and by the time she got back half of the village had left for the safer destinations, She was disoriented and did not knew what to do as all the males of the immediately family were gone with all the valuables, she was left with 2 children, a Year old and a Three year old. Few villagers who were still there with a hope that everything was going to be alright but soon they discovered that large groups of Sikhs (sikhnet.com) were coming down the Hills and moving towards Srinagar, They were warning everyone to pack and move as the Tribals have started killing all the Sikhs on their way and they were the lucky ones who could save their lives, they shared the sob stories of their survival as Tribal were not only looting their properties and wealth but also raped young and old alike, some Sikhs fought for their pride but were done to death while the rest were sent on horse backs to inform the Sikhs on the way to head to safer places.
After listening this almost all the villagers decided to Pack and head towards Srinagar including my Grand mother. She was carrying two children and tracking hills to save her two little ones. Being a women and weak she was not able to keep up with group so every group kept passing her. She remembers and mentioned that those were said the terrible days, " People wanted to help you but they were helpless as every one was trying hard to save their loved ones" she mentioned that a group of Sikhs who came face to face with Tribal on a hillock fought them furiously but they were too few and just had few swords against the guns, so they were all chopped to pieces and the women and girls were raped and killed, My grandmother was fortunate to slide of a large hill to save herself and two kids. She was lost had little sense of direction, was hungry, kids were thirsty, she kept walking following the stars and moon. She mentioned that her 3 year old was very wise and would walk a little but walking miles and miles was a daunting job for those little legs, so my grandmother had to carry both of them, she walked she ran without rest whole evening and night.
She finally found a group of people next to the bank of a river resting from the all day and night walk, she was relived she went towards the river on reaching the bank she found it to be steep so she told her 3 year old to hide behind the bush and not move till she gets back with the water. She went down to quench her thirst but her heart to stopped to the familiar cries, it was group of Kublai Muslims along with locals who attacked the tired and resting group, all were killed except few who were left dead but woke up with hand or limbs, She was scared for her 3 year old who was hiding right above the clif, she knew he was very obedient and she will find him right behind the Bush after all the Mehim was over.
She gathered her courage to come out of the river, she saw bodies of men and women chopped into Pieces some were still alive without arms and legs while the rest were headless. she started looking for her son behind the bushes but could not find him anywhere, she stayed whole night looking for him in the same area. She searched all the dead bodies to see if the three year old was killed by the hate mongers, In the process she found a five year old and a three year old sobbing girls who were sitting right next to the dead bodies of their parents.
My Grandmother was tired of looking for her son and finally decided to head on towards Srinagar to save 1 year old son and two girls who were left behind. She kept tracking despite the fact she was hungry thirsty and carrying almost three kids and all alone. On her Journey towards safety and peace she saw an old Muslim man, it was early in the morning and she started crying knowing that this would be the end of all of them, she had almost surrendered but to her surprise the Muslim man took her to a vegetable field and told her to hide there for the day time or she along with kids might get killed. He was helpless to provide her any food but told her she can eat any amount of vegetables and fruits from the field. He was sympathetic and regretted what people were doing on the name of religion. My grandmother along with three kids hid themselves inside the hay, they could see groups of looters moving towards Srinagar, it was understood they were going to take over Kashmir from the Princely state of Jammu and Kashmir. They were all hungry but survived on green vegetables and water, whenever 1 year old was crying she would close his mouth. They made it through the day and started their journey to the safe city or Srinagar. She tracked whole night all by herself along with the kids and made it to Srinagar.
My Grandfather was waiting and he had almost lost the hope of her survival as almost every one else has reached Srinagar and no one had seen my Grandmother on their way. Millions of people were killed so it was obvious to loose hope.
She barely made it to Srinagar where Indian Army was stationed to receive all the refugees, seeing them she felt safer and collapsed, My grandfather was there and he took her to relatives home in Srinagar. My Grandfather never asked her about the Three year old but when my Mom was born they named her after the three year old.
I remember she always had his name on her tongue, even she would call me by his name, she had to correct herself almost everyday, she never forgot about her son though many decades have passed. whenever she started sharing that story she would cry after every 10 minutes, she was never able to tell the whole story but it came in bits and pieces. I grew up with those memories but I never saw hate in her heart for any Muslim.
Once I asked her Granny How come you are so kind to all these workers (who were all Muslims) she replied I wonder if Kulla (her son) is still alive and converted to Islam by People who saved him?
She lived a happy life of 85 years with a nail in middle of her heart which was the Gift of India and Pakistan to Millions of People who lost their loved ones in the hateful air of Partition.
She would always say if her son is alive he be 60 years old he would have his own kids, I wish I can see him just once and tears roll down her eyes. She made sure to celebrate each of his birthday by Distributing sweets in the temple. She never had desire to go back to the area where she lost her beloved son but she always went there with a hope that may be he will be still there even when she was 80, almost 55 years after the partition.
This is just a lonely story of my grandmother there are hundreds and millions of such untold stories which were never told. I hope all those who could not live together in this world because of the religious differences can live in the other world with peace and Harmony.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Down the Memory Lane
Once the most respected and beloved singer of Urdu Gazal Mehdi Hassan Khan who was born in India and became part of Pakistan after the partition on 1947 but he was always a beloved singer in both countries, He not only contributed to the advancement of Urdu language but also infused soul into the poetry of legendry and ordinary alike. I have seen him when you wish if you could just sit in front of him and listen to his soul jolting poems, but it was not that easy... thanks to the advancement of Media, we were always able to see him perform and of course his albums were in plenty. He struggled hard from his early age for the recognition. I wonder if he was not found we would have lost a legend in the dark allies of Karachi but thanks to Radio Pakistan who gave him a chance to sing and that lead to where poem lovers not only from India Pakistan but the likes of me who live on the remote Islands treasure his music.
My mentor and Teacher Prof. Jagan Nath Azad who was a authority on Urdu poems had mentioned that we write poems but Mehdi provides it soul to soar the heights of unimagined. Jagan Nath Azad who wrote the National Anthem of Pakistan was born in India but now Pakistan had to move to India because of the communal divide but was very much part of the Pakistani existence and culture, He lived in India but his heart was always in Pakistan.
Today when I heard of Mehdi Hassan Khan losing his memory it forces me to think even legends like Jagan Nath Azad and Mehdi Hassan has very limited time in this world, I have seen him when he was in his 40’s though I was kid but I still remember he had a full head of hair and then slowly with each season it all went downhill and the latest is that he can’t even recognize who Mehdi Hassan is or has sang that beautiful gazal but he sure does enjoy the soulful music of his own. He might not be around for a while but his contribution to Urdu and Urdu lovers will stay as long as our memories.
जीकर आया है फिर ज़माने मैं
सूचून लेख डे न फसाने मैं
याद आता नहीं के मैं क्या हूँ
बस के बजती शमा हूँ इस फसाने की
My mentor and Teacher Prof. Jagan Nath Azad who was a authority on Urdu poems had mentioned that we write poems but Mehdi provides it soul to soar the heights of unimagined. Jagan Nath Azad who wrote the National Anthem of Pakistan was born in India but now Pakistan had to move to India because of the communal divide but was very much part of the Pakistani existence and culture, He lived in India but his heart was always in Pakistan.
Today when I heard of Mehdi Hassan Khan losing his memory it forces me to think even legends like Jagan Nath Azad and Mehdi Hassan has very limited time in this world, I have seen him when he was in his 40’s though I was kid but I still remember he had a full head of hair and then slowly with each season it all went downhill and the latest is that he can’t even recognize who Mehdi Hassan is or has sang that beautiful gazal but he sure does enjoy the soulful music of his own. He might not be around for a while but his contribution to Urdu and Urdu lovers will stay as long as our memories.
जीकर आया है फिर ज़माने मैं
सूचून लेख डे न फसाने मैं
याद आता नहीं के मैं क्या हूँ
बस के बजती शमा हूँ इस फसाने की
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