The need of time

Mrs.Jamsheed was sitting in her gharden;small yet well-maintained.It was an owsum mid-March day-nor cold neither hot.Ali suddenly, out of no where appeared."Ma!you will not believe in my words.I got a job in California.Look, look at this e-mail", he said.Mrs.Jamsheed congraulated her only son on his achievement.The air seemed to be filled with happiness.For Mrs.Jamsheed, the news made her day.Afterall,who would not love to see her offspring prosperous.

However, soon the elation transformed into a severe tension for the whole family-a middle-class family of a developing country.Ali informed his parents regarding the immense expenditure for his travel and for the first few months.Mr.Jamsheed strained every nerve to gather the huge amount, but, all efforts ended in smoke.Most friends refused straight-away;others could not afford.Acquaintances and relatives, all were asked for help.Unfortunately, every effort made proved unfruitful.At the end, Ali gave the idea of selling their little home-the life-long saving of his parents.

Keeping in mind, the need of the time;they both agreed with the decision but were not happy with it.The last few weeks in their lovely abode passed in profound melancholy.To their surprise, Ali was barely affected by the situation.However, every single moment, sixty-five years in age ,Mrs Jamsheed spent in it; revolved around her mind.The nights started to pass in suppressed sobs. In a monologue, she said,"It's not that i'm a woman.How can someone forget a time period of thirty years.These walls are familiar even with my shadow".

Conversely, Ali could not let the enticing and alluring opportunity; to go like that."Who wants to live in a country where one's fate, carrer and even life hangs in balance",he replied himself when he saw his mother's condition.

It was not, until one day that he altered his opinion.When he became aware of the sacrifices made by his parent to make that 'little house'.Actaully, he got his mother's diary from a table.Without knowing that it was her personal diary, he opened it.On one of it pages, somewhat brown,it was written:

'14-4-1990

Today, Jamsheed argued with me unreasonably.For just cough and fever who visits a doctor?I told him, i cannot afford to use money for such petty needs. I want to save it for our house.And i know, i will be alright.It is just a matter of few days.'

Ali became transfixed due to severe pangs of guilt. He resembles a statue, until tears began to flow copiously flow from his black, wide eyes. Immediately, he ran towards his mother's room. She was engaged in a brown study- to her past."You must have scolded me , beaten me, rejected my demand... but you did not;why not?",while sitting in her mother's feet, he said all in a moment.Simultaneously, Mr.Jamsheed opened the door, informing Ali that property agent had arrived."For what?We are not selling our house.How can one possibly think of selling a shelter which provided warmth and is our piece of heart", Ali's showed that he had changed his decision.

Once again smile glistened on their faces. 

A choice!

Mustafa Ali was sitting in his shop-small, shabby and consisted of a very less stock. It was not the first or the last day when only a few customers would have chosen to do shopping from his little shop. Located in a narrow street of inner Lahore, Ali's shop of herbal medicines was visited by the customers once in a blue moon. The life of such a shop-keeper, in a third-world country was not hard to envisage.

Life comprising of every day’s suffering and tormentation.Mustafa Ali's wife used to complain regularly about the ever-increasing expenses of grocery, children's education, utility bills, etc. Mustafa Ali considered it as his fate, to live a cats and dog life. Once thinking about his life, a devilish plan sprouted in his mind. A plan for changing his fate .By bringing his interior monologue to a close, he said to himself, “What’s there in selling these cheap, no-profit-making herbs, blessed are those who sell something worth profit-making”. Believing that doing so would end all his troubles was the only force behind pulling him into an apparently-bright, yet a dark phase of his life.

Mustafa Ali's contacts grew rapidly in the world of selling illegal drugs. Not only selling such medicines but also importing and exporting them. As the days elapsed, so did his life changed. A huge palace, luxurious cars, abundant black balance was the result of 'diamond-like-medicines', as Ali referred to them; due to immense profit. Sitting in his garden, he thought, “i have progressed by leaps and bounds”. Unfortunately he was unaware of the horrible days which awaited him.

After a heated argument with his partner, Mustafa Ali had to separate his business. But he was unfamiliar with bitterness and envy of his partner. One, who could do such a business, could do anything to compensate for the insult he faced at the hands of Mustafa. Mustafa’s daughter became the victim of the rivalry-she was rapped by Ali's partner.

Traumatised by the incident, Mustafa became a maniac and later, paralysed and then, died. Everything ended, the huge 'Mustafa Palace' which once echoed with the sounds of music, laughter; became as silent as dead. An aura of oppressive silence wrapped it. Mrs. Mustafa’s only daughter became schizophrenic, husband died and she was left abondoned.Gazing towards the starry sky, she cried,

"I must have stopped Mustafa from doing that. Had i been a patient and supportive wife, this would not have happened. That two-room house was far better than this twelve-room. At least there lived humans. Then, those humans made God angry, he turned them into devils. Life is precious, death is a loss-but i demand the latter."

Silence

The nurse, after examining Mr.Shahid, a man of nearly an age very close to retiring, went out.Sitting beside her husband, Miss Shamim, went to shut the door, left ajar by the nurse.For last two weeks, Mr.Shahid was lying on the stretcher; in an attempt to cope up with a recent heart attack. Miss Shamim was engaged in her own brown study. A flash back towards her entire life-remembering the indelible scars left by the bitter past.

Her marriage was no different from many in our rural areas.Despite her desire to get higher education, despite her immature age- just 17; she was made a bride.Bride who was told by her mother of a peaceful married life, an extremely loving husband and all that could dillute Shamim's grief of sacrificing. In lieu of marriage to a divorced, a father of two children; her father received huge sum of money.And 'an unnecessary burden' was ended,as per her father.Afterall, who could change the perspective of our orthdox, conservative part of society.Education seems to be an exception in this regard.

Without any opposition, Shamim quietly accepted Shahid as her husband.Rather her financially much weaker family demanded this from her.Untill then she was living in a fool's paradise to anticipate a happily married life.Shahid had a quick temper and elements of Scizophrenia were also later discovered by Shamim.Then began a journey of torture, violence and restless years.

Shamim was left abondoned and alone on an island-from where there was no return. Shahid used to mercilessly beat her on petty issues, he restricted her in the boundaries of four walls of the house. The pits of domestic violence were to follow when Shamim gave birth to the twin baby girls.Shahid was of the view that daughters were a mere burden. As they need to be sent away after their marriage. Thus, sons, who cld care in old age were his preference.

Every single inhumane act of Shahid was accepted tongue-tiedly by Shamim, considering it her destiny.Neither her parents supported her nor she could become an independent woman. It was her sheer presevrance that she left her life on the Divine authority.Then, the whole of her attention was diverted towards her two daughters.A prosperous future for them was her only dream.

Her one daughter was bestowed with a scholarship at a foreign university. On her arrival after four years; she somehow managed to win freedom for her mother.After three days Shamim received a phone call informing her about the critical condition of her husband.She rushed to the hospital much at the dismay of her daughters.She opened her eyes and removed tears which rolled down from her face.

Meanwhile, Shahid opened his eyes and with regret evidnent on his face; joined both of his hands, asking for Shamim's forgiveness.And certainly, she did.Her daughter came from behind and said, "Mom  I never understood your silence"."You need not to, you are the fruit of that.God does not like grumblers",Shamim replied.For Shamim when there was no way, God carved it but patience is the key to access that path.

A dinner in the open air

A dinner in the rugged and rocky landscape of Balochistan, became a vivid memory for me.My friend and I were passing through a far flung part of the province. The delapidated road allowed only one car to move at a time. Meanwhile, i saw a small , yet, attractive hotel(known as Dhabba in the local language). Eccentricity being the hallmark of the hotel, convinced us to have a dinner.

Many interesting experences were yet to follow; we were requested to sit on a bed-like seat, made of four pillars about a one feet in length and certrally filled with jute ropes. Only a room of mud walls and a thatched roof existed-an indication of hotel's presence. Cooking was done in the space around; as well as customers sit outside. The wind with a great force was whistling in our ears.Food was being cooked on coal,its crimson appearance was the only source of light. The mouth-watering aroma of barbeque was wafting in all directions-convincing us to envisage about its taste. But there was no variety in the aromas. Simply, because only 'Sajji' was served-being the speciality of the area.

'Sajji' i heard the name for the first time ever since my existence. The inquistivity grew and i began to inquire. It was whole lamb filled with rice which get boiled, as the lamb gets roasted on the coal.Also, this took several hours. Therefore, as it was being prepared the locals danced on the traditional folk songs. The air suddenly seemed to fill with joy. The notes of mystical instruments impeccablly matches the movements of the tree's leaves. And an unknown movement began in them.

Furthermore, the sensations from the entire environment were not only restricted to the men dancing or looking after the lamb.Rather,it started to flow like blood in veins. This effect was clearly evident through the smiles that enlivened the faces of people. Like traditional way of waiting in the restuarants while the waiter brings the food was not there. Instaed a festival-like environment marked the evening. As the night fell, more people joined.None grew tired of the monotonous music. The intensity of the coldness in the wind was gradually increasing. The bare mountains and the undualting hills were drenced in moon-light- a sight apt for a horror movie.Well, the food finally came.Golden-brown texture of lamb retaining the juices of spices and herbs; when removed, revealed rice. Every grain was separate from the other-like our five fingers. Instaed of discussing our woes and wordly matters while eating, both of us decided to remain silent.

The blowing wind, bushes slowly moved by the passing air, the quiet desert's topography enlivened by the moonlight were worth observing. Then, the euphonious song, dance and aromas of food were a little distance apart.Lamb meat proved to be a meal for the soul.

Life

Ups and downs are a part of  life and one has no option but to face them.Well if you ask me about a solution to your problems in life-i will say there is no solution!Actually nature wants us to remain busy in circle of tasks.And revolving around them is what life is.So, that means problems make up our life, tell me, can you escape life then?No.

I have seen many grumblers that keep on complaining about petty issues in life.But believe me, to complain will do nothing except aggravating our problems.Also, we take our problems to people who themselves are  living the same life as ours.So, how can they help us!Whosoever you are- Muslim, Hindu, Christian, Parsi, ask your God for help and no doubt one day you will develop a firm faith in your God.Then not even a single hurdle will bother you because you will know that someone is there who had helped you will also do the same in future.Another perspective of successful people is, simply, make a goal in your life!Once you have an aim or a kind of mission.Petty things wont bother you anymore and an internal sense of motivation will drive you gradually to accomplish your task.

Forget what people say, forget what is the typical of society is, do what makes your mind peaceful.But definitely, this means do everything within  the boundaries of your religious and moral ethics.Trust me, nothing that is within our moral values, can make you depressed within yourself.A successful person is the one who can conquer his own weaknesses, not over-shadow them with some of our other qualities.Because this will be neglection not correction.Like many of use in order to hide our inferiority complex, develops a personality with superiority complex-which in itself is our double standard.This leads us to another crucial lesson, be what you are and be proud of it, rather, be satisfied with it.

To be successful is not life's purpose, to be satisfied certainly is!If i am satisfied being a cobbler sitting in a narrow street of a third-world country, i suppose myself to be better than an affluent in USA with millions of dollars.Satisfaction is usually achieved with purity.Purity of our heart, our deeds, our words...every bit our body.Simply, when our conscience is consoled with our brain. to wich we have a control.