And This Will All Just Be A Dream

Mother. Tonight I decide.
- Achilles to Thetis

I have always thought of the idea of my father dropping me to my college thinking how warm it would be to have him at a place that has taught me some very important things for my life. It could have made me feel so fortunate if I could walk with him showing all the places in the college I have memories attached to. He dropped me to the college in November 18th but he couldn't come inside - the authorities weren't allowing anybody but students to come inside the campus. I left from outside. I had asked him to drop me there that day and he had agreed.

I still don't know how I did the test. CL says I would score 58 and also shows a small list of worthy colleges I can apply for. IMS speaks of the same score but presents a brighter list of colleges. TIME gives some motivation to apply for these colleges telling me that I will have 63 as my score. 58 or 63, my percentile would be between 73 and 81. No talks of how I am feeling and neither will I write about these numbers. They might end up meaning nothing. I neither feel pain nor feel like calling the nothingness as pain. The test looked like a mock to me.

I was playing with a friend sometime back using the coloring application which is a part of yahoo messengers. I was glad to see even Pidgin supporting it. The pictures I have posted are some of what we did. There are some more but I don't want to get into any controversies! We ridiculed on some people and made fun of them drawing colors out of excitement. It was fun with attempts to include irony in it. We both made proportional contributions to all these pictures and all of them have more than one meaning.

Dear Grandfather

Dear Nana,

I have seen you several times since you left us. But I couldn't touch you; neither could talk to you at my will. They were dreams and they were of the kind that would never come true. Hardly a day passes by when I don't think of you before sleeping. Though things are the same as they used to be, they don't give the same feeling with you not around.

I frequently think about that hospital ward inside the most critical place there where I came to meet you after you had a major heart attack in 2005. You had asked me to pray for you and hearing that was a very painful thing for me. You knew that your heart was very less on functionality and the doctors had given up. You had asked me to pray for your life. And I went home and cried because I loved you and I couldn't imagine my life without your presence.

Now you are gone Nana and I don't understand what it is that troubles me every moment I go to your house or sit down to pray. I remember you holding my small fingers and taking me to the nearby shop to buy me candy. How can I forget those car-shaped chocolates you used to give me and my cousins usually on Saturdays when we met? I haven't eaten them since the time you were asked not to go out for walks - nobody gave them to me and I never bought them. Nana those chocolates are still sold in some shops. When I see them I only hope that someday when I go to your house, you would ask me to take them from the fridge and share it with my brother. I have taken several chocolates from the fridge since then given to me by Ammi, but I miss those 'cars'. You loved me more than your son and daughters.

I remember holding your hands when I met you in the last Ied. I didn't know I was holding them for the last time in my life. On that Saturday when you lay lifeless, I wanted to touch you but had no courage. I want to touch you and hold your hands again Nana. Please come back.

I know I was a very troublesome grandson not obeying you too frequently. I used to love making fun of you so many times. I never listened to you when you asked me not to play outside. I always shouted while playing with my cousins and never heeded when you asked for peace. I countered everything you said about life. I disobeyed you when you asked me not to stay outside late-night. I know Nana I have sinned and I could never give you the happiness of having a considerate grandson around. Please forgive me if you can. I loved you and I will always love you.

You come back Nana - I will show you how I am no more the kind of person I was a year back. I will agree to everything you say and I will obey all you ask me for. I will never disturb you while you go to sleep, I will never play outside and make noise, and I will always take every advice you give me considering them the words of a man who has seen everything life could offer. Give me once single chance to live with you again Nana and I will be the best grandson the world has ever seen. And this time when you come back, I will spend more time sitting with you and when you go to sleep, I will stay in your room praying and begging Allah that you wake up this time.

That day, Nana, when you didn't wake from your sleep, I was with my friends in the college. There was nothing important I was doing there - just gossiping. I wish I had come to your house at least an hour early and I could have met you. By the time I was there, you had already left us. Forgive us Nana; we realized about your departure a lot later when Ammi tried to wake you up to serve tea. She shouted; Mamma, Aunty, Khalamma - they all ran to your room and tried to wake you up. I ran out to get some help. I remember that Nana, I was running on the street like crazy to find an auto-rickshaw. When I returned, the doctor who lives beside your house had explained everybody at home that you have become cold and there was no life in what lay of yours in your bed.

You couldn't have endured seeing how everybody cried. I stood at the door staring at our neighbor who carefully tied a cloth around your face and pulled a white sheet all over your body. I wanted to stop him. I wanted to ask him not to do this with my grandfather. I couldn't speak and he finished making you body a divine object of peace. I stood there still feeling myself lifeless, hearing everybody crying, hoping that life returns to you. But you were gone and now as I sit to write you this letter, all I feel is immense pain in my heart and tears rolling down my cheeks. I don't know why I am writing this.

Nana, you might never get to read this letter but many people will read it and they will know that I loved you even when I couldn't be a good grandson. And Nana, this letter will be read long after even I am no more. Everybody will read it Nana, but you. Can't you at least give me one chance to let you know how much I love you? Can you please let me tell thank you a million times and allow me to ask your forgiveness? Please Nana, I can't keep the guilt any longer with me. I need to tell you all this.

If you come back Nana, you will never have any problem with the water supply in your locality. They have installed new pipelines and Mamu has got the sump repaired and this one doesn't leak. There is plenty of water and none of my cousins waste it. Aunty had postponed her departure from Hyderabad by a week then and now she is in Mecca. She was not well a few weeks back but Alhamdulillah she is fine now. Her younger son has started going to school and when he speaks to Ammi on phone, he asks her to come to his house there. He has forgotten you Nana, but I give you my word, the next time he comes here, I will tell him everything about you and also how you loved and cared for him.

Mamu has left Aramco for-good and he is staying with Ammi. He is doing a job here and is always busy. I had not spent much time with him before but now when I see him now, he is all you. His way of talking resembles you, the way he walks, his height - he is indeed you son Nana and he was alone in Abquaiq when he heard about your demise. I still remember his crying voice when I spoke to him on phone that day.

I can never forget that day Nana. When I reached you home, I was hungry and was about to sit for lunch. I ate sometime only in the night when was forced. I wanted to eat nothing because I was used to hearing you ask me to have my lunch when I came to meet you on Saturdays. You were not there to ask me for that. Nana you didn't even ask me if I had gone to college that day and if I had any classes to attend that evening. Nana I didn't hear your considerate voice that day asking how I was. Please Nana I long to hear that. And trust me this time I will reply with all smiles and stay with you all the time. I will have my meal only when you ask me to and I won't shout back.

Pappa and Uncle were arranging for your funeral to be done with Zuhar prayers. I asked them and insisted that it should be done before that - in Fajar. I couldn't bear seeing you that way Nana. I couldn't even participate in the last right where your body was being washed. I knew I couldn't stand that and I stayed in the other room. I wished I had heeded to Uncle when he called me.

Even though it was early morning Nana, many people came to your funeral. Almost the whole of our neighborhood was there and Nana those guys you always used to hate were the people who did all the rights to help bring you down gently below the ground level, rest you there, seal your body and cover it completely. They are very good people Nana and they did what your grandson should have done. Your grandson is a looser Nana and he is weak. I am sorry; I couldn't be the last person to touch you.

That night one of your friends came to pay his regards. I was the one who took him inside and rolled up a little that cloth that was covering you. He stood there for a few seconds and I could see pain and grief all over him. I understood how it could feel to loose a friend. Nana while I was pulling that cloth back on your face, it rubbed your untrimmed beard and produced a scratch noise. I am sorry if I hurt you with that Nana. It was a mistake and I couldn't forgive myself for that till now.

So many people came that day Nana - even the sons and daughters of your long lost relatives. Your elder brother came the next day from Warangal. That was a bitter part. He was crying Nana. He was crying for he had come to pay respects on his younger brother's death. Everybody cried that day Nana but me. I have been crying every few days ever since then. I love you Nana and I couldn't cry that day because it was too big a thing for me to believe in. I never thought I had to live my life without you.

I have seen many things after that Nana. I got selected for a job in Infosys, started driving regularly and wrote CAT. Nana I didn't do well in CAT and I have failed many expectations. I wish I could tell you all this Nana. I am sure you would have felt a lot of happiness when you heard about you grandson getting a job. And I know Nana you would have grieved over his defeats and losses. But I give you my word now Nana, I will give in everything to become a successful person and I would do everything to keep my parents happy. I will remember all the things on life you have said and I will follow them with care. And Nana, I will always hope to meet you some day.

In a few days I will be 21 and I will miss your blessings that day. I have my exams going on now and I sometimes hope that you call me and ask me how I was doing them and wish me good luck. I miss the care you used to show me whenever I was sick. You used to ask me about my health so frequently Nana that I used to get irritated. You were considerate beyond comprehension and I never respected that. Nobody asks for me so much now Nana and I sometimes feel lonely. Mamma and Pappa take good care of me but you are missing.

There is so much I have to tell you Nana but they don't come out now. I will write to you again soon. And this time, I will do my best to tell you things that would make you happy. Once again Nana, I miss you a lot and I long to meet you again. I pray for you so frequently and hope that sometime in the hereafter we get to talk. I will take the replies to my letters from you then.

See you soon Nana. Khuda hafiz.

Regards,
Zubair

P.S.: I have done some cleaning of your room and trashed several old things and some magazines. It took a lot to heart to do that Nana. There are several valuable artifacts lying safely in the cupboards and even the collections of stones and photographs. I will keep them safely until I meet my day.

“Look guys, if you're just going to stare at me, I'm going to bed!”

But it made me think about death. I don't feel I'll live a long life. That's why I have to get what I can from every day.
- Elvis Presley

I can still do something very easy like joining Infosys when I finish my engineering next year. I can start earning immediately and have a good chance of staying with my parents for longer. I can enjoy the rest of my days in the college and even get to keep around Rs. 20,000 I have taken from my mother for admission processes for MBA. My parents would be happy with this and nobody would complain. I will become independent and do what I want and when I want. I will be in control of my life.

The difficult thing is to become a slave of my dreams. I will have to work a lot more - do my best in CAT, try to do better in XAT and IBSAT and work even more to get the admission. That won't be the end of it - I will have to spend two years doing hard work like I have never done before. And stay away from my parents. This will even delay money reaching me. And I won't be able to relax in the months to come. I will miss everything I have enjoyed these 21 years.

The rewards might constitute a heavier pay check when I finally get a job, more respect and most importantly the fulfillment of all the dreams I have seen. I will become a slave of my dreams. I will have to make sacrifices. Stay alone and away from my parents and not meet them for months together. The biggest sacrifice would be the ease I would be running away from on a chase for something that could bring a lot of criticism for me if I succeed. I will have to face negativity and loneliness.

Everything has a price attached to it. I don't know why my parents keep talking about me getting married. They enjoy it and confuse me. It confuses me because it looks attractive and easy and simple. I will get respect even this way. I am just 21 - a bit less than that in fact - and my parents look excited already. They just make me think. And I enjoy thinking about it. That's the problem with me right now. It's a feeling I must contain and look for delayed gratification. But why?

I had this thought when I wrote the last post here. That even made me put up that quote from the movie 'Troy'. I don't compare myself to any character from it and neither am I interested in making my name immortal. I just want to be happy, lave and be loved. And right now I feel like pouring all my heart here the way a drunk would do in front of his closest friend. It would be such a big relief only if I could do it and nobody questioned. I wouldn't mind being laughed at - I laugh at myself more than anybody. I know every boy or a girl of my age has these things, or rather plans, in mind and many fantasies attached to them. I don't have any fantasies though - I have stopped enjoying them long back - but the things that could easily be turned into reality seem far from real if I choose to continue with my studies. And I am going to go ahead for my dreams. I don't dream wild; I dream hard. I never work hard.

I remember my father telling a few times "you need to have children and lots of money when you are young", and I agree with him. I guess I would still be young at 24! And this is not immature thinking. Staying away from my parents is my biggest worry now; it's not much with CAT. There isn't much I can do about it - I can only write it and pray for the best - for its only Allah who decides. I don't want to be a celebrity or a famous personality - I just want to be called as the best person by the people who know me. This, I don't know, is realistic or not. As a bottom line, I have to live for what I have dreamt and see it come true not as a miracle but as a blessing from Allah which gives satisfaction to me and a feeling of deserved achievement. Some things still attract me.

I have not written this post to come to any conclusions or make resolutions. I wanted to be analytical and critical of this dilemma and confusion I am facing and for which I know, it is just a transient feeling. I have never found anything in my life as boring. I have enjoyed every bit of it and have seen how it feels to be so blessed. Its not even that I am living in a fast lane - I know what's happening and where I am leading myself to. Some earlier defeats come as a reminiscence but retrospecting and learning from them makes me feel stronger. I couldn't have experienced them at a better time and I couldn't have salvaged any better. I want to be loved, not envied.

Big Tobacco

If you stay in Larissa, you will find peace. You will find a wonderful woman, and you will have sons and daughters, who will have children. And they'll all love you and remember your name. But when your children are dead, and their children after them, your name will be lost... If you go to Troy, glory will be yours. They will write stories about your victories for thousands of years! And the world will remember your name. But if you go to Troy, you will never come back... for your glory walks hand-in-hand with your doom. And I shall never see you again.
- Thetis to Achilles, Troy

Yesterday I lay myself on the bed till 1:30 pm with troublesome thoughts that I had to study for an exam to be written on the following day. The day before that my cousin had explained me that my intestines were swollen and had become very soft that they can't handle if I ate hard or fibrous food. I had to keep myself on a diet of soft and non-spicy food. On 7th when I felt the first signs of illness I took a medicine by myself hoping to regain in a day at most. The next day I had even watched a movie with friends with still some discomfort in my belly. Things became worse on Saturday when I finally told my parents about the problem. By then I had changed the medicines once already. Then my mother made another change. On Sunday my cousin prescribed the medicine which finally worked.

I didn't know it would take so many days out of my schedule. I was not able to concentrate on anything for long and not able to sit with the same posture continuously. I had my mother and father constantly enquiring how I was feeling and asking me for everything they wanted me to do. They were worried. I was worried. I had my exam and I had to drive to that far away place. Then I have my CAT on 18th and I was making no progress for that. And the moment I told about my illness to my parents, I began to feel sick. Until then I was confident and doing well.

My cousin had an off from his hospital's duty on Sunday. He said because of Diwali there were fewer number of patients under him. There were 16 of them he said, and just before Sunday two expired. So, he relatively had less work and he could move out. He is also working on a thesis report in which he is experimenting on the cement used to fill bones when they grow weak. The cement presently being used reacts with the bones in some patients and has side-effects. There is a medicine which is injected separately to cure this side-effect. In his experiment, my cousin is mixing this medicine with the cement itself while introducing it into the bone and he has tested this process positively on some patients already.

Presently there's a presence of a terrible taste on my tongue and it aggravates whenever I eat something or air passes into my mouth. My cousin told me that it is due to the existence of some ring structure in the chemical used to prepare the medicines I am taking. I have forgotten the name he told but I remember that the ring gives the bad taste. Rings sometimes taste bad! And much worse, they make sweet taste bitter.

Today I met with lesser traffic on my way to the college. And the return journey was smoother. I am growing confident with each kilometer I cover and each truck I overtake - from both right and left. The bad roads and fast moving vehicles look like challenges for my patience and Alhamdulillah I have been able to contain it well. Four more such days of around 65 kilometers of driving and I will be done with my exams!

There are some people who don't look happy with my cell phone's number. I have received a couple of calls from the same number and from the same person but for different people. The first time I thought it was some error made by that person. But when he called me the next day I was sure he was upto something else. Then there was a missed call from a new number after 2 am the same day. Then one more at 10:45 pm the next from another number. Before these, I had once received a message asking "Who is this?" I had seen that number for the first time. Then once I received a message "Hi dear whats up?" from another new number.

When my mother heard the bell ring at 2 am and asked me who was calling and I told her that somebody was bugging me, she asked me to change my number. That didn't look like a solution to me. It rather sounded like a step taken under pressure. I don't mind people calling me as long as it doesn't effect my prepaid balance and sleep. It cant effect the balance of course but sleep can find some irritation if this continues. I thought of putting those numbers on the blog but that again didn't look like a solution to me.

I am liking the idea of keeping myself updated with what's happening with the movie 'Om Shanti Om'. Before its release I was desperately hoping that its competitor 'Saawariya' flops and 'Om Shanti Om' turns out as victor. The news that it had even overpowered Tom Criuse's 'Lions For Lambs' was music to my ears and that too by a margin of tens of crores of rupees was topping on the ice. I don't understand why on earth there are still people who don't like Shahrukh Khan. Perhaps because he has always been better than their favorites. All this is just a happiness in itself for me - it would fetch me nothing but only some 'happiness in itself'! And I also remember how just mentioning Shahrukh Khan in my blog once long back fetched me so many visitors. As rightly said by a friend "Shahrukh sells!"

One of my cousins has spread a news that my marriage has been fixed and I was getting engaged on the 10th of November. Initially I thought he has passed this to many of my relatives but I later understood that it was only to my aunt and cousins who live in Mecca. I have been exchanging e-mails with them ever since then explaining them that it was just a joke and that no such thing is in the offing. My aunt also told me that if there was indeed something, it should be in July 2008 when she comes here on a holiday. I had to explain again; along with the reason why my cousin got the idea of that joke in his 'cleaver' brain.

Even Satan Believes in Allah

We owe almost all of our knowledge not to those who have agreed, but to those who have differed.
- Charles Caleb Cotton

It is always insisted that we think before we speak but when I usually try to do it, I end up not saying anything. The same is the case with my blog - I opened the edit page two times in the last few days and simply closed finding nothing worthy of writing. Everything I thought of writing looked either dumb to me or foolish. I sit here today with the same kind of thoughts. I need to let go somethings before they take away things from me.

The first exam went past as expected. I knew how much I was preparing and I also knew how I would be writing it. I am satisfied. But a bigger achievement for me was driving to that place. Its over 30 kilometers from my house and I had three of my friends with me. I was a bit afraid of taking to that heavy-traffic road but I learnt a lot. It was a good teaching session for me. It looked like I was writing some exam.

And yesterday I went with a movie with my friends. It was one of those days I would love to live again. I liked the movie and for the first time I even liked the lead actor of that movie. I hope to experience more days of such kind.

Insert, Home, Page Up. Delete, End, Page Down

Yesterday I read a news that a political leader has made a public statement that he is going to 'attack' all the retail-store chains in the city selling vegetables. His opposition is principally to the stores named 'Fresh' owned by the Telugu Desam Party leader Chandrababu Naidu. The argument is that the opening of these kind of shopping places is effecting the small traders and making a hole in their business. And so this leader thinks that he has a right to strike these shops. He is the same person who once said he would, along with his supporters, break down a dam in some place in Andhra Pradesh. He is the leader of a party that wants a separate Telangana state so that he can become its chief minister. I wonder why he wasn't arrested for making such statements publicly.

These kind of leaders say they want the poor to make progress and no doubt they target the voting rights of these people and try to have them in their favor. I wonder what they would do once they have helped all the poor make progress and there are no more poor men! These politicians want people to be poor so that they can use their helplessness and rule them making them even poorer so that they always remain in power.

Coming to the business of the small traders that is being hampered. We all know that farming is a profession carried over generation to generation in the families in villages. They have been into the same profession for decades. They didn't grow. They stagnated, kept away from education and never considered doing anything new. This is the price they have to pay for staying dumb. And the traders - if they are deserving, they will do good in any business. There are still thousands of small traders in the city and they are doing good. If they thrive to grow in their business, they will stay in business. But if they think that they can continue and keep earning what they are earning now in the years to come, they are destined for an eradication. Simply put, it is the survival of the fittest.

Sometime back I wrote in my blog that if we are not growing, we are bound to fall down. And that if we don't make progress continuously, a downfall is just around the corner. It's all apparent from the news I have discussed above. The beauty of free enterprise is that a person willing to take risks, do some hard work, put the right brains and keep his ethics neat will definitely find cash coming his way. A country's GDP, per-capita income, several growth indices including the sensex are largely dependent on the big companies that have billions in the market. It is the duty of the government to encourage more individuals to come up and become entrepreneurs. More jobs are created, infrastructure is developed and more foreign trade takes place only when the government comes out of its socialist mind-frame.

I remember reading a quote, the exact words of which I have forgotten, which I can explain here. It says that there are men who try and adjust themselves to this world. They change themselves to adapt to this world. There are other type of men who try to make this world adjust to them. They attempt to bring this world in accordance to their ideas and beliefs. And so, all the progress the world makes depends on this second type of men.

So many times I get lachrymose thinking about my grandfather. I wonder if I will ever get a chance to meet him again after the end of this world. I would tell him how much I missed him and how much I loved him. This Ied was empty without him. I remember the last Ied when he told he might not be with us the next year. Every time I go to meet my grandmother, it reminds me of everything related to him. The furniture in his room has been displaced but his presence is still felt.

My theory externals start on 7th and my preparation will begin only from tomorrow. All these days I was spending time for CAT and I am satisfied with it. I am a little worried about the quantitative section but inshAllah I will manage. I have come to a point from where I find many things in DI very simple and English easier than DI. I have understood what questions I must not attempt. Not attempting is a thing of more importance than attempting.

Today, Tomorrow And The Day After. It Continues

I have already spent 30 minutes wondering what I should write for today. Not that I was constantly on this page and thinking, I have head phones covering my ears and a couple of friends online. In the evening I paid a visit to my grandmother where I studied for an hour. And on Thursday I will be going to college. Yesterday there was some problem with the Internet connection and I watched 'The Departed' in the meanwhile.

It rained today unexpectedly. The streets are dirty again and the usual traffic jams make the world outside home very uneasy. I hope to see a pleasant day when I wake up in the morning. I never tell myself that when I wake up the next day, its going to be a new day. All days are more or less the same for me. Tomorrow is the continuation of today and today was the continuation of yesterday. Pain does appear in the neck and it leaves after finishing its objective.

When I go to college I will be asked by my friends to come along with them to a tour they have planned. When I heard about this idea for the first time more than a month back, implicitly a 'no' came out of my heart. But when a poll was conducted in Yahoo groups, I marked on 'yes'. They didn't ask me if I would come or not. The question was something else and I was positive about that. But its not a time to play and argue. I have IBSAT on December 16th and even if that wasn't there, my parents wouldn't allow. I have been given a lot of freedom but the limits I have put of myself start from here. If I have to go on a tour or a holiday, for me to be comfortable, it should be with my parents or my cousins. Maybe I can even convince my parents but I can't convince myself. I don't even want to talk to my parents about this.

Ghost In My House

I was using Trillain all these days not aware that it was showing me as online even when I was staying invisible. Yesterday I installed a new software named Pidgin. It has a soft and basic interface appearing like a window in Linux. The installation file was slightly larger than Trillan but I liked what it had to offer. The typical messenger provided by Yahoo is full of bugs that trouble me like something that troubles!

Yesterday I went under the blanket around 3 am and I must have been awake at least till 3:30 am. Around 8:40 in the morning I woke up hearing my mother talk on the phone in a grave tone of voice she uses only when she has been shocked by something. I was still in the bed and her tone also told me that she was talking to my father. She sounded very afraid of something. I got out immediately hoping to hear everything was fine. She told that sometime back she saw a man walking in the living room.

That gave me immediate creeps as she kept narrating how she was in the kitchen and saw clearly a man walking in the living room and how she saw her entering her bedroom. She told me that my brother was home at that time and he was in the other bedroom changing clothes. Mother looked terrified with fear in her eyes and touches of leftover horror still on her pale face. I sat in the living room for a while as she started getting ready for office. I was still very sleepy and my eyes closed in no time even as my heart was pumping with fear of something I didn't even know.

I saw several dreams in those few minutes as I lay in the living room. I saw some man walking across the room, some weird happenings and all things we see in typical nightmares. I still couldn't believe what she told me. The only reason for me to fear was that she was telling me all that. And she was sure she saw somebody. I even thought that she must be undergoing a lot of strain at her office.

She left at 10 pm when I called a friend and confirmed that we were going to meet in an hour at Mehdipatnam from where we would go to CL's office at Himayatnagar and collect my last packet. Then we had plans to study the rest of the day. I went inside the bathroom with fear still fresh in my mind. I also remembered that my mother told she saw the man with a towel tied around his waist. I prefer not going for a bath when there is nobody at home but I had to. When I tied a towel around my waist I recollected my mother's words again. I was afraid even walking in the room. Even the curtains swayed by the breeze looked horrifying. I dressed up, fried an egg, prepared coffee, ate and drank, also had a banana and left. Like every time I check the doors before leaving, it did it again but did it several times.

I returned home with my friend two hours later. On our way I told him about everything. It all sounded funny but it was serious. It was serious even if it was just something psychological for my mother. It was something that must be cleared before it took my sleep away. I stay awake at nights and it was the biggest concern for me. Nobody can get inside the house this way. And in a towel - impossible. I was worried.

In the nights I hear so many sounds and I recognise them all. The distant howl of dogs, the sound of newspaper falling from the table in the drawing room on the carpet, the sound of the door-knobs when wind rattles the doors, the sound of the creaky windows, the sound of the curtains rubbing the floor, the sound of the dining table's cover moving over the chairs, the noise of the rat moving in the kitchen - every sound I have heard in the nights in my house - I know them all. But this seemed to be a new problem, and of a different kind. I had never seen half-naked men walking in my house except for my father, my brother and myself.

I solved one full length test paper of CAT's model in the stipulated time continuously as I do in any mock. My friend solved another paper simultaneously. Then we analyzed both the papers together. All this took us more than 5 hours and he left my house around 9 pm. Then I was asked to get 'kabaab' for dinner. We had our dinner. The tension was still there. But there was also some happiness on my mother's face gifted to her by the sharp increase in her monthly pay. We kept talking all the time even when I was enjoying some comedy show on the television. My mother finished her dinner and went to bed with my father, my brother and I still in the drawing room.

I still had the plate in my hands eating slowly when my mother entered the room again. She asked my brother if he came to her room in the morning after talking a bath to dump his clothes in a bucket there. He said he did! We couldn't stop laughing. The 'man in towel' my mother had seen was my brother. He was asked several times if he went there and he kept telling that he had not. But he did go there and he forgot. He said he couldn't remember it when asked because he is used to doing it after talking a bath everytime. I wondered how my mother couldn't recognise his yellow towel and how he looked like a man to her. My father was smiling with a cigarette in his fingers.

Tomorrow again I will be sitting with my friend to solve some more papers. It will be at his home this time where another friend is expected to join us. I have 16 such test papers with me. I am positive that this will help. I am thankful to my friend for giving me company even when he is not so dependent on CAT. It's a part of the luxury in being me!

I won't be forgetting today's incident for a long time. I might never forget it in fact. In the morning the only thing that gave me strength was the truth that only Allah can alter anything and only Allah decides. I knew that nobody could harm me or anybody at home untill Allah wanted it to happen. All this was just another bookmark in the book of my life. My life is good.

I Am But A Slave

A couple of days back I watched the movie 'Munich'. I had blankly opened the folder containing the ripped file and started playing it. The first few minutes I was wondering if that was really the start of the movie but as I began to understand the story I accepted it to be it. I watched it for 45 minutes and closed. Yesterday when I opened the folder again I found two files. I couldn't believe that my eyes had missed one yesterday. I opened the newly discovered file and watched the movie from the start. I finished the complete viewing just sometime back. It was a fine piece of work by Steven Spielberg.

Many months back somebody asked me why I don't have a blog for Islamic articles. It looked imperative from the number of blogs I was updating at the moment that I have a blog dedicated to topics in religion. But I wondered if that was necessary. I wondered if I needed anything more than the blogs maintained by two of my dearest cousins. One of these two is more popular than any Islamic blog I have opened till date (ibnalhyderabadee.wordpress.com). But I also thought about the religion I had already mixed into the posts I had written and the ideas I have shared. The only difference from an Islamic blog and my blogs, that I could think of, was that an Islamic blog pastes religion with facts, narrations and proofs, and I had written all my words trying to keep them inside the umbrella of religion and I never mentioned as direct references. I did use some quotes from the Holy Quran for explanations, but faith was inherent to my blogs.

I have always hated those who flaunt and I have hated myself. The hatred was for good. I made me learn self-love. It sounds ironic that hatred can teach love and that I talk of love with hatred in my mind. I have written about it once. But I am not turning away from my words. I still wonder why children in schools are taught about the theory of evolution when no religious scripture supports it and no-born-of-a-woman-scientist could prove it. How can we teach faith to children when we ask them to learn about a theory whose author himself wasn't sure of it? Why are we letting children learn lies and let them believe in it? Is this how we educate?

Today I recollected three different days of my past in which Allah had brought be very close to death. These are quite different from what I had written in "My Nights Of Death". The most recent of these three days just a few months back when I was sitting in front of the computer on a plastic chair swinging it by making it stand just on its two hind legs. A swing went too away from the fulcrum and the balance left for space. The chair slipped bringing me close to the floor by some inches just when I managed to put my both hands on the smooth floor and prevent a further slip. I had just missed a nearby table. If I were a little away from the computer while swigning down, the exact center of the back of my head would have hit the corner of this table and perhaps killing me instantly. I was rocking very fast on the chair and blood-spill was guaranteed. The table rests behind me even now and the threat remains. I have stopped playing with the chair.

When I was in the first year of my intermediate days the final examinations' center was somewhere behind the Golkonda fort. It was a government college about three kilometers away from my house. I wanted to have a look at it with my friend on his bike. We found that place with ease but on our return journey my friend got interested in the big walls of the fort and wanted to have a closer look. There were tracks down from the main road leading to a high place close to the wall. From distance we could see the wall and the elevated point and some invisible gap betwen them. We followed the tracks on the mud and we were fast. The bike started climbing the hillock. But the moment we reached the top, there was nothing beyond that. My only instinct was the jump off the bike but I couldn't because I had my friend sitting in front of me. He hit the brakes hard. There was a short skid and the bike stopped a foot behind the edge. There was a free fall of at least 15 feet just beyond that point.

I don't remember the exact location in time of this last incidence. In fact it happened before the two I have already mentioned. I was out to meet a friend in Afzalgunj. He was in Hyderabad for some days when he got free from him college in Nasik. After getting down the bus I had to walk to reach his house and there were several big busy roads to be crossed. It was a turn on the road and the traffic was coming from my right. The moment I stepped down the footpath and looked on my right I saw an RTC bus coming. The bus was at a good distance from the point I was standing and it was turning. As the bus started to turn more, it kept getting closer to the footpath. It was just my instinct that I moved back and climbed the footpath. Less than a second later the huge vehicle was speeding moving exactly above the place I was standing. The gap between the footpath and the wheels of the bus was less than five inches. If I had stood there for a instance more, the bus would have banged me away throwing me into the shop behind. This was closer than the two above. I wish I could give all this a better comprehension. I can't express how happy I was to see myself alive. I don't find it necessary to write here about my interactions with Allah regarding this.

But I am of those who flaunt. I work with everything I can and I like letting it show. I like to see people know what I have done and also sometimes what I can do. The later can hardly make any sense if I am not convincingly telling it, but the former always has truth to speak for it. It shows by itself. With flaunting in my mind, I keep the feelings of superiority away from it. I never think of making any person feel inferior to me. At least I don't try to; intentionally. Sometimes I know I do cause to become an object that inflicts inferiority, but it has never been my intention. I express my happiness, sorrow, pain, fear, satisfaction and thankfulness in different forms. I am in no way superior to any man or a woman on this earth and I am as weak as a black ant. I have what Allah has blessed me with. Nothing belongs to me. He owns everything and he can take it away if He wants. Out of several people I know, I can say that I do not bow my head in front of anybody but Allah. I am but His slave.

Flagrant Foul

“Don't they[girls] get attracted to themselves when they look in the mirror?”
-A Guy Like Me, Flowing Emotions

Yesterday I opened the edit page and closed it soon after I felt that I can delay the spilling. Putting the reason of not updating the blog would look good if I say the above if asked. But the truth cannot be altered: I didn't feel like updating and laziness was the core backing of this reason. There is always an element of retaliation that focuses on how to blend a debility into a reason that can be flaunted. And the retaliation is to ward off the guilt even before it hurts. The debility is that lethargy preventing appraisals as consequences of brain-work ending up in words. The element exaggerates laziness and justifies it.

Yesterday the football was too soft to be played with and the metal pin that elaborates the nozzle on the ball for the air pump to harden it up was missing. We considered some fallacies that could have helped us play the game but my footwear told me that it wouldn't be worth it. Furthermore, we couldn't take the risks involved. The fact that I should have worn a laced shoes skipped a consideration from my mind and I was in the college in black formals.

There is a good chance of the quote at the start of today's post being misunderstood. Or if its good that it is not understood, then I am glad I could keep it so simple. When I repeated these words to a friend yesterday, he asked me from where I copied. I said I did it from my own blog. He is of those who rarely reads my blogs but is told about what I write. But I hope the quote is not over-understood. Even I tend to give extra meaning to words and ideas hoping that would look cool. This time around, 'cool' can be crazy.

A famous Telugu actor's daughter has eloped giving another reason for the media to make money and news. The actor still appears in the movies as a 'hero' dancing with girls of his daughter's age. And I am sure in at least one of his movies he has played the role of a youngster running away with a girl. His daughter has done what her father does in the movies. I don't find a reason why people say she has brought shame to her father. She just enacted some roles already played in several screens.

On Tuesday I made a trip to the environs of ANGRAU, NIRD and NAARM. I was there to pay a visit to a friend's house. The lovely streets, the dark lawns which appeared dark because of thick surrounding trees and lack of lighting, the empty paths and the lengthy journey was all satisfaction. Immediately after reaching home, my next destination was a function hall to attend a marriage party. Yesterday the reception party fed me with dinner.

The Ticket

Love works in miracles every day: such as weakening the strong, and stretching the weak; making fools of the wise, and wise men of fools; favouring the passions, destroying reason, and in a word, turning everything topsy-turvy.
~ Marguerite De Valois

I have my lab externals from tomorrow - Distributed Systems on Monday and Web Programming the next day. I finished reading the 11 programs in just 45 minutes including the descriptions but I am worried if that is enough. I had studied them once for the internal test a few days back.

Some days back while travelling the bus, the conductor asked me to show my bus-pass. Then he asked for the ID card too which he even matched with the ticket of the pass and verified the ID number. He made that detailed verification only for me and possibly this for the first time I saw a bus-conductor being so watchful. His act that's making me write this here is that he didn't do such a thing for any other person in the bus.

A buss-pass has two cards - the ID card and another one that shows the validity dates of that card. When I renew the pass every three months, the computer checks for the bar codes on the ID card and prints the other ticket - the other card. Conductors check for the validity dates only and if the pass is a route-pass (valid only between specific routes), the check the route on the ID card. In my five years of bus-travelling with a general pass (free travel on any routes), this was the first time such a checking was made.

As the conductor moved in the bus, I sat watching how many passes he checks that way. I was angry. I keep my pass in my wallet and show only the ticket card when asked for. No conductor asks for the ID card and even when they ask, they just give a glance on it. Other people use a specially made folder cover of heir passes. The cover just shows the validity dates - the ID card can be seen only when it is opened. The conductors check the dates through the transparent cover on the top. Even this conductor was doing the same thing - just check the dates for people with such covers. For me, he asked for the ID card when he saw that I had the ticket in my wallet.

I wanted to ask him why he wasn't checking other's ID cards and why I was an exception. I was getting angry with this. I felt as if he was being a racist; as if he didn't trust because I am from a minority community; as if I were a a foreigner and that I could be a terrorist. I kept patience and waited. I knew that I might be exaggerating my thinking. And then he sat on a seat near me. I wanted till he finished making notes of the ticket numbers.

Turning towards him, in a boldly enquiring voice I asked him why he wasn't checking other passengers' ID cards. I wanted to quarrel with him. I wanted to ask him why he was being rude with me. But he didn't seem to understand the tone of my voice and the anger I wanted to throw at him. He calmly said that it is not always possible for him o check everybody so comprehensively and he told me how people bring ID cards of their friends. That was still not an answer to my question. There were 35-40 passengers in the bus and he could have easily verified the ID cards of those who had passes. But the softness of his reply made me agree with what he said and I told him that people do cheat.

The rest of the journey I sat thinking about a bus-conductor's job. He works for more than eight hours a day walking from one end of the bus to the other wading through people who sometimes leave no gap between them to be walked through. He has to shout and make people purchase tickets and show passes. He deals with all kinds of people, men, women and children. At times he ends up fighting, he has to argue, cope with frustration and still do his work. He does have a difficult job to do. I wished I could tell them how difficult their job was and how much I appreciated their work. But it looked odd to me talking to them at such an emotional level. Not all people respond to emotions positively. Some don't understand them. Some misunderstand.

Though all my anger on that conductor came down to zero, I was still not happy at the treatment I was given. I felt like a part of a subjugated and an untrusted community - we are being portrayed that way. Many people, I have seen, look down on Muslims while travelling in the buses. And when beards and caps are seen, things become worse. There of course people who talk respectfully, but there are many who do exactly opposite of that. I have also felt that because of my formal dressing and the photo-grey glasses I sport on my face, I am stared at as though I am an alien inside the bus. I don't have any complains on that but this ID card thing was bad.

Perhaps I just over-reacted at this. Maybe because the conductor saw me keeping the card in my wallet and not in that cover, he thought there can be something wrong. Or maybe he did find my face a one that can't be trusted. I can't help if I look like a threat to anybody. I have lived with my face for almost 21 years now and I have learnt to love it. I am happy with how Allah has made my appearance. If some half wits find it as untrustworthy, I pity their intellect. But I am at the receiving end and I don't know how to change it.

And in general the Andhra Pradesh State Road Transport Corporation (APSRTC) is well known for its bad, senseless drivers and rude conductors. The buses are parked in the middle of the road near the bus-stops - the width of the road on both sides of the bus when parked at a bus-stop is same. The driving sometimes is very rash and hardly any traffic rules are followed. The engine's power of these buses is not proportional to their weights and the buses can run very fast making them dangerous. The conductors are rude with students, they don't always talk properly, when they step on the feet of passengers they give a damn to that and some are very slow with their work.

But there are exceptions always. And we all like exceptions and get interested in them. There are some very good drivers and a few very good conductors. I remember once a conductor who said 'thank you' to people after issuing tickets. Some are very fast and never make the bus wait. And not to forget a favorite of mine: he was regular on the route '142 s' untill some months back it was changed. Now I don't know where he is. He had a habit of calling every youngster 'Azharuddin'. He was fun and he speard happiness among the passengers of his bus.