Am I being heard?

"Aawarapan", a part of "Terabithia", a review of "Tuesdays With Moorie" that I found after the end of "Five People You Meet In Heaven" in that book, and the first 20+ pages of "Get A Life" gave me the entertainment for today. The time I spent with my grandmother, uncles, aunts and cousins and of course friends gave me the reason required to appreciate the quality of life I am living. Until a few weeks back I had felt myself smiling daily when I laid myself for sleep. I don't go to bed that way now a days. I am unsatisfied. The reason being CAT as I figure it out to be. But I suspect some other activities and "images" too. I can see some images with no necessity to even close my eyes.

Tuesday I had spent many hours with my grandmother at her residence. I even happened to clean my grandfather's room. We had left it almost untouched as if he would come back to use it. There was just a cloth put to cover all the things on his table and it had all gathered dust on it. The dust increased as we started to learn to live without him. We had to wipe it so that the healing could happen faster. It wouldn't work, I knew, even as I cleaned the table and discarded all his medicines including the ones that were ready for him to be taken the day he left us.

There were books. Many. On religion, astronomy, astrology, magnet-therapy and mythology. There were dictionaries - English, French, Urdu and Telugu. There were his diaries. Dating back to 1949. The diary for 2007 being the first one to be opened by me. He wrote everything. The people he met, what they did, where they lived, many phone numbers and everything he could. Though he wasn't writing details for the last few years, but perhaps he knew he was forgetting things and he required some help to remind him of them. I had to discard many such records he had made. I didn't know what to do with them. When he was alive he used to tell us that everything would be useless after he left. But I still have his old diaries. It will take a lot of my heart if I have to call them useless.

His clothes, old, new, his sweater neatly folded and saved in a plastic for the next winter, his woolen socks, his muffler. It was all there. There was no next winter for him. At least with us. Allah knows how a grave feels like. Now my grandfather too knows that. Under his clothes, as it looked to me at the first sight, was some cardboard piece covered in a newspaper. As I unwrapped it, I found an old photograph that had been preserved from all seasons for more than 60 years. It was a group-photograph; of course in black and white. There were names under it and I searched for a Muslim name. I found one. I narrated it to my grandmother and showed the person. He was my grandfather's father. He was a medical doctor.

I found many other photographs I had seen before. I found my mother's school photograph. Some certificates. Many receipts from banks and of paid bills, all records of the money transactions he had made in these years. I had to clear all I found useless. It pains my heart to call them useless. But we had to let it go.

I had a look at his collection of colorful stones and rings made of silver and some golden metal which I am sure is not gold. It must be bronze, copper or brass. I found an old camera. I had never seen such a thing before. It was a big black box with some nut like things attached to it. I will see later what it is and how it used to work.

He had everything of use to him. Blades, scissors, pins - of all sorts, papers, files, tapes, everything. He had a world of his own. He didn't share much of it with anybody else. He was still close to us. But he had a world inside that first room of his house that was known only to him, that had seen more than 35 years of his life. We all have our own worlds that we don't share much. Someday when we leave, it comes to light only to be cleaned and forgotten. There is no way we can show others what we had in our hearts. I don't know if Allah gives that chance to share my heart when we all finally reach heaven. Maybe heaven will make me forget all of it. I can feel it in my throat now. I doesn't go down well.

I asked my grandmother and uncle to sell this house and move to a new one. This one is very old and is not built on columns and beams but thick walls and it is no longer a good and easy place to live in. When I think about seeing this house being sold, I know how it can feel. If I had money right now, Rs. 35,00,000, I would have purchased it and kept it untouched for the rest of my life. I can't do it. Some person is going to buy it, tear it down, and erect a new structure there. I have tears as I write this. I remember every inch of that house, the smell of the old doors, the feel of the heavy walls, the deep ceilings. Everything. It will all go into mud. I don't have that money.

I remember the trees of the house that were brought down some years back. I remember the pain I had felt then. The chirping of the birds that used to perch on the trees is still fresh in my mind. I can't forget that sparrow with only one leg that used to eat vegetable waste daily before noon. I remember the holes I used to dig in the mud to play and then fill them again. There was a stone beneath which I would to save coins. The raindrops of the season fill my years now. The thought of the soil that had turned black due to the used tea powder thrown there daily for years by my grandmother makes me feel the perfumed dirt on my hands. I used to play with it at times. It was not dirty. I can't resist change. I wish I could just preserve it. My blog preserves so much irrespective of what I desire to be saved. It can be an emotional baggage. My grandfather is gone. The home will go. My words will leave unsaid. Is there a chance?

Contain, reduce and absolve

The blog is still open to all and had rejected some requests of updates. I even refused to delete the blog when my cousin asked me to do so. He said he could smell some bad stench from the screen when he has the page opened on his computer. Somehow, I write again.

My heart explained to me yesterday and the day before that, and also on the day before that, and even before that, that I must write something. I was explaining back to it why I must not write anything. I loose my will to my heart today. Finally. I could fight only for 10 days. I had to move beyond 319 and embrace 320.

I have had several ideas and emotions I could have well written here amounting to several thousand words in these 10 days. I was thinking that keeping things to my own self can be considered as maturity. I was reading many other blogs all these days. Some were more blatant. Some made me wet my eyes. And some relied on my brain to keep my heart from resenting stagnation of my blog. I didn't think much before starting to write for today. Or starting to write today.

I was wanting to put up something on Flowing Emotions. Thoughts that my ideas and words will be immature reduced them to ashes of burnt pages that are never useful again. Perhaps if I have salvaged some faint fumes that I must realize sometime later when there is no other smell to relish. Not that I have perfume around me right now. Its just the feeling of being wrapped in a cozy warmth. I cherish even tears. Sometimes smiles.

There is a verse in the Holy Quran that says that Allah's has put love in the hearts of men and women. I don;t remember the context neither do I remember the exact words of the verse. It cleared some doubts in me that were hunting me. I was trouble with the psychology of some people who were terming love as an illogical and imaginary emotion. I am glad I can read and understand. I recognise the power of education every now and then.

If those who have been reading my blogs and those who have read this post till here get a question of why exactly I had stopped writing and what has made me write again, the rest of the post is for them - another paragraph after this. I thought it was immature not being able to contain myself. I am into the same belief even now and so from now on most of my talk will be indirect or at least not open. It can be obfuscating. I intend to be that way.

Some people with discrete motives and half knowledge were troubling me with their actions and resultant actions of their thoughts. I had to learn myself out of that syndrome of being taken unreasonable. That amounts to maturity too. At least that is what I think. If I explain what I discussed with my father here today for more than an hour, its surely going to stir up something idiot. I just now felt like using some very dirty word in place of "idiot". I have to refrain. I have done it all through my 20+ years now. I will continue.

Syed Zubair Hasan

The Road Not Taken


TWO roads
diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20


- Robert Frost

I didn't like the number 318 that I made myself write another post. There is a reason why I rejected 318 to be the last. Its an even number. I wanted an odd. So, it can be said that I am superstitious with odd numbers. Whatever it is, I prefer having odd numbers present themselves before the even ones.

If this sounds foolish, there is no question what the rest of the blog can be. I am not happy writing all this. I had once thought of going big miles. I don't; remember what I had in my mind when I had started writing this blog. But definitely I didn't know I would take that number 1 and add 318 to it.

This blog now is open to everybody. I have removed the restriction that were allowing only the invitees to read it. If at all i start writing on this blog again, I will bring back the restrictions. I have a private life. And I love myself. If I sound ironic and if there is a doubt that the last sentence had something in it, then its my pleasure to have that thought generated. If there in nothing in that sentence, then I am better off...

318

Burn the libraries, for all their value is in the Koran.
— Caliph Omar

A little more than an hour back my cousin from Gulbarga called up and the first thing he asked me to do was update my blog. He said he really wanted me to update it and that he always felt relaxed after reading the updates. It made me very happy that somebody was so interested and I wanted to thank him for the consideration he always shows.

I don't know when I will be writing next on this blog. Perhaps this post might end up being the last one. This is what I want at least for now. There are too many things happening and I don't feel like putting them here or sharing it all with anybody. Those I think should know things will be told by me personally. I really find nothing that I can write here. I have no reason why must continue.

Sometime back I used to write thinking that I was relieving myself. Yes, of course I was doing that. Not anymore. I will find better and more personal ways. I am done with this and I have to move on. I have begun to find it immature writing everything here. As I have mention above, this is all what I feel for the moment. It can change. Perhaps even tomorrow itself. I don't know if I'll retreat and write something tomorrow. And if I continue retreating. And for the record, I have bought a new mouse some days back. I am extremely sorry if I had ever written any nonsense on this blog that went on to hurt, confuse, trouble or cause any kind of problem anybody. But it was never nonsense. I will stand for everything.

Don’t be humble. You’re not that great.
— Golda Meir

Between pride, tears and intellect

Blessed are they who have nothing to say and cannot be persuaded to say it.

Sometime back I felt like punching the computer screen. The fact that I may loose the chance of updating the blog stopped me. There were other reasons too that stopped me. I don't know. I will never be tired telling everybody that I am doing fine. It's Allah's wish. I am still trying to believe in it. It looks like fun and excitement to everybody else. Its nice that way.

I had a lovely talk with my aunt today. After coming from CL today I slept for almost 3 hours. I had my lunch after that and left for Salarjung colony to my uncle's place. We went outside from there and returned home around 7:30 pm. After that till 9:30 pm I was with my aunt talking all that we could. The thing that used to conquer all my talks ceased to exist here. As always, I repeat that among all the people I know, I am one Allah has blessed the most. Alhamdulillah.

The last 30 minutes I have spent thinking. That's of course what I happen to do most of the time, like everybody else. I find myself being consumed by the heat generated by the roughening up of my ego, pride, emotions, love, immaturity and happiness. They all vie for precedence and they burn me to hell. All I do is sit and try to understand what exactly it is supposed to mean. I am afraid it will be too late. I wonder if it is again just a perception. That's what I have been mixing life with all these days.

I wanted to chat with some friend after coming home. I found two of them but couldn't really go for the kill - pull out things from me. But somehow I feel better now - especially after writing the above paragraph. Even I am not aware of any meaning in it. But it means peace to me. It created it. But I am afraid it is a terse packet of what is going on. When I stand today and try to see the days ahead on the calender in my mind, I see many circled boxes.

I always see this calender. Then sometimes it so happens that the days I had looked at long back were already gone. The days I was waiting for or was expecting to see become the ones I see today. It feels nice that they are going. They also hurt solemnly. Its the ice cream that can taste amazing but causes cold. Not all ice creams hurt. Only a few. I am not ice cream.

Tomorrow I have a class at CL again. It will be on quantitative aptitude again. There was a small test today. I felt as if I was pulled out a bathroom and made to stand in front of an army that has been commanded by its army general to shoot at me at sight. I managed to escape by cheating them. It was bad. Though I could clear the cut-off.

I have always been told that I have to stand for everything by myself and nobody would be there for me. I have been told many other things too. Seldom did I choose to believe in them. I can't explain how much I want this blog to be public. But I also understand I must not do that. There are some people with underlying motives who have given me sleepless nights - almost. I wish I could walk on that rosy path and never had to turn away. I also can't explain how it feels now. Perhaps I don't know how foolish I sound this way. It's an irony. I am a paradox. But I am not a statement. Sometimes I happen to make some.

Open and boundless

If you can’t stand solitude, maybe you bore others too.
— Bob Gordon

I just finished watching the movie "Behind Enemy Lines". I don't remember when it was the last time that I saw a movie at home completely at a stretch. The movie was nice. I have had it since long now and I thought its time to have a look and delete it. I had my cousins all this time and I dropped them home sometime back.

Tomorrow I have a class in the morning at CL. I am looking forward to it. It will be after a lon tiem that I will be attending one there. I wonder if there would be any camp in the coming days, I look forward to such a chance too. The last time it was near immpossible for me to attend it - not completely impossible though.

I reached home completely drenched at around 3 pm. It was raining heavily. I thought it to be a waste of time to wait for the rain to slow down. It was nice running in the rain! I was afraid that I would catch cold but I am fine. I woke up at 12 noon, had lunch with my cousin, it was a bit heavy for a breakfast and then I left for home. The rain started the moment I came out of the door.

The ME Daily

The person who has no opinion will seldom be wrong.

Around 9:30 am I received a call on my land line and the asked me if I was Syed Zubair Hasan. I affirmed and he started scolding me in a rude language asking me when I would be available at home. In a bold yet eloquent voice I asked him who he was and he said he was the person responsible for the enquiry process for my passport. I became more polite and told him that I would be home now. Rudely he asked me to keep all the papers ready.

I came around 12. I tried to be as polite with him as I could. He continued being rude and heavy with me for some time. But he couldn't stop himself reciprocating the way I was treating him. He came down to my level in sometime and rest was sweet. He took Rs. 250 calling it as "conveyance". That was rather too much.

I know there are two ways to handle rudeness. One is by being courteous and the other by being extra courteous. I could never find myself capable of adopting any other strategy. I am glad I don't know how to be rude - at least with strangers and outsiders. I am still sad I am not that humble with my parents at times.

Right now I am at my aunt's house. I came here in the afternoon. I even had my niece and nephew here until evening. I will return home tomorrow inshAllah. I will be awake for long in the night with my cousin. Tomorrow I even have to buy a mouse for my computer. Yesterday I had spent a lot of time arranging my old files on the computer. I deleted around 600 songs from the drive - all of them were redundant.

Tomorrow after reaching home - probably in the afternoon, the first thing I will do is start with CAT. Maybe in the evening I will make a visit to my uncle's house. I am expected there in the morning itself. I even I have to collect a few CDs from a friend. The biggest deal remains to be CAT. I am still not done with some work on a cousin's computer system. He must be angry with me.