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Archive for April, 2009

I love you “too”…

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 29, 2009

A few days after I came to Karachi for my studies, I talked to Muneeba on phone. After asking about how she was, if she was missing me or not, how her school was going and what she did the whole day, I was just about to hang up the call when she got my attention and said “Chachoo”, I replied “Ji Beta”, and she said “I Love You too”. This was the first time I heard her say this sentence (with an extra ‘too’ at the end), and it made me cry and laugh at the same time. What amazed me was the way she inserted this sentence into our conversation, and the way she got my attention just to say this one sentence. She must have been eagerly waiting for the right time to say this to me throughout my conversation with her. She must have planned to say this to me before the call ended. I knew straight away that this sentence came right from her heart. I knew that she really meant it.

Days went by. I usually talked to her every alternate day or sometimes after a gap of 2 or 3 days. Whenever I said to her that I love you, she replied I love you too. She probably had understood by now what the “too” meant. But it was always her who got to say this “too” after saying “I love you”.

A couple of weeks back when ammi was coming to Karachi, she told Muneeba that she’d be meeting me here as well, and also that my birthday was approaching, hence Muneeba should make some cards for me. How could Muneeba waste such an excellent chance of sending me something? One day when she returned from school, she silently went to her room and made a lovely landscape at the back of one of her class work sheets. That’s probably the only paper she found to work at. She didn’t want to waste any time or to ask anyone to give her a piece of paper. She drew a house, a lot many stars and a moon, and above all, she glittered it. Another day when ammi put some receipt on a table, Muneeba got hold of it and made a lovely flower at the back of that receipt, checked her work herself, gave herself a star, and glittered it as well. No one knew she had started making gifts for me, but she was silently collecting her drawings for me.

When ammi’s departure for Karachi was only a couple of days away, she asked Muneeba if she had made any “card” for me, which she hadn’t. She had only been making drawings at the back of papers. She must have felt disappointed because as soon as she realized the fact that she hadn’t made any card for me, she asked her mother to give her some piece of chart paper to work at. She found a blue chart paper, which she made into a great card. On the front of this card she drew a beautiful butterfly and colored it, drew some flowers, and a sun and clouds, and some grass, and colored them all. Inside, she wrote:

Dear chacho

I miss you

I love you

From Muniba.

It was only later that everyone at home found out that Muneeba had not only made one “card” for me, but had also been working at drawing at the back of her class works. This was when everyone came to know that it wasn’t one card, it was three of them. When ammi handed over these cards to me, I didn’t know if I should smile or cry. I immediately said out loud, I miss you “too”, I love you “too”. That’s when I realized that it was the first time I got to say I love you “too”. Muneeba said it to me through those cards, I’m saying this to her through this post.

Muneeba, I love you “too”.



The cards that Muneeba made for me…


Front of the card

Front of the card





The landscape

The landscape


This picture speaks for itself

This picture speaks for itself


Related Post – – -> چاچو  بیٹی  ہوں ۔ ۔ ۔


Posted in English | Tagged: , , | 24 Comments »

انمول ۔ ۔ ۔

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 27, 2009

ایک  تحفے  کی  قیمت  کیا  ہوتی  ہے؟  کیا  وہ  تحفہ  قیمتی  ہونا  چاہیئے،  کیا  وہ  تحفہ  ہماری  پسند  کا  ہونا  چاہیئے،  کیا  وہ  اس  انسان  کی  پسند  کا  ہونا  چاہیئے  جسے  آپ  تحفہ  دینا  چاہتے  ہیں؟ کیا  یہ  سب  سوال  عجیب  ہیں؟ نہیں،  ہر  گز  نہیں۔ ان  میں  سے  کوئی  سوال  عجیب  نہیں  ہے،  بلکہ  ان  تمام سوالوں  کا میری نظر  میں  صرف  ایک ہی جواب  ہے۔ اور  وہ  یہ  ہے  کہ  اس  دنیا  میں  کوئی  شخص  کسی  تحفے  کی  قیمت  کا  اندازہ  نہیں  لگا  سکتا۔ تحفہ  تو انمول  ہوتا  ہے،  تحفہ  بزاتِ  خود  کسی  کی  پسند  کا  نہیں  ہوتا،  بلکہ  یہ  تو  تحفہ  دینے  والے  کی  نییت  ہوتی  ہے  جو  اس  تحفہ  کو  پسندیدہ  اور  انمول  بناتی  ہے۔ ۔ ۔

اگر  یہ  سچ  ہے  کہ  تحفہ  دینے  والے  کی  نییت  ہی  ایک  تحفہ  کو  نایاب  بناتی  ہے،  تو  پھر  اس  شخص  کا  کیا  حال  ہوا  ہوگا  جب  اسکا  تحفہ  کسی  نے  کھول  کر  دیکھا  بھی  نہیں۔  اس  شخص  پہ  کیا  گزری  ہوگی  جب  اس  نے  پوچھا  ہوگا  کہ  تحفہ  کیسا  لگا  اور  اسے  آگے  سے  جواب  ملا  ہوگا  کہ  میں  نے  تو  تحفہ  کھولا  ہی  نہیں۔  اس  شخص  کا  دل  کتنا  ٹوٹا  ہوگا  جس  نے  اکیلے،  ایک  انجان  شہر  میں،  اتنی  ہمّت  کرنے  کی  ٹھانی  کہ  وہ  کہیں  سے  بھی  ایک  ایسا  تحفہ  لائے  گا  جو  اسکے  خیال  میں  اسکے  دوست  کو  بہت  پسند  آئے  گا،  فقط  یہ  سننے  کے  لیئے  کہ  ابھی  تو  میں  نے  وہ  تحفہ  دیکھا  بھی  نہیں۔  کیا  اس  شخص  کا  مان  نہیں  ٹوٹا  ہوگا  جب  اس  کا  بھیجا  ہوا  تحفہ  کسی  نی  پڑے  رہنے  دیا  ہو گا۔ اس  شخص  کے انتظار  کی  کیا  قیمت  لگایئے  جسنے  تحفہ  بھیجنے  کے  بعد  اگلے  دن  شام  گئے  تک  صرف  شکریہ  کہ  دو  الفاظ  سننا  چاہے،  مگر  اسے  سننے  کو  ملا  کہ  میں  نے  تو  وہ  تحفہ  کھولا  ہی  نہیں۔ ۔ ۔

اس  جرم  کا  ارتکاب  کرنے  والا  شخص  ہوں  میں۔  ۲۵  اپریل 09  بروز  ہفتہ  میری  ۲۵ویں  سالگرہ  تھی۔  رات  کے  ۱۲  بجتے  ہی  مجھے  دوستوں  کے  میسج  آنا  شروع  ہو گئے۔  ان تمام میسج میں  اس  دوست  کا  میسج  بھی  شامل  تھا  جس  نے  مجھے  تحفہ  بھیجا  تھا۔  مجھے  معلوم  تھا  کے  اس  دوست  نے  مجھے  لاہور  سے  تحفہ  بھیجا  ہے،  حالانکہ  میں  نے  اس  دوست  کو  کئی  بار  تحفہ  بھیجنے  سے  منع  کیا،  مگر  شاید  میرا  اپنا  بھی  دل  تھا  کہ  میرا  دوست  مجھے  تحفہ  بھیجے۔ پہلے  میں  نے  اپنے  دوست  کو  اپنا  پتہ  نہیں  بتایا  تھا،  مگر  پھر  اچانک  بتا  دیا۔  میں  نے  اپنے  دوست  سے  پوچھا  بھی  کہ  کیا  تحفہ  بھیجا  ہے،  مگر  اسنے  انتظار  کیا  کہ  میں  خود  تحفہ  کھولوں  اور  دیکھوں  کہ  تحفہ  کیا  ہے۔  میں  رات  کو  اپنے  دوست  سے  بات  کرتا  رہا،  اپنے  دوست  کو  یہ  بتاتا  رہا  کہ  مجھے  کتنی  خوبصورت  دعایئں  بھیجی  جا  رہی  ہیں،  اپنے  دوست  کو  بتاتا  رہا  کہ  میرے  دوسرے  دوستوں  نے  مجھے  نظمیں  بھیجی  ہیں۔  اس  وقت  وہ  دوست  یقینن  یہی  سوچ  رہا  ہوگا  کہ  جب  میرا  بھیجا  ہوا  تحفہ  اِسے  ملے  گا  تو  کیا  یہ  اس  وقت  بھی  اتنا  ہی  خوش  ہوگا؟  اس  وقت  میرا  وہ  دوست  یقینن  اس  انتظار  میں  تھا  کہ  کب  اسکا  بھیجا  ہوا  تحفہ  کھولا  جائے  گا ۔ ۔ ۔

اگلا  دن  ہوا،  دوپہر  ہوئی  اور  پھر  شام  ہوگئی۔ میں  اپنے  دوست  کا  بھیجا  ہوا  تحفہ  دیکھے  بغیر  امّی  سے  ملنے  خالہ  کہ  گھر  چلا  گیا۔  امّی  ان  دنوں  لاہور  سے  آئی  ہوئی  ہیں۔  یونیورسٹی  سے  واپس  آنے  کے  بعد  میں  نے  صرف  کھانا  کھایا  اور  اپنے  دوست  کے  بھیجے  ہوئے  تحفے  کا  سوچے  بغیر  ہی  ہاسٹل  سے  نکل  پڑا۔  پتہ  نہیں  کیوں  مگر  مجھے  اپنے  دوست  کا  وہ  تحفہ  اس  وقت  ذہن  میں  ہی  نہیں  آیا۔  شام  کو  جب  اس  دوست  نے  مجھ  سے  پوچھا  کہ  مجھے  اس  دوست  کا  بھیجا  ہوا  تحفہ  کیسا  لگا،  تو  میرے  پاس  صرف  یہی  جواب  تھا  کہ  وہ  تحفہ  تو  میں  نے  کھولا  ہی  نہیں۔  میں  یہ  کہتے  ہوئے  شرمندہ  تھا  مگر  اس  وقت  بھی  میں  نے  یہ  نہیں  سوچا  تھا  کہ  میری  اس  حرکت  نے  میرے  دوست  کو  کتنا  دکھ  دیا  ہوگا۔ ۔ ۔

جب  میں  خالہ  کے  یہاں  سے  واپس  ہاسٹل  آیا  تو  کمرے  میں  گھسنے  سے  پہلے  ہی  میں  ہاسٹل  انچارج  کے  دفتر  میں  گیا  اور  اپنا  تحفہ  وصول  کیا۔  میں  چاہتا  تھا  کہ  اپنے  دوست  کو  کال  کروں،  اور  اس  سے  بات  کرتے  ہوئے  اس  تحفے  کو  کھولوں۔  اس  وقت  جب  میں  اپنے  دوست  کو  کال  ملا  رہا  تھا،  مجھے  احساس  ہوا  کہ  میں  نے کیا  حرکت  کی  ہے۔  اس  وقت  مجھے  رہ  رہ  کر  یہ  خیال  آ  رہا  تھا  کہ  میرے  دوست  نے  مجھ  سے  صرف  اپنے  تحفہ  کا  پوچھنے  کے  لیئے  کتنا  انتظار  کیا  ہوگا۔  اس  وقت  مجھے  احساس  ہو  رہا  تھا  کہ  میں  نے  اپنے  دوست  کے  انتظار  کو  صرف  ایک  دن  نہیں  بلکہ  شاید  کئی  صدیاں  بڑھا  دیا  ہوگا۔  اس  وقت  میرا  شدید  دل  کر  رہا  تھا  کہ  میری  جلد  سے  جلد  اس  دوست  سے  بات  ہو  جائے۔  شاید  مجھے  میرے  کئے  کی  سزا  مل  رہی  تھی۔ میری  میرے  دوست  سے  بات نہیں  ہو  سک  رہی  تھی۔ ۔ ۔

غلطی  کے  اس  احساس  میں  جو  مجھے  اس  وقت  ستائے  جا  رہا  تھا،  میں  نے  اپنے  دوست  کے  لئے  ایک  نوٹ  لکھا اور  اس  سے  معافی  مانگی۔  اس  وقت  نا  جانے  کیوں  وہ  معافی  بھی  بہت  بے  معنی  سی  لگ  رہی  تھی۔  اس  وقت  مجھے  احساس  ہو  رہا  تھا  کہ  ہم  کسی  کے  جزبات  سے  کھیل  کر  معافی  مانگ  لیتے  ہیں،  اور  نا صرف  اس  دوست  کے  جزبات  کا  مزاق  اڑاتے  ہیں  بلکہ  اس  دوست  کو  مجبور  کر  دیتے  ہیں  کہ  وہ  کھل  کر  شکوہ  بھی  نہ  کر  سکے۔ اس  وقت  میں  لگاتار  یہی  دعا  مانگ  رہا  تھا  کہ  میرا  دوست  خیریت  سے  ہو،  جلدی  سو  کہ  اٹھے،  میرا  نوٹ  پڑھے  اور  مجھ  سے  بات  کرے۔  شاید  مجھ  میں  اتنی  ہمّت  نہیں  تھی  کہ  میں  اپنے  اس  عزیز  دوست  سے  زبانی  معافی  مانگ  سکتا،  اس  لئے  میں  چاہتا  تھا  کہ  میرا  دوست  وہ  نوٹ  پڑھ  لے۔ اس  وقت  میں  سوچ  رہا  تھا  کہ  ہم  سے  کیسے  انجانے  میں  ایسی  غلطی  ہو  جاتی  ہے  جو  غلطی  ہم  کبھی  جان  بوجھ  کہ  کرنے  کا  سوچ  بھی  نہیں  سکتے۔  شاید  ہم  انسان  ہیں  اس  لئیے۔  اس  وقت  اپنے  آپ  کو  تسلّی  دینے  کا  مجھے  صرف  یہی  زریعہ  نظر  آیا  کہ  میں  اپنے  آپ  کو  یہ  کہ  کر  بہلا  لوں  کہ  غلطی  بھی  تو  انسان  سے  ہی  ہوتی  ہے۔ ۔ ۔

اور  پھر  میری  بات  اس  دوست  سے  ہو  گئی۔  اس  دوست  کے  فون  اٹھاتے  ہی،  اور  اس  دوست  کی  آواز  سنتے  ہی  اس  بات  کی  تسلّی  ہو  گئی  کہ  وہ  دوست  خیرییت  سے  ہے  الحمدللہ۔۔  حالانکہ  اس  دوست  کی  آواز  پوری  طرح  ٹھیک  نہیں  تھی  اور  اس  آواز  میں  دکھ  کی  سی  کیفیت  نمایاں  تھی،  مگر  میں  نے  اس  وقت  اپنے  دوست  سے  یہ  بات  کرنا  مناسب  نہیں  سمجھا۔ اس  دوست  سے  بات  کے  دوران  ہی  میں  نے  وہ  تحفہ  کھولا۔  میرے  دوست  نے  میرے  لئیے  ایک  ایسی  کتاب  بھیجی  تھی  جسکا  جانے  انجانے  میں  اس  دوست  سے  اتنی  دفعہ  ذکر  ہوا  تھا  کہ  اس  کتاب  کہ  نام  پہ  ہی  میں  نے  اپنے  بلاگ  کا  نام  رکھا۔  وہ  کتاب  تھی  امر  بیل۔  اس  کتاب  کو  دیکھ  کر  میرے  پاس  الفاظ  نہیں  تھے  کہ  میں  اپنی  غفلت  پر  شرمندہ  ہووں  یا  اپنے  اس  عزیز  دوست  کو  اس  خوبصورت  تحفے  کا  شکریہ  کروں۔  میرے  بلاگ  کا  نام  صرف  اس  وجہ  سے  امر  بیل  نہیں  ہے  کہ  مجھے  یہ  نام  اچھا  لگا  تھا،  بلکہ  اسکی  ایک  بڑی  وجہ  یہ  ہے  کہ  میرے  بلاگ  کا  یہ  نام  میرے  اسی  دوست  نے  تجویز  کیا  تھا،  اور  وہ  بھی  اسی  ناول  پہ  مبنی  تھا۔  میرے  اسی  دوست  نے  ایک  دفعہ  امر  بیل  سے  ایک  اقتباس  مجھے  سنایا  تھا،  اس  دن  کے  بعد  سے  مجھے  کہیں  بھی  امر  بیل  کا  کوئی  حصّہ  کہیں  بھی  لکھا  ہوا  ملتا،  میں  وہ  اپنے  دوست  کو  سناتا۔  میرا  اس  ناول  کو  پڑھنے  کا  اشتیاق  بڑھتا  جا  رہا  تھا  اور  ٹھیک  اسی  وقت  میرے  دوست  نے  میرے  لیئے  یہ  ناول  بھیج  دیا۔ ۔ ۔

فون  پہ  تو  میرے  پاس  الفاظ  نہیں  تھے  جن  سے  میں  اپنے  اس  دوست  کا  شکریہ  ادا  کر  سکتا،  نا  ہی  کوئی  ایسے  الفاظ  موجود  ہونگے  جن  سے  میں  اپنے  دوست  کو  یہ  بتا  سکوں  کہ  میرے  اس  دوست  نے  مجھے  کتنی  خوشی  دی  ہے۔  میں  شاید  الفاظ  میں  یہ  بات  نہ  کہ  سکوں  کہ  میرے  دوست  کا  یہ  یاد  رکھنا  کہ  مجھے  یہ  ناول  پڑھنے  کا  شوق  ہے،  اور  ایک  انجان  شہر  میں  اس  ناول  کو  ڈھونڈ  کر  مجھے  بھیجنا  میرے  لیئے  کیا  معنی  رکھتا  ہے۔  میں  شاید  اپنے  دوست  کو  یہ  نہ  بتا  سکوں  کہ  مجھے  اس  وقت  وہ  تحفہ  کھول  کر  کتنی  خوشی  ہو  رہی  تھی ۔ ۔ ۔

دوست،  کوئی  لفظ  شاید  اس  بات  کو  بیان  نہ  کر  سکے  کہ  اس  تحفے  کی  میرے  لیئے  کیا  قیمت  ہے۔  میرے  لیئے  یہ  تحفہ  انمول  ہے،  جس  خوش  دلی  اور  جس  نیّت  سے  آپ  نے  یہ  تحفہ  بھیجا،  میرے  لیئے  وہ  انمول  ہے،  اور  جس  دوستی  کے  لیئے  آپ  نے  مجھے  یہ  تحفہ  بھیجا،  میرے  لیئے  وہ  انمول  ہے ۔ ۔ ۔

Posted in Urdu | Tagged: , | 6 Comments »

Love Defined…

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 21, 2009

I copied the following pictures from a friend’s album. Couldnt resist posting them on my blog as well. It is really amazing to see how children think and observe, how they remember and apply things when asked, how they relate love to what they observed and what they experienced. Probably a good piece of learning for all of us as well.


Posted in Adopted, English | Tagged: , | 1 Comment »

I have learned that…

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 13, 2009

One of my friends on Facebook shared this note with me. I must say, these are great words…


I’ve Learned…
That the best classroom in the world is at the feet of an elderly person.

I’ve Learned…
That when you’re in love, it shows.

I’ve Learned…
That just one person saying to me, “You’ve made my day!” makes my day.

I’ve Learned…
That having a child fall asleep in your arms is one of the most peaceful feelings in the world.

I’ve Learned…
That being kind is more important than being right.

I’ve Learned…
That you should never say no to a gift from a child.

I’ve Learned…
That I can always pray for someone when I don’t have the strength to help him in some other way.

I’ve Learned…
That no matter how serious your life requires you to be, everyone needs a friend to act goofy with.

I’ve Learned…
That sometimes all a person needs is a hand to hold and a heart to understand.

I’ve Learned…
That simple walks with my father around the block on summer nights when I was a child did wonders for me as an adult.

I’ve Learned…
That we should be glad God doesn’t give us everything we ask for.

I’ve Learned…
That money doesn’t buy class.

I’ve Learned…
That it’s those small daily happenings that make life so spectacular.

I’ve Learned…
That under everyone’s hard shell is someone who wants to be appreciated and loved.

I’ve Learned…
That the Lord didn’t do it all in one day. What makes me think I can?

I’ve Learned…
That to ignore the facts does not change the facts.

I’ve Learned…
That when you plan to get even with someone, you are only letting that person continue to hurt you.

I’ve Learned…
That love, not time, heals all wounds.

I’ve Learned…
That the easiest way for me to grow as a person is to surround myself with people smarter than I am.

I’ve Learned…
That everyone you meet deserves to be greeted with a smile.

I’ve Learned…
That there’s nothing sweeter than sleeping with your babies and feeling their breath on your cheeks.

I’ve Learned…
That no one is perfect until you fall in love with them.

I’ve Learned…
That life is tough, but I’m tougher.

I’ve Learned…
That opportunities are never lost; someone will take the ones you miss.

I’ve Learned…
That when you harbor bitterness, happiness will dock elsewhere.

I’ve Learned…
That I wish I could have told my Mom that I love her, one more time, before she passed away.

I’ve Learned…
That one should keep his words both soft and tender, because tomorrow he may have to eat them.

I’ve Learned…
That a smile is an inexpensive way to improve your looks.

I’ve Learned…
That I can’t choose how I feel, but I can choose what I do about it.

I’ve Learned…
That when your newly born grandchild holds your little finger in his little fist, that you’re hooked for life.

I’ve Learned…
That everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.

I’ve Learned…
That it is best to give advice in only two circumstances; when it is requested and when it is a life-threatening situation.

I’ve Learned…
That the less time I have to work with, the more things I get done. 

Words by Andy Rooney


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Things aren’t good up here…

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 9, 2009

The intensity with which I felt the pain is just not possible for me to describe. I literally sat there for at least 30 seconds, holding my head tight with both of my hands, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I hadn’t even woken up completely when my eyes were forced wide open for a couple of seconds, and then forced back closed for those 30 seconds that I sat there. This was how I was welcomed at the IBA hostel. They say, hostel life teaches you a lot, and I can’t agree more. It sure does teach you a lot. The most important lesson it teaches you is to adapt yourself to the environment.

Well, basically, the washroom entrances here at IBA hostel, if measured from the entrance step to the top of the door, are a maximum of 6 feet tall. That’s the maximum high they are. And fortunately or otherwise, my height is 6 feet and a couple of inches. You can very well imagine what went wrong, especially when someone is new to the place. Sometimes we learn things the hard way.

The story doesn’t end here. It wasn’t only once that this incident happened with me. What’s worse is, the washroom entrances aren’t of a constant height, and some washroom entrances are even less than 6 feet high. I was very well aware of bowing to an extent before entering or leaving the washrooms, but luck had it once more for me :(. This time I was hurrying to catch up Maghrib’s congregation and was leaving the bathroom area after performing ablution that I got hit again. It was even worse this time. This time it was another of the bathroom areas to greet me. I was fumed up to such an extent with this incident that I went straight to the office of the hostel incharge the very next morning to complain about the bathroom entrances being shorter than the height I reach even after I bow :(.

Another incident of the same nature occurred when I was walking in the nearby Rangers colony while reading some message on my mobile and hit straight into a window of a room. Im not sure if I was lucky or not, because that window wasn’t of glass, but of iron. This blow wasn’t that bad as those mentioned above. The window I struck into was quiet high, but I stood even higher, and this also happened in Karachi (yeah my experience here at Karachi hasn’t been so pleasant).

These are only some of the recent happenings with me, the story of my height and the associated luck is quite old. I remember when people would accuse me of concealing my age back when I was in school. I have always had to stand in the last row of all the important group pictures. Recently we had a PTC Battle of Minds competition (details here) at IBA, and my team was one of those shortlisted for the competition. Though we couldn’t make it to the next round, but for the group photo at the end of the day, I was standing with my team, the photographer was just about to hit the button when he came up to me and asked me to move a bit towards the rear end of the group because I was tall and there were people who weren’t properly visible because of me.

Whenever there has to be a row of people for a group photo, I have to stand at the back. Why don’t I deserve to stand right at the front and pose :). I even had to stand in the last row of the batch photo at FAST-NU. That was the most memorable picture of my life so far, the picture for which I waited four years, the picture that has all of my friends in it, and yet I have to struggle finding myself in that picture, only because I’m tall, that’s cruel.

There definitely are some positive aspects of being tall, especially when I don’t have to struggle too much to lift children high enough so that they can touch the fan, which children like the most, but there are more negative aspects as I have experienced, as there are positive aspects to it. It specially gets bad when my height becomes my own enemy and makes me suffer, and sometimes suffer too much…

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Logically Illogical!

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 6, 2009

The other day we had this very interesting discussion in our class about how people become logically illogical, and convince others with their logic as well. Our teacher, whom I’d be referring to as Dr. N in this post, gave us a few examples from his personal experiences that I think are really worth mentioning.

Dr. N mentioned that he was standing at one of the bus stations waiting for the bus. The place seemed quiet and people waiting for the bus didn’t look in any hurry or urgency whatsoever, but this state of affairs wasn’t to last for long. As soon as the bus arrived at the stop, it was such a great rush and everyone was running to get inside the bus. It was as if this bus was the last to come at this stop. Many people could manage to get aboard the bus but a few couldn’t, and that included Dr. N as well. Those who were left behind also included a student. Dr. N, perhaps just for the sake of killing of time, asked that student if it would be better to make a queue and people organizing and behaving them instead of rushing for the bus. That student; who actually seemed irritated by what he was asked, very rudely answered “Uncle! Can’t you see how long would it take for the person standing at the rear end of the queue to get to the bus as opposed to what it takes him now?” This rather straight forward argument momentarily convinced the professor as well.

Dr. N, as he narrates, observed at yet another occasion that a person took a wrong turn on a one way road and started going towards the opposite direction, directly into the oncoming traffic. This act definitely made the traffic slow down. This person going wrong way actually wanted to go to a nearby shop that was at the other side of the road, and wasn’t willing to take the long route, hence went for the wrong direction. When the other motorists stopped and made way for this wrong doer, he thanked one of the drivers who in return welcomed him. Both of them exchanged hand waves indicating no one had any problems with this act. The people on the right track weren’t even disturbed by the fact that there was a person coming in a wrong direction; rather, the wrong doer was welcomed in returned.

At yet another occasion, Dr. N was hit by a car from behind when he was standing (probably on a signal). Both the victim and the culprit got out of their cars and the culprit burst into Dr. N, proving it was Dr. N’s fault. His argument was, why did you stop? The culprit wasn’t even sorry for what he did, and after a short argument, that person left the scene.

Why don’t we admit our mistakes and be sorry for anything wrong we do? Why don’t we at least feel bad about something that is wrong, let alone stopping that wrong? Why don’t we try and organize ourselves, instead of convincing ourselves on the un-organized way things are happening? Why do we become so logically illogical at times, and don’t even realize if we’re the ones at mistake? We probably lack the courage to admit and correct ourselves…

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My blog gets a name!

Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 5, 2009

It was October 2008 when I wrote my first post. It was a feeling inside me that motivated me to start writing, a feeling that gave me enough confidence to express myself. It was a feeling of missing Muneeba, my niece, that I made up my mind to write my first post. That post was in Urdu, and the title of that post and the contents were just coming to me as if everything was already planned. That was when the journey began. My blog was named “Haris Gulzar’s Weblog” at that time. I could hardly take up the tension of renaming my blog and of thinking about some meaningful and attractive name for my blog. What mattered the most at that time was to write my first post.

I probably got too busy in my studies after writing my first post, because my second post came in February. That was when I thought about having an attractive name for my blog, a catchy name, something that expressed that I loved writing, that I loved expressing myself. I thought of “Floating Thoughts” but later found that one of my very close friends had already been using this blog name since long. And yeah, how ignorant of me not to know the blog name of one of my very close friends, well my defense is, I was not into writing and/or reading blogs, hence I didn’t know that blog name was already taken.

The best blog name I could have thought at that time (It was February ‘09) was “Expressions Afloat”. Although I didn’t like this name much, but it was probably better than what I previously had. I haven’t been consistent in writing since then but whatever I wrote made me think at least once to rename my blog and give it some creative name. I was constantly searching for a blog name. I even started asking my friends about suggestions. The suggestions I received were “Golden leaves”, “Amarbail”, “Naubahar” (this was my own suggestion), and also “Darwaza”, “Khirki”, “Deewar”…

Amarbail was the best of all. I was told that it is only one word, meaning “A plant of eternity”, but that’s something I’m still confused about. I think it should be two words, with Amar meaning eternity and bail meaning a plant (well its literal meaning isn’t plant, but I don’t know its literal meaning :P), but this definitely isn’t an issue at all. Hence for now it will be just one word, but if someone confirms if these are two words, I can always put a space between the words.

Finally, my search for a good blog name ends!

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