The other world: Dr. Atiya

Shahab hansnay laga or bola yahan Karachi main aik seer hai, usay mustaqbil ki jhalkian nazar aati hain.

kahan hai, mainay poocha

us ne aik kaghaz per pata likh diya. kaghaz mujhay daitay howay kaha, mera naam le lijiye

Qaisar, Ahmed Bashir, Isfaq Hussain, Insha or main aglay roz ikathay ho kar Atiya se ja milay.

wo aik sanjeeda, kam go, ba wakar or taleem yafta khatoo thi. wahan kamray main kuch or log bhi baithay thay.

jee farmaye wo har sail se poochti. jab wo apni beeti suna chukta to gardan jhuka kar baith jati. kuch der yoonhi baithi rehti, phir sir utha kar muskarati or sawal ka jawab de daiti.

Qaisar k baad meir baari thi. mainay kaha mujhay kuch nahi poochna

aap Mumtaz Mufti hain? Atiya ne poocha

jee, mainay jawab diya

shahab sahib ne mujhay aap ki mutalliq phone kia tha

Ahmed Bashir bola, darasal ye shakhs apni sarisht ke khilaf kisi ko peer man baitha hai

Atiya muskarai, wo buzurg kahan hain jinhain peer maan baithay hain?

Pindi main 

Atiya ne murakbay main sir jukha diya. chand sa-at baad sir uthaya. boli, wo khud aa gaye. oonchay, lambay, goray, chittay, sir per roomi topi thi. hath main hukka tha, punjabi booltay hain kehnay lagay: tu rehan day, asi apay seedha kar laan gay.

main soch main par gaya. isay kaisay pata chala ke wo roomi topi pehantay hain, hukkah peetay hain or punjabi boltay hain. or wo khud kaisay aa gaye. aik marhoom o maghfoor budha Pindi se Karachi kaisay aa gaya or phir lehja bhi to unhi ka tha. ye sab kya hai. ye kaisi duniya hai jahan log marnay ke baad azadana ghoomtay phirtay hain.

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mainay faisla kia ke Atiya se akailay main miloo or isay poochoo ke ye gift usay kaisay mila. mainay telephone pe Atiya se wakt manga, wo man gaye.

mainay kaha mohtarma, aap ko mustaqbil ki jhalkian kaisay nazar aati hain? wo muskarai kehnay lagi kabhi mehsoosaat ke zariye jhalki nazar aati hai, kabhi aankhon ke samnay tasveer aa jati hai, kabhi aawazain sunai daiti hain or kabhi deewar pe film chalnay lagti hai.

aap kab se ye jhalkian dekh rahi hain

bachpan hi se, jab mujhay poori tarah shaoor nahi tha

phir us ne mujhay apnay bachpan ki mukhtasir si kahani sunai:

aik din parosan ki saas beemar par gaye. us ne shor macha diya ke jao doctor ko bula lao. us wakt main mareeza ke paas khari thi. mainay mareeza ki taraf dekha or mujhay yoon nazar aaya jaisay wo mar chuki ho. mainay buland awaz main kaha ab doctor ko bulanay ka kya faida, ye to mar chuki hai. ye keh kar main ghar chali aye. doctor ke pohanchnay se pehlay mareeza fot ho gaye. meri ye baat saray muhallay main mashhoor ho gaye. phir logo ne mujh se sawal poochna shuru kar diye. jab main in sawalaat per tawajju daiti to mujh per mehsoosat tari ho jatay jis ke mutabiq main unhain bata daiti ye ho jaye ga ya nahi.

kehnay lagi log samajhtay hain ye imtyazi salahiyat hai, ghalat samajhtay hain, mustaqbil ko jan laina bari takleef de baat hai. jab meray walid fot howay tab mainay jana tha ye kis kadar takleef de baat hai.

us roz mainay dekha ke aik kafan urta urta khirki se kamray main dakhil ho gaya or doosri charpaye per aa kar tik gaya. aik adh minute wo wahan para raha phir tehleel ho gaya. mainay shiddat se mehsoos kia keh aaj is kamray main koi fot honay wala hai. us roz das bajay mainay kafan ka manzar dekha tha. das bajay se teen bajay tak mujh per goya naza ka aalam tari raha. main mar mar ker jeeti rahi. main baar baar apnay mian or abba ko phone karti rahi, teen bajay wo ghar aaye to kuch tasalli howi. phir char bajay ke kareeb abba ke pait main dard utha or wo usi charpai per lait gaye jis per kafan tika raha tha. meray mian ne doctor ko phone kia laikin doctor ki amad se pehlay hi abba rukhsat ho gaye.

ESP (Extra Sensory Perception) ka mutalia karnay ki wajah se mujhay seers k baray main kuch maloomat hasil thee. mujhay ilm tha ke kuch logo ko paidaishi tor per mustaqbil ki jhalkian nazar aati hain. or kuch logo main sir ki chot lagnay per ye khasoosiat ubhar ati hai. mujhay ye bhi ilm tha ke is khasoosiat ko mazhab se koi ta-alluk nahi hai, laikin hairat ki baat thi ke Atiya ko mazhab se gehra ta-alluk tha.

Atiya ki kahani sun ker mainay jan liya k wo seer hi nahi kuch or bhi hai

Mumtaz Mufti Alakh Nagri

(his autobiography)

Send ups over

My back is arched like that of an old man. My legs hurt and my brain is too saturated to contain anything else. Thinking that it was just a rehearsal and the final drama is yet to come, I get a little scared.

Wasted days

A day without laughter is a day wasted.

Charlie Chaplin

Preparation of medical exams wastes so many days of our lives.

Nature unpredictable

National Geographic is surely the best TV channel. Watch this baffling video and draw your conclusions. Humans have a lot to learn from animals.

Chickenpox and tarka

Our maid said that if any one has got chickenpox then no food in the house should be flavoured with a tarka. Because tarka produces a sizzling sound that is supposed to enhance the severity of pox. Now, I never knew that varicella zoster virus (VZV) had a special affinity and liking for saturated fats or may be its just those specific food items that the virus likes. May be the virus likes Haleem or other pulses. Anyways, while the west is busy developing vaccines for viruses, we have a simple desi treatment at home.

Rock night: three blasts

The enemy has succeeded in what it wanted exactly. It is crippling the people mentally. It is isolating Pakistan. The blasts at WPAF were an excellent success to further tatter the image of Pakistan and to prevent any foreigners coming here again. That would be the end of all the activities in Lahore. Cultural or sports or other. People are already afraid, now they will be even more. Mum and Dad straight away prohibited me from going to the festival today which I had a plan. We are smoothly and fast heading towards a big war.

To Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan, with love

I always wondered why we lack scientific minds. A part of the answer might be that because of what we do to the very few such people that we have. We hand over our neuro-scientists to America and we lock up our nuclear scientists. Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan is an asset. People say that he should have been made the president of the country. But I think that he should have been allowed to continue research work. He should have been allowed to establish universities, attract students to this his field and deliver lectures throughout the universities in the country. He should have been allowed to transfer his knowledge to the relevant people and to create minds like his. He should have been awarded with money and all the facilities that our non deserving ministers get to receive.

Even if he were involved in any nuclear trafficking, he should have been defended because he is OUR OWN. Being a Pakistani the government should have tried to cover up his faults and mistakes if there were any. As regard the accusations of other countries, if the government was not able to deny them straight forwardly, it could have handled the situation in a political and diplomatic manner. Like giving statements that 'we condemn it and we will conduct a trial' and actually not doing it or something like that.

Dear Dr. Khan,

Please forgive us, for what we did to you. Our heads are bowed and we are ashamed. We are just not aware or may be we are just too selfish. May Allah give you courage and health and make you able to produce like-minds and do more for the country.

Three D's

Drone, Dengue and Depression

Ud kothay utton kanwa

Well I'm not any Saima or Saira Naseem nor is this crow sitting on the kotha exactly but I still want it gone. I tried singing the song too but like in the movie, it kept on sitting till the end. It is sitting just outside my neighbour's upper storey window pane, a few meters from me. I can see and hear him clearly from my window. This crow caught my attention because he is in love. He sits at the same place for hours and caws. He caws when I am eating biscuits, when I am surfing the net, when I am just trying to relax and when I am trying to memorize the early and late changes after death. What attracts him there is his beloved. And he has every reason to come there daily because his beloved is very docile and does everything that he does. She caws when he does, she flaps her wings when he does; she is his own reflection in the mirror, literally. This stupid, stupid crow sits in front of the window pane, sees his own reflection and keeps on cawing. This makes him happy and me want to kill it. He has developed a long term memory and never forgets her. Far away, I can hear the screams of some eagle too but the eagle is just wasting time flying around. 'The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.' William Blake
I wish humans had a lesson from the crow too.

A little break

I went to see some contemporary dance today at the festival and I've decided never to see contemporary dance again :-D It's not that it was bad. The performances were brilliant had their own philosophy and meaning of the dance which they explained before every act and they were all very well prepared and rehearsed but it just didn't catch my interest. They were from Banglore, India and they called themselves Nritarutya. Nevertheless the festival per se was sumptuous, as always. The ambience, the lights, the colours and those giant moving puppets.

Guitar universal

I never thought much highly of guitar until I had one. Not only it is a difficult instrument but the most diverse too I guess. It covers a number of genres: flamenco, samba, jazz, blues, country music, rock, pop, classical. I can't recall any other instrument with such diversity. So it would not be wrong to call guitar a Universal Instrument. :) I discovered this Spanish guitar lately and developed a particular liking. In most Spanish music flat notes are used equivalent to our Raga Bhairvi. This video is particularly awesome.

Heaven

Gosh...I love these girls and their combined voice and when they lift their lehanga with one hand and when they do a fast tatkar. I think slower compositions are more aesthetic and the melody over it plays a big role and defines the mood as in this case. A soft teen taal with a sugary melody and slow balanced movements is a good start and rather difficult than fast ones!

Einstein

They call him Einstein. Our African Grey Parrot has made it to whistling, imitating the door bell and saying 'hello' as yet :-D

Happy Birthday

Whenever I think of Urdu poetry the things that come in my mind are a dejected person, a broken heart, a lit cigarette with its ash about to fall and a goblet near by. But then I think about Allama Iqbal and the changing map of world. He might have some of the addictions too but but his other contributions are much more important to talk about.

Exams haven't even started yet and I am already making plans about post exam days. The first thing I am going to do is to visit the 'Javed Manzil' which I haven't ever unluckily.

Dear Allama Iqbal please forgive us for not taking care of your country, for not being the Muslims you wanted us to be, for not developing our khudi and for not fulfilling your dreams.

Beggars

China refused to give money, good job. United States' blatant reply, 'We are not going to throw money on the table', well done. And then they went to IMF. I'm totally amazed at the President's and Prime Minister's joint decision of not accepting the IMF's conditions on loan. Well, first they cry in front of media so openly that 'We need money, we need money, give us money, we need $100 billion instantly (Oh my God), please help us', making us ever more ashamed of our leaders and then after so many rejections when someone agrees to lend money on some conditions they simply reject. God will you please send some good leaders from up their and will you please give a little wisdom to the Pakistani nation so that they do not elect criminals as their leaders?

I think they only refused to give money because they know that their are thieves in here and that those who are asking for money have their bank accounts of billions of dollars in foreign countries which if they just brought to the banks of Pakistan, there wouldn't be any need of asking for money. IMF's conditions must have been about the expenditure of money, thats why they refused them.

Why should any one give us money when we are not ready to change ourselves. There hasn't been one area, one field where the expenditure has been cut down. Instead they are making a cabinet of fifty five members, which should have been cut down to save money. They are taking a delegation of two hundred people with them to the visit to Saudi Arabia. They are having marriage ceremonies in President House! And the foreigners are right when they come here and say 'Seeing the conditions of the leaders we don't think that Pakistan is in such a dire need of money.'

If they had a LITTLE self respect they would not have begged in the first place. They would have sought after respected and dignified ways of bringing money home. Like inviting the foreign investors, transferring their own money from foreign to local banks, asking the oversees Pakistanis to transfer their money in Pakistani banks, cutting down the SO MANY extravagant expenditures. They should have united their nation and they would have said, 'We will work hard, we will stand on our own and we will not beg.' And theres NO WAY on earth they would not have succeeded only if they had good intentions and commitment and patriotism in them.

Great nations are not formed by begging for money.

World Performing arts festival 2008

DAMMNNNNNN!!! Its from 13th to 23rd November, just in between the send ups. I was expecting a delay because they were having a hard time finding the sponsors this year, provided the geo-political instability which also explains their keeping the event in such a low profile. Its just nine days from now and theres no mention of it on any web nor is there any advertisement nor any banners on the road. Well, I'm going to see at least one of my favourite shows. I can't possibly sit on my chair and cram the drugs with all the hustle and bustle going on just a kilometer away from me. :-D I hope that City42 channel provides the live coverage of all shows like they did of the Youth Performing Arts Festival!

The protest bears fruit

The Chief Minister 'succumbed' to our demands of increasing the salaries of House Officers and Medical Officers today.

Young Doctor's Association started these demands first by holding press conferences then by holding demonstrations in front of Assembly Hall and then by boycotting the hospital. As the usual method of getting one's demands accepted here they finally decided to block the Mall Road.

I feel so happy to be a part of that Mall Road blocking. I had to attend the ward so couldn't go in time with the rest of the crowd. I joined them later by walking from University through Mall Road to the Assembly Hall. Sharjeel, Tamoor, Salman and Noman were going back till then. I was expecting a lot more people than I saw. More than half of them were from FJ and Ganga Ram Hospital as I saw them turn back when the protest was over. They were all sitting there in the Chowk, holding banners, raising slogans and posing in front of the media. I was expecting someone to extend a microphone in front of me too but the media was more inclined towards the ladies. :-D

It was my first official protest :-)

Professoritis

Professoritis is a mental disorder characterized by mental instability and delusions of grandeur. The person suffering is called a Professor. The literal meaning of professoritis would then be inflammation of a professor. The most prominent and distinguishing feature of this disease is arrogance. They may also exhibit rudeness and selfishness. These patients are usually found in medical colleges and hospitals and can easily be identified. If you happen to see some young people surrounding and tailing an old murky man or an old man suddenly loosing temper and slapping a young boy or an old man calling the worst names to young people or two old men bickering, you've hit a professor.

The disease can be highly contagious in some cases. For example if some professor has a beard and evil face and wicked smile, other members of the department can have beards and evil faces and wicked smiles in a very short time too. The manifestations of the disease can also vary. Just for example some professors might order the class to study CNS physiology, knowing that the class hasn't yet studied the CNS anatomy or some professor might have a problem with every book he comes across and even then not write a book of his own. Some professor might not even know how to speak and strictly order the boys not to talk to girls. Some professors can mind the students' not attending his two out of three classes and not accept other professors' attendances and fail whole of the two batches for the said reason.

With increasing severity, the person suffering from the disease is referred to as demonstrator, assistant professor, associate professor and finally professor. Some APs can ask a 1st year student in final exam to perform a practical of second year and be adamant about it.

This is one of the incurable diseases. Some people are even in favor of categorizing these patients as a separate specie.

Disclaimer: All the examples in these paragraphs are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co-incidental.

P.S. Some professors are normal, not all suffer from the disease but 99.99% do.

The 'poor' neighbour

The launching of the mission to moon by India upset me a lot. Like why can't we do it? And I've always believed that India is way ahead of us particularly in science and technology. All WE are good at is arts. We have the greatest geniuses in music, singing, dancing, acting and writing. Why do we lack the science and the maths geniuses and the scientific minds, I still don't understand.

This article by William Dalrymple, entitled "The 'poor' neighbour", published on 14th August 2007 in Guardian was a teeny weeny little relief. I cannot help but posting all of it:

Amid all the hoopla surrounding the 60th anniversary of Indian independence, almost nothing has been heard from Pakistan, which turns 60 today. Nothing, that is, if you discount the low rumble of suicide bombings, the noise of automatic weapons storming the Red Mosque and the creak of slowly collapsing dictatorships.
In the world's media, never has the contrast between the two countries appeared so stark: one is widely perceived as the next great superpower; the other written off as a failed state, a world centre of Islamic radicalism, the hiding place of Osama bin Laden and the only US ally that Washington appears ready to bomb.

On the ground, of course, the reality is different and first-time visitors to Pakistan are almost always surprised by the country's visible prosperity. There is far less poverty on show in Pakistan than in India, fewer beggars, and much less desperation. In many ways the infrastructure of Pakistan is much more advanced: there are better roads and airports, and more reliable electricity. Middle-class Pakistani houses are often bigger and better appointed than their equivalents in India.

Moreover, the Pakistani economy is undergoing a construction and consumer boom similar to India's, with growth rates of 7%, and what is currently the fastest-rising stock market in Asia. You can see the effects everywhere: in new shopping centres and restaurant complexes, in the hoardings for the latest laptops and iPods, in the cranes and building sites, in the endless stores selling mobile phones: in 2003 the country had fewer than three million cellphone users; today there are almost 50 million.

Mohsin Hamid, author of the Booker long-listed novel The Reluctant Fundamentalist, wrote about this change after a recent visit: having lived abroad as a banker in New York and London, he returned home to find the country unrecognisable. He was particularly struck by "the incredible new world of media that had sprung up, a world of music videos, fashion programmes, independent news networks, cross-dressing talkshow hosts, religious debates, and stock-market analysis".

I knew, of course, that the government of Pervez Musharraf had opened the media to private operators. But I had not until then realised how profoundly things had changed. Not just television, but private radio stations and newspapers have also flourished in Pakistan over the past few years. The result is an unprecedented openness. Young people are speaking and dressing differently. Views both critical and supportive of the government are voiced with breathtaking frankness in an atmosphere remarkably lacking in censorship. Public space, the common area for culture and expression that had been so circumscribed in my childhood, has now been vastly expanded. The Vagina Monologues was recently performed on stage to standing ovations.

Little of this is reported in the western press, which prefers its sterotypes simple: India-successful; Pakistan-failure. Nevertheless, despite the economic boom, there are three serious problems that Pakistan will have to sort out if it is to continue to keep up with its giant neighbour - or indeed continue as a coherent state at all.

One is the fundamental flaw in Pakistan's political system. Democracy has never thrived here, at least in part because landowning remains almost the only social base from which politicians can emerge. In general, the educated middle class - which in India seized control in 1947, emasculating the power of its landowners - is in Pakistan still largely excluded from the political process. As a result, in many of the more backward parts of Pakistan the local feudal zamindar can expect his people to vote for his chosen candidate. Such loyalty can be enforced. Many of the biggest zamindars have private prisons and most have private armies.

In such an environment, politicians tend to come to power more through deals done within Pakistan's small elite than through the will of the people. Behind Pakistan's swings between military governments and democracy lies a surprising continuity of interests: to some extent, the industrial, military, landowning and bureaucratic elites are now all related and look after one another. The current rumours of secret negotiations going on between Musharraf and Benazir Bhutto, the exiled former prime minister, are typical of the way that the civil and military elites have shared power with relatively little recourse to the electorate.

The second major problem that the country faces is linked with the absence of real democracy, and that is the many burgeoning jihadi and Islamist groups. For 25 years, the military and Pakistan's powerful Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), have been the paymasters of myriad mujahideen groups. These were intended for selective deployment first in Afghanistan and then Kashmir, where they were intended to fight proxy wars for the army, at low cost and low risk. Twenty-eight years after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, however, the results have been disastrous, filling the country with thousands of armed but now largely unemployed jihadis, millions of modern weapons, and a proliferation of militant groups.

While the military and intelligence community in Pakistan may have once believed that it could use jihadis for its own ends, the Islamists have followed their own agendas. As the recent upheavals in Islamabad have dramatically shown, they have now brought their struggle on to the streets and into the heart of the country's politics.

The third major issue facing the country is its desperate education crisis. No problem in Pakistan casts such a long shadow over its future as the abject failure of the government to educate more than a fraction of its own people: at the moment, a mere 1.8% of Pakistan's GDP is spent on government schools. The statistics are dire: 15% of these government schools are without a proper building; 52% without a boundary wall; 71% without electricity.

This was graphically confirmed by a survey conducted two years ago by the former Pakistan cricket captain turned politician, Imran Khan, in his own constituency of Mianwali. His research showed that 20% of government schools supposed to be functioning in his constituency did not exist at all, a quarter had no teachers and 70% were closed. No school had more than half of the teachers it was meant to have. Of those that were just about functioning, many had children of all grades crammed into a single room, often sitting on the floor in the absence of desks.

This education gap is the most striking way in which Pakistan is lagging behind India: in India, 65% of the population is literate and the number rises every year: only last year, the Indian education system received a substantial boost of state funds.

But in Pakistan, the literacy figure is under half (it is currently 49%) and falling: instead of investing in education, Musharraf's military government is spending money on a cripplingly expensive fleet of American F-16s for its air force. As a result, out of 162 million Pakistanis, 83 million adults of 15 years and above are illiterate. Among women the problem is worse still: 65% of all female adults are illiterate. As the population rockets, the problem gets worse.

The virtual collapse of government schooling has meant that many of the country's poorest people have no option but to place their children in the madrasa system, where they are guaranteed an ultra-conservative but free education, often subsidised by religious endowments provided by the Wahhabi Saudis.

Altogether there are now an estimated 800,000 to one million students enrolled in Pakistan's madrasas. Though the link between the madrasas and al-Qaida is often exaggerated, it is true that madrasa students have been closely involved in the rise of the Taliban and the growth of sectarian violence; it is also true that the education provided by many madrasas is often wholly inadequate to equip children for modern life in a civil society.

Sixty years after its birth, India faces a number of serious problems - not least the growing gap between rich and poor, the criminalisation of politics, and the flourishing Maoist and Naxalite groups that have recently proliferated in the east of the country. But Pakistan's problems are on a different scale; indeed, the country finds itself at a crossroads. As Jugnu Mohsin, the publisher of the Lahore-based Friday Times, put it recently, "After a period of relative quiet, for the first time in a decade, we are back to the old question: it is not just whether Pakistan, but will Pakistan survive?" On the country's 60th birthday, the answer is by no means clear.

A 'great' leader

A softer post

Noman said that the last few posts have been really aggressive; exactly what I was thinking before he pointed out. (He was like: Dude get your hormone levels checked up). Well, my family also accuses me of peevishness during the tension-full test and exam days, which reminds me of the broody hen again.

I keep on mentioning the broody hen because, one, thats the perfect example, two, I have a vast experience with broody hens and three, thats what my brother calls me in the exam days.

Hens are just made for humans; they can't fly and they lay eggs daily and they wont incubate the eggs until they go broody. Keeping hens is fun and a great learning experience. For example, I can tell that a hen is about to lay an egg from its behaviour. I remember, years back when we had kept hens (I wasn't really interested, my brother is an animal buff) they used to lay eggs early in the morning. The hen who wanted to lay egg would get a little lazy, wander away from the rest of the flock and produce a particular long sound, like prraaaaannnnnkkkkk ppaaawwwkkkkk paawwkk. (Oh and one day during the forensic lecture in the forensic lecture theater I was demonstrating this sound to Saad when Madam Rana caught me and asked me to sit on the front bench!) She would then find a secluded place preferably her own cage and I would follow her, naturally. There she would sit for some time and when she would stand up suddenly it would be the moment. She would sometimes close her eyes forcefully indicating that she is in pain but she is patient. And I would fix my eyes on the point of exit indicating that I am excited but I am hungry. And then it would appear. I would clench my teeth and in my mind would say, 'Yes honey, come on, push, you can do it' (I had these doctor instincts since childhood?) and there it is shiny, slimy, fresh and hot from the oven and I would be like, 'Gaawwd...that was stretchy.' I would wait for it to get dry while the hen would jump off and produce another particular sound: pataaiink puk puk puk pataink puk puk puk telling the whole flock and the owners and the neighbours that she had just laid an egg.

Everyone's 'first time' is difficult. First timers get nervous and reluctant and afraid that the process or the result might go wrong but once they are through it, it becomes very natural just like err breathing. When one of our hens was about to lay an egg for the first time she was nervous too. The 'getting ready' stage was prolonged quite a lot. She sat in her cage for so long. Fed up of waiting, I just went away. When I came back all that was there in the cage was the yolk and the egg white. The shell either wasn't produced or got stuck somewhere inside.

I don't know about hens but the sexuality of ducks can be quite complex. Once we had two ducklings who grew up to be mature ducks. My brother was persistent that both are females while I had seen them mating quite often. Once my uncle was going out of the house and the ducks were mating just in front of the gate. He decided not to disturb them. He waited and saw them with great enthusiasm. When they were done, he crossed the gate. So my uncle was a witness of their being a male-female couple too. One morning there was an egg in the ducks' cage. My uncle said, triumphantly, 'See? I told you, one is male and one is female.' Then there were matings and there were eggs almost everyday. One day I locked them in separate cages and in the morning, BEHOLD there were eggs in both the cages. I decided not to ponder. We never kept their eggs.

We would just eat most of the hens' eggs but if we planned to get them incubated we would put the date on the egg shaking it as little as possible and would keep it at a dark place. Then we would buy a special hen who would be likely to go broody. When it would, we would build a nest at a secluded, dark place: put some dried hay in a tub or a basket, make its surface concave, put the eggs on it and gently drop the hen over it and she would be the happiest hen on the earth. She would arrange the eggs the way she likes and then would sit on them. You can put the eggs of any species under her; geese, ducks, other hens, lizards, crocodiles, snakes, dinosaurs, she wont mind, she just wants be a mother. We actually kept the eggs of different hen species that we had; Golden Buff, Black Buff, Silkie etc.

Once a day we would pick her up from the eggs (with gloves on hands because her hormones mess up and she gets very very aggressive and would bite you, probably thinking that you are a thief and have come to take her eggs.) and leave her out to wander a little, stretch her muscles, eat and excrete. She wont excrete on her eggs! After a while we would put her back again. During the time when the hen would be away I would sometimes inspect the eggs. An egg getting heavier meant there was someone inside, to confirm I would illuminate the egg with a torch (Now really, I had these doctor instincts since childhood) During the last days even the sound of the chick would come from the egg.

Twenty one days later the eggs would start hatching, starting from the place where their beak is. Their mother would help them come out by breaking the shell with her own beak. Cute little plump chicks, their heads popping out from under the feathers of their mother as if the hen had many small heads. Now the hen would come out with her chicks, giving them food and protecting them from any possible predator. She would attack any one; a cat, a dog, a human. And they would grow. The hen would be happy, the chicks would be happy and we would be happy.

A political wedding

Its 3:15 in the morning and I'm just back from a wedding. I wasn't willing to go but Dad had some special reason to take me.

What made this wedding unforgettable was that some very close relatives weren't suppose to talk to each other, some very close relatives weren't supposed to even look at each other. Some people tried to talk to some people to make others jealous. Some people tried to be prominent and different to make others envious. Some people tried to play the futile role of arbitrator. Some people carried an air of indifference around them and some others were totally ignorant. These people will meet again on another common wedding or a common funeral. That was the height of selfishness. I just sat there, half enjoying, half appalled. It was the most political and the most depressing wedding ever!

And yet we are proud of our family values and we blame the West for ignoring the family ties!

Taliban part 2?

According to a news report the Americans with the Pakistani officials are going to provide ammunitions to the anti-Taliban forces in the tribal areas to help eliminate the Taliban.

It is now a well established fact that the Taliban were trained by the CIA with the help of ISI in order to defeat the Soviets and now they are providing arms to the anti-Taliban forces to defeat the Taliban and then they will create another group to defeat the anti-Taliban forces?

Cat Poop

This kitty here is pooping on a patient's bed in Mayo Hospital. (See? We are hygienic). I couldn't make the video which I greatly regret. Some ward boy might have removed it and washed the bed cloth. More chances are he must not have! They say that they let the cats stay so that the cats may scare away the mice! (See? We are logical). I'm sorry if it makes you vomit or gag or choke. But if you have any of these symptoms just pay a visit to Mayo Hospital and you'l be as good as new. (See? We care)

The Broody hen

The date of Sendups have been displayed which means extreme studies for four months. The schedule goes as follows: wakeup, have breakfast, study, have lunch, study, go to wash room (preferably with a book), study, have some snacks, study, watch a little TV (avoidance would be better), study, internet, study and then go to sleep with a book under your head, hoping that some material would be transferred from the book to your head during the night. No hanging out, no entertainment, no fun, no nothing. (But of course I'm not going to miss the World Performing Arts Festival. I mean I wait for it the whole year!)

The books are my eggs and I'm a broody hen. I will incubate my eggs and I will leave my nest only to eat and excrete. (In the last few days the hen doesn't even leave the nest to excrete...but I'm a bit cultured actually) I will protest in defense if disturbed or removed by my younger brother. The incubation period will continue through November, December, January and hopefully till the middle of February. (The only difference between ordinary routine tests and the Prof is the short incubation period of tests which continues for a week or less). The result will be in a month more. I pray that all my eggs hatch! (They will Inshallah)

Poetry Idiopathic

If ever your life is getting necrosed,

Your dreams inflamed, your thoughts thrombosed,

Then let neoplasia of my wished metastize around you.

May all your troubles and worries

get denervated and dystrophied.

And things pleasing you get hyperplastic,

your happiness get hypertrophied.


Anonymous 

Colgate Smile

I dont like his teeth. I dont like his colgate smile, I dont like his hyena laugh. What reason has he got to smile like that? He has got 16 billion people to look after, a failing economy to tend to, the American forces to combat. He has got the blood on his face of so many people dying daily in his country. He has got people spending their days in nights in candle light, people not getting flour, dying of hunger. He has got a neighbouring country violating the Sindh Water Treaty by building dam on and blocking the water of Chenab. The same country is establishing its intelligence roots in Afghanistan, doing war practices with America in the Arabian sea. What reason has he got to smile? Why does he laugh? Provided the circumstances he should be suffering from insomnia. He should have indigestions, he should be reduced to skin and bone due to worries and tensions and pressure. But no...there he is flourishing and growing blatantly. But then, the people of this country chose him themselves!

Mehfil-e-moseeqi

Now THAT is a 'Mehfil-e-moseeqi'. The singers apart, the best thing about this video is the highly 'musical' audience, capable of understanding every note, every intricacy of the raga. They know the difficult things and they know where to appreciate (thought I've never seen any women audience so deeply indulged and appreciative). Such an audience boosts the performers to do even better.

This particular video is a rare piece. Among the audience I can see Ghulam Ali (singer), Ishfaq Ahmed (writer) and Shaukat Ali (actor) all in their younger forms :p Cant recognize any of the ladies. Amanat Ali Khan on the harmonium, Fatah Ali Khan on the Surmandal, Shaukat Hussain on the tabla. Sarangi and Tanpura players are not visible. Such a rich amalgam of instruments. Raga is Bhairvi (7 flat notes, though I feel slight tinge of teevar rikhab) and the taal is Rupak (7 beats).

Nobel Prize for chemistry 2008

Man...this sure is fun watching the live web cast of the announcement of winners of Nobel Prize. Today were announced the Nobel Prize winners for chemistry. Osamu Shimomura, Martin Chalfie, Roger Y. Tsien were awarded the prize for their discovery and explanation of Green Fluorescent Protein (GFP). The protein was first discovered and isolated from a jelly fish. GFP has a lot of uses. It is basically applied in cell biology, to visualise its contents, and other biological applications.

Thanks to the load shedding I could only watch the fifteen minutes of the press conference. The announcer actually had a culture of E. coli in which the GFP gene was incorporated. When he waved the culture over a UV source it glowed green. Then they showed how HIVs could be visualised inside the lymphocytes using GFP. 

Im excited for the Nobel Prize for literature due to be announced tomorrow :)

Independance day?

I would have woken up on 14th August with refreshed patriotic feelings. I would have watched the independence celebrations on TV, listened to the national songs, watched the people make promises for their country again. I would have answered all the independence greetings messeges on my cell.

But I woke up on 14th August with new dreadful feelings. I watched people crying, listened to laments. I answered the condolence messeges on my cell.

On the eve of 14th August, at midnight a suicide bomber blew himself up at a police station in Iqbal Town Lahore, killing 8 people and injuring so many others. Among those critical was my dear beloved uncle. He suffered extensive brain injuries; a fractured skull, massive subarachnoid and intraventricular bleeding. It damaged his brain stem and for three days he breathed through a ventilator, his heart beat through epinephrine and dopamine. He finally succumbed on the fourth day.

I have seen the faces of dead suicide bombers in newspapers before, with a prize money for those who provide the police with some clue about the bomber's identity. But this particular one was different. I looked at him for a long time.
People read it in the newspaper next morning and went on with their lives. While some felt sorry and some treated the news like a junk email others were just ignorant about it. When I told one of my friends about the blast, he said, 'Oh God....theres been a blast in town?' Well...how can you expect everyone to know; everyones' beloveds werent hurt in the blast.

Life is so unpredictable. Dreams are shattered in an instant. Plans are destroyed, wives get widow, children get orphan in a second, specially when one decides to blow oneself up in a crowd and kill some policemen, a woman who used to sweep the floors, a man who used to sell balloons on the road, a twenty year old guy who had come to return the cell of his friend (he was married and had a daughter by the way) and two friends who had come to the police station to pay the bail of a person and get him out, one of whom was my uncle.

The day he passed away wasnt less than a doomsday; must have been for the family of all those who died so unexpectedly. One cannot even start imagining what must have went through the mother who raised her son and lived with him for fifty two years....fifty two years...it takes two seconds to say and 1.6 billion seconds to pass. The daughters, the sons, brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews, neices, friends, neighbours...yes all cried...invariably. Its not that I havent seen so many people crying on deaths, its just that this time there was no one to condole anyone. Everyone had their loss and everyone felt it...deeply.

Yes, we got a separate country sixty one years back. Yes, we are an independant nation. Atleast we can kill any one we want, any time we want, how much we want.