Imagination is more important than knowledge

10 unforgettable Karachi memories (and there are many more!)

farazkhalid — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 21:10:47 +0000

1. Night cricket with tape ball (and email exchanges beforehand, announcing teams, rules, strategies, trash talks, who’s who and your world view in general)

2. Student biryani (or just any biryani) & Nihari Inn…

3. Laraib music store (with it’s incredible DVD collection – think of a movie or a show, from Monty Python to Mission Impossible, and they will hand you it’s DVD in less than a minute)

4. Sudden outburst of donkey carts racing on the roads (quite literally!)

5. Sunday Bazaar

6. Live football/cricket matches on a big screen in office during lunch breaks

7 Makka ki chicken karahi (a top contender for the most delicious chicken ever cooked)

8. Liberty Books (specially the branch next to / inside bar b q tonight, and its fascinating collection of Current / Asia / Pakistan affairs books)

9. Driving at 1:30 am with friends on immensely busy roads, to eat hot & spicy rolls, followed by coffee

And

10. The extraordinary group of friends – comprising 7 languages, 4 religions, indefinite ethnicities, yet all born & bred Pakistanis, sharing uniquely similar slang, wit, cleverness & culture!

…

farazkhalid — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 18:11:39 +0000

A fresh morning breeze

Around a fading lamp

With shades leaving the shelves

With a lingering light

A bit of consciousness

A bit of straying strings

On the way to the ways

A narrowing walkway

A rising sun

In wide open spaces

As the world falls away

An idea

A curiosity

A persuasion

The things that matter

the things frivolous

the things distracting

10 things you learn from a vacation in Lahore

farazkhalid — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 23:01:31 +0000

1: If you anticipate fog, there will be no fog. The minute you disregard fog, there will be fog
2: The longer the queue, the better the taste of fish
3: There is always a ‘hugely famous’ and trendy restaurant that you had never heard about before
4: Even though the temperature says 7c, it feels cooler than Frankfurt during snowfall
5: Everything is available in Y block market. Except DVDs.
6: Eating oranges with a cup of tea is okay.
7: Every news channel has 2 very vibrant talk shows, one funny show, one religious show, one morning show and one late night political commentary every day. All these shows will find a way to feature Imran Khan
8: You always know someone who a) deals in properties b) owns a coffee place c) has a music band d) comes on tv e) teaches somewhere f) is in civil services or army
9: Every house has a corner featuring cricket bats & wickets, an old football, a hockey stick (somewhat broken), and one table tennis racket.
10: Everyone in DHA supports Imran Khan

I know not what I am (but I know what I am not)

farazkhalid — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 19:30:28 +0000

Here’s another poem from Bulleh Shah, written in the 18th century, and my attempt at translating it in English.

First the original Punjabi version:

Bulla ki jaana main kaun

Na main moman vich maseetan

Na main vich kufar dian reetan

Na main pakan vich paleetan

Na main andar bed kitaban

Na main rehnda phaang sharaban

Na main rehnda mast kharaban

Na main shadi na ghamnaki

Na main vich paleetan pakeen

Na main aaabi na main khaki

Na main aatish na main paun

Bulla ki jana main kaun

Na main arabi na lahori

Na main hindi shehar Nagaori

Na hindu na turk pashauri

Na main bhet mazhab de paya

Na main aadam hawwa jaya

Na koi apna naam dharaya

Avval aakhar aap nu jana

Na koi dooja hor pacchana

Mai ton na koi hor syana

Bulle shah kharha hai kaun

Bulla ki jaana main kaun

Na main moosa na pharoah

Na main jagan na vich saun

Na main aatish na main paun

Na main rahnda vich Nadaun

Na main baitthan na vich bhaun

Bulle shah kharha hai kaun

Bulla Ki jaana main kaun

Now the translation:

I know not what I am (but I know what I am not)

I am not the pious in the mosque

Nor pursuing rituals of the lost

Nor the impure among the rocks

I am not in many books that remained

Nor do I live wrecked and ruined

Neither elated, nor stained

I know no pleasure, nor any fear

Among the surreal, I am not real

Neither aquatic, nor terrestrial

I am neither made of fire, nor of air knot

I know not what I am (but I know what I am not)

I am not an Arab, nor from Lahore

Neither from the city called Nagour

Nor Indian or a Turk from Peshour

I didn’t deny any spiritual upheave

Unlike many coming from Adam and Eve

My name was among the first to leave

Besides my own self, I don’t know much

But can’t comprehend myself, or anyone as such

And I am the one with a wisdom touch

So who am I standing in the jam?

I know not what I am

I am not Moses, and Pharaoh I am not

Neither fully awake, nor among the rot

Neither made of fire, nor of air knot

Don’t even live in a simpleton slot

Neither sitting idle, nor in a trot

I know not what I am (but I know what I am not)

how things work (sometimes!)

farazkhalid — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:06:22 +0000

Every day is the first day of the interim phase before the next day, followed by rest of your life.

…

farazkhalid — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 18:59:30 +0000

A clay pot was smashed on a wall, its particles flying in all directions, some big, some small and some very small. We live in one of those very small particles, our world flying away among billions others, except that there was no wall, and the clay pot itself was really tiny, and what seems endless is our reality of the very diminutive time till we hit the ground, except that there’s no ground either. We are just expanding in all directions, yet relative to others we remain similar to what we were, probably at the same place, till everything goes.

three and a half hours

farazkhalid — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 18:03:13 +0000

Three and a half hours from here

An unseen idyllic oasis, abundant with rare

Leaning away from the feigning, lavishing, layer

As an unstilted river, or a riveting flair

Invisible as much, seamless as the air

Like the pebbles in a desert’s drizzling square

Miles and miles of inordinate, inflicting glare

Glowing unfading colors, a riveting stare

Sunset to sunrise; without a moment’s dare

Three and a half hours from here

The very best of (rather unknown) Pakistani music (part 3)

farazkhalid — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 10:27:39 +0000

Musarrat Nazir

very old song; hauntingly beautiful poetry

Heidelberg – Germany (3)

farazkhalid — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 19:07:49 +0000

a very short story

farazkhalid — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 19:28:49 +0000

They were not lost; they were just running around for fun. No wait, they were not running around for fun. They were lost. Well, actually, they were just running around for the sake of running around. Not quite though, they appeared to be running around for something. Or maybe they were lost. They were not lost. But then they were running around for no reason. Or if they were lost, why even then were they running around? Were they even running around at all? Or maybe they were just lost and running around.