Life

I remember my first post being about me, and how I chose to start a blog. This post is too about choice, and life and the meaning of life. 

It was 1 am, but I couldn’t sleep. My brother was ill; he had just finished his herbal tea and gone to bed. My mother was praying, while I sat on the living room couch, hopelessly lost in the deep recess of my mind, wondering whether God would grant me what I wanted.

I don’t know why, but I just went straight to my bookshelf and picked out ‘The Fifth Mountain’ by Paulo Coelho. Little did I know that I’d end up reading all of it in one night, feeling happy and hopeful as never before. 

The book is a masterpiece. I’d read it a few times before, enjoying the story and characters, but rarely given thought to its themes. It is only now I realize that I wasn’t meant to, not until now.

‘The meaning of life is what you want it to be’ says one character. It is the most inspiring aphorism I’ve ever had the pleasure of understanding. It is who we are, and the purpose of our very existence. Life is what we choose it to be. It is not the name of accepting our fate, not merely waiting as soulless creature, but the very opposite. Choosing our destiny. It is not just existing, even worthless things exist. It is living, struggling, striving. Only then we can truly appreciate it and revel in it. That is not to say that it is easy. It is highly cruel, unjust. It will almost always break us, break our very soul. But again, it is only when we acknowledge it, and challenge it, will we come to understand its designs. And God is always there to guide us, only if we let Him, choose to let Him. At least, that’s what I think and believe in. ‘

I think it was God that caused me to read that book. The situation, the timing, everything was just perfect. I had no reason to read it, but even then I did so. Now I’m convinced there is a reason for everything, I know there is. Whatever that reason might be, it is often there because God intended it to be.

The reason of life is what we choose it to be, and the struggle to succeed, to persevere, that’s Life.

A New Beginning

Hiya Blog.   

It’s been a while since I last visited this page. And I don’t know, it feels kinda weird, looking at it like this. What can I say, I lost the will. I mentioned in one post that I could only write well when I sincerely wanted to. I also remember setting up deadlines for myself. That’s what I regret most. Not being sincere to what I 
wanted.

When I started this, I thought it would be easy. Just writing what I felt, pouring myself out on this page. That was the real plan. The flare which ignited the fire. But it is only now that I realize that the fuel I had was inadequate to sustain it. Now the fire has gone. A new fire needs to start.

I’ve cancelled all previous things which I promised myself and this blog. Not TOTALLY cancelled, but I will only post them when the time is right. And I will also, write for myself now, as I’d originally intended. Not for anyone else, like I’ve been doing in the past. The posts will be far fewer, but also meaningful I hope. 

This post had been looooooooooooooooooooong overdue, and I’m greatly relieved that I’ve finally mustered up the courage to write it.

This is a new beginning. Let’s hope that it has no end.

Al-Bakistani. 

2nd Al-Hiatus

Hear ye, Hear ye.

My send up exams begin on the 2nd of January, 2013. These exams, I believe, are really important. So, uh, it is time that I finally start the abominable activity of studying. In doing so, I relinquish this noble task of blogging for maybe three weeks.

The next blog will come out on, hopefully, the 25th of January and will be a full-fledged thesis (sort of) on a word I made up myself!

Let your imagination run wild: The word is 'bestism'.

Goodbye, O beoble.

'Chamcha Day'

People of all ages and rank, gender or creed, or whatever, and all those who read this blog,

First, I’d like to tell you all how sorry I am, but above all, how sorry I am to my blog -The Al-Blog- without whom, I would never have written so much. 

I’m sorry because it’s been three weeks since I last posted. THREE WHOLE WEEKS. I thought about updating it many times, but that flash of inspiration, that little spark of creativity which ignites my imagination, was the one thing I was sorely lacking. I can only write when I’m “in teh zone”. Now that it has finally come, I intend to make the most of it. 

This blog post will have a look on my latest endeavour in school: Hosting and organizing a mini-event known as the ‘Chamcha Day’. [30^th November 2012]

Chamcha Day, to be honest, was the product of extreme procrastination and laziness. I remember lazing around on Facebook, when one of my friends jokingly branded another friend as the ‘Chamcha’ (sycophantic suck up). The only difference being that he was an actually sincere sycophant. Yeah, like really, really sincere. We thought it was good sport, until this happened:

I had absolutely no idea what this would expand into. But the mind works in funny and spontaneous ways, and you just go with the flow. I immediately created a private event, and began pondering over the speech I was to give. The speech idea too just came out of the blue. I locked up myself in the washroom, and voila, I had my speech ready in less than 10, maybe 15 minutes. The only problem now was to spread the word about it. The next day was Friday; a whole lot of people were going to be absent. Thankfully, however, 20 students did attend the event, which I deem a HUGE success. 

Now, onto the event itself: The preparations had been done, everything was in place. I had originally planned to deliver the speech in the first period, but was only able to give it in the 4^th. I and a few others also brought spoons with us to relay our message as effectively as we could. Indeed, actions speak louder than words. Here’s a video of me: (I still haven’t seen it myself LOL, and please forgive my speaking skills. This was only my second attempt.)

 

If you couldn’t understand or simply couldn’t hear,worry not, O people, for I present ye, the text:

‘First of all, people, I’d like thank each and every one of you for attending school today, and coming here to celebrate Chamcha Day.

Now, before I talk about why we call him Chamcha, it is obligatory upon me to identify that individual. Behold, he is none other than Taha Nasir.

Now, the Chamcha is a one kind of a guy. He is the assistant house captain of the House Jinnah. He’s an excellent sportsman, a brilliant student, but above all, he is a great friend. A friend, who’ll follow anyone like a shadow. A friend, who’ll always help you. A friend, who’s always advocating our class and speaking our favor. He gets games periods for our class too, occasionally.

But, the main reason why I call him the Chamcha, is because he IS one. He’ll never let you down, and will always be the SPOON.

Let’s hear it for him, a big hand everyone! *starts clapping*’

I intended this speech as a light mockery (exactly like the one Bruce Wayne gives in the Dark Knight about Harvey Dent), and mean no offence to anyone. I also find it pertinent to thank my friends, who assisted me from the very beginning until the very end. 

WISE ENGLISH ALERT: Once more, ye hast my apologies, and a vow too, aye, that I leaveth my blog for an age of this like, never again.

Crossroads

I’m running out of new ideas for this blog. Well, not exactly but since last week I’ve been beleaguered by a strange hopelessness. Beleaguered is the right word. I haven’t been defeated, but as this raging flood of despair obliterates the wall of my fortress, as dreary clouds dampen the brilliant radiance of the sun, and my shelter is reduced to confinement, I don’t know how long this ordeal will last. 

And I don’t know why it has come to this. Maybe it’s general gloom of the winter. Or the extremely tumultuous week I had in school. Or just the bizarre dreams I’ve been having lately. Might be a combination of the three. I can’t know for sure. And this is precisely why it tortures me; that I can’t know.

I’m already a day late updating my blog. I had no idea what this post was going to be about, but speaking of dreams, it seems prudent to me that I elaborate upon one. It is one that I now have seen three times. It’s always the same, albeit a little more chaotic each passing time. Here it goes:

‘I and my family are seated on a lush green lawn. The grass is sparkling in an eerie gleam, the air sweet with the scent of roses, and a vivid blend of green and gold surrounds us. We laugh, but a laughter as mirthless as the winter. As we speak, our hollow eyes gaze at the magnificent landscape before us.
The middle is all mountains, a colossal façade emblazoned in a glistening blue and brown. A volcano lies dormant to the right, occasionally throwing a tiny, gentle flare towards the pinkish sky. The left is a huge mass of snow and ice, a splendid cascade falling deep into the foamy water of the sweltering river, drifting towards the center. A serene aura permeated the scene. It was all calm, but somehow I could sense a tension rising.

The sun bolted. The mountains crumbled, the earth rumbled. The river rose like a tsunami, the volcano flared. And all these came for us. Just before collision, they halted, and bounced off into every direction. We all gave a sigh of relief, now even relishing the utterly weird moment.

My mother rises (the sun springs up), her face darkens (the sun eclipses), her arms wave in a hectic frenzy (the sun explodes) and she flies (the river, the volcano, the mountains converge upon us) and I…fade out.'

This is one heck of a weird and troubling dream. I haven’t even the slightest idea what this implies, which just makes it even more interesting. I have conveyed this exactly as I experienced it, even the minutest of details. I remember the first time I had it, it had scared the shit out of me, but now it doesn’t seem so horrifying.

I have a mixed feeling about this post. This wasn’t necessary, and even though it is a confused and convoluted post, I feel it somewhat significant.

That’s enough, for now. 

Al-Music

Many of my past posts have been about Pakistan and how Islamism is prevalent in this society. The past two, however, were of an entirely different nature. This incidental foray into tranquility has been quite like a tender breeze flowing straight in to the face. Continuing this, I will now proceed to elucidate my love for music.

I’ve always liked music. Though, I am guilty of never appreciating it as I do now. I previously thought of it as nothing more than a time killer, something just called on for easing my boredom, preventing my life descend into absolute tedium. I never grasped its true beauty; its ability to awaken and provoke the mind.

Now, as I type each word, my head bobs to the rhythmic beat of the drum in this song by Linkin Park ‘When they come for me’ of their album ‘A Thousand Suns’. Even as I’m writing now, part of my mind is engaged in a hectic struggle picturing the convoluted cohesion of a dozen instruments. It is this very power of music which continues to fascinate me.

I listen to a host of genres, ranging from instrumental solos to hardcore rock, contemporary hip-hop/rap to classical melodies. And each has something of its own, something new, something unique, never failing to evoke some kind of raw emotion. My interest, though it started to develop at quite a young age, is now beginning to spread its wings. I have started playing guitar again, and have also begun writing some of my visualizations in my journal. I look forward to post one very soon, which I believe, depict my love for music in all its glory and sincerity.

Al-Guitar

This post, though short, was just a prelude to the real thing, which I promised in my first post. I hope that my momentary obsession, but this newborn love for music remains eternal.

Peace.

Winter is Coming

No, this post is not about winter, though it is coming.

It’s been a week since I last posted. I was getting bored of just reading on and on, I felt I needed to write. Something, just anything. I started writing a short (lame) story, but left it half-way through. Now, I shall write about my thoughts about this novel: A Game of Thrones.

IT WAS AMAZING. Yeah, AMAZING. This novel might be possibly the best of all I’ve ever read. The review on its cover says: “So vivid that you’ll be hooked within a few pages.” And it did exactly that. 

The author, George R.R. Martin, has done a fantastic job creating a new and fresh fantasy tale. It’s realistic, bold and gritty. The characters are fully realized and fleshed out. He describes each of his viewpoint characters’ emotions, feelings and thoughts with such intimacy that it’s almost like he lived with them a thousand years each. I immediately grew a powerful bond with some of the main characters while the others left no stone unturned to earn my deepest loathing.

The character driven story was a joy to read. The plot was coherent and unfolded as gently as a breeze into a fully fledged gale near the end. The characters’ motivations were genuine, and synchronized seamlessly with the plot. The pacing was deft, the story constantly twisting, twirling and growing like the supple branches of a giant tree. One thing I really liked about the author in this regard was that he always took risks, and they paid off each time. Some of the plot points really took me off guard. But, as ever, they were epic.

Long story short, George R.R. Martin has realized a brilliant fantasy saga, with compelling characters, a strong plot and that too in a world which bears close resemblance to the English world in the Middle Ages. 

PS: I read fantasy after a hiatus of about a year. Needless to say, this book was a breath of fresh air after dry, elongated spells of history and current affairs.

‘Brace yourselves; Winter is Coming.’