Scream II: The Sajda

After that ferral scream comes the moment of silence. You have released it all out and now there is left a void in that space.

You look around you, feeling like it's finally over. But it's not. For suddenly, there is an overwhelming urge to cry, be protected, to be near your mama. You want someone to just 'understand' the rapid fire of emotions in your heart. You wish someone to hear you out patiently, just you talking and them listening and nodding in recognition.

That is when you fall into a 'sajda'. For who is closer to man than God? Who else is there that loves you more than 70 mothers' love pooled together?

Our Prophet [PBUH] emphasised multiple times the importance of sajda: the point at which you're closest to God.

Once in sajda, you lose yourself. God is your listener now and you can talk all you want. He has infinite patience.

So you let your sorrow flow and let the tears come, and share it all with God for there is no embarrassment, no secrets there. There is no care for the use of tenses, for flowery vocabulary. There is no care for sentence structure and grammar. There is no care for the word limit and the use of linkers. Linguistic boundaries fall apart and there is no need even to put it all into 'words'. For when you're with God, nothing else matters but the core of 'you': he understands it all. He is the final refuge when all else feels like a lost cause.

You go on talking, complaining, asking, praying, crying, wishing, all in the same moment, setting in motion the Big Bang of peace. This time, there is no looking back. What has been started, must end.

And the void that was begins to fill up with hope.

You gradually begin to come out of the sajda and sit up; take a deep, deep breath.

Glance at your hands and flex them to rid yourself of the remaining negativity.

Look up and feel empowered.

Pick up the phone and call mama.

You have just gone through a miniature version of the process of re-birth. These are designed by God to act as eye-openers and for us to not lose touch with reality, and to remind us that we are not alone: God's hand is always there to guide us when we fall. Setbacks come but they too are structured to make us 'learn' and 'grow' (not the Blue Band way!).

Rejuvenated, let life resume!

*Although prostration is the right word for 'sajda' in English, it somehow doesn’t contain the right connotations and spirit of the word. I prefer 'sajda' over it's translation.

Scream

*scream*

I'm sorry you didn't hear it.

It feels so good sometimes to just scream. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? I mean, who wants to be caught doing something as irrational as shouting like a 'baby', the aaaa-baaaa and the ultimate show of frustration?

A scream contains all the notes of the most beautiful music on earth. It embodies all the poetry we compose just to 'express' those strong emotions. A scream portrays perfectly the total frequency response of your mind at the time and the impulse response is the 'you'.

When you reach your breaking point and begin to get an overload of frustration and anger and remorse and the many more emotions and feelings, a scream is the ultimate floodgate to release it all. Your target may not be able to hear you at the time, but you still somehow feel 'lighter' after releasing those pure animal notes.

What you actually want to do is maybe bash the person up, shake up an institution, throw a plate on the wall with all your force just to get the 'thing' out of you. But all this is not always the practical option. In such situations a scream is the perfect outlet for excessive pent-up energy. If it could be visible, your aura would perhaps shimmer with such high frequency at the time as to startle the onlooker into fixation.

Sometimes you want to scream the scream that reverberates in the mountains and startles the birds; the 'animal' you bursting to be let out. It's so difficult to contain it all in your small skull, yet surprising how much we can hold in the tiny bone-sphere; how the neurons in your brain maintain functionality even when your heart is telling you to get ready to burst.

Music and writing are the perfect outlets for expression. Or so it is said.

It takes time and effort to compose a 'good' piece of writing/music. But when you let out the scream, you're composing the best music and literature and with the speed and fury deserved by the strength of the irk; there is no need for a pen, a violin, a mike; just your throat, your mind, and the opening of the channel to throw it all out into the world.

To release.

And be released.

Engineering Marathon '12

As the title goes, it was a marathon to remember!

Perhaps you're getting the image of engineers hard at work on a task, time running short, frenzy over completion? The part with frenzy would be true, but the rest, na-an!

The Engineering Marathon organized by ASME -> UET Taxila Chapter was basically about answering assigned questions but in no ordinary way. It went something like this: each team of 4 is given a question with 4 options. Each of the options in turn corresponds to a specific location on campus. You have to run to the option you think is right and check from a person standing there to confirm your answer. In case of a wrong answer, you then have to run to the next possible option and so on till you finally hit it right.

Time was of the essence and each team was 'clocked' upon reaching the right answer.

The liaison desk was set up in front of the MED and that's where we got our first question: When was baseball invented?

And so it began, the marathon.

We sprinted like Flash from MARVEL Comics, jumped over the fence since the place was crowded and began our 'marathon' with hair running loose and the wind whipping our clothes.

The guideline of the event was sort of vague and my team had a totally different perception to what was actually the format of the competition! Looking at the name we assumed we would have to search the locations for physical 'clues' and use to them to get to the next one.

After we got the first Q, we split into two's. Me and a friend Sara ran to the EED since that was a prime option for the correct answer. We searched the flower pots, looked into classrooms to check the noticeboards, even checked around the dustbins for clues. Nothing gained.

Just as we were leaving the department out of breath from all the running around, I spotted an old faded, B&W photo of a girl, stuck on the SIEP Workshop page. *wow*, a clue!

We beamed at each other and got set taking it down, all sure that we’d just hit the pot.

But it wouldn’t come off. Strong glue? I lifted a corner and saw chewing gum beneath. *ewwww*

But no time, gotta rush! So through the disgusted-ness we set hacking away at the picture. Just then Sir Gulistan Raja was coming out of his office and we met his gaze. We 'salam'ed of course, but he seemed quite taken aback by what we were doing. We just smiled BIG smiles and pretended we didn't know anything about old photos on posters and chewing gums and clues; everything normal, Sir! But in all probability he thought we were STICKING the picture on!

Embarrassing, but time's running short, so hurry!

We finally managed to pull the thing off. At the back was written a registration number, 89-CE-18.

Immediately we felt like it was our Eureka! moment. I mean, the clue was staring us in the face, right? 19th century [roll#] was the answer, and the next step lay at the Civil Dept.

All smug, we left the EE dept and rang up our remaining team.

And that's when we found out we were wrong. Not in the answer, but in the game format! Gosh!

So back we rushed and followed the 'real' format now. Got the right answer at TED, and got our next question: Which island is the largest?

Greenland seemed like a fair deal so we rushed to the Cafeteria since that's where the clue pointed. Nope, wrong, the guy shook his head. So next we ran to the Admin Block, then the CED, and finally the DISPENSARY since all our answers had been nodded off! Panting but at last sure we were at the right place, we spelled our answer. The guy there shook his head.

WHAT? We just ran the SPAN of campus and went to all 4options, and you say WRONG, Mr Dispensary? For crying out loud!

He insisted we go back to the TED since the question we'd been given was wrong. WHAT?

But there was no time to stand and argue so we ran all the way back to the TED. Referred further to the MED. Huh?

Our legs were beginning to feel alien to ourselves but there was determination, there was spirit, so alien was alien and we didn’t care, go take care of yourself!

We heard the mob before we saw it.

Apparently, some guy along the route had handed out  a wrong question and disturbed the whole path. No wonder all 4options were coming out wrong, since the route was broken!

Oho! We looked at each other with a mixture of perspiration, red-facedness, panting, disappointment and excitement. Sorry for the inconvenience, rescheduled to the next day.

But of course sparing the next day for the same event was out of the question, busy schedule. No problem, maybe next time?

But it was a great experience despite event cancellation.

It was great to be the only girl-team in the event. And the TOPS juice for refreshment at the end could have done better, but ;)!

Cities: In View of Lahore

Cities. All too familiar. We live in them, but so what?

We live in these entities and take them for granted. It may be Dubai, New York, Delhi or Islamabad, or any others besides - they all share distinct features.

Cities are living, breathing organisms in a sense. There has even been an experiment to measure the so-called 'breathing rate' of a city! [courtesy: Discovery Channel]

I went to Lahore with my university class this weekend on an industrial tour. I've been to Lahore twice before, the most recent being in Gr8 though that seems like long ago.

I realized there how similar different cities in the same country were! There were places and parts of Lahore we visited that reminded me of Rawalpindi, and others of Islamabad. It stands to reason that Lahore has a night-life whereas Islamabad and Rawalpindi are European only in that they shut down early (something I had a hard time adjusting to since Dubai is a nocturnal-city). There were the same billboards up along the roads to sell soap and cloth as in Rawalpindi, the same dusty look all too characteristic of Taxila with it's granite-cutting machines. There was the same divisioning into the posh and urban areas with the noisy city centre. There were the same run-down workshops with electricity poles dangling dangerously at the entrance. There were the same side-walls splashed hues of orange-ish red with spit 'paan'. There were the same hawkers pulling carts loaded with goods of every imaginable kind; shouting after potential customers, lowering prices to insane levels just to get a purchase.

There were the same traffic jams where Punjabi folk music blared from the colorfully painted trucks and buses; the drivers shouted obscenities to show their dominance  while the conductors couldn't resist the temptation to swing with the outer pole and poke their heads outside to get a look(as if that would make the traffic clear, lol!)

There were the same corner shops we prefer to call 'tuck shops' selling your average biscuits and Lays^®. There were the same smokey roadside inns selling curry steeped in unnecessarily extra cooking oil for a 'tarri'.

But some things stood out too. One of the most prominent and probably the most disgusting too, was the smell of sewage in just SO many areas of Lahore! Even the posh areas weren't safe and you couldn't be far from the stench wherever you went. Another feature I thought had already become obsolete was DONKEY CARTS. Yes, donkey carts. I mean, are they still in use? :|

I saw a LOT of them along the sidewalks and they reminded me so strongly of something, which I'd better not mention for fear of being discovered!

Lahore is world-famous for its food - both the cooked delicacies and the gazillion eateries of all standards and stature dotted about the city. 'Vegetarian' is a forbidden word around and it's just meat galore there!  And while in Lahore, we clearly felt the capacity of our appetites expanding too; in short, we felt ourselves turning distinctly 'Lahori'.

The experience on Food Street was amazing. The 'kulcha' especially was mouth watering and the Kulfi beat the best I've tasted so far! But there I start again, showing off my primal partiality for things food.

Lahore was as near to Taxila and Rawalpindi as it was far away.

Though there are just so many intersecting points in the Venn diagram of Pakistani cities, Lahore is, simply, Lahore.

For that is the reason a proverb goes: He who hasn't seen Lahore has yet to be born! [Adapted from Punjabi]

Watch out, I'm a Punjabi!

Do not be surprised, for this event is from the PMO bus too.

It was yesterday when I was getting back from university. Anyone who has had any experience with a semi-military facility will know the hard-core entrance procedure. The requirement is thus: if you're a non-resident, you're supposed to make a call at the main gate to inform your host about your arrival, and then deposit your ID card till departure.

A lot of guests do not make that call, and boy! does it delay the bus every day!

Yesterday was no exception.

There was a Punjabi 'jat' [ جٹ ]-type lady at the back. The guard asked her to show her card and she stood up, completely blocking the aisle. She had a large gold nose-pin of the style preferred by rural women, her 'dupatta' thrown over carelessly and giving the picture of the real 'desi' woman. Milk and it's associated products are loved by villagers in Pakistan. Especially 'desi ghee'. And they feel proud to mention the amount they consume a day!

Even though the trend across the world has changed toward slimness, not in the 'gaaon/pind' [ گاؤں / پنڈ]!

Getting back to the lady. After she had stood up, she placed both hands on hips.
The guard was one burly fellow too with moustaches so long they seemed to get into his mouth every time he spoke. Dressed in the green soldier’s uniform he crossed his arms across the chest and braced for a fight. One Punabi pitted against the other.

And so began their diatribe. I'll write it in Punjabi first for those who can understand, and then in English [though sadly, the translation will remove some of the funny essence from the dialogue]

:خالہ 

 !اوے

!مینڈا پرآ اتھے  ڈریور  اے  اور الله ناں شکر اے  کھاندے پیندے کار تو اے

 ! ہینرڑ مینڈے نال پنج بچے ,ماں بس توں توں نہیں لا  سکنا 

:گارڈ 

! خالہ ، تساں  اترنا  ای  پیسی ، اے ہی اصول  اے

:خالہ 

چنگے او  تسی لوگ وی ، عورتاں  ناں کوئی لحاظ  ای  نہیں ! مینڈ ے  کول  فون  اے ، میں  ہونڑے  ملانی  آں  کال ! پتہ  لگ  ویسی  آ

:گارڈ 

.نہیں  خالہ ، ایجوں  کم  نہیں  بنڑنا ، اترنا  تی پیسی . بچی  آں  ہی  پیج  چھوڑو

:خالہ 

!ایڈا  توں ******! چلو  بچو ، اترو  تھلے ! دسںے  آں  انناں ہونڑ 

Lady: 'Oi, you cannot get me off the bus! My brother is the driver here and is from a well-to-do family by the grace of God. And I've *emphasis* 5 children, who are you to ask me to confirm?'

Guard: 'But Miss, you have to. It's standard procedure!'

Lady: 'Right, then I have a phone with me. I'll call him and he'll tell you. No shame at all, asking women to get down!'

Guard: 'Miss, I'm sorry, but I can't. According to procedure you HAVE to get down and call from the booth.'

Lady: 'You *beep*, have you NO shame? Fine, *beep*. (calling all her children) Get up, and come down now! We'll show them what they asked for!'

She almost hit the guard in the chest and got down with her brood she was so proud of. One would have thought they were something like her too, but they were timid as hell. They just looked at their feet, shuffled nervously and began to get down.

Lady: 'Oi you, *beeps* get down FAST! Stop acting like cowards and be like MEN!'

! چودھری لے  بھی  پوؤ ، مڑد  بنڑ  کے  دسسو ، اسی  وی  چودھری  آں 

I could hear her shouting even once inside the booth.

Watch out, I'm a Punjabi, she seemed to say.

The scene was hilarious, really! 

Interviewing, haha!

Today was my first 'proper' experience interviewing students. It was for the SIEP, our department's native technical society.

I was a little apprehensive at first but soon transitioned into an interviewer proper. I had only a vague idea of what to ask. I was sceptical about the level of the questions I would ask since my technical knowledge as yet is quite lagging in phase to the senior students'.

Still, I braced. It was completely impromptu and I surprised myself with smoothly getting into the flow of talk! I asked Q's I thought were relevant. All of us in the panel of five were slightly apprehensive at the start, and each of us somehow asked only from a particular domain in the beginning. But after a few candidates were done with, the atmosphere changed visibly. We became more comfortable and began to pick up each other's points. For instance, one would start asking about the function of the stabilizer, and the others would begin the process of cross-questioning and somewhere in between, a new topic would pop up.

There were some funny incidents too. There was a guy who jay-walked in, literally; hands in pockets, shabby jeans, jiggle in the walk. Yeah, I'm an engineer. Right.

We asked him about the methods used for circuit analysis and he receded somewhere deep within as if on a spiritual quest. 'Umm, there's Thevenin, we just did Norton, I guess? Oh yeah, and there's mesh analysis too!’ Amid his talking we spotted the chewing gum in his mouth. It became visible at an odd angle and God!did we have a long laugh afterward!

Then there was another guy who didn't even know what the society stood for proper, and was like, 'Yeah, choose me. I'll see later what I can do'. 'Hmm, so can you pin-point a talent for which you should be preferred?' 'I don't know, is this the kind of stuff you ask?' I mean, :|

He was acting like he was doing someone a favour just showing up!

Today I learnt that keeping some things spontaneous without prior preparation has a charm all its own. And I cannot emphasize enough the unique beauty of the experience of a group-talk. And a little sheepishly, of confusing the person in front with rapid questioning!

Perhaps we haven't yet outgrown our ancestors' affinity for story-telling after all.

Kaleidoscope of Life

Life - sometimes so beautiful in its bitterness.

There are times of extreme mental clarity; then there are times you feel your senses clouded. Some days are good, but some are at the opposite end of the scale. There are times when you feel elated, feel like you're the world and it is you, one with each other. You feel at perfect harmony with everything around, at one with 'life'. You could jump just for the sake of joy, and laugh at the top of your voice, a free spirit on the horizon. Then there are times nothing can be darker than your own consciousness. It becomes a burden, and what wouldn't you give up to silence it for some time, drug it, numb it, whatever it takes to get a 'blackout' in the head. The very act of staying alive, making it to another day, seems like a pain.

But the element common to all these experiences is 'variety'. Life is spontaneous, and not just from Darwin's perspective. Happiness exists only till there is relativism and contrast. Absolute happiness is nothing.

I spotted an orange wasp on the windowsill in the bus today while coming back home. My first response was of course one of fear and caution since those wasps are known to have a highly painful sting!

 I kept a close eye on it. It would fly up a little toward the top of the window but the next jolt by the bus would bring it back down. I wished constantly for it to just go away so I could relax in my seat and enjoy the view of the Margalla Hills outside, which I love gazing at despite passing by every day! Amidst this, I suddenly became imbued with the wasp. I began to notice details of its anatomy; how it moved its tiny but muscular legs in their 'small' way, how it scratched what I can only assume was some equivalent of a nose with its, again, assumed foot; how it had black eyes that were on the oval side, and throughout it all, it's determination to get to the window's head. There was immense beauty in its every move and God truly has created works of art for us to see. Even in the most prosaic of beings.

In this strange mode, I noticed beauty while fear and disgust were parallel with the emotions. It's strange how something so troublesome can have such a different side to it too.

Then there are feelings which pull us in opposite directions and make it seem like they will tear us apart, shatter our very consciousness. And the trigger doesn't have to be anything more than a single word, a glance, a fleeting thought. It is at times like these that we feel the extremes of all emotions at once, and the ensuing result is nothing but total confusion. There's beauty, feeling, thought, parallel with hatred, sadness, confusion, wish, hope, darkness.

Such is the kaleidoscope of life.