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Mohammad Farooq

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Mohammad Farooq

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My Angelic Grandmother

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Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Biography, Family Portraits, General, Life, Memories, Tributes

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Picture: Mohammad Farooq

Eternal beauty has its facets, charms, and uniqueness. However, inner beauty possesses the density and depth which leaves a lasting impact. The distinctiveness of inner beauty does not subside, lose its sheen/shine over a period. Its reflection remains eternal and never fades away until the time of mortality runs out. Having witnessed the inner beauty of Zakia nano over thirty-five years, its existence and refreshment retains its aura and continue to be enchanting. Her presence bears a hallmark of elegance, dignity, contentment filled with bloom on that beaming smile of hers leaves you in awe.

It isn’t less than a blessing to be in the presence of such a benevolent lady, who has not only showered us with love but exhibited examples of virtuousness, mercy, kindness in every given way. Having spent a considerable amount of time in her presence, I have nothing but profound respect for her. Since childhood, I have received her love, care, and warmth, which has always left me clamouring for more. Not only her charisma but her towering personality has influenced us in every given way. I never saw my real grandmother; she died a few years before my birth. However, Zakia nano filled that void I never felt the absence of my maternal grandmother. While growing up and being a frequent visitor to 6 Nisar Road for over three decades, there has not been a single moment that I haven’t cherished and enjoyed in her presence. Her deft touch, softness and innocence always melt our hearts retain that magnetism. Moreover, Zakia nano has never differentiated between her real grandchildren and me and has always treated us equally and fairly. She has doted on all of us, and we can never pay back the love we have received except for praying for her health.

Zakia Hamid Jalal with her sister Safia Manto

Rarely do we find true blessings in our lifetime in any form, but God has granted Zakia nano with it in abundance. I have a lot of anger deep resentment which she somehow can interpret and decipher. Whenever I have faced such a situation, her words of wisdom and kindness to be steadfast in times of adversity and to remain calm have always helped me. There are no holds barred with her in my case There are no holds barred with her in my case. She has always listened to my grievances, offered guidance, advice in exchange. She gleams and blooms of an angelic presence, bestowed to her by God. Whenever I felt dejected, she has always raised my spirits with her gentleness and kindred spirit, which evokes a spirituality that I am devoid of. In her presence, you feel soothed and relaxed, with no sense of ever being overawed or overwhelmed.  She somehow figures out whenever I feel troubled or disturbed. She has such a profound sensitivity coupled with a beautiful soul that has always filled us with joy.

Her heart is full of love and affection for everyone and neither does it harbour any malice or bias towards anyone. The principles she instilled in her children and the generosity they exhibited throughout their respective lifetimes towards countless people bear her imprints. Never has she glorified herself; despite possessing such a beautiful heart and soul. Her observance and keenness at this age are exemplary. Her nature is subdued, and calmness personified. You can see the frown upon her face for the things she dislikes and disapproves of. Whenever I misbehave in front of her, she politely tells me to lower my tone and behave properly instead of scolding or rebuking me. Lastly, I can never say no to any request put forth by her. She encourages me to pursue my passion for reading and write as much I can.

The solitude and sublimity in her eyes have always been reassuring. It not only gives us strength but provides lessons of forbearance and sustenance in times of adversity. She remains the foremost example of humanity that I have come across in my entire life. From childhood till adulthood, I have looked forward to seeing my beloved Zakia nano. A visit to her house over the weekend has been a ritual for our family for decades. In her presence, I have always felt enlightened. She has fulfilled her role of the family patriarch with dignity and honour. The respect she has earned over her lifetime speaks volumes about her virtuosity. Not only is she forthright but retains that aura of simplicity and down to earth demeanour for which she is renowned. She is a model of excellence and learning from whom we all have drawn a lot of inspiration. Neither has she ever devoured things like so many people do, but her frugality remains exemplary.

No words can capture the essence and pay tribute to a woman of Zakia Nano’s calibre. She has filled the void of my late maternal grandmother, who I never saw. To have lived in the shadow of my angelic grandmother has been nothing short of a revelation. I consider myself not only lucky but privileged to have had the distinction of spending years with such a compassionate, kindred, and humane lady. Not only is being her grandson a badge of honour, but I also feel blessed that God gave me such a doting and loving grandmother. Our entire family owes a debt of gratitude to Zakia nano for bestowing us with so much affection we pray that God grants us her with an abundance of good health.

A man for all seasons: Shahid Jalal

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Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Art, Family Portraits, History, Humanity, Inspiration, Life, Memories, Tributes

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Image Credit: Ayesha Jalal

There are few places like home where you find yourself mystified by its aura of artistic and literary beauty. These places are not only visuals and spectacles of it but are vestiges of those who have lived there, made their presence felt and left an indelible impact. Their permanent imprints not only remain etched in our mind but are explorable around us.

Such an artist and painter extraordinaire, Shahid Jalal left us yesterday for the heavenly abode. A larger than life character, whose persona not only evoked his soft but outspoken demeanour, but who was also an intellectual, avid reader, a successful chartered accountant, but last and foremost a brilliant painter. He was a humble man, jovial, cheerful, and empathetic human being who was least candid about his achievements but was very approachable unlike other maestros of the art. He was an all-rounder, with a swathe of hobbies which included cooking, travelling, watching movies, and ingratiating with different cultures without any recourse to judgement. His simplicity unlike many of his other contemporaries coupled with a sharp intellect and intuition were hallmarks of his personality. Equipped with an unbelievable sense of humour, Mr Jalal could share tales from yesteryears and astound you with his sharp memory. Born on August 13th, 1948 to Hamid Jalal and Zakia Hamid Jalal, he was the eldest of three siblings which include his sisters Sabiha and the renowned historian Dr Ayesha Jalal.

I was privileged enough to have seen and witnessed him from close quarters courtesy the bond and the close relationship he shared with my mother Nuzhat Manto, who is also his aunt, cousin, and sister-in-law. Mr Jalal’s father was also the nephew of the legendary Urdu short story writer Saadat Hassan Manto and was married to his youngest daughter Nusrat. Married to Nusrat (my aunt) in 1972, both complemented each other and brought the best out of each other. Not only did they share an impeccable bond, but their understanding was exemplary. The fusion of both was reflective in the affection and love they shared for each other. Having virtually grown up seeing Shahid Jalal, I remained in awe of him and the manner, he conducted himself. There was not a hint of materialism in him despite his achievements and successes throughout his life. Honest to the core, but as he once told us that he was extremely ambitious, something we failed to notice personally. Not only was he easy-going, but devoid of any hang-ups, was outspoken and blunt to the core. I observed no notion of pride or ego in him, he was driven by his sociable and charitable causes with The Citizens Foundation with whom he was closely aligned for many years.

Image Credit: Ayesha Jalal

Familial bonds are driven by closeness and love, Mr Jalal ensured he helped those around him whether it was family members or his domestic help, he was always present irrespective of the situation. Morally upright and his honesty remained a highlight of his life, whose credentials could never be questioned. Much akin to his father, Hamid Jalal he shared his traits of empathy and kindness but emulated him in many other ways which would have made him proud. His artistic lineage and legacy remain alive and distinct with the contrasting visual aesthetics which were represented in his paintings. The sprightliness and brightness of his paintings, those contrasting colours his observant eyes captured were representative of who he was. His paintbrushes weaved magic and stroked the contours and beauty of nature’s sumptuousness in his artistic canvas. His paintings were a visual delight to see and left you stunned with his repertoire of skills he possessed. Imbued with multiple talents, not only was he a food connoisseur but he was so well-read and well versed in many facets of life, it was nigh unbelievable.

Image: Mohammad Farooq
Shahid Jalal’s paintings exhibition circa March 2017

Shahid Jalal’s paintings exhibition circa March 2017
Shahid Jalal’s paintings exhibition circa March 2017

I recall a trip as an eight-year-old in the summers of 1992 to Shogran, Naran and Kaghan in Khyber-Pakthunkhwa. His sense of adventure and passion knew no bounds; he genuinely knew how to enjoy holidays. He took us for long walks in the mountainous terrain around Shogran, we passed forests and our sense of foreboding knew no bounds. His keenness of exploration and revelling in those long walks, having food from a roadside Dhaba and introducing us to exotic new foods was his speciality. Around him, you could never feel bored but his candidness and frankness of tolerating guests for long periods was not his forte. Being an early riser, he was meticulous about his routine which included taking his dog Brandy for a walk, eating healthy food intermittently before lunch which was inculcated by my aunt Nusrat. Also, he used to go for painting early morning to capture the spirit of what he observed and saw before sketching it on his canvas. The Jalal household legendary for cherishing its afternoon sleep was also in-built in him and he derided those who visited or called in the afternoon. He was disciplined in his way and never imposed his will or thoughts on others. Equipped with a sharpness of mind, he never advised anyone of us unless we sought his counsel. Magnanimous at heart and frugal, Mr Jalal never exhibited any materialistic tendencies but evoked humanity and equality throughout his chequered life. A self-made man who rose through the ranks with sheer hard work and diligence, his career and life were an example for all of us on how to climb the ladder of success but not to lose sight of who we are and where we come from.

Embedded with a keen curiosity, he was a joy to interact with. It would be a disservice to not mention my aunt Nusrat, who as Mr Jalal’s wife and foremostly a friend complimented each other throughout their married life. The two individuals could not be more different; Mr Jalal a brash, outspoken, and frugal individual, on the contrary, is my aunt Nusrat, very principled, methodical, and quiet but with a mind of her own. However, I always felt that they were the ideal couple, not only did they have telepathy but the level of understanding and respect they developed for each other was unmatched. As my mother Nuzhat says, both were able to take the best of qualities of each other and forged them to the point of fruition. It is a testimony to the fact that my beloved uncle Shahid was unlike any other individual in our family, he was unique and special to all of us.

Rather than mourn my beloved uncle’s loss, I would like to celebrate his life which was full of accolades personally and professionally. He left an indelible impact on all of us, with his enthusiastic and positive approach towards life. As a father, husband, son, and brother, he vested his duties with genuineness and heartfelt love and retained no bitterness or grudges against anyone. He was like the changing seasons, who was always blossoming, bringing diversity and contrasts to our lives. His happy disposition, charisma, compassion, empathy, and kindness will keep illuminating our lives and those memories that he left behind will keep being cherished, remembered by every one of us. May God bless his soul. Amen.

Privilege is abusive

31 Wednesday Jul 2019

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Life, Opinion, Society

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Discrimination, Downtrodden, Entitlement, Immunity, Life, Privilege, Racism, Reality, Society, Superiority complex

Privilege tends to dent our psyche, gives us a notion of superiority and makes us a slave to its desires. However, there is a tendency to forget with it comes responsibility which isn’t mostly exercised, since it seeps into our minds and contributes to throwing our weight around. The drill of privilege becomes a daily ritual which can’t be shaken off because it empowers people and gives them unprecedented influence.

Interestingly, privilege in majority cases tends to be abused and misused to make a point, much like the aristocracy of the old days which gave them immunity to go unfettered and unchecked. It may buy you influence, sway, social standing and ability to throw tantrums, however, it doesn’t provide you respect if it isn’t responsibly exercised. It allows moronic tendencies to hold sway and allows such individuals to get away with a lot of crap without being held accountable.

Blighted by our proud sense of privilege, we tend to get blind-sighted by our actions and in the quest for power and influence let it drive us towards mistreating others who aren’t part of that fold. Ironically, that is how society has functioned since time immemorial, irrespective of the rise in awareness of equality there is a superiority complex that still allows it to thrive.

What does privilege provide? It grants us access to the echelons of society, shoves us into the mainstream and allows to intermingle at a level par of the status reserved only for the privileged. It is like the old order, who believed they were ordained by God to rule by birth and that is the mentality still afflicting our privileged class.

It is a worldwide phenomenon, but in third world countries the notion of privilege is beginning to be questioned and its nauseousness is irritating those who are rising through the ranks and challenging the status quo. For the status quo, amongst which the privileged class constitutes a majority feel threatened by those who they believe are inferior and are snatching to what they believe is rightfully theirs.

Consequently, it leads to insecurities, egotistical behaviour and thrusting of one’s influence to subjugate those who are victims of the abuse of privilege to forward their agenda’s. It is to show them their place and make them realize that they don’t belong amongst those privileged classes. The efforts to enter the privileged class circle by those not born into it leads to resistance and quashing their attempts for gaining access to it.

To hinder the progress of those trying to rise to the ranks of the privileged are demonized, discriminated and mistreated for who they are. Privilege is symbolic, it provides patronage and unlocks the door to unprecedented power and influence. This imbalance permits those privileged enough to knock out those aspirants and show them who is the boss. In every realm of life, we let this superiority complex clout our actions and thoughts which contributes to incessant hatred for the downtrodden and those below us.

Privilege is like a concoction, an addiction that has ensnared the elite, the powerful and their counterparts to exercise undue power and influence. This addiction in its very notion is toxic, distasteful as it sounds but this is a reality which cannot be ignored. It continues to thrive despite the rising awareness amongst those who are fighting to gain their rightful share in society.

The communion of those privileged and those below them is practically impossible. The interests and values clash, but those willing to bend and act like them tend to somehow gain access but they are never recognized as one of them. Those granted entries remain outcasts and tend to be disowned in many cases. In medieval times, it was common for those rising through the ranks to somehow arrange marriage in the nobility to gain legitimacy and recognition.

Earning a legitimacy license in the ranks of the privileged is a hard task so to speak, considering their biases. It is futile and any attempts to dissuade the privileged from throwing their weight around has been an abysmal failure. Clinging onto the hope that equality will thrive in this divided world is an exercise for the foolhardy and good luck to them!

 

 

 

 

History: A fusion of the past and present

03 Monday Jun 2019

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Faith, History, Hope, Life

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Culture, Footprints, Fusion, History, Identity, Memories

History is a fusion of the past and the present. It tends to diversify; adapt itself to the conventions of a particular time, serving as a glimpse into a bygone era. Being a sanctuary, it acts as an intermediary between the past and the present. The imprints left by the past are influential in shaping the present and both synchronize in terms of their relevance. And it remains a witness and testimony to the transitions and transcendence of time. Centuries lapse, but its existence continues to overlap with the present, forging a bond so unprecedented that anyone would get lost in it.

The past is an entrapment, a reservoir of memories which doesn’t expire. History doesn’t expect anything except reverence, respect and recognition in its wake. The past holds sway in the present, reminding us of its existence. Nothing hurts it more than vandalism, ignorance and infamy. Being the harbinger of the past and present, it tries to be a bastion of peace and prosperity.

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An old building inside New Anarkali. Picture: Mohammad Farooq

In certain situations, history becomes contentious and controversial becoming a tool for propagandists to leverage hate against it. Memories and history eroding, breaking and tearing you apart. No one to console the dampening end of an era, of timelessness that you want yourself associated with. Buildings becoming corpses and living examples of the past.

History is undeniably rich, and the past linked with it can never be denied. As much we try to hide and erase footprints of it, somehow it finds its way to resurface back. It gnaws and pukes at us for living in a fool’s paradise. Disowning that heritage which once was part of us, won’t achieve anything. Being outcast will leave a permanent scar on history, the traditions, practices and reflection of those times it has depicted.

It is an identity, a vestige of antiquity that portrays the past, telling tales about personalities which embraced it. In the present, history offers a narrative of the past, fueling our imagination and making us contemplate what it may have been. In its absence, a dearth and barrenness are experienced which is irreplaceable. History is a gift, which needs caring, nurturing to guarantee its existence. The past and the present are a part of our identity and representative of who we are.

Abandoned balcony inside Lohari Gate
Picture: Mohammad Farooq

Irrespective of the sacrilege, history continues to trudge along broken paths; continuing its journey of mingling the past with the present and evoking our sentiments. Let history’s purity be not diluted and ensure it doesn’t diminish and vanish.

 

The disintegration of society

21 Monday May 2018

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Hope, Life, Society, Tolerance

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Curiosity, Darkness, Double Standards, Hypocrisy, Intolerance, Life, Media, Mind, Public, Societal decay

A crumbling heart, disintegrating voices, broken dreams that house only seething pain of the time gone by. The canvas of life displays various facets, giving us lessons to heed and learn from. Life is never linear, and it would be monotonous and stereotypical without its versatility.

In a world where persecution, immorality, injustice etc. remain ripe yet kindness and hope still exists in minute forms, considering the rapid societal decay and rising intolerance. Irrespective of the hatred and darkness perpetuating in our everyday lives, life offers us glances of hope and goodness.

Whatever happens, we see is the diminishing of values we once cared for and embracing practices that are mired in hypocrisy. We raze everything and crush it, remove its existence and persecute others because the power of adjudication is intoxicating.

Ironically, the denial is a double-edged sword, either we are mired in hypocrisy or refuse to embrace the positivity of light on offer. It gives us a path to redemption and yet the clinginess to above-mentioned practices stays stringent. Learning and adapting isn’t in the vocabulary of our society, we mock others incessantly, forgetting to glance into our own souls and finding the filth generated within is as disgusting.

Although, I must admit my journey hasn’t been that smooth recently none’s is to be honest. A flare-up in my rheumatoid arthritis left me compounded in misery and frustrated and I wondered, why not write! Much to my fascination, the Divine has His ways of creating a realization and to illuminate our lives with hope.

Time and time again, God gives us many examples of how hope can reinvigorate and the implications it can have on our lives. The point is; embracing hope and giving birth to the positivity are essential ingredients towards creating happiness. Solace stays unachievable till we let hope enamour and light incandescently shine within our lives.

I see the society’s affinity to darkness as a startling resemblance to the barbaric thought framework we have adopted that lends credence to the streamlining of rising intolerance and judgmental mindsets. Inspiration is devoid, the goodness masked by opportunistic and materialistic practices that is strikingly prevalent but still the dream of societal streamlining is still alight.

Intolerance is rife, opinions marked as threats to dogmatic beliefs that engulf our mainstream society and takes us into unchartered territory where our very existence comes under threat. However, you know opinions are divisive, they steer discontent and give rise to problems not under our control.

Duplicity and double standards run amok in a society where a hint of independence and creativity can become your worst enemies. If we exercise silence for our own safety, the term hypocrite surfaces and monikers are labelled as something or the other, the connotation which I neglect to mention here.

Thinking is labelled as a curse, which gives arousal to sensitivity but why be this way people ask, care less and be indifferent we are told. Then, I think inculcating indifference would save us the pain of sensitivity, makes sense obviously why care at all!

Society would say to disown what you have within, what heralds our existence and empowers those emotions. It wants us to be a functional puppet driven by dogmatic practices and be under their influence, make us speak their language so we don’t stand out of the ordinary.

On a majority basis, we are incongruent as a society, diabolical and predated by our own moral ineptitude. However, societal depredation is continuous, it is clear from the unenviable practices abound that the hope for change is a distant dream.

But amongst this intolerance, there are silent white knights doing their work for societal uplift and not garnering attention to ensure their work isn’t undone. These unsung heroes are the agents of hope upon which society’s existence hinges upon.

Irrespective, what shapes our narratives is the mother of all evil’s; the broadcast media. Instead of contributing positively, all we see on television are jousting matches and a high-pitched chorus worthy of a circus display. The jokers i.e. the anchors devoid of basic etiquette are leading the charge by asking stupid questions, which would give good script writers a nightmare.

Interestingly, the public is in awe of such displays of bullshit that gives them nothing but crap to digest and add to the existing corrosive mindset. When humans digest trash, it will constrain their thinking ability and ensure their compatibility with the dogmatic beliefs.

A curious mind will always be outmaneuvered, because it numbers in the finite while the buffoons unquantified are considered fit to lead society and set the path for all of us to follow. It is like walking on tight ropes, with your eyes blindfolded uncertain of the consequences ahead.

Cheers to a society, that has buffoons at the helm and sidelines the curious ones as heretics and agents of chaos!

Demons of Depression

25 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Depression, Disorders, General, Health, Life, Psychological Issues

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Depression, Disclosures, Disorders, Facts, Health, Life, Mental Torture, Musings, Personality Trait, Psychological Issues

Depression is realistic, annihilating and oppressive. In a society like ours, it has mostly been considered a mentally terminal disease or something that has been linked to madness. The apparent state of denial in regards to it’s existence, is appalling to say the least. The impact of it is as devastating and bound to leave the person in a state of vulnerability as any physical injury would. The irony is external wounds can get healed with the passage of time, but the internal mental discords can cause miseries abound which are unquantifiable. It confines those suffering from it into deep pits of anarchy and delusion, where hope doesn’t tend to reside anymore. The fallacy of depression is complex and unmistakable in context of the indelible impact it leaves.

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For me, it is difficult to be describing it all and what have I got to do with all this, is a question which I intend to address now. Sometimes, admittance of an issue can help you alleviate your painful occurrences to a great extent. For me, the journey of dealing with partial depression, anxiety and panic stricken disorders has been a difficult one. The point is to share my experiences, not to gain a wave of sympathy and empathy of anyone. There are millions out there, who are far worse than me in terms of depression and other disorders mentioned above, which I am fully aware off. I have been culpable all these years, diagnosis of Rheumatoid arthritis in early 2011 led me astray to the devastation of self-ruin, negativity and persistent bouts of unfettered/unwanted anger along with rage driven incidents with family members became a provocation. I do rue my actions, no doubt but in the heat of the moment the element of self-control has never been there when I needed it. The awareness of it, had always been there and still exists. A lot has to be linked to my own failures, that have overshadowed and ensured that the process of overthinking continues unabated. The inner conflict, laced with a tinge of self-induced doubts and lack of belief has embroiled me into a state of utter confusion. Now, this is something that has defined my existence since evolving from my early childhood to my adolescence. The robustness in decision making, that is something normal for others has always remained elusive to me. The feeling of being unwanted and a state of helplessness/hopelessness always tended to besiege me, never understanding the actual reasons behind it. As I reminisce about my past now, especially the turbulent period of my school life spent from Grade 6th to A-Levels, was a mix of ending up being bullied by fellow students, my regressive and volatile tendency to over-react to certain situations courtesy being of serious nature didn’t also help my cause.

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After starting my ACCA in 2003 and before it as well, I had never been a friendly and outgoing kind of a person. I never found fancy in venturing out like boys my age did, enjoying themselves thoroughly and living the life to the fullest as it is supposed to be. I found it to be a waste of time and pointless, to say the least. This was the time, when I started getting “internalized” into a parallel existence of virtual life, courtesy of the internet and computer opening up avenues that had never been available to any of our predecessors. I took an instant liking to it, submerging quickly and disintegrating into the charms of this enchanted world as per my supposed imagination. In hindsight, one thing that I was fully aware off, were the negative connotations associated with it very early on. But, as they say addiction gets the better of you and I knowingly got subdued by the “charms” the internet offered irrespective of the fact that it was nothing but an illusion or fantasy. Slowly and steadily, the process of addiction became dangerous to the point, I spent all nights using the computer, communicating with virtual personalities spanning across the globe on mIRC, an internet relay chat service that predated MSN Messenger, AOL, ICQ etc. I was always on the lookout for downloading software/games, a favorite past-time of any youngster in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s. My friendship was with my computer only, an absence of any human relationship was indeed something very rare in my life during that period. My restlessness, a lack of concentration issues coupled with bouts of anger became more evident as time passed by, never paying any significant heed to it. Besides me going for my ACCA classes and the limited interaction I had there was my only way of remaining connected with humanity. Pessimism had always been a part of my system, irrespective of how good things may have been happening around me, I would find a flaw in always negating it and still do. Mood swings have been prevalent since my adolescence, along with persistent irritability that has plagued me since ages. This has culminated in me behaving provocatively mostly, undeniably the potency of its toxicity is undeniable on my part. The persistent leveraging of this sort of behavior, has left me in the lurch mostly, seeking solitude in distancing myself as much I can. It’s inexplicable to say the least, but the feeling of protracted helplessness in this state can be devastating for any individual who suffers from it.

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Also, the element of ranting and riling about my pain has indeed been a bane of my existence. Probably, I have indulged in too much self-governance and ridiculing simultaneously, that it has hampered my development to a point where the feeling of being redundant has become a very realistic nightmare. To the contrary, there is no doubt that I am one of those lucky people who have the benefits of a decently luxurious lifestyle and comfort, which is not affordable to the majority out there. The emotional outburst of tears on a random basis and vulnerability episodes associated with depression are something which I have never been able to understand myself. I am not qualified enough in any given regard, but my personal experiences battling partial depression, panic & anxiety driven disorders has taught me that all of us seek is to be understood and treated in a transparent manner. For at least thirteen years, I have encountered persistent issues of sleep deprivation and insomnia that has hampered my energy levels, made me lethargic and I won’t deny the use of various tranquilizers. I have never indulged in outright abuse of using sleep inducing medications, but the urge has always overcome my conscience in some way or the other. Besides, the side effects of these kind of medications over a long period of time can have due repercussions depending on how it ends up being administered. In all these episodes of partial depression, anxiety and panic disorders I have experienced, the only positive thing is my persistence in fighting it and staying alive. In all these years, the element of self-harm has never been evident, which I am glad about actually. I only appeal to those out there battling the demons of depression to remain steadfast and the ones around them NEED to understand and support at all costs.

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Image Credits: Pinterest, EverydayHealth 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life is genuinely a struggle

09 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Faith, Hope, Life, Motivation, Rantings, Self Belief, Struggle, Tips

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Feelings, Happiness, Hope, Life

The moments of resilience were dowry. Insensitivity harbored no particular segments of foliage so to speak. Deriving the strength to rise from the glut was particularly challenging. The focus was never there from the onset, it was strikingly oblivious & devoid of any aim. Deriding the moral incapacitance, coupled with extreme laziness will not resolve any issue. Efforts have to be chequered in nature, progress always demands sacrifice.

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As I spent the best part part of a month harboring inhibitions over issues that were typically nonsensical. Fears always end up being realized and raze us from our very existence. Confusion reins in self doubt, it’s contours of impact are frivilous so to speak. Realities in these circumstances tend to us down, fearing retribution. The worst aspect of this is, it makes us insecure and self pittance becomes a consolable excuse. There is always a factor of self created apathy which tends to seep in to our lives. This leads us to a cacophony of issues that arise, which we are unable to muster through. Problems exist in a gazillion of ways, but resolving them requires a will to overcome them.

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There is always a tendency to fall back and acclimatize yourself to an environment of your own creation. Comfort zones as they are referred by, their very nature is hazardous and fruitless. They have no benefits to extract from it, they limit innovation and obstruct our thinking in ways we cannot even fathom. The only viable option in existence is to charter towards your goals and break up the shackles our mind is obviating through. Laziness will only echo disasters within its wake and block our thought process. In times like these, we tend to delve into memories which have brought us nothing but pain. The resolution lies in evolving as an individual, embracing our shortcomings and taking small steps towards self improvement. Anything is probable, if there is a will to overcome our abstentions and approach everything pragmatically.

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Either we can be bystanders to openly defying changes that can makes our lives better, or realize that progression requires making the right choices. As someone like me, who speaks from personal experience, the battle in these circumstances is largely singular in entity. The decisions are ours to make, shaping our destiny and future very much within our realm of scope. At times, when making critical life altering decisions, there is an element to quantify the long term impact it can have on us. Element of uncertainty, probability in these circumstances is obvious. The unknown and unseen can seem to be a foreboding feeling, one which can herald our locked nightmares and fears. At times, the unknown is something that should not be frowned upon and has to be risked in order to achieve our goals. What fate has in stall for us has to be embraced whether positive or negative is something we cannot predict until and unless we are willing to throw ourselves into it. To conquer fear, self belief is of absolute necessity.

As we move forward in our lives, there is always an element of regret that we tend to house within our memories. Our lack of fearlessness is what causes us to be cautious in our intake and risk is something we detest. Playing safe within our comfort zones, hampers our productivity. The lack of courage to experience new things, leads us to commotions and practices that are moribund in nature. They rust us from within, obstinate practices are what we rely upon. Rigidness entails our practices, mental strength tends to fall apart. The habit of self capitulating becomes a strikingly brazen practice, the outcomes becomes a norm. The desertion of courage and bravery in these circumstances becomes a abject reality. Options and opportunities tend to narrow down, stalking us towards a path of no return. By our actions, we are pushing ourselves into a dead end from which we may be unable to see no light.

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Life is beautiful, the trials and tribulations very much a part and parcel of it. Testing times, require patience and sustenance within it’s wake. All of us at some point of time, are destined to go through a tough time, and it is a cyclical process which tends to repeat itself. The only thing that counts is our inner strength, that can give us the courage to withstand any colossal impact of an event that may be life altering. Changes are necessary, some come from divine intervention, others are coursed by our own actions and practices. No one can alter our destiny, the key to being successful is squarely within our hands. It is YOU who matters, and the one who can bring the required necessary changes to make your life an enriching experience.

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Image Credits: BestQuotes4You, 25Media, QuotePixel, DavesWordofWisdom,           TheDailyQuotes

Chronicling Safia Manto

22 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Biography, Humanity, Inspiration, Life, Love, Tributes

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Manto The Film, Saadat Hassan Manto, Safia Manto

Chronicling Safia Manto, my grandmother would be no mean feat. A woman who lived in the shadow of her beloved husband and renowned short story writer, Saadat Hassan Manto, her story went largely untold till the recent release of Manto: The Film. She has only lived in the folklore of my dreams, I being born 6 years after her untimely demise in November 1977. As much I have heard from familial sources about her magnanimity, humility as a human being besotted with a kindred heart and soul I cannot even fathom what I missed out on. Sometimes fate and destiny are so closely intertwined, that we seem powerless to change the impact it can leave. Missing her out was somewhat destined to happen, her absence being filled in by her youngest sister Zakia Hamid Jalal who has been equally affectionate, loving and caring towards all her grandchildren till date. Safia Manto, had an impact on the lives of many, ranging from her husband, daughters to all the family members that have nothing but fond memories of a lady who showered nothing but love and affection towards them.

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*Safia with her sister Zakia Hamid Jalal*

Chartering through the life of Safia Manto, is like a woven fabric broken from one end but repaired from the other. Her struggles, compassion and challenges she faced throughout her life were immense. Immersed in a period of happiness to downright abject pain, she lived through life smiling and spreading only love all around her peers. Her personality didn’t have many facets besides it was interwoven with simplicity, innocence and forbearance to the core. All throughout her life she bore a hallmark of patience and sustenance, and her large heartedness was particularly striking. Even her proclivity in the light of abject financial stress didn’t hamper her hospitality in any given manner. Safia’s relationship with Manto, was an emotional bond that transcended everything else. In the immediate aftermath after their marriage, Manto documented the commonalities that they shared which included a Kashmiri origin, both wore spectacles, the first letter in their names started from S, and their birthdays were on the 11th of May. Manto’s vicissitudes must have been a tough proposition for Safia to handle. The ingenuity at play with Manto, coupled with streaks of intellectual arrogance and his tenuous relationships with his co-workers must have made things difficult for her. Although his alcoholism wasn’t limited to social circles during his days in Bombay and Delhi, but that period also corresponded to some of his best days in financial terms. As her middle daughter Nuzhat shared, she rarely mentioned about the first 16 years spent in Kenya, but her fond remembrance for Bombay remained etched within her memories for ever.

17 Manto with Safia Zakia

*Safia with her husband Saadat Hassan Manto & her sister Zakia Hamid Jalal*

The period Manto spent working after his marriage to Safia in Delhi and Bombay had its share of highs and lows. In 1940, they both were blessed with a son they named Arif. It was a period of elation for the couple, especially Manto who showered all his love towards his newborn and tenderly took care of all his needs. But that happiness proved to be short-lived as Arif died prematurely within a year a few days shy of his first birthday. That was a rudimentary shock to the couple, left Manto devastated and broke him down completely. The worsening alcoholism of Manto, tempered with bouts of depression during those dark days must have tested Safia’s resolve deeply. Her pain threshold must have been alarmingly high, and the patience a testimony of the nerves she possessed. Safia’s loss as a mother must have been unbearable and unimaginable to the extent that her daughter Nuzhat recently disclosed that she never made even a scant mention about the loss of her first born, Arif. Probably the reason for not disclosing this was to reduce the pain she may have suffered as a mother, and in hindsight Manto’s depressiveness must have forced to act as a calming and strengthening force during that period.

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Safia’s influence and significance in Manto’s life cannot be underestimated in any regard. She was the love of Manto’s life in absolute terms of the word. His dedication and loyalty he owed to his beloved life was beyond any description. The extent to which Safia’s hold on Manto can be gauged from the fact that he published short stories like Hameed aur Hameeda which were penned in her name. Manto’s pinnacle as a writer financially reached its zenith in Bombay while he was working in the film industry in the mid 1940’s. Manto’s literary circle evolved and expanded in those days, giving Safia a glimpse of the present and future stars in the Hindi film industry of those days. For example, as mentioned in Ayesha Jalal’s book Pity of Partition, Safia became good friends with Ashok Kumar’s wife and went shopping with her on a few occasions where the shopkeepers went out of the way to favour them both. Safia also shared a very close relationship with Nargis, the renowned film actress who was making her way up the ladder in the film industry during those days. After migrating to Pakistan in the aftermath of Partition, Manto’s financial woes only increased, persecution and a lack of work opportunities took its toll on him. That had obvious ramifications, he became a chronic alcoholic affecting his relationship with Safia who was upset at him being unable to provide financial support for her and their 3 daughters, two of whom were born after Partition. There came a time when Safia contemplated leaving Manto due to a variety of issues at play, unimaginable even for a serene woman like her. The duress associated with Manto’s dwindling earning power turning nil, must have also influenced Safia to take this gigantic step. Thanks to a response penned by her beloved elder brother, Bashir Deen to the letter she sent, he advised Safia that since Manto was a sick man it wasn’t feasible to consider leaving in this situation. So she reconsidered her options and decided against it.

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*Safia with her husband Saadat Hassan Manto*

Safia used to accompany Manto to all the mushaira’s or public readings of his stories. This stands as a testing ground for her immeasurable support for a man who courted controversy and persecution within his wake to wherever he went. She had the tenacity and courage to face the wrath or applause of the public at large in context of the controversy Manto normally generated. This also highlights the immense love and affection that accompanied their relationship which may have had its share of acrimonious moments but never stalled in any given manner. The support and resilience of Safia is worth commending considering the frailties of her husband which she embraced with great courage. In Bombay, Safia’s simplicity augured Manto to act as her stylist and took it upon himself to ensure that his wife would indulge in the latest of fashions. From getting the most precious of Sari’s made; he ironed them and then stylishly photographed her.  The close proximity and intimacy in their relationship, was a culmination of the understanding between the two and they complemented each other. Manto’s delusions in the last few years of his life, his fading health must have taken an emotional toll on Safia, who couldn’t see the misery of her beloved husband.

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After the death of Manto, the financial situation obviously didn’t improve in any regard. Thanks to the unending support of her mother, Mama Jee a towering personality in her own right, and also Hamid Jalal who helped her to raise their daughters up. Interestingly, as shared with me by Shahid Jalal, my maternal uncle, Safia due to her financial distress, she used to buy fruit at night time take the backdoor exit from her home and go to Beadon road to procure it. At her home in Lakshmi Mansion at any given moment of time it was a standard for 10-15 people to dine at her place inspite of all the financial hardships. As her daughters recall, she was a doting but protective mother a disciplinarian yet a bastion of truth and encouragement for them. She hardly ever received any financial aid from the government after the death of Manto in order to help bring up her daughters, royalty payments were scant to say the least. People kept commoditizing Manto knowing well that Safia was alive and kept publishing his works without paying any heed to the copyright laws. Financial compensation was hard to come by and a lack of adequate resources, guidance hardly ever came to her mind. Safia was a contented woman, by standing all the adversities she may have come across her iron resolve kept weeding it out till her dying breath. She had no materialistic aspirations, never got married after the death of Manto, considering she was almost 39 when she became a widow. Safia’s lifestyle was simplistic a reflection of her persona and practices she cherished the most. She hardly ever complained about her problems, confined them to herself totally. Safia Manto breathed her last in Karachi after suffering a cardiac arrest of the heart on November 23rd 1977.

 

Image Credits: Ayesha Jalal is the legal copyright holder of all these photographs and they must not be used in any way without her express permission. 

Books used for research: Uncle Manto by Hamid Jalal from Black Milk, A Pity of Partition by Ayesha Jalal, Princeton Press 2013. 

Love is unexplainable

13 Thursday Aug 2015

Posted by Mohammad Farooq in Hope, Humanity, Life, Love, Romance

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Tags

Feelings, Hope, Life, Love, Romance

The fragrance of love isn’t foreboding. Instinct tells us to embrace love with all its fallacies. The feelings that evoke and make you realize love is there for real, then things take such a drastic turn. Love is impetuous, randomly desecrating our hearts and soul, plunging us to such depths of emotions. Love isn’t supposed to be an idealistic experience, its nuances are such that each individual behaves in a randomly different way when encountered by it.

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Love does not address to circumstances, it just comes when it wants too. Its appearance is rather mystifying , within its wake bringing such rapid changes in nature which may leave us mesmerized. Love can be a tonic for magical resurrection, one which can awake you from your miseries and give you a new profound objective in life. It can address listlessness, provoke the inner sentiments and bring excitement to the fore. It can inject a new lease of life, a sense of purpose and feeling of being wanted, arouse inner passions. Love is an emissary of peace, integrates contentment and satisfaction into our lives. It radiates positivity, laying the foundations of trust and affection. Love is an embodiment of virtue, heralding a new chapter of prosperity and happiness in the lives of millions. Heartlessness is conquered by the evoking of love, hatred gets erased too. So much for love to act as an engine of prosperity, which helps us to embrace compassion and sensitive sentiments. Love is subject to randomization of our hearts, its varieties and subtleties are infinite.

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Love doesn’t yield to stoppages of time. It charts its own route and enchants all those along its way. It can be awe inspiring, promulgating a feeling of warmth and being wanted. Love isn’t pretentious or fake , it is a true reflection of human emotions and what it warrants. Love can be infectious , a drug that reams of magic abound in it. Humans are fickle beings, hungry for love and affection. Love isn’t something normal, its gargantuan nature is beyond any description. Love cannot be deemed fit into any respective category, it forms its own niche. Neither it is subject to the whim of oddities and opposition that surrounds it. Love is as natural or pure, its characteristics are like the wind blowing into our eyes. Love doesn’t cater to any existence, it just happens and comes unannounced.

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Those who cannot digest or fathom the beauty of love, they sadly have never experienced life to its fullest. Love is the name of joy, passion and feelings that we share mutually for each other. Love doesn’t cater to the caste and creed of the lovers, its a natural phenomena. Those who deride it as impure, are denying its every existence. They are devoid of feelings, empathy, emotions and so much more that love brings to the forefront. Love can give you the odd abject feeling, it arouses excitement and feelings of expectations. In all this euphoria, all of us are at some point of time will suffer a heartbreak, but that doesn’t mean we should stop embracing love. Remember this, after all love is the quality that makes us human in the first place.

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Image Credits: CathyBaker, TheLoveNotebook, ErikaTheMonster, Enlighteningquotes

 

 

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Me

Mohammad Farooq

Mohammad Farooq

Busines Journalist and ex-Senior Sub-Editor at Profit by Pakistan Today. Bylines in Dawn, Livemint India, Huffington Post, Express Tribune, MIT Techreview Pakistan,IGN Pakistan, . Interested in Technology affairs, history buff and Part qualified accountant.

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A lot has been going on…

  • My Angelic Grandmother December 14, 2021
  • A man for all seasons: Shahid Jalal August 19, 2020
  • The Merchants of Death June 18, 2020
  • The renaissance of reading books again September 25, 2019
  • Privilege is abusive July 31, 2019

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