Of the Collard Greens & Blood

Be khem'ne haak….. [kashmiri collard green leave vegetable]. I am not eating this, I yelled at my mother. A full swing soccer kick on the rice plate made it fly like a frisbee with haak strewing all around; on the floor, my school bag, note books, on our new Kashmiri Kaleen [hand-woven carpet] that had dark blue mille fleur patterns of tiny blossoms knotted in maroon woolen fabric. Hai giye daakh, wech kya koruth....curse on you, See what you did.


I ran away....

Pull the trigger. com'n put some more effort, pull it!

Can you see that trehi buttun makaan [it was an abandoned house of a popular local Kashmiri pundit nicknamed "trehi bhatt"] on other side of the Jehlum River? Yes I replied. The one surrounded with trees? He asked again.

I reiterated, yes I do.

Jet-black pistol felt heavier than its size. My thin fingers were not long enough to reach the trigger. But I was trying. I was hardly ten years old. Probably unaware of the fact that it can take someone’s life. Unmindful of the certainty that it actually can kill!

Soach akis kullis peth che trehi buttun choth taapas- thukus chothi fire- imagine trehi bhatt’s ass hanging from one of those trees and then shoot into his ass. This thought burst both of us into laughter and I didn’t have any strength left to pull the trigger. Hyo benthera! Oh nephew! I love you. Now get up and let me drop you home, your father will cut me into two if he came to know I was teaching you to shoot a pistol.

I looked up at him and asked, are you afraid of my Abu [father] like I am?

Off course I am. He's a "Thakur" [a sarcastic reference to a character from a popular bollywood flick]

But you have a Pistol, you are so tall and you are a mujahid I said, while giving a thorough head to toe glance at him. Thinking one day I will be as strong as him. Then I would not have to waste a lot of my energy to pull the trigger.

Yes but he is like my father, sohraab replied. I cannot pull a pistol on him. I respect him. He is a great person. He has a big heart you know? – he said while tapping his chest. Now let’s go and eat something. I am feeling hungry.

This reminded me of haak ,Kaleen and the flying rice plate.

I could imagine Abu with a shining bata sandal in one hand and a cup of sugar free Lipton tea in another. His sagging ear lobes turn red by every passing minute. I would always ask my elder sister why Abu doesn’t take sugar. She would say Abu already had enough sugar in his body because he’s a sugar patient [diabetic]. So my initial feeling was it is good to be a sugar patient. I could taste that sweetness in my mouth. In fact, I would proudly say my father has sugar. I remember a friend of mine whose father was also a diabetic and we would argue with each other to prove whose father had the highest sugar as if it was a symbol of great pride. He would say his father’s sugar level goes above 160 and I would try to win it with a double margin. che chia pie menis malis chu chenis malisind khote zyade..Tas chu tre hatth! (300!) My father’s sugar is way higher than your father, His goes above 300!

Your father will cut me into two, Sohraab had said. If Abu can make such a big and strong guy shit his pants who the hell am I?

I shook my head and got ready to face "Thakur" at home.

You are a one crazy kid! Only picking up fights at home and then running away- look at you! Sohraab said while pointing at me.

Why did you have to kick the food? It’s a gunaah [sin]. If you kick rizq [food], it kicks you back. Gobur [son] may Allah bless you always but you should not do this.

But I don’t like Haak. I hate eating it. I said.

But that doesn’t mean you should kick it. If you won't eat it somebody else will. This world is full of hungry people. You know, I have heard people in Africa catch rats and eat them to fill their hunger because they have nothing to eat.

Yekh!... rats? This thought churned my stomach. My mouth filled with saliva. I spit and continued spitting till I reached home. I tried to divert my mind but the horrible images of skinny and hungry African people carrying rats hanging by their tail and eating them alive was enough to make me throw up. I vomited until I reached home.

Ok Baji [sister]… I shall leave now, take good care of him and give him some Gaggar Lacchi [rat tails] to eat for the dinner because he says he hates haak. He took out a small pocket size Quran which was inside a green zipper cover that had something written on it with golden letters in cursive Arabic calligraphy. He gave it to my mother and said I had promised I will bring one for you from Pakistan. My mother was overwhelmed. Pakistani? Really! She reacted as if someone would earn double sawaab (reward for good deeds) after reciting from a Pakistani Quran. But that is how all most all of us used to think because slogans like Pakistan se rishta kya? La ilaha illaAllah had so deeply brain washed our minds. Pakistani TV serials, Pakistani fabrics, Pakistani prayer rugs were a big hit in Kashmir during 90’s and people had this passion for Pakistani products. I remember my mamu (maternal uncle) bought a rechargeable torch and a digital watch from Pakistan and he would proudly keep it in his glass display. No wonder it had an “OK TESTED“made in china sticker stuck to its bottom.

She kissed it thrice before wrapping it under her shawl while giving him duakhair’s [blessings]. che lassun te bassun panine maaji- Khuda karen sarni mujahidin kamiyaab- tehndi paas che- oor zuv te dor kuth - Amin yallah amin. [Couldn’t translate]

My mother in all her excitement went running in to show it to my father. See! What my brother brought for me. It’s a Pakistani Quran. Sabz rang (green color) her eyes sparkling with its chromatic finish.

I was hiding behind the door curtain peeping out of a small hole. Hey che ke be maarnawakh (you will get me killed) father said. You know there are mukhbirs (Informers) everywhere and if someone informed Army that we have a Pakistani Quran Khuda Rasoolas path (swear to Allah & his prophet) we all will be dead.

Sohraab was still standing on the door. Hey yusuf saaba che kous haz laagi aathe- che chie gudde khuda patte sai be Yusuf sahib who would dare to touch you? Keep faith on Allah and then trust me. I won’t let anyone harm you.

What if my Abu comes to know he calls him “Thakur” I chuckled!

Challo… I shall leave now and don’t beat my benthar [nephew]. He has promised me that he won’t fight again.

feamanillah... [May Allah protect you]

Feamanillah…

I heard sohraab’s thick voice fading away in our dark corridor.

Gunshots....

heyo khudayooooo! [untranslatable commotion]

Blood….. Cries….Slogans [unexplainable fear]

La ilaha illaAllah [undeterred Faith]

kussu kussu [inexplicable emotions]

hyo kusu gov shaheed......... [intangible loss] …. Sohraab [RIP]



Trehi bhatt’s widowed home and thousands like his are still waiting for their return. Now streets aren’t that scary though blood stains haven’t yet faded away, fatigued eyes haven’t lost the hope. The hope that their missing loved ones will return back, the hope that there won’t be further bloodshed. Hope that this twilight will move away and give rise to the new dawn of peace.

Now, Haak doesn’t taste that bad either….

JKCA - a Satire, an Irony.

Chief Minister Mr.Omer Abdullah summons his father Farooq Abdullah at NC’s head Quarter in Srinagar to clear his stand on JKCA mess.

CM: [fingers steepled] Papa, before you can tell us your side of the story, I want you to take an oath and swear to your faith that you shall speak nothing but the truth.

Farooq Abdullah: With both his arms wide open like the wings of an aeroplane, faintly opening and closing his eyes as if a super hero getting ready to display his super natural powers. In his long Pheran and black Karakulli he looked a perfect holy man!

In the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost today I shall speak the truth and nothing but the truth.

CM: [raising his eyebrows in surprise] what was that?

Farooq Abdullah: [Shrugging his shoulders] that was my oath.

CM: I know but what was that father the son and some other thing you said.

Farooq Abdullah: looks at CM with an ironic smile and says this is the testimony of my faith my child.

CM: Papa… But you never told us that you were a Christian!

Farooq Abdullah: I am NOT! and please say it more loudly so that Geelani listens as well. Hey mauj ha gassi maund! (Your mother will become widow!)

CM: Then why did you swear to the Holy Trinity?

Farooq Abdullah: [Shaking his head] No No, It’s our family trinity my child. Where I am the father, you are the Son and your late grandfather is the Ghost.

CM: Holy Cow! Alright go ahead and tell us…

Farooq Abdullah: [shrugs again] who plays BAT-BALL these days? It’s a stupid game.

CM: It’s called CRICKET Mr. President – CRICKET ASSOCIATION- A gentlemen’s game.

Farooq Abdullah: You are right your honor , 11 stupid people running their ass off to return the ball back to two gentlemen playing in the middle- it’s a NON SENSE.

CM: As if we don’t know who forces party workers to cheer for him. You know how many of our workers have left and joined PDP, just because of your dissipation. They say Mufti at least invites them for a drink. You have done no good to this state.You wasted all your life playing polo in the meadows.

Farooq Abdullah: Polo? That’s Golf for god’s sake!

CM: Whatever….

Farooq Abdullah: I thought instead of wasting this money on buying stupid stuff like abdomen guards and pads why not use this money to decorate my Golf Club.

CM: YOUR golf club? I thought that was a state property.

Farooq Abdullah: Was that? Oh! I mean- is that? No one ever told me.

CM: You know People have started calling you a Lakri-chor (wood smuggler).

Who told you to cut those trees? That is a crime.

Farooq Abdullah: No my child. You have heard it wrong?

They must have said Lakri-Sher.

CM: and - What is that?

Farooq Abdullah: don’t you know?

Tiger Woods- You Stupid :p

CM: it isn’t funny.

Now may i ask you to tell us what you did with so much money? Because last time when I asked you to borrow me doad hath rupiye (150 rupees) you said tas Shoathas che wachmech chandas zovve…

Farooq Abdullah: It wasn’t so much money … Just few crores.

CM: ALRIGHT! Where did those JUST few crores disappear?

Farooq Abdullah: I spent that money to buy you a gift on your wedding anniversary.

Remember? [Eyes popping out]

CM: WTF! - All what I got was a DIVORCE!

Don’t give me this crap papa!

You know people would stop playing cricket. They will pull my balls out and play PING-PONG.

Farooq Abdullah: [Sniggers foolishly] He He He….that would look funny.

CM: Don’t give me this monkey smile. Geelani will pull out yours to play golf.

Farooq Abdullah: [his hands crossed between his legs] Oh! That would hurt.

CM: So would PING-PONG you stupid!

Farooq Abdullah: Why this kolaveri D my child. Can't we share!

Copyright ©

Thought of You!

My eyelids bled , my eye whites dried
I thought of you whenever i cried
Broken pledge like a twing in my chest
Splinters from the yore still haunt me inside

your echos whriling in the autumn wind
wets my eyes. I sigh! I regret.
"Sorry" remains a word which i never tried
I thought of you whenever i cried
my eyelids bled, my eye whites dried

I remained heedless of my wicked intent
or did i snub my conscience? I do repent
Was that the day my conscience died?
I thought of you whenever i cried
my eyelids bled my eye whites dried

Our names were still dug on that chinar tree
I erased mine so to set you free
Now, nothing to reveal and not much to hide
i thought of you whenever i cried
my eyelids bled , my eye whites dried


Copyright ©

Shaal KaK

When I was a kid my uncle would often tell me Shaal Kak’s stories and I would listen to them with my eyes closed and every scene running live in my thoughts. In the dark wintry nights of 90’s when militancy was at its peak and being a Mujahidin was considered cool, sitting in my uncle’s laps and keenly listening to adventures of Shaal Kak was my favorite pastime. Those times when owning a bajaj scooter was a luxury and television was limited to privileged ones, I was a little kid growing up in middle class family living my short lived dreams. I was always fascinated by this Shaal Kak’s character. I would always imagine Shaal Kak as an old man with a long white beard as if Santa Clause in Kashmiri attire wearing a brown Karakulli cap and neat white Pheran. There was something very funny about Shaal Kak. He had a single long hair on his bum and my uncle would always start the story with his favorite line: Akkha aus shaal kaka Maal kaka, tas aus chakji peth waal kaka waal kaka (Once there was a Shaal Kak and he had single hair attached to his bum and I would burst into my first laughter. Funnily I would imagine Shaal Kak’s bum as big as a jackfruit and as bright as full moon. That single hair attached to his poop chute was a big turnoff! I only enjoyed listening to these stories from my uncle. He would add a different spice to the story and present it like a delicious platter. I remember after my school, I would eagerly wait for him to come back from work and continue from where I had fell asleep yesterday. Those days electricity was a scarce commodity and empty electric bulbs were merely a show piece. Candles and mantle lanterns were an important part of our household. After the candle light dinner many interesting family discussions would turn lanes around the candle flame which would last till its string burnt its last and mom would say pakiv shungov, shamaa log mukline (let’s sleep, candle is about to turn off) I would patiently wait for these discussions to get over so that uncle could narrate to me the adventures of Shaal Kak. In winter the snow would pile on the roof, as soon as the temperature warmed up it came sliding off the roof with a loud crashing noise “Drufff” and the noise was horrible, like the sky was falling! It would scare the hell out of me and I would shrink myself into uncle’s laps. Seeing my eye lids drooping with sleep, he would slowly pat my back and sing: Alla Alla karu Jigroo, Raschi khanje sabra karu Jigroo! He had a variety of songs and when I used to ask him where he learnt them, he would say Shaal Kak taught him so. I still remember many of them like:


“Bisht Bisht Braaryo
 Khotakho Vunn .
 Torraa kyaah Voluth
 Babri Punn.
 Su Kamunn trovuth
 Kottarunn.”


“Wadd Ven Gubrov Osh Mov Traav
  Kawan Unnai Rekke Adde Paav
  Audd Thaav Chundass
  Su Khezi Wandas
  Audd Thaav Aalis
  Su Deazi Malis”


“Hop Lop Chhop Kurr
 Mauj Gayee Greit bal,
 Torra anni Saut Pull
 Audd thaav Chunduss
 Su Poshee Vanduss
 Audd Thaav Aaliss
 Su Poshee Reit kaaliss”


My dad was not impressed with my obsession for Shaal Kak. He would often tell my uncle you are spoiling him. This time he should be sitting on his books and doing some home work but uncle who was equally afraid of my dad would listen from one ear and out the other. After all his unsuccessful efforts, Dad thought of a brilliant idea to get rid of Shaal Kak. Dad introduced a rival character in my life called “Khok”. Khok was an evil being who would take away little children who don’t finish their home work and hand them over to a vampire called “Raantas”. To cut the long story short he once told me that Shaal Kak was dead because Khok burnt him alive in a small hut which was situated uphill. When I asked how did he know all this, he said he heard Khok singing Shaal kaka didvoo larre pherin deevoo deviv na te didvooooo! (Burn O Shaal Kak Burn- Turn O Shaal Kak turn- if you don’t turn, you anyway shall burn!) And I overheard dad saying "Buddih te muud, chaas te lotaay" The old man died and so did his coughing!

Bedding Dreams

My mom tried her best by shouting and calling me several times from the kitchen which was on ground floor exactly under my room. We called it TV Kuth (TV Room). We had recently moved our black & White television from this room to the one in ground floor just to make some space for my cricket bat and me. Books scattered on the floor, new notebooks tattered into small pocket size dairies [I had big craze for small pocket size dairies]. I was so lost in my dreams that I had no idea of the outer world. I wrapped the blanket around and underneath my body to keep out the cold and to escape from this real world for few moments.


From outside it looked like normal bedding but beneath it was no less than a magical Disneyland. Inside it, I possessed everything that I could imagine of- “Almost everything”. I would become the most powerful human being, as intelligent as my class Monitor. Spiderman, superman and shaktimaans were all my buddies and they would only take orders from me. Doctor jackal, Tamraj kilvish and Zingalu Zunglaa all were scared of me.

I loved spending my time with “Titli” [ Name changed – otherwise real name may create a controversy and consequences may lead to divorce at both the parties.Breaking down Tit-li into two may sound vulgar & equally naughty]. Titli was my classmate and class monitor. She was beautiful. I would help in exams, in her home work. Thanks to the timely aid of my Allaudins genie who would bring her all the question papers so that she can score good marks. I would protect her from those bad boys from fellow OSLA community- [One Sided Lovers Association]. They would never stare at her when I was around.

Mom screamed again- wath eath ha bajaye- come on wakeup its 8 o’clock. Don’t you have to go to the school. I would hide my head under the pillow to escape from her calls and there I slip again into my dreams.
Here I was the fastest bowler on earth, I was the best batsman cricket may have ever produced. I had knocked N number of centuries and N number of times I had won matches for my team. It was only me and everything else was secondary. I was the Rajkumar (Prince) of Naugrah who fell in love with her Titli chandrakanta.

I never lost any of my wars- I still remember that chant -Challoooo Saathiyoo Hamlaaaaa Karoo- and the background music - Tantanaaaan.

Ouch! Who attacked me from behind and kicked my ass? - Tantanaaaan….. Sanikooo hamlaaaaa……
Hyo Sora , You swine- its 9 o’clock and you still sleeping- Dad would say.
Madrass che na gassun? – Don’t you have to go to the school?

His famous ass kick would wake up dead and i was nothing but a living kid – However,I miss those kicks now. I would get ready for school, like always missed my bus. Titli is looking inaccessible in white uniform. My class teacher called me a Nettachoth [Dumbass] and I had my last laugh

Once upon a time in 2011:

Yassmalik's phone ringing at 9 o'clock in the morning- (munni badnaam huvi darling tere liye- ringtone getting louder)
Since last one hour Yassmalik is inside the bathroom practicing his Urdu speech fully decorated with Kashmiri accent
(Hindostaan Kay Awaam Ko Moolom Hona Chaheyea Kay Kashmir Aaik Mutanaziya Allakaa haay...)
Mrs. Malik: Malik Saab, someone is calling you- 16 miscalls.
Yassmalik: shouts back - Pick it up..Pick it up - if it was Toath (Gheelani) – tell him i am busy on the other line with Barkha Dutt.
Mrs. Malik: Malik Saab, it's Sushma calling-
Yassmalik: Stretching out his arm from the half open door-- pass it to me- Jaldi
Phone rings again- (munni badnaam huvi darling tere liye)- Sushma calling…
Yassmalik: Heyllo… Heyllo… (while caressing his little johny)
Sushma: Salaamwalikum yassji, this is Sushma from delhi.
Yassmalik: Oh! WalikumNamaskar Pushpaji this is Yass malik how are you?
Sushma: fine, what are you doing?
Yassmalik: Shitting...I mean just sitting Pushpaji.
Sushma: Yassji..i am Sushma not Pushpa.
Sushma from Bee Jay Pee.
Yassmalik: Pee? No its shit!
Sushma: You are so rude
Yasmalik: dude? Thankyou! Sushmaji.
Sushma: I am coming to kashmir.
Yassmalik: Kashmir? When? Why? – (mallik wishpers - laanath hai wach)
                 But this is the off season and June is far away.
Sushma: I don’t think you are watching TV these a days.
Yassmalik: Yes I do. There is Sajjad lone everywhere. I heard Karan Johar is signing him in his next flick. Even Toath has got an offer to host Bigboss season-5.

Sushma: I am coming to Shrinagar to hoist indian flag there.

Yassmalik: You? Srinagar? he he he- my ass.
Sushma: What did you say?
Yassmalik: I mean Aman ki aas – Our next memoranda.
Sushma: Thats all bakwaas, be ready I am coming with Triranga on 26th jan.
Yassmalik: 26th jan?Triranga?- Awah Shaalmeeren
Sushma: what?
Yassmalik: Nothing. Nothing- i said don't forget to bring your Shawl- it's very cold here.
Sushma: Salaamwalikum!
Yassmalik: WalikumNamaskar!

Hey aaye aaye!

J&K Government invites applications from Kashmiri domiciles for the appointment of constables in J&K Police Department

Age limit:- 18+

Reservation:-
                        SC (scheduled caste) -  10%
                        ST  (scheduled tribe) - 10%
                        SP  (Stone Pelters)     - 60%
         Children of Ex Sangbaaz Men -  20%


Experience Required:-
#  Candidate should have a minimum 3 years of indepth field knowledge in stone pelting.

#  Candidate should be able to demonstrate the Salsa techniques and body movements in accordance with the rythms of Ragda Ragda!

#  Candidate should match a voice frequency of 14000Hz or more while shouting a high pitch slogan like "Hey Aaye Aaye Aazadi"

#  Candidate must be fluent in both kashmiri as well as urdu sloganeering with high expertise in "Military wala doodh mai daala phirbi sala kaala hai" &  Jagg borukh baatay goule aayas Ly***"


Remuneration:-
     30% onspot appraisal plus"Khinz".
     *Onspot apprisals are only provided to the candidates from SP catagory based on their previous income earned as a stone pelter.

Note:- Unsucessful candidates are encouraged to actively participate in coming summer stone pelting session named - "Khoon ka badla june mai lengay" .It is a 6 months crash course designed to understand and learn how to handle the critical situations in a gurella warfare.

Soor kut gov!

"Hay ye soor kutai gov" in a roaring sound...


Abu ji shouting at everyone – where is this swine, I will cut him into pieces and throw those pieces to dogs "trudis traavan alhund"- today I will hang him.
I was hiding in the backyard,though I could imagine his face appear in front of my eyes with drops of sweat on his forehead- Red cheeks glistened like polished apples- eyes fuming indicating that the blood is on full boil.Abuji's fair complexion would invite challenges from hollywood.I remember mom told me once when she saw abuji for the first time she thought he was a Firangi.Once when mom saw George bush on tv she screamed hai Mohd.Yusuf! and Abuji grinned in amusement.He liked it!


"Hayo soora katitu chukh choori behit" where are you hiding-You swine! He shouted again
What happened asked my mom?
"Khali kya phaerhay tas plaza walis seeth hune sindh peath" – He only roams around with this plaza guy like a stray dog. This kutt hune-stray dog has brought shame to my name.He spoiled my image in the whole society. hooo! "Fakoo katu dhakiaa khoo,zan chukh che hari singh" mom would often use this slang to taunt abuji and in reply Abuji would spare none of her folks.


When Abuji wanted to score some extra points he would start playing his trump cards. Huuu! Don’t force me to open my mouth as if I don’t know your folks,They still eat rice cake with nun chaai.Seeing things turning ugly I somehow managed to escape and returned late in the evening .Mom wouldn’t eat anything unless I come back.I skipped in from the rear balcony adjoining our neighbours backyard.


Where were you? "mool kari khash ",He will slaughter you. Now eat food and go to sleep else if he saw you he will start screaming again. why don’t you study and do your home work properly .I would say nothing instead concentrate on my meal. Mom would get irritated by this attitude of mine she would push my head and say "che chie gomut mujjoont" you have become worthless.


My urdu teacher Nazir sir would call me a "nettaschoth"  langour.I remember once when I scored 13 out of 100 in urdu he told me even if I reverse the digits just for the sake of passing you, then also you will fail by a margin of two marks.So you better quit school and sell mujje jogje -vegetables.That year I got 199 out of 500 and just as a courtesy my class teacher did a great favour by promoting me to next standard.When I saw my report card only three things came to my mind – Bata chapple – Marchangan loor- te Soie these were the wepons of my destruction.


lucky added fuel to fire and started to frighten me of the consequences that I would have to face at home-- "yuspe haa maarie" Yusuf will murder you".I have an idea! lucky said.What is that I asked.Temper your report card.Change the marks and your problem is solved.This looked to be the best and fast remedy to this disease.While I was getting ready to forge my marks sheet,here were some valuable inputs.Owaisa if you temperd all the digits than your father "yuspe" will defenitly catch you.so instead of changing all the three digits just change the first digit,this digit can easily become 4.You mean 499 out of 500? i asked with raised eyebrows.


Yes said lucky, now that you are anyway forging it then why write less and I don’t think you really have any other option.I stuck to the plan and forged the total marks from 199 to an excellent figure of 499.It took three of us almost four hours,some pebbles and some extraordinary thinking to make alterations in the marks sheet and levelling the individual subject wise marks against the total marks.I thought If I would have invested only 10% of this energy and mind in my studies,today I would have passed with good marks. I remember lucky's grand father would tell us if you wish you three would sell shit at the cost of gold.199 became 499 and Grade E became Grade-Excellent.


I silently opend the door to check the mood inside before going in. Abuji was having his lunch on warindah and rest of the family watching his cheeks turning red with every mouthful of rice.He would tell me one should chew every mouthful thirty times before swallowing it in.Mom would often tell abuji "yeh chruf chruf maa laag" - don’t make these weird chomps.Mom busy with her embroidery,sobia covering her face with Gulistan urdu book pretending as if she was studying.I heard mom saying Gashu must be coming,i hope he gets good marks this year.Abuji interrupted with a strong crank and said "Aendram kaddas"- I will pull out his intestines if he didn’t get good marks this year,It churned my stomach.I took a deep breath and completely entered into the character of a Class topper.My excitement was worth watching,I was thrilled.I jumped in & said "Momaaa pass-choor hatt te nam nammath marks!! "-(499 marks!)


I saw my lil sister sobia opening her big eyes wider in surprise.she was stuck dumb! and looked at me with doubtful eyes.I avoided looking at her eyes because she almost dumped my fake confidence."Talla talla mea haav",-Mom said show me –show me- haaai! 499 out of 500 – Grade Excellent (it came as Excalannt out of her mouth)-haaai Distingshan!
Lagsiya balaai—Mubarakh! Mubarakh!


Abu didn’t say a word yet.why you don’t say few words of appreciation ,see "akh marks chus kamm" he has fallen short just by one mark.
Ye kyazi chuhai akh marks chotmut what they deducted this one mark for, Abuji asked finally.I don’t know I replied and kept quit.


Suddenly I saw sobia counting my marks obtained in every subject and tallying them with the total marks.She repeated the same process three to four times and looked a bit confused.
What happened sobia mom asked.sobia whispered something in moms ear with a corner of her eye towards me."Naai tallai be ganzraav ha"- noo let me count.It made my blood run cold. my ear lobes turning pink.My face turning pale.


what happned mom, I asked.what is she saying.
Look there is a big mistake the total is coming 500 and they have written only 499."Akh marks chuhai khumut".It took four hours for me-owaisplaza and lucky to calculate-we used pebbles- we did it and did it again.we counted and then recounted,we checked and then rechecked but still we made a mistake – Nazir sir was right we should quit school and sell Mujji jogji.


"Gasshan che karmut ath kethaain".Gashu has done something wrong with it sobia grinned.I felt like a cat on hot bricks. I could feel butterflies in my stomach.Shutup I said go and concentrate on you work.


"Talsa yure haav" –This time abuji took a keen interest."Hyo atth ma chuthas doolmut".Did you temper it.Noo I said-why should i- how can I – with a volly of questions and tears sopporting my fake argument.I turned to mom and started crying- see muma I got good marks and still everyone is doubting me.Naaa gobur,we are not doubting you,It’s a mistake from their side and they should rectify it.Why don’t you go to his school and ask his class teacher why they are always biased towards my child mom told abuji."muhaa mune gobur pakh keh batt"- with a kiss on my forehead mom went towards kitchen to bring some food for me.


"Wathsa khesa batt jaldi"—finish your lunch quickly abuji said we will go to your school.Abuji its already late I said.No its only 1o'clock. school will be open till 3 oclock sobia intervened.I knew if i went with abuji he will cut me into pieces and distribute among the Behari labours in tulibal near MET.so I preffered to stay back.You go I will not come I am exhausted I said and laid back in exasperation.


He took my report card and gave me a 100 rupee note to buy new books from fayaz enterprise and went away....
Then he came roaring back in the evening—"hay ye soor kutie gov"!

Amrikan Dream!

I hate getting frisked, but what if the frisker is a blond fille? Though bashfully but I will excuse you frisking me this time. I can understand this country has its rules and I need to abide by them. I grinned & eagerly got ready to get “stripped” oops! I mean “frisked”.Fair hair, a light complexion and typical blue eyes. Boy! She was slinky. In this very short while we introduced each other, she took my cell number, said she was impressed, we became friends, friendship twirled into love, we sung some duets & danced on bollywood tunes, we proposed each other, we married, we had few brown & few white kids, and then like any other unsuccessful western couple we divorced!—Can I see your passport? She requested- She is a lady guard. In a jiff my romantic bubble bursted into pieces in front of my eyes. I showed her my passport and signed the immigration check form as if I was signing the divorce papers, I was a buffet of emotions!


Anyway, after this will-o'-the-wisp fantasy I came out of los angeles airport. I love this country, I always love coming here, though this is for the first time I have come here-I chuckled. With this witty thought I boarded a cab and the radio was playing "Welcome to the hotel California” Seeing my alien expressions in the rear mirror sardarji-cabbie quickly tuned on to bollywood music. Tall buildings, bare legged chicks, expensive cars, fashion in a-la-mode style this city has everything.
Like any goosey anxious asian I enquired:
Sardarji, is there a beach somewhere near here?
Take off your clothes and walk nude this is Amrika! he replied in a typical Punjabi accent. I looked at my watch it was exactly 12 o’clock and I grokked that he won’t understand a damn thing at this moment.


After taking a nap for few hours in my luxurious hotel suit. I woke up late in the evening with an empty stomach. So instead of ordering something from the hotel, I decided to go out and have a dinner whilst take a walk around this beautiful city. Idea wasn’t bad but where to go was a million dollar question.


I went to the reception and enquired about some well known sub-continental restaurants around the city. The lady sitting on the counter was very benevolent. She didn’t bother to go out of her way to print a list of restaurants & a city map for me.
She is a sweet heart! Her name is Catherine & she is still gazing at me!
Nope! Nope! no more pipe dreams. I fled from the spot thinking sometimes I am too desired! – but I have to live with it.


After roaming the lanes I found an Asian restaurant with a very strange name “Paapi Chuulo foods” --“here you get breakfast at anytime”— That’s goofy!. I didn’t want to go into its philosophy. I was hungry and immediately ordered some meals to kill my hunger. I had few butter nans with a delicious Dahi Gosht (lamb in yoghurt sauce), chicken kebabs & barbequed fish plus kiwi raita.I swear it was a real yum!


Now I desperately needed some sleep so I decided to take a cab and rush straight back to the hotel. Suddenly out of blue a sweet voice called my name; Owwais.. Owwaais.. Owwwaaais.. It was getting musical like a mellow sound bringing a feel of imminent melody. My name was falling out from her red lips like dry autumn leaves, my name has ever been so beautiful. Passing winds were playing violins, the scene watching birds were chirping a romantic poem, the nightingale on that conifer branch also joined the chorus with a lovely chirk. The empty road turned into a musical theatre & denizens became our audience, the song was in full swing. Ah! The romantic atmosphere of this place. Far away somewhere some one was playing chimes, it was getting louder. My alarm clock chimed 6 o’clock & I woke up!


This is why i hate dreaming i said while sighing in exasperation. The musical lady still remains a mystery... Catherine was better!

Zoya, my lil niece is no more.

Last time I had seen her when she was just 2 months old. While caressing her unripe cheeks she gave a tender glance at me & moved her little lips as if she would just say something. She was crying & moving her teeny weeny legs in a strange desperation. With long girly fingers her small hands looked so personable. I smiled at myself and thought we humans are only beautiful as babies and when we grow old our sinless hearts turn into sinful hideouts. Realizing that my attention got diverted from her for a second, she got angry and started bawling while rubbing her tiny feet against the floor, I had to pluck my ear lobes and say sorry to convince her so that she stops crying. Suddenly she had a clever grin in amusement on her face after this short drama. In heart of her hearts she would have been thinking Mamu! I made a real Mamu of u!


Yesterday suddenly she left us all & didn’t say good-bye to anyone. She slept & slept for rest of her life. I didn’t have a chance to see her for a long time as I am living in exile some where else away from my tribe.


She had just started creeping & chirping but I think she didn’t like this world. I have seen many a times little children murmur with no sense .But I always have a belief that this no sense murmur is no non sense at all. I think this is the way they interact with God coz he is the best knower of everything. The understanding, The wise.


It seems if she had come under an agreement with God that she would live on probation and if she likes this world she is gona stay or else will leave for good. Unlike us she choose the real life, the life after death.


Her mom is concerned, if they have a bib and baby food there. Zoya didn’t take any fancy dresses with her. They say some spiritual beings called as angels will attend upon her arrival there. She will have wings like a seraph & will re-unite with her friends. They wpuld have a little gathering on the lakeside of river “salsabil” (a river in paradise) where she would tell them stories about this evil world. But she would not forget to tell them about her lovely mom who would be missing her for the rest of her life.


Zoya,we will miss you always…..Mamu!

Tere Maa Ki Jai! (life in verses)

Tender age, that naïf juvenile

priceless hours & that momentous while

bawling cries & that mirthful smile

little fights, those colorful lights

flying kites, those chocolate bites

Naked & nude, dirty & rude

Stupid acts & mad attitude

dancing in rain, bruises & pain
saying sorry & then doing again

my dirty uniform
that innocent charm

Climbing the hay on that one day

Shrieking & shouting tere maa ki jai!

Starting of sage, coming out of cage

Early teen age, that sexy cover page

Facial Steams, hair gel & creams

Having romance in romantic dreams!

Chasing that dove, feeling like wow!

You want her now & falling in love

I didn't listen since long to my favourite song

i even forgot my first ding dong!

fragrance of my soil
that dangerous turmoil

familiar dead faces
fake encounter cases

burning of my town
that terrible crackdown

 chirping birds on that telegraph wire
huge explosions and horrible gunfire

that dying man in Ambulance van
traced phone calls & prepaid ban

estranged meadows & destroyed greens
bleeding bodies & deadly scenes

I cannot see, I can not find

I don’t know, how to rewind

I lost peace from my peaceful mind
(Owaisbata)

It's My Happy Birth Day!!!

Again came this unusual day

Jubilations everywhere as they say!

Why are they happy, why are they so gay

Telling me fairytales but where is the Fay

Noise everywhere everything so fake

Chocolate & berries embellished ova bake

I can’t understand for God’s sake!

Why candles lit ova this delicious cake

What is the matter, why I am not being told

Why are they celebrating, if I am growing old

What is this jingle, what is being sold

What is this hush, something hidden in the fold

Why is she grinning, does she have something to say

Blushing & twinkling, Boy! She made my day

Is she a bunny girl, is she gona lay!

What is that bill! which she wants me to pay

Everyone left after my Happy Birth Day!
(Owaisbata)

A Fact Infact

I didn’t say it! When it had to be said. I didn’t say, not because i was trying to cover something. Veritably I just did not want to pass my apprehensions to my loved ones. I don’t know if it made me strong or it made me stiff! Or call it “self-deception” for that matter. I kept my throes to myself, I rued for my rues. I always remorse about something “what & why” I don’t understand or may be i never wished to.
I used to dream and it used to come true because i slept to dream! Then suddenly I stopped dreaming and I had nightmares because I left a space for them, my luck kept its promise and they came true as well.
I never chased my dreams, I dreamt and left them untouched but they chased me like virgins.
I never dreamt big, I never had that “Holy Grail” for big dreams. I still remember when our class teacher gave us a task to write an essay on “My aim in Life”. I was more concerned why it is not “Aim of my Life” because at the end it is my life which shows me so many things, it is life that moves me on. Life is not experiencing me but it is me who is experiencing it. "I want to be a Shaktimaan” is still written on that old tottering toilet door in my school where i wrote it so many years before...

Which one are you?

Are you the one or the other one?, The one i know or the one i don't, Are you the same one or the different one, Which one are you?, The one who is or the one who is not!, The one who is you or the one who you aren't, The one whom i don't know or the one who doesn't know me!, The one who kept or the one who left, The one who forgot or the forgotton one, Which one are you?, The one who is missed or the one who "is missing", The one who is said or the one who is dead, The one is "for" or the one who is far, Which one are you?, The one who is close or the one who closed, The one who is dear or the one who doesn't care, The one who is hurt or the one who hurt, Which one are you?, The one who made a difference or the one who kept a difference, The one you were or the "one " were you!, The one who made a joke or the one who was made at, The one who cried or the one who tried, The one who kept away or the one who kept a way, Which one are you?......

Mid-day Ramadan

No amorous couplets, no bare legged chicks, no smokers in empty smoking compartments, unoccupied coffee shops--the one inside marina is presenting a deserted look...

Double bass woofers reciting Kuranic verses in doxological hymns instead of jazz music.Drowsy afternoon is melting sluggishly and sun over my head is looking thirsty aswell...

The juiceless twinkling sand on the beach has kept herself away from the brine..hmmm she is fasting too!
A complete religious devotion of this mid-day afternoon.

flare will return back in the evening with bistro's coming to life, coffee shops packed in.

Rotisserie furnaces will be set to cookfire and that mouthwatering alluring aroma of cookery leaves everyone seduced..

Our flag-o-logy

V/S

It is really astonishing that our state is still bereft of a genuine flag.Though we have a few to show but none of them is able to carry a big stick.Since last 60 years we could not come up with a colourful piece of cloth that can represent us?--boo! I saw a news channel showing some young guys carrying green colored stoles and scarfs hanging on long wooden sticks; very funny and unusual.Even some protesting women were also quelling the shortage by waving their scarfs.

There wasn't any dearth of flags but the weird part was so many flags with so many colours and so many colors with so many shades.I could see sea green,chrome green,sage green and even bottle green was there.Though protests were kashmiri but some flags were pakistani.Majority of protesters were carrying pakistani flags(green/white) and chanting "We want freedom" slogans.I could not stop laughing when i saw a person in middle of a mammoth gathering waving a yellow flag.I hope he was not suffering from dyschromatopsia.I am sure he was protesting for some other reason, "aazadi" was not his case.

Now jokes apart,if we dig deep into this topic i think it is an important issue.However we were endorsing unity but our flags were doing the wrong publicity.I mean if we are united, if our purpose is the same even we are protesting for the same cause then why these different designs.Believe me i was chagrined when someone asked me the colour of our flag ,because there were so many to choose from.We have got a red and white flag inspired by "Red & White" cheap cigarettes.The inventor must have been a cheap smoker,price 5 Euros per pack is what we have "Vijay" or a cigarette brand like "pannama" priced for Rs 2.50 in india.


Hah! that was an advertisement break.

Okay,now the other one looks bit traditional sort of with a blend of green, orange and white.Though the white strips cutting the green colour seems to have been copied from an australian flag but nevertheless this beautiful flag looks cool and i think suits us as well.It is better and more explanatory due to its vibrant colours.Carrying a flag with only green colour in it is sometimes confusing because that is an islamic flag.So that should be only used for religious purpose.

AJ&K is already using the one with three colours in it.Symbolically the flag represents many aspects of Azad Jammu and Kashmir:
Three Fourths green background representing the seventy five percent Muslim population of the State of Jammu and Kashmir.
One Fourth Orange (Gold) color represents the twenty five percent minorities of the State of Jammu and Kashmir.
The Green stripes represent the Valley of the State of Jammu and Kashmir.
The White stripes represent the snow-covered mountains of the State of Jammu and Kashmir.
The Crescent is the usual semblance of the State of Jammu and Kashmir.



So what are we waiting for?

Why this jingoism?

Land row has just proved to be a euphemistic mask that india is using as a cover to blemish this already tormented vale; when i said(in one of my posts)that a "demographic change" was the actual aim behind all this land transfer conspiracy,i was a bit skeptical about my own belief but present jingo by indian regime and its political plotters has validated my statement.First came the land transfer game which cooked for nearly three months at the expence of 40 precious lives and now a new "ballyhoo" ; --"Nationalization of the whole route going to Amarnath cave"--quite preplexing,isn't it?

Earlier they needed a land equal to 9 football grounds to construct temporary toilets and now they need the road that leads to this "huge piece of land"--strange!

Our foe's are toooo naughty...every time they come-up with a new gimmick.

Though we are the victims of political demagogy but if we enter deep into this hornet's nest the whole controversy has turned into a hot-potato.It's kind of a "how-d'ye-do" situation that we are faced with.It's like adding fuel to the fire.They want to turn whole vale into a fire pottery where innocent people are being baked.Reason is simple--coz we are muslims--we are a majority--and we have to bear the consequences,"deja-vu" you know?.And they say this(nationalization of route) is important for communal harmony.One may agree,but how? on what basis...So does that mean,the day is not far when we will see Hindus,Muslimsm,Sikhs and Christains using particular routes constructed on religous lines and one will not be allowed to use the services of other.Then we will have a nationalized islamic highway starting from Hazratbal shrine and ending at Ajmer sharif with out any non-muslim using it.If so! then thanks to BJP.

Tommorow i will not be surprised if they say we should only plant hindu sacred trees to save the environment in kashmir.Imagine a mineral water bottle with a name "Hindu-bisleri".Come-on everything is possible,it is india dude!

and they will be singing the same song sung by "Britains"

"We don't want to fight,

yet by jingo if we do,

We've got the ships,

we've got the men,

We've got the money, too!"

"My Lovely Vale"

Fragnance of blooming flowers on trees,shrubs and creepers, Spring season breathes fresh air into frozen lives.Summer heightens the effect,trees vibrate with a celestial music of their feathery denizens and autumn brings that poignant feeling in its warm introspective colours.Winter comes with a blanket of snow.

This is my lovely vale; sigh!
"Kashmir"

Surrounded by mountains and embellished with mighty chinar trees.The joyous chirping of birds, orchards heavy with fruits, alpine meadows dotted with grazing herds, and shepherds lilting with their music – a vivid mosaic of this place - takes shape before your wandering eye.Out in the rice-fields on a solitary tree or on telegraph wires a roller (disambiguation) flaunting its blue-green plumage may be seen watching its prey. The paradise fly-catcher

(Bias musicus) in his angelic white and black garb opens the orchestra long before the break of dawn. It is followed by Tickell's (Cyronis tickelliae) thrush, with its dark beak and grey body, incessantly singing at the top of its voice untiringly right on to sunrise. The golden oriole(disambiguation) in his royal bright yellow breast and pink beak sends forth his liquid note. Now the ringdoves(disambiguation) from various quarters join the concert. The song is now in full swing. Later on the bulbul, the starling, the myna, the sparrow and occasionally the jackdaw, chirp and contribute., to the concord of the chorus. Some other birds too in their own way make a display of their musical talent.

This is a land of poets and poetry.Lal ded a metaphysical women poet of kashmir,says; "I did not trust for a moment ,but drank it anyway,the wine of my own poetry".

Her way of delineating and expressing her imaginations celebrates the loveliness of my homeland;"look at this glowing day! what clothes could be so beautiful or more sacred?".

The roads are lined with willows and deodars along golden meadows.A firmament sky touches the mountain peak displaying a heavenly scene.Far away somewhere the vault arch of the sky touches the ground.

As the dusk falls dal lake goes silent,birds go to sleep,sun hides behind these red and brown clouds.The flowing water between the mountain passes makes a sweet rhythm; a sweet lullaby lulls everyone to sleep...