Tuesday 23 April 2013

Kashmir: Airborne Photography


I wouldn't have uploaded these anywhere but the following news item made it, somewhat, obligatory! :)

Author Basharat Peer Stopped, Freed At Srinagar Airport


Curfewed Night author Basharat Peer and Contributing Editor of the Caravan magazine was stopped at Srinagar airport by police. He was on his way home from Delhi and was soon asked by airport police not to move out.
Basharat Peer told KL that he clicked a couple of photographs of the fascinating clouds somewhere between Jammu and Banihal. A co-passenger, who identified himself as a cop objected to it saying it compromises ‘national security’. It triggered an argument mid-air.
After the aircraft landed, unidentified co-passenger complained to the airport police. Peer was stopped for nearly half an hour. However, after the cops and airlines authorities saw the pictures that were shot by Peer midair, they said there was nothing objectionable and they allowed him to go home.
Photography on the airports is banned by law. But there is no such bar on photography midair.
The co-passenger was identified as P S Sandhu, an IGP in BSF, who was also flying to Srinagar in the Indigo aircraft.

The following are some, what we can call them, Peer'esque clicks!






Wednesday 17 April 2013

Empathy! | that the dawn is near

was it a terrible nightmare,
or just a bad dream caught me in a snare,
or just a vision gave me quite a scare?

that when i walk along the road,
the oft travelled, the much loved road,
i feel a sense of loneliness spread manifold!

like the wildfire that spreads from peak to peak,
without a word said, leaving nothing about it to speak
the wilderness along the road, i want to cry and shriek!

does that person on the road, with a gun,
who seems to be forlorn, fate having had him spun and spun.
does he not have a family to have with them jest and fun?

does he not have a young boy at his home,
with whom he loves to play, his love for him an epitome.
does he not feel the boy he just shot dead, the sadness at his home?

does he not have a wife to look at, a home to long for,
when he is on a mission, ready to get killed and kill for.
does he not feel the widow whose loved one disappeared, with no crime to pay for?

all along the road, the wilderness instills in me, a fear,
i fear for me, myself and all others far and near.
will ever anybody say, declare with empathy, that the dawn is near?



Sunday 14 April 2013

Different Strokes - I


The trophy would be a 2 rupee coin or two coins of 1 rupee, each contributed by the two teams. The venue – around the walnut trees along the banks of Romush, a tributary of Jehlum. The stumps – twigs from the nearby poplar or willow trees – three on the batting end and bowling one (or none) on the bowling end. For that matter we would never change sides at the end of overs. The balls – green, yellow, red or white plastic balls which we would call as ‘tennis’ ball. The red one was preferred as it was easy to find it out if ever it went into the bushes. And the name, brand of these ‘tennis’ balls was, usually, SKumar and this name was as preferred as SG or Kookaburra  in international cricket. For practice purposes we would, sometimes, use a stuffed ball - moaz ball - made up of old shreds of cloth stuffed into a sock! Yes, the sock was washed before being put into use, I guess! The seniors would tell me that if I could play the moaz ball well I could well play the leather ball. We used to get the leather ball – for ‘leather ball matches’ – from the village ‘A-team’ after they had played a couple of matches with that. We would play matches with the same ball for the whole season or until the seam of the ball ripped apart!



There would be a list of clauses which had to be verbally signed by the two teams before the toss – the toss in which no coins were tossed but a bat was, the choice being sadak & pahad instead of head and tail. The clauses included – whether or not ‘wides’ would be counted in the score, if a stumping would count as a wicket or not, who takes responsibility if the ball gets lost or rips apart during the play, what if a shot got intercepted by a branch or trunk of a walnut tree, whether or not the batsman would be deemed out if he hit the ball into a neighbour’s courtyard and who, in such a case, would have to make up the courage to bring the ball back!


All clauses signed, the match would begin. No scoreboards, for that matter no scorebooks, not even a piece of paper to jot down the runs! Both the teams would keep track of the score on their own and in case of any conflict, the players would have to give hisaab – details of every ball bowled – as if it was the judgement day! //…then there was a wide, then a single, then a four, then a dot ball, then a single; but he didn’t complete the single on the last ball; oh sorry! I’ll deduct that run// Run-outs would be the most controversial ones and more often than not the umpire would straight away rule a batsman not out (the umpire was always from the batting side!). The batsman on his part would show the mark of his bat’s landing in the crease as proof enough that he was ‘in’ when the ball hit the stumps (or the clay brick substituted for stumps, at the non-strikers end)! There were rarely any bails on the stumps and sometimes the ball would go in between two stumps without even disturbing the stumps – again controversial!

If the batsman ever hit the ball into the Romush and if it was agreed upon that it won’t count as ‘out’,  he would get 6 runs and start heaping praises upon….not himself but upon Shahid Afridi! “This is Afridi playing, mate!”, would be a typical brag (sic). I personally would never say such a thing. Partly because I would never hit such big shots – I was more like Dravid (and people would call me so!) being content with not-so-big shots, partly because I believed in being myself (without attributing my shots to any other player) and partly (or should I say hugely) because I was an ‘Indian’ and I could not say, “This is Jadeja playing ,mate!” lest I make a laughing stock of myself among all others who were (and are ‘Pakistanis’)! The bowlers had their own patrons – Shoaib Akhtar for example.

At times when we would play with the leather ball – the rugged one which we got from the village ‘A-team’ – it would be much more engaging. It was as if we were graduating from domestic cricket to international cricket. This is where the classification of bats would set in – there would be a ‘leather ball bat’ and a ‘tennis ball bat’! Common sense would dictate that we could play the tennis ball with a ‘leather ball bat’ as a tennis ball was way lighter than a leather ball. But there were strict instructions from the team management that the ‘leather ball bat’ should never be used to play the tennis ball. The stated reason – the bat may lose its stroke! Stroke – it was defined as a quality which only a few experienced players could analyse. If a batsman would middle a shot perfectly and despatch it beyond the boundary or into the Romush or onto the neighbour’s iron sheeted roof he would declare, “This bat has got a very good stroke!” The same thing – stroke – would fit perfectly as an excuse for those who failed with the bat!

To be concluded

Saturday 13 April 2013

Count your blessings! Keyboard version!

When i was a kid we used to sing a prayer, yes sing a prayer, and it went like, "Count your blessings, name them one by one!" I think it was just singing because we never really bothered to actually count those blessing not to speak of naming them one by one!

Now, a decade after i last sang that prayer i was just contemplating how many blessings from God - Allah - do we just ignore and what is worse we don't even consider some of these as blessings at all - freebies from God we describe them as, at best!


Now, coming back to the counting thing, let us actually start counting. I know we would stop at some time. Pens would run out of ink, the springs underneath keyboards' keys would lose their elastic property, the capacitive touchscreens of our smartphones would turn ultra-resistive but the counting wont stop.

Anyways, let us give it a try. Here we go. I'll write 'Alhamdulillah for.....' meaning 'All praises be to The God for......' instead of 'Thank God for......'.

Let us start with the basic thing - Air, yes the air in the troposphere!

Alhamdulillah for the air around us!
Alhamdulillah for the Oxygen in the air!
Alhamdulillah for the definite proportion of Oxygen in the air!
Alhamdulillah for not allowing the Oxygen in the air to convert into Ozone!
Alhamdulillah for our nasal system which acts as the first filter for incoming air!
Alhamdulillah for our nasal system which regulates the temperature of the incoming air!
Alhamdulillah for the separate wind pipe and the food pipe!
Alhamdulillah for the selective opening of the wind pipe thus not allowing food to get into the lungs!

I know i'm missing a lot of things along the way! Biologists don't need to worry! ;)

Alhamdulillah for the presence of Haemoglobin in our blood!
Alhamdulillah for the presence of Ferrous group in the Hb in blood!
Alhamdulillah for the structure of the Hb molecule which increases its selective affinity to Oxygen!

And this is a wow moment! While as Hb of the blood picks up Oxygen from the respiratory organs but when it reaches the peripheries of the body which are in need of Oxygen, it releases the Oxygen. And here, its affinity for Carbon Dioxide increases and it picks up the Carbon dioxide and delivers it back to be ultimately breathed out. Isn't this amazing how Allah modifies the affinity of Hb in various parts of the body to take up Oxygen at one place and take up Carbon dioxide at the other place, in the same body. SubhaanAllah (How pure is The God from imperfections)!

I have studied Zoology at the pre college level and i can clearly and confidently say that i am missing a lot of steps here.

Alhamdulillah for the partitions in the human heart!
Alhamdulillah for the separation of the oxygenated and the deoxygenated blood in the heart!

I guess i can go on and on and on writing, typing zillions more lines starting with 'Alhamdulillah for......' but i don't want to replace the keyboard of my laptop, if ever a replacement is possible, as of now!

Some more, regarding the freebies!

Alhamdulillah for the running water.
Alhamdulillah for the electricity (albeit not 24 hrs ;)).
Alhamdulillah for the food we eat.
Alhamdulillah for facebook, twitter, yahoo, google....Internet (with due thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, Larry Page et al)

That was it, go on counting!


P.S: Not to be concluded! :D

Thursday 4 April 2013

Maktub - It is written!

With eyes set on the Zabarwan, Reyaz spotted that hot air balloon. Having been tempted to start the cross Dal sojourn from the Hazratbal Dargah just after the muezzin finished the call for prayer, to avoid losing customers, he felt a sort of guilt for not being able to join the congregational prayers. He would pray later after doing ablutions with the Dal water - which he doubted makes anyone pure or more impure! But, he had a family to feed!



Propelling the Shikara forward and ferrying tourists was the only means, nevertheless strenous, to earn a living - for himself, his wife who hadn't borne any children and his ailing mother who never approved of Zubeida - Reyaz's wife. For Reyaz, the life of the drivers of the Italian dredging machines and of the owners of the hot air balloon, was tempting as well as qaabil e rashq. They never have to exert much, work hard or/and haggle for the hundred odd rupees needed for the early morning lawasas, half kg Khyber milk packet and the vegetables for dinner. Besides, they can pray all the five prayers on their respective times.

He was lost in his thoughts - thinking about the ease of living that his contemporaries enjoyed - when the Shikara came to a halt, striking the concrete stepway near Centaur.

He sighed and said, "It is written!"


P.S. : Reyaz is illiterate & has never read 'The Alchemist'!

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