Under the mango tree!

There is a lone mango tree in the premises of the school where I teach. It stands tall, majestic and proud. It has been there since many years, even before the school was built. Every morning when I enter the premises, my eyes automatically turn towards the huge tree, and my heart fills with wonder and joy at this miracle of nature. The tree seems to welcome everyone entering the school with open arms.

The silent tree plays a pivotal role in the huge ground of the school. Like a wise old grandfather, it draws children to itself all the time. After an exhausting  PT or karate period, students sit under the cool shade of the mango tree and catch their breath. Sometimes while boys are busy playing cricket, the girls gather around the mango tree and play their girlish games. Or they just sit there whispering, giggling , chattering and sharing their innocent secrets with each other. The tree smiles at their girlish giggles.
Sometimes teachers bring their books and chairs to the ground, and sit under the mango tree, doing their work in peace, away from the hustle bustle of the classes and the staff room.
As soon as the summer starts, the tree is laden with mangoes.The green raw mangoes! Or the kacchi keri in other words. The sense of joy is palpable. Children and elders alike, are drawn towards the tree to get their share of Kacchi Keri.
The tree has witnessed many sports events and cricket matches that are held in the school ground. It has also seen the school develop by leaps and bounds in a few years. It has observed the tiny children blossom with each passing day. And who knows what events and changes it will observe in the years to come!
The mango tree inspired me to write a short poem and here's my feeble attempt at poetry. :)

                                   Under the mango tree

                                   the children play, 

                                  they run, they jump

                                  they skip and hop,

                                  and tired they stay,

                                  under the mango tree. 

                                     

                                 Under the mango tree

                                 the teachers sit,

                                catching a quiet moment  

                                to reflect,

                                in the cool shade 

                               of the mango tree.

                               Under the mango tree

                               waiting for the bell to ring

                               the drivers gather, 

                               they laugh and they joke,

                              and they chatter,

                              under the mango tree.

                              Under the mango tree

                              the birds spring,

                              sparrows, koels and parrots,

                             to gather worms and twig,

                             they build their nests 

                             in the mango tree!

  

It is that time of the year again.....

It is that time of the year again when nights are longer than days! When the sleepy eyes refuse to open and the body refuses to leave the warm  bed early in the chilly mornings. When the air is crisp and cool, and the sunlight is soft and welcome! When sweaters and mufflers become a part of everyday dressing, and when applying moisturizing cream before bed becomes a mandatory routine.  When a steaming mug of coffee and a favorite author give unmatched pleasure.

Winter has always been my favorite season. It is a season of intimacy, warmth, reflection and bonding.It gives us the opportunity to stay inside and reflect, to bond with the family, to enjoy the small pleasures that home has to offer. How well some one has described it ; " Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey and enjoy each idle hour". Winter is the family time in true sense!!

Many of the beautiful memories of my life are connected with this season. I can still recall the sound of cold winter wind against the window of my childhood home. I can hear the voice of my mother as she cajoled us to leave the warm bed and get ready for school. I still remember the color and design of my favourite  sweater. I remember gathering around the old  room heater after dinner and munching on dry fruits. How beautiful those days were! How simple and yet how engaging those small pleasures were!
Winters remind me of my honeymoon. We honeymooned in the quaint hill station of Mussourie in the chilly  winters of December.On one pleasant day we went to a high altitude spot named Dhantoli, situated some kilometers away from Mussourie, to witness snowfall. And just as we returned to our hill top resort in Mussourie, it started snowing there! What a wasted trip to Dhantoli! :) How soft and cool those specks of snow felt. And what a total transformation it was the next morning!  The green landscape had turned white overnight. What a sight! Something that can only be felt and not explained.

How time flies! 2012 has come to an end, and it only seems yesterday when we had welcomed this year. Can't  believe its almost over. At this time of the year last year, I was battling some conflicting emotions, and here I am, still battling those conflicts and hoping for some impossible miracles to happen.Seasons are passing by, but the hope remains, and the life goes on...........

Desert_ the kingdom of sand!

Desert! A vast expanse of sand! A timeless space of beauty, silence and longing! A land full of mysteries. Who knows what secrets lie beneath those infinite grains of sand, what untold stories are buried under those dunes!

 A desert fascinates me greatly. It appears mysterious to me , like an enigmatic woman beckoning its admirers. The amazing stories of explorers of Sahara,Gobi and Rub al khali keep me occupied for hours. My mind travels with them into the depths of the desert and observes the native desert people, the bedouins, the caravans on camels and the desert culture. May be having Rajasthani genes in my body has to play some role in my love for desert. Though I have never actually been inside the depths of a desert, but i have experienced desert from its fringes. I have got a taste of desert in Sind, UAE, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Iraq and my ancestral land of Rajasthan! I keep wondering that what lies beneath those huge sand dunes, how does life survive in desert! 

Desert teaches us many things. Take for instance the phenomenon of mirage. To run after something that doesn't even exist! And how many mirages we chase during the course of our lives? Running after illusions! Finding meaning where none exists, looking for comfort in materialistic things. And then we finally realize that we have been running after mirages all this time! How devastating that realization must be to a man who is dying of thirst, and who has pinned his hopes on the mirage!!

An interesting phenomenon occurs when it rains in desert.The dormant seeds come to life and overnight the flowers blossom, transforming the barren land into a pretty sight! Isn't that miraculous? Sometimes a barren soul blooms into a beautiful entity by the power of divine love and water of knowledge! And that is what a true miracle is! Total transformation! 

Thinking about desert and thirst invokes images of Karbala. Of the thirst and hardships endured by Imam Husain(a.s) and his family, in the scorching heat of desert. But they endured it all without faltering because the soils of their souls were fertile and nourished with divine love and pure water of knowledge!  The desert turned into garden of Eden for them.

This world is but a desert full of hardships and mirages! Those who successfully cross it without getting engulfed by its vastness and its mirages, reach the evergreen gardens of eden!

بارش کا موسم

                                              روک سکو تو روک لو بارش کی پہلی بوندوں  کو

                                               !کچچی  مٹی  تو مھکے گی ہے مٹی کی مجبوری

بارش کا یہ خوبصورت موسم ! سورج کا بادلوں کے ساتھ آنکھ مچولی کھیلنا ! کبھی قوس و  قزح کے رنگوں کا افق پہ بکھرنا  ! کبھی نرم نرم بوندوں کا مٹی کو مہکانا تو کبھی موسلادھار بارش کا رات بھر برسنا . بجلی کا چمکنا اور بادلوں کا گرجنا

بارش کا موسم بھی کتنا حسین اور خوشنما ہے . جب ہر چیز نکھری نکھری دھلی دھلی محسوس ہوتی ہے . ہر پتہ ہر بوٹا ہر گل خوشی اور سرمستی سے لہراتا ہے مٹی کی سوندھی خوشبو حواسوں پہ چھا جاتی ہے . یہ وہ موسم ہے جب دل بلاوجہ خوشی سے جھومنے لگتا ہے . جب ٹپ ٹپ  گرتی بوندوں کی آواز ہر موسیقی سے بھلی لگتی ہے. جب دل چاھتا ہے کے تمام   فکروں سے آزاد ہو کر کھلے آسمان کے نیچے کھڑے ہو کر ہر بوند کو اپنے اندر سما لیں . یہ وہ موسم ہے جب انکہے  ،انجان  
جذبے پروان چڑھتے ہے، جب دل میں نئی امنگیں انگڑائیا ں  لیتی ہے. جب دل سے تمام شکوے اور کدورتیں دھل جاتی ہے اور دل چاہتا ہے کے سدا یہ خوبصورتی قائم رہے، یہ رم جھم کی نرم آواز سدا  دل کو لبھاتی رہے .

In Maula's praise

Last week, we_the MSB family_  got the azeem sharaf of ziafat of His Holiness Dr. Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin(tus). I wrote this humble poem to be presented to him in ziafat.

O’ Noorani Maula , O’ angel of light,

You make my life pure, radiant and bright.

Beholding your Noorani face is my Ibaadat,

Through it I gain everlasting saa’dat.

None can compare thee in thy eminence,

You outshine the stars in their radiance.

Your exalted being, your dignified presence,

Fills my heart with awe and reverence.

Sweeter than the sweetest honey, is thy voice,

It melts the hearts and makes them rejoice.

O’ pillar of righteousness o’ saviour of millions,

 With your piety and conduct you inspire millions.

In your glory and magnificence you are like sun,

Your light is reflected in Mufaddal(tus)_your son.

May you both live a life of health,

Of glory, peace, bliss and wealth.

Playing with colours....continues...

Recently in Mumbai, i got the sharaf of presenting a glass painting  of Hutaib mubarak painted by me, in the Hazrat of Aali qadar Mufaddal Maula (tus). Aaliqadar Maula(tus) accepted it , and blessed me with a benevolent smile.  While i was rushing to saifee mahal to present the painting, i realized that i had not clicked any photo of the painting. But it was too late by then. So i just managed to click a couple of  hazy photos using my outdated mobile :)

And here are some of my glass paintings.

And these two paintings i gifted to two of my friends when they shifted to their new homes in mumbai.

I experimented with oil pastels on canvas and this is what i got...

Not too happy with the result, i  re-painted it with oil paints ;


And this is one of my oil paintings ;

I bought a plain white t-shirt, and to make it more interesting added some colors to it;



This is how i had fun with colors during my vacations ;)  and i got myself loads of colors and art material and now i am looking forward to experiment with new mediums.
p.s. If you want to see more of my work then  have a look at my posts "playing with colors" and "expressing with colors" on this blog!



The Kite Runner

I recently finished reading 'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini. It is one of those books that leave a deep impression on mind, that make us pause during the hustle bustle of our daily lives, and think! Though the story is set in Afghanistan , but it rises above time and space , because it deals with issues that are universal. It is a story about friendship, loyalty, betrayal, longing for acceptance, courage, regrets, redemption and survival.

The story revolves around two boys _ Amir_ a privileged blue blooded Pashtun, and his Hazara servant boy _ Hassan. The two boys grew up together, Amir _ timid by nature, and Hassan_  courageous and  fiercely loyal and devoted to Amir. Amir is desperate to gain the approval of his father who it seems is more fond of Hassan than his own son. He resolves to win the local kite-fighting tournament to prove that he has the makings of a man. His loyal friend hassan_the fastest kite runner_ promises to help him. But neither of the boys could foresee what would happen to Hassan on the afternoon of the tournament, and what price he would have to pay to help Amir, which was to shatter their lives. And thus Amir's life becomes a long journey of regrets and remorse and finally redemption!

What i liked most about the book is its vivid description of Afghanistan. As soon as we think about Afghanistan , our mind conjures up an image of a country torn by war, landmines, Russians, drugs, mujahedeen and Taliban. But the author describes the old Afghanistan of 1960s and 1970s and he does a wonderful job! He paints a captivating picture of Afghanistan, with descriptions of the beautiful city of Kabul, snow covered mountains, and afghan tradition and culture. And then he paints another picture_that of Afghanistan after Russian invasion, and after years of war and Taliban, and the transformation is shattering. The contrast is devastating and it brings a lump of tears to the throat.

One more thing that i enjoyed while reading the book is the use of Farsi terms. There are words like Tashakor (thank you), Nang and Namoos (Honour and pride), Khastegar (suitor), Khoshteep (handsome), zendagi migzara (life goes on), and the wedding song _ Ahesta boro, Mah-e-man-Ahesta boro (Go slowly,my lovely moon, go slowly) . The use of Farsi terms deepens the Afghan touch of the book.

The phrase that has stayed with me from the book is ; "For you a thousand times over!" When Amir cuts the last kite in the kite flying tournament, and Hassan runs to bring that kite for Amir, Amir tells him ; 'Hassan! come back with it!" And the ever loyal Hassan replies; "For you a thousand times over!" This one sentence sums up the silent, undying and sacrificial love of Hassan for Amir. And this same phrase is repeated by Amir after almost twenty six years to Hassan's son, as a way of redemption and seeking forgiveness. Finally his conscience forgives him. Life has come full  circle for him!