The Case of Cyril Almeida

Miss Nasim Zehra is known for writing articles on corp commanders and military officials’ meetings. Once she wrote an article about the content of the meeting of corp commanders of Pakistan. The article was published in Reuters. There was no fuss about it.

What Cyril Almeida has done is not wrong. He got the content and he wrote it. That’s it. His article was ignored for two days. It didn’t become news until his name was put on ECL.

Pervez Musharraf was sent out of Pakistan through an inside job. No problem to anyone. He was dancing some days back. Raymond Davis was sent out of Pakistan with the help of Shuja Pasha.

What a shame!

Both army and government personnel who are being selfish here should be punished. Both are trying to get sympathy votes which doesn’t suit them. There was no need to make a fuss about this article. Those who read Cyril Almeida knows that he mostly writes the same way.

Shame on Chaudhary Nisar as he made it a big issue. Shame on those who put his name on ECL. Shame on those who brought it into the limelight.

Now coming to the content of the article. Well we all know that the article is completely based on facts. Both army and the government have their support for proxy outfits. LeJ, SSP, JD, JM, TTP, and some others are owned, protected, weaponized, and supported by people in Parliament, barracks, and agencies.

The best shot would have been to let it go. There was no need to make it such a big deal. There was no need to talk about it.

In my view, the difference of opinion between civil and military officials is GOOD. At least both are concerned about these banned outfits. Both are not ready to become scapegoats, which is fine. There can be a different strategy. For example the way Malik Ishaq was ‘done’ by Punjab Police.

Kashmir issue will remain hot till Kashmiris stand for it. Pakistan has done the job pretty well in this regard. China and many other nations have spoken for it. Washington Post has mentioned Indian atrocities. Now it is time for Kashmiris to stand for themselves. No nation has achieved independence through foreign help. You have to work for it and keep the passion burning. Unfortunately you don’t have Jinnah on your side, otherwise no foreign help would have been needed.

Truth & Lies

Lie

Lie another time

and again,

your lie will become the truth;

misshapen into grotesque images

of an alternate reality,

believed by some

and swallowed by all

as the lies you spin

spiral out of control

How long do

you think

this charade will last?

One day soon, the dominoes will fall

The threads that

hold your lies together

will

b-r-e-a-k

s

p

i

l

l

i

n

g

an unbridled ocean of

facts,

dissolving the concoction

of your woven deceit.

The control will shatter

and with it,

your mind

Your own tongue will

string together

words

to articulate the truth,

emerging from the grave,

rising from a coffin

the façade will be broken,

and it will be easy to see

beyond the smoke and mirrors.

You will burn in the

fire

you kindled

dwelling there and

eating your own tail

forever and ever,

till you are charred

beyond recognition.

You will die

and live

a thousand times

till the trumpet sounds

for the final time.

And truth

shall prevail,

as it does.

In this world

and the next,

when all is said and done

truth will triumph,

for truth is God.

It may be obscured,

yet it cannot be

erased.

father-and-daughter-2

(Edited by: F.H.M)

Painting A Dream In A Nightmare…

He was different. But not a psycho.
He was quiet. But never abusive.
He was more responsible than the other men around.
He stood on his heels for four days straight for his first-born.
He spent every penny to make things better.
He changed himself however and whenever he could. But he wasn’t a Prophet.
He was a man.
He was a father.

Then came the day of accusations.
He was called every name in the book.
He was called mentally sick.
Lies were thrown at his face, but he didn’t deviate.

He took a stand that day. But he didn’t plan anything awful.
He took a stand because there are things you shouldn’t apologize for.

You should not apologize for taking a stand… for speaking the truth… for respecting yourself… and for ending a toxic relationship…

Even after that, he didn’t run away from his responsibility of fatherhood.
He begged. He ran to courts. He went to people.

He asked God.

Things became messier and messier.

Then one day, after 1.5 years, he saw his flesh and blood. It was an extraordinary reunion at court.

Things got better for awhile.
Then again a struggle started. A war of nerves. He was threatened to be killed again. The same things with which he was threatened during the relationship and after the relationship.

Somewhere a bullet may be waiting to be entered into his skull.

That doesn’t bother him; in this so-called life, he dies daily. Yet, he forces himself to live.

What he imagines is a future: a garden full of flowers where he is giggling and running with his daughter without any fear of the unknown.

I am Hussain too

Story of Hussain and Yazid is an inspiration. It is a story of incredible power. It gives me strength to stand again and again. Just when I am about to fall, to seize, and to fail, Hussain gives me new passion.
My story is a small one. It is not a story of a Hussain standing against a cruel ruler.
My story is of Hussain standing against no one but one being. For the sake of Allah. For the sake of a future. For the sake of a generation to come.
Just like Hussain, my story is not of revenge or punishment. My story is not of a war. My story is against my own self. To make me stand again. For “her”.
Hussain was in Karbala. I am in Karbala too.
Hussain was thirsty. I am thirsty too.
Hussain was for upcoming generations. I am too.
But Hussain was from Family of Prophet. I am just an ordinary follower with an ordinary creed.
But my struggle is extraordinary.
My pain is extraordinary.
My love is extraordinary.
I am Hussain. In a different age. In a different time. Against a different cruelty.

Attendance

It doesn’t matter if you win or lose. It doesn’t matter if you achieve your goal or not. It doesn’t matter if you get the love of your life or not. These are the decisions of Allah.
What matters the most is “attendance”. I am a believer of attendance only.
Attendance in school.
Attendance in life.
Attendance in mosque.
Attendance in punishment.
Attendance in trial.
Attendance in court.
Our whole life is just an attendance. To be. To be present.
It hurts when we don’t win or when we lose the love of our life, but that is not in our hand. Only thing in our hand is to be present. The attendance.
Live your life. Love your life. But be present. Remember to have your attendances. You have at least one attendance each day. Some days have hard attendances and some have easier ones. Just be present and leave the results on the Almighty.
Or make so many attendances at His door that He let you “be” and in what you want to be.

An Extraordinary Love Story Demands An Extraordinary Sacrifice

An extraordinary love story has an extraordinary journey to travel. Only an ordinary love has an ordinary story.

He met the girl of his dreams and married her, is ordinary.

She loved her brother and lived in peace, is ordinary.

But the life of Wali was extraordinary. Just like his life, his love was extraordinary too. It wasn’t a love story like Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. That would be too mundane.

His story was not of an ordinary love where the two fall in love and marry, or they commit suicide, or one of them dies.

NO

Wali’s story was of his love for his daughter. For whom he travelled the universe. For whom he passed 4,000 years of the human race just to be here today. Just to be here in the 21st century to meet his daughter.

But it was exceptional even after 4,000 years. He didn’t know there would be laws, courts, hate, contempt, fraud, cheating… He was in pursuit of his daughter only and on his way he realized the ingredients of love.

Normal people hide their love. Wali doesn’t. He shows it to the world because he cannot hide it. How can you hide your eyes? It is all in there.

People know Wali because of his love. Oh Wali! There is no hiding.

Wali has been cheated. The whole 21st century cheated on him. He, the Saladin of his times, has been cheated by his own people.

But Wali is on his way. Wali never gets tired. He resurrects every time he goes down. He was not meant to fail in his quest of love.

And Wali lives on.

His love lives forever.

His heart beats forever.

The tale has not ended.

It’s just the beginning.

And the tale of this love is extraordinary.

q teri cheezian urdu poetry

Lament for your sickness, and God won’t grant you death

It was a story about an old merchant, who lived a seemly and God-fearing life with his family, and went once with a comrade, a rich merchant, to the Makary.

Having stopped at an inn, the two merchants went to bed, and the next day the comrade was found murdered and robbed. The bloody knife was found under the old merchant’s pillow. The merchant was tried, punished with the knout, and, having had his nostrils slit, was sent to hard labor.

And so ten years or more go by after this affair. The old man lives at hard labor. Duly submits, does nothing bad. Only asks God for death. Good. And the convicts got together, a nightly thing, and the old man was with them. They started talking about who suffers for what, and what he’s guilty of before God. They began telling: this one killed a man, that one killed two, another set a fire, another was a runaway, so he did nothing. They started asking the old man: ‘What are you suffering for, grandpa?’ ‘I, my dear brothers,’ he says, ‘am suffering for my own and other people’s sins. I didn’t kill anybody, or take anything that wasn’t mine, but even gave to beggars. I, my dear brothers, was a merchant; I had great wealth.’ Thus and so, he says. That is, he told them how the whole thing went, in proper order. ‘I don’t grieve over myself,’ he says. ‘God, that is, has found me. I only pity my old woman and children.’ And so the old man wept. In their company there happened to be the very man who had killed the merchant. ‘Where did it happen, grandpa?’ he says. ‘When, in what month?’—he asked everything. His heart ached inside him. He goes up to the old man and—plop at his feet. ‘You’re perishing because of me, old man. It’s the real truth. This man is suffering, lads,’ he says, ‘guiltlessly and needlessly. I did that deed,’ he says, ‘and put the knife under your head while you slept. Forgive me, grandpa,’ he says, ‘for Christ’s sake.’”

And the old man says: ‘God will forgive you, and we’re all sinful before God, I’m suffering for my own sins.’ And he wept bitter tears. And what do you think, little falcon? This same murderer denounced himself to the authorities. ‘I killed six men,’ he says (he was a great villain), ‘but I’m sorriest for this old man. Let him not lament on account of me.’ He declared it: they wrote it down, duly sent a letter. This was a far-off place, it was a while before everything got done, all the papers filled out as they ought, to the authorities, that is. It went all the way to the Tsar. Time passed, the Tsar’s ukase came: release the merchant, give him a reward, as much as they decided. The paper came, they started searching for the old man. Where’s that old man who has suffered guiltlessly and needlessly? A paper has come from the Tsar. They started searching. But God had already forgiven him—he was dead.

(War & Peace – Leo Tolstoy – Page 1062)

Father’s Love

If a child is drowning and both his parents are around, who will jump into the lake without thinking? The father
If a child is sick and needs a blood donation, who would be the first one to have his blood group checked? The father
Who is the person who listens to the bullshit of his boss and tolerates workforce injustices to keep things going on at home? The father
Which is the most underrated love in the world? A father’s love.
There is quite a lot of poetry full of mother’s love. But the one who cries secretly, who earns day and night, who only has a relaxed time on the weekend, who is only happy at the success of his children, and who would jump in the lake without any swimming experience just to save his child or to die with him, is only a father.
Have you ever been to a Guardian Court?
No?
You must visit.
It is just like an ICU; there is no blood, but blood relations. There are the strongest of emotions. There are fathers spending thousands of Rupees just to visit their children for a couple of hours a month.
They bring gifts. They bring toys. They bring money. Yet they are treated harshly by the law and by the judges. They are treated badly by the mothers of their children. They are abused verbally and physically. Yet they don’t give up. They keep standing like a tree in the worst storm.
A mother’s love can be expressed in words, that is why there are poems and quotes on it.
A father’s love is beyond that. Words cannot do justice to it. You may try but it won’t be able to cover a fraction of the love behind.
Do you know the strongest relation made by Allah in this world? It is between a father and his daughter.

May your soul rest in peace

You may live long and then die after years of health problems and hundreds of medicines.
You may die in a hospital after two or three surgeries.
You may die of battling cancer for five years.
You may die in a road accident.
You may die in an earthquake after being trapped under your own house for 10 days.
Or
You may die suddenly. Of heart attack. Or a bullet in your head. A young death… Least brutal of all but most mournful.

People shouldn’t be afraid of death. They should be afraid of life and afterlife. The only break and moment of peace will be in death only.

May your soul rest in peace.

The Verdict

Finally, the day had come. The judge asked him to speak. As the other party never showed up in their defense, it was an open and shut case. And it was finally his time to speak.
And he spoke.
He spoke for 20 minutes.
He said all those things. He told all the truth.
Not a single lie. No fabrication.
The judge was mute the whole time. He didn’t know what to say.
It was a unique case for the judge, for the lawyer, and for the people sitting around the court room.
In family courts, the cases are mostly filed by women. They file cases for child support, for monthly payments, for dowry misuse and for physical abuse.
This was a case where a guy pleaded to be allowed legally to pay for his kid, to be allowed to have custody, or at least regular visitations enforced by law, and for all expenditures of his kid to be directed to him.
This was strange. Court rooms don’t see things like that.
And he spoke. The whole court room listened. He couldn’t be bothered about who was listening.
He made rare eye contact with the judge.
His frequent eye contact was with a smiling picture behind the judge.
The picture that had told him to stay strong, be patient, and fight for the right cause till death for the last 1 year. He did.
That picture was the only sane voice that he had heard at courtrooms in all those hearings.
The man in the picture was Jinnah .
He stood like Jinnah, he waited like Jinnah, and that day, he spoke like Jinnah.
Jinnah stood for a whole nation. He stood for his whole world.

The last thing of the day was that the judge gave the verdict. A verdict like Jinnah.