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A brighter tomorrow
by
Zeeshan Khalid
Easy Coaching

They say that when a writer spills out their heart on the canvas of a writing pad with conviction, the inscribed words may be powerful enough to move mountains and make the sky shudder. I'm sure that the historians penning the events of the Karbala, or the two gory world wars, or the incident at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or the independence of the subcontinent from the British would have had the same petrifying ability, lest we would never have known of those affairs in the grim visage of their truthfulness. For that matter; the army veterans, the politicians, the rock stars, the movie actors, the directors, the composers, the playback singers, or the athletes, among other influential personalities of the world, who scribe their self-travails or, in effect, if their biography gets scribed by another bankable writer, it mostly always presents a tragic account of personal demolition and occasionally personal conquest, while at other times these self-memoirs depict the horrific tale of graphic highs and lows, tragedies, victories, and defeat experienced by those exceptional people and expose their vulnerable commonality as humans.
The memoir you are reading presently is one such tale. Without being direct about the identity of the central protagonist, I reassure you that this story has emotion, heartbreak, wreckage, the thud of when one hits rock bottom, and then painful revival - which, by the way, would never have been possible had it not been for a few rock-stellar people in this individual's life. It all begins when a young rebellious teen found unprecedented freedom in some place miles away from the shackles of parental supervision, the freedom to choose as he pleased; he could choose where he spent his time, what he did with it, not to mention the unintentional financial empowerment to be extravagant with his money. Having lived a sheltered life all his teens, and dangerously unfamiliar with the facts of harsh consequence of reckless decision-making, this kid was over the moon with his newly found freedom so much so that he eventually lost entire control over his impulse.
He was like a volatile slinky that is unable to stay in one place, and wiggles like jelly by design; and so did our hero. He discovered unquestioned liberty and was introduced to a culture which he had not known before, which completely altered his perception about the life he had known until then. He started to imagine himself as some kind of demi-god from Greek mythology, an invincible rock star, or dare I say, the prince of some imaginary mystical land. Excessive merry-making, overindulgence in forbidden activities, and complete oblivion to his primary responsibilities like academics, ultimately led to frivolous self-glorification which went straight to our hero's head; ridden by substance abuse and a despicable addiction to frequent gambling made him crash head-on into a dead-end, a deep ditch of gloom and despair, not to mention the physical toll such ribaldry took on his psycho-neurological health.
Imagine a cold, murky, and dark pit in the stomach of brazen earth where one could gag, break out in a cold sweat, feel vulnerable, fearful, paranoid, scared and anxious all at once, cloaked with a terrifying absentia of moral purpose, and a looming lack of direction for the future. In other words, a complete loss of control over the present and a sinister ambiguity about what despair the future may bring; a cul de sac leading to an eerie ledge with a high fall that could almost certainly result in possible death. That is exactly where "Mr. I have conflicting issues in my head which I shall opt to resolve with self-annihilation" found himself, when his heavenly father - a saint in human guise, came to his rescue.
A few caring friends, some positive influencers, and the kind grace of good ole time, slowly but surely helped nurture this shameful egotist back into a semblance of sanity. But, by the time he came around too much damage had been done already. He had fallen severely behind on his budget, lost the respect of his closest friends, invariably caused immense heartache to his parents, and had become a subject of mass ridicule. Having had no choice left but to return to the watchful eye of his parents, year by year he worked himself back into the world of the civil once again, constantly receiving relentless support and encouragement from the one person who thoroughly cared about him the most - his dad.
He worked nights on end, he worked three jobs - with one of those jobs even requiring him to drive 28 miles a day in a car without air-conditioning in the peak of harsh and extreme summer conditions. He repented, he lamented, he cursed himself, but he thanked his lucky stars to have pulled back up out of a hellhole called misery, scathed only with emotional scars. In my part of the world, a life sentence is normally fourteen years long. Our hero has been paying his dues trying to make up for his travesties for the last twenty-one years. It's no surprise, because like the saying goes, "As you sow". Over time though, a few good things did happen with the poor fella for example, he got married to a lovely woman who he had three awesome kids with whom he loves more than his own life.
With her constant inspiration he was able to regain his lost belief in himself, rediscover the true value of life, and finally unravel what life's mysteries are all about. But, alas there is a tragic twist to the tale, his beloved father - his savior, the man he held closest to his heart was taken away from him by an ill-fated strike of nature. And now he roams hither on the curb of time sorely missing the great man, recalling all the things our hero did wrong, and imagining how the outcome of his life might have been different had he been wiser when it was time to be.
At this juncture, a song comes to mind, "I wish I knew what I know now when I was younger". They say that time and tide wait for no man, and I couldn't agree more. Even as a pale shadow crouches alongside the epitaph of an old man's grave, two quivering hands bleakly visible from a distance rise heavenwards to pray for his solace. A son full of gratitude pays homage to his hero - the real protagonist, even as dusk befalls just before the mighty sun sets in the western horizon, paving the way for a soothing night to hide the light of day and a brighter tomorrow is eagerly awaited.

-This is copyright of Chip of the Desert

With you here I have everything I need
by
Zeeshan Khalid
Easy Coaching

"You can tell by the way I walk that I'm a lady’s man, a businessman. Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother you're staying alive. Staying Alive". When your heart makes you want to do the twist to this famous number by the Bee Gees, when you discover yourself dancing around the TV lounge in the avatar of the pop icon - Prince, you know that Cupid's paid you a visit. but, it's not just about Cupid striking you with a red saffron silk arrow through the vestibules of your heart when you realize that you've found the one you love - what's extra special about this euphoric feeling, the sizzle in the fire, the smoke in the chimney, the hole in one, is when you realize that you've found your soulmate - the girl you know you're going to get old with and if luck favors you, the one in whose arms you shall breathe your last.
That's the feeling that's too whimsical to be scribed in a blog alone. It's like a chasing a tequila shot with a beer in one swoosh, and later winning a fat hand at the blackjack table after which you buy the whole table a round of champagne. Blue Eyes sings in the background, while you hold your lady damsel in a tight squeeze and lightly twirl her around with one hand behind her back, with a light gin buzz making the orchestra music sound utterly delightful and in an instantaneous moment you hold her by the hand and gently hop outside to the foyer and suddenly catch glimpse of the gigantic moon reflecting off the night stars to make them glow like fireflies in the dark, she looks at you in the eyes, your heart skips a beat, you smile provocatively at each other and outline constellations with your hands held in one another's, and you wish that the night would never end.
The dream extends into a hazy stupor when you awaken to the delightful reality the next day that you have three children with this lady, and she is as much a part of your life as you are hers. You sip your early morning cup of hot cocoa brew and reflect on the past fourteen years only to realize that your life is only complete because this woman is in it. You think of all the travails you've overcome together, all the challenges you've experienced, all the obstacles you've squashed to build a complete and wholesome life with her and that's when that ticklish reality sinks in that this woman is not just your lawfully wedded partner in life, but she is more much more than that.
She is the reason you are, she is the reason you get out of bed every day to face the world all over again, she is the mile in your smile, the Mary to your Poppins, the Cagney to your Lacey, the Murphy to your Brown, your Audrey Hepburn, the woman you envision gently reading bits from your favorite book in your ear as you lay in bed an eighty year old man ready to face the final curtain, preparing to transcend into the journey beyond, your frail fingers and quivering hand lightly caressing her wrinkled fingers, and she caringly asks, "is there anything I can get you sweetie?" You gently turn your neck over to her side, take a long insightful look into her soul, your dry lips break into a wry feeble smile, and you quietly whisper back, “just stay by my side a bit longer". Your eyes close one last time, with one hand in hers, and you utter your final words, “with you here I have everything I need".

-This is copyright of Chip of the Desert

O/ A levels open house with our new top faculty

Ma Sha Allah held a grand event today with new faculty members on its campus in . To new endeavors!

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Guard thy Honour
by
Zeeshan Khalid

"She's a tight squeeze!” "She's delicious!” "She's really hot!” "She's quite a number!” "She's tempting!” "She's gorgeous!” "She's mine!” "She's your Bhabhi (sister-in-law), lay off!” “I would love to give it to her!". "I would love to take her for a ride!" "She's my sweet tart!” "She's my muffin!” Yes, disgusting words that reverberate of a teenage spent on the ledge of promiscuity chasing after a mirage that spells the gruesome reality of what's wrong with how men perceive women.
And that's why incidents like the greater Iqbal park occur, sadly more frequently now than ever before. Youth is tricky business; masculinity even more perversely so. You see, in majority of the slurs mentioned above, nowhere were the objectified women even referred to as human; and that's the ingrained problem with this whole mess to begin with.
Us men, have become so comfortable with the objectification of women to the point that I'm not alarmed in the least bit that a large group of unbridled youth would go as far as to the extent of lynching a helpless woman down to her skeleton - remember, she's not even human. As I've grown older, I've grown out of my unbridled youthful misconceptions about the opposite gender that used to be driven by lust, salaciousness, promiscuity, and plain old perversion.
I have found a new respect for women, and their struggles, maybe because I have a gazillion of them in my family, or maybe because I'm the legal guardian of four of them, or maybe because now I'm just plain old mature enough to realize the morbidity in the one-dimensional thinking surrounding perversion; but, I can safely declare that ridiculing its women damages the moral fabric of a society from the very foundation.
Some zealots have gone out on a limb and made the case that this particular woman was out to malign Pakistan and as a woman she had questionable virtues - what in heaven's name kind of messed up logic is that? So, it justifies a mob attack on her right to exist as a woman? It also poses a question that before this incident there was nothing wrong with the way women are treated in Pakistan, at all. There were no incidents of r**e, s*xual abuse, domestic abuse, so**my, acid-burning, slander, eve-teasing, name-calling, honor-shaming, cyber blackmail, child marriage, gang r**e, murder, et al, that existed in Pakistan before this and Pakistan was the poster child country in terms of safety, security, and respect towards women, and this is a one-off incident that is just an absurd concoction of an idle mind to project Pakistan in a negative light? What rubbish!
In my humble opinion, Pakistan is not the ideal country when it comes to providing a safe environment to its women, and the crime charts are replete with incidents that have ruined multiple female lives simply because the legal system is so slow to bring criminal offenders (all men) to justice.
It's a very patriarchal society. As a man, I can tell you that the men in this country walk around with their chests puffed out as if they own the very air the women breathe. And this masculine bravado driven by the fuel of honor gives them the right to treat women any what way they desire. I have to tragically admit that it truly is a man's world out here, and we don't know the first thing about what it means for women to enjoy liberties in the true sense.
I don't know why that is. I'm not sure if it’s because years of s*xual repression have led to pent up frustration that gets targeted only at the weaker s*x or because we confine our women to the status of doormats, again, driven by sacred tenets in the garb of honor and chastity, or is it just the fact that we're plain ignorant when it comes to assigning equal liberties, because it's always been a man's world in this region from day one.
And don't give me the example of us having the first female prime minister among Muslim nations, that's too cliché; she was just an exception, and we all know what happened to her in the end. Lord only knows what struggles she must have faced on a daily basis as a woman in office. She probably experienced hell. The only way this scenario will change is if we admit that there is fault in our ways, that there is fault in our outlook, that there is fault in our approach. The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one. We have to muster up the courage to accept that we have a problem, and it is now morphing into an ugly serpent with a flailing head that stands to sting any one in its path who is caught off-guard.
We are all equally accountable. We are equally guilty. Until we do something about it as a society, and as a nation, which includes all of us, especially the men who are the perpetrators of this heinous state of affairs, we will get nowhere with this. This reform has to start in the womb - the place of origin that every man comes from. And I'm afraid that women will have to step up to the mantle in this regard.
The only lesson to be imparted; women are not objects who can be treated as desired. They are humans with feelings, rights, and liberties. And honor, well that falls on both sides of the spectrum. If women are obligated to guard their honor, men should be obligated to guard their honor as well. It would be very Islamic.

-This is copyright of Zeeshan Khalid

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