“With begging bowl in hand, Zardari calls Kashmir militants 'terrorists'”

“With begging bowl in hand, Zardari calls Kashmir militants 'terrorists'”

Above line is a copy paste from one of the major local daily. I wonder if he remembers what brought him to the chair of President. A mere ten percent(er), who would be the middle man (stress is on the former of two word combination) for various deals, which doomed the nation his wife was heading. A person excluding character. Was drowned in charges of corruption from head and spent several years in jail on charges of corruption. He was labeled "Mr 10%".
In 1996, he was arrested under the Maintenance of Public Order Ordinance. He found himself charged with the murder of Mir Murtaza Bhutto, his wife's brother. He was later charged, along with his wife, and convicted in a kickbacks scam involving a Swiss company, SGS.
Now that he became President over the dead body of Benazir, who was his wife, he dares to call Kashmiri Freedom fighters “Terrorists”. Pakistan came to him as a dowry, the last gift a wife could give. There is a complete consensus among critics who for sure know, that he is an inexperienced politician but deceit and dishonesty seems to flow in his blood. What more does a today’s politician need. No citations needed, as for now I am sure of this.
Also, I wonder what people, who described Musharraf as anti-Kashmir, anti-Pakistan and anti-Islam would call Mr.Zardari. Why did they want to celebrate Musharraf’s removal, when they knew it was going from bad to worse not just for Kashmir. At least, none of the earlier Pakistan Presidents had termed us as Terrorists.
And, I am not speculating, I am just sure that India would be more than happy to make Zardari, 20%(er) if it comes to Kashmir. To the statements he gives regarding Kashmir, which for now seem to be coming free of cost at least for India. And then, while the relations would improve, he would be appointed as an official middleman (Somehow, I don’t feel like calling him a negotiator) for all the deals which lead to scams. Mr.Zardari. you seem to have a bright future.
As far as Kashmiri’s are concerned, we have stood for certain Principles and Values, which at no cost can be sold. We just need to remember, allies come and go, that surely disheartens but, we can’t leave this war half way, which would mean oppression for the generations to come. We surely want prosperous future for the two countries, but that cannot be at the cost of Kashmir.

Itehad!

May be I wasn’t made to hammer my self into a brute force of tyranny. I have some self repository principles which can’t be broke. No, do not consider me to be an epitome of Justice. It’s better to simplify certain odds in life, just now and here so that they do not haunt you in future. The feeling of how my world would have been like, if I would have done that should not come. Not even out of the frustration of life. Regrets are for fools, wise men learn through their mistakes.
Who so ever dreams of Freedom, cannot by any brand of force or brutality be subjugated by the oppressors. Nor, can he be corrupted by invitation to power by the tyrants. Honestly speaking, nothing less than transformation of a dream into reality can actually take away a dream. Thus we stand guard to our aspirations and wishes, which we have nurtured in our heats for a long time now. It’s just that the volcano has been erupted with the sea of showing their determination for the cause. The domination is of the people, who have been victims of oppression and who now stand stalwart to make the world hear their woes.
We are not ready to forget, not the mother who lost her son. Not the sister who lost her brother. Not the father who shouldered his son to the grave yard. We are to remember the road to our destiny- Freedom.

Divided, again!

The Princely state of Kashmir, which sustained its individuality and identity all through the British rule, became a dispute, after two Independent Nations were created. While the two nations breathed fresh, Kashmir was choked. And, so were the aspirations, dreams and desires of Kashmiri people. Some win, some lose its pat of the game but when a game costs hundred thousand people, it becomes a dreaded reality. Something one needs to ponder over, and give a genuine thought.
If some one asks me about two nation theory, I would say, my regards for it are more than that for Quantum theory and Newton’s Laws. Yes, yes I am not a science student but every one is aware about these two theories. None of the theories is directly related to the humanity or have any human regard. Sir Mohammad Iqbal gifted people of Hindustan with this unparallel gift. But then that was based on logic and conscience.
Kashmir faced its first partition, in 1947-1948 war, resulting in Azad Kashmir and Indian Occupied Kashmir. Lines of Division quite clear from the name. And now, as some one calls it, “Two and a Half districts” have almost parted away, with the Hindu Fanatics trying to divide the same on communal lines. I wonder, and am amazed at the intellect of the common jammuites, who do not understand that in a Muslim Majority state, where about two hundred thousand Muslims were massacred in communal riots. Others maintained the calm, not because they could not take revenge but because they wanted a peaceful state which was not divided on communal lines.
I believe it’s high time for the people of Jammu to decide their fate of sustaining their individuality or get lost in the sea of people they do not identify with.

Colonial Rule!

All through these days I saw black clouds gathering over the city. It has darkened the roads and blackened the alleys. I don’t know if black is symbolic and referring to prevailing condition in the valley. Or is it just the smoke from guns and canisters of tear gas which is rising up. It is the mass uprising of youth. It’s the same age band which took arms in early 90’s. The Amarnath Controversy re invigorated the freedom struggle. Only that it lacks arms and violence, on the part of Kashmiri’s. It has refueled the passion of Independence. Divorcing India has just become inevitable. May be a genocide could lead to few years of silencing the resistance again. But, the writing is very much on the wall. Today or tomorrow, it’s only Right to self determination which would settle the scores.
For past three months, the life has crippled in the valley on almost every front. Economy and Education are the two worst hit. Apart from that Indian forces are being provided with Incentives for Injuring and Killing every Kashmiri. And that a State has been left divided by the Hindu Fanatics, who came across from all over India to fuel the hatred on communal lines. Something they have been doing in secular India for so many years and have gone unnoticed. Just because they follow the path of HINDUTVA and dream of AKHAND Bharat. Nothing more has found space. Or better description would be, everything is choked.
When I say I rather believe strangers then the India I have known. I say that from experience. Experience of being an occupied nation and the victim of sheer violence of state. Experience, of being humiliated at every nook and corner of my land, by some one who lacks the sense of act. Experience of seeing a ninety year old crippled man being beaten ruthlessly by the inhuman Indian forces. Experience of hearing the women wail, while Indian forces barge into their houses and do acts of vulgarity, while the men are pointed under the guns. Experience of seeing five year old kid being picked up and beaten to pulp. Experience of seeing and hearing all kind of inhuman acts they perform as a ritual to scare people and dumb their senses.
I then wonder, what makes India call itself a biggest democracy. The Indian state cannot provide Kashmiri’s with their basic democratic right, i.e the right to Self determination which was promised by the stalwart Indian leader and agreed by one and all. Can’t they just be truthful to their own nation? While opinion started building up in the civil society of India, the government started disowning its own intelligentsia. If the opinions are scanned, the lack of humanism is quite evident not to talk of the soft corner for Kashmiri’s and they evidently speak as Indian’s. Even then their voices have been silenced.
Thousands have already been killed, yet India has not woke up to the reality of Kashmir. For past 60 years as evident it has not been able build belongingness. Through oppression and other colonial technique’s it has widened the gap. A nation as big as this, is unable to understand that Kashmir is not an economical problem neither is it an internal problem.
They talk of Rights and believe in curbing civil liberty. The state betrays its own people. And the nation betrays the world. Not to talk of Kashmir, it has not been able to secure the rights of minorities in India.

Louk Char!

Lit the night by fire,

…and,

I will wait for

the buyer to come.

I haven’t sold

my soul though,

hunger

has taken the toll.

Unarmed Soldiers!

A clear spring morning,

draped with the smell of blood.

Pathways, all across

have been painted red.

How many would they kill today?

Perhaps not a million on the way.

I fear my death for no reason,

Life doesn’t promise honor either.

Daggers have stabbed our hearts,

bullets have pierced through.

Stun guns fired from short range,

killing all in family though.

We march on the streets,

with hands high above shoulders.

We are the unarmed soldiers

of an occupied nation.

I do not face the mirror,

I saw a martyr in a friend.

He lives in the memories

in soul of her mother.

Millions are on the roads,

for thousands who have been killed.

We shoulder them to graveyards,

not their convictions.

Kashmir is in news again,

but they painted it colourless.

Again we are discarded,

again we go unnoticed.

They glorify their tales, acclaim our Killers.

They called our freedom struggle, “Terrorism”.

What would end our woes?

We have genocide in waiting.

Entitle me an opinion,

Do not hijack my thoughts.

Let me talk,

…world hears.

Return to Freedom.

Fear has almost lost its way into the hearts of people. No, I am not designing illusion. I am talking reality. It is the truth of people, moreover the power of masses. I haven’t seen anything like this before but am sure, things more than this are on the way to follow. Its pure obsession for something people have been starving for. It can’t be any far now, but its not going to be easy either. We need to blend our sentiments and our intellect, so that we reach our much desired goal.

While I walk lanes and by-lanes from my house to reach the place of tryst, which is almost the walking distance, to the barren piece of land. Where I would stand, shoulder to shoulder, with my brothers who like me are part of this Revolution, I am stunned to see the sea of people walking along and walking adjacent to me. I slow down my speed, my heart thumping with joy. I wanted some one to hear my heartbeats, but of course there were better things to do. I want to catch my breath, but who cares when one is walking to freedom.

I catch a glimpse of young boys, who have made a circle. Almost 10 of them. They have a pleasant revolutionary voice. Lyrics perfectly pronounced, and tempo rose slowly. Every one of them has right leg inside the circle they have made, while left leg is firmly placed on the ground.

I hear them reciting, Raggda, Raggda, De Raggda, followed by any Indian thing. They are lyrics of a long poem; they seem to have connected various poems but perfectly blend together.

Then there is this young guy, hanging on the bus. One hand cutting through the air like a sharp razor and singing with around hundred people,

Saeb Tou Bahana Hai,

Rawalpindi Jaana hai.

I finally make my way through to the place; all I could see is people. Old and young, rich and poor, father and son and what not. It’s a treat to the eyes. I have never seen something like this before.

And I hear a voice atop the truck, which worked like a stage. It’s a familiar voice, it moves through the air like a sickle. Its rhetoric. Nothing less than a dose of opium.

One single voice asks Hum kya Chahtay? And the one million people reply in one voice. Azaadi. Every single respond reverberates in air till the next slogan is raised.

I then hear one more voice, it familiar as well. He asks people raise their hands, people do. He asks them to raise both hands, and people do. And we have two million hands in the air, a sight very rare.

While people began to leave, I very much see the stampede in coming. But the discipline in people joyously shocks me. I also happen to see a bunch of people shielding army, so that no untoward incident takes place. Now, where do you get to see the discipline in a mob. It seemed Indian government and their agents failed to do their assigned work, that was to create panic, which would leave hundreds dead.

Bravo people, bravo. And yes as they say, “It’s a Revolution”. Indeed it is. And may be we finally have it.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -I

Two years. They say its pretty long time, but for me it has just winged away. I would have never believed time but I have been clicked on both my birthdays which came through. I have every reason to cry and bring out the emotions; something precious is slipping through my hands, leaving memories to live by, for the life to come. I feel the bond with each of 39 students in my class, and will definitely miss each of them. I will miss the stairs, something which attracted me to the department. I will miss my classrooms, walls I hated during lectures. And may be I will miss the faculty for one or the other reason. I have seen the department changing from DMS to TBS; I have seen the Heads change and so did the nomenclature. I am witness to everything that happened during past two years and more than that I have been the part.

Even though the journey starts much before we joined the department and may be ends much longer after we leave – Legacies behind. I thought of sketching my memories through alphabets, with the intention that whenever I feel low in life, I will have memoirs of this wonderful epoch.

My mind is as blank as SAP’s first internal assessment paper. And I walk in through huge aluminum gate. Not even the police guard is standing there. And I dream of owning this university, No idiot’s I don’t want buy it; I just want to be granted an admission. Far away I see bunch of guys standing outside the commerce department. I want to make sure, I look into every one’s eye and see if they feel the same. First time I see Lubaid khan, we look into eyes, shake hands coldly. There is nothing like friendship, it’s just a formality. Never knew life would bring us this close.

Zaib is around too, he was friend since college, so we roam around for some time before he gets into the GD hall. When they come back, I see one guy with all his blood rushed to cheeks throwing away a file containing some documents I took to be certificates. Zaib and I move away just to show our rejection for that very gesture. Yes, that’s Gazi Toufeeq, Roll no: 1, of our class. Prof Shabir was about to promise him a long stay in university if his luck hadn’t favored. And yeah, that long walk to Karim’s on a hot Delhi day, every one is going to remember and curse you for that Gazi.

Finally I get into GD, make sure I do my task well and come out happily. I believe that’s how you feel when you take on nine other guys single handedly. Personnel interview is much simpler, it’s almost cake walk. We discuss books and talk about Da Vinci Code and Holy Grail. It’s almost seems to be a friendly talk.

Few days before when results are expected, I meet Prof.Shabir for the first time in the office of a known Lecturer. I just take one assurance, RESULTS are not MANIPULATED. I simply do not understand what assurances did I want to take, I somehow felt, he just wanted to say, “Come along, I will screw you all through two Sems”. Not many days latter, when I am sitting with few friends in MBA department and the results are expected in few days, I irritate a Mam in Dean’s office to confirm if I have made it. She is very reluctant to answer. When she leaves the office, some one calls my name “Irtif”; she looks back and says, “Is your name Irtif Mehraj”. I nod in assurance. “I typed this name in both the lists of MBA and MFC”, is what I get to hear. I don’t look back and I jump in excitement. I find my friends happier than me. And since this day, I have felt like I own this university.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -II

Where do I start? May be when for the first time I see three people talking, Mubashir, Roof and Sheen, damn you guys, they were meeting for the first time and planning a picnic for the class which was yet to meet. It very well describes where it takes us for the next two years.

First class- Ajaz Mattoo comes in with the faculty, for the first and last time I see class as silent as that. Everyone seemed to be keen on ‘INTERNALISING’ each and every word spoken there and then. Silence was killing, I wanted to fracture the empty chair next to me on one of the professor’s skull, his old hair style is so ugly. Stillness broke with the knock on the door, a simple but pretty girl comes in, roughly nervous. I latter came to know, her name is Makhmoora.

I assure that every student in class felt like he was part of KIM-Hazratbal, some thing as strong an institution as IIM-Ahmadabad. And we had every reason to believe it. Prof.Shabir elated us more by talking about MIT and Harvard’s method of teaching. That till date remains to be the most motivating class; I sat in, in DMS. Iflah khan latter confessed of being scared of that untrue and full of lies lecture. Where the hell did he think he would fetch us jobs worth 10 Million Dollar? If nothing but every student learned how to fake his accent and some people proved far better in “FAKING”.

First break and all of us walk like the flock of sheep to Naseem Bagh, sit adjacent to little green shed, under the shade of a mighty chinar. We introduce ourselves, so many names, hush, information overload. I just do not listen to every name and make sure whichever I listen to I remember. Midway through the conversation, Insha, Deeba and Aasima get some tea and snacks, and I comically comment, “That’s what I would like for next two years”. And fortunately that’s what follows. What was not included was Kicks, new Pinches and Punches. Something I will miss “Fortunately”. Through next few days I remember every name.

Next day early morning, I see Fawzaan. He was in the same college I was in. We just knew each other and were much less than friends. But for the coming months, we started knowing each other better and somewhere we hit the right chord in each other.

Prof Shabir, complimented us by dedicating a theory in his class. “Like Irtif and Fawzaan, who got into trouble together, and are found on the same bench”. Some way these troubles got us much closer. (Perfectly under normal human norms).

Even before Insha and I were friends, one day she whacked me with the scale, I justifiably run after her and she broke last bench of our first class. Damn, I thought she broke her limbs as well but she proved to be hard for the wood used in furniture. Latter I got to know, even steel is used. But then that was just the start.

Iflah and I started writing on copies of unknown guys and girls in class. Signing pages just to make them unusable, filling the information, which we couldn’t even guess. Silly and absurd things which are endearing and not irritating at all. Amir’s scolding lesson’s started right that day, when we filled his J&K Bank Diary; he still uses the dairy this day. I am still unsure if he washes that dairy after every sem.

Somewhere in the first semester, when I was scheduled to go to Delhi for conference, I read my rough which was inscribed with:

Jewellery for Rouf; Sandals for Sheen; Clothes for Saba.

Damn, these kinds of silly things brought us together only to part away one day, in the longer run of life. Something which we cannot escape or run away from, something all of us morally and ethically are bound to do. But in this longer run for life we shall make it sure, Insha Allah, that we don’t enslave ourselves to the blind dream.

First picnic -Pahalgam. Boys empty handed and girls falling sides with heavy hot cases. One thing I am sure of, we always enjoyed the travel, more then the picnic spot. Waseem, Tabish and Faizan singing in full swing, Raat Ko Baara Bajay, Department ma Hulad Macha, Maina Suna, Kya Suna? And then a song for every one, followed. Where do I get friends to sing songs for me now? It’s hard to believe that no pranks are to follow. It’s hard to believe, Life won’t be same again. No class picnics, No friends to serve food, no friends to click you in disgusting acts.

Guys I appreciate your appetite, after having the feast girls had bought along, where did that packed food brought by Nazima’s Dad go? Waseem you must be still hungry? Zahoor we digested it all, I remember they made us wash the dishes. I still have the pic with me. But then that won’t count to any expirence in corporate sector.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -III

Seniors –Junior Brawl: There are always black sheep in a class and so were we. We just could not give ourselves to ragging, whatever way they wanted. There is no importance for the seniors in here, so I keep it short. Things heated up and ended up in a fight when my lone voice resonated in the hall, where eight of the senior students were about to dance. I had to repeat that line almost a hundred times before the inquiry committee we faced. Words were simple but sharp, “Nach meri bulbul tou paisa milenga”, and my voice made it look more intimidating. Fawzaan and Lubaid faced suspension and together we faced inquiry committee, which at some point in time had turned to be so ugly that we thought nothing less than a semester down, would come our way. I remember Lubaid being uncontrollable before committee; Khan I always had my ears on the door. But yea, I still want to see your T-Shirt, with some four letter word inscribed. You actually made Mufeed say it.

Prof.Shabir’s scary statement that he had my 20 page history and Fawzaan’s 200 page history. WhoaaaaaHHH, he took such pains to write that. Fawzaan, Why don’t you him ask for a copy?

One day I would have burst laughing if Sem down presumption would have not been on my mind. I had not known him till that day, and he was like “Not even the birds fly over this department without my permission”. My mind straight away went to Govinda’s Maharaja, an Indian movie, in which he talked to birds.

Chronicle- MBA 2006-08 -IV

One fine day, after class was over in seminar hall, Qurat came to me and said, “Why are you so indifferent towards me?” I would have burst laughing but she was damn serious, I let the question go with my smile.

Soon the first semester ended, exams were to start in a fortnight and we had nothing more than Eco’s Area of focus and the doubt, if he really remembered the questions. Half the class was still unsure if Farooq wore a WIG. For OB- We always knew that marks are sent before the paper is set. And the prospective candidates who the class was ready to see in back log list was – Me, Fawzaan, Lubaid but fortunately we survived. I assure none of us went to his chamber. Not even to get our History.

Two worst papers we had to were, Quantitative Techniques and Finance. Something most of the students were bad at. Most of the students had one excuse, “We have a Science Background”. Even Darzi would inquire from student before asking a question, “Aap BBA hai?

Most of the students still soothe their minds by saying, “We are Managers, and we have nothing to do with making Balance sheets”. Why can’t they just admit, we can’t make them. Come on we cant even do what MBA’s are suppose to do. No, we cant find jobs worth a million dollar.

Group studies were on high in first semester. Almost every one studied in groups, I remember Zaib and me walking the deserted streets of Raj Bagh late evenings before we resumed studies which did not last long and then we would have dancing sessions and to relieve our over developed brains we would stand on our heads.

I still remember Zahid, Khalid and me studying together at Zahid’s house for QT. Damn, he kept me awake all night. Starting with probability and ending with functions. Khalid, he was almost asleep at 10:30.Yea, I remember Saba, Rouf and Sheen too were together studying QT. They irritated us with some miss calls. But yea they proved a relief while Zahid was crapping me with Simplex.

It was a month long exam, almost exhausting and worth having a trip at end.