Baba, The Time Machine And Hotel California

It's not often I'd write anything from my personal life but I guess I wrote this because I've been missing my dad alot today..

                                                           Baba in Sierra Leonne 2004          


29th June 2004.
8:55pm.
And I was thinking about how I'd celebrate my birthday on the next day (30th June). The gifts. The people to invite. I was especially excited about the fact that Baba would call me.
The clock strikes 9:00pm.
Grandpa: Silence! Let me watch the Headlines.

Helicopter crash in Sierra Leonne which included 14 Pakistani officers.

A dream. I remember confusion. Some shouting. Crying. Blackout. Phones ringing. People coming. My uncle letting me play games on his brand new cellphone which he never let anybody touch. Some more crying. People talking about Baba.

I knew what had happened and yet I showed no emotion. I didn't let a single tear fall. I dunno why. Perhaps I was in shock. Perhaps I was nine and too young to understand. I don't know still.
But it would be two days later that my aunt would find me behind a curtain crying, my head between my knees.

I went to a room. Saw my six year old sister lying on the bed, half asleep.

"Why are all the people crying?", she asked.
"Baba's helicopter crashed.", I said.
She stared.
"Yeah but he came out of the wreckage hand in hand with Uncle Imran and Mudassir (two people we knew from a dinner party)", I lied.
"Oh", she said. Then turned over to go to sleep.

2002, Our computer's desktop background was a picture of me and Baba.
"Look at you two.", said my Grandma when she saw the picture, "You both look so alike. The only thing you don't have is your father's moustache."
That was when I opened MS paint and painted a moustache on my face too. It looked ridiculous. It only ruined the photo but I made it the desktop background.
Mom didn't like what I did to it. But when Baba saw it, he laughed.
"Which one of the two is Baba and which one is you?", he'd joke.

2001, I was scared. Alone in the room. Dark, except for the green nightlight.
Baba came in the room and saw me awake. 
"Why are you still awake Buddy?", he asked, I could see his brilliant white teeth even in the dark.
"I'm afraid a robber would come and kill me.", I breathed.
Baba laughed. 
"Oh you Scooby Doo.", he said, "Nothing will come here when I'm around. I'll punch the robber."
Then he'd lie beside me till I went to sleep.


Funeral day. The guy in the army uniforms marched. One of them marched and came to me. In his hand was a Pakistani flag, neatly folded, and on top of that was my father's uniform and his cap.
He held it before me silently. I understood and took the stuff from his arms. I picked up the cap and wore it on my head.
Flash! Flash!
I saw myself on GEO, wearing my dad;s hat. I saw myself on the cover of a magazine, wearing the hat.
I wasn't excited to see myself on tv nor on the magazine.

"Hey look at our hands.", I said excitedly, holding Baba's right hand parallel to mine. Palm upwards, "Look at the lines. They are so identical."
"That's because you are the son of your great Baba.", he said.

I was watching a cartoon. It was about a time machine. I thought about buying one as soon as it was made. So I could go back in time. Back to the time when he was alive. And spend all my time with him again. 

He would sing his favourite song, Hotel California, wherever he went. In the car. In the park. Even after coming from the mosque. 

 Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here 

He would also sing a Banosi dialect song which I wouldn't understand.

Janwarhi le lo mazigar de na (*Don't know what this means*)
Razaii che khpal kali ta zu na mazegar de  (Come lets go to the village, It's not evening yet)

And his deep, friendly voice still ring in my ears. I can still remember the friendly face. The neatly trimmed moustache, the pearly white teeth and the rare mole in his eye.

Baba is still around me. I can feel him in the room. In the air around me. In my heart. In my soul.

Love you Baba...
Love you still....

Hamza; Not Hendrix

 Hi. It's been a long time since I published anything but I haven't had the chance to blog due to some personal reasons. 

 This post is a true incident from my life.

                                               Hendrix: One of my biggest inspiration and guitar hero.

  March 19th, 2012
 
"Is this your's bro?", I finally blurted out.
"Ahan", said the owner of the gaming zone.
I shifted my eyes back to the guitar ,placed in the corner, which I had been admiring since I had entered the shop. What a sweet thing it was. Classy, Simple. It was shaped just like my own but it looked more like how a guitar should be. Woody brown as compared to my own rust colored six string.
It's headstock was pointed upwards in a bluesy shape which made it look even more attractive to me.
"Can I play it then?", I took a step closer to it.
" 'Course" said the gaming zone owner. But I had already grabbed it's neck before these words even escaped his lips.
I held it excitedly in my hands. Turned it over. Brushed my hand on it's head. The wooden surface felt pleasantly cool beneath my fingers.
Without speaking a word, I grabbed the stool from one of the compartments and sat on it. I could sense the eyes of my classmates and all the other boys glued to me.
The first thing I did was pluck the third fret of the high e* string and use my thumb to pluck a bass note. I had started playing the intro to "Nothing Else Matters".
I was too busy moving my fingers over the frets, pressing them, plucking the strings and strumming to notice that the other boys had come closer and had formed a semi circle before me.
It was when I finished the intro with another bass note that I heard one of the boys from my audience say "Ai Oi".
I looked up. There were fifteen to twenty boys before me. All of them smiling and waiting for me to play something else. I turned my gaze to the left and found one of my classmate looking at me. Behind me stood my best friend. A little smile was planted on his lips. This was the first time he had heard me play the guitar.
"Nice one. Play Stairway or Freebird or how about that Dance Of Death solo?", he urged.
I stared at him. They were hard to play and I had an audience to please so I started plucking the guitar strings to play one of the easiest songs I could. Bilal Khan's "Bachana".
I could see the excitement in the boys' eyes. Obviously this was a song they knew. I felt proud. To be there in that room, with a skill none of the boys had was obviously a strong feeling for me.
I gained confidence and their interest kept rising. I was the star of the room. I was the king with the skills. I was the master of the riffs. I could play the guitar, they couldn't. I could make the heavenly tunes, not them.
It was at that moment when I felt like I was the centre of the world. I was the nucleus, they were the electrons. I was the Sun, they were the planets. I was the General, they were the soldiers.
I felt a mixture of emotions. The pride. The power. Oh the greatness of the moment. My veins pumped adrenaline in my body.
Every chord I played, every string I picked, I was taking out my feelings. Anger, Fear, Hate, Love etc. all coming out in the form of musical symphonies and tunes. The boys could feel it. I was letting them out.
The only feeling I still had intact was kind I had never felt before. It was a rage mixed with ecstacy. Furious joy.
I went out of my comfort zone. I played songs which were hard for me before. But this confidence guided my fingers over the fretboard. I played the barre chords, my fingers slapped the frets as they moved up and down, swiftly playing the scales.
I heard a boy whisper "Aala guitaring" to his friend. I closed my eyes and let this compliment wash over me.
I played and played for I don't know how long but I never wanted this moment to end. To be a centre of attention. I had sometimes dreamed of being a musician and here I was already tasting how it felt like. It was like I was living the dream. A dream full of unviolated pride and joy.
I was in the arena, playing a Fender electric guitar like Jimi Hendrix while millions of fans screamed before me.
It was the tap of my friend's hand on my shoulder that brought me back to reality. I blinked. I was in that little room and not in a concert hall. I was holding a Toptlon acousic guitar and not a Fender. I was Hamza and not Hendrix.
"Electricity is back. Come on dude!Stop showing off now. Grab a computer before anyone else takes your place."
I got up. Put the guitar in the corner, rubbed my hands like a soldier who had survived a war and had done great acts of heroism and followed my friend out of that little room and back into the gaming area.
"That second PC is mine", I said to my best friend and ran. I felt one of the boys from my audience thump me in the back in appreciation as I raced my friend to the computer.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

So 2011 is coming to a close. What an eventful year it has been. A  generally better one for me. First of all I thank God that I went through this year too, alive and healthy. There were ups and downs no doubt, but I totally changed myself into a different human being. I looked at the bright sides in every bad moment so for me 2011 was generally an UP year.

                                                                To infinity and beyond

I don't really know how to express what I discovered this year but here are a few....

I found a new passion. And I was good at it. I finally found out that  I wasn't a worthless, good for nothing person, which I considered myself to be but infact a person who could make BIG THINGS HAPPEN. My passion led to the formation of a dream which I have begun to strive for. And I'm doing very well. Thankyou!

To all those people who tend to be negative and depressed, and call themselves as people TARGETED BY MISERY, I'd like to say to 'em "SHUT UP AND STAND". Gosh! I have seen many bad things in life but the day I swore never to feel sad and hopeless, life has been a joyride for me! We just have to buck up and live every moment to enjoy life. Just look for the good things and beauty in everything. And if you're too depressed to do that then always expect something good to turn out in the end. I can not stress the importance of such an attitude. I promise you that life would get a hundred times better.

I conquered my fears. A mullah told me that a man has six angels guarding him. Two on each shoulder, two on either side and two before and behind you. What is to fear when God is safeguarding you himself?

I found out that religion is the best way to find peace. I got really close to God. And I must say that never turn your back on God. One can not imagine how helpful and beneficent the Almighty is. Pray to him when you need help.

I have a hundred more things to say but I  don't want to bore off my readers at this point (I know they'd be saying "just FINISH IT ALREADY" )

SO ALL IN ALL! 2011 was a good year. ON TO THE NEXT!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!! I love you all!!!

Another Brick In The Wall, Pt.1

The main character of this story is based on me. Like Jeremy, I lost my father a day before I turned 10 years old. So in other words, I hardly ever had a father.
Some part of this story contains lyrics from Pink Floyd's "Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 1" song (and the title has been obtained from this song too), part of this is from the perspective of an unseen force while the rest is taken from Jeremy's perspective.

"Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory"

"One day shy of turning 10 years old
But too bad his father decided to die a day before"

Happy Birthday Jeremy, you are now the man of the house. A fucked up man of the house.

There were people everywhere. Some of them were crying, some with sad gloomy faces, some were staring at me. I wanted all of them to go away! Why was everyone crying and howling? I knew something was wrong but I thought another one of my great aunts died so I didn't really care about it.
And it was my birthday in a few hours. Everyone should be smiling and wishing me happy birthday's, not crying.
I stood by the wall and stared, confused at everyone around me. Thinking about my birthday presents.
My uncle came, sad faced as everyone, and guided me to another room.
"Sit", he ordered, pointing to the bed. I obeyed.
He dragged a stool and placed it opposite to me. He sat down.
He sighed. He held his face in his hands. Then took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face with it.
"I have to tell you something Jeremy", he said. I could see his eyes were red and watery.
"What?"
"Your father died....", he finished the sentence with loud sobs. He cried and howled like a hurt animal.
I stared at  him. Blank. Blank. I felt as if I was slipping into nothingness.
"What...what...?", I mumbled and I can't recall how many times I asked him that.
"His car crashed against a bus", whimpered my uncle.
And he got up, and went out of the room, sobbing along the way.

Oh look Jeremy you're without a father now. Why don't you go and look at his photos? You'll never see him alive again anyways...

"Snapshot in the family album
Daddy what else did you leave for me?
Daddy, what'd'ja leave behind for me?!?"

I looked at his photos. The jolly, always smiling, happy face which I will never get to see again. I wanted to remember his face. Sear the image in my mind forever so that I could take it out and look at it whenever I felt fatherless.
Why did he have to die a day before my Birthday?

A week later I found out, my father went out to get me presents which he was to present me with as soon as the clock struck 12.
The gifts were crushed along with him...

11:59:50 pm

And the seconds were counting down

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1....

12:00:00 am

beep beep! beep beep!
 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEREMY...!!!!!!!!

"All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall."

To be continued..... in Another Brick In The Wall, Pt. 2

Hope

 We always think there is no solution to our troubles yet we forget the best solution to it....!
Inspired by: Echoes (part II) by Pink Floyd

Look up again. There is light at the end of the tunnel. You are not stranded in the dark with no sense of direction. Just follow the light and listen, not to the silence, but the eager pattering of your feet as it moves along the road of hope.
Hope...Hope...Hope...
A word stronger than Love. A word which will egg you on. Push you. Motivate you. Make you take a step... and another... and another until you've crossed the Exit Door of life and breezed past all the miseries of life.
Hope is like the mother which gives comfort when you're afraid. Hope is like a faithful dog which is always on your tail. Hope is like the light of the Sun which lights up the dark spaces. Hope is like a bridge over a river. Follow it. Love it. Worship it.
Hope slays Fear and strengthens Love.

Will you follow the Road now?
I Hope.....! :)

  
                                                            I really love this song!!!!

Tea For One

Inspired by: Scarlet by Khadeeja Farooqui, The song Black by Pearl Jam

Not very original. I can call it one of the best thing I can write. I know it strongly resembles Scarlet. Loses to it no doubt.

I make tea and go outside with the tray. As I pass the threshold I'm chilled to the bones. It's extremely cold outside. It's dawn and all I hear is the crying of different birds that have just woken up from a few hours of sleep. They are just warming up for their morning breakfast. I sit on one of the two chairs and place the tray on the ground. I pick up a cup and take a sip. It's bitter. But it doesn't matter. My life has become bitter since you've left me. I look at the tray again. There is another cup full to the brim with tea. I smile and look up. I'll never change, I think. It's been a year since you've gone and I'm still making tea for two. For us. Is it a tradition now? I don't know. Or is it because I miss you? I can't answer that one too. But the real reason might probably be because I don't want to believe that you've gone. Left me alone. Moved on. But I was still living in the past. Where it was not only me but us. I smiled slightly when I thought of our daily morning tea. You used to sit in the chair opposite to me. Laughing at my lame jokes. Hanging on to my every word. Or just closing your eyes and listening deeply to the different sounds of the birds. How I used to look at your face so attentively while you were preoccupied. How I counted those long beautiful eyelashes. How I loved your beautiful face for it. 

I blink, I was actually looking at the empty chair opposite to me. Instead of your face, I just see the back of the chair. I blink back tears. Remembering you is beautiful but also painful. I take another sip, a rather long sip which burns my tongue and brings tears to my eyes. But I don't wipe them away. Instead, I start crying loudly. Like a child. I cry to find comfort. You hated to see me sad. I think my tears will bring you back. But all I taste is my salty tears as they wash my cheeks and slowly fall drop by drop into your cup.

Teenage

 I'm now almost about to reach the twenties. Yet teenage life was a bad as well as a good experience. I lost many things but I gained many things too. I made many mistakes but I also found out what mistakes NOT to make. Teenage life taught me many things. And this post shows everything I went through in teenage life. Infact, this happens to every teenager out there. 

                                         Inspired by this song, I can now play it on my guitar too :)

You are lost in the world. With nowhere to go. You're confused. Nobody on this earth understands you as they keep burdening you with high expectations, slowly burying you with their demands and never once asking what you want for yourself. You begin to feel paranoid. And how can I forget love? The emotion which is purest and most raw when you are still stranded between childhood innocence and the liberty of adulthood which is due to arrive. Love. An obstacle in which you always fail. But it trains you well enough to face the daunting and even more dangerous obstacles of maturity. You are stranded in the middle of nowhere. Where your heart is still filled with child-like silliness but you are already entering the troubles of the next phase. You, being not accustomed to these heavy burdens, are already crushed. You have no one to turn to. No one to pour your heart out to. You want it all to go away. You once wished to grow up as a child but now you lust for childhood. You wish to go back to the state of knowing nothing and letting the big ones sort out all the trouble....

I had no idea on how to end this post so I just stopped writing altogether.