Sand and Time

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

- William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

When I read this poem in March last year, I was fascinated merely by its literary connotations. The combination of infinity and eternity was a wonderfully bewildering dimension where I occasionally allowed my mind to wander for brief moments.

Looking back on yesterday (16th June, 2012), this poem has an entirely new meaning to it. Language is among the most simple yet beautiful things our minds have woven. It's power to to surprise me with the rush of several indiscernible emotions remains unparalleled so far. This poem is just another reminder.

We often find the most extraordinary happiness in moments, hours or days that begin with the lazy shadow of bluntness and the opposite is also true. Yesterday could be added to the opposite's list.

Sunlight wrapped the greater part of the morning in a pleasant game of hide and seek. I found myself willing to reciprocate the sun's kindness. How could I not? The energy seemed to be buzzing around me with the promise of a productive day.

Around noon, struggling with the neurovascular supply of the leg left us quite exhausted and in the hopes of tracing some excitement we took a stroll along the Dow courtyard. To my utter dismay, all that aforementioned energy had buzzed to death by that time, leaving that fiercely sunlit, yet gloomy courtyard gaping back at me with no signs of familiarity. The place was empty - not a single face we recognized could be spotted. Please don't think I'm trying to build the atmosphere preceding a zombie invasion here. I wasn't stuck on a sand dune either. I was in Dow, which is my med school and for some bizarre reason it was devoid of people we would like to see.

Desperate times call for desperate measures so we decided to escape into the world of movies. Unfortunately the wifi in Dow does not cater to 'media' sites and hence I ended up wasting my phone's credit while checking the cinema's show schedule, all to no avail - the movie we wanted to watch was not showing anytime soon.

It was one of those moments when retaliation wells up within me, perhaps in hopes of exercising some control over my life. I convinced my friend to retaliate by having an ice-cream we found unsuited for our tastes. A walk along the courtyard and a few squabbles later, I emerged victorious. With jaws set in determination, lips twitching under the tug of smiles perched at the corners, we stalked off to the cafe and almost ran with the ice-cream to hide in some corner.

It was a battle - our opponents being the ice-cream and the sun. Our inability to gorge it fast enough to prevent it from leaving its destructive trails along everything in its path was more embarrassing than imagination had permitted. However those action packed five minutes were the closest we got to excitement. So a day that began with such promise ended with walks with friends as the only moments of solace.

Later that night I saw a picture of a friend junior to me in A levels where she was poised in a graduation gown. That is when it clicked. Last year on the 16th of June, I was graduating from Nixor in the same graduation gown and at the time I was viewing this picture I had been enjoying my farewell. I couldn't help comparing this year's 16th June to that of the past year. It's exhilarating how life can change so very much in the span of a year.

During the same time when I had resorted to battle with a mass of frozen milk, last year I had been on my way to Nixor to receive a tribute from the juniors after the graduation ceremony at Golf Club's convention centre. The contrast of how happy I had been in those very moments last year to how numb I felt now shrouded the past and present in a dreamlike quality.

Last year this day had marked the ending of a chapter of my life and this year it depicted my struggle to settle into the chapter that has followed. The irony is that I wanted exactly this chapter to follow the last one, yet the struggle. So this is where Blake's poem has focal importance:
Dow might not be what it should have been, what I wanted it to be but it is still a major part of my world at present. If it's possible to see a world in a grain of sand (and it must be, that's why Blake wrote about it!), then it must be possible to see beyond the world Dow presents, if I continue believing.

Each moment of happiness we've lived through can last an eternity if we hold it close enough, all we need is a reminder to continue believing. Believing that life is God's gift and every part, whether good or bad, is a link in the chain that binds our souls together.


Note: "We" in this post refers to me and my dear friend and kindred companion, Yus. Also this post was originally supposed to be published on Sunday, 17th, hence the constant mention of 16th June as yesterday.

Of A Historical Iceberg

My blog has been orphaned for quite some time now, I guess spring is the time when my heart wells up with forgotten affection for this wonderful virtual bank of my words. Love is the least I owe my blog for the tedious task of safekeeping my words in its bosom, without a hint of complain. It has remained loyal to me throughout all the universal conspiracies and served as a window to the forgotten parts of my existence, a bittersweet reminder of who I could be compared to the pathological morphology that is now emerging like a skin rash.

So dear blog, I hereby announce my return and request the pleasure of your honourable company. And now that you have cheerfully complied, I shall proceed to other matters of concern.

This world has so much sadness- that's something we all know, a fact that cannot be emphasized enough. You would think that I'm writing this in just one of my despondent states, perhaps triggered by some massive blow to my heart (God forbid but med school has elevated the connotations of that phrase by a thousandfold).

So let me clarify that this post is not a mountain of some dying embers of a distant fire but a spark that gave me a minor jolt in a community medicine lecture upon the sight of the following table and the information associated with it.



If you have trouble viewing the picture, just double click on the image.

The first thought that came to my mind was diabetes or heart disease. However, it struck me like a whiplash when I found out the following.
"The previous slide shows death rates by class of ticket on the Titanic, a large ocean liner that sank after colliding with an iceberg in 1912."
With that knowledge I got flashbacks from the movie by the given name and I couldn't help imagining how those people might have felt when their death was dictated by the order of their social class, if they even realized the existence of the order, that is. I failed to imagine.

Their death was due, it came for them. The point of consequence however is the irony that their tragic, social class-endorsed deaths now mark the epitome of undying love.

According to a bunch of my acquaintances, the 3D version of the movie could refuel their romantic fantasies. I shall forever remain blind to that (with an inward ugh) but what I can see is the fact that leaving the heroic manifestation of undying love aside, Di Caprio, representing a class 3 ticket holder got lucky enough to meet his end.

I know what the movie was about but even a nicely painted memoir like that is incapable of concealing the bitter aspects that haunt history and our present. A century down the road to evolution and our morals still haven't evolved much. We're often told that people change - true but their basic natures don't. The weak and poor hence naturally remain worthy of oppression and the iceberg still stands, as strong as it used to be in 1912.

Letter to Self

So I admit it, I don't like going to M. A. Jinnah Road anymore. I hate thinking this way and even more annoying is that I'm giving in to this feeling. I spent eleven years of my life travelling by this road: the hustle bustle in the roadside automobile spare parts shops, the dust that taught me to cope with my throat allergies by giving me the gift of immunity, the noise created by the quite unharmonic interference of blaring horns from buses. Spending a good half an hour stuck in the afternoon traffic jam in the heat and sunshine gave me my first few heat strokes, sunburns and then took them away by giving me immunity to that too. That was the academic life I knew, with everything that street in Saddar had to offer - but somehow it's now gone. Till about four months ago, I loved M. A. Jinnah Road just as I always had: my heart would swell up with love for my school as I passed by, the sense of history associated with all the pre-partition mansions would fascinate me just as it did every day I passed by them to get to school, I would feel a rush of excitement with the knowledge that DMC and Civil Hospital are just ahead but it all vanished about two months ago. I went to my school to get some documents attested for the Dow application, loved my school just the same way but not the journey there. I thought it was because of nervousness and stress of the whole application process and the utter necessity to do everything right but I visited my school again, the next day and the feeling was overwhelming. I didn't want to set foot out of my house just because I knew where I was supposed to go! Well, life is good at making you forget about little, seemingly minor problems like these so I remembered this only yesterday when I went to finalize my admission to DMC. M. A Jinnah Road did not make me feel good inspite of all the history emanating from the walls of Dow itself!

I thought being tired was the reason for the bitter aftertaste of the ordeal but now that I have to go there tomorrow for the submission of a few documents and I'm not tired or anything at all, I can't quite comprehend the lack of positivity. I do have one theory, though.

I spent the last two years amidst the glitz and shine of Nixor lights - among the many things that most A level institutions of Karachi offer. Away from almost all kinds of sounds that can be regarded as noise, in fact all kinds of sounds possible - except that of the wind, free from dust but laced with salt, I lost perception of hustle bustle associated with my academic journey. Please don't get me wrong, I didn't wind up in a deserted island but in DHA - a LOT of people live there. In the beginning of my nixor experience, I found the streets too quiet and I can't stress enough on 'too'. They had an almost deserted feel but by the end of the second year I suppose I began to find them peaceful. I was neutral to the non-existence of dust but loved the salty breeze. It was a good change, overall.

So my theory is: I got lost in the high life Defaaaance.

I began to enjoy the quiet, salt and quiet and air conditioning everywhere and lack of exposure to sun, even though that had horrible results. Just two years of not spending as much time in the sun as I did on M. A. Jinnah Road, I started getting sunburnt again, very severely actually. I loved how I could stop by at Zamazama whenever I wanted to and not have to come from home especially for the ultimately rewarding obligation of shopping. Yes, I'm lazy about going shopping. I know there is no "height" in the tale I've related but the phrase sounded great with Dubai in it so I wanted to use it anyway.

I don't mind liking that change because there is a lot more that is associated with the past two years that make them so special, particularly the people I've met. What I do not like however, is my ability to not like the feel of the things I knew for so long as the only elements of my academic journey. I know we discover more as life moves ahead but that doesn't mean we forget the things we loved or stop valuing them as much as we did before. That is what I feel is happening to me. I loved Saddar because that's where everything I knew about the fun of travelling to school and back home began. That is where I discovered the the joy of playing hide ans seek with childhood friends in the churchyard; feeling the happiness that my Christian teachers felt while showing me the lovely Christmas tree even when they had no children of their own to share it with; discovering the interior of the cathedral, appreciating it for its coloured glass in all essence of innocence. That's where I began appreciating people for the good in them; learnt to share the joy of 'tili' before seeing the Navroze table even when I didn't believe in it. That's where I learnt to grow up. It was literally the road to my knowledge of life, travelling by which I discovered the greater part of who I am. What irks me is the fear of forgetting all this because that is the only way I could stop loving it the way I did for everything it has led me to.

It seems like I'm being ungrateful, I don't want to feel this way because it makes me feel like the last two years could have more weightage over the eleven before them and that's not true. The importance of last two years is of its present magnitude because of what they have added to the ones before them, not for masking the past! Moreover, this is also the road to my future, one I have wanted very much and the gratitude I feel for being close to it is inexpressible. That gives me more reason to want to rediscover the pleasantry of good old M. A. Jinnah Road. I hope it will come with tomorrow.


Thanks a lot for reading, means a lot to me :)

It's Here, It's Now

I have grown up so much in a few hours, more than I have in the last one year. Nineteen is long gone, it's a lot more and above that now.

About nine hours ago, I was dreading the immense feeling of responsibility that seemed to overwhelm me as I thought about accepting admission into med school. I felt my easy life floating away into the ocean of NIC numbers, proper signatures, pay order receipts and so much more that was beyond my horizon for now.

And here I am now, welcoming the feeling of responsibility in its entirety because medicine is just that - the responsibility of patience, perseverance and so much more.

Transcendence

I strolled to the outside, wondering what I could do to please the one on the other end of the red and black. With failure to find what I was looking for, the effort of thinking so intently by pushing away other thoughts left my brain absolutely blank. Just when that inability to please was about to push me into the now almost familiar gorge of dejection, I fell into the valley of bliss as I realized there was glitter at my doorstep. I stepped into the moonlight, too gleeful to be afraid that it might vanish, like most other beautiful moments in life. I left my foot there, waiting for it to be completely immersed in the glitter, waiting patiently for the magic to mingle in my blood and reach my soul before lifting my face to savour another image of God's wonderful gift.

This light was the one I considered most precious after the light of faith. For as long as memory permitted me, it had illuminated the lanes of my memory, trains of thoughts and my porch. I waited for the end of summer when this moonlight would give life to the exterior of my bedroom, when it made me feel protected in its halo. But that protection was not the sole reason why I admired it so much. It had a lovely companion that I waited for throughout the year.

Slowly I allowed my entire body to embrace the moonlight. Inching ever so slightly into it, so I could absorb all its magic, I began to lift my chin to finally see that magnificent orb. The light filled my eyes and I witnessed the radiant halo and then finally its source. 

The best part about a full moon is the very prominent star of light it radiates in four directions. Look more closely and you'll notice that it not a four cornered one but there are paths radiating in four more directions, like how you make eight slices of pizza. I know that's probably the worst analogy one could use but it’s simple, for once. Actually it’s not about a closer look but just tilting your head in different directions so different angles show the different paths.

When I couldn't stare at the moon for longer because it seemed to be burning with a blue flame/glow (which is just my eyes playing tricks so that they can survive another few years), I turned to the other far-from-earth object of my affection. Venus, as you might have guessed if you've read my blog since the beginning (you don't really need to personally know me for that). It first seemed that Venus was in the wake of the moon and they were playing a game - not the flirtatious kind that Greek mythology creates between Apollo's celestial love and Venus but of an innocent, childish nature, that is a shade of their stunning white purity. Venus seemed so small next to the full moon, so distant but yet in its wake, as if the moon made an effort to extend its halo of protection to Venus as well. In spite of its small size, Venus stood out bright and proud, guarding its identity with its twinkle, not even slightly inhibited by the moon. Complimenting each other, free from the envious urge to outshine the other, together they travelled through the fabric of time and space and I thanked God for giving me another chance to witness this courtship and feel such joy. Yes, I call it courtship because when I see them, the joy I feel seems to be what it must be like to be in love. I know that's VERY cliché and I could probably be strangled for using it but that is how I feel. I have never been in love, I don't know what it’s like: if it’s really how people describe it and whether Wordsworth was actually inspired by Venus to make a connection but that really is what I feel when I see this pair in the sky in its unearthly, majestic glow. This feeling I get, this joy and happiness I feel to my core of my soul is probably what love feels like, to say the least. Once again, apologies for the clichéd connection. I do respect Wordsworth a lot for his urge to defy clichés and I can not imagine comparing myself to him (for a million reasons apart from the fact that he was a  poet of inenerrable profundity) but if I had lived before Wordsworth, I would have used Venus and then I would be winnaaar. 

Salt

I was once told by a friend and recently reminded that "Sometimes what holds you together and tears you apart are the same thing".

It was like a tight slap in the face. A tight slap that just appears out of nowhere as soon as you turn your head; a slap before which the wind doesn't touch your face to warn you about the fall from the cliff of self-esteem.

I was floating in a sea of emotions, watching the dance of the crystals on the water's surface. The day had been tiring but very constructive, as I saw it and the sea was where I decided to retire for the night. The crystals danced with the current, intoxicated by the touch of moonlight. The sky was clear- like my heart. I liked clouds but I was grateful for this clarity because I loved the presence of the moon to make my picture perfect. Absorbed in the moment as if I belonged to canvas, without thinking, I let go and then it hit me with a huge splash. Yes, the icy water rose and slapped me. I whirled and hit the ground face down.

I thought it would carry me away and I would lose the parts of me that it hadn't already claimed. I waited for the wrath with eyes closed because I was afraid the sight would be too agonizing. The water receded, leaving me with a bleeding nose, sodden in self-loath. I tried gathering what was mine, the bits of self-esteem strewn across the surface among the shreds of glass that looked no more like crystals. I groped around, making frantic, vain attempts to grab on to them before the salt burned them and they disappeared. I stopped as I smelled my blood, which was no more a surprise than the consequence of trusting the angry sea.

I now understood that the sky was clear in fear of the rising waves, to make way for the storm; not to honour my wish.

Twenty Treats

          

1. This is not an advertising campaign for Al Baik. It's just that the chicken is so gooooddddd!

2. Nuclear fissions, fusions and solar flares. The radio operates because they do.Let's take a moment to praise them all.  

3. Don't we just love Kung Fu Panda???

4. Magnetic fields are so beautiful and MAGNETIC! they don't draw you in with deception, like vampires but only through pure magnetism. As for dynamos, they are just dynamic. And since I've already dedicated one whole post to that, dynamos should be VERY grateful. They should write a sonnet for me and continue to thank me through their humble servitude for a very long time. Like a very very long time.

5. B.P. makes the best ones but I couldn't find a picture of that. Nevertheless, FRUIT BUNS! : D

6. Ooh ooh look! Nature's shredder a.k.a. Black hole! It is so black and wide and not shiny.

Random stars. Aren't they PRETTY?

7. Nike shoes. They look best in grey. Okay, not really, but these do!

These shoes are called Lunar Eclipse! How innovative!

8. Einstein was so cute. This is a thread contributing to the semblance of an ode to him, for all that he has given Physics. Our space-time fabric would have so many holes without you and your theories of relativity to sew it all together. So thank you, you were cool.

9. The red beak, the silky white fur and orange padded feet! Yes it's a penguin, namely the Gentoo penguin. And it's walking on snow, which reminds me that today is a very hot day and looking at snow pictures makes me feel slightly better.

10. The most beautiful object in space, in my opinion: a neutron star. I love them so much I don't have words to express what I feel when I see them. I'm so grateful that you exist because you make my world so bright.

PULSAR! Listen to the pulse. You can't? It's okay, just check your carotids.