Kartography

Eeep! Read about my book review that got published in the Karachitips blog here: http://www.karachitips.com/blog/2012/02/01/kartography/! :D

The Other Side

Whenever I used to hear anyone recount their experience of visiting an orphanage or an old age home, I would automatically be filled with respect and admiration for that person. Serving the forlorn of our society is something I consider a challenging endeavor. One needs to have the courage to face these people and give them a reason to smile and also the strength to minimize their sorrows by listening to their plight, all the while consoling them and not giving way to our own emotions. So in late 2010 when the Iqra Society planned a visit to the Edhi homes to celebrate Bakra Eid with them, I thought this was my chance to have a look at life from another perspective. I felt somehow it would change me and make me a better person if I got to know how and in what state of mind such souls of our society lived in.

A total of ten students had showed up for the cause; six boys and four girls. The turnout was not unexpected as this trip was planned on a Sunday morning. While in the point, we were all asked to donate any amount we felt we could and the process was made easy as no one was to take a look at what the other had to offer, just like true charity ought to be! Altogether we managed to collect Rs. 4,500.

Our first stop was at Metro Supermarket where two or three of us got off to buy fruits, vegetables and other snacks for the men, women and children we were going to visit. Less than an hour later, we were on our way to the Edhi homes with the eatables. The boys got off at the Edhi home for men at Sohrab Goth, taking with them some of the items we had shopped for. The point proceeded with us girls to the other Edhi home, the one for women and children, at Nagan Chorangi. Now all this time I sat anticipating what it would be like. Would they be hostile and reserved or would they welcome us cheerfully? Will they share their sad tales and would we then have to comfort them or will there be no talk of their families and their past? Maryam, a senior, had answers to these queries as she’d been on a similar trip before. She informed us of what to expect and warned us not to let loose any tears that threatened to spill forth. We had to remain composed as we were there to console them, to celebrate with them and to make them feel special.

Soon we reached our destination. We got off and had the bags carried inside which contained food and candy for the residents here. We met up with the in-charge as well as other female staff who briefed us about what to expect and how to react. It impressed me to see a lady nurse, so well-educated and well-mannered, who had dedicated herself to the noble cause of serving the desolate.

We were ushered inside and saw at the entrance some women sorting through huge piles of clothes. We were told all these had been received by Mr. Edhi as donations and the women here were trying to match as many pairs of clothing as they could. It was heartening to see that the spirit of charity is still strong among our countrymen as the clothes were in abundance!

We dropped off our belongings in a room and were soon ready to meet them. What lay ahead was a long wide corridor with rooms on the right side. On the left side were windows out of which we were able to see a huge ground outside where we saw many women. We were told that the mentally retarded ones were kept here, separate from the others, for safety purposes. Inside the hall children and young women roamed around freely. Upon seeing us, the little girls rushed eagerly to surround us and greet us. We spoke to them, got to know their names and distributed candy among them.

Then we entered a room where very young children were being looked after by two women. The children sat or lay on the ground.  The women in-charge here told us their names and informed us about why some of them were here. Personally, this was the most painful part as these children were abandoned by their families just because they suffered from some sort of defect. A blind child, a mentally challenged one, a child physically handicapped. How were they at fault? How could a parent part with their child so mercilessly simply because he had a malfunctioning body? Had they not heard of Helen Keller? Could hope be given up so easily? These children were here because of no fault of their own and I wished I could stay here with them only for the rest of the day.  Unfortunately, this could not be so therefore we distributed candy to the children whose eyes shone as they smiled and reached out to shake our hands.

We moved on ahead where a long line of women sat on the left hand side. We met them one by one, wished them a happy Eid and asked them how they had celebrated. They enthusiastically talked about what clothes they wore and showed us their matching bangles and their hands and feet decorated with mehndi. It was heartwarming to see that these women were well taken care of and had gotten to celebrate Eid in its full spirit.

When we reached the end of this hall, we were escorted through another small gate and beyond this we saw old, physically challenged women inside rooms and this too was an overwhelming sight. We couldn’t go on anymore as some of us felt we wouldn’t be able to bear the emotions of sorrow that had swelled up at this point. So here we took a U-turn and made our way back for the entrance, along the way saying farewell to all the women we’d met earlier. The children followed us and we passed around more candy and snacks when we reached the end. At this point, even the women in the ground outside were at the windows, thrusting their hands through the bars to receive some of the goodies. One box after another was opened as it was made sure that the items were handed out to as many people as possible.

Here we said our final goodbye then made our way to the reception area where we wrote our comments in the visitors’ log. We then got into the point, picked the guys from the other center and made our way back to campus. Along the way we shared stories about the different kinds of people we’d encountered. It was saddening to hear about how there were some seemingly well-off people too who had been deserted by their families.

For sure this will be one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had. Often at night I think about the women and children we got to meet, how life is for them and all this results in me being appreciative of all the favors God Almighty has blessed me with. Even if we hadn’t taken along the material goods that we had, I feel we would’ve still been welcomed with the same enthusiasm. We can always go speak to them a kind word, listen to them and comfort them and this too would be regarded as charity. I feel one trip is not enough and events of such sort need to be planned regularly so that we are always reminded of how all the things we have taken for granted are actually God-gifted blessings. Nevertheless, kudos to the Iqra Society for organizing an event that proved to be so uplifting.

Clarification

Ok so just to get things straight, that last post was just a parable. It wasn't a suicide note. In fact suicide is the last thing on my mind.

Wait a minute. That made sense. 

I mean to say suicide is definitely not on my list of things to do. Stairway to hell? No thank you!

The Leap of Faith

Its one of those times in life again. When you're standing at the edge of a cliff but you're unsure of whether to turn around and go back to your world or to take a step forward and fall into the sea below. Though you dream to fly, you know you can't. You have no wings. There is no third option.

The world behind you is beckoning. But it is not inviting, like the sea down below. The height where you choose to stay will give you an air of superiority. An air that will cloud your rationality and will strangle you eventually. The fall will bring you down, humble you.

What will it be? Walk back or take the leap of faith?

You weigh the alternatives.

The world above. With you on the cliff. Behind you, around you. It calls your name in a voice that is too sweet to be true. You know it is just an illusion meant to deceive. Once you go back, you'll still be on your own. And to survive, you'll have to pick up their ways and walk with them. Even though you don't believe them. Pretty soon you'll be back at the cliff. Tired and confused again.

The sea below. It can heal for it is made of your own tears. Each time the waves crash into the rocks below, they call your name too but the sound is promising. It is true. The blue water is refreshing to look at. Close to the horizon, the sun glistens with hope. Once you make the dive, all worries will be taken away. Your skin and clothes will be rinsed clean of the dirt they've been carrying. Afterwards, it is up to you. Stay down there forever or stay for a while then begin the climb back up again.

And if you climb back up again, then it will all repeat itself. You'll be on the cliff again. Making the same decision. How many more times must you take the fall before you learn that it is better to stay down? And every time you make the climb, you fear that you'll be so exhausted from it all that you'll walk back to the world whenever you find yourself back on the cliff.

And you're afraid that one day you might not find the sea below. Just rocks.

Photo courtesy: Google and my imagination

To Do List (cont.)

These are most like daydreams I’ve chased. I liked imagining things.

Be an architect. There was a time when I was so fascinated with physics and mathematics that I wanted to grow up to work in a field which involved both. Back then, I wanted to be an architect more than anything. Getting to listen to clients, making pencil-drawings of what they'd like (of course there would be CAD but the sound of a sharp pencil on paper is divine) and then finally building it as they want it. Spending all my time in this beautiful combination of art, math and science, making people's dreams come true. Utter bliss.

Climb Mount Everest. Yes I've wanted to be a climber too, following in the footsteps of Sir Edmund Hillary. Um, literally. To see the world from such a height, shielding yourself from the blistering cold, having frost bites (up to second degree only :p) on your nose tip, cheeks and hands. The thrill of the upward ascent and the fear of not being able to find your way back down the treacherous path, having the knowledge that so many people have died on this same quest! It makes me shudder (out of excitement, not the cold).

Build a country: Yumnaistan. Who wouldn't want his own country? Mine was to be on an island, far away from the rest of the world. The citizens would be my own friends and family and their friends and family and their..Oh wait, that makes it the whole world. I'll just limit it to people who want to distance themselves from the world as it is today. The deceitful world that runs entirely against what we've been taught in our childhood. So the citizens would be people who'd like to start life anew, who want to live life according to the noble principles taught by our religion. People who want to be different, in a good way. And this country would prosper because it would please God. When other countries see our progressing economy and the high levels of satisfaction and happiness prevalent in our country, they would offer to join hands. One by one they would join us and together we would rinse the world of all its evilness. 

Play for the WNBA: Ever since my first encounter some ten years ago with basketball, I've been in love with the game. The sound of a basketball being dribbled on the wooden court and the sound of it passing through the net with its elegant swoosh are both ecstatic. My first introduction to this game was at school in New York City. It seemed to be the sport of choice and pretty soon I too had developed a liking for this game. My brother and I would often play in the parks there. Later when we moved to Ohio, we even bought our own basketball. How I miss it now! One of my favorite memories is of a time when my brother and I had taken on a couple of kids in a 2-on-2 game at the local park. When I had stopped dribbling and was looking to make a pass to my brother, one of the kids dared me to shoot from where I was at the three-point line. Since I had no other choice (both the kids were covering my brother and it was impossible to pass), I made the shot and the ball went in with such grace I could've cried tears of joy.

Such was my passion for the sport that I even tried out for the girls basketball team at middle school. Practice was real tough as the coach made us sprint and do various drills. Another favorite memory is of the time when I was standing at half court and one of the girls asked me to shoot from there and I did. Once again, the ball went in effortlessly as we all (including myself :p) looked on in awe. Too bad the team uniform was not appropriate for a person with my cultural/religious background. Otherwise, I would have been in the WNBA by now. :p