Sunday, June 20, 2010

Gur aur Garha - Silver Jubilee Birthday Present

Grandma, Maan Ji as we used to call her and Bibi Ji according to dearest mom and dad, said, "You don't weep like others as you have already wept the most part of your share." when I asked her why tears did not even pass by my eyes on the death of dearest grandpa, Baba Ji despite all the sadness and gloom lurking around. It was second year of my life when she would weigh me against shoes before sending me to Jhang for check-up. Then, I was thin as a ‘broomstick’ and won’t stop crying once switched on. I had my share of cries.


She would always wait for my holidays and say, this time, I and she would be traveling by train to meet her six sisters at their places. I was among the eldest in my generation and she relied on me for according to her, I was brave enough to guide her to the places that were new even for her. It would be her second journey by any vehicle running on an engine, the first being by the train from India to Pakistan. She had felt dizzy, fell twice and fainted when the youngest of her sons coerced her to accompany him on his brand new Sohrab and had never dared touch a 'vehicle' again. As the holidays would arrive, she either would not be 'feeling well’ to travel or would have some other plans for me to work like helping the family on the farm. In the summer holidays, it was apparently hot enough to move out. It was on the day 99 cricket world cup had to begin when Baba Ji left us and that was first summer Bibi Ji did not expressed her wish. I waited all the summer but before the summer ended, she was not well even to talk. By the end of that year, I was deprived of my real mentors. All that was left was their memories, once sequential like a tape and now scattered among all the clutter I am obsessed with.

Along all his kindness, sweetness and charm Baba Ji, still played an angry young man when gatherings in village appeared moving direction-less or unfair to him. For four years in life, I would return from school and unload my bag in Baithak - guest room and be with him till the bag was loaded again on my back or that of the bike. In summers, I and he would be sitting under the shade of trees on Thara - a raised platform outside Baithak with a bunch of school children dumping their vacation registers with whatever they could get out of Khulasa jaat - solution books; and some non-schoolers or toddler who would play terrorists or one may say academic jihadists fighting this plagiarism and foul play with random drawings and blotches on pages of the registers or alternatively the faces of register-holders. Hawkers and passers-by would rest for a while in the shade and specifically ask for not-so-cold water preferably from the ‘Ghara– clay-made water pot.


Baba Ji would dislike us listening to songs on radio and had never allowed a TV to prop into house but he definitely would never miss Sair Been’ on BBC Urdu Service. Someone would walk around and trivia - as it appeared to me when seen against the algebraic and chemical equations- like fights with landlords, crops not growing well, shortage of water, children skipping schools would be discussed for around an hour. I would open my notebooks to complete my homework but often would turn to listen to the talks and thus quench my thirst of ‘knowledge’ from these interesting chapters of the book of life. Many of my non-academic answers were found here and occasionally, I would be tested for my tenses of English and tables of Math as well.


Baba Ji would sleep earlier while I would often sleep when a Chacha- uncle from village will woke up to lay out clay bricks and I had provided him with water, this time from fridge and the bicycle-pump. No matter how late or earlier, I slept I had a clue to when Baba Ji would wake up and I would ‘silently’ rush up to be ready for mosque before him. He would stay there while I would return to do my homework or at the least read some Islamic books or clippings from newspapers available around in the archives of the generation next to Baba Ji and go again for Fajr.


The moment I grew 25 by the calendar, I had the share of cake presented to friends, I was just to run into the chain ‘25 Years: The Gains and the Losses’ kind of stuff, I decided to pick up my laptop and throw some random gains, losses and suggestions into the database of very friendly Evernote, however, Baba Ji tempted me again to listen to those chapters of life and the Gur- sweets- offered by Maan Ji put an end to all the idiot stuff running in mind and I have came up with a piece of writing, my first article in the blog,  I believe I can share publicly and at the same is a private memoir into my life.

I present to you the gift from my mentors on the silver jubilee birthday of my life.


Its a gift on 'Father's Day ' for my Abu Ji. 

22 comments:

  1. Really nice & the thought behind is even better :) stay blessed always

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  2. Dats so nice sir, really heart touching...parents are gems,gift of ALLAH....congrats fo ur first blog...Kamaal krdiya aap ne...:) may ALLAH bless ur parents n u throughout life....

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  3. Touching .Parents of course are irreplaceable, no other relationship can replace the one with the parents. The childhood memories form our character and are a source that brings sanity in out otherwise hectic lives.

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  4. your first effort is Very nice... keep your spirit of writing alive...

    May ALLAH bless you.

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  5. Very Nice and Touching ..Keep writing

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  6. Wow sir......very nice...........really sir its very touching.........

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  7. wow... a very touching story indeed

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  8. Thank you all anonymous and non-anonymous friends for visiting my blog, for the wishes and the encouraging comments.

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  9. Sir, u hav done and astounding job...ur mentors were filled with so much purity..and i really like ur writing style..it waz imaculate...

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  10. yasim its gr8......................aalia

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  11. Bravo Yasin
    Nice work, words seems to be juggling in your hands...
    I nice your first effort, do keep us pleased by writing some more stories like this.

    BRAVO again Sir

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  12. welldone yasin ... u really have got talent not only in teaching but in other things too. keep it up..... waqas ali

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  13. A very nice and fresh start towards blog writing.Keep it up!!!

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  14. Congrats, Keep it up. I know you are good teacher and man. God Bless you.

    omer farooq

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  15. Nicely written ... and congratulation on your silver jubilee too :)

    Good luck for your future work!

    @khanakramm

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  16. @ makpak
    @ RMohani
    Thanks for your comments.

    I hope I will come up with something more interesting soon.

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  17. u skecth village life and our family :bazurg: role very nicely nd how they r source of insiparation for our childrens rather than som cartoon characters nd indian film stars.
    nd english tells that u r flowing with words . seems that u have prepeard GRE english well
    and typical punjabi family with simple but knowledge and religous life style.

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  18. Its marvelous piece of writing!!! Very few people have talent to put thing on paper in such an effective manner...Good work. Keep it up.

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  19. Seems to be a part of a special section of memories..A great effort to mould ur memories into words...
    Maria

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  20. Great Yasin sahib, I really touched,,,, thanks for such good words... amazing.
    syed kashif

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