<![CDATA[Shamim Zakaria - BLOG]]>Thu, 13 Nov 2025 00:03:09 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[MarkSHIT: Musings from an aimless person]]>Mon, 29 Feb 2016 18:22:04 GMThttp://www.shamimzakaria.com/blog/markshit-musings-from-an-aimless-personPictureAs Vir Das the renowned actor and comedian puts it: "On your Marks, screw your marks….GO." | Image- Vir Das Youtube channel
Well, if you ask me to define 'marksheet' probably this is how I'll conclude it in a nutshell. 'A markSHEET is that sheet of paper which nobody gives a SHIT about when you step out of your school/college gate or when you are on your professional endeavour!'

I sometimes wonder had I realised this fact during my school or college days my casket of memories would perhaps have been much more heavier. Which when reckoned at any point of my life would have given me endless laughter. Sigh! how foolish I was to have not realised that having an awful marksheet doesn't take away the liberty to stand beneath the open sky and laugh aloud. I can still get drenched in the rain, can enjoy the fragrance of petrichor and have all the liberty to get muddy! Above all having a low-graded marksheet can't shed off my resilience.

Life would have proved to be insipid had I not met those extraordinary souls during by graduation in Delhi. Those tutors helped me distinguish between study and learning. They made me realise learning can be fun too. They imbibed in me the hunger for knowledge. They appraised me of a world beyond marksheets where only learning matters and not studying; where only knowledge matters and not marks. I so clearly remember what one of my creative writing teachers once quoted, "If even a single student falls asleep while the teacher is teaching, it's not the student at fault but it's the teacher. If a teacher can't tickle the interest of his/her students, such persons should perhaps quit teaching." So, true was she!! Apparently there is not dearth of good students, but there's sheer need of empathising teachers.

At school we were taught to practice handwriting on bragging thoughts like 'an aimless person is like a rudderless boat tossing in an ocean.' As a child who barely knew what 'aim' or an 'aimless person' looked like, these audacious words pinched like something monstrous. Though I couldn't sketch the figure of an 'aimless person' but I certainly didn't want myself to be one among them. While I didn't even know the A, B, C of life; I went to pen down a book with words like AIM! After all things like 'aimless person' and rudderless boat were bombarded with enough artilleries of trauma. Yes, this made me contemplate my aims.

I kept pondering upon few of those age old elite professions. After all I didn't want to be branded as an 'aimless person' or a 'rudderless boat.' But, what I failed to realise was that my aims weren't mine! My aims were not the reflection of my likes, my interests or what I craved for, rather these were the reflections of what people in my social sphere wanted me to become! They weren't bad people at all, but perhaps they were too good to understand me.

A big fool I was! I failed to realise that it's only a rudderless boat that has the liberty to float anywhere and everywhere. It's only a rudderless boat which can dance with the blithe breeze, which can play with the maddening waves. It's only a rudderless boat which doesn't know what's next to unfold making the journey an enthralling one. Perhaps I too wanted to be a rudderless boat. I choose to be a rudderless boat. I want to get absorbed in unveiling the mystery of life. I do not want to know my tomorrow, but I want to explore the journey finding it.

Someone truly said, great minds and great personalities do not always have great marksheets. A beautiful marksheet doesn't necessarily induce a blissful and great life. There are millions, literally millions of people with great marks. Having 95% doesn't make you special.  Thinking differently will make you special. The importance of marks, results would perish within a months time. It's just an exam. All that will remain is you as a person, your smile, your resilience and ability to conquer failures.
Picture
If you still want to judge me by my marksheet [markSHIT], I was a mere average student in school. I flunked in college (10+2). May be because I was much engrossed in doing what I loved to. I have no regrets, because if flunking in academics ceases me from failing in life, one should always go for the former. But, did that anyway mattered? Perhaps not, I am yet living my dream. According to many I always choose to walk the easy way. Yes, they seem easy to me because I love walking on them! 
​
At the present juncture when I see my published pieces, I see my bylined write-ups; nobody comes to me looking for my marksheets. They either pour in their soul stirring praises or critique on how I could improve. I know I haven't even taken a half step yet. Still, it's fun discerning that little journey to know you have learnt a bounty of things. For many I am still a failure. Well, if this is what a failure is to be, I would love to fail again and again.

What I always tell people is there's nothing called 'fail' and folks should never get intimidated by failures. Not succeeding in a certain task only shows that was not the correct way of pursuing it and thousand other right paths yet remain to be explored. After all FAIL stands for First Attempt In Learning.
Believe me life is certainly a cakewalk, provided you know how to track-down the road laid with cakes.


Can be shared with due credit | All rights reserved by the author
]]><![CDATA[Tale of Relationships and Love]]>Sun, 21 Feb 2016 20:20:54 GMThttp://www.shamimzakaria.com/blog/tale-of-relationships-and-love-a-personal-accountPictureSometimes our attraction towards someone is so intense, we began planning the next three generations with that person. Image Courtesy- englishchat247.com
I was still revelling in those early years of adolescence with hyperactive emotions when I realized the girl who was occupying my heart, with whom I had already began to see myself walking the rest life’s journey, was not at all interested in me. That was when for the first time I smacked the flavor of heartbreak. Now you might wonder what’s so unusual about this? Well, at this age it might seem to be a trivial issue, but at that very moment for a 14-year-old boy this was indeed serious. After all it was my first love which unfortunately turned out to be my first failed love. With emotions running high it took some time for me to get over her.
 
Years later now when I recall those experiences I end up laughing at myself. But, those subtle experiences made sure life is not insipid. Today while chatting with my close buddies over a cup of coffee discussing those episodes, sharing our own understating about love we get to laugh aloud at ourselves and mock each other. And I can vouch that- there’s no greater joy then laughing at our own immaturity and acts of stupidity.
 
After completing school when I began my tryst with life I did not have any serious face off with love. Those very few brief rendezvous, what I later concluded were mere infatuations or crushes (as per modern connotation). After sweet and sour experiences one question that kept buzzing on my mind- what is all about being in a relationship, its success or failure, and why people even after over-pouring with love are always turned down?
 
The greatest lessons on love was imparted by my parents. Bearing a slightly reserve personality they were the only people in front of whom I could keep blabbering. Though during the initial years of adolescence I was shy to open up on topics like love and relationships, but only during the later years I became more vocal about these. This made my life a cakewalk! I could see things with more clarity.
 
During most of the times our attraction or liking for someone is so intense that we began planning the next three generations with that person. About realising if this is the relationship I am looking for- what dad told me was- when such a moment comes we need not seek somebody else’s suggestion on it. It will be I who would be asking the questions and it would be I would answer them. Sounds complicated? But, when it’s the right time things will get simplified.
 
On the philosophy behind a fulfilling relationship according to him, is when we are aware of the balance of equal amounts of support and challenge. We require this equilibrium of positive and negative in order to grow and evolve. It’s therefore crucial to understand that we all own and display all personality traits such as generous and mean, kind and cruel, considerate and inconsiderate etc., in equal quantities. Too often we expect our partner to be a one-sided being – only kind and considerate, but this will only lead to frustration, disappointment and withdrawal when our partner inevitably expresses the other side. But as soon as we breakthrough the limitation of our perception, we will move into the dance, which will assist our relationship to grow in maturity and mutual appreciation.
PictureMom-dad: Their fondness for one another remains intact ever since the day my memory can roll back to
Recently mom sent me a photograph snapped moments before mom-dad were up for valentine’s day celebration. Last December they celebrated their 25th marriage anniversary. After two and a half decades of togetherness all I see is their love for each other only escalating every passing day. The flame of sanctity in their relationship is augmenting everyday. Their fondness for one another remains intact ever since the day my memory can roll back to. Thus to me, theirs is the ideal kind of relationship I always strive for. But mom believes there’s nothing extraordinary about it. But for a relationship to prosper we have to understand our partner well enough to know their values and caring enough to express our values in terms of theirs. It is a careless relationship in which we project and focus on our own values without considering our partner at all.
 
The friction, supplementary expectations and materialism that comes in relationships of my generation compels me to question the existence of true love.  But, when I look back at them my believe in love replenishes. But, I also espy snippets of confusion in me. I wonder if my generation can have lovers who are so deeply, madly and intensely in love with each other. I might be skeptical but perhaps, that's one reason why I couldn't find a match till date. What I will expect for is a relationship of such reverence. A relationship with similar sanctity as theirs. Being loved and to love, love that might break us, but still keep us together. Love that may create distances but will still bring a closeness. Love that is true and would be forever! Which is bit difficult to find in people of my generation.
 
They say first love is never forgotten and it leaves a mark on us. Perhaps it changed me too. It was during those days when I began writing poetry. Though the love perished somewhere, but sometimes there’s her mild fragrance in my poetry. Over the years my poetry has changed attires but the poet is still same as before. Well, after reading my entire piece you might wonder what happened to the girl I mentioned at the beginning.
 
After finishing school, I never met her again. But, thanks to this webbed era- few years later I connected to her through social media. We never exchanged any messages. Occasionally I only clicked the like button silently to appreciate her photos, similar to those school days when I sneak peeped to espy her snippet in between classes. And recently I learned through one of my friends that she is getting married next month.


​No unauthorized publication or use of any content allowed without prior permission | All rights reserved by the author | Feel free to Share via buttons displayed on the left.
]]><![CDATA[ And The Pain Gets Fierce by Another Year: 15 years in hunger strike ]]>Tue, 03 Nov 2015 04:25:00 GMThttp://www.shamimzakaria.com/blog/-and-the-pain-gets-fierce-by-another-year-15-years-in-hunger-strikePictureSince she sat on her fast she's arrested and force fed nasally by the government for 15 years. Photo courtesy- Kanglaonline.com
​Enough news stories have been done. Enough columns written; enough fact finding and enough of analysis! Both sides of the story been told enough by global journalistic fraternity. But, I write this today not as a journalist. I apologize to my peers for whipping off my journalistic attire for a while. Journalism studies taught me to be unbiased, but I would rather flout that ethics today. I purposely want to be biased today! I will tell only one side of the story; Irom Chanu Sharmila’s story.
​
As I pen this piece Irom Sharmila’s relentless crusade against the draconian law Arms Forces Special Power Act (AFSPA) gets older by another painful year. It all started back in 2nd November, 2000. A date which remained a black spot in the history of Manipur forever- Malom, a town situated in Manipur’s Imphal Valley became witness to the infamous and gruesome Malom Massacre. Allegedly Assam Rifles- one of the Indian Paramilitary forces operating in the state, brutally shot dead ten innocent civilians waiting at a bus stop. The deceased included, women, senior citizens and minor. The shrieks, the cries of those ten innocent souls washed away in the gruesome bloodshed. May be it was only the deadly silence of the street, that became evident of the monstrous encounter. The obvious license to this devilish aura was and is AFSPA.
 
Irom Chanu Sharmila, fasted as part of her regular Thursday chores, which she had been following since childhood. However, unlike every other Thursday, her fast never ended and continues till date stretching to 15 years now. Perhaps that barely matter for us. Matters what is proximity? Whilst Anna Hazare’s Hazare’s 12-day fast trembled the nation, sent revolutionary ripples across the globe, Sharmila’s 15-year long battle is lost in the crowd! Sigh! Apparently fighting without having food and water for over 700 weeks now isn’t of much human interest.
PictureHiding enough pain of walking on a road not known. Photo courtesy- IBN Live
​​While I was surfing the news space today one of the famed news sites read, ‘India becomes world’s 7th most valued 'nation brand' with increase of 32% in brand value to $2.1 billion, US tops list at $19.7 billion, while China comes in 2nd.’

Most valued nation? Apparently true! Because economy doesn’t take into account human pang. Perhaps in this country currency is valued higher than human lives!
 
​During this period of a decade and half, governments have changed; a bounty of consultations were done, yet 15-year is perhaps not enough to come to any logical conclusion! While hefty political brownie points are scored on her crusade, inside some guarded hospital berth turned into a makeshift prison Irom Sharmila continues to ail, arrested and charged with an ‘attempt to commit suicide.’
 
But, where exactly the is the flaw? I don’t have an answer. Every year there’s a galore of events to commemorate her crusade. But apart from that, unfortunately we could do much. Stacks of venerated pieces have been written on Irom Sharmila and human rights violation in the region and I am just one among them. All she earned in these years are worthless entitlements like ‘iron lady of Manipur’; ‘the world's longest hunger striker’, Gwangju Prize for Human Rights, Mayillama Award; lifetime achievement award (Asian Human Rights Commission); Rabindranath Tagore Peace Prize; was voted the top woman icon of India (MSN) and the compilation could be endless. But, awards and entitlements merely make any sense! She was aged 28 when embarked on this utter painful crusade and now she’s 43. Sadly, her could be most glorious years of womanhood that perished to oblivion could not change the fate of governance.
 
We can only keep knocking the door; the lock is to be opened by the establishment. May be we can break open the door, but only to be branded as ‘anti-establishment fringe’. This will induce perhaps more ‘prisoners of conscience.’ All that is left for us to do is ride on the virtue of patience till our law makers breed a solution holding discussions behind closed doors over breakfast, lunch and dinner; while Irom Sharmila is force fed nasally!

​
No unauthorized publication or use of any content allowed without prior permission | All rights reserved by the author | Feel free to Share via buttons displayed on the left.
]]>