Farhan Fyzee.

I Have Disappeared.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 03:59:00 +0000

I've only blogged twice this year. This post being the third. What a shame. I did however make many offline journal entries.

I guess this calls for an end year 'Review' of 2011.

Busy Busy Busy.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 07:56:00 +0000

March was by far the busiest month, and I dont expect April to become any less busier.

Elissa and I have become Clan leaders at iVillage, which is like the heads of a group in our dormitory in HKUST. We get to plan events for our 'clan', so that we can have small get-togethers by which we can, or hope to rather, facilitate cultural exchange.

So far we've had a 'Pizza & Movie Night', which according to was a success! It was on the day I had to set up the stall at the March Gem Fair at the HKCEC, and also the same day I had to stick the posters for the Peer Counsellor Group. Max ordered the pizza from Paisanos, the thing was HUGE! I couldn't have more than 2 slices. They were also playing Burlesque which I found rather amusing, the music seemed different and the dance seemed to resemble something like the broadway ones.

I also had my first Seminar, which was alright. It could have been better though, the ANALYSIS in particular and the transition between the speakers. The report was satisfying though after the first review.

I used iWorks Pages for the final copy, the themes and visual styles on it definitely beats the ones on word any day. Should thank Sana for that one, she recommended it to me. I still have to check out the other iWorks applications.. seems like learning it its worth the effort. Garageband seems pretty cool too, but perhaps in summer when there is less work on my head!

The mid-terms were alright, most of them went as expected. I still have to get the Econ grade. One thing i'm genuinely pissed about are the additional readings and the textbooks readings and the exam itself for ECON 110 - Microeconomics and ISOM 125 - Business Innovation Protections. For econ, I had a grade 8 level exam, for which i'm guessing the mean is going to be 99%, for which I managed to go against my math skills and went with some fuzzy logic nonsense that appealed to me at that point in time, and changed the slope and intercept of a supply curve, how dim of me. Oh well, whats done is done. ISOM 125 on the other hand was another joke, it was all multiple choice, also the paper looked like it was typed up on word with no formatting what so ever. The questions didn't span a line each. The English on it however, the prof managed to make slightly confusing, haha. That was annoying, because if they had put in some punctuation, the questions would have been clearer. Maybe it wasn't meant to be clear.. better watch out for this one in the finals.

I also joined a 5 part time management workshop called "Leadership Starts From Owning Your Time". The speaker, Stefania Lucchetti was really good. She focused on the skill of attention and the ability to monitor your energy levels. It was more of an energy management series, which was great because I was reading a book on the same subject called 'The Power of Full Engagement: Managing Energy, Not Time, Is Key to High Performance and Personal Renewal' by Jim Loehr and Tony Shwartz. An insightful book that really changed my perspective on time management. One thing that i've incorporated into my schedule is sleeping for around 20 minutes during the day, when you know your energy, and attention levels are low. It does wonders..

This April, I've have a bunch of other things coming up. Luckily today is the Chinese Ching Ming Festival. It's a day when the chinese remember their ancestor, sweep their graves, offer food and pray. Lucky for me, I ran back home from uni, even though its a tuesday! I just didn't want to go back to uni after coming back in the weekend. Nothing like home really.

I got to start preparing for all the assignments, group projects, presentations and yes the FINALS in May.

And how could I forget.. HUM JEEET GAYE!!! HOOO HAAAAA INDIAA!

Die Holidays Die!!

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 23:33:00 +0000

Right now, my room is an utter mess - a disaster zone as mum would call it. The bed strewn with several books and other odd things . A broken blue alarm clock, a green pencil sharpener filled with shavings, orange ear plugs surprisingly in its purple case, the green covered Quran, a book on Duas, the plastic Manzil book, a recently printed vocab booklet, a book on how to heal your soul and a fresh A4 writing pad. And this is just one side of the bed. The marble slab right next to the large windows has the real stuff! But let's not go there shall we? Let’s ignore this like it never happened..

50 days. 50 days of what? 50 days of boredom and mental torture that’s what!

Who on earth takes a 50 day winter break from school? Ah yes, the lucky nerds from UST. Just yesterday it hit me; it’s the longest mid-year break I've ever got! Heck, it's longer than my local school summers which only lasted about 45 days.

Well I couldn't be happier that these holidays are nearly over..

I feel like a mentally tortured prisoner finishing his term. Yes, I smell freedom, just 2 days away! This might not be what any other student calls freedom, that's what I'm leaving behind, empty days full of nothingness. My mind has been deprived, deprived from intellectual stimulation so much so that, I feel that it has shrunk to the size of a tennis ball, which probably explains why I get frequent headaches these days! And oh.. Half way through the holidays I suffered from the inability to focus on any one task at hand.

My mind was all over the place, one minute I wanted to do this and the next minute I wanted to do something else. Developed ADHD? Not my kinda holiday!

I told myself that I wouldn't accept this whishy washy waffler business one night and put and end to it. Wasn't easy I tell you. I must say my iPhone definitely came in handy as I could jot down my thoughts and see what I really wanted to do and chuck out all the noise that my mind seemed to be making effortlessly! I'm not completely used to being off a paper-and-pen approach but..I'm getting there.

The other day around 2 weeks back we went to the Indian movie store in Chung King. I picked up Shilpa's Yoga. Its pretty cool. I just did the first few arsanas for about 2 days. Its fun, but it's something you should do after you wake up.. not a task you'll be in the mood for every day.

Course Selections was pretty fun this time. I got used to checking the courses and everything, but last time my friend and I had a WTF expression on our faces. Sad thing though was that LANG071 - Arabic, got canceled. I was really looking forward to that course. Now I'm stuck with LANG041 - Latin. Plus I took on another course ISOM125 - Business innovation protection which had topics like patents and copyright which I'm very interested in.

The one thing I like about my time table is - Jumma every week. I finish at noon on friday, making it fairly easy to get to the mosque on time!

I've downloaded a bunch of movies to watch every other night! Its gonna be a Work Hard Play Hard Semester! Yess 2 more days!

Hearts That Fail.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 09:20:00 +0000

Why Is It So?
That The Heart Rebels?
Rebels The Truth?
When The Wrong Is Evident?

Lost We Are In This Race,
The Race For Paper And Pleasure,
Women And Power,
Knowledge And Arrogance.

We Know, Yet We Go Astray,
We Choose, Ignorance Over Righteousness,
Chaos Over Peace,
Destruction And Division Over Unity.

We Choose Many Over One,
The Undeserving Over The Worthy,
We Love,
All The Wrong Things..

Blinded We Are,
Blinded We Are!
In This Eternal Race ..

The Real Problem.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 17:42:00 +0000

Right after finishing the Math006 exam, I felt a surge of contentment, almost mixed with confusion and excitement. I walked out of the exam with half my mind on the mistakes that I had made, and half with the hope that others had done as poorly as me. The way this curve system works, it’s got everyone thinking the same way as I have..

We were back in the same circle again, discussing the exam that we had just survived moments before. Sweta, Akshi, Raksha and me. All of messed up question 3, not like it was the only one for me however.. I had messed up some more questions. Then Mufli came out of Lecture theatre A,

“DEI MACHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!! EPPIDI POCHUU??”, I Screamed from across level 1.

Muflih looked away in mock shame, haha! He then walked towards us and watched us discuss the exam. When I looked at him, “I dont want to talk about it!!! aaaaaaaaaahhh!!!!”, he said quietly. I like the guy, he’s so chilled, never seems to worry about anything! Wa how I wish I could be like that everyday!

Back in the halls now, reading Eat.Pray.Love.. “…the glitches of the built-in..human condition..the inability to sustain contentment..” It struck me, that this was it. That’s the real problem. I need to be content. All these good grades I used to chase were for contentment. Now, I feel the need to look for it as a whole. In everything that I do. Thats the secret to the good life, contentment, contentment, contentment!!!

Mid-Terms.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 07:18:00 +0000

   Just woke up, checked the phone, it's 11 31 am. Great, how many hours of sleep was that? 11 - 4 = ~7? "Thats not bad", I tell myself. Who needs 8 hours anyways? I browsed through the phone, still in bed and unable to focus on screen. A couple of new emails, a missed call and a text. I'ts mum.

   I didn't want to disturb my roomie who is still fast asleep. I pulled off the blue patterned covers, and sat up cross-legged against the wall. I remembered some of the cool yoga stretches from yesterday's class, so I did them religiously for about two long minutes and hopped out of bed. Brushed my teeth, and went out into the common room and called home. I might be meeting mum and dad today in tst, since they're going shopping. It also seems like Riyaz is doing fine in preparing for his Exams, Alhumdulillah.

   I quietly tip-toed into the room and wondered about the mid-terms. Why are they here already? Universities should just have finals and assessments, thats way nicer. I buttered some bread and had them for breakfast, which was at 12.30 pm. Talk about timing. I've also opened Evernote to jot down my to-do list, or wish-to-do list more like for the weekend. I have some interesting stuff to do.

My Weapons For Mass Deduction.

4 days to the boring mid-terms. I think it will all go fine insha Allah. I don't have to worry, at least I feel that there is no point in worrying. Law is the most demanding and more or less so is Globalization Studies. The SOSC courses require a lot of reading, which is okay - when you don't have any distractions. Business Statistics can be confusing, and we have another assignment due for tuesday, which I believe can be a good thing, cause i'll be able to clarify doubts before the exam by doing these set of questions.

All is well, all is well, all is well! I just hope I can say this after my results come out haha..

International Law.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 12:10:00 +0000

What an interesting course to take indeed! The lectures have been fun so far, however the topics can get a bit dry and your attention can just drift off into another world. Till now we have ventured into the aspects of states and government; The sources for International law, and how they were developed; we looked into international institution and diplomatic immunity. Good stuff!

Now we are going into Human Rights! This seems pretty cool. I was so interested in it that I bought an app for my iPhone from the UN. It's called UDHR ("Universal Declaration of Human Rights").

I hope the Readings get easier though. They are just way too much!!

Futures and Options.. haha!

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 15:52:00 +0000

      Finally settling into it all, it makes me wonder. It makes me ponder about a lot of things. Most of which is of course..the future. The first three weeks of uni have been mhn man dei la, soso! But still hou mohng arr!! Very busy!! I have learnt more about this place, and it is definitely a place anyone would call interesting. But the only thing that bothers me..is the FUTURE. What does it hold?

   I accept that we can not predict the future. However, planning seems to be a good idea. Alhumdulillah, finally things are settling in. Planning everyday seems to be helping a bit. I hope that I can set some long term goals too rather than these mundane conquests alone.. Insha Allah, I hope that I come up with something soon..

Back Home.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 14:57:00 +0000

Wow. After staying at HKUST for 6 days, Home seems weird. Toally Different. It actually feels huge haha!
Good thing I dropped by!

Suhoor.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 21:30:00 +0000

Ramadhan! We've all heard about it. The ninth month on the Islamic calendar when most able Muslims fast from dawn to dusk. They abstain from all food and drink along with the other bunch of things in order to get closer to Allah. Muslims do this for 30 odd days every year, which shocks some people as to how they can stay way from all the wonderful food around them! The secret to their superhuman ability to stay away from food is... yepp... SUHOOR!

Since I'm from the Indian sub-continent, I've heard quite a few variations in how it is said by different people. Some of my Paki/ Bangla or generally Urdu/Hindi speaking friends refer to it as Sehri, The people from the Tamil community however call it Sahar! Whichever the case is, Suhoor (which is Arabic..) refers to the pre-dawn meal that Muslims have on days when they are going to fast. Its the primary source of energy that helps them get through the day.

More often than not, the meal tends to be extremely delicious, more than the 'regular meals' we get during the other '11 months' of the year! Well this is the case in my home at least!! Although it has about one meat curry and another vegetable with rice, the Masala (oh yess what a difference it makes!!) always seem to be right, and oh my you wish you had woken up a bit earlier to enjoy this very tantalizing set of dishes! Most of us who get up late or tend to get lazy (no we're just tired :P) rush through this meal in the last couple of minutes regretting it each time, and undoubtedly end up stuffing ourselves more than we need to.

After that clock hits Fajr time, like a time bomb we have to stop eating.. make our duas and say our alhumdulillahs and get ready to pray. The funny thing about Suhoor is that the more you eat, the more you're going to feel tired and uncomfortable.. if you are Muslim.. and had practice fasting since you're a kid ( which you should have ;) ) you'd know the secret to a good smooth day is to have a light Suhoor. The same applies for the iftar meal which is the meal that we have when we are breaking the fast. Most of us Muslims at some point in time have eaten waayy more that we had to, and we know it when we're praying especially when we're getting down to prostrate. We get that, "Oh boy.. I ate too muchh!", "I wish I didn't..but it was so tasty.." scenario. Haha.. and by the time we end up in bed ready to sleep.. we can't!

Most of the time It's the fault of the elders of the house who put that mountain of rice with that generously flowing river of gravy! I was watching this video by Muhammad Alshareef where he points out that.. kids don't finish their plates..because they know they've had enough! It's the elders who say "finish your plate" or "think about the kids in Africa" which so to speak, leads to 'stuffing' from childhood. Luckily, I get to take my own food now.. to the relief to my mother too to some extent haha..

I hope that the Muslims out there (me included) try to stay away from stuffing (yet think about the kids in Africa!) , and strategically use Suhoor to get that superhuman power to do all those good deeds before Ramadhan is over! Insha Allah, Ameen!

An Amazing Week In July.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 16:47:00 +0000

The last week has been pretty hectic. Although it is my summer holiday, the time when I usually made plans that never got executed, this time its different. There has been quite a lot going on and it has been quite enjoyable.

I once saw this event by Serving Islam Team on Facebook. They were going to have a stall for Islamic books! I was thrilled, and couldn't wait to join. It was was to be held around a month away in July, so I thought I'd look into it later. When the fair was just a couple of days away, I remembered that I wanted to join and starting looking around for people in charge, however, I had forgotten all the details.

I thought I'd ask around at the mosque instead since I couldn't find any information. After Arabic class on Saturday, after everyone left, my teacher Hatem came up to me and asked me if I was busy with work or anything lately. I thought that he just wanted to know his student better, so I told him that I was having my summer holiday and that I was pretty much free. Then, like an answered prayer, he asked me if I wanted to volunteer for the book fair!!! I was amazed and so happy and I could finally take part!

Sanusi and I went to the fair together nearly everyday. On the 20th of June we helped the team set up a few shelves of books, which surprisingly took 7 hours, from three to nine. The nice thing was that we prayed at the stall. Atallah, one of the organizers of the event, lead the prayer. I really liked Atallah, he seemed to be focused and dedicated when he had a task at hand. I could also see that he was doing all he could for the sake of Allah and Islam. He had told me that the whole thing took 1 year of planning. While I was praying behind him, I wished that I had him as my elder brother. Sometimes, parents, aunts, grandparents and friends aren't the guides you are looking for, sometimes you wish that you had an elder sibling to guide you. Unfortunately, I Allah chose not to give me one..why? I guess only he knows..

I enjoyed going to the fair with Sanu. The reception from the crowd was really good, everyone in the team was pleased. The mere shape of the stall that looked like a miniature mosque left me in awe. Masha Allah is all I had to say when I saw it. I wish i had taken a good camera with me.

The Islamic Book Stall

Serving Islam Team

It was also nice to see Sheik Yusuf Estes and Dr. Muhammad Salah. The talks was really great. The talk on the 'Existence of God' at the Duke of Windsor with both the speakers left me in tears, It gave me more hope and it makes me think about Allah in everything that I do. Insha Allah I pray that everything remains the same..

I haven't really met up with any friends after I got back from Malaysia, I like the distance but I miss the closeness of the gang that we used to be. The last week has been really amazing, and I got to meet people who I really admire.. I just hope that I get to meet more people like them.. Insha Allah, Ameen.

Back To Life.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 07:00:00 +0000

High school is finally over. Now I get to have the summer that I have been really waiting for! I think I'll miss school in some ways..yet some ways not. The courses that I took in Delia really helped me learn a few things that I wouldn't have otherwise.. and of course the DRAMA gave me valuable life lessons that I will never forget.

This summer is not going to be one of those ones where I just slack off and play video games. Funny how everyone is planning on one like that :) I feel that there are somethings that I should have done long ago but never got to because of the tight schedule thanks to the SCHOOOL work. Since that is definitely over, I can do what I really really wanted to for such a long time!

I hope that the holiday in Malaysia goes fine, and just hot it isn't that hot! There aren't many spots that I really want to visit or anything just yet. Out of Hong Kong for a bit already seems pleasing enough :) Faiz is going back to Malaysia, I hope we can meet up if we get the chance. Hmm.. I want a souvenir from Malaysia, haven't a clue about what just yet!

hahaah I've been getting E-mails from IndiBlogger..again.. My ranking has been sliding down for a while! Even though I haven't been blogging too much on this one, I have been writing into my private one whenever I got the time. My writing has totally lost form! I can sense it as I write! I really miss blogging. Now I have the time so I shall blog more :D

I just came across this nice song by Louis Armstrong called "When You're Smiling". It was fun listening and singing along to :D Just love his voice!

Guess what Jezlan is back! I might go meet him today at TST! Till then I'm just gonna chill at home for a bit :)

Near Obsolete.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 03:48:00 +0000

I just got an email from IndiBlogger, the second one. I got my updated rank..ahan what could I have expected? It went down again. My blog has been collecting dust.. Absolutely no content from December. It had been a bloody long while since I really last blogged.

Hmmm.. yeah I'm still thinking.. I miss Ahmed and the angel in black, Kamil and Ayehsa. the forth chapter is still, what do i say, in the making? ahha. Need to go to that place in my mind, find Ahmed, where ever he is, and watch him, and diligently note down all the details..

School was hectic last semester. Sem 2 seems pretty chilled out. The travelling sucks though! 2 and a half hours a day! I mean come on! who does that nonsense?? that too for school? Total waste of time. But thank God I switched Calculus to second period! Now I get to reach school around 9 am.

I don't seem to have that never ending list of homework to complete this Sem. Got some English, some Calculus and shoot I have Tech! I've become more organized this semester, feels so much better. Sticky notes and Muji organizer and Highlighters. My wall is flooded with notes now, Its all yellow.. new colors might make it more interesting.

Its kinda boring without Zainab, no one to bug these days. I hope they get a lot of pics form Malaysia, and i need to get some slippers =.= .. Swimming and sauna was fun. Really need to do something this holiday, hopefully tennis tomorrow, cant let this one suck! not again!

Faith.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 13:33:00 +0000

There is so much electricity in the air. So much negative energy. So much sorrow and pain, flowing like a current from one to another. We conduct it everyday, as we carry a frown and a heavily creased forhead.

Every day, we wake up in a mess..or so we assume. Half of our problems are in the head. Assuming and ruminating on non-existant problems we spread sadness and grief. Like Will Smith said in the movie Hitch, we should wake up each morning as if it were on purpose.

Worrying barely helps, but thinking does. We often confuse the two, they aren't the same, one is productive, and one is a pure waste of time and energy. We need to have faith. Faith in God. Faith in that he is there. Faith in that he will answer, and faith in that things will change.. When There is Faith..He will show you a million ways..

Personal Statements.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 12:28:00 +0000

Here we come again, to what i dread the most. Shameless boasting.
Not that I don't do it at times. It's fun. "I Have The Biggest Ego In The World!!" - Ring a bell? Yes that was me, with hands up in the air @ Tai Koo Park with Ravi, Shuhbi and Raksha. Cheap self praise is useful at times bringing about both anabolic and catabolic social reactions.

Hmm. Only this time.. its serious. Its got to be formal to its core, with boasting at its heights. It seems daunting to write such a piece. A bit of mental conditioning might be of some benifit. As temporal as it may be in my case, fake puffed up pride might do the trick. " I am.. I am... I am!!"

I need to get started on this wretched piece. The chances of getting to HKU or UST seem rather bleak at the moment. The grades aren't appealing at all. Its like the greased pole, and Shoe-On-Face situation like in Tarun Tejpal's 'The Alchemy Of Desire'. Sheesh, i look at myself with disdain, my marks, are like scars - disgusting.

I Need Change. I wish I had someone who pushed me around, I'd do better. This Laissez Faire is just not my thing without active savage competition. Need to find it somewhere.

Ravi maybe?

A New Beginning.. - Chapter 3 (Update) - Home.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 08:34:00 +0000

It was 7.30am and the Sun was up beams of light seeped through the gaps of the tall Neem tree and fell on Ahmed’s wincing face. Ahmed sleepily opened his eyes and quickly shut it, he tilted his head towards the left away from the rising Sun. He had left all the wooden windows on his rectangular room open, including the balcony door.

Ahmed felt the heat of the Sun on his thighs, he reflexively looked at his legs and opened it eyes widely. He sprung up and sat up right to straighten his Vaeti or the Sarong which was now all the way up to his chest. “Ahh!” he cried and fell to his left on the stiff mattress of his bed. He grabbed at his calf muscles on his right leg. A muscle pull, he had ran quite a lot in the second game the evening before.

Ahmed lay motionless in Bed. He stretched his leg to prevent the spasms from occurring again. He pulled up a pillow and dropped his head and let out a moan. He moved head along the pillow to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

As he lay motionless, he saw flashes of the night before. It revolved around her, the angel in white enshrouded in black. Everything else was a blur, the black hairy goat, the dust under her snow white slippers; the barks of the stray dogs were muffled; the grey cement lamppost seemed not to exist, and the pain in his swollen fingers was no more.

Ahmed picked up a pillow from behind him with his right hand. He placed it over the right side of his face, completely covering his face, till he could only see darkness. He closed his eyes, smiled and inhaled the smell of the coconut oil that stained his coverless pillow.

He recalled the memory again, over and over allowing his heart to melt as thought it was a MeltyKiss candy. Surprisingly, he saw it from a different angle as though he was the lamppost, from a point slightly shorter than himself; he watched the whole event again, pausing his thoughts to examine her features. The moment was stretched in memory, a 15-second-eternity. He thought of her hazel eyes, of what they shown her for him.

He watched the event again as though he was standing behind her in the darkness of the alley completely hidden. “Thank you” she’d said, the way she had said it, and the way her teeth gleamed with every word captivated his mind, filling the silence of the room in his head.

Just as he was slipping into ecstasy, the ‘drrnnn’ of the motor sounded, drowning his thoughts, yanking him back to reality. It was his job to run the motor in the weekend. They had an old well in their backyard, the oasis for the household. The motor could draw up well water into the cube shaped water tank on their third story terrace. The powder blue paint on the walls of the tank was wearing away and bore cracks, with strips of paint layers falling off, some sections of the paint layer even looked like it were blisters.

On weekdays, when Aamina, Ahmed’s mother was in charge, the terrace would often be flooded with pools of water often from the overflowing tank. The steps from the second story to the terrace was once blue, but due to habitual torrents that made their way down the exterior staircase, was not grey, revealing the cement underneath.

Ahmed got off the bed with clenched teeth, pulled up his shirt by the hem and held it under his chin. He opened his loose Vaeti, pleated it so that there was a narrow gap in the front precisely at the middle. He tightened the Vaeti around his waist by rolling it down twice from the top than tucking; it was more comfortable that way.

Ahmed walked from the side of the windows around the bed and down the staircase that lead him to the foyer on the ground floor. The cement flooring turned to marble when he limped down the stairway, holding the railing for support. He put less pressure on his right leg as he walked.

He forgot to turn the humming fan in his room off. He ignored the fact. He hopped down the last few steps. He looked at the window sill by the main door, there were no milk packets, but the paint was moist. Mum must be in the kitchen Ahmed thought.

He thought himself silly, limping like he did down the stairs. The white marble floor was cool, cooler than the cement flooring on the upper level, smoother too. Ahmed liked how the ground floor looked. He was proud of it. Whenever people came home, he was pleased to see how they were amused by the décor.

Their House seemed typical from the outside. Except for the fact that it had a front courtyard with pebble stone pathway from the main black gate, and two low rectangular granite chairs to recline on. The walls of the courtyard were fairly high; it came up to Ahmed’s chest and was high enough to be hidden when seated on the granite chairs.

The house also had pillars on the front. Four pillars on the front and two at the back of the house. They were made of cement and the paint on them too was wearing off. It had a three ring like formations at the ends, with each consecutive ring becoming smaller, giving it a cone like feel. The trunk of the pillar had piping like makeup running along them.

The arch-shaped main gate made the home look majestic, as though it was a home of an important person. It was, his father was the only architect in their town. He looked into every detail when they were renovating their inherited house. Ahmed’s father, Jabir had handpicked the wood for the door. It was apparently made of Teak.

The main door was studded with small pyramids. It gave the door an old Hindu-house feel. You couldn’t find much of that around, not even in the Hindu houses at the outskirts of the village. The village was growing; they had around 16 new streets all bearing Hindu names which normally ended with ‘koil. ’On those streets you could only find hutments made of wole, the knitted coconut leaves, just like the shed at Kadher mama’s store.

Ahmed walked between the two sets of staircases, and through the living room. The living room floor was on slightly lowered that it had three steps down. It made you feel as though you were entering a new section of the house, a new area. He then climbed three steps up to get to the dining area and then turned left to get into the heavenly kitchen, filled with the aroma of fresh manja vada and ginger tea..

A New Beginning.. - Chapter 3 - New Day.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 05:36:00 +0000

On weekdays, when Aamina, Ahmed’s mother was in charge, the terrace would often be flooded with pools of water often with pools of water from the overflowing tank. The steps from the second story to the terrace was once blue, but due to habitual torrents that made their way down the exterior staircase, was not grey, revealing the cement underneath.

Ahmed walked from the side of the windows around the bed and down the staircase that lead him to the living room on the ground floor. The cement flooring turned to marble when he limped down the stairway, holding the railing for support. He put less pressure on his right leg as he walked. The motor’s noise was much louder on the ground floor. He walked around to find his mother in the kitchen, he walked in and started helping her to kick start the day ahead..

Have Nothing To Do.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 11:57:00 +0000

The holidays have been such a drag. We havent had any official schooling since the 17th of March. which is like 5 months? I've forgotten the efforts that I had put into the HKCEEs, which reaped fairly good results. I guess 20 points ain't that bad?

When I saw '20' on the black and white mark sheet that the school cheekily gave out to the students, i felt dumb. Honestly, that is all I felt. Its true that almost everyone around me got fewer points that I did, but they were contented to some extent. Yes, some were crying, and other apathetic.

The Bombay treat was brilliant. Without that this holiday would have been bland, insipid and boring. I detested the weather though, stick a foot out of the building and you get drenched. Regardless, it was nice to be away from the concrete forest of Hong Kong. But I did get a bit bored, which lead to some interesting pieces of literature. Hahahah, I can't believe I just said that. Literature and me? Must have been a joke a few months back.

I got into DSC. New school, new people, new teachers curriculum, ah new everything. I can't wait to get started, and study again. Its actually boring without school. In the meantime, I really can't find anything interesting or seriously addicting to captivate my mind. Time is such a bummer, especially have plenty to do nothing interesting with.

Something about the moon seems interesting, I think I should look it up. The waxing and waning gibbous. Some other stuff about prayer and maybe something on the History of Islam. I really need to kill time before Ramadhan starts. Wont have much energy to do any vigorous activity for a month after that .

The gym maybe? Some exhaustive distraction indeed! Better start gymming on Monday..

A New Beginning.. - Chapter 2 - Alleyway Connection.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 02:18:00 +0000

Whack, the wooden ruler hurled down on Ahmed’s palms mercilessly.

“How many times do I have to explain, you shmuck?” Salih bellowed.

“Ah sir! Don’t understand sir! Stop sir! Sorry sir! ” yelped Ahmed, reflexively pulling away his hands.

“What don’t you get? I explained twice useless kid!”

“Sorry sir, I’ll do better sir, Ahmed said in a shaky yet determined voice. He was rubbing his palms on his thighs, trying to rid the itch of pain away as he worked his sums.”

Ahmed detested math along with it Salih, his impatient and short tempered math teacher. Ahmed wasn’t great at math, he didn’t have the genes he thought. “Just like your father”, Salih had once said. Ahmed knew that his father, Jabir and Salih were friends once, in their school days. It was hard for Ahmed to see how his father had befriended this ruthless beast. It was as though Salih had pleasure in beating him; he had seen it in his teacher’s eyes.

Salih wouldn’t have dared had Ahmed’s father been alive. He had passed away when Ahmed was only 8. He died in a road accident on his way to Chennai. A lorry had crashed into his father’s blue Ambassador. Ahmed remembered the car well, his dad had taken his mother, Aamina and him to Kutraalam[Fy1] . It was the last time he saw the blue car and his beloved Father.

It was the last class for the day. It was a Friday. The trrring of the buzzer bell had just gone off, signaling: Freedom. Ahmed stopped mid-way in the sum, slammed the book close. He stared at the book. It was covered in brown paper, already wearing away at the edges. He moved to look at the Bata’s Back to School label with contempt. “Maths” he said out loud, “I hate you” he whispered, as if he was letting it know that he did.

Kamil slapped Ahmed on his back, “Come on! Its 4.10!” Giving him a quizzical look, “the girls are gonna be gone fool!”, “Don’t make us late!”

“You know I don’t like that stuff” Ahmed said calmly, piling his books up.

“Angel face, let me help you with this pile of good-for-nothing books.” Kamil said, he hurriedly opened the mouth of Ahmed’s yellow schoolbag and dumped the pile, carelessly. ”There! Zip up lets go!”

“Ok machan, chill” Ahmed said nonchalantly. He zipped up the bag and walked out of the gap in the cement wall that represented the doorway. They dashed down the dusty staircase and to the sandy playground.

A cement wall surrounded the playground. It was as high as them, a casual jump and the playground of the neighboring school would be in view.

It was a girl’s school. Kamil rushed to the compound wall and jumper frantically. “They’re still there” he said loudly and gestured a thumbs up “lets go.”

Ahmed was staring at his mildly at his swollen fingers.

“You got quite a beating from my uncle” kamil said with a chuckle.

“Shut up, I hate your uncle and his stupid numbers” Ahmed said in an irritated tone.

“It was a nice show you put up!Please sir! Sorry sir!” Kamil squealed imitating Ahmed, putting his hand up in a defensive way as though something invisible was about to hit them.

"Right, I need your help machan, I dont get this math thing, especially with this nut for a teacher, your beloved uncle."

"Ahan, Sure da. I'll help you." he said distractedly, craning his neck out the gate. "I think, you should, make him like you first." he said still craning his neck. "That will do the trick."

"U-huh, nice plan-"

"Shh, Ayehsa is here!" Kamil said in a hushed voice.

"Here we go again.", Ahmed sighed and slapped his forehead, "Fine go talk to her- but gimmie your bag, it makes you look like an idiot." Ahmed said with a shmirk.

"Thanks machan! Now you will always hold my bag when shes here! You’re the best da!"

"super idea."

Ahmed watched Kamil walk towards Ayesha and her gang of friends. They were all veiled in black. The Burka. Ayesha walked closer to Kamil. The girls giggled and walked ahead, "2 minutes only okay?" they chanted in once voice.

"OKAY pa! I need two full minutes." Kamil said, satisfied with the time limit. Kamil was engaged to Ayesha. "It just happened" Kamil had told Ahmed when he asked him. "We're cousins, so elders were talking about it at home." he said with a smile."I knew Ayesha since she was small, we used to play together in my house, I liked her..even mum knew..and now we're.. engaged."

Ahmed was watching them still. Ayesha dropped her green schoolbag; it blended with the bushes around the compound walls. Kamil opened his arms, she walked towards him and they hugged. It seemed long.

Ayehsa was a head shorter than Kamil, She was fair and he was of a darker shade. She looked pretty and he looked handsome, Ahmed thought that they looked good together, he was happy for them; he just smiled staring at them.

Ahmed walked back into the school compound and sat cross legged against one of the gate’s walls, giving Kamil and Ayesha some privacy. He could still see the group of girls on the street. He fished out a coffee flavored toffee from him pant pockets and tossed it into his mouth. The wind blew and the Burkas fluttered, revealing the garments the girls wore underneath the veil. ‘Stupid girls’ Ahmed thought, ‘They wear their nighties to school.’

He played with the toffee in his mouth till it was completely dissolved. He looked back at Kamil, he was holding her hand, he then kissed her hand like in the movies. She blushed, smiling widely, she looked away.

“That’s it! Toooo much!” Ahmed yelled “Dei! Loosu! We have football da!”

“Coming machan!” Kamil yelled back.

Ahmed now stood up, dusted his pants and started walking towards them. “Mrs.Kamil! Please!” Ahmed pleaded dramatically. Ahmed bowed when Ayehsa walked pass him. She smiled shyly and looked towards the ground, and walked towards the girls walking up ahead.

Kamil and Ahmed Went the other way, to the Masjid in the middle of the Bazaar, and then to the public football grounds. They played till it got dark. They’d lost all the games they played.

Ahmed expected football to lighten up the day, but that clearly failed. He was dirty, he smelled of sweat and red sand from the grounds. He also had some blades of grass on his jersey. It was a bad day indeed. He was annoyed and still angry at his teacher. Kamil and Ahmed lived on different streets, they took different routes to get home. It would be a quiet and tiresome walk.

On his street Ahmed walked lazily kicking the dust, knowing that home was near. It was dark and it was about to be Magrib soon. He heard dogs growling and barking up ahead. He looked ahead more attentively and spotted a pack of dogs at the mouth of the alleyway. It was right next to the lamppost.

The dogs were barking at the goat which was usually tied around that lamppost. They seemed ferocious, yet Ahmed knew that they were stray dogs, they were probably diseased ones. They had saliva dripping from their jaws, and their fur was falling revealing reddish skin with blisters. He picked up a few smooth stones that lay by his feet and started flinging them at the pack. He got closer with each throw, till he got next to the goat. It seemed scared. He still had one stone left in his hand, he dropped it and the goat flinched. It was scared.

Ahmed’s Heart was beating really fast and he was starting to sweat. He looked at his palms, it was slightly red, beads of sweat started to form on his skin, it sparkled in the florescent light of the lamppost. There were gusts of wind, he started to feel cool and he shivered. The sound of the blood thumping in his ears started to ebb away. Unexpectedly he heard something behind him. He became still. He heard something breathing, it was rapid yet light. It was coming from the alleyway. He slowly turned around, to find..a girl, in black. In a Burka, Death Eater he thought. He was shocked, his eyes were bulging, and he unconsciously took a step back. Her face was covered so that the veil only revealed her hazel eyes.

A breeze blew their way, and her Burka fluttered in the wind. The Scarf covering her face effortlessly came loose, slid down her silky hair and fell on her shoulders. His heart skipped a beat. He started breathing fast silently, and he could hear the blood thumping in his ears. He didn’t know whether it was fear or excitement.

She was fair skinned, and spotless. She had high cheek bones with rosy cheeks, if she was his sister, he would have pinched them. Her lips were full, and it seemed as though they were talking to him. Her perfect set of teeth gleamed when she said “Thank you”, she blinked more than necessary, her long eye lashes gave her eyes a dreamy feel, it made her look prettier. He was mesmerized. Ahmed couldn’t speak. All he could do was ask himself “where she was from?”, not from here he thought distractedly.

“Thank you?” he asked dazedly.

“The dogs, they’re gone now, thank you” she said clearly nervous.

“oh, umm” he said scratching his head unconsciously, averting his gaze to her feet. Her Burka fluttered again, Ahmed took a step back, and swallowed the saliva that that collected in his mouth. She wore a Chudidar . It was a white one embroidered with silver sequin. He instinctively looked at her face, but he looked down again. She had black hair, with streaks of brown it had been let loose under her scarf. She was beautiful. “its okay” he said with a smile and he stepped away, allowing her to pass.

The Azhan for Maghrib had just sounded. “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar”, watching her walk away, he replied “Subhan Allah..” and took the other way towards the Masjid to join in prayer.

A New Beginning.. - Chapter 1 - Ahmed.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 12:36:00 +0000

I am bored out of my brains and so I’m going to write a short story. Anyone reading this may think that I’m insane and label me a madman. Nevertheless here goes the tale of Ahmed and Samira..

For the broken-hearted.

It was an overcast day in April. The air was moist and cool with occasional gusts of wind. The old streets of the bazaar had managed to hold some of the rainwater, forming muddy puddles.

footprints and imprints of cycle tires. People had tried to avoid the puddles, which might have stones in them. It was quiet.

Ahmed stood clutching his schoolbag under the coconut leaf shed of his uncle Kadher’s shop. 7 Star Grocery it was called. It was a ritual for him to walk to the store everyday after school. He’d meet his uncle, who sat at the wooden counter, and talk about his day and what he had learnt that day.

Kadher hadn’t gone to school. He hadn’t got a formal education, like Ahmed does. He longed for it as a child and still strives to learn as a man. School was what poverty had made, a forbidden fruit. School intrigued him, he wanted to know and feel what it was like to be under a master, a teacher who knew what he didn’t. “Learning is a wonderful thing,” He once told Ahmed “learn wisely, and don’t be a blind learner.”

Ahmed was 17, and was interested in the wider world. He wanted to know, why things were the way they were. He questioned everything. His mind would ridicule the way people lived in his community, and the way they behaved. He questioned about governments, their policies and how it affected the world. He questioned about the unseen world of Angels and Jinn; He questioned about emotions and feelings, but he never questioned about love, or relationships between man and woman.

Ahmed’s questions were at times unconscious complaints. Kadher recognized it, he knew that his nephew was trying to reason, looking for answers. Kadher would handle him gently, and carefully answer the questions being thrown at him in a logical yet diplomatic manner, giving Ahmed some room to think for himself.

The rain had stopped, but Ahmed was still under the shed. His eyed were fixed at the reflection in the puddle. There were two birds, lovebirds as they called them. He concentrated on their profiles in the reflection. A third bird had flown onto the same branch. It hopped three times consecutively, getting closer to the other two. It chirped. The first two were silent. Then one of the first two birds chirped. Ahmed raised a brow in surprise. ‘A response?’ He mused, still doubtful. The new bird and one of the first two birds took flight. Instinctively he looked at the two birds, watching them fly away till he couldn’t spot them anymore. He couldn’t make sense of it.

It was getting dark, he greeted his uncle unmindfully, “Assalamu allaikum”. His uncle returned the salutation “waalikumassalam -”, “Get home soon or your mum will have me a dead man!” he said cheerily.

Ahmed smiled. Thinking about what he has just witnessed, his smile turned to a frown as he walked the silent lonely streets that lead him home..

Train Journey.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 10:18:00 +0000

It was out of the blue and totally unexpected. I was lying in bed when Shamu mama walked into the room and said that we were going to Vapi for the weekend. From Sunday till Tuesday. I was quite surprised. I really didn’t expect to get a chance to go up North, that too on a train!

Riyaz was at the table, buried in his book. He was listening to music on his mobile phone too, utterly clueless about the trip ahead. He took off the ear-piece from his right ear, still holding it, he turned around in his chair.

“What?” he asked, with an expressionless I’m-reading-a-book face.

“Dude! We’re going Vapi! Gujarat!” I said excitedly.

“oh..cool!” , his face lightened up with a smile.

“This is gonna be the North most we’ve gone!”

“When are we going?”

“I duno, tomorrow maybe. Gotta pack. Seems like Sham mama said tomorrow.”

“Oh..cool! ” He said and went back to his book.

We actually left a day later. It was a Saturday morning when Shamu mama came into the room, he was dressed ready for work, and informed us that we were leaving to Vapi that evening.

I was lying in bed again, listening to the iPod lazily. Riyaz was walking about the room. I remember that we hadn’t packed yet, the idea of packing just slipped out of our minds. We had lots to do. I was irritated by the thought. I told Riyaz that we would do the laundry after lunch and it was just 11.30 in the morning. I was still tired and lazy, I just rolled about in bed. The Mac wasn’t working, and I couldn’t find much to do.

After a while I realized that I had some unfinished writing to do, it was missing some points and I needed to polish it up a bit. My mind nagged me to finish it, I couldn’t put it off for later. I went up to the table, and opened the orange spiral that I’d bought outside Asiatic, and continued scribbling. I had written around 1050 words. The word limit was 2000 words, I wasn’t satisfied with the quantity but I had covered briefly what I had intended to.

With that done I remembered that I had some laundry to do. I roughly washed my jeans with the orange Chinese soap mum had given me. I scrubbed as much as I could. I noticed that some color had come off the dark blue jeans. ‘Thank God ’ I thought. I didn’t put the pair with the rest of the load for the washing machine owing to the bare 60 minutes left for us to leave home. I ironed the pair of jeans, but ended up not taking it. Sheesh.

We left home after checking our backpacks a while later. We were going by Train. I didn’t know which station we were going to however. We went through lamington road, just like we had the previous night to get to Nando’s. We arrived at the gate of the station. I read the name of the station in hindi- ‘mum-bei cent-ral” Oh! Mumbai Central!

When we got off I noticed my Boras. We walked through the foyer, through the rusting iron gates of the building, we then took a right to the ticketing office. There were many men offering the to-be- passengers to fill up their forms faster. They apparently charged 50 rupees for doing just that.

Shamu mama got the forms and started filling them up. He asked Riyaz to stand in line at the left most counter. Riyaz was victimized.

Just as we entered the ticketing office, there was a thud on one of its glass windows by the counters. A man had been shoved onto the glass window. It looked like an argument. Must have been one of those form-fillinf guys. People momentarily froze and started to stare at them. It was over and everyone was back to business..

A drugged, red-eyed and desperate looking man approached Riyaz offering to fill up the form.Riyaz was silent. He looked helplessly looked away. I had to do something. I was determined to ward the wacko off. I clutched mama’s bag that which I had to look over as he filled up our forms. I walked towards Riyaz and the drugged man.

“Arrey choddo bhai”, I said in a firm yet irritated tone. Ei let go of him.

‘Hum aap ko madad kar rahae hain’ he said slowly trying to convince me. We are helping you.

“Hum ne aap se madad manga kya?” I said get more irritated by his persistence. Did I ask you for help?”, “ look why don’t you leave us alone OK?”

“We are jest treing to halp you” he said. He sounded like a Paki, like the ones giving out pamphlets around Chung King Mansion in Tsim Sha Tsui.

“Madad nahi chahiyae! Bus!” Don’t need help, enough!” I said, firmly. He stared for a second or two and left us.

We walked of the ticketing office. Pigeons were perched on the high white walls. It looked great, typically India. We walked through the blue metal detectors, they have become our doors in public now..

We were at platform A2. The Rajdhani Express wasn’t there yet. Riyaz and I still had out heavy backpacks on our shoulder. We were facing each other, so that we could watch our backs. You never predict what can happen. It was tiring so we put our bagpacks down. Mama had to make a call so he gave us his smaller leather bag. He took it to work everyday. It looked something like what dad has back home. I tactfully placed the bag between my feet, securing it from being stolen.

It was exactly 5 on my watch. The clocks around the platform all showed different times. I stuck with mine. Riyaz and I attempted to read the Hindi menu on the board over the Tea stall next to us. “Chai.. Cap-e-chi-noh..” We can read! Wow Riyaz could still recognize some characters, its been a while since we last learnt them..

The train arrived. The captain signaled with the horn. I love that sound, sadly we don’t get that in Hong Kong with the hi-tech electric trains. We got onto the train and walked through the narrow aisle between the compartments. We were at seats 3839 and 40. We took our seats. The first things I did was pull out Shantaram. I was in the 600s now. Around two hundred fifty more pages and I’d be done.

I don’t want it do be done. I put it away consciously sometimes. Delayed gratification. Its just so much better to wait when you don’t want to be done with it. Reading has become an insatiable addiction. It’s my favorite pastime now.

The train had quite a few men in different uniforms. Some were in red, white and black-checkered shirts, some in camel-brown, and some in pale blue. First came the blankets. They were thick and heavy, we weren’t going to use it . We were going to go only up to Vapi. Some of the passengers were going all the way up to Delhi, which took a whopping 16 hours.

The compartment was pretty different from the ones I was used to. They had only two births, the seats were brown, unlike the pale blue ones. It was air-conditioned and had no curtains in the compartment except for the windows. The bogie was relatively narrow too.

Next came the bottled water It had a blue plastic label, with ‘Rail Neer’ on it. That was cool. The guys serving us on the train called us Bapu or Baba.. hmm that was pretty nice.

After a short white we got a plastic tray with a reasonable about of food. Riyaz and I hadn’t expected this at all. It had a triangular shaped cheese sandwich; a potato and pea samosa and mango flavored drink. The tray came with a tea kit, which had sugar, crème and a straw. The pink and white coconut based barfi like sweet was sinfully rich as Nishama would say..Later we got Tomato soup with pepper too.

The train started moving at around 5.45pm. On schedule. In a few moments it gained momentum and we were at top speed. It rattle and jerk occasionally, that was part and parcel of the journey. We zipped past many small towns with farms, all green. After an hour the night caught up and it was just darkness outside..

There was one passenger along with the three of us in the compartment. There was something peculiar about him. He wore white trainers with a dark blue shirt and dark blue jeans. He hadn’t spoken a word so we didn’t know where he was from. His features weren’t too obvious to associate him with any particular region. He wore his pants up high; his belt was around his navel. He had a dark complexion, he had lines down his cheeks, and he had to be around 40. He looked at everything through his round spectacles with disdain. His watch was too tightly strapped. He had a thick black moustache and his hair was thinning, he was definitely in forties. He had this ridiculous stare it was a nonchalant and snobbish sort of stare. I didn’t like it.

The way he picked up the tea kit urged me to comment about his strange actions. He picked it up as though it was a cockroach, by the corner of the packet with two fingers.

“Ivana patha osuvasa madhiri irke” I said in tamil asthough it was a casual conversational comment. He looks like a person who has Obsessive–compulsive disorder, when loosely translated to English.

Everyone agreed, mama and Riyaz had observed too. He was weird.

A moment or so later, the man called someone and spoke in Malayalam. We were stunned. Malyalam and tamil have quite a bit of resemblence. I bet that the call was a deliberate cue, showing that maybe he understood that her was the subject of our little exchange of words.

“Osuvas, is from Arabic-” I said in Tamil still stunned, yet doubtful about whether the man had understood what I had just said about him earlier. “-he couldn’t have understood.” I said confidently still conversing in Tamil but at a faster pace.

Soon after the guy moved to another compartment and, but he left his baggage behind. We had the whole compartment to ourselves all the way up to Vapi.

That was some fun!

My Ambition(s).

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 16:54:00 +0000

Everyone has ambitions. Big or small; beneficial or detrimental; realistic or unrealistic, long term and short term the list goes on. Regardless of which category the ambitions fall into, everyone has them. To keep things brief, I will religiously try and leave out personal ambitions and stick to ones regarding my career, education and kayalpatnam.

As a child, computers, and anything electronic fascinated me. I loved asking questions about anything and everything. My mother would try to the best of her ability to give me accurate answers to the demanding questions of my hungry mind. Regarding computers she couldn’t answer most of them, nor could my grand parents. I would resort to experiments to get what I needed.

My fascination for computers compelled me to find out how they worked and how they looked like on the inside. I would dismantle the case of the central processing unit countless number of times and examine its circuitry and its outer-space like components. I studied the parts, but I couldn’t make much sense of it. I wanted to know more.

I read magazines from the age of 8. PC World. Chip. PC Mag. It helped me comprehend the functions and understand those outer-space like components with more knowledge. I was onto other electronic products too. Opening up radios and various other things.

I wanted to be a scientist back then. That soon died out. Now I hope to pursue my bachelors in Computer Engineering. I have two friends in HKU doing electrical engineering. According to their experience Engineering isn’t easy. Its one of my ambitions to know the computer inside out. Engineering will help me get closer to that.

At a more mature age of 17, I saw that business drives everything. Elders in the family told me and revealed to me how business was on top of everything. It was business transactions, markets, demands for goods and various other things that created the need for jobs. Their mindset was an eye-opener for me.

We have all heard about Wall Street and how it affects our life drastically. It can cause the economies of the world to soar, or plunge to the depths of recession. I have a deep interest in how things work. The business world is complex and intriguing. In my opinion, the business world is a male dominated area. Being a man I feel that I ought to know and understand its workings.

I have an aim to pursue a degree in MBA. This would be beneficial for me. If there is one thing that I think I really ought to master, its managing people. I normally take up position of leadership at class and at school activities. It gives me great pleasure to be a leader. It’s difficult to be one, as you need to have indefatigable spirit and position amongst your peers for the job to be done by the deadline.

A few years back, if you asked me where I wanted to work I would have said without thinking twice “ I want to work at Microsoft.” Recently, due to the Palestinian and Israeli crisis, I started boycotting pro-Israeli companies. McDonalds, Marks and Spencer and Nestle to name a few. I found that Microsoft was one of the pro-Israeli companies. To my disbelief, Microsoft was helping our enemy. I don’t want to work for Microsoft after learning that. I dropped that ambition. Insha allah I hope to work in some of the Indian companies like Infosys or Wipro.

One of my other ambitions is to improve kayalpatnam. When I heard that kayalpatnam was now a town, I was honestly disappointed. It was a village, and it is supposed to stay that way.
I’ve been ignorant when I felt disappointed about Kayalpatnam’s development. It deserves to grow, and the people need a better standard of living. Our community as a whole needs to contribute to the development of kayalpatnam. I want to be a part of the force that makes Kayalpatnam a better place.

With each successive visit to kayalpatnam, things changed. There were fewer goats and chickens on the streets. More and more sectarian problems or ‘Jamath’ problems as they say were apparent. We are one people. Why are we dividing ourselves? United we stand, Divided we fall. We’ve said that ourselves a million times, but we never practice what we preach. People must be made aware of the Quran and Sunnah, and they should know if they are deviating from it. Most people follow blindly and fall prey to practicing misinterpreted teachings. We must all go back to the Quran and the Sunnah and nothing else. Then we can all be together again, undivided.

There are many things I would love to see improved in Kayalpatnam. To name a few, we need constant electricity supply and better availability of water and more facilities for women. I want kayalpatnam to have a better standard of living. I don’t know if its possible, but I’d like to start a private power company, supplying electricity for kayalpatnam alone. I have a feeling that it is indeed possible after seeing countless windmills in nearby towns.

Last but not least, I want women in kayalpatnam to have a place for themselves. A place they can do different things, things they might not be able to do in the presence of men. Attend yoga classes for example. This place should be strictly for women. In this way women can do things of their interest.

I’ve seen my very own sister not being able to go out and play like any other child at the age of 9 should be. Maybe society doesn’t allow it for various plausible reasons. If the women are being deprived of going out, they should be provided a place where women alone can go. It would only be fair to give them equal opportunities. The men have the Red Star Sangam, gyms and other places where they can meet friends and take part in various activities. Men can go to Internet cafés to get access to the wider world. Women should have this too.I want to set something up, Insha Allah.

Everyone has ambitions and these are some of mine. Insha Allah, if everything permits and if my ambitions are beneficial for all, I hope they materialize..

Movie Day.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 17:12:00 +0000

We've all wanted to go for a movie. Riyaz and I thought that a movie at the cinema was an experience we ought to have during our stay in Bombay. It makes the trip more complete.More Indian.

There were a whole list of movies that seemed appealing. I had actually promised to watch T 2 with Saad on the 26th of June. It didn't happen. I haven't even taken the time to watch Transformers 1, how was I to follow anyways? Besides I had to come here, to the city of dreams.

Here at prabhat, we wanted to watch Ice Age 3, but I unfortunately promised Ansari that I'd watch It with him in Chennai. Ayesha was really keen, but oh well. Saif and Riyaz were eager to watch Terminator Salvation. Nishama was interested in Kambakkht Ishq, and Riyaz didn't seem to mind and let go of the action-filled Terminator. I on the other hand wanted to watch something in Hindi, anything in Hindi.

I would have loved either kambakkht Ishq or New York. They were in Hindi..YAY! Saif was staunchly determined against kambakkht Ishq, for unknown reasons. I thought, maybe..he was sick of Hindi films. Which was understandable. Most of the Bollywood movies of this era, are highly repetitive in nature.It normally follows a well known equation, which is the bare skeleton of most of the love movies I have watched. Guy wants girl + [Guy chases girl + fight scenes]X6( catchy lyric filled songs) = Guy get girl. Its that simple.

We decided that we'd go for a movie instead of bowling on the 7th. the following day we were to leave at 4.15pm after asr prayers. It was a Tuesday, a safe day, where Ayesha's extra classes won't be interrupted.

The following day we ended up leaving home at 4.40pm. We were going to watch the movie at PVC cinemas in Phoenix mill.

The Phoenix mill is an old textile mill which is now used to house a variety of stores and entertainment facilities. I love the red and white chimney like structure right over McDonald's.

We still hadn't decided which show we were going to watch. We had missed the 5.30 show apparently. We strolled around the mill, browsed a stationary and electronic products store. It killed some time. We had an earlier dinner. The food was like a shwarma lookalike. I had a Murgh Angaarah. It was delicious. I just wished it was as big as the shwarmas at Ebeneezers, nothing beats its tantalizing flavours..

We were going to Kambakkht Ishq. The show was to start at 7.35pm. It was around quarter to 7 when we had finished our scrumptious yet oily early dinner. I had a Thumbs Up. Something different for a change, I don't think you get them anywhere else but in India. It tastes different from Coca Cola. Trust me, it did.

We walked into the cinema. Men and woman had different entrances. The glass doors were followed by a walk-through metal detector. A beeping noise signals the guard ahead to nonchalantly run the hand-held metal detector over your body with the least bit of care, and subsequently let you pass.

As soon as we passed, we were joking about the security checks.'I have a bomb! I have a bomb! Check me! Check me! You can't catch me..its gonna blow!!' i said in a hushed voice. These security checks seem to be more of a nuisance to me than anything.. I whish we could buy a I'm not a terrorist badge with Bush on it and just walk free.

We were at hall no. 7, which was on the higher level we took the escalator to get there. The lighting was great. Not too bright, not too dim, it was just right. It also had sitting lounges which looked like caves in the walls with couches in them.

We saw a pizza counter. The guy at the counter, just moments ago had vanished. Saif, Riyaz and I went to the ground floor and ordered a few slices. They were huge. I picked the Shanghai slice. It would be delivered to us while we were watching the movies. How cool! Delivery service!

The movie hall was scarcely filled. It was nearly empty. It would have been a better experience with more people though. we took out seats. Advertisements were on. Without notice, the national anthem was playing. I didn't realize till the first few seconds. The crowd momentarily rose. 'Don't tell me-' i found myself saying.' I couldn't hold the smile, I tried to follow, but didn't know more than a couple of lines..I watched in an exasperated trance..

Thankfully it was over in a minute. The movie started after a while. It was vulgar, crude, and jam packed with stuff our grandparents would consider as taboo. It was about a super stuntman and a supermodel. Yeah..Interesting.

'When in Rome. Do the Romans!' - The best line ever!

It had taken us 45 minutes to get there and 20 minutes to get back. It was a smooth ride back. We went home in two taxis again. The movie was OK. More of a guy movie in my opinion. I can't wait for Ice Age 3 with Ansari . If I go to Chennai that is..

Bombay.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 07:00:00 +0000

At Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport., everything seemed haphazard. To start with, as we were getting off the airplane, the air hostess greets Riyaz with a 'good-afternoon' rather than a 'good-bye'. Riyaz was a bit puzzled. Immediately she realized her mistake and she conceded with a laugh. 'Thank you!Good-bye!' We were all smiles.

As we got off, there was a hoard of men in blue uniform. India here it was, flooded with people. We got out of the carpeted tunnel and we walked into the building. A few more paces, we took a right, through the glass doors and into the immigration area. There were many lanes with queuing lines shaped like a maze. We decided to skip them, waiting at an open corner which pretty much everyone was taking advantage of.

I was at counter 9. The officer seemed friendly, he wore a smile as he looked through y passport. I too instinctively returned a genuine smile. I knew he was looking at my picture in the book.
'A lot has changed, I look way older.' I said with a grin.
'Yes, you've grown a lot.' he said with a smile.
'I took that when I was around 9'
He looked at the passport and then at me, still smiling.
'I grew too quickly- I blame the hormones.' I mused.
He smiled widely and let me pass..

Riyaz was still at the counter. I waved at him, but he didn't seem to notice. I need the washroom. It was urgent. I couldn't wait around for him. We wanted to take a leak at the washroom by the maze line, but seeing the swarm of people around us we decided not to.

The washroom was dingy, wet-floored, and was guarded by a janitor on the inside. It was creepy, it seemed like he was a vulture, timing his attack to scavenge for a tip. Attending nature's call, which seemed to last for ever, It felt like my bladder had stretched to its limits. At the wash basin, I washed my hands and ignored the janitor in the mirror. I searched for tissue paper. It was vomit green. Now I've never seen that anywhere. Riyaz too was bewildered. We laughed, it was just something we never expected.

We collected our bags from the belt and moved on to the 'Nothing To Declare' section. There was one of those ubiquitous baggage scanning machines, just like at any other airport. Riyaz and I had a perception that it was mandatory security maintenance procedure. However we couldn't get over how couple of people could just ignore the ruddy machine and walk free!
'Did she just walk away without doing this crap?', I demanded.
'Looks like!LOL!'
'I mean what the hell? Oh..maybe because shes tall.. maybe they don't check tall people..'
'hahaha.. god knows.'
We couldn't make any sense of it. The woman in front of us was controlling her smile , overhearing us. We knew its better to play it safe, and just do what we normally do.

It was gloomy outside. We got out, unable to find Saif, we decided to move to the left side. Saif spotted us. It seemed like he has grown a bit. The airport seemed like it had a face lift. It had white tent like structures with lights, it looked nice. It was still under construction, when dad and I came here last year.

We got a pre-paid taxi. The north of the city looked chaotic, yet calm. I loved it. Andheri seems a bit different from Churchgate in the south at least. It seemed to resemble Chennai in some way. It was great to be back.

Around Mahim, just after Mahim Church, the taxi broke down. It was predictable with the roar of the engine that preceded. A connector or something was broken in the engine. The driver assured that he'd fix it in a few minutes or he would give us a refund and put us on another taxi if necessary. He left without his slippers to fetch the part at a nearby hardware store. He jogged around the curb and he was gone. It was going to take longer that expected. We all knew that.

A man came to the backseat window by Riyaz, and asked for money. He was a beggar. He was murmuring something about God, his people or blessed people or God's people or something. I couldn't get the money in time, rummaging for it took a while. Saif gave him some. He happily accepted it and praised God and his blessed people or something. I feel heartbroken, when I see people at such a state that they resort to begging for survival. It brings me to tears to see children to see people, especially women and children at such a state. I hope things change. I hope I can change things. I want to change things. I hope my plans work out in the future. Allah Knows best.

A while later we were at Prabhat. Its funny how things seem massive and capacious as kids, and when you see the very place years later, they seem small. You can almost believe that the place had shrunken to quarter of it's real size we once knew.

At no.11 flashes of memories everywhere, in every room. Prabhat is a special place and Mumbai a home for all..

Delayed.

noreply@blogger.com (Majnun) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 03:08:00 +0000

Tired. Still waiting for the flight to Bombay, and yes delayed. Inevitable you say? Well whaddya know? It's Air India, bringing India to you! Ahh feels like home.

A gloomy start.. its raining here and the Indian monsoon won't be any better. From my previous experience, its going to be hot and humid. The rain , which is ever so bountiful at this time of the year, only makes things worse. It's more a curse than a blessing. It feels as though the angels can't control those clouds anymore..

We've been delayed for more than I had expected. 'Technical difficulty'. The plane was supposed to take off/ fly away/ depart or LEAVE @ 6.40pm. It's 8.45pm and I'm still counting. 2 hours and 5 minutes..hmmm..Apparently the engineers down there will inform the very courteous staff up here when the boarding can commence.

I have a couple of burning questions. Who are these engineers? Are they Indian? If yes, is that why we're being delayed?Oh and yeah, how did they get through engineering school? damn they seem lazy! Excuse me of my very ignorant questions. I just hope It doesn't get delayed any further.

Riyaz is reading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. I'm positive he's going to love it. I just Hope his eye power doesn't go up. If he notices his power increasing, hes going to drop that splendid book. He always does that, its a shame..

Tomorrow, I have to do lots of things. I just pray that those important tasks don't get delayed.

Okay..Riyaz just threw the book into his bag. hmm..Things look suspicious- 3 hours?Why? I hope we get to know. The Pilots just getting on board.

Another anouncement-Its Cancelled.

All the passengers have been called to the information desk. Interesting. We might get to know whats going on. The anouncement wasnt clear, and the people were turning raucous.

Form bits of conversation around us, Riyaz and I found out that we were to stay at The Regal. A part of the plane was apparently broken, and those bits of machinery had to be brought to HK from Bombay. Another day in HK. We had to go through immigration, fill up a silly health form, and what not.

When we were out we waited for dad to bring some things. Mum came along too. They got extra clothes and some other stuff. While Mum, Riyaz and I went to the Hotel , Dad went to the Air india Office at the Airport and managed to get Cathay for us. Great. No more Air India Problems. The room was awesome. The food was delicious.

The next day after lunch we left earlier than all the other passengers with us the night before. We were at gate 4 this time, which changed to gate 27. It was better than taking the train like before to gate 45. Everything was much faster and we landed 30 minutes before schedule. Brilliant!

Finally.. Bombay.. with the cataclysmic rain..