Dear Pakistan… You have a new ruler now. He’s been tried and tested twice before now… They weren’t very good experiences. But the people of Pakistan want to try him again. Let’s see how the next 5 years turn out for you. We’re still with you. We’re still trying.
Dear Country… We know you’re tired. But you do know, the night has to get quite dark, darker than it is now, before light starts coming through. And when it does come through, it’s going to shine bright. Until then, we’ll continue doing our part.
Dear country… We will continue doing our part, I assure you. We will not give up on you. Even though, hope seems to be scarce right now, but we’re going to get back up, and we’re going to fight for you. We will make sure Pakistan becomes Pakistan, literally. We will see the sun rising, but unfortunately, we will have to see it set completely before it rises.
Dear country… We got you after a gazillion sacrifices, we do not want to lose you now… Not after we’ve come so far. When I think of the time period from 1930 to 1947, I see the Muslims of the subcontinent trying so hard, for you. Crying for you, dying for you, breathing for you. Giving everything up in hopes of you. Sacrificing their days and nights, their blood and sweat, their lives and their homes, their families, their present, past and future… I imagine what they must have felt when they actually witnessed your creation… And I imagine the pain and bliss of those who never got to see you but believed with everything they had, that their sacrifices would mean a lot to you. Then I imagine the torture they must have all felt, and the pain you must have suffered when you were divided, after being complete for not very long. When a part of you separated itself from you… But you survived it. You got back up, and so did the people. You always do, my dear Pakistan… You are strong. You’ve had to be.
Dear country… Live strong. You will survive this wave too. Your people are waking up from their deep slumber. There is hope still. You are the land we acquired in the name of Allah. He will make sure you survive, and rise…as high as you can.
I have a strange attachment to some objects… A passionate attachment. And it is usually those objects that face an unfortunate end. There were the green and white bracelets that had been gifted to me by a close friend. I was deathly angry at my sister when she pulled at them and the beads scattered all over the floor. I still have the beads, safe in a box. There was a silver ring… that I lost. And cried over. Several other things that I do not remember anymore.
A few days ago..I got a mug. A huge mug with thick edges. It was heavy, reliable, and beautiful. It was a gift too. We couldn’t use it to drink in, so I started using it as a pencil holder, and it sat proudly on my desk for a few days… And for some insane reason, I actually started studying intently, with that mug on my desk. I didn’t know I had become attached to it, but everyday I would spend some time re-arranging the stuff in that mug, putting it on its proper place.
Then, last night… The mug met its fateful end. My sister threw a cushion at me, sending it flying on my desk instead, causing the mug to fall back on the carpet. And it broke. For a few seconds, I could not believe it. I couldn’t figure out how to react. And then…. The anger I felt, was insane. I was so angry, that I couldn’t possibly hold it in. I didn’t even bother picking up the pieces…
I haven’t given up on it. I’m going to fix this one. It has thick edges, and it didn’t break into unsalvageable pieces. So i’m going to try and fix it. Hopefully, it will work…
Alhamdulillah, my son recently completed Hifz, (memorization of Quran). We moved from Karachi to Winnipeg, having not been in a regular school for about 2 years, I was worried about how he would cope. Especially with the language issue, and that he would be learning French for the first time in his life. Now, just 6 moths later he is multilingual, can read, write and speak Urdu and English.
This was written recently by a friend… It makes perfect sense to me, because I know the meaning behind it. But to someone who doesn’t know the background to this poem, what does it say?
My feet tied down,
My heart slowly slowing…
I am miserably dying,
But I can’t stop trying.
My life suddenly gone,
All my goodness torn.
More hatred born.
I’m left lovelorn.
I am left behind,
And all the love gone.
I am dying,
But I can’t stop trying.
I’ve been really lazy with writing this entire month. What with the schedule, and all the distractions. I still love writing, but there needs to be something pressuring me, and inspiration. Only then can I write well and with heart. Does that make sense?
So today, I’m literally forcing myself to write something. I was hoping this would be something meaningful, but sadly, it looks like a page from a daily diary. Words of advice, anyone?
“When I Grow Up” follows the imagination of a young boy’s dreams for his future.
Direction, Animation, & Story by: Colin Hesterly
Score: Cyrille Marchesseau
Sound Design: Brendan J. Hogan at Pico Sound
I found this on http://www.shrtfilms.com and it inspired me, even though it’s soo short and simple…