Interview conduction

I have conducted my interview with the gatekeeper of Hostel-2, University Of Peshawar. The gatekeeper named Shafiq Ahmed is appointed on night duty. He basically belongs to Abbottabad. He has been on service from last 30 years, and performs his duty in Hostel-2 from 10 years.

I have asked several questions regarding students, hostel, and administration. His views about the students of the hostel was satisfied. According to him, the students are well mannered and cooperative. He praised the attitude and behaviour of different students of the hostel. Specially, I posed a question about various students federations like PSF, ISF and JTI. He was also pleased from them, and it was pretty good to be heard from such an honourable man.

When I enquired about hostel, he talked about an issue which the university hostels face from 6 years. The staff of the hostel are limited. He said that when I was appointed back in 1996, the total staff members were about 30, but now the numbers are plummeted. He asserted that there were six members on duty earlier but currently on service members are four in this hostel. He further stated that we have submitted an application to the administration regarding this issue but they are silent.

In the last, he has given his advice to the students of the hostel. He directed students to work hard and focused on your goal. He also added to not waste your time in the university as well as the time and money of your father.

On Forgiveness

I completed one round of trip. I paused for a while, and looked up at the sky. I was tired. I walked again in the lawn with empty mind. I walked and paused. Then I walked aimlessly. A mind which was empty; a joke, a serious joke. How could a mind be empty with no thoughts? But it was; nothing positive or negative. It was just like a body without soul, a mouth without tongue and a nose unable to breathe.

I sat on the bench. It was cold November night. It was an empty sky with no stars. Besides me, an empty bed with no being. I had nothing to resist my shivering. Still I prefered an open atmosphere to think. The trees were around me. There was only one light, one light, of course, one light. Suddenly, I felt severe cold and looked at it. A jumbled thoughts ran over me.

I realised the trauma I have just passed through. I struggled. I succeeded. I beat it with all courage and hope. A hope which let me lived. “Hope will never disappoint you; expectations will. Hope has wings; expectations has no, but still fly wilder in the universe,” my heart uttered.

The trauma had granted me a life full of flavours, sweet and bitter. Sweet in the manner of wisdom; bitter in the manner of suffering. Wisdom and suffering are associated to either chastity or forgiveness. Chastity I withhold, and forgiveness I behold.

I searched the tales of woe and forgiveness in the pages of history. “Forgive your enemies, but don’t forget their names,” John F. Kennedy said. How to forgive without forget? A question visited me multiple times. You must forget to forgive.

I remembered the days when I was shattered. The days when I was under a cloud. The days when I was restless. The days of struggle, the days of suffering, the days of sorrow; yes, the days of tears.

How to forgive? How to forgive? How? I asked myself? The man who wrenched my heart. The man who chuckled my chest. The man who scratched my body. It is an ideal job to forgive such a man, I think.

I read the stories of Prophet Muhammad, Nelson Mandela and Bacha Khan. Inter alia, these are the three leaders in the history of world. The three inspiration of a depressed soul. The three voices of hope. The three strugglers for change. They endeavoured all the troubles in their life. All these leaders narrated the philosophy of forgiveness.

I was a man who thought that forgiveness is a mistake. After the day, I walked, and then sat on the same bench. I reflected upon three stories. All I found is forgiveness. My mind went back to the quote, “the best revenge I believe is no revenge.”

The three voices combinely echoed in my ear to … I resisted and said, “how?, how could I forget?” I cried. In a little while, the tears on my face became shiny. The heartbeat became relaxed. Again the three voices strongly echoed in my ear to forgive, forgive, forgive.

The voices lighted up my heart. I left my bench. I opened my wings. I looked up to the sky. The sky was starry. I took breath in open atmosphere. At last, I walked, walked and walked with a mind full of meaningful thoughts.

~Saad Ul Haq

Peshawar __ د ګلونو ښار

 

The Starry reflection of my eyes,

The ticking clock of my mind,

The heroic words of my soil,

The zealous fight of my ladders,

Take me in their bosom

Like the blossom flowers of spring,

Introduced me to the blessing of blessings __

The city of flowers.

From the reign of Mughal

To the kingdom of British;

From the struggle of history

To the chaos of the present;

From the chain of slavery

To the breath of freedom;

One city stands high __

The city of flowers.

The connection of two lovers

Like meaning of shadow discovers

By the mushy thruway of Khyber Pass,

The journey of love, along with goods.

The utterance of a Bees __ Pushto

 In the bubble of hives

Spreads like the fragrance of flowers

In the city of flowers.

The historical building of Islamia College

Whispers for the pursuit of knowledge,

Where memories crafted on the wall

Reminds the echoed voices of the hall.

University Of Peshawar remains bright

Like a mother in children right,

Where curious minds grow;

Virtue blow and evils bow.

A city where taste buds dance

With the flavour of eyes’ glance

At the various bites __ in advance

From Charsi Tikka to Shinwari Rice;

From Traskoon Machli to Jalil Kabaab;

And to the Rosh of Lal Chapor in Karkhano __

A place of eating and dining

In the city of flowers.

Qissa Khwani, the -licious eyes of Peshawar

like Layla’s lashes in the eyes of Majnun

where footsteps sigh in gay

at the Kabli Gate way.

The utterance of scores souls

Like bird’s chirping in the holes,

Adds to the essence of scenery

Like grass in a garden greenery.

The court where judges practice,

The hard battle of justice,

The innocent tries to saw,

The breath of life in law.

The assembly shatters with voice,

With the freedom of member’s choice,

The speaker stands with right,

Like a candle in night.

Among the hills, the stage of beauty

Where people perform their duty,

Hayatabad, the portrait of merry land

Like the hustle and bustle of the band.

Apart, mind dreams of very height

In ecstasy of Saddar’s white light

Where merchants come for trade,

Chattels remain but wishes not fade.

History of war, reminder of Qila Bala Hissar

From Babur’s troop to Frontier group.

The people likes too, the sight of Zoo,

Where animals roar like waves uproar.

More than more moreover more,

The modern wheels in its core,

Where thousands step in a day,

From Karkhano to Chamkanay.

~Saad Ul Haq 

The voice of Silence

 

I am

Sitting on a shore,

Listening to …

The voice of silence,

It means __

Nothing matters to me.

Oh so

Reminds the bird’s chirping,

I feel …

The beauty of silence,

It means __

Nothing matters to me.

Then kindly

Think of ruNning water,

But I … 

Excites with deep water,

It means __

Nothing matters to me.

My chum

Asks about sweet melody?

I laugh …

Laugh at the noise,

It means __

Nothing matters to me.

Then how

Life to be lived?

I look …

Look at the silentvoice,

It means __

Nothing matters to me.

Saad Ul Haq

Sat, 9 Nov, 2024

1:58

Library, Bacon and Friend

 

I enter library with a full package. By full package I mean of a heart yearning for something to absorb. I have Bacon in my hand. I have a friend to talk. I have studysouls to observe. I have surplus to read. I sit in a chair and start Bacon to read: The Essays Of Bacon. Above all, I have music to muse myself. Greater than less, I have wisdom to gain. Moreover, I have mind to ramble; a thought to shatter; a soul to breath; a body to move. By more than more, I have emptiness to write.

A Library, a Bacon in hand and a friend to talk is the virtue for my existence. Library is place where a martyred soul can breath, a mind to glow and a thought to organize. It is a place where every individual inspired from the script of great writers, leaders, philosophers etc. It is a place where words find its way to enter your mind just like water in the hills find its way to flow.

Library and history have deep relation: The relation of people. The only thing I observe in the library are people. Every page in a book is a face of individual reveal something old in a new shape. There is more to learn from people than books. Indeed, books are best way of consuming it all. Don’t confuse yourself; just try to understand. Books are the stories of unrecognized faces which open the mystery of known faces.

I love the smell of old pages and their desolated stories. I feel the pain. I feel the joy. I try to understand and imagine their tales of woe. Books are living stories, not the dead one. I am addicted to it. Kafka rightly says that “books are a narcotic.”

“You shall read that we are commanded to forgive our enemies, but you will never read that we are commanded to forgive our friends,” says Bacon in his essay Of Revenge. I am an inspired literary buddy of him. I recently start his book of essays. All I learn is through his writing which works as a candle in dark for me.

Bacon for me is a literary genius. Today I am directly expose to study Bacon and gain insights of his knowledge. A company which he granted me is unforgettable. I will cherish his ideas throughout my life. Every new page of his book reveal something fascinating. Indeed, he will be remember for a reason in a history. I am more concerned to his writing rather than his life because I don’t know a bit of it. I want to know; I will.

From where the idea of a friend came into existence? Who called whom friend? What is it? Who describe it? More than all questions, how to define and spot it? These are simple yet complex questions to deal. No one think of it; but, everyone pass through it.

Book is a friend. Bacon is a friend. Essay is a friend. Human is a friend. All of these I found in library. Yes, in library. We all have friends. We are delighted in their company. Bacon in his essay Of Friendship quote Nietzsche: “Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.”

Are you a wild beast or a god?

What do you think of a friend? Which idea of a friend is most fascinating for you? We all have a need of belonging. We all are connected in one or another way. According to me, anything which give comfortable company is your friend. It can be a book, diary, story, human and even your thoughts.

I am a library. I am Bacon. I am a friend.

Saad Ul Haq 

Two Habits Of Heart

  

A vacuous heart is floundering between two extremes in which there is no mean. Extreme is the father of instability while mean is the mother of stability. The stability leads a man to his ability. Ability defines his strength. Strength captures the ultimate goal of his life.

The two extremes habits of heart are past and future. Our hearts either live in the past or wish for the future.

On the one hand, past is the crux of memories which stimulate the soul of heart. The vanish scenes of past come in front of us. Heart approves or disapproves the memories of past by realizing their meaning. Heart giggles with the sweet memories while weeps with bitter memories. In short, heart lives between the scuffle of good and bad.

On the other hand, future is the crux of optimism which jerk the emotional satisfaction of heart. Future is unpredictable. We lost our entire energy for the safest future which is focal point of problem. We can’t ignore the fruit of future, but we should be calm and wise in strengthening the root of a growing tree.

The mean which is void of meaning is the present of human. Human heart losses the spirit of present time. Heart either swimming in the river of past or embedded in the whims of future. Human should focus on point of present. As Jonathan Swift says, “ Live the life you love; love the life you live.”

                           Past is memory;

                           Present is beauty;

                           Future is bumpy.

( Saad Ul Haq )

In a twisted cage

Once saw I a man

Full of resilience,

In a twisted cage

Full of darkness.

The nasty thought shattered

A sleeping soul,

The humble wind blew

Opposite to goal.

Dreamt about the past,

Reminding the laugh

Combining with the laugh

Full of sweetness.

The glorious moon changed,

The intense light changed,

As a result,

The trusty vibes changed.

Oh! The man shrieked,

No one heard

A silent cry

Full of grief.

The gloomy weather passed,

In a gradual sense,

A new taste entered

With a clear essence.

                                                    Saad Ul Haq 

                                                    26 March, 2024

                                                     2:47 am