Hi Laura,
Thanks for trusting me with this Noble job of utilising your late husbands 4.8 Million GBP. I have always wanted to help the less privileged and destiny kicked fellow humans in my life. Although I never had money to help them financially I always include them in my daily prayers before sleeping. I request you not to die before you transfer me the money. I am not a bad person you can ask my wife and my mother also. Recently my country is hit by Swine flu as well and people are dying like swine or killing swine. I also want to help people suffering from swine flu and poor pigs who just cant help shitting flu. So once you die after transferring the money to me I can assure you not only these people but the animals also whom I will save will include you in their prayers.
Let me know how soon can you send me the money.
Very sincerely
Ashraf
From: Laura J. Carvon [mailto:bjosie@bellsouth.net]
Sent: 20 August 2009 18:45
To: undisclosed recipients:
Subject: Dear Friend
Dear Friend,
I hope that this e-mail reached you in the right frame of Mind.
I am Mrs laura j Carvon , I am suffering from cancerous ailment,When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of 4.8 Million Great Britain Pounds Sterling which were derived from his vast estates and investment in capital market with his bank here in UK. Presently, this money is still with the Bank. Recently, my Doctor told me that I have limited days to live due to the cancerous problems I am suffering from. Though what bothers me most is the stroke that I have in addition to the cancer. With this hard reality that has befallen my family and me, I have decided to donate this fund to you and want you to use this gift which comes from my husbands effort to fund the upkeep of widows, widowers, orphans, destitute, the down-trodden, physically challenged children, barren women and persons who prove to be genuinely handicapped financially.
Please contact me on the email below for further clarifications:
laurajenkinscharity@w.cn
Sincerely,
laura j Carvon.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Being Creative Elephant
The problem is never how to get new, innovative thoughts into your mind, but how to get old ones out. Every mind is a building filled with archaic furniture. Clean out a corner of your mind and creativity will instantly fill it. – Dee Hock
When still a baby, the elephant is tethered by a very thick rope to a stake firmly hammered into the ground. The elephant tries several times to get free, but it lacks the strength to do so. After some time, the animal gives up trying, believing that it cannot be free.
At this point, the trainer changes the thick rope to a thin one but the elephant makes no attempt to run away. Even when the elephant reaches adulthood, it continues to be tethered by a thin rope, reconciled to its captivity.
As we grow up and gain experience, we absorb assumptions which then drive our life and limit our choices. They are similar to the elephant’s thin rope tied to a post. We can break away from them with a simple tug if we want to but we don’t.
As we acquire more and more experience, our repertoire of blind assumptions grows too, correspondingly limiting our choices. Our experience becomes a hindrance in our being creative.
I have identified few of such tethers of elephant size which more than often holds me back from being creative. Questions is am I willing to break free... I am not sure... what do you think?
What will people think?
My self-consciousness is one big hurdle in my being creative. I don’t even try to do so many things in life because I am afraid of making a fool of myself. We waste a lot of our energy in protecting ourself and presenting a ‘good’ image.
We had no such inhibitions as a child and therefore we were naturally creative. It is perhaps the fear of the unknown and what might happen that makes us self-conscious. It holds us back and hinders our creativity.
When we walk into something in spite of the fear, it simply vanishes because by then the unknown turns into the known. The trick is not to think in terms of conquering fear but being with it.
That’s what I did lately when cupid struck me... I got my life partner...not saying every time you do that you will get your life partner but it will be worthwhile...try it...you can check Mrs.Ashraf’s snap to boost your morale :)
But I’ve never had any great ideas!
Most people don’t have enough opportunities to bring out their creativity. So their creative abilities remain untapped. It seems to make no difference because not being creative is not too inconvenient.
Being creative is actually a search for a better way and in today’s world most solutions come ready-made. Most of the things that you do have been researched and the ‘best’ ways to do them have been arrived at.
Most people follow the standard ‘best’ ways without questioning – how to clean teeth, how to reach office, etc. They do a great number of tasks automatically.
Trying a ‘different way’ may in fact be inconvenient in most situations – driving speed, the route to office, how to tie your shoe knots, standing in the queues, etc.
Most of these automatic ways are perhaps good. By sticking with them, you are able to accomplish many tasks without thinking. They save time but you end up with the habit of not thinking afresh.
Over time, you develop attitudes and assumptions which prevent you from thinking creatively, locking you into the existing ways of thinking and doing things. You become a prisoner of familiarity. You never have great ideas.
As a result, even when the need arises for you to think differently and generate new ideas, you are unable to do so.
I somehow am unable to break this shackle. If you can, share the trick.
What is the right answer?
One of the worst aspects of formal education is the focus on the correct answer to a question or problem. When somebody asks a question, you generally give an acceptable answer instead of an original one fearing it might be wrong.
While this approach helps you to function smoothly in society, it hurts creative thinking. Real-life issues are ambiguous. There is no one single answer to any problem. There can be several answers if only you think about them. They may all be contradictory and yet correct. Women are great in that. My wife at the risk of being stupid ends up making me feel stupid, rigid and uni-focused.
I don’t want to fail.
The fear of failure is something that you learn in school…and it never just goes away. All through school, you perhaps take hundreds of tests, exams, assignments, etc. You are in one big trouble if you fail even once. You are scared of failure.
By the time you finish school, the fear of failure has seeped into your system and you avoid situations which could result in failure. You are extra-careful about whatever you take up. You learn the art of playing safe.
The fear of failure does not let us try new things, crippling our creativity. If you look back and if you are someone like me perhaps you will find more failures than triumphs. Makes you wonder what did that fear actually result in actual?
That’s not my area.
Creativity requires finding connections between unrelated things. The diversity of your interests and experiences enhances your ability to find connections.
When you explore completely unrelated areas, you are pleasantly surprised by the interrelatedness of almost everything. You start seeing new possibilities when you discover new connections.
In an era of hyper-specialization, the scope of work is getting narrower and narrower. Loss of creativity is the immediate casualty.
Sticking to ones area is bound to takes it toll on being Creative
I don’t like uncertainty.
If you are not confused, you are not thinking clearly – Tom Peters
Till few months I didn’t know what the above shit means...
When people are confused, they feel compelled to resolve the situation quickly, making it systematic and orderly again. They are likely to miss the key issues in their haste to do so.
There is something in our culture or perhaps in the education system, which makes us want to be ‘knowers’ rather than ‘find-outers’.
This attachment to ‘knowing’ makes you feel jittery and inept when you ‘don’t know’. This tendency is so engrained that even small kids begin to lose their curiosity in order to become ‘knowers’.
However, when it comes to creative thinking, not knowing is a good thing and ambiguity is a great thing. Certainty is the enemy of creativity.
If you are certain about something, you don’t have much leeway to generate new ideas to solve problems.
That’s the way it is done!
The need for standard ways of doing things is perfectly legitimate. But then it gives rise to an ever increasing number of rules that govern people’s lives.
While some of the rules are legitimate, some are totally unfounded. They are not very different from the thin rope that tethers the elephant. This is bane of our Indian society which I am the byproduct. Maybe in next post I will tell you more about what a fool I make of myself most of the time when I talk with my wife on the way things should be done.
Everyone says so.
When all think alike, then no one is thinking. — Walter Lippman
The desire to belong is a powerful one and at times it leads to ‘groupthink’. This herd approach is probably a relic from the cave age. It is important to have a mind of your own in order to be creative. I can say I came out of the cave but unfortunately I still reside on the trees.
I feel safe when I am like everyone else.
People start off as unique beings. They are very different from each other as children and young adults with their very own likes and dislikes.
Yet, as if by magic, they get into a common mould after they reach their thirties. Their likes, dislikes, wants, needs and goals somehow begin to converge. They seem to become more and more like one another.
As a result, their creative abilities suffer. I am still few years away from reaching my thirties. What age are you?
I have strong views and firm opinions.
There are people who pride themselves for having firm stands and being inflexible. They have strong views and unshakable opinions. They are too judgmental.
Being judgmental means blocking or ignoring other points of views. It means reducing your options and leaving your mind with much less to work with. It is then reflected in your ability to generate ideas and solutions.
When you are nonjudgmental, you have an open mind. You have more choices. Being nonjudgmental reduces the surface functioning of your mind, stimulating its deeper functioning.
The trick is to allow ones unconscious mind to throw up more ideas into his conscious mind.
Why keep thinking unnecessarily when I have found the answer?
Such is the hurry to find a solution that people are satisfied with the first one that comes to their mind. They stop thinking further.
However, if you don’t share your ‘first’ idea and keep thinking more and more, the subsequent ones are sure to be better.
The more you think, the more the chances to find better solutions. You never know when you will hit the jackpot.
When still a baby, the elephant is tethered by a very thick rope to a stake firmly hammered into the ground. The elephant tries several times to get free, but it lacks the strength to do so. After some time, the animal gives up trying, believing that it cannot be free.
At this point, the trainer changes the thick rope to a thin one but the elephant makes no attempt to run away. Even when the elephant reaches adulthood, it continues to be tethered by a thin rope, reconciled to its captivity.
As we grow up and gain experience, we absorb assumptions which then drive our life and limit our choices. They are similar to the elephant’s thin rope tied to a post. We can break away from them with a simple tug if we want to but we don’t.
As we acquire more and more experience, our repertoire of blind assumptions grows too, correspondingly limiting our choices. Our experience becomes a hindrance in our being creative.
I have identified few of such tethers of elephant size which more than often holds me back from being creative. Questions is am I willing to break free... I am not sure... what do you think?
What will people think?
My self-consciousness is one big hurdle in my being creative. I don’t even try to do so many things in life because I am afraid of making a fool of myself. We waste a lot of our energy in protecting ourself and presenting a ‘good’ image.
We had no such inhibitions as a child and therefore we were naturally creative. It is perhaps the fear of the unknown and what might happen that makes us self-conscious. It holds us back and hinders our creativity.
When we walk into something in spite of the fear, it simply vanishes because by then the unknown turns into the known. The trick is not to think in terms of conquering fear but being with it.
That’s what I did lately when cupid struck me... I got my life partner...not saying every time you do that you will get your life partner but it will be worthwhile...try it...you can check Mrs.Ashraf’s snap to boost your morale :)
But I’ve never had any great ideas!
Most people don’t have enough opportunities to bring out their creativity. So their creative abilities remain untapped. It seems to make no difference because not being creative is not too inconvenient.
Being creative is actually a search for a better way and in today’s world most solutions come ready-made. Most of the things that you do have been researched and the ‘best’ ways to do them have been arrived at.
Most people follow the standard ‘best’ ways without questioning – how to clean teeth, how to reach office, etc. They do a great number of tasks automatically.
Trying a ‘different way’ may in fact be inconvenient in most situations – driving speed, the route to office, how to tie your shoe knots, standing in the queues, etc.
Most of these automatic ways are perhaps good. By sticking with them, you are able to accomplish many tasks without thinking. They save time but you end up with the habit of not thinking afresh.
Over time, you develop attitudes and assumptions which prevent you from thinking creatively, locking you into the existing ways of thinking and doing things. You become a prisoner of familiarity. You never have great ideas.
As a result, even when the need arises for you to think differently and generate new ideas, you are unable to do so.
I somehow am unable to break this shackle. If you can, share the trick.
What is the right answer?
One of the worst aspects of formal education is the focus on the correct answer to a question or problem. When somebody asks a question, you generally give an acceptable answer instead of an original one fearing it might be wrong.
While this approach helps you to function smoothly in society, it hurts creative thinking. Real-life issues are ambiguous. There is no one single answer to any problem. There can be several answers if only you think about them. They may all be contradictory and yet correct. Women are great in that. My wife at the risk of being stupid ends up making me feel stupid, rigid and uni-focused.
I don’t want to fail.
The fear of failure is something that you learn in school…and it never just goes away. All through school, you perhaps take hundreds of tests, exams, assignments, etc. You are in one big trouble if you fail even once. You are scared of failure.
By the time you finish school, the fear of failure has seeped into your system and you avoid situations which could result in failure. You are extra-careful about whatever you take up. You learn the art of playing safe.
The fear of failure does not let us try new things, crippling our creativity. If you look back and if you are someone like me perhaps you will find more failures than triumphs. Makes you wonder what did that fear actually result in actual?
That’s not my area.
Creativity requires finding connections between unrelated things. The diversity of your interests and experiences enhances your ability to find connections.
When you explore completely unrelated areas, you are pleasantly surprised by the interrelatedness of almost everything. You start seeing new possibilities when you discover new connections.
In an era of hyper-specialization, the scope of work is getting narrower and narrower. Loss of creativity is the immediate casualty.
Sticking to ones area is bound to takes it toll on being Creative
I don’t like uncertainty.
If you are not confused, you are not thinking clearly – Tom Peters
Till few months I didn’t know what the above shit means...
When people are confused, they feel compelled to resolve the situation quickly, making it systematic and orderly again. They are likely to miss the key issues in their haste to do so.
There is something in our culture or perhaps in the education system, which makes us want to be ‘knowers’ rather than ‘find-outers’.
This attachment to ‘knowing’ makes you feel jittery and inept when you ‘don’t know’. This tendency is so engrained that even small kids begin to lose their curiosity in order to become ‘knowers’.
However, when it comes to creative thinking, not knowing is a good thing and ambiguity is a great thing. Certainty is the enemy of creativity.
If you are certain about something, you don’t have much leeway to generate new ideas to solve problems.
That’s the way it is done!
The need for standard ways of doing things is perfectly legitimate. But then it gives rise to an ever increasing number of rules that govern people’s lives.
While some of the rules are legitimate, some are totally unfounded. They are not very different from the thin rope that tethers the elephant. This is bane of our Indian society which I am the byproduct. Maybe in next post I will tell you more about what a fool I make of myself most of the time when I talk with my wife on the way things should be done.
Everyone says so.
When all think alike, then no one is thinking. — Walter Lippman
The desire to belong is a powerful one and at times it leads to ‘groupthink’. This herd approach is probably a relic from the cave age. It is important to have a mind of your own in order to be creative. I can say I came out of the cave but unfortunately I still reside on the trees.
I feel safe when I am like everyone else.
People start off as unique beings. They are very different from each other as children and young adults with their very own likes and dislikes.
Yet, as if by magic, they get into a common mould after they reach their thirties. Their likes, dislikes, wants, needs and goals somehow begin to converge. They seem to become more and more like one another.
As a result, their creative abilities suffer. I am still few years away from reaching my thirties. What age are you?
I have strong views and firm opinions.
There are people who pride themselves for having firm stands and being inflexible. They have strong views and unshakable opinions. They are too judgmental.
Being judgmental means blocking or ignoring other points of views. It means reducing your options and leaving your mind with much less to work with. It is then reflected in your ability to generate ideas and solutions.
When you are nonjudgmental, you have an open mind. You have more choices. Being nonjudgmental reduces the surface functioning of your mind, stimulating its deeper functioning.
The trick is to allow ones unconscious mind to throw up more ideas into his conscious mind.
Why keep thinking unnecessarily when I have found the answer?
Such is the hurry to find a solution that people are satisfied with the first one that comes to their mind. They stop thinking further.
However, if you don’t share your ‘first’ idea and keep thinking more and more, the subsequent ones are sure to be better.
The more you think, the more the chances to find better solutions. You never know when you will hit the jackpot.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
101 reasons to be happy!!!
1. Love the note she puts in my wallet to miss her and not flirt.
2. Love when she gets irritated and says HAAAABEEEEEE!!!!
3. Love her beautiful big blue eyes
4. She can wait patiently for hours for me before blast me off!!
5. Love the way she cuddles up a rare perfect fit for my chest
6. She’s excellent at taking care of my things
7. She teaches me how to dance
8. She like me the way I am – Fat, Dark and Ugly
9. She genuinely cares about others but at times I am jealous about that
10. I like when she gets tears of happiness and when she jumps with both hands folded like a kid with all smile
11. I love her multi-coloured hair
12. I love her hiding her sunburn
13. I love her laugh
14. She watches out for my health
15. She can drive while I play with her cheek and hair
16. She makes great lasagne
17. She won’t eat or order things which I don’t like
18. She will send me shopping with less money
19. She won’t tip the waiter where I am spending
20. She at time uses big and tough English words and say Ventilator instead of saying Fan
21. She gives great hugs
22. Her hand fits just right in mine
23. She is never boring to me (that’s a big deal)
24. She’s good with small details
25. She is creative in nature
26. She scratches my back and plays with my hair
27. Even when she abuses she sounds cute somehow
28. She’s good with kids and elderly people
29. She is honest and trustable to the core
30. She made me buy sneakers and got a perfume
31. She’s very humble and down to earth
32. She’s assertive and demanding in a cute way
33. She was by my side when I was unemployed
34. Her come here –kiss me expression makes me go weak in the knees.
35. Her face is very expressive
36. Her lips are so soft and kissable
37. She has a childlike sense of wonder.
38. She writes mails to my father like a cute a daughter
39. The only time I don’t miss her is when I’m with her.
40. She puts perfume on me and oils my hair also
41. She has a great deal of empathy for people especially for poor
42. Her dazzling smile
43. She thinks I’m sexy
44. I know she’s sexy
45. She sleeps like baby
46. She’s rubbing off my rough edges and helping me to be honest
47. My breath still catches in my throat when I see her on webcam
48. She will never let her ego hamper our relation
49. She stands her ground
50. She’s good at meeting people
51. She’s smart and intelligent
52. She knows how to give massages
53. She forgives me when I screw up
54. She plays a perfect mother hen
55. She is neither arrogant nor snobbish
56. She let’s me tell the same old stories over and over
57. She help me to realize that it is more important to care for others than oneself
58. She is scared of lightening but not spiders
59. She says “I love you” and means it
60. She is a romantic
61. She looks great what ever she wears
62. She’s a good homemaker
63. She doesn’t mind me overweight
64. She cries during movies
65. She loves to dance
66. She hates drug, doesn’t smoke and won’t do alcohol
67. She believes in the power of our relationship
68. She goes bonkers discussing Indian marriage
69. She will go bonkers again discussing Lolek and Bolek
70. She tolerates my workaholic nature
71. Her skin is so soft and smooth
72. She’s absolutely faithful
73. She’s not materialistic.
74. She is very feminine
75. She is a war survivor without hatred and I admire her for that
76. She will discuss even the silliest thing with sincerity
77. She acts like a slave master at times
78. She likes to talk to me
79. She’s determined and knows what she wants in life
80. She makes me look good
81. Her hair always smells so good
82. Her body always smells good
83. She can eat anywhere, not just posh places
84. The way her face lit up when we saw each other for the first time J
85. She looks incredible in a formal dress
86. She makes me feel like I am the Best Guy in Town!!
87. She looks good with makeup
88. She looks great without it
89. She will talk with me whenever she is free
90. She will always end with a Pusa
91. She always calls me Hubby or Jerk
92. She thinks I will be the best hubby
93. She is short tempered but cools down equally fast
94. She will put my cloths and things in order without being asked
95. She puts up with my dark mood
96. She likes my chest hair
97. She gets mad when she sees injustice
98. She drives safely
99. She needs all the covers to stay warm
100. Her clothes are so tiny compared to mine!
101. Because she is the one and now,.... I can’t imagine life without her!!!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Meeting my Future wife – Ivana Ashraf
Back from Croatia in One piece... Future wife didn’t pluck my hair.... in-laws didn’t chop my limbs.... Croatians didn’t shoot a dark skinned hairy beast with vague human similarities... I did it... a thing which I thought is beyond the potential of any Ashraf to do: go and meet the Future wife and wannabe in-laws in person right in on their turf.
On a serious note I was never comfortable due to chain of unfortunate incidents happening since this idea came in my mind. Visa issues, Parental pressure, non- parental judgement, de-motivating feedbacks... its just a crush... you are not rational... get over your infatuation... how come you know she is what she says... this will never work out... best one “what kind of f@#@ing nut you are?”
Trip:
It was uneventful... I went via Istanbul... bloody everyone sleeping... all the passengers... on-flight crew everyone and there I was with my heart (or was it balls?) in my mouth... what if she doesn’t show up in the airport... what if this doesn’t work out... what if we are not able to understand each other in the absence of typed text? So many questions at 22000 ft above sea level...
To make matter worse my next seat neighbour was not helping me at all... the girl was coming back from India after meeting her lover and she was under the impression few days of meeting is just to short a time period to know if you want to live your whole life with that girl. She was in relation with her Indian prince charming for couple of years now and I guess she had absolutely no idea about the Indian arranged marriage where you at times don’t get to meet the girl at all before the nuptial hour. Well we parted ways in Istanbul and then it was time to fly Zagreb.
Zagreb international airport is not more than a regular Indian airstrip and the first thing that hits you is the fresh air ... next thing to follow is people are staring you. Immigration exit I was the last guy to come out and I can see a marginally fat girl in blue waving from outside.
Great at least she is waving good thing I didn’t send a flying kiss across to her...she was not Ivana....
Came out, turned left and there she was standing. She looks beautiful if you see her for the first time she really does. A Big hug and a kiss got me over all my hiccups. Surprisingly we could understand each other pretty well she sounds like a south Indian born bihari kind off. Felt like I knew her for ages... felt like we are already married and I am coming back from a business trip.
Oh yes...She was not alone she got this huge giant standing behind and laughing along with her younger brother ... felt like taking the next flight back.
We came out and whoa... no population... 3 hours drive back to her place- no traffic. Initial thought was this is peaceful but soon you will start missing the crowd. It so happened that my future fatherinlaw had bloody taken a leave and sitting at home to meet me. I had not used the toilet since I left Delhi and badly needed to take a crap... 14 hours sitting with not much place to move... I was dead tired and really not ready to meet him. She just won’t understand and that’s the first thing I realized about my future wife. She is a decision maker – for both of us.
Anyway finally met him nice simple guy offered me a cigarette as well. He doesn’t know English and I don’t go beyond Dobro & Havala in my Croatian diction. At times communication gap works and it worked pretty fine for me.
If you ever visit Croatia do go visiting Vukovar its beautiful situated in the banks of river Danube and if you come to Vukovar ask for directions to a county named Borovo. Once you enter Borovo watch out for a sign board “BOSO 13Kuna Pizza” that’s the land mark for my in-laws place. Do come in and tell them you know me real nice folk I guarantee you that. Try the homemade Burek and Roasted Chicken... ask Ivana to make Lasagne for you... she will burn her fingers... take long time...talk thousand and one things in between but you will like the taste... my wife makes it real good... feel free to smoke in front of my in-laws they don’t mind and Yes, when you are leaving do pat their pet named Munja from my end.
Few hours with Ivana and I was really settled. Unlike many others I don’t feel bad or suffocated in the company of someone who is demanding...bossy... crazy...fussy... nagging. Ye I was feeling at home with my future wife. She infact brought back fond memories. She was a super mixture of all those sweet uptight asses I have met in my entire life. Don’t do this... don’t do that... don’t cross the road from here... don’t sing so loudly... wave to them... hold my hand when we walk... don’t throw your cloths like that don’t mix washed cloths with dirty cloths... she even told me “how can you fart so loudly”... well sweetheart I don’t have volume control panel fixed on my ass. And I belong to India ... half the Bihar culture is in my blood... its my birth right to do things what others don’t want me to do... to cross the road where I want to cross from along with my buffalo and my buffalo also has the right to shit right in the middle of the road taking her own sweet time keeping your bloody traffic on hold. The weird thing was I wear jeans for a month at a stretch and it never gets dirty...it might get rugged and torn... change it colour from anything thing to dark brown but it never gets dirty how the hell it used to get dirty every 2nd day in Croatia.
Anyway back to the trip detail, that huge giant turned out to be a real good guy. Nemanja - her cousin brother. He also doesn’t understand English but I spent much time with him. A Simple and hard working guy who cares a lot for his cousin sister. He also had a girlfriend cute girl named Tanya who spoke English like a Russian. Few days down and we both wished we could talk without Ivana playing a translators role.
Overall Croatians are like kindergarten kids. Overtime one might get bored with their mechanised systematic life governed by countless of laws and etiquettes. The thing that pinches most is the lack of population... you are on road - empty...market place – empty anywhere u go bloody no population and people who are there they work like machines, move in society like machine enjoy.
I don’t go there to do a cultural & economic research; I went to meet Ivana and her folks and they were more than a handful. They have a huge family, three grannies...couple of grandpa... hundreds of uncles & aunts and millions of cousins... and leaving few all speak in Croatian and everyone asks too many questions... right from the day I was born till the time I landed at Zagreb airport they want to know everything. They don’t ask in group they ask the whole set of questions individually. Ivana had to first translate what they were saying and then translate my response to that question... somehow I felt she was enjoying playing the bridge. She is excellent in that role pushing people to like me...pushing me to like them. Pushing everyone closer trying to make one big happy family... yes she plays Mother Hens role to perfection. You will like to see her in all the roles she looks kind of cute being a friend a daughter a sister a companion a lover what you don’t want to see her is when she is all charged up with anger. Her anger is like a nuclear explosion Boom!!! Anything in its radius gone... no second thoughts... Her face color changes from white to tomato red... eyes become bigger and red... canine teeth’s come out like vampire... nails become sharper and lethal... body takes a threatening position of a charging African elephant.. she is surely one of her kind.
Cultural issues:
They don’t use fans... no ceiling fans or table fans or hand fans nothing and I have a problem sleeping in absolute silence sans the sweet humming sound made by fans. They don’t eat rice or roti and they bloody water is never served; you have to ask for it. Left hand driving makes you feel all the cars are rushing in from the wrong direction and though I don’t know how to drive I used to end up opening the door of the driver’s seat.
Bit pressed for time more in the next post.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Few words from Mrs Ashraf
Ohhhhhhhh, how should I start? I m not so good writer as my hubby, actually i m not writer at all, and my English is so bad, but i wanted to put few sentences here, just to mark my territory :-). I guess first i will introduce myself. My name is Ivana, i live in Croatia and soon I will be Mrs Ashraf. Just I have to change my name, so soon I will be Mrs..... Ashraf.
What else can i say? Yes, i m very nice girl although Imran calls me bitch or slave master , don’t know why, I guess he found that these nicknames suits me :-).
We met last year, i guess it was September, but he was such a jerk, I didn’t want even to talk to him, he thought he is interesting but on contrary he was so boring and bothering, u cannot imagine, he was flirting with everyone we can call female on the internet (don’t kill me because of this). And one day he started to be interesting, i have no idea how, but now he is the most important person in my life. After 8 months we finally saw each other, when i saw him at airport i said wowwwwwwwww!
Usually people say or think 10 days is not long enough to see or realize if that someone is for u or not, but since that first moment i saw him at airport, after our first hug i knew he is the one and I want to spend all my life with him.
I love you Immi the most!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Packed up and ready to go
Just a quickie!! Oh man I love this word Quickie... all packed up and ready to hit Croatia... I am sorry been long long time didnt vomit anything here..would be doing it from there hopefully
so long Mates catch you soon
so long Mates catch you soon
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Kuch Aashaar
Wahi Taj hai wahi takht hai wahi zehar hai wahi jaam hai...
Ye wahi Khuda ki Zameen hai Ye wahi Buton ka nizam hai
Bade Shauq se mera ghar jlaa, koi aanch na tujh pe aayegi
Ye zubaan kisi ne khareed li, ye kalam kisi ki ghulam hai
Mere Diye duniya ke aandhiyon ne bujha diye
Magar ek iraadon ka jugnu ab bhi roshni ka imaam hai
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ye wahi Khuda ki Zameen hai Ye wahi Buton ka nizam hai
Bade Shauq se mera ghar jlaa, koi aanch na tujh pe aayegi
Ye zubaan kisi ne khareed li, ye kalam kisi ki ghulam hai
Mere Diye duniya ke aandhiyon ne bujha diye
Magar ek iraadon ka jugnu ab bhi roshni ka imaam hai
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Matter of Shells and Spines...
If one looks at the history of evolution of life on earth, there are some very interesting facts that emerge. I assure you that this is not an essay on life sciences full of biological jargon, yet there are some references drawn from the life sciences, after all to understand life per se there is no harm in looking at a science which claims to be about it. I have very many doubts about how much the practitioners of this discipline respect life, but that’s outside the scope of my article.
Life as it is originated in the waters (some claim it did so in marshy landscape), evolved from very simple organisms to complex ones. A lot of very interesting changes took place along the way, but we would pause at just extremely fascinating ones- the origin of shells, which happened in the deep waters- molluscs like shell fish, oysters etc. devised an ingenious way to protect themselves from the predators. A hard impenetrable shell within which they would retreat when in danger. There were many forms, attached to the body, not attached to the body; small, big, colourful, camouflaging, blending into the surrounding etc...For the lack of argument lets say “The Age of Shells” lasted for a million year spanning through the never-ending geological eras and then creatures like tortoises and rhinos went over board with it, they got for themselves designer brand shells, many weighing much more their soft tissue’s weight. This curtailed their movement and locomotion, yet they couldn’t care less, so obsessed with safety they were.
While several species could never give up on the good old shells, along they way came some truly rebellious organisms, who couldn’t bear the drudgery of the living and carrying shell. Evolving in this sprit of rebellion the organisms were forced to think out of the box, er… shell. ‘Why not’ they wondered ‘have the hardness, the strength of the shell within us, rather than outside’. These spirited brave lots grew a backbone, literally and metaphorically. Thus came into being the greater of animal kingdom... predators, birds fishes and human beings. Evolution is a bloody slow process, it is not a overnight change, while they did do away with shells considerably, the vestiges stuck along. They kept their young ones in them; eggshells protected the tender, vulnerable little ones. Mammals went a step further on and did away with the very concept of shells, even for their babies. The first clarion call for child rights I guess, “Whatever is unacceptable to us, shall be unacceptable for our children as well”. They developed the protection, safety mechanism within; they developed an excellent skeletal system with the spine at the centre of it.
The spine that helps all of us to stand upright, of course does various other functions as well, but that’s digression again. Well, the point I am trying to drive home is that from shells to spines is the journey that all of us have made, our ancestors have fought to give us this freedom, to develop thus far, so why are we regressing and getting so obsessed with shells?
Shells, however strong, nice and cozy can never let the little bird fly in an azure sky towards the golden the sun. To fly the little bird has to break that shell, step out into open, even though it might be wrought with dangers, the cruel paw of a predator, a fall from the trees, a sharp metal tipped arrow…. yet in the midst of such lurking dangers is the possibility of growing strong from within, finding freedom of the open expanse and of course all the lovely smells and delicious fruits.
A little seed, with the possibility of a massive tree within it, is buried in the soil. Caged or protected in the layers of cover, tree to reach its destiny it got to break its shell. It would send a tender shoot up to search for air and sun, a hesitant root moves down to seek nourishment. Within it’s shell the seed shall perish, rot within, if it doesn’t move out.
When all around us we see that for life to blossom, to thrive and to grow, the shell has to be broken why on earth are we so obsessed with shells? Tiny holes we hide in, walls between communities’ houses protected by massive gates, electric fencing, forces deployed to protect LoCs and worst of all people security in the confinement of their cars.
Spine of an individual organism, a community or a nation is the true strength within, shells are only external covering. In our preoccupation with the shell we forget to strengthen our spines. To strengthen spines the work has to be within, on ourselves, which is much more difficult than raising walls and barricading ourselves.
The future course of evolution, of us as an individuals, communities, people and inheritor of the world would vastly depend on the choice we make, do we want shells or spines?
Life as it is originated in the waters (some claim it did so in marshy landscape), evolved from very simple organisms to complex ones. A lot of very interesting changes took place along the way, but we would pause at just extremely fascinating ones- the origin of shells, which happened in the deep waters- molluscs like shell fish, oysters etc. devised an ingenious way to protect themselves from the predators. A hard impenetrable shell within which they would retreat when in danger. There were many forms, attached to the body, not attached to the body; small, big, colourful, camouflaging, blending into the surrounding etc...For the lack of argument lets say “The Age of Shells” lasted for a million year spanning through the never-ending geological eras and then creatures like tortoises and rhinos went over board with it, they got for themselves designer brand shells, many weighing much more their soft tissue’s weight. This curtailed their movement and locomotion, yet they couldn’t care less, so obsessed with safety they were.
While several species could never give up on the good old shells, along they way came some truly rebellious organisms, who couldn’t bear the drudgery of the living and carrying shell. Evolving in this sprit of rebellion the organisms were forced to think out of the box, er… shell. ‘Why not’ they wondered ‘have the hardness, the strength of the shell within us, rather than outside’. These spirited brave lots grew a backbone, literally and metaphorically. Thus came into being the greater of animal kingdom... predators, birds fishes and human beings. Evolution is a bloody slow process, it is not a overnight change, while they did do away with shells considerably, the vestiges stuck along. They kept their young ones in them; eggshells protected the tender, vulnerable little ones. Mammals went a step further on and did away with the very concept of shells, even for their babies. The first clarion call for child rights I guess, “Whatever is unacceptable to us, shall be unacceptable for our children as well”. They developed the protection, safety mechanism within; they developed an excellent skeletal system with the spine at the centre of it.
The spine that helps all of us to stand upright, of course does various other functions as well, but that’s digression again. Well, the point I am trying to drive home is that from shells to spines is the journey that all of us have made, our ancestors have fought to give us this freedom, to develop thus far, so why are we regressing and getting so obsessed with shells?
Shells, however strong, nice and cozy can never let the little bird fly in an azure sky towards the golden the sun. To fly the little bird has to break that shell, step out into open, even though it might be wrought with dangers, the cruel paw of a predator, a fall from the trees, a sharp metal tipped arrow…. yet in the midst of such lurking dangers is the possibility of growing strong from within, finding freedom of the open expanse and of course all the lovely smells and delicious fruits.
A little seed, with the possibility of a massive tree within it, is buried in the soil. Caged or protected in the layers of cover, tree to reach its destiny it got to break its shell. It would send a tender shoot up to search for air and sun, a hesitant root moves down to seek nourishment. Within it’s shell the seed shall perish, rot within, if it doesn’t move out.
When all around us we see that for life to blossom, to thrive and to grow, the shell has to be broken why on earth are we so obsessed with shells? Tiny holes we hide in, walls between communities’ houses protected by massive gates, electric fencing, forces deployed to protect LoCs and worst of all people security in the confinement of their cars.
Spine of an individual organism, a community or a nation is the true strength within, shells are only external covering. In our preoccupation with the shell we forget to strengthen our spines. To strengthen spines the work has to be within, on ourselves, which is much more difficult than raising walls and barricading ourselves.
The future course of evolution, of us as an individuals, communities, people and inheritor of the world would vastly depend on the choice we make, do we want shells or spines?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Burning Sensation
Sometimes we are given what we ask for and sometimes it is more than what we bargained for...
When the later happens consequences can be devastating... I could feel myself dying by degrees. Everything in my mind was rotting...decaying. My body was going this way too. Daily overdose of codeine mixed with blue smoke of marijuana acted like catalyst. My emotions were still running riot, vivid and colorful as ever... Yet they were becoming increasingly detached from reality. They were becoming no more than abstractions to be used like pawns in the ever raging war of my mind. And emotions have no awareness of themselves - they play, they fight, they die. They do not care about tomorrow. Emotions are like children. The mind is weaker than any one emotion, but it understands the necessity of living... It can plan. The mind is not a bad thing, not in itself. The mind is naturally just as bright and loving as those childish emotions, it's just tinged with a bit more seriousness, a bit more sobriety. Unless, of course, it's dying. It is then a fearful enemy, to anyone and anything, but most especially to its master.
And all throughout this slow death of mine, I prayed for some kind of deliverance or reprieve. I wanted my mind to be healthy again, in fact healthier than it had ever been - as healthy as it was meant to be. I wanted to be alive, fully breathing, fully blooded, fully thinking. The fuzzy existence of a pathetic individual, fluttering vainly against his own apathy was (and is) a horror to me.
Life has not been terribly hard on me, compared to some. Some might look at my life and think it'd been soft and easy. Still, there are serious losses, serious wounds that I will carry to my dying day - and hopefully not beyond... These are things that I've honestly tried my best to compensate for, by keeping a good demeanor, being kind and learning to have a sense of humour. The sense of good non sarcastic humour is still pending.
All I wanted is to feel the hope of a boy, to know the determination of a man and be a fresh and aware human being. It was not too much to ask from oneself, though sometimes it felt like too much to expect from a non-obedient self.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By degrees I can feel all this coming to pass. I am coming alive. My whole body spasms with life sometimes, as the blood and electricity return to muscle tissue long abandoned.
My mind is returning to life too, the decaying thoughts are being shed, and it has stopped manipulating my emotions. Now given liberty, my emotions are leading me onto a new path - one I would have missed not too long ago. My body is also regaining its health. Everything in me seems poised to take a dramatic leap into a wildly beautiful future. Beautiful future crafted with help of much beautiful human being who never fails to see goodness everywhere and believes in dreams coming to reality.
Yet sometimes, as the sun goes down, my heart fails me. I can feel my body grow grey as it trembles with every quaking heartbeat. The old fear, unused to this newer self, resurfaces, pure jealousy surfaces riddling me with doubts. I am on the verge of tears, thinking: "What have I done?". Dark mood super imposes my being. I retract to my shell vowing never to leave its secured walls till the deafening silence is unbearable.
I go on long walks and try to tame my troubled mind, with its dark and bottomless fears, using introspecting talks or music. These things invariably work. There will come a time when I won't need to trouble myself over these fears, a time where my heart won't skip and my blood won't treble in my ears at night. Until that time, I will have to bear the pains of the awakening I have begun. It was, after all, the very thing I desired. It is just surprising how painful it can be, at times. Why do my hands shake, sometimes for no reason at all? What is this sleeping dragon I am awakening?
What is it for? What's its destiny?
What have I done?
(Why am I speaking so cryptically?!)
It's alright though. I'm too curious to see what happens next to stop what I have begun. I guess this is what it means to be in love.
Volim Te Puno Cuppi
When the later happens consequences can be devastating... I could feel myself dying by degrees. Everything in my mind was rotting...decaying. My body was going this way too. Daily overdose of codeine mixed with blue smoke of marijuana acted like catalyst. My emotions were still running riot, vivid and colorful as ever... Yet they were becoming increasingly detached from reality. They were becoming no more than abstractions to be used like pawns in the ever raging war of my mind. And emotions have no awareness of themselves - they play, they fight, they die. They do not care about tomorrow. Emotions are like children. The mind is weaker than any one emotion, but it understands the necessity of living... It can plan. The mind is not a bad thing, not in itself. The mind is naturally just as bright and loving as those childish emotions, it's just tinged with a bit more seriousness, a bit more sobriety. Unless, of course, it's dying. It is then a fearful enemy, to anyone and anything, but most especially to its master.
And all throughout this slow death of mine, I prayed for some kind of deliverance or reprieve. I wanted my mind to be healthy again, in fact healthier than it had ever been - as healthy as it was meant to be. I wanted to be alive, fully breathing, fully blooded, fully thinking. The fuzzy existence of a pathetic individual, fluttering vainly against his own apathy was (and is) a horror to me.
Life has not been terribly hard on me, compared to some. Some might look at my life and think it'd been soft and easy. Still, there are serious losses, serious wounds that I will carry to my dying day - and hopefully not beyond... These are things that I've honestly tried my best to compensate for, by keeping a good demeanor, being kind and learning to have a sense of humour. The sense of good non sarcastic humour is still pending.
All I wanted is to feel the hope of a boy, to know the determination of a man and be a fresh and aware human being. It was not too much to ask from oneself, though sometimes it felt like too much to expect from a non-obedient self.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By degrees I can feel all this coming to pass. I am coming alive. My whole body spasms with life sometimes, as the blood and electricity return to muscle tissue long abandoned.
My mind is returning to life too, the decaying thoughts are being shed, and it has stopped manipulating my emotions. Now given liberty, my emotions are leading me onto a new path - one I would have missed not too long ago. My body is also regaining its health. Everything in me seems poised to take a dramatic leap into a wildly beautiful future. Beautiful future crafted with help of much beautiful human being who never fails to see goodness everywhere and believes in dreams coming to reality.
Yet sometimes, as the sun goes down, my heart fails me. I can feel my body grow grey as it trembles with every quaking heartbeat. The old fear, unused to this newer self, resurfaces, pure jealousy surfaces riddling me with doubts. I am on the verge of tears, thinking: "What have I done?". Dark mood super imposes my being. I retract to my shell vowing never to leave its secured walls till the deafening silence is unbearable.
I go on long walks and try to tame my troubled mind, with its dark and bottomless fears, using introspecting talks or music. These things invariably work. There will come a time when I won't need to trouble myself over these fears, a time where my heart won't skip and my blood won't treble in my ears at night. Until that time, I will have to bear the pains of the awakening I have begun. It was, after all, the very thing I desired. It is just surprising how painful it can be, at times. Why do my hands shake, sometimes for no reason at all? What is this sleeping dragon I am awakening?
What is it for? What's its destiny?
What have I done?
(Why am I speaking so cryptically?!)
It's alright though. I'm too curious to see what happens next to stop what I have begun. I guess this is what it means to be in love.
Volim Te Puno Cuppi
Sunday, February 8, 2009
In the name of GOD
She silently begged him to stop but he was so full of the wrath of his God that he did not hear her timid cries. So intent was he in putting his mark on her that he could not see the scars forming on her soul, wounds that would never heal. He sucked her tender mouth with a driven ferocity, almost trying to inhale all of her at once. His clammy hands slid down her young body, trying to grab as much of it as he could. He grasped her flat, unformed chest where even the first signs of womanhood had not yet begun to appear. The unformed breasts inside her body began to hurt painfully, a hurt that would last a lifetime. His arms had her body trapped even though she never stood a chance in the first place. Her tiny frame was no match for his bulky hulk. She clenched her eyes tightly shut throughout the ordeal so as not to see the lust-driven, monstrous face in front of her that was almost succeeding in devouring her whole like the mythical dragons in her book of bedtime stories. “I hope you don’t mind the manner in which I love you” he said between his lust shortened breaths; “it’s just that I miss my grand-daughter so much and you look just like her”. And with the picture of his grand-daughter in his mind and the little girl’s tender face between his ruthless palms, he would suck her mouth with renewed vigor, pinching her body wherever his hands rested.
When she did open her eyes in between, she could see the dead, indifferent Gods figure hanging on the wall in front of her. How she silently, desperately begged the same God to weave a miracle and make the monster stop hurting her... but sweet God was dead, he did not care. The preacher, to whom she went everyday after school for an hour, was a friend of her parents and had volunteered to teach her all about God. She could not remember how long this had been going on; a long time she guessed since she had been coming to this little room in the back for quite some now; to learn about God you see. She didn’t remember each episode but she was certain her memory was failing her; or perhaps saving her. She sensed that this was not the first time. She never told anyone, not a single soul. God told her not to. And when God tells you not to do something, you simply do not do it or else you could get into serious trouble, trouble that would mean very bad things would happen to you; your best friend could die or your parents might stop loving you or God would make sure that the heavens never opened their door for you and then you would be stuck here on earth long after everyone you loved or ever would love was long gone and when your time finally comes its only hell for you... So she kept quiet... She didn’t say anything.
Today was the last day she came to learn about God; the monster just wouldn’t let her go no matter how hard she tried to escape his grip. He bit her; mouth, chest, whatever he could lay his hands on until he had bitten the last of his lust out... He then patted her on the head in a paternal fashion and said: “You are truly such a wonderful girl. God is very, very happy with you. You don’t even need to come here anymore my darling. I am getting a new little girl tomorrow and I will have to spend all my spare time teaching her what I taught you. Besides, you have already learnt all there is to learn about God Almighty. Just keep remembering and do not forget anything I taught you.” Oh she wouldn’t forget she knew; that she couldn’t forget she didn’t know then. She ran past the monster, past the unopened, dust laden Holy Book, past the dead, mute, uncaring Gods grasp, out of the cold, stone structure where no prayers were heard, no timid cries answered. She ran out into the open and standing there under the endless blue sky, she spat with all her might. Spat the monster out of her mouth. She spat, spat, spat. She spat at the holy man and at God; the God trapped within her and the one, supposedly everywhere, all around us, the one who can see everything, who stood by silently and watched her soul lose the sense of direction to any road that might ever lead her back to Him. It was her birthday. She had turned eight that day; the day she stopped believing in God; the God who lost her in His all-seeing silence.
At home, when her mother asked her why her lip bled and why there were bruises on her arms, she said she stumbled on a stone on her way back home.
Her Mother sighed “God help me with this child.”
When she did open her eyes in between, she could see the dead, indifferent Gods figure hanging on the wall in front of her. How she silently, desperately begged the same God to weave a miracle and make the monster stop hurting her... but sweet God was dead, he did not care. The preacher, to whom she went everyday after school for an hour, was a friend of her parents and had volunteered to teach her all about God. She could not remember how long this had been going on; a long time she guessed since she had been coming to this little room in the back for quite some now; to learn about God you see. She didn’t remember each episode but she was certain her memory was failing her; or perhaps saving her. She sensed that this was not the first time. She never told anyone, not a single soul. God told her not to. And when God tells you not to do something, you simply do not do it or else you could get into serious trouble, trouble that would mean very bad things would happen to you; your best friend could die or your parents might stop loving you or God would make sure that the heavens never opened their door for you and then you would be stuck here on earth long after everyone you loved or ever would love was long gone and when your time finally comes its only hell for you... So she kept quiet... She didn’t say anything.
Today was the last day she came to learn about God; the monster just wouldn’t let her go no matter how hard she tried to escape his grip. He bit her; mouth, chest, whatever he could lay his hands on until he had bitten the last of his lust out... He then patted her on the head in a paternal fashion and said: “You are truly such a wonderful girl. God is very, very happy with you. You don’t even need to come here anymore my darling. I am getting a new little girl tomorrow and I will have to spend all my spare time teaching her what I taught you. Besides, you have already learnt all there is to learn about God Almighty. Just keep remembering and do not forget anything I taught you.” Oh she wouldn’t forget she knew; that she couldn’t forget she didn’t know then. She ran past the monster, past the unopened, dust laden Holy Book, past the dead, mute, uncaring Gods grasp, out of the cold, stone structure where no prayers were heard, no timid cries answered. She ran out into the open and standing there under the endless blue sky, she spat with all her might. Spat the monster out of her mouth. She spat, spat, spat. She spat at the holy man and at God; the God trapped within her and the one, supposedly everywhere, all around us, the one who can see everything, who stood by silently and watched her soul lose the sense of direction to any road that might ever lead her back to Him. It was her birthday. She had turned eight that day; the day she stopped believing in God; the God who lost her in His all-seeing silence.
At home, when her mother asked her why her lip bled and why there were bruises on her arms, she said she stumbled on a stone on her way back home.
Her Mother sighed “God help me with this child.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
