Natural disasters shaping religious psyche about ‘Hell’

They started walking barefoot from the lush green but really humid and now dusty jungle to reach a colder place. It was not possible to comprehend the whole incident; however one thing was sure, it was not the usual temperature and it felt very unpleasant and unbearable.

Nevertheless, moving ahead was the only option as well as custom. Whenever they were resting, discussions and recollections would be shared.

Everyone had reached a consensus as to where and how it had happened; near the waterfall where everyone went to bathe. First there was a loud grinding noise, that came from the bowels of the earth and then everything started shaking and moving. The nearby hill smashed into smithereens and the water changed its course.

When everything settled down, the sun had sunk below the horizon and still the temperature kept going down. He tried to recall how many times the sun went down until now, but it was useless. The only thing clear was the unbearable heat, and the need to find a colder place.

They had never imagined or experienced this kind of an incident before, nor were they ever explained by their fathers. It was a new beginning, from where they had to restart. The women, children and the brave men all kept quiet and only spoke when resting. Mothers would chastise their children now, not with the black bear, by the grumbling noise and the fires and breaking stones; and they found it to be very effective indeed.

He thought to himself, “If I ever tell my children this story, I will make sure to explain how I felt punished because of this heat, am sure I can even discipline them by this story.”

Suicide cowardice?

Some people say life is such, when they get to know about the troubles one has been through. Some people, show you that they are very concerned and care about you a lot. Than comes a point in your life when you really start believing in what they say. I don’t know if it is because they should be believed, or it is because at that point in life we just need to believe in someone. But we do believe. No matter what. It is only later that we find out the reality, that they are perhaps uglier than the previous reality.

At times, we can get up and start going ahead again, but at times we feel we cannot. This is when we decide to take our own life. People say it is the most cowardly thing to do, as in committing suicide is a cowards way. I do not agree with it, it is one of the most difficult decisions of your life. Not because it is about death, but because it is about the unknown. Also because you do not know what actually will happen after wards?

I am an atheist, so I do not believe in an afterlife. What I fear is related to the ones I would leave behind, people, who would mourn me when I am dead. The only thing that has been holding me so far from not doing what I crave to do is that fear of not knowing what will happen to them. I am a coward in love. But I plan to change that soon. I plan to take things in my own hands, including when I decide to stop living. How can that be cowardice?

When there was hope….

Is there hope? Or we are bound to stay in this pit of darkness forever? Nobody knows how long this will continue or how long they can bear it. But there was a time we dreamed, and there was a time we hoped. Unfortunately all that is lost below the dust and webs of time, or was it left behind amongst the rubble after a bomb blast? The constant strife, growing hatred, almost criminal callousness, the hidden agenda and subtle manipulations have given birth to an abyss of hopelessness, which even if one wanted to get out of, proves to be a Herculaneum task.

The country seems to be a maypole, the ones who have taken a ride are always preparing for another possibility, and the one’s who are still deprived are ready to fight tooth and nail for their chance. They wait for their turn to gnaw at the limp bones and flesh, like a starving vulture.

In the quest for finding that one shimmer of hope, one stumbles upon piles and piles of rubbish, spewed all over by the Taliban lovers or the ‘Uto-suferes’. There are those who insinuate in their rabid and limited language that every act committed by others is a conspiracy and those who say the same things, but in an intellectual and clever manner, shamming you into believing yourself to be a diamond of the first waters by agreeing to their garbage, no matter how nonsensical it is

If only…. We could dream again…

Indoctrination a religious as well as political vice

While going through several forums on different social networks, a question raises its head every time some religious bigots are under fire by the dogmatic liberals. Is indoctrination only a religious vice? Is it not also a political vice? Why isn’t anybody asking questions about the political indoctrination going on amongst the youth? Especially amongst the good for nothing elite school crowds, who smoke hash and talk about the problems amongst the masses without an iota of being directly involved

Why not curb these drawing room and madaressah politicians? Comrades and Mullahs who do not find it a big deal to suck up to feudals or imperialists just to appease some big fish, so that even if their own party fails to come up to par with the rest they have a chance to fall back on the same old feudal politicians.

There is a similarity as well as contrast between the right and left in Pakistan, thanks to the maderassah as well as drawing room politicians. It seems the only tangible difference is the tactics; otherwise there are more similarities than differences.

Perhaps this is skeptical of me to be thinking on these lines, but this repellant reaction between the right and left I fear will be the undoing of Pakistan itself. What will than be left of it? The Islamic Republic of Pakistan or the Socialist People’s Republic of Pakistan, neither I fear.

Her Story….

She was young beautiful and loved by all, she had been there for thousands of years. From the time when man started thinking, perhaps stood up on two legs and started cherishing her. She was the mother, the nurturer, provider, caretaker everything for them. She deserved to be loved. She prospered and evolved into a shining beauty, coveted by all and worshiped for her qualities.

Then came the marauders. The unrelenting, greedy and blood thirsty invaders who wanted nothing but to rape her. And who could defend her but the ones whom she cherished. They fought for her, died for her but could not save her from the barbarians. Hence, the Barbarians settled there for good or for bad only time will tell. But they settled, started calling her their mother too, but who could love her more than the ones she had nurtured and nourished for thousands of years. Only their heart bled at the pain and agony she suffered. The barbarians pretended to be the caretakers, but they still raped her continuously and why not? She was not their mother, she was only a shining beauty to be taken, dressed in gold and jewels but not because she is the mother, but because she is to be shown as the submitter the conquered.

The barbarians in a few hundred years, are not considered barbarians any more but the owners and caretakers. In their hearts the true sons know that it will not be long when the harbingers of mischief break their mother, tear her into pieces and leave no option but bloodshed. Indeed, they were right in their assumption. It was not merely an assumption but was proved as a fact later. She was no longer their mighty mother, she was broken into pieces. Forsaken by the greed of those invaders who never really worshiped her as their own. Nevertheless, she continued to nourish and nurture even the ones who betrayed her. But that was not all, they broke her again and again and again, until she no longer had the strength to bear them any more. Now she lies, heartbroken, in tears bathed in blood, silently watching her children ruin each other. Perhaps she has lost hope, perhaps she has given up. She no longer awaits for them to worship her, what they give she takes with averted eyes, never questioning, never asking, never showing her wrath. Nevertheless there is anger, it becomes evident when she trembles each time. It says a lot to her true sons who have worshiped each and every part of her. They know their mother is suffering and who can tell when this suffering will end. Indeed if it can ever be stopped.

22nd April 2006 Saturday

(A page adapted from the daily report)

It was a depressing day today, the owner of Site two had died last night, I had heard the siren of an ambulance. That is why we did not work in Kafful Garh today, except check the block making machine. It had to arrive from Bagh on our truck, and we had to take the sizes of blocks and check if all parts of the machine were sent or not. Unfortunately the loader had forgotten to load the motor and now we will have to wait one more day before starting the production.

We went to Hans Chowki as decided to meet Shahid and inspect the progress of our house three. There seemed to be some difficulty for the masons to level the DPC probably because they did not use a steel trowel to level the wet concrete. The owner of the house wanted to discuss a lot of things regarding the roof. He wanted us to make a pitch roof instead of the flat roof that we had earlier discussed. But I guess this is all a part of work, you discuss one thing and then the owner wants something totally different, and we have to adapt accordingly because after all he is the one who will be living in this house. But it was a little disappointing for all of us. Because then we will have to rework a lot of things.

At 2:30 we visited the site where someone was willing to sell his stones to us. It is one of the prettiest places to be. Surrounded by large trees and the ground covered with lush green grass, and it is fun to chase all the chameleons around. The quantity looked insufficient and we will have to think of other alternatives as well.

At three we left the site and started our 2 hour ride towards Kafful Garh for the night. On the way we visited some new under construction buildings for a school and a house, and also invited those people to visit our project. We had to stop at the Bagh base to collect a few things and do some shopping in the bazaar. It was late when we finally did reach here and all of us were very hungry, as we did not have anything for lunch. It looked like we will have to stay hungry because the cook had disappeared and there were no leftovers in the kitchen. But Maggie Noodles saved the day.

We had a long long meeting after that deciding about the sections of the buttresses and walls of site one, using or not using the metal wire or the wire-mesh and chicken mesh.

The septic tank issue, the false ceiling and the repairing of toilets even if they are not a part of our project were finalized. Everything is becoming complicated with time. We have to find a good plan for the transportation of plastic sheets from Lahore and it has to be done as soon as possible.

Contribution as an Architect….

There are some things that are the reality and some things that are perceived as a reality. In our educational system (read Architectural studies), we are brought up on Le Corbusier, and Frank Loyld Wright, and Mies, and Alvar Aalto and....I guess everyone knows how long the list is, but hardly are we told about the actual person walking on the (scarce) side-walk who builds a house for himself. Therefore with our limited education....shaping as well our long term perception we only cater to the elite, or the rich...people who in reality are the only ones able to afford a well trained architect...and leaving the rest to either serve them selves or get some untrained person to do it for them. Though trained, untrained and well-trained architects could be another debate...

We are following the west blindly and devotedly I must say, and in turn rust our own basic knowledge and potential. We treat Form Space & Order as our bible, not paying attention to 'Hasan Fathy's Housing for the poor', though looking at our climate and the indigenous materials we should be considering the latter as that.....(sorry for borrowing the western expression of bible...but m scared of calling it Quran in fear of sounding sacreligious to some...)

All in all.....I am quite skeptical of the architectural community and their contribution towards the profession and environment on the whole....