The Art of not Listening or being Mentally Absent. . .

A few days back a friend of mine, Mehr Azeem shared a video on Face Book that reminded of some interesting school memories. Well, school memories are always pleasant and tend to make people nostalgic as well, for many things I'm sure . . . nothing would ever get as wonderful again as school life.

So what I actually got reminded of were my Maths and Physics class. It is about when I was in class IX and we had our new Physics teacher who had shown signs of a good memory in terms of learning students' names and well . . . he had another habit . . . asking questions from the previous lecture. I used to make sure that if I get to sit in the bus, the first thing to do was to open up my Physics register and revise once again if not for knowledge for self respect at least.

I do have a habit of at times being physically present but getting mentally lost. That day during our Physics class we were discussing 'Momentum' and I was lost. He asked me a question and I replied, 'Momentum' perceiving his question to be about the topic of the question. To my surprise everybody started laughing and I didn't know why. "I just asked you your name and you said Momentum !" he replied with his amused expression. Well how lame of me was it to think that I was being asked the topic of the question.

Then again in class X with just another year of school to go there was another incident. Our Maths teacher had just entered the class and asked whether we had done a particular question in the previous class and I replied, "No !" I was the only one who had said no and everybody else was quiet because a part from his excellent teaching capability he was a dangerous and difficult teacher. "Ok if you don't want to do the question we won't do it," he said. The very instance my friend told me that our teacher had just said that we are going to do a particular question. I immediately clarified my situation. "Sir I thought you asked us whether we have done this question."

My goodness ! Why at times do I become deaf all of a sudden knowing the fact that I am always attentive in classes? Now we have three hour classes to make things more exciting! But at times the energy saver (me) runs out of electricity paving way to such moments. Now when I ponder over my past I can't stop laughing at these situations that are a part of my life and I would never forget them. Nothing is like school anymore . . . those 11 years of school were the best years of my life . . . =)

So I was talking about the Face Book video that Mehr shared . . . It about a prospective student who despite having all senses with proper functionality fails to use his eyes properly and becomes a victim of self induced problem. It's called 'Prospective Student' , Have a look:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NU0wXxDEenk
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"Confession of a Past Tense Criminal (Thief)"

 

My past thoughts haunt me,
as a demon would . . .
I sleep with my never ending plea,
to avoid nightmares if I could !

I can't stop dreading over my past,
it's so visible !
It's a nightmare that will forever last,
with it's effects so invincible . . .

With this nightmare so eternal,
and inevitable whether I am asleep or awake;
The guilt grows like a tumor so deep,
for some feelings I will always fake . . .

No matter what I shall achieve,
with all my effort . . . 
These thoughts will always retrieve,
to make each moment hurt . . . 

It is a sinking feeling of future uncertainty,
of being questioned about my polluted past . . . 
I am harsh with judging my felony,
my past is buried deep inside in a sorrowful sea so vast.
It's the people now I can't face,
since this secret is such a big disgrace!

I am the happiest person around,
for what I shall soon achieve.
It's mine; the future worth which is around.
It's different as I perceive . . .

What means everything in life to me,
is so near . . .
For months before I could foresee,
now I shall have no fear !
The future worth of credibility,
is what my past should allow some adaptability . . . 

I have and will always be . . . a victim of my past,
as these thoughts continue to last . . . 
But it's time to turn over a new leaf,
have faith and wipe off my personal disbelief !
Let bygone be a bygone,
and proceed . . .
Poetry Corner
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"Social Media Confession"


It's something to wonder about . . .
whether everyone on your facebook account is really a friend.
'Be careful', is the warning so loud,
but having hundreds added is a good trend.

It is the electronic socialisation,
where together exist your friend and foe;
and it's social media's rationalisation,
where you would receive a virtual death blow.

Of all the things that you share,
remember to like it before you take it away!
In order to make it look fair,
your friends argue that the liking rule you must obey!

Creating fan pages and selling stuff is the deal,
exponential taggings and annoying contacts is a social zeal.

There pop status updates ,
which you could be keen to comment at.
But after 20 more comments,
you would definitely sit and regret!

Hitting News Feed as spam could serve your purpose ,
whether it's project ticket sales or brand flim flam,
it would help create a promotional rumpus!

Go get a life . . .
rather than requesting cats, donkeys and cows.
Virtual harvesting is an act so naive,
Farmville was not part of your work place vows.

Stupid friendship requests you would get,
the funniest of all you might never forget.
It could be time to upload the most horrid picture,
from the net that you should fetch.

After all this fun comes this question again,
whether all on your friends' list are really your friends;
or adding them was an act too vain.
How many of them do you get to meet?
Not knowing them well could be your ultimate defeat! :)
Poetry Corner
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"Our City . . . "


Why can't there be peace in our city?
It's enough now!
Media exploitation is a great pity,
I won't let 'em misguide me I hereby vow!

Our situation gets exaggerated by all,
for the pursuit of a divided map . . . 
Apprentices mislead at international media's call;
to facilitate a planned communication gap.

What once used to be the city of lights,
is now the city of frights.
We lost our reputation ages ago,
now bomb blasts and gunshots casually echo . . .

Why do people buy into a suicidal death?
each day later they'll repeat this act . . . 
It's their home too that they abuse,
but they have no moral or ethical values!

Illiteracy and poverty have dragged us to the lowest ebb,
we are thus victims of this evil web!

Why do we get to face a surging crime rate?
It wasn't meant to be our country's fate . . .
Why has our future become so uncertain?
Why are we trapped in this evil burden?

We just can't take it anymore . . .
This pain and agony we cannot endure !!!
Poetry Corner
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"Safar Badnamah . . .وبيضة. . . (Season1, episode 4)"

A traveler's greatest nightmare is the vicinity of Cantt  Station. It's a curse for people traveling in overloaded buses . . . it's an abuse . . . abuse to the road! But wait a minute where did the road come from? There isn't any road left . . . oh yes, there was once a road that perished due to heavy rain and continuous sewerage spills throughout the year.

So . . . the bus turned towards Cantt and one of it's tyres fell into a small, cute, naughty ditch . . . and the bus, in fact half of it tilted with probably an angle of 40 degrees, maybe even more. In simple words, the bus became a victim of the ditch and was about to fall sideways completely . . . or at least that's how my imagination got wild because the side the tyre fell in was the one where I was seated. The driver made two failed attempts at  speed rescuing the bus out of the ditch but both times it lost it's balance miserably . . . That made me count the potential number of people who would have fallen on me because I was at the most vulnerable side and the bus was over burdened with human weight.

Well . . . God has given a mind to everyone and finally the driver put it to some use . . . he asked people to unload the bus and that's when the bus got out of the cute little ditch . . .PHEW !!!

YET ONCE AGAIN I MADE IT TO MY SCHOOL, SZABIST ALIVE !!! Well I can't afford to die before getting my degree . .. :)

There is this crappy act of promotion by marriage bureaus and black magic endorsers who hire people to throw their pamphlets into buses and at times a huge stack comes flying to hit you in the face. That's when you want to beat them up like an insane person . . . well I will discuss how one can beat up stalkers and morons in public buses, that's a different topic altogether.

Tonight while my Project Management class ended I found our school's dear cat in this posture:


It looks tired . . . more than dead, however, the glutton was seen in a similar kind of poster during the break and I think before the class too. I simply adore my school's cats, they are very playful! They believe in all you can eat and live life as if they would be no tomorrow . . .

Wildlife is always hungry especially when it has a look at  junk food. Last week, just outside 90, we saw an eagle flying at a very low altitude but with something yummy grabbed by it's claws. I turned around to see a flabbergasted student, a victim rather. It was a wholesome burger that eagle had just snatched from him.

So . . . back to my journey!

Sunsilk is trying to do something with itself, that's how I perceive it and well, I think it's a bit interesting but why do all re vitalizing brand moments get equipped by inflatable products at round abouts and other central locations? This time its Sunsilk's inflatable bottle dancing with Karachi's warm and sticky wind at KPT Underpass.
   
On my way back I recalled the nightmare I had a few days back. Oh that was torture. However, I do suffer from mid semester nightmare crisis. It has to be one difficult course every semester that keeps me waking up every now and then. I would sleep late and still wake up early.

This time the nightmare was in Arabic! Yes an Arabic nightmare. The entire night I had this repetitive sentence bugging me:

"Haazihee Ba'eezatunn !"
"Haazihee Ba'eezatunn !"
"Haazihee Ba'eezatunn !"
"Haazihee Ba'eezatunn !"


It translates into: 'It's an egg.' But oh God! The egg didn't let me sleep properly. The reason I got haunted by this sentence is because we had just studied what an egg means in Arabic and  thanks to our Arabic classes we now know alot . . . :) 

As we crossed Regent Plaza I wondered why the Sony Ericsson horse keeps changing it's colour from black to white and then from white to black every at least twice a year . . . it's maybe an experimentation with paint.
My place had come when I got off from the bus quite grateful that I hadn't been dozing off these days on my way back. I hate crossing roads because I can't and during heavy flow of traffic I find my self waiting for ages to be able to face this venture. However, this time it was a bus conductor who helped me cross the ridiculous road. Phew! Phew! Phew! May God bless him with a better job.

As I got upstairs towards home . . . I was surprised to see my building cat in a similar dead, dog tired posture as that of the school cat's and it was sleeping outside our door, too lazy this time to follow me.
It was a tiring day for cats . . .

 

Safar Badnamah – Season 1, Travelogue
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