Thursday 24 January, 2008

The card that cracked  


Haula: person who is stupid to the superlative degree of it. Rather, a person who is an ass, in my case.

I was sitting good on my bike which is often called khatara and very obviously. I have music banging in my ear always when on it. Not very far ahead I see this traffic police Qualis and a little further than that I see another traffic police swapping green into red on the star wars inspired sword look alike gadget. I very gladly being a good citizen with dare unimaginable, stopped at the signal. I waited waited waited for the signal to turn green. When you live in old city of Hyderabad and do stuff like this you get this, “arre haule!”

Just beside me I see another traffic police constable busy with challan-ing another of ‘the haula’ ,and I , I got caught by him . I made a straight face at him which I am pretty sure he gets it every time. I was not mad at the constable who caught me riding without helmet but I was mad at myself to have walked into a sure trap for myself. the signal constable had a trick here which I fell for , whenever he saw couple or more riders who did not have helmet on , he would flash the red signal and this would mean we have no where to go but lead ourselves into the trap . Damn you constable!

I, with no protest got led by him to the Qualis where the inspector was sitting. Another thing which I noticed about traffic constables is that they try to take you as far away from the Qualis only because they might get the cash instead of the government by us! Yes I am the haula of old city.

I get down from my bike will full style probably wanting him to think he has caught a fish and it would reward him in the long run. and look at what I get , “license , RC , Pollution sab nikalo” I remove my license and this guy has a look at it . Turning it upside down turning it and doing whatever he wanted with the card I gave. He was checking it whether it was fake or real and next he does is bend the card!!! Arre! didn’t anyone tell him that to check if the card is fake you turn around and look at the hologram .He bent my card and it cracked in places. I somehow got the instinct of Spiderman and thought I could check the card, I demand to show me the card, he says ruko. I say what the fuck man!

“bade bhai card dikhao yahaan par, kya karre? card tod diye mera?” I am almost on the verge of fighting with him when he runs away to the inspector who writes challans. I went to him and said “arre une mera card tod diya!”

Inspector replies “tumich cheene na ji, aisa cheene to tut jata na”

Me, an ass, still fumed and blurted out. “nahin maloom une mera card kaisa toda! us ko paise pay karo bolo ab”

He mocked at me and said “arre huale hogaye kya ji tum, ladne ka itna hi shauk hai to jao criminal case karr do us par.”

My Indian-ness aroused “hau! pehleich itne saare cases poadhe hue hai, ab case kiya to 3 4 mahine ke baad ata” woah I felt proud when I said that.

And then I did nothing, argued a little bit with the inspector again and the constable too and paid the fine of rs.100 and cursed myself all the way back home thinking of the broken card I have.

I was riding down the same road today and I see the constable playing the same trick of turning the lights red.

I drove, I sped, I fled, he shouted! I felt great.

Now people look at me and I get this, “once a haula never a haula”

Posted in by ATAullah | 12 Comments

Wednesday 16 January, 2008

The Paradox is me  

I am sick and tired of writing about myself, my life. I want to write , I wanna do something for someone other than me, I wanna think for the society , for the city I live in , for the country I am a national to .

This thought of mine in words is because I have nothing to write? Is it because I have everything to write but nothing interesting to write? Is it because I everything interesting to write about but nothing to interest you ?

I write in this very post of mine to impress you, to interest you. My life in this virtual blog revolves around the comments I receive. The more I receive the more I write. The more I write the more I feel good. The more I write the more I try to impress you.

There have been innumerable times where I read , reread my posts so that I get to notice what I feel I missed out , so that I get to notice , is it interesting you ?

I wanna do big , I wanna be big , I wanna help others be big . I wanna be the one!

But nothing I want, wants to happen,

Because I make nothing happen!

Sometimes I pose my own questions and answer them myself, or rather always.

This post of mine may be a farewell to whatever I wrote out here. I wanna write something new, something which excites people, something which inspires me. I write for the people rather than me.

My posts have always had a hint of darkness and I liked it that way, I would want to have the darkness transferred to my post and feel it that way.

Sometimes it crosses the level of insane-ness. And that’s how I like it.

These are just fragment of my thoughts I wish to write, probably a gist of what all provoked me to write, probably a gist of what all I wrote.

Lastly and contradicting everything I wrote, I will continue to write about myself, my thoughts because that’s how I get to read them.

But but but I will also write about what I feel I should be, the world at large.

And,
This is me,
Yours Paradoxically,
Ataullah or rather Me .

Posted in by ATAullah | 11 Comments

Tuesday 15 January, 2008

The Kid  

There was this incident that happened that left me wondering for nights together. I would keep thinking about the child in this incident, keep on admiring myself, keep on admiring him, keep on admiring his parents but the answer would always be nothing.

Whenever there are some religious ceremonies happening, or whenever there is a festival to be celebrated, we a group of more than handful of guys serves food for our jamaat (group of people who are from the same sect and have certain common beliefs). We serve food to the women in our jamaat. The reason we serve food is to derive satisfaction and pleasure out of it. We serve food because we have got nothing better to do. We serve food because we can be proud of doing something for the community. We also pick up thaals (a very large round aluminum plate, larger than the drum used for March past and by orchestra). The reason for doing that is to prove our mardangi to everyone around and not just to clean the place. We clean the place and serve so that we get our recognition of the work we are doing and the receive gratitude towards the work done for them.

We’ve been doing the thaal lifting work very efficiently and then suddenly a kid turns up right in front of me, raising his hand forward. I knew nothing about what was happening. My first thought was that, why would the kid want to pick up such a heavy thaal. I know kids get inquisitive on how it’s picked up and stuff but no one has happened to ever ask to pick up a thaal, a thaal is heavy man! It’s not a child’s play.

I bend down and ask, ‘kya hua?’ He said nothing.

I again asked ‘kya hua chotu? Thaal hona?’ he did not utter a word but the eyes said it all.

He raised his hand again and motioned a shake. I was left perturbed by the incident. My hand paved its way towards his. They met, they shook and he left. Left I was with a feeling unexplained. A small kid shook my hand and ran away and I did nothing but stare at him run past me. People around me were staring and smiling in belief of

‘Oh! He deserved it’

I was left there with my thoughts moving around so rapidly and nothing working. It was like feeling content. It was like satisfaction has reached its peak and I need nothing. Though I cannot really guess what was cooking in the kid’s mind. You have no idea what might have provoked it. Was it because we serve? Was it because we clean the place of the thaals? Was it because we take too much care? Then why was it only me that the kid shook hands with? Why was I shown the gratitude?

I would love to receive these answers, but I think I already have them subconsciously. Now all I need to do is serve the kid and the women there and bask in the glory of the gratitude of the kid on behalf of all of them.

Thank You, Kid.

This is to you.

Posted in by ATAullah | 3 Comments

Thursday 10 January, 2008

Extreme Randomness  


Whenever I try to get myself not to think about what has happened with me in the past or whatever I have done with myself , with others , I end up doing just the opposite . I cannot help it. My future hangs like a pendulum in mid air, innocence shining off it and a delicate push could deliver multiple oscillations. My life is kinda the same. The future is as violent and unpredictable as the oscillations. The steadiness of it is the present I live in. I wish not to be like this. Sometimes I wish someone would calculate my moves, someone would know just when I would stop oscillating. I wish everything would stop, I wish I would stop. I am sick of oscillating. I am sick of everything. I am not a sadist.

The past I talk about is very glorious and yet painful when I talk about it. I am still unsure if writing here is the right thing to do. If I see it through my eyes , I see myself passing through hell and when I see it from others eyes , I see myself passing through oh-what-a-life-he-has-had expression . But whenever I talk about it, there is always a mixed reaction. I feel happy and yet sad. I loved my school and I loved my school life too. But I hated it then too. I still have the same thing for it.

My thoughts are of extremes, my ideas believe in them, and my life is a product of it. By extremism I mean, my thoughts are poles apart. It’s like they have a life of their own going wherever they want to. The same goes for my music. I listen to some very soothing pop numbers and sometimes I listen to very hard metal beats and head band to glory. This trait of mine gets to people too, sometimes I behave so well with them and sometimes I make a mockery of the relationship I share with them.

I am person of extremes. I wish to remain this way. I wish to be myself.

I wish not to be controlled. I wish to oscillate.

I wish to be alone but have someone to be with.

I wish I can sleep. I wish I can be alive and write all through my life.

I wish I knew what I wanted. I wish I knew what u want.

I wish I am not this vague. I wish I can tell everything.

I wish to be me. I wish to be an extremist.

Posted in by ATAullah | 7 Comments

Tuesday 8 January, 2008

//this is a post from my brother's blog , there are not many poems i fall flat for and this is an exception of the rarest kind , loved it . i hope you like it .
His friend wrote a poem and he replied back to it in the language he best knew . over to you //



FRIEND`S POEM
=============

Standing at your door !! Please open my dear !!

Though i stand at your door
i dont knock out of a little fear

It has been a long year
and i have been learning to keep this far

wishes once so demanding like a chilled opened beer
aging into wine getting smoother and smoother

the distace has vanished and my crazy cravings disappear
and i dont miss you that much any more.

for i have created a smiling you out of my little memoir
and my obsessions, in a weird rhythmic way i got over

The eye is not that playful any more
it's become steady and getting deeper.

I have grown a hairy beard and cut short my hair
and many times find you behind the mirror

I still stand like i used to at your door
though turned silent and dont knock out of a little fear.

but i dont know who you would like to meet an old friend or a stranger
and i have turned silent and dont knock out of a little fear.

Peep through the spying lens of the door
If you still find a friend plaese open my dear !!!


MY REPLY
========

The protagonist, behind closed doors...

I stare at the door,
feel the emptiness within;
I see it with a little tear,
making inroads through my skin

It`s been a long year
Why does he not drop by?
I am not sure,
Why doesn`t he knock and say 'hi'?

Wishes, once like a child,
waiting to be born
my cravings have become numb
and my heart is torn

I miss you a lot dear,
I`ll think of you till eternity
Let me revel,
in the pages of serenity

I ain`t myself anymore
how can i be?
thoughts though silent
I am just not me

Peep in my heart and listen to it beat
I am there near the door.
Please don`t fear;
If you still want a friend please knock,my dear

Posted in by ATAullah | 4 Comments

Monday 7 January, 2008

The Times of Delhi  


“Those were the best ten days of my life”

Yes, I say it again and again and I do not get tired of saying it. I’ll keep on saying it till I die because they were the best ten days. there have been times when someone says company makes it happen or rather company matters and that’s what happened to the six of us or rather 15 of us . A group of 15 people went to Delhi so that they could rejoice their final moments with each other. I say final moments because of the fact that we were all in our 3rd and final year of our graduation. It was our desperation to do something which could actually have an impregnable imprint and then even if any one of us tries to distance, the thing will pull us back into a clan.

I say the 6 of us because it was the 6 of us that mattered. The six of us include(L-R) Hussain, Sana,Suha, Junaid, Me and farah. Each of us have tasted shit ( not literally ) , puked , shouted , cried , talked crap about each other , back biting was in . Strangely and for good something(s) happened, it was like the divine power up there wanted us to realize each others worth. There was not once but many a time, when I used to feel shaken by the statements made by the other. We just couldn’t predict what the other had in mind. We could only guess. Guess and make a fool of us was the order of the trip. The only power that we had with us was to talk. And the talking sure made a difference. We guys were total asses personified. It was the girls with their high emotional intelligence that made such a difference. We were 3 guys and 3 girls.So you know what i meant right ? 3 asses and 3 girls !

I do not know if I should be writing stuff down out here because these thoughts of mine and the memories I share are very pure and I do not want to manipulate the innocence of the thoughts and incidences with my language. They’re best preserved in my mind. And I know for a fact that they won’t ever get erased. And I also know very well for a fact that this mind of mine will not allow me to keep them inside for long. There are more memories to come now, life is longer than we expect. I will surely write about it but not here. There are some very dear moments which I share with them and they deserve a special place somewhere else .

I write this post so that it can be a messenger to these 5 people in my life ,whom I deeply love from the very bottom of my heart and wish them to be along with me forever and ever. I really wish Rinky was there along with us. We missed you Rinky.She sits pretty and strikes a pose second from the right .Oh that makes it 6 :D


Posted in by ATAullah | 9 Comments

Sunday 6 January, 2008

Why do i write ?  

I write not entirely to please myself.

I write but to please you.

There have been thoughts and queries and questions and answers and every possible twisted way of thinking why I actually write or blog for that matter. What do I get in return? Aah! Satisfaction? That was a good one, but nah! Satisfaction is just pretence; it’s like a creamy layer over the cake. Yes, I am not denying the fact that I do not get satisfaction by writing but satisfaction is just not what I want.

The reason I write is to let people know that I write. I want to let the world know that even I can write. I want them to know what good I am. There was a time when I used to write shit. Once in class 8th there was a comprehension passage in which the question asked was ‘who’s shoes would you like to step into’, and I gladly with sheer innocence wrote about being in a Bata. I got a blast from my dad then; the scowl hit me straight at my heart. I think it was then I subconsciously vowed that I would show him and the teacher and my school of what I can do. I never really improved and did not really know what I was worth after leaving school – Chirec it was.

The reason I write here is to get comments. I love getting comments on my posts. I makes me feel good about everything. Know what? I love it even if I get one comment , I live in its glory for days and stop writing. I love to read too.Being very frank, I have also been so shrewd in getting comments that, I have actually started posting comments on others posts so that they read the comment and get charmed by it and come and read my post and then comment on it. To please them I even put them up on my ‘blogs I like list’. I know you are bound to despise me but hey who is not a please-gimme-comment-freak, everyone is. Everyone wants to feel wanted, even you. It’s just that I let my intentions out on a blue print for you.

These are the closest reason why I write. they might also include testing myself , expanding myself , following what my brother did , blogging is in , nothing left to do , who studies man ! , impress people, and hey! Look even I write.

I will write entirely to please myself.
I will write but also to please you.

Posted in by ATAullah | 1 Comments

Restlessness  

Restless is my mind, restless are my thoughts and restless are my eyes.

Restlessness is in my genes. Restlessness comes from my dad and restlessness is not bad.

My principal once wrote to me in a parchment on our farewell and she wrote , “The first thing that strikes one about you is your cheerfulness and of course your shifty restless eyes. May you continue to be cheerful all through, and yes restless too, but restless to excel. I have no doubt that you have a bright future but work for it. You were perhaps destined to be a Georgean.” Although she wrote something about each student in the class counting 12. It felt like the 2 in the 12 never existed. It was just me who existed. Felt glad about it.

Restless is my mind, restless are my thoughts and restless are my eyes.

I have so many thoughts wrestling in my mind that sometimes I do not know what to write about. Its like I want to but I cannot. It just does not happen. The same is the case with my life at large. I have so many , many, many, many, (yes I notice the many, do u notice the gravity now ?) things to do. But when I try to do them or when I take them up , it just does not happen.

Restlessness is in my genes. Restlessness comes from my dad and restlessness is not bad.

I have been to Delhi and other connecting areas in ten days and these days were like the best ten days of my life. When one says they were the best days of one's life, one is left in doubt . Unsure of what one is saying and questioning to oneself were those really one's best days ? These statements come from experience not mere presumption. I have ‘lived’ these ten days. I could die for these ten days. I have lived a life I had only dreamt of and now when I come back to Hyderabad I am what I was . Those ten days have infused and induced laziness in me. I do not know what to do. I do not know what I have to do.

I am just hoping that this restless mind of mine could get the cue from this very post of mine. I wish to be perfect , knowing fully well that I cannot be one. I wish to visit Delhi once again and ‘live’ again knowing fully well that that the moment gone will never come back. I wish to sleep, I wish to dream and I wish to wake up so that I could repeat the cycle . I wish to wake up now this very moment. I wish to take myself to a new level.

Like the cycle , I wish to repeat these lines again and again .

Restless is my mind, restless are my thoughts and restless are my eyes.

Restlessness is in my genes. Restlessness comes from my dad and restlessness is not bad.

Posted in by ATAullah | 1 Comments

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