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STORY OF MY FATHER

STORY OF MY FATHER

My Father. I had bid farewell to a multi-coloured Watanigour willow walkermade in Islamabad. I don’t know if a rouht phitrawan (bread breaking) ceremony was arranged on my first step without a walker, as was the tradition. I had inherited the walker from my elder brother Mohammad Yousf, and it was passed on to my younger sibling Ghulam Hassan. Along with a walnut wood crib, a mace with quartz head, an old lantern, an old gramophone record … Read entire article »

My Days in Bombay- Looking for spiritual solace in film nagari

My Days in Bombay- Looking for spiritual solace in film nagari

Haji Malang My Days in Bombay – A spiritual Journey My Days in Bombay- Spiritual Journey of Downtown Boy Looking For Inner Solace in Film Nagari Off To Haji Malang ZGM Many spiritual experiences can’t be captured in words.  Offering late-night prayers during sultry days on an islet with the soothing breeze blowing on all sides from the Arabian Sea had a unique spiritual elation. Perhaps, it was as good an experience as that of whirling … Read entire article »

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My Memoir: My Uncle

A Ghulam Nabi My Uncle My Memoir: My Uncle Part II Z.G. Muhammad “Words could never tell the joy an uncle brings; an uncle is a bond of faith that even time can’t sever, a gift to last all of our lives.” I don’t know who has said it. Whosoever has said it, whether a big name in literature or an anonymous fellow, but he has said it pretty well? Sometimes, writings by anonymous writers are as rich in content as Shakespearean or Dickensian quotes. At the cost of monotony,  let many say he was what we in Urdu call Kaus-e-Qaza- rungoon ki dhanak- a blend of pleasing colours- with multiple shades. He followed a golden principle about life, ‘live your life to the fullest,’ yet was mystic- yes, a mystic to the kernel. … Read entire article »

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An Offbeat Day With Writers (ZGM)

An Offbeat Day Z.G. Muhammad It was not mundane at all; there was not much excitement, but it was an offbeat day in as much as it was different from the past one thousand and odd days. Of course, sitting amongst a host of short story writers, most of them young, dreaming of making it to the list of Booker awardees Kiran Desai, Mohsin Hamid, Arundhati Roy and Geetanjali, it was a rendezvous with a utopian world. It was an engagement distant from the “new-norm world, ” in which many a friend and I have been living. In a small busy street connected to the Residency Road, filled with honks and horns, hawkers shout, vendors jeer, and teenyboppers … Read entire article »

My Memoir: My Uncle And Grandmother’s Myth Part I

My Memoir: My Uncle And Grandmother’s Myth  Part I

My Memoir: My Uncle Grandmother’s About Her Son Part One   By Zahid G Muhammad  Spotting an aeroplane in the blue skies in downtown Srinagar, miles away from the airstrip built by Maharaja Hari Singh for the landing of his private aircraft on an elevated plateau in Budgam, was a rarity. Nonetheless, it was full of excitement and thrill. Those were the times when even … Read entire article »

Noor-Ul-Hassan: An Evocative and Emotive Tribute by A Grandson

Noor-Ul-Hassan: An Evocative and Emotive Tribute by A Grandson

BY Syed Hamzah Mehmood Rufai Never in gazillion years I thought that I would have to write this, alas, I’m here; our dearest grandfather Syed Noor ul Hassan Rufai left us for heavenly abode, only to be reunited with his dearest wife. As many would say an institution, a legend has left us forever!From my earliest memories, I remember him … Read entire article »

Of My Pandit Teacher and My Concern About Him

Of My Pandit Teacher and My Concern About Him

Z,G. Muhammad It was a few day back, I  visited my favourite childhood haunt, Badamwari. After years– decades that I strolled in Bagh-e-Waris Khan- it has been done up nicely, but somehow I felt some artificiality in its new get-up. I don’t know why every new construction, including the beautiful chiselled limestone fountain, looked to me in a clash with … Read entire article »

My Memoir My Father: He Died In Harness Part VIII

He Died In Harness: My Memoir My Father ZGM    These were the days of ecstasy unbounded for my friends and me- we were going to have an extended recess, a grand leisure time full of thrill and excitement. We had just appeared for the board examinations for class eight, and it was to be a long post-examination break- no school and no tuition till results would be out. Suddenly, in my case, the sweetness of the holidays turned bitter when I learnt that my father intended to put me in a different school in the uptown in class nine- it would be as good as uprooting me, I would lose all my friends and playmates.Sending children … Read entire article »

Dreaming of Rumi’s Quill

Dreaming Of Rumi’s Quill Quill pen! Oh! I always dreamt of having one. It was a dream. I was reminded of this dream on reading these lines from some little known poet: “Everyone asks, who inspires your hand? My quill pen,  fellow poet.” I vividly remember when I started dreaming of having a quill pen. I was in class five; the class we started reading English premier. The artwork and the alphabets in this premier caught my imagination.  The alphabets, to me, were as inanimate and lifeless as rotting logs of wood in the Ramzan Khan’s timber shop that had eaten into the cherry trees of Ama Lala, our neighbour.  The illustrations were vibrant, vivacious and pulsating; … Read entire article »