My Memoir: My Uncle Part III -His Friends And Their Political Beliefs.
My Memoir: My Uncle Part III His Friends And Their Political Beliefs Z.G. Muhammad My mother, one day, abruptly banished me from Chasing swallows on the street outside our home – my elder brother did not admire running after this beautiful bird, so it did not matter to him. I was too young to venture the courage and ask my mother why my freedom was snatched when birds still had it. The only liberty I had was looking through the latticed window on the street outside our home. It wore a deserted look, dotted with men in Khaki and olive green. The only life on the linear road connecting the two four-way roundabouts of our Mohalla was the carefree swallows diving like jet fighter aircraft. I felt envious of the swallows and wanted … 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 giggle, there is a niche- as silent as cosy lovers’ corner in salubrious highlands. The … Read entire article »
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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 streets outside our home were as desolate as deserts, with the City Bus Service passing … Read entire article »
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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 right by my side. Holding my tiny hand with his and guiding me through life. … Read entire article »
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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 its ambience. Everything looked alien to me. Perhaps the new construction living true to our … Read entire article »
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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 to Christen Missionary School (CMS) Tyndale Biscoe School, Sheikh Bagh those days was “aristocratic” and … Read entire article »
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