Kheloongi Holi ( I shall play Holi)

Phagwa, more commonly known as Holi, celebrated on the full moon day of Phalgun, is a festival that heralds the arrival of spring. Played with dry and wet color, it is a symbolic expression for the changing temperatures and the blossoming fields.

Since very young, on the morning of Holi, I saw my Muslim parents being called at the gates of our house in Delhi, by a group of faces immersed in colors, who all looked almost identical. As my parents walked out, they were enthusiastically smeared with color by the crowd, and they too lost their identity with crowd.  It left no clue as to who was who, when they roared together with laughter and excitement.  As we siblings grew up, we joined in too, with our set of friends.

Holi, as I envision it,  is a perfect way to depict a spirit of universal brotherhood beyond color, creed, caste or social status.

If  taken in it’s true spirits, Holi never was and never is meant to be a religious festival to be celebrated by a select faith.

Though, like other religious festivals, it too claims a legend with a victory of the good over the evil ( The Story of Holika). However, from the context of its current celebration, it is said to have begun by the love duo Krishna and Radha.
Krishna as a young boy, being extremely dark complexioned, complained to his mother Yashoda, why was he dark, while his beloved Radha fair?

The conversation between a complaining son, and  his doting mother,  is  narrated beautifully, in a famous folk song:

Yashomati mayya sey bole Nand Lala,
Radha kyun gori, main kyun kala?
Boli muskaati Mayya, Sun merey pyaare,
Gori gori Radhika ke, nain kajrare,
Kaale nainon waali ney, aisa jadu dala,
Tuu isee liye  kaala.

(Krishna asks mother Yashoda: “Why am I dark, while Radha is so fair?”
Mother  smiles and replies: “Listen my dear, the fair Radha’s kohl eyes have swept you with their magic, and hence are you so dark.)

And one day teasingly to console Krishna she is said to have told him: “What’s in a color? Go and smear Radha’s face with any color you like.”
And Krishna out of love for Radha, smeared her with red color( gulaal).

Legend claims that  thus began  the playing of colors ( Holi khelna), between Krishna and Radha along with her friends referred to as Gopis.

Their romance with playing Holi has been immortalized in many miniature painting s:

Another one, with in Mughal art:

Mughal Emperors  too fancied Holi, for its association with color and romance. They brought the practice of playing Holi to their courts and palaces.

Akber is no surprise, knowing his secular conviction and a Hindu Queen, Joda Bai.

Jehangir, the romantic art connoisseur, is documented to have played Holi with his Queen Noor Jehan in his palace and called it Eid-e-Gulabi. It isnt hard to imagine the ecstatic aroma and aura that must have been created in the palace by red gulaal,  rose petals ( gulab paashi) and   rose water (aab paashi) being sprinkled during the royal play.

Auranzeb’s fancy for the colors of Holi came as a surprise to me. Writes Lane Poole in biography Auranzeb: “During his time there used to be several groups of Holi singers who besides reciting libertine lyrics also indulged in salaciousness, accompanied by various musical instruments.”

Bahadur Shah Zafar’s verses on Holi now are sung as part of the phaag ( folk songs of Holi). One of the most sung verses being:

Kyo Mo Pe Rang Ki Maari Pichkaari
Dekho Kunwar Ji Doongi Mein Gaari
(Why drench me with color spray,
now my prince, I will swear at you)

Bahut Dinan Mein Haath Lage Ho Kaise Jane Doon
Aaj Phagwa To Son Ka Tha Peeth Pakad Kar Loon.
(After long have you come in my hands, how will I let you go?
Today is Holi, and perfect time to catch hold of you)

This is Mughal Emperor Jehangir playing Holi in his palace:

Sufi poets too eulogized the Radha Krishna romance and Holi, when expressing their love for their revered Sufi Saints or even God.

To begin with  Sufi poets, it is Shah Niaz’s ‘s Hori Ho Rahi hai, (immortalized by Abida Parveen):

Holi hoye rahi hai Ahmad Jiya ke dwaar
Hazrat Ali ka rang bano hai Hassan Hussain khilaar
Aiso holi ki dhoom machi hai chahoon or pari hai pukaar
Aiso anokho chatur khiladi rang deeyon sansaar
“Niaz” pyaara bhar bhar chidke ek hi raang sahas pichkaar.

(Holi is happening at beloved, Ahmed’s (saww) doorsteps.
Color has become of Hazrat Ali (as) and Hasan (as), Hussain (as) are playing.
It has become such a bustling scene of Holi that it has become talk of the town,
people are calling others from all over,
What unique and clever players (Hasan and Hussain) that they colored the entire world.
Niaz (the poet) sprinkles bowlfuls of color all around,
the same color that comes out of thousands of pichkaaris ( spray guns).)
{Thanks to Ali Rehman @Baahirezaman for the translation}.

Bulleh Shah also played Holi with his Master:

Hori khailoongi keh kar Bismillah
Naam nabi ki rattan charhi, bond pari Illalah
Rang rangeli ohi khilawe, jo sakhi howe fana fi Allah

(I shall play Holi, beginning with the name of Allah.
The name of Prophet is enveloped with light,
He only makes us play with colors, who annihilates with Allah)

Amir Khusro  relates to  Holi through multiple fascinating ways, in various places. Khusrau refers  not just to the color, or the play but of  the birth place of Krishna Mathura in the famous Aaj Rung hai rey:

Gokal dekha, Mathra dekha,
par tosa na koi rang dekha
Ey main dhoond phiri hoon
Des bides mein dhoond phiri hoon,

Purab dekha pacham dekha
uttar dekha dakkan dekha
Re main dhoond phiri hoon
Des bides mein dhoond phiri hoon,

Tora rang man bhaayo Moinuddin
Mohe apne hi rang mein rang le Khwaja ji
Mohe rang basanti rang de Khwaja Ji
Mohe apne hi rang mein rang de

{In summary: I saw Gokul, Mathura ( bith place of Krishna) and even East to West I roamed, but I did not find anyone with a color like yours. My heart is enamored by your color, hence color me in your shade, my master.}

Another lesser know verse I came across is:

Khelooongi Holi, Khaaja ghar aaye,
Dhan dhan bhaag hamarey sajni,
Khaaja aaye aangan merey..
( I shall play Holi as Khaaja has come to my home,
Blessed is my fortune, O’ friend,
as Khaaja has come to my courtyard.)

Needless to repeat, there are ample such examples.  No matter how much one may attempt, it is impossible to separate the two inter-meshed   cultures coexistent for centuries in the subcontinent. These celebrations of culture are all about love and inclusion, and absolutely nothing about hate and discrimination.

Let’s celebrate then, with an open heart !

Here is the link to Amir Khusrau’s Kheloongi Holi, Khaaja ghar aaye:

http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owFCPKI9k2A

The King of Kebabs- Behari Kebabs

Behari Kababs !

Which meat loving South Asian  doesn’t relish them ? In fact, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad has called them, the ‘finest’ kebabs in his food memoirs.

I grew up watching on very special occasions, my mother prepare and barbeque these Kebabs very diligently on and with much effort, on a charcoal grill. All I remember was that it was a great hard work. And hence, for many, Behari Kebabs is a delicacy to be eaten in restaurants, as cooking them at home is very cumbersome.

I too believed so, till once, I thought of experimenting them in the convenience of my kitchen, in the electric oven. I made them with wooden skewers, and the first attempt wasn’t bad at all. Second time, it was for a dinner party, and the guests could not believe they were homemade, till my husband showed them the oven, tray and the wooden skewers on which they were made.

I moved on, more confident. Got  custom made, iron skewers that fit my tray size in the oven. As I have moved cities, these iron skewers have obediently moved with me too.

Warning: Instead of red meat, I make them here with white meat, and instead of a charcoal grill, I grill them in an oven. Nevertheless, can assure you, they are a different delicacy in their own right.

Ingredients:
Chicken breasts 1 kg
( each sliced into 4 thin fillet)
Onions: 4 medium sized
Ginger : 100gms
Garlic: One whole,
(peeled into cloves)
Green Papaya: 100gms.
Spices: Cumin, coriander, and red chilli powders, and salt to taste.
Mustard Oil- 1 Cup
Fried Browned onions: 2tbsp
(P.S. Some add yogurt, but I don’t.)

Method: 
All the ingredients except the chicken breasts are made into a paste in the grinder. Pour the paste into a wide bowl, and mix in Mustard oil.

Add the chicken fillet in the paste and marinate them for preferably overnight to 24 hours.

As they are ready to be cooked, spread out each marinated fillet inside a plastic bag, one by one.

Once arranged 4-5 fillets, fold to close the open end of the plastic bag, And pound them with a wooden pound to make them softer, and such that the spice paste seeps into the fillet..

Take them out of the plastic bag, one by one, to mount on the iron skewers. My skewers seen here are about a feet long, specially made to fit my baking tray.

Mount the fillets on the skewers, piercing the iron rod, through the flesh of the fillets at 2-3 inches apart, then gathering them closer.

Arrange the skewers on the baking tray adjacent to each other.

When completed, place them in a preheated oven, at 225 degrees C for 30 minutes.

Once ready, place a burning coal on the side of the tray, and douse it with oil to bellow smoke. Cover the tray, and close the oven, immediately, for the smoky aroma to be absorbed in the Kebabs.

When ready, serve them hot, with pickled onions, yogurt sauce and chutneys. Naans and parathas go equally well with these Kebabs.

The children are fond of taking the left overs to school, rolled in a naan as Kebab rolls.

P.S. The blog has been diligently made for a Kebab loving and Kebab cooking fellow Delhiite Parshu Narayanan.

The Weaker Sex

None can match her psychological resilience,  but it is  for her physical strength, that the world calls her a ‘weaker’ sex.

Only if they saw the truth behind the Chinese proverb ” Women hold half the sky.”

Gharwali

A tribute to a ‘home maker’ on International Women’s Day. She is a woman who works 24×7, with no offs, no fixed working hours, no weekends, no vacations, no salary, no promotions and not even a recognition. And even then, when you ask her what does she do, she replies: “I am not a working woman.” 

Mansoor Khan office se ghar thak ke aye aur ate hi dhupp sofe per baith gaye.
“Begum TV ka remote kahan hai? Kahan rakhti ho”

“Main kaun sa TV dekhti hoon din mein. Bachey pata nahin kahan rakh dete hain. Roz dhoondna parta hai.”

“Khabron ka time ho raha hai. Ek glass pani bhi pila do.”

“Dhoondti hoon, pehle roti utaar loun, warna jal jaayegi.”

Salma Begum pani ka glass thamate huwe , remote ko sofey ke neechey se jhuk ker nikalti hai. “Yeh leejiye.’

“Begum, ek chaaye to pila do, adha chamcha cheeni ke saath. Sir mein dard ho raha hai.”

“Arrey, pher bad parhezi ker rahe hain. Doctor ne kaha hai, ab sakhti se parhez karein, warna pher se sugar aur blood pressure donon out of control ho jaayenge.”

“Haan, mager sara din office mein dhang ki chaaye nahin milti. Khana bhi thanda khana perta hai.”

News khatm hui to, Begum awaz lagati hain,
“Suniye khana laga diya hai, kha lein, mera serial shuru hone wala hai, pher main nahin uthoongi.”

“Kya pakaya hai?”

“Aloo palak aur dal.”

“Pher sabzi, dal. Gosht khaaye muddat ho gai.”

“Arrey kal to karhai gosht banaya tha. Lekin apko wazan kum kerna hai, heart specialist ne pichli baar mujhey kaha tha, inko sabzi khilaya karein.”

Shauhar hazrat moonh banate huwe dining table ki taraf barhte hain.
“Bachon ne kha liya?”

“Haan, unko bhi sabzi dekh ker bhook urr gayi. Main kya karoon, mere buss mein nai hai, her ek ki pasand ka khana banaoon. Khana hai to khaayein, warna roza rakh lein.”

Begum ne shauhar ki plate ke baraber mein unki sugar ki dawa bhi rakh dee.
“Glass mein paani nikal do take dawa kha loun”

Shauhar khane mein masroof ho jata hai, aur begum apni plate lekar TV ke samne baith ker serial mein magan.

Serial mein waqfa ata hai, to shauhar taqaza kerta hai, “Mere blood pressure ki dawa kahan hai.”

Salma begum, apna guthna pakarte huwe uthti hai, aur dard se karah ker kehti hai…”Reh gayi, acha le ker aati hoon”.

“Kya huwa, abhi tak guthne ka dard theek nahin huwa?”

“Kaise hoga, rest ka time kahan milta hai, na hi doctor ke pas wapas jana huwa. Dawa bhi khana bhool jaati hoon’”

“Kyun nahin khaati. Yad rakha karo. Tum per burhape ke asaar aane lage hain.” Usney biwi ko cherne ki koshish ki.

“To aur kya ab bhi nahin ayega. Aap khizaab lagane se kya jawan ho gaye hain?” Begum ne tanz kiya.
“Tum apne aap per bilkul dhyan nahin deti, dekho pet bhi latak gaya hai.”

“Zahir hai, teen bache paida kiya hain.” Pher TV serial mein lag jaati hai aur ek haath se apne guthne ko malish kerne lagti hai.

Drama serial khatm hone se pehle hi, shauhar sahib pher kehte hain…”Main kamre mein dafter ka kaam poora ker raha hoon, Mujhe chaaye udher hi la dena.”
“Buss 5 minute, ye drama khatm ho jaaye to banati hoon.”

Drama  khatm hi hota hai, to Salma begum table per se bartan uthaati hai, aur chaaye ka pani rakh deti hain.

Ander se awaz aati hai, “Chaaye ho gai?”

Salma jaldi se chaaye le ker jaati hai, to shauhar sahib, ooper sey neechey tak us per nazer daurate hain, aur pher   muskura ker cherte huwe bare pyar se kehtey hain, “Begum, naa to tum apna khayal rakhti ho, aur naa hi mera, lagta hai koi doosri dhoondni paregi.”

Salma suni ansuni kerte huwe, moonh bana ker, kitchen me wapas aa ker bartan samet te huwe khud hi barbarati hai, “Uth ke paani to piya nahin jata, lekin doosri ka shauq khatm nahin hota inka.”

Aur halki si muskan ke saath pher bartan dhoney mein lag jaati hai.

Hear the snowflakes speak…

Next time,
you are stranded in your car,
in a snow storm,
snail pacing thro the traffic,
Turn on a soft music and,
watch each snowflake closely,
so beautifully crafted,
yet none two identical,
in shape, size or character,
sailing down, leisurely,
in a silent chaos,
trying to speak to you.
And hitting the windscreen,
trying to reach you,
To whisper to you,
“How pure, soft, different are we.
But so short lived as individuals,
While so lasting when together.”

“Interdependence” Day and beyond

First published in Aman Ki Asha on Aug 1, 2012 : http://amankiasha.com/detail_news.asp?id=854

As the dates approach, the excitement is increasing. The event is “Celebrate India, Pakistan Independence Days for Peace, Aug 14-15, 2012″ — on Facebook at http://on.fb.me/LcHOeU.

As more people join the event page, those who joined earlier are getting to know each other better. They share common interests in music, culture, poetry. Some discuss pains and pleasures common to India and Pakistan. Many who met as strangers on the event page have added each other as Facebook friends and continue their exchanges elsewhere.

The idea is based on the “Pray for Peace between India and Pakistan Day” initiated by Swati Sharan in Toronto, asking Indians and Pakistanis to “Save the Date! Pray for 30 seconds in your own style for peace between India and Pakistan”, on December 18, 2011 (randomly picked). This led to some 200,000 souls around the world praying for this cause, not only via social media but at community centres and ashrams.

Inspired by the idea, a discussion began on twitter about celebrating Aug 14-15 together as “Interdependence Days”, instead of just wishing each other for Independence. “What is this celebration for if we can’t party together?” asked Shivam Vij, an IndoPak peace voice from Delhi, almost a year ago.

The Pakistan Youth Alliance, inspired by the prayers and their own Peace Parade in Lahore on August 14 last year which ended with wishing their friends in India at midnight on August 15, decided to take it further. The idea caught on and within a few days, many groups joined with more ideas and support.

Some have been going to Wagah border on Aug 14-15 for years, lighting candles to wish their neighbours for Independence Day. The Confederation of Voluntary Organisations (COVA) based in Hyderabad, Deccan has been organising events in different parts of India. This year they will celebrate Aug 14-15 with interfaith prayers and a video conference between youth across the border.

The Internet and Facebook allows those who are not physically able to join an event to participate virtually. And so, with leadership and support from Aman ki Asha, other groups and individuals have joined in this year.

Swati Sharan of Pray for Peace between India and Pakistan continues her quest through meditation and prayer. “I hope that wherever people are, they will take this power (of prayer) that they have in their hands and use it,” she says.

The Pakistan Youth Alliance (PYA), with its team leader Shumail Zaidi in Karachi plans an iftar with orphans and physically challenged children, along with a fun packed evening of imaginary India and Pakistan teams playing tug of war, Antakshari, and other games, followed by a prayer.

“We at PYA want the youth bulge on both sides of the borders to understand the importance of sustainable peace based on common ground. Enough of wars and hatred; let’s move forward to make one-fifth of humanity an epitome of progress, prosperity and equality,” says Ali Abbas Zaidi who heads PYA. Believing that his generation, youth on both sides of the border, can be ‘game-changers’ towards a better South Asia, “together we can, and together we must,” he insists.

Another youth initiative, Romancing The Border, is working to build a movement to increase positive engagement between India and Pakistan. It includes innovative tools such as e-cards with positive messages. “We don’t know if RTB will make a difference, but it brought 80 of us together from around the globe. We cared. We will continue to do so. We all came for a peaceful South Asia,” says one message.

For Independence day this year, RTB is planning a “Google Hangout” between Indians and Pakistanis aiming to set a world record for the longest running virtual meet-up between conflict boundaries.
The Journal for Pakistan Medical Students plans a teleconferenced get-together for volunteer editors on both sides, to take forward for the idea of peace and cooperation in healthcare through medical research.

“There is no other option but peace between India and Pakistan, if we are to fight mutual enemies like malaria, cholera, dengue, hepatitis, maternal mortality…,” says Dr Anis Rehman, a JPMS co-founder.

The South Asian community in Canada, including eminent professors from the University of Toronto at Mississauga (UTM) and Mc Master University are celebrating Aug 14-15 with the launch of Pledge for Peace – a website to provide an ongoing, long-term platform for Indians and Pakistanis, aiming for “lasting peace and friendship between the two peoples”. The website will invite pledges from around the world to make a chain of peace and launch an online game for youth, Cricket for Peace, to be inaugurated jointly at UTM by the Hindu Students Council and PYA.

Other joint collaborations beyond Aug 14-15 are planned. Mumbai Marathon is organising the “Every Step Counts” run between Amristar and Lahore on November 9, 2012, to commemorate the birthday of Allama Mohammad Iqbal, Pakistan’s national poet. Runners will start from Golden Temple, Amritsar and end at Iqbal’s tomb at Badshahi Mosque, Lahore, to commemorate the man “who gave us the beautiful song Sare Jahan Sey Acha,” says team leader Swaminathan Subramanyam. “Why do we do this? Because as we look for peace between our two countries, EVERY STEP COUNTS.”

Pakistan’s Pedal for Peace group are organising their Lahore to Amritsar bicycle tour to coincide with Every Step Counts’ November 9 event. “We cycle from one city to another in order to spread the message of peace, tolerance and to urge people to solve social issues hampering our growth” says Abdul Basit Khwaja of Pedal for Peace.

Those who are unable to physically join an event are invited to dedicate some time to peace on Aug 14-15 this year, wherever they may be: light a candle, meditate, pray, fly a kite, cook a meal, make a piece of artwork or write a poem dedicated to peace between the two countries.

Let’s make peace more visible than conflict, this Independence Day. Happy India Pakistan Peace celebrations!

Dr Ilmana Fasih is an Indian gynaecologist and health activist married to a Pakistani. She blogs at Blind to Bounds http://thinkloud65.wordpress.com

A Forbidden Dream?

This is a story from my life and dreams,  in three short episodes.

Episode ONE: 

Location: Amritsar

Time: 8AM on a lazy Sunday.

Suddenly my husband declares, “I won’t eat boiled egg today for breakfast. Enough of calorie count.”

 ”I can’t make Nihari in a few minutes. You should have told me yesterday, you want to eat something else.”

“Idea, lets go to Lahore for a Paaye-Nihari naashta at Gawaal Mandi. It’ll take us less than an hour by  car. Keep my passport also in your purse.”

Within 10 minutes we were on the PEACE ROAD  to Lahore, and just an hour later sitting in Gawal Mandi under the open skies in a mild cold breeze, as my husband was ordering two plates of Paaye Naan with doodh-patti chai.

Episode TWO:

Location : Karachi
Time: 1:00 PM Lunch time in the office with friends.

“What are you wearing on the Annual Celebration for our Office.”

“Oh, I don’t have any decent dress to wear, I wish I could wear an Indian saree for a change.” (Yes every woman, almost never has a decent dress to wear.)

“Heyy, you know I saw on TV there is a bumper sale in Rana Sarees in Jodhpur, on bandhnis, leheriyas etc. Even I want to buy one.”

“Idea! Why don’t we plan, take train on Friday,  to Jodhpur and come back on Sunday.”

“Yes, brilliant idea. Rana Sarees is closed on Mondays only.”

Thursday evening, we pack our small trolley bags, and off we are, on Friday morning in the PEACE TRAIN from Karachi to Jodhpur on Khokrapaar-Munabao Railway track.

As the train winds through the golden sands of Thar Desert, we see Thari men and women in their colorful clothes busy with their daily work.  A group of women stop by, turn at us and wave back at our train.

I  look at the woman in a white and red saree,  and scream excitedly, “I will buy a saree of this design.”

In 5 hours we are in Jodhpur. With a shopping spree all Saturday, on Sunday morning, we set off with loaded bags, on the train back home.

Episode THREE:

Location: Mississauga, ON , Canada.
Time: Early morning on a cold Saturday on a long weekend.

“Winters are depressing, Are we going to spend all three days sitting in the home in front of a fire place?”, my husband.

“No, we can go to America, to have an ice cream in -20 degrees C.”  I remark sarcastically.

“Hey, why ice cream, lets go to Buffalo,  for cheese cake?”

The idea hits home.  And in 5 minutes, we were on QEW Highway heading down South and East to Buffalo. In an hour we were at the border, and 8 minutes later, which included clearance from the US Homeland Security of our Pakistani Passports, we were on the PEACE BRIDGE, built over Niagara River, between Fort Erie ( Canada) and Buffalo ( USA).

In two hours after a lunch and an order of cheese cake, we ere driving back home to Canada.

Do the stories sound wierd?

Or perhaps for some, “So what’s there to blog about them? Isn’t that normal. “

Indeed, for many across the world, such adventures are normal. They travel cross countries   which even speak different languages( as in Europe), without much fuss,  just for a cup of coffee or even go to work across border.

As you may have guessed, only Episode THREE was a real one, while the Episodes ONE & TWO are  still   far fetched dreams.

The fact that Peace Bridge is a reality, it hurts even more to know that Peace Road or Peace Train have to still remain a dream, a far fetched one.

They do occasionally become  a reality, but  for the VVIPs  (only).  For instance, when  one fine weekend the Head of the State on one side  decides to go to the other side for a visit to a shrine, or for a cricket match. But it still remains a dream, and a forbidden one,  for the ordinary.

Even when the ordinary have relations, loved ones or friends on the other side,  all they are entitled to is to dream like the way I dreamt in episodes ONE and TWO.

I know of a true story of a friend, who planned a year in advance to be with her parents, on their Golden Jubilee Wedding Anniversary.  But the visa did not arrive on time.  And when it did arrive, 15 months later, her father was in the hospital, struggling for life.  She fortunately made it,  to see him, and then he passed away two days later in her arms. She felt fortunate to have met her father, and held him in his last minutes of his life.

This wasn’t  her dream, but a true story.

I cant even call myself that lucky. I reached two days after my father was buried. Now I dread for my ageing mother. May she live long, and every time I part with her, I wonder in what circumstances would the next meet be.  Would it be possible at all or not?

With months of excitement about the much publicized NEW VISA REGIME, I had anxiously awaited ( and tweeted) for the arrival  May 25, 2012,  when the document was expected to be signed.  But it was postponed  in the last minute, by a Minister from Pakistan for ‘some’ reason  I didn’t care to explore. For me it was a delay in realization of part of my dreams, for whatever reason-valid or lame.

{However, the divided families did not have much to rejoice from the new agreement, but I still thought this a great step in the right direction.}

Finally in December, when the Ministers met in New Delhi,  the agreement was sealed and signed.
Alas, with  no jinx, we apprehensively took a sigh of relief.

But then, as feared, the tensions at LOC and the beheading incident put the implementation on hold. Again, the ‘not so big’ dream which had come so close to realization had again receded afar.

The dream to cross the Indo Pak Border  is not for Nihari or for  a Saree.  We can get it on the  same side of the border too. They are simply the symbolic magnets of common love and heritage, that the ordinary people on both sides have not been able to ignore, despite years of deliberately created rifts and barriers between them.

Some have outrightly called my Nihari-Saree dream as cynical one, but when few millions ordinary citizens between the US-Canada or within the EU can see this as a reality, why cant the 1.4 billion( a seventh of humanity) across India and Pakistan?

When 3 wars, and countless hostilities have not resolved the differences  why can’t peace and  cooperation be given a real chance?

Like every sovereign nation, India and Pakistan too have the right to ensure, that no miscreants are let to cross the border, but why should the whole population of wellmeaning people be held hostage to the whims and fancies of  few vested interests?

Let the people  interact through easy Visa for the ordinary.  

Let prejudices whither and sanity & reasoning  prevail.

Please, let the people meet.

Please #MilneDo

Lambee chaal

Ek bahut hi ghareeb mulk tha, naam tha uska  Dammocracy.

Wahan per ek aqlmand shakhs ki hukumat thi, jiska naam tha Zorbhaari.  Uss mulk ka ye tareeqa tha, ke her 2-5 saal mein hukumat badal jaati thi.

Ye pehla sadr tha jisne apni danishmandi se 5 saal khench liye. Pher jab kuch maheene reh gaye to uska dil lalachaya, ke aur kuch saal raj ker loun. Bahut dimagh per zor diya.

Udher door pariyon ke mulk mein ek Pir rehta tha, behad saaf, doodh jaisa dhula safed.
Zorbhaari ne socha is Pir se koi dua ya hull nikalwaya jaaye.

Usne Pir ko Dammocracy me bulwaya. Uske aamad per apni riyasat ke chappey chappey ko uskee tasveeron se sajaaya.

Pher ek din uss ne Pir se ilteja ki:

Zorbhaari: Pir Saheb aap jo kahengey jitna maangengey main doonga. Buss mera kaam ker dein.

Pir: To pher meri baat ghaur se suno. Tum Bholewal House me paani ke kinare baith ker mera wird karo. Mujhe ek lambi chaal chalni paregi. Pher main 3 din mein Zaalimabad sambhal loonga. Jaisa kahoon, waise kerna.

Zorbhaari: Jee Baba ji, aap ulta latakne ko bhi kahenge to ker loonga.

Pir: Ager tum se isteefa mangoon, to teesre din de dena. Dobara isee assembly se 5 saal ke liye waapas aa jaogey. Haan thora see Qurbani deni hogi.

Zorbhaari(dartey huwe): Woh kaun see?

Pir: Ho sakta hai Baja Rental ka balidaan dena parey. Lekin sabr karo, aur mera bataaya wird karo. Allah tak tumhari arzee pahuncha dee hai.

Zorbhaari: (falls on the feet): Baja Rental ki khair hai, who to waise bhi dimagh ka khaali hai, mujhe hi sab kuch samjhana perta hai. Beshak  uska balidaan le lein. Buss mera kaam ker dein Pir sahib.

Pir: Ek aur bahut zaroori baat hai. Mere mureedon per koi bomb ka hamla nahin hona chahiye. Khoon baha to wird ulta ho jaayega.

Zorbhaari: Aap fikr hi mutt karein, nahin hoga. Main honey hii nahin doonga, to kaise hogaa. Intezaam sakht hoga, nigrani pakki hogi. Iski main gaurantee leta hoon. Aap tou buss mera kaam ker dein huzoor. ( haath jortey huwe)

Pir: Tou pher fikr mutt karo, Allah tak tumhari arzee bhej dee hai. 3 din mein Kaam ho jaayega. Buss mujhe der hai iss Tsunami Khan ka, isska Pir kaheen koi ulta wird na ker dey.
.

Zorbhaari: Pir Saheb kuch pakka intezaam kijeeye, ye Tsunami Khan mere peechey para huwa hai. Is per koi kala jadoo bhi nai chaltaa.

Pir: Allah ko arzi bhej di hai, ke Tsunami Khan ki aankh per parda per jaaye, aur woh bhi hamari chaal ko na pehchaane sakey.  Ooper wala  hamari darkhwast kabhi nahin taalega. Kam pakka hoga.  Kuch ho na ho, lekin fatah tumhari hi hogi.
Tum buss Parhtey raho….Haan aur mera muawaza poora milna chahiye. Khabardar mere saath koi chaal mut chalna. Mujhe ghaib se khaber mil jaayegi ?

Zorbhaari: Pir Pir mujh per rehem farmayein…(aur pher Pir ke wird mein madhosh ho jaata hai…).

*Only pun intended*

Sometimes calamities unite us more

First published here: http://amankiasha.com/detail_news.asp?id=1018

The conscience-shaking brutal rape and subsequent
death of the anonymous student from Delhi is not India’s issue alone and the grief is not for one case alone
By Ilmana Fasih

As thousands of people on both sides of the India Pakistan border mourned the death of the Delhi gang rape victim, someone commented on Aman ki Asha Facebook group: “Well, the Delhi rape proceeds from a common mindset. The negatives unite us just as well as the positives.”
“Sometimes, calamities unite us more,” came a response.

The conscience-shaking brutal rape and subsequent death of the anonymous student from Delhi (who is referred to by different names by various sections of the media) has made us rethink how common our pains are.

Beyond this tragic incident, looking through the e-newspapers from the subcontinent, there is hardly a day without some incident of rape being reported.Be it the gruesome gang-rape of a medical student at a bus stop in a megacity, or a six-year-old girl raped by local goons in a village, or a girl raped while partying with friends in the posh area of another city, or a teenager gang-raped and then asked to patch up by accepting money or marrying one of the rapists in a town. Can you guess which side of the border each case belongs to? The scenarios differ, cities differ, but the crime remains the same. The mindset stays identical. Age is no bar. Infancy upwards, one finds women and children of all age groups being subjected to rape and sexual abuse.

Unfortunately this is one situation where the human race seems to have achieved a “no barriers of age, color, creed or class”, the world over.

Hard to digest, but rapes are on a steep rise in the subcontinent.

In 2011, 568 rape cases were reported in Delhi, and 459 in 2009 (National Crime Reports Bureau) .The figures given by Delhi Police reveal that a woman is raped every 18 hours or molested every 14 hours in the capital.

Similarly in Pakistan, Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, estimates that “every two hours a woman is raped in Pakistan and every eight hours a woman is subjected to gang-rape”.

The Additional Police Surgeon, quoted in a 2008 newspaper report, estimated that at least 100 rapes are committed in Karachi alone every 24 hours, although most are un-reported.

If these are the statistics of two megacities, one can fathom what would be the situation in the other smaller towns and villages. It is well known that the majority of the rapes in India, Pakistan and other South Asian countries are never reported, and just a handful of the perpetrators are ever punished.
The tragedy is amplified when inane solutions are offered like: “Women should not go out late at night” or “Women going out late night should be accompanied by a male.” In the ‘Delhi gang rape’ case, the solution of an accompanying man clearly failed.

Women are advised not to wear western clothes, or more ridiculous “not to eat chow mein” or “not to carry mobile phones with cameras”. Some even advise women to not report the attack “if there are not enough witnesses”.

But none of this well-meaning advice takes into account why rapes occur. It is not because the woman was dressed so, or walked alone on the street late at night, or was attending a party with her friends or ate a certain kind of food. No. Rape occurs because some men want to rape. And why do ‘some’ men want to rape and not others? Rape is the culmination of a series of systematic experiences that a man is exposed to, from infancy to manhood- in which he is told, with or without so many words, that he is stronger, and a woman is not just weaker, but a commodity at his disposal. Rape is a way to display power and superiority.

So long as this mindset persists, legislation and punishment will never be enough of a deterrent. This tends to get overlooked in all the outrage at the gruesome details of the Delhi gang rape, that has led to demands for the severest of punishments, even public hanging for the perpetrators.
Without undermining that tragedy it is important to remind ourselves of the countless cases of rape and sexual harassment that are routine on both sides of the divide. Those who survive suffer psychological trauma, often far from the media limelight, mostly in silence.

Rape survivors are often pressured by the police or local goons to hush up the matter either, to accept money, or worse still, marry the rapist. Many commit suicide, or live with permanent scars. The rapists often roam scot free, posing a threat to the survivor who does not even dare to raise her head for justice.

Insisting on the death penalty in an isolated case that has shaken people cannot be a solution. Studies have shown that the certainty of punishment, rather than its severity, is a greater deterrent to crime.

We also need to look towards at preventing this crime rather than just push for a punishment after a case gets highlighted.

Foremost, each of us, irrespective of gender, which empathises with the Delhi student who was gang-raped, or any other faceless rape victim, needs to strive to ensure every woman in our sphere of influence feels secure and gets due respect. One of the signs of evolution in human beings is the neo cortex which enables us to restrain behaviour and train our minds. We need to use it to ensure that we don’t force anything upon any woman – or indeed anyone in a more vulnerable position.

Secondly, we need to empower girls with the right information and stop making rape a taboo issue for their ‘innocent’ minds. It is more important to teach a girl to be assertive than to try and ’protect’ her. “Look up as you walk and stand up straight; pretending as though you have two big panthers on either side of you as you walk may sound silly, but it can help boost confidence,” suggests a self help site on rape prevention. “Attackers are more likely to go for those who they think cannot defend themselves.”

Given that over 90% of the perpetrators are known to the victims, girls (and boys) must be taught that if they feel uncomfortable with anyone’s touch – even if it is an uncle, a cousin or a friend – they must trust their gut and not let it continue. Thirdly, if we cannot change the mindset of some grown men, we can at least guide our sons, right from babyhood, to respect women and not consider them a commodity that is ‘available’. Last but certainly not the least, for those who cannot change their mindsets, a real need for certainty and not the severity of punishment to the rapist, as a mode of deterrence, is mandatory.

Shocked after the demise of the Delhi paramedical student, I tweeted: “Her sacrifice must no go in vain. Let us rise to make violence against women a history.” Knowing the scale of the menace, this may be wishful thinking, but we need to keep striving to make it a reality.

The writer is an Indian gynaecologist married to a Pakistani, a proud Indian Pakistani dreaming of a peaceful, healthy and prosperous South Asia.
ilmana_fasih@hotmail.com.

She tweets @zeemana

Wednesday, January 02, 2013

A tribute to Delhi gang raped girl, inititially known as Amanat, Nirbhaya or Damini:

Goodbye Damini - A tribute to Nirbhaya

Pizza Pakistania

Pizza is Italian and everyone knows it. However, as remarked by a cousin from Italy, what Pizza Hut and other pizza brands make are delicious foods, but they are not Pizzas. A typical Italian Pizza is extremely thin crust with a crispy base.

What is interesting are the legends associated with its origins. Not sure how authentic or true are they, because one does not find them documented in books.

One is that Pizza used to be a poor man’s food in Ancient Greeks, who made a flat loaf of bread and spread it with onions, garlic and herbs.

In the 1st century BCE, the Latin poet Virgil refers to the ancient idea of bread as an edible plate from his Latin epic poem, the Aeneid (trans. A. S. Kline ):
When the poor fare drove them to set their teeth
into the thin discs, the rest being eaten, and to break
the fateful circles of bread boldly with hands and jaws,
not sparing the quartered cakes, Iulus, jokingly,
said no more than: ‘Ha! Are we eating the tables too?’

Another is that in 1800s Italian Royality commissioned a cook to make Pizza, in honor of Queen Margherita. Out of the three, the Queen picked up the one made with tomatoes, olives and mozzarella cheese, because it had the three colors of Italian flag–red green and white. And so this is how it came to be known as Pizza Margherita. Not sure if Italy had the same flag then too.

Interestingly,  when you ask some friends who make pizza at home,  they share that they add many ingredients into the base including eggs, powder milk, baking powder, baking soda, butter etc. Yet many of them fail to make the necessary sponge, or the crisp the base made from shops get.

However, the recipe that a cousin shared from Italy was surprisingly simple, yet fail-proof. Never ever has my pizza base, after following her instructions,  failed to rise.

The ingredients are simple– flour, yeast, a pinch of salt, a teaspoon sugar, some lukewarm water and Olive oil. It is the method of making the dough that makes the real difference.

Fond of homemade Pizza, as it comes steaming hot from the oven with its appetizing aroma, the grown up kids,  take active part in custom designing the toppings. Having tried almost all the renowned and strange combinations, they are now fond of green and white topping which includes– pesto sauce at the base, baby spinach leaves, fresh basil leaves, green olives, feta & mozzarella cheeses.

Nostalgic with the green and white colors of the Pakistani flag, they call this (originally a Greek recipe) Pizza Pakistania.

Following is the making of the Pizza Pakistania from the scratch:

First and the most important step: To let yeast ( I teaspoon), a fist of flour( half a cup), and  sugar ( 1 teaspoon)  froth with lukewarm water ( 2 cups) for 15-30 minutes

The kneading of dough. Add gradually the remaining  flour ( total 3 cups) , olive oil( half a cup) and pinch of salt. Knead it well and leave it to rise for half an hour in a warm place.

Rolling out a leavened dough. The more leavened it is, the more it gets tough to roll out as  it keeps recoiling back:

Base spread with Pesto paste, which if homemade needs basil leaves, pine nuts, fresh garlic made into a paste with  olive oil:
{Homemade Pesto sauce: Take a cup of fresh basil leaves(tulsi leaves), half a cup of pine nuts( chilghoza), half cup extravirgin olive oil, 4 cloves of garlic and salt to taste. Grind them coarsely in a chopper or a mortar}.

Our fresh supply of basil leaves, which adds aroma to the pizza:

Assembling together baby spinach leaves(2 cups), basil leaves( half a cup), feta cheese( 1 cup) and mozzarella cheese(1 cup):

Bake it in a preheated oven at 225 degrees C, for 15-20 minutes, until cheese and the crust is golden brown.

Hot and crispy pizza, just out of the oven:

And it took just a quarter of an hour for two pizzas to vanish from the dining table:

Moral of the story: Its simple to make ( with less cumbersome toppings), loads of green healthy stuff, and a pleasant change of taste from the usual pizzas.

Don’t miss the close look at the fine sponge and the crisp of the base bread.

How I wish, these Christmas vacations are forced upon us, every few months !!!