I was sent a link to this site called GenderAnalyzer by a friend. You type in the URL for a blog and the site determines whether the blog is being written by a man or a woman. My result? 76% man.
Plausible explanation other than being just plain wrong (and I say this because while Asad is a man he remains MIA on this blog) - perhaps if you claim to be 'bionic' it makes you a man or at least a manly woman.
I'd love to know how they came up with their analytical criteria. Well love might be too strong...let's just say I'm curious.
All I'm going to say is that I'm expecting my honorary penis in the mail in 4-5 business days!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Universal Children's Day & Faiz Ahmed Faiz's Death Anniversary
Although I knew it was Faiz's death anniversary today, I wasn't actually aware that Universal Children's Day is also being observed today.
Why is that important to me?
I'm reminded now of the first poem that I actually read by Faiz titled "Subh-e-Azadi" or "The Dawn of Freedom":
These tarnished rays, this night smudged light –
This is not that Dawn for which, ravished with freedom,
we had set out in sheer longing,
so sure that somewhere in its desert the sky harbored
a final haven for the stars, and we would find it. . . .
Now listen to the terrible rampant lie:
Light has forever been severed from the Dark;
Our feet, it is heard, are now one with their goal.
See our leaders polish their manner clean of suffering:
Indeed we must confess only to bliss;
we must surrender any utterance for the Beloved – all yearning is outlawed.
But the heart, the eye, the yet deeper heart –
Still ablaze for the Beloved, their turmoil shines.
In the lantern by the road the flame is stalled for news:
Did the morning breeze ever come? Where has it gone?
Night weighs us down, it still weighs us down.
Friends, come away from this false light. Come, we must search for that promised Dawn.
It's a poem that haunts me - in a strangely optimistic way - and also inspires me. It makes me think about where Pakistan is today, of the promises of 1947, and perhaps the promises that we need to revisit and even revise today to get close to the dream that was and align it with reality.
I can't help but think about this poem in the context of Universal Children's Day. Ever since 2001 when the present war began in Afghanistan, every time I've gone back to Karachi I've met the same little boy on the same intersection - for those who are familiar it's the right turn on Khayaban-e-Shamsheer that heads towards Zamzama. Every year he has a new "scheme" to make money. He has no-one. He doesn't know where his parents are. He doesn't dream of seeing them again nor does he lament over that he might never see them again. Thousands of cars pass him by everyday without perhaps noticing him or dismissing him with the slight of hand - a gesture oft-used to shoo away beggars. Unlike others who sell flowers on the road or religious books or balloons, this kid markets his own creations. And when someone dismisses him he doesn't bat an eyelid and picks up where he left off. He chases cars. He dodges the cars as soon as the traffic light turns green - sometimes whizzing in between speeding cars one wonders how he's even alive. He refuses to accept charity. He wants to earn his way as best he can and as best he knows. He collects old school books that folks throw away to continue his education. He even looks out for the other refugee kids that beg at this traffic light. He loves to narrate stories. And in this nomadic existence, he's nurtured solid friendships - of which I'd like to think one is between him and me. He's a fighter, he has resilience, he has vision, and most of all he has faith not that things will be all right but that they're quite good as is.
I think about his face when I think about the millions of kids on streets worldwide. And I wonder when we will, to use Faiz, "search for that promised Dawn" when these kids have a better life to relish....
Why is that important to me?
I'm reminded now of the first poem that I actually read by Faiz titled "Subh-e-Azadi" or "The Dawn of Freedom":
These tarnished rays, this night smudged light –
This is not that Dawn for which, ravished with freedom,
we had set out in sheer longing,
so sure that somewhere in its desert the sky harbored
a final haven for the stars, and we would find it. . . .
Now listen to the terrible rampant lie:
Light has forever been severed from the Dark;
Our feet, it is heard, are now one with their goal.
See our leaders polish their manner clean of suffering:
Indeed we must confess only to bliss;
we must surrender any utterance for the Beloved – all yearning is outlawed.
But the heart, the eye, the yet deeper heart –
Still ablaze for the Beloved, their turmoil shines.
In the lantern by the road the flame is stalled for news:
Did the morning breeze ever come? Where has it gone?
Night weighs us down, it still weighs us down.
Friends, come away from this false light. Come, we must search for that promised Dawn.
It's a poem that haunts me - in a strangely optimistic way - and also inspires me. It makes me think about where Pakistan is today, of the promises of 1947, and perhaps the promises that we need to revisit and even revise today to get close to the dream that was and align it with reality.
I can't help but think about this poem in the context of Universal Children's Day. Ever since 2001 when the present war began in Afghanistan, every time I've gone back to Karachi I've met the same little boy on the same intersection - for those who are familiar it's the right turn on Khayaban-e-Shamsheer that heads towards Zamzama. Every year he has a new "scheme" to make money. He has no-one. He doesn't know where his parents are. He doesn't dream of seeing them again nor does he lament over that he might never see them again. Thousands of cars pass him by everyday without perhaps noticing him or dismissing him with the slight of hand - a gesture oft-used to shoo away beggars. Unlike others who sell flowers on the road or religious books or balloons, this kid markets his own creations. And when someone dismisses him he doesn't bat an eyelid and picks up where he left off. He chases cars. He dodges the cars as soon as the traffic light turns green - sometimes whizzing in between speeding cars one wonders how he's even alive. He refuses to accept charity. He wants to earn his way as best he can and as best he knows. He collects old school books that folks throw away to continue his education. He even looks out for the other refugee kids that beg at this traffic light. He loves to narrate stories. And in this nomadic existence, he's nurtured solid friendships - of which I'd like to think one is between him and me. He's a fighter, he has resilience, he has vision, and most of all he has faith not that things will be all right but that they're quite good as is.
I think about his face when I think about the millions of kids on streets worldwide. And I wonder when we will, to use Faiz, "search for that promised Dawn" when these kids have a better life to relish....
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Yes We Did!
Behold the 44th President of the United States of America: President-Elect Barack Hussein Obama!
Color me elated and exhilarated. And currently battling the stupor and dragging-of-derriere that follows celebrating into the wee hours of the morning. More thoughts later...
Color me elated and exhilarated. And currently battling the stupor and dragging-of-derriere that follows celebrating into the wee hours of the morning. More thoughts later...
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Election Day 2008
I'd planned to write a longer post reflecting on my responses to the campaign and the upcoming election - but for now this short one because I'm off to vote and volunteer. If you are a US citizen and registered to vote, please do so.
And a shameless yet earnest plug for the candidate who has inspired the hearts and minds of millions: Please vote for Senator Barack Obama for the next US President.
More thoughts later....again please vote! Go Obama!
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