recall...

As the appointments of prefects and the headboy came closer, the principal starting showing more and more interest in our class. Everyday, he'd impart whatever he considered lecture worthy and leave us with an assignment. The last assignment we recieved was to make two columns on one sheet of paper (any size) and list out our 'strengths' and 'weaknesses' . That simple; a list. Nothing more required. Most of us played it safe. 'I am particularly good at group dynamics' some said. 'I am not empathetic enought' said others. Asim, a classmate of mine dared to be different, he dared to be honest. 'Watchers' may have dismissed it as mere bravado. A futile attempt at being percieved as a non-conformist. Yet, i know as well as they did, Asim had written the most simple yet the most profound words. As his only strength he wrote 'I BELIEVE' and as his only weakness he wrote 'I TRUST'. He was duly commended by the principal.

I've been told that conversations with me are taxing on the mind. Not 'thought provoking', 'taxing'. That's another way of saying, I don't make much sense. Maybe so, but this vivid vagueness is all I have left. 'you gave me nothing, now thats all i've got...' I have done what was right by me, and i realise that no action is without its consequences. However dire they may be... all i need is a little time. Barring the gem, inspiration is scarce.
And as a reminder to myself, if nothing else... i give you the following...

Mr. Trask: Mr. Sims, you are a cover-up artist and you are a liar.
Col. Frank Slade: But not a snitch!
Trask: Excuse me?
Slade: No, I don't think I will. This is such a crock of shit.
Trask: Mr. Slade, you will watch your language. You are at the Baird School now not a barracks. Now Mr. Sims I will give you one final opportunity to speak up.
Slade: Mr. Sims doesn't want it. He doesn't need to labeled, "...still worthy of being a 'Baird Man.'" What the hell is that? What is your motto here? Boys, inform on your classmates, save your hide. Anything short of that we're gonna burn you at the stake? Well, gentlemen. When the shit hits the fan, some guys run and some guys stand. Here's Charlie--facing the fire, and there's George--hiding in big Daddy's pocket. And what are you gonna do? You're gonna reward George, and destroy Charlie.
Trask: Are you finished, Mr. Slade?
Slade: No. I'm just gettin' warmed up. Now I don't know who went to this place--William Howard Taft, William Jennings Bryan, William Tell--whoever. Their spirit is dead; if they ever had one, it's gone. You're building a rat ship here. A vessel for sea going snitches. And if you think your preparing these minnows for manhood you better think again. Because I say you are killing the very spirit this institution proclaims it instills. What a sham! What kind of show are you guys puttin' on here today. I mean, the only class in this act is sittin' next to me. And I say, this boy's soul is in tact. It is non-negotiable. You know how I know. Because someone here--I'm not gonna say who--offered to buy it. Only Charlie here wasn't selling.
Mr.Trask: Sir, you are out of order!
Slade: Out of order, I'll show you out of order! You don't know what out of order is Mr.Trask! I'd show you but I'm too old, I'm too tired, and I'm too fuckin' blind. If I were the man I was five years ago I'd take a flame-thrower to this place. Out of order, who the hell do you think you're talking to? I've been around you know? There was a time I could see. And I have seen, boys like these, younger than these, their arms torn out, their legs ripped off. But there isn't nothin' like the sight of an amputated spirit, there is no prosthetic for that. You think you're merely sending this splendid foot-soldier back home to Oregon with his tail between his legs but I say that you are executing his soul. And why? Because he's not a Baird man. Baird men, you hurt this boy, you're going to be Baird Bums, the lot of ya. And Harry, Jimmy, Trent, wherever you are out there, fuck you too.
Mr. Trask: Stand down Mr. Slade!
Slade: I'm not finished! Now as I came in here, I heard those words...cradle of leadership. Well, when the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. And it has fallen here, it has fallen! Makers of men, creators of leaders, be careful what kind of leaders you're producing here. Now, I don't know if Charlie's silence here today is right or wrong; I'm no judge or jury. But I can tell you this: he won't sell anybody out to buy his future! And that my friends is called integrity, that's called courage. Now that's the stuff leaders should be made of. (pause) Now I have come to the crossroads in my life, and I have always known the right path, always, without exception, I knew. But I never took it, you know why? Because it's too damn hard. Now here's Charlie; he's come to the crossroads. And he's chosen a path, it's the right path. It's a path made of principle, that leads to character. Let him continue on his journey. You hold this boy's future in your hands committee! It's a valuable future. Believe me! Don't destroy...protect it...embrace it. It's gonna make you proud some day...I promise.

hang on a tick...

Profusely perspiring in some god forsaken printing agency, sipping on housefly accommodating, not even remotely original/genuine pepsi in Pakistan’s illustrious district Sargodha , I receive a phone call from a dear close associate of mine…
‘oi azam… when you getting back… there’s a plan in the offing’ the cheerful exclamation from the other end of the connection.
*dead air*
‘… hello… azam, you there?’
‘…hello…’
*dear air continues*
finally…
‘its good to hear your voice’ is what my ‘vast’ grammatical and verbal reserves offered as a reply…
click…. Tooon…
sheesh… who was I talking to, Florence Nightingale? May as well have said… ‘charmed by the exuberance of your verbosity’ as it were… But a week in the testing, tenacious sun can make the best of us slip up on the odd occasion. Therefore, forgive my lack of tact.

Be as it may, enough said, what’s done is done but more importantly, im back!!! and it feels goood!! This is true exhilaration, not that pretentious happiness that abroad returnees have at returning to their beloved cities after a long and ‘love inducing’ vacation… I was on no vacation!! This was hard core, son of a gun, missin meals, makin deals, shooting the cuffs, stubble keepin, man stuff!!! YEAH!! But before I get ahead of my myself, although inclined to acquiesce to my mentors/fathers every request, I must regrettably confess, that I may not be cut out for this life… yes… those momentary instances of self discovery, before I slept at nights, on the creaking, termite stricken, ‘infinitely comforting’ charpai… I confided in those multi colored walls, and hoped beyond hope that life lead me down a path different to the one that my elders had taken... and in spite of all the happenings that happen to happen every now and then, I wished I was in the company of my happy-go-lucky friends and was, once again singing along to Tina turner’s ‘I will survive…’

*first I was afraid, I was petrified….*

of days gone by...

Sting - Book of my life...

Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write

It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life

If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life

There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess

There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.

Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life

There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet

There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see

Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life

Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you...

Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life