Also published in Himal Magazine’s October issue

There was a Lahore that I grew up in, and then there is the Lahore that I live in now. Recovering from an exile status for two decades, I find myself today turning into something of a clichéd grump, hanging desperately on to the past. Yet I resist that. Writing about Lahore is a sensation that lies beyond the folklore – Jine Lahore nai wakhaya o janmia nai (The one who has not seen Lahore has never lived). It has to do with an inexplicable bonding and oneness with the past, and yet a contradictory and not-so-glorious interface with the present.

Lahore is now the second largest city in Pakistan, with a population that has crossed the 10 million mark. It is turning into a monstropolis. Had it not been for Lahore’s intimacy with Pakistan’s power base – the Punjab-dominated national establishment – this would be just another massive, unmanageable city, regurgitating all the urban clichés of the Global South. But Lahore retains a definite soul; it is comfortable with modernity and globalisation, and continues to provide inspiration for visitors and residents alike.

Over the last millennium, Lahore has been the traditional capital of Punjab in its various permutations. A cultural centre of North India extending from Peshawar to New Delhi, it has historically been open to visitors, invaders and Sufi saints alike. Several accounts tell how Lahore emerged as a town between the 6th and 16th centuries BC. According to commonly accepted myth, Lahore’s ancient provenance, Lohawarana, was founded by the two sons of Lord Ram some 4000 years ago. One of these sons, Loh (or Luv), gave his name to this timeless city. A deserted temple in Lahore Fort is ostensibly a tribute to Loh, located near the Alamgiri gate, next to the fort’s old jails. Under the regime of Zia ul-Haq, Loh’s divine space was closed and used as a dungeon in which to punish political activists.

Later records, such as Ptolemy’s “Geographia”, written around 150 AD, refer to Lahore as ‘Labokla’, and locate it with reference to the Indus, the Ravi, the Jhelum and the Chenab rivers. Another readable account from the past is that of Hieun Tsang, the famous Chinese pilgrim who visited Lahore during the early seventh century AD. He described it as a large Brahminical city – mullahs beware! There is many a contradiction within these accounts, of course, but the important point is that Lahore was not built yesterday. Its ancient moorings explain its indomitable will, ability to survive the upheavals of time, and an innate life beyond the limits of recorded histories, fancy notions of urbanity and cultural evolution. Lahore is also about its centuries of residents. The mystique of the city thus is a personalised experience, as if a city were in permanent dialogue with its residents even while speaking to a newcomer.

Little Ghazni
I spent my early years in a Model Town colonial bungalow, which was originally the creation of a Hindu doctor who had to leave the city at Partition. This was an age when birds were an integral feature of Lahori skies, and the seasons played out their glory. As the name suggests, Model Town was an ‘ideal’ suburb, created during the Raj by the advanced citizenry on the idea of ‘cooperative urban life’. Established in 1922, Model Town was the fruition of advocate Diwan Khem Chand’s unshakeable belief in the values of self help, self responsibility and democracy, loosely the principles of cooperative societies. This was the reason why Model Town was established as, and still is, a ‘cooperative society’. What fewer people know is that these values of cooperation were first popularised by George Jacob Holyoake, a 19th-century English social reformer responsible for the cooperative movement. Incidentally, Holyoake was also infamous for the distinction of having invented the phrase ‘secularism’, for which he was the last citizen to be convicted for blasphemy in England.

Khem Chand and the renowned engineer and philanthropist Sir Ganga Ram (founder of the two famous Ganga Ram Hospitals, in Lahore in 1921 and Delhi in 1954) together created Model Town. As a child, I would hear these stories from my father, also a lawyer, connecting his surroundings with his profession and middle-class dynamism. The importance of Model Town is such that it became the 20th-century standard for urban living in Pakistan. In every city in the country, you can find a Model Town or its close relative. As Ranjana Sengupta writes, “Many of the elements of Model Town, Lahore, were followed in the colonies that came up in post-1947 Delhi, including one also named Model Town.” Lahore and its trends can be infectious.

But this suburban delight was not the Lahore with which my grandmother was acquainted. She called it a jungle, and returned to the walled city on any given pretext. The journey involved a bus ride, hopping tongas and walking along the ancient streets of surreal Old Lahore. I would accompany her on each of these visits. We would move through the gates of Old Lahore, which sported no signage or self-conscious tourism-promotion gimmickry. Rather, passing through these gates was entering into a domain of lived history. And this is what Lahore remains – a lived and a living city.

Under the early Sultans of Delhi, especially during the 11th and 12fth centuries, Lahore assumed considerable importance as the easternmost bastion of Muslim power, and an outpost for further advance toward the riches of the East. Apart from being the second capital, and later the only capital, of the Ghaznavid kingdom, Lahore had great military and strategic significance: whoever controlled it could look forward to sweeping the whole of East Punjab to Panipat and Delhi. Long known as ‘Little Ghazni’, Lahore attracted mystics and scholars from Central Asia. Ali Hajweri (who died in 1077), also known as Data Saheb, was one such luminary of that age, whose primal book Kashf-al-Mahjub (the Unveiling of the Hidden) remains an authentic treatise on an Islamic variant of mysticism, and whose shrine is today busier than ever.

My Old Lahore visits were never complete without a salaam to the great saint, and this habitual halt continues even three decades later. The value of Kashf-al-Mahjub lies not only in the experiential accounts of contemporary mystic orders, but also in the fact that it is a seminal, systematic exposition of personalised mysticism. Over time, Kashf has become a standard textbook for Sufis. In popular lore, Ali Hajweri is also the protector of Lahore. During the Indo-Pakistani war of 1965, many a Lahori attributed the city’s survival to the saint, and to his fantastic ability to catch Indian bombs in his green fakiresque robes.

Mughal dream
It is not that Lahore did not face devastation during what is commonly known as the ‘medieval’ ages. The fearless Mongols were there to inject fear into the Lahore-walla, and in 1241, during the chaos following the death of Sultan Shams-ud-din Iltutmish, the Mongols attacked and levelled the city. Thousands were killed. Lahore was a desolate place until Sultan Balban, who, after 1270, restored the fortifications of Lahore and proceeded to rebuild the city. True, the sultans were more focused on Delhi as the Islamicate capital, with Lahore being only a strategic outpost to be protected. However, the walled city lived on and expanded.

During the early 16th century, the victory of Babur and the defeat of the last sultan, Ibrahim Lodhi, ushered in a new era in Indian history. Babur captured Lahore in 1524, before he was proclaimed emperor of India. This was the beginning of Lahore’s expansion and beautification, much of which can be seen today – notwithstanding the population explosion and atmospheric pollution that seem to put the Mongol threats of yore to shame. The prime of Mughal rule – from 1524 to 1752 – and the special attention by Mughal emperors, particularly Akbar, Jahangir and Shah Jahan, transformed Lahore into the ultimate representation of Mughal aesthetics. For the two centuries following the ascension of Akbar in 1556, Lahore was a Mughal dream translated into architecture. Little wonder the adulation with which the English poet John Milton wrote in 1670:

His eyes might there command whatever stood
City of old or modern fame, the seat
Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls
Of Cambalu, seat of Cathian Can,
And Samarcand by Oxus, Temir’s throne,
To Paquin of Sinaen Kings, and thence
To Agra and Lahore of Great Mogul…

The Delhi-obsession of the Muslim rulers of India was interrupted when Akbar made Lahore his capital from 1584 to 1598. The majestic Lahore Fort was rebuilt, next to the Ravi River, and the urban habitation was enclosed within a red brick wall boasting a dozen gates. Jahangir and Shah Jahan further extended the fort, building palaces and tombs, and laying out gardens, among which only the Shalimar Gardens survive today in their unkempt glory. Jahangir loved Lahore, and he and his wife, Noor Jahan, chose to be buried at Shahdara, on the outskirts of Lahore. The tomb of Jehangir and Noor Jahan is today a majestic and melancholic monument.

Shah Jahan, the most extravagant of the Mughals, was born in Lahore, and his eldest son, Dara Shikoh, also found the city enticing. Dara was a popular figure in Lahore, and it was there that he found his spiritual mentor, Mian Mir (also buried in Lahore). Dara’s nemesis and Shah Jahan’s successor, Aurangzeb (1658-1707), bestowed on Lahore its most famous monument, the Badshahi mosque and the Alamgiri gateway to the Fort. Even during the anarchy that followed Mughal rule, Lahore remained a city with a formidable reputation; under Sikh rule, from 1780 to 1846, it was popularly referred to as the ‘Mughal capital’.

It took almost a century for the British to move towards the Punjab, from their foothold in Bengal. The annexation of the Punjab in 1849, and the successful control of the 1857 uprising in many parts of North India, resulted in the consolidation of the British Empire. Due to its strategic location, the Punjab was subsequently central to the architecture of the colonial power. Lahore was to become a major outpost of the empire in the ‘Great Game’ that continues to be played out in Afghanistan, as the sahibs ventured to create social and cultural spaces for themselves in otherwise unfriendly and unfamiliar surroundings.

The earliest signs of colonial Lahore are found within the Lawrence Gardens (baptised the Bagh-i-Jinnah following Independence), representing the quintessential Raj ethos. Built primarily for the sahibs and memsahibs, the park has managed to maintain its dreamlike beauty for a century and a half, with halls and pavilions that play on the nostalgia for ‘home’. A garden in the heart of British Lahore was essential. True to the colonial policy, the new garden was a continuation of the Mughal tradition of creating baghs as the aesthetic expression of self-indulgence. This project also reflected the expanse of the British Empire. Thousands of saplings of various exotic species were imported from colonies around the world, and by 1860, the gardens were set up as a Lahore version of the famous Kew Garden in London. During chilly winters and unbearable summers, for years I have walked in the Lawrence Gardens. Indeed, my fondest memories of Lahore are in one way or another linked to this splendid park. Whenever I have wanted to hear the sound of trees, I have not been disappointed.

The contemporary core of Lahore’s architecture and spaces are rooted in the British period, with a marked emphasis on the brick-based Anglo-Mughal architecture style, a combination of the Mughal, Gothic and Victorian. The famous Young Men’s Christian Association and General Post Office buildings of Lahore were built to commemorate the golden jubilee of Queen Victoria, an event marked by the construction of clock towers and monuments all over the Subcontinent. This was also a time when institutions were intrinsically linked to their buildings – such as the High Court, Government College, Forman Christian College, Lahore Museum, Governor House, National College of Arts, Tollinton Market, Punjab Assembly and the old campus of Punjab University. The latter was once considered the largest centre of education in Asia.

The ‘Paris of the East’ had already emerged as a cosmopolitan and cultural capital of British Punjab, where poets such as Iqbal and artists such as Amrita Shergil, as well as future writers like Khushwant Singh, Amrita Pritam, Saadat Hasan Manto and Faiz Ahmed Faiz were all to emerge. But the multicultural spirit of Lahore was to be ruptured by Partition. In the new state of Pakistan, Lahore therefore became ‘provincialised’, while the large-scale exodus of non-Muslims inevitably worked to limit the city’s secular credentials.

Layers and layers
I studied at Aitchison College, known as Lahore’s top college and one that had the dubious distinction of aiming to educate the relatives of the ruling chiefs of the Punjab. Aitchison’s foundation stone was laid in 1886 by the then-viceroy, the Earl of Dufferin and Ava, and it was named after the then-lieutenant-governor of the Punjab, Charles Umpherston Aitchison. During my years at Aitchison, the quality of the academics remained at best tentative, but its sprawling 186-acre campus was a veritable treasure trove of the finest Anglo-Mughal buildings. Its tree-lined boulevards and playgrounds still return to me at times in my dreams.

The most memorable of experiences was living in one of the bungalows in the Government Officers’ Residences, known as GOR-1. Located in the centre of Lahore, GOR-1 is to Lahore what the so-called Lutyens bungalows are to Delhi. The verandas, little gardens next to each bedroom, and the fragrance of Lahore’s monsoons and springs, all of these were best experienced in this part of the city. Others will of course have loved where they grew up as well, for each Lahori has his or her own store of memories and attachments. Beyond the annals of history, there are as many Lahores as the number of its residents. This is why those who migrated from Lahore to India after 1947 could not take Lahore out of their system. Khushwant Singh has to reconcile with his memory time and again; his writings replete with Lahore tales. Prem Kirpal, a Lahori migrant to Delhi, wrote these lines to sum it all up:

My beloved City of Lahore
Still standing not far from Delhi
Within quicker reach by air or train,
Suddenly became a forbidden land
Guarded by a sovereign state
Of new ideologies, loves and hates

Kirpal’s poem is befittingly titled “Spirit’s Musings”. A spirit will break free of limits. These individuals were not locating their selves in the politics of Partition per se; this was the personal that gets submerged in the cruel and indifferent political.

It was in Lahore that I met the Indian writer and former diplomat Pran Neville. He was there to launch his own book on Lahore, titled A Sentimental Journey. It was a monsoon evening, heavy and similar to the weather on the day when his family packed their bags for Delhi. Unusually fit and active for a man who had lived over seven decades, he appeared timeless. Sitting in Lahore, he walked various paths and cities in his conversation. Having travelled the world as a foreign-service officer, Neville had concluded that foremost, he was a Lahore native. In a conversation, he declared, “In a way I never left Lahore, because it was always with me. I am an un-reconstructed Lahori, you could say, who never thought he would live anywhere else.”

When riots shook Lahore in July 1947, Neville’s siblings moved to Delhi, but his parents were reluctant to migrate. Finally, persuaded by their Muslim friends, his parents also left, though with a fantastic certitude that they would return after the dust settled. That has been one of the foremost tragedies of Partition: many who left in the flurry of events were convinced they would return some day to their homes, villages and cities. This was never to happen. The lines instead got thicker on the canvas of history.

Today, in Delhi, Neville leads a group composed of Lahore’s former residents, who meet regularly and share memories of a city that lives on within them. Memory needs a playground, seeks indulgence and reconciliation. Pran Neville, Ajeet Caur and Khushwant Singh, in Delhi, try to inject some order into the chaos of their ruptured memories. Yet in many ways, Lahore remains one of the most invisible and underappreciated cities in the region. The journalist Simon Jenkins once wrote: “For centuries the Grand Trunk Road from Delhi through Punjab carried the history of the subcontinent streaming beneath the walls of Lahore. But while India is at least fighting to rescue what remains of its past, Lahore is left to languish.”

Despite the appearance of neglect for its monuments, however, Lahore’s upkeep has not been all that bad, by Southasian standards. Under the former chief minister of Punjab and later prime minister, Nawaz Sharif, Lahore found a new builder. Sharif’s interest in and fondness for Lahore has been given continuity by his efficient younger brother, Shahbaz, now twice the Punjab chief minister. The upgrading of infrastructure and serious (though admittedly ad hoc) attempts at urban planning has ensured that Lahore’s untrammelled growth does not become a nightmare. But no amount of goodwill can hide the fact that this wondrous city is one of the most polluted in the region.

It is a separate matter that one of the most robust citizen-led urban mobilisations in Pakistan during recent years has been the lahore bacaho tehreek, the Movement to Save Lahore. Saving the trees along Lahore’s canal, which cuts across the urban jungle, has been the focus of this movement, though it also laid the foundation for the 2007 lawyers’ struggle for rule of law in the country.

Other groups, such as a spectrum of conservation associations, likewise testify to the electric zest of Lahoris. Indeed, since the inception of Pakistan, Lahore has been a nerve centre of political mobilisation and public opinion. I am reminded of writer S Asad Raza’s evocative lines:

The world in general has few cities that interweave so seamlessly a great vitality today (the city is about the twenty-fifth largest on the globe) with an unbroken and luxurious history (spanning the last two millennia). Only in Lahore do you find the sepulchre of the legendary Anarkali, the star-crossed dancing girl buried alive for her love of the young prince Salim (the film Mughal-e-Azam is a version), inside the dusty Archives of the Punjab Secretariat, which was a mosque that the British whitewashed, and is now decorated with portraits of British colonial governors. Layers and layers: it’s that kind of place.

When a city delineates the cultural and political contours of a country, and handles the conflicting layers of past and present, it has to be out of the ordinary. And this is why Lahoris love to say: Lahore, Lahore aye.

Finally got my security system installed after two reschedules due to the tech's forgetting one of the parts they needed.

So today's installer was very good. name of Raj and pretty obviously Indian in appearance and accent.

While he was here I had MSNBC on and they were running Barack's speech in FLA, I think...

Anyways, as Raj was on his way out the door after doing an excellent job for me he mentioned that he is "really inspired by Obama because he understands what regular people need."

He went on to say he's never voted before, but knows he doing the right thing by voting for Barack.

Made my fucking day.

The purpose behind the move is stated to be the desire to create a conference hall on the existing premises of the record room, making officials wonder as to how this was required to be done when the secretariat already has a huge committee room and the historical Darbar Hall for cabinet and official meetings.

"The desire to shift files from the British-era record room to the old IGP block has been expressed by Chief Secretary Javed Mahmood," claimed a senior official who shared the piece of information with Dawn on the condition of anonymity.

An official directly linked with the 'reshaping' of the secretariat premises under the current chief secretary admitted that there was a plan to put a part of the record room to some other use. He avoided further details for fear of action.

The record room is located at the rear of the chief secretary's block, which was originally the residence of Ranjit Singh's French General Ventura. And its planned shifting is being described as "an attempt to destroy a purpose-built place and to put at risk vital information on how the province had been run under the British India and afterwards".

The record room containing permanent (very important) record of the province was originally a hall serving as the main drawing room of the French general. The British rulers had official record of the province, beginning 1804. While establishing the central record room in 1924, they opened record up to 1880 for researchers and educationists while placing it in the adjacent Tomb of Anarkali. This record still lies in the tomb.

The central room contained permanent record of the provincial administration in the shape of official files containing vital information on important events or decisions. The supply of files would come from all government departments bound to shift their permanent record there and destroy the rest of them after every 10 years. This practice continues till date.

The record room is established in a main hall, two side halls and two rooms, and the arrangements for safely keeping files by the British bureaucracy are themselves a specimen of the sincerity of purpose. This has been adopted by all the provincial chief secretaries because of its usefulness and historical value since 1947, and still retains its original shape.

The place was chosen for the record mainly because of the high roofs. The temperature inside and the ventilation are just perfect for averting decay of files.

There are full length wall-to-wall cabinets, made of fine wood (officials say it is teak). There are galleries and wooden ladders to reach the higher compartments.

The shelves inside the closed compartments are painted with special material to avoid termite. Their doors too are painted from within and outside. The doors are feather light, revealing that they are made of fine quality wood which, if available at all, is very costly.

Officials say if pulled, the cabinets would be destroyed. And because of this reason it is injudicious to think of re-fixing them at another place.

The neatly kept record has been safe so far only because of the properly-built record room, but now it would be destroyed as the rooms being proposed for it are small. "There are hundreds of files and we fear that if these are sent to the IGP office, we will have to place them on the floors," officials said.

In addition, they said, the atmosphere in the proposed place too was not friendly for the old record. "All files containing history of the province are in good condition."

The official of the chief minister's team at the civil secretariat could not tell the reason of creating the third conference hall at the cost of a historical place because he said he was there only to execute orders and not to question them.

Meanwhile, it is learnt that the administration planned to break the rear wall of the secretary information's room in the Ventura House to build retiring and wash rooms for the official, raising questions about the plans of restoring the original look of the secretariat "while preserving its historical structures".

The secretary's washroom and side rooms of his staff were earlier demolished to recreate a corridor around the chief secretary's block.

SD: Today is non-violence day. What is your message?

RT: I feel Mahatma Gandhi's non-violence was for the intelligent, educated British. It was not for those who don't understand this language. Those circumstances don't exist today.

SD: Is Gandhiji relevant to the common public?

RT: The point is the Mahatma gave the call of swadeshi and khadi. That Congress is being run by a foreign woman today. What could be more contradictory than this?

SD: How did Sharad Pawar accept her?

RT: Don't bring up the subject of Sharad Pawar. His politics is different. He created a political party based on the 'swadeshi, pardeshi' fact. And now he is with the Congress. So it's better not to speak about him because this has been going on for many years. I only want to say, the population of India is about 100 to 125 crores. Am I opposing Sonia Gandhi on a personal level? There is no reason for that. But from among the 100 to 125 crore population, such a big party found a woman from outside the country. We were speaking about Gandhi. I was punning on swadeshi and videshi.

SD: But you have not answered the question on violence. Whether you endorse it…

RT: I am not Mahatma Gandhi. And secondly, I speak to people in the language they understand. First I have a dialogue, if that is not understood I speak in another language. There is no remedy for this.

SD: Had I not been a Marathi manoos, would you still have met me? Suppose my Marathi is not good enough...

RT: Marathi is not good enough? Understand my main issue. If you understand the issue you will understand what I am saying. Since my childhood I have been attending Durga Puja with my mother, at Shivaji Park. What's the connection? I was going anyway.

SD: But if those Bengali people cannot speak in Marathi, then?

RT: Let me complete talking about the issue. Since I was a child, I have seen the Ram Lila near my house. The question is not who should live here and who shouldn't. When states were created on linguistic basis, who went where? Today many Marathi people live outside the state. Similarly, people from other states live in Maharashtra. Whoever lives in whichever state should learn the culture of the state and its language.

SD: What if a Maharashtrian living in Kerala is told, 'you can't speak Malayalam, so get out.'

RT: If that happens, the Malayalees are right.

SD: Taking the democracy argument further, in a country like India, who decides which person has the right to be in whichever part of the country?

RT: India is like Europe. This means there is one currency and numerous languages and cultures. And this is a 'Europe' made up of various cultures.

SD: Like federal states.

RT: Yes. In all this, our states came into being because of languages and cultures, right? When Lal Krishna Advani goes to the South he speaks in English instead of Hindi. Why? Why are we being forced with a dosage of Hindi? You learn our Marathi.

SD: Hindi has been declared the national language, that's why.

RT: Where is it a national language?

SD: Officially it is the national language.

RT: That is what I am saying. Let's check its history. Hindi is a state language. It was declared the national language in a Congress session. We can speak on this with proof later. It is the national language. I respect it. But why won't anyone learn Marathi? It is my own language. If you go to France, you have to speak French. If you speak in English, no one looks at you. On the one hand we say English is a global language.

SD: Yes it is. It is the language of commerce, the language of the people.

RT: I agree. But are these countries willing to agree? No one tells them anything. Hindi is not spoken in any of the four southern states. No one says anything to them. No one tells them it is the national language. No one tells them if you don't speak Hindi the country will be divided. Don't you want the country to be united? No one gives them such advice.

I am making things simpler. I am saying learn Marathi. How can you put our language as an optional subject and tell us to speak Hindi?

SD: What I am saying is, suppose someone who lives here and is contributing to Maharashtra, Mumbai, but doesn't know Marathi, is that person's contribution any less?

RT: It is not about contribution. They should learn Marathi.

SD: Isn't that some kind of jabardasti?

RT: They don't understand any other language but jabardasti. My plea to teach Marathi in schools was not heard either. If this is your attitude, we will do jabardasti.

SD: But then your own children went to an English medium school.

RT: What's the connection? I am saying non-Marathi people should know Marathi, not that Marathi people should know Marathi.

SD: Isn't that a double standard?

RT: How is that linked? I will tell you the same thing again; I am not concerned with how many languages you should know.

SD: This is nothing but politics of language.

RT: No. This is a matter of self-esteem, of pride.

I am talking of the new people here, those who have arrived recently. There are Bengalis here. But I have never seen Jyoti Basu or Bhattacharya come here and give speeches to them. Tamilians live here. I have never seen Karunanidhi and Jayalalithaa come here and give them speeches like, 'Come together Tamilians' etc.

SD: And for a vote bank. And this is Mayawati's long-term plan.

RT: Not just Mayawati. Even Mulayam Singh Yadav, Lalu Prasad, everyone.

SD: What do they want?

RT: They want to capture Maharashtra. If you see state-wise, even today Maharashtra is No 1.

SD: Even though we are bankrupt, more or less?

RT: How is that associated with this? Andhra Pradesh is more in debt than Maharashtra. The development coming into the country today is going to other states. But Maharashtra is still No 1 with the kind of development we have. Perhaps this might not be so later if Maharashtra does not pay attention today.

SD: If we want to attract that kind of funding, how will we be able to get it with such parochial thinking?

RT: Why did BMW go to Tamil Nadu? It is due to the attitude. In the absence of our chief minister, a Tamilian IAS officer spoke to the BMW representatives and kept saying no to them, creating obstacles.

SD: Because Mercedes was here?

RT: No. BMW really wanted to come here. But the IAS officer said we don't want to do this, we don't want to do that. They left. After this that IAS officer called up his Tamilian colleague in Tamil Nadu and told him to contact BMW. They were given all kinds of facilities and BMW is in that state.

SD: Does that reflect corruption at IAS level or is it a bigger plan?

RT: It is like this, most people think 'it's my region, language and people'.

SD: Where does Maharashtra pale in comparison and why?

RT: There is no political will. The subject about BMW is pending. The other day there was a report which I will send to you if you want, the foreigners who have come to Tamil Nadu with BMW, are learning Tamil.

SD: That is an interesting point. Are the Mercedes people in Pune speaking Marathi?

RT: No. There is not even flag-hoisting in that Mercedes school. They were told 'In this country, in this state, all schools hoist the flag, and then the students are given the day off. You should also do this.' Their reply was, 'We will not do it.'

SD: Why do you think the Maharashtrian manoos lacks the killer instinct that we see in other states?

RT: Those who govern us have become mentally corrupt. Ultimately they are the ones who influence masses. Through the elections in Gujarat, each time two Gujaratis came face to face here, they said "Om Namah Namah". They meant Om Narendra Modi Namah.

SD: What do you think of him?

RT: He is a very good administrator. He has been called all kinds of names. Some of my Muslim friends said 'Whatever happened in Godhra etc, is okay. But the way Modi is leading progress in Gujarat, we wonder why we came back here? We feel like going back.'

SD: Does Maharashtra need a Narendra Modi?

RT: Hundred per cent.

SD: Who would that person be?

RT: If I had the chance, I will straighten things in Maharashtra.

SD: Switching to a more recent topic, Amitabh apologised on Jaya's behalf... was it because you had threatened to stop Drona's release?

RT: Drona had nothing to do with it. (Producer of Drona) Goldie is my friend.

SD: You think Jaya's remarks were politically motivated?

RT: Hundred per cent. If she is a Samajwadi Party MP and if I have an issue with these very people, then why shouldn't I view them from that angle? She had also moved a private member's proposal in Rajya Sabha to separate Mumbai from Maharashtra. Why should I look at them kindly?

SD: Who decides what's good for the state and what's not?

RT: People know, I know. When I say something, people react.

SD: Why don't you get mass support, then?

RT: Come with me, and you'll know... I'll show you my mass support.

SD: But only this morning, whatever your intentions were in supporting Balasaheb, have been rejected. He has called you a traitor, a back-stabber and more in the Saamana editorial.

RT: Let me tell you, Balasaheb doesn't write the edits any more. For the last several years, someone else is writing the edits for him. Earlier, someone else used to speak through him. Now, someone is writing on his behalf.

SD: They're putting words in his mouth?

RT: Balasaheb has nothing to do with all this. Did I ever say that Sena should not raise the issue? Did I say that I am doing it because Sena is useless? I said this was an insult to Maharashtra. When you insult the state leader, you are insulting the state. This is what I said about Sharad Pawar on May 3.

SD: The other people are more powerful than Balasaheb?

RT: Yes, they are now running the party.

SD: Which means he is completely a toothless tiger?

RT: I won't say that. After all, there is the age factor. I had said this in an interview earlier and I say it again —you'll know what it means when you turn 82.

The editorials are written by Sanjay Raut.

SD: Suppose Balasaheb asks you to come back.

RT: I never had an issue with him.

SD: He's still the head of party.

RT: No, he's not... someone else is. He is only there for the sake of it. Someone else runs the party.

SD: The person you're not naming... is he Uddhav?

RT: Whoever...

SD: Suppose Uddhav phones you, suppose his father asks him to…

RT: No, no, no… I don't want to talk about this.

SD: Are you looking at a future takeover or merger with Sena? May be after Balasaheb?

RT: No, I don't think about that. I am working with my party, my people in Maharashtra.

SD: What's the ultimate objective? CM of Maharashtra? PM of India?

RT: First and foremost, I have named my party as Maharashtra Navnirmaan Sena. I don't want to go beyond Maharashtra's boundaries. My MPs will go — they must, because they need to work for the state.

SD: The impression is that you are one of the biggest landlords in India?

RT: I'll be happy if I am.

SD: So it's not true? Are you one of the biggest in Maharashtra?

RT: Go, count my property and tell me if I am. You are talking about Kohinoor. It's not with me. It's with the IL&FS. The headlines look great: Raj buys Kohinoor for Rs 421 crore. Where did I get Rs 421 crore?

SD: Tell us...

RT: IL&FS was our third partner. We were one-third partners each. You know when the politicians speak, people think otherwise. I was sitting in this hall outside. Since childhood, we have been playing and going around Shivaji Park. Shiv Sena Bhavan was here. I have a construction business.

SD: As a politician, how important is money?

RT: Most important. What can you run without money?

SD: The young Maharashtrians, even those living around Shivaji Park, young educated, restless Maharashtrians... do they subscribe to your tactics?

RT: Tactics?

SD: Yes, tactics. Using force on people, throwing stones, pelting cars, destroying property... do they approve of it? Don't you think you're giving Bombay a very bad name?

RT: Mumbai.

SD: Ok, Mumbai.

RT: If this is giving a bad name to Mumbai, then what do you say of the 1992-93 riots? Did the industries not come to Maharashtra at all? The point is this — you don't take away my rights, I won't take yours.

SD: Do you justify Hitler's tactics?

RT: Yes, I do. If you don't understand my point of view, I'll have to do this. For me, Maharashtra's pride is most important. Maharashtra is for Marathi manoos. Will you say England belongs to other nationals because they are there in large numbers?

SD: But what if our people don't have a pioneering spirit, why should you blame others?

RT: But they do. Page Three culture does not represent all the industry. There are many who are doing their work. Let's take Chitale Bandhu. Their turnover is over Rs 500-700 crore. They don't figure on Page Three, so they are not called industrialists.

SD: Couple of final questions: the Nanavati Commission, what do you feel about it?

RT: I think we must understand what happened there. It's not only about Narendra Modi. It's about the masses.

SD: He represents a certain phase in history. They will say it happened in Modi's era.

RT: It did. Ok. The issue is there are blasts all over the country. What will you do?

SD: How do you rate the Mumbai Police?

RT: I have full faith in them. Give them full freedom. They'll end this in 10 days. What they showed in A Wednesday, which I recently watched, is true. Anupam Kher demands complete control.

SD: But should every citizen take the law into his own hands like Naseeruddin Shah's character? Should they be using RDX to settle scores?

RT: Correct. That's what I am saying. People hand over the power to you with immense faith. It's your job to ensure tough implementation of laws.

SD: So... who isn't doing it?

RT: The government. The Chief Minister, the deputy Chief Minister, the Home Minister... everybody wants votes.

SD: Whose votes?

RT: Muslim votes. The ministers are scared if they take action, carry out combing operation, the Muslim vote will go against the Congress government.

SD: Are you saying that innocents' killing is justified?

RT: Why are you asking me? Those days are gone when they said that never mind if 100 guilty were scot free but one innocent shouldn't be punished. It's the absolute opposite that's going on today. They are coming at us and we are doing nothing. Mumbai police have the capability to end this menace in just 10 days.

SD: Somebody like Sanjay Dutt, with his criminal record...

RT: What should I say about him? Should I say good about his films or ill about his record?

SD: Should the system permit someone like Sanjay to contest elections? Why not Abu Salem then?

RT: There are scores of others. Phoolandevi contested from jail and won. That's where  democracy should be redefined.

SD: Rahul Gandhi as PM?

RT: I don't know. I've never met him.

SD: Is he worthy?

RT: Those who had experience, have ruined this country for last 60 years. Let's ruin it for five more years by giving it to new people.

SD: Mayawati or L K Advani?

RT: Advani. He has been there for so many years, has been the deputy Prime Minister.

SD: What's your personal fear?

RT: I am scared of my dogs running around without a leash.

SD: What about your style statement? You're a sharp dresser, you have expensive tastes, pens, watches.

RT: I wear a shirt, trousers. I get them stitched at Gabana, the local tailor; not from Dolce and Gabbana. No designers for me. I am most comfortable in kurta-pyjama when I am travelling. What is more important is what I do. Not what I wear. For instance, Narayan Rane moves around in a suit. If he's doing good work in Sindhudurg, it doesn't matter whether he's wearing a kurta-pajama or a dhoti.

SD: How do you relax?

RT: Reading. I read biographies. Hitler, Indira Gandhi.

SD: Hitler as a hero?

RT: You know I think Gandhiji was the greatest leader in India in the last century. Similarly, Hitler's commitment to the German nation-building is historical. No one will support his genocide of Jews.

SD: Your strategy — Maharashtra for Maharashtrians... how is it so different from Hitler's? Who is an outsider?

RT: Those who don't accept the official language here are outsiders. Marathi is local. Those who have come from outside but have accepted this state as theirs are locals. I have several Gujarati friends who have lived here for generations. They speak in Marathi.

SD: Does Ratan Tata speak Marathi?

RT: I don't know, but JRD did. Let's not involve Ratan Tata in this. He has his industries all over, he goes out in the world. He belongs to India. Let's not confine him. Anil Ambani speaks Marathi.

SD: Non-Marathi speaking elite are welcome and not those poor outsiders.

RT: You may ask these questions in other states. If you want to do business, you learn the official language. I don't need any certificate. Don't Marwaris learn Bengali when they set up business in Bengal? In other states, they take it in writing that 80 percent jobs will be for locals. You can't buy land in Himachal Pradesh if you are an outsider. Why not advise them?

SD: Should we reproduce that model here?

RT: Yes, we must. Change the rest of the country and then come to us. We always thought of others, they don't think of us. We will not live on their terms and conditions. They must live on ours. And if you see a dictator in me, I am fine with it. So be it.

This interview can also be found on the official Mumbai Mirror website.

This was an outstanding piece of literature. I felt a vibe and mania while reading this story. The setup of modern New York, the way they went about showing their roles in this world and how technology helped shape it. I saw this writing as stating the way in which we can lose ourselves and identities due to the technology each of us carry in our hands. One picture could literally steal your identity for others use. The character development and effort they put into creating a world around this idea was what caught my attention. I saw them as similar to the club kid generation in New York, the alternative “It” people who shape the world around them. My interest in that time period and even earlier with Andy Warhol just showed my bias with this piece. I liked the concept of the sincere party. It was interesting to reflect back at the story,” everyone comes dressed sincerely” didn’t mean to some that they needed to be sincere just be dressed accordingly.

The introduction of Raj was interesting. He is described as charismatic, charming, and beautiful. He is the wolf in sheep’s clothing. His intentions far from sincere were to sell a product.  I wonder if Raj were a real person if he would have realized his actions sent someone into a manic episode and how he would have acted knowing this. I identified with our main character during that manic episode. The way he was outraged and then even more so when his friends weren’t just as outraged.  I am a passionate person when it comes to capitalism and the using of people and roles in society. If my identity was ever stolen I would be just as angered just as manic and cause just as much of a fuss over it. I believe privacy is one of the few things people have left and it’s their right to protect it.

This piece offers great insight into how technology is not only shaping our social life but how it can alter our self images, and invade our lives. Technology is a great power that can be used; this isn’t just referring to good or bad but the use of everything. We have to be media savvy and be able to protect ourselves from the Raj’s of the world. So next time you’re at an exclusive party be aware of people with camera phones who’s intentions seem off when they get you just try a sip.

Director Shankar is making his costliest film Robo with Rajinikanth and Aishwarya Rai. Click here for robo photo gallery

Currently, Ernest has a recurring role as "Mr. Omar" on the show “Everybody Hates Chris”. “Everybody Hates Chris” is an African-American sitcom that features fictional characters and situations that is broadly based on real people and situations. The show is inspired by the teenage experiences of the star comedian Chris Rock while he was growing up in Brooklyn.  Chris Rock narrates each show.

Mr. Omar (Ernest) is a funeral director who lives above Chris and his family. He is smooth with the ladies and is seen with a new female widow in almost every episode he appears in. His claim is to console the lovely ladies in their time of grief, but as it shows, he just wants to get close to them for very personal reasons...

For me, Ernest is most remembered by his own show “What's Happening!!” and “What's Happening Now!!” where he plays the character “Raj” , with a signature laugh and dance.

This show must have really had a huge impact on the viewers because it returned back in 1985 under the new name “What’s Happening Now!!”. The show starts several years down the line when they are adults. Adults by age only, the show was based on more mature situations they find themselves in. This show abandoned the mother and sister characters, but created a wife for Raj — Nadine, played by Anne-Marie Johnson.

I recently had the pleasure of having a personal and intimate interview with Ernest. This is one outstanding man who has a heart of gold. He absolutely loves people and people love him. One thing that will stand out in his interview is how passionate he is about helping others and finding a way for everyone to come together as one to help those in need.

I truly love Ernest, but when we get together, whether in person or on the phone, that is a 'long winded' conversation. We are talking and laughing so much and the subject can change twenty times, so quite naturally, this interview was so long that I had to edit it a bit for the magazine. Even after the editing, I realized that the interview would have to be broken into two issues.

Please, take some time and enjoy our interview (Part 1): 

IOR (Its Our Reality): Ernest, I'd like to thank you in advance for doing this interview and making yourself so available to me.

Ernest: Well, you know sweetheart, anything for you. I've always told you that I would always be there for you.

IOR: Well, Ernest, I’ve been doing a lot of reading on you and I’m finding out so many new things that I didn’t know about you. First, my friends want me to ask you about the movie clip you sent me called "Paroled". What happened to that?

To read the rest of this great interview and find out what went on between Ernest and the "World's Greatest" Muhammad Ali you'll need to go to http://itsourrealitymagazine.com/ernest.htm.  You'll be glad you did.

In 1927 Col Jamaluddin had been posted as Civil Surgeon in Lahore. Mr Kirpalani was the Deputy Commissioner and Sardar Teja Singh was the Sessions Judge. All three Indians were posted together for the first time. With the help of a French architect who was their mutual friend, they planned the community of Model Town, as a retirement abode. Innitially, ModelTown was divided into three parts with a Mosque, a Temple and a Gurduwara as a center point to worship, surrounded by three blocks of housing each. Land at the center of the development was left vacant for recreation and community service centers.

This is Meghraj Singla. Nick name is Sonu. I am Agarwal(BANIYA) “Kanjush makhi chush”. I belong to Kurukshetra(Haryana). Now I live in Delhi , working in Gurgaon in MNC, Limited Company as a SEO.

Now about my name:

I have number of names. Like, most of the gals, which meet me face to face, say Megh. Online gal friends says me RAJ. In online chating or for online friends I use name Raj Agarwal. I like this name RAJ. In Boys, most of say Meghraj, some say Megh(Delhi speacial friends) And some, in my village, friends say me Meghu, Ghume and Kaliya(my friend Gulshan says), tolu(my cousin brother says).

In my family and in my full relation( mama, chacha, bahi, mosa) every member says me SONU. If you call at my home or in my relation, “Megh Raj hai yahan par”, They will think 1^st long, who Meghraj, then say yes or not.

Now you can say me RAJ AGARWAL.

The thought that Moorcroft was to die broken and bitterly disappointed brings a pang of grief. The mitigating factor however is that it did not take his country long to realise the worth of the man. Today he is acknowledged, and rightly so, as the forebear of Himalayan exploration and discovery, and one of the earliest heroes of the Great Game

In the northeast corner of the first quadrangle of the Shalimar Garden in Lahore, right next to the fountains, there is an unpretentious yellow-washed rectangular room on a high plinth. Entrance to the ground floor is through a door in the east wall, while in the west is a door and staircase leading down to the basement. The remaining arched alcoves all around are closed by masonry filigree.

The west wall bears a plaque commemorating the sojourn in this room of the ‘famous traveller William Moorcroft’ in May 1820. Despite the hundreds of visitors daily, few would have noticed this plaque; even fewer would have known who this person was. But for those who have any interest in the history of the Great Game, that epic struggle between Russia and England for the possession of Central Asia, Moorcroft’s name shines bright.

A veterinary surgeon by training, Moorcroft arrived in India in 1808 as an employee of the East India Company to look after its stud farm near Calcutta. Not long afterwards he and his companions, George Trebeck and George Guthrie, were to become the first Englishmen to penetrate to Ladakh where he went looking for a superior, faster breed of horse for the Company’s cavalry.

The Great Game was just beginning to come into its own and it did not take long for Moorcroft to be caught up in the excitement of the times. Because of his strident proclamations that Russia was soon to encroach upon the east, for many in India and England he was no more than an alarmist.

In his zeal, with no authority and without consultation with his superiors in Calcutta, this London veterinarian would sign a commercial treaty with the ruler of Ladakh. This, he believed, was to pre-empt Russian commercial influence in the backyard, so to say, of British India. The East India Company, however, enjoyed excellent relations with Maharaja Ranjit Singh, the ruler of Punjab and was not yet ready to raise his ire. Since the Maharaja held Kashmir, he looked upon Ladakh as a dependency, and the Company was infringing upon his authority by entering into negotiations independently. Promptly, therefore, they retracted Moorcroft’s treaty and sent an apology to the Maharaja.

That, however, was not all. The Company sent a letter to Ladakh informing Moorcroft of his suspension from the Company’s service. Shortly afterwards a second letter was dispatched ordering him to return home. But even before that letter could reach him, Moorcroft and his companions left Ladakh en route for Bokhara through the Khyber Pass and Afghanistan in their search for the horses. This was in May 1824, exactly four years after he had been put up by Maharaja Ranjit Singh in the room in Shalimar Garden that the Maharaja had constructed for his own pleasure.

The year 1824 was not the best of times to be travelling through lawless Afghanistan, especially when the reputation that you were the van of a British invading force preceded you. It was worse still when you were weighed down by merchandise ‘chiefly cottons, broadcloth, and hardware, to the value of between three and four thousand pounds’, because this attracted the eye of the rapacious Afghans. Toward the end of that year, however, the party had safely made it through uncertain Afghanistan to the banks of the Oxus.

In February 1825, ten months after having set out of Ladakh, Moorcroft and his party arrived in the fabled city of Bokhara. Once again disappointment was to be his lot. Unknown to him, the year he had enjoyed Sikh hospitality in the Shalimar Garden, a Russian mission had infiltrated Bokhara. Unlike the East India Company the Russian crown believed the tussle in the east to be as much a commercial enterprise as military adventure and as a result of this mission’s activity; the bazaars of Bokhara were now well stocked with Russian merchandise.

Moorcroft’s disappointment was at its profoundest when he discovered that those fleet-footed horses he had hoped to find there were not to be seen. Surely it would have been a sorely dejected Moorcroft who turned his face eastward to India which he still thought was ‘home’. That was in August 1825.

On the home side of the Oxus, Moorcroft heard of the existence of his dream horses in some remote village. With just two or three of his companions, while the rest of his party waited at Balkh, Moorcroft headed out for the last time. Not long afterwards his decomposed body was brought back to Balkh together with the news that he had died of a fever. Shortly after burying him in a tree-shaded spot outside town, his two companions died within a short time of each other. Subsequently the party’s interpreter too passed away.

When news of these deaths reached India it was rumoured that they had either been poisoned by Russian agents or killed by robbers. The truth will surely never be known. For the sixty-year-old Moorcroft, unceremoniously removed from the service, it can be said that broken in spirit he may have lost the desire to live. The fever may just have been an excuse to pass on.

Unlike those dashing players of the Great Game, those archetypal heroes, Moorcroft who had left a successful veterinarian practice in London to serve in India, seems pitiable. He came at a time when the East India Company, secure in the knowledge of the treaty of friendship between London and St Petersburg, could not believe anything as absurd as Russian designs on Central Asia. And when he called the warning from Ladakh he was ridiculed, for he was far ahead of his time. Sadly in his lifetime he received only censure. Not long after his death Moorcroft’s warnings rang true and what his masters had taken as senseless zeal turned out in reality to have been sound judgement.

The thought that Moorcroft was to die broken and bitterly disappointed brings a pang of grief. The mitigating factor however is that it did not take his country long to realise the worth of the man. Today he is acknowledged, and rightly so, as the forebear of Himalayan exploration and discovery, and one of the earliest heroes of the Great Game. His sense of loyalty to country and commitment to the work at hand, namely the search for better horses, was remarkable. A lesser man, having received a letter of suspension, would have given up the task and set off for home. But not Moorcroft; for him loyalty to the country was foremost.

The plaque on the building in the Shalimar Garden is perhaps a statement of appreciation of Moorcroft’s silent heroism from some long forgotten civil servant of the Raj.

Salman Rashid is a travel writer and knows Pakistan like the back of his hand. He can be reached at odysseus@link.net.pk

]]> http://zakonram.wordpress.com/?p=45 Tue, 09 Sep 2008 09:32:14 +0000 zakonram http://zakonram.mk.wordpress.com/2008/09/09/raj-i-pieklo/ Pewien porywczy samuraj, znany z tego, że atakował bez żadnej przyczyny, przybył do bram klasztoru zen i zażądał spotkania z mistrzem. Ryokan bez wahania wyszedł mu na spotkanie. – Mówi się, że inteligencja jest potężniejsza od ślepej siły - rzekł samuraj. – Czy możesz mi wyjaśnić, czym są raj i piekło? Ryokan nie powiedział nic. – Ja z łatwością mogę to wyjaśnić- wykrzyknął samuraj. – Aby pokazać komuś, czym jest piekło, należy mu zadać silny cios. Aby pokazać, czym jest raj, wystarczy tylko zagrozić mu siłą i pozwolić odejść. – Nie rozmawiajmy na takimi głupcami jak ty - rzekł mu spokojnie mistrz zen. Krew uderzyła samurajowi do głowy i zapałał nienawiścią. – To jest właśnie piekło – powiedział Ryokan z uśmiechem - kiedy pozwalasz sobie na to, a by jakieś bzdurne uwagi wyprowadziły cię z równowagi. Zdumiony odwagą zakonnika samuraj złagodniał. – A to jest raj - powiedział Ryokan, zapraszając go do środka - kiedy nie reagujesz na niedorzeczne prowokacje.

Drugiego dnia rozgrzewka na szlaku. Spacerek "magistralą" ze Smokowca do Łomnicy. Kilka godzin to trwało, ale było miło. Widoków niestety żadnych, bo całe Tatry były spowite gęstymi chmurami...

W związku z niepewną pogodą kolejny dzień przeznaczyliśmy na zwiedzanie Spisskiego Hradu - jednego z największych kompleksów zamkowych w Europie Środkowej. Powierzchnia robi wrażenie, same ruiny także.

Na zamku trafiliśmy na pokazy rycerskie - fajna rzecz, nie powiem... Wioska (miasteczko?) przy której leży zamek jest klimatyczne, ale widać, że bardzo biedne. Małe romskie dziecko żebrzące na przystanku autobusowym o jedzenie i dzielące się z siostrą (?) otrzymanym cieastkiem pozostaje w pamięci...

Kolejny dzien to wyprawda na Sławkowski Szczyt (2452). Niestety tylko we dwójkę, resztę rozłożyła choroba... Szlak prosty, ale długi i mozolny. Niestety górne partie Tatr były ciągle w gęstych churach, stąd widoki były takie jak widać na zdjęciach. Mimo to wyprawa udana.

Następnego dnia odpoczynek od górskich szlaków. Kezmarok. Dwa ładne kościoły ewangelickie (w tym jeden potęzny w stylu mauretańskim - na zdjęciu), zwarta staromiejska zabudowa i stylowy, niewielki zamek. Ładnie. Powrót szynobusem pełnym głośnych romów - mniejsze słowackie miejscowości mają chyba z nimi sporo problemów...

Nazajutrz znów w góry. Spacerek dolinką do Zielonego Plesa - bardzo urokliwe miejsce i pięknie położone schronisko. Później wspinaczka na Wielka Świstówkę i pierwsze łańcuchy podczas wyprawy. Poszło gładko :) Cały dzień się chmurzyło, ale nie spadła ani jedna kropla deszczu, Ktoś u góry czuwał...

Wyprawa na Koprowski zakończyła się "defektem" z naszej strony. A. nie była w stanie iść w wysokie góry - długi marsz na Sławkowski Szczyt cały czas dawał znać o sobie. Posiedzieliśmy za to dość długo nad Popradzkim Stawem, razem z jego mieszkańcami (na zdjęciu).

Kolejny dzień - wyprawa do Lewoczy. Kiedyś miasto o dużym znaczeniu, obecnie nieco na uboczu. Duża starówka, okazały ratusz i kościoły na Starym Mieście. Niestety boczne uliczki wyglądały jak ta na drugim zdjęciu...

Kolejny dzień spędziliśmy w Słowackim Raju. Ciasne wąwozy, efektowne wodospady, drabinki, łańcuchy, klamry. Pełen wypas. Szlak niełatwy, wymagający skupienia, ale super ciekawy. Opuszczając Park Narodowy postanowiliśmy udać się na stację kolejową mało uczęszczanym szlakiem i natknęliśmy się na taką wioskę:

Dramatycznie biednie wyglądająca wioska romska. Na nasz widok z wioski wybiegło mnóstwo dzieci, prosząc nas o jedzenie. Wyglądało to jak na migawkach z afryki pokazywanych czasem w TV. Smutne strasznie. Pozbyliśmy się kanapek i na szczęście bezpiecznie dotarliśmy na dworzec.

Ostatniego dnia sierpnia nasza ekipa liczyło jednego człeka więcej. Przyjechał do nas na 3 dni K., aby pobiegać troszkę po górach. Wybraliśmy jednokierunkowy szlak prowadzący przed Bystre Sedlo. Pogoda zrobiła się piekna, a szlak obfitował w ładne pejzaże, więc było co podziwiać...

W ramach odpoczynku od gór "zaliczyliśmy" Koszyce. Pięknie odnowiona starówka i blokowiska na wzgórzach... Dłuuugi spacer i polowanie na tramwaje. Efekty pewnie kiedyś, gdzieś, wypłyną...

Rysy. Szlak, który trzeba było zaliczyć. Nawet nie taki długi jak się wydawał. Ciekawy. A widok z góry "przepyszny" (cytat z przewodnika). Ludzi też nie było, aż tak wielu jak nas straszyli. Udało się bez większych problemów, najwyższy polski szczyt zdobyty :)

W ramach odpoczynku po Rysach wybraliśmy się na foty kolejowe (jakieś efekty tu). Nie obyło się bez szaleństw (zdjęcie). Ogólnie kilka ciekawych kadrów udało się złapać. A wieczorkiem na dokładkę zaliczyliśmy Spisska Nova Ves.

Ostatni dzień w całości na Słowacji przeznaczyliśmy na Pożegnanie D. i G. oraz wycieczkę do Zbójnickiej Chaty. Widoczki ładne, szlak krótki, pośpiechu brak. Wakacyjnie... Wieczorem następiło pakowanie, a rano kolejnego dnia wyjazd.

I znów przesiadka w Zilinie. I tym razem obiad w całkowicie wymarłym zwardoniu. Przepyszna zupa gulaszowa i pierogi ruskie, które smakowały... miętą. I pierwsze od dłuższego czasu polskie piwo. I ta świadomość, że te tak długo oczekiwane chwile tak szybko minęły. Zdecydowanie za szybko. Ekspresem. Ale było pięknie. Dziękuję całej czwórce, ale szczególnie Tobie Słoneczko :*

]]> http://lahorenama.wordpress.com/?p=411 Wed, 03 Sep 2008 08:11:34 +0000 Raza Rumi http://lahorenama.mk.wordpress.com/2008/09/03/lawrence-garden-lahore/

The gorgeous tree

Library now

smoking - despite the ban

 Lawrence Garden, Lahore

And, more

I hail from an ancestry which has always served the rulers. Right from the time of the Mauryans, the Guptas, the Palas, the Mughals (from the time of whose, I can trace my surname), the Raj and now the Republic, we have been serving in one form or the other. And so I dream small, so that I have less to lose. After coming here I have seen people harbouring big dreams, exerting themselves like ass (donkey, not the typical meaning with which we use the word in BITS) to mark their individuality. I just wanted to be an engineer and nothing else.

Will my small dream get a jolt. With propositions of dropping a whole semester because of Tuberculosis, which I got from don't know where, coming from influential quarters onto me, I am in a big dilemma. Come on, it's just the initial stage. The local doctor here diagnosed it and on my insistence, started the treatment. On somebody's suggestion (name withheld), I went to New Delhi to get a second opinion. There started the problem. I reached New Delhi on Monday night. I got headache from that night. The Delhi doctor changed my medicine (the composition remaining the same) which I took only on Wednesday morning. Yet that headache and head spinning continued and I returned to Pilani. I reached out to the same local doctor here for help in this headache case. But he refused to treat me as I have taken the matter to another doctor. To make matters worse, he lied to the Chief Warden here that I am getting headaches only after taking the Delhi medicines, whereas I clearly told him that I was getting headaches since Monday night and I had taken Delhi medicines for just one day, on Wednesday morning.

I seriously think that a respectful person like him should not have lied in this way. It is like playing with his own reputation. Even the Chief Warden knows that he is lying. What did he get from it, inner satisfaction? Mental calm? Bheje ko shaanti mil gayi aapki? Khopdi ka light off gaya tha jo jhooth bolne chale the?

He might come down and ask me to keep quiet. He will, definitely, if I let my voice go out of control. But then, I am right and he is wrong. If ten more guys like him come onto me, I dare to bet nobody will have the guts to get me bowed down.

What should I blame? Whom should I blame? Myself? What have I done? The doctor who lied? He has just taken the matter to his prestige, although everyone expected a little more humanity from him. The influential person who suggested my parents to get a second opinion due to which all this started? He was just a well-wisher.

I am a mimick. And now, due to this illness, I am facing breathing problems and so might not mimick this time. That's what has made me sad.

Dr. K K Birla passed away. Many people might actually be unhappy with him (or his father) for choosing a place Pilani which is accessible only by road (whose health is almost always in shambles). But I am indebted to him to make it possible to realise my small dream and so deeply regret his death.

Kosi river became mad. Lakhs of people got affected, nobody is sure of how many people died. Indeed a sorrow, what has it made of the once thriving region.

Blasts everywhere. Jaipur, Ahmedabad, Bangalore, Surat to name a few. We just don't know on which bomb our name is written.

Death and chaos is all around... Should I give even a little importance to my ailment?

The rest of the money has been invested to strengthen our defense by signing Timo "The Berlin Wall" Droege. He is the only player without any Italian League experience, but has already been playing for other league teams in Buenos Aires. He'll not only reinforce our defense but massively raise the general experience and the team's age average.

After the first and last team practice on friday, the players are optimistic about the new season with the new team with the new name which is still to be discussed. Who the hell picked "Hoolligans"?

Statements...
Carlos Musri (Forward, Goalkeeper, Manager): "After qualifying for the A-League we will all get drunk".
Timo Droege (Center Back): "Vamos a ver".
Jan Gubenis (Midfield): "I wanna know all my teammates real names at the end of the season and all of Charly's nicknames."
Ray Loyla (Midfield, Centerback): "I'm still injured with this ingrowing footnail, can't play."
Gerardo Daniel Ciaffone: "We have to win at least one game."
League Manger: "If you don't have enough players, I can play for you too."

The sqaud...
Carlos Musri
Julio Andres Fernandez
Leo Bambi
Fernando Storani
Pablo Lazzarini
Gerardo Daniel Ciaffone
Raj Loyla
Timo Droege
Jan-Egil Gubenis

The first match...
takes place this friday (29th of August 2008) at 17:40hs in "La Bombonera" in Open Gallo (Gallo 241). Opponent is "Conflicto Cero". Sounds like an easy winner to me.

Posts about won matches and draws will be published immedeately after the game. Defeats will be reported later. High defeats will be reported only together with the preview for the next game and without mentioning the result-strict policy.

Vamos

"...Tego dnia czystość została pogrzebana,
Razem z nią legł wstyd...
Tego dnia upadł duch,

Wygieła się do wewnątrz
Bezpowrtonie elipsa ma..."  ***

Ach, mój PP, czemu moje życie to groteska? Mam wrażenie, że to wciąż piętno wygnania z Raju**. Pierwsza kobieta już taka była. Ciekawa zdrady Boga i spróbowania tego co zakazane. Szatan nie musiał mieć gadany i wystarczyło, że był obleśnym wężem, a ta i tak go posłuchała. Na dodatek wykorzystała zaufanie jakim dażył ją Adam. Zrobiłby dla niej wszystko, nawet zlekceważyłby Boga na jedno jej skinienie. A ona wcisneła mu to przeklęte jabłko.

PP, powiedz mi co jest tak magicznego w tych stworzeniach, że wciąż fascynują, pociągają, sprawaiają, że trudno myśleć o czym innym, dają iskrę szczęścia, a później płomienie trawią duszę, bo w pojedynkę trudno je ugasić. Kolejny raz wszedłem do jeziora, kolejny raz zabrnąłem tam, gdzie nawet palcami u stóp nie dotykam dna, obejrzałem się i zdziwienie mi odebrało ostatni oddech. Nikogo tam nie było, a przecież nie umiem pływać. Nikt nie zdołał usłyszeć mojego wołania o pomoc.

Fell in love with a girl
fell in love once and almost completely
she's in love with the world
but sometimes these feelings
can be so misleading
she turns and says are you alright?
I said I must be fine cause my heart's still beating
come and kiss me by the riverside,
Bobby says it's fine he don't consider it cheating

Can't think of anything to do
my left brain knows that
all love is fleeting
she's just looking for something new
and I said it once before
but it bears repeating ****

Teraz w znaczeniu ścisłym siedzę w slipach, a ciepło komputera ogrzewa mi uda. Spoglądam na zegarek. Kiedy usiadłem dziś, aby przejrzeć co ciekawego dzieje się w wirtualnym świecie, zauważyłem komentarz pod jednym z moich wpisów opatrzony dzisiejszą datą i godziną 2:38. O tej godzinie siedziałem na ławce kilka kilometów od domu wpatrując się w świecący się szyld "Obuwie". Patrzyłem na tyle intensywnie, że przypadkowy nocny Marek, mógłby pomyśleć, że popadłem w jakieś zafascynowanie tym otóż malutkim butikiem. Nic podobnego. Patrzyłem, nawet rozumiałem na co, ale myślami wybiegłem na tyle daleko, że to co miałem przed oczami nie miało dla mnie najmniejszego znaczenia. Nagły podmuch wiatru*****, wstrząsnął mną i sprawił, że stało mi się przeraźliwie zimno. Uświadomiłem sobie, że dzika zieleń moich oczu znów na długo zniknęła i znów stały się one rozpaczliwie piwne.

Jest między nami gra
Gra jak świat stara
Jest w głowie dziki szum,
Czuły punkt na falach
Po ulicach snów biegnie nas spora zgraja
Po tych ulicach ze snów wszędzie słychać nasz bluzg
Tacy nikczemni i źli – widzimy się na ekranach
Gęb zakazanych sznur
Nie wypada się bać
Dookoła miłość się skorumpowała
Dookoła świat jak pierworodny grzech
Nie zdążysz nawet dobrze się przeżegnać
My nie mówimy żegnaj koniec cześć
Bo po co?
Sny wirtualnych chłopców
Jak u młodych chłopców

Jest między nami gra
Którą gra się w parach
Kiedy w jedną z wielu dziur
Trafia ptak z zegara
Z naszych tajnych baz naloty dywanowe,
Dwie wieże z klocków znów nam padają do stóp
Wszystkie te wścibskie psy, te straże ogniowe
Defenestrują się z okien komend na bruk
Dookoła miłość się skorumpowała
Dookoła świat jak pierworodny grzech
Nie zdążysz nawet dobrze się przeżegnać
My nie mówimy żegnaj koniec cześć
Bo po co?  ******

* PP - Publiczny Pamiętnik
** Nie mylić z Raichu
*** Hey - Ho www.youtube.com/watch?v=QDpMFR_f0pM
**** The White Stripes - Fell in Love with a Girl www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRDi67G0Siw
***** Co zwiastuje wiatr zmian? (Nie, to nie jest VaBank xD)
****** Pidżama Porno - Wirtualni chłopcy http://narvana94.wrzuta.pl/audio/u8A1RDTZrG/6._wirtualni_chlopcy

Yash Raj movies presents Bachna ae Haseeno:) It is a good timepass and a nice story and anectodes from life itself with a blood-stirring soundtrack!

"Aahista Aahista"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By Lucky Ali, Shreya Ghoshal "Bachna Ae Haseeno"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By Kishore Kumar, Sumit Kumar, Vishal Dadlani "Jogi Mahi"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By Sukhvinder Singh, Shekhar Rajviani, Himani Kapoor "Khuda Jaane Ke Mein Fida Hoon"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By K.K, Shilpa Rao "Khuda Jaane Ke Mein Fida Hoon (Revisited)"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By K.K, Shilpa Rao (Remix By Abhijit Nalani) "Lucky Boy You Are My Lucky Boy"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By Sunidhi Chauhan, Hard Kaur, Raja Hassan "Small Town Girl"   Music By Vishal Dadlani-Shekhar Ravjiani Lyrics By Anvita Dutt Guptan Performed By Shankar Mahadevan

P.S.:Soundtrack is originally available at http://www.bollyfm.net/bollyfm/mid/1368/movie-mp3.html

Moje si srce, sve si u životu mom.

Mnogi me pitaju gdje sam i skim

Nemam puno da pricam, jer tu sam

negdje u kovanju srece

na pogresnom ili pravom putu

Samo On zna

Sveznajuci

Putnik sam koji nezna

da otvori kofer

do kraja jer zeli se

do raja onako bez daha

do samog kraja.

Sve mi price ispricane

i zelje skovane

ove noci prohladne

samo mi se suti

i na molbu sluti

da nije tako

sve blijedo i jadno

vec onako tajno i slatko

kao u onaj vakat

kad me preko vode vodila

onako zedna i jadna

kao nekog starca.

Te noci kad meleci su digli ruke od mene i nje

gledali smo nad gradom proslosti

na cilimu proslosti

nebo iznad nas i mastali o buducnosti

i novim putevima.

Kasnije dugo se klela

da ne smije da ostane

da keze mi sve

da jesen jaca je od nas

da nas vrijeme nosi

da su duge staze tuge

bez nade i spasa

za sve nas insane.

Pricam evo vec vama

bez razloga pravog i srama insanskog

ovu pricu jer mora se ici do kraja

do samoga raja.