Engineering and its value in today's time :D

Engineering is a word which was difficult for me to pronounce correctly even when I was in college. It is a word which has made my contemplation of yellow all the more vibrant (thanks to the safety helmets), a word which has “engine”, “ring” and five different alphabets in it as some lifeless facebook philosophers would post and a word which is impossible for 98% of the readers to translate in Urdu (kindly don’t waste your time trying google translator; I have wasted mine). But most importantly, it is a word which now indisputably defines me.
It’s human psyche to associate all kinds of things with the governing factor or some principal characteristic of an entity regardless of their positivity and negativity. For example if you know a certain house is haunted, it won’t be surprising to hear a pudgy man complaining in a terrifying tone about how his belt disappeared from his belly while he took a walk in its vicinity after consuming a sumptuous meal, failing to consume the simple fact that it’s still there. Only his eyes cannot behold the underside of his tank-like tummy while he stands straight. Or you can consider an all thankful lady who harps about the miraculous disappearance of plaque from her teeth exactly one week after she went to Daata Sab’s shrine, naively overlooking the truth that she was made to brush frequently by her dentist who could no longer brave her yellowish golden smile (plz don't tell me we call THIS the million dollar smile). Similarly, following is a short account of 2 memorable occasions where people associated the word “Engineering” with anything they could think of at that moment.

“You won’t stop coming here, will you?” the poultry shop boy jokingly hit me.
“Nooop! Now shut up and gather me some siriyaan. My cats are famished and if don’t take these, I’ll knock YOUR siri off” I retorted back.

I have been doing this since I was in class 9 (not retorting for heaven’s sake, feeding my cats!!).

“btw dude, what do u do? I mean besides feeding ur cats with these gratis siriyaan and threatening me for mine, what do u do for a living?” the shop boy solemnly inquired.

“I am an engineer buddy” I proudly enunciated being certain of getting more siriyaan from this day forth.
“hahaha, go bluff someone else dude. Engineers don’t come every day around 1pm asking for siriyaan and wearing t-shirts over loose jaded trousers. They work in offices and travel by car. Tell me honestly now, what do u do?”
“I am an engineer u moron, I am doing M.Sc, I mean I am studying further that’s why I come. And engineers also have the right to roam casually in in any dress they desire and they don’t need a car to fetch siriyaan. Now seal your lips and give me what I have come for or should I bring an HEC attested degree for it? :@”
I ran over him in exasperation.

“haha, be patient amigo, I was just asking. Here you go, are these enough?”



Bored by the quiet and modest ambience of the wedding hall, I decided to go and have a peek at the ladies section. Placing my knot at the right coordinates (oppa engineering style) and shinning my boots with the chair cloth (stop denouncing me, I know you do this too) I surreptitiously started walking away from my father. After about 60 seconds of Qabaacha walk and ensuring that my father was still busy confabulating on the same table with the same uncle who was raving about his pretty daughter-in-law, I darted for the entrance fissure hoping to find my father, HIS pretty daughter in law so that he could give that random uncle a shut up reply.
It wasn’t long before a natural smile broke out. I had found her; mene jisay abhi abhi dekha hai, kon hai wo anjani? Usay jitna dekhoon utna sochun kya usay main keh doon….pretty lady!! (woman aurton k liye hota hai). But wait a second, why was she wearing the heaviest makeup? Why the heaviest and costliest attire? And above all, why was she sitting sequestered on the stage? What wrong this beautiful soul had committed to deserve such ostracism? My heart skipped a beat but I couldn’t step forward for I was Jacob; the only wolf in the congregation of vampires. All I could do was either "howl" or "stare at my bella". Before I could decide which option was more politic, some words from 2 ladies fell like stark lightening on my already numbed senses.

“Look at the bride on stage. How pretty does she look no”
“Oh yeah, I bet the groom is going to drool at her, hehe”

So she was the bride. So my world crashed before I could live in it. So my father had to continue listening to the blabber of that uncle. Sigh!!

“Btw she’s soo lucky. I heard the groom is an engineer. He recently graduated”

 So the groom is an engineer. My bella is at least getting wedded to someone from my respectable profession. The natural smile returned. *RESPITE*

“Oh Puhleez! Hes just an engineer, not a doctor or lawyer or businessman for that matter. Whatever he has done, hes still a 20-25000 guy, huh!”

I could feel the blood rush hitting the gong in my brain. “So that’s why she tagged him with Bees pachis hazar wala banda?? So that’s why she said he’s going to drool? Because he is an engineer?? What does she freaking mean by that? We are engineers, not fruit sellers!!” I jabbered, riding a surge of disappointment and anger. Failing to stuff her mouth with a geela naan, I had no option but to return to my father and avoid any other reality check. However there was one thing which I was compelled to think.

“How much does a famous fruit seller earn?”

Desire Power!

Human desires are eerie and independent; they have no regard for anything except for their rightful place. It isn’t sometimes possible for everyone to ascertain why exactly did they stem while at others the reason despite its radiance is too intricate for one’s limited knowledge to evaluate. While the origination of a desire I agree cannot be arrested or should not be arrested if I quote majority, the directions in which it attempts to ramify must be checked at the initial stage because this ramification is equivalent to nuclear fission; extremely swift and often too powerful for our pervious grey matter. 

Controlling the spread of desire is important for two principal reasons. First, to verify its connotation in light of one’s religious, parental, societal and individual guidelines and secondly to define its scope; the domain in which it is to be allowed, if it is to be allowed. 

It is a known fact that just like water flowing under full pressure cannot be fully curbed, human desires are also meant to gain power and grow more, exerting pressure to reach a new dimension every minute. However it is in every person’s capability to keep that pressure channelized and sustain it at minimum possible price; a scenario dissimilar to one where the domain hasn’t been defined. Unrestrained water and desires under their multiplying pressure will always erode one’s inner peace and intellectual poise, making it extremely challenging to vividly keep up with one’s beliefs and preferences.

a routine road affair!

The audio was illustrative of routine cacophony and disruptiveness but the visual was uncharacteristically gruesome. Honking horns and speeding cars were all happening; yet a portion of the road was silent and static.

Two dead bodies, happless victims of reckless driving I suppose, lay there with arms folded around their chest in perfect disposition but giving  a gory vibe. However the most disappointing and appaling feature of this episode was the triumvirate of youth standing right above those bodies showing no sign of sadness or even solemnity on their beaming faces. It looked, disturbingly though, as if they had shot those two targets in a video game; hence rejoicing on their success and discussing who sweeps the next round. Even elders around that triumvirate didn’t care to stop it or impart some sense as they were too busy in their disgraceful attempts at finding their place and showing up in the camera.

People say we are a great nation; we might be a nation by definition but I have never been able to digest the prefix “great”. Ignorant of their own death, apathetic towards the gravity of the situation, discarding the sentiments of the beleaguered and quelling their conscience; to me THAT was my youth and nation today.

when faith counts

There are times when the occurrence of unanticipated remote contingencies we must admit, blows our wits away rather than simply confusing us; when we feel totally screwed up with doom lurking around for our seizure. These are times where we instantly have to take a decision without any consultation, times which usually do not consider our pre-calculations or comfort zone before gratuitously introducing themselves. The decision we take sometimes pays off and gets us out of trouble with matters immediately settling down like dust but if we waver or flinch, it leaves us in an exceedingly variable stressful state; a state where we are under the self assured impression that everything is spoiled and history and where we are plagued by the drive of venting out our anger and disappointment. Uttering mild swearwords, unchaining our petulance, wanting to go wild with the negative flow, losing our confidence or letting the gloom dominate us are all generic to this state.

It is only after some time that we are presented with a whole new angle of life. When the same plans we believed to have gone awry begin finding the right place, when earlier convoluted matters start simplifying and most importantly when they start reaping the right results, we understand how minuscule and illiterate we are in the bigger scheme of life. Our bones and brain glimmer with the reinforced belief in Allah and with the admission of HIS control and wisdom behind everything. It is only then when the guilt of conducting ourselves negatively in post-decision phase prickles our conscience and unnerves us. 

Today I am taught yet again that whether problems originate or not, issues implicate or not, end result is always felicitous for us irrespective of our understanding of it. Complications and predicaments are and will never be scripted to overrun us; their sole objective is to test us, refine us and remind us of our restrictions and HIS command. It is of paltry importance whether we consider ourselves capable enough of braving these problems in the first place or not; all that matters is the strength of our faith and the will to jump in and say "JUST BRING IT"

the wall painting

Enveloped by an invigorating breeze and a frigid silence, he stood on the roof top for reprieve which surprisingly seemed to evade him. Harder he tried not to think anything, harder he got collided by random thoughts. Harder he tried to inhale and wear the calm, harder the strain squeezed him."Excuse me! Dwayne is attempting to reach you on your phone" His new caller tone played. "Excuse me! Dwayne is…TAP! He rejected the call and switched off the cell slipping it carelessly in the pocket. Not getting what he came for, he decided to abandon the breeze.

Even the splendid decor of his room failed to compensate for the breeze; he still rummaged for inner peace. "You turn 30 tomorrow" someone whispered. Discarding any such possibility he focused on his favourite wall painting. Moving his eye balls from the chamfered ends of the wooden frame to the canvass showcasing the gallop of a horse, he paused. The smile which would instantly come in appreciation of the painter and the dignity of the horse didn’t come. He didn't know how many seconds or minutes his stare swallowed except that his innate affairs were every bit the same at the end of that period. "Half of your life is history now. You do not have much time left", came the whisper again and strong enough to make him leave the chair he was sitting on. His heart skipped a beat and forehead caught sweat. The struggle between his heart and mind could not be veiled, it was more than evident. "Yes I'll be 30. So what? Everyone gets old and dies. That’s how it goes" he jabbered to himself needing to get rid of the anxiety which was multiplying. For an instant he thought of lying on the bed but a brief look at the mattress perhaps communicated that even it cannot offer him that moment of calm he was looking for. With eyes closed and cerebrospinal fluid rushing at its peak, his resigned heart begged for respite. As he turned, the wall painting captured him again but this time overwhelmingly.

His vision had discovered what he never noticed before; a wasteland hedged by trees. On that ground was the horse, running towards an unknown and unapproachable destination. The trees seemed to be getting blurred but the horse didn't seem to reach anywhere, his gallop never finding rest. Realization struck!

The wall painting was his life in a miniature. He was the horse who had been galloping for the past 30 years leaving incalculable things behind him but still nowhere close to his destination, his aim of life. He hadn't done anything for humanity or for his small community. He had been overlooking the injunctions of his religion and commandments of God in pursuit of a journey which had imparted him after 30 valuable years that it has no end and no reward for that matter. He didn't even know how much more time he had and the inevitable accountability of his deeds and his purpose of life had come to jolt him. The idea of exhausting, falling and dying for nothing in a wasteland after running so hard was the reason of his inner discord. A drop of tear rolled down his cheek followed by the normalcy of his heart beat and the long awaited and enlightening moment of serenity. Ding….Ding….Ding….called the wall clock. He was 30.

I was...

Not long ago, when technology had not made such pregnant advancements, when money was not the most sought after entity, when joint family system oozed greater enjoyment and support, when marriage ceremonies were only meant to bond two families and not to flaunt the status one holds, when children would go to zoo on a taanga and play in public grounds,  when newspaper was the most dependable source of everyday affairs, when the  decoration of houses with patriotic phrases and hoisting of national flags came right from the heart, when sending Eid cards and letters by post was in vogue, when people would eat oranges on their roof top in winter afternoons, when having the latest mountain bike and playing in rain was one of the most wistful cravings, when social networking had not transpired and when sanity was still galore, I had a meaningful existence.

With the emanation and conscious dissemination of privacy, liberalism, professionalism and enlightened moderation, with the idea of old age homes, assimilation of more Western material in our academic system, the standoff between Muslims and their religion, the degeneration of morals and with the transition of that time into today's, I gently got buried under the superficial glare of these concepts and mutated into an onus in these times of inflation. I did remonstrate and struggle against my dwindling position and this staid injustice but sometimes got snubbed and disdained while at others, callously ignored. Painfully and impotently, I had to succumb at large.   

  

I was a legacy; transferring from one generation to the other. I was waited for on a dining table, venerated and visited when the spirit of Eid was untainted, the pride of a son and security of a daughter, a repository of wisdom, an advisory at crossroads, a haven in inclement weather, a channel of uninterrupted blessings and anecdotes. I was that 1st plant  which an innocent child would procure to see  maturing into a tree; I was... the "elderness"  of a family.

Ali Bhaees

Every co-ed institute has a multitude of characters. There are book worms, there are movie buffs, there are wrestling aficionados, there are drug addicts, there are electronic gadgets freaks, and there are automobile lovers to mention a few. But among these easily recognized figures is a class which is not so popular. Not so because they come to this co-ed environment for the 1^st time and tend to be a wee bit shy to conduct themselves. People of this class can be from a small town or city or from a boys' school/college. I call them "Ali Bhaees".

Although an Ali Bhai is reluctant to mingle with girls he does bring with himself a lot of pleasant fantasies, desires associated with the feminine breed and a thirst waiting to be quenched. It's in their blood just like everyone else, to follow the right path and succeed. The right path has a different meaning though. 5 important steps they take to put themselves on the right path are as follows:

1)      Seeking a girl's attention: 

To all Ali Bhaees, getting a girl's attention is as important as catching the hen with the golden egg when you are in a hen coop enclosing hundreds of them. Whether it's donning a red baggy trouser, coming in a half-sleeved pink t-shirt in December, a desperate attempt at generating a hysterical laughter on a petty joke (PJ) or broadcasting their dry humor, Ali Bhai's intention is to seek attention. Just like a miffed, emotionally wounded kid laying prone on the floor after his mom refused to buy him an original Nike and unleashing his tantrums, Ali Bhaees too don’t seem to worry even a shred about how irritating, ridiculous and sometimes cheap they look in an attempt to let everyone know that they do not like going unnoticed.  But who likes to miss the opportunity to put himself on the right track??

 2)      Making the dame smile/laugh:

The next important thing after shamelessly yet successfully grabbing the attention of a girl is to make her smile. And if an Ali Bhai manages to see a set of teeth that’s even better because when a girl smiles or laughs on his efforts (however genuine or below the belt they are) it's Nirvana for him. Big word, I know. Some chronic losers simply assume that THEY are the reason for a girl's smile mercilessly overlooking the fact she did so on another girl who looked horrible in red nail paint.

      P.S: seeing their teeth while they are standing in girl's washroom in front of the mirror ensuring no food particle is stuck or when they yawn during lectures not covering their mouths in a disgusting sight does not bring Nirvana to any Ali Bhai.  

3)      Lending a helping hand to them:

This certainly is believed by Ali Bhaees to be the most potent weapon in their arsenal. It gives immense joy and strong hope to an Ali Bhai when Shakeela calls out her friend Rukhsana for help and he jumps in like batman to do the honours. Floating an offer to a colleague or a friend to do his/her assignment is still a rational thing but Ali Bhaees authoritatively declare that THEY will do Shakeela's assignments providing her ample time to concoct gossips. Girls will never understand that doing so improves the blood circulation, tones up the muscles, refreshes the mind and raises the vitamin content of his body like no Energy drink or tablet on earth can. It doesn't matter whether an Ali Bhai  can actually fulfill the task and help her or not, he mandatorily has to jump in and say "well I can do that for you". Some Ali Bhaees are so steadfast in helping girls that even when they say they feel nauseated and might vomit these obedient creatures repeat the "well I can do that for you" phrase.

4)      Making an effort to exhibit their knowledge:

This is the easiest part of their job. All they have to do is to keep a tab on the girls. The moment they see any girl or a clique coming their way or sitting close they switch to the intellectual mode talking about the political imbroglio, America's true motive behind everything or how philosophy governs one's life because for majority of the girls these are the darker sides; these do not give instructions on "how to get a cheap pedicure" or any updates on the "latest lawn prints".

All Ali bhaees don't necessarily have a sound knowhow, many talk too shallow like just repeating what sheikh rasheed said in a recent talk show about our foreign policy or telling a friend that 206 bones constitute a human body. Now that’s some info!  

5)      Pretending to be happy go lucky:

To pretend that you are a cool, fun-loving guy comes next for an Ali Bhai  in the journey of success. Every time a girl will tell him that he should button his blue jeans with yellow embroidery below the navel so that nobody gets a chance to ridicule him, he replies "I don't care about people, they are only people". Every time a girl will mock him saying he's so slim that he looks like timon (from Lion King) followed by "I am just kidding, I am sure you didn't mind", Ali Bhai  would smilingly say "Oh no, not at all, why would I?? In fact I like your sense of humor".

Truth is that he gets hurt. Truth is that after getting the 1^st compliment Ali Bhai wants to tell the girl that her moustache and hairy arms look disgusting. It's time for waxing so that nobody gets a chance to ridicule her. Truth is that after being called timon he wants to beat the sh*t of the girl, give her bruises, shave her head off and then say "You look like a victim of domestic violence whose head got shaved off. Oh I am just kidding, I am sure you didn't mind". However, doing this would derail him from the right path so all he does is "try" to be happy go lucky.

I want to tell all Ali Bhaees reading this that doing all this makes you look stupid and desperate (which you actually are to be honest). Being desperate is a normal thing but what's important is to keep it covert and not make it public. It's clearly not a politic thing to give these girls the leverage to control you. Stop carrying a rainbow with you in the form of clothes. Cracking stupid jokes all around the clock is not required, quality of the joke matters, not the quantity. Do help, its encouraged but do not tend to be officious or slavish towards fulfilling a girl's desires. No human has ever been able to comprehend a girl fully, so stop running after them and striving to make them happy; a happy woman s a myth. When someone pillories you, it's alright to vent your emotions and sometimes remind the other person of his/her limits. These are the things you'll mostly laugh at and sometimes regret not doing because they make you lose your ethos, your real being. Act as you are and if you lack something or need help, ask for it; do not keep hiding. Most importantly, enjoy life and not make it difficult for yourself.

NOTE: Writer is fully aware of the fact that every person who comes to a co-ed environ for the 1st time is not an Ali Bhai. Some already possess the smartness, confidence and the wit to get going just the writer himself.