Make allowances for people, command what is right, and turn away from the ignorant. (Surat Al-A‘raf, 199)
Forgiveness. We find it so impossible to forgive and even harder to forget. There is so much good in this world. So much good in people so much that people do for you that makes them deserving for genuine smile by you if nothing else. We find it so hard to forgive those who were not even related to us, with whom we never had the chance to meet, chance to talk to. Chance to know. What gives us the authority on their personal choices? What gives us authority to judge them for things they said or did or lived things which we did not affect us. Remember the people by the good they did for you. The people who listened to you and did not judge even though you did quiet questionable things, even I you are not friends with them anymore. People who spent hours and days with you, who saved something for you, you forgot behind. It’s alright you and them don’t think the same. When I turn back there is a list of people who I don’t talk to anymore. Some who hurt me, some who moved on, who changed, some who made some mean choices. Does all that make them bad people? One has to remember not always we make the best choices, sometimes we do things unconsciously that might hurt someone else. All of us do it, we are humans, we make so many mistakes, we all need to forgiveness, we all want acceptance, we seek forgiveness at some level. We all are sinners, big ones. Do onto others what you want done onto you. So next time you point finger at a person dead or alive, holding them to be judged for what they did or said. Remember you might have done something worse, only difference is that you don’t have a mob judging you. You as Individual or as group of people don’t have the authority to judge or forgive or spew hate. Everyone is responsible for their actions, so am I and so are you. So be nice, with everyone, or silent if niceness comes hard in that situation, even though you are judging them in your heart, try to keep it that way. Life for you and for all people all around you will be so much be easier. Things are so hateful, virtual wars and hate matches the standard of violence like none before, so it would be one drop less in the ocean of unasked prejudice if we don’t contribute.
Yesterday I was reading an article, or more like just a headline and the internet trolls had made a feast out of it. Pakistan dissing, cursing and just your regular internet trolling. They somehow manage to find all that is wrong with country while artfully forgetting they are the root of the problem. Such posts are everyday occurrence they can sour one’s mood like vinegar curdles the milk.
Then today I saw a post about some guy buying his cabbie McDonald’s, because he wanted a snack and did not feel right eating by himself when he had another man next to him.
Yeah we are an economic disaster. And not the most morally sound society but when you see, just tiny gestures like this happening, they give you such a warm feeling that you just want to high-five that person and tell him/her it was not just a kind thing they did because they did not feed a starving man or help out a jobless man. They just gave somebody with less fortunate economic conditions, their due respect which so many of us forget to do everyday.
To all those people who thank their help or by gesture show them that they are not just the serving class but an integral part of society without which quiet frankly we can’t really function. I give you a standing ovation. Because people like you make me feel good. Even though I have no part in your act it still does.
‘Image by Artist Kate Powell’
Its a beautiful day, as it is Saturday i decided to pick up the newspaper and sit under the flower tree and read the newspaper. As i flipped through the articles. I concluded we are a dying world. And someway along the way we all have either decide its okay or simply we believe in miracles or star wars. But does that somehow justify our dying morals and values?
I don’t understand how the lens don’t break when capturing the moments of extreme pain of human kind. When it captures the rubbles which were once protection against the environment. It does not break, when fathers and protectors succumb to tears. the lens does not break when mothers and shields go frantic and lose sight of their charge. the lens does not break when a child and innocence instead of learning to play is pushed to the hone their animal instinct to identify food and eat. But the lens does n0t break, the lens goes home it produces hundred thousand dollar worth of portrait. We see it, we it again and again and we feels sorry till we know the story and we don’t need to read it again. We convince ourselves that they did something to deserve to be posted in most vulnerable moments of their lives.
I go back to drinking my tea, enjoying cool breeze on my skin, the lack of sun and cloud cover. I read little more and then I just think do those people feel breeze like I do, do they stop when they smell summer flowers. Do they have summer flowers? Do they stick their nose to the window smelling rain on soil. Do they have windows? My heart does not break, tears don’t come to my eyes. This is the moment i realize why the lens don’t break. Life is a wonderful thing it builds immunities to everything that it survives, eventually, maybe a little too well. It can’t break its heart with every vicious act and neither can I. So I put away the newspaper, and lean back marveling the evening.
The thing about imagination is that it is incoherent. There is more visual approach to our imagination littered with junk of real life and stories and dreams and what we make up. Imagination is a beautiful thing. A crazy thing, a vivid thing. A thing that we need to make it through the day. Tamasha is a story of man who makes stories of stories. Who lives a story who is a story within himself.
We are two people, one is the person who we see ourselves to be, not really see but more like its the narrator of our brains. It how we think and respond to things the conversation we have with ourselves, the conversation we would have with people we are never going to meet.the things we want to say but never do. The conversation we have have with dead writers and kings and historians. The past that we imagine in our head. The picture of the different worlds and eras dinted with colors of what we know about things and what we think about things. Its a play in our heads, a play where there are similar faced character playing thousand different roles in thousand differnt scenarios. Juliet, laila, heer, sassi or any other heroine of a folk tale. The tale remains the same the place changes. Is not that a living proof of that we have same characters in our head but like hundreds of different scenarios the same story can play out. That’s Tamasha. Running the fine line between who we are in front of the world and who we are in empty house by ourselves. When you start talking loudly to people in your head when Ginn is out of the box, when sword is unseathed, when sun is covered by grey, when cherry blossoms bloom in Rawalpindi when possibility is just conjuring of a thought away.
Tamsha is a lovestory but its more then that it a story of our deepest desire to know someone who sees us. Who really see the story we are part of. The story we made up. The story that even if put in a novel or movie or series would never be enough. Because in our stories we just can not be one thing. We have to be everything, every character we fall in love with, every era we live through. One novel can just not hold all that. A series of novels cant hold all that. People will never understand why the person who looked like a american teenager in last novel is now twenty something pakistani woman in this one and bella swan’s twin sister in third or a witch in age of Joan of arc or a warrior in ranks of mongols or a princess in mongols. It does not matter who and what your name is you are part of a story. But if you meet a person who see’s your point. Who can actually keep up with the fact that bella swan’s has a twin sister and that girl could easily be a Pakistani girl. Then your world falls out of balance. We had a god thing going this world and i. There was me and people inside of me. It was alright we were in a good place. Then someone sees all of us. My secret is out. They see me as one of them not as a normal person. Balance of my world rests upon this secret. The secret is out means they are out as they are the secret and then they take over, they are angry at me for hiding them for so long for lying to them that no one can see us but when that person see’s us that means there is something in this world some place where it is okay to have people inside you. They might not be real and may not be seen but that does not mean they dont exist and that they are not there.
Tamasha was perfect, i dont know how they did it but it was perfect. Not all of us have same imagination not same agaitation but there is this ismorphism between all of us imaginative lackeys the fine line between what we are and who we are. I loved the movie i smiled all through it. If you dont understand what they were talking about its alright. Its not your fault. One can not miss something they never had. One can never love something they never felt for. One can most definitely not understand someting they dont have any experiance of. Ranbir kapoor, i am no fan, but that man is one man show, everywhere else is just there to asist him. Depika Padukone is most natural actress. All in all i would not recommend. But i could relate to everything in this movie.