Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Aimless Writing

Lately, I have received a comment that I often write without aim and without knowing what I want to say. Protesting, let denying apart, is the last thing on my mind. I, on the contrary, want to thank Roselu, my ardent and sincere follower for reasons best known to her only, for this minute observation.Wonderful insight you have.
I wonder often, how logical or ethical it is to write without a purpose or aim and to my utter dismay, I find it quite influential in the history of literature. Absurdity, which may be a close ally of aimless writing, was the only ingredient of Alice In Wonderland, wasnt it?Or, the Italian revolutionary poem writing technique by the new renaissance poets. Cut a newspaper article, word by word, mix them, pick them on a random basis and keep them pasting on your notebook and, somehow, you have a poem ready with possible needs of grammatical rectification. As poems are often placing words in a way never before so this randomness in choosing words were not far from the much more conscious efforts of known poets like Hafez, Ghalib or Hikmet.
Poems are poems, they cant be described, like I said to Roselu a few days ago, on which of course we disagreed (for anyone will disagree with such an absurd claim) and had a good discussion. My point was poems must be felt not understood but the problem was with my overtly simplified statement. Indeed poems needs to be discussed but not in a way to impose the teacher´s interpretation of the poem on the student but gently and subtly explain the nuances which the young mind may fail to grasp at the first go. A poem is a thought or a feeling which the poet himself has explained best in the form of the poetry. How absurd can be explanation of an explanation!!
Big words bore me, tire me and most importantly beat me. So, lets go back to the usual trivial,unworthy and really forgettable writing style I originally have. After death of a great modern poet, people found a scrap of paper in his pocket and felt it was his last masterpiece. In the ceremony when people were bestowing best respect on him, they read aloud the last poem.
few cigarettes, two toothbrush
please get the clothes from the laundry
deposit school fee without fail
potatoes two kg, onions one
.............. A shrill sound from the recently widowed wife came and said, that is not poem, it was my note to him before he was going out, he was forgetful lately.
That is what I make of modern poetry and poets and, mostly the admirers.
Cheerio all


Although we are inseparable
It doesn't stop them from trying
Burning with jealousy,unfounded
When they watch you lying on my chest
The sun burns you
Transforms you into vapour
Takes you high up beyond my reach
Transforms you into white clouds
Then the strong breeze
Carries you across continents
There, on valleys and on mountains
on treetops and vast fields
You come down crying
Rushing through endless channels,canals and rivers
You plunge on my chest again
You return to me, to be mine again
We yet again become inseparable
We again become one.


When we walked
We had a vision
In our youthful strides
We had the energy of a stallion
We can change the world
We also will
Ranting and chanting
We moved ahead
Slowly came the crossroads
Some went right and some went left
We shall meet again
We promised each other
Then again and again
Crossroads came
And people were divided
We made promises our parting gift
And moved ahead
The vision became hazy
The destination still far
In the tired strides
I still tried to conquer
Then suddenly I turned back
To find a companion to rest
I was alone and very alone
All of them were gone.

Urges Untamed

Times are there when we feel this urge, or these urges. First of these urges are completely illegible. Our minds, however sharp and analytical it might be, fails pathetically in deciphering those urges. We just feel the need of something without any understanding, or even a hunch for the sake of it, what the need is. We fiddle with ideas, or with things in more desperate cases, considering extremes, toying with impossibilities. Clueless we remain on our course of action for we certainly are unaware of the need of the soul. Question arises, is it really the soul asking for it? Or, is it just a mere whim, a passing fancy? No answer satisfies us. We try to divert mind, get frustrated, vent our anger on someone or something, ranging from the ashtray to the girl friend via the pet cat, completely irrelevant with the cause of the frustration, We later do apologize but at that moment we don't care and moreover it is not the point of this blog. How do we end this span? Or better wonder how this thing, whether it is some urge unidentified or a whim or some fancy or even may be some hormonal or chemical dis-balance in our brain as some overtly scientific mind will put it, leaves us finally? Well, while some find shelter in addictions of various types, some prefer to seek refuge from the divinity and some just sleep.
I used plural all though this blog, and may face some questions on my authority to do so. But, it is one of those urges on me and I certainly do not care right at this moment but I of course shall welcome any comment of whatsoever type.

About You

Have I ever tried to describe you? No I havent. For how can mere earthly words, put however glibly, describe something divine? You are no earthly common mortal human being like I. When the most virtuous angel was embodied in the prettiest flower from the garden of paradise, you came into existence. Not that I have tried not, to praise you but whenever I tried, sigh, you took yourself miles and miles above the reach of any earthly word. My meek efforts ended in failure always. The words are angry at me, I am angry at them, for they think I am making fun of them and I think they are making fun of me. I beg your forgiveness. I can not write about you. Just allow me to watch you because I drink life force with my eyes watching you, because I still can not believe such a beauty can actually exist, because i am crazy for you, because you rule my heart.
I tried my best words to tell you what you are and now that I have failed again, let me tell you something I manage, I LOVE YOU.

Full Circle

If life is a circle, like it is claimed, then why oh why we must work so much! I mean, see, from physics we know that, work is done only if the object has moved and thus if we come a full circle, although we are sweating and panting, we have done no work. I know the flaw in this argument but lets not skin a hair especially when physics is hardly my point of discussion here. Life has a full circle, we often claim and a higher percentage of those claims are proud ones. Do we realise, technically, after all the hard work, we have achieved a perfect zero? Time to wonder and ponder, eh?
The world will go on, when Faiz is gone exactly like it goes on when Faiz is here. Yes, Faiz will be replaced like everyone else. It is natural, logical and unavoidable because Faiz was a replacement for someone else too. In our characters, there is hardly any individuality, we rarely do something which none has done before.This process of replacement, the ultimate achievement of zero makes me wonder, after what am I running! Does it worth the chase at all? I dont know but I want, I seriously want to know.

Heading Nowhere

Not everyday and certainly not everyone receives a request from the follower to blog, especially, if he/she is someone as petty as I with writings as banal as mine. I accept I let my emotions scribble themselves in italki lately but receiving a request to write something was the least expected thing.
Writing doesnt come naturally to me or may be it does. I am not sure because I simply dont know what or who is a natural writer and what is natural writing. I just know how to let emotions vent themselves in an incoherent way. Well, thats what is being called my writings nowadays by some followers.
I tried hard, for example today, to write on demand. After thinking and pondering(well, brainstorming isnt a word I am comfortable using) about my possible subjects,( possible here doesnt mean the subjects I can write on, possible here means those subjects I can write on and still dont get laughed at) I reached a perfect void. In other words, my brain and my mind bluntly denied me any distant dream of writing and obliging my followers.
Then came the idea of translation, how about translating some of my old writings into English. Not that the idea was completely drab or ridiculous but well then, you have to consider my level of English as well, which often receives sympathy if not empathy. More often than not, I am stuck completely and grope for words, then give up, shrug and say, you know...well..I mean.... Thanks to the stars, most of the time destiny and the ill destined person who is trying to converse with me saves me the blushes by pretending that the listener has understood.
Why not become a plagiarist, some may ask! Only way to be original is to know how to hide your sources well, they argue. I, rather surprisingly, agree. But to become a plagiarist, you need to have some sources. hiding which you may sound original. This is the time when I regret most for using classes to sleep or watch pretty classmates of opposite sex, or even considering study as best sedative and books the best pillows.
All options gone, I am still clueless and completely lost. This is just an explanation to those followers why I cant oblige them today. Call it a bad day at work guys! You know and I know how great a writer I am but today just not in mood.
I thank all my followers and the occasional italki surfer who will read this mindless jugglery of words. Stay tuned..more garbage to follow in subsequent attempts.
Stay safe, have fun, be blessed you all.


I was angry of you. So very angry. Will not meet you, will not greet you,determined I was, will not talk to you. I found a thick book on spirituality to console my heart, to divert my mind.
Then the ears are so obstinate, they listened to and for every faintest sound made. Is that you? The eyes never listen to me, they checked the time and murmured she is never so late. The hopes denied to die, she will be here any minute.
Then I heard you coming. Your rhythmic footsteps approaching. My determination is weakening. Your fragrance is reaching me from far. I gripped the book steadfastly. No, I must not talk to you.
You came, and the same old thing happened. I looked up, and when our eyes met, the book, like always, fell from my hand. I stood up again, to take you in my arms.


I was angry of you. So very angry. Will not meet you, will not greet you,determined I was, will not talk to you. I found a thick book on spirituality to console my heart, to divert my mind.
Then the ears are so obstinate, they listened to and for every faintest sound made. Is that you? The eyes never listen to me, they checked the time and murmured she is never so late. The hopes denied to die, she will be here any minute.
Then I heard you coming. Your rhythmic footsteps approaching. My determination is weakening. Your fragrance is reaching me from far. I gripped the book steadfastly. No, I must not talk to you.
You came, and the same old thing happened. I looked up, and when our eyes met, the book, like always, fell from my hand. I stood up again, to take you in my arms.

Illusive Perception

It is weird,strange and almost unbelievable the perception of myself I donate to some innocent souls. Perception, as the dictionary states(well, I checked dictionary to be sure that this is the correct word), is ¨apprehension by the bodily organs, or by the mind, of what is presented to them¨. What do I present to some friends and followers which made them claim like, you are a wiki (which certainly I am not except if wiki has changed meaning recently and means idiot now or immense sarcasm is used of which I am doubtful) or you have an idea of/answer to everything. Well, I dont deny it completely since I generally have exactly ¨an answer¨ to everything asked, and it is nothing else than ¨I dont know¨ or some variants of it.
It can prove one thing, as the cynic may point out, that I am surrounded by hypocrites.Why would they say it, I ask back, as I hardly am beneficial, financially or otherwise, for anybody. The cynic goes back silent or mutters something which arent for printing for sure.
The jealous enemy fills in the slot left vacant by cynic, and says, because you are among a bunch of idiots. I must protest against this derogatory comment against my elite group of followers ,who more often than not follows me because they want a good laugh, free of cost and gets it just by being near me and observing,and I do. How can you be alone correct and all my followers wrong? ohh I see, it is because they preferred me over you, isnt it mate? The silenced enemy retreats.
But how on earth I answer myself!! Why do I receive those comments? For one thing, have never, in any way whatsoever, tried to prove my superiority over my followers and most of my this inactivity or laziness arises from the deep rooted belief that I cant, even after my most sincere efforts, prove I am better than anybody in any aspect.
Well, as the last resort, I tried to ask one of my followers, who happened to be online, and I received, the answer as following(pasting from chat):
Rose: yes you are
Rose: discussion is over
Rose: hahahahaha
In a flash, finally I understood the greatest mystery which puzzled me since the inception of my relation with italki.
Thank you italki, thank you my followers, you are the best.


I have a dream.
you and I alone
in a room
near the sea
and power goes off
raining like end of days
and thunders striking
we have closed all windows
but one small window has broken glass
and the cold air is hitting us
the sea has gone crazy
waves are as high as our desires
only source of light and warmth is the fire burning in the fireplace
you and I, standing in the middle of that dimly lit room
I hold u
and pull you close softly
can you not come?
the minimum distance between us is removed
our bodies touch
I hold your face in my palms
the best beauty in the world
my world is in my hand
I bend little to kiss you
your soft lips
my lips touch them
you don't protest
I kiss you
my lips say I love you
you respond to the kiss
as if your lips saying I love u too
my one arm goes around your waist
to pull you closer
giving me courage and giving me hope, you don't protest
our bodies pasted against each other now
outside, sea is roaring, it is deafening us
the thunders are announcing the beginning of a new love story
inside, you and me, locked in kiss
and none else exists in the world for us
we exist for each other only
nothing is true except you and I
we kiss passionately
our arms hugging each other tightly
as if promising, only death can open this embrace
...................................... Dont wake me up, ohh don't wake me up.

Saturday, 17 March 2012

What´s in a name!!

Whats in a name, somebody(well, like recursive functions of computer programming, what in his name either!) demanded. I too, believed it like I believe everything said by known, half-known and unknown erudite people of the past, and quoted it, most of the time out of context because either I didn't understand the context or the meaning of this comment, almost like it is out of bible. Little did I know, it will cost me much someday.
Name is something a person loves always, no matter how ugly or meaningless it is to others. Why me! Dale Carnegi himself wrote a complete chapter in it. Not that I understood much of his deep analysis of psychology, but with all my efforts I understood a name is very dear to anybody.
My name, for example, Faiz, is dear to me. Dear and near mainly due to the fact it is the only name I have, People may have spare names, like Chinese have an English name, but not me. I also loved this name, as a kid, learnt to write it in 4 different scripts, practiced calligraphy and all those things people do as a kid.
Problem started when I grew up. For one thing, my local language, doesn't have this letter F. We have one PH and we use it as F too (by the way., this is a handy information, do not laugh IPH people cant see due to the PHOG here in my city). Added to my agony that, we don't have a Z and use J for it(again I saw a Jebra in the Joo shouldn't surprise you). So, my name became PhaiJ which by no means was acceptable to me.
To remove your confusion, I must tell you Faiz isn't a word of Bengali, the local language. Thus badly transliterated and both consonants replaced ruined it like I would have ruined Mona Lisa with a painting brush, if permitted. Also, this name, sounds like Faez with the syllables broken and pronounced singularly. Complex name, did Mr Carnegi ever find anyone occasionally hating his own name?
Many a time it happened that, I spent minutes, trying to help someone here to pronounce my name properly. The conversations went like,
I: Faiz, FA IZ
He: Phaij
I: no, not Phaij, Faizzz
He: thats what I am saying!! Phaij.
I gave up giving free tuition about how to read my name hoping I will be known as Phaij all life. I tried to live with it. At night, standing in front of the mirror, I started saying FAIZ FAIZ so at least I remember the proper pronunciation. I, reportedly,used to wake up shouting FAIZ FAIZ from sleep but well, mothers always exaggerate.
No, the story isn't over. I grew up, confused, having a multiple nomenclature disorder but till now multiple meant dual. Soon my circle expanded. Internet friends from all over the world. Like Lisa from USA, after struggling for 15 minutes and watching me having a great laugh, finally gave up and asked, how the hell do you pronounce it? Well well, I pulled out the best weapon, giving her the Mr Know-All smile, I said, read the FA like in FAN and EZ like some Spanish name PEREZ. Do not ask me the result as I don't have the symbols in my keyboard to represent the sound that came out.
It is a name from Arabic/Persian(that was my assumption really, and I assume just to keep things simple for myself, it doesn't necessarily mean I have a basis to assume) so, I left USA and concentrated on Iran next. Nasrin from Iran, with my best regards for all the beauty she possess, at first attempt, called me Faaeez. The next look that she noticed on my face and the prolonged silence which accompanied it, puzzled her and when she enquired politely If I am ok, I assured her that it was mere the effect of her beauty that has made me speechless. Since then, to every Iranian I introduce myself as Faaeez. A much welcome relief. After two consonants replaced, now I have both the vowels replaced. I prayed to God that night, thanking Him for His mercy.
The list is really unending, and if I continue, you will certainly not believe a man can have so many names while everybody is calling him by the same name. Let me finish with another danger which I overlooked till now.
Faiz, which means blessing(or I hope that was the meaning my parents had in mind while naming me) means Bank Interest in Turkish. Not much later after having my first Turkish friend, (who is the best critic of me and no pun intended here) I came to know my name is a banned thing in my own religion!! Her innocent yet surprised question, is this your real name? Surprised me too when she explained the reason behind her surprise. Meaning was the last thing which nobody confused till now and well, the last defence is breached now. God bless my parents, did they ever imagine this humiliation for me for carrying a simple name which is made of 4 simple letters?
I wanted to end, but, this thing must be included here. A friend of mine, a young budding and enthusiastic linguist came to me after going to German class for 2 days. German is different you know? He was ecstatic and eager to teach me all the German epics he has learnt in two one hour long classes. ¨say for example, they write V but read it like F, like... like..they write volkswagon and read it like Folkswagon. And then their S is almost like Z¨ My heartbeat was increasing, fearing the unavoidable, it is here any moment now!!, I was shaking, and then , right that moment, he said, If I want to write your name in German it would be VAIS.

Any suggestion for a new name guys!!