The Storyteller

The other Sunday, I had the privilege of attending a Toffee TV enactment of storytelling at a local theater, where the audience was mainly children from the ages of five onwards. It was a great exhibition of storytelling, maintaining interest of the little ones, with great delivery, a bit of theater and lots of warmth. Simultaneously, there were messages during the story of love, caring, righteousness and community responsibility. The story of Kaala bhoot was a direct message to the kids, on the environmental hazards of the plastic bag.

This enactment started a train of thoughts, on the art of storytelling and how it is enmeshed in man’s history. I felt that man has now moved beyond stories and is living a life bereft of the charm of stories. However, when I browsed the internet I realized it’s much more complex than that.

The storyteller has been around since the dawn of man. Imagine it! Some deep dark place, without modern day lighting, the stars shine brightly and huddled together, are clans of hunters. They are raw predators with ingenuity as their weapon and essentially living a nomadic existence. When threatened they move on, as also occurs when the game has disappeared from the locality. Huddled together at night in this darkness around a small fire, standing in front of them is a long haired animated member of the clan. He is telling the story of their forefathers, who came after many years march from the barren mountains to these forests. The storytellers language is still basic, but he compensates for it with bodily action and gestures.

In whatever way man communicated, it was the forte of a few to pass on messages. Invariably these messages took the form of stories. Down the ages the stories continued. In some cases powerful story tellers influenced history. Blind Homer some 3200 years ago, carved out stories – maybe based on reality. These stories of Homer, the Iliad and Odyssey are the longest lasting stories of humanity. They were taken by subsequent generations, embellished with ornaments, eventually reduced to paper and then transported three millennium to us in present day literature form. Along the way, these stories affected Greek society and culture, became part of the fabric of living, and through the inventions and advancements which subsequently occurred, became a small part of ourselves today. 

There are many other stories which have shaped us. Like ‘The Arabian Nights’, stories entwined in our eastern culture. Or stories based on reality, offering whispers of experience. The Quran used this means of passing on teaching. As did the Bible. The Quranic stories, parables as Allah calls them, have influenced a billion and half Muslims of the world. We have grown up with the events of Hazrat Ibrahim and his son Hazrat Ismail, the stories of Luqman, Khizr, Hazrat Musa and Zulqarnain, and the dramatic lessons from Hazrat Yousuf, a great tale of survival and triumph of righteousness. We have also heard the frightening ones, like Noah, Shoaib, Lot, Aad and Thamud, serving as great warnings of events beyond human capacity, which have shaped our thinking. Clearly, Allah knows his creation and has used the best way to disseminate messages and therefore leave a lasting impression. Hence, storytelling is inherent within us and is our best case scenario of learning.

So, then to the disappearing storyteller! He is not visible  anymore. In our childhood grandparents must have borne this role. We all have our individual stories. Mine are the exploits of Shaikh Chilli and I see now that it was not just fun and love, but also deep rooted corrective messages. On reflection, it came to me that the storyteller is still here in existence.

In today’s time the storyteller survives, only his form has changed. He is in the movies, best sellers, on TV and radio. He is a politician or an artist relating their thoughts. So the Humsafar drama which gripped so many – I confess I never watched it, just heard about it – is just another form of storytelling. There are stories on the internet also. Of necessity, the medium has changed, as our lives have changed. But the essential story from whoever is the same. A message delivered in a most powerful way, for one to disseminate and pass on through the generations.  Sometimes these storytellers are artists through paintings or animation and then there is the ever present politician or leader. He too winds stories, which then brings support, he leads and his performance too is a story, which is delivered in history books to later generations.

Just to show you that not much has changed, let me remind you of some powerful imagery just enacted in the last 30 years which depict the same scenes, as at the dawn of the humans. The same group huddled together across a fire and the storyteller telling his story. Hark back to the movie MacKenna’s Gold and the lit fire and blind Adam telling the story of the hidden valley of gold. Or the third of the Star Wars movies, in the Return of the Jedi, C-3PO holding his audience spellbound, as they huddled across a fire, while he related the evil story of the Emperor and Darth Vader.

No the fascinating storyteller is alive and well and continues his good work of changing society, while entertaining us simultaneously. Maybe in the bargain, scaring us at times also!

Our friend Ramiz

A perennial back bencher throughout life, it was a bit of trauma  when I ended up in the front row of a cramped classroom, with the teachers desk only a yard plus away. Coupled with that, this kid sat next to me, who was a trial and a half. He never stopped being incredibly happy. 

In the junior school of Karachi Grammar School, in those years, we had these old 1930s benches (1930s because it had carved on it, X loves Y, 193x), with two attached desks cobbled to the bench. Effectively, you shared one long desk with the person next to you and that happened to be ‘the happy individual’. Ramiz Allawala from then on, for almost fifty years, remained a happy part of my existence.

So this was Junior School and through that year, it did not matter if the tests were tough, or the results bad, or Pakistan lost in hockey or cricket. Ramiz was always happy! He just laughed and smiled at everything and had no other mood swings. Even for under tens like us (who were generally optimistic and with few hang ups) this was a difficult one to handle. I must have stared at him hundreds of times and considered how to take that smile off his lips. But, I am so glad to say, that I did not succeed then, or in the ensuing years.        

Yes, there was one occasion when I saw him serious, but that was not my doing. It was a particular showdown with our Principal, in our last year at school. Both Ramiz and myself were House Captains and we had been summoned and given a set down. Surprisingly, Ramiz was vocal during that meeting and it showed a particular fighting quality in him, which  resurfaced at various times in his life.   

We came back to Pakistan in the 1980s, after our studies, as did most of our class (this was usual in those days). It was a great bonding period for us friends. Early careers, unmarried and fairly care-free. It was around this time that Ramiz showed another part of his personality about which we were totally unaware. He started speaking and spoke about things, which never in a thousand years we could imagine floated in that happy brain. He spoke about spirituality, about sincerity, about doing the right things and more importantly about how to make life happen.

Over the years Ramiz reached out to thousands. Some for free, some as part of his new profession. He became articulate and respected, inspired other people, helped change lives, but still never lost his grassroots or his happiness. We saw less of him, as he traveled and eventually settled abroad, but whenever we met, it was like sitting on that desk and bench in school almost fifty years ago. That connect with ground reality, what we were and where we came from never left us. It was always an emotional experience meeting him, sadly only once in a while.

When our childhood friend Ramiz Allawala arrived back home at Jinnah Terminal, a dozen of us went to receive him. It was no ordinary homecomIng. He had bravely chosen to walk away from a one year fight with late stage colon cancer. His decision to come home to family and friends was a decision of faith and love. It was a decision which said there are more important things in life than mere existence. Love, friendship, loyalty and home are perennial and count for more. A wish to be buried in your soil is a strong attraction for us humans. To see a man supremely fit (he used to do tens of laps of the pool regularly) at almost half his size, shrunken, eyes glassy and cheeks sunken in was a shock and emotions and tears flowed freely. But, we are glad that Ramiz got his final wish to die with all of us and to celebrate a life which in passing was wonderful, warm, giving and happy. 

When you have known someone that long, his death is like a part of the self is afflicted.

There are so many of you out there who interacted with him and benefitted from his time, words and sincerity. It is time to return that hard work of a well spent life.  Send some gratitude back towards him.

Please pray that Allah (swt) grant him maghfirat and Jannah. Ameen.

Reality or Entertainment ?

                                                       

                                          *The picture is from Wylio a free picture site

I have never been a fan of wrestling. It does not feel like sport. Humongous people, obviously very fit and primed, put up an act. This entertains huge numbers worldwide with nuances of an entertainment industry act.        

When you step into a WWE arena, all the facets of entertainment are visible. There is a theme targeted at an audience. The bulls eye has been well researched and the organisers know what makes their audience (in the arena and at home) tick. Typically there will be a villain (or villains); he will be vocal and obvious. No one can miss this villain and some direct their hate at him. There will be a good guy also. He will be a softer personality. Some people will love him. Interestingly, a fair portion of the audience will identify with the villain.    

It does not stop there. The referee will be a put up job.  Whenever the villain will do something  wrong (which is quite frequently) the referee will not be able to catch him at it. So the establishment and regulator will fail at their job. All this will create the story of the downtrodden good guy; nothing is going for him, in fact everyone and everything seem to be against them. They have created an 'alternative reality' scenario. You just have to look around in the arena or at home at the television audience. The intensity on their faces, the anger and the vocal nature of their reactions tell a different story. This is real for them!  Their reactions might be frustrations from real life or maybe a getaway cocoon, but it is 'real' for them.  

If you go onto forums which discuss Star Trek, Star Wars, X-Men or the Avengers, there is the same intense anger and arguments. The facts of the movie and what has happened are different for audiences and they are fighting over them. You want to say 'Hey, this is fiction, it's not the real world'. But you dare not, because in that environment you will be trolled out of the forum.   

Now does that not look like the 'alternative facts', 'the fake news' loaded elections of the USA or the Brexit referendum in UK and in recent days the French elections? Fillon is now facing alternative facts and his popularity is dropping in France (Marie le Pen is waiting in the wings).   

In 1931, Aldous Huxley wrote Brave New World and spoke about just such a scenario in democracies. Huxley wrote that freedom will become so extreme, that trivia will prevail over reality, truth will be drowned out in a scream of trivial facts, too much information will make people passive to information, narcissism shall prevail, people will stop reading books due to a lack of depth and actors will act out life in a caricature. 

I recently read this article on Huxley in the Guardian, comparing it to George Orwell's 1984. The apocalyptic forecast of Huxley fitted our present scenario better than Orwell.  

That started me thinking on how the population ripened into this mindset in the first place? I think we have been conditioned over half a century of more and more extreme fiction enacted by our entertainment industry. Somewhere the shades of reality and fiction have overlapped and we get this present day scenario. Play acting fitting into the realty of life and so, alternative facts for different people. Once you get to believe what you want, despite facts proving another scenario, then it is all real. You can belong to your own world, construct it and let the like-minded live in it. Then, there are no limitations to this world and all I can say is 'Allah help us humans'.

Chai please, it's not Coffee

It all started with the Nestle advertisement. The obvious commercial interest was to drive conversion from tea to coffee. That too an instant coffee mix. To me it looked more like a quick brazen attempt to drive convenience. Tea requires ritual and hard work to get the right cuppa. Instead go for an instant coffee mix, which will give you a quick strong fix. Notice no comparison of taste or tradition. This is the modern quintessential person, who has no time nor any interest in the softness of palette. He or she is in a hurry to fix it with a strong hit. 

What caught my attention though was an argument going on between some of my social media friends. There are two clear sides to the argument. One side is annoyed at this sacrilege of chai tradition - it's chai and not tea.  The other side is like   "What's the issue? Both are 'Gora' historically and so anyone or the other would do".

I had written a blog on Tea some five years back, on Borderline Green. It was about the relationship I personally have had with tea all my life, from drinking to being involved with tea and tea whitening companies. The blog also related the historical aspects of tea, its usage and production. But this is different. It's trying to judge between the qualitative aspects of two arguments. 

The argument of it being chai, tradition and significantly Pakistani, is emotionally an appealing one. It drives my sense of belonging and culture. It makes me someone. So personal bias immediately tilts towards it. Also, it so happens that I have the inside track, on the history of our tea tradition. Remember, I actually worked in Unilever and Lipton (and later Brooke Bond) who owned the tea market for half a century in Pakistan. 

During my years with Unilever, I had personal contact with the Chairman Habib-ur-Rahman (late). Habib sahib was very different. He would reach down 15 job classes to a junior employee and inspire him. So I can remember a session, when he described how both tea companies in the late 1940s and 1950s actually used ground activation to spread tea. A whole set of donkey carts would go off into the rural areas. They would carry tea leaves and a movie projector with generator power. Village to village they would assemble people and show them movies. As part of this entertainment they would sample tea. The tea would boil endlessly and become strong, thick, sweet and end up being described as karak. Apparently this activation went on for a few years and out of it was born our tradition in Pakistan of karak chai. Karak was the very characteristic which Tarang (Engro Foods) tried to replicate so successfully a decade ago.

The other 'import of Gora culture' argument, is perhaps not quite true. Tea (not chai) came via the Opium Wars, the preferred weapon the British used to beat China on its head. Tea plants were smuggled out of China to India to start tea plantations. As it so happened, it was indigenous Indian tea plants which eventually worked and this skulduggery came to nothing. But, neither tea nor coffee are products of temperate climates anyway. They do not grow in Western countries, but are imported from Africa, South America and Asia. They were drunk a millennium before any Portuguese sailor ever saw them. It was an acquired taste for Europe and later North America. So I am not sure how it can be claimed as Gora culture.

For me the argument spins on the usage of milk in chai. It is so, so different from anywhere else in the world. In India its masala chai. In Britain it is a weak milky tea, and in US and others, it's no milk. In Pakistan its Habib sahibs 'karak chai'. For us the thickened, sometimes sweetened concoction is our creation and over 70 years has become our tradition.  So to all wannabes out there. Chai please, its not Coffee!

Related link. /https://sarfarazar.wordpress.com/2012/07/14/tea-best -drink-of-the-day/

Gog and Magog

The Prophet (saw) woke from his sleep and he was extremely troubled. He was with his wife Zainab bint Jahsh (ra) and his face was red with distress. He said to her, "today the Gog and Magog have made a hole in the barrier wall. Allah help the Arabs, when they are released". And when Zainab (ra) asked "will we (ie Arabs) be destroyed?" The Prophet (saw) said "yes, if evil increases". This simple Hadith lies in Sahih Bukhari, testified by many, yet we the  Muslims remain ignorant about this.

So this was almost 1400 years ago and our evil multiplies. We can see it visibly. You do not need a PhD or research, to understand that goodness borders are retreating. Has been so, this last century. World wars, exterminations, nuclear bombs, disparity in wealth via exploitation and lies. Lies prevail everywhere. We see it on TV, in offices, in schools and homes. Lies are the very foundation of evil. Without lies there is no evil. Today everyone lies, small and insignificant(?) sometimes. But lies.

So I wonder where the scholars are? Do they not read these Hadith and tell people that we are bordering danger. The Gog and Magog imminent arrival also implies the Dajjal is around and so these are the worst dangers humanity will face. The key is 'evil must not increase'!

In all this media connected world, we seem worried about such irrelevant things, when danger stares at us. Look at Syria and understand that people sitting in refugee camps all over Europe were ordinary doctors, engineers, corporate executives living in suburbs. They drove cars, went to restaurants, movies and attended bar-be-que on weekends. Their children went to school and did homework everyday.  Look at Syria and understand this could be all of us. Understand that we need to change and activate our lives for the betterment of everyone.

Something Missing

MARCH 22, 2016 2 COMMENTS (EDIT)

An early morning chat with an old colleague. He is now abroad and working in a big business, making steady money, saving a bit. His family has settled and while he has old parents in Karachi, they are happy for him also.

What I sensed between the lines was a restlessness; though to be truthful, he had not voiced any discontent. Having been down this road three times, I guess I am more qualified than most to talk about it. Thrice, I had left this land of my birth, with a lot of regret and sadness, but also with a sense of adventure. And over a large tract of years -a decade and a half- I had woken every morning with a sense of ‘something missing’.

So I wrote to this gentleman the following

“I have traveled this journey a few times and know that taking away ones home is a huge displacement in life. Some get over it, some never do. Despite doing this thrice, I always felt my destiny was written in Pakistan.”

His reply was “You have exactly echoed my emotions, I wonder how you do this everytime with me. My wife and kids are happy, parents are also happy , I have cousins here but still I want to believe and pray that my destiny takes me back to Pakistan where my home is. Remember me in your prayers. Thanks”

In my experience, while the second generation do manage to settle in lands elsewhere, very few of the menfolk who emigrate, quite reconcile to the loss of a sense of belonging, the roots. Rahat Fateh Ali Khan has described this very emotionally in his song “Tere Yaad”. It hits the nail on the head.

What is this “something missing” for most of us? And I hasten to add that there are people who emigrate and never look back. In my writing here, there is no sense of judgement, of any right or wrong. It is just the way it is. There are many people who will always be out of sorts when they emigrate.

This is home. Through my formative years it reached into my brains, subconscious and created imagery, which became a part of me. For me the flashes of cricket, bun kebab, Bundu Khan, Sandspit Beach, friends playing cards, the Eids and the Independence Day, none can be detached from me. It is just part of myself. To take it away is to wrench the heart out of a working body. That is the something missing. You can reconcile and say that was the former me, but I have moved on and now the week of Christmas Holidays is my thing. Or Independence Day July 4th is my day. But rarely, if at all, will it be your thing. It will not quite touch the depth in your heart which creates that sheer joy, reminding one of younger days. Just changing a booklet, from green to blue or red, cannot change decades of programming.

When this happened, I found that my existence while well ordered and physically stable, became mechanical. The heart was not in it. For me it became worse. As the days and years went by, instead of lessening it became more and one day I realised, I was suffering from home-sickness. So there was no answer, but reverse ones step. Think of it as my mental cussedness, that I tried it three times before finally reconciling to it not being good for me. In the end we live life, not to function but to sense it, feel it and live it. In those years abroad, I was not living it. ‘Something missing’ kept popping up in my brain. So, I finally reconciled and decided to stay here. Alhamdulillah! I just pray that this status-quo remains, as I traverse this stage of life, where eventually physical dependence will rule more than emotions.

*Picture is from Dreamstime a free picture site.

How to live Life

MARCH 1, 2016 6 COMMENTS (EDIT)

Nowadays, such clever young people, enter the daily operations of this world. The current curriculum in universities is so advanced, I could only dream about this level in my college days. Education has moved along at a smart pace these past decades and today the science of teaching is just phenomenal. Younger people have analytical skills, work smart, have a way of communicating, own a vision, plan their life goals, are articulate, driven and success agents.

Are we then reaching an era of mankind, when we produce the best of the best, see skills maximisation and benefit all mankind? I would say ‘Yes’ in general commercial terms, considering the high amount of wealth which is owned by the young. But does this bode well for humanity as a whole? Sadly the answer would be an emphatic ‘No’.

During my career in the last decade, I have met many school leavers. They show all the competencies, which will make them great deliverers of material success. But, unfortunately, very few are well-rounded humans, which one would desire in future leaders. These young aspiring managers, entrepreneurs, sports people, artists and lawyers all miss basic soft traits of humanity. Education is delivering efficiency and drive, but not people who will be like Martin Luther King, Mandela or Jinnah. Leaders who care and have a larger purpose in life, which goes beyond materialism.

No wonder we have this huge drive in the world, to deliver growth and profits. Everything is measured in commercial terms. Does not matter, what we have destroyed along the way or the necks we have stepped on. Just look around. Stock markets reign and humans are servants to their whims. Presently, with negativity prevailing in China, declining commodities and stress on large banks, every one is jittery and ready to sell off. Our lives revolve around this phenomenon. Just watch television and that is what you hear. CNN! BBC! Fox! Sky! All of them. Is this what we humans have come to be? There are other issues , like the environment is destroyed; mankind stands at the edge of a precipice. There are over a billion people who suffer from malnutrition. Wealth belongs to less than 1% and 99% other humans suffer. There is death, pillage, and family trauma. So many divorces, so many one parent families. But unfortunately, economics is just more important and reigns supreme. Success and power are measured in economic impact. Reality is, we cannot carry our wealth, position or fame to our graves.

Why would this be? How is it that such efficient human machinery is being delivered, yet cannot work for humanity. My analysis is that basic, simple human stuff is not being taught at any level. Inside our homes, the TV and Internet reign supreme. In the institutions, teaching hard-nosed success takes over and playgrounds, (great teaching places) are deserted the world over. We are never taught the things which matter…how time will fly by, we will become old; our positions are temporary, so how to treat present success; how to treat those less fortunate, not to think ourselves superior to others; as we grow old we shall change, how to handle this with grace; how to fail and learn from it; how to smile through the good and bad, to be patient and thankful. All this amounts to simply the art of ‘how to live life’.

When we are not taught all this, in home, in institutions and outside, then we are producing soulless machinery, which thinks efficiency will lead to success. What an absolute failure of the system. Thus, we are, what we are today.

Parents, urgently need to start this ‘tarbiat‘ at home and then demand it from schools. We should shut the TV, computer and cell phone down for several hours every day, so that the old connection and real conversation returns. Also we have to inculcate skills and feelings which need not just deliver commerce. If we shun some of our present day habits and relearn our millennia old values, then very soon, we will reverse our descent into this hell and turn the tide. We will become humans once more, one humanity and one society.