the song of crickets, the mew of the cat who adopted us as its family, two women chatting outside, the low sound of another of my roomie on her phone, a passing bike, the sound of train engine, a hovering Mi17, some strange nocturnal bird, beating drums from some nearby village, my CPU, dog barking on the street, the metal gate outside opening, guard saying jai hind, my breath...all constitute the sound of silence...when my mind is still...

life...: string of thoughts when asked to write for MC on v...

life...: string of thoughts when asked to write for MC on v...: peculiarities of love some say its a wonderful feeling some say it hurts some warn us from falling in love one wise man even said, "you ...

reflections

Looking back through your day is a kind of spiritual practice. At the end of each day, going through the events in your minds eye, just being an observer, not a critic, not a judge. But what if our reflections for the day looked on the things that we did not do, things that we could not do, things we had to do and wanted to do. Forget what happened, the reflection just turns into a 'to do' list of a negative sort. Firstly the day begins with a 'to do' check list and ends with the same on a different note. It may not be hard to imagine. Sounds all to familiar? Just when our mind starts filling up with a thousand voices, jamming it up; let yourself stop. Freeze. Let go.
Life may become many things, even a to do list. But it's all captured in our breath. I may get lost in a maze of thoughts while reflecting on the day but its much simpler to just empty my mind and focus on my breath, connecting my body to my soul...

faith....

According to the Bible, God said, "If you have faith as tiny as a grain of mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, move from here to there and it will move, nothing will be impossible for you."

In God we do trust, we pray to Him; but when our prayers seem to be unanswered, that is when faith is really tested. When nothing seems to be going right, yet we persist, live, with hope, it's when the human spirit is tested.

There's an anecdote that depicts the conflicts of faith and prayer. A man climbs a tree to collect forage. Having climbed up, he is unable to come down. He prays to God, "God if you help me climb down, i'll offer you 100 rupees." He manages to climb halfway down and prays again, "God help me climb down, i'll offer you fifty rupees. when the man touches the ground he thinks, I climbed the tree myself and got down myself, why should I offer anything to God?

What is faith, in whom is that faith rested when we pray, is it to God or is the prayer really meant to invoke our own faith in the world and in ourselves. Prayer brings peace and strength, faith brings hope. Moving mountains literally would be a miracle, metaphorically, a miracle too. A miracle is just a change of perception. Moving mountains maybe would just be a magic trick, metaphorically speaking, going ahead with all difficulties, overcoming life's obstacles, that is the real miracle, the answer to our prayer, the beacon of our faith.

"so , how did you earn your bread today?"

It's a strange question when a senior asks, "How did you earn your bread today?" "What did you do today?" It's just a question, but when asked, it could iether be just a question or it could be an implying sarcastic answer itself that the person gives.

It's sort of funny. Most elders feel that their times were hard, they did more than we ever do. It is true. And they also think we dont do a damn thing.

In a way, reminds me of a joke I once read. A man returns home and finds his house in a mess, the sitting room was not arranged, the dishes were not clean, the dirty clothes were lying all aroiund. He looks at his wife sitting on a couch and asks, "What happened?" the wife replies, you return home and ask me everyday what did i do; well, today i didn't do it."

"So, how did you earn your bread today" is the big question. Funny that in academy, the creative writing club once wrote a comic piece on how the cadets earn their stipend. each rolling, each push up, each whiskey (a punishment in which you raise a finger and rotate at a speed promoting no 1 whiskey), each camel carry and every wierd punishment of academy was valued in rupees.

Now I'm not the kind of person who will start giving account of every job I did and measure it up to my ration scale. Spare me. that was only good in academy, just to laugh off our tough times.

Alright, so you wanna know how I earned my bread today. Besides the job that is routine and not to mention, I, rather all of us serving in the forces are giving ourselves to the organisation by being at the organisation's dispense both at the highest and the lowest level. Whenever and wherever asked,  we do as ordered and also dont do as ordered not to.  I'm in one corner of the country today, send me to another corner as and when you require. I'm available to do all the jobs.

I may be wrong and also people can take me wrongly. I don't say that i'll do nothing and yet I deserve to earn what I do. I too feel that the organisation gives us the same wheather or not we contribute to it. (just like a sarkari job). I too feel a lack of professional and creative satisfaction at times (maybe often). But somehow, making us ponder over or give an answer to our worthiness to our daily bread is still not a pleasant thing. After all, even a man on sick leave gets his food. Will you now kill him making him think of himself as a liability who did nothing while he was sick.

"How did I earn my bread today?" It's something that individuals should ask oneself and not one another.

for the love of uniform

FOR THE LOVE OF UNIFORM

When our training begins in academy, we started with training in mufti and PT dress. For drill we wore a combination of PT dress with DMS boots. It was referred to as JODs or joker dress by our seniors, but that’s how it started in the initial days of training.

Then we were issued with combats.  I cannot express how happy I felt when I first wore that uniform. It was just simple cloth with combat pattern, nothing to match the smart combats our DS wore but it gave me such thrills to wear that uniform.

Next came the OGs. In junior term we were issued a different colour of OG uniform. It wasn’t the standard OG that officers wear but we weren’t officers by then any way. Some seniors joked with us, “Are you in Pakistan Army?” referring to the colour of our uniform. The no 1 dress was still a privilege of the seniors and the DST pass. We just waited for our day.

On our first DST when we wore the no 1 uniform, ah that thrill again. I could keep admiring my uniform.  It was amazing.

I’ll move forward to the nearing of our POP. We had got a pair of the new pattern combat stiched along with the dark coloured officer type OG for our passing out. We had a band called combat stress for the entertainment night before POP.  When we wore those new pattern combats, our juniors were awed; it suddenly made us look like an officer from a cadet.

POP arrives, I get my pips. I should be thrilled but it was just a strange feeling, one of those you cannot explain, a complex mixture that left me blank. I cannot say what I felt then because I do not know but the pictures speak for themselves. Our eyes never shone so bright.

It is so very strange that after nine months in field when I came for the YO course and wore my OGs again I was again struck by the same thrill. Now I realise that my uniform will continue to thrill me as long as I wear it.

 Sometimes we get so used to the best things in our life that we forget the joy they brought us in the first place. The magic is in feeling the pride and thrill everyday and remembering all that we did to attain it.