Destiny – Life lessons

With age comes experience, with experience we get more practical and by being practical we realise the reality of life.

Whatever you experience in life is not by sheer chance. I strongly believe that you are destined to take the path you are taking, meet the people you are meeting, help the people you are helping. It is not a coincidence.

Everybody has a different approach to life. Perhaps some of you might disagree with the way I look at it.

If you are destined to reach the other side of the tunnel, you will reach there anyhow: the easy way or the hard way. If you get some cuts and bruises along the way – sorry to say, that was meant for you and if you get a free ride across it isn’t because you are lucky.

It doesn’t matter how many doors you knock. The door that opens for you is the door that you were destined to get in!

Writing tips – the cheat-sheet

Writing is an art. Expressing emotions through words is not as easy as it sounds. It takes an arduous journey to leave a mark as a writer. Many a times finding the right word could be challenging which is why many of us might consider giving up midway.

An extensive research through internet might yield greater results but yet again, right choice of words or key words are quite essential.

Let’s cut to the chase. Couple of days back I found this interesting cheat-sheet which might be of some use to the budding writers. Much as I hate to live by the rules when it comes to writing some of you could most certainly make use of it. It’s a wonderful guide in your attempt to personify things or make it look more realistic.

Let me thank the one who drafted this easy-guide on behalf of all my writer-friends.

If you have any additional tips/inputs in this regard please feel free to comment below. Your experience might aid others.

Happy writing!

Coffee break!

100 Posts! Where did I start…Where did I reach…It all seems so yesterday. Many of you might have already reached a much higher mile stone than this. But this is where I am! I wouldn’t call it an achievement, it’s rather an indicator of how attached I am to expressing myself through my new found niche and how comfortable I feel telling you bits and odds of my life and the world that I see.

I embarked on this journey with a rucksack full of poetry, photography, a diary and a snack box full of simple English. Along the way I met other travellers, hitchhikers, mountaineers, cyclists, joggers…all had their own tales to tell. Many were touching and the rest I chose not to touch.

Way back when I started this blog, I had no clue that I would meet so many wonderful people such as you. I simply wanted to pen down the voices that I heard from my heart and the sage that spoke from my mind. Sadly enough, in my case, the uphills always outnumbered the downhills. But that’s what brings the best in you. At least that’s what I believe in. it’s an essential ingredient in creating a masterpiece.

Anyway, “Here I am, this is me. There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be”.

Thank you for all you love. Thank you for being a part of my life. Sometimes all we need is someone to lend us their ears and listen to our stories so we could go to bed and sleep like babies.

…and thank you for stopping by to read this bit. By the time you finish reading I would’ve already gone. Life is a journey and we are all travellers…

Take care!

Remember: The world is round! Looking forward to meeting you again,

Much love,

The dream…

Another day another S#@t! Bad day at work. Happens to everyone; I am not an exception. I took off earlier than usual that day. All the way back I prayed to God. I had only one question to ask. ‘Will I ever survive long enough in here?’

I reached home with a heavy head and dumped myself on my bed. Before I could recap what had happened I had fallen asleep.

…”Aslam”. I suggested. It was a baby boy. The phone rang. It was my brother on the other side praising me for suggesting such a wonderful name for the baby. He said I had a gift or something and that I was good at selecting perfect names. A full blown smile had appeared on my face.

I woke up. “Aslam”? What? Why? That name would never make it to my favourite names list. Not in a million year. Not even close. Huh! It was a dream!

I sank myself in the easy chair that was sitting alone in the living room. Staring at the empty wall I murmured, ‘Aslam’?!

I jumped out of the chair pretty much scaring it to death and hurried googled for the meaning of the word ‘Aslam’. More correctly, ‘Islamic name meaning Aslam’

There! It appeared on the screen wide and clear: The meaning of ‘Aslam’ is Peace, Peaceful, Very safe, safer, safe-guarded, Safety and Security, Protected, Secure…..

“Voila! I got the answer.” I blurted. “Thank you God, thank you!”

I slapped a big smile on my face and walked towards the already frightened chair!


Sometimes in life you get a chance to repay someone who has done so much for you. Although you can’t do as much as they did when you were holed up…it’s noble to do whatever you can just to show them that you haven’t forgotten the favour.

Night out

Walking in a busy street is so much fun. So many faces with so many expressions. I pretty much camouflaged into the sea of souls. It wasn’t difficult to blend in perfectly. Within seconds I was just one of them. What more could I possibly ask for? I am an introvert that likes crowd! Or shall I put it this way, I like people-watching without me being watched.

Just when I was soaked in the sunshine of night I heard someone yelling “whore, whore”.  ‘How disgusting!’, I thought. More so, how embarrassing it is for the victim of such a public humiliation.

I looked around hastily. Unable to locate the epicentre I stood still. The yelling continued. “Pibe… seben…jeero…jeero”

‘Ah!!’ I gently slid my hands into my pockets and walked into the night.

Snap shot!

I sleepwalked out of my apartment building to grab a cup of coffee at a nearby coffee shop. On the way is this hookah bar where a barely dressed working-lady was lighting up charcoal. Because she was staring at me I cast a drowsy smile back at her. She screamed ‘eeeh!!’ and I took it as if she meant to say ‘Early morning??!!’

I snapped back from my sleep instantly. The red bull effect! I threw my hand and protested “NO!!”

She stormed inside with a hysterical laughter.

The henpecked husband

A Man must be a man. If a man starts behaving like a woman then he better cross-dress! At least we will know the difference. I am talking about a straight male who is extra macho while his wife is around. For every little thing he has this urge to run back home. I don’t know who controls whom behind the closed door but the least bit you can do is open your mouth and talk. Of course there is plenty of room to change your opinion later (after you consult your wife, I mean).

It’s rather funny what happens to few men once they get married. Yes, it’s a husband’s duty to keep his wife happy but sometimes you need to pull up your socks and be a man! It is laughable when you see such poor souls. It happens when you let your wife take decisions for you; when you are so addicted to consulting your wife for every little thing. It is when you blindly believe everything your wife says is right. It is when you are too damn weak in calling the final shots. Sometimes you have to use brain or it might get rusted.

Nonetheless there are exceptions to this rule: When the wife is the only breadwinner or if the husband is mentally ill or if he is a lazy bum to find a job…

I am not mean to the wife but there is a thing called ‘discussion’. The husband and the wife converse nicely and as a man you bring forth the idea if there is a need for such a discussion at all. If someone asks for your opinion give them YOUR opinion and not wait for your wife to tell you what to tell them.

There is also a need for the wife to let your husband to be the man. It is easier for people to notice if it is otherwise. You don’t want your husband to be a joker in public. Do you?


You’ve got to leave behind a little something of you while you are gone so that people dear to you could feel your presence. It’s like a photo album that is opened once in a blue moon yet memories are refreshed instantly. There are chances that they might feel your breath as if you are sitting next to them.

I am thankful to for providing us with such a wonderful tool to record our feelings… forever (presumably only if you have selected the free blog)! Here I sit with a contented silence swiftly moving my fingers across the keyboard and saying what I am supposed to say to my dear ones who, I wildly guess, might read it one day in an unknown future.

Back in 2016 I would get ‘likes’ and honest ‘comments’ for most of my posts from this wonderful lady, Cynthia Jobin, who by the way is an amazing American poet . She was experimenting with her poems. To be more precise, she was trying the ‘Urdu Gazal’ form in English. I would enjoy reading her bits and sharing my views. Although she was a regular at blogging I found it odd to see her blog inactive for a couple of months back then. When silence swept across her sweet whispers I decided to pay her blog a visit only to see it gone!

I couldn’t stop myself but google her name hoping to find her somewhere and guess what? I did! I found her in an obituary column: Click here. Sad but true. It never once crossed my mind that I would find her in such a place. I was deeply saddened.

All her hard work that was painted meticulously over her blog was gone just like that. I felt really bad for all those exhausting hours she might have spent to fill her blog with creativity: It was gone because she had a website (.com/.net) and not a free blog ( that I am using now. A website, if not renewed on time will be suspended unlike the free blog that stays forever (at least I hope so). Like so, the legacy that she was trying to build through her blog was wiped out from the face of the earth. I felt really bad and I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed.

Beautiful people with beautiful mind must live on forever.

Whereas, Cynthia Jobin is a familiar face and her legacy will surely live on, I am hoping that my blog will survive at least a decade after I am gone!

Cynthia Jobin

Cynthia Jobin (Jan 24, 1944 – Dec 13, 2016) – Age 72

A certain age


Current affairs

Religion teaches inner peace and Islam is not an exception. I am not here to debate for or against any religion. But I can guarantee that no religion teaches hatred amongst others. It’s all about doing good in this world to get the best in the world after. In some cases, it is about re-incarnation. You do good here and come back as something beautiful into this world thereafter.

But today politics has over shadowed this beautiful system so much so that people are forced to fight against each other in the name of religion. Religion, that was meant to bring out the best now brings out evil. Thank you war mongers for using such a beautiful institution for your own good!

Many, mostly ignorant, go by the media and stereotype certain religion while others study their books to see if it really promotes what is said of it. It’s not anybody’s fault though. Currently, it’s even more difficult to distinguish between a monk and a war lord because they both wear the same attire. Ignorant people are the easiest bait to ignite tension. No brain-washing required. But the educated ones are very few!

Regardless of what you believe, there is someone out there designing a blueprint for the world that we live in. It’s his plan that is taking shape today. He is the one that is re-drawing borders for each country and breaking them into pieces. He is the one that is controlling our vulnerable minds. He is the one that is selling arms to both sides of the same battle. He is the one that is raising false flag attacks. He is the one that is winning.

But my sorrow and grief goes out to millions of innocent people that have lost their lives and are still losing every second. As I am typing and as you are reading this, God knows how many more will be dead.

I am not asking anything of you because you cannot change anything of what is going on today. But I would request you to be nice to each other. No matter what colour your skin is, no matter what religion you follow, if you follow one at all, no matter where you live and no matter what you do. We have a brain to think. Why not use it positively?

Peace and love!


It hurts when people forget all the good things that you’ve done for them without expecting anything in return. When they forget the efforts and time you have spent on them just so that they can have a nice life too. It is so wrong to measure everything with money. There are things that people do out of love, out of caring.

Is it a sin to be nice to others? At least I, personally, hope not and I know there are many that might agree with me. It is because of few nice people there is still hope for love. But sadly, there are those that are so selfish which makes me wonder why, in the first place, God had to create them! I know it’s too extreme to even think of such a thing. But sometimes you just can’t help.

…and like I always say, life goes on.


Look carefully at this photo. That’s life. When I took this photo in the wilderness of Africa I never thought it could have any meaning at all. It was just a photo back then. That is all. I was young, life was beautiful, days were brilliant, nights were nice and stars shown bright.

But now when I see the same photo it gives me a different meaning. It speaks to me. It is as if it wants to communicate. A mirror of life? may be.

When we grow older this is what life looks like. It’s a mess. Sometimes it can be ugly. Sometimes we are made to run like a headless chicken. We run and run and run. There is no end. We run again. We run until our legs get weaker and numb. Then we are buried. That’s where the running ends.

One life; that’s all we got. It’s not ‘we’ that decide how to live. It’s always the ‘others’. Believe it or not, we live for others, in one way or the other.

Console me

Dear Diary,

Sorry, it’s been ages since I last turned pages. It’s been very hectic. I mean it. There is something called mental tiredness which by all means is more stressful than the physical tiredness any man can endure. Although I have all the happiness in this world that I had longed for I still feel lonely sometimes. There is something amiss. There is this piece of puzzle that has gone missing. I can’t find it. I hoped to see something nice in the previous pages but in vain. It’s not your fault. I only write down my sorrows. When I am happy I don’t even feel you sitting next to me.

But anyway, a friend in need is a friend indeed. You have never let me down when I craved for solace. You’ve always been there. You have lent me your ears. Though, at times I have seen it bleed you’ve never complained. You’re like my dumb friend on a fishing trip.  I enjoy talking and you care a damn.

HUH! I am relaxed now. Sometimes we need to talk the s##t out to feel better. See, I am up and running, ready to rock! Thank you dear diary for taking my s##t! Go clean yourself now  😉 I may need you again!

Hey! Hey! Best friends remember? Take it easy now. Cheers! 🙂

Myself and I

One evening while I was sitting in this park listening to some music I saw a good looking middle aged women walk past by me hurriedly.

“Hmm…nice fragrance!” I said to myself.  “She is probably here looking for her kids to take them to a family gathering”. I could judge that by her outfit and that lovely brown purse hanging low over her shoulder.

Anyway, I was enjoying the cool breeze with some beautiful slow beet music. Three minutes later I see her walking hastily towards the basketball court. “You are too young to have one of them as your kid!” I told myself

I sighed and continued with my music. Two minutes gone and she passed me again swiftly.  “Is there a problem? Should I offer to help?” I questioned myself. This time around I let my eyes follow her. She walked non-stop, zig-zag all around the park.

Before I could ask myself “Is that her evening-walk?!” Myself yelled back at me “Just shut up and enjoy your music!”



Do you believe in ghosts?!

One day one of our lecturers asked us to define ‘story’. Some of us said it must be long and others gave their own definitions. He nodded and asked us to listen to his bit and let him know if we had changed our perception of what we thought was “story”.

He narrated thus:

It was a pitch-black dark night and this gentleman was traveling alone in a compartment of a train. While he was staring outside deep in thought another gentleman suddenly appeared and sat in the front seat. The stranger asked him bluntly “Do you believe in ghosts?” The first gentleman, pretty much puzzled, answered “No, I don’t!” The stranger said, “I don’t believe in it either!” and vanished into thin air !! ….just like that the stranger was gone.

Did you miss me?!

Hello everyone! Terribly sorry, I was too busy lately which is why I couldn’t update my blog. I am sure you might have missed my posts!!!

As if anybody cares whatever it is that I write! Honestly, one day I came across a post that said just that. Ironically, that particular post had not one single LIKE on it, let alone comments flowing down. I laughed at this practical joke. It was hilarious. But later I had a second thought. I shouldn’t have laughed! I hurt somebody’s feelings.

Name and fame! Who wouldn’t want to be famous? Most youngsters these days wish they could be those Korean pop singers or JB. We like to be popular amongst our audience. We always look upon our favorite ‘famous and the rich’ personalities and ape them. We wish it was us.

So, What if we can’t be famous in real life??!

Who cares? That is why there is nothing wrong in treating ourselves as stars! More correctly “the super stars”! Balls to the world, never mind what people think of you. Be yourself. You are the hero in your life. You make the rules, you save lives, you get your dream girl/boy and you definitely live large! If you want to wear your underwear over your trousers so be it! Enjoy your life. Well, I made that last thing up. You better wear that in your dreams but in reality it sucks! 😉

Remember; don’t do anything for others because they want you to be their make-up artists so they can look better! Balls to them, you are the hero…big up to you!!   It’s your life; it’s one life!

Peace and love!


Problems in life

I was speaking to this Australian colleague of mine few days ago. It was a casual talk about life in general. In the midst of our conversation he mentioned something that hit the cord. He said “Life is full of problems. You solve your problems yourself or somebody else will solve it for you!”

True to what he had said, yesterday I met someone who was in a dilemma on whether or not to quit his job. He had a decision to take, a problem to solve in life. He looked so confused that it seemed almost next to impossible for him to decide.

On the other hand, his boss was a bit pissed off with him. His reputation and luck weren’t in his favor now. He wasn’t anybodies favorite anymore. If he won’t decide, I thought, his boss will decide his fate for him!

You solve your problems yourself or somebody else will solve it for you?!

Sometimes it’s easy to overcome a hurdle but sometimes it’s better to leave it to fate.

Cheater’s paradise

People cheat. It doesn’t matter how close they are to you. Money blinds them all. Everyone is selfish when it comes to their family and their own future. We all want to make money and get rich. Some wants money to keep their loved ones happy and the others are self centered.

When we get matured we secretly select the best horse that can take us to the Eldorado. If the horse is weak we partner with someone that we know can take us there. A desperate treasure hunter will always choose a dumb partner. They go together but the cheater comes back alone with the treasure. The cheated learns a lesson paying a hefty price. Sometimes it will be too late to realize and change things. Sometimes all you can do is write articles! That’s life!

Looking old before time?!

If you are looking for a magic-cream that makes you look younger, please look elsewhere. This is just an article.

Some five years back when I became a part of the ever growing mining industry I met this nice gentleman from India. Little did I know that his days were numbered in the company he worked for; we became friends. It was my first time in Africa and it was nice to meet someone from my own country.

I was young, fresh-faced and inquisitive. I had this urge to explore the new continent, Africa. Now that I was already in Tanzania, this seemed precisely the best place to start with. My next stop would rather be Ethiopia, I had told myself. I, for some reason, liked their music! Ethiopian music has this mystical power to brighten me up. It is unique in its own way yet soothing.

Well, it’s been a very long time since I last listened to any Ethiopian song.

Now, coming back to my story, this Indian gentleman was somewhere in his late fifties and we chummed up very well within the first few days of our meeting. We spoke about our families, previous jobs and more so about our current jobs.

One day in the midst of our conversation he asked me to guess his age. I told him what anybody would pretty much say: Late fifties. He burst out laughing hysterically but I could see through a vapor of sadness in his face. I was more than curious to know his age now. He shrugged his shoulders and with a mournful voice said he was forty one.

Oh boy! It wasn’t a lady’s age I was guessing!

He mentioned how sad he was during his university reunion few months back and that all his classmates looked young and charming. Him, on the other hand looked more like their professors. This was evident in the group photo.

Anyway, few days after we met, he quit his job and settled down in India.

There is a reason for bringing up this piece of history today that took place five years or so in the past. Today I found myself brooding in front of the mirror. I have grown a beard now; not to get a new outlook but because I am mentally tired and I didn’t realize they had grown up to that length. Lot of grey hairs sticking out reminded me of what this Indian gentleman had once told me. If you work in a mine you look old before time.      😦

The guinea fowl story

Helmeted Guinea Fowl

Helmeted Guinea Fowl

Yesterday I had a terrific day. It was different than the usually boring once that I normally have. I and a colleague happen to visit this lady who sells guinea fowls. Once there, we saw plenty of them in her back yard. We looked at each other and instantly knew our menu for lunch! We were offered a special price of US$14 (aprox Rs. 950) for one of them. Special because we were expats; it’s normally half the price for locals. Since we hadn’t enough time to ask a local to fetch one for us, we just bought it ourselves. By the way, I work in Tanzania, Africa.

It was fascinating to see the way our guinea fowl was caught. There were about twenty five to thirty guinea fowls in her yard. The lady summoned all of them to their chicken house (guinea house?!), with a nice bird-call sound. Amongst them was this vigilant white rooster which doubted her call this time. He grew suspicious and did not fall for her intrigue. He took the lead in inspecting the situation by lurking around the entrance of this chicken-house while warning his friends with a harsh toned foul cry. His fellow mates submit to his leadership and form a pack behind him. The tough-guy was in charge now.

This went on for a while. We were captivated with what was going on. Being mere spectators we eagerly waited to see what happens next.

The tough inspector refused to let himself or his friends in. It was when the rooster started acting like a ‘headless chicken’ the helmeted guinea fowls ignored him and barged into the chicken-house where the lady waited for a catch!

Once they were in the lady closed the door from inside. All we could hear was the lady screaming and wings fluttering. Sounded more like a rape scene in a Bollywood movie! Here, for a change, the lady emerged victorious. She came out with her trophy and with that our day-dream was about to come true.

In the midst of it all, I had an announcement to make. I wanted our guinea fowl to be slaughtered the Islamic way. My colleague and the lady, both of whom were Christians, had no hesitations to that at all. I could see them staring at me questioningly about who might do it. I had the answer ready; it is me, myself. A quick flash back gave me enough courage and all the information I needed to do so.

During my younger years slaughtering a chicken was a great event in our house. Papa would sharpen his favorite knife reserved only for these special, rather seldom occasions, (We normally bought nicely chopped chicken from butchery) wear his apron and put on the religious skull cap. I took pride in holding the chicken for him which was then religiously slaughtered.

Like so, I slaughtered the guinea fowl the Islamic way. We happily paid her the money and carefully placed our main lunch-ingredient in our pick-up truck before driving away.

Music and mood!

Today my mood is swinging in the right direction: It’s romantic! All the way to the office I listened to my favorite songs. It is so soothing. I called my wife and she was happy to be a part of my emotional flow. We spoke. This time the materialistic worldly affairs were laid to rest. It was us. It was nice.

Music is magic! It has the power to heal our emotional distress. I believe everyone must have their favorite songs/music handy. Listen to it whenever you feel low. That’s the best medicine out there.

Strangely enough, I had a friend that found solace in heave metal! Now that, for me, is simply unbelievable. Heavy metal (for me) is just noise that’s gone too wrong! I love songs with soft beats/music to keep me calm. For me, music is something that brings joy and inner peace. It makes my body and soul relaxed. When I am done listening I am fresh.

Different genres of music fit different moods.

Bismillah (h)ir-Rahman (n)ir-Raheem!


Let me start this blog by reciting the phrase: ‘Bismillah hir-Rahman nir-Raheem’; This phrase in English would mean “In the name of Allah, the (most) gracious, the (most Merciful”. Muslims recite this while starting anything that is Halaal. For example, before drinking or eating or starting ones day or work and so on. In my case, I preferred to use this magic phrase to be the title of my first blog because it will induce me to write or present things that are Halaal or things that are not prohibited in Islam.

Getting a little off topic, I remember writing diaries and notes of just about anything that would fascinate me whilst schooling. A secret world where I spoke to myself! Anyway, those days and the journals are long lost in time. I have crossed the meadows of childhood, passed the gardens of adolescence and now I am hiking the mountains of adulthood before reaching the desert of old age!

Wow! I still have that poet hiding in me that I thought had forsaken me long back. I am glad we are still together. Hopefully I will team up with him in some of my future blogs.

Until then have a good day!