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me in green

Hum aur hamari Urdu
Hamaray waledain ka ta’aulq tu UP se tha magr India se azadi k baad apnay watan Pakistan aai.    Lala Musa se Pindi, phir Karachi hote huwe bilakhir Peshawar mei sakoonat ikhtiyaar ki. Peshawar se dono ka khameer utha tha is leye mitti unko waha khench lai. Dono ki aakhri araam gah bhi Peshawar he me hay.
Peshawar cantt 62 Mall Road per hamaray gher k itraaf mai koi paas paros nahi tha. Is leye mohalladari kay mazay na le sakay. Na larai jhugra, na chughal khori na khuwahish na shikwa,na ehsaas e bertari na kamtari. Na fashion ka pata. Jo maa ne pehna diya pehen liya.  Ajeeb pursakoon mahol tha.  Hum umer bhai behen bhi nahi tha jis se kuch tu seekhnay ko milta. Baray bhai bhi 20 saal umer mei baray thay. Wo tu bus piyaar aur shafqat ka ghana shajr- e- saya daar thay. Iss tumheed ka matlab sirf yeh ha batanay ka kay in wajuhaat ki waja se hum per CP.UP, HAIDERABADI, BIHARI, PUNJABI HINDKO, BENGALI ka koi rung na churh saka.
Khidmat guzaron kay bacho ko Urdu aati nahi thi is leye un  se Pushtu bolni zaroor sekh li. Saat bhaiyun mei hamaray bhai zinda bachay they lehaza maa ki aankhon ka nor aur dil ka saroor they. Jub wo office kay kaam se kai dino k leye  doosray shehr jatay tu ammi fikrmund rehtein. Uska hul unhon ne aakhir nikal he liya. Hum us waqt class one mei thay.
 Ammi  bhai ko khut likhwana chahti thein. Ub bhala hum kiya jaanein khut (letter) likhna.  Jub koi lufz likhna na aata tu kehtein jo lufz nahi likhna wo kitaab me dhoondo. Is taraha hijjay bhi agai aur lufzon se bhi dosti honay lagi. Ammi ne is per bhi iktefa na kiya. Unhon ne hum masoom se Shama novel perhwana shru kiya. wo zamana aisa tha k bachon k pass sirf tabaydari kernay  kay aur koi option nahi hota tha. Novel tu kiya khaak samjh mei ata bus perhte aur ammi khush hotien k khut likhna aura acha ajaiga humko. Is tarah urdu perhnay mei rawani aati gai, sheen qaaf bhi durust hogaya. Bulund khuwanai aur thereer dono he behter hoti gaein.
Is mushaqqat ka faida yeh huwa k school aur college me maqami aur All Pakistan mubahison mei teachers ki nazar hum per pernay lagi. Hum bhi khush k chalo muft mei doosray shehron  mei ghoomany ka maza aai ga. Lerkon ko hum mei koi dilchaspi thi aur na humko. RCD debate yani Pakistan, Iran aur Afghanistan kay  ma-bain debate ka muqabla tha aur wo bhi Islamia college mei. Waha lerkiyan jatay huwe ghubrati thei ek tu purdah aur wese bhi haseen. Humko koi der tha nahi, na lerkon se na husn ki kami se. Rostrum hamseha hamaray qud se ooncha he hota ha her jagah is leye hum bedharak stage kay centre mei jaker apna mudda bayan kerte chay muwafiqut mei ho ya mukhalifat mei.
 Khoob inamaat, trophies aur certificates hasil keye.
Presentation Convent ki taliba honay ki waja  se English bhi qabu agai. Lehaza dono zabano mei khoob sadakari ki.
Shadi kay baad jahez mei hum bori bher ker apne cups bhi Jhelum le gai. Naya gher girahsti sambhali. Bawerchi khanay mei masalay rukhnay kay leye koi dabba bottle thi nahi. Hamaray urdali ne foren apni foji zihanut ka istemal kerte huwe bori se hamaray cup nikalay aur un mei namak mirch masalay bher deye. Pus ai momino is se sabit howa kay foji kay pass her maslay ka hul hota hay sirf dimagh istemal kerna shert ha. Bus yeh huwa k wo cups jo hum ne mehnat se jeetay thay unki betoqeery dekh ker apni betuqeeri dekh ker aankhon mei aansu aur labon pe muskarahat aanay k sath dil se hook uthi kay—- derd itna hay k her rug mei mehsher burpa—–sakoonitna ha k merjanay ko ji chata hay ———-Tanveer Rauf 23 November 2015

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It was September 1965. I had cleared my 10th grade with flying colors. We lived in Peshawar then. Our house was so big that if one called from end the voice could not be heard. The house was in the middle and lawns and fields surrounding it. It was built of mud. Walls were as thick as one meter if I’m not wrong. The rooms were huge with high ceilings. The doors were as big and wide that elephant could easily pass. The ventilator in every room was so big that two men could easily sit there.

I’m not at all exaggerating. It is said that Prime Minister of India Mr. Jawaharlal Nehru also lived there before partition of India, Pakistan. My brother had bought that house. And after he sold it the Excavators found many items of ancient time. Peshawar is one of the oldest cities of the world.

My brother was in Air Force. His family was in Karachi then. I lived there with my mother.

The war was going on between born rivals, India and Pakistan. Lahore was most raided city. So a family of 11 members came to Peshawar to run away from death. They had come to stay with their relatives. That bungalow was as big as ours, just across the road. Two families lived in that house. One was Air Force officer Squadron Leader, Musa and his family and the civilian family.

One day my brother called me from Rawal Pindi as he was on war duty. He asked me to come immediately there with mother. We did the same. My brother always said that in war, dusk and dawn time and full moon night is best to raid and bombard. It was full moon that night.

The airport was not far from our house. We lived on Mall Road. India bombed the airport but missed its target so the bomb hit that house where the family had come all the way from Lahore to escape death.

All members of that house died except one mentally retarded brother of theirs. But surprisingly everything was saved like furniture and all household things. But Musa’s family survived as they ran to trenches hearing the alarming siren. Surprisingly every bit of their household broke smashed and finished, but their lives were safe. As they ran without slippers and in their sleeping dresses so the neighbors provided them with everything. But the unfortunate family couldn’t save their life from death.

One should not fear death. It is fact of life and every breathing soul has to pass away

Dara Syed is my Nephew’s son. his father (my nephew is a  doctor in Boston) his wife is an Irish lady. Michelle is a very  loving mother , a caring wife and a good house wife. Dara interviewed his grandmother (my sister in law) I like it so much that i felt like sharing with my blogger friends 🙂10360197_10153505896639148_5317222178268315911_n34343_401503857986_8185593_nmy sister in law Rehana Syed
Dara is sitting next to his siter Leena Syed and brothers Deen and Adam
Dara Syed
C Block Social Studies
Reflection Paper

I interviewed my Dadhi (Grandma) on the Indian Civil War, otherwise known as the Indian War of Independence, which took place in 1947. At that time, she was 8 years old, and living comfortably in her family home in the huge city of  New Delhi, the capital city of India. I really enjoyed learning about a big part of my grandmother’s childhood while she lived there.
India had been under British rule for about 100 years back in 1947. Muslims and Hindus had coexisted peacefully for several hundred years before the British occupation. Indians wanted their independence from British rule. After the Second World War,  the British Empire was significantly weaker than before. With the efforts of powerful leaders such as Gandhi and Jinnah, India became liberated. In this struggle, there was a major Civil War, and millions of innocent lives were lost. My grandparents lived in India, and my great grandfather Hassan Syed,  had a good job in New Delhi, where he was a Court Official for a British judge. My grandmother went to an elementary school, along with her siblings, and lived a comfortable, stable life. No one could have predicted that her life, as she knew it, would never be the same after that fateful event in her life.
She recalled the beginning of her real life ‘nightmare’ in August 1947. Her father(Abba) came home from work, and told the family that they had to flee their home immediately, to go to the shelter. Most of my grandmother’s family was killed in this struggle-my grandmother’s cousins, grandfather and many relatives were killed. Her family lost their house and all their belongings. According to her, her house had been marked with a big ‘X’, meaning that they were potential targets. My grandmother had told this to my father before, and he informed me. My grandmother had not talked about this huge event in her life until recently, and when I asked her permission to interview her, she agreed, but added it brought back painful memories. She wanted me to emphasize that she doesn’t have any bitter feelings towards her homeland, India, but rather she relishes the memories of the wonderful life she had there as a young child.
Because of this assignment, I learned a lot about India. I learned that Muslims and Hindus were able to live peacefully side by side for seven hundred years, prior to the British colonisation of India in the mid 1800s. The British strategy was “Divide and Rule” and this caused disharmony among a society which had coexisted and was prosperous. India was known as a “Golden Bird” at that time in history. But according to my grandmother, this all came to an abrupt end once they were forced out of India.
As I reflect on my grandmother’s early life, I am so proud of her for being so brave during such trying times. I had asked her during the interview what was her age during this event, which she said 8 years old. I cannot even think of what  it must have been like for her, to be be suddenly removed from your own country at the young age of 8. But when she recalled with glee how she was so ecstatic to miss school and go on an airplane ride for the first time, I could somehow relate to her unusual happiness in such bad times. She was just a child after all, and really didn’t understand what was unfolding around her.
When Dadhi started to recall her horror at the death surrounding her back then, one of my follow up questions was ‘that must have been so frightening’? Dadhi agreed, saying that she can not forget the image of all the dead bodies she saw. What a difficult thing for a young child to go through. Dadhi spoke about how one of her dreams had come true in an unusual way, as she had always wanted to go on an airplane ride, and that she finally was getting her wish. She told me after I interviewed her, that as a little girl, when she saw an airplane up in the sky, she would say “come here, come here”. Her greatest dream was coming true! I found it so funny that she was also glad to miss school and I could easily relate to that!
             Dadhi mentioned during the interview that she slept for several years under her parents’ bed as she was fearful for a long time that she might have to escape to another unknown  place. This really shows how scared she was. I also reflect on my ancestors from India and how they defiantly stayed put in their homeland and I become sad about their fate.
            Another piece of delicate information Dadhi gave me after I interviewed her and was compiling my essay, was that her mother was pregnant with her youngest child, my father’s uncle Iqbal at the time of their migration to Pakistan.The youngest member of the family was then 3 year old Shehnaz. Now when I visit my father’s uncles and aunts in Canada, I feel very proud of the obstacles they have overcome in their lives, and I admire all of the positive things they have achieved as immigrants in a new country.
           My grandmother is in her mid seventies now and I am glad I was able to interview her for this project. She is amazed that these memories, although 60 years old, are being given a new life by my project. My grandmother is a brave woman,  and although she  has lived a sometimes tough life, she has emerged a stronger person. I am so proud of her and love her very much. I don’t think I could ever be strong like she was and I joke with her that one day I intend to write a book about her life.



Two years have gone by but not a single day passed I forgot that unbelievable experience of my life.

Sabiha Qaiser is my very dear and close friend. We served the same school for 10 years then I quit job but she continued. Our friendship bond elongates to 24 years now.  Sabiha is very serene, diligent and caring whereas I am happy go lucky carefree person.

We both happen to be widows so understand the ups and downs of life. I often spent weekends at her home. Her mother was a very kind lady and my friend too. I loved her twinkling eyes and sweet angelic smile always radiating her face.  She was an elderly lady but we enjoyed each other’s company. She would share her stories of youth.  She was not like other oldies who only complain of ailments and being ignored. She   was full of life. She had a sweet melodious voice so sometimes hummed old Indian songs. She was a very lively soul.

We chatted while Sabiha cooked and served us. I felt at home with them.

Sabiha’s parents were cousins. When to love opposite sex was considered sin, they fell in love. Fortunately they got married as well. Mr. Syed Muzaffar Ali and his wife Aquila Begum were born   in Gawalior India where the great singer TANSEN is laid to rest in peace. Hence love and harmony ran blood in them.

Sabiha’s father loved his wife like the love between the famous love stories we have read and heard, like Samson and Delilah, Romeo Juliet, Heer Ranjha, Leila Majnoo etc. This couple also exceptionally loved each other. They never parted in their life. They slept on the same bed till the end.

Sabiha’s mother got a severe heart attack on 3rd December 2003. When her husband went to hospital to see his wife he couldn’t bear to see his love in such bad condition in ICU on bed no.13. He came home and prayed. His prayers were answered.

Mother’s condition improved so was shifted to a room. Whereas he got very sick and was taken to the same hospital where his wife was. It’s strange that he got the same bed no 13 where his wife lay a day before.

He went in coma on 5th December and passed away on 13th December 2003. He was born in 1924 died at the age of 80+.  They lived 58 years together.

That’s true love.

Sabiha’s mother lived ten years after his demise. She being literate and poetry lover often sang a song; Lambi judai ——- (lengthy parting—missing you)

in memory of her loving husband.

She got ill and went in coma on 5th December 2012, the same date when her husband went in coma. She treaded to highway of heaven to meet her love on 21st Feb. 2013.

I have a very bad habit; I can’t see my dear ones in agony. I try to avoid as much as I can, so didn’t go see her when she was in hospital. She missed me, I know that!

But hearing that she’s in coma, I went to see her. Her daughters, daughters in law and grandsons along with Sabiha and the nurse were in the same room. Mother was in coma for days. Sabiha told her that Tanveer has come to see you. She was in blackout, didn’t move, and lay still. I went near her and wishing her said, “It’s me. I’m here” She turned her face slightly towards me, faintly smiled and back to the same pose of being in coma. It was surprising to see her response. Others present in the room called her but no movement no comeback. She just lay in bed motionless. It was astonishing for every one there in the room.

What was it! Was it power of love? The miracle or illusion—-

Sabiha gave me her mother’s white shawl and a small very old silver box as a token of love from her mother to me. It’s a treasure for life for me.


Many famous and distinguished personalities have commented on his outclass poetry, prose and paintings. Below are the names and their comments about Noor Muhammad Qureshi

Moti Lalwani (artist): “Carrara was the quarry for Michelangelo Water color wash is cararra for Noor. Noor means light and light means life. Life, that dwells in Noor’s art pieces. Art pieces which have been grown in the womb of time.

Calm—–cool—— peace—— silence—- solitude and joy simple landscapes—- or even water color washes.”

Sumeha Malik: “An ambitious artist and one who has made a niche for himself despite artists coming up every other day. We hope that there will be more such thought provoking series from Noor.”

Vali Haider Zakir (artist): “The destructive earthquake of 2005   affected everyone severely. Noor expressed his feelings through his art and receptive poetry.”

Professor Muhammad Raees Alvi (Registrar, Karachi University): “Noor Muhammad has depicted the melancholy of violent earthquake of 2005 in his art and poetry with brush and pen that every eye shed tears. May he live long to portray the life.”

Nahid Raza, artist and Principal, Central Institute of Arts and Crafts, Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi:” Nor Muhammad Qureshi is based in Sind. He is teaching Art in Baluchistan. He works in multi-dimensions like poetry, Afsana, and Painting. Landscape and Calligraphy are basic subjects in his work. I wish he should paint these victims of earthquake as he wrote in his poetry.”

Fatima Surriyya Bajya, (writer): “one day in burning month of June when I came back from my  office I saw a man standing under a tree   near my home.  He was Noor Muhammad Qureshi. He handed a thin book and some cuttings of newspapers. We came inside my home. He wanted my review and comments on his thin book. But when I read it, I felt its colossal weight. It is heavier than tons of mountains and immeasurable for the human feeling of grief and misery.  Each and every page of the booklet is worth ready. It is full of emotions, knowledge and awareness.”

Nusrat Nasarullah: Mr. Noor Muhammad, 42 , teaches Art in Sui Model School, Dera Bugti Baluchistan. He paints, writes Urdu poetry, and acts in radio, stage and television plays. Noor Muhammad is tall, mild mannered and hardworking, so far held four solo exhibitions, including on the tsunami theme.

Dr. Ilyas Ishqui has same praise worthy feelings for Noor.

Qasim Jalali (GM, Pakistan Television, Karachi centre) “Noor Muhammad has given life to his dreams and observation in life through his poetry and paintings.”

Saif-ur-Rehman (Vice President, Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi) “Noor Muhammad has very delicately expressed the pains of affected in with his brush and pen. His book is a historical, pictorial evidence of the earthquake of 2005”

Tajdar Aadil, (poet, author, and producer Pakistan television) “I am waiting to see how many hearts throb and step forward to lend helping hand to the ailing, now and always when needed.”

Wasi Haider, (artist, critic) “Noor Muhammad is a very sensitive man having a kind warm heart that feels the other’s pain just like his own. He is been successful in transferring his emotions though his art and literature.”

Ziauddin. A. Junejo “ the awesome power of the forces of nature which was unleashed against human civilization in which human beings were powerless has been depicted by the artist in paintings with great insight and accuracy.

Mr. Noor’s use of symbols is very significant. I am reminded of the Surrealist Masters such as Dali Gigantic tears painted by the Artist tragedy conveyed by these paintings.”

Professor Ali Ahmed Fatimi, (Allahabad University, India) “Noor Muhammad is a humane human. His restless soul and friendly nature motivated him to use his brush and pen to show to the world the agony of life.”

Syed Anwar Haider, (Sr. Member of Revenue Sind) “Noor Muhammad used very simple language to express his feelings in poetry and prose. Noor is a great human being who is treading on the highway of life with his aching heart for his fellow beings in pain.”

Naqash Kazmi (Poet) Noor Muhammad is multifaceted man. He has exposed and shook the hearts of us all to feel the bleeding humanity through his paintings and   writings.”

Yawer Mehdi retd (Station Director Radio Pakistan Hon. Secretary of Arts Council of Pakistan, Karachi) Noor Muhammad has not only added treasure to Urdu literature he has fulfilled the needs of human sentiments.”

Professor Hassan Abid (Scholar) “basically Noor Muhammad is an artist but he has excelled his abilities equally in other forms of expression like poetry and prose besides paintings. I am sure his book will gain laurels.”

Iqbal Haider (Chairman Josh Academy Gallery, Canada) “In my opinion a true artist is one who feels the pangs of others just like his own. His simple easy languages leave a stirring impact on a reader. I am witness of his genuineness for I know him for more than a quarter of a century. I wish him long healthy life.”

His message is,

Love is the whole thing,
We are only pieces,
Love is the sea of no end,
We are a drop of it.

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