Part II - My Adolescence Memoirs - Larkana in 1970s

Part-II

As we moved in Larkana my elder brother was registered in 6^th grade that was first year of his English schooling and I went to a Sindhi medium School for 5^th grade called P.V. School near Kennedy Market. Our father had bought a house in the heart of city at 17000 Rupees in a wide street called Merodero Muhalla off Bundar Road (formerly known as Seoo or Seu Bazaar). It was an old house with a grand hall in the center measuring an area of about 25 X 40 ft with its ceiling more than 25 ft high from the floor. The surrounding four rooms were having roof with a height almost half of the central room. There were 3 wooden beams supporting the roof in the short direction and one long steel beam (girder) placed perpendicular supporting the wooden beams. All these beams rested on thick brick cum earthen walls measuring over two feet in thickness.

One of the wooden beams bore the name of the owner of the house inscribed on it which read in Sindhi and English as: Lal Chand Naval-Rai, Advocate, 1896. While going to bed in the same hall with eyes on the inscription I would always wonder whether Mr. Lal Chand’s heirs ever come to know about this house. Unfortunately this grandeur house was demolished by the new owner once the house became a thorn in the eyes of some of our family members as they wanted to get their respective share of money once it was sold out. It did happen in early 2000s.

Our house bearing number B-770 was flanked by two large Neem Trees. On right side it was adjacent to a clinic of notable city doctor called Dr. Allah Bakhsh Shaikh while on left and far side it was adjacent to a shop selling firewood and coal. The next building to firewood shop was a covered small Masjid (mosque) on corner of the street. Firewood shop is also non-existent now but the mosque is still there. On left side our street was connected at the backend to famous Khataan (Pickles) Bazaar and Siddiqui Bazaars (two almost parallel narrow and small bazaars) converging to famous narrow and long Shahi Bazaar in the middle of it. On right side, a narrow street leads into famous ladies Bazaar called Resham Gali.

When we moved in our house in 1969, a faqeer (beggar) had his den at our entrance door, under the Neem Tree. He was blind, could speak only Pashtu, and would sit and sleep there. People passing in the street would throw coins at him, and he would survive on food served to him by local residents. My father tried to dislocate or relocate him but the beggar resisted fiercely, thus, father had to give up. The beggar lived there in the street for many more years before dying naturally.

Two communities predominantly used to live in our street; Sindhi Shaikhs (Hindus who stayed back and converted to Islam during partition of India vis-à-vis creation of Pakistan) and Urdu speaking (migrated from India) called Muhajirs. I had a little exposure to Urdu language during my early schooling i.e. class 3 and 4, listening to Urdu/Hindi (rather Indian) songs on a large radio (of the size of old box TV type) placed at a fixed point at the central location of the house and connected with an antenna to receive signals at the roof, reading film advertisements and animated cartoon pictorial “Tarzan” serial in Urdu “Jang” newspaper that was delivered at our door step daily in Ratodero town too. But speaking Urdu was an altogether quite a learning process. I started picking Urdu slowly by interacting with street children while playing marbles, watching movies, kite flying, and roaming in city streets aimlessly.

Once I went to buy some Pakoray and Kachori (spicy snacks made from Gram flour and deep fried in mustard oil) from an Urdu speaking Bihari (migrated from Bihar, India) at a Bundar road kiosk near Tonga Stand. I waited long with frustration as the salesman preferred over me the elder customers. I got disappointed and grumpily shouted at him in Urdu; Bhai! Hum Ko Bhi Tu Dega Hae Na! Everyone standing at the kiosk including my elder brother (who spoke Urdu fluently by then) burst into laughter.

Just at the junction of our street with Seu Bazaar (Bundar Road) there were three shops on left side; a shop selling paints, window glass and hardware, a closed shop used as store, and a shop selling and repairing goods for Tongas (Horse-driven passenger carts). On right side, a public hand pump was installed for drinking water. A small kiosk facing the main road and was build on an encroached public space whose back wall served as a kind of privacy for the poor labor who took baths at this hand pump. This area used to serve as daily wages labor market every morning for construction of building works.

The kiosk was owned by a handicapped (lost his legs under a running train) man named Sultan who mainly worked as a book-binder where school children would get their books and copies bind with hard cover so that they could last for a year. Sultan used to tell us that he was the runaway child until accidently he fell under a running train and lost his legs; one from the knee, other at the ankle. Besides, this kiosk also served as a library renting small sized story books and spying novels popularly known as Imran Series (by Ibne Safi). All were in Urdu language. This kiosk-cum-library was a point of major temptation to me and my elder brother.  Continued….

Life Cycle in 100 Words

Time ticks in

Life gets underway.

New born baby and all smiles around

Cute toddler and the darling of elders

Elementary learning in Mom’s lap

Time ticks on.

                    

Schooling and adolescence

Etiquettes and ethics

Thrills and adventures

Time ticks on.

Dreams and desires

Gags and giggles

Friends and brawls

Time ticks on.

Sweethearts and heartthrobs

Unrequited love and compromises

Sorrows and solaces

Time ticks on.

Career and comforts

Marital knot and raising family

Job stability and advancements

Time ticks on.

Retirement and solitude

Ageing and ailments

Memories and medicines

Transience and eternity

Time ticked away

Life begins a new cycle.

Part I - My Adolescence Memoirs - Larkana in 1970s

Part-I

My ancestral village, birthplace too, is located almost exactly between Larkana and Ratodero; former is a larger town (city, some may call it now), a district headquarters then but now a divisional headquarters, and the latter a Tehsil (one of many units of a district on administrative grounds; also called ‘Taluka’ in Sindhi) town. It is mere 2 miles from Garhi Khuda Bakhsh Bhutto, a renowned village and eternal resting place of unfortunate Bhutto family.

My father, perhaps the only one in the entire village who was educated to a respectable level, decided to move his family from the village to Ratodero for two reasons; he was serving as a clerk in an office there, and the future of his children. Hence, we shifted to Ratodero in early 1963. I came to senses in this town though I very faintly remember migration on a bullock-cart (now, this could be a mere visualization after listening to this tale many a times from my elder brother). My father got me registered in a Primary Sindhi School in 1965 and I went on to complete my fourth grade here before moving to Larkana in 1969.

While still in Ratodero we never missed an opportunity to visit Larkana, situated only 18 miles away and connected with paved/metallic road. It was a city bustling with a number of bazaars that remained opened even after sunset, three cinema houses, a large bus stand and most importantly, a Railway Station. Our father would often hire a Willys Jeep ( its’ engine would not run with key ignition but with a handle inserted and rotated swiftly from its’ front engine side) in the afternoons and take whole family to visit Larkana to watch a Pakistani Urdu film and return back to home at midnight. That was good olden peaceful era when you knew nothing about kidnappers or terrorists. Nevertheless, father would still carry a licensed revolver with him for safety from wild boars, jackals and dacoits. I remember, once while driving back to Ratodero in middle of the night, father sitting on front seat along with driver suddenly shot at some object with his revolver. It was a wild boar, he said. We, however, didn’t stop and continued our journey.

Let me share my first ever adventure of traveling to Larkana with a classmate named Sheroo. After coming back from school I dropped the bag at home and without informing my Mom, we departed by bus for Larkana only to buy a booklet of newly released Urdu film whose songs we loved to listen to and enjoyed a lot at the tender age of less than 10 years. It took us about an hour to reach there. I was carrying about 75 Paisa (12 Aanay i.e. 3/4 of a Rupee) in my pocket. Sheroo was richer by 50 Paisa. The Bus Conductors were generous on both ways and didn’t ask for the fare from us, the two cute boys. We strolled in the bazaars, enjoyed eating some sweets and bought the soft-covered booklet of Urdu film ‘Darshan’ in 25 Paisa which entailed a summary of film story and full lyrics of all songs. We returned home a bit later after sunset, only to learn that massive hunt was going on by our respective families in the town. Little scolding and a big hug from teary Mom was a happy ending of this adventure. (Continued)

Habits

Habits make or break a person; you are either darling of everyone or a terrible person.

Have you ever thought of the fact that when we discuss “Habits” we always mean to pinpoint the negative traits of people only? Why we are always judgmental on dark side of people, and quick in making comments too? Can you remember a gossip when it started on passing positive observations and ended up in praising the people discussed about?

Generally and holistically speaking there are two kinds of habits; those that we acquire (intentionally or otherwise) with the passage of time from our upbringing, our company of friends and relatives, circumstances, and those that we inherit or draw naturally. Some of the habits falling in each category are given as under:

Acquired Habits

·         They are twitter worms.

·         She’s texting crazy gal.

·         He’s a chain smoker.

·         He’s a drug addict.

·         She talks incessantly.

·         My wife is extravagance.

·         Bosses are assertive.

·         Our maid wastes too much water.

·         Office driver is nuts; drives very rough.

·         He’s a bad mouth; speaks disrespectfully.

·         They eat a lot.

Natural Habits (Traits)

·         She’s temperamental, egoist.

·         He snores.

·         He sports a harsh look on his face.

·         She’s shy.

·         She’s beautiful but speaks hoarsely.

·         This kid is too stubborn.

·         That toddler baby cries all the time.

·         I’m not a courteous fellow.

·         He’s a soft spoken and smiling person.

·         That guy looks ugly.

·         Hey, you bald!

·         She’s rude and arrogant. 

Acquired habits consist of both good and bad ones. It’s always important and preferable that one is able to delineate the bad ones and do efforts to get rid of them before letting people target you and be critical of them which would eventually place you in an awkward and embarrassing situation. It’s imperative to stoke your good habits in order to enhance your character and personality.

One can’t do anything about the traits that come naturally. Some with strong nerves and commitment may get rid of some undesirable habits but it’s never easy. For instance, I sport a kind of weird and callous look on my face most of the time that I get negative remarks about them. I want to shun away it but in spite of trying (not hard) it’s not easy to put a smile on my face, unnecessarily. I rue it, nevertheless.

We come across many a people at campus, work place, neighborhood, shopping malls, and even in family /relatives and friends that we become judgmental of them instantly. We don’t like their personality (height, complexion, hairstyle, clothing, stern look, accent, eye contact, etc.). But it often proves us wrong about them once we get into conversation with them or spend some time with them. I know everyone must be having some gem of friends who possess ordinary looks and traits but since they are friends, all of their weak personality spots go in hiding and they never poke your mind.

Sometimes a person communicating in a normal tone may be taken as an impolite and inconsiderate for their haughty stance to the receiver but that’s way they are. Once you get into camaraderie with them you will soon discover that their hearts and souls are made of diamonds and pearls.

The natural personality flaws are very delicate things. They are not habits. People own them very seriously. You just can’t ask a girl /woman that she is arrogant, fat, with big nose, and that she speaks in masculine tone. Similarly, never ask a man that he is short, bald, and untidy or stutters while speaking. These things are always hurting. You will lose friends if continued making such comments and remained judgmental.

We must strive to steer habits, especially the undesirable ones. Habits controlling and dictating us will bring disastrous results. Stay caring, soft spoken, humble and empathetic. Also, be noncritical and non-judgmental to win lasting friends.

Being a Camera, Selfie Camera!

I don’t have to introduce myself because almost all of you possess me, cherish me, love me and hate me too. Hate in the sense that every time you take 20 Selfies while changing your position and mine too in each shot, you retain just one picture deleting all others, and then cursing me for being imperfect most of the time. How rude!

If I were a Punjabi I would respond like:

Dasso! Apni Shakal vekh Ke Gall Kar! (Hey! Mind your looks before assess others)

And in Sindhi I would utter a proverb:

Kaday Munh Mariam Jo, Kaday Allah Yaar! (Two people one gracious and other ugly cannot be compared)

Camera is an optical instrument for recording images which may be stored locally, transmitted to another location, or both. The images may be individual still photographs or sequences of images constituting videos or movies. From early 4^th century BC till 19^th century AD scientist remained berserk in inventing, shaping and refining an instrument that would capture memory through pictures.

Like human beings I also come in various shapes and sizes; from large and cumbersome to tiny and minuscule and from adorable to ordinary and ugly. But I feel far superior to human beings when it comes to racism and slur allegations because my signature color is black. Long back in 1960s and 1970s I was considered one of the most precious belongings one could have and usually those who owned me beamed with pride. By then I was still scarcely possessed by affluent people but was admired by all across the board; everyone would like to hold me in their hands, stroke me with their fingers, peep through the viewfinder and click the shutter button in spite of knowing that I was nonfunctional without film reel and won’t take pictures. That was the glorious era though in black and white mode and even not sleek and smart but, nevertheless, I was in great demand.

George Eastman pioneered manufacturing of modern day camera. His camera, which he called the “Kodak” was first offered for sale in 1888. It was a very simple box camera with a fixed-focus lens and single shutter speed, which along with its relatively low price appealed to the average consumer. By the end of the 19th century Eastman had expanded his lineup to several models including both box and folding cameras. Films also made possible capture of motion (cinematography) establishing the movie industry by end of 19th century.

I cannot forget those funny times when on picnics, family gatherings, mehndi /marriage or other functions people would prepare themselves long for the pictures to be taken (black & white) and would wait with excitement and impatience for results. Much to their heartbreaking disappointment the film reel sent for processing and development would reveal that due to some light or other problems pictures weren’t exposed. You just can’t imagine (if you are young) how much pain they would go through and the subsequent backlash I had to receive from those disgruntled people. Those were the times when I was used sparingly and on special events only. I could hardly take a few hundred pictures in any typical year unlike now; 100s pictures a day.

The first digital camera, which provided only 0.01 megapixels to capture images, was developed by Kodak engineer Steven Sasson in 1975. The images were then read from the cassette and viewed on a TV monitor. Later, cassette tapes were replaced by flash memory. Gradually in the 2000s and 2010s, digital cameras became dominant across consumer, television and movies.

With the state of the art modern digital cameras and in the presence of expansive lenses I feel more confident to give you a image you love the most; with little photoshop you can hide all of your weak facial spots and bring the strong ones in forefront.

It is sheer love when a professional photographer handles me with great care and affection, takes closed range and sharp images of nature, landscapes, animals, crawling insects, beautiful birds, flowers, dew on roses, rain drops on leaves, and most of all babies, toddlers and children. Similarly it makes me feel proud when you picture beautiful women and young girls. God has made them to be admired, loved, cared and revered.

My age as an “independent digital camera” remained short. The treacherous creature called human being took no time in fitting me into a cell phone. Hence, making it possible for almost everyone on the globe to use me, have fun with me, abuse me and even fetch me to the lowest level of ethics and morality.

A Selfie is a self-portrait casual photograph, typically taken with a camera phone held in the hand or supported by a selfie stick. Selfies are often shared on social networking sites such as Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Most selfies are taken with a camera held at arm's length or pointed at a mirror, rather than by using a self-timer.

This decade i.e. starting from 2011 to 2020 can fairly be called as “Selfie Era”. With the advent of camera phone and discovery of selfie-shots, I hardly have rest or peaceful moments. Emanating from showbiz celebrities, selfies are getting more popular in all walks of life be it sports, politics, education, workplaces or homes. Whether it is office, dining hall, kitchen, living room, swimming pool, bathroom, writing desk or a dressing table I remain active in making clicks incessantly. Did I tell you that ever since I’ve been made an integral part of cell phone what I hate the most is mirror? It’s the mirror that initiates an urge in the cell phone user, usually a girl, to engage me for taking pictures of her various postures including daring and bold shots often touching to seductive thresholds. Let me share a secret with you but never reveal it to anyone; I also turn on.

According to a study performed by Nicola Bruno and Marco Bertamini, selfies by non-professional photographers show a slight bias for showing the left cheek of the selfie-taker. This is similar to what has been observed for portraits by professional painters from many different historical periods and styles indicating that the left cheek bias may be rooted in asymmetries of brain lateralization that are well documented within cognitive neuroscience.

And what I despise the most is when you use me against my will; picture gory images of crime, blood, violence, murder, destruction, arson, bomb blasts and other manmade as well as natural disasters. Equally is scornful when I’m put to take derogatory, abusive and contemptuous porn pictures and videos.

I had never imagined that this perfidious entity called human would use me into lavatories too. Gosh! I mean what’s fun in taking snaps of your crooked facial expressions and oozing eye balls while you press your intestines, squeeze and squat your lower body to discharge …….!

Courtesy for the paragraphs in Italics: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camera and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selfie .