Auld Lang Syne

Robert Burns (January 1759 – July 1796) famously took an old Scottish folk song and wrote it in a version that is now associated with Hogmany, marking the tradition of New Year's Eve. Across the world Auld Lang Syne* continues to be heard  in various forms as the end of one year becomes the dawn of another. I share a contemporary version here that carries a feel-good message of hope. Peace and hope to everyone. Ameen. Tor_Khan.

Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

The new year brings us hope for peace,
A new day for mankind,
Where we can all live hand in hand
And leave all hate behind.

For auld lang syne, my dear.
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup of kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

When dreams they seem so far away,
Your soul can feel so low.
But love is never far away;
Your heart won't be alone.

Let's make a world where people care,
A world that knows no fear,
Where we can open up our hearts
And hold each other dear.

Our children grow, they need to know
The Future's theirs to hold.
If we can teach them how to love
Then the world can carry on.

For auld lang syne, my dear.
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup of kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

*old long since

Red Is Like A Trumpet Sound

I ASKED THE LITTLE BOY WHO CANNOT SEE

I asked the little boy who cannot see,

"And what is colour like?"

"Why, green," said he,

"Is like the rustle when the wind blows through

The forest; running water, that is blue;

And red is like a trumpet sound; and pink

Is like the smell of roses; and I think

That purple must be like a thunderstorm;

And yellow is like something soft and warm;

And white is a pleasant stillness when you lie

And dream."

ANON

Morpheus Speaks

MORPHEUS Have you ever had a dream, Neo, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream, Neo? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?

---

MORPHEUS The Matrix is everywhere, it's all around us, here even in this room. You can see it out your window, or on your television. You feel it when you go to work, or go to church or pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.

NEO What truth?

MORPHEUS That you are a slave, Neo. That you, like everyone else, was born into bondage ... kept inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind.

---

MORPHEUS The Matrix is a system Neo. That system is our enemy. But when you're inside, you look around, what do you see? Businessmen, teachers, lawyers, carpenters. The very minds of the people we are trying to save ... You have to understand, most of these people are not ready to be unplugged. And many of them are so inured, so hopelessly dependent on the system, that they will fight to protect it. 

---

زہ څه یم؟

زہ څه یم؟ asks What am I? and to me it is faintly reminiscent of the question: Who am I? asked in Rumi's Only Breath.

Composed by Taj Rahim Dervaish who has given me permission to share it in this space*. Dera Manana, Dervaish Sahib!

زہ څہ یم؟
تاج رحيم درویش
* * *

دا وجود یم
زہ دا نہ یم کوم چې ښکارم
دا وجود زما دے
خو زہ دا وجود نہ یم
وجود خو پہ دنیا زما لباس دے
نن زما دے صبا بہ نہ وي
* * *
زہ خو د اوبه یوہ قطرہ یم سیند نہ یم
چې سیند لہ اورسم نو بہ سیند شم
وجود خو پنزہ اوښکو تہ غلام دے
زہ د اوښکو محتاج نہ یم
دَ مقام او د وخت پہ قابو نہ یم
د سترگے پہ یوئ رپ کے
پہ عرش یم او بیا تِہ راشم
* * *
زہ ھغہ نہ یم
زہ خو یو خیال یم
او خیال ھم د ھغہ یم
* * *

*Edited slightly, from the original draft with permission.

Infinity and Beyond

Not that we don't deserve it from time to time, but sometimes we need a little perspective on the grandeur we attach to ourselves. I've always been interested in space and beyond - and it serves as a reminder of the magnanimity of an impressive Universe  that Allah has bestowed upon us. 

We are but tiny, tiny specks in the cosmos. There are times though, when perhaps many of us forget and get caught up in our own emotions. I, for sure, know that I have over-stepped on occasions and have had a cantankerous moment where, no doubt, I may have made out that I was the centre of it all. In reality, it's much different, and here's a film that provides some interesting food for thought:

Ashura

Whilst there is some debate around the exact etymology, it is generally agreed that Ashura comes from the Arabic word for ten and the term is used to signify the Remembrance of the 10th Day of Moharram.

The Battle of Karbala is commemorated during an annual 10-day period held every Moharram by both Shi'ah and Sunni Muslims, culminating on the tenth day, with The Day of Ashura.

Moharram continues to remain a month of peace and fasting on Ashura goes back to before the advent of Islam. Today amongst Muslims, Ashura is a day of mourning for the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali (RA) in 61 AH (October 2, 680 CE), son of Ali (RA) and the grandson of Mohmammed (SAW). 

May Allah accept all our prayers.

Thirty-Nine and Rising

In celebration of the 39th UAE National Day, I share short film that was featured as part of this year's  Abu Dhabi Film Festival giving us a window into life in the UAE. 

 

Interesting Fact: Thirty-Nine is the sum of five consecutive prime numbers (3 + 5 + 7 + 11 + 13). How's that for a bit of trivia?

Hey Kitty ...

 

یو لوږی سپی یوه پیشو ګیره کړه او ورته یې وویل چې زه دې اوس خورم۰


پیشو ورته وویل چې پروا نکوم، زه نه ژوندونه لرم، بیرته ژوندئ کیږم۰
 
سپی ورته وویل چې زه یواځې نیم، زما اته نور انډیوالان هم راسره دي۰


ها۰ ها۰ ها۰

Oops! Nine Lives, huh? :)

Tor_Khan تور خان

cartoon inspiration from the work of Greg Williams as featured in blogjamcomic

The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,
Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.

Edward Fitzgerald (1859)

Omar Khayyám (1048-1131, Neyshapur, Khorassan) was a mathematician, astronomer, philosopher and poet. He spent his early childhood in Balkh, Smarkand and then Bukhara and later taught  when he returned to Neyshapur. A selection of his rubaiyas (4 line poems known as quantrains) are collected in Edward Fitzgerald's The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám are in fact transmogrifications of the Farsi rather than translations. 

A closer translation of the rubaiya shared above is shown here:

Take all the worldly goods, but in lieu
Let the beauty of nature renew
And at night on the grass like dew
And in the morn take me away from view

ایدل همه اسباب جهان خواسته گیر

باغ طربت به سبزه آراسته گیر

و آنگاه برآن سبزه شبی چون شبنم

بنشسته و بامداد برخاسته گیر 

Omar Khayyám

aidal hama asbab jehan khoasta geer 

baagh tarbat ba sabza aarasta geer

wa aanga baraan sabza shab-e chon shabnam

banishta wa bamdad barkhasta geer

Eid Mubarak - د اختر سلامونه

ټولو ته په دې  لوئې مبارکه ورځ باندې، د اختر سلامونه

Tor_Khan تور خان

Dulce Et Decorum Est

 Dulce et Decorum est

Wilfred Owen, 1917

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! — An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. —
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, —
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est  

Pro patria mori.

To Be a Muslim

Pa Bismillah,

I extend my welcome to all Muslim and non-Muslim, old and new. Salaam and Marhaba.

There is the way it is - and the way it is supposed to be. These are very different things.

To be a contemporary Muslim is to know that we live in an imperfect world and that there are many pulls and distractions. Muslims must navigate their faith through the issues that test us daily. That is the way it is.

And of course there is the matter of image. Muslims don't get it easy in the press. Sometimes, Muslims are drawn towards apology and it can be exhausting attempting to apologise for every error made by every Muslim that is reported. Personally speaking, I sometimes feel that I am right out of apology.

I recognise the disappointing reality of inequality - that Muslims make up a good proportion of the world's poorest people who live in the grip of disinformation and confusion. This is not the way it is supposed to be but the way that it is. The modern media feeds on this and the bad press feeds bad policy, the unnecessary wars and continual confusion within.  

Sitting in the Gulf, I see examples of how it could be but also how it should not be. Local Arabs, living off the oil boom, are anything but poor. The state apparatus is supportive of the basic needs - the way it could/should be. In Islam, our system of zakat and charity should mean a distribution of wealth and food to the poor and a natural trickle down effect. And yet amongst Muslims globally, we still have serious abject poverty, despite our systems to protect the most vulnerable - like, I say, the way it is supposed to be versus the way that it is. 

The good thing is that despite the bad press, Islam remains strong in the hearts of many Muslims and that Islam continues to draw people to the faith. I think therefore that the way it is supposed to be, is a good place to start. Lauren Booth's decision to become a Muslim is significant because of the profile of her famous brother-in-law, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, who is often perceived across the Muslim world as an antagonistic crusader who knowingly brought misery to Muslims. Lauren Booth's story of simpler, less dramatic approach, is a timely reminder that Islamic civilisation at its political and cultural height offered its subjects, Muslim or not, a genuine peaceful path. The way that it is supposed to be. 

And, Allah, of course, knows best.

نوي ژوند يــو نـــوې خوږ داستان دے

I share a verse dedicated to my nephew whom I think the world of. May Allah keep him in care, prosperity and happiness. Ameen. Written by Feroz Afridi, especially at my request. Dera Manana Feroz Mashra!.

ما چې کله اوريدلې دا نويــــــــــد دے

چې واده د ګران باچا عاصم رشيد دے

زړه مې ډير زيات دے خوشحاله بې حسابه

لکه زيـــرې په روژه پســــې د عيد دے

دا د نوي ژوند يــو نـــوې خوږ داستان دے

چې د نوې ژوند په خپلو کښې وعيد دے

زما ټولې دعاګانـــــــــــــــــې ورسره دي

چې د کور د خوشحالو په کښې تجديد دے

د باچــــــا نو کورنـــــــــــئ دي وي اباده

نن باچــــا تـــور خــــان پکښې سعيد دے

Tor_Khan تور خان

The Struggle

I was visited in school today by a gentleman called Ayedh Al Tamemi whom I mention here because I worked with him for a key part of last year in an advisory capacity. I was responsible for coaching and mentoring him as he worked his way through his first year in teaching. He represents, in many ways, the 'new' face of education in public schools here in the UAE. Forward thinking, experimental, adaptable and ambitious.

This sets Ayedh apart from other teachers, mostly expat Arabs (from poorer backgrounds), who make up the bulk of the system. Ayedh, whilst still growing as an educator, asked me to write him a recommendation so that he could eventually enrol on a Masters in Educational Leadership in New York. Paid in full by ADEC, whilst he will retain his teaching salary. Way to go! I only wish my MA was paid for in the same way and I got to travel. Sounds envious, but I speak here of the wider investment in people both small and on a global scale.

It's difficult for the other teachers in the UAE public system to raise their own motivation levels. Apart from being ill-prepared, their motivations cannot be the same as Emiratis, since they have less stake in the system. Laziness and apathy is only part of it - mostly expat teachers are on the fringes, dis-empowered and unable to affect change within. They are largely unsupported, have fewer opportunities for professional development and cannot grow roots within the UAE because of the expat set-up.

Public schools, here, are on the whole, poor and the process of change is hindered by these very obstacles. Give people a stake - a reason -  and watch desire to see students achieve and professional commitment rise. As an advisor in schools and as a chalkface educator I have long recognised this struggle. It starts with teachers who are happy, supported and appropriately challenged; not with hurdles, bureaucracy, unrealistic expectations, inadequate resources and no clear sense of hope for tomorrow.

Whilst education costs because it requires financial commitment, it should not be at the cost of the individuals who educate.

Pearl Rain; Fountain Tears

ستا د سترګو بلا واخلم

Sta Da Stergo Bala Wakhlam

 written by Amanullah Sailab Sapi

امان الله سيلاب ساپی

This naghma was recorded by Ustad Awal Mir and remains amongst the classics in Pashto poetry and music. My favourite lines inspired the title to this posting.

داباران د ملغلرو كه د اوښكو فوارې دي

Da Baran Da Malghalaroy

Ka Da Ukhko Fuwarai De

Pearl Rain: Fountain Tears

Credits for the tablet design to Aftab Yusufzai

Tor_Khan تور خان

Reflection and Introspection

Here in the UAE, we have the largest population of Pashtoons outside their homelands - Pakistan and Afghanistan, so everyday, I see plenty of people who are, as they say, rather familiar.

However, of late, I have found some things a challenge - separation from those you love and care about is foremost. There is something of a kind of hollowness to some parts of the day. Mealtimes for instance. 

It isn't the first time that I have been 'forced' to work away. In fact most of the Pashtoon guest workers here in the Gulf live just that kind of existence. They live, several men to a room, toiling their shifts to feed their families at home. Over Eid, for instance, I had that experience. I visited a cousin in Sharjah and had a couple of beautifully restful days, listening to people in their deira which serves as a hujra and enjoying their melmastiya. I met with my mother's first cousin (an uncle) and my great-grandfather's grandson, which of course would also make him, in the Pashtoon tapestry of things, an uncle.

I know that I am lucky. I belong to a slightly different social demographic so my 'struggle' is much more comfortable. Still, the heart is cruel.

There are aspects to my job that I very much find positive. I feel that I give and gain trust, but there are constant hurdles which slow down my aspirations.The hours are long and this leaves me less downtime - so here's my criticism - education which is supposed to bring hope and inspiration can end up bleeding that very hope and inspiration of those who work so tirelessly to make it bear fruit. I find myself in that place. 

I have learned a lot this past year and whilst I'm not sure of what happens next, I feel change. It is not yet winter and here I am, at a crossroads, looking, left, right, forwards, backwards and introspectively. 

Only Breath - Rumi

Who am I?

 What is to be done, O Muslims?

For I do not recognize myself.

Only Breath

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen.
Not any religion or cultural system.
I am not from the East or the West,
Not out of the ocean or up from the ground,
Not natural or ethereal, not composed of elements at all.
I do not exist,
I am not an entity in this world or in the next,
Did not descend from Adam and Eve or any origin story.
My place is placeless, a trace of the traceless.
Neither body or soul.
I belong to the beloved,
Have seen the two worlds as one and that one call to and know,
First, last, outer, inner, only that breath breathing human being.

  
English Translation Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks

Dancing Around The World

"14 months in the making, 42 countries, and a cast of thousands. Thanks to everyone who danced with me." Matt Harding.

I love this. In a world where there is much to lament about, I love the simple hope that this video conveys.

Featuring the vocals of Palbasha Siddique. Lyrics to the track "Praan" adapted from "Stream of Life", from the Gitanjali by Rabrindanath Tagore.

IX.XI

Remembrance And Hope

Nine years ago, this date - 9/11 - became immortalised in our common knowledge and the lexis of probably most the languages on the Earth.

I love the American spirit.

I always have. Feisty, independent, accommodating and where people can live the dream. Nine years ago, The United States of America was hurt. There, I've said it.

I love the Afghan spirit.

I love the land of Afghanistan because the history is in my blood. The land that is and was Afghanistan gave rise to the Pashtoon people, my present and past. I love the Pashtoon way, no-nonsense, independent, accommodating, and a people who dream of so much more than they have. Nine years ago, the events in the US meant that the Americans invaded Afghanistan. The country is still hurting. For so many, the wounds are open, exposed and infected.

For that dynamic alone, we should remember 9/11.

For now, that is.

But one day, I hope we can free ourselves from this past. One day, I hope, that we learn to understand that ordinary Afghans had nothing to do with the events in New York and Washington. I hope that people are allowed to mourn their losses in private without a date being used to divide us into polar opposites.

I hope that in letting go, we reach an understanding that all is not what it appears. I hope that the innocent are not punished for that that they didn't do. I hope that those with power understand that we must ensure the safety of each other, but allow people to find their own way. I hope that people are not so poor that they are vulnerable to being manipulated for the selfish motives of others.

And I hope that one day when we are free, we fully understand that collectively we are the custodians of the Earth and that collectively our freedom, prosperity and peace are mutual.

Tor_Khan تور خان

Note: The title for this entry is IX.XI. I have used the Roman Numerals to indicate today's date. Whilst I'm sure that others have discovered this before me, note that in Roman Numeral form, the date is of course a Palindrome and is read the same reading from the left or the right.

Blessed Eid - بختور اختر

خدای پاک ته د دعا لاس اوچتوم چې د ټولو اختر په امن، په برکت او په خوشحالي وې

بختور اختر مو مبارک شه

Tor_Khan تور خان

Thou Art An Eagle

"Thou art an eagle, thou doest belong to the sky and not to the earth, stretch forth thy wings and fly." — Paul H Dunn

The months leading up to what would be a traditional summer break presented a series of minor challenges, a test of my ability to cope with change, disappointment, expectation and balancing family needs. In life many things change, and right now, I find myself, having side-stepped from the education advisory role that I'd had for the past couple of years, back into the classroom as the deliverer of excellence - once again, metaphorically speaking, at the chalk-face. Long term, I look in many different directions and seek the inevitable pursuit of my dreams and ambitions; the desire to complete my MA and to be like an eagle.

... Deep within, I wish to fly ... for now I roll ahead solo, but change awaits ...

In the Spirit of Shabistari

When I was young, I dreamed all day of travel
When I was old enough, I spent all day travelling
When I had travelled much, I called myself a traveller

Now I sit here, still and silent on the cushions
while the roses release their perfume,
the peacock cries upon the wall,
and in the courtyard, the fountain plays;

and all my travel has returned to me,
all my travelling is within me,
travel, travelling and traveller are one;
and my mind travels to places I had never imagined
and I sense the world turning on its axis,
travelling around my self.

Michael Shepherd
inspired by Mahmūd Shabistarī, 14th Century Persian Poet

English Country Garden

I share a photo collage of stills taken from my very own English Garden. Photographs taken by using my Sony Exmor.

Ramadan Kareem

May this Ramadan be blessed for all. There are many amongst us who are suffering. May Allah make their days easier and their nights peaceful. Ameen.

Catastrophe

'It's a catastrophe... and that's no overstatement',
Adam Mynott, BBC

The worst floods in Pakistan's history have hit at least 14 million people, the government relief agency says. According to Gen Nadeem Ahmed, of the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA), that figure only covers Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa and Punjab provinces. The full figure is likely to be much higher, with at least half a million evacuated in Sindh.

"We have an atom bomb, but we have no helicopters and boats for rescue, no machinery to clear the roads and build temporary bridges quickly. We are just not geared to enable people in a crisis,"

Mohammad Haroon, Lawyer, Nowshera, BBC

This poem in the video was penned by the honourable Feroz Afridi and is recited here by a friend.

Flood Story 2

Gul Hassan, 70, is no stranger to adversity. Back in the 1980s, fighting in his native Afghanistan forced him to flee along with his family to neighbouring Pakistan, where he started a new life in the refugee settlement of Hajizai, located on a riverbank in the northwestern part of the country.

But over the past week, the most severe flooding in over 70 years inundated his old home and forced him to flee for a second time. For six days, he and his sons have been living in the open on the pavement of a roadway, while his wife and daughters are sleeping with friends.

"It was midnight, when the water levels suddenly began to rise," says Hassan. His remaining belongings, those the family had managed to carry with them, lay heaped under plastic sheeting on the pavement. "There have been floods in the past too," he continues, but these were the worst in living memory. "This was devastating".

Flood waters are still flowing through the nearby settlement and it is raining again. Relief organizations are struggling to reach victims in areas that have been cut off by the flooding as roads and scores of bridges have been washed away whilst on a nearby bridge, a crowd of children has gathered to watch as the dark brown waters begin to rise again.

Hassan is one of the more than 1.5 million people displaced by the worst floods Pakistan has seen in a generation. Included in that number are some 700,000 people like Hassan, who have already been dispaced by conflicts-in Afghanistan or in Pakistan itself-and who therefore find themselves homeless for a second time. His family is among some 10,000 Afghan families living in four refugee villages destroyed by the flood waters.

UNHCR
(adapted from this report by Rabia Ali, Peshawar, August 2010)

Flood Story 1

We never thought the waters would rise so high. I was away at my aunt's house in the Nowshera Cantonment area. When the waters overflowed the river, I got worried.

My relatives said to wait until the tide ebbs, but it kept rising, and soon it was clear that my part of the city had drowned.

My mother died. She was old and diabetic and couldn't climb to the third floor of the house to avoid drowning.

My younger brother, who is only 12, tried to drag her up. She was washed away. We haven't found her body. My brother is traumatised.

My relatives said to wait until the tide ebbs, but it kept rising, and soon it was clear that my part of the city had drowned.

My mother died. She was old and diabetic and couldn't climb to the third floor of the house to avoid drowning.

My younger brother, who is only 12, tried to drag her up. She was washed away. We haven't found her body. My brother is traumatised.

Alamzeb, Nowshera
BBC, August 2010

A Journey Through Devastation

Two thousand dead and a further 2.5 million people affected. Villages have been swept away and as many as 27 thousand people could be stranded and food is running out.

A relief worker for Save the Children blogs from Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa.
Images from Getty Images.

Deluge

The monsoon floods in Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa and surrounding areas are a reminder of the helplessness of the ordinary folk and the suffering they continue to endure.

I have family affected by the rising waters, the panic and the scramble for safety. Latest reports say that 400,000 are already displaced in the biggest floods in the area since 1929.

Retribution? Wrath? I don't know. We have suffered greatly - may Allah keep us all in care. It is our duty to step in now and after the waters reside to help rebuild.

pictures taken from the BBC/Associated Press

Emerging Technologies

Distance Education is the fastest-growing mode of formal and informal teaching, training and learning. Its many variants include e-learning, mobile learning, and immersive learning environments. The series presents recent research results and offers informative and accessible overviews, analyses, and explorations of current issues and the technologies and services used in distance education.

Here's a link to a download for new e-book edited by George Veletsianos, University of Texas. George, of course, has been my lecturer on the MA and a fair few of the postings here have been in response to discussions that I have had with him and comments that he has posted here.

When A Leaf Falls ...

... it tumbles to it roots.

I have incredibly mixed feelings. For years, I have tried to define myself and here I am, at the doorstep of my past. I do miss my family, so it's good to be amongst their company. It's been two years since I was here so I guess I should honour this one with a verse.

Britannia!

When Britain first, at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:

"Rule, Britannia! Britannia rule the waves."
"Britons never will be slaves."

... erm, sure ...

Human Connectivity 2

Continuing with the model of doubling our ancestors each generation that we go back, presents an inherent anomaly because we end up - just by going back two thousand years with a million trillion people in our immediate ancestry. That, is said to be more than the number of people who ever lived. So there must be a logical explanation.

The pyramid model means that two uniquely unrelated people came together to parent the next generation. However, a rather different model may show that two parents of one of our ancestors might not have been so distantly related and therefore there may be overlap. An individual may have cousin-parents and thus six great-grandparents rather than eight. Before the time of mass travel when people lived in small villages, individual genes came often from a tight pool .

Expand that out and people begin to connect with one another very rapidly. I think this says something very important about people in general and this challenges ideas of genetic diversity supposedly used to present ideas of superiority and racial separateness. If our ancestors were related then so are we and today we're all very much part of a continuing human web. There are plenty of overlaps and whatever our race and ethnicity, ultimately of course, we all go back to the same source.

Human Connectivity 1

An interesting thought that is touched upon in Bill Bryon's book is that of the human chain of connectivity. In exploring genetics and inheritance through Mathematics he shows that, according to a pyramid model, it becomes something of an impossibility. My interest in this means that I look upon this through a different lens - I'm more interested in what it eventually says about US as people and how, ultimately we are all connected - whatever our racial and ethnic background.

Consider the Mathematics that Bryon explores: we have 2 parents and 4 grandparents and 8 great-grandparents. 16 people were our grandparents' grandparents and this increases the further we go back. Eight generations back, we we owe our biological existence to 256 people and so on.

SELF
2 PARENTS
4 GRANDPARENTS
8 GREAT-GRANDPARENTS
16 GREAT-GREAT-GRANDPARENTS
32 GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDPARENTS
64 GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDPARENTS
128 GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDPARENTS
256 GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDPARENT
512 GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GREAT-GRANDPARENTS
(keep on doubling the figure to go back another generation)

Twenty generations back (about 450 years) we are related to 1,048,576 great ancestors. Five generations before, our existence depends on 33,554,432 people - another five generations before (30 generations back) and we are now counting in figures over a billion. Continue this trend and go back to the time of the Romans and the time-line by which the Gregorian Calendar is fixed (2000 years), then we have a total number of one million trillion people in our immediate ancestry.

According to those who study paleodemographics however, there is something wrong here ... because that last figure is more than the said number of people who have ever lived ...

... allow me to continue in the next instalment InshAllah ...

A Short History ...

... of Nearly Everything

There's a page dedicated to the errata, so not everything you will read in Bill Bryson's book, A Short History Of Nearly Everything, is accurate, but the book is otherwise a very interesting document that charts the journey from the Big Bang to the Rise of Civilization.

Consider this quote taken from the book:

The Big Bang theory isn't about the bang itself but about what happened after the bang. Not long after, mind you. By doing a lot of maths and watching carefully what goes on in particle accelerators, scientists believe they can look back to 10^-43 seconds after the moment of creation when the universe was still so small that you would have needed a microscope to find it.

Scientists, thus can go back in time as far as one ten million trillion trillion trillionths of a second after the Big Bang took place (that is 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000001 seconds) after time began, before which there was nothing - no time, no universe, no matter. The rest of the book is an interesting story of numbers, figures, scientific biographies charting major discoveries, hurdles and theories of the rise of life on earth. One major consideration is how life is said to have appeared on Earth around 3.85 billion years ago.

Considering the Earth is generally considered to be 4.54 billion years old (4.54 × 109 years ± 1%) and the surface is said to have cooled around 3.9 billion years back, life appeared early.

I feel that I must mention that as a Muslim I strongly believe that ultimately Allah is all knowing and that what we put together as knowledge here is ever-changing and only a fraction of the truth. Bill Bryson himself notes that 99.9% of life that ever crossed the surface of this planet did not leave behind fossil evidence and whilst I think this is completely possible, how does anyone know, for example that this figure is 99.9%?

The book however got me thinking about a number of things, some of which I will return to in future posts, InshAllah.

Listen to the Bill Bryon interview here.

خدا حافظ

We make plans, Allah makes plans - and Allah is the best of planners. I came to the end of a particular road yesterday. That is the way it was supposed to be. Beyond this, it's about choices and opportunities. This however, is true of every day as each moment that we live could in effect herald the end and every day that we live presents those very choices and opportunities. May we all remain protected and at peace and under Allah's guidance. Ameen.

Tareef Karun ...

One for a moment of nostalgia. Mohammed Rafi performs Ye Chand Sa Roshan Chehra (This Face with the Glow of the Moon) picturised on Shammi Kapoor and featuring Sharmila Tagore from the film Kashmir Ki Kali.

I love the line "Tareef karun kya uski jisne tumhe baniya" (let me praise the one who created you).

Oxymoron

Oxymorons, are contradictory phrases, e.g. pretty ugly, original copy, deafening silence and living dead to name a few. The poem below serves as an example of various situational oxymorons, in which every single line contains an oxymoron:

Summer Night
Nathan Alterman

One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight,
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other,

One was blind and the other couldn't see,
So they chose a dummy for a referee.
A blind man went to see fair play,
A dumb man went to shout "hooray!"
A paralysed donkey passing by,
Kicked the blind man in the eye,
Knocked him through a nine inch wall,
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all,

A deaf policeman heard the noise,
And came to arrest the two dead boys,
If you don't believe this story’s true,
Ask the blind man; he saw it too!

Apocalypse Afghanistan

The photograph below is a picture by Mauricio Lima for Time Magazine. It is part of a photo-essay that tells the story of a war-torn country and contrasts two very different worlds in Afghanistan.

Pashtunkhwa Zindabad

Pashtunkhwa Zindabad by Abdullah Muqurai



Dedicated to all.
Brought to my attention by a friend and a visitor to these pages.

Tor_Khan تور خان

Kha Yam ښۀ يم

In many ways we come full circle, because the lines that I quote from يا قربان - سندره د پښتنون that appear in the first posting in this blog were penned none other that Feroz Khan Afridi. Feroz Jan who has taken time to visit this blog, has given me permission to share a contemporary poem from his collection.

فيروز جان - ډیره ډیره مننه

Tor_Khan تور خان

Enjoy this ghazal entitled Kha Yam (I'm Okay)

ښۀ يم
فيروز اپريدے

چې په ښۀ لګمه ښۀ يم
چې په نه لګمه نه يم

زه چې څه يمه په تا يم
بې له تانه به زه څه يم؟

ستا په ساه کښې زما ساه ده
ته چې نه ئې زه به نه يم

ستا دا مهر چې په ما وي
ستا د نوم سره به زه يم

چې د بل په غم کښې ژاړي
ټک د غم چاودلې زړه يم

په خطا لاره په نه ځم
چې په پل د ستا د پله يم

مسافر د کوره تللے
مرور د خپل کاله يم

ما رانيسه زما ياره
زه فيروز درنه په تله يم