The Puppet

Zeenat:

Another subject close to your heart:

One year later:

Fazaldad Wahla remebered


A young man died last year trying to prevent the honour killing of a teenage girl. She too died this year, fettered in prison, supposedly of tuberculosis.

Was Fazaldad Wahla`s death in vain?

Brigadier (retired) Sher Khan

more at:http://www.thefridaytimes.com/

go to features.

rgds

t

hey Zeemax..great work..I loved it..

keep it up::))

for all who objected to this face of `love` ... it is just one aspect... love comes in as many forms as there r ppl who fall in love...:)

I believe that this is Zeejah`s best work
yet on CHOWK. Enjoyed the symbols that have been
so cleverly presented here.

Ras

Nice story, Zeejah. Yes, agreed control is a part of love that one experiences, but a small percent.

I think my ideas about love being something that makes us better people :) doesn`t allow me to see it in such a negative light. Maybe it`s more of a `surrender`, not necessarily control that lovers experience. If it`s all control and heartbreak why would one waste their time with it?

Point taken that it`s the game that we enjoy playing, but shouldn`t there be more to it than just that?

s

Breathtaking emotions...

keep it up. I want to share this poem with you.

ALONG THE ROAD

I WALKED a mile with Pleasure;

She chattered all the way,

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow

And ne`er a word said she;

But oh, the things I learned from her

When Sorrow walked with me!

(Robert Browning)

Metaphors or allegorical ...the story is about giving without receiving ...about controlling

for the pleasure of it ..of the arrogance that comes from things being taken for granted ..and above all else its about a puppet whose story can onnly be told by an outsider , and the puppet wondering ..lifeless as it is ..that in truth

the puppeteer is the one who in time will have lost all ...

aapni mooti may band kar kay mujhe

laygiya woh pasand kar kay mujhe

jaane woh khud kyo gir gya itna

aasma thuk bulund kar kay mujhe

Zeejah, Zeemax

Interesting discussion about breaking the heart of the one you love. (so two people who truly love each other can`t be together? :)

Loved the story Zeejah, it haunts me, and I`ve stopped seeing tears, it`s sap that i see ;)

Zeejah, Zeemax

Interesting discussion about breaking the heart of the one you love. (so two people who truly love each other can`t be together? :)

Loved the story Zeejah, it haunts me, and I`ve stopped seeing tears, it`s sap that i see ;)

Zeejah !

Just thought of something in context with your wonderful tale :

``You always hurt, the one you love;

The one you shouldn`t hurt at all!

You always take, the sweetest rose;

And crush it till the petals fall!

You always break, the kindest heart;

With a hasty word you can`t recall!

So if I broke, your heart last night;

It`s because, I love you most of all!``

That`s Good and Evil residing in perfect harmony within the same human. We`re all the same as the puppetteer Master.

Rgds.

re: zeejah #5,

I agree... mine`s verbose. But then I`m a verbose kinda guy :). I think it was rude enough of me to actually suggest alternative content, but to imitate your style would have been pretty unforgivable. So I stuck to mine (which is mired in this problem where profundity is rarely expressed without verbosity). Anyway... glad you like my alternative. Keep writing.

Happy

Ariel: yes, as Oscar Wilde said: `Yet each man kills the thing he loves,

By each let this be heard.

Zeejah, Reply #: 2 the happy one

happy one`s conclusion is very interesting. The puppeteer when depriving the puppet of the last remnant of sap in fact lost his own soul !

Anyone heard of The Mamas and the Papas ? There was a song which went something like this :

`` I didn`t wanna be a chimney sweep, all black from head to toe;

And climb-in in those chimneys, to clean them out with soap.

I`d rather be the gypsy, whose camped on the edge of town;

The one who has the dancing bear, who follows him around.

He puts his hind-feet up, he puts his fore-feet down ... and dances round and round !``

Mamas and Papas (California Dreamin`)were a late 60`s / early 70`s band. The vocalist Mama Cass was about 300 pounds fat with a voice made out of honey, died by choking on a hamburger. Life and death have strange ways !

For many of Chowkwallahs this music would be something only their Moms would know about ! [chuckle]. But if there are some who were into the 60`s/70`s scene heavily, visit Zeemax`s Board at http://www.angelfire.com/zine/gomal and start the topic by band`s name. I`ld be happy to provide mp3`s of those anthems you haven`t heard in a long time.

Rgds.

Great piece of writing... i dont have words to describe it.. a masterpiece in a simplicity of its own..

Great work Zeesha..

Chowkwala..

Adnan.

WHat can i say zee....v nice indeed!!..loved that and got alot out of it..as usual read deep into it...never kill what`s inside someone eh??...anyway as usual yr talent at writing shines through...more please!!...

lov the twerps friend;)

happy one: no, it is not about God... and yes, your ending is good, but a little verbose, dont u think? i wanted to keep the characters at the minimum to keep the reader focused on the message. will u still be going to see your shrink?...;)

taimur, temporal, happy ... i am glad u enjoyed the story of love and control...:)

Zeenat:

Here is something that I posted on another board in response to Mannyd. I think you will enjoy it too.

+++++++++

Mannyd #64:

You say, “Just curious. Is there ever a Miss Pakistan contest? If there is, is the beauty criteria based on shapely ankles only?”

Arrey zaalim kiya yaad dila diya!



MISS HOOR () 2000

It is obvious you are not privy to happenings there. The beauty contests in Pakistan are the best kept secrets outside of why some of the nuclear arsenal is placed in Rann of Kutch and Abdul Qadeer Khan’s old girl friend was from the wrong side of Kargil. You don’t think we were just plain stupid to occupy those heights last year for nothing, do you? Here is how it goes:

The yearly winner is called Miss Hoor (---------) sort of your equivalent of Miss Houston or Miss Mississaugua. They are selected on an yearly basis in the month of Shawwal, following the Eid ul Fitr. But unlike Miss Houston, who represents the city, these Miss Hoors represent more than a city in Pakistan. They represent a whole different way of living and some say ‘killing.’

The Jamiat-e-Ahl-e-Sunnat have their own Miss Hoor 2000: just as Jamiat-e-Ahl-e-Sunnat-wal-Hadis have their own: just as Tehrik-e-Jafriya have their own: just as Sipah-e-Sahabah have their own: just as PPP has their own ( and no! it is not Miss Beyzameer! they actually elect a new one every year); just as PML has their own: just as Harkat maiN Barkat has their own: just as Jamaat-e-Islami has their own: even Jamiat-e-Tulubaa has their own.

Around the same time in Pakistan, remember I told you it is the month of Shawwal? The one that follows Ramadaan Eid -- the one where butchery is not ordained or advised! Oh as I was informing you, around the same time in Pakistan, Shawwal, see you remember, even the Indians in Pakistan are caught up in the fervour and general festivities in the air. The Indians in their fortified, debugged Embassy in Islamabad select their own pretty face for innocence, freshness, and youth, they dub her Miss Raw.

Then there is a competition between these misses’ mothers for the most sought after title of Miss Umm-ul-Hoor. Some cynics call her Bibi Hawwa. Understandably, your Miss Raw is not allowed to participate in either of the contests.

The Miss Hoor competition is quite unlike what you must be familiar with.

The misses and near misses are judged on the following criteria:

1: Best qir’aat (recitation) of Surah Yasin while standing. And Du’a -e-Qunoot while sitting. It has to be from memory. Unlike regular school examinations and tests, cheating is not officially sanctioned. No looking at the palms or hands while reciting. The judges, (beards and stern deprived looks a must,) only tolerate cheating when numbers are involved. Big numbers.

2: They have to recite the full linkages up to each narrator’s grandfather for any of the 144 hadiths, picked out of a huge replica pugree. (Naturally the stern faced deprived judges get to select these hadiths.)

3: In smaller cities, there is a water drawing competition. Fastest bucket out of the well is the winner. Seiko is the official sponsor of this event.

4: In the cities the competitors have to display their agility by climbing on a moving bus that is traveling at no more than 15 MPH. This segment is usually pre-taped. Just for this event burqah is shed and contestants are allowed to wear modest shalwar kameez and dupatta. Oh yes, even shalwar kameez can be provocative. Have you seen some of them in the Indian movies?

Contestant are judged on:

--ease of movement
--grip
--swing
--landing
--number of attempts
--weight carried.

5: Expressive eyes. This is how stern faced beards get to within breathing distance of contestants. With their eyes, sans any make up, remember we are still in the Islamic something or the other of Pakistan, the contestants have to instantly emote with their expressive eyes:

---Qari Abdul Basit Mohammed Abdul Samad’s renditon of “Fabay aiyyah aalaahey tukazzubann”
---Ayub Khan --- “Hum so crore Pakistani jin kay dil.....”
---Mullah Omar from his convocation address to the Kinnaird College.
---say “ji nahi, shukria” and “abhi nahi, baad maiN” in response to being offered tea twice, without even a slight movement of the head. (Please wipe that incredulous look from your brows. The utterances do not imply what you thought they implied.)

6: Posture

(a) Walking:

---with 10 kgs of books in a knapsack
---with a crying brat with running nose, weighing approx. 10 kgs, straddling the waist, covering at least 20 metres. (Actually the program reads, ‘maasoom bachchay ko goad maiN laiker bees qad’m chalna.’ The crying comes from stage fright. And the running nose because of all that crying and mishandling by the contestants.

(b) Posture:

--- Normal -- as in somebody a hundred yards away trying (and failing) to stop a Kalshnikov bullet
--- Shocked -- as the person standing next to you suddenly drops dead. Innalillah-e-wa.........
--- Stunned -- as you discover that euphoric feeling caused by a sudden trauma as the body adjust to having allowed the said Kalashnikov bullet to violate your body.

And for the last five finalists:

7: Speech:

(a) recite some lines from selected Na’ats

(b) extempore answers for questions pulled from a green pugree.

Sample questions:

---how would you say no to someone who does not take no for an answer
---dissuade husband from marrying again
---dissuade your best friend from marrying your husband
---at 35,000 flying between Karachi and Sharm-el-Sheikh, you are in Darul Harb or Darul Islam?
---Should a jaw be given full funeral rites?

Now where was I? Oh yes, the winner of these Miss Hoor 2000 contests gets a bouquet of flower and a kiss on the cheek by the judges. And if you believe me you are as gullible as I am.

Seriously, you know, cheek is one part of the anatomy (lips is the other) that we Pakistanis do not kiss in public!

We kiss hands, usually the back of the hands of senile elders and pirs and the cavities enslaved by the other cheeks, of those in power, in public. (Apologise for the inherent complexity of this sentence.)

Now you lost me again, where was I? Oh yes, The mother of the winner of Miss Hoor 2000 is automatically entered in the Miss Umm-ul-Hoor contest.

For a mirage of reasons, including building codes, audience, judge and participants safety the maximum tonnage allowed is 500 lb.

One of the senior judges, known by his initials RAT is a fan of singing sensation Abida Khanum and wants her to participate in the next Miss Umm-ul-Hoor contest. Abida politely declined. (She is single.) RAT offered to visit Quetta on a government jet and bring back a daughter for her. Wisely, Abida has declined again.

If you have any further questions that would establish peace between us, please feel free..........

regards,

temporal

PS: Do you think if I re-write this as an article will the new Chowk have it on page one by Friday?

Dear Zeejah!

indeed a very interesting piece..shows how important love and affection are..and how even a little bit of love can do wonders...

excellent work:)

---I was just thinking about my elders and then I came across this..just wanted to share it-----

``Middle age is when your broad mind and narrow waist begin to change places.``--E.Joseph Cossman.

eNjOy!

Taimur.

Dear Zeejah,

Great story, very well written. You have a beautiful penchant for allegorical writing. Keep enriching us.

Allow me to overstep my prerogative and complain that the ending was very sad (from the puppet`s perspective). I don`t know if you have taken hard knocks in love (reading you, I would be extremely surprised if you haven`t) in your life. But I would have had a slightly different ending had I written this. Before I submit to you my alternative to the last two paragraphs, please accept my apologies for my transgressing into your creative space. Here they are:

__________________________________________

This went on for days and days, until one day he passed by the place where he had discarded the puppet. The puppet seemed to be with a little kid under a tree not too far from where he had thrown it. It was dancing. Throwing its arms up in the sky and exuding pure joy, it danced forming tight intricate patterns in the cool shaded dirt. The boy laughed and clapped, himself running little circles around it in sheer exhilaration. The Master was bemused. He had never seen a puppet perform with so much verve and skill for any famous puppeteer, let alone an unknown kid!

The master walked up to the tree. When the kid saw the Master approaching, he stopped dancing and stood still. The puppet turned motionless almost on cue. ``Do you know that I created this puppet?`` asked the Master. ``Yes, and then you abandoned him. But I found him dying in the sun and brought him in the shade. When I ran my hands on him with love, he woke up. I believe he is rightfully mine now.`` replied the kid bravely. The Master was impressed by the kid`s alacrity. He decided to set him straight. Bending over the puppet he smiled at it with all his warmth. Nothing happened. The puppet lay motionless. ``Well, it looks like it`s not much of a puppet anyway kid. You can keep it!`` said the Master, turned around and walked away.

As he walked away from the tree, the Master could begin to hear the boy`s dancing feet shuffling in the dirt. He also heard the familiar sound of sappy wood moving with glorious gaiety. He dared not turned around and look, for even one glimpse of their happiness would drain away his own sap. He hung his head and kept on walking.

__________________________________________

Do tell me what you think.

Take care,

Happy

PS: Some writers like to keep their allegories vague and undefined. Having read your stuff before, I don`t think you`re one of them. Reading my suggested ending, it should be pretty obvious how I interpreted the allegory. You used a term like `Master puppeteer`, and you capitalized `master` to boot. Almost every single respondent here is going to read this certain of the fact that you are referring to god. I experienced this before where somebody wrote a piece called `Me and my Creator` referring to their father (he dropped plenty of hints too), but everybody critiqued it thinking he was talking about god.

PPS: If you are indeed referring to god. Then please ignore this post. But do let me know so that I can set an appointment with my shrink. :)

Zeenat:

Omnia vincit amor; nos et cedamus amori.

Wah bh`aiee, maza aagaya!

It is indeed Love that makes the world go round and round and.......

Khush raho,

love,

t