EXCHANGE OF LETTER WITH MOODY

In another post my plan has been already indicated – I am selectively for the time being transferring all exchange of mail between me and my beloved late son Nasir Mahmood alias Moody. WordPress Blog allows other interested readers to follow his writing with me and those he wrote. You will observe the majority of literary exchanges we had was during 2005. 

 

Enjoy this for now —

My dearest Agha,

I wish there be words to describe my happiness for innumerable compliments. It sure helps me forget the quagmire of errors between commas and periods. As you said, if an unchartered area can be seen within a measure of perplexity then the claim is already laid and your full ownership is almost there. My whole making of an intellectual frame has an immense proportion of your contribution. It is like as if you have capital and finances to build a Taj Mahal but the availability of land is unaware and the moment any vacant area is pointed the building blocks are in process. A little effort can emancipate wonders but then again sometimes it takes, even more, work sustaining them. The humorous sips are easy recipes when a person is quenched for thirst and birdies during a warm day on Golf course. Lol. I have read many hands of weaponry and ammunition but I can most assuredly say that your writing style is brilliant and has Greek wisdom in it. It is just ironic that among friends in our country we remain in a certain sordidness of being judged upon. This just puts a perpetual full stop to a whole exchange of learning. Besides, I also think that books are much about exponents of what people have seen and perceived. So it is just a matter to caricature those pictures into verbs whether they be yours or others. Anyways, my whole crux of explaining is to continue your venture because the landscape is picturesque perfect.

Bilal and I with our pentagon project are very much at a preliminary stage. I will try to accede and exploit his talent to every extent. I recall Kahlil Gibran here that complication is the beginning of knowledge and as a matter of fact it was him with words Think not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country before JFK. Anyhow, my hairline is at stake here in learning so you can do the math and me with Bilal’s score.

I had called Uncle Qazi under Mum’s directive yesterday night. He was lost for words and kept stuttering words with ‘Jee Beta’. The conversation did not even reach the point of streamlining any time frame. He said that he will call tomorrow and let us know.

The Monrovian rains must be beautiful midst Tropicana bamboos. I am never weary of rains and feel more splendor in winters. Haider Bhai was over last night so we were also thinking of watching DVD over the weekend and him staying over. Eman has just woken up with her feet pecking the marble floor like a woodpecker on the tree. She is all Chinese with her sullen eyes and draggy pajama under the heel.

I have been doing free promotion for Khalid with a Haier bag on my travel here. His inquiry into marital affairs is sweet but becoming minister of foreign affairs is even a bigger venture. Lol.

Our dhobi was puking his guts out with his stomach grounding him crazy. Eventually, he was hospitalized yesterday in Brig. Khalil’s laboratory for dexter checkups and care. He is expected to resuscitate and discharge by today evening to wipe and toss sodas on our stained sheets and clothing once again.

Rest is good

Love

Moody

(MY LETTER WRITTEN FROM MONROVIA)

Terry <bilafond@yahoo.com> wrote:

My Dear Moody,

 

I have been thoroughly enjoying your writings. You definitely have the natural ability and flair to put across what is in your mind. You have, definitely, a very pronounced ability to humourize your literature whenever you choose to. This is absolutely great. I at times envy you, wish that I had the same style and ability. Having said that I dare not venture into unchartered waters at this stage, therefore, will stick to KHURPA style. Muhammad Bilal the Taller of you all must be gradually coaxed into venturing this area. Let me tell you he has definitely independent ideas of his own. He is observant because he is unusually quiet. Well not all the time, but he does. Maybe with you around he will open up. Must exploit his hidden talents while you are around. (Just to remind you..don’t take it easy, YOUR HAIR LINE is ONLINE.

Qazi will pay. Halal money does return. If he delays or dilly Dally that will be the end of whatever is the level of our friendship. Let us give him 10 days or so and ask him by giving him another 5 days. Let’s see what happens.

It has been raining all day long. This means no games and no walk..obviously and additional 90 minutes for viewing DVDs. I spoke to Khalid from Haier. He had in fact called me. He will be sending some Fruit Packs for the flight on 11th Aug to Liberia. He was asking about you. I told him that you have shifted to Rawalpindi now. Asked me when will he get married I said not now he will do so in time with a Foreigner. And amusingly U know what he said he should marry a PATHAN as they are also foreigners.

My regards to Mama, Love to Bilal, Rabia, Eimaan and Mustafa

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27 KILOMETERS

27 Kilometers is the distance from my home to my workplace. This distance is significant for many reasons. I shall endeavour to write why is that the case. Today the 31st of May as I drove back I, as usual, observed and saw people rushing to places where they had to be. It is a very interesting journey which varies in the time it takes me to reach home. The traffic is a mess especially when people are driving using all types of transportation to their homes. I must admit though I have never been piqued or irritated or affected by what happens every day on the road. It is 27 Kilometer of sights outside the car and sound of my favourite shuffled music inside the car.

ADVOCATE

Today’s drive was special. I listen to music while I drive. This has been my habit as long as I can remember? I always have enjoyed it. Today was no different. Thanks to all kinds of smartphones we have these days one can listen to absolutely anything with good connectivity depending on your mood and taste. Jagjit Singh was the star today. He is one of my favourite singers. I never get weary listening to him. He keeps me awake. I get lost in Time, with both eyes on the road with full senses. While listening to his song ” Baat Nik lay gee toh dhoor tak jaye gee” I thought of writing this post. Instantly I knew what it would be titled – 27 Kilometers. The distance is very significant for many reasons. The madness, the serenity, people travelling in buses cars lost in their thoughts, distress and worries. One can never fail to see in their eyes what they are thinking – how will be next day in their life and responsibilities. Kids returning from school exhausted and fatigued half asleep. Bikers overloaded hazardously as if hanging by the thread. There was a biker with his wife holding her small kid with a feeder in his mouth not bothered what was happening around him. There are no traffic laws between 1600 to 2000 hrs and even after that, not that it is a model any other time of the day. Today when I decided that I would cover the distance of 27 Kilometers with my observations, I suddenly came over with extra keenness and zest to see all sides of objects and people. I enjoyed every bit of the drive. 

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There are few bottlenecks on the ’27 kilometer’ stretch where traffic suddenly swells up. It is there you witness the entire spectrum of madness ranging from stupidity, insanity, pandemonium and chaos. Not all is bad, saner elements who are not many are seen in this milieu. You thank God for that.

The best part of 27 Kilometers is that a good 20 kilometer is a straight stretch of 5 lanes Islamabad Highway. No matter how many lanes Nawaz Shareef will make the people of twin cities know the driving skills and gift of their driving licence of turning 2 lanes to 4 and 5 to 8. So this is the stage where all circus takes place and all entertainers give their performance. All you need to have that special perception. The poor, the handicapped, the needy the wayside hawkers and makeshift sellers, pregnant women, mothers with half sleep children clinging to their shoulders. Some mothers feeding with barely visible breast when the traffic light turns ‘Red’ along the median. other resting under the shade in sizzling plus 42C temperature. I have been told and I have made a point to especially observe the babies and seldom seen any of them awake or crying. They all seem sedated.

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Airport Cross on the Expressway is a major traffic jam point where I have experienced long delays. It is here one is treated with sights and sounds of all kinds of scenes. Today was no different. The change was how I was looking at them. Young boys who appear along long lines of traffic extending into many lanes with trays on their shoulders with fresh coconut slices occasionally sprinkling water on them creating that special cooling effect on passengers in buses and coaches, enticing them to buy the dust and germ laden eatables – but who cares. Their power of observation and marketing skills of few hours a day  fetches them at least Rs 800 to 1000 every day ($10). They seem to be part-timers as they are only seen in the evening. Men with restricted growth, serious handicaps both accidents related and birth defects are seen more in the evening. Morning is all women and their children who only beg, all clad and wrapped up in chadors. Few pregnant women who in this summer heat are bone-tired. I see their open air job will soon see the end of their Expressway earning. The Karal interchange will render this crossing “Signal Free” But there are many other places to market their skills

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There is no traffic law to deter. The worst violators are advocates, press walas, well to do people their cars and SUVs being driven by arrogant drivers who do not stop flashing their lights for a way in the midst of jam. It is a sight of hubris with mum and dumb sahibs least bothered to caution their drivers. Some slumber and the women all in the comfort of tinted glasses and temporary screens covering their windows of their cars in a hurry to reach home. It is a revolting and disgustful sight. Then you have the truckers who have the ability to overtake each other least disturbed. Their ‘overtaking’ urge takes better toll of their mental health. I do not know why they do not give way, they will continue overtaking till they see no other truck ahead of them. These drivers are a mafia in their own circle intoxicated with opium filled cigarettes lost in the lawless road laws.

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I am glad to see that for once the work speed on road and underpass on the Expressway  is going at an unusually fast pace. I give another 2/3 months for this to be completed. I have many friends who have plans to shift to many housing colonies mushrooming along the road.

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I am putting pictures on this blog post which were taken during the drive with my cell phone. Please overlook any low-quality standard pictures. Today my friend Tabani also called from Karachi and at that very moment I had photographed posters of Baby Bhutto who had travelled on the road to give his Roman Urdu Speech somewhere. Tabani was in a rage over the politics and Bilawal who has no pride in his father’s name – Asif. He suffixes Bhutto and his grandfather’s name Zardari. He is the one who will decide the fate of Pakistan. The public or the “Awaam” are lost in Bilawal’s rhetorics. The next week we already have a big news – Nawaz Shareef’s heart surgery went successfully. Hope some better-uncorrupted heart now surfaces. But we want the Panama Leakage to established first.

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THE LIGHTER MOOD OF MOODY

 

I started writing and sharing about MOODY’s writings both prose and poem in a literary website “Squidoo dot com” till I failed to transfer all that I wrote to Hub Pages. Some I saved most I could not. I am now in the process of transferring all gradually to my Blog. Please bear with me if you find some selections recurring. Let’s start with one of his letters. You will see his ability to notice and describe minute details. Selection of words portrays his cheerful side of his personality reflecting good nature and jolly mood. 

My dearest Agha Jan, AOA

Nice to know the epic details on the forefronts of Africa. Can´t say that I have taken many ready greens of advantages from Golf in the last three weeks utmost. Sumptuously, there will be plenty of shooting balls once my scores of education are settled. Howbeit the paper went well and hopeful like always with bleak assurances, apprehensive of the results, like every average student counting on mother´s prayers and thanksgivings. She has been very sweet lately, by the way, Ö. Should be able to get through it on a clean note and cash no coins. A humongous candidate count considering it was an exam. Holiday Inn hotel. The venue of 3 to approximate 4 stars. Candidates seated in the basement wedding hall. No weddings. Just Exam. Dozen arrayed Justice of Invigilators (both young educated dupattas and dedicated lads). Students in all styles and metaphors. All chappals and jeans under one roof. The paper was made difficult in three spooky sections. 1st, the listening, that didn´t go very well. But don´t blame me. Englishmen, Urdu, Bolsheviks and Germans all have hearing problems understanding each other. But perhaps after 2nd world war, we have managed our disputes well. 2nd, the reading went well 2 and completed all 3 instead of barely 1/3 like last time. Last time I was wearing spectacles.3rd, Writing very robust and a word mincing machine like Mom making macroni and Qeema when she is happy. Hand written words turning and tilting, topping and prostrating. Not to mention INSCRIBING. Bulldozer and Monster words all enmeshed in most difficult thoughts of very simple scenarios. All on few sheets of hand written paper. But not one. Computers consume electricity these days.The interview is scheduled on 18th the 50th of 13th earth hour. I plan on eating the interviewer with my propelling propensities to yapp, whether him or her, by their very first reconnaissance. GRE showdown is liable to jettison well since I have ample time on me now. Who cares if Pakistan runs on CNG. Math’s is, unfortunately, making sense with all zebras and division crosses. Holy Maths! Rest reading and daydreaming as usual.

 

I have written a poem. The lines were dreamt on the dawn of waking up in bed. Please close one eye if you see any mistakes. I was in bed sketching them on early morning hours. They continue in the under behaviour and ill-mannered mind mentioned below:

 

Okay, this is serious now!

 

We are habitats of hope and You beholder of its fulfillment

We are confidants of constitution and You its solemn pillar

We are a crowd of millions in embittered rows and You vowing a thousand services for its security

We scorn at neighbours from cities to suburbs and You serve them all on country outskirts

We are guests dining parties and You fighting to host the pledge of your compassions

We are conceited money making teams and You a league bereft by the very currency of it

We jeer in subjects of jested foolishness and You the tower on guard with regard for justice

We are destitute of our daily civic duties and You destined to an unexpected breach of life

We pastor in our ill perceptions and limited peripherals of sights while You saviour us on zenith of bloody battles

We are objects of laughter gathered around fountains while You a forgotten group on the tenuous rifts of mountains

We are scattered visitors and tossing tulips on friends for favours and You a promised unified protector of fellowship

We are a Standard of scrounge in the Bank of our deceptions and You save us from the feuds of enemy emancipations

We are reckless in publicity of our superficial reputations and You for simplicity in the lines of enemy slaughters

We yawn in chorus and dance on songs in our sensations of youth while You hasten youth in the hazards of servitudes

We isolate ourselves with instincts of rich and poor but You dare to save us both in the eye of  fury and danger

We value mode of our fabrics and means to travel while You bear the range of average school fee in modest stakes and limitations

 

We foster to gain rupees by the ironies of wealth and You the residual of war in the shelter of bullets and bombs

We tire our evenings choosing ways to color the sense in our clothes and You spend years in the stiff crease of uniform

You are my sterling Warriors and Pride of Pakistan.

A Poem one and Wishes a many, Happy Birthday!

By

Your loving son, Moodz

 

MOMENT!

On Saturday 17 December 2005 at precisely 10:36:56 my late son Nasir Mahmood alias MOODY sent me an email. He also copied it to his younger brothers Ali and Bilal. The email which was captioned MOMENT! was one of many of his writings which he continued to share till he passed away. Today, while I was looking for an important paper when I came across MOMENT.

I have decided to add on his piece in category MOODY MY SON in my Blog as it is.

_____________________

Dear All,

I tried something different with my bygone moments and tried keeping the monkey out of it, for instance, syntactical and nonsensical errors such as “quadruplicity drink procrastination” & C. If I have overlooked any error it is only because you are seeing it in the moment only so please bear with me for a moment here. Just kidding guys!

MOMENT!

They stand your ground and sometimes glean upon us like stars do. They make your count difficult and yet your intervals might still endear them valued. You may dispense as many as you like and then your fondness can find your moment of choice and then displace itself so it could dwell on you once again. It may strike you sensible if sensed most of it and hanker for more when repeated persistently, and then despite of whatever regard in that moment you recall it, will just be an instance of your present state. You can earn them yearly and rearrange them momentarily like celestial bodies yearning in millions distantly with affinities of your spatiotemporal certainty. You might assemble them in haste devoid nothing noteworthy below that you appreciate or delay equivocally within a moment of your self-favoured pace. They may mean only what is in the moment yet reappear sufficiently without your prior disapproval to reinstate them. They weigh more than what is self-driven without caution to carry out or of any embankment to stop, they are prompt but render themselves impromptu and then can assure you so that your moment complies by relying on in manner rare or often that suits you best. It could be an event in your instant of reckoning them, casual or intentional by ordinary of moment or extraordinatry of any cicumstance, by wiull or wish with just as you made much of it. It is centered between what you see and how you seek yourself, signifies your position or symbolising its significance, to prefer it periodically as you see differently, but both ambiguous or coherently. They realize your essence but are capable of negating your explanaing them, induce more just when you refigure by exceeding your propositions to true and false considerably. They promote happiness despite your cursing immense its every quality and qualify your satisfaction so should you choose average or satisfactory, and then, you total them as if in every one and around everything are your very sum and succeed withal apart that moment forgetting aside all those departed moments. They are small constituents with whatever mystery comprises them and can fixate themselves in dominion of events at large, can be opinionated behind enmasse and while ahead of your experiencing them. The moment shines as the better out of you or just as easily deflects you being a stone your way, you may attempt or reflect at it thoughtfully but when moment has reached its depth, it is just your reflection staring steep and straight at you. It took me a while to veer about reaching moment but it is this ‘moment’ since you heard me saying much about it not too long ago. We all have our MOMENT.

Love
Moody