Aghosh - A Healing Journey

My journey began 3 years ago upon receiving some not so delightful personal news. Aghosh (lap or in arms) is a product of these 3 years, and with its release, the last remnants of being bound by the vagaries of life fritter away.

Aghosh signifies the much needed peace that all of us vie for. This is for all those who are on their own healing journeys, and also those who are yet to breakthrough their own shackles of ego and self-doubt. Look inward - the light resides in your heart. ❤️

Love and peace to all. 

SJ

Running Adventures 1: 35km (38) for 35 years

Of Marathons and Old Men

This post has been sitting as a Draft for at least 3 months now. Talk about irony - a post about marathons delayed due to indolence. Anyway, here it is.

I started the New Year with quite a hefty break travelling back to my family home in Pakistan. I hail from the capital of Pakistan, Islamabad – a beautiful city with green and serene landscapes, hills that would easily qualify as mountains for the denizens of Australia, and chaos aplenty to ensure a purely Pakistani experience nonetheless. When I was living there, we used to make our way to the Northern areas quite often – home to 5 of the 14 eight-thousanders including K-2 and Nanga Parbat, the Killer Mountain. For those of you accustomed to the idea of trekking, I don’t have to delve into elaborating how humbling the sport can potentially be. The same is true for another extreme sport – long-distance running/walking. A marathon measures to an exact 42.195kms, anything beyond the much sought for mark qualifies as an ultra-marathon. The most common distance run in an ultra is 50km or 100km – the most prestigious of the ultras being the 100-milers, which equate to roughly 161kms.  

Needless to say trekking and walking is much looked forward to every time I travel back home. Albeit offering very high entertainment value and overdoses of adrenaline, long-distance is always physically painful and mentally exhausting – always.

The sun rose to a typical Islamabad morning – penetrating cold, foggy and wet, at 7:13am on the 14^th of January. Having already walked around 10kms in the dark, we greeted the sun with literally just an iota of mirth hoping against an already dwindling hope that with the golden hour past, warmth was nigh. With the sun shyly rising above the horizon and the light roaring across the landscape like a cavalry charge, the day did look wholly promising. Besides, it was a special day as we were attempting our first marathon in Pakistan and that too in the mountains of my youth – Margalla Hills. The Margallas, as they’ve come to be known, are home to the Margalla National Park and the hills have their fair share of wolves, deer, wild boars and hyenas, and the occasional disoriented leopard visiting due to extreme cold up North. It makes for a very interesting walk especially if getting lost is on the agenda, which tends to happen on long walks. One other generosity that longer than the usual 5 to 7kms trail walks lend the enthusiast is 'time', and that too in abundance. Therefore, there is ample opportunity to reflect on what seemed like a really bright idea a few hours ago and resulted in embarking on this Lord of the Rings-esque 10-hour long journey. All said and done, we made it back home 43kms and 11 odd hours later.

The reader may have noticed that I haven’t yet promulgated any information on who accompanied me. Well, all the complaining would’ve been for naught if I’d done so at the beginning. So, for the walk, I partnered with my 72-year old dad who was cuckoo enough to attempt a marathon at his age solely because it “sounded” like a good idea.

For me, personally, this specific marathon ended up being more of a life lesson than just another excursion through mountains. I shall leave the reader with three takeaways. First, in face of adversity, don’t give up. Second, if you have fears, take them on upfront– that’s the only way you’ll conquer them. Third, the journey matters more than the destination – make sure to cherish the opportunity to experience it.

The Margalla Hills in all her glory

Decided to name this, "Umar Choti" after my brother who took a tumble on 01/04/1994. We found him 12 hours later. 

Serenity on the Kalinjar Trail

Turned out to be a beautiful day for a walk

In the hills

Faisal Mosque visible from the Margallas

Barking dogs seldom bite! He was super possessive about his owner's belongings.

The General and I - much needed sugar and vitamin C consumption. 

Nafs

I miss doing music and since moving to Australia have been doing some sporadically, and largely alone. One tends to lead life outside Pakistan at an insane breakneck pace with barely enough time to put in a few kilometres every now and then in hopes of stonewalling the ever widening gait. So, anyway, here's a newer rendition of "Nafs". This was the first song I ever wrote as part of Aaraiz, and this also ended up being the first song we ever recorded. I was terrible then, I'm terrible now. Regardless, music is fun and I would get back into it without giving it a second thought.

Naya Pakistan Has Landed

Having not written in over a year, it had to be something colossal to bring me out of hibernation. Imran Khan's PTI winning the elections overwhelmingly and him becoming the next Prime Minister of Pakistan is possibly one of the best Pakistani political stories since Bhutto's clean sweep in the '70s. The key difference between the two individuals - IK's a humanitarian, monetarily clean, and a track record of a winner. As a completely non-political person, I'll trust IK with my money, not the likes of Bhutto and his posterity.

If I had an iota of doubt pertaining to IK's credibility, his victory speech last night (26/07) diluted it in its entirety. A very different IK took the podium yesterday; he was humble, level-headed, succinct and focused on the very element that the leaders of the past have missed out on - the people of Pakistan, and especially the poor and underprivileged. The hope that Pakistan still has a future ahead of her has been rekindled. After living as an expat for a decade, I'm all the more attune to the challenges it poses. There's no doubt that living in a first world country has pros aplenty but it still doesn't change the fact around it being a foreign land for me - my skin color and accents are a pretty good giveaways due to which I'll always be Pakistani, and Australian only in papers. In a fantastical world where Pakistan is the nation Jinnah wanted it to become, there's no way in hell would've I migrated overseas. I don't want to sound delusional and living outside Pakistan has presented me with a lot of opportunities that would've been only a dream back home but it's the expression "back home" that encompasses the sentiment wholly. 

With IK's rising popularity over the last couple of decades, his critics have also grew in substantial numbers. Even I've delved into criticizing him on some of his antics. But the funny part is that no matter what the criticism, there's one aspect that has never been a feature of ridicule - IK's intentions for Pakistan and it's people; His victory speech reinforced this belief in me a million times over. I wish I could've made it back to vote as well however wasn't possible under the circumstances. 

So, IK's ready to take on the toughest possible job he could've ever dreamed of; that of  the 19th Prime Minister of Pakistan. I would've been scared out of knickers at the prospect of taking on such a task but then, this is Imran Khan that we're talking about. If there's anyone who can make things better in Pakistan and live up to the claims he's made in his speech yesterday, it is him! This isn't the time to argue over IK's authenticity as PM or whether he was the most deserving of the candidates; it's prime time we move on, believe in his intentions and back him in every possible way because believe it or not, opportunities of this kind never present themselves to as debauch and far gone a nation as Pakistan. There's no level of hypocrisy, debauchery and moral depravity that we haven't indulged in; save a complete annihilation of Pakistanis, IK's the best alternative who may just be capable and driven enough to put Pakistan on some sort of a track towards sustenance and development. 

I always have and still believe in what IK has to offer, and will continue to support his movement come hail, rain or shine. I feel blessed to be able to witness Khan's, "Naya Pakistan", at least I won't die dreaming! All prayers for IK and I really hope he delivers, not only to shut his critics up but for the sake of Pakistan; we deserve so much more! 

Listen to his speech using the link below or just YouTube it. Now!

IK's Victory Speech - 26/07/2018

Bashir Does India!

For Bashir, the average Pakistani fan, the last decade and a half has been a tough one; a journey on a bed of thorns with a glimpse of a rose every now and then, hardly enough. Bashir blames the decline of the sport predominantly on the overall situation the country finds itself in – politically, economically, and just about any –ally one can deem to think of. Since the 1999 WC Final loss to Australia, there have been innumerable incidents, the details of which Bashir hates to indulge in like a true patriot, to put off the staunchest and most steadfast of fans. But If you’re like Bashir who has stuck by his team where the players are as often proclaimed legendary as thought of as complete nincompoops with as much surety as Amir getting Sharma out every time they face-off, and all of this within a span of a fly batting its wings and Bashir letting out an insignificant post-Iftar fart – take a bow and feel proud, it’s a privileged state to be in. The one key factor that keeps Bashir intact is Pakistan’s team statistical dominance over arch-rivals India, and the fact that our players have always found themselves cooler and more dashing than our cousins from across the border. But this emotion too had started to wane and has been teetering on the brink of being completely vanquished. Until now!

Bashir remembers when Pakistan lost to India at Bengaluru in 1996. The feeling of dread as the wickets tumbled, after Anwar and Sohail had given his team the best of chances to chase down the total, is still fresh. It hurts. Bashir also remembers the 2003 WC bout against India when his team’s star studded line-up succumbed to the weirdest of all defeats. It hurts. And how can Bashir not remember the “The Scoop”. It hurts and burns. All in all, there’s a lot of hurt Bashir remembers that had started to emerge more often than not like a pinching, itching haemorrhoid courtesy India’s precipitous rise in World Cricket. Until now!

Bashir is a cricketer himself; a name to fear among the galli mohalla tape-ball fraternity. Favourite shot: jharhoo, favourite ball: anywhere. But now Bashir has gone overseas and has had the fortune of playing the real shit – cricket with a cock-ball, as it’s known back home, or hard-ball for the bores. To his delightful pleasure, the jharhoo still works as effectively as it did in tape-ball cricket. The only difference is the height he has to bring the jharhoo in fruition at – a Younis-esque annoying sweep to a swash-buckling Lara-esque flick off the hip to a dashing Ponting-esque pull; just revisions of basically the same shot – the jharhoo. But the trips to the cricket grounds on match days had been becoming a bit of an annoyance with Indians prevalent in opposing teams and ones never to shy away from throwing a jibe every now and then on how suffering Pakistan’s performance has been of late. Until now! 

Bashir suddenly finds himself in the all-so-familiar scenario of looking at his Indian compatriots, inwardly sniggering and sympathetically agreeing with them as they lament India’s performance at the CT2017 Final. Even though this win comes after quite a bit of time, Bashir has a feeling that scores have been settled, nerves have been calmed, the old dread has been kindled in Indian hearts, dominance recommenced and the Indians taught the lesson to never ever write Pakistan off. The only issue is that the Indian team is nowhere to be seen. India still hides behind political alibis and categorically refuses to play Pakistan; home or at neutral venues. Bashir knows this for a fact that if cricketing ties were to be resumed, it’d only be a matter of time (a series or two tops) until Pakistan would confirm its utter dominance over India once again. Bashir reached the conclusion a while ago that no matter how strong the Indian team becomes, mental fortitude will always upstage skill in all encounters. Not having played a full series against them since India’s 2007 tour to Pakistan, and practically no bilateral series whatsoever in front of large crowds since, the Boys in Green have suffered in confidence and lost the panache that had come to be associated as closely with Pakistanis as the colour green. But now, after years of being written-off and ridiculed, Bashir knows that everything seems to be garnering a semblance of normalcy; Pakistani bowlers are best in the world, and Indian batters are best in the world…just not for Pakistanis.

Prior to the Final the Indian media, ex-players and general public were so confident that it’d give Ali a stomach ache. The difference being that the latter actually delivered on his promises. Funnily enough most times the Indians have gone down the path of being pompous (Amir is an ordinary bowler), mouthing off grandiose claims (aanay do), and making vows as if Helen of Troy was actually Bhagmati of Hyderabad who’d eloped with our Bashir, fate has served them a much deserving dose of humble chai that is obviously much too difficult to gobble down. In spite of this natural phenomenon they continue to indulge in this vile practice. Bashir is as confused as the rest of us Pakistanis - 'insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." The post-defeat backlash of the Indians is what classic comedy is made of, and they seem to be so good at churning out this stuff that even Fox News would bow down to their greatness, Pratchett would steal notes from their script, Vonnegut would do a Sylar on their producers. 

Bashir’s advice to India is simple: Quit. Just hang your bats ‘n balls.

If even after attempting to sabotage Pakistan cricket at every available opportunity, Pakistanis not only make it to the Final but also thrash the bejesus out of the richest, most passionate and, as claimed by a lot of gurus, without a doubt the best team in the world, then there’s no point whatsoever for India to take part in global competitions. This defeat is not just a defeat. India hasn’t been just outplayed by the better team. They've been decimated like they used to be at the hands of Imran, Wasim, Waqar, Anwar, Inzi, Yousuf - ugh, it's a never-ending list. The fear of Indian Cricket Board and their nonsensical political stance has been exposed. And it has surfaced when it mattered the most, and at a time when they least expected it themselves. Rest assured this win was not due to Pakistanis being unpredictable; the tag of being unpredictable is irrelevant in matches against India. As Bashir said earlier – it’s the psychological strength that ensures wins in these encounters, skill to a large degree takes a seat and watches the show. Bashir can sense that the mental hold India was just starting to relish over Pakistan may have just been broken. But of course, it’d be difficult to tell courtesy India not willing to play against his team outside global tournaments – don’t get Bashir started on the hypocrisy of that. Keep calm, Bashir, they’ll succumb eventually. And when they do, it shall be Amir steam-rolling them as ordinarily as Sharma plays him, Hasan Ali busy in his generator celebratory acts, Fakhar top-edging quickies and slog-sweeping spinners like nobody’s business and that too with a smile on his face, Azhar making sure he keeps Pakistan’s tag of unpredictability intact, and Sarfaraz doing what he does best – lead fearlessly. 

Tonight Bashir is a happy Pakistani and is generous enough to offer it back to his dear cousins a curse that’s been dogging him since the 2015 World Cup – “Mauka Mauka”, no…”Thoka Thoka”. Toodles :). 

The Mask

7:53am, Monday, 27th March, 1995

I've been on his trail for over an hour. His movements don't have a pattern, erratic to say the least. He suspects something amiss. Onset of paranoia? Only plausible explanation to the bizarre demeanor that's on display here. Is he under some sort of "influence"? The instructions are quite idiot proof; Zedoic is to be administered to the proletariat only. For some undisclosed reasons, it affects us Slicks differently. The last case in 1985 and might I remind you how well that ended? Why I always end up with these absolutely crazy jobs? It's hardly my fault that I'm semi-proficient at whatever's assigned to me - you gotta keep the cache as brusque as "Professionally" possible. Where is this guy heading? He's just turned into Foyer Lane, a no through road. Did fate hand him his Death Certificate just then? How the mighty fall. I should've known, with all the time I've invested in the Precognition Training for Professionals course, how promising today is. Last time I was in the field with my personal favorite, the Capacitive Gun, I completed my mission objective promptly. time to put an end to this. Almost at the mouth of the alleyway; he should be nearing the end of the Lane right about now sadly realizing the folly of his decision. So elating the feeling of the gun. It emanates a certain warmth, a buzz resonating with my being at a very intimate and elemental level. Soon it'll be over. I must do this right. Oh, how convenient of you to afford that skeptical glance at me, as if the Corporation's scrutinizing gaze wasn't enough. A wry smile, eh - best you can do? Well, thanks for the vote of confidence? I've hit a dead end. That's not right. Did I miss something? I can feel wrath...and hate, potent enough to make me wince as it gouging at my aura. So close. Hot breath at the nape of my neck as paralysis is starting to take me. I can't see. Everything's blurry. Wait, blue...no, no..th..th..that's green, the color of her eyes. Wait, it's saying something. Listen. "Lighten up, Ash,", says a mask to my face, "You know what it is, yea? Mouth, please."

The Room

9:33pm, Friday, 10th February, 1995

It's been a long time coming. I've spent enough days idling over the possible repercussions to what I have to do, ample hours wasted already in procrastination of the job I don't want to but must undertake - I must not lose control. They say there's a fine line between virtuous and immoral. Is there, really? Is it expected of us to quietly take everything on face value and just nod along to popular sentiments and colloquialisms? What one may deem perfectly moral might be the anti-thesis of another's principles. Wasn't killing or committing horrendous acts of violence such as Seppuku a part of the cultural norm in the not so ancient Japan? How about that lone Hindu widow quietly accepting her fate or coerced into the act of Sati? If anything, these acts were considered honorable. Oh please, save the holier than thou patronizing glaring look for someone worth of falling prey to the weir machinations of your imbecilic judgmental...I need to stop. I digress. Again. This needs to stop. I must not lose control. Need focus. 

Review: Flower for Algernon

Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

How does one review a book wrought with such intense and wide range of emotion? It's not very often that a book has caused me to tear up or dragged me into a hole I've found difficult to come out of with sleep being the only remedy for a decent rejuvenation. Being human, I'll get over this as well and not let the material I've read over the past week and a half affect me much, however, the mere thought of the book will always make me sad at some level. Personally, this has been the toughest book I've ever read in terms of nature of the plot and the manner Daniel Keyes has written it in.

My heart mourns for Charlie Gordon and his maltreatment at the hands of his mother boils my blood. Mental retardation is still widely misunderstood and primarily rejected in the lower echelons of almost every social structure globally. Management of such ailments generally induces high costs hence the obvious renunciation. This book is a peek into the ugly truth that governs lives of millions of mentally handicapped persons across the globe. I wholeheartedly agree with the notion Keyes has produced in his magnum opus. This subject deserves a lot of recognition and discussion in order to trigger a change in popular opinion and the general disposition people possess towards everything and anything mental.

I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone suffering from depression or with a weak resolve; this book will take some will power to stomach. 

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Review: End of the Past

End of the Past by Nadeem Farooq Paracha

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Nadeem Farooq Paracha or NFP, as he's commonly known, is a Pakistani cultural critic and satirist who has become an important voice in the current milieu of critics sprouting up left, right and centre. Apart from the fact that he's been at it for more than two decades, his past has morphed him into a force all the more important for as demarcated a society as ours with opinions of all kinds being thrown around like monkeys flinging feces. One may not be a big fan of NFP's pompous style of prose but nobody can disagree with the power his pen possesses in delivering seemingly benign opinions with the utmost ease and immense lucidity, and how it affects the reader on at least some level.

"End of the Past" is NFP's first published book which has come at a time (seemingly Pakistan has been riding on knife’s edge since conception making everyday a bloody critical point in her history) when the denizens of Pakistan have lost all semblance of identity. What direction did Jinnah want Pakistan to take – a secular state bordering on modernism and liberalism or an Islamic Republic as it was deemed out to be soon after Jinnah’s passing? Or simply, what exactly is “Jinnah’s Pakistan” that we’ve heard every politician from Bhutto and Zia to Sharif and Musharraf use incessantly to drive their campaigns? I think NFP makes a decent attempt at reaching the roots of the issue and presents a potential solution albeit idealistic in the last chapter of the book.

NFP’s take on the subject of manipulation of religion in Pakistan and the role it’s played in the evolution of the political thought in the country’s evolution is especially insightful. He’s from that generation which faced the brunt of Zia’s oppression and the religious upheaval courtesy the influx of US Dollars and Saudi Riyals. But even prior to Zia, appeasing the religious authorities or using them for their own benefit had forever been every Pakistani politician’s key to success e.g. Bhutto did so by officially declaring the Ahmadiyya community in Pakistan non-Muslim, and not to forget the conglomeration of 9 parties to form the right-wing PNA solely to fight against the socialist agenda of PPP in the 1977 elections. He delves into a lot of detail explaining the origin of various student unions and the role they played in the political evolution of Pakistan from the 50’s into the 70’s and 80’s. Anyone who wants to become a bit more politically aware with the Pakistani scenario should give it a read.

My favourite chapter of the book is, “Sound/Vision Deafness/Blindness”. This is what NFP has really been known for – the uncanny ability to decipher the complex cultural ambiance of Pakistan and present it in the most hilariously readable and lucid manner. He covers the entertainment business, Lollywood, music and theatre, and how it’s evolved with the tumultuous political happenings of the country. And obviously an NFP book would’ve been incomplete without his astute take on Cricket and how politics have changed the outlook of the Pakistani team over the years. Although reading Osman Samiuddin’s, “The Unquiet Ones”, would be a lot more helpful for the academic, NFP’s satirical discourse on the subject shouldn’t be missed!

The last chapter of the book took me by complete surprise. For the first time I’ve read NFP talking about his religious beliefs and what, according to him, the Muslims and Pakistanis need to do in order to progress. Overall, the book is a fun read and presents a load of information on the political scenario of Pakistan. The references NFP gives are really interesting and I’ve jotted down quite a few titles for future reads. Authors like Ayesha Jalal and K. K. Aziz need to be read by every Pakistani in order garner a deeper understanding of the machinations of Pakistani society. Furthermore, anyone possessing deep apathy for NFP should read it as well, as the book provides an a lot more intimate viewpoint of the much debated journalist we’ve come to love and hate.

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Review: To Kill a Mockingbird

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Considering this book was published in 1960 and that too written by a female author, I'm surprised it actually saw print. The themes covered in the book are extremely important and are as vital to be discussed today as they were at that time.

The book is about one Atticus Finch, a practicing lawyer in a small town in the state of Alabama, and is told in the first person narrative of his daughter, Scout.

One aspect I immediately picked up on when I started reading the book was how Atticus's children addressed him by his first name instead of using the more traditional and widely accepted title, 'Dad'. Although personally I would never go so far as to address my father by his first name, this does touch on one really important idea for me. Pakistan is a country which is practically slave to culture and tradition. Every person whose older is addressed with "respect" which is generally conveyed to the recipient via a title e.g. Bhai (brother) and Baji (sister). In my opinion, the minute such a title is attached to someone whose only older in age and not necessarily in experience and mental capacity, much of the young'un's opinion is discredited and would most likely be looked at through skepticism and, in some cases, ridicule. Once individuals are past a certain age, all immediate relationships should be on a first name basis with the discourses and general banter carried out as equals. Atticus is the perfect father who gives his children the importance they deserve and hence both kids never shy away from voicing their opinions throughout the book. Obviously, there's a fine line between utter disrespect emanating from hubris and being vocal enough with enough humility.

The major theme that the book expertly negotiates is the inherent relativity of right and wrong. This sentiment is reflected in the title as well and the quote, "Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird", explains it all the more. Bob Ewell is one such character that epitomizes this statement. The circumstances he's killed in and the subsequent reaction of Atticus in bringing Jem Finch (his son) to task since he suspects his hand in the death of Bob, and how Heck Tate, the Sheriff, asks Atticus to simply lay off and to let it go because Bob Ewell's death is actually service to the society. The conversation between Tate and Atticus is wrought with ideas which one would be able to uncover the more they read and discuss it. Absorbing the whole book and what it stands for is quite difficult after just a single read. It is a piece of literature that should be read at all phases of life.

Atticus's message in the book is simple and yet one of the most difficult to adhere to, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view … until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." This one statement encompasses almost everything that is wrong with a society like Pakistan today. And a similar stream of intolerance seems to seeping back into the Western societies that have tried so hard to rid themselves of it albeit a farcical underlying rhetoric which has been all the more validated by the likes of Donald Trump. It is high time we look at ourselves and strive to make this world a better and a more tolerant place to live in for our progeny. A child is incapable of hating however they do learn. Be the Atticus in their lives and expound sound and forbearing advice to them so they can return the favor by becoming the seeds of change.

This book can be read casually or part of study. I would recommend to everyone to definitely give this book a shot; rest assured they'll take away their own version of it which undoubtedly would be positive in complexion.

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Training Diaries: Melbourne Marathon 2017 - Training Week 1: Day 6

TRAINING WEEK 1: Day 6

Date: 07/01/2017

Weight: 85.2kgs

Run Type: Race - Portsea Twilight Run - 8kms
Track Type: Off-road/Road
Temperature: 33C

Shoes: Hoka One One Bondi 4

Device: Garmin Fenix 3

Details of the run are given below.

I signed up for this race last minute and was shit scared due to my current fitness levels. Nevertheless, I took the plunge and have come out of it alive! For starters, I was taken by surprise to find out on the day of the race that the Portsea track would be a trail run, not a road run as I'm used to. That got the anxiety levels spiking but oh well, had to go through with it no matter what. The weather was extremely warm all day but thankfully the heat was subsiding by the time I reached the start line at around 6:40PM with the temperature at around 33C (92F). The run was scheduled to begin at 7:00PM. 

There's something about being at the start line of a race. Obviously, with my current fitness (and future as well) I'll only be competing against myself rather than other participants. On August 13th, 2016, I participated in my first ever official race - City2Surf Sydney. That's a 14km track which I was able to finish in a semi-decent 1hr 23m. Needless to say I was stoked and still am really proud of that achievement considering just under a year earlier I was bedridden and going for an ACL reconstruction surgery. Anyway, the adrenaline rush that one gets and feeds off of other participants at the start line is a really unique experience. Every runner is seemingly nervous with smiles going around aplenty depicting encouragement and uncertainty. It's a great moment experience. 

The race commenced with the siren going off. First 1.4km were quite standard with the limbs loosening up, breathing becoming steadier and the nerves settling down. From there onward it was a constant uphill and downhill with the former doing a lot more damage naturally. We reached the halfway mark at 3.5km and started back to roughly where we'd started. The return was a lot harder as the uphill really became steep and my pace reduced significantly from a lousy 6:30m/km to a lousier 7:10m/km. The rest of the 2.5km, before we detoured towards the finish line via trail, was one of the toughest distances I've ever run. 90% of running this stretch was mental work and just coercing and begging the muscles to go on - one step at a time - while beggingly applying the age old adage, 'you conquer the mountain, the mountain doesn't conquer you' which at the time seemed a lot of bullshit than anything else. Thankfully there were water stations along the way so I kept myself well hydrated which was a good idea due to the heat. I generally avoid drinking water on runs less than 15km surviving on gels primarily for anything over 12km. At the 6km mark, we detoured and went onto a trail which was again a new experience for me. It was an absolutely lovely run from thereon. I never expected myself to enjoy the trail so much hence the reason why I'm planning to run the Melbourne Trail Series for this year. However, that depends entirely on how well I train this year. 

The best part about the run was Ahmed running the last 200m with me, absolutely hilarious; he's turning out to be a pretty toughie. Once I'd reached the finish line, I loaded up on a couple of energy bars, drank plenty of water and did my stretches. 

Right now the body is feeling great with a little bit of soreness in the thighs. I'm planning to go for a 7km run today so that'll bring out any niggles that I might be carrying. Overall, I feel great and am really motivated to carry on with the training regime. Hopefully, I'll reach a point where I can take the plunge into doing a full marathon!

Until next time :)

Training Diaries: Melbourne Marathon 2017 - Training Week 1: Day 1

Holy SHIT! It's 2017 already. 2016 went by so fast, I still wake up disoriented on a few days thinking it's sometime in June/July, but oh well, 2017 it is. Anyway, down to business. I've finally decided to start training for a marathon, to be specific, the Melbourne Marathon which is exactly 284 days away bringing the date of the event to 15th of October, 2017. Just thinking about the run gives me the heebie-jeebies. The maximum that I've run is a half-marathon which is 21.1kms. Needless to say it was extremely tough and took me a good 6 months to bring myself to the kind of fitness where I could do justice to a distance that extensive. A full marathon is 42.2.kms; it's unfathomably long. Even more so for someone like me who feels on top of the world after a meager 10km run every now and then. All said and done, I believe it's time to move on and talk about what the future holds and how I intend to get there. 

There are a few goals I have to hit and if I'm able to knock them down, running a full marathon would definitely be achievable. The weight has to come down, muscle tone and endurance needs to increase, core strength has to be top notch, and one of the most important aspects of a long run is the posture which I really need to work on in order to minimize injury and overall body wear and tear. The key to success, however, resides not in excessive practice and toning of the body but solely in the mind. Come race day, if I'm strong in the head, churning out 42.2kms wouldn't be an issue. Well, relatively speaking anyway. With further ado, let's start on the training. Today, 3rd of January, was the first day. 

TRAINING WEEK 1: Day 1

Date: 03/01/2017

Weight: 85.6kgs

Run Type: Treadmill - 5kms

Shoes: Hoka One One Bondi 4

Device: Garmin Fenix 3

Details of the run are given below.

Diet:

Today's run was nothing special. Unfortunately, I'm in quite a bad shape at the moment and it'll take a good part of the next month before I'm able to do 10km runs without completely collapsing. But at least, I've been able to pick my lazy ass up from the couch and start. Now let's see how long this goes on for. 

Wish me good luck!

Best of 2016 in Books

So, year 2016 comes to an end as well. For this year, the target that I had set was of reading 50 books, almost one book a week; I ended up reading 60 which feels nice. Starting this year, I've decided to compile a list of 10 books and put them up on here. Every one of the following titles are highly recommended which would do great service to the reader.

1.  Fallen Leaves by Will Durant

2. No God but God by Reza Aslan

3. A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Mohammad Hanif

4. Burnt Shadows by Kamila Shamsie

5. A Malaysian Journey by Rehman Rashid

6.  Our Oriental Heritage by Ariel Durant & Will Durant

7. Delhi: A Novel by Khushwant Singh 

8.  A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle

9. Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt

10. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury 

The following books didn't make the list but are highly recommended as well. 

11. 1984 by George Orwell

12. The Greatest by Muhammad Ali

13. Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell 

14. Mort by Terry Pratchett

15. American Gods by Neil Gaiman

Can't wait for the new year to begin so I can start on the new target I've set for myself. Due to work commitments and an extremely busy routine overall, I'll try and read 40 books in 2017. Fingers crossed. 

Good luck and Happy New Year :)!

JJ

A week has passed since Pakistan lost one of her most famous, iconic and polarizingly loved sons, - Junaid Jamshed or JJ. An individual who became the Voice of the Nation through a song which has become synonymous with the anthem - Dil Dil Pakistan. I wouldn't be surprised if more people can sing along to the the lyrics of DDP than Pakistan's national anthem. It rejuvenates passion and zealousness at a very micro level in my being every time I listen to it (which is now at this very moment). And the same is true for millions of Pakistanis as if the song has practically become a part of their genetic construct. Being a Pakistani and not having heard of DDP borders on blasphemy. 

One other phenomenon that needs to be comprehended is that DDP was more than just a song performed by 4 rockers; it was a source of identity and a breath of fresh air for millions of Pakistanis coming out of a decade-long asphyxiating dictatorship under General Zia. It was a glimmer of hope that the youth needed desperately at the time and a depiction of glee and happiness in the best way that these sentiments can be thoroughly advertised - through music. I listened to the song for the first time in 1989-90, and thence started a love affair with a band called, "Vital Signs", which continues to this day. JJ not only became the face of a rock band in the 90's but was literally synonymous with Pakistan's music industry. 

Vital Signs was one of the bands alongside Junoon that inspired me to sing and eventually become a vocalist of a little setup while I was at University in Pakistan. I still remember singing "Aitebar" at my first ever gig, and almost every single of them thereafter. One of my biggest heartbreaks also came when Vital Signs decided to split, and I must admit that JJ's style of music never impressed apart from a few tunes. My fondest memories of his voice are from the time he was with Vital Signs - 4 albums in total, and shall remain so.

The question that pops to mind is though why has JJ's demise affected me so much. Apart from his music there was little of his life that I ever followed with a dichotomous viewpoint on his take on women rights and quite a few other Islamic ideals he possessed. And the impact of his untimely death has cut in so deep that even now I tear up every time I find myself humming his tunes or listen to one of his songs. I've realised that with every person I know or follow one aspect of their personality diligently passes away, a part of my soul departs and an intimate connection that I had with the past also withers away with them. In 2012, we lost Zaigham Bhai (http://sufosblog.blogspot.com.au/2012/05/zam-bhai.html) in an air crash close to Risalpur. His passing is all the more pertinent in this scenario because he was my oldest brother's friend, and I personally didn't spend any time with him but just knew him as one of the close "Bhai's" within the Air Force community. Living in an armed forces community is a very interesting dynamic. Every single one of the Officers on a base you're residing in is an Uncle and his wife, an Aunty; even though the sentiment it dishes out is predominantly titular, a connection and kinship is established. A very similar phenomenon seems to have occurred with respect to JJ as well. His songs were a big part of my childhood and a source of new experiences aplenty. I, for one, will miss his presence dearly. God bless your soul, JJ! Thank you for all the joy you've given us.

mar bhee jaoo tau
beeti huiee baato ko
jaagi huiee raato ko

yaad karna

yaad karna aur jee lena

main apni awaaz 
aur apney saaray geet
tumhain day jaoon ga
meri sab cheezon ko
yoonhe rehnay dena

The Jungle Book: A Thought

I finished reading Rudyard Kipling's, "The Jungle Book", a while back. Before this I'd only read the illustrated versions of the book, specifically the first one with Mowgli, as a child so stumbling upon those extra stories came as a pleasant surprise.

Two stories really put me ill at ease though, "The White Seal" and "Toomai of the Elephants". The former primarily because of the premise set by Kipling where a first of its kind White seal named "Kotick" leads all the other Black ones to everlasting peace, and showing them a better way to live without constant infighting which is prevalent among its species. Kotick doesn't achieve this through peaceful means though; the Black seals acquiesce under duress after being put in their place by the White one.

I don't think I would've realized the inherent grimness of what I'd read at the time save for last night when I happened upon a reference to Kipling in the most unlikely of literature. This in the following words: 

"With that change began the period the world would most often associate with the British Indian experience, the Victorian-era. Its predominant philosophy was a concept frequently enunciated by the man who was its self-appointed poet laureate - Rudyard Kipling - that white Englishman were uniquely fitted to rule 'lesser breeds without the law'. The responsibility for governing India, Kipling proclaimed, had been 'placed by the inscrutable decree of providence upon the shoulders of the British race'."

Freedom at Midnight - Larry Collins, Dominique Lapierre 

No matter what the avenue or how subtle might it be, I deplore the White supremacist agenda and find this theme so prevalent in history disgusting. All the more reason for me to revisit these childhood stories before my son is old enough to read them; maybe I'll be able to guide him a bit more knowingly reserving insurmountable praise or otherwise.

Review: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is my first Murakami and rest assured I haven't been disappointed after all the crazy hype around his works even though this is a book which is far from what he's actually famous for as an author. Still, he's got a riveting style of composition.

This book is quite honestly strictly for runners or anyone planning to get into long-distance running. Murakami does state however that this could be taken as a brief biography of his life (minus the laborious details that oldies tend to get into when writing about their lives bordering senility) so it might interest his groupies from that respect but it is primarily about running/triathlons and how taking his body through such extreme forms of punishment has helped him become an accomplished novelist. I particularly enjoyed the read because of currently training for a half-marathon myself. Undertaking a full distance marathon is still a year away, at the very least but honestly this book has been such a massive source of motivation. So much so that today I ended up going for a 6km Murakami inspired run and made good time too even though it was supposed to be a rest day. Motivation can come from multiple and unexpected avenues I guess. I've already accomplished above and beyond what I'd ever expected of myself and hope to continue on this crazy path in hopes of realizing the goals I've set. The feeling of elation I get after every run is now tenfold having gone through hell pre- and post-ACL reconstruction surgery in November last year.

The book indulges in a fair bit of philosophical discourse in relation to life in general and how something as monotonous as running day in day out might help in achieving extraordinary levels of focus and resilience, and will power which comes into play more often than not when attempting any challenging feat - mind over matter.

One of the things I really loved was how Murakami touched on the social stigma that's weirdly attached to exercise and fitness in general. I've been the butt of a lot of taunts and jokes over the years since I've started taking care and listening to my body's feedback. But oh well, I guess one just learns to live with it and so have I. Very interesting quote from the book makes for a good response to all the naysayers:

"People sometimes sneer at those who run every day, claiming they'll go to any length to live longer. But I don't think that's the reason most people run. Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest. If you're going to while away the year, it's far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive than in a fog, and I believe running helps you do that. Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life - and for me, for writing as well. I believe many runners would agree."

Another intricate detail recursive within the realm of runners and particularly very close to my heart was regarding how ordinary and mundane, dogged by similar ruts, the lives of triathletes must be outside of the competitions they take part in. They've got families and kids, and day jobs to go to hence taking time out for training must really be hard, and if I may add, absolutely impossible without support from their partners. Training for a marathon isn't only hard on the body but also on immediate relationships and social lives since the lifestyle the runner tends to follow becomes the antithesis of what generally is considered normal. Socially, my family's entertainment revolves around food with very minimal outdoor activities (BBQ is hardly an activity), therefore, declining invitations to feasts can at times have very dire consequences. These super-athletes really are a unique breed.

On a final note, this book is recommended for runners primarily. People with no interest in fitness will find the book highly pretentious and would most likely find themselves drifting away from Murakami. He's an absolutely amazing author and deserves to be read. I hope this books serves to be a source of motivation come October when I find myself nervously slipping on my running shoes for the longest run of my life until that point at time. 

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Review: Of Human Bondage

Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

More of a mini-review!

Forgive me if I sound too much of a romantic.

Just finished reading 'Of Human Bondage' by Somerset Maugham. I'm at a loss for words. These past few weeks have been such a beautiful journey with this unbelievable work of art and a literary masterpiece in every sense of the word. This book has reinforced my belief in the sentiment, 'life is but a bed of thorns with glimpses of happiness'. I know that sounds morbid and outlandishly cynical, but is it?

Every book one reads leaves a stamp on the soul, and this work of genius has certainly resonated very close to my inner-being staying quite true to the axiom. This book, for me, is a perfect allegory of life. Every single individual to tarry down its path will not fail to appreciate the utter simplicity with which Maugham encapsulates the reader in his magnum opus; in austerity lies his genius. All of us are leading lives much similar to the undulating shades of Philip Carey's (protagonist? :)) overly mundane and prosaic life. Some people might find it a tough read but totally worth it, take the plunge, if you haven't already, and allow it to seep in :).

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Review: Reasons to Stay Alive

Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

My first book which talks exclusively about anxiety and depression. Hailing from a country (Pakistan) that collectively suffers from all sorts of mental ailments, I could relate to a lot of details in the book, at some level anyway. Personally, I'm not depressed and have never been depressive at any point at time in my life apart from the nobody-understands-me teenage year phases. But even then, I do believe I've seen depression in people close to me, and this book has helped me put a finger on it and maybe given me some semblance of comprehension of this highly tabooed discourse in the society I was raised in.

I had never heard of PND until we had a son of our own and all our friends started having kids of their own; PND became a popular subject of discussion overnight.

Depression in Pakistan, in all its forms, is buried under tradition that has come into shape over centuries of intermingling cultures with almost all of them having rightist ideas as their common denominator. The line of thought these ideas generate tend to patronise mental illnesses equating them to weakness and lack of manliness in men, and well, women have never really been afforded much importance in the region to be considered worthy of scrutiny - they're supposed to live with it. All the more reason for the people from the subcontinent to read up more on these illnesses.

This book is a perfect introduction for anyone who wants to garner some understanding of this debilitating disease plaguing lives of millions of people around the globe. And also for anyone who might be struggling with such an ailment; Matt Haig has given an extremely personal and intimate account of his battles with the demons of depression and anxiety (now-then discussions are amazing), and it's the positivity that oozes out of his rhetoric that will definitely help people looking for reasons to stay alive!

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Review: A Malaysian Journey

A Malaysian Journey by Rehman Rashid

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I started reading this book because of an upcoming trip to Malaysia, my first. I thought it'd be a good idea to know a little something about the history of the country I'm visiting. So I googled, 'must read books on Malaysia', and almost every hit had this book as one of the recommendations. Now, I half-expected myself to labour through these 280 pages over a month and still be clueless about what Malaysia is all about. Because that's exactly how political autobiographies turn out to be, no? Boy, was I wrong!

Rehman Rashid is blessed with the beautiful gift of eloquence. His command over the English language is humbling and does not fail to render the reader speechless. Apart from the author's rich expression, account of his travels across Malaysia are fascinating, engulfing and intimately depicted. And he combines his personal life with Malaysian history expertly with not an iota of break in the flow. Overall, a very enjoyable read and should be on every tourist's to-read list!

The biggest drawback is the availability of this book. I ordered a copy from www.mphonline.com, an online Malaysian bookstore :).

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