Every three seconds, someone needs blood in this world. Blood cannot be manufactured and there is no substitute for human blood. So the needed blood can only come from GENEROUS DONORS.
When you donate blood once you help FOUR people at a time–one of them is you (see below how?) and the other three, who receive red blood cells, platelets and plasma respectively, separated from the donated blood.
You do not lose anything except ONE PINT out of 12 pints of blood in our body. It takes about 10-12 minutes to give the actual blood. The entire process, from the time you arrive to the time you leave, takes about AN HOUR only.
What’s blood donation like?
• Donating blood is a safe process. A sterile needle is used only once for each donor and then discarded. So a donor has no risk of getting HIV or Hepatitis C infections. • Blood donation is a simple four-step process: registration, medical history and mini-physical, donation and refreshments. • Every blood donor is given a mini-physical, checking the donor’s temperature, blood pressure, pulse and hemoglobin to ensure it is safe for the donor to give blood. • A healthy donor may donate red blood cells every 56 days, or double red cells every 112 days. • A healthy donor may donate platelets as few as 7 days apart, but a maximum of 24 times a year.
Are there any side effects of blood donation?
The donors hardly get any adverse effects except rarely, some dizziness due to low blood pressure. Drinks lots of fluids, eat a full meal within 4 hours of blood donation, do not take alchohol or smoke a cigarette immediately after donation. This may cause dizziness to occur.
How long does it take to replace the given blood?
After donating blood, you replace these red blood cells within 3 to 4 weeks. It takes eight weeks to restore the iron lost after donating.
How is blood concentrate collected?
In general, there are two methods in which blood products are collected: apheresis and whole blood donation.
In the whole blood method, blood product is first collected as whole blood. Using centrifugation, whole blood components become separated and settle in the following order: red cells at the bottom, the “buffy coat” of platelet and white cells in the middle and the plasma on top. This is the method commonly used in places with less resources.
Apheresis is similar to the whole blood collection except only the selected components are drawn off and the remaining components are returned to the donor’s circulation. This method is expensive.
In the end, the blood products collected are red cells, platelets, and plasma. Plasma can be further fractionated into albumin, cryoprecipitate (rich in clotting factors such as fibrinogen, von Willebrand factor, and factor VIII) and intravenous immune globulin.
How can blood donation help you as a donor?
First, before donating blood, everyone must pass a mini-physical and a medical history examination. During the physical, your blood pressure, pulse, temperature and your hematocrit level (the level of red cells in your blood) are checked. Sometimes physical problems such as high blood pressure are found during a blood donation mini-physical. So donating blood can be a way to keep a check on your own health while helping others. Second, preliminary studies also found that heart attacks and other cardiac problems were less common in men who had donated blood compared to men who had not.
Who can donate blood?
Though rules may vary, but any healthy individual above 17yrs and 110 pounds weight can donate blood.
If you are healthy and began donating blood at age 17, and donated every 56 days ( which is absolutely okay), until you reached 76, you would have donated 48 gallons of blood, potentially helping save more than 1,000 lives!
On 9/11, 1973, somewhere in some remote corner of the world, where too humans live, called Chile and which had a democratically elected President Salvadore Allende in power, the following events occurred:
At 7:00 AM the Navy of Chile itself, captured the port town of Velpraiso, strategically stationing ships and marine infantry in the central coast and closed radio and television networks.
By 8:00 AM, the Army had closed most radio and television stations in Santiago city; the Air Force bombed the remaining active stations
At 8:30 AM, when the armed forces declared their control of Chile and that Allende was deposed,
By 9:00 AM, the armed forces controlled Chile, except for the city centre of the capital, Santiago.
President Allende was informed of the coup. He refused to step down, and insisted on staying in the Presidential palace La Moneda. The military declared they would bomb the palace. The president was advised by his Socialist party to escape, but he refused. Even the Military tried to negotiate with him to resign, but he did not accept to step down. Finally, amidst air and ground offensive going on in the country, the President began a farewell speech in which he vowed to die rather than leave. And finally in the presence of two doctors, he killed himself with an AK47 rifle inside the La Moneda palace. All that was announced by the coup instigators was: “Allende commited suicide and is dead now.”
After the coup, Augusto Pinochet came to be the ruler of military led rule in Chile. He went on to rule Chile from 1978 till 1990. And history is witness that his was one of the most fascist regimes with severe human rights violations, the world had seen.
Only 60 people died on September 11, 1973 as a result of the coup de’tat. But what followed as a result of Pinochet’s dictatorship, is no secret to the world.
As described by the President of an eminent Human rights group :
He shut down parliament, suffocated political life, banned trade unions, and made Chile his sultanate. His government disappeared 3,000 opponents, arrested 30,000 (torturing thousands of them) … Pinochet’s name will forever be linked to the Desaparecidos, the Caravan of Death, and the institutionalized torture that took place in the Villa Grimaldicomplex.
”~ Thor Halvorssen, president of the Human Rights Foundation, National Review.
It is documented that: “ U.S. provided material support to the military regime after the coup, although criticizing it in public. A document released by the CIA in 2000, titled “CIA Activities in Chile”, revealed that the CIA actively supported the military junta after the overthrow of Allende and that it made many of Pinochet’s officers into paid contacts of the CIA or U.S. military, even though somewere known to be involved in human rights abuses.” mentions Wikepedia.
With due respect to the victimes of 9/11, 2001 and all those who have died as a result of terrorism all round the globe ever since, I quote an American Richard Clarke:
”We invaded a country, Iraq, that had nothing to do with the attack on us, but had everything to do with the preconceived plans of a cabal in and out of our government. In the process, we killed 100,000, wounded many times more, and threw millions out of their homes. More Americans suffered violent deaths in Iraq than did on 9/11, and multiples more were scarred for life.”
This event was what Naom Chomsky calls the ‘First 9/11’.
In the times when the whole world is going through an era of hatred, intolerance and extremism and Pakistan seems to be synonymous to all these words, what could be a better tribute to Bulleh Shah but to show to the world that there existed a daring secularist on this land almost 250 years ago.
Here I make a feeble attempt to write about Bulleh Shah, from what little I know of him as a secularist :
Bulleh Shah (1680-1757), was a sufi, who lived in the heart of Punjab, in Kasur, as a contemporary of Guru Gobind Singh, a reformer and mystic in his own right. Both of them had to face the wrath of a radical Muslim Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb in their life.
Not very different from the state of our current world, ridden with extremism and hatred towards other faiths , even 250 years ago, the subcontinent was plunged in deep turmoil. But Bulleh Shah, who thought far ahead of his times, dared to challenge the prevailing hatred and religious bigotry.
He lamented:
“Ulte hor zamane aaye, Hun asaan bhed sajjan de paaye. kaa(n) laggad nun maaran lagge, chiriyan jurre khaaye iraqiyan nun chabuk paunde, gade khood khavaye aapneyan vich ulfat naahee, ke-he chaachche taaye piyo putran ittfaak naa kaahee, dheeyan naal naa maaye sachcheyan nun hun milde dhakke, jhoothe kol bahaaye agle jaaye bankaale baithe, pichliyan farash vichaye Bullah jina hukam hazooron andaa, tina nun kaun hataaye.”
“Perverse times have come, I know the mystery of the beloved crows have begun to hunt hawks, and sparrows feed on falcons horses bear the whipping, while donkeys graze on lush green no love is lost between relatives, be they younger or elder uncles There is no accord between fathers and sons, Nor any between mothers and daughters The truthful ones are being pushed about, the tricksters are seated close by The front liners have become wretched, the back benchers sit on carpets Those in tatters have turned into kings, the kings have taken to begging O Bulleh, that which is His command who can alter His decree.”
Despite being a terror that Aurangzeb was, Bulleh Shah audaciously defied him not once but several times :
When Aurangzeb banned the music and dance, declaring it as haram in Islam–Bulleh Shah, following instructions from his teacher, defiantly went from village to village in Punjab, singing and dancing to his Kafis.
As Aurangzeb beheaded Guru Tegh Bahadur, Bulleh Shah dared to call the slain Sikh leader as Ghazi, a religious warrior.
” Kitay Tegh Bahadur Ghazi hay ”
Bulleh Shah hailed the revolutionary spirit of Guru Gobind Singh, calling him a ‘protector’ of those who believed in right to follow their religious belief. He said in a subtle satire:
Nah Karoon Ab Kee,
Nah Karoon Baat Tab Kee.
Gar Na Hotey Guru Gobind Singh,
Sunat Hoti Sab Kee.
I talk about neither yesterday nor tomorrow; I talk about today. Had Gobind Singh not been there, They would all be under Islamic sway.
Hence, mentioning that had the tenth Guru not been there, Auranzeb would’ve forced all to convert to Islam( implying Sunnat as circumcision).
Not only did he oppose the persecution of Sikhs in his times, he also advised Banda Bahadur not to avenge Auranzeb’s cruelty by killing innocent muslims.
Referring to the plight of his times in Punjab, and referring to the apathy of the onlookers, he wrote:
The Mughals quaff the cup of poison. Those with coarse blankets are up. The genteel watch it all in quiet, They have a humble pie to sup. The tide of the times is in spate. The Punjab is in a fearsome state. We have to share the hell of a fate.
(According to KS Duggal here ‘coarse blankets’ is referred to Sikhs) .
Bulleh Shah, in solidarity with Sikhs, is said to have visited a Sikh temple at Makhowal at the time of Guru Tegh Bahahdur. He saw people engrossed in ‘ Kar Seva’ (service to the temple, construction etc), ‘Kirtan’ (the morning singing of prayer) and ‘Langar’ ( the free distribution of meals ) by the devotees. Impressed by their devotion through service, he remarked:
Ett khrikka ( sound of bricks during construction work) Duppar vajje ( sound of dholaki during kirtan) Nale balle chulla (langar). Enhi galin Rabb raji rehanda Nale rehanda Bulleh.
Aurangzeb was arrogant not just to non Muslims, he even did not attempt to hide his hatred towards his own brother Dara Shikoh for following the Shia sect of Islam. And he had heartlessly got GuruTeghBahadur killed in public, in Delhi and also eliminated his brother DaraShikoh for his beliefs.
Bulleh Shah , on the contrary, being a true and fearless secularist, rejected the discrimination between faiths- be Hindu-Muslim -Sikhs or sects- Shia-Sunnis ,and wrote:
Neither Hindu nor Muslim, Sacrificing pride, let us sit together. Neither Sunni nor Shia, Let us walk the road of peace. We are neither hungry nor replete, Neither naked nor covered up. Neither weeping nor laughing, Neither ruined nor settled, We are not sinners or pure and virtuous, What is sin and what is virtue, this I do not know. Says Bulhe Shah, one who attaches his self with the lord. Gives up both hindu and muslim.
While he did not spare those who monopolised their faith:
“Lumpens live in the Hindu temples And sharks in the Sikh shrines. Musclemen live in the Muslim mosques And lovers live in their clime.”
And even dared to compare their clergy to ‘barking dogs’ and ‘crowing roosters’.
Not very different from the current times, wherein ‘secularism’ is still perceived as Ladeeniyat ( atheism)), he too was labelled as an apostate for his secualr stance. To which he taunted:
Bulleh-a aashiq hoyiyon Rabb da, Hoai Malamat Lakh Tenon Kafir Kafir aakhdey, toon aaho aaho aakh A lover of God? They’ll make much fuss; They’ll call you a Kafir You should say -yes, yes.
Learning from Bulleh Shah and Kabirdas, and knowing the history of subcontinent, today I too gather courage to defy Iqbal’s verses :
Juda ho deen siyasat se tou reh jati hai Changezi . When religion is separated from politics, it is reduced to brutality.
I say: Jurey jo deen siyasat se tou ho jata hai Changezi… When religion enjoins politics, it becomes brutal.
If after this you call me a traitor: I should say yes, yes.
P.S. My two penny:
Recently talking to a friend from Bhopal, about extremism in Pakistan, I felt disheartened to know that all she knew Bulleh Shah was that Abida Parveen sang him and that too in the context of his love poetry. And was oblivious to his humanist and secularist stance.
It is so unfortunate that even today, many in India ( besides Punjab) and elsewhere in the world, people who know Kabirdas and Amir Khusrow backwards, have barely heard of Bulleh Shah except in context of his love poetry.
Even my first exposure to Bulleh Shah’s poetry was through the verses…Bulleh ki jana main kaun...that too as a song sung by Rabbi Sher Gill. And I wondered and found the words wierd…not aware of the context. However, after having read some ‘bit’ of his history and his Kafis, it all makes sense now.
What wonders me most is that though in India, we read Kabirdas from grade Six, I never ever heard of Bulleh Shah’s mention in any Indian history text books. What is more unfortunate that even in Pakistan, school text books never taught Bulleh Shah whether in history or in literature.
I still consider Rabbi Sher Gill as the one who let me be familiar with Bulleh Shah’s name, to begin with. Besides many other sources…my special thanks to KSDuggal’s Mystic Muse, Saeen Zahoor for telling stories of Bulleh Shah, the blogs Sufi Poetry, of Raza Rumi ‘s and Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi’s, who I stalked to learn about Bulleh Shah’s poetry and history.
Na maen momin vich maseet aan
Na maen vich kufar diyan reet aan
Na maen paakaan vich paleet aan
Na maen moosa na pharaun.
Bulleh! ki jaana maen kaun
Na maen andar ved kitaab aan,
Na vich bhangaan na sharaab aan
Na vich rindaan masat kharaab aan
Na vich jaagan na vich saun.
Bulleh! ki jaana maen kaun.
Na vich shaadi na ghamnaaki
Na maen vich paleeti paaki
Na maen aabi na maen khaki
Na maen aatish na maen paun
Bulleh!, ki jaana maen kaun
Na maen arabi na lahori
Na maen hindi shehar nagauri
Na hindu na turak peshawri
Na maen rehnda vich nadaun
Bulla, ki jaana maen kaun
Na maen bheth mazhab da paaya
Ne maen aadam havva jaaya
Na maen apna naam dharaaya
Na vich baitthan na vich bhaun
Bulleh , ki jaana maen kaun
Avval aakhir aap nu jaana
Na koi dooja hor pehchaana
Maethon hor na koi siyaana
Bulla! ooh khadda hai kaun
Bulla, ki jaana maen kaun
Not a believer inside the mosque, am I
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharoh
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk (Muslim), nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
Not in stillness, nor on the move
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
I am the first, I am the last
None other, have I ever known
I am the wisest of them all
Bulleh! do I stand alone?
It is, as always, painful to watch the news bulletin which on most days begin with news of blasts, target killings, street crime or sectarian hatred. Following all this, in the end usually come the passing mention of floods, hunger, poverty and other issues that plague our homeland.
The manner with which the TV channel projected the news, marinated with spice, is perhaps to make it appetizing to the apathetic masses, who seem to have got immune to such news.
One such evening, when there were blasts in Quetta and Delhi simultaneously, along with the unabated target killings in Karachi, the bulletin was too spicy for my liking and I felt severely nauseated.
To get a breath of fresh air, I walked outside in the lawn. It was refreshing to see threesome geese…and saw that sitting beside the bird feeder. One of them was limping ( I guess was injured) while the other two were flapping their wings and trying to encircle the injured.
Dejected with my existence as a human being, I looked at the birds in an awe– ” Such free birds and travel over 4500 miles every year from Europe to Central Asian states, to finally arrive in Pakistani and Indian wetlands for winter. These migratory birds must have flown over awesome Karakorum, Suleiman and Hindukush Ranges, along the Indus River, to arrive in Pakistani marshes,” I pondered.
Sickened and overflowing with pensive emotions I found their partying in my lawn annoying and irritating. The geese’s a-hink-a-honk appeared unstoppable.
Perhaps I was envious of the research that I had read some years ago which found that these geese migrate thousands of miles as ‘one’ flock, rising above their individual self and if any bird falls sick or is injured, two geese fall out of formation and follow him down to help and protect him. They stay with him until he is either able to fly or until he is dead. And when done, then they launch out on their own or with another formation until they catch up with their group.
What a show of ‘empathy’, I wondered. And how shameful, we humans claiming higher brain function have almost forgotten this word.
As I sat to watch and feed them with wheat grains with my hands…I couldn’t resist but to share with them,
“I wish I was one of you.”
”Why? “, asked one. “Aren’t you the most intelligent species created by God?”
“Yes, but I love the way you tiny, pea-brained creatures fly thousands of miles , as free birds, who need no borders, passports or visas…even need no expensive tickets or advance bookings to travel each year …and there is no one to stop you.”
The goose eyes twinkled with pride, ”Yes indeed. But do you know how do we succeed in braving such distances?”
“Yeah, I read some research–you fly in flocks united as one group, in a V-formation, up to the destination.”
As I spelt the word ‘united’, my heart sank at the absolute disunity that we display being divided as Muslims-Ahmedis-Christians or even Shias-Sunnis instead of staying in a flock united as Pakistanis.
“Yes, unity and discipline are the foundation stones with which we brave through our arduous journey from Siberia to South Asia”, declared one of the geese.
“Discipline, that flying in a V you call discipline?” I taunted.
“Your scientists have researched and found out the reason why we fly in that V. Do you know why?”, he asked.
“Yeah I guess because to fly in an S would be tougher, Huhh!”, I mocked.
“Hahaha. You and your twisted human mind. Staying organised in a V gives us strength. The bird ahead flaps his wings to reduce the air resistance and gives a lift to the next behind it . Thus, the reduced air resistance is passed on to the bird immediately behind and subsequently the whole flock gets the benefit. And this way we are able to add 75% greater flying range than if each bird did it alone. “
Hearing this rang the bells in my mind of that painful High School Physics which taught us that principle of airlift. . But what’s the point, I thought, despite learning through science or through moral science, of the advantages of unity and discipline? Did we humans ever applied it in our real life?
I had no answer to the bird, but so true to my human nature, I made a nasty taunt,
“How mean, you let one bird as a leader do all the hard work. The one at the front does the most labour, ‘alone’ by flapping its wings through the air resistance. How inhuman?”
“You call this inhuman? Being cruel is so ‘human’ I would say”, the goose retorted.
That comment really hurt. I knew the goose was right. What hurt more was that it was a pea-brained goose making that comment about the most intelligent species created by God. (Thanks to the arrogance with which we judge each other too as big or small).
“Do you know we keep changing our leader and we all take turns to lead? When the lead goose gets tired, he rotates back in the wing and another goose flies point.”
“Oh really, that’s strange. How do you elect your leader—like us through elections?”
“Elections? Why? For us each bird gets its turn to be the leader. Do you humans let everyone lead, in turns?” he remarked.
How silly of these birds, I felt. If I was one of them, I would never let anyone else take the lead except me. To hell with turns.Huhh.
“And mind you, our leader really works hard, not like human leaders who live a VVIP life and never are they willing to step down.” replied the bird, as if he read my thoughts.
“Not only do we stay united and disciplined, we keep our faith in whoever is our leader for that period.”
“What?” I inquired.
“See our leader leads and works hard the most. The ones behind, follow him with complete faith. The ones at the extreme back keep honking all through the journey. They honk ‘Keep going, we are right behind you’. Have you ever experienced how energising it is when someone gives you support and inspiration from behind? It synergises one’s capacity far beyond one’s capability.”
“Faith?” I was confused.
“Exactly, it is a mutual faith between the leader and rest of the flock. This trio of unity, discipline and faith enables us to travel thousands of kilometres braving harsh weather, sometimes even lack of food on the way”, remarked the goose.
My head hung in shame. They understood what was the true meaning of faith–not just the faith in God, but also of faith in the leadership, faith in the people and faith in one’s own abilities. And this faith should make us move forward, not kill each other. We perhaps have misconstrued ‘faith’ as just religion and keep quarrelling with each other in the name of that faith.
By now, I was feeling embarrassed of how a pea brained bird was singing songs of its greatness. My ego could not hold back and I screamed: “Do you know this Unity, Discipline and Faith that you follow along the 4500 km journey, was actually a slogan given by our Founding Father?”
All the bird heads turned at me in awe…and after a long silent pause one of them remarked:
“You humans have heard of Unity, Discipline and Faith? Oh really?”
And with that exclamation, all three of them flew up in the sky, in a small V formation, towards the east , perhaps for their final destination in Bharatpur Bird sanctuary.
I kept staring at them, till they went out of sight. And with them, went out of mind the lesson they taught from their lives.
Why did I need to learn from those pea-brained birds ? Afterall I am the most intelligent species living on Earth.
Dengue fever is a flu kind of illness spread by bites of female Aedes mosquito. This mosquito bites the infected person and then bites someone else who is not affected thus transmitting the infection. These mosquitoes are active during the day time and at night when the lights are on. These mosquitoes live among human beings and breed in discarded tyres, flower pots, water stores etc.
The mosquito can be easily recognised by it’s black and white ‘zebra’ stripes.
The symptoms are as follows:
Treatment for Dengue and Dengue Hemorrhagic fever
• As far as the treatment is concerned there is no specific medication or vaccine,
• The affected person is treated with Paracetamol to bring down the fever. But one must avoid self prescription and consult the doctor, to prevent complications.
• The person is usually adviced to drink lots of fluids.
• The infected person should be isolated until recovery from the rest of the family to prevent further infections. The infected person as such cannot spread the infection but can be a source to spread it.
Although there is no vaccine to prevent this epidemic certain preventive measures as specified below can be taken to control the epidemic.
Preventive Measures to control Dengue Fever
• Use mosquito repellents.
• Discard all unwanted items getting gathered around the living area to avoid stagnant water that assists in breeding of mosquitoes. Eliminate the places where the mosquito lays her eggs, like artificial containers that hold water in and around the home.
• Keep the water stores clean and closed.
• keep yourself well covered when outside-with full sleeves and long trousers.
• Take prompt medical advice once fever starts.
P.S. There are emails speculating the goodness of papaya leaf juice for raising platelet count in Dengue Fever. It suggest to take 2 tablespoon papaya leaf juice per serving once a day, prepared from using 4 pieces papaya leaf (without stem or sap) after cleaning, pound and squeeze with filter cloth. There is no scientific proof of this recommendation, but papaya leaf is known to contain very high amounts of vitamins A, C, E, K, B Complex.
However, one must not stop following the medical advice for Dengue Fever prevention or treatment.
IMPORTANT WARNING:
The health researchers claim that if you have suffered from dengue in the past be more careful as theSECOND ATTACK OF DENGUE CAN BE MORE DANGEROUS than the first attack. The body develops antibodies the moment a person is sick with dengue. However, when that person gets well and is afflicted with dengue again, the antibodies that were developed the first time the person got dengue will mix with the new virus strain, causing abnormalities in the blood vessels and in the body’s immune system, causing Haemorrhagic Dengue.
Haemorrhagic dengue might lead to bleeding from the eyes, nose and through urine or stool.
Watch out for repeat infections!
And the only way is to prevent mosquito bite from the methods mentioned above or told by your doctor.
Take a couple of minutes to see this important information on Dengue causing mosquito:
Published in The News @AmanKiAsha on September 2, 2011
Panchee nadiya aur pawan ke jhonke, koi sarhad inhen na roke; Sarhad to insanon ke liye hai, socho tumne aur meine kya paya insaan ho ke
Birds, rivers & gusts of wind, no borders inhibit,
Borders are for us, think what have we gained being Humans ?
This couplet by Javed Akhtar from a Bollywood blockbuster entered my ears and shook my soul. “Wow! Javed Sahib knows how I feel each time I go to the Indian consulate in Pakistan to apply for visas for my family to visit my parents in New Delhi.”
“In January 1990, a girl in her mid-twenties in New Delhi ties the knot with a Pakistani man in his late twenties. Happy, but quite unsure how the things in her life would unfold after that. She wasn’t a poor small-town girl getting married to a well-off cousin in Karachi in compliance with her parents’ decision. She was a typical city girl, who made it to a premier medical school in Delhi and was full of patriotic fervour for her homeland. Her parents did not become a hurdle, but advised that she decide it with full insight, and not regret later. It took her four painful and paranoid years to come to this decision. The young man across the border, putting aside his ego in the face of repeated refusals for years, convinced her that they could make it.”
Twenty years on, I can confidently say that we have made it. Our life together hasn’t been all tulips and roses of course. We’ve had our share of ups and downs, in addition to the usual hurdles any usual couple faces. Both of us being passionately patriotic about our respective homelands, it hasn’t been easy. What helped us was the erasing of psychological borders, knowing that humanity on both sides of the border has the same needs and aspirations. We promised to uphold sanity in our heads and not spew patriotic venom against each other. Not that outsiders spared us. Any bitter comment against the other side by a “patriotic acquaintance” from either side affected me more than my husband.
At times I would be reduced to tears after such taunts, to be comforted by my husband with a “mitti pao” attitude. It is not easy when someone passes a snide remark about your homeland. Any news of a bomb blast or riots in my city, would have me sitting paranoid, glued to the TV, wondering about the safety of my parents and siblings.
In kindergarten our children faced questions from curious friends – like, “Do your have fights at home during a cricket match between India and Pakistan?”
My son would come home crying that his friends teased him about having an Indian mother, saying, “Your mom is a traitor!” It took him some years to feel confident that his mom wasn’t a traitor.
But the only time I really, if ever, regretted my decision was when I had to queue up outside the visa window at the consulate of a country I called my homeland. Miserable is an understatement of how I felt when the man behind the counter looked at my children, asking for details, as if I was taking little terrorist recruits with me to my beloved city.
And then on our return to Pakistan, my husband would be pulled aside by the airport security, questioning him about the frequency of his visits across the border. One has to live it to feel it.
My siblings and I grew up with our eyes open to the world issues, with parents who taught international politics at a university.
We were trained to look beyond our boundaries and feel for the suffering of others be it in Palestine, apartheid in South Africa, or Gen Zia’s martial Law in Pakistan. I salute my parents for raising us as “human” beings with a wide horizon.
Some attribute my “Indian roots” to my comments on news blogs or Face book regarding political matters in Pakistan. Yes, I am proud of my roots. But I also have a husband and two kids who are passionately patriotic Pakistanis. They love both places. And so do I. I claim that I own both countries, and love both too. Karachi is mine as much as Delhi is.
We know there is good and bad on both sides. We don’t indulge in mutual blame games. We have erased the psychological borders at home and we respect our political borders. And we love this feeling.
What if the one and half billion across both the borders could also erase the psychological borders? After all, people on both sides of the border are made of the same flesh and bones, we share the same genetic pool. I wonder if I will live to see that day.
Dr Ilmana Fasih is a gynaecologist and health activist of Indian origin, married to a Pakistani. Contact her via amankiasha@janggroup.com.pk Friday, September 02, 2011
The story goes back to two decades ago, when as newlywed and I had just arrived in Karachi.
An aunt ( Phuphi) of my husband invited us for a dinner on some ‘special’ delicacy (in her own words). There were a few other dishes, but all the focus was on the ‘special’ dish.
In the first glance, it looked like a thick curry with some extra large pieces of boneless meatloaves lying in it. Garnished with greens and some baghar, the aroma was appetising, I must admit.
While eating my Phuphi-in-law asked; “Do you know what this is?”
I said, “Some salan (curry) I guess.”
That must have really hurt her. She twisted her mouth with a wicked smile. My husband, too, looked wide eyed at me. So did everyone else present there. They all had that ‘poor her’ expression on their face, which generally Pakistanis had in 1970s, when their austere Indian cousins visited them.
“You don’t know this?” someone asked.
I was regretting to have guessed. It wasn’t the regret of having annoyed the aunt, but of those piercing eyes that were focussed on my ignorance of the dish.
My husband came to my rescue, “Phupho Amma, she isn’t very fond of non vegetarian food. So perhaps she doesn’t have any idea.”
My younger brother in law and a friend teased: “Yeah, bechare Indians don’t get to eat gosht so often, and beef is absolutely a taboo for them. ”
PhuphoAmma charged on me in a mother-in-law tone, “Tum kaisi Dilliwali ho, tum Nihari nahin janteen” (What sort of Delhiite are you, you are not aware of Nihari?)
I screamed before I could check my volume, “Nihari? This is not Nihari.”
Before I could blurt something else, I saw my husband giving me a look to shut up. And like an obedient new wife, I did, but with a huge turmoil within.
Back to our room, my husband assured me that perhaps this was homemade and hence not as delicious as the Khan ki Niharifamous in Karachi. Over a period of few months, we tried Niharis at several places, but I could not find what we in Delhi called Nihari.
I admit I wasn’t very fond of Nihari till then, nor was I really conscious of Nihari being associated with Delhi. In Delhi, I had heard from my father that Nihari is a Avadhi delicacy, from Lucknow.
Anyways I wasn’t a foodie especially for non vegetarian delicacies, nor a culinary expert, nor did I have any ambitions to be one. It was an open secret at home that I had chosen to be a medical professional, so that it would save me from domestic responsibilities, especially cooking. (It turned out to be an illusion, though. But, that’s another story to tell, anyways)
Knowing very well that I was marrying a goshtkhor( meat-eater) Pakistani who was fond of good food, and who’s mother was a culinary expert, I had made it pretty clear to him that I don’t like to cook.
He had in all sincerity reassured, “Anda to fry karna ata hai na? Kaafi hai.”
But as we hunted for the real Nihari, my craving for Dilli ki Niharibecame stronger.
After an year and a half when I first visited my parents in Delhi, apart from the million other things on list, one on the top was to go to Jama Masjid and relish ‘the’ Nihari, which is sold right at the corner of Matia Mahal, just a furlong from Dadi Amma’s house.
As the tradition goes, Nihari is cooked from the special shank meat of the beef, with trotsin over two dozen spices, the most dominant being the saunf(anise seeds) which gives it the aroma. on slow heat and takes several hours to get tender. Hence usually over night as shab degh. The degh( a giant round bottomed pot) is opened at certain times only –mostly at dawn around 7am or now, even at dusk (at Maghrib). And one has to be there at the right period of time to be able to grab it, otherwise degh lut chuki hoti hai.(It gets sold out fast).
True to its name ‘nihari’means pertaining to daytime, it is usually eaten at breakfast, at dawn.
Many a times I had seen Dadi Amma or any of the phuphis in the household send one of the shagirds ( disciples who come to her for learning Quran), a night earlier, to keep the pan with the shopkeeper. And as the cook would the degh early next morning, the he would kept aside some in her reserved pot.
The mere mention on phone of my desire to eat Nihari was enough, Dadi Amma promised to keep it reserved for me. I remember her doing the same for us with Shaadi ka Qormaand sheermal whenever any left overs arrived from a kin’s wedding, knowing that we craved for it. (Aah Dilli ka Qorma is another delicacy, not seen anywhere, which deserves another blog).
At first opportunity, we went to see Dadi Amma and others at our ancestral home in Purani Dilli.
Dadi Amma’s place, is a house, typical in the walled city. There is a sehan ( courtyard) at the entrance which leads to a room inside another , both of which used to have spic white chandnis spread wall to wall, and no sign of any furniture.
In addition to sleeping over, eating at Dadi Amma’s place had always been a fascinating experience. With a dastarkhwan( sheet to lay the food) laid on chandni( the spotless white spread on the floor to sit) covered floor across the length of the room. I wonder why, but as kid, I remember vying for a place at the corner of the spread. Some of the senior family members, referred to the plates, in salees-shusta Urdu, as rakabis. And although it had since long become a routine to use glasses for water, there would always be a couple of silver plated copper katorassitting on dastarkhwan. (Drinking water in katoras (wide bowl) was an old tradition of purani dilli).
That day too, we sat at the dastarkhwan all set to enjoy Nihari. My agenda was personal, while others were eager to see my husband’s response to Nihari. (Thanks to my negative publicity of Karachi Nihari)
With red glazing, aromatic nihari in sight, we waited till the boy brought in hot crispy nans wrapped in newspaper straight from the tan door in the gali, just a few steps away.
The first bite was like a dream come true to the nerve endings of my olfactory and taste buds. But in just a couple of seconds to my tongue, it was a reign of terror unleashed. The poor tastebuds caught fire and laid their arms in the next few bites. As if in a bid to dampen the fire, the eyes started to pour water. But I had to put a brave front, and no matter how hot the tongue burned, the ego stood firm to confirm, this is the true “Nihari”.
All ears, including my red hot ones, were dying to hear my ‘Pakistani’ husband’s reaction on the ‘Indian’ dish. Being courteous, he remarked, “It is delicious, but a bit hot for my liking.”
However, later when we went home, he revealed lightly, that he still preferred his Karachi ki maghaz Nihari. I was devastated, absolutely. But soon rationalised that, perhaps his tastebuds, and his brain cells were conditioned to call that thick curry as Nihari. His loss not mine, I consoled myself.
My ego wanted to have this Nihari more often, though a bit less spicy, so I got keen to get its exact recipe. My mother could not believe her ears that a cooking rebel like me was asking for a recipe. She and a phuphi had their recipes to offer, but they all admitted not being experts in the dish.
It is generally a tradition in purani Dilli that women do not cook Nihari at home and when needed, they just get it ready made from outside. Probably apart from convenience, it is because of the non availability of beef and also that it needs to be cooked overnight. In Delhi we have gas cylinders, not gas through a pipeline like in Pakistan. (In the days I lived there, cylinders too were rationed).
My Dadi Amma’s wisdom guided me to go to Rehmatullah (the cook and owner of the restaurant) and get the recipe from him.
Being in a flourishing business, Rehmatullah, was unwilling to part with his secret recipe. However, knowing that I wasn’t living there, he was kind enough to offer some from the readymade mixture of spice powder, that he prepared for his recipe. He was generous, and his masala lasted almost an year, till my mom found a place which sold indigenous masala.
Repeated cooking over the years for friends and family has given enough expertise and repute of being able to cook what most taste buds recognise as good Nihari.
Now I can claim to have mastered the details of the difference between the maghaz niharithey make in Karachi and the nalli niharithat we Dilliwalas have in Delhi. (However, I wonder, if there was any difference in them, earlier).
And now that the froth of my ego has flattened quite a bit, I am able to accept the Karachi one as a different version of Nihari, which acquired its own distinct character after crossing the border.
Unfortunately, now in Delhi, even the Muslims residing outside purani Dilli do not seem to yearn for Nihari during the breakfast, while in Karachi, Nihari seems to have taken the place of a national dish which is available at any hour of the day and at every corner of the city. But it still manages to retain the tag of being a Delhi dish.
Interestingly, instead of suspecting some secret readymade masala, most of my kin and friends from Pakistan attribute ‘my’ Nihari flavour to my Dilliwala origins.
Even more interesting is the secret, that it was in Pakistan that I was made to realise for the first time that I was a Dilliwali. And thanks to the Dilliwala tag that was thrust upon me , I now love it and quite often brag about it.
‘The abuse dies in a day, but the denial slays the life of the people, and entombs the hope of the race’.
Who would know the bitter effects of denial than I myself and still suffer from it’s guilt till date.
On visiting my parents in Delhi in July 1997, I clearly remember how my mom begged to me that she felt that my Papa wasn’t well and he needed a thorough cardiac check up. But my confident Papa, shooed her idea of an echocardiography . We went for a basic blood test which was all well.
Mom wasn’t convinced. Heeding her concern, I continued to watch my father with a side gaze, off and on, to see if I could get a trace of any signs of being unwell in him. He was radiant as ever, and after all he was my Papa, and how can my Papa be wrong about his own health?
On the contrary we construed a conspiracy theory that Mom was going through Menopause, and was hence anxious and unwell.
Twenty days after I left, I got the news that my Papa passed away, hale and hearty, while working on a computer, typing a chapter for his new book. He had a massive heart attack.
I have not forgiven myself ever since, for having lived in denial, to escape the harsh reality. Had I faced the truth head-on, life would have been different.
In a wider context, most human beings live in denial—with just the difference in the degree. We deny a thing and then wrap it in the garb of ‘conspiracy theory’.
On one extreme end, are those who deny Holocaust, the landing of man on Moon, the 9/11 incident, even the Abbotabad operation in which Osama Bin Laden was nabbed and killed. The other milder extreme are those who express “ We have stopped watching news because it is very depressing.” in an attemopt to not accept the day to day happenings around us.
But then the reasoning that we are endowed with in the neocortex, restores the rational thought s and we learn from our mistakes.
In Pakistan, one sees that denial has become a way of life. And we do not even learn lessons from those mistakes.
Most of us refuse to accept the problems of Pakistan as its own, and pass the buck on others—most favoured excuses being America, India.or if this doesn’t apply then we have the easiest scapegoats, the Ahmedis. And then to forget not, the new villain in town, the “hidden hand’ or the “teesra haath’ which we hear so often. God knows what that is?
Twenty years ago when I was new to Pakistan, first ‘conspiracy theory’ I heard was that Pakistan’s big or small problems, even in the early 1990s, were because it wasn’t given the ‘right’ piece of land during partition owing to the love affair that Edwina had with Nehru, which influenced Lord Mountbatten’s decision..
Whenever anything untoward happened, in Pakistan, some of my ‘friends’ and kin, made sure that I knew that all that was happening was linked to India too, in some way or the other.
Last I remember being the PNS Mehran incident—in which a ‘friend’ of mine took pains to mail to me while I was visiting my mother in India that it all happened because of the involvement of RAW/Indian agents. The proof she had was that those men who came there were uncircumcised. I did not shock me, for I had heard the same explanation when the armed men had attacked the Sri Lankan team in Lahore.
And now enter the video of Amir Liaqat. It again shows the manifestation of the same ailment. . We all have a bit of double faced Amir Liaqat in us who has one face in public and another in private. Even if I wasn’t a fan of his, I would still have a corner of sympathy for the human Amir Liaqat who swore. But not after his following video of denial.
Despite of all the actions he does, including the mimicry of the Qawwali claps or the humming of “hum to thehray pardesi” Bollywood number sitting sandwiched between two Mullahs, majority of his fans are again ready to close their eyes of reasoning and follow him blind to call this ‘dubbed’ and a conspiracy against him by the Ahmedis. The support I saw ‘virtually’ on some of the facebook or twitter statuses and in passionate ‘real’ discussions with ‘friends’, is mindboggling. And worse still, most of his women supporters are blind and deaf towards the mockery he makes of the ‘nazuk’ ma’amla of a girl being raped. Have their minds gone “ghass charney” ?
I have yet to come across a person, man or woman, who previously followed him, was now changed.
Unfortunately nothing will change in terms of numbers. In fact, those who called him Jahil on-line will continue to call him so, with more surety. While those who revere him as an Aalim will upgrade their reverence for him, and of all you know he might end up to be beatified after this incident, as a saint( aka Pir or Mujahid or whatever you chose to call) who is the victim of the ‘hassad’ of the liberals or the infidels.
Denial enmasse, has become a “National Sickness”. And conspiracy theory is it’s outward symptom. This sickness has led to our demise as ‘thinking’ and ‘reasoning’ individuals to a large extent. Our brains have become the vestigial organs and it is the kneejerk reaction at the spinal level that forms our opinions.
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So aptly has Meredith Grey summed up ‘denial’ : Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired, we are scared, denying it doesn`t change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. Head on, guns blazing. De Nile. It`s not just a river in Egypt, it`s a freakin` ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?
Needless to say, not just Amir Liaqat, several Pied Pipers of Denialistan are out in the open, who have led and already drowned a large chunk of us into the sea of ignorance.
Insufficient rain, drought, civil war, religious extremism, escalating food prices, bored donors of the world are all responsible for the unprecedented situation that the famine of Horn of African has reached. A handful of bodies are striving to make a difference.
There are 13 million people at risk of dying from it. And like most calamities-natural or man made , the most vulnerable are the children.
Young children are dying on their way to or within a day of arrival at camps in Ethiopia and Kenya, There are more than 50% of Somali children arriving in Ethiopia are seriously malnourished. In Kenya, that figure is between 30% and 40%.( UNHCR).
I know we all are aware of the situation but perhaps the day to day issues, our own personal and public problems make us unable to look deeper into the problem.
Going through the routine news feeds, I came across some harrowing stories about the drought which chilled me to the bones and I felt extremely guilty for not being able to give it the due importance that I should.
The stories are numerous, but the most moving were related to the kids, which would be enough to shake our conscience. However I thought I’ll share some related to the children there….
“When Somali mother Eblah Sheikh Aden gathered her seven children and set off walking for Ethiopia to find food, she never imagined she would end up sending some of her brood back into the heart of famine. “They were extremely sick and there wasn’t food here,” she told Reuters in the Kobe Camp in Ethiopia. “I couldn’t watch them die and had to make a decision.” It took Eblah two days to walk to the camp but another nine days for her to be registered to stay, such are the numbers of sick and hungry streaming. (Yahoo News)).
A father carrying the dead body of his one month old son: “We had taken Addo to the clinic but he never recovered,” said Hasano, who had fled southern Somalia with his wife and his one month-old son. “I’m now looking for space to bury him,” he said, nearly an hour after Addo died from severe malnutrition.(Yahoo News).
In Dadaab, Kenya, a refugee Barwago Mohamud huddles silently beneath a few blankets stretched over sticks at night, fearing for her life after a neighbor was raped, and a naked woman who had been kidnapped and gang-raped for three days in front of her terrified children was delivered to the medical tent next door. “What can we do?” Mohamud remarked. “Our neighbors have been raped at night. We are afraid. Some boys are helping watch at night in case of trouble but they also work during the day.” And Mohamud, whose door is only a blanket draped on a stick, keeps her daughters close and dreads each sunset.(BBC)
“There is the story of Sahan who was on a bus coming over from Somalia when four gunmen stopped the vehicle. The women were ordered off and raped in the bush for three hours. She has not reported the rape because she was living far away from any medical services on the outskirts of the camp and did not want to leave her family. She asked her last name not be used to protect her privacy.” (BBC)
“Eyangan’s worry for her grandkids is constant. Four year-old Alemilemi is suffering from a protein deficiency illness, Kwashiorkor, stunted growth and malnutrition while his younger brother and follower Tipen is severely malnourished. Tipen is weak and tired from dehydration and hunger. “He has since given up on crying because he can only cry but there is no food to offer. I only gave him black tea just to stop him from crying,” Eyangan explains. (World Vision).
Now the news is that Tipen has died.
Along with these tragic stories about kids there is some tiny ray of hope too.
An 11-year-old Andrew Andasi, a Ghanaian schoolboy has so far raised more than $500 (£300) for victims of the famine in Somalia. He launched his campaign last week after watching footage of people walking in search of food. He told the BBC he wanted to raise a total of $13m during his school holidays from private donations. After a meeting with the UN World Food Programme Bank director in Ghana to ask for advice, Andrew set up a bank account for donations on Tuesday. “I’m very very sure that I can raise it in just one month,” he told the BBC. “I want individuals, companies, churches, other organisations to help me get 20m Ghana cedis.”
Said he: “If I get the opportunity to go to Somalia I will talk and I will let the UN to make an announcement the warring groups in Somalia should stop because of the sick children and women,” (BBC).
With these chilling stories of the famine, I wonder if our own stake holders of peace will ever learn any lesson.
Or maybe for them our floods are enough of a deterrent against famine on our land, hence, carry on the killing fields unabated.
I just wonder. .
(P.S. All the stories are simply copy-pasted the way I read them from various sources mentioned in the parenthesis.)
Blind to Bounds 
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