EWS Course at Szabist

After the first 3 classes got cancelled, I never thought this course would turn out to be one of my favorites in the first semester at Szabist. Not only because what we were learning was appealing, it was the teacher who made it much more fascinating.

Ma’am Bina is one of those rare teachers who make sure that each and every student understands what is been taught and everyone is on the same page. She gave us full space and freedom to present our point of views and perspectives which really helped us in building our confidence.

I was never into writing neither I’d planned to write anything in the future until now. After a month, I realized how much fun it is to write. I still remember when in our early classes Ma’am Bina use to give us these blog entries as homework, the whole class use to mourn in pain including me. But after my couple of entries on the blog, I started feeling comfortable.

The Short Story was the time when I fell in love with this course. We were asked to write a short story on any topic of our fondness. I was tensed in the outset but when I presented my idea to Ma’am Bina, she appreciated my idea and gave me tips and instructions on how to enhance the reader’s interest in my story. We learned on how to put that essence of interest in our drafts thru this assignment. I didn’t know that I could write like this. I could sense the improvement in my writing skills by this time.

We went over some stories like Urdu My Love Song, Poison and Shooting an Elephant. It was thrilling to re-write “Poison” from a kraits perspective in one of our hourly. Then we were asked to write what could’ve happen if we, as George Orwell, didn’t shoot the elephant.

Be it punctuations, grammar, tenses or writing skills. We learned English from the very scratch in this course. We enjoyed this course thru out the semester and learned the art of writing efficiently.

The last class was mesmerizing. We watched a movie named “Finding Forrester.”
Everybody thought it’ll be an unexciting movie as it was about a basketball player in the outset, but once the story started to build up, our interest was developed and we enjoyed every bit of it till the last scene. Few girls ended up crying for Mr.Williams.

I want to thank Ma’am Bina for teaching me, for avoiding my mistakes and giving me the opportunity to learn something I didn't knew I could ever do. Every time I’ll write something, it'll remind me of you. I will definitely miss your Pointer Pod casts.

Faizan Sheikh
BS-MS-1B

Shooting An Elephant - Enemy [Exercise]

Enemy - A hostile force or a person in opposition.

The Britishers were against Orwell because they sent him to Burma. The Burmese hated him because he was a "Britisher" who wanted to impose imperialism on them.
They didn’t realize the fact that he was a police officer who is supposed to protect them.
I consider the tamed Elephant as an enemy too because he was a danger to the Burmese as well as Orwell.
The situation and events that Orwell describes emphasize the hostility between the administrators of the British Empire and their ‘‘native’’ subjects. Both sides feel hatred, disbelieve, and resentment. The situation is universally degrading.

RaftinG

It was the first day of my summer vacations, and what more could i ask for than the family hang out of rafting my father had planned for us. On top of that,what really made it exciting for me is the fact that my father knew a lot about rafting and we always used to imagine how it would be when he used to share his past experiences of rafting with the family.
We were in the car and suddenly my heart started beating faster when my father said "we are only five minutes away"
I got off the car, walked for a short five minutes till i saw something and stood as and where i was. The sight was not as pleasing as i thought it would be. Looking at the enormous river with that loud noise of the water rushing past and hitting the rocks in its way, so up close was, well, scary. The sight of it gave me shivers down my spine.
The white water as it is called with its' powerful waves evoked many feelings in me. None of them put me in the mood for adventure though.
It was only when my father held me by the arm and pushed me towards our raft that i realized i was stepping backwards. I dare not say anything, after all which guy would want to sound like a chicken in front of his younger siblings. The sound of the gushing waves, and splashes of water hitting against those huge rocks, were beginning to numb me from within, to the extent that all i could actually hear was silence.
We all took our positions on the raft, and off we went on our not so little adventure, entirely on natures' terms. Only that, nature just didnt seem too happy this afternoon.
I closed my eyes and started feeling the bumps. The water just pushed us along with it, taking us closer to that steep cliff just a few hundred meters away from us. The moment i was dreading, or was it the time to say goodbye to all your loved ones?, was getting closer.
"AAAHHhhhhh" everyone screamed as we were thrown down the cliff, drenched with water, my guts were officialy tested to their limits. Just then, a few moments later i felt a lack of motion. I finally decided to open my eyes and was amazed at what i saw. The river had taken a turn and we were in the middle of a patch of much stable waters.
I could not help but be in awe of the beautiful views around me. It was a scene from heaven. The water, and well even nature, finally seemed so tranquil and at peace. We kept moving on and on for around a kilometer till I gained my senses back. I had my eyes glued to the constantly changing views and the blanket of nature draped all the way. The beautiful waterfalls and springs, the endless shapes and forms of those gigantic rocks and trees which were the height of a five storey building, made me feel so belittled and humbled and I realized that it would not have felt this amazing had I not been through the roughness of the water tossing us around like toys.
Rafting finally showed its special dimension, the very personal contact to the pureness of nature. Every new kilometer, even so a meter, all along the way, giving another hue, another sight-seeing, another challenge.
This is exactly like our lives, with ups and downs throughout the ride. And who would appreciate the good things in life, if we were in a state of eutopia. So, I guess it is good to be challenged every once in a while, because it makes us value the happy moments much more.

I finally found my breath of fresh and heavenly `minty' air after that bitter sweet (cliffy and rocky) experience.

Speaking of challenges, the raft is about to hit another strong current. I should take my position, its time for another.... After eight Mint ;)

Being the `Mother'

Oh no....its not possible....
We all love our mothers. We respect them, we keep telling ourselves how we know that our mothers do such tremendous jobs at home. Looking after us and our health and sacrificing her sleep to prepare all those special treats we want in our sehri. And its not just me, with three siblings they all have there own demands. Its just amazing how mothers just handle it all, single handedly most of the times.
We see it, we know it, but we hardly realize it.
Although, we would, if we were to do a reversal of roles. You really have to be a mother to know what it takes to do everything she does the way she does it.
I just cant imagine being her, atleast not with the routine I have right now.
But, well hypothetically speaking, I guess I'd hire someone, like a maid or something.
I will give in the orders the night before, have everything prepared well before time so that she can have time to herself and the family can sit down and just chit chat for a while before time's up.
I actually wouldnt even mind some sehri eat outs either. Interesting! sounds fun.
But wait a minute, what a horrible mother would that make me? I wouldn't want my mother to do that I guess. Being a father may be can still give me that liberty though.
I reckon that will really kill the whole essence of ramazan then. So, I suppose I'd just make the effort and wake up an hour earlier, get busy in the kitchen, and I honestly wouldn't even mind a helping hand from one of my children. Make all the `parathay' and `kabab', and probably some lassi to go with it.
Tune into one of the sehri special transmissions on tv, gathered around the dining table.

Wow! That was simple and sweet.
It really wouldn't hurt to get up with my mother and help her around the kitchen a bit, its us she's doing it all for afterall.

Who Am I?

No matter what happens, everything almost always falls right into place. only that we dont get to decide what that place might be.

Taking every bit of Life as it comes and making the best out of it. I believe, between the bitter and sweet of dark chocolate (or life), you can always find a way to get a breath of some minty fresh air.

Enough of chocolate for now, the blog is actually about the minutes or as i like to call them `mints' of my life.

who am i?

The name is Faizan Sheikh. Born 22 years back in the `city of lights'. well thats what it was back then, now its more of a `city of no lights' and alot of loadshedding. But this city still amuses me with all that it has to offer. Karachi for me is just like a country within a country full of people with so many different cultural and religious backgrounds. I cant imagine `home' to be anything other than this.

Aspiring to claim fame in the world of media, I've created this blog to document my already so exciting journey towards my destination.
so here goes,
my inspirations, my diary....
my `mints'...........