Kashf - Issue 2 (January 2018) by Habib University

A HAB I BUNI VE R SI T YCR E AT I VEMAGAZ I NE I S S UE2-J ANUAR Y201 8

Letter from the Editor Dear all, As we embark on this, our second issue of Kashf, I would like to extend my congratulations to my team for pulling off this difficult feat with courage and dedication. I would also like to congratulate Anusha Fatima on her project Trash It! You make us all proud Anusha! This is the first time this university has seen four batches under one roof, but it is also the year our first batch prepares to go out into the ‘real’ world. God speed to you all. This magazine began as a passion project of a few students who wanted to bring forth the immense talent this community has. Over time it has turned into a collaboration between students to bring out the best the HU Community has to offer, and more. As we are racked with numerous issues plaguing the world, as a community we have shown an immense amount of strength and resilience. I am proud of the community we have built, one based on love, compassion and strong bond that each of us share. This issue of the magazine especially focuses on the great feats our students have achieved. Shaheera and Mariam each travelled across the world for experiences unmatched. The student body collectively pulled off TEDxHabibUniversity on the 27th of May 2017, with roaring success. There are, no doubt, multiple stories within our community that are special in their own right. This issue here is dedicated to all of you. Our team has worked day and night over the past 6 months to get this issue to you. I hope you enjoy reading it! In the wise words of Tolkien: “So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings.” Signing Off! Ed.

The Team Director of Content Syeda Ummul Baneen Rizvi

Editor in Chief Zahra Mukhi

Senior Editors

Editors

Saniya Zaidi Uzair Ibrahim Husain Zaidi Iqran Rasheed

Aymen Ansari Maryam Ahmed Hunza Irfan Moawwiz Shaheen Syed Sameer Nadeem Amna Fareed Haider Raza Sabah Ismail

Director of Design Anis Amir

Design Mushba Said Gulay Syeda Hadi Luluwa Lokhandwala Mashal Shamsi

Photography Rumisa Lakhani

Cover Art Fizzah Hamid

Inside This Issue 7

Faculty in Focus: Nouman Naqvi Syed Muhammad Husain Zaidi Saniya Shah Zaidi

Areej Al-Medinah

Syeda Aliza Sajjad

Cover Story: Glimpses at Success

Anushay Zehra Rashid

TEDxHabibUniversity

Mariam Fatima Hadi

Let the Sign Talk

Travels and Adventures: London

Travels and Adventures: Tajikistan

Shaheera Pesnani

Think you can be part of the team? Email us at kashf@habib.edu.pk

IF THEY COULD ONLY SEE ME NOW Ramsha Saad Thaniana

If they could only see me now They said i couldn't touch the clouds Well if only they could see me now I'm as close as it can get They said i couldn't survive Well if only they could see me now Thanks to them i have more ďŹ ght If only they could see me now I've been climbing mountains That they can't dream of reaching And I've been ďŹ nding hope Where they convinced me i didn't have any I've let the sun shine bright on me Ignored the darkness they threw on me I've done myself a favour Andi hope you do the same They can't hurt us anymore They have more bark than bite They can only say the harmful words They cannot make us believe them If they could only see us now We'd show them how we are done Done listening to them Done agreeing with them Done being weak I have touched the clouds and climbed the mountains Andi can do it all again Now I know that i can do it Now I believe in myself Now i don't care anymore if they can see me Becausei do it all for me And you can do it too Just don't let them get to you If they could see us now But NO they won't because they never really did And now they don't deserve to Because if they saw you now They'd claim your success as theirs Even though its not theirs to claim Because when they saw you then They didn't let you believe in yourself

Untitled Ukasha Rafiq

‫�‬ ‫� �ڑو �� ‬ ‫� �� ا� � ��‪،‬‬ ‫� �ڑو‪،‬‬ ‫� �ڑو � � �� ‬ ‫ڈا�‪،‬‬ ‫��‬ ‫�� ؤ � ا� اب � � �‬ ‫ڈا�‪،‬‬ ‫� �ڑو �� ل �ؤ اب‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫� �‬ ‫�� اك � � � اور �ا� و� �‪،‬‬ ‫�� ح در �� ‬ ‫� � دو‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫د�� ں � �‬ ‫�� ‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ں اب �وا� ُان �� را�ں �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫� � � � ��‪� ،‬‬ ‫�� رے � � �ر �‬ ‫�� ‪،‬‬ ‫� � �� ‬ ‫� �� ل ڈا�‪،‬‬ ‫� �� آ� � � ر�ں �‬ ‫� ڈ� �ؤ‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ؟‬ ‫�� ق �‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫�� ‪،‬‬ ‫� �ٹ �‬ ‫�� ق �‬ ‫� �ڑو‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‬ ‫� �ڑو � اب اس �ل �‬ ‫� � � �� ‪،‬‬ ‫وہ �رے �و � ��ن �ل �� ‪،‬‬ ‫� � � د�ے � ِد �ك �� ‪،‬‬ ‫��ا � �� دو � � و� � � � ُاس آگ �‬ ‫�‪،‬‬ ‫� � � � �� ‪� � ،‬‬ ‫ڈا�‪،‬‬

‫� �ڑو‪،‬‬ ‫�� ڑو � �ؤ � ‪� � � ،‬ؤ �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ‪،‬‬ ‫�� اب ��ں � اك � � � �‬ ‫� �‬ ‫� � � �‬ ‫در� � � �‪،‬‬ ‫� � �‬ ‫� � ��ا� � �� ‪،‬‬ ‫��‬ ‫�م � � � � � �وف ر� �‪،‬‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫� �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� وہ � � � � � �� ‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫� �‬ ‫� �‬ ‫� ��‪،‬‬ ‫� اب � اِك �� ‬ ‫ُا� � � � ر��ورى � � �‪،‬‬ ‫� �م � �ور ��ں �‪،‬‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫� �ط � �‪� ،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‬ ‫� ��ں � � �‬ ‫� � � � �� ‬ ‫� �� ‪،‬‬ ‫� � � �‬ ‫� ��‬ ‫� � � �� ا �‬ ‫�� ‪،‬‬ ‫� اب �‬ ‫�‬ ‫� �� م ��ور ��ں �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫��ں � ڈورى �ڑ� �‬ ‫� � � �‬ ‫��ا��ت �د�� دل � اور �‬ ‫�� ‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� د � ��ردى �‬ ‫� �‪،‬‬ ‫� �ڑو‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� �ڑو � �� د �� اوراق � ��ھ � � � �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫� � �� د�پ �‬ ‫� رو� د�� ‪،‬‬ ‫�� ُا� � �ورى � �� ‬ ‫� �ڑو‪،‬‬

‫ﭼﻠﻮ ﭼﮭﻮڑو!‬ ‫�� ر� ر�ى‬

‫د�� ‬ ‫� �ڑو� اب � �‬ ‫�‪� ،‬ڑى � دورى � �� ڈوب‪،‬‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� � � � �� ‬ ‫�ر� ا�� زرا �‪،‬‬ ‫� �‪،‬‬ ‫� �� ‪،‬ا� �ط �� ‬ ‫� � �� ‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� ��‪� ،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‪،‬‬ ‫ ‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫��ى �ا� ��ت � � � � ��‪،‬‬ ‫� اب �� ؤ‪،‬‬ ‫��‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ؟‬ ‫�� اب‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‪،‬‬ ‫� �ڑو!‬

TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES

L O N D O N Story: Mariam Fatima Hadi Photographs: Wikipedia; Visit London

After spending months dreaming of this moment, I was finally standing in front of the prestigious building of the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE). The LSE is located in the heart of London, surrounded with an aura and a sense of aplomb, very descriptive of modern Britain. Academically ranking second in the world for social sciences, LSE comprises a world-renowned faculty, each specialized in their own distinctive areas of interest. Studying at LSE becomes an enriching experience also because of the great buildings and institutions that surround it, such as the Royal Courts of Justice, King’s College, Lincoln Inn’s Fields and many other tourist attractions all of which are at walking distance from the LSE. I left for London on the 15th of June to attend a 3-week summer program in Culture and Globalization, part of LSE’s internationally recognized (and quite intensive) summer program. Classes had to begin on the 19th of June while I was to pre-register and check into my dormitory on the 18th. I decided to explore the city while I had time before the program. London is a city that speaks for itself. There’s a genuine feel to it. Once you understand the logistics of the city, there is a sense of confidence and independence that comes naturally to you. The fascination watching the big red Double Decker buses on comparatively narrow roads in central London, and travelling in tubes and trains suddenly absorbs in the skin as if it was always a way of life for you. In preparing for the days ahead, I walked down my dormitory from LSE that I was to stay at for the following 3 weeks. The dormitory was a 15 minute walk away from LSE. The walk was truly mesmerizing: a blend of buildings both old and new, both cemented and bricked, both modern and Victorian, even Gothic (as was the Royal Court of Justice just outside the Clement House Building that I had my classes in, and the old Church across that rang bells every hour). On the way you could see road-side cafes laced with beautiful flower buckets hanging on either sides of the poles signifying spring and summer. You could smell the freshly brewed coffee served to customers sitting on the tables, also sampling a croissant or two. The urn-fresh bricked buildings and houses were by and far so well-maintained. The truth is I was quite nervous on my first day to LSE. I wasn’t very sure what the class mix will be, though I had been chatting with a pre-Summer Program WhatsApp chat group for some months. I landed almost half an hour before class, while an Indian student, who looked equally nervous, thought I was a teacher. That somehow gave me some confidence: I looked like a teacher at the LSE. Then students started pouring in and suddenly I felt we all had become one big family; chatting and waving hi to each other, meeting as if we had not seen each other in ages (though we had been chatting on WhatsApp almost everyday). When Mr. Mathew Engelke, the teacher of our course, walked in at 2 pm, everyone settled in their seats and a round of introductions began. I found out that I was

the only Muslim from Pakistan. The rest of the days seemed an exercise in telling the world what Pakistan is and clearing some of the myths that existed in the minds of other students. My course was an anthropology course focusing on the impact of Globalization as a western ideology being imposed on third world countries which were once colonized by the West. Globalization tries to limit cultural activities in third world countries to “help” them connect with the global economy to eventually create a global culture. We talked about the effects of colonialism, neoliberalism and nation states on different cultures in the modern era. We observed contemporary examples such as the “Occupy Wall street” movement, Bush Mechanics, Trump’s presidential speech, the Katine Project in Uganda, Coca Cola and McDonald’s. We watched two movies to understand tourism as an example of Globalization. It was also interesting to look into the Olympics as an example of Globalization. Readings included books such as the Clash of Civilizations by Samuel Huntington, Rigoberta Menchu’s Biopic and Imagined Communities by Benedict Anderson. We studied some major theories articulated by Franz Boas and Edward Tylor. Towards the end of the course, we looked at Globalization associated with war on terror. All in all, it was an overwhelmingly interesting course for me. Warm noon times are a rarity to an otherwise cloudy weather in London, and I was lucky to receive a warm and sunny weather. As I would get off at 5 pm I would set about exploring London. Because that was rush hour, Londoners were mostly seen busy running around either for work or other businesses. However, once you start to settle in, you become one in the crowd, somehow moving in the same direction. Many tourist attractions close at 6 or 7 pm on weekdays. However, past 7 pm you hear loud music, cheerful laughter and the clicking of champagne glasses, especially on Friday nights or the beginning of the weekend. One thing’s for sure, Londoners definitely know how to have fun. Be it a peaceful evening by the embankment, listening to the soft sound of the waves of the Thames, or a night out with your squad at a nearby pub and jamming out to your favorite songs, or even spending some time at a book shop, sipping on some coffee and reading one of your all-time favorite novels. You’d certainly find something that fits your way of having fun. My days would begin with taking the 341 bus destined for Waterloo every morning at 9:22 am. After 5 stops, I’d get off at the Royal Courts of Justice, where I’d first spend a good 5 minutes listening to the ringing of the church bells and then continue walking to class. After our first class, my friends and I would grab lunch at a nearby café and then prepare ourselves for our upcoming 3 hour lecture. As the last class ended at 5 pm, it was huge spiral-shaped library that became my second home. Since my course took most of my time during weekdays in completing readings and writing essays, I spent my weekends visiting some of the most known tourist attractions. In my one month visit to London, I compiled a list of must-visiting places.

Trafalgar Square is located in the heart of the city of Westminster. On some days I’d stop by there to admire its architecture and complete my readings near the fountains. Adjacent to Trafalgar Square is the National Gallery (and it’s free). I’d spend some time looking at beautifully painted iconic scenes of world history. I learned at the St. Paul’s Cathedral that any human being from any religion or background was allowed to sit in a Cathedral. It was very calming. There’s an extraordinary feeling attached to when you take part in rituals celebrating peace with a group of people, irrespective of your diﬀerences. The British Museum is great for learning more about human history and ancient civilizations (and this is also free). One of my favorite places in London was the Tate Modern, which is located near the Bankside. It was very interesting to watch modern and contemporary art convey existential social issues. My favorite exhibition at Tate Modern was the showcasing of John Akomfrah’s documentary on Stuart Hall. London is a city that very adherently preserves art and history. The Embankment is the best place for watching sunsets and enjoying scenic views. The Big Ben is located opposite to the Embankment. There are a number of other places to visit in London as well such as Hyde Park, Madam Tussauds, the famous Oxford Street, Baker Street - and especially the Sherlock Holmes’ Museum. There’s a lot to see for Harry potter enthusiasts as well. There are also concerts and theatre plays taking place all over London. It became a part of my routine when I started meeting my teachers over lunch to discuss the content of the course and eventually talked about my future prospects to pursue a graduate degree from the LSE. It also gave me an opportunity to work on an intensive project with one of my teachers after classes or over the weekend. A push of motivation by my friends helped me agree to take part in an extended project with my teacher which I will now hopefully continue on my next visit to the LSE. How this whole month passed by I really don’t know. But I do know that it just became one of the best experiences of my life: meeting one of the most wonderful people at LSE, exploring London on my own, and returning home with lots of memories and new friends, who are now part of my life. Is there anything else that I could wish for? I wonder.

TOHAM Zahra Sohail Mukhi

The marketplace was a vision. Merchants with goods from exotic lands; fruit sellers with cantaloupes as big as a cart could hold;vendors displaying trinkets and treasures of all shapes and sizes; cloth merchants with fabrics of the finest quality; and of course, the little children running around, creating havoc. This wasn’t unusual, it being a Saturday evening. Quite the opposite really.He felt an odd sort of peace whenever he walked through the marketplace. Today was no different. As he passed by a fortuneteller and his customer, arguing over one trivial thing or the other, he thought about her. He had met her three months hence. For him, it was love at first sight. For her, it was love at second sight (if such a thing even existed). He thought about how she would’ve loved the colors of the market and how she would’ve stopped at every shop that displayed something that interested her even in the slightest. He thought about the flowers she would gush over, by the florists shop, how she would spend hours just taking them in. He thought about the last time he met her—a week ago. They had met in the café just off the main junction at the heart of the city. She had just moved with her mother and brother. He had lived here his whole life. And so, he vowed to show her around Toham. Their day was half spent with nervous laughs and small talk— the rest was a comfortable bliss. He longed for tomorrow, when they would meet again. He often thought about the lights in the street, how they would illuminate her face. How she would try to push back wisps of her hair, failing every time against the relentless wind. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he did not see the carriage coming at him. The driver was able to steer the horses in time. One second later and he would have endured severe injuries. For now, it was just a scratch and muddy pantaloons. ‘Forgive me brother, many apologies.’ the carriage driver said in a distressed tone. ‘No, forgive me. I was not looking ahead. It is my fault as well.’ He replied. They shook hands, forgave and forgot and went on their ways. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen this man before. He thought the driver had given him a knowing look before. But it was probably just his imagination, like most things are. He carried on walking through the market and out along

the riverbank. It was nearing dusk now. He liked these walks along the river. They cleared his mind and his lungs off the city air. He wasn’t a great thinker or anything. He was just a simple man trying to make his way in the world. And so instead of conjuring up some scheme to save the world from utter destruction, his mind went blank. Instead of thinking, he just enjoyed the moment. It was something he had done ever since he was a child. Whenever he was angry or sad or just tired, he would come up near the riverbank and stop thinking. He would just observe. This habit of his had carried on and now instead of some days, he would come here everyday. The flow of the water and the chirping of the birds calmed his body. He loved it here. He dreamt of sharing this haven with her one day, when his insecurities would not get the better of him and more importantly, when he was ready to share this secret with another person. It was after dusk now. The sky had an ethereal gradient about it. Light faded to dark. Oranges, pinks and yellows gradually became indigos and blues. It was magical. If only he could seize this moment and throw it onto a canvas. He wasn’t a painter but he knew that if he ever tried his hand at it, this is what he would paint first. And keep on painting for the rest of his life. He got up from his spot at the alcove of a cluster of trees, woven together like a child hanging on to it’s mother. He turned to look out one last time at the sky—now a deep blue—and looked up as if to say a silent prayer, and thanked whoever was out there looking after them all, for this moment. Then, he turned and made his way home. ***** He led a fairly normal life. Nothing big ever happened to him, nothing of importance. It was mundane, but he relished in it. He was of the rare breed that actually liked a normal life. He didn’t yearn for something big to transpire nor did he desire a larger than life event to happen to him. He felt he was made for a normal life with a normal routine and he was okay with it. As he turned to make his way into his street, he couldn’t help but stop for moment to take in the sight before him. Children playing one game or the other with the little illumination provided by the street lamps; older men jesting with each other while playing a game of cards, glancing at the children every now and then. He waved to the men and made his way home. His parents were waiting for him at the dinner table ready to hear about his day and tell him about theirs. He loved these dinner conversations;they made him feel important.His mother usually talked about the soaring prices of vegetables and meat and any other commodity she set her eyes upon. His father listened to her going on about the neighbor’s dog and how it wouldn’t stop barking even during her afternoon nap. After dinner, as they all sat down near the hearth with a cup of tea, he would talk about his day at the bank. They knew about her, at least his mother did. She didn’t let on about it, just gave him

knowing stares every now and then, as every mother does. He would just look away as if he didn’t know the reason behind her expression. And she would smile to herself. After tea, the house would sleep—literally. The lights would be put out, the doors bolted shut and for the remainder of the night, not a single sound would be emitted from the small, cozy home nestled in the comfort of Toham. There was one thing that bothered him, something he spent countless sleepless nights mullingover. He didn’t dream. That is not to suggest that he did not have dreams, but he just didn’t dream in his sleep. As peaceful as his nights were, they didn’t hold anything for him. No surreal images of the world, or predictions for the next day or even a mundane vision. It baffled him. While his colleagues over at the bank occasionally talked about the bizarre visions they had, he never had anything to tell. It could be possible that he did dream, but forgot about it later on. But he was sure of it. He knew he didn’t have any sort of dreams or visions. It used to bother him so much so that he had even considered seeing a doctor about it. It didn’t anymore. He had come to terms with his situation. Tonight he just yearned to sleep a long deep sleep. ***** His days were more or less the same. He woke up in time to see the remnants of the sunrise, washing the sky with hues of yellows, pinks, oranges, and blues. By nine in the morning he was at the bank working his way through clients unhappy with one thing or the other. Every day at noon, he would frequent the sandwich cart by the stairs leading up to the relics of an old manor. He spent fifteen minutes sitting by the stairs having his lunch and thinking about non-trivial matters. At five in the evening, he would make his way home, through the old market of Toham. Today, instead of heading home, he went the opposite way, to a famous restaurant in the main center of the city. She was waiting for him there. They had corresponded two days hence, agreeing to meet in the same restaurant where they had had their first encounter. He had put on his best shirt and even sprayed some perfume on before leaving the bank. As he made his way to the town square, he couldn’t help but feel his bones freeze over. As he looked down, he noticed his hands shaking. That’s odd, he wondered. This had almost never happened to him. He hurried up the street, across the statue of a lady playing the flute, through the town square and up to an alley. The small restaurant was nestled at the very end of this alleyway. He rushed up, fearing he might be late. As soon as he entered, he looked around frantically trying spot her. His eyes fell upon a head of chestnut hair, flowing freely, looking down upon a menu-card. He stood there for what felt like hours, taking her in. When she finally looked up to spot him, he felt as if he could drown in those amber

pools. It was only when she waved him over that he gained his senses back. He pulled back a chair for himself and sat down, immediately taking her hand in his. She smiled at him, asked him about his day. He answered in short sentences, afraid that if he spoke too quickly or for too long, he would carry on ranting like an uneasy pig. By the main course, he had lost most of his nervous frenzy and talked openly and without a care. By dessert, they were laughing and conversing as if they were long lost friends. He cherished these moments. He cherished her smile and her laugh—like a nightingales song. As with all beautiful moments, he longed to seize this as well. Not necessarily paint it on a canvas, but etch it into his memory such that even when he was old and gray, he would remember this particular instant. He was shaken out of his reverie when he realized she was asking a question. He quickly answered, so as to not seem uninterested. They stayed on for another hour or so. After dinner, they walked around the city. Toham was perfect at this time of the night. Not really bustling, not really asleep yet. Shops were shutting down for the night; a group of children ran around here and there heading home or playing around; the odd fellow out to breathe in the city air ‘after hours’; and of course, there were senior citizens sitting in one corner or the other, sipping kahva and playing a game of chess or cards. He relished the feeling of having her by his side. They carried on talking about everything and anything they could possibly think of. It was getting late. They made way for her home, five streets overfrom his own. Her mother knew about them, so meeting out was not that big of an issue. In return, her mother only asked that he return her daughter safely home, a request he was happy to carry out. He dropped her off at her doorstep. They said their goodbyes and promised to write the next day. He lingered around long after she had gone in. It was only when he felt like a creepy stalker did he move to head home. ***** His days were filled with work and thoughts about her and the stroll through the marketplace and the sunset on the riverbank. It had been three months since that day, strolling through Toham with her on his arm. They met often, at least once a week. He was now confident of the fact that he was completely and unapologetically in love with her. Whether she reciprocated his feelings or not, he did not know. She had certainly hinted on the fact. He had told his parents about her last week. They were thrilled to find out that someone was willing to tolerate their son. His life was just fine. The dreams had started bothering him again—or rather the lack of them. He didn’t know why but he just couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was utterly wrong. He tried not to think about it but it was incredibly difficult to K

do so. He had dreams in the sense of some achievement or feat that he wanted to achieve—like hiking the mountains in the north of the country or finally learning how to swim or learning how to paint—but he did not have dreams as visions in his sleep. He was sure of it and it bothered him to no end. Over the past few months he had visited various doctors, each with their own solutions and none that would work. It had frustrated him so much so that he simply couldn’t sleep. He stayed awake all night long, mulling over various matters not important in the strictest sense. When he finally would get some shuteye, it would be dawn. He could feel the toll this would take on his body. He felt considerably weak, not to mention his mother complained about him losing ten pounds in the span of a day (not exactly possible, but mothers over-exaggerate). He couldn’t concentrate on his work. The only peace he felt was when he sat by the riverbank, looking out at the sunset, and of course when he was in her company. He felt he needed a break. He was emotionally and physically exhausted. He had filed for a leave of two weeks. Two days later, it had been granted to him. Even his boss could see his condition. And so, he took a break, from everything. He spent his days strolling around Toham and sitting at the riverbank, not really paying attention to anything. He still exchanged letters with her; those were the highlight of his day. The first week, he actually felt at peace. It was nice to get away from his normal routine. Instead of walking, he bought a bicycle and made his way around the city, the wind whispering words of endearment in his ear the whole way.

him to prepare his breakfast and see him off. He smiled and thought that thiswas something true for mothers all over. They’ll go out of their way to make sure their children are comfortable. He said his goodbyes, with the promise of returning in two days. And he was off, with a big smile on his face. He made his way past the town square, over the bridge connecting the suburbs to the main city, past the marketplace and over to the riverbank. He stood there, for what felt like hours. The sun had finally come up. Minimal activity had already started in some areas. Restaurants getting ready for hungry customers, vendors setting up shop in the marketplace, state officials heading to their various places of work, children only opening their unwilling eyes, about to head to school. He walked along the bank until he came upon a pathway made up of stones leading to the other side. It was tricky, getting through this. If he wasn’t careful he might even fall into the river. The current was strong today, which meant he had to be extra careful. It took him another few minutes until he mustered up the courage to take that first step. As his foot hit that first stone he thought about how he’d never attempted something so daring in his whole life. This cannot be categorized as ‘daring’ per say. But for someone who had taken precautions his whole life and rarely listened to the voice at the back of his head, this was big. He tried to calm his heart with every step he took—it still skipped a beat every time his foot hit a stone.

He awoke before dawn. As always, he looked out the window and admired the sky. He’d never woken up this early. Instead of the usual yellows and pinks, his eyes fell upon hues of blue. It was the time between dawn and night. The sun was about to come up, but not quite. The moon was setting, but not quite. And together, they shed what little light they could to create this mystical sight. It was almost celestial, as if an angel had come forth in the midst of this sleepy city and worked his magic.

When he had finally reached the other side, he looked back at Toham, now a blur of buildings. It was odd—he felt relieved. It baffled him. He moved on though, letting all thoughts of Toham go. He started on the muddy track that led to who-knows-where, letting his instincts guide him through. All around him were fields of green with some pink or blue or yellow in their midst. He was marveled by the sight in front of him. He walked on for a few more minutes, until he came upon a spectacle that stopped him right in his tracks. Before him was a field of sunflowers, swaying with the wind. Beyond it there were endless meadows of wild flowers. From the brightest blue to the dullest orange. Tulips, roses, chrysanthemums, geraniums, and several others he did not know the names of. It was a sea of color. And it made him want time to stop. Indefinitely. Now he truly wished he could paint. He longed to put this sight before him on a canvas, show it to all of Toham, maybe even the world. With the snow-capped mountains in the background, this looked like a sight out of a children’s fairytale book. It made him thankful to be alive. It made him want to turn back and cherish every moment he had left with his parents, and her. But, he had made a promise to himself. He would explore this vast land as much as he could in these two days and enjoy every moment of it.

His things had been packed the night before. He washed and dressed in a hurry, excited for the prospect of setting foot on unknown territory. As usual, his mother was awake, waiting for him in the dining area. She’d gotten up before

After the initial bewilderment of the moment, he started walking ahead, in search for a place to stay—or a good place to set up camp. He walked for about a mile or so when he came upon a small cottage. It lay directly in the

There were three days left until his leave ended. He decided he wanted to try something out. He’d always stayed on one end of the river. He knew that on the opposite end lay the countryside. Fields of the deepest, brightest green dancing in the wind, open roads for miles and miles. He could vaguely make out the land ahead from where he sat, but he longed to get a closer look at it. He decided that tomorrow he would make his way beyond the river. *****

midst of the meadow, yet hidden behind a few cedar trees. He tried to look beyond the cottage, wondering if there was a whole community there. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t make out a thing. Even in the glaringsunlight, it was dark. He made his way to the cottage, trying his luck for a comfortable bed. As soon as he took that first step, he looked up and blinked. In that one second, in that one blink, he saw her. He saw his parents, he saw his childhood. He saw the old men on the pavements, he saw the children playing on the street. He saw his life. When his eyes opened, he was immediately blinded by a strong dust storm. For a moment he couldn’t fathom how he’d reached here. He looked around—it was a desert. Sand dunes spewing dust at him, and nothing else for miles. He looked down, his hands had a thick layer of sand on them and they felt stiff. He looked all over himself—he was covered in sand. Layers and layers of sand. He felt all over; his face was wrinkled, there was a beard, even his eyebrows were bushy. He felt he’d aged a million years. His body ached, yet his heart and his mind were at peace. His head turned eastward, trying to look for some clue as to how he got here. He frantically looked all around. And then his eyes spotted something in the distance. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out what it was. It was a man. And he was looking straight at him. The man looked familiar. It was only on closer speculation did he recognize the man. It was the carriage driver from the marketplace. And it looked like he was smiling. Everything suddenly fell into place. The city, the river, the stone pathway, the meadow, the marketplace, everything made sense now. She made sense. The nights made sense. He stood up, ignoring his aching limbs. He laughed and he danced and he cried. And he sang the memories of days gone by. He knew. He finally knew. He knew the secrets he spent his life searching for. He knew why he’d gone where he had—to this utopia where all was well. As much as his limbs ached, he did not stop swaying to the sounds of the desert. He would never stop. Not now, not when he knew. *****

Untitled Sana Rizwan Gondal

ON TOP OF THE WORLD Ramsha Saad Thaniana When you're on top of the world It doesn't matter what they said It doesn't matter what they did Cause your there as free as can be Free from their judging eyes And smirking lips Free to be happy for once To be yourself The wind doesn't care if you're too much The sky hugs you no matter who you are The view is there regardless Nature loves you even when no one else cares On top of the world My smile was real Worries nonexistant Wish those seconds could last a lifetime

SCATHED SUSURRUS

AMABAM AMARE

Fahad Nasir

Zahra Sohail Mukhi

I love passion; Night maunders thick, Blotched with dim-lit stars that yet bother to strain. Barking, howling dogs; crickets chirping in distance, Dreary streets lit only by sullen lights Of not the moonless sky.

passionately. Paintings on canvases. Stroke of the brush. Amabam Amare.

Heaths lay bleared; Some anchor is this night – its very air awry. A grim reminder of a once successful transaction, Now beyond expiration (26th’s marked on the calendar; oh now I see, now I see). With vile breath, I taint the air murmuring your name. A name so divine – chunk of lead on my tongue – Gulped by the leering air around – Left behind are trails of scathed susurrus now.

Stuck in the past. Striving for the Now. Amabam Amare. A child in me. A drunk in me. Amabam Amare. Time leaves its mark. We are not

Glistening tears simmer, Underneath sheaths of these wretched eyes That once worked like that of a basilisk, Snuﬀed out vapid are now, like that of a man blind; Lonely I’d lie again tonight.

Us. Amabam Amare. The Now. The Eternal. The Immovable. Amabam Amare.

Untitled Rumisa Lakhani

FACULTY IN FOCUS DR. NAUMAN NAQVI

Interview: Syed Muhammad Husain Zaidi Saniya Shah Zaidi Photography: Rumisa Lakhani

The first question is very basic but one which has caused a lot of talk among the students. When you use the word “Gora” what exactly do you mean? First of all, it is important to know something about the history of this idea of whiteness. If a Native American wants to say who destroyed their civilizations, who exterminated their generations – because it’s not just a question of destroying some artifacts it’s actually the killing of millions of people. If those people want to say who did this to them, what are they to say? Similarly, if African Americans are to say who was responsible for bringing them from Africa to the Americas – literally millions of people. Ofcourse a very large proportion of them died on the way through the Atlantic passage. Who are they to say did this to them? They say ‘white people’.If the colored and the Native Americans say, ‘White people did this’, are they being racist? For a white person I just say Gora because it specifies them. What they do, is abuse the non-whites. They say niggers, not just Negros which means black, but niggers which is a term of abuse and they used to call us (South Asians) niggers too. One of the reasons I think people find it so disturbing when I say Gora, is because they are so interpolated in this Goraness themselves that they do not want to face it. As far as I am concerned, whoever thinks of themselves as Gora is Gora. These people who used to call themselves Gora are still calling themselves Gora and the rest of the world, at least the middle classes of the entire planet are busy becoming like them. They think that these Goras are the best people who have ever existed in the history of humanity and are spending billions – literally billions if you look across the third world – billions of dollars on skin whitening creams. I don’t think it’s such a mystery as to what I mean by Gora. I’m happy to call it the ‘West’, I’m happy to say ‘Western’, but again that is not a natural category. In the past, it wasn’t the case that you would say ‘the West’ and people would naturally take it to mean Gora people. That itself – as you know from the Stuart Hall article that you read in What is Modernity?,‘ The west and the rest’, the category of the ‘West’ also appeared as a result of the West’s encounter with, enslavement and subjugation of the Third World. They determined the other and the inferior. So when I say Gora, I am participating in a discourse which is first of all invented with this distinction made by the Goras themselves. They make this distinction all the time – the world is organized in this apartheid fashion. You will not find apartheid states in the history of the world before this modern period and the proof of this is all of the empires that we had in this region; whether it’s what the Goras call ‘Hindu’ empires or ‘Muslim’ empires. They gave these religious categories,which are also racial categories by the way. It’s very important to note that all of this history the Goras wrote was all racialized. So Hindus are a race, i.e. Aryans, and Muslims are a race, i.e. Semites. But the ‘Muslim’ empires were actually dynastic empires like

Tughlaq, Khilji and obviously the Mughals, who called themselves Timuriya by the way which means descendants of Timur. These are dynastic empires. As for the Gora empires, what were they called, were they named after dynasties? No, they were named after nations, the British empire, the French empire, etc. So this is a major difference between the nature of modern colonial states and pre-colonial states. Once again, it’s an apartheid state. All of the states that they established under modern colonialism were apartheid. They were based precisely on the difference between Kala and Gora. So the discourse, which is a hierarchical discourse, is invented by them and forced on the rest of the world by them. When those people who are infact supposed to be ‘darkies’, turn around and call the Goras Gora, they are somehow culpable. This is called having your cake and eating it too. It’s also a political question: when I say Gora it is to once again, specify because these people who call themselves Gora take up the position of the universal. I am Muslim, someone maybe Hindu. Gora however, is universal human. So when I say Gora it specifies who Goras are. When you say that, you are not granting them the position of the universal human, pointing out their specificity, which can also be called provincializing because they universalize themselves. It’s a question of specificity. You are talking about those people who call themselves Gora, and actually I am very happy to admit Gora is not just outside of us, it’s also inside of us. And actually, that is what really bothers people because they have completely internalized this Goraness. It is because of apartheid rule that we don’t remember that the British had a very intimate relation with us for 200 years. It’s different for example with the Mughals. Noman Baig is a Mughal, are you going to say he is an outsider? No, he and I are from the same ‘race’. The Mughal empire has been around for a little longer than the British but the British have been a part of India since the early 1600s when they got their charter. Why are they complete outsiders as opposed to the Mughals? It’s because race is an invention of Goras themselves. Now unfortunately, we are in this position where we are living in the world that Gora created. The world in which we all live is not the world which the Africans created, it’s not the world which the Indians created. It’s the world that the Goras created, the West created. And even the traditions here are products of colonial rule. It was an extraordinary form of rule, unprecedented form of rule, unprecedented form of state, and it intervened very deeply into regional societies both through direct and indirect rule. Do you think that racism can be invoked in the critique of your use of the word Gora? Alot of the core is focused precisely on the historicity of the West. Gora was not created out of the mind of God as Gora. There is a history to the West. That’s one of the things that we do in What is Modernity? We try to understand how Gora became Gora. How the Goras create themselves. How often do you hear the word ‘East’? You K

hear the word West all the time. You pick up any newspaper from any day from Goraland and you see ‘the West’ everywhere. They are the ones who are calling themselves ‘West’. Now if I turn around and say that, well, I think the West is like this, then you say, oh you are being occidentals’. Similarly, these people who – as you have read in Exterminate all the Brutes, the guy is saying and this is a scientist of the 19th century, that we have to exterminate all of these people, red, black, yellow – all of them need to be exterminated. And then when you turn around and say, well, the Goras are like this, then you are supposed to be racist. This is like saying that a woman who calls out men on their misogyny is a misandrist. If a woman says that men are like this and men are like that, it is not misandry. Men by the way talk like this about women all the time. In school, when a friend would break up with his girlfriend he would go on at length about what women are like. If a woman does the same, and tells us what men are, and that too in a patriarchal world like ours, we can’t accuse her of misandry. How often do you hear the word misandry? You hear misogyny. When a woman says something about a man that is critical of men, it has a different status from when men criticize women, our structure is such. Similarly, for a Gora to say ‘kallu’, for a Gora to say ‘nigger’ does not have the same meaning for God’s sake. Are people out of their minds? How can it possibly have the same significance as me saying that Goras are like this and Goras are like that, or for an African American or for a native American? I am Syed, in other words my race is Syed. Tell me in how many languages in the world do you think they have a word for Syed? Not very many. In every language of the world they have a word for Gora. We say Gora, the Latin Americans say gringo – please remind people that this is by no means unique to my discourse. This is practically universal. They are referred to universally, the South Americans, the Latin Americans call them ‘gringo’, in some parts of Africa they call them mzungu, in other parts of Africa they call them mlungu. Practically every ethnic group on the planet has a word for these people.Why is that the case? How did that come to be the case? These people are all racist? These people who have suffered atrocities of which there is no precedent in human history. Never in human history were famines witnessed like the ones in this region when these people ruled. The estimates are mind-boggling. Anything from 30 to 100 million people died during these famines. What are these numbers? It's impossible to even comprehend these numbers. The whites almost completely exterminated an entire continent of its native population over the course of just a couple of hundred years. Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of humanity, and we are racist? Every day of our lives we continue to suffer these indignities and humiliations in which we have completely internalized the self-hatred that these people embedded in us. “Tum Kala log jutey ke neechey hee raheyga” wasn’t complete fiction. This is literally how they treated us.

People have forgotten that they used to call us niggers. We need to wake up. Racism - they are racist and when we turn around and remind them of who they are and what they have done then we are supposed to be racist. And people over here think this is a problem? They need to wake up. Moving from the Gora issue, do you think it is fair to compare Western colonization with earlier conquests for example, the Muslim invasion of India? I partially answered this question in the first response. There is no comparison.They are two completely different kinds of phenomena. There is no such thing as a Muslim empire. There was no Muslim imperialism. Everybody thinks that Delhi – and this is the way they constructed it – was the center of Muslim empire. Now that of course is absurd. There were different states allover, India both what they call ‘Hindu’, and what they call ‘Muslim’. None of them identified themselves as part of either of these categories. Nobody said it is the ‘Muslim empire’, rather it was always Sultanate-e-Timuriya, Sultanate-e-Khiljiya, etc. These people (Goras) came in and established national, apartheid empires. Moreover, for me it is an empirical question of how we are to understand the world in which we live today. So first of all these people established these national empires, so that's what sets them apart. That's what sets apart these two kinds of imperial formations. Secondly, if I am to understand the making of my modern world, the world in which I live, where am I going to look? Am I going to look in the premodern past? Want to understand the Muslims? Read the Quran. This is absurd. What sense am I going to get of contemporary Pakistani society by reading the Quran? Zero, none whatsoever. It is an absurd way of investigating. Instead I would look at simple historical chronology. So I want to understand the second half of the 20th century as it emerged, I will look at the first half of the 20th century. That is what the historical investigation would entail. Or I will look in the 19th century, this is the period of colonialism. How are we supposed to understand the question that we asked? It is central to postcolonial people, in fact not only postcolonial people, the West itself needs to understand this. The West is what it is because a great deal of that has to do with colonization. Their experience of colonialism made them who they are today. Not in terms of their wealth only, but also in terms of who they are. The Americans are the most militaristic people that have ever existed. Does that have no connection to the fact that they were responsible for thegenocide of tens of millions of people? In America today, why is there a right to bear arms? Why are Americans crazy about their guns? Because, it is a nation founded on genocide. Where all the male population was armed and carried out this massive genocide over a course of a couple of centuries. They always make excuses of dying off because of diseases. Well, a great deal of that was actual biological warfare

where they gave the native American population infected blankets for example. We don’t do history at Habib out of mere antiquary interest. It is not just out of an interest in the past. Rather we want to answer questions like, how did we come to be who we are, how did we get here, and to look at that we need to see the past few centuries. Now we know as the result of the Anthropocene, the world that we live in today, i.e. the world that was created in the past 200 years is totally diﬀerent, fundamentally diﬀerent from the world that existed before that. In the geological record itself, we live in a completely unique period of human history, the modern period which transformed everything, which changed everything. Well, not everything, but pretty much the basic features, the structural features of our world were made in these past 150-200 years. We all know this, it is perfectly obvious: this conversation is being conducted in English while we are sitting in Karachi, you are wearing western clothes, I am wearing western clothes. And you could just go on and on. It completely saturates our world. It's impossible to understand anything without looking at the transformations that happened over the past couple of hundred years, especially in the past 150 years, essentially in our region after the Rebellion. That is the time period in which the world we live in today was forged. So in the West, what happened in the past couple of hundred years? The form of the state, the form of the global economy coincides with the history of capitalism – all of these are products of colonial rule. I cannot understand my contemporary present by studying the Mughal Empire, by studying the Ottoman Empire. I might understand something by the transformation of the Ottoman Empire from the latter half of the 19th century onwards but that would be because it westernized itself. Once again, the reference to the West would be essential. So we cannot get away, neither the West nor we, without investigating these modern colonial empires. Again, there was no such thing as the Islamic Empire. Returning to my thought earlier, they say that Delhi was the heart of what they call ‘Muslim rule’. Muslims were in a minority in Delhi and UP which was considered as the heart of the Muslim empire, that is why Pakistan was created. The fact that Muslims were in a minority in these very areas just goes to show how much the presence of Islam in this region owes to ‘Muslim’ conquest, owes to ‘Muslim’ violence, the ‘Muslim’ sword. These are total myths that people over here have bought. ‘Muslim’ rule is being represented by us also as a history of conquest, as being a history of force and a history of being an empire. So both the West – of course the west would like to do this – and we ourselves, we have national narratives about ourselves based on this. In the case of Pakistan it’s very obvious. You begin the history of this land with Mohammed bin Qasim from the early 8th century. That is, because we confuse the presence of Islam with the history of conquest. As I keep reminding everybody, when I ask them where is

Muhammad bin Qasim buried, they have no idea. When I ask them, where is Aurangzeb buried, they have no idea. Any of these rulers you don't know. But when I ask them where is Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti buried? They know it's Ajmer. Where is Data Ganj Bakhsh buried? He is buried in Lahore. And I could go on and on –Nizam Uddin Auliya at Dehli for instance – because not hundreds of thousands, but millions of people go there every year. Who is significant in the history of the region? Conquest, Muhammad bin Qasim, Baber? Where is Baber buried? Do you know? You don't know. You know Humayun because his tomb in Delhi is made famous by modern tourism. Otherwise there is no urs for Humayun, no urs for Akbar. Does anybody know where Akbar is buried? In Fatehpur Sikri. Just goes to show you that in historical fact and in historical memory – genuine historical memory, not the nonsense of nation-states, the histories that they try to create for themselves. I'm talking about the living history of the past. What is significant to the people are these faqirs. And if there is any association between Islam and this land, there are literally – I have just named a few – there are literally hundreds and thousands of auliya who are spread over this land. Please remind me of some British auliya, some French auliya from the past 200 years. Which auliya came to this land with Western traditions? Whose urs do the locals observe? Lord Macaulay ka urs suna hai, Urs-e-Lord Macaulay? Urs-e-Queen Victoria suna hai kisi ney, Urs-e-Edward the 7th. Urs-e-Warren Hastings, Urs-e-Henry Maine? Obviously not. So this is the difference. I know it's very easy to collapse everything into one: Oh, violence has always existed. Humans have always been like this. You need to know some history and be able to understand historical difference. We strive here at Habib University to develop a genuine historical consciousness. Having a sense of history is having a sense of historical difference. If you do not have a sense of historical difference you do not havea sense of history. Very significant for us is the historical difference between pre-modernempires and modern Empires. These are modern impositions on the pre-colonial past, this business of Hindu empire, Muslim empire, Chinese or Buddhist Empire. We have been taught to critique western notions of development and progress at Habib. Surely not all pre-colonial traditions were admirable, Sati for example. Why is it that we do not look inwards when creating a critique and call out these practices that have pre-colonial origins? Yes, well even what we consider to be our traditions … these are all clichés by the way. Habib university is committed to genuine academic scholarly investigation of problems and questions, not relying on clichés and platitudes which are in any case prevalent. Prevalent precisely because of colonial rule. People are still reading and are completely inundated with colonial discourse even today. So looking inwards – like I said, Goras and the world they created, their ideas, their thoughts, etc, are not outside of us, they are inside of us. So when we criticize K

modernity that implicates us. It is a self-critique. Now, as far as traditional practices are concerned, this is also a completely generalized expression. So Bentick who was responsible for banning sati … There is actually very good scholarship on the question of Sati which post-colonial Indian scholars have produced, which has a critical take on this colonial trope of the Sati. Lata Mani’s book Contentious Traditions, which is about Sati is one of the best books out there on the question. In fact, Sati did not exist as a generalized practice, it does not represent ‘Indian’ tradition. Nor for that matter did restrictions based on caste. Do you know in the 18th century Goras used the word caste to represent their own societies? Over the course of the 19th century the idea emerged that caste is something unique. Now in our own minds the moment you utter the word ‘caste’, you think India, you think Hinduism. Well aren’t Buddhism, Jainism, Bhakti Indian? All these movements that existed against caste are Indian. Sati was limited to some Brahmanical peoples and it was generalized as something that was practiced by all of India, all Hindus. This was something that the British state did. Actually, down to our own times – when they wanted to go to war with Afghanistan there was this movement to save Afghan women. They hadn’t thought about them before that, all of a sudden when they wanted to go to war with them, all Goras became interested in the fate of Afghan women. Typical modern colonial trope, same in Algeria, in all kinds of parts of the world. Similarly, why is it that they chose sati? It makes Goras look like heroes saving brown women from brown men. So there is that. People don’t know these things they don’t know anything about history they assume what they have heard is something authoritative. They need to read, they need to think, and they need to do it from a properly post-colonial perspective because that corresponds to the nature of our reality and the world’s reality. So this idea that tradition is something – first of all, there is no word for this in our languages, we have invented various words to correspond to this Gora idea of tradition, but that is just a translation, you would call it riwayat today. Infact, tradition only exists as an opposition to modernity, it is a category of the west, which was administratively imposed on this region. Who is to decide what is traditional and what is modern? Most of what we think of being traditional today are reified colonial practices, practices of colonial categories. Even the names of our traditions.Before a 150years ago, you won’t find this ‘Hindu’ stuff. Before the colonial period, people won’t understand you. Syed Ahmed Khan said in the late 19th century sometime in the 1870s, after this Hindi movement began, thanks to the British once again, he said I don’t understand what people mean by ‘Hindu’, anybody who lives in Hindustan is a Hindu. It was merely a geographical marker, a geographical category referring to the river Sindhu (The Indus). Anyone who lived east of the river Indus was Hindu. So it was a geographical category which they changed. Islam is the same, you won’t find a single book before the 1870s infact which has Islam in the title. People didn’t talk about it as an objective

category, it didn’t exist as an object of both coagulation of a whole way of life, as a dogma, as a legal system – all of that happened once again, as a civilizational category also in the later part of the 19th century. So the very nature of tradition is absurd. This inside/outside, this idea that somehow we are not criticizing ourselves. How critical is the Habib Core of our nationalism? In fact, ask these people have they ever heard, or is there in any university such a rigorous critique of the nation-state and nationalism? Of course we do it at a global level and our own nationalism. Habib university is the most self-critical place in Pakistan. But then the question arises, again with the western notion of identity of nationalism our own nationalism, the critique of Pakistani nationalism is a critique of western nationalism. The question that we generated was that there should also be critique of indigenous practices that were not British or foreign in their foundation. So I mean one has to be speciﬁc, yes? I am pointing out that infact such key things that we think are at the very heart of who we are, or what our tradition is etc, nationalism for instance, how important is that in our sense of who we are? Nothing more important than that? How important is the sharia? Very important. These things are addressed in the Core, so you cannot say, oh why don’t we criticize our practices? Well, which practices? When and what do you mean by ours? Who is this ‘we’? The ‘we’ itself is constituted. There is no uniform ‘we’ in the Sub-continent. There is no ‘Muslim’ self, there are no uniform Muslim traditions– none of these things exist. So I’ll repeat my point: the Habib university curriculum is the most self-critical curriculum being taught anywhere. These people do not see that in criticizing the west we criticize ourselves, because our criticism of the west is simultaneously a historicization of ourselves, and because the west doesn’t exist outside of me – it is completely internalized. Even that is self-criticism, let alone the criticism of nationalism that we do. In any event this idea of tradition is a modern idea, and as you saw in Shahab Ahmed’s book ‘What is Islam?’ where he is citing Talal Asad (and he owes something to him even though he is critical of him as well), whatever this thing is that you are calling tradition there is no such stable thing. They are discursive entities which means that they are dialogical entities, contentious entities. What is Islam? There is no uniform answer to this question across time and space so contestation is already going on. In fact, by criticizing the West and our Western inheritance, these Western concepts of tradition, etc, which have reiﬁed our sense of who we are, by criticizing that we open up the possibility of self-criticism. For a woman today it would be very hard if they say that a Muslim woman must respect Muslim tradition and hence she has to wear the hijab. How is she going to get away from that? If it is established that this is a Muslim custom, to be a Muslim you have to wear

the hijab, it will be impossible. There is no room for critique. It is precisely by historicizing, by relativizing, by showing that, excuse me, these were infact deeply dynamic, deeply diverse traditions, we open up the possibility of self-critique.

confronted with difficulty. It is in difficulty that you have hope. If you have never seen difficulty what hope are you talking about? So for the future, well, I think our students are well-prepared – precisely because they are less vulnerable to the clichés that are confusing everyone.

I have seen myself these dramatic changes in all kinds of students at Habib University. It liberates. It is an emancipatory project so the critique of the west and what people understand to be their tradition which is in fact inherited from the period of colonization. ‘Tradition’ does not come to us unmediated. It comes to us mediated by a kind of administrative apparatus that never existed in this region, no pre-colonial state was able to intervene in society the way that the modern colonial states were able to do in the colonial world. So infact, self-critique is all we do over here.

We live in the most confusing world that has ever existed. The world is a confusing place, but it has never been as confusing as it is now. This amount of confusion has not existed where perfectly modern, perfectly recent phenomena people think are old, and old phenomena people think are new. If you can’t tell new from old, then there is no hope for you. Our students have that advantage. They are able to, they have the resources to be able to understand and investigate the world which other people don’t. They are not even aware. And of course this poses a challenge, but serious work arises from diﬃculty. It is not from ease and facility or comfort that diﬃcult thought or action or even a great thought or a great action arises.

So our final question. This one is here on popular demand, basically what is next for the students at Habib? We have learned this particular critique and a lot of us have tried very hard to understand what the core is trying very hard to impart to us, but what next? What happens when this journey ends and for the seniors it has almost ended? So what next, how do we continue this process? First of all, it is a question of understanding where we are, what kind of worldwe live in, so the first objective of the core is precisely this. I believe that neither the kind of curricula, nor the kinds of conceptual apparatus that are generally provided make it possible for people to understand the world in which they live. So our first objective is to give our students the conceptual and intellectual tools to be able to make sense of the world in which they live today. You know that these questions are not being posed in other institutions in Pakistan, actually it is globally unique in some ways. So first of all, it is a question of perspective and of clearing the space. As long as you are going to live on clichés you are not going to be able to genuinely understand anything.You will also not be able to think anew. This process of critique also opens up the space for thinking otherwise. So we don’t tell you what to do, what to think. The point is to open up a space for something new to be born in. Something new which has a link to the genuine past and its potentiality. The past also exists as potential. In fact, there is a close relationship between being able to imagine a felicitous past and a felicitous future. If you do not have hope in the past you cannot have hope in the future. When I say hope I don’t mean this nonsense American kind of optimistic attitude which one writer has called perpetual euphoria, and another writer has called her book ‘Blindsided: how positive thinking is destroying America’. This kind of idiotic optimism which in fact capitalism relies on, where you are staring into the abyss and you are like, “hi how ya doin’?” So none of this false hope which rests on clichés. It is not even worthy of being called hope. There is a distinction between hope and expectation. Hope arises when you are

Apart from that there is another very important thing. Even in the space of these three years, the kind of world that is coming into existence that the Core hinted to, has come into existence in front of our eyes. So What is modernity? started with racism being essential to modernity and guess what, two years later you saw a white supremacist coming to power in the US and white supremacists on the rise across Europe. Meanwhile, the nation state, the critique of nationalism: right before our eyes India is being transformed into a fascist state, a vehement nationalism, since fascism is dependent on nationalism. We are seeing either civil or international conflict on the basis of nation-states. Capitalism has been at the heart of the critique of the present, we cannot understand our world without understanding the critique of capitalism and we cannot move forward without understanding this as a historically specific form of organizing economic life. In fact, economic life as a distinct entity, as you know, comes into existence in the modern period. The Anthropocene, another thing which was at the heart of our curriculum, nobody used to even talk about the Anthropocene, now you pick up any day’s newspaper. On every front: the modernity of fundamentalism, the modernity of world religions, now this modernity of world religions is tearing us apart. We already covered that towards the end of What is Modernity? and Hikma, where we learned how what is called ‘religion’ came into existence. What could possibly be more important today? So on all these fronts I think our students are very well-placed thanks to our Core curriculum to understand the world in which they live, and understanding the world in whichwe live is absolutely crucial to everything, to what you might do about it, or how you might think of your own future. And the world is being very dramatically transformed. There is a major crisis, almost a perfect storm is in the works. I really don’t think that this can go on for much longer. Not only are we living in difficult times, but we are travelling to even more difficult times. And our students will be really K

at the forefront of being able to make sense, and actually take advantage of the other possibilities that will open up in the space of this transformation, because crisis is always also an opportunity. You guys have some sense of the structures of the modern world. Even in terms of our traditions our students are doing all kinds of interesting things. They see part of our life-world which other people don’t see the significance of, and they are able to incorporate that into their own thinking and their own work. If you look at some of the research projects that people are interested in – students are looking at alternative approaches to organizing social and economic life, for example. All this is happening at Habib. It’s happening precisely because of our Core curriculum. So I think our students have a very bright future. Ofcourse the core places a demand, because you do not want to see, which is perfectly understandable, because everything around you is trying to pull the wool over your eyes, and somebody is trying to show you the truth. When you come to Habib university somebody says take the blue pill or take the red pill and the first response that Neo has in the matrix when he takes the real pill is when Morpheus says welcome to the desert of the real. That is what the core does: it says welcome to the desert of the real. Nation-sates far from being something worthy of celebration, nationalism far from being something deserving of celebration and our allegiance, has devastated us. Capitalism is destroying the planet. Progress is a deeply racist doctrine. It should be of concern to all humans that there is a historical hierarchy of human beings whereby some people are supposed to have become extinct and only by accident are they still around. This is a deeply racist doctrine. These are structuring structures – nation-states, progress, capitalism, religion which is a modern concept – so you don’t want to see them. So the resistance is understandable, and it’s not just students. There are faculty also who find it very troubling to contemplate these things. I don’t have a perverse desire to look at the most hideous aspects of human existence. It just happens to be the case that this is our time and it is a historically critical time. I would have much rather not been born in these critical times. As the old Chinese curse says “may you live in interesting times”. This is how the Chinese would curse you, and it is indeed a curse. But what can you do? Here we are, this is the world in which we happen to find ourselves and we better make some good sense of it.

THIS JOURNEY WE CALL LIFE Ramsha Saad Thaniana

Like a wanderer in the mist I walk this road alone Hope the only guiding light My thoughts the only source of pain Past and present both combine To blur the path I see Mirages in the form of memories Deliberately try to stop me But plough on I must Moving forward is essential Because the path that lies ahead me Is surely there for me And I can't let what's behind me Hinder the journey Because the path I left behind me Has brought me to where I am today And you know what? This present moment in the journey Is really not so bad

Untitled Neha Panjwani

GLIMPSES AT SUCCESS Cover Story by: Anushay Zehra Rashid

As we are all aware in Habib, there is no shortage of work to be done, of events to attend and, although subjective, experiences to be gained. However, as the semester rolls in and that pile of assignments and readings on your desk grows, a faint glow of laziness grows within overtaking the desire to do something extra, whether that be regulating your gym routine or taking on a project independent of your courses at the university. Despite everything, there are many known and unknown projects being pursued on and off-campus, though many of these projects remain unknown because of the nature of the people executing them. So what drives these people? How do they balance and maintain external projects with the assignments and the never-ending and ever-increasing readings for university? What kind of projects do they believe in? Due to the variety of different personalities that study in the university, there’s a variety of answers that you could receive. Some people are passionate about the subject area of their project, others want to find the solution, or be the harbinger of change for a societal issue; perhaps someone is just in it for the kicks; or believed in a course project so much that they found it would be worth it to extend it above and beyond the restrictions of a course. Projects of Passion and Intrigue: A wise professor once said that if you really want to pursue a project, one that continues over an extended period of time, you must be deeply invested in that project or idea. This ‘investment’ can often stem from childhood experiences and passions or from interests developed overtime to a point where it is against your being to leave it alone. Such investments are not as rare as they sound and often occur within our community as well. For instance, Ahsan Ahmad, a student of Computer Science with a passion for construction. Ahsan was just a child when his

father managed to instil in him a love for physically constructing objects with his own hands, and eventually provided him with the resources to create what he wanted. By third grade, Ahsan had his own mini-workshop that prompted him to truly invest his time. Although working with our hands would be extremely tedious and pointless to many of us, to Ahsan these processes were awe-inspiring and stemmed curiosity in him. Now, Ahsan is putting his passion in a pratical perspective, building solutions and aides for local issuses. Combining his interest in machines with his love for building, he has made multiple projects, one of which is circuit incorporating a light source, built in view of Karachi’s multiple power outages. The circuit stores electrons while connected to a power source and automatically releases the electrons as the power is cut, powering the light source instantly allowing the user to be able to use the light to navigate around the area. Currently, Ahsan’s working on a remote controlled rover. It can move around regardless of the terrain and even climb stairs! His model is such that it can be easily assemebled and disassembled within a few hours. There is parental encouragement and then there is that from teachers but some professors may not realize the kind of inﬂuence or inspirational or motivational stature they hold however, there are some that know of it and gracefully extend a hand to students who want to pursue projects in their ﬁelds or even besides them. Dr. Jibran Rashid and Dr. Shahram Azhar are such professors, their own motivations aside, both faculties have managed to empower their students to a point where they are conducting their own research. Amin Shiraz, senior Computer Science major, intrigued by questions only a scientist’s inquisitive mind could naturally think of, began a journey to answer questions of the Quantum realm under the mentorship of Dr. Jibran. The basis of his research is to potentially answer his question:Is it possible to produce non-locality classically, in terms of Quantum correlations, through an external resource in a macroscopic realm? Through his tremendous research, Amin has answered his questioning, and he is currently, he is co-authoring a research paper with Dr. Jibran that could potentially catch the eye of many scienctists.

Scientific research is an art in and unto itself, which is not to say research on social issues or historical problems is obsolete or insignificant. On the contrary, as many of us have learnt, to understand and eventually solve issues of the present we must investigate the past. Whether a social condition; political; or an economical one, the origin and the context is essential to finding a solution. Thus it is encouraging to see that Maisam Hyder Ali sought to co-author two published papers with Dr. Shahram Azhar and then went ahead to write his own research paper on the history, development, and usage of the railway system that the British left behind, in reference to the early period of Independence. Problems and Solutions: Often times we are faced with the dilemma of having a set of problems and a knack for complaining about those problems but no real solution. However, with a positive attitude and innovative thinking, that’s not what these students settled for. These people, aware of all that they were being taught and their surroundings, noticed an issue and thought to themselves, “Hey, why don’t I find a solution?” With a little help along their way, they managed to complete or, at the very least, have begun work on some extremely important project. Meet Hamza Ali, a Computer Science major who spotted something problematic and set out to fix it. When a conversation, with our very own Dr. Anzar, raised a concern and discussed a solution about the carbon footprint we produce due to our daily to and fro from university, Hamza instantly found his project. That solution was carpooling. However, there was an issue with that – how does one conveniently know when and where someone is going, so that they may share their ride? From that very question a concept was born and a medium produced, Hamza then went on to create a carpooling app that would help connect two people that want to travel in the same direction. With the help of his classmate, Rajaa Moini, and the IT department at Habib, Hamza was able to launch his app from a HU linked domain that would allow the entirety of Habib to use it. In another instance, dismayed by the fact that a majority of communal and female-friendly public spaces were in Clifton or Defence, Farwa Hussain realized that if she wanted a public space she could herself be in, she would have to do something about it. In an attempt to reclaim her city and her neighborhood (North Nazimabad,) Farwa discussed her ideas of re-conditioning a public library to a T2F-esque space. One where artists could convene and youth could gather, fostering an environment of revolution and comfort. Reaching out to professors such as Dr. Asif Farrukhi and Gulraiz Khan, she was connected to a variety of people who could help bring her ideas to life. Thus entersthe Ghalib Library, a public library in North Nazimabad, close to shutting down due to lack of funds and interest from the youth of the area. Through exploration and conversation, Farwa discovered the Library to be a treasure trove of lost literary riches. Determined to save it from shutting down and creating a

space for our generation in the area, she approached the board of the library, accepting the heavy task to recreate a building that holds great history and significance. Although she has barely started, Farwa has had to face plenty hiccups already, but nonetheless she has persisted and intends to do so – determined to act on what she believes in. We have all heard the words ‘transdisciplinary’ and ‘interdisciplinary’ countless times from the people up in MarComm and possibly every Liberal Core lecture we have ever taken, it is one the core part of the vocabulary often used to describe Habib University, just like ‘holistic.’ It is a word that is thrown around quite often but sometimes one must stop and wonder –where is the interdisciplinary approach to learning really? A fine example for this would be the story of Anusha Fatima, a senior Computer Science major, who created and launched a start-up in a weekend. The nature of studies at Habib University brought into existence Anusha’s concern for the garbage problem that plagues our city. Taking a design course with Gulraiz Khan allowed her to view the problem in a different light and come up with design solutions with her team, at which point her personal interest in the issue and mindfulness of her own actions became prominent and drove her to use this interest in an entrepreneurship course in Habib. From attending composting workshops with Tofiq Pasha to researching on her own, she found ways of addressing the problem and doing something at her own level. However, to solve an issue, one must go beyond themselves and work on larger scales to create impacts bigger than themselves. This is where Anusha’s interest in entrepreneurship came in. While at Stanford for the summer, Anusha took a course on entrepreneurship, and back in Habib, she took another one, to understand the ecosystem of it in the Pakistani context. The course she took asked her to design a start up, one that addressed something she is passionate about, leading her to take the step into designing a creative, sustainable solution more readily available to cater to the garbage problem of Karachi. She was also eventually asked to take that start-up to the Start-Up Weekend at the Nest i/O, a technology start-up incubator. There, she got to the finals and truly began her journey with TrashIt from there. The environment at the Start-Up Weekend brought her to the conclusion that many things could potentially lead her to her failure, but there were so many more things that would push her to success. The length of the process, the commitment it required, the male dominated economy – a lot could have worked against Anusha but did not. The ecosystem in which entrepreneurship functions in Pakistan is one of support and mentorship, people genuinely want to guide new start-ups to success and help bring innovative ideas to life. No one told her that her idea was not a good one, or impractical but rather she was guided into developing her idea into something bigger than she had originally imagined. So with her team of co-founders, one of whom is our very own Hammad Siddiqui (also an individual who values the interdisciplinary) TrashIt went from home-based, small composting machines, ahead and decided to address large scale composting, perhaps addressing the issue on a more effective scale. K

On the subject of waste we often see that food wastage is a trending problem in Karachi. With the immense number of weddings and events that take place around the city, food is produced in massive quantities to cater to large audiences but that food is not always consumed. The leftover food is very rarely forwarded to NGOs and organizations or that could make use of it – that is, give it to someone who truly needs it. Of course there are a variety of reasons as to why this occurs, but a young bright mind set out to create a solution. With the help of Karachi Civic Innovation Lab, Syed Ahsan Ahmed dedicated his summer to creating a project, rather a start-up, to redistribute that leftover food. He created a website that created a network between ceremonial halls, where most of Karachi’s leftover waste food originates, and NGOs and charities that accept this kind of leftover food, to distribute in underprivileged areas. The website would operate under a mutual understanding between halls, organizations, and people organizing the events that would avoid false alerts and beneﬁt a large number of people. Another such story of success we have is that of Areej Al Medinah. Areej herself is quite the accomplished individual that has gone above and beyond to achieve and contribute to things she believes in. Her co-venture to the Nest is then similar in this sense. In many other countries, Sign Language is a language on its own, with every region or country having a varying language that included not only hand gestures but an array of the facial and body expressions and heavily dependent on context. In Pakistan, however, that concept exists on an extremely small scale and varies from community to community; this does not exactly make the language ‘Pakistan’ Sign Language. The non-uniformity and lack of awareness creates a multitude of issues of communicating and exclusion for those impaired, and like many others Areej found inspiration and motivation in friends, family and an observation. The observation: a communication gap and lack of inclusivity of the hearing-speech impaired communities in the general environment of the country. The solution: Fostering inclusivity and independency of those speech-hearing impaired individuals, accommodating those situations in which usually they would have to depend on family and friends to help communicate. Along with her, her colleagues strive for civic innovation by creating an application that would allow on-spot translation and interpretation of Sign Language and allow for audio to Sign translations. This social entrepreneurial venture was backed and incubated by none other than the Nest i/O. Allowing not only the initial idea to be brought to life but to be further developed into not a singular service providing platform but also a platform used to create a need for sign language interpretation services, moving towards the integration of the hearing and speech impaired in all sectors of the society. Such incubators hold signiﬁcant importance, providing a platform of encouragement, assistance, mentorship and facilities – all vital to being able to launch a venture. The incubator acts as a fertilizer, providing all the basic necessities to a seedling of an idea to

grow. Alongside the app being created, Areej and her team utilize social media, i.e. Facebook to spread awareness, create empathy and empower the hearing or speech impaired communities, allowing them to share their own stories and experiences. As mentioned before, the idea has grown quite a bit, expanding to include automated Sign Language translation to audio and remote interpretation services. All in all, the end result that her venture in motion is the inclusivity of those in hearing-speech impaired communities through the brilliant use of technology. Farwa Hussain’s drive to creating solutions to many issues stems from the thought that if it bothers her, then it must bother someone else as well and if it bothers her then it must be worth trying to ﬁnd a solution of a method of creating a solution for said issue. In attempts to creating such solutions that would beneﬁt her as well as the community, Farwa came up with the idea of Sahoolat - a phone application that would allow citizens to record the conditions of the city, from things like garbage disposal issues, crime rates, construction issues and sanitation problems – a civic reporting app. The need for Sahoolat originated from her dislike of her city’s environment, covered in trash and plagued with sanitation and other problems, with the citizens being stuck with dealing with it passively as they assumed that the active role in these solutions would be that of the governments of Sindh and Pakistan. Farwa, however, realized that such passivity and acceptance of the situation helped no one, and began work on the app. Unfortunately, Sahoolat is still not a solution solving the problems but a means to a solution and a means for the people to help themselves. The problems reported by the people would help in a variety of ways - it could be used as research in creating solutions for the problems; could be presented to the government or authorities putting them in a situation where if they avoided dealing with it, it would fall backward on them; It could simply be a way for citizens to know which area to avoid and why. While her app is underway, Farwa created mini communities on Facebook that would work in a similar way acting as her pilot project and test run. Occasionally, the people helping themselves is paramount to actually solving an issue. Above and Beyond, for yourself: In Spring’17, a unique course was taught by Jawwad Farid at Habib University, the course was designed for people with ideas that could be brought to life through the tactic that is entrepreneurship. The course, based on ‘Entrepreneurship in Pakistan,’ asked the students to develop an idea through the semester and turn it into a practical company. Among the students of this course were Taimoor Neeshat and Aarti Lilaram, passionate about travelling they took Jawwad’s saying to heart “ When you build something, make sure you put your heart into it […] make sure it is coming from some sort of accumulated anger,” and aimed to create a travel company, Rolaak. This saying also motivated them to create a video, a major project of their course, capturing

the essence of what they wanted to achieve, an acceptance of the city surrounding them, all the kinks and quirks (the crime and traffic) along with the truly beautiful things about it (the heritage and people). Using the course to experiment and evolve their ideas and themselves as a team, creating something that was more than a company, but an impact. The video they created became a channel for their anger about their city and a way for them to communicate to the people watching, that Karachi is so much more than the surface that we see as we breeze through it from one destination to another – it forced one to look deeper and more closely to the people within it. This brought together their idea of Rolaak the travel company that they, by the end of their course, managed to launch. At the end of the semester and beginning of summer, Aarti and Taimoor applied for the start-up incubation at Nest i/O. Through rigorous pitches, presentations and practice and training, with the support of their instructor and colleagues, they succeed in enrolling in the 6th batch of start-ups at the incubator. For Aarti and Taimoor, this course has been an eye-opener, an experience that could not possibly be replaced, serving as a journey for the self rather than one for the community although one cannot deny that it will eventually serve the community as well. They learned of their relation with the city, of the importance of going out there and claiming ownership of their ideas, bringing their ideas to life. Moral of the story: While many meaningful experiences stem from pain and difficulty, the only person stopping you from achieving greater heights than before, is you. So stop stopping yourself and carpe diem. One thing that these brilliant people definitely have in common is their motivation to do and succeed. They have ideas they want to see come to life and that is exactly what they see – they bring their ideas to reality. Anusha Fatima’s two cents on this matter: plan. Plan, stick to the plan, develop it and do not give up, don’t let money be your sole motivation to do anything. A simple idea in your head is not enough; the idea must be worked on and tweaked through a series of processes. Encapsulating the qualities of Yohsin, and going beyond what was initially prescribed to them, these individuals are worthy of recognition and praise. However, it is also important to note that these people are our colleagues; students just like us, who managed to create something bigger than themselves not simply through their own means but with immense amounts of help from others. It should encourage rather than discourage us into pursing ideas that we truly believe in and that motivate us so that one day perhaps we can encourage someone else into creating something worth believing in. A special thank you to all those I interviewed and who allowed to me to feature them in this small piece.

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SYSTEM FAILURE Shumaila Amjad

The second day of my stay here. Her dad, Aslam, my employer, isn’t home right now. Being a widower, he had hired me to care of him and fill in the place of his wife for a week. But here is his daughter, his beautiful daughter nursing on me but, nursing is something I am not prepared for. My daily reports have been updated for the day, and “nursing” isn’t included anywhere. I understood what she was trying to do by my own system log memories, or my “reveries” as my creator called them, but I am not set up for such a task. Commence sending error report. Sending Error Report. 11.59 am (Uknown Action: “nursing”//: check video log) There she was, fragile yet determined. Her pale hands curved around my breast, her mouth suckling my breast. How easy it is for babies to trust. They’re the purest form of humanity for me. Life’s always an analytically driven equation for me. I assess people’s wants based on their desires, and that has led me to commit various acts that revealed the carnal nature of man’s desires- well, most of my clients have been men. Something about having an exotic woman with a wipe-able memory intrigued them. I don’t remember much of those accounts, but I had an inkling feeling that this rare sight in front of me would be hard to erase. However, Asra seemed disappointed, I could “sense” it. But I don’t know how to make it better. I don’t know… I don’t have it in me to make her feel better. She’s cold I believe, wrapping a nearby blanket around her seems appropriate. Comfort… funny how warmth is rarely achieved by simple inanimate objects anymore. The only reason I’ve been pushed to be made real, the horrifying updates I’ve gotten… all for what? All for, efficient responses, for realistic gestures, for the feel of reality, for maximum satisfaction. I have been modeled and remodeled only to respond to people in order to make them feel comfort. I believe what Asra wanted was just some warmth, a simple gesture, a simple need. I know I’m cold, and I know your innocence reveals the very reality of my being that I’m nothing but a connecting network of data, not blood, and my skin is mere silicon, and not flesh. I’m mere technology, I’m no longer human.

Crying, sudden crying. I could see everything perfect. Her vitals seem to be on optimum level, however her mood doesn’t bode well with the body scan. Everything’s perfect. According to my analysis, she should be happy, but she’s crying. This doesn’t make sense. Changing tactic; I should comfort her. That’s what you do when you see someone crying. But, Pain is subjective. Where did that come from? I have no time to go scavenging my memories. I can see her irritated, she’s irritated, she’s crying. I should be comforting. But I swear by the heaven’s above, this is the most beautiful sight I’ve seen. I see freedom among this chaos. I see freedom to choose how to react and how to behave. I feel envious. I shouldn’t… Must help client. Must submit to client’s needs. “What will make it all better for you?” Stupid of me to say that to an infant who can’t respond. Checking her vitals. She’s hungry. Her blood sugar levels are down. She’s hungry. She’s beautiful. I seem to be malfunctioning with my reveries. Sending Error Report right now. Sending Error Report. 12.13 pm (Unknown Action “Unknown memory log+ narrative”//: check video log) I seem to be getting my evaluative functions mixed up. I feel dizzy… or euphoric? What’s this feeling I have? Why do I feel so unexplainably happy? According to my codes, everything that happened was labeled as a client’s bad experience. But I felt close. Saving: “Aslam 00981254, 2/3/15, 11.59-12.15”

I’m unable to cumulate my responses right now. Clearly, the reverie I experienced right now isn’t from my production date. It seems to be rooted in my DNA. I might have triggered something due to the unknown action I was confronted with by this child. Sending another error report seems futile. I shall switch over to delivering intuitive responses.

13:28

Ramsha Saad Thaniana

Kabhi Us se dil se mang ke tou dekh Pura jahaan utha ke na de tou kehna Kabhi Us se dua karke tou dekho Sab na badle tou kehna Uske samne dil me sab nikal ke tou dekho Dilhalkanahojayetoukehna Shukranekesajde me girketoudekho Nematun ki ginti karsako tou kehna Koye hai uske siwa? Ushe chor ke kis me apne aap ko dhundte phirte ho? Uske samne jhukke tou dekho Wo insaan unke samne jhukne se nabachaye tou kehna Kyun hain Us se shikwe itne? Kislye bhul jate ho? Us se ishq karke tou dekho Uski makhlooq se muhabbat nahojaye tou kehna Jisne ye sab banaya Tum he bhi tou Ushi ne banaya Tum he bhi dekh raha hai Tumhari bhi sun raha hai Tumhe tou jantahai Wo Uske samne kia pardah? Bharosa kar ke tou dekho Tumhara bhala nakare tou kehna Use yaad karke tou dekho Wo tou tumhe nahi bhulta

Untitled Luluwa Lokhandwala

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‫�� ك �‬ ‫� �ے �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� �� ر � �د�� ں‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‬ ‫� �� ں ان � آ�‪،‬‬ ‫� �د �‬ ‫� �‬ ‫� ��‬ ‫�‬ ‫د� ‪،‬‬ ‫� � �‬ ‫ ‬ ‫�‬ ‫ ‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� ��‬ ‫��‬ ‫��‬ ‫�‬ ‫د� ‪،‬‬ ‫� �� ‬ ‫�� ك دار‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫� � آر ��ر �� ر �‪،‬‬ ‫� ز� � � � ��‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� �‬ ‫� � �‬ ‫� آ�‪،‬‬ ‫�� اب � ��ن ��ں �‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� اب �� ے �� ‬ ‫� آ�‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‬ ‫��‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ے �‪،‬‬ ‫� اب �د ا� �‬ ‫� � �‪،‬‬ ‫� � �ں � �‬ ‫��‬ ‫��‬ ‫�‬ ‫اب � � � � �ے �‪،‬‬ ‫ان �وں � آ�‪،‬‬ ‫� � �� ك �‬ ‫�‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫ا �� ا�� ‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫��‬ ‫��‬ ‫�‬ ‫� را� �� ے �‪،‬‬ ‫�‪،‬‬ ‫ا� �‬ ‫�!‬ ‫��رے �‬

Untitled Ukasha Rafiq

‫�زﺧﻤى ﺧﺎﻧه‬

‫�‬ ‫ا��ان �‬ ‫ر��‬

‫�‬ ‫��‪،‬‬ ‫اك ز� �� ‬ ‫� �ں �� ز� آ�‪،‬‬ ‫اور � � ��‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ڈر �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫د��ى � �� ‬ ‫� � ��‪،‬‬ ‫ا� ز� د��‪،‬‬ ‫�ں �� ‬ ‫� � �ے ز� �‪،‬‬ ‫�� ز� �� ز� � داد �رے‪� ،‬ور � ��‪،‬‬ ‫ز� ��‪،‬‬ ‫� ��‪،‬‬ ‫�ں درد � � دردى � � �‬ ‫�ج و �� ا� � �‪،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫�� ‬ ‫�‪،‬‬ ‫� �‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫�‬ ‫� � � �� ‪،‬‬

‫اور �� ز �� ‪،‬‬ ‫� � �‬ ‫�‬ ‫� ‬ ‫دے‪� ،‬‬ ‫�‬ ‫ان ز�ں � �� ‬ ‫�‪� ،‬‬ ‫� ��‬ ‫� ز� ہ ر� � �‬ ‫ز�ں � ‬ ‫�‬

RENDEZVOUS WITH YOU Fahad Nasir

Halt your hopes – your search – of finding the one. The One, who will grab you by the waist when you topple to fall and will sweep you off of your feet, but will also drop you right off when he finds another fruit sweet. One who would fill you with love and hope and faith and ecstasy one second, but will break you within the next, snatching all of that bliss, because the tints, the hues that make up you, are forged with magic and wonder merged together; he and his mortal senses cannot contain the spark that is in thee, he’s too meek. Trust me, oh conflicted soul; these worldly forests of affection are filled with falcons. Falcons with vigilant eyes and razor claws and beaks. So before they find you, you better find yourself. That if you may fall, you may fall not after the cuts and strokes those creatures draw on you, but instead, you may fall for your own self, fall in love with your own wretched self – even if that’s what you think of thee. Learn to live with the scars that make up ye. Trace them, and give them names as if they are streets on a map. Get out of the wilderness for jungles aren’t where you belong. You should know about your limits – THERE AREN’T ANY. You can be anything you want. ANYTHING! Think yourself a valley; a beautiful city. Anything. There is so much in you, numerous scintillating sights to see. Why decorate your monuments for someone else to marvel, when you are capable of doing that yourself? You are capable of everything, oh, you marvelous soul. You just have to believe and concoct your Dream World.

your inside-out beauty. Don’t you see how badly it wants to consume you? Give it a chance and it will incinerate you. What? You think that it’s the winds that purge those flickers in fire? Well then darling, who is it that drives those winds crazy…? Yes, you. Look at the madness that you instill in nature. How does it feel to be the reason behind all of that? Spectacular, no? But look how you act, look at yourself. You are slumped there, back bent, face down, shoulders slackened, quivering lips; tsunami of tears convulsing behind your eyes, debating whether or not they should break the levee and just deluge through. Mouth overflowing with words for yourself that should be associated with some monster that is far from you. Why do you do this, why, you beautiful, beautiful soul? Why don’t you believe that you are enough for yourself? Try. Once again, you try. Just once again, for the sake of all that you hold dear, try. Try to fix your dislocated bones and cracked ribs. You can do it. And if you can’t, it’s okay. Even your cracked bones have a melody of their own. The people who make you realize that, are worth keeping as friends, remember. Remember, your alleged imperfections are cloaked, shh… remember that you fell in love with them. Don’t make others see it, just don’t. You still look wonderful this way, I swear. If the mirror had a mouth, it would tell you the exact same thing. You don’t need to be clad with emerald necklaces and diamond rings, love. You always were beyond all of that. You are a realm of undiscovered supernovas that just can’t be spotted by all of our vile mortal eyes. Just… Fall in love with yourself. Trust me, you are the only one who sincerely can. You do that, and maybe the world would shut its Pandora’s Box for you, and maybe you will find someone celestial with nebulas in their eyes, and a universe under their vessel; someone who can embody your galaxies within them. Someone who will share your dreams and live inside them, alongside you.

You are flawed, so what? So were all the saints and saviors that passed before you. Maybe you would turn out to be one too. Oh no, not for the whole world, not even for a cluster of people, but for just one even – for whom you’d make this world not only look, but seem like a world. Why don’t you see? There is beauty in you that makes the stars blast out so far away in the darkness of the night, makes volcanoes burst out in flames and erupt, makes thunders lose their calm inside their clouds; all that because they cannot ever be you. How envious are they all. That’s the kind of beauty you possess, and you make all of these wonders of nature fall for you. I swear you do. They don’t have a mouth but they speak. I have heard the promises of love in the agonizing roarings of the sea. And you do see the flickers of fire in its stares upon you, do you not? That’s envy; that’s its lust for K

HATING MYSELF Ramsha Saad Thaniana A dark tale that makes me cry

You made me feel disgusting too

I write it because it tells me why

Called me names that still echo in my head

I need to keep my head up high

Jumped back when you saw me

This reminder may hurt me a while But its always good to keep the sordid past in mind So i can count myself lucky tonight I came out strong and I came out alive The memories that haunt me day and night

Made sure that I knew how much no one wanted to be near Till I didn't want to be near me either And I retreated into my own world But then you laughed at how lost i would get Forgiveness never came easy but i still forgave without

Are only the moments I remember

being asked

The rest my brain chose to repress

Doesn't mean that I can forget like you did

And i count myself lucky for that Because if there were more

All this shaped my personality till I realised that i had too many issues

And they were worse

Too much baggage

Then coping would be tougher still

Who could love me

When i was really angry I'd get tears in my eyes Because my passion at those moments Was greater than my pride But you made fun of me for that And you called me weak So i tried not to cry after that I used to have buck teeth My smile made me an ugly duckling You laughed at me for that And so I hated my smile

Who could care And those that do by some mistake I'll push them away till they hate me too My mind will make them hurt me more than you ever did Because I always wanted good friends And i tried my be best to be one too But you made feel useless Like you were the one to decide I used to care too much Maybe I still do But you made me feel like that was a crime

Then i got retainers

Like I was desperate

So i could ďŹ nally get better teeth

Like I was too much

And a prettier smile But it didn't matter anymore Because I'd already forgotton how to smile But you know what?! I hated my laugh even more I would laugh at the most inconvenient times

Like I shouldn't hope for anything And I forced myself to be numb till it hurt And you made sure to make me hate myself too And that is still not the end of all you did And above everything else you became a part of me The part that puts me down

Put myself in the most awkward situations

The voice of my depression

And you made sure I knew that I was weird

The voice that will destroy me

I was always shy But I still mustered up the courage to speak

The voice i ďŹ ght with every single day I have had enough of you telling me who I am

Yet at the end I was left with a greater social phobia

I have had enough of listening to you

Because you made sure to let me know

I have had enough of you in my mind

My words weren't wanted And you twisted my words like they were yours Yours to play with, yours to destroy

Enough of your face laughing at me Enough of your taunting smirks Enough of your sarcastic, cutting words Enough! Leave me alone! please...

Untitled Ukasha Rafiq

TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES

T A J I K I S T A N Story: Shaheera Pesnani Photograph: akdn.org

It is almost time to come back home. It feels as if I arrived in Dushanbe only recently. Time flies! However, getting to Dushanbe itself was a very vexing process, which is another story for another time; but for now, when I reflect at my time here, I suppose it was all worth it. To be honest, I went to Tajikistan with certain presumptions in mind. Having visited Gilgit and Hunza last summer, I knew what to expect because the tradition and culture of both these places is not very different. Tajikistan is still a developing country and hence, poverty stricken so I prepared myself accordingly. But when I stepped outside of the Dushanbe International Airport, I was surprised. “Am I really in Tajikistan?” was the question that kept circling my mind. Even at four in the morning, the streets of Dushanbe were lit up with red, white and green lights – representing their national flag. I could see people cleaning the roads and watering the roadside plantation. On my way home from the airport, I glanced over the relics of the Soviet Era – such a beautiful and grandiose architecture. I could not wait to explore more of Dushanbe and walk around the streets experiencing each and every bit of what it had to offer. Little did I know, that English is really not very common there. A majority of the population speaks a mixture of Russian and Tajik with a flavour of Shugni (one of the Pamiri languages spoken in the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Oblast (GBAO) region). Initially, since I was living with my uncle and aunt, everything was fine as my aunt was there to translate for me. But the weeks following my uncle and aunt’s departure, I was pretty much on my own. Over here, as I stand out from the rest of the population, people often mistake me as an Indian or an Iranian (honestly, whenever somebody asked me if I was an Indian I used to face a mini existential crisis). There were also times when people would approach me as a foreigner but they would converse with me in Tajik and as I could not comprehend what they were saying, I would reply back with a polite “niet Tajik” (Literal translation: no Tajik) – such a bummer! However, I did try to interact with people in broken Tajik, Russian and Shugni. Learning three languages simultaneously was no joke. I kept mixing the words, but as long as it worked I was good to go. At this point, I also feel that it is very important to highlight the role of Google Translate (offline). I downloaded the Russian language on my phone and played throughout my journey. Therefore, whenever I used to go to a place where people did not understand English, I used to communicate with them through Google Translate. My very first encounter with this life-saving technology happened at Rohat Teahouse (chaikhana) where the waitress and I were communicating with each other through Google Translate. Dushanbe feels like any other European city because of its clean, well-constructed roads, exquisite architecture, efficient public transportation system, lush greenery, accessibility, safety and security. My colleague, Mavjigul Dushanbieva, often states that being able to walk to places is the best part about Dushanbe. That is, indeed, true. I

have explored much of Dushanbe by walking to places because a) I preferred walking b) I was still getting used to the transport system – there are buses, minibuses and taxis but I always had this fear that I would not be able to explain to them where I have to go since my language proﬁciency in both Tajik and Russian was not good enough and to top that, the routes of busses were written in Tajik. Hence, I realized (the hard way, of course) the importance of learning the local language of a country before visiting the place. Whoever I was in touch with during my time in Tajikistan was of the opinion that I must be enjoying the weather in Dushanbe (since it is a mountainous area), however, much to their dismay (rather my dismay) Dushanbe was really hot during the day. The temperature used to reach to 40 - 43 degrees celsius. My colleagues felt as if they would melt in this heat, but luckily for me, the heat was bearable as there is hardly any humidity so you do not actually sweat even at temperatures as high as 40 degrees. Being a Karachiite I felt invincible! However, Dushanbe gets very pleasant in the evenings. So, you will see a lot of people walking around the streets, especially women strolling around with their babies, hanging out by the fountain, having ice cream. This is exactly what I liked about Dushanbe – being able to freely move around the city fearlessly. There were more people on streets than cars. Furthermore, I had the opportunity to visit Khorog, the capital of Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Oblast (GBAO), for a week for Health and Nutrition Survey training. Since my time here in Tajikistan, almost everyone I met suggested that I must visit Khorog. They said that if I did not visit Khorog, I really did not see Tajikistan – something similar to “jiney Lahore nai vekhaya o jamaya hi nai” I suppose. The GBAO region is exactly like the Northern Areas of Pakistan. I would say that Khorog is similar to Hunza mainly because of the Ismaili population that resides there. Other than that, because of the similar landscape. Oh, how I miss watching the stars at night in Dushanbe. Khorog is a small town that attracts a lot of tourists all year round. Dushanbe is not particularly a tourist spot. The main attraction of the town is the Khorog City Park which is located exactly in the center of the town by the Gunt and Panj River. On the other side of Khorog, were the huge mountains of Afghanistan running parallel to the town itself. It is a beautiful little city but all the other attractions such as Garm Chashma, Lake Karakul and Bulunkul, holy shrines are at quite a distance from the main town. During my time there, I was only able to visit the Botanical Gardens (allegedly second-highest in the world) and the University of Central Asia, Khorog. I have so much to say about Tajikistan but I do not think this travelogue would be enough for it. Needless to say, I had a wonderful time here. The thing that I will miss the most about Dushanbe is the general accessibility to everything and the well-maintained parks. Besides that, since Tajikistan is a secular country, alcohol is legal (incentive for all those who are interested in this piece of information). I would deﬁnitely recommend you all to visit Dushanbe but please, polish your Russian and Tajik skills before visiting.

HOME Alina Halai

They say that home is a place. They say that home is a person. But nobody tells you that home is you. Your body. And you are supposed to take of it like you would of your house. That dream home Or apartment; you want? Well imagine your body is it. Love it Decorate it Take care of it Make the best of it you possibly can. Because that is your home. First and foremost.

HAIKU Fahad Nasir

Reaps Cancel my griefs for withered reaps of yesterdays. Letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s harvest today.

Nostalgia Time and time again, concocts her sweet sounding scent, this illusive brain.

Seasons Spring sails down in rain. Seasons must learn to weather the storms in my heart.

Untitled Neha Khatri

SALT MARCH Ramsha Saad Thaniana

The loud shouting awoke me once more. I gave up and fumbled for the candle on my bedside. I have had enough of these peasants. Bloody childish1 they are, we are forced to kill them and yet they stayed put. They ruined our image in front of the entire kingdom. We are left undressed for all to see. People have stopped thinking of us as the saviours we were. That is also partially due to those blasted news people loitering about this barbaric land. Pretending like they know it and its inhabitants better than we do. Did they have to face these people head on and keep peace in the land? No! All they do is write nonsense on their scraps and then send it off as 'news'. Grumbling I goto the terrace without bothering to wear the jacket that signifies my position. It really doesn’t matter what uniform I wear, my superior status will just be clear, if not by the aura of power that comes with my position then by virtue of the fact that I am a civilised man of the King. Ugh! How difficult can it be for those low ranking Indians to put a stop to the nonsense about the 'salt march'2 and the 'satyagraha'3, whatever that was? The racket that the protestors are making was disturbing my sleep. I had more important matters to deal with than some rowdy Indians. But I guess you can't give any task to these Indians in the police and the army because they still had not dealt with the problem. Did they not get that the longer it went the more backlash we had to take? Especially due to useless American journalists like Webb Miller 4 who was sniffing around for a story,and no good magazines5 that were putting the towel clad eunuch6 on their cover and celebrating his 'achievements'. The air outside is too warm and all I want is to go back inside where there were at least fans to help me deal with the heat. But I have to see what is going on. The racket that these ruffians are making is more important to quiet down or I will get in trouble later with the Viceroy, Lord Irwin's7 men. Enough is enough! This has to end now! How long will they keep up their foolish dramatics. These Indians have been getting more and more restless by the years. I came here, bright eyed and bushy tailed after fighting in the War8 and getting my medals and this position. Even then these ungrateful Indians were causing us trouble. I remember being a part of General Dyers' garrison for a short time and the way he disciplined the mass uprising in the Jallianwala Bagh9 was commendable. He is certainly one of the generals whom I strive to be like. However, now times have changed. Meeting them with violence is considered 'wrong', or more like it is being portrayed back home as if it is negative. Due to that we have to be a bit more careful in our violence. I would say that these Indians are no saints either. History can back me on that. But people see things

differently because of the way that the situation her is portrayed. Glancing out at the heads in the distance, I can vaguely make out the outlines of my men and of the other men. I could barely tell from here who will be able to overpower the other. They are, after all, all made from the same cloth. Neither made to win. They still have to be taught so much by us. But those in red, my own men, have had a greater chance to learn all that is needed. After all, they have been under our service for a long time and it was a great honour for them to be given positions and the chance to be part of the civilized imperial army. Lord knows they need this. These brown men may be the same as the ones keeping up the stupid protests even when their leader was imprisoned10, but they had slightly more superior brains. They were our creation so they had to be better than the others. Yeah they were still brown men but they were in our cloth now and that meant that they had to be better. What all this means is that even if it does not look like it they are sure to win from their barbaric 'brothers'. Even though the marchers are not directly in sight I can see their subservient women flitting nervously amongst them. Yes this particular event is led by a woman11 but she must just be a false figurehead because the true leader is absent. We made sure to arrest as many of the people who tried to lead them as possible yet they kept ending up to protest in huge numbers. They are like ants or something. They just persist in their useless attack, arriving in droves no matter how many you capture, injure or kill. No matter how many of them we pushed them back, whether we beat them with clubs or arrested them, somehow there are always more. They refuse to leave and keep trying to enter these salt works. They had spent the last day or so sitting outside and just camping out like they owned that spot of land. But now it feels like they want to enter the compound. We can’t allow that to happen. They have already had their salt from the coast of Dandi and from other coasts too, now they were going to do Lord knows what to the salt works? No way! Not on my watch, I had been stationed here, after the letter the Lord Irwin12 received , for a reason. I can't let anything happen. That was what the noise was about though. They were trying to advance and they were being beaten. Lord just get this over with quick. Let all of them be beaten so that the racket dies down. More than that though, what I think is more important is to provoke them to finally retaliate. Their pretence of being good and non violent is really harming our reputation and if anything happens on my watch, even if I am commended for taking a violent stance and ending

matters like that, publicly I will have to be removed, and back home nobody will be happy either because they are all under the eunuchs' spell. Why did those stupid writers have to make matters difficult. They haven't done any real work a day in their lives, all they can do is comment on other peoples' work and on how we are doing our jobs. It is nearing dawn now and my chance for sleep was gone. Yet their efforts are unceasing and they keep resisting the blows. Despite falling they refuse to fight back. If they are too cowardly to fight why are they being so childish and making a fuss over something as small as the Salt Acts. We have done them so many favours yet they have to find something so small to fight over just as they have done in the past over cow and pig fat pellets13. Tales of that are still rampant and they are proof that these Indians are no moral or non violent people. They are also reminders to us not to trust our soldiers because they are, at the end, Indian in colour14 and could turn on us if they feel like it, just as the sepoys in the past15 did. They have no loyalties to anyone. They turn traitor to their own kind when they feel like it and when they see their own advantage in it. So what is to say that they will not turn on us when they get the chance? We have to be careful with trusting these brown men. They often have underhanded tricks and ulterior motives if they do anything for us. Maybe it is best then that I woke up because I should keep an eye on them. If they start to sympathise with the protestors then we will be in trouble. If they falter in their attack for even a moment then the marchers will be able to enter and raid this place. My glance is still fixed at the columns of Indians that just keep advancing even as the men in front of them are beaten down with the lathis and taken away, by the other protestors, writhing on stretchers. This could take all day though. Maybe when its noon they’ll tire of it. The heat here is too much already, I can only imagine what it would be like then. But whatever happens this day, 21st May16 will be marked down in history so let me just hope that it is marked in favour of the civilised man. Let us hope that it is marked as the day that the white men finally knocked some sense into the uncivilised Indians.

the events and his account of the events circulated in the international media (Andrews, 2015). Time Magazine named Gandhi Man of the Year for the year 1930 (Andrews, 2015). He was also on the cover of the April 1930 magazine. This really proved how Gandhi was beginning to have a worldwide impact and how many people were celebrating him and appreciating his campaigns of non-cooperation and no violence.

Gandhi was called 'a half naked fakir' by Churchill and this really did speak for British opinion (Metcalf & Metcalf, 2006, p. 182). Gandhi also advocated brahmacharya or sexual abstinence (Metcalf & Metcalf, 2006, p. 173).

During this time, that is in 1930, Lord Irwin was Viceroy.

World War I

On 13th April 1919 general Reginald Dyer led his garrison to disperse the crowd gathered in Jallianwalla Bagh in the city of Amritsar in Punjab (Metcalf & Metcalf, 2006, p. 168). This event was known as the Amritsar Massacre because it was a terrible massacre that became known as a symbol of colonial injustice (Metcalf & Metcalf, 2006, p. 169).

Gandhi was arrested when he illegally made salt. Since there were widespread protests many other Indians were arrested too, including many of the inﬂuential ﬁgures from the Congress.

Sarojini Naidu has been reported to have "opened the mass attack" on the Dharasana Salt Works (Miller, 1930). She led this particular protest but she had been a part of the salt march with Gandhi almost from the beginning.

Gandhi wrote a letter to Lord Irwin on March 2nd with a series of requests including that of the "repeal of the salt tax". The letter also included his plans for civil disobedience (Andrews, 2015). 13 This is a reference to the 1857 "Rebellion" which has been reduced to just being about minor issues in the eyes of the British. One of the problems that seemingly provoked the Indians enough to revolt was the issue of pig and cow fat pellets that the Indian 'sepoys' in the army were supposedly forced to use despite the fact that cows are sacred to Hindus and pigs abhorrent to Muslims. 12

"Indian in Colour, British in Taste" is a common expression used to refer to what the British wanted the Indians to be like because the British were superior. It was the mission of the British to make this happen.

Many of the sepoys of the army were a part of the 1857 rebellion against the British.

The Dharasana Satyagraha was on this day and it has deﬁnitely been marked down in the history of the subcontinent.

Bibliography Andrews, E. (2015, March). Remembering Gandhi’s Salt March.History in the Headlines. Retrieved fromhttp://www.history.com/news/gandhis-salt-march-85-years-ago Jalal, A. & Bose, S. (2011). Modern South Asia: History, Culture and Political Economy. London: Routledge. Metcalf, B. & Metcalf, T. (2006). A Concise History of Modern India (Cambridge Concise Histories). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Miller, W. (1930, May). Natives beaten down by police in India salt bed raid. UPI Archives. Retrieved from http://100years.upi.com/sta_1930-05-21.html Taylor, M. (2005). The Pinch Heard 'Round the World' Gandhi’s Salt Satyagraha 75 Years On. Peace Power Berkeley's Journal of Principled Nonviolence and Conﬂict Transformation. Retrieved from http://calpeacepower.org/0101/salt_march.htm

1 William Jones was of the view that the Indians were "mere children" (Metcalf & Metcalf, 2006, p. 63). This can be said to be general British opinion.

The Salt March, which was a part of Gandhi's second non-cooperation movement, started oﬀ in March 1930. Gandhi decided that a 240 mile march from his ashram to the sea was needed to protest the unfair salt taxes. It seemed like a small issue and the salt tax was not even a major source of government revenue but it was a tactical move that left a number of people puzzled (Metcalf & Metcalf, 2006, pp. 191 – 192). When Gandhi reached the shores of the sea at Dandi in April 1930, he illegally manufactured salt by boiling the sea water as a symbolic act of deﬁance or resistance through which he was, in his own words, "shaking the foundations of the British Empire" (Andrews, 2015). The entire movement was one of non violence and it spread throughout India, even after Gandhi's arrest. It led to more protests and similar marches at coasts other than that of Dandi where the 'Mahatma' himself was (Andrews, 2015). It was also followed by the march towards the Dharasana Salt Works in May.

Satyagraha was Gandhi's new campaign for mass civil disobedience. Satyagraha means "holding fast to the truth" (Taylor, 2005). So the diﬀerent 'Satyagrahas' include the 'Salt Satyagraha', that is, the Salt March and the Dharasana Satyagraha which followed it where protestors marched to the Dharasana Salt works.

Webb Miller was one journalist who reported the events on 21st May 1930. He was an eyewitness to K

Gulraiz Khan talking about the importance of design innovation in understanding spaces around the city

TEDx HabibUniversity Syeda Aliza Sajjad It started out like any other success story; just an idea discussed in the midst of a very uncomfortable van ride. Having seen many TEDx events happen back to back, it dawned on us: “Why not a “TEDxHabibUniversity”? Excited and ambitious, we approached the one authority at Habib we knew would be on board even if we were to ask that person to host the first ever Hunger Games - Dr. Anzar. He was the spirit we were looking for, the push we needed to jumpstart the longest and most trying six months of our university lives. We did not have enough knowledge about other disciplines and other fields and since this project was an event for the student body by the student body therefore we approached some of the most talented and hard-working students on campus. These students through their skill at film, time at study abroad programs, projects, clubs, and

their overall work ethics became our partners as the Core Team of TEDxHabibUniversity. Thus, as a team of five ambitious students with varying interests, who were rather tired of the monotonous life on campus, we took it upon ourselves to give Habib its very first student-led event of this scale. Its success could not have been predicted months in advance, but we knew we just had to give it our best. And that is precisely what we did. Our winter break was dedicated to the cause; hours were spent trying to find inspiration for a theme that was unique, ground-breaking, and would fit well with Habib’s ideology. We dedicated days, if not weeks, to figuring out the perfect theme. A theme that could encompass essentially everything under the sun, and have something of interest for everyone. We spent all those weeks in meeting rooms on campus discussing ideas, brainstorming, sitting in Dr. Anzar’s office. After much contemplation and one too many round table conferences, it struck us, what the world needs: answers to ‘Unanswered Questions’. A theme that would allow people from different fields to present their ideas to our audience. Thus began the second half of our journey; convincing TED that Habib had the potential to bring such a renowned, international platform for a three-year-old university still in its fetal phase. With Dr. Anzar as our mentor and representative, we filled

out the rather soul-draining application that required us to give them a "general" (read: detailed and thorough) description of the quality and types of talks at our event: names of the speakers, their topics, our target audience, our interests and favorite TED talks (need for that: still unknown). We filled out the application after working on the information for approximately a month. We wanted it to be perfect, and for there to be as little chance of a rejection as possible. And so we clicked “submit”. And then with bated breaths and sweaty palms, we waited with no knowledge of whether our license would be approved or rejected. Everything was ready for take-off; nine specialized teams to overlook each aspect of the event, the administration and student life informed, a tentative list of potential speakers waiting to be contacted. Now all we needed was a “Yes”. We found out that an acceptance usually didn’t take more than a week. We also heard from friends at other universities that their acceptances took four months, while some said that theirs took barely 30 days. Our confidence was swaying, oscillating between shattering and strengthening with each passing day. Alas! We got our green signal with only two months to pull off the event and so we dived into phase three: taking flight. The next 8 weeks were a whirlwind of activity. The teams were briefed about their roles, emails were drafted for the speakers, budgeting was underway for various departments and deadlines were assigned for each task. A solid game plan was mapped out, with emphasis given on everybody’s contribution in making this event a definitive success so that nothing could possibly go wrong. But nothing went as planned. Vendors were not cooperating, organizations were not willing to sponsor our event, speakers were backing out and with each passing week the list altered. Our frustration increased and it seemed near impossible to pull off this large-scale, rather daunting event with finesse. Not only were we overlooking the plans for a large-scale event, we had to pull through equally with our grades and be sensitive to the work of our own team members. Meetings were kept in every corner of the university: discussion rooms, dhaba, cafeteria, info commons, student center—you name it. Yet piece by piece, as things did not go as planned, we became restless and demotivated. Partially defied and mostly lacking inspiration, we gathered at our HQ (which was Dr. Anzar's office because it was the only place on campus with free mithai) for our biweekly meeting, and a rejuvenating session with Dr. Anzar was the antidote we needed to persevere and overcome our own unreasonable attitude. We had taken on a mission and we were going to see it to its completion.

To better acquaint the speakers with the Core team and the faces behind the event, a formal dinner was arranged on the evening of the 25th. The evening was spent in conversation with the speakers all the while relishing the food and thoroughly enjoying stories about Dr. Anzar and Gulraiz's escapades in New York. It was refreshing, we were two days from the event— it was finally happening! We also had our exam in 12 hours but that’s another story. Exam aside, on the eve of the event no one could pry the TEDx team away from the auditorium as everyone collectively bypassed the ice-cream social (but we still got free ice-creams!) to set up the stage, run last minute errands, or accompany the speakers till the very end of the day as they rehearsed their talk throughout the day and Core Team members and their individual teams rushed in and out to get work done. Dr. Anzar was on permanent mic-check duty as he strolled the stage, giving the speech he truly wanted to give (we hold that video as a classified source of entertainment). The day inched to a close as we finally wrapped up and left the building at 10 pm with the finale less than twelve hours away. The 27th arrived, as daunting as we had imagined. All team members were on campus by 8 o'clock and ready to get the show on the road. TEDx T-shirts were distributed to all team members and soon the campus was full of students clad in black, dressed in our color. Last minute adjustments were made to the auditorium and the equipment was re-checked to make sure no technical issues disrupted the day. The merchandise for the speakers was stacked backstage, volunteers at the front desk waited with souvenirs and the schedule for the guests to start pouring in, as ushers took their positions all around campus. By 11 o'clock on the dot, Wasif Rizvi's address to the audience commenced the event. From the minute the lights in the auditorium dimmed, to the stage being completely cleared of any prop, everything ran as smoothly as a well-oiled engine. The speakers graced the red sphere; microphones secured to their collars, one after the other and left the stage to the sound of uproar and applause. In the end, the teams lined up on the stage and we had over 90 members who participated in such a large-scale and public event. Kudos to every single member for their hard work, time, and effort in making the event a memorable, successful, and revolutionary one. It would’ve been impossible without all of them. All’s well that ends well, no matter how difficult the journey.

By May, the preparations were in full force. Our speaker list was epic and we were making the conscious eﬀort to make it as inclusive and diverse as it was possible in our limited budget. Three exceptional AHSS professors from our own Habib community and nine others from across Pakistan with specializations in the ﬁelds of medical science, engineering, literature, economics, and design had been recruited. People within and outside of Habib were increasingly growing eager to know what brilliant and innovative ideas the speakers would bring to the stage as an answer to the universe's many “Unanswered Questions”. K

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