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Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Once upon a time, man asked God for expression. 
So God made the eyes windows to his soul. 

As it always goes, man asked for more. 
This time he wanted a didactic device. 
An expression of pain/hurt/sadness, as well as a means to relieve the same. 
Thus, God bestowed upon him tears. 

Nevertheless, some were different from the others and they did not want to express/reveal their unhappiness each time. 
One such asked for a mask, a disguise of sorts. 
And so, a smile came into being.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Barsaati

When she had first seen it; that flush of light from the sky had excited her so. That very shaft of vertical space which balanced the deep horizontal space experienced upon entrance; and held all the other spaces together like a pivot. The space she had envisioned would fill her house with a loud gush of water. She could almost hear it washing off all her stress when she entered the house, or even as she lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. She could hear the water hitting the water inducing a noisy peace, replacing her silent disturbance. She expected so much of it, amplifying our laughter, calling everyone to dinner, bringing the mausam inside, and as her architectural lingo said, being the focal point or feature in the house.
Yet, it didn’t. That, which had impressed her so intensely, was now her biggest woe. That surge of love had changed its face, but not the force with which it hit her. The space, for which her preferred name was barsaati,was now a repulsive object for her. All it did was amplify the screaming, echo the shouting so much it was injected straight to her brain. Causing, what it could have erased – her silent disturbed-ness. Becoming the increase in the noise.  Being hated for exactly what it was loved for; being the connection. Being the means to connect, yet, being the dissection of the same connection.
She saw through it the full moon, fell in love with it all over again; whilst the hatred crept in, warning her of the impermanence of this fleeting moment of joy. Whispering to her what each day she heard through it, all that noise! which she couldn’t paint white, no matter how she tried. All that news, all those reprimands for doing the needful; and for what was her fault and what wasn’t.
She was sure the barsaati hated itself too. She felt its pain, its want to have its identity back. The plea to be home to the fountain, amplify the music borne of it. Let the glass sculpture hang from itself, illuminating it gold with the sun, and silver with the moon. Be the canvas for the mural in her dream; connect the colours of their lives to one another. Be the feature that it wanted to be. Become the marvel it had been conceived for.

Each day as she walked up beside it, she felt the same emotions flood her rushing upwards and down simultaneously; the love for what she hated, and the hate for what she loved. That marvel. That feature. That nuisance.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

The best advice to me...or any other arch. student

Confidence is never created outside, by someone to you. It is something you create inside of you by being sure of what you do with time and lots of effort, which no outsider CANNOT kill. 

PS: so (1)be sure of what you do-have honest reasons (2) take time and develop-have many feed-backs and trial n errors possibly you could have, (3) effort- have no resistance to 'work more' (4) know the teacher, and know you-some times you have to believe the fact that the teacher is never the god; he's just person with all imperfections, you just present to him/ her. So if you, at least know his liking and stuff, present what you did, the way they like it; have your real reasons (sometimes) untold. He's like a client, he has his bias, so know those and present properly. Because inside of you with all untold stuff you know you are correct after going through (1), (2) & (3)

- Chamila Bambaradeniya
Thanks Chamila... :)

Saturday, August 10, 2013

mere bachpan ke din

Missing how every inappropriate thing I blurted out in my 'bachpan' was forgiven and is even fondly remembered now, owing to 'na-samajh-bachpana'. Missing how Ammi used to 'laugh out loud' before any "LOL" came in-vogue. Missing how Abbu would break into songs with even the most ridiculous-tareen urdu words.

Wish the days would be as slow paced as they used to be, and the bachpan of today wouldn't be just about tech-slavery, and kids would play with make believe stuff, more than, counter strikes, x-boxes, kinects, and playstations. Miss the cheel-urii, ludos and steppos, not to mention the freedom to play on the road. Any road

Much as I want to move forward in life, and fast. I miss being little, and honestly, hamaray bachpan  mein khush hona seriously itna mehenga nahi tha. It took only two kids to play. Not two kids AND a playstation.

I remember when I was a kid, when I got eidi I would just be excited that I could have three ice-creams in the same day, or four pepsis, which-ever. Today I see kids planning to buy cell-phones!

It feels as if these cable tvs, laptops, i-pods, and so called entertainment gadgets have distanced people from each other. Not introverted, just... Not interested!

Sunday, September 23, 2012

The Line between Confusion and Complexity

The time had finally arrived. They had come face to face. Confrontation had been inevitable, yet, was this the right time? Thought both. It was most difficult for the Line. In the dim, hazy, flickering light of the fireplace, she couldn’t even see him clearly. She could only hear Confusion shifting in his sofa, almost uncontrollably. His crisp ironed drapes were nothing but a forest of creases now. Complexity was late; but isn’t she always? The duration was short, but the wait, endless. Finally, the crackling of the fire and the shifting of Confusions curious drapes was interrupted by footsteps. Calm, calculated, uniform footsteps. In a mixture of panic and relief, Confusion turned around. Line gazed poignantly. One wait was over whilst the other began. The room was filled with the crackles from the fire the rocking of Complexity’s chair.

The Line wanted to break the silence, yet, couldn’t; “how strategic position takes away from one”, she thought. Complexity gazed up at the ceiling as though she could see the stars through it, while Confusion stared point blank at her, sitting as still as a statue. The fire lit their faces partially, but their emotions needed no illumination. Those almost shone through.


Complexity calmly waited, consciously testing Confusions patience. Infact, she enjoyed those moments as blessings of peace; exasperated as she was, at having to be stuck with Confusion. As expected, Confusion broke the silence.


Confusion: So how are you?


Complexity: How do I look?


Confusion: I don’t knoww


Complexity: Do you ever?


Confusion: How come you never ask me how I am?


Complexity: Cause you never know


Confusion: I wanted to discuss a few things with you.


Complexity: I’m glad to see you coming to the point – sooner than usual I note.


Confusion: Why are you so arrogant?


Complexity: You want to discuss me? Are you sure?


Confusion: No, I only wanted to discuss how we are made to cross over and mask each other


Complexity: Why? Do I not make a pleasing cover?


Line: That, is besides the point


Complexity is startled

Confusion: Please do not digress

Complexity to Line: I never knew you could speak


Line: Your constant stepping over me has forced me to. Else, my position does not allow it


Confusion to Line: If you had to do the talking yourself, why did you drag me into this?


Line: Cause you are the one who leads into this crossing over, in any direction


Complexity: you have to understand that I am your future. You are the path and I the destination, and my dear Line who does the Herculean task of keeping him separate from me, you cannot deny fate


Line: I refuse to believe “fate” shall be so unkind to me


Complexity: I would understand if Confusion said that, why you?


Confusion: Fate is not unkind to me!


Line: Indeed, ignorance IS bliss


Complexity: I see you are closer to me than him. Nevertheless, we are here to discuss something else. (Facing Confusion) You may speak


Confusion: I am sick of being used


Complexity: How so?


Confusion: Let me finish at least


Complexity: Proceed sire.


Confusion: I am sick of being at play and then masking me with you. I don’t like it when I am ‘confused’ with you. My incoherence is forcibly cohesed to convince I am you. I am sick of this pretense


Complexity: Hmm…valid, and I must say, true. Even I disagree with clarity of thought being confused with incoherence and I find it most painful to do so. Indeed, many a confused cover you with me and I am an unwilling, yet pleasing disguise.


Confusion: How do you think we can stop this?


Complexity: I think you wouldn’t like me wiping you out.


Line: What do you mean Your Arrogance?


Complexity: Ah! Of course, you’d be wiped out too.

Line: I’d be free

Complexity: My dearest, it is actually this excess of you that is causing your complaints. You are your enemy. Rarely do I not see through you; but you, you cannot tolerate a mirror, and like to please yourself with an image of me. You must learn to recognize, yet once you do, we are one and you are lost. Its your choice


Also published on facebook : https://www.facebook.com/notes/qurat-ul-ain-shamim/the-line-between-confusion-and-complexity/89379149160 

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Funeral

Today, he had died. 

One of them; those who set up the stake she burnt at. 
He, had died. He who had added logs to the fire she burnt in. Yet, she had gone for his funeral. 
Gone to shed tears for him. 

He who had stood afar watching , making small talk and loud gossip of her miserable predicament. 
All the while she burnt. He just, saw. Never felt. Today, she had gone to feel sorry for him. 

He who had not cared if she lost her dignity, her life or her all. 
She was there to feel a loss of him. 

He who she had expected to smother the flames. The flames in which they cremated her alive. 
In flesh and bone. 
In sanity and trust. 
In love. 
In all. All in the name of God. 

Yet, she was there by his deathbed, to make a prayer for him. 
He who had propagated her a God-less woman.

Saturday, September 15, 2012


She was in a place of power. Or so she felt.

She was giving them both a chance, both love, and life.
After them having taken all chances with her, it was now her turn.
So oblivious to feeling she was, that she could now sit and watch.
From a place above: a place of comfort, for her; and a place of discomfort, for them.
She would let them play, but not give them cues; make no reactions, just see how it goes on.
Make no moves, just wait for their next move. She was so initiative-less, yet powerful.
For a change, she was watching, and they were watchful.
She was awaited, and they were waiting.
It was she who was in control, of herself; and not them, in control of her.
She was in a place of power.
Or so.
She felt.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Untitled...unfinished

She didn't understand at first, what that bond was, but she felt it pull them close. While they both tried to tear away from it. In their futile, sometimes half-hearted, curious ways. Ways they both saw. Both understood. She understood his unfinished sentences, she could complete them for herself; and him. He understood the nuances of what her eyes said, when they meant when they looked at him. What they meant when they looked away, or back. He could tell from the first, from her voice, whether she was awake or asleep; down or excited; faking or real. She knew when he was faking a smile. She could see beyond his smile. He knew when she was gulping tears, with her smile pasted on her face. There was communication; without words. She cherished that, she loved that. She loved how, he could just...tell. She loved how she always just..knew. She loved his honesty. Even in its brutality. She knew when it was meant to be gentle and when it wasn't. The fact was, they were together in what they loved, and even more together in what they hated.

She understood how he didn't run after her like other guys, he gave her half an hour, but it was hers - undivided. She saw the space that he needed, they both needed, and how understanding this made them closer - inside AND outside of their space. She knew he would not invade her space, and she wanted him to maintain his. She knew that what she would say or do may have consequences, but she wouldn't have to dread them. She just felt so comfortable. She could have an excited chat about everything in the world with him, understand, laugh and redden at all his pereverted jokes; and not live on small talk. Live on conversation; communication, in words, and in silence.

She felt he could fulfill her. They fit like hand in glove. She felt, he as glove could protect her; and she as glove could nurture him, and she wanted this interchangability and knew he wanted it too. That was what she wanted to do, love him and be loved by him, and interchangably. She wanted to share her life with him, live her life with him. She wanted to see the world through his eyes, and she wanted to show him how she saw him glisten in the stars. He seemed to love her with all her flaws, all her little angers, all her craziness, all her moods; she wanted to share all her questions with him, and know all of his, and then quest for the answers together.

She wanted to walk the beach with him, drench in the rain with him, bungee jump with him, rock climb, para-glide, you name it!. If life was to be a roller-coaster, she wanted to ride it with him, scream it with him, do no-hands! with him, hold on tight with him, and if fall, fall with him. Live her life aaalll the way with him, go wherever he took her, stay wherever he stayed. Run up escalators that were coming down, wear the same unisex perfume, drive the same little alto (and in her crazy manner- where all lanes are fast lanes) and converse in songs - even if everyone else thought we were crazy but we wouldn't care. She wanted to be her own skin with him and she felt she could be, her true self without layers assigned by "the appropriate police" - she was sick of them - the police AND the layers. She wanted to shed them before they tried to become her skin!

She wanted to laugh till she cried and cry till she laughed, cuz he could do that - he could make her. Say "yes" the next time he offered to buy her flowers, and say "i know" the next time he said "i forget my whole life when i see your pretty face" - even if it was in sinhala (and she saw it as true in his eyes when he said it). She loved how they both behaved like they were in a big movie and they were the stars. She was the heroine and she wanted him to be the leading man. Make our lives in this stupid, unforgiving, not-understanding, temporary world - worthwhile. Be the "happy-uplifting balm" to each other.

Friday, December 16, 2011

An Ode to my Teachers


For being the teacher who not only taught me what he knew,
but taught me how to grow,

 THANK YOU.

For being the teacher who restored and rebuilt,
a confidence all shattered and scattered,

THANK YOU.

For being the teacher who took away the fear of exploring possibilities,
and looking beyond the usual, safe vision,

THANK YOU.

For being the teacher who encouraged a curiosity,
that had learnt to be afraid and silent,

THANK YOU.

For being the teacher who would push us to find our own path,
not lead us down a road he knew,

THANK YOU.

Dedicated to the best teachers I've ever got, Kamran Sahab, Rafi Ahmed and my most favourite and supportive guiding force, Miss Sheba.

And this bit is especially for you Miss Sheba.


For being the teacher who taught me to see between the grays,
to have the strength to separate the white and black,
and stand by it,

THANK YOU!


Sunday, September 4, 2011

One skew!...and you're skewered!

Friday, August 26, 2011

words and time

Some combinations of words and timing are just horrible, they can mean no good, if they are the most honest truth, and said with the intention of avoiding tension. If the time just differs by seconds, the disaster being avoided in the first place, blows out of proportions and lasts much longer than that disaster which was being avoided.


Sigh.
Yes it happens, to the best and the worst of us. Whether the best happens to the worst or the worst to the best?, that question still remains unanswered. Still much to find out.

Funny to think what the difference is, between the phrases best disaster and worst disaster?

Going back to what led to this entry, an honest truth which I would actually like to tell this person sometime, reached them, from my mouth, in the wrong tone, at the worst possible time. I was saying it to someone else, and they heard.

Things that happen when one hears what is meant for them, but being said to another....OH man!....

Lesson?

Be careful when saying something you want to tell someone (to somebody else)....cause you'll definitely not say it in the same tone to their face...

Something = criticism....

Sunday, August 21, 2011

try not to find what u have in one relationship, in another...its unhappy

Saturday, July 23, 2011

there is an intoxication to anonymity that only the infamous understand

Friday, July 1, 2011

Need

Today..
She finally died. After each and every previous death of hers. She finally gasped her last. She had to;but this death was different, different from all her previous deaths..

Earlier, she had died of starvation, she had faded away in the scorching sun of life, she had disappeared for lack of colour, she had slept for lack of strength, she was forgotten for lack of time, she had weakened and weakened, become a distant memory, a sidelined past...

And so
Dead!

But her death today was not caused for ignorance.Today, she had been murdered.

Conscientiously...
Like every weakness should be;like everything that weakens ones constitution should be. Need - noun and verb;and needing - word and sentence;had to be killed. Killed by that which she needed, that which she caused;her solace, her revenge, her solitary tears...

Solitary; not lonely, tears..

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Architecture for the public?



At its most basic, Architecture is a definition of space - i.e. a space defined for a specific or variable function. To an average Pakistani, this is where architecture begins and also where it ends. The perception of house has not developed beyond the idea of a shelter, and purpose built buildings have yet to find their way into the minds of our people. Hence, architecture prevails as a highly elitist profession, service and concept; the awareness of which, is also restricted to elitist circles.

The afore mentioned example of a house, holds true for all architecture. The vaguest perception of a public building to a lay mind is still a mosque and probably extends a bit to a hospital; apart from this, that also is very a superficially developed concept of a shelter. The reason for this (for the lay man that is) might lie in Islamic history and teachings, which solicited simple lifestyles and did not advocate extravagant structures and luxurious spaces. From another point of view though, all this wasn’t prohibited either.

Excluding this possible but vague religious factor, there are many easily understood socio-economic, historic and cultural factors leading to this. Let us examine some of them as follows. Being a poverty stricken country with borrowed high ideals and goals, the most major aim in even a higher middle class Pakistanis life is to make ends meet. A home is definitely one of the primary priorities on the agenda, but it easily and most frequently slips to secondary status – such is the mental state of an average Pakistani. Let us examine the approach of one, through an example.

If a lay man is asked what he wants for an office space, his response is likely to be very simple; i.e. just rooms, large enough to accommodate two or more people with their respective furniture. Although he might know well the cosmetic treatment of the space, for instance, the carpet, the upholstery etc; this person will barely understand the needs for circulation, inter-personal interaction, efficient space utilization – especially for mechanized functions e.g. photocopier, micro-climate control and an environment conducive to maximum productivity. Thus displaying, a lack of awareness of the “power” of architecture.

As we study this example further, the client in question is of the opinion that the workforce can adjust themselves to the workplace. It is this attitude, as a result of which we see cases like the Karachi Passport Office housed in old barracks, causing the staff and public a lot of inconvenience.



Nevertheless, if an average businessman in the downtowns of a city in Pakistan is asked for his requirements for a shopping plaza, he is most likely to list shops, shops and more shops; storey upon storey. Again, he will also know in-depth about the required “cosmetic” treatment, e.g. glass facades, brightly lit display windows/ panels, dream-like capsule elevators, impractical air-conditioning and possible power backup.

In this case also, the supposed client does not spare even a thought to other important agenda such as, parking space, natural lighting and ventilation, customer and staff comfort, effective circulation, solid/void balance and the energy efficiency of the building.

An assessment of this example highlights ruthless capitalism, and the perception of a mall being a  temporary  space for customers; where the staff is expected to  adjust for the sake of livelihood. A physical representative of this The Rabi Centre; over crowded, congested and suffocating, yet frequented for its attractive wares. This also represents customers’ mentality – voiced as an interest in wares, not giving any importance to the environs of such.

These attitudes, sadly, infiltrate clients that require complex institutional functions            , such as hospitals and schools. They may understand the needs for clear uninhibited circulation, and services in relation to the function; but most will still be adamant upon covering each square foot in construction, regardless of how constructive it is in purpose.

This approach results in severe hierarchical problems, especially in terms of traffic. Zonal organization, transition areas and noise levels within and outside the building are also not given a thought to; resulting in spaces such as an Operation Theater adjoining an almost public space as a General Ward. Or, pertaining to a school, the library being next to a noisy playground or Kindergarten! I have even come across a library that houses a music room! Hence, disrupting traffic efficiency in case of an emergency or just causing disturbance in terms of noise.

Some hospitals are such that a healthy person starts feeling ill upon entering them. So are some schools, they completely defy their purpose, making the students just want to run away; the curiosity of even the young students’ impressionable minds is not aroused.

Most hospitals do not take into account the need for environments to accelerate the recovery process; how much does it take to incorporate a small interactive space with board games or a mini library? Not much. Yet, we are not inclined to do it. Similarly, in schools, the need for supplements to the learning process – through books – is not understood. Auditoriums, art display spaces, libraries, playgrounds, even small garden spaces – to have lunch maybe – are not encouraged. Even the simplest things, such as creating seating directly under a tree are not considered.

Very few hospitals show signs of developing waiting areas, making visiting and nursing a repulsive experience. This holds true for schools also; where it can become excruciating for children to wait for their transport.

The thought process behind such avoidable blunders remains the same; maximum utilization of space to make room for provision of services - which is a good thing - , but done with a lack of sensitivity towards the users.

These buildings, though public, are insensitive to not only its users, but also to the environment, context and social needs. These buildings do not address universal accessibility. Does that imply that a child with polio cannot attend a regular school? Yes. Most malls, parks, museums do not have bathrooms. They do not even have dustbins! Let alone bathrooms; and transition spaces – staircases, corridors - are the least thought about or designed. These buildings lack character, i.e. they can be used to serve almost any other function, with little or no alteration.











Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Disappointment

 
This was all she was left with, all that she had become herself. Borne of so-called unconditional love and sacrifice, and both having expectations from her. Her eyes wept and wept yet all her hearts tears couldn't flow out her eyes, couldn't wash the indelible scars her wounds had left. Hurting and ever-fresh, yet scars. She broke and shattered bit by bit inside but love and sacrifice never noticed, and accused her of exploitation and opportunism; blamed her of having hurt them. She gave her all and she gave her best but they expected from her to support one and she couldn't; though she tried. She could live without both but not support one against the other. They fought in front of her; they fought through her, always injured her in the process and screamed it was love and sacrifice. Such lies. Such blatant lies. Myths of love and sacrifice. Then they accused her of enjoying the dispute and gaining of it. Leaving her as always, disappointed; with both, love and sacrifice.

Friday, February 11, 2011

STANDARDIZATION - by way of harmony

Corbusier finds harmony present in nature, machines, and the Classic examples of the Sistine Chapel and Erechtheum, but not in the architecture around him, which he feels is just hanging on to applied ornament to justify itself as art. He feels harmony is a product of economy and requirement, contemporary technology and a sense of zeitgeist.

He disregards respect for convention completely, in favour of respect for nature.

"A world organised according to a new spirit" - a clear reason why Modernism is also referred to as "International Style". The attempt to encompass the whole world made Modernism want to introduce a homogeneity; resulting from STANDARDIZATION - the characteristic which was to serve as an identity for Modernism. Nonetheless, at the same time, this unifying of identities meant, depriving many of identities, which they took pride in and which they carried on, as progression of their culture. 


Though Modernist ideas of this architecture being generic/homogenous - i.e. by way of NOT being elitist and not affecting en masse - had its own social concerns and attempted to provide a sense of equality amongst all; its intensity also deprived many of what they may most identify with - memories and tradition; as well as a comfort, a satisfaction that is derived from the act of organising the disorganised in ones own way. Standardization therefore, reduced an individuals radius of power and moreover the exercise of it.

In conclusion, Modernisms great social agenda to unite many under the same architecture language added a pinch of tyranny to an otherwise much wanted ingredient of equality in society. A harmony so intense, so standard, so imposed, that it became difficult to accept; and hence, despite having a positive intention, got a negative response.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Teacher commenting on "interaction" : every attraction is not meant for interaction!!
 ________________________________________________________________________________

Teacher 1 - commenting on circular atrium: Maybe your hole is too big?!

Girl student :  :O

Teacher 2 : maybe your hole needs to get smaller as you go up...

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Interesting Comments by Teachers

Student: Miss! I'm really sorry I completely forgot, can I please have another appointment I'll remember it this time?

Teacher: Unlike you, I have a schedule. All my balls are in the air at the same time!, if I don't juggle on time, my balls will fall!

....................................................................................

Student: Sir, over here near the trees, I will make another pavilion, this one for bird watching.

Teacher: Why? Is there a girls college here that people can sit "bird-watch"

....................................................................................

Student: Sir I don't have that drawing because I used it for this model

Teacher: That is the lamest excuse that I have ever heard in the HIStory of lame excuses!!

....................................................................................

Student: Sir, I don't want that people from the adjoining high rises watch the activity in my library

Teacher: Why? Who is bathing there?

....................................................................................

Students presenting

Teacher: Your presentation looks like you've forced a BMW sticker on an old Suzuki!

....................................................................................

Student: Sir, I have made a glass walkway, to provide a precarious feeling.

Teacher: oh yes! you will be precarious when people will look up, see ur skirt, and go WOW!!!!

....................................................................................

Student: Miss, the user will have to crawl through this underground glass tunnel.

Teacher: and look at that earthworm stuck on the other side? pchik!