tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23751982628615430612024-03-14T14:52:31.390+05:00Misterio VidaMisterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-17002300176455667132021-05-04T10:21:00.002+05:002021-08-05T08:57:55.107+05:00Ertugrul and Forensic Sciences<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Criminal forensics has recently been made
popular by TV shows such as CBS’s CSI. These scientists specialize in examining
physical evidence to link a crime scene, suspect, and/or victim. The field of
forensic science has received extensive exposure in recent years and is now
regarded as a highly respected discipline among scientists and criminality. So when we think of forensics, high-tech labs with advanced gadgetry and sophisticated computers, fingerprinting and such other stuff comes into mind. And with this, the perception is developed that forensics is dependent on the use of these modern technologies. However, this is not true. Humans had used the techniques in the olden times. Therefore, I will focus on some of the scenarios in the Ertugrul series where forensic science comes into play.</span></p>Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-42219368582290186552017-11-11T17:25:00.002+05:002017-11-11T17:54:57.333+05:00Everything I do, I do it for you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">It
was in the wee hours of a chilly November night on one of the Fridays. It was
all silence outside except the insects stridulating. Inside in the room, with a
mug full of hot coffee and listening to the soothing voice of Ustad Nusrat
Fateh Ali khan, “<a href="https://youtu.be/h1dCtibs5aU"><span style="color: #3778cd; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;">Mai Khayal hoon kisi aur ka, mujhe sochta koi aur hai”</span></a>, I opened Facebook. On my
wall, I saw status update from my “friend”: Awarded Productive Scientist Award
2017. Only that it was neither an award nor it had to do anything with
productivity. It was a directory, which enlisted anybody who wished to be
listed. Scrolling further down, another “friend”: Delivering keynote address at
the International Conference. Only that he was just a participant who paid the
fee and the picture at the rostrum was during the break when nobody was there!</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">I
opened WhatsApp and since Facebook has acquired it, inevitably the status has
to be there. One of the contacts has updated a status with Eiffel Tower in the
background. However, in late afternoon, I had seen him in the campus. And I am
sure he doesn’t have a passport yet! I turned to Twitter. There I saw a person
whining about how her cousins have ruined her routine. In another tweet, she
said she had coffee at Gloria-Jeans. Only that there is no Gloria-Jeans in the
100 miles radius. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">There
was another day; on my wall, I saw a post: “My best friend’s mother died. Her
funeral is at 3PM at this place.” This was updated at 2.50PM at a place, which
is 20 miles from the funeral. Instead of posting on Facebook, why you don’t go
yourself, one may ask. And to top it up, there were actual people who “liked”
the post! In the month of Ramzan, one afternoon, I saw a “friend” updating his
status about the benefits of fasting and its reward in the afterlife. With his
other hand, he was sipping his coke. At some other time, a “friend” status:
Summer is too much so I installed AC”. And with this, there were a few pictures
of the new invention. We were supposed to be in awe like if it were the 1917 instead
of 2017. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">And
why the friend is in inverted commas is because Facebook friends are not real
friends. They are just random people. Some of them you never met or will ever
meet. Still you will get requests from random people and sometimes you have to
accept out of courtesy. But WhatsApp has since topped that where anybody can
add you to any group and you cannot do anything about it. The only option is to
leave the group, which will notify the whole group that you left, hence,
creating a bad feeling. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
original idea behind the social network was to connect like-minded people who
can socialize. It was a good thing for even those who are reluctant in their
real lives. However, now it has become something like a cheap local paper which
is full of everything from fake selfies of people to daily pictures of their
children to the fake news of what they had in lunch and dinner to the updates
about what movie they are watching or what songs they are listening to. From
the friendships to breakups, from engagements to weddings. Sometimes, to the
news of what car they ordered and then the next 200 days are full of the wait
and when it is delivered, the wall is littered with pictures of every square
inch of the novelty. Instead of enjoying, we do something solely for the
purpose to post pictures and post these on Facebook. There might be people who
are less fortunate and when they see such updates, they feel sad. Instead of
bragging, boasting and posting fake pictures, we might be realistic and think
about the less fortunate people in the society. Or else we may become people of
the Facebook and in the words of Bryan Adams: </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">You know it’s true:</span></i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><br />
</span><i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">Everything
I do, I do it for you.</span></i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">P.S. I didn't include the persons who update their
status with their "research" papers. How to publish a paper is an art
and requires a full blog post. So next time.</span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-13627430324927823312016-01-18T22:32:00.002+05:002016-01-18T22:53:43.548+05:00Her Eyes Were Green<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br />The relation of an alumnus to alma mater is something that can’t be put into words. From ancient teachers like Confucius, Aristotle, Plato to the medieval Leonardo to the modern greats, a pupil is known and respected by caliber of the institutes he/she attended or the teachers who taught him/her. So I had only one reply when I got the invitation to attend the Alumni Dinner of <a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/05/eyecandy-cemb.html">CEMB</a>, preceded by a 3-day International Conference. It proved to be a 4-course meal ending with a dessert. The fact that it was the 1st Alumni Meet, 30 years after CEMB was founded, I couldn’t afford to miss it. In my opinion, the feelings at a 1st convocation, 1st alumni dinner, 1st love or 1st marriage (for those who are daring enough to enter the lion’s den after their 1st escape) cannot be replicated in life. To top that up, the organizers choreographed the whole program very well. Though not a bon vivant, I thought the dessert compensated for whatever deficiencies the first 3 courses had. It was the 1st of January and in the mid of all this, I saw her green eyes. Some start to the New Year, I must say.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It was during my 2nd semester in PhD when I first saw her. I vividly remember our 1st encounter. I was waiting for lunch with plate in my hand when she entered the dining hall. The curry from my plate poured down to the floor while my gaze was fixated on her. The dining hall was partitioned into male and female sitting areas. Naturally, she entered from the female portion into the kitchen while I was on the other side of the counter. For a while, our eyes met. Or so I thought. Then suddenly, she left the kitchen and the hall, walking into the lush green lawns to bask in the mid-November sun. I don’t remember if I ate my lunch that day. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSjPATw0iMIfqBRkQBoFhRUi0JN9_0e2rE9m4ar7hdD_2UWph2HSRYbURIoIpYOpPAIT0AVf____ziYYWOWBz7_AGdzjhxK6_SL6i3T4qFQHMzqx3qAVrAb88gDWu65ApjXkSVj5xBveQ/s1600/catwoman-eyes-isolated-black-background-45370168.jpg"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSjPATw0iMIfqBRkQBoFhRUi0JN9_0e2rE9m4ar7hdD_2UWph2HSRYbURIoIpYOpPAIT0AVf____ziYYWOWBz7_AGdzjhxK6_SL6i3T4qFQHMzqx3qAVrAb88gDWu65ApjXkSVj5xBveQ/s400/catwoman-eyes-isolated-black-background-45370168.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /><br />For the next few semesters, it became a routine. I would go for lunch where she would enter from the other side, we would exchange gazes and moved onto our respective places. In all that time, our meetings didn’t last for more than 15 seconds. And that too in the full glare of the audience. Only once or twice I saw her in the corridors while going to my lab. I couldn’t invite her into hostel. And in a conservative environment like ours, going out was not an option. The thought of people staring at us while she sat with me in some restaurant, restrained me from going that route. She was agile I was lethargic. She was lively I was timid. She was smart I was a scientist. I don’t remember having any conversation with her. But I think her eyes spoke to me every day. And then she left or I left after finishing my PhD. Time went by and she fizzled out into the secret chest in the dark shadows of the haunted house amidst the forsaken graves of the buried memories that is my mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Now after so many years, there she was with her green eyes sparkling even in the dark of the night. Or was those lenses? One never knows these days. Rummaging through the neurons of my brain, I recognized her too late. She was at the other end of the hall. Sitting with her friends she seemed to be enjoying herself. How much I wanted to go and sit with her. I could have killed her friends at that moment. But I didn’t. Or I couldn’t. It seemed to be a very long night. And then it was time for a group photograph. Turned out the group was too big for the lens of the camera. So we posed in two groups and unfortunately she was not in my group. Afterwards, we tried to launch some sky lanterns into the air. While I was waiting for the hot air to fill the lantern, I saw her speeding in my direction. I knew it was the moment. Finally. In the few seconds that I waited there, I wove a web of a million permutations in which she would fall suavely. And then I was awoken from my reverie by the drop of molten wax in the lantern. She had gone. Forever. Perhaps. I wonder why I couldn’t get her while I could? Perhaps I was too <a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/10/way-you-make-me-feel.html">heartbroken</a> at that time. But now? I don’t know. I thought of searching her on Facebook. But then I know someone like her can never be on Facebook. One day she will read this post. Or her children. Or their children. We never know. She is <i>Felis cembus</i>. The dining hall cat. </span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-63665725018485895992015-10-18T17:51:00.000+05:002015-10-18T23:41:33.929+05:00When the curse was rewarded<div class="MsoNormal">
Mama and baba could do nothing but console their daughter.
They tried every thing in their capacity to comfort their darling daughter,
their hero, as they called her. Gloom prevailed upon their house, for the grief
was uncalled for. Tears were rolling down their eyes and asking Lord just one
question, why they? Why they had to face such a problem when their daughter did
no harm to anyone. The incidence was enough to shatter their spirits. Haya
started her medical training under Dr. Zee but that move did not prove fruitful
for her. Dr. Zee, as called by fellow doctors, had a repute of being difficult
at times. But Haya did not anticipate what could happen to her. Dr. Zee put a wrong
case of medical negligence against Haya and almost got her license cancelled.</div>
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Haya and Mona were more friends than sisters. Born in a
barely middle class family, their parents did everything they could to get
their daughters on right tracks. While Haya was fierce, determined and
foresighted, Mona was more of a heart-follower. Dr. Haya stood against every
obstacle that might come her way to become a career woman. Her brilliance lied
in her consistency and hard work. Mona did excellent in her field and got
herself a reasonable job. But when she faced harsh realities of life, she
understood that she could also make her life better like Haya. Day by day she
felt less than her sister and envied her sister’s independence and achievements.
On one hand she would do home chores for her sister but on the other she would
think of being a servant for her. Her heart was putting her in double trouble;
she loved her sister but also resented her success. These feelings would ebb
and flow like the tides in enormous deep sea under the moon. </div>
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As for now, every member of the family was in tears on what
happened to their Haya. And what to speak of Haya! She was delirious! She could
not think any other thing but the misery that had fallen upon her. Her life,
her career, her goals, her dreams… all seemed to shatter mercilessly in front
of her. She could not bear the loss of her success. She had worked really hard
for all this and she was the best candidate for triumphs. Well, it may not seem
a big incident to many but think for a while about the loss of best thing in
your life? And that too with disgrace! It was not easy for them to hire the
best lawyer and try to prove Dr. Zee wrong. Some demon had taken over him when
he went unjustly against Haya.</div>
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In their desperation, the family thought it was <i>mal de ojo.</i> As a common household, for
them the onset of such sudden wretchedness on their daughter was nothing but
due to the evil eye. Every one; distant family members, friends, acquaintances;
everyone was in a state of awe when they knew that Haya got into top medical
college all by herself. So they thought it was evident that people were envious
of her. When her mama would embrace her and say that some evil eye took part in
all this, Haya would demand that person’s death from Lord. Her innocent heart
cursed anyone who was responsible for her sadness. She wanted to see that
person in pain whose envy had desolated her to very core. Haya went too far in
her pain and anger and wanted death of Dr. Zee as her only talisman. How could
she face her colleagues? How could she get back on her feet again? How could
she even live without her career? Haya thought. She considered Dr. Zee responsible
for her affliction and hence wanted him to die to soothe her grieving heart.
Her hatred for Dr. Zee was increasing by second.</div>
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Anyhow, Mona advised her mama and baba to go and meet Dr.
Zee and do whatever they could to make him take back that case. That sounded
sane. So it was decided that mama and baba would talk Dr. Zee out of all this.
They would plead him not to ruin career of their daughter.</div>
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Next morning, mama finished her prayers and went to wake up
Mona for breakfast. She called her thrice and when reached her by hand, found
her lying dead in her bed. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717449143783507131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-1477602823906149762015-09-30T00:05:00.000+05:002015-09-30T10:47:55.571+05:00I am in Love with a Criminal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was the mid of February. She was sitting in her office on the 5<sup>th</sup>
floor. Again it was raining and for the umpteenth time, she wanted to go out, inhale the petrichor and dance in the rain but as soon as she opened the windows, the omnipresent piercing
stares of the staff from the opposite building welcomed her. She shut the
windows back. Plunging into her swivel chair, she looked around her office. On the
left side was rack full of books. On her left was a water dispenser. A calendar
was hanging on the wall with a few red circles marked. On the front wall,
there was a wall clock which always reminded her of her being getting old. The door
was on the left side opposite her and 3 chairs arranged neatly opposite her
table. The table was an expensive looking piece of furniture which she bought
in a bargain store. On the table, she had put her prized possessions. In a
tray, her files on which she was working. Then a telephone set, and the latest
novel by John Grisham. In fact, there was a complete collection of John Grisham
novels on her table. And then there was the book that changed her life, her
favourite, <i>Rage of Angels</i> by Sidney Sheldon. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Her father was a junior officer in the civil bureaucracy of the
country. He wanted her to follow suit and prepare for the exams. She had just
cleared her 12<sup>th</sup> grade exams and she wasn’t sure what she wanted to
do. And then she read this novel and from that moment onwards, she always
wanted to be a lawyer. Reading, eating, sleeping, walking, everything she was doing
she imagined herself as Jennifer Parker. Her father gave up and allowed her to
pursue her career in law. She wanted to be successful in law while her mother wanted her to be successful in her in-laws. And then she was betrayed in love during her
university years and she decided not to love anyone ever. She did bar-at-law
and in 3 months time, she realized it was very difficult than what she had ever
read.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Some three years ago, a doctor was accused of creating this epidemic
which killed more than 200 in the city. If convicted, he could be hanged till
death, for 200 times! And by the look of things, his fate was sealed. No one
was willing to take his case. She read the news and suddenly, the <i>Parker </i>trait
got back into her mind. She decided to take the case. Until now, her days were
consumed by the routine women rights and divorce cases. She wanted something
more challenging and with all the media focus, she could become famous
overnight. Or fall spectacularly. The indictment date was a few weeks away and
she met with her client many times. Even though she took pride when it came to
her self control in being attracted to men, the doctor was irresistible. He was
in his early 30s, neatly dressed, dark hair with a few greys just above the
ears. He was every bit of what a doctor is not. And then his sense of humour
which she would enjoy for hours without being aware of the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One day, they were sitting in the restaurant. He was starving. She
ordered orange juice. He could not contain and told her to order something more
for him. "I am feeling like Joey. A turkey will do". Astonished, she asked, "Last week you said you hated F.R.I.E.N.D.S.?". "But you said you loved it so I watched all 10 seasons this week", he replied. She blushed. Sipping her orange juice, he was staring at her. “What is it,
doctor?” she asked. “I was just admiring the combination of your 25000 genes”. “Shut
up”. Both of them laughed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“So what do you think of my case?” he asked expectantly. “I have
been studying it for the past few weeks and I am very hopeful. You should trust
me. After all, I am the proud member of the largest bar council in Asia”. After a long pause, he said: “I have trust in
you but I am not a big fan of this judicial system. It reminds me of the story
of the old man and the king”. “What story?” she began to listen with interest. “Once
there was an old man who was planting a date palm plant. A king was passing by, seeing the old man, he
asked the old man that he was old then what was the point in planting a tree
which would bear fruit long after he would be dead. The old man smiled and
replied that his grandfather planted such trees and he ate fruit from those. Now
he was planting and his grandsons would enjoy the fruits.” She understood what
he meant. All she could say was this. “Don’t lose hope. Everything is going to
be all right”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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After three years, she was sitting
on her chair, she opened the file No. 84 and shuffling through pages, she
reached page 10. There was a little thank you note from a doctor. And at the end of the note, something on her
own handwriting:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<i>Case closed.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
She closed the file. Peeked through
the windows and it was already dark outside. It was time to go home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
(P.S. Although the story is based on fiction, the character is inspired by my friend who is a lawyer. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
P.S to her: If you like it then thank me, but if you don't then it is just fiction and not related to you :P)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">
P.S.S. The idea was again put into my mind by Fatima who is always an inspirational and creative being. </div>
</div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com67tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-76305376631010487232015-04-01T20:42:00.000+05:002015-04-14T08:24:11.320+05:00More than a Religious Woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Like any other Muslim, I have
read time and again about the women of Islam in religious context. Every time I
would read how these women helped the other gender attain their strength and
glory or how the fair sex was condemned being a female. All true. But has
anyone ever tried to narrate their lives in perspective of their character? How
many times we have read about the character and gallant nature of these women
who stood for themselves and in turn helped people around them? Some chose to
be house-wives while others chose to shape the society and imparted whatever
knowledge they had to the public. They fought on grounds or did their home
chores. Either they swayed their swords in precise strokes or wiped away the
floors with cloth. These women may not be the prophets but their identities
were not any less than that of significant people in our history. These women
had their own character, personalities, opinions and lives. Once you will think
about them as humans and not as Muslim associates, you shall see how
wonderfully accomplished life they led and how our pious men helped them in same
manner as they facilitated our men.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Whenever I read about Khadija
(RA) or Ayesha (RA), a sense of pride fills within me and illuminates the path
that I should follow to be a better human. Their lives and stories are not only
for women but are excellent guides for men too. So let us talk about our worthy
women as individuals to see how successful they were in their times that made
them legends. While doing so, we may compare our today’s society with old one. Shall
we?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hawwa (AS):</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hawwa and Adam, the first two persons
were sent as initial human inhabitants of this planet. Quran depicts the pair
as <span style="background: white;">equally compliant in the sin and then in
punishment and atonement.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Bilqis:</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Bilqis ruled <st1:country-region w:st="on">Sheba</st1:country-region> as a
queen. A woman leader, she was famous for her intelligence and her grasp on
political powers at that time. S<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white;">he ruled her nation with her skills, good judgment and
vigor. This monarch had the abilities and political expertise that made her to
hold onto her</span></span><span style="background: white;"> glorious throne. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hajra (AS):</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Mother of Ismail (AS), her famous
motherly love gave Muslims the holy water and word “Zam- Zam”. As a wife, she
embraced all hardships that fell upon her husband. She agreed to move to a new
land that later became Makkah for us. Her symbolic agitation for her infant was
exemplary. It was her impatient walk for her crying son that was made a ritual
in one of the biggest religions of this world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Assiya (AS):</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It is hard to imagine how tough
life can become when the members of family become your own enemy. Assiya (AS)
had the perseverance due to which she stood by her ideals. No one in this world
could shake her determination once she decided to believe in oneness of God. Her
utter determination and strength of her character made her not to move from her
resolve.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Maryam (AS):</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Having a child out of wedlock is
always considered a taboo. Though in Maryam’s case, it was only her as a parent
to Isa (AS). Now think what she had to go through when she gave birth to a
child and that too who asked people to leave their beliefs and follow a
completely different one. This was her virtue that she maintained her
reputation along with her father-less miracle child. She was a young girl when she
bore Isa (AS). She gave birth to him near a palm tree. It was her courage to
bear a child while knowing how strongly she guarded her chastity. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Khadija (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We talk about today’s
business-women and there was one known some fourteen hundreds years ago. She is
a true role model for today’s woman. Khadija (RA) was considered a successful
merchant of her times. When she did business, she was professional. But when
she took care of her household, no one could beat her devotion to her husband.
It was she who sent her marriage proposal to a young man fifteen years younger
than her. Her method of dealing was straight and fair, to the point. She tackled
with other male counterparts. She worked upon strategies to conduct her trade. And
when she had to choose a groom, she did that by herself. Her reasons were quite
simple and authentic; her servant had told her about Muhammad’s (PBUH)
character and his ways of conducting trade. She already knew about his repute
and together with Maysarah’s description, she made an informed decision to send
a proposal to Muhammad (PBUH). As a wife, she was a pillar to her husband. She
stood by his side through thick and thin and comforted him. If we see, Khadija
(RA) is a perfect example of a woman who balanced her career and her married
life. Her maturity, professionalism, vision, forethought and strength describe
her character and persona.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Ayesha (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Ayesha (RA) is one of the
greatest scholars of Islam. She not only had knowledge of religious affairs but
was also an expert in medicine, poetry and astronomy. Although Ayesha was young
when she got married to Muhammad (PBUH) and stayed only for nine years with
him, this time polished her as a leader and scholar. Noteworthy companions of
prophet Muhammad (PBUH) would seek Ayesha’s (RA) advice over matters of
religion. A true intellectual, she was an authority on Hadith. But her
intelligence was not only limited to religious affairs; she was actively
involved in politics during the time of last three caliphs of Islam. She
participated and led armies in some battles. Ayesha (RA) took a public and
predominant role in politics. When I think of some eminent scholar who has a
high impact factor and has authority on a subject, my mind suddenly goes to
Ayesha (RA), who taught more than eight thousand pupils and had command on
religious as well as worldly subjects. What an intellect she possessed! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Fatima (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Fatima (RA) is synonymous with
word “patience”. Fatima (RA) was wholeheartedly loved by her father (PBUH).
When she got married, she had a small house to live in. She did all home chores
by herself and remained loyal to her husband, Ali (RA). She chose to stay in a
small world of her home away from all the hustle of the society. A devoted wife
and mother, her humble life is full of endurance and modesty. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Asma (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Daughter of Abu Bakar (RA), the
first Caliph of Islam, she was the lady who as a young girl would go and provide
food to prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and Abu Bakar (RA) in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">cave</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Thawr</st1:placename></st1:place>.
When Muhammad (PBUH) left Makkah and hid in cave Thawr for few days, Asma (RA)
would supply them food at night. It clearly shows her bravery to travel on foot
all by herself during dark night to help her father and her Prophet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Zainab (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Zainab (RA), daughter of Ali (RA)
and Fatima (RA), sister of Hassan (RA) and Hussain (RA). What she did for her
brother and her clan is an example for this world. This was her courage that
she fearlessly faced Yazeed and spoke in favor of her brother. Her guts never
allowed her to bow down to one she deemed wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Nusaiba (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She was the companion of Muhammad
(PBUH) who fought in battle of Uhad. She valiantly threw herself between
Muhammad (PBUH) and the attacking sword. She fainted but when she regained her
senses, she asked about Muhammad (PBUH). This was her bravery to fight
alongside men for the cause she believed in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Khawla (RA):</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She fought for her brother under
the command of Khalid Bin Waleed (RA). She disguised as a man and gallantly
fought during the siege of <st1:city w:st="on">Damascus</st1:city>
when she was noted by her commander. Her style of fighting was compared to the
great fighter Khalid (RA) himself. </span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white;">Every story of these
women is inspirational. One trait was common among them, courage to stand for
what they believed in. These women showed </span></span><span style="background: white;">strength, patience, wisdom and gave a whole new meaning to the existence
of females. One may fear lack of acknowledgment of many more unsung heroines of Islam. These women played their roles as
useful members of the society and led their lives as they wanted to. Although
they remained in boundaries described by their Lord, yet they did not define
themselves by the norms of society. These women are true role models for any
human being. </span> </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08717449143783507131noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-72698073596802859342014-09-20T20:24:00.001+05:002014-09-20T20:24:17.860+05:00You Have 365 Info Messages<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">Book - reading a text-book, is a
time-consuming and energy draining job for students. Reading a novel and other
non-text type books are hobby for many of us. But writing a book is a
herculean task that a very few of us ever undertake. For some, it is a lifetime
of experiences that translates into a book. For others, it can emanate from a
sudden experience of a few seconds. For example, JK Rowling was working as
a researcher and bilingual secretary for Amnesty International</span><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> when
she conceived the idea for the <i>Harry Potter</i> series on a
delayed train from Manchester to London in 1990. Her first book in 1995
was submitted to twelve publishing houses, all of which rejected the
manuscript! Therefore, I like many of my other friends, did not bother to go
through this conventional process of publishing. We just submit our work to
online people who publish as-it-is! So here is the result of my first such
attempt. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a name='more'></a> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVksP_SRtLr9O73-xRNuqN_lNriSYSpxZGrGbxIrYhSrzSRa1IA5VhC7M0xWjO0xnE3L1zaLSUh8wg9Py2IW6uGirHwKkTnDkwzrQZZ5n1gItOMqCwqQxTXFankjaSugiNHL6I59WpC2Uz/s1600/SMS+Cover+Front+A5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVksP_SRtLr9O73-xRNuqN_lNriSYSpxZGrGbxIrYhSrzSRa1IA5VhC7M0xWjO0xnE3L1zaLSUh8wg9Py2IW6uGirHwKkTnDkwzrQZZ5n1gItOMqCwqQxTXFankjaSugiNHL6I59WpC2Uz/s1600/SMS+Cover+Front+A5.jpg" height="640" width="450" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Front Cover</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> In the summer of 2009 while reading a magazine, I found some interesting
information. I sent a text message to few of my friends asking them the
questions. After that, I started to ask some general knowledge questions
through SMS from my friends once a day. But only a very few people would
respond. It was either shortage of time, or the difficulty of the questions
asked. I started to ask easier questions but still no luck. So instead of
asking questions, I started to send just the info in these messages. I got some
positive response. And by the end of the year, it was almost a regular habit
that I would send little bit of information with a goodnight wish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> Since that time, it is almost a regular thing except for a few occasions
when I wasn’t able to continue it. Sometimes I felt that my texts were never
read by anybody. At other times, when I would delay the sending of messages
from the regular time, I would get texts from people asking for the goodnight
message. I had accumulated lot of information through these texts in my mobile
phone and one day my phone crashed and all texts were deleted. It was then and
there that I decided to compile these in the form of a book so is to preserve
them and use as a tool of constant torture for friends who never read my texts.
This one is for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> This book is not an encyclopaedia and certainly not a record book. It is
just a book containing information which is small enough to fit into a text
message (sometimes 2, 3 or 4 at maximum). These are collected from different
sources including Wikipedia, books, magazines and other internet sources.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Back Cover</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> CreateSpace, the subsidiary of Amazon.com, that publishes my book has
priced it US$ 5.20. I doubt if anyone would buy it but still, it looks good on
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1495341690/sr=8-1/qid=1411224378/ref=olp_product_details?ie=UTF8&me=&qid=1411224378&sr=8-1">paper</a>. Or maybe I should write it on my resume.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and
mystery. There is always more mystery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New'; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">̶</span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> Anais Nin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-64919424084731060492014-03-31T18:11:00.001+05:002014-03-31T18:11:14.437+05:00The 2nd Most Difficult Thing to Find in Lahore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, in the last episode of my <a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2014/02/my-lifes-story-in-39-pictures.html">Life’s Story</a>,
I had a job in Lahore so it was only natural that I would search for some place
to live as well. For a while it seemed that the administration at my old place
had only one aim of their lives: to kick me out of their hostel. So I said, OK,
that is not a difficult thing to do. One just has to search in Google and olx
and there are thousands of places with a variety of price ranges. But it was
easier said than done. After 2 months of searching, I finally found a place to live.
That is not what I wanted and I don't know how will it <a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/10/way-you-make-me-feel.html">make me feel</a> but anyhow it will do for now. But the journey is
worth sharing for you people to read.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinm5jWFP3evbWb3avmHnwPM-qPeOZC_Ts_dYIwL1t52tRKDDz7X8ghRyYGHfjDu_dR1Y5b5MRYPCUJb8EIcmuKwBNKVyyduUegM0TSsDOXRQLG2K5blaFTdshho1wG9AVl2tgIsJnCRZaM/s1600/guy+apt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinm5jWFP3evbWb3avmHnwPM-qPeOZC_Ts_dYIwL1t52tRKDDz7X8ghRyYGHfjDu_dR1Y5b5MRYPCUJb8EIcmuKwBNKVyyduUegM0TSsDOXRQLG2K5blaFTdshho1wG9AVl2tgIsJnCRZaM/s1600/guy+apt.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joey's Apartment as shown on F.R.I.E.N.D.S.<br /><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">It all started when I found this ad on olx.com:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Studio Apartment for Rent<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fully furnished, attach bath, spacious,
well ventilated, just a few minutes from local bus stop, market and mosque. Rent
is only 6000 Rupees (60 dollars).</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;">Now the idea of apartment in my mind mainly
comes from this TV series F.R.I.E.N.D.S. as most of the time they are sitting
in one apartment or another. So I contacted the person on the number given in
the ad. I went to see the apartment. For the first time I realized, Oxford
dictionary is severely outdated and in urgent need of update. The definition of
apartment here is a 10x10ft room with attached bath. I asked the person that OK
that is the room but where is the kitchen area. He opened the cupboard and
abracadabra, the kitchen was there. In a shelf. He said that is the kitchen
area.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;">Needless to say, I returned
unsuccessful.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Next time I found this another interesting
ad. It was a little pricey at 8500 Rupees but it was near to the place where I
work and it said it has an AC, TV and fridge. So I called the owner and I
packed my stuff so that I just had to go and settle there and then. But thanks
to my friend who said what is the hurry, we just get the key and you can shift
tomorrow. But I told him that is the best place and someone will take it. So we
started to go. There I learnt a few new definitions:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><br />
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<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I could swear,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-anarkali-love-story-continues.html"><span style="color: blue; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Prince
Saleem</span></a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">had
stayed in this room when he rebelled against King Akbar.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">21 inch LCD TV means if you
have the imagination to see the non-existent things.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Attached bath means if it is
within a 20 meter radius of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So again I left. And I was happy that I didn’t
bring my suitcase.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For the next few weeks I called around 200 real
estate agents and visited more than 100 places but to no avail. But in the
meantime I learnt a few things which are worth sharing:</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ol start="1" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">2-3 minute walk from main
road/bus stop means if you can walk at supersonic speed.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Furnished room means a room
having energy saver bulb and fan.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Newly build means if it is
built sometime during World War 2.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Excellent conditions mean it
is a 19<sup>th</sup></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">century
building where the British army once stayed.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Executive male or female
means a person who is happy to live in a 10x10ft room, stays as paying
guest or shares a room with students and needs a bike parking.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Attached bath means it is
adjacent to the room but the door is on the other side of it so you will
have to move out and then walk around to enter.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Carpeted room means a room
which has a rug from the late renaissance era. You can clearly see the
footprints of Da Vinci and Michaelangelo on it.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Fridge means an icebox where
u can keep a maximum of 2 cups of water.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Studio apartment means a
room having an attached bath.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">A 3 bed room apartment means
a flat having 1 bedroom, 1TV lounge and one kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Cold/Hot water availability
means hot in summer and cold in winter.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Kitchen with oven/fridge etc
means a common kitchen shared by at least 10 other rooms in the house.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And if that was not enough, almost all of them
required you to be married, having a family living with you, advance payment of
2xrents as security plus one advance rent and an agreement of 1 year.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So I think life is tough out there for single
people. Next time, do not look in the real estate/rental sections on olx.
Search the matrimonial.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">P.S. Never trust the pictures of the apartments as
they are never real. And there was this one guy I called and I learnt someone
put his number as a joke and apparently he was getting a lot of calls from
prospective tenants because it was very reasonably priced. But no to be.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-79578742935427886812014-02-10T17:06:00.000+05:002014-02-10T17:06:00.214+05:00My Life's Story - in 39 Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">For the last couple of days, I have seen like a 100 movies, Facebook movies of my friends. And every time I watch, the app invites me to make my own movie. But I think life is too complicated and Facebook does not have the emotional attachment that we have with certain moments in our lives. So, here is my life story, if you will, in pictures. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">This is me back then :)</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1WpIvhyphenhyphenq-6BxX9FehNpxrpTn7MJ4xs3qs50d-4_r_hqXXzH5k9mmD7ISkCJ24vmh9G6X_mlEHr3QE0UCTv802kcErH7lY6WqQwoJbxmG7FB2DofDNjOTYl615zX5QZjHylXG61CGkKw/s1600/85.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1WpIvhyphenhyphenq-6BxX9FehNpxrpTn7MJ4xs3qs50d-4_r_hqXXzH5k9mmD7ISkCJ24vmh9G6X_mlEHr3QE0UCTv802kcErH7lY6WqQwoJbxmG7FB2DofDNjOTYl615zX5QZjHylXG61CGkKw/s1600/85.JPG" height="252" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1985</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Here again, me, the little one in the black jacket :)</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDKzXUxLMZH5Yxiynab9vKCfX3s13EmafIsOyvvYRc531rI3J2CyaJ9PGs4WNX99B7QUYAex9zjB80L6LYvbxXmdfsh_QoOjSIriUVHVEBIEpaptQiUbZCtq7WTapNWDNGmL6A8pBiGA/s1600/Jan86.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDKzXUxLMZH5Yxiynab9vKCfX3s13EmafIsOyvvYRc531rI3J2CyaJ9PGs4WNX99B7QUYAex9zjB80L6LYvbxXmdfsh_QoOjSIriUVHVEBIEpaptQiUbZCtq7WTapNWDNGmL6A8pBiGA/s1600/Jan86.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 1986</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzimO_MLSK5czFfmcE06Gp2DABAuzXDS9zSjndO_659YzXHiEQHQid0fmwMarzADUuiRcDQUaLJbF2iNZN4Sdvg99G3gCtC8x0EdU5-vhXwK8qOpnjo2TjYA9Oraeg3vy6_4PTATJ8xY/s1600/dec86.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGzimO_MLSK5czFfmcE06Gp2DABAuzXDS9zSjndO_659YzXHiEQHQid0fmwMarzADUuiRcDQUaLJbF2iNZN4Sdvg99G3gCtC8x0EdU5-vhXwK8qOpnjo2TjYA9Oraeg3vy6_4PTATJ8xY/s1600/dec86.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 1986</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Me is the little one here :)</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTVEpWuoZMETjyxWBjfF3Gjs1H5MOgfEgh9iPvYRKY4Qw7UG3xwXxiqCS2oAxRJe1HqawEwnid8qzjG_eUThaT3hwCbvk0TWE4DvHDcM7PeqZGGrxpMzWilwshPulDnqlXnEXIFAqy-I/s1600/80slate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTVEpWuoZMETjyxWBjfF3Gjs1H5MOgfEgh9iPvYRKY4Qw7UG3xwXxiqCS2oAxRJe1HqawEwnid8qzjG_eUThaT3hwCbvk0TWE4DvHDcM7PeqZGGrxpMzWilwshPulDnqlXnEXIFAqy-I/s1600/80slate.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Late 1980s</td></tr>
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After shaving my head, i fell off a wall and had some injuries. Later on, I applied my drawing/sketching skills on the picture so there are the lines visible. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-x7EBSJw0GVqau4O1h0k3V2F1NjGfKVbOuNh_zMoE6EJl9Y4PY5Pw3RXX1-GSIfmvkLgIlUAGRRdECWoNZbITXqc7kQoTMb9huSb5UeGPdWzxnEA95Z9YSa_dr3hAUrSkyGcw-TR3f0/s1600/90s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-x7EBSJw0GVqau4O1h0k3V2F1NjGfKVbOuNh_zMoE6EJl9Y4PY5Pw3RXX1-GSIfmvkLgIlUAGRRdECWoNZbITXqc7kQoTMb9huSb5UeGPdWzxnEA95Z9YSa_dr3hAUrSkyGcw-TR3f0/s1600/90s.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early 1990s</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCcEiygIidbveNhNlqAi4qxqaBdlP-rFZRVe2SvMfVN2QFg4TmPHPrbJrvvUhOVGczISw4IYqVgA_BUGxt6bnAuqkiHEKKftm3VTtOVBQoiceugIdayZ6ijNMLjHp28CCBUTEZfvroidc/s1600/95.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCcEiygIidbveNhNlqAi4qxqaBdlP-rFZRVe2SvMfVN2QFg4TmPHPrbJrvvUhOVGczISw4IYqVgA_BUGxt6bnAuqkiHEKKftm3VTtOVBQoiceugIdayZ6ijNMLjHp28CCBUTEZfvroidc/s1600/95.jpg" height="320" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1995</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">The picture that would go on my admission forms and everything there after for the next 10 years :)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2Q1lt3rDOfxd2hddr7dYKW9va5EisM2xWHPtbojN8s-6JVu0o94BGkkk-xSF8SvIf-XChuDukSoQ1xXxO8dLgcjcBUSIQW3g7mj_FEWEJxknojIzePa6numdo3pvbnjMa9iL7Vh6zTM/s1600/July99.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2Q1lt3rDOfxd2hddr7dYKW9va5EisM2xWHPtbojN8s-6JVu0o94BGkkk-xSF8SvIf-XChuDukSoQ1xXxO8dLgcjcBUSIQW3g7mj_FEWEJxknojIzePa6numdo3pvbnjMa9iL7Vh6zTM/s1600/July99.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 1999</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> On the eve of our 1st year results at BISE Swat building.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjiOigj4NUiV-IXzdnhGzlEGqX5oB6FgD_OARnJ_zj9J2apVR4d6wMe66w9MMifLVJqlUs-Z3DFPSrzlONJzdybFrW6yXlBb5_sx6gdVjALQsOnJt8IfAmxpmL1pslmB6swCUBC3sWHc/s1600/Sept2000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjiOigj4NUiV-IXzdnhGzlEGqX5oB6FgD_OARnJ_zj9J2apVR4d6wMe66w9MMifLVJqlUs-Z3DFPSrzlONJzdybFrW6yXlBb5_sx6gdVjALQsOnJt8IfAmxpmL1pslmB6swCUBC3sWHc/s1600/Sept2000.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September 2000</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> A picture with my Kodak Camera that I bought for Rupees 999/- :)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKvJG7IFFMuN24M06aOKbFo9TJeDyNKmwWKw0PoQsrWMmaEFFZEWFPxmJvpNrC_CRHE1s1qxoma4oIEE67qX45njwKCKYBM-dqPMpFOzM2qeOsnvxXgjPzSaK0t1i46TVRIKqgAGkuW8/s1600/January2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBKvJG7IFFMuN24M06aOKbFo9TJeDyNKmwWKw0PoQsrWMmaEFFZEWFPxmJvpNrC_CRHE1s1qxoma4oIEE67qX45njwKCKYBM-dqPMpFOzM2qeOsnvxXgjPzSaK0t1i46TVRIKqgAGkuW8/s1600/January2003.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 2003</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> On the bank of River Swat, after eating Chicken Karahi :) </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHsnmt4IaPAyU0EE78fSgWrY4l0JwAFXQv7yZhK-LMBwargLDPYxEKRJXjf21Pj_bwW6W4yALVS3KBH_uvG9Tbb5b-_dZF4bo7vrhhxXnEeIs-LrOE48Y9-ho4_GvyYNapKxT0glgfJI/s1600/May03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHsnmt4IaPAyU0EE78fSgWrY4l0JwAFXQv7yZhK-LMBwargLDPYxEKRJXjf21Pj_bwW6W4yALVS3KBH_uvG9Tbb5b-_dZF4bo7vrhhxXnEeIs-LrOE48Y9-ho4_GvyYNapKxT0glgfJI/s1600/May03.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2003</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> On a class trip to Baragali and Muree.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginXx5SUW0Ou1trNvMd2UiIdKwYBelvrH-DSi8b6w65xbn_wwGAERq6xx_fJZEoqEbxBIsmKJJSJvCxN7HHfGRANOrXy99fyb6D6gnAmvul0heYAwB7sQCfI3BQUe2e6UviKZM8sM1iRw/s1600/jul03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginXx5SUW0Ou1trNvMd2UiIdKwYBelvrH-DSi8b6w65xbn_wwGAERq6xx_fJZEoqEbxBIsmKJJSJvCxN7HHfGRANOrXy99fyb6D6gnAmvul0heYAwB7sQCfI3BQUe2e6UviKZM8sM1iRw/s1600/jul03.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 2003</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> First time that I came to Lahore!</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ5Ql8y1rCc_G1Z7Fob3oZXSW_mW5cib4O5_fm55H6gYUrP3GgViyonCFX_UDlEsoWif06cUnXr9E4eQSK9wFzP5VXNTkUDFNZtD-Rue5vH7EBOr6g-xMlVFXAwOpCPB7bA6FgRdamZJE/s1600/Oct2003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ5Ql8y1rCc_G1Z7Fob3oZXSW_mW5cib4O5_fm55H6gYUrP3GgViyonCFX_UDlEsoWif06cUnXr9E4eQSK9wFzP5VXNTkUDFNZtD-Rue5vH7EBOr6g-xMlVFXAwOpCPB7bA6FgRdamZJE/s1600/Oct2003.JPG" height="211" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 2003</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Preparing for my term exam</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsTg4LIgaoVDDyUrPRiA3ZD6-kcxem5qik8EjEYcFgROlNAoG_JzsfOnvotGV3BgQgVZsGCMRXTwaW6m3e2fpne2AUZWF_-mhMvAlcN-kAfqHYfTfcoJjFPIR6qdKsR8qnmrQDasxpoQ/s1600/dec03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsTg4LIgaoVDDyUrPRiA3ZD6-kcxem5qik8EjEYcFgROlNAoG_JzsfOnvotGV3BgQgVZsGCMRXTwaW6m3e2fpne2AUZWF_-mhMvAlcN-kAfqHYfTfcoJjFPIR6qdKsR8qnmrQDasxpoQ/s1600/dec03.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 2003</td></tr>
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During our last year at UoP :)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcrTJKchHYXZGj2mYyW-Je-tpdQBe_dKeItVmYQ3lys0BKCHfHVrtzxK1nG9Pq655uW22geg-QMyULsZJyUqtaSG_HEikupGmSixT5fe4sEufF0n9jBCbj7w5IyqPh5XZG0ST1e4R-cE/s1600/163432_478879403756_655213756_5926825_5083697_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcrTJKchHYXZGj2mYyW-Je-tpdQBe_dKeItVmYQ3lys0BKCHfHVrtzxK1nG9Pq655uW22geg-QMyULsZJyUqtaSG_HEikupGmSixT5fe4sEufF0n9jBCbj7w5IyqPh5XZG0ST1e4R-cE/s1600/163432_478879403756_655213756_5926825_5083697_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2005</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
A visit to GCU Lahore with my Friend and old Ravian, Adnan.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_Gh-P-Xg4pm8RC8YTi6YObRWJbTLLiaNFfV2IN-Mvs-vJ0wOkMt2z0DFiFQ-QlHJc8ftdcB_qLIOWoyKbTa6exMqq0_1Q1zwveWi1nA1bgo2eq9RNZOnSp8Ta2X8weLNsPNHq_YkXys/s1600/Apr08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_Gh-P-Xg4pm8RC8YTi6YObRWJbTLLiaNFfV2IN-Mvs-vJ0wOkMt2z0DFiFQ-QlHJc8ftdcB_qLIOWoyKbTa6exMqq0_1Q1zwveWi1nA1bgo2eq9RNZOnSp8Ta2X8weLNsPNHq_YkXys/s1600/Apr08.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 2008</td></tr>
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Thinking!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmYNJH7SNIHKloZ9oxN_HecBcYQBSjpI0KcIYhn-rurTg6qWJgJawTf38gez1jmydW5wBXaR4qxfl61JHbPRMefYspsiSCzW58eMaHM-_-CMBLLT-JD0HBt46-co3_DxyCztQu2dRUAI/s1600/May08.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUmYNJH7SNIHKloZ9oxN_HecBcYQBSjpI0KcIYhn-rurTg6qWJgJawTf38gez1jmydW5wBXaR4qxfl61JHbPRMefYspsiSCzW58eMaHM-_-CMBLLT-JD0HBt46-co3_DxyCztQu2dRUAI/s1600/May08.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2008</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Our M. Phil class... or part of it...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLjM9wbqMbueWHEsOtH1voYWwEp2mJan9jGPRNKNWzDhd_QaK4yx8mZBqMznTQarqMsh9pKrdKbHNIUfG3SrrjLeu24LyXuzirkhYj-JBRVkEFFKkVKaKiPgkcq-JplzYWcgjcMmO8Ck/s1600/ert+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcLjM9wbqMbueWHEsOtH1voYWwEp2mJan9jGPRNKNWzDhd_QaK4yx8mZBqMznTQarqMsh9pKrdKbHNIUfG3SrrjLeu24LyXuzirkhYj-JBRVkEFFKkVKaKiPgkcq-JplzYWcgjcMmO8Ck/s1600/ert+%25287%2529.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jun 2008</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> It is carrom time at hostel...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLbKQKgmzSL-bgwXAk9qDinRbcyCGfr1Gx6TB3RG1dlQN0D2XBxDfQAbEQJ9SpLZr9a9nAaKZSYGQrNjwvqfz4fb2DcmlJlduyhpLY6XudtDhbVpAbVnG6fSQgzRoQkbqcqyDT8NHwGA/s1600/oct08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuLbKQKgmzSL-bgwXAk9qDinRbcyCGfr1Gx6TB3RG1dlQN0D2XBxDfQAbEQJ9SpLZr9a9nAaKZSYGQrNjwvqfz4fb2DcmlJlduyhpLY6XudtDhbVpAbVnG6fSQgzRoQkbqcqyDT8NHwGA/s1600/oct08.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 2008</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Tik tik...at Marriott Restaurant Downtown Hanjarwal</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3U7GG8wJzAs_wgmmOHOMo7RZql1TtHwON166aSsOua6TGtycUt5qUsEsye_DhrHjXjfryJF2eBsd2e2HzQZKQLGEK8CoU-9MyTjlonbB4aUBGx31BDGKE6gkjo4TsY5R3z1vhsFa8lU/s1600/jan09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3U7GG8wJzAs_wgmmOHOMo7RZql1TtHwON166aSsOua6TGtycUt5qUsEsye_DhrHjXjfryJF2eBsd2e2HzQZKQLGEK8CoU-9MyTjlonbB4aUBGx31BDGKE6gkjo4TsY5R3z1vhsFa8lU/s1600/jan09.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 2009</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfeUMz7AXyoOIhbGVejT10xxon9L6axrR5Sujst08prF_g29t4LIdpT477tuJ-zWXVwSVpMm725OzbhCDQQte73bLaZLZIMDoTp8jZ9Ejo76Y-HvehzYu7EmhGcp87KHNC55k0pPnGZM/s1600/feb09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIfeUMz7AXyoOIhbGVejT10xxon9L6axrR5Sujst08prF_g29t4LIdpT477tuJ-zWXVwSVpMm725OzbhCDQQte73bLaZLZIMDoTp8jZ9Ejo76Y-HvehzYu7EmhGcp87KHNC55k0pPnGZM/s1600/feb09.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">February 2009</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> My Birthday :)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BxCGLVqP-g4V3UZu3VI-V_PzrusxXkyjLIa5ToSloXVGSSUv6j79l4_z91Kw7TAhUHQRHqy4fqO85PJOTAHHYHNi9aeR4-128G-OhlRkGc8PWNaHFJBbcYiRDw1KDy1O-JjGSjddPjk/s1600/Mar09+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BxCGLVqP-g4V3UZu3VI-V_PzrusxXkyjLIa5ToSloXVGSSUv6j79l4_z91Kw7TAhUHQRHqy4fqO85PJOTAHHYHNi9aeR4-128G-OhlRkGc8PWNaHFJBbcYiRDw1KDy1O-JjGSjddPjk/s1600/Mar09+%25282%2529.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2009</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKP9HZN38QpTZzUiMylPDdmmGQPumk5mSX1ea4eQfPx_rrZ-k3GfqclVaoCcgNWYiQlaTqSDfwk__dgRzGLDDPJqFAc1cGL825L3_s2-NreZftof54InXf9MpIoSu7BZiDg0Bh08dvmM/s1600/Mar09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKP9HZN38QpTZzUiMylPDdmmGQPumk5mSX1ea4eQfPx_rrZ-k3GfqclVaoCcgNWYiQlaTqSDfwk__dgRzGLDDPJqFAc1cGL825L3_s2-NreZftof54InXf9MpIoSu7BZiDg0Bh08dvmM/s1600/Mar09.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2009</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"> Twilight... Didn't like though...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaR9vSf7tomtz4rH8vHwMZyeYT8qsOw2hBcznYSMIxBIYNrb16DPDXRSMmeMdR_O6ae38s0XhSfXp051qgv42zx0mwIncWtSowRhv0fEyLdEKH9LyJc72U8Gb5f16DfmZTBDQ2flnkD_0/s1600/apr09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaR9vSf7tomtz4rH8vHwMZyeYT8qsOw2hBcznYSMIxBIYNrb16DPDXRSMmeMdR_O6ae38s0XhSfXp051qgv42zx0mwIncWtSowRhv0fEyLdEKH9LyJc72U8Gb5f16DfmZTBDQ2flnkD_0/s1600/apr09.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 2009</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> Food Street</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-DpnD2GhSJnRW7xkkhBjFK38KFEpqQjDKwKDpmP2d70ihBDKzeYRRqd0dbnvyjEpLoNGMgw0MymB-SZltuk_IrYJFm6As9WHpfn9mB4n5OtaseSMBbE2dWRZp3kg4mYcdbc2X4yZ1Fs/s1600/sep09.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-DpnD2GhSJnRW7xkkhBjFK38KFEpqQjDKwKDpmP2d70ihBDKzeYRRqd0dbnvyjEpLoNGMgw0MymB-SZltuk_IrYJFm6As9WHpfn9mB4n5OtaseSMBbE2dWRZp3kg4mYcdbc2X4yZ1Fs/s1600/sep09.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September 2009</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> At FAST Lahore... </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLf0P5wMXfscFy4m0WcLRCBDCwl59DbYdmpO1UKxyngEU0C5hUWczDXRr-SETfHKU_8IweDuw7mn22oLMf-8CPywtk83LLBDl-ExNqZK3UMD3nGU1hYQj0w6kUGAQjoGkddyrBUYxzqE/s1600/Apr10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZLf0P5wMXfscFy4m0WcLRCBDCwl59DbYdmpO1UKxyngEU0C5hUWczDXRr-SETfHKU_8IweDuw7mn22oLMf-8CPywtk83LLBDl-ExNqZK3UMD3nGU1hYQj0w6kUGAQjoGkddyrBUYxzqE/s1600/Apr10.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 2010</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Sar Malang Baba Buner... Adnan and Farhan visit of Buner</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2pxulYgfc46cn3nHXvdq4cEqKEtYArlZR8qEZKGJH8-s7IE5qKix6q09CIuT8o_B2mwbRaBpUnAeWzBMMQFdDEUyXuo6snMuJEA2mW9YcHNr4bnNqZPOLVrlWS3M4N2Ud70r3Cput1E/s1600/jun10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2pxulYgfc46cn3nHXvdq4cEqKEtYArlZR8qEZKGJH8-s7IE5qKix6q09CIuT8o_B2mwbRaBpUnAeWzBMMQFdDEUyXuo6snMuJEA2mW9YcHNr4bnNqZPOLVrlWS3M4N2Ud70r3Cput1E/s1600/jun10.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June 2010</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Me at BUITEMS, Quetta.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Lat9Sc-rSNMoAW2A017ovSwnLDF21YiZhBLw-bIqe5nIbIZ_UsEKBBB91Qavw2xNPmRbi8aEO6jSNOMtjRacu4eP_U910NAz4fGb-NodMhs1hMhF_91cXrsOwfFhpQVKTPU60EDqS8g/s1600/Jul10b.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Lat9Sc-rSNMoAW2A017ovSwnLDF21YiZhBLw-bIqe5nIbIZ_UsEKBBB91Qavw2xNPmRbi8aEO6jSNOMtjRacu4eP_U910NAz4fGb-NodMhs1hMhF_91cXrsOwfFhpQVKTPU60EDqS8g/s1600/Jul10b.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 2010</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Me with my friend Ibrahim and his gentleman uncle, Kako. Ziarat.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHDJVEqM77JveVfiN9G_7uvSnZauIXlfDZbDCLysZgoTNUIW4eyjuQKQD-hnF6AHQCmpqBVwTfE4CbmbFcf-3AKbNPjsz_9tuDxXp1egb6_Lk9K4SU4vG9gNr_jQlR5neI-AlYwiMdTQ/s1600/Jul10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHDJVEqM77JveVfiN9G_7uvSnZauIXlfDZbDCLysZgoTNUIW4eyjuQKQD-hnF6AHQCmpqBVwTfE4CbmbFcf-3AKbNPjsz_9tuDxXp1egb6_Lk9K4SU4vG9gNr_jQlR5neI-AlYwiMdTQ/s1600/Jul10.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 2010</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;">At Food Street. The 1st and Last time that our friend Imran would give us a treat...and no he is not dead.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAUDqehkuDAdwhIc_lMGWEMy7Gw2ZJjpbI-Gc4tN59soRfgz0iWKixyUFPrjeuhbUfA9JtM_OkveY38rKADSvg3JjFOM9ZHu-Y4wz7RCgn3JrRzDyscGRjUTqvq28kzWoEfJBpEmAeGs/s1600/Nov10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAUDqehkuDAdwhIc_lMGWEMy7Gw2ZJjpbI-Gc4tN59soRfgz0iWKixyUFPrjeuhbUfA9JtM_OkveY38rKADSvg3JjFOM9ZHu-Y4wz7RCgn3JrRzDyscGRjUTqvq28kzWoEfJBpEmAeGs/s1600/Nov10.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 2010</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Hayat Khan got gold medal in M. Phil and so we got to eat something good.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K6Q7Tcb6PFK_Di17xmV261bMBhR8UJaiihbsALZEKnS7kEgEc5eVgKdH03LzQKsHv4uNMWpcmHqHK9D-BD68YKbkoqd6h0x4sM-3bU5GKku5fd1lIgJTtSdCS-KTBIQM7TXL6GR6KcE/s1600/jan11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K6Q7Tcb6PFK_Di17xmV261bMBhR8UJaiihbsALZEKnS7kEgEc5eVgKdH03LzQKsHv4uNMWpcmHqHK9D-BD68YKbkoqd6h0x4sM-3bU5GKku5fd1lIgJTtSdCS-KTBIQM7TXL6GR6KcE/s1600/jan11.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 2011</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;"> Hmmm... Thinking!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-0agHpWkJJyNJmZkgHEQsACS6fCHbRFfhWuosmaldphCXeT7YT-SUSnORSiH-6CLMzM6PC8v0O5I5cVCU_2BIH41l_ESRg1AmYXVtQOomO-I9M5vpA_pnQG4Zm5NtN81-1L4LbpindU/s1600/Feb11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-0agHpWkJJyNJmZkgHEQsACS6fCHbRFfhWuosmaldphCXeT7YT-SUSnORSiH-6CLMzM6PC8v0O5I5cVCU_2BIH41l_ESRg1AmYXVtQOomO-I9M5vpA_pnQG4Zm5NtN81-1L4LbpindU/s1600/Feb11.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">February 2011</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> Again...my birthday...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7_o3TFv8gl-K7ukFBt7ioXOp1wCUwXkTAXN0JJt5QpXQuqnRm8pz08vsIfl7P-5TuvmhXgpT_udsec-tvtyywFYFVu335ZNM7-suO7-L9a_h9ByL3eMjcq1WbNmb-tad2niFiUKZlG0/s1600/Mar11b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7_o3TFv8gl-K7ukFBt7ioXOp1wCUwXkTAXN0JJt5QpXQuqnRm8pz08vsIfl7P-5TuvmhXgpT_udsec-tvtyywFYFVu335ZNM7-suO7-L9a_h9ByL3eMjcq1WbNmb-tad2niFiUKZlG0/s1600/Mar11b.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2011</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> A card by my friend Maria, I was 28 then :)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Q-ojXcCLOrBPIIGlBnYmecbsiSvmA_-CBuiT0XArWrk-kCC2-GsRGPoesmE6ezNSAOhefIRB4_RpVHJBFoiYHJReMLfAG_KCqv7YHmLHfK3x6o2rThUmKH70g5B-c7cLubBIlT1YTuw/s1600/Mar11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Q-ojXcCLOrBPIIGlBnYmecbsiSvmA_-CBuiT0XArWrk-kCC2-GsRGPoesmE6ezNSAOhefIRB4_RpVHJBFoiYHJReMLfAG_KCqv7YHmLHfK3x6o2rThUmKH70g5B-c7cLubBIlT1YTuw/s1600/Mar11.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At CEMB with Sahib Zar, Niaz and the pre-publication Foodo Khan :)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ffSzqlO2SzDlB7hXiPvGuXV-iBPwvkyKHGd5akmXIxYh4woVsQ3DRQyr_iUHfDFgBdPw9bznnX7jbx86YL2FtQSPX8Um1GQXXeEZqBPnY-ZmAJ1PSMTCxy8SjRcQVrH9KzYiUwv1Wow/s1600/Mar12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ffSzqlO2SzDlB7hXiPvGuXV-iBPwvkyKHGd5akmXIxYh4woVsQ3DRQyr_iUHfDFgBdPw9bznnX7jbx86YL2FtQSPX8Um1GQXXeEZqBPnY-ZmAJ1PSMTCxy8SjRcQVrH9KzYiUwv1Wow/s1600/Mar12.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2012</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Me at Foodo's... discussing how to procrastinate my PhD Thesis Defense :)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRY-a4hQAdr87dc66CcOdM63rsQJ5yrdXeGsIelqtragAxOwCBx6IesAxHsVTzCARoVPctvXovyr1g8q229O1iasYstc65phh5Q94mU1kqFtL7xRHW-1BGICT_1nQi0vYDq5sSgm8rWzw/s1600/dec12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRY-a4hQAdr87dc66CcOdM63rsQJ5yrdXeGsIelqtragAxOwCBx6IesAxHsVTzCARoVPctvXovyr1g8q229O1iasYstc65phh5Q94mU1kqFtL7xRHW-1BGICT_1nQi0vYDq5sSgm8rWzw/s1600/dec12.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But finally the day arrived, I defended my Thesis but there were no pics... this one I took in my room :)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZaUyE42O5-SZFQCBcjjE23zj1gw0nmjG6Tw4tzkTNJkJiLhzkH1MEAk9tjhcXnzXOkOrRyQNzGrUGeUOLbvOr5gF1DsMHH2T752vpxZsvbQkWNmPwPX2B6KnrCXHwpVhiRMIJtct-Fw/s1600/July2013.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZaUyE42O5-SZFQCBcjjE23zj1gw0nmjG6Tw4tzkTNJkJiLhzkH1MEAk9tjhcXnzXOkOrRyQNzGrUGeUOLbvOr5gF1DsMHH2T752vpxZsvbQkWNmPwPX2B6KnrCXHwpVhiRMIJtct-Fw/s1600/July2013.png" height="320" width="284" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> After the Convocation</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoK3arAcNUFC0SatTpdEuOOcjbkpiewjKqNsZkx1IA2RdiuVZZUibPz9pWdZs88_bKx1S4tdsMA1rNdGQPNXKpWx86F_4ZvL6-oNpBWZUXA0J3H93M_BnmcKrQ7AeyezxbgdyAyDfkTKg/s1600/Dec2013.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoK3arAcNUFC0SatTpdEuOOcjbkpiewjKqNsZkx1IA2RdiuVZZUibPz9pWdZs88_bKx1S4tdsMA1rNdGQPNXKpWx86F_4ZvL6-oNpBWZUXA0J3H93M_BnmcKrQ7AeyezxbgdyAyDfkTKg/s1600/Dec2013.png" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">December 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"> Maj. Gen. M. Ayub, Commandant AFIP giving me certificate of participation</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWEvJXhHOJegs11H7T5HU_ommJkrycJCCyHGUSI9Kkw7sD2gV9cAk4u0PFFAHg2HwdSq8ZnOEJVzEwdc4zkR_MZZL3-c839Dp0YthlbUvwbC5ftJoANMeKBSWHefURAduWJwXH8gNAPQ8/s1600/Jan2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWEvJXhHOJegs11H7T5HU_ommJkrycJCCyHGUSI9Kkw7sD2gV9cAk4u0PFFAHg2HwdSq8ZnOEJVzEwdc4zkR_MZZL3-c839Dp0YthlbUvwbC5ftJoANMeKBSWHefURAduWJwXH8gNAPQ8/s1600/Jan2014.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January 2014</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
Assistant Professor</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeQm0nJe1YraTjEUb7h-6s1-o0oD8E4wd0jwiv_o0zqCBa4k65TuYRzfFwk4LPxaFs6Sw0n5WObXbhEnLpIyLBOIX3b_7OUuSszRnIwFPD8Lkxs64UZyNeAy9C7FeyczYs6-Of8-WT3qM/s1600/20140204_155126.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeQm0nJe1YraTjEUb7h-6s1-o0oD8E4wd0jwiv_o0zqCBa4k65TuYRzfFwk4LPxaFs6Sw0n5WObXbhEnLpIyLBOIX3b_7OUuSszRnIwFPD8Lkxs64UZyNeAy9C7FeyczYs6-Of8-WT3qM/s1600/20140204_155126.png" height="188" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">February 2014</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>To be continued...</b></span></div>
<br /></div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-25583886886679905032013-11-01T17:34:00.001+05:002013-11-19T16:55:34.781+05:00Thanks but No Thanks...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US">No matter what you do for a living, there is
always a complaint that people do not value your contribution as much as they
should. You always feel neglected. You feel that others are appreciated while
you are not getting what is due. Perhaps, you can look around and change your
opinion. Here is a list of 10+1 most thankless jobs (in no particular order) in
the country.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg065sxVbjepg2PMmAA59WEExm1juAzz4oyypuQLAcBgGC78TBfEtxaUcmX89OOVhn4xbKhBZKzDCmcRD4iN1IPLGVEpC_vVj4cqUBFGlZfpmm2Ibnq6KCDF8FEJMRm5s9eRPpCIz8ZbP8v/s1600/350px-198_Thanks_But_No_Thanks_413a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg065sxVbjepg2PMmAA59WEExm1juAzz4oyypuQLAcBgGC78TBfEtxaUcmX89OOVhn4xbKhBZKzDCmcRD4iN1IPLGVEpC_vVj4cqUBFGlZfpmm2Ibnq6KCDF8FEJMRm5s9eRPpCIz8ZbP8v/s320/350px-198_Thanks_But_No_Thanks_413a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credits: <a href="http://phineasandferb.wikia.com/wiki/Thanks_But_No_Thanks">Phineas and Ferb</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Primary
school teacher</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You are a teacher in government school. From
morning to afternoon, you are responsible for one classroom and supposed to
teach them every subject. At home, parents are searching for new ways to rear their one child but at school you are supposed to control 40+ of these little
devils. For one whole year, they are yours. Make them or break them. You treat
them as your own children, you care for them, and you teach them with utmost
sincerity. Even though your salary is just 5 thousand rupees, your work is your
reward. Your class do exceptionally well in the annual exams but it is not
news. All that people care about is matric or intermediate exams. All the
rewards and publicity is for them. People don’t realize, if it wasn’t for you,
there would be no matric or intermediate in the first place. So what you do?
Come and sit down in your chair. Sleep all day long in your class. Appoint one
child as monitor to control the rest. And it sets the building block for what
our schools produce.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Khateeb</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You left school and went to all the high seats
of religious education. You become a scholar. You come back to your local
mosque and want to change the people’s perception about Islam and to remove all
the misinformation fed into their minds. You are well received. You don’t
collect hides of sacrificial animals. You don’t collect </span><i style="text-align: justify;">fitrana</i><span style="text-align: justify;">. You
don’t write </span><i style="text-align: justify;">taweez</i><span style="text-align: justify;">. You are serving Islam. But the other Khateebs get
frightened. You are damaging their business. They talk you into giving up what
you do. Go with the flow. Live and let live. If you don’t, you will be labeled
as Deobandi, Barelvi, Shia, Sunni or whatever is required to achieve the
desired result. What you do? You are wise and you go with the first option and
become a mulla from a religious scholar.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Driver</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You did not learn anything at school and after
sometime you quit school. Now you are driving a public transport vehicle. At
the bus stand, you are scolded and abused by the stand's </span><i style="text-align: justify;">thekedar/munshi</i><span style="text-align: justify;">. You
have to pay them exorbitantly when officially they should charge 30 rupees. You
spend more time, passengers start yelling at you. You spend less time, owner
insult you. You want to eat something, everybody scold you as if you are not
supposed to eat. Traffic police stops you for their </span><i style="text-align: justify;">hafta</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> even though
you have all the necessary legal documents to drive. What you do? Stop caring
about anyone. Do whatever you want. You become the ultimate symbol of
uncivilized behavior.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Traffic
police</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You stand all day long in the city busiest
intersection. Whistling here and there, inhaling all the dust and smoke that is
in abundance. Drivers look upon you with disgust and disrespect. You have no
fixed place or hours of work. Even if it is Ramadan in July, you are expected
to be present all day long when others rush to homes for Iftari. And all this,
for a meager salary. So what you do? Take whatever you can from the
transporters. Even if it is 10 rupees. You want it or not, you have to do it
because in the evening you have to give your superiors their “share”. You
become the epitome of corruption.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Civil servant</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You worked hard for years and cleared exam. You
had high hopes and dreams for yourself. After completing your training, it is
your first day at work. You have written all the notes and the agenda that can
change the system. But you are told that bureaucracy is powerful but bureaucrats
are not. You are just a cog in the infinite machinery of the state. Run along
or you are crushed in no time. But you are resistant. You ignore the warning
and start doing things your own way. And then the non-stop disciplinary and
interdepartmental inquiries start and you start spending most of your time as
OSD. What you do? Resign or go along. You are wise and you choose the second
option and with that, appreciations are showered, awards bestowed, press
coverage and media sensationalism of your bravery and courage that you yourself
were not aware of.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Doctor</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You studied hard but you could not get into
public medical college. Your father sells all the property that he has. He
gives all his life’s savings so that you can study medicine in some private
college. You become a doctor after 6 long years. But you are told that your
services are not needed. You are expected to be the breadwinner for your family
but you are unemployed. What you do? Forget about Hippocrates oath. Forget
about being a messiah for the people. Join private practice. But nobody is
willing to pay you enough so you start to prescribe medicines of only a certain
company who are willing to pay you handsomely. And from supposed messiah, you become
a white-collared butcher.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Engineer</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You worked hard. You wanted to build this
nation. From roads to hospitals to schools, everything is in shambles. You
vowed to correct it. You earned a degree but there are no jobs. After waiting
for some time, you can’t take it anymore and ultimately agreed to pay the
required amount of money to buy you a job. Now you are on the mercy of government
contractors, TMAs and more importantly, MPs. You have to okay everything they
build even if you know it should be thrown to the garbage. Your forget about
nation building. You only focus on building your own life.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Politician</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You are an honest man. You are fed up with the
system. You decide to change it. You start social work and start helping
anybody in your surroundings. Then elections are announced and you are running
for a seat. Then it dawns upon you that social work is not the only thing. You
need big money. You refuse and you lose. So next you approach the big money and
you win. But now you are on the mercy of your financier. First your heart aches
but with time, you get used to your new luxurious life and you forget about
your people. All kind of people approach you for jobs and you are appointing
doctors, engineers, TMOs, teachers, peons and almost everything. You get paid
and you get addicted to playing god. From a social worker, you become social
evil personified.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Judge</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You became a judge and vowed to do justice come
what may. You take up a corruption case.
You yourself are a victim/witness but you are not allowed to testify. You want
to punish the culprit but you can’t. The prosecution is not interested in the
case as they have an out of court settlement. The accused gets scot free from
your court but you are helpless as there is nothing you can do. You are not
allowed to interact with the media. What you do? You start getting your “share”
from the parties. You live lavishly even when your salary is less than what you
are paying for your food. Overnight, you become a messiah. Media is gung-ho
about your wisdom and justice and you are the ultimate savior of the nation.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Newspaper
editor</b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">You are expected to be neutral. But you are a
human and you want to opine. You also wish to publish stories which accurately
represent the society and the surroundings in sync with time. But you are told
by the publisher to publish only sensational and sellable stories. Moreover,
you want to give proportionate space to people of different opinions but you
cannot do it. You always get blamed by the fans/followers of the opposing
group. You want to publish all the stories of corruption and malpractices about
doctors, lawyers, engineers, judges, police, teachers and everybody but you
can’t. What you do? Go with the flow. Publish whatever you are told to. If you
don’t, someone else is hired and you are fired.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Housewife</span></b></li>
</ul>
<span style="text-align: justify;">This one is perhaps the most underrated and
undervalued job of all. You are a housewife. You get up early to make breakfast
for your husband and your school-going children. You give them pressed and neat
clothes, polished shoes and lunch-boxes. After they go, you start all the
household chores; cleaning, dusting, washing and everything. Before you
realize, it is time to pick the children from their school. You make them
change their clothes. Get them to rest. You help them do their homework. Take
care of their sports and TV watching routine. And if that was not enough, you
are also taking care of your </span><i style="text-align: justify;">susraal</i><span style="text-align: justify;"> and husband’s relatives. But
whenever you meet some of your old friends, they ask what you do? You reply
that you are housewife and they start making fun of you that why don’t you do
some job? As if raising your children is not something worth doing. What you
do? You don’t listen to them and cherish every moment that you spend with your
children and family while you can.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
P.S. Also published <a href="http://www.saach.tv/2013/11/19/thanks-but-no-thanks/">here</a>.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-52302108078852273402013-07-09T17:32:00.000+05:002013-07-11T01:50:04.916+05:00Now, Dr. Israr<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Anxiety was creeping in as I was waiting
for my interview with the science teachers. Finally, when I sat there, the
biology teacher asked me why I was interested in studying science. I said that
I was good at biology. Or something to that effect, I don’t remember the exact
words. He asked, “What is the difference between a plant cell and an animal
cell”. I was silent. But thanks to the other teacher sitting nearer, who
whispered something in my ear. And I replied, “Animal cell is made of meat
while plant cell is made of wood”. Interview was in my local language, Pashto,
so it was a lot sillier than it sounds in English. And I was admitted into
science class in my high school.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span>
<a name='more'></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhES5UIc9AYSJR4CWiWfVlIpsRgRp_oZahCE2iywEv7Csr5whacfJOUwsIAsz3MrfsCK7JMZ36DeR2DblWPpw50kjs88V10tCqb4F1mN4y20YI9j0XgYAVeGM9AKcdOSgzLOeNH9n0m3CbS/s1600/def.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhES5UIc9AYSJR4CWiWfVlIpsRgRp_oZahCE2iywEv7Csr5whacfJOUwsIAsz3MrfsCK7JMZ36DeR2DblWPpw50kjs88V10tCqb4F1mN4y20YI9j0XgYAVeGM9AKcdOSgzLOeNH9n0m3CbS/s320/def.png" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me explaining the mysteries of life :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Later, during a monthly test, we were asked
how many chambers a frog heart had and I replied 4. Teacher said it was
incorrect and that there were 5 chambers. So I thought, I should remember this thing.
Next month, question was, “How many chambers a human heart has?” I replied,
“Five”. Again it was the wrong answer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">In my arts/drawing class, we were asked to
draw a bird. So I drew this beautiful bird using all the crayons available. I
showed it to our teacher, he appreciated it and I was very happy. But then he
asked me whether it was a dog. I was perplexed but he said what that collar was
doing on its neck. I was silent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Finally, we were having our matriculation
exams and I would check the schedule every day, once before paper started and
again after the paper so that I could prepare for the next one. But after a few
days, I literally memorized it by heart and it was not necessary to check again
and again. On weekend, I reached home and I was happy that the next paper was
of physics and so I started solving the numerical questions as I liked those.
After a good preparation, I reached the bus stop on Monday morning. There I met
my class-fellows and casually I asked one of them what he was studying. He
replied, “Circulatory system”. I was surprised what that fool was doing. Who
on earth study a biology topic on the morning of a physics exam? But world is
full of such idiots and clearly he was one of them. We reached our school and
when the question papers were distributed, the gravity of the situation fully
dawned upon me. I nearly fainted as it was a biology paper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">After school, there was interview for
college admission and panel of subject specialists were firing different
questions at rate of 60 questions per hour. English teacher asked me about a
poem and I started, “Twinkle twinkle little stars…” Later I realized that had I
read my English book at school, I would have known that there were many other
poems. History teacher asked me who the father of Muhammad bin Qasim was. I
said I didn't know. I answered questions of the other specialists with equal
confidence. I got admission. And I found some wonderful teachers. I learnt
about different subjects. In biology, I finally learnt that <i>Rana tigrina</i>
was actually a frog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">During the exam, we were asked to dissect
an earthworm. I was confidently dissecting when the examiner came and stood
beside me asking questions. I was replying really well and showing him
different parts of the dissected creature. He seemed really impressed about my
knowledge and surgical skills. I
couldn't believe that sometime ago, I didn't know how many chambers a heart
had and now examiner was impressed with my command of biology. I secretly
glanced around to see if some other students were looking and jinxing me?
During my reverie, I heard a distant voice, on second thought it was voice of
the examiner. “For dissection, the ventral side should have been up while you
have started dissecting on the dorsal side”. And the 4-chambers/5-chambers me
was back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Many years later, today before I was to present
my PhD thesis, destiny seemed to be the only explanation for my long journey. I don’t know why I can’t remember any
particular instance from my university life. I shall write more about it when
something comes up. For now, I am devouring the moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-61125023795456003172013-05-30T23:42:00.001+05:002013-12-31T13:16:26.392+05:00And then it turned two... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
Time is making fools of us again. ~ J. K. Rowling, Harry
Potter authoress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Officially April 12, 2011 is the birth date of this blog. But
forgive me for being so late in writing the birthday post. Since last birthday,
there are total of 13 posts that appeared during the last 13 months. But 3 of
those were older posts which I posted again for one or another reason. So, effectively the past year had been quite dormant. And there were some
compelling reasons for it to be so. Foremost of which is that it was my last
year in PhD and I was (or showing to be) concentrating on my research and
dissertation. That thing lasted almost to the end of 2012.</div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvJDLgzdoUOc2JUQBl1aXT_uDkFQP6yWG4A8uCXVmeD95ZrqvA-kkXbhW4FzfkCEqu1RW3Q7QUZVfE61KobLrgz-RaoLkjej_t9Jfa1wRKIAbqClSMzEp6iWFzy9omvM8YIxSvN1yyWqW/s1600/happy-2nd-birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvJDLgzdoUOc2JUQBl1aXT_uDkFQP6yWG4A8uCXVmeD95ZrqvA-kkXbhW4FzfkCEqu1RW3Q7QUZVfE61KobLrgz-RaoLkjej_t9Jfa1wRKIAbqClSMzEp6iWFzy9omvM8YIxSvN1yyWqW/s1600/happy-2nd-birthday.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time Flies by without us realizing...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
Another important factor is the unbelievably torturous
frequency of announced and unannounced power break downs. Yes there is this
country in the 21<sup>st</sup> century world having population of 200 million souls,
the declared 7th nuclear power and yet remains without electricity for as long
as 20 hours a day!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
The third problem was that I was in a far off place in my
hometown and had very little, if any, access to the internet. The time it takes
a webpage to load on our dial-up connection is more than enough for a Sherpa to
climb Mt. Everest twice! And that is exactly the reason for the worst traffic
jam there at the top of the mountain. As more people were tortured by their slow internet connections so
much so that they wanted to jump from the top of the tallest mountain in the
world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
The fourth reason is that my whisperer-in-chief, Fatima,
did not put any ideas into my head this year as like all PhD students, she was
having some unforeseen but inevitable problems of her own.<br />
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">As a birthday gift, the free visitor’s counter has been
discontinued by the company! After all nothing is free in this world. But the
last time I checked, there were visitors from some 150 countries and 48000 page
views as I write this.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">As now all of you have been acquainted with the problems,
nay issues as there are no problems in academia but challenges or issues at
most, of blogging this year, you can understand why I was not able to read or
comment on your blogs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">If I
were on payroll of some publisher, I would have long been fired from my job. Hopefully
this is my last post before my PhD. Anyways I shall try my best to regularly
post on the blog again. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">I do have more than a dozen unfinished drafts as well as incomplete stories on my dashboard. For now, my personal favourite post in the last one year is </span><a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2012/05/incredible-adventures-of-fashion-guru.html" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">this one</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">.</span></div>
<br /></div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-2012442422341639552013-03-24T19:41:00.001+05:002013-03-24T19:41:20.174+05:00So I am 30 Today...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">In the American sitcom, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., episode 7.14, “The One Where They All Turn Thirty”, all the 6 main characters are shown to be quite upset about their being turning 30. The reason is that all of them are well short of their goals that they have set for themselves. Ross has been married 2 times too many while Phoebe has unknowingly skipped one whole year of her life. And on March 24, 2013, when I turn 30, I was wondering how I relate to the whole turning-thirty-and-getting-scared thing? Surely, I had certain objectives that wanted to accomplish before this day.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOzzLRNFzGbfSG0sRNODnZv24Q0bxBjs2_L59AKBaUteFWoCHGtVXGTBKbnC5JGr1LHng6_rICc3KxHArNnF6QRXqt77LNmx9maEWkVgORTg1eYzwZ6EbCaJk6f_35Sdwq65FkkkNYAeC/s1600/30+birthdya.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOzzLRNFzGbfSG0sRNODnZv24Q0bxBjs2_L59AKBaUteFWoCHGtVXGTBKbnC5JGr1LHng6_rICc3KxHArNnF6QRXqt77LNmx9maEWkVgORTg1eYzwZ6EbCaJk6f_35Sdwq65FkkkNYAeC/s640/30+birthdya.bmp" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Birthday card was made by one of my best friend for one of my earlier birthday.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">According to one astrology report on Café Astrology,
people born on March 24, are “e</span><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">xceptionally
intuitive, you are highly perceptive and often have very good instincts. Many
of you have psychic ability, or at least, very accurate first impressions. You
are idealistic and truthful, and others generally respect you for speaking the
truth, even if it hurts sometimes! You are stubborn but determined, loving and
dedicated.</span>” I am in general agreement with all this although some of my
friends might disagree strongly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So at 30 years of age, I am unemployed. And not temporarily. I mean I
have never got a job in my life! Even though I think of myself is the most
deserving candidate as shown by my <a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/12/and-yet-i-am-jobless.html">resume</a>. Just a couple days ago I got a call
from a “potential” employer. After the usual pleasantries, I was thinking of
giving him my educational and research background. But somehow things did not
work out as he was thinking molecular biology as something related to Ancient Egypt! Needless to say, I did not push hard to explain any further. So there
ends the closest that I ever came to getting a job.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Another thing which I always wanted/wished/liked/hoped/targeted to
achieve before turning 30 was getting a Ph. D. But somehow I am yet to
reach that stage. May be I shall wait a couple of more weeks for that to
happen. Hopefully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So with my adventures on education and career front, I had hoped to
getting married before 30. Or to be precise, I wanted to get it done exactly
today. But somehow that aim is also proving elusive till now. Even though I
think of myself as the most eligible bachelor in town, I am still single. I
might not have a degree, but I hope to get one soon. I might not have a job
ever in my life, but I am hopeful for that too. I might not have money but I
have a solid and practical plan for robbing a very wealthy man, or maybe a
bank. I might not have a shiny McLaren but with that much money, I shall be
able to afford one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">19 hours into my 30<sup>th</sup> birthday, and life is still the same.
It is not scary or depressive as I had imagined. Thanks to all of you who have
wished me today via Facebook, SMS, MMS, Gtalk and email. As an afterthought, I
share my birthday with </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Dean
Jones, Steve Ballmer, Emraan Hashmi, Tommy Hilfiger and The Undertaker and some 20 million others in the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-37336227909997117442013-01-14T00:05:00.000+05:002013-01-18T21:18:32.981+05:00Our Life - Another 13th Floor Experiment?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 4.8pt 0in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">A few years ago, one of my friend asked me to do a review of any artificial intelligence movie as part of their assignments. After watching a few movies, I finally decided to review "The Thirteenth Floor". At that time, the emphasis was on the technical aspects of the artificial </span></span><span style="line-height: 24px;">intelligence</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"> used in the movie but now I have trimmed it to be posted on our blog here. Hope you people will like it. And at the end, there is a question for all of us. Think about it.</span></span></span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
Thirteenth Floor</span></i></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1999)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
time is somewhere in the late 1990s. A multi-billionaire computer entrepreneur Hannon
Fuller is the inventor of a virtual reality (VR) simulation of the 1937 Los Angeles.
To populate the virtual city, they use brainscans from the real world people.
Each person in the virtual city has a user from the outside world and the
neuron structure of both are the same so that they can easily transfer from
real to virtual and vice versa. </span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
process of this transfer of minds from real to virtual is done on the thirteenth
floor of the building. The real user mind is uploaded into the virtual body
while the the virtual mind is downloaded into the user body so that the basic
human body functions of the user run smoothly for the time he/she is using the
virtual world. The transfer process is done in a sealed environment while the
user body is kept unconscious so that the virtual mind cannot control it.</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of the World?</td></tr>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
company has two employees of which </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Douglas
Hall is the senior one</span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">. Just months before launching the system
public, the owner Fuller is murdered.</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> And
the prime suspect is Hall but he has no recollection of the time of murder. During
the investigation by LAPD Detective Larry McBain, Hall meets Jane, the daughter
of his murdered boss. Later Jane give an alibi when Hall is imprisoned after a
local bartender (witness to a murder-night meeting between Hall and Fuller), is
found murdered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
way the brain of the virtual host is matched to that of the real user, it is
possible that the virtual brain would wake up inside the real user if something
goes wrong. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Hall attempts to track and find a message
Fuller left in the simulation. In the virtual world, Hall learns that bartender
Jerry Ashton has stumbled upon the truth about his artificial nature after
reading the message Fuller left for Hall. Frightened and angry, Ashton tries to
kill Hall, who barely survives to escape the virtual reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The
characters in the virtual world go on with their lives even if their real world
users are not logged onto the system. As for example, the virtual character of
Hall is that of a bank clerk and the clerk carries on with his routine even
though Hall is not logged on all the time. But when he logs in, the virtual
mind is transferred into his body and so whatever he does during this time, has
no memory in the brain of the clerk as it was not present in the virtual world
during this time! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">In the virtual world, Hall found the double of Jane working as a grocery clerk but
fail to recognize him. Perplexed, Hall intends to perform an experiment as
instructed by Fuller in his letter. To drive to a place where he never would
have considered going otherwise. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">When
he arrives, he sees that the area, and everything within it, does not exist,
and is, instead, replaced with </span><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wire_frame_model" title="Wire frame model"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">wire frame models</span></a></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">.
Finally understanding the meaning of inventor Fuller’s message, Hall grasps the
truth — that 1990s Los Angeles, <i>his</i> world, is a simulation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">In
fact, the 1990s Los Angeles, the Hall’s world is only one of the thousands of
virtual worlds created by the world of 2024. But the distinguishing part is
that this world created its own virtual world of 1937. Jane Fuller lives in the
“real world” — and only participated in the 1990s simulation to assume the
identity of Hannon Fuller’s daughter, gain control of the company, and shut
down the simulated 1937 reality. Hall is modeled on David, Jane’s real-world
husband, who, in the 1990s simulation, is seeking pleasure by murdering people.
It was David who committed the murders (whilst controlling Hall’s body), on
becoming jealous when his wife Jane fell in love with Hall, in the simulation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Whitney,
Hall’s associate, enters the 1937 simulation, assuming the role of bartender
Jerry Ashton, who has kidnapped Ferguson (Hall’s 1937 identity) and bound him
in the trunk of his car. When Whitney is killed in a car crash, Ashton’s
consciousness is released to Whitney’s body (in the 1990s simulation). Ashton
kills a security guard, David assumes control of Hall, kills Ashton, and
attempts to rape and murder Jane, who is saved by Det. McBain shooting and
killing David.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">That
death releases Hall’s consciousness into David’s body; he wakes in 2024,
connected to a VR system. He disconnects the system and finds Jane and her
father, much resembling Hannon Fuller, the man he was accused of killing in his
original reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #274e13;">So
my friends, what if the world that we live in is a virtual one, part of
thousands or millions of similar other worlds created by a “real world”? Do you
think it is possible?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-11199625803321792932013-01-01T00:05:00.000+05:002017-07-08T12:20:59.258+05:00A Mother’s Tribute to her Son<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He was 37. She was 18. They knew each other since last year. She was a nurse in the dispensary run by him. Today they married in simple ceremony. Rejected by seven girls a decade earlier, he had given up on the idea of marrying. But couples are made in heavens and this young nurse was the perfect bride for him. And now after the function was over, they were heading home. I was somehow able to go along, invisible. They were near their dispensary just to check if anyone was waiting for medical help. “Stop”, she screamed. She pointed her finger to the road side and we saw a body, a human body lying around. With 80 million people, this could be expected. I didn’t understand why a petty matter like this should dampen the moods? We went near the body and it was a 12 year old girl. Badly beaten and bruised, in urgent need of medical attention. Although a nurse she was, but without any instruments, and even a first-aid box, what could have she done? And anyway it was their wedding night. So time to leave the girl where she was lying and head towards home. At least that is what every person would do, especially on their wedding night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But these two were not any other persons and therefore, they didn’t do what every other person would do. Instead they took the girl to a hospital. They spent their wedding night, sitting besides the poor girl whom they even did not know. But she was a human, a living being and that was enough for them. After all, they were running the dispensary for the last few years only to serve the poor people without any motive for profit. I still can remember vividly the scenes of that fateful night. I wept. And those were tears of happiness. Someone somewhere was there to care.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast forward a few decades. Now I was standing at one of the busiest markets in Peshawar i.e. Sadar Bazaar. I was 63 years old. The month was August and the sweltering day was forcing the people to rush in that afternoon. The roads were deserted and even the people who swarm the market in their air-conditioned cars were nowhere in sight. Such was the intensity of the heat that day. But I was lost in another scene. An old man, 82-year old to be precise, was sitting right in the middle of the bazaar. It seemed like he was enjoying the sizzling heat. Although his old dress was soaked in sweat, he was in no hurry to leave. There was a certain kind of satisfaction in his eyes. Wondering, I went to him and stand by his side. I was shocked. Well, he was begging. What can be more heartbreaking for a mother than to see her 82-year old son begging in 50C heat? And that too in the month of Ramadan, fasting? So I scolded him that he had done enough and now should rest. He replied, “Mother, if I do not do this, your other children will die of hunger. They are hungry and waiting for me to buy them some food. They did not have anything for their <i>Sehri</i> and fasting whole day; they will not have anything to break their fast in the evening. O mother, do you wish them to die? O dear mother, the kids are asking for new clothes and toys for the Eid. How can I rest? When they hold me with their little hands and ask expectantly that what they will wear this Eid, what should I reply? I cannot see them weeping with tears in those little eyes. O mother, allow me to do my work. O mother, I cannot rest and I will not rest until all your children are fed and sheltered. Or as long as the last breath has left my body.” I wept and with me wept the heavens. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That was not the first time either that I saw him begging. He did it in Karachi, in Lahore and in Quetta. In fact he started begging all the way to England and back 60 years ago. And he was not ashamed. I told him that at least he should buy some new dresses and a new home. He has every right to spend the money he “earns” so hardly. But every time his reply makes me weeping and I quit asking him. It was Friday. Like every other Friday, I waited for him in vain. He never comes home on Fridays. Instead, I saw him with some special kids, the unwanted babies thrown by their “mothers”. He was bathing them. And then eating with them and took all of them with him to the Friday prayers. He has been doing this for years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He still lives in a 2 room small apartment with his wife and children. They have no salary and are living on the income that comes from the securities they bought decades ago. About 2 decades ago, somebody told me that he now holds the record for working the most consecutive days without any rest. I smiled and I wept. I wept because I know his notion of work. It is not a white collar 9-to-5 job. His day starts at <i>Fajar</i>, well before dawn. And it ends around midnight. And at night he sleeps on a mat on the floor! Now that two more decades have passed, it makes the record as 59 years and counting. For you, it is mere another record. But for a mother, it is awfully painful. I wept every moment of those 59 years, thinking about my son. He even did not find time to attend the wedding of his daughter as he was busy elsewhere attending to those needy people. And when he along with his wife, Balquis, went to Hajj (Pilgrimage to the Holy Ka’ba), it was in an ambulance full of medical supplies! I wish I had a few other children like him and my conditions would have been a lot better. But alas! I don’t know for how long I will weep with my son. I am his mother, Pakistan. He is my son, Abdul Sattar Edhi.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">P.S. Some of you people are campaigning for a Nobel Peace Prize for my son, but I cannot accept the Prize that they gave to Obama. There is a hell of a difference between our notions of peace. For me, and for my son, there can be no greater reward than the fact that Edhi is the most respected name in Pakistan, irrespective of religion, cast or sect. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red;">P.S. Edhi left this world on 8th July, 2016. RIP</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Also published in <a href="http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/17837/when-a-mother-has-a-son-like-you/">Express Tribune Blogs.</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">First posted on 29.08.2011, I posted this again as today is Mr. Edhi's Brithday. He turned 85 today! Many many happy returns of the day to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Please think of the poor and needy people around you every time you eat at some expensive restaurant, or buy some expensive clothes. Let’s help someone this Year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Happy New Year to you all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">(As everyday of his 60 years' work is a story, a simple blogpost is just a drop in the ocean. I just wanted to pay tribute to the work of this great man. For detail of the work done by Edhi Foundation, visit their official <a href="http://edhi.org/">website</a>. Visit individual pages of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abdul_Sattar_Edhi">Abdul Sattar Edhi</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilquis_Edhi">Balquis Edhi</a> to learn more about their lives. Or read a tribute by <a href="http://www.saudiaramcoworld.com/issue/200406/humanitarian.to.a.nation.htm">Telgraph</a> and a tribute by <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/pakistan/8440920/The-day-I-met-Abdul-Sattar-Edhi-a-living-saint.html">Saudi Aramco World</a>.)</span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com131tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-59413396409140206572012-11-19T00:05:00.000+05:002013-01-01T15:45:10.454+05:00P.S. I Thank You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It was 6<sup>th</sup> February, 2008, that I was enrolled
in a Masters leading to Ph.D. program at CEMB. And by destiny or design, it was
the 6<sup>th</sup> day of November, 2012, that I was able to submit my Ph.D. Thesis
to the University. I spent a little under 5 years in Lahore and every single day
was a new experience. Some bad and some good. Now that I lean back and think about
the time, I cherish every single bit of memories that I have. I plan to write some
of the moments in chronological order shortly. For now, I am pasting the acknowledgement
section of my Thesis as a token of thanks to you people. As most of you are not familiar with the system here, <span style="color: red;">I must add that I am not a Doctor YET.</span> Thesis submission indicates that I have achieved the goals of my Ph.D. research and now the University through its own process will determine whether I shall be awarded a degree or not and that process takes a while. A few months if I am lucky. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">All acclamations and appreciations are for <b>ALIMIGHTY ALLAH</b>, the Omnipotent, the
Omnipresent, the Compassionate, the Beneficent and the source of all knowledge
and wisdom, who bestowed upon me the intellectual ability, courage and strength
to complete this humble contribution towards knowledge. I am proud of being a
follower of the Holy Prophet <b>Hazrat
Muhammad (PBUH)</b>, the most perfect and exalted among and of ever born on the
surface of earth, who declared it to be an obligatory duty of every man and
woman to seek and acquire knowledge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I feel highly privileged to take this opportunity to
wish my profound gratitude with a deep sense of obligation to my doctoral
research supervisors, <b>Dr. Ahmad Ali
Shahid </b>and<b> Dr. Ziaur Rahman,</b> Assistant
Professors, National Centre of Excellence in Molecular Biology, for their
personal interest, inspiring guidance, helping attitude, and above all for
providing necessary laboratory facilities during the whole span of this
research work. Thank you for your skillful guidance, invaluable suggestions and
sincere attitude throughout the course of my research. Thank you for teaching
me the noble arts of science, project management, technical writing,
manuscripts preparation and publications.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> My
wholehearted thanks go to the worthy Director, <b>Dr. Tayyab Husnain </b>for providing all the necessary facilities for
my research at the CEMB.<b> </b>He has been
helpful in every facet of my studies and research. He was an excellent advisor
in many of the meetings that we had. Furthermore, I am greatly indebted to <b>Dr.
S. Riazuddin</b>, National Professor and founding director of CEMB and a
researcher par excellence, for his valuable suggestion, sympathetic attitude
and cordial co-operation throughout the progress of this research. I would like
to thank <b>Dr. Shaheen N. Khan</b> for facilitating my research work by
extending her cordial support and guidance during my stay at the Centre.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Nothing
happens all of a sudden but is the outcome of something preceding and this
thesis is no exception. I would like to thank <b>Dr. Farhat Zaheer, Dr. G.A.
Niazi, Dr. Idrees Nasir, Dr. Muhammad Idrees, Dr. Sajida Hassan, Dr. Kausar </b>and<b> Mr.
Khalid Masood,</b> all my teachers who taught me during my stay at the Centre. </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">My cordial thanks go to<b> Dr.
M. Saqib Shahzad </b>and<b> Dr. Obaid Ullah </b>for their help and immense support during
every stage of my research and the write up.<b> </b>I
wish to extend my thanks to members of Forensic Research Lab., Genetic
Diseases Lab., Genotyping Lab. and Stem Cell Research Lab., especially, <b>Dr. Shahid Yar Khan, Mr. Akram Tariq, Dr.
Mohsin Shehzad, Dr. Faizan Cheema, Dr. Farooq Sabir,</b> <b>Ms. Farheena Iqbal </b>and
<b>Ms. Samra Kausar </b>for their guidance and cooperation whenever needed. I
thank my Lab fellows, <b>Mr. Ghulam
Murtaza, Ms. Shahla Nargis Mir, Dr. Usman
Ali Ashfaq, Maida, Sana, Tariq Javed, Sidra Rehman, Sana, Ms. Farah Naz, Rahat,
Dr. Muhammad Ansar,</b><b> Rabia Faridi, Maryam, Atiqa </b>and<b> Kiran </b>for their help and support. <span class="apple-style-span">Moreover
I would like to thank <b>Dr. Bushra Rashid, Dr. Sadia Mohsin, Dr. Azra, Dr. A. Qayyum
Roa, Mr. Kamran Bajwa, Mr. Fazal-ur-Rehman, Ms. Bushra Ijaz, Mr. Waqar, Mr.
Sajid Iqbal, Mr. Imran, Mr. Atif Anwar and Mr. Zulfiqar. </b>Like a Movie where
hundreds and thousands of people contribute but we only see the on-screen
characters, similarly a lot of people contributed and I would like to thank </span>all
the Scientific,
Para scientific and Administrative staff of CEMB who had been directly or indirectly
instrumental in my research work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I thank my primary and high school teachers at </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Govt. Centennial Model School</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">, Daggar
Buner. I thank my college lecturers at </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Excelsior
College Swat</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> as well as my university lecturers at </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Centre of Biotechnology, University of Peshawar</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> for their
untiring devotion and dedication to mould us into better humans and achieve
something which I would not be able to do without their enthusiasm and
teachings.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I would like
to thank my friends </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Sulaiman, Ilyas, Haji Akbar</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> and </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Mian Sahib Zar</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> for being such wonderful friends during
my stay at CEMB. Special thanks to </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Adnan</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> for his helping me in getting admission at CEMB. I thank </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Abid Ali Khan</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> for convincing me into reading the first
ever novel, “Doomsday Conspiracy”. I thank </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Malik Badshah</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">, </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ihsanullah</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> and </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Imran</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">, the original TPs, <b>M. Ishfaq</b>, <b>M. Tariq</b> and <b>Haji Khan</b> and all the other </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">TPs</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> and all </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">BBTians </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">around the world. Also thanks to </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ibrahim</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> and his cousin </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Ali</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">, who hosted me in Baluchistan for
sampling, and to all the people who participated in this study by giving their
blood samples. I would also like to thank, </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Shakeel,</span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Hayat, Fawad, Khitab, Niaz, Faidad, Masaud,
Irshad, Tahir, Liaqat, Ali, Abrar, Islam </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">and</span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Kazim, </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">just a few of all the fantastic “<b>CEMBIANS</b>” at the CEMB, thanks for your friendship and providing
such a great research environment. I thank <b>Asma, Sadie, Fatima</b> and <b>Mona</b>
for their help and support in my research and write up. I am thankful to all of
the fantastic bloggers whom I met online through the wonderful world of
blogging and have learnt a lot from you people. I am grateful to you all for
helping me get through the difficult times, and for all the emotional support,
camaraderie, entertainment, and caring you provided. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">No words can express and no deeds can
return the love, affection, amiable attitude, sacrifices, advices, unceasing
prayers, support, and inspiration that <b>my
mother, </b>my little sister<b> Aapa Begum </b>and brothers<b> Shehriyar </b>and<b> Bashar </b>infused in me during my whole academic career. I thank my
uncles especially <b>Omar</b> and <b>Ali</b> and all <b>my aunts</b> and <b>cousins</b>
particularly <b>Dr. Khizar, Dr. Omar, Zeeshan</b> and <b>Asif Ali</b>, for
their utmost support during my career.<span class="apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Last but not the least; I would like to acknowledge <b>Higher Education Commission (HEC) of
Pakistan</b> for awarding me Indigenous Ph.D. fellowship and supporting a part
of this study.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">(I have made every effort to include all of you here, but if I could
not add any of you, I apologize.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-17966568358911842622012-09-17T00:05:00.000+05:002013-11-26T12:23:14.394+05:00Prince - the Assassin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">It was sometime in February, 1973.
The Sardar (Chieftain) had another huff from his<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><i>huqqa<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>(Hubble-Bubble). The expressions on his face told that he was
in a very serious conversation. Wind was blowing the flame of the oil-lamp
which continuously shortened and lengthened the shadows on the opposite walls. The man on the other side was
invisible in the dark. Nobody knew his exact name. In fact he himself did not
remember what his real name was. People called him Prince – the assassin. He
had his first kill at the age of 13 and after that he counted his age only in
terms of killings. From business tycoons to politicians and generals, he
assassinated without leaving a trace. His score was 21 kills in 21 attempts!
The Sardar was told that Prince never returned and never failed and that is why
he took his fee all in advance. Sardar was reluctant but had no choice. After
all, he had to do something and there were less than 24 hours left. He could
not afford doing nothing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Early next morning, Prince took his position on top of
the mountain from where he could take aim at his target. He had been told that
the first horse rider entering the valley would be his target. And it looked so
easy that evening. But from the mountain, the nearest point along the path was
more than a mile away and with the cloudy and windy weather, it was easier said
than done. But had it been any easier, Prince would not be hired. He took pride
in being the best and it was situations like those which made him so.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 150%;">In another place, Sharan was thinking about the race.
The race that would decide who owned the fastest horse in the world. Sharan was
born in a small village in Siestan, Iran. His father was a small time wrestler
and he named his son as Rustam, after the legendary Iranian Wrestler. But as
time passed, he realized that the weaker health of his son was suitable for
anything but wrestling. On his 15</span><sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> birthday, he gifted to his son a dark
filly. Three year later, Sharan had won all the major horse races from turkey
to Burma. He defeated Thoroughbred, Arabian, Quarter, Paint and Finn horses.
And several attempts to know the exact parentage of his horse failed. In the
pre-DNA-testing era, the parentage record of horses was kept strictly through
jockey clubs. But there was no record of this filly ever born to any of the
famous race horses. After hearing this, the Sardar of Sandeman had decided that
he would get this horse at any cost. And he knew Sharan would not sell it. That
is when he thought of a plan to assassinate him.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 150%;">The race began at exactly 10 A.M. when the riders were welcomed by the 700 miles
mountainous road. There were </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">Afghans</span><span style="line-height: 150%;">, Iranians, Central
Asians, Arabs, Englishmen and even a man from the United States. After about 3
hours, Sharan was leading by a quite a distance. He was thinking about his
victory when suddenly he saw a herd of sheep in the road. He was furious and
was about to yell when he saw the shepherd. She was a beautiful girl with
oceanic eyes. He did not realize for how long he stared at her. She brought him
back to reality and asked if he needed to drink some water.He was thirsty and
the rest of the horsemen were far behind so he could spare a moment or two.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 150%;">Prince was watching the time carefully. His target
could be entering the valley anytime. He adjusted the telescope of his sniper rifle
once again. As soon as he took aim, the black horse appeared. He pulled the
trigger and in one smooth motion, the horse fell to the ground. He had missed
the target and instead had shot the horse in the stifle. Prince again took the
aim and this time shot the rider on the forehead. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">P.S. This is part 1 of the story. Hope you people guess what part 2 is going to be. :)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">P.S.S. I am still unable to find time to come on Blogger and read your blogs and comment and reply. My apologies.</span></span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-18841433351975926442012-08-13T00:05:00.000+05:002012-08-14T03:37:45.259+05:00She Moves in Mysterious Ways<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Although it was a full moon night but it was pitch
dark. What to talk of cold winter night moon when sun-rays of the long summer days could seldom penetrate the thick roof of trees. As midnight approached, the fog got denser. The only sounds
were those from the barking dogs on the outskirts of the village. It was the
oldest graveyard in the country and legend has it that nobody has ever crossed
it even in broad day light. And those who had ever attempted, generations ago,
never returned. But it seemed like those 3 men would live there. Wanted by
police, these outlaws did not have much choice but to live amongst the dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At night, they would go to the village to bring food
and other necessary stuff while in daylight they would remain in their
abode. As usual, they were returning
from the village. As the sounds of dogs got distant, they could hear the rustling of dry leaves crushing under their feet. They had just entered the graveyard
when they heard something. A humming sound was coming from the area where a man
was buried that day. Could it be someone praying for him at the grave? They
thought of ignoring it and move forward. But one of them said that what if it
was some treasure hunter? After all, there had been stories of treasures
discovered there in the past. And they planned to have their share of it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NjmF2aXB07Mc6LKEAcaAKpC68AZ8lElOsH6vLIyaSBnUKzUqBfQ3WT9G5zXoZnz7gpTYThwKCtmzQTeUr1Bde1WvBprNdME_KxGV93jPloAZteqdHlhkyfse5Ua2fTZ0kotaZ_hCQhU-/s1600/graveyard_night_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NjmF2aXB07Mc6LKEAcaAKpC68AZ8lElOsH6vLIyaSBnUKzUqBfQ3WT9G5zXoZnz7gpTYThwKCtmzQTeUr1Bde1WvBprNdME_KxGV93jPloAZteqdHlhkyfse5Ua2fTZ0kotaZ_hCQhU-/s320/graveyard_night_2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As they approached the sound, it got clearer. But they
could not understand it. It was some other language. Their heartbeat got faster
as they got nearer. Even though they had been living there for a while, nothing
of this sort had ever occurred. Even though all of them wanted to go back in
their hearts, but none of them could speak for the fear that the others would
think of him is a coward. In the silence of the night, they finally reached
there. And they had guessed it correctly. It was the newest grave. And it was
opened. There was some light inside it. They approached cautiously. They caught
a glimpse of it. From the backside it looked like a woman, with long open hair,
sitting there. The night was turning out to be the most grotesque experience of
their lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It could be a ghost, they thought. Or could it be anthropophagus
or cannibal? But now it was too late. They could not go back or else she would
kill them. Slowly, they moved to the other side to get a good view of what was
going on there. First they saw an oil lamp, kept just below the neck, on the
chest of the corpse. And a little down, there was something muddy. The woman
was sitting on just above the knees and buzzing her words and pushing the muddy
substance with both her hands. This could not be an ordinary woman. Far stronger
men would think a hundred times before venturing into the graveyard alone, even
in daylight. And there she was, all by herself, not only alone but actually
opened the grave by herself and sitting there down with the dead body. The men
were in shock and fear. They wanted to run away but their feet refused to move.
In confusion, they shrieked. And with that, the head under the long hair tilted
and moved upward, and the 3 men saw her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It was an innocent looking face of a middle-aged woman.
And when she realized where she was, she fainted from fear. They moved her out
and closed the grave. In the meantime, she came back in her senses and was
shivering with fear. They asked about who she was and what she was doing there.
She was living in the nearby village and came there to complete the 40-day
course of black magic. That night was the last night but now everything was
ruined. She was supposed to knead wheat flour on the chest of a fresh corpse
and then make bread of it for her husband. That way he would be obedient and
loyal to her forever. Under the strength of magic, she had no fear but now that
the spell was broken, she was fear personified. The long winter night was about
to end and the men accompanied her into her home and promised her that they would
not tell about the events of that night to anybody. They return to their
“home”, thinking about that new façade of female. She moves in mysterious ways. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">(This is based on real life events as narrated by a band of outlaws some 50 years ago.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">P.S. I am stuck here in my research and also I would not be having Internet so my apologies for not reading and commenting on your blogs. See you soon. Advance Eid Mubarak then.</span></span></div>
</div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-42709698554455564472012-07-16T00:05:00.000+05:002012-07-16T14:56:24.214+05:00DNAmancy - Who is the Luckiest of Them All?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It was the third time during the last 20
minutes that he went to the water dispenser and instead poured hot coffee. He
was not thirsty. He was nervous. He had reached 2 hours before the appointed
hour. He had little food or sleep in the last 7 days. Only half an hour more
and the wait would be over. The anxiety was killing him. He was on the verge of
lunacy due to this extreme torment. There were other people in the room and their
condition was no different. Stress and tension was dripping from their faces.
An old man trying to read a magazine but could not get beyond the first few
lines. The blonde was pulling her hair unknowingly. The brunette was trying to
calm herself, in vain. But the most astonishing was that little kid with the
football. What was he doing at a place like this at such a tender age? One by one,
these people were getting their reports and left. Some left ecstatic, others
were tragic while others indifferent. Finally, it was number 41. He tried to
move but his feet did not support him. The scene, which was the only one for
the last many days in his mind, played again. The what-if question reverberated
in his heart. He did not want to imagine the unthinkable. This one report would
make or break his life. Or at least that was what he thought. He dragged
himself towards the window. After some identity checks, he received the report.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Z4YT-iyLvL_YPOeZ_UNIG8-sILzj9A3TmRKTZgiIIZAJnAkwrNezlM5fxwGzwSupszoZmjunKHbGKJdS1RNTG_GMwlerwL_CVT3xInX10c2NhS-pHOI4AGi6OlhBN_LsOHeJukBBQMct/s1600/aad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Z4YT-iyLvL_YPOeZ_UNIG8-sILzj9A3TmRKTZgiIIZAJnAkwrNezlM5fxwGzwSupszoZmjunKHbGKJdS1RNTG_GMwlerwL_CVT3xInX10c2NhS-pHOI4AGi6OlhBN_LsOHeJukBBQMct/s320/aad.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DNA, DNA in the Cell, Who is the Luckiest of them all?</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Humans being are composed of some 12
trillion “independent” pieces, called cells. Each one of these cells has the
complete code of life. In other words, the whole human being can be created
from just one of these 12 trillion pieces! And this is exactly how humans are
made, naturally, from a single cell! This code is written in a biological language,
which is called DNA. The power of DNA is unimaginable. If you have watched some
<a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/07/hollywood-and-biotechnology.html">Sci-Fi movies</a>, you would surely know something about this DNA and <a href="http://afficer.blogspot.com/2011/06/born-identity-dna-testing.html">DNA Testing</a>.
One example is that all the variations amongst the 7 billion plus population on
this planet are due to a mere 0.5 percent of variation in this DNA! With all
the latest technology at our disposal, we have been able to “understand”
only 5 percent of the DNA while the rest is being termed as “Junk DNA”. More aptly,
we are junk about the rest. That is about to change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The same day that scientists at CERN
publicly claimed to have discovered the “God Particle”, another group of
alchemists had completed the core objective of alchemy. They had discovered how
DNA affects the relationship of humans with other humans, and their
surroundings. The thousands years of alchemy had finally arrived at its
destination. The results could be devastating. They had discovered the code to
read human fate from DNA! With it, all the astrology, palmistry and the likes became
obsolete instantaneously. The Horoscopes were rendered futile. Instead we could have DNAscopes! </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">Now the future of any human could be read with precision by just analyzing his/her DNA with the help of certain equipment. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For the last many centuries, Alchemists were working
on turning simple metals into gold. But this was only a public front into their
more sinister research, which was far more vicious and dangerous. It was kept so secret that currently people think
alchemists were mad and they no longer exist. On the contrary, they are far
more active and stronger. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Back at the room, he almost fainted with
excitement. He got the report and was elated. He had come for testing the
previous week. He wanted to check whether he would be able to get the love of
his life or not. He got a 95 percent match. However, the test showed that his
mate eye’s </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">colour</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> would be blue. While in real, she had
brown. Nevertheless, the people at the facility told him that he should try DNA
Transplant. He was reluctant but had no alternative. He had asked the doctor in the
surgery that matches were made in heaven and fate was written already so how could
it be changed. The doctor had replied with a smile, “May be your fate had it
written that one day you would be having this transplant.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">P.S. This work is based on fiction. Any resemblance to reality is entirely coincidental and unintentional.</span></div>
</div>Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-81351084064477250352012-07-02T00:05:00.000+05:002013-12-19T20:37:14.534+05:00Mein CEMB<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">–<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherlock Holmes</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtHYw7Rm9kPOXbuym5XqwuU4PQw4zQFVXB_5NFk7nZgEGLj9zLkMkQC5IO0GWCuaKfRjP2j7wnPAUdy7uS-3BX1hBUJpR7ZR3Kme439jXycFMhqQ-cujj-4MZn_UsyjY8cSIkz_OFrCFp/s1600/DSC02535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtHYw7Rm9kPOXbuym5XqwuU4PQw4zQFVXB_5NFk7nZgEGLj9zLkMkQC5IO0GWCuaKfRjP2j7wnPAUdy7uS-3BX1hBUJpR7ZR3Kme439jXycFMhqQ-cujj-4MZn_UsyjY8cSIkz_OFrCFp/s320/DSC02535.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">During the latter half of the 20<sup>th</sup> century, the focus of science shifted towards molecular biology. Although late, Pakistan joined the bandwagon of research with the establishment of its first research center namely <a href="http://cemb.edu.pk/index.html">Centre of Excellence in Molecular Biology</a> (CEMB). It is one of the <a href="http://www.isdb.org/irj/portal/anonymous?NavigationTarget=navurl://8dfaf8e35fae155232fee2aa2cc78307">best</a> research centers in the Islamic World attracting students from all over Pakistan as well as abroad. Situated on the west bank of the picturesque Canal Road Lahore, it presents a mix of modern and Islamic architecture. During its 25 years of existence, it has contributed a lion’s share to research in Pakistan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the spring of 1985, University of the Punjab established nucleus laboratories in its Department of Zoology. Soon construction work began on the new site for a purpose built campus on an area of about 67 acres. It was designed by renowned Pakistani architect Pervez Iqbal. Upon entering the main gate, one is surprised to see the majestic floral street leading up to the main buildings. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6viAylrbtDXRtND1dZ7N6mE7bsvYEhx-rqJwMD2PFlkTYIPEbdnkFinUgHUb6xXA5TrX3HYz2Gb9svjbdilAl0mHYCnOd0iSvVqr6nvc75y9VrmT-7LvCBwMTvOXiRYqoQ9avnuV3kmw/s1600/fb+%252818%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6viAylrbtDXRtND1dZ7N6mE7bsvYEhx-rqJwMD2PFlkTYIPEbdnkFinUgHUb6xXA5TrX3HYz2Gb9svjbdilAl0mHYCnOd0iSvVqr6nvc75y9VrmT-7LvCBwMTvOXiRYqoQ9avnuV3kmw/s320/fb+%252818%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the main gate to the building</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Moreover, the lush green lawns, adorned with flowers present a view which is reminiscent of the Mughal era gardens. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEzSzZDuzUDrT_76YkeGlOR1vpzzZOac7sGW8tCxG4GE16uBxqtE5xVn9Qy1_u2ttrmqe-KI8wyWu5k5EOCoc1uyoiBjfK5FXWTPZS9YF5EOljeGGRcCaqfUNJdvmJH3HOo-WvVoJ166w/s1600/fb+%252831%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEzSzZDuzUDrT_76YkeGlOR1vpzzZOac7sGW8tCxG4GE16uBxqtE5xVn9Qy1_u2ttrmqe-KI8wyWu5k5EOCoc1uyoiBjfK5FXWTPZS9YF5EOljeGGRcCaqfUNJdvmJH3HOo-WvVoJ166w/s320/fb+%252831%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main Lawn</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The main compound has two buildings covering a total of more than 7000 square meters. The administrative building is akin to that of Taj Mahal – all four sides look the same. Punctuated with domes, the research building is an example of Islamic architecture. The Laboratory Block is divided into four separate research units comprising a total of 20 research laboratories and four conference rooms. There is a production unit and one support facilities unit comprising a Lab-aid Section (for washing, autoclaving and media preparation), an Animal House, an Insectary, six large Plant Growth Rooms, and storage space for research materials. The Teaching Block consists of a well equipped Library, Seminar Hall, Photography, Computer Rooms, a Conference Hall, Director's Office, Administration and Accounts Section. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYaYs0bMN-YERO4dhfQoRQyCuV09JYirNg3XODU4eyOR_Q7mA3XrVeboTJIONAxAjZE_rAdgbTkYHNBTTHM38FL759lHEYd-23SsYGTuIGa5i8fJucge3ou0P2FbaamdgZmZn4u3KgtZd/s1600/P7120017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYaYs0bMN-YERO4dhfQoRQyCuV09JYirNg3XODU4eyOR_Q7mA3XrVeboTJIONAxAjZE_rAdgbTkYHNBTTHM38FL759lHEYd-23SsYGTuIGa5i8fJucge3ou0P2FbaamdgZmZn4u3KgtZd/s320/P7120017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There is a self service canteen, a dining hall, and two hostels for research scholars with a total of 54 furnished rooms. Moreover, there are two luxury buildings: a hostel for foreign students and an apartment block for faculty.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcqjXy6WQ7nRNSUepeQNbLut6DCZiJCFWfjBCuNkJ_EPP3SjNOJAzQP83YRAgwiYGYaN1gREIjpEbQXDQ4CaZZ44WzlCll3gJIFc4fotWORZNAUqjSBsgsUcZurDDFvehS_7kKZFWsl7yl/s1600/DSC02287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcqjXy6WQ7nRNSUepeQNbLut6DCZiJCFWfjBCuNkJ_EPP3SjNOJAzQP83YRAgwiYGYaN1gREIjpEbQXDQ4CaZZ44WzlCll3gJIFc4fotWORZNAUqjSBsgsUcZurDDFvehS_7kKZFWsl7yl/s320/DSC02287.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hostels</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The emphasis is on quality and not quantity. This can be judged from the fact that each year in the month of July, hundreds of hopefuls apply for admission of which only 40 are selected. Of this, almost 50 percent join the M. Phil program while the rest go on to carry out research for a Ph. D. degree. Moreover, only 1 or 2 scholars are sent to each lab annually, providing them ample amount of space and other research facilities. Main laboratories are Plant Sciences, Stem Cell Research, Forensic Research, Genetic Diseases, Medical Genetics, Bioinformatics, Biopharmaceuticals, Molecular Medicine, Molecular Virology, Functional Genomics and Immunology. These labs have further research groups working in different areas.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3W5k0Tc9V6I2yfJGgMrueaFqC1LjNv4uM7-4Uqo0yopy_n2KNETjK1A_qxg9HF0syh0Ciyp-qlmb_p1WcfJ6nLH6P2RZa5Iyaxz9jPsP_JzHk90xTyh9u5jd6KdpsRcYyFH5VNuigGTRF/s1600/DSC01874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3W5k0Tc9V6I2yfJGgMrueaFqC1LjNv4uM7-4Uqo0yopy_n2KNETjK1A_qxg9HF0syh0Ciyp-qlmb_p1WcfJ6nLH6P2RZa5Iyaxz9jPsP_JzHk90xTyh9u5jd6KdpsRcYyFH5VNuigGTRF/s320/DSC01874.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the evening</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As research in general and molecular biology in particular is an expensive business to do, CEMB often has collaborations with many national and international research institutes. These include National Institute of Health (NIH) USA, University of Cincinnati, University of Washington, University of Arizona, Johns-Hopkins University, Brigham Young University and US Department of Agriculture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">CEMB researchers have made great contribution to Molecular Biology. They have made Bt transgenic rice, Bt transgenic cotton and virus-free gladiolus, potato and tomato. Several kits are made for the PCR-based diagnosis of HCV and HBV. A total of 11 new deafness loci, 3 vision impairment loci and 17 new genes are discovered here. All these results have been published in the form of research papers in more than 100 international journals of high reputation including Nature, American Journal of Human Genetics, European Journal of Human Genetics, Molecular Vision, Virology Journal, Infectious Diseases and International Journal of Legal Medicine. Besides, CEMB holds the rights to 7 patents for inventions made by its scientists.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Despite its limited financial resources and technical know-how, CEMB's researchers are trying their best to contribute to the existing body of knowledge inside and outside the country. Presently, graduates from CEMB are serving in prestigious institutes locally as well as internationally in advanced countries like USA, Germany, UK, Japan, France, Austria, Australia, Italy and many more.We hope that in the future, our researchers will continue to illuminate the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">(P.S. First posted on 25.05.2011. I posted it again because admissions are expected this month and people are interested to know something about CEMB. Also published in weekly <a href="http://www.technologytimes.pk/Epaper.php?volume_number=04&issue_number=25">Technology Times</a>)</span></div>
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Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-44458672832450772502012-06-18T00:05:00.000+05:002012-06-17T22:27:40.983+05:00Higher Education on Trial<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Prosecutors</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sen. Mian Raza Rabbani and others representing Parliament of Pakistan and other non-parliamentary political parties of Pakistan.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Defendants</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Atta-ur-Rehman, Dr. Javed Laghari, Dr. Sohail Naqvi, Vice-chancellors of all Pakistani universities and students.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jury</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">180 million Pakistanis</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Judge</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">N/A</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnM7MQC42ud6KFeUo1aMWO-MnTN_wqMLvT6eozbvtPBJlAC02005VDBaq_7_WYQDfb_1fQH6MpqTO8aAT24bWovy31Fz4eR-xyqk6Jjmm3hnB4YB3AG1cDJoXYD0pw53YVV_Kv-N9ARYrc/s1600/eduation+on+trial.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnM7MQC42ud6KFeUo1aMWO-MnTN_wqMLvT6eozbvtPBJlAC02005VDBaq_7_WYQDfb_1fQH6MpqTO8aAT24bWovy31Fz4eR-xyqk6Jjmm3hnB4YB3AG1cDJoXYD0pw53YVV_Kv-N9ARYrc/s320/eduation+on+trial.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Case for the Prosecution:</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 1</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Degrees of a large portion of parliamentarians belonging to almost all political parties of Pakistan were declared fake even though the people wanted these people to represent them irrespective of their degrees.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 2</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">A large portion of public money was going to Higher Education Commission (HEC). In principle, this money should have been spent according to the wishes of the parliament through programmers like Benazir Income Support Program (BISP) or other popular measures which would increase the voters’ base for the current government.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 3</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">HEC was working against the national interests by spoiling the country’s youth by giving them access to higher education. A sensitive and delicate matter like higher education should be the exclusive domain of the country’s elite. Also HEC tried to eliminate the natural divide between the poor and the rich as a middle class student from a far-off area of Pakistan was able to study in the same university as the urban rich class.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 4</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">HEC tried to reverse the brain drain thus ensuring that qualified people would be sitting on seats of authority in different Pakistani institutes. This was a recipe for disaster as this would eliminate chances of corruption, which is the lifeline of our politics.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 5</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dealing directly with international donors and universities thus decreasing chances of any commissions which is the bread and butter of our politicians.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 6</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">As HEC is remnant of a dictator, it has to go.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Witness 1</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jamshed Dasti – a respectable citizen of Pakistan and after proved fake, was elected by his people with a 55000 vote.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Witness 2</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Aslam Raisani who is Chief Minister of the largest province of Pakistan. The most famous quote of the 21st century "degree is a degree whether genuine or fake" is his creation.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Witness 3</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Babar Awan - who was robbed of his "legal" Ph.D degree due to HEC as University of Monte Cello was not authorized to issue such a degree.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Case for the Defence:</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 7</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Due to efforts of HEC, number of Ph.D produced doubled in the last 8 years as compared to the first 55 years after independence.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 8</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Surge in the number of Universities, number of publications and research.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 9</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">A number of universities are now among the top 500 in the world.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 10</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Almost 5000 scholars are pursuing Ph.D abroad while similar numbers are doing it in Pakistan.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 11</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Increase in salaries for researchers and professors, thus giving a sense of security as well as respectability to the profession that it deserves.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 12</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Establishment of Digital Library and broadband internet connectivity to universities which gives access to thousands of online journals and books thus facilitating research activity.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Exhibit 13</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Stringent conditions for degrees and streamlining the process of equivalence as well as attestation thus giving international respectability to Pakistani degrees.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Verdict:</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> To be announced by the People of Pakistan</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">(P.S. This is an old post. In fact, this was the post with which our blog debuted on April 12, 2011. But last week the government is again trying to end HEC autonomy so I have posted it again.)</span></div>
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</div>Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-70583136493280180202012-06-04T00:05:00.000+05:002012-06-04T00:05:00.339+05:00A Success Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
drinking the potion, the maid fell to the ground, unconscious. The six-year-old
boy looked at her in disappointment. He did not expect this. He had made the
potion by grinding different insects. The whole idea was that since birds could
fly after eating insects, there must be something in the insects. Instead of
making the maid fly, he nearly caused her death. And as usual he was beaten by
his parents. This was not the first time. A little while ago, he had lit the
whole timber warehouse on fire to see what happen to wood after burning! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His
teachers considered him as a dull and mischievous student because he had no
interest in syllabus. On the contrary, he would always ask questions from the
teachers about almost everything, and consequently, he was expelled from the
school. He was taught by his mother at home until the age of 15 when he started
peddling goods in trains. At the time, it was prohibited but his daily insistence
compelled the authorities to accede. It was a four-and-a-half hour journey and
he thought of utilizing this time. He started to collect news from different
stations, handwrote them and set as a newspaper. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was a wonderful experience
as a one man newspaper!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Once
while travelling, his foot slipped and he almost fell from the train only to be
saved by a guard who caught him by his ear and in the process he lost half of
his hearing power. He set up a small lab in one of the train cars and did his
little experiments there until it caught fired. As a result there was a huge
blast and he was punished and fired. He started job in a telegraph office. At
that time one telegram could be received at a time but he introduced the method
of sending and receiving multiple messages at a time by changing the system. After
a short time he left and started job at a firm in New York, which was
responsible for determining price of gold. He invented a modern calculation
machine for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
started his own factory and built a lab for his research. He invented an
automatic telegram, rectified the system of typewriter, made receiver for
telephone along improving its sound quality. Today, CD and DVD is the media for
almost everything. The ancestor of this, the gramophone was invented by him.
And if that was not enough, he went on to invent cinema! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
invented trams, the road train. He introduced electronic street lights in New
York from where it spread around the world. And, not to mention, he invented
the electric bulb as well. He introduced cement for construction. Money
counting machine, mining techniques, dyeing of leather are only a few of his inventions.
He also grew the Rubber plant in America for the 1<sup>st</sup> time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
made 20 thousand failed experiments before he could invent the bulb. He made 10
thousand experiments in order to successfully store electricity in battery. And
with having about one thousand inventions to his name, the number of failed
experiments runs into hundreds of thousands. But he never lost hope and that
was what kept him above all others who failed. He was so obsessed with work
that once he expressed his desire that had he been born on Mars, he would have
had 40 extra minutes a day and would have contributed more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
wish our educationists would include the biography of this great man to our
national curriculum. Our children will learn that how one single person can
bring change by his determination and strong commitment. They will realize that
failure is not failure indeed but it is the 1<sup>st</sup> step to success. You
can never be successful in life if you do not face failures. It will surely inspire
our youth to know about the life and struggle of the greatest inventor in human
history, Thomas Edison.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>kiranshahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16119035532303450269noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-18396109112715716782012-05-21T00:05:00.000+05:002012-06-27T15:06:08.004+05:00A Miracle that Lives<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherlock Holmes said:
“I am a brain, Watson! The rest of me is simply an appendage.” He may have said
it metaphorically but after a century, we can see the practical manifestation. Stephen
Hawking, the celebrated physicist and author of the famous book <i>A Brief History of Time,</i> has been
paralyzed almost completely by a disease but yet he has made discoveries which
most of us can only dream of. A cursory look at his life would convince you
that he is nothing short of a miracle. But I am thinking of a more obvious yet
unnoticed miracle that is happening around us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stephen Hawking has
worked on Black Holes and Quantum Physics. In layman’s terms, quantum physics
says that nothing can be predicted absolutely. For example, if you are crossing
a road, it is not 100% that you would reach the other side and instead there is
a chance that you would turn up on Mars! And that every possible outcome of an
event happens, albeit in a different universe. For example, if a man shot at
another man, either he hits or misses. Now according to quantum physics,
whatever happens in this universe, the alternative will happen in another
universe. If the man is shot here, in another universe, he will be safe and if
he is safe here, will be shot in another universe! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">John Doe, after a
hectic day, is finally in his bedroom. As soon as he sits on the sofa, he sees
a scorpion and he kills it. What if he hasn’t seen it? He wondered with himself
and the alternative gives him shivers. After a while he forgets about this and
starts brushing his teeth. Finally, in his bed, he holds a glass and was about
to pour some water when he notices something. Upon closer examination, he sees
cyanide. What if he has drunk it? Relaxed, he finally is in his bed thinking
about the events of his day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The whole day starts
coming back into his mind. He wakes up in the morning and after saving himself
from being electrocuted in the bath-tub, he dresses up. After breakfast, he
drives to work. On the way to office, he is saved by a fraction of a second
from being crushed by a truck. At his workplace, he nearly burns himself with
high concentration acid. Somehow, it is 5PM and he is driving back to his home.
In the street, there is an angry mob lighting everything on fire. But again,
John is safe. He makes tea for himself. Having severe headache, he put 2
aspirins in his tea and after a while the milk and the tablets react with each
other making clots in the cup. He is thankful he hasn’t drunk it. After
watching some TV, he decides to go to bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">According to quantum
physics, every event with John could have produced the alternative results.
From morning to evening and night and then again to morning, humans are
struggling to survive. They fight for their existence with the forces of nature
and it is nothing short of a miracle that human race exists even after facing
so many challenges. But there is a bigger miracle. And that miracle is that
after surviving as such, humans do not value their lives. We never think what
is the purpose of life? And by our attitude, we make little difference in whether
we win or lose this fight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">P.S. John Doe is used for someone whose true identity is unknown.</span><br />
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</div>Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-24598236146744241042012-05-07T00:05:00.000+05:002013-05-31T03:12:21.398+05:00The Incredible Adventures of a Fashion Guru<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It was around noon on Christmas Day last year.
The weather was particularly pleasant that Sunday. In the Country Club, some
kids and youngsters were trying their skills at the newly installed mountain
hiking point. In the ground the boys were playing cricket and in the lawn at a
little distance from the barbeque stall were sitting a a few girls. They were
in a cheerful mood, gossiping and capturing the memories in their mobile phones
while sipping their tea. In the midst of all this, there was a mysterious group
of serious looking people dressed in black. The ladies in the group were not in
black but they were equally serious and looking at their boss at the head of
the table. Who were they? What were they doing dressed so formally in the club
on a Sunday? And then to the horror of all, there in the middle of the group
was one person who was the complete antithesis of the rest, dressed in the
informal Shalwar-Kameez.</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> </span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%;">Was this some
kind of a meeting of the shareholders with the board of directors? Or may be a
mafia family? It was surely not a funeral. The people gathered around this
mysterious group.</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">We were invited to
Sunday brunch by our boss. Well, for me a brunch on a Sunday was an informal
gathering. And hence, I dressed for the occasion accordingly, in informal
attire. In fact it was not informal but the sort which is worn in every sort of
gatherings in part of the world from where I come. But I was in for a shock.
The remaining members of the entourage were dressed in suits. And mind you
there were some 50 people invited! Anyways, we reached the venue and I was
satisfied that everybody there, except our group, was their informal selves and
enjoying their Sunday. Seated, we started our brunch. And the person in the
group that was casually dressed, not having an iota of fashion sense was me.
Had I been into fashion, Messrs Armani and Versace would have had some serious
competition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I was thinking why
the other members of the group were dressed so formally. And I knew they were
cursing me for the reasons completely opposite. All was well until the pictures
were uploaded by somebody on the web. And it was Fatima, scolding me as to why
had I dressed so casually? I tried to explain but she was of the opinion that
since the invitation was from the boss so one had to be dressed formally. She
agreed with me that dark suits were too much but I was not dressed to the
occasion. And it was then and there that I decided to dress well for the next
gathering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I did not have to
wait for long as there was a <i>Walima</i> or marriage banquet after
a couple of weeks and I was invited. Well the normal thing here is that people
dress formally, usually in office suits, especially black coats and neckties
(not bow-ties) on such occasions. But I thought I should go the extra
mile and dress differently. I searched the market and bought a tuxedo and
especially spent two days in search of a bow-tie. I reached the venue at the
given time dressed in black. Now for those of you who are not familiar with the
traditions I would like to explain to you what it is like. On the centre stage,
the bride and the bridegroom are seated. You can imagine it like the unveiling
of a new statue at Madam Tussauds. Usually, facing the stage on the left side
are seated males and on the right are females. I always wonder why females are
always on the right side. Depending on the families, there may or may not be a
partition between the two sections. So, there I was. And I had success almost
immediately as I entered the hall and all the gazes were fixed on me. Or so I
thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNvOCN3PtVBS0HVGpEmECb7AIZCWUvKHV3BOBs8Yq-zyJRWm_35eOFLonzEmDI85YtFiWvQ-OCcusrQwtQkbcfzTmF__akqhD7Hq2v_4AlIPQEIlvYPEc5YOOz9HFEjRhBvSpDcCHAzBN/s1600/Smiling_Waiter_475x60023.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNvOCN3PtVBS0HVGpEmECb7AIZCWUvKHV3BOBs8Yq-zyJRWm_35eOFLonzEmDI85YtFiWvQ-OCcusrQwtQkbcfzTmF__akqhD7Hq2v_4AlIPQEIlvYPEc5YOOz9HFEjRhBvSpDcCHAzBN/s320/Smiling_Waiter_475x60023.bmp" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fashion Guru</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The week
immediately before the event, I memorized and practiced the necessary dialogues
for the evening. Standing there for a few minutes, I heard someone saying
excuse me. I turned around and was tempted to say, “The name is Bond, James
Bond” but there was nobody. Perhaps, I was imagining too much. At the opposite
section, there were few well dressed girls looking at me. Yes I guessed it was
me whom they were staring at. And they were whispering and laughing. I knew
what they were thinking. Perhaps who would gather the courage to go and talk to
this well-dressed man? Perhaps ask for a phone number and then going out to a
dinner? I was in confusion whether to refuse them or not. Then I thought the
hero never refuses and so I whispered the required dialogue to myself. But for
the moment, I was pretending to ignore that group. Let the dinner come and we
could talk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And then the moment
arrived for which we all were gathered that night. Yes, the time of dinner. It
was buffet. And I went to the eating area holding a plate in my hand when
somebody almost screamed in my ears. Turning towards the voice, I nearly
fainted. There was some 300 pounds of human meat haphazardly stuffed into a
suit. On the second look, I realized it was a living human being. He screamed
again, “Man, are you deaf? Get me water”. I politely obeyed. As soon as I
handed him glass of water, another voice shouted, “Give me a Sprite”. And then
another voice with a spoon, a plate, a fork and there was no end to this. I was
astonished what was happening. And then I saw few other “agents from the KGB”
dressed like me and serving the guests. I could not believe my eyes. These were
the waiters of the catering company. In 10 seconds, I had swiftly fallen from a
Hollywood celebrity to a waiter. And to this day, I have no idea how I managed
to come back to my room that night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">P.S. The title of <i>Fashion Guru</i> was given to me by Fatima. actually she said that I was Mr. So and so. The name was of the owner of a famous fashion house but I forgot.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">P.S. S. Regarding the request
for guest posts made in the last post, I am yet to receive any entry from any
of you. And I am very disappointed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com62tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2375198262861543061.post-3287675440080303812012-04-23T00:05:00.000+05:002012-04-23T12:30:46.214+05:00Who Wants to be a Wordsmith?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A few weeks ago, there
was an essay competition. There were many topics but the one I chose to write
on was “Rights and Obligations of Parents”. I submitted an entry and with your
support and prayers, I got 80,379<sup>th</sup> position amongst 80,380
participants. Relieved, I wondered who the one person could be whom I had beaten. And to my surprise, it was me. They have entered my name twice! I
shall post that essay on the blog sometime in the future for you people to
read. And before that competition, I participated in another essay competition
about science fiction and as usual, I came last. So my friends, an ingenious
idea came into my mind. I should announce to hold an essay/post/poem/writing
competition on our blog. Next I would submit an article with a pseudonym (Forensic
Biologist) and then after thoroughly reading every post, I would declare
Forensic Biologist as the winner of the competition. So in order to do this
exercise, I request you all kindly submit your writings if you want these to be
posted on our blog as guest posts. And if I won, I will treat you all with a
lavish party, all expenses paid by yourselves. Following are the rules. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Gqe4yD6_HlTnu67F64gx8BbmjAwJNMnq6gwLdkUi0l7kvGJav3CkzHfFtfk-SZGxjVPNLwMILamtKEqJi5QvRG3XSccYp5-1jN-SaK0L6tLShwo_OE2dJqQakLn0tasO1uhZRMSJiJdt/s1600/who+wants+to+be....png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Gqe4yD6_HlTnu67F64gx8BbmjAwJNMnq6gwLdkUi0l7kvGJav3CkzHfFtfk-SZGxjVPNLwMILamtKEqJi5QvRG3XSccYp5-1jN-SaK0L6tLShwo_OE2dJqQakLn0tasO1uhZRMSJiJdt/s320/who+wants+to+be....png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is fun to write...</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Rules:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Article
should not exceed 1000 words. (Extra words shall be charged US$ 0.1 per word.)</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You
can write fiction or non-fiction.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You
can write prose or poetry.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You can write on any topic except
Anthropology, Arts,
Blogs,
Culinary,
Ethics,
Games, History, Internet,
Linguistics,
Literature,
Music,
Philosophy,
Politics,
Religion, Science, Sports etc.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
post should be written in English. For guidance, please read </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mind Your English </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">by Eminem or </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Perfect English </i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">by Pitbull and 50Cents.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Please
try to use correct grammar. For demonstration, please consult </span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Mandarin Grammar Made Easy.</i></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If
you want to include multimedia (pictures, videos etc) please make sure you own
the copyrights or these are available as free to copy.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Before
sending your article, please keep a pizza and a soft drink near your computer.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Attach
the MS Word file in your email.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Type
in the email address of any of the contributors. (afficer@gmail.com</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">)</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Type
anything in the subject area.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Click
on the send button.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now
eat your pizza and drink your cola.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Last date for submission is 3 weeks from the moment you read this.</span></li>
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P.S. The guest post competition is for real and we are waiting for your posts. Please do send us your writings so that we can post it on our blog. Thank you.<br />
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P.S.S. As I was going through the contributor's page and I realized I have not written anything there. I would appreciate if anybody can suggest me what to write there. Your help will be highly appreciated. Thanks.</div>
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</div>Misterio Vidahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04396947981573285341noreply@blogger.com49