Thanks but No Thanks...

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.

Now, Dr. Israr

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.

And then it turned two...

Time is making fools of us again. ~ J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter authoress.

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.

So I am 30 Today...

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.

Our Life - Another 13th Floor Experiment?

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 intelligence 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.

A Mother’s Tribute to her Son

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.

P.S. I Thank You

It was 6^th 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^th 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, I must add that I am not a Doctor YET. 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. 

Prince - the Assassin

It was sometime in February, 1973. The Sardar (Chieftain) had another huff from his huqqa (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.

She Moves in Mysterious Ways

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.

DNAmancy - Who is the Luckiest of Them All?

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.