Quote of the Day

“Of all those struggles in human civilization to propagate principles of ethics, accountability and integrity within the society, the best ones are those where all these can be implemented in a  political context. Only then, all those visions and ideologies can be truly implemented” .

Kashkin

In My Veins, In My Blood (The Butterfly Effect)

Long time ago, witnessed we all
Humans caught up in a trap
In self inflated egos and pride
Hearts fearful and defeated

Shackled were their thoughts
And shackled were they all
In the name of fame and greed
With words of anger and hate

The humans and its existence
Remember I once long time ago
Where we sat in corners of ambiguity
Remember I once long time ago
Where we sat in corners of desperation

Remember I once where we opposed
All that is not right, all that is wrong
In corners of our promise
Remember I once, where we met
For change, for progression and for peace

Become we will Aristotle and Plato
Become we will ambassadors of change
Across morning dew, like those droplets of rain
And ours words thousands oceans in its might

Forgot we the existence as we began
The journey to the world apart
The old metamorphosis and its effect
It’s our turn; we will not remain in fear
If challenge is to come, then embrace
We will, as failures not an option
In all our might and in our sight

As nights turned into days
And as days into nights
As days into weeks
And weeks into months
We will never be the same again
This hunger will remain
Travel we will all to the furthest corners
In search of souls, in search of wisdom
Gather them my friends, as we heard
The old voices and promise of youth
Inside us, as civilizations spoke
And promise taken,
Carry we will far to those places
Strange transformation of change

And remember I tonight
Where we all met, in peace
Through sounds of nature and humanity
From those moments of time
Of arrival to departure
The fusion of past and present

Played there its tunes,
The wisdom and its effect
Played there its music
The youth and its song
Towards future and what it carries
Finally with them who understand
Not through conflict and hate
All heads together, the young and old,
The missing factor, in our existence
Now in union, the fruit and its seed
Not there will be fights or public conflicts
Sit there in peace, finally the humans

Remember the old nations
From the times of Moses
Tonight, it’s our turn to receive
The divine food and its taste
Only in determination, we will walk
Only in unity, we will perform
Remember not long, the day there
Awaits you and me, in its corner
The light, it will embrace us all
Few souls around the table,
And conversations light
There are no fights left,
There are not words of anger
Only of acceptance and appreciation

Long road it has been,
We will get there,
Freedom in sight and of change
No longer will we remain
In isolation and trauma of the past
No more the conflicts, no more politics
Our conscience is clean and light

Only the peace, tranquility and imagination
Deserve we all, we have paid our dues
As we leave, recuperated and cured
For Pakistan and its people
For battles unseen, the wars in front
Change we will, all that is there
That stands upon oppression and evil
Remove we will, these veils of disease
All that is there, those wounds of darkness
Cure we will, all that is in between
You and me, this madness eternal
It’s in my blood, in its flame
In my veins, travelled it has far
From the time of few to millions
In your veins, in your blood
As butterfly breaks out of its cocoon!

KASHKIN

Major Gulzar (The Tribute)

Major Gulzar (Retired) who passed away upon the hills of Bagnotar, during membership campaign. He was sixty years of age and an example to see how his spirit, dedication and passion worked for a cause which is the responsibility of us all for change and for progression in Pakistan.

Lies there in Bagnotar,
The spirit of our time
From years of its service
To protect and to propagate
The old message
Of change and progression
Here is where you will find him
On the hills of Abbotabad
Here is where you will find him
Upon the rocks of Bagnotar
That claimed him and his life
The old body and its spirit

Here is this man,
Where you will find him
The work and its message
For Pakistan and for people
Who says we do not have
The souls that will carry,
The flames of peace and change
Here is this man,
Empty were not his hands,
Carried they the papers
To join and of the ideology
Belong to you all, young and old

Here is this man,
Unknown to me,
Across thousands oceans
And its distance
Carry we will him far,
Beyond those boundaries
Beyond those rocks of Bagnotar
To places all, and to provinces all
The story of how heroes are made
Reminder to us all,
The politicians of our time
And to those in charge
To serve the way it requires
In responsibility and in humility

Never will we abandon you
In those hills of Bagnotar and the fall
Remain you will always with us
And those hands, that served
My old friend, nothing I know
But enough to carry you across
Through those plains of Indus
And to the heat of the deserts
An old tribute, to the sprit
And the hearts that wept

Death comes to us all,
Preserved you have, the passion
The old dignity that walked
Upon those rocks that contained
The old body, now wrapped up
In white, we will miss you
My friend, we will miss you
The struggle and its story!

Kashkin

7 Steps for Political Success in Pakistan

• Process, Teams & Infrastructure
• Positivity, Tolerance, & Ideas
• Propogation, Thinktanks, & Independence
• Policies, Training and Implementation
• Performance, Timing and Initiatives
• People, Tomorrow and Industrialisation
• Peace, Tranquility & Imagination

Steps 1- 7,
There is a sequence to all this.one can pretty much cover off all the aspects of political process, consolidations of requirements and public perception and delivery…If one can get through these steps, PTI becomes a major force and political party.

Kashkin

The Lemonade Blog Award

Knaht uoy vac,

In the olden days when sun glimmered across our foreheads in the desert or at home, there was always this moment of peace and joy when we were to be summoned up and have a break. There were different names for this drink- the drink which will have lemon squeezed and crushed sprinkled with a bit of salt or sugar, in ice cold water to be served to us after games of cricket. It was known as “ Shi-Kan-Jaw-ee”….the drink which will remove the wrinkles and dust off our foreheads and supply us with rejuvenated spirit and body. To us, it was what Jam-e-Jamshaed for the Persians!…So many years carried on in this hope and in this form through these lemonade years.

Not just the drink was divine but we also found lot of purpose and joy in utilizing the left overs as well. For instance, the empty shell of lemon was useful in cleaning our teeth, at times mixing it with all the spices, and powder, bandaging it, and then offering it someone else as a drink which they will remember for the rest of our lives and so do we being chased by our elders near and far for spiking their staple lassee or qahwa with that…

At times, the empty shells of lemons were also used up for this game called “ Pitthu Garm”…the dried out, again filled with some other material became our fascination from Pitthu Garm to games like Bandar Killa…

So the lemon and its composition remained our armour and our part of diet for many years where from lentils to rice, from ghosht to vegetables, the company it provided was exemplary and of also great significance. The Citrus years and its impact was great as times all the bitterness was sweetened of this deadly cocktail of shakanjawee and its sister drink called “ doodh soda”….

As years progressed into its formation, we moved away from those lemonade years….only the stark reminders at times of those years and what happened in between…the bitter reality and experiences and its effect…until one day out of now where came the post, in words bonded and sewn off in the same manner as once I had seen the shells long time ago….The Lemonade Blog Award goes to “ The Lemonade Bloggers”…So I suggest we give ourselves this title of “ The Lemonade Bloggers” and create an organization or group of support for anyone who has had any experience bitter and sweet like those lemonade years of being squeezed and sprinkled and of those memories refreshing as that drink…So let me raise a glass to this promise and ode to the “Lemonade Blog Bloggers”…

Have a great day all. I hope I have fulfilled the expectations of charisma and maturity that was expected of me J

Kashkin

(The Lemonade Blogger )

Sulphuric Acid

She once had a face
but all gone,
The whole thing so insane
As the pain crawls itself
To peel off her reflection
in the rain..

She once had a dream
but all gone,
The whole thing so insane
Alone in her room
to perform the routines
to catch her shawdows
in its pain.

She once learnt to love
but all gone
The whole thing so insane.
she stands by her painting
like the dead, eaten away
in the grave,
alive in her veins.

She used to speak
but all gone
The whole thing so insane
Now only the  voices
around her
not to say a word
as her mind enrages
like a train

She once  had a life
but all gone
The whole thing so insane
Tries she hard,
to learn again and to forgive
her murderer,
asleep in her grave
without a shame.

kashkin

The Still Life

Few droplets of rain, dynamics of nature
At times, bemused by its own makings
The human heart, dynamics of nature,
At times, revealed by its own makings
Strange fusion of matter and mind,
Like silver plates with displaced potions
Of fruits, objects and few uninteresting things
Like lingering darkness and sound of rain.

Moments in conflict of interest, speak
Dynamics of nature but nothing of those
Murmurs, of hate and anger, stood
Like monuments of rock and sand, still
Unheard, unseen and untouched
The alchemist hand and its perfection
Organs of fire, now assumed shapes &
Objects of mere pleasure and viewings
As one were planetary object, promised
To return in distant future, but remain
Those ghosts of pain, like still life
Always present, in motion with chants
Of those times and era, almost gone
Prisoner its image, killer its reflection

Kashkin

Guilty

I guess,
I have no choice
Only to be dictated
By my moral fabric
And its composition

You can pronounce
Me guilty, I am yours
The verdict in the open
My loss, gains for the masses!

Kashkin

The Underground Years

Fate’s wings brought them together
in places where resided
logic and reason, beauty and hunger
in those underground years,
Preachers of passion and instincts
remained in them, the old spirit
As the african storms moved
Nomad of a man and women learnt
to love and women learnt to hate.
and years went past, unspoken
as those underground years,
torn them apart, torn them together
in places and in words,
where they called each other’s names
imprisoned in time, the old nomads
still in there, the old light
as the story emerge, ravenously untamed!

Kashkin

Head of a Woman

Stand they as monuments,
to adorn,
Those ideas of trade,
for bread and ale
organs, made of fire
sold, many times,
for reasons they know not
of this primitive curse,
like shadows,upon  the moon,
in the empty towns, eclipsed
darkness prevails in human heart
As their bodies sunk in its plight
The finest gift,in tortured minds!

Kashkin