Opa Toto

It was our last meeting. He was laying on his bead without any movement. I was talking with Dani. When Linda ran to bring doctor. They said he has cancer attack. When doctor went inside they said he is dead. for next three days we been busy in funeral of Opa Toto and last night was Duo Rosario at his home.

He was retired school teacher. Had two daughters and one son. His first wife died fifteen years ago and he married second time with Oma Neena. For two days i went to Rumah Abadi to have his last rites of passages. Friends, family members, and many of his students were there. Mitra liked to eat Bakpao and he eat five. Later i brought him two more.There were two halls where we were sitting. In one we had prayers and in other one people were sitting and had conversation with each other.

Father Peter initiated rituals at Rumah Abadi and second day father Vatican did funeral rites. On the second day they saw him last time and then they locked the coffin-box with nails and put cross made of roes on the top of it. Before that every one took one small perfume and put drops around the Opa Toto and i did so also. 

 I was not able to attend his cremation due to going  Tangerang, Banten for environment meeting with community members with the help of sister Lia.  They cremated him close to the beach at Dadap.

Last night was prayer for him at his home. His two daughter and one son was there. We prayed there for one and half hours. His daughter, Fanny brought cappuccino and strawberry cake from Medan.

Derian was scared after attending prayers and he stayed with us last night. It was raining with roaring in loud noise.

I meet with Opa Toto after five minutes of his death-though we never meet when he was alive- but i am glad that i was with him in his last journey as friend.  

And i am Intoxicated

you are drunk
and i'm intoxicated
no one is around
showing us the way home

again and again
i told you
drink less
a cup or two

i know in this city
no one is sober
one is worse than the other
one is frenzied and
the other gone mad

come on my friend
step into the tavern of ruins
taste the sweetness of life
in the company of another friend

here you'll see
at every corner
someone intoxicated
and the cup-bearer
makes her rounds

i went out of my house
a drunkard came to me
someone whose glance
uncovered a hundred
houses in paradise

rocking and rolling
he was a sail
with no anchor but
he was the envy of all those sober ones
remaining on the shore

where are you from i asked
he smiled in mockery and said
one half from the east
one half from the west
one half made of water and earth
one half made of heart and soul
one half staying at the shores and
one half nesting in a pearl

i begged
take me as your friend
i am your next of kin
he said i recognize no kin
among strangers
i left my belongings and
entered this tavern
i only have a chest
full of words
but can't utter
a single one

A peom by Rumi 

Notes from Texas

آرٽيڪل

Notes from Texas هڪ شهر جي ڳالهه عبدالحق چانگ ٽيڪساس ڪيئن آهي؟ اهو سوال دوست فون تي پڇندو هو. ”موسم گرم آهي سنڌ وانگر“ آئون اڪثر ائين چوندو هئس. ٽيڪساس ۾ رهندي مون کان سنڌ جي گرمي وسري ويندي هئي. بس فون تي اگر ڪو پڇندو هو ته گهڙي کن لاءِ احساس ٿيندو هو. بجلي ڪانهي اڪثر دوست ائين به چوندا هئا. ڀلا بجلي ويندي آهي؟ نه صرف هڪ دفعو وئي هئي، سو به انهيءَ ڪري جو منهنجي پاڙي ۾ هڪڙي نوجوان شراب جي مدهوشي ۾ بجلي جي ٿنڀي کي ڪار وڃي هنئي هئي. ڀلا ٽيڪساس ۾ تنهنجي يونيورسٽي ڪيئن آهي؟ ڪلاس روز ٿين ٿا؟ منهنجي يونيورسٽي ٽيڪساس جي گادي واري شهر ۾ آهي پر اتي  ڪلاس روز هلندا آهن. پوءِ معنيٰ ته اتي احتجاج ڪو نه ٿيندو آهي ڇا ڀلا؟ احتجاج ته اتي به ٿيندو آهي ۽ منهنجي يونيورسٽي ۾ به روز احتجاج ٿيندو آهي پر اهو اڪثر ڪري ڪلاسن جي وقفي دوران يا وري ان وقت تي جو ڪلاسن تي اثر نه پوي. ڀلا ڪلاس ڪيئن ٿيندا آهن؟ استاد پڙهائيندا آهن؟ ۽ شاگرد پڙهي ايندا آهن؟ ها استاد پڙهي ايندا آهن ۽ شاگرد به محنت ڪندا آهن. ڀلا تنهنجا ڪي دوست آهن يونيورسٽي ۾؟ ها منهنجا يونيورسٽي ۾ تمام گهڻا دوست آهن ۽ اهي مختلف ملڪن مان آيل آهن. مون کي ته يونيورسٽي ۾ هڪڙي جڳهه تان ٻي جڳهه تي پهچڻ ۾ ڪلاڪن جا ڪلاڪ لڳي ويندا آهن. انهيءَ ڪري اڪثر آئون فائن آرٽس ڊپارٽمينٽ وڃي پڙهندو آهيان. مون کي محسوس ٿيندو آهي ڄڻ ته ازل کان جيئن يونيورسٽي آف ٽيڪساس ۾ پيدا ٿيو هئس ۽ هتي ئي ڪنهن ڪنڊ پاسي ۾ مدفون ٿيندس. ڀلا هتي ماستر گسائيندا آهن؟ نه بلڪل نه. مون کي ياد نه ٿو پوي پر ڪڏهن ڪو ماستر بيمار هوندو هو ته اهو ڪلاس ڪو نه ٿيندو. پر پوءِ رهيل ڪلاس هر حال ۾ پورو ڪندو هو. ڀلا هتي جا ماڻهو ڪيئن آهن؟ ماڻهو ماڻهن جهڙا ٿيندا آهن پر مون کي تمام سٺا دوست مليا. ڀلا ڪو خاص دوست؟ دوست ته ڪافي هئا پر انهيءَ سڀني ۾ مزيدار شخص اليڪس هو. اليڪس ڪمپيوٽر سسٽم ۾ پڙهندو هو. سندس پي رشين ۽ ماءُ جرمني مان ڀڄي ويل يهودي خاندان مان هئي، جيڪي ميڪسيڪو ۾ وڃي رهيا هئا. اليڪس هائوس آف گائيز نالي student coop ۾ رهندو هو. ساڻس گڏ رهندي مون کي اهو محسوس نه ٿيو ته اسان ٻئي ڪي الڳ ملڪن، مذهبن يا روين جا ماڻهو آهيون. هو پڙهائي ۾ تمام گهڻو هوشيار هو ۽ چوويهه ڪلاڪ ئي پنهنجي ڪمپيوٽر تي ويٺو ڪم ڪندو هو. ڪچهري ۾ اهو احساس نه ٿيندو هو ته ڀٽ شاهه تي لياقت فقير سان گڏ ويٺو آهيان يان آسٽن ۾ اليڪس جي گهر. ائين ملڪ، زبانون ۽ ڌاريائپ بلڪل اجنبي احساس لڳندو هو. ڪڏهن ميوزڪ تي، ڪڏهن مذهب تي، ڪڏهن سياست تي گفتگو ڪندا رهندا هئاسين.  اليڪس ڪڏهن ڪڏهن ڪنهن موضوع تي چڙي پوندو هو. خاص ڪري ته سائنس مذهب کان وڌيڪ جديد ۽ اعتبار جوڳي آهي. ۽ آئون انهيءَ وقت فل ۽ ٽوني کي سڏ ڪندو هئس ۽ پوءِ هو گڏجي ڪو نه ڪو گانو ڳائيندا هئا. اليڪس کي ڪاوڙ وسري ويندي هئي ۽ اسان کان وڌيڪ آواز ۾ گانو ڳائڻ شروع ڪندو هو. اڪثر روز سياري ۾ گهر جي ٻاهران باهه ٻاري هٿ سيڪندا هئاسين ۽ کلي کلي کيرا ٿي پوندا هئاسين. پوءِ اليڪس هتي ڪڏهن ايندو؟ الائي خبر ناهي. پر هو هتي شايد نه رهي سگهي. ڇو ته هو مون کي هميشه چوندو آهي ته آئون صرف اتي زنده رهي سگهندس جتي بجلي ۽ انٽرنيٽ هجي پر هتي ته بجلي آهي ڪا نه ته وري انٽرنيٽ ڪٿان هلندو؟ ڀلا اسان وٽ هتي زندگي نارمل ڇو نه ٿي ٿئي؟ يار خبر ناهي. ڀلا سماج ڪڏهن سڌرندو؟ يار خبر ڪانهي. ڇو ڀلا توکي خبر ڪانهي؟ تون جو ايترو پڙهيو آهين ڪو ته مسئلي جو حل ٻڌاءِ؟ ڪاوڙ ۽ بيوسي مان کيس چيم يار پڙهيل لکيل هجڻ ۽ مسئلن جو حل خبر هجڻ سان مسئلو حل نه ٿو ٿئي. رهندو پڙهيل لکيل ماڻهو آزار ۾ آهي. هتي جيستائين ڪوڙ، ٺڳي ۽ حرفت کان ڪم نه ٿو وٺجي، تيستائين هر شخص توهان کي پاڳل ٿو سمجهي. ڀلا ٽيڪساس ۾ پڙهيل جو قدر آهي؟ دوست ٻي ته ڪا خبر ناهي پر ايتري ڳالهه ضرور آهي ته ماڻهو ماڻهن سان ڳالهايو پي. هر شخص ٻي جي ڳالهه ٻڌي پي. جيڪو به شخص پڙهيل لکيل هو مون ان جي سماج ۾ عزت ڏٺي ۽ علم جي اهميت جو احساس ڏٺو. ڀلا ٻڌو آهي ته هو مسلمانن ۽ پاڪستانين کان نفرت ڪندا آهن؟ دوست منهنجي خيال ۾ ٽيڪساس ۾ ڪڏهن به ڪنهن به منهنجو مذهب ۽ قوميت نه پڇي. ۽ هر شخص مون کي منهنجي عمل ۽ ذات جي حساب سان سڃاڻيندو هو. هتي مون ڪڏهن به اهڙي قسم جي ڳالهه محسوس نه ڪئي. مون کانئس پڇيو ڀلا هتي ته سڀ مسلمان آهن پوءِ جهيڙا ڇا لاءِ؟ هن مون کي ڪو به جواب نه ڏنو ۽ آئون سندس منهن ڏانهن تڪيندو رهيس. فائن آرٽس لائبريري کان ايندي آئون يونيورسٽي جي پنجاهه هزار شاگردن کي ڏسي اڪثر حيرت ۾ پئجي ويندو هئس. هر شخص پنهنجي دنيا ۾ گم ۽ خيال جو شهري لڳندو هو. هڪ دفعي ڪيفي ميڊيچي وٽ اليڪس کي ڏٺم. اليڪس ڊڪندو آيو. چيائين هتي ڇا پيو ڪرين؟ چيم روڊ تي ايندڙ ويندڙ بسن جا نمبر پليٽ پيو ڏسان. کلي چيائين هل ته پوءِ سائيڪلنگ ڪيون. پوءِ وسندي مينهن ۾ سڄو آسٽن گهمياسين. واپسي وقت اليڪس پڇيو گهڻا نمبر پليٽ ڳڻيئي؟ چيم ياد ناهي. چيائين مزو وٺ دوست- باقي سڀ ڪجهه فاني آهي. haq.chang@gmail.com

London Diaries

It seems there is something waiting for me here in London. I like here underground---it is magic maze. Wait and let me write what i see here. I want to be lost here to find my stories. Love to all.
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27/03/2012 London

What worries me is how i been ignorant about London. It seems very different city! City has strange and magical maze to connect different routes together. The London underground seems to be one of the wonders of the world. Each station has mysteries stories. There are people from everywhere. I can hear strange languages which i have never heard before and my graduate class of Fundamentals of Linguistics seems baby lesson!

But what really struck me is The British Library( i keep hearing from my father, who is librarian about this but i never gave his opinion any serious consideration- i am sorry papa-forgive me for not understanding your point).

This library seems to be very strange place. Today i went there on third floor to see Asia and Africa section.It was land of the wonders! wow........i was not able to stop my self from uttering wow-wow after every few seconds and then i felt i am disturbing myself.

The British Library seems to be grave of British Colonial Empire.  But what struck me is that we still don't know about huge amount of literature in archives as it is still in paper form and still it is hard to understand that what lies in these papers. Staff seems workaholic and still needs some training on how to deal with people!

Unlike in America here i saw lot of instructions that were meant towards reader and they were pushed to "behave with staff properly and with highest level of respect". As i am son of Librarian so i  felt more intimate in London with the British library.

But today i understood why Karl Marx spent thirty years in the British library without any money(like me in London with 100 pounds in pocket) before he wrote Das-Capital.

But what is strange for me is that all of those who came here before me never talked about richness of library rather they  been telling how they like "SOHO" and how i can visit different places too see erotic things as Blinds can't hear also!

But they all warned me not to get lost in archives but everywhere else. I have never ignored their voices and i have always behaved as i am stupid(off course that i am)-but always i keep thinking why they are so?

Today i got answer. They are afraid of knowing and they don't want to accept that one shouldn't be ignorant.! Some people are not ignorant by birth but they are by choice.   They are master's and slaves of my so called guild. I think they follow wise-men " whatever you think and believe it is good to endow that wisdom to your friends". Doors seems to be windows and windows have dark black curtains-which stop sunlight.

Imagine sitting next to ocean and yet be thirsty for the sip of water. Isn't it is better to die drinking salty water then letting oneself to be deprived of "truth of the life"?

What i see in the British Library is that one needs to find "truth" from these graves of archives. They will not speak-as dead don't speak and as archives are also "Subaltern"--someone needs to give them chance to speak. Archives are good to study but they are  graves of past. Gravestones in itself are not end of the story but they are catalogue of dead-and beyond these cannibalization lies life of writer of that archive and life of that subject which been mentioned in these archives.

How can i understand family if i dont understand who is father and who is son? Can i theorize my ignorance to kill the family?  Will i? Isn't it wrong?

Isn't it bad to kill people? Yes? No? You will not kill anyone i know-but i also know that even if you kill someone you will not tell me-because you are afraid that i will tell people.

But i have founded that you all been killing archives. I hate you all killers. But i think now i don't trust you and please stop defending yourself-you are naked now-  It is hard to do justice but it is easy to do injustice. Dont do justice if it is hard but please don't do injustice only because it is easy to do !!!!!!!

Nights Under the Stars

By Imaculata Kurniasanti 

Posted on March 19, 2012 

One night they found a place where stars seemed near to them.

“Why don’t we sit here before we go to bus stop?” said the man. He might feel homesick at that moment since he had been in the state for at least 5 months. He looked above and let his mind flew beyond the sky to grab the stars he saw in his village.

“Ok!” said the woman. She wished she could say “that’s a brilliant idea”. She really loved the building because it took her to the time when she was a girl where she read books written by Enyd Blyton. The building just like one of old castles in Blyton’s stories.

The two were silence and locked in their childhood romanticism.

…. Twinkle … twinkle little stars, Oh… how wonder what you are….

Wind in the fall carried leaves from oak trees where tiny squirrels had been lived.

In the dawn the tower seemed masculine and powerful. The place they found was just right in the bottom of the tower.

“Do you see a window up there?” asked the woman.

“Yes, I do” said the man with curious face reflected to a question toward the window.

“That’s Dean Victoria’s office.” The woman smiled for she felt the air of victory by making the man curious. “I will tell her if you do bad things to me” her naughty face showed in the shade of night.

“There are lots of hidden cameras around us. You know this is America where you can find state-of-the-art of security technology. This is not your country or mine where security depends on human instinct. Look at police cars in our campus, they have mobile computers that connect to CCTV around campus and of course internet connection” told the man.

“That’s awesome, but how do you know this?” asked the women.

“Now you look like American by saying AWESOME. You know, I am using human instinct… ha.. ha… ha…” The man laughed and it followed by the woman.

…. Twinkle … twinkle little stars, Oh… how wonder what you are….

It was in the edge of the fall.

Most of leaves of the trees near the tower turned yellow and ready to ground on the earth at any time.

The man sat on the stone chair listened to something in his cell phone.

The woman suddenly came from one of buildings in six packs area that located in the south of the tower. In that area, it was easy to see capitol of Texas for it was built in line with the tower.

Somehow the woman interpreted the tower as a head, the six packs as a belly, and the capitol as vagina. This mean that University should be a place to swallow reality and process it and the capitol should be a place to deliver a practical things based on the process were done on campus.

“What are you listening?” the woman disturbed the man enjoyable moment.

“What I what?” said the man. He decided to stand for welcoming her.

“What are you listening?” she repeated her question.

“Oh… I listened to my friend’s voice. I asked him to sing for me” he pointed the cell phone next to the woman’s ear and played the voice recording.

“What is this?” asked the woman. She made a wrinkle in her left eye.

“Close your eyes and feel it! This is a spiritual song” replied the man.

The woman followed his instruction but she could not feel anything. Again she tried to feel it and again she could not manage. She felt sorry to herself for she understood that she knew nothing about music.

In a popular magazine she read that music is a universal language. People from different countries and languages are able to feel and enjoy music.

“I am sorry, I don’t understand and I can’t feel anything… well, maybe because I don’t understand your language” she said sadly. She looked into the man’s face where she found a disappointment on him. She made up her mind for not asking anything. She silently sat next to him and looked at the highway far in the east.

“What are you looking at” asked the man. He closed his mellow feeling as soon as he turned off his cell phone.

“Highway!” replied the woman. “Do you know how big our university is?”

“Forty Acres! Well… everybody knew it” said the man.

“I thought you don’t know, because you are too serious. Look at you. You are more serious than professor here. Do you see the lights on the highway, it looks like stars” the women pointed her finger.

…. Twinkle … twinkle little stars, Oh… how wonder what you are….

Chilling winter reduced human outdoor activities.

“Let us stop by the stone chair under the tower” said the man.

“Now?” asked the woman. She looked at the man when he nodded to tell his mind.

“Why don’t you sit on the stone chair?” asked the man.

“Oh no man, thank you. It will be crazy freezing. I would rather stand here” replied the woman.

The man took a cigarette and lighted it on. He polluted the cold air with tobacco smokes. He sucked his friendly smoke until it last. Then he threw the cigarette stub in an ash stand.

“Come on” said the man. He took the woman’s hand.

“Does the hidden camera record us?” asked the woman.

“Indeed, madam!” said the main in funny British dialect. They were laughing all their way.

The two looked like a boy and a girl walking hand in hand under the stars.

…. Twinkle … twinkle little stars, Oh… how wonder what you are….

Blossom flowers are around. In the morning they discussed about campus flowers.

The man loved to take pictures and the woman loved to be his model. At night he told the woman to stop by the stone chair. That time he has no cigarette.

“I want to take pictures” said the woman.

“Where?” asked the man.

“Not me, I want the tower!” replied the woman.

“Oh…  Your camera is not good. It will be useless. I don’t want to take the picture” said the man.

“Well, if you don’t want, I can do it by myself” said the woman. She took some pictures to prove the man that his opinion was wrong. She showed the result to the man and it changed the man’s idea about the old camera.

“You should take picture from the corner site, it is better than the front site” suggested the man.

That night was a photo session under the stars.

…. Twinkle … twinkle little stars, Oh… how wonder what you are…

First Strike

32 Matches

Strike On Box Matches 

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تیری ماچس  کی  ڈبیا میں
وہ بتیس تیلیاں -- کیا اس شریرکی سرد خانی کو حدت دے سگی گی ؟
وہ کالی روڈ پہ دھنسا ہوا سنہری تالا-- اس  کی  چابی  وہ  گم ہونی   والی گلی  میں تلاش کرتی رہی-- 
ہاں مگر یہ کیسے ممکن ہی کہ وجود کی دروازے  کی چابیاں یونہی سڑکوں پہ بکھری سی ملیں-----
ہاں مگر جیسی نہ تم ہم سی ملے
ہاں مگر جیسی نہ  ہم تم سی  ملے--
کیا یہ سچ نہیں کہ محبت سورج  کی طرح سب کی لیے ہی ؟؟؟؟؟؟؟؟؟؟؟
ہاں مگر کون سمجتا ہی یہ چھوٹی سی باتیں اس بڑی سی  سنسار  میں !!!
ہم تو پاگل ہیں -- مگر -ہوش والو زرا یہ تو بتاو یا الہی   یہ ماجرا کیا ہی ---

کیا ہونا وجود کی  اکیلی سمندر میں اک بٹکتی  سی کشتی کا نام  ہی ؟؟؟؟
کیا اب کی  بار ہم   مل کی نہیں بچھڑیگیں --؟
بس اک یہی سوال ہی -----------

-کہ  بکھرتی وقت میں  جانی  کیا کچھ  بکھرتی  والا ہی  !!!!!
  بس  یہی  اک یہی ڈر ہی ورنہ سب خیر ہی  !!!!!!

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Caution : Close box Before Striking
(:= :) :( =:)(:= :) :( =:)(:= :) :( =:)(:= :) :( =:)

Even not in the dreams

کبھی جلتی ہوئی رات میں اندھیروں کی شہر سی کہنا اب کی بچھڑی تو شاید خوابوں میں بھی نہیں ملینگی-----
Could you ever say in the fire of night to darkened city that if we apart this time we will be not able to meet even ever in the dreams.................. 

کبھی بھجھتی صبح سی پوچھنا کہ  زمین اوراسماں کہ   بیچ   میں اتنا خلا کیوں ہیں ? 

could you ever say to retreating morning that why there is gulf between the earth and sky?

گر جدائی  ہے  مقدر  ہی تو یہ  ملنا کیوں ہی؟

If to be apart is the fate ......then why do we meet?
یہ رات................... دن کہ درد کہاں چپاتی؟          اور یے دن اندھری میں  اتنا تنہا کیوں ہی ؟

where do the night hide the pain of the day. ??

and why day is so lonely in the darkness?
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