Headline June 28, 2017/ ''' HOME -[SAM]- HOUR '''

''' HOME -[SAM]- HOUR '''

IT WAS A TRAGEDY    -*Proud Pakistan just wasn't ready for*- : Catastrophic Inferno. Incomprehensive Horror!

Most gruesome end to the Holy Month of Ramadan. Just so, so, so many lives taken. Over 160 perished, as a very young  crowd gathered to collect fuel from a rolled over tanker before it ignited.

Over 69 of the  charred cinder like ashes  were those of young angelic students. A harrowing tragedy as a pall of gloom descends over all of us. No words suffice.

All I can reason is, that Pakistanis have always rallied back, in every destruction, calamity, and utter hopelessness, they have limped back to normality, seeking mercy, seeking solace, seeking hope.

And so shall it be, before the tragedy is condemned back to normality.   

ALL GREAT WRITERS  usually tell a story with the development of character in mind,  -the character must progress morally-

Find a different way to fit into a society  -or outside it.

A story implies the passage of time, from a point of origin to an endpoint and in best cases, very well beyond.

Character unfolds in discrete stages, a little bit here, a little bit there, until a bigger picture emerges.

We feel a novel is successful if we know the character as well as the character knows herself, or even better, We forgive the writer a a lot of she develops a character to our entire satisfaction.

During the course of  Shamsi's  journeys we meet many characters, some fleetingly and others in great detail, especially the patriarchs of the family.

Her narratives brings the characters to life as real persons of flesh and blood. In striving to preserve her memories and pass them to the coming generations to maintain some link with her past-

She narrates anecdotes and discusses matters such as grinding spices for cooking,  qalai   [getting utensils polished],  the maashki  and  bahishti  [water carriers]-

 And  razai [quilts]  and  dhunia  [cotton carders]  which this generation and the coming generation may never know of.   

Choosing to take things in her stride, Shamsi does not waste time lamenting over what she has to give up upon moving to Canada, such as being served  tea  in bed.

She recalls her father's assurances that she will always have a cook and when she has to cook herself, says that the assurance has  ''run out of warranty''.

Soon she begins to enjoy being alone in her  ''clean, well-ordered kitchen, free of meddlesome cooks.''

Migrating to Canada is a choice, but her heart aches for home.

Especially in the early years, while enjoying the glamour and the summer fun of Toronto,  she yearns  ''to smell the warm earthy smell arising from the first monsoon drops falling on the cracked and parched brown dust of Rawalpindi.[...]-

The desi fresh motia bracelets peddled by young young boys at every street corner [...] the desi aam cooling in a bucket of ice.''

She reminds herself that in Canada there are no  electricity breakdowns, no load-shedding, and spending sweaty nights slapping at mosquitoes, yet her instinct -

''Is to fry  pakoras  at the first signs of summer rain and make panjeeri in the winter following Ammi's recipe.''

In the new country the first plants she buys are  motia  [Jasmine]  and  raat ki raani   [cestrum nocturnmum]  ''but they are neither as fragrant nor do they bloom as profusely as they do back in their native home,'' she writes.

What makes the book interesting is  Shamsi's style of narration: it seems as though she is talking to her audience, and at some places she quotes from her past articles published in Driven.

As she herself says : ''Memories and emotions were sharper and fresher then,''  

In deep mourning and with most respectful dedication to the memories of all those    who died and perished   in causes and reasons that only fate dictates. 

With respectful dedication to the great suffering nation of Pakistan. See`Ya all on !WOW!  -the World Students Society and Twitter-!E-WOW!  -the Ecosystem 2011:

''' Lessons in Life '''

Good Night and God Bless

SAM Daily Times - the Voice of the Voiceless


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