History what?

Bhatkalis will have to learn to respect their history first before expecting others to do so…

Shafaat Ahmed

It’s been many years since I left Bhatkal and a lot has changed in this once quaint coastal town in all these years, except for two things – its pristine beauty, which is still unspoilt and the nature of its people.

It’s the second of the two things mentioned above that will be the point of discussion here, while keeping the first for a later date.

Though, Bhatkalis are progressing and prospering rapidly, trying to keep pace with the dizzying march of globalization, I m afraid one thing is being left behind and that is our heritage.

Every time I visit Bhatkal, either there is something new to see or there is something missing. New developments are always welcome but it can’t come at the expense of something historic, like the over 200-year-old Shazli Masjid.

Now demolished for expansion, the idyllically located mosque at the bank of Bhatkal River that crisscrosses through the heart of old town, is a painful example of how disdainfully apathetic we are to our own history.

My heart bled a thousand tears when I went looking for the mosque, only to find the debris of the old structure scattered around, a magnificent piece of history shattered into pieces.
For those who brought the building down it was just another piece of block and cement, while for many like me it was one of the last standing testimonies of our heritage.

I sat there on the bank of the river on the very steps that led to the old mosque, contemplating the kind of apathy Bhatkalis have shown over the years to their own heritage and culture, and demolition of Shazli Masjid is a grotesque testimony to our insipid nature.

It is this nature, this sense of apathy towards our own past that could, God forbid, one day lead to our downfall. Be it beautiful old mosques or those artistic townhouses, we are pulling them down one after another, unaware of the fact that in our attempt to make our future bright we are leaving our heritage in darkness.

One would call me impractical for my assertions, as I understand that keeping or restoring old crumbling houses isn’t affordable or feasible for common people. But, if European cities can preserve its centuries old neighbourhoods in its original conditions, than why can’t we declare the eight streets (sains) as our heritage area and preserve them in their original state.

A little bit of initiative would be enough to create awareness and with the help of government or archeological experts the entire area could be preserved without affecting the people’s life who are living there.

Demolition of irreparable houses is at least justifiable, but whatever be the reason, there can’t be any justification for the decimation of historic mosques.

If a structure is crumbling it can be restored, if it is wanting in space it can be expanded while keeping the old building intact, destroying it is just unacceptable.

This is not the first time Bhatkalis have shown complete lack of sense for history and heritage. There have been several such occasions in the recent past, a few notables being Sultan Masjid, Ghousia Masjid and Jamia Masjid.

But, what pains me most is the reconstruction of Sultan Masjid, when there was no obvious need of it.

Built by the Braveheart Shahid Sultan Tipu, it was the symbol of Sultan’s special relationship with our town and a crown jewel of Bhatkal’s heritage.

We obliterated that significant piece of history and built on its place a structure that neither has any aesthetic appeal or any semblance of its rich past.

I m told that the demolition was carried out at the behest of a small group of people who thought the direction of the mosque’s mihrab wasn’t accurate.

Are you kidding me? Do you go and kill the person, if one part of his body has a tumor or cancer? It’s very simple, you just try to cure that particular portion or operate upon the tumor.

It’s a certain tumor that is eating into our heritage, it’s a particular cancer that has hit our nature, making us sit indifferently while the pearls of our heritage are being decapitated one after another.

Slowly but surely our old-fashioned ‘sains’ (streets) are losing their characteristics, as one by one our old artistic houses are being replaced by faceless concrete blocks.

The common walls that held our community together for hundreds of years and remained a symbol of our close bonding, are caving in. Modern bungalows with huge compound wall are being built in place of the old edifices causing rifts in the hearts of the townsfolk, and keeping them away from each other.

Though there are hundreds of old houses still standing, some of which are hundreds of years old, only a handful of those are now are in their original state, representing the true culture and heritage of Nawayaths.

And so are the cases of mosques, apart from Mushma and Kazia masjids, there are none that we can show to our children as our heritage and I m afraid it won’t be late when these two edifices would also face the wrath of our apathy.

Please feel free to leave your comments.

The great Middle Eastern drama

WHEN hundreds of people could be convinced to blow themselves up every year just for petty cash, it’s not a big task to arrange thousands to chant slogans against X, Y or Z. There’s no dearth of stooges these days.
It might sound incredible, but it’s true. The world we live in is really manipulative, where everything can be stage-managed – right from the most emphatic attack ever made at the heart of a super power to the demonstrations that lead to the overthrow of the decades-old iron-fisted regimes in a matter days.
If anyone wants to have a better and proper understanding of the events that have been unfolding in the Middle East and North Africa in the past month or so, one has to read with an open mind ‘The Confessions of an Economic Hitman’ by John Perkins.
Though better and more exhaustive works could be found on the subject, I m suggesting ‘Confessions’ because I happened to read the book recently and it helped answer a lot of questions that have been troubling me for long.
It did conform with many of the crazy-sounding ideas that I had picked up from different places and assured me that the world that we see out there is not what it is. That there is more to the blasts that go off in crowded squares, that there is more to the sudden upheavals that keep hitting the third world countries, that the mind boggling food prices are not just due to the reasons we are told, that why a country in the midst of its own worst financial crisis makes a foreign aid of trillions of dollars, that why a third world country is forced to accept it – that there is more to everything then what meets the eye.
That it is coming from the horse’s mouth makes it hard not to believe.
For me, it has always been hard to believe the tales narrated by the News channels and the ‘Confessions’ only gave credence to my apprehensions. Even if everything that we are forced to believe is not a lie – you never know what is – it is hard to distinguish. But mostly it is all a bunch of lies – concocted, doctored and conditioned in a way that suits the interests of a select few.
I know it is hard to believe, but even the fact that Saddam had nukes and the Yankees couldn’t find any is also hard to believe, and the tale that a bunch of half-literate zealots could strike off the heart of a superpower in broad daylight and the most sophisticated armoury in the world couldn’t avert it is also hard to believe. The fact that two air planes hit twin towers and a third skyscraper in the vicinity also comes down in what looked like a controlled demolition and nobody asked a question about it is also heard to believe. The fact that an aircraft hits the bastion of a superpower’s military might and not a single conclusive footage of the event could be found is also hard to believe.
It could be an alibi too many, but they show you a real picture. Now, one could ask how do all these link up with the current events. It does and let me tell you how.
It is a fabric weaved out of one single yarn designed to cover one single entity – you know who.
Just imagine which is the only country that stands to benefit from the prolonged instability in its neighbouring countries?
Not that it doesn’t know of other ways to continue on with its daylight robberies and atrocities, this is just one of the better ways to keep the attention diverted. The longer the upheaval the more time it will have to dig its foundations deeper.
To the naive eyes it might seem that Tunisia had nothing to do with Israel (or its patron US) and it’s not a neighbouring country either. I agree. But, the fact that Tunisia had nothing to do with the Zionist state made it the easiest target – the best precedent for a knock on effect. And to top it, the act would go largely unsuspected, just as it did.
If it was done in Syria or Egypt first, the suggestion that there is an Israeli or Zionist hand in it wouldn’t sound as preposterous as it does in the case of Tunisia.
Here, one would argue that the embattled Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak has been a friend and one of the closest allies of Israel and why would it foment trouble for a man who has proven his worth at all times.
True, but history tells us that Israel is a friend to none, and even if it is, it will remain only till it achieves its objectives. It is clear that an 82-year-old Mubarak has past his prime and Israel had gained what it had to from his friendship.
It was obvious that sooner or later he would go and there has been a growing uncertainty in the recent past about who will succeed the octogenarian leader. A hereditary transfer of power wouldn’t be acceptable to the Egyptians and even if it did it wouldn’t do any good to the credibility of the so-called patrons of democracy.
And in case, if there is trouble in the transition of power and undoubtedly there will be, all signs indicated that the so-called “wrong hands” might grab throne, which the Zionists would never want to happen.
So in comes Mohammed Al Baradei, a known stooge. Yes, that former puppet-head of IAEA.
The man, who has been away from his motherland for most of his life, is planted from nowhere as the “leader of the opposition”. One would wonder, when has this man led? Oh, he did when he was making false inspections for WMDs and Nukes! Didn’t he?
They must have thought, “poor chap, he has been doing our bidding for way too long, it’s time to reward him.”
Just think about this: why would a nation rise against a leader so suddenly at the last lap of his rule, when they have tolerated him through the worst of times? How could they muster so much courage so suddenly against a leadership, which has always been synonymous to corruption? It is hard to believe that a nation, which has accepted such farce exercises as the pre-decided elections not for once or twice but for thirty years and as recently as last year, wakes up so suddenly against corruption.
Here is another strangest of the developments that would force you to sit back and think. The Egypt’s biggest opposition group and the face of the country’s middle class, which has always been untouchable for the powers that be, suddenly finds itself being courted by none other than the Big Boss.
The statement by one of the White House officials going out of his way to announce that “US never considered Muslim Brotherhood a terrorist organization,” speaks volumes about the desperation we are dealing with.
The idea is to have a unity government that would on the face of it have all the parties in power, but in actuality would maintain the status quo – only the figurehead would change, the same players loyal to US-Israel would manage the power.
They know Al Baradei can’t do it alone, they know no Egyptian group or leader can do it alone. Under the circumstances, they know the only way to the throne is through the shoulders of the Brotherhood.
But the questions is: Will Brotherhood allow this to happen second time around? It’s a known fact, how cunningly they were used by Jamal Abdul Nasser to grab power and then trampled brutally during those heady days of Egyptian Independence.
Will they heed that lesson or – to use the cliché – will they allow the history to repeat? Let’s wait and watch. What else can we do?

Is that what you call love?

Salam, many of you may not agree with my views here. But, again, I have made it clear in my first post that I am not out to make friends out here. Read on…

We come across hundreds of gorgeous women at different points in our daily life, some irresistibly attractive, some not so. Most men (whether they agree or not) cast a furtive glance or two on every passing beauty, but they don’t actually fall in love with all, because they can’t. Nobody can.
(I am excluding female sentiments of love out of this discussion for I am not privy to their emotions except for one.)
Love cannot be planned, neither can it be forced. Cupid strikes without a notice – sometimes at places you would least expect with people having least in common. Many a times you pass by a stunning beauty, nodding in admiration, but you don’t feel that magnetic pull, experience that adrenalin gush or find your hands sweating at the mere sight of a damsel. So you move on. But there are times – which don’t come more often – when even a most ordinary looking lady makes your heart skip a beat or two.
I might be sounding a bit old-fashioned here, but this is a fact that cannot be denied. I also know that a lot of people out there would be sniggering at my words and deriding me, but it is precisely for them I mustered courage to write this piece – to introduce them to the rarest of the rare jewels that only a handful get to embellish their lives with. However, those who have not been fortunate enough to experience this eternal bliss won’t understand what I mean.
Majority of today’s youngsters as well as elders have wrong notions of love. While one side takes their two-minute fling to be love, the other writes off the noble emotion altogether as one of those mindless passions of youth. Either of these notions is harmful for the growth and development of a balanced society, for a society can never nourish on either the misinterpretation of love or a total ignorance of those blissful emotions.
Along with Muslims, love is the most misunderstood thing on earth today. People either take infatuation for love or don’t love at all. Wanton lust has replaced the pristine passion, which has led many of its detractors to despise this one of the most repeated words – love.
Like all things in today’s world, human emotions have also been negatively influenced by excessive commercialism and love hasn’t been spared either. So much importance has been given to material beauty that according to a recent survey, Arab youth spend a third of their income or pocket money on materials that would enhance their looks. Obviously, this holds true with the youth of other nationalities as well.
If you believe the advertisers and the cosmetic giants of the world, the only thing that matters is looking good and attracting the opposite sex – which, according to the advertisers, should be the ultimate goal of every teenager.
Fairer sex, who have always been more concerned about matters of appearance, fall prey to the glitter and glamour of the beauty and fashion fads more often than their opposite numbers. However, modern gentlemen are not those to miss out on either. From fairness creams and hair gels to impeccable suits and shiny boots, generation X of male folks has given more importance to their looks than their predecessors. In some places men have gone so far into grooming themselves that the distinction between feminine and masculine appearances ceases to exist.
Historically though, women have always been by nature known to spend a lot of energy, time and resources in making themselves appear good, nah great, and that great never seems to satisfy them. Men, have always been able to use this tendency of women to their advantage, putting more and more pressure on the fairer sex.
However, modern men have mastered this weakness of women to such an extent that this pressure on them to look good has reached maniac levels today. In fact, modern women have been enslaved by this compulsion to look good and it seems they are even happy with this predicament. Most women would take anything – just anything – that would supposedly add to their beauty. You present to them any half-metre piece of cloth torn from here and sewn from there as fashion and they would adorn it gleefully to please their masters.
What women fail to realise is that even if they manage to attract a partner through their material looks, it’s only superficial and ephemeral. The moment the beauty fades, love weans away as well. The spiritual nature of love has nothing to do with the physical features of a person. For those who are looking for love in physical features or other material aspects of a partner, let me state it clearly: “your feelings are only skin deep, they don’t even reach the veins, forget about penetrating the heart.”
This is precisely why divorce rates and split-ups are so rampant these days. People make and break relationships by days, hours and minutes, just like any trivial matter. It’s become a kind of fad, with celebrities leading the way and fans gamely following. People show off their new partners, as they do their latest outfits, cars or gizmos; while long-standing relationships have become a matter of wonder and even at times derision.
Relationships these days are mainly built on individuals’ commercial standings, social status, political clout and in many cases pure good looks, all of which is transient and could change in no time. The real criteria that should matter – the character of a person which would stand tall come rain or shine – is sadly being ignored completely. There is not much care about who the person is or what his/her qualities are.
With growing number of singles, who only look for one thing in the opposite sex, and live-in couples, who are not sure enough about their love for each other to commit forever – which in other words means they don’t love each other – true love, which is the essence of a society, is fast becoming extinct.

Terror in my town!

Salam!
Wow, finally I am here, after a forced break of around seven months from my last post. There were many factors that kept me away from writing, frankly the main factor was my laziness coupled with my new job profile which kept me on my toes at least during the first few months of the year. My apologies to all those who kept expecting something from me often. I hope this will never happen again! Let me straight way hop on to the pressing issue that pushed me out of slumber. My mother-town needed my attention.

A quaint little town of palm-fringed beaches, where a meal without fish is unheard of. A God-blessed stretch of earth, where rains never stop when they pour. A sun-kissed country, whose days are as bright as gold. A tiny maze of alleys and by-lanes where almost every person knows the other.
Yes, this is my town – small, laidback, warm and hospitable.
A town, where coconut is the highest common factor in all things edible, where mushrooms crop up overnight and mangoes ripe in abundance, where men are known for their export quality and women for their reproductive skills. A place where jasmine bloom on women’s heads and where women receive, not give dowry. A town, whose image always brought a soothing, surreal effect on me. But, not anymore.
The image that endeared me for years has been shattered into pieces so small that it would nigh be impossible to gather them again. The romantic quiet has been replaced by an eerie silence that follows a storm. A spell of hatred and distrust has cast away the euphoria of compassion and trust. Terror is writ on the faces where joy once claimed residency. A balance of equation that maintained peace and harmony for centuries has been forcefully altered. A prospering tree has been cut down into two branches that now stand as opposing poles. My town, my dear little town has been torn, maligned and terrorised.

Rampant divisions
This is the case of nearly every other town in the subcontinent today. Polarising villages, towns and cities along ethnic, linguistic and religious lines seems to be the most common practice that is shaking the very foundations of our homes today – a rampant fire that is being fueled by a select few for their political and material gains. So what is so different about my town, one might ask.
Many things I would say. Though the players are the same but the settings are different. There are certain factors, which set my town apart from other victims of similar malice. In fact, it is the combination of factors that is getting it undue attention.
An economically and religiously empowered, closely-knit Muslim majority town; which is a rarity not just in India but, if I am allowed to say, across the globe.
The proud patron of these unique characterstics is called Bhatkal, a place 200 kms south of Goa and 150 kms north of Mangalore.
Prosperity, god-consciousness and unity – not just among Muslims but across the board – have been the hallmark of the town since time immemorial. Muslims, Hindus, Christians and Jains – whose famous Basadi (temple) is the jewel of Bhatkal’s crown – have lived side-by-side, complimenting each other for centuries without any trouble. Such was the state of harmony that Hindus started their annual festival chariot only after seeking the permission of a prominent Muslim family. Legend has it that when once people tried to pull the chariot without the permission, the chariot didn’t budge. Hence, the practice continues till date despite the recent troubled relationship between the communities.
Though, it’s a small town of 50,000-odd people half of whom live abroad, many prominent modern as well as historic world figures have graced the land. World famous medieval traveller Ibn Batuta has fondly mentioned Bhatkal in his chronicles. Tipu Sultan shared a special relationship with the town, building a mosque at the heart of the town as a testimony. India’s Iron Lady Indira Gandhi landed her chopper in Bhatkal during her ‘Garibi Hatao’ (Eradicate Poverty) days, handing Muslim-owned farmlands to labourers of other communities and not a single scuffle broke out over the issue. Lately, hero of a billion hearts, India’s batting maestro Sachin Tendulkar had graced the place for his friend’s wedding, sending the entire town into celebration.

Utopia shattered
One would ask, how did such a Utopian land suddenly turn into a communal minefield as it is today? It didn’t happen overnight. Years of concerted efforts and brainwashing of youth by a certain group, which wants to move the nation away from the philosophy of tricolour and paint it in a single hue, have made it possible. The unique situation that existed in the town and the growing prosperity of its people didn’t go down well with that section. In fact, it was a big stumbling block in their mission of assimilation.
Fomenting of hatred and polarization began as early as 70’s when violence first flared up following the election of a young Muslim leader to state assembly – an initial sign of Muslim political empowerment. From then on sporadic communal violence has continued until recent past and Bhatkali Muslim leaders and youth have faced harassment, wild accusations and in some instances prolonged detention in consequence.
But it all reached a height when for the first time Bhatkal’s name was dragged into acts of terrorism, a tag that some people want to force on Muslims all over the world.
National media went into frenzy when Maharashtra Anti Terrorism squad (ATS) ‘suspected’ hands of three ‘alleged’ Bhatkalis named Iqbal, Riyaz and Yasin in a series of blasts across India soon after the February 2010 explosion in the western Indian city of Pune that targeted a popular eatery, killing 17 people.
A systematic campaign ensued across all sections of the media, which took every opportunity to take a dig at the town by attaching it to the ‘suspects’ and other militant organizations. Attempts were even made to link the town with Pakistani militant outfits and its notorious intelligence agency ISI. Suggestions were also made that the poster boy of ‘international terror’ Osama Bin Laden had sullied the land with a visit.

Irresponsible media
Sensationalized stories alleging involvement of the ‘alleged’ Bhatkalis in violent activities based merely on loose theories, blank assumptions and pure guess work ran in the media repeatedly, implying that Bhatkal is a den of terroristic and anti-national activities. This finally erupted in a volcano when a brother of one of the three accused was detained by the ATS on May 24 at the Mangalore Airport following his arrival from Dubai.
The biased Indian media lost no time in highlighting the arrested youth, Abdul Samad Siddibapa, as a ‘prime suspect’ in the pune blast case, when actually he was held in an arms case and was never once questioned about pune blast in his entire period of detention of 40 days. But the irony is that soon after the arrest our honourable Home Minister P. Chidambaram went out of his way in congratulating the ATS team for nabbing ‘the pune blast suspect within 100 days of its occurance.’ The Home Ministry website till date quotes Abdul Samad as the prime suspect in the pune blast, when in reality the 22-year-old systems engineer has been granted bail even in the illegal arms case for lack of evidence.
The three other ‘suspects’, who are known in the media as Iqbal Bhatkal, Riyaz Bhatkal and Yasin Bhatkal, are at large. Their real names are Iqbal Shahbandari, Riyaz Shahbandari and Mohammed Ahmed Siddibapa, but for reasons that could be easily guessed, the three along with Abdul Samad were repeatedly addressed by the media with Bhatkal attached to their names. This despite the fact that media organizations were repeatedly informed that all Bhakalis have distinct surnames and none attach Bhatkal to their names.
All three, Iqbal, Riyaz and Mohammed, are originally from Bhatkal but they have hardly been there ever except for Mohammed. As I haved mentioned earlier, Bhatkal being a small and well-knit town, almost every Bhatkali knows the other or can find a common bond between each other, but hardly anyone knows Iqbal and Riaz because they were not brought up nor did they ever stay in Bhatkal.
Mohammed, who is known in the media as Yasin Bhatkal, is the long missing elder brother of the now released Abdul Samad. Mohammed’s family severed all ties with him when he left them in 2006 following an internal dispute.
Even if we agree that the three accused have some ancestral connections to the town, no law allows the implication of an entire town just because a few suspects hail from there. When the notorious fugitive Veerappan held the entire south Indian police force at his gunpoint for over two decades, did the authorities implicate his family and townspeople? No, never. His family was always free, even though the authorities knew they were in close touch with the fugitive. Nobody suspected their involvement. Why? Because they were not Muslims.

Obvious bias
The minister jumping the gun, and the media towing his line and repeatedly implicating the entire town cannot be a mere coincidence. It only adds credibility to the long-standing claims of bias, systematic maligning and persecution of minorities – something which the Muslim-dominated UP town Azamgarh have also been facing for years. For that matter, the Muslim-majority Malabar region hasn’t been spared either and a number ‘suspects’ have been arrested from the region off late.
Hundreds of Muslim youth get mired in false cases, encounters and prolonged detention across India regularly, yet rarely in any case media is seen seeking the veracity of the accusations and questioning the validity of encounters and detentions. Majority of the media blindly tows the government’s line and almost entirely takes the authorities’ version of the story to be true. This sad state of affairs of Indian journalism, particularly the electronic media, seeks urgent attention by those who genuinely care about freedom of press, human dignity and truth.
It is hard to estimate how many vigourous lives and bright careers are ruined by such acts of irresponsibility by the authorities and media, but the number for sure runs into thousands.
The honourable minister lost no time in patting the backs of the ATS team and falsely implicating Abdul Samad in pune blast case after his arrest. But where is he now when the ATS has given him a clean chit? Why is he not clarifying the ministry’s stand? How will the government and media clear the stigma that will be attached with Samad forever?
If the media and the authorities continue their bias towards minorities and insist on seeing them with an eye of suspicion, extremism will gain further ground and whatever chance there is for harmony would be diminished further.

Please feel free to leave your comments.

The con is on!

It’s the season of festivals in Dubai. With Eid-ul-Adha, National Day, Christmas, New Year and the biggest of them all Dubai Shopping Festival in tow, it’s the season of bumper sales. Read: It’s time to fleece the gullible consumers to the max.
Turn wherever you want, you can’t avoid seeing those big bold letters splattered around — ‘Upto 75% off’, ‘Buy Two Get One Free’, ‘Winter Promotions’, ‘Special Offers’, ‘Spend Dhs100 and get Dhs25 back,’ ‘Hurry, Special Offers Till the Stock Lasts.’ You must be thinking ‘wow, golden opportunity for shopping,’ right? I beg to differ.
Until recently such an occassion would get me into a shopping frenzy. Like any common man I would easily get drawn into the whirlpool of ‘special offers.’ Not long ago I was such fool of a spendthrift. How money flew off my wallet I never realised. Not that I have taken to parsimony now. But, a series of recent ‘bumper shocks’ has made me much more cautious.
Don’t get taken in by the ‘Mega Sales’, ‘Consumer Fairs’ and ‘Shopping Promotions’, because while some of them might be genuine most of them are bogus and fake. So, it’s better to tread with caution rather than getting conned.
How often we experience that the moment advertisements announce massive discounts the stores concerned are jam-packed with people as if things are being given out for free.
If you actually look around with an open eye, you will see ADs and billboards emblazoned with big bold letters saying ‘upto 50% off’ or ‘upto 75 % off’. If you are a keen observer you must have seen the word ‘upto’ is always so small that you need to literally strain your eyes to see it, so most often it goes unnoticed.
Does anyone ever verify how genuine these ‘sales’ are? How many people ever check the percentage of discount on the items they buy? For example, when it’s announced ‘upto 75% discount’ only the oldest and negligible items in store will have that much discount. I even doubt that. Most of the items available will only have very small discounts.
Let me narrate my turnaround story here: Two weeks ago I stumbled upon a big AD about a ‘Mega promotion and half price sale of Big Brands’ and I also overheard people talking about it. Never to miss a word, women at home also got the buzz, and as usual they were curious. So I drove my family to the place where a jostling crowd was already scurrying around the promotion hall like a pack of rats, and let me tell you: majority of them were women. We had to wait outside for some time for the crowd to clear, that’s how packed it was.
When we finally entered, I first saw a stall of some obscure watches priced: ‘Was – 1200, Now – 300.’ I asked the attendant where those watches were made in. He claimed them to be from Switzerland, US, UK etc.’ But when I told him that I had never ever heard of those brands before and asked him to prove that those watches were actually worth Dhs1200, he replied curtly ‘Go and check yourself outside’. I went and did exactly that. I have been combing the market for past one month and couldn’t find any of those brands in the market.
Moving to the next stall at the same event, where perfumes and other cosmetics were being sold, I found a man asking for ‘Davidoff Coolwater’ perfume. The attendant quoted Dhs185 for the product only to the fury of the customer, who said he can get the same for Dhs125 outside. Emboldened by the incident I asked for the Hugo Boss perfume, which I regularly use, and the attendant quoted Dhs130 for it, which I buy from the market for Dhs100. That was enough for me to rush out of the place. The incident proved to be an eye-opener for me.
How does anyone trust the ‘Now’ and ‘Was’ business? How do you know how much it was before? I have found many stores raising the price and then reducing it during the so-called ‘sales,’ which in other words means: goods sold at normal price.
I have been a loyal customer of a popular British garments brand for the last ten years. I particularly like their shirts, which are normally priced between Dhs165 and Dhs195. But last week when I visited its store in one of the malls I got one of the biggest shocks of my life. The store was offering 50 % dicount on all items. The shirt that I had bought just a fortnight ago for Dhs165 was priced at Dhs395 and was being offered for Dhs195 in the supposed ‘Sale’. Same was the case with other items in the store. When I asked the storekeeper about it, he just had a vague smile for a response.
Similarly, I saw an advertisement of a popular department store offering mobiles phones for ‘special prices’. As there is seldom any sale on cell phones and electronics I rushed to check out. What I found was my shock number two. Forget discount, most of the handsets that I was looking for were overpriced by at least Dhs200.
These are not just one off incidents but a regular practice of big players in the market. They know how to work on consumer psychology. With subtle manipulation and smart advertisements most companies rake in millions by fooling the unsuspecting customers. Every day they come up with new ideas to con people. Though there are rules and regulations in place to restrict these greedy vultures but they know how to override those regulations.
Some people must feel that they are safe with big brands? But my recent experiences have sowed more than a few seeds of doubts in my mind. I can only warn you, the rest is in your hands.
The problem that is discussed above is not restricted to any particular city, it’s common with most cities across the world — it’s a global phenomenon. Good Luck all you shopoholics!

The soul is missing

Hello and welcome once again, I am back with another hot and heavy doze of bitter pills, this one consumed a little more time than usual, because it’s special. Read, to feel it…

The significance of education to the development of individuals, society and nations cannot be over-emphasised. On paper the world seems to have realised this, but in reality the more the world banters the phrase ‘education for all’, the more education is getting out of the reach of millions.
To be precise, a UNESCO report says 101 million children across the world still don’t know what a classroom looked like. It’s true that the ‘lords of the world’ have been running longstanding campaigns to force those limited letters and digits in the guise of education upon the less fortunate sections of the society. But the real education will continue to be the prerogative of a certain privileged lot, as it has always been. (By the way, don’t confuse the so called literacy campaigns for education.) And those who are caught between the privileged and the less fortunate – the middleclass – few of whom manage to cross the thresholds of the universities that produce the modern professionals, are left with no choice but to join the system that has been created only for the benefit of a few.

The illusion
Are you under the illusion that by educating the world those ‘masters’ of ours mean to make it a better place? You buy those lines? Do you think they care? Yes, they do care, but only for their swelling coffers. They just mean to make you more resourceful for their unending conundrum of information-age industries. How else do you think will the world’s corporate behemoths tap this vital resource? When the industries were labour-based they kept people illiterate and now when the industries have turned knowledge-based they want to educate people. Either way it’s serve their purpose. It’s as simple as that.
But, what are we to lose? Good for men and women, the lords are at least transforming millions of crude souls into useful resource. Just as they transform crude oil into petrol and diesel. How thankless can we get? I think human beings have never ever been elevated to such lofty status. Thanks to the lords that we are at least on par with such a life-giving mineral as oil.
Sound a bit cynical, don’t I? But does the state of affairs our world is in leaves you with any choice? Our state is far from inspiring. However, I am not going to torture you with the depressing tales of the deprived and downtrodden here, neither would I like to waste the cyberspace any further with the unimpressive numbers of children in the world who miss out on education and other such privileges. There is just too much said and written about those who are less fortunate, why not devote some space and time for the barely fortunate ones who don’t generally get highlighted.
Let’s throw some light on what we give our little ones in the name of education, where do we send them to procure it and how some ingenious souls have transformed education into another lucrative industry.
I have a question for all the parents: Why do you want to educate your kids? To make him/her a money-vending machine, isn’t it? Sounds harsh, but that’s what we have all come to be, and that’s what we want our kids to be – money-wending machines. Though we call ourselves by different titles like doctors, engineers and scientists etc., none think of being human or giving their kids lessons in humanity. Even if there is some kind of morality anywhere it’s barely sufficient. That’s the reason why we see so much human suffering round the world. Humanity is writhing in pain.

Money, money
Don’t get me wrong, I am not asking all the people to become hermits. No, that’s not my intention is. I firmly believe in material achievement, but why not add a bit of soul to it. There is no denying the importance of money, and I have not an iota of doubt about its significance. I would be lying if I said I don’t want to earn money or it doesn’t attract me. Of course it does. In fact, it is the reason why I migrated from my homeland and settled in the heat of Dubai. But the point I want to drive home is: nothing can be greater than humanity. Not even those crispy currency notes lying dead in your lockers. This is what we fail to teach ourselves and our kids. Right from the moment a child is born he/she is initiated to this highly-commercialised system. At home they are groomed to rake in the moolah, and in school they are programmed to achieve it at any cost.
The values and principals on which the modern education industry is based, creates great doctors, engineers, scientists, teachers, bankers etc., but they don’t create humans out of men and women anymore. Those specimens have long ceased to exist. In fact, the institutions and the gurus that created those endearing personalities have been relegated to the annuls of history. We have replaced them with sophisticated factories that send high-performance humanoids out of their assembly lines, which are universally programmed to do the one and only task – to make money, by hook or crook.
How can anybody expect the institutions which are founded solely on the philosophy of material supremacy, bring out anything other than that. A wolf will definitely bear its like, it won’t bear a cow.

Oh God
My objection is not money, but the world’s morbid obsession with it. The way it drives our system crazy and ultimately holds the world to ransom is a matter of great consternation. Money has become our ultimate object of attainment. It won’t be an exaggeration if I said that money has become our God. What we have done is, we have effectively cast God out of all the aspects of our life – education being one of them – and replaced Him with money. Now, the poor Creator – however supreme He might be – is relegated to the confines of Mosques, Churches and Temples. As if that wasn’t enough, a section of human population has cast him out of the universe. Doing that effectively means casting all the possibilities of peace and security out of your lives. When you don’t have any fear of accountability to any Supreme Being then why the hell would anybody care about morality, justice and peace. I would better go and loot someone in broad daylight. That’s what we get to see around us today. This is the reason why people so easily kill others for a living now, and under the current system the more you are educated the better you get at that.
In an attempt to get ahead of one another, human beings seem to have left humanity behind. Forget about others’ rights, we don’t even have time for ourselves. Where will this cut-throat race lead us to? Do we even have a moment to pause and ponder?
We have let money to become a larger than life monster and it’s about time we place it back in its earthly slot.

Music to your ears…

Note: Set aside all the prejudice and clear your mind of all the pre-conceived notions before you read this post.
This post sparks off from the debate I had a few days ago on Facebook with a journalist friend of mine from Bahrain, following my meeting and interview with British singer-musician-activist Sami Yusuf.
What disturbs me the most and really turns me off is the fact that every layman in the Prophet’s (peace be upon him) Ummah (followers) considers himself a mufti (scholar). We have a great liking for fatwas (religious edicts) and we talk more about haram and halal (what is permissible and what is not) than the number of times we breathe in a day. This we do without even once referring to the true sources of Islamic jurisprudence — the Holy Quran and authentic Hadith (Prophet’s traditions). That’s where all the infighting starts and that’s the reason why we have no time for anything progressive. I swear to God, if there is any genuine threat to the Ummah today, it is the Ummah itself — there is no greater danger.

I love melodies
By now it must have been clear that the subject of our discussion is going to be music. Music is as much a matter of contention among some sections of Muslims as it was a matter of life and death. While some sections of the Ummah oppose it tooth and nail many indulge in it, quite aware of the fact that it is controversial. But there are some — including me — who see music as one of the most aesthetic and appealing arts of expression that human beings have invented, which should be permissible if used in an inspiring and positive way. Now you holier ones, don’t start swearing before reading this further. I have backed every word I have written here with strong evidence from the two true sources — the Holy Quran and authentic Hadith.
There is one Golden principle regarding haram and halal in Shariah, that is: “Every thing is permissible (halal) unless otherwise clearly and explicitly stated in the Quran or the authentic and sound Hadith.” There is an Ayah (verse) in Quran which says: He (Allah) has explained to you what he has made haram for you… (6:1119). This Ayah suggests that all things haram in Islam have been clearly and unambiguously stated either in The Book or the Hadith. And to make my point more valid let me use this authentic Hadith, narrated by a great companion of Prophet (PBUH) Salman Al Farsi and quoted by two of the greatest Islamic scholars Tirmidhi and Ibn Majah. Prophet (PBUH) said: “The halal is that which Allah has made lawful in His Book and the haram is that which He has forbidden, and that concerning which He is silent He has permitted as a favour to you.” There are many similar ahadith (plural of hadith) quoted differently by different Mohaddithin (narrators of Hadith), which lay down the general principles of halal and haram.
Scholars use the above-mentioned golden principle as their magnifying glass and look into Quran and Hadith through it to form the laws and pass their judgments about haram and halal. And the above-mentioned ayah and Hadith tell us that for anything to be haram it should be clearly stated in Quran if not a genuine and explicit Hadith should render it so.

Music soothes the soul
Now coming to music, the Holy Quran is absolutely silent about it (unlike other major issues — interest, pork, alcohol, adultery, gambling etc. — about which there is at least a passing mention in the Quran, if not a clear edict). When it comes to ahadith, there is not a single authentic and sound quote of Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) in the entire collection which clearly says music is not permissible. Where it is clear, it is not sound; where it is sound it is not clear.
Most of those who pass off as Ulema (scholars) either don’t know this or won’t tell you for various reasons — good as well as bad. To find out the validity of what you just read you have to plow yourself into the depths of genuine sources and scan through their pages or catch hold of an authentic Alim, scholar, (which is a rare commodity these days).
During our exchange of words my friend offered an argument that “just as the case with music there are no injunctions against any intoxicants besides alcohol in the Holy Quran. Does that mean they are permissible?” What people fail to understand that when Quran forbids something it’s not just that particular item that it’s speaking against. In banning a particular substance God tries to ward off the menace it brings to the society. Hence, all the similar substances would get the same treatment. If alcohol is harmful to the society, drugs are equally harmful, so it is banned as well. By the way, there are dozens of Prophet’s (PBUH) genuine quotes which clearly ban all forms of intoxicants.
My friend made another argument in trying to prove his point, he said quoting Prophet (PBUH) that “there will be greater use of music among the Ummah closer to the End of Times (Qayamah).”
How does this indicate non-permissibility of music? Prophet (PBUH) is just mentioning one of the signs of the approaching End of Times and the signs can be either good or bad. The second coming of Jesus (pbuh) is also among one of the signs of the End of Times. And that is considered a good news for the world. Similarly, among the signs of Qiyamah is the building of grand and ornate mosques and construction of skyscrapers, would you consider these unlawful as well?
These ahadith don’t deal with permissibility or non-permissibility of anything, they just mention the signs of the approaching doom. It’s like somebody is giving you directions to your destination saying “as you will get closer to your destination you will first find a huge pillar, than a big circle and then there will be skyscrapers on each side of the road, so on and so forth…”

Make the difference
I agree that these days music is generally associated with obscenity, sexuality, the unabashed and unrestricted fun and frolic that take place in clubs and hotels etc. The western-inspired music that incites passion and arouses sexuality, of course, can’t be permissible. But, why single out music? Any thing, for that matter, that causes the degradation of human soul is despicable. And any thing in excess, including worship, is wrong and discouraged. The music which inspires you and brings you closer to reality and truth (like Sami Yusuf’s songs) or any song which soothes or relaxes your soul and generally isn’t against the values of Islam is of course halal (I would go one step further) and should be encouraged.
The West today has a monopoly over music like it has over every other thing in this world, it is because we Muslims have sidelined ourselves and left everything in their hands. That doesn’t mean everything in this world is bad. If you don’t like what the West is coming out with in the name of music you just can’t order a blanket ban, you have to rise up and compete and make what you think is right type of music.
We keep trying to pull over youth away from Western ideals, music and other obscenities and we fail miserably. Don’t we? Why? It’s because we fail to give them proper alternatives. You give them alternatives and they will come running by themselves, you won’t have to try even.

We need many Sami Yusufs
We have Sami Yusuf as great example in this regard. With millions of fans and over three million album sales to his credit in little over five years, Sami has proved that you don’t need to be sexy or sleazy to sell. Focus on his lyrics that millions vouch for. What do they talk about? Yes, love but not the romantic love. He sings about love for Allah and his Prophet, he sings about truthfulness, honesty and charity. He sings about love for mother. He sings about Eid and prayers. He croons against oppression and violence. He sings about human brotherhood and the music that accompanies is not raunchy or sleazy, it’s so soothing that it inspires you and brings out the best in you. After listening to it you want to go and kiss your mother’s hand, you want to go and help some needy, you want to stand up against oppression — as he does — you want to go and hug your brother.
Anything in general in this world cannot be termed good or bad, it’s the usage which renders it good or bad. Music has the power to inspire every kind of emotion — good as well as bad. When we use it for good — like Sami Yusuf does — we can reap good rewards as it shows in his case. May God give him strength to do better and may He inspire many more to use their talent in a positive way.
Note:Neither I am a religious authority nor I pretend to be one. I wrote this as a student of Islam and as a journalist who stumbled upon a fact, not as a scholar. Readers are free to comment and share their views

Those were the days…

Hello guys,
IT CAME, IT saw and it almost left while we sat staring dumbly. The holy month of Ramadan is almost over before we could realise. This is what happens every year. Ramadan brings a flood of some pleasant and funny memories to the mind. Fo quite sometime I have been meaning to pen them down, but laziness and other pre-occupations meant I had to wait till now. Though belated I finally managed to put it down on paper. Here is my second post filled with my childhood Ramadan antics. Enjoy!

The innocent bliss
My earliest memory of Ramadan is of playing gulli danda (a game involving two sticks, one small and pointed on both ends and a bigger one with which you hit the smaller stick), lagori (Seven Stones — an Indian street game involving two teams, a ball and seven small stones) and hide-and-seek, religiously after dawn prayers in my sleepy South Indian hometown of Bhatkal.
Nostalgia has been sweeping me for quite sometime and it finally managed to get the better of me today. Allow me to indulge in a minor bout of bygone and let me for once say “ah, those were the days,” just like we hear our grandparents and parents do so often.
Those indeed were the days — carefree, pristine and fun-filled. (I think when you look back, the past always seems better and brighter than the present).
Let’s not get into that debate now, but it certainly holds true for me here. The Ramadan of my childhood seems so different and better than what we have today. May be, twenty years down the line our children will also say the same.
It indeed was different if you trust my memory — the memory of my childhood Ramadan — of the Sawri (human alarm) playing Daf (an ancient percussion instrument) on the streets to wake up believers for suhour (pre-dawn meal). Of the frenetic eating of suhour meal, of lazing through the streets with my group of friends on the way for prayers and at times giving it a miss, of the games we would play until cries of women folk from the surrounding houses start permeating the space very late in the morning, of the mosques resonating with the echoes of Quran recitations. Then there were the late afternoon cravings and pangs of hunger and our stealthy ways of beating it and getting caught while doing so.

The awe-inspiring
The mornings would begin with the soulful voice of the Sawri waking up the neighbourhood. Boys would jump out of their beds and rush to their windows to watch in awe as a middle-aged man walked in the pre-dawn darkness, singing Ramadan-themed folk songs to the beats of his Daf. For the few moments that we would catch him before he got lost in the dark, we would stay still like rocks, getting immersed in the inspiring renditions of the mystery man.
The boys had different theories about him, some would say he was an angel, others said he was a saint while some others said he was a lunatic beggar. It was only when we grew up that we realised that he was just a common man who was carrying on a baton of family tradition that dated back to hundreds of years.
My most favourite part during the Ramadan of yore was playing on the streets, alleys and in unfinished mansions for hours in the morning. The weather used to be perfect and for as long as I remember during my primary school days – in the late ’80s – Ramadan would blissfully fall during winter or spring. And to add to our joy the dates of our winter vacations would be adjusted to match that of Ramadan, giving us the licence to play away the entire morning till we literally dropped down.
During the afternoon lull we would get lost under the pillows and dream — mostly of sneaking away in oblivion and eating. By mid-afternoon, we would get back on our feet and gather at our favourite hideout – a half constructed mansion a few paces away from my home – sharing our dreams and trying our hands in turning those into reality.
We would either break into some cashew or mango orchard and steal the fruits and run away, or on some of those lucky days when one of us had enough money we would trudge down to some faraway food stall to have our fill of samosas, dosas and wadas. There was always the risk of getting caught and flogged but the thrill and fun of the whole exercise always overrode the fear of being caught. Though my mom and aunts had caught me red-handed trying to break fast prematurely on umpteen occasions, I was usually let off after a scolding.
If on some days we couldn’t sneak out or the vigil was too intense, we had one impenetrable haven, away from all the prying eyes and that was the washroom. Hah, drinking water in the washroom was such fun. I wish I could do that still. (These days the water in the washroom doesn’t taste as good as it used to do).

The temptations
As the day wore off and evening approached, the aroma of samosas and patties and other iftar specialties would start wafting through the house, adding to my cravings and hence weakening my resolve, if there was any. The deliciously violent sounds of batter hitting the boiling oil would serve as a reminder that the end is near — I mean the end of the day’s fast. There was diffcult part of post iftar that I would hate most and that was going on regular errands to buy foodstuff or fruits from the market, with food in your very hands the temptation to eat would be unbearable, but it was impossible to eat for the fear that the entire street was watching me till I entered the gates to my home, where there was always somebody to receive me.
When the hour drew closer and the women begin to set the table for iftar I would make my presence conspicuous in the kitchen, hovering around the food items that were being placed like a fly. My mum with her amazing skill of multi-tasking would continue with her work unfazed by my presence constant presence while heightening her vigil to keep me at bay. Although it was mostly an exercise in futility, for I would always find a way to dodge her.
At the fag end of the day, amidst the tension of endless wait and fear of the food not being sufficient, food gifts from neighbours and relatives would trickle in giving us some solace and adding to the joy of imminent iftar. And just when the siren went off we would jump on plates enmass and start stuffing and gobbling, as if we were taking part in some eating competition.
There were a couple of must-dos post iftar, one among which was the compulsory savouring of the legendary Chana Vatana (chick peas curry) — a variety that is distinct to Bhatkal — sold by part-time child vendors after the dusk prayer. The second was going for Taraweeh (special Ramadan prayers) and roaming in bicycles with friends across all the neighbourhood mosques. The sheernis (sweets), sherbets and Quran Khawanis (the feast after the completion of Quran recital in mosques) would keep drawing us to various mosques.

The merriment
Late evening was when children enjoyed the most — it was time for us to make merry as the elders busied themselves in prayers and in preparation for suhour. The streets wore a festive look, with lights everywhere — only if there were no power cuts. Children would frolic around the temporary food and toy stalls, scurrying like rats from one shop to another and haggling with vendors over their merchandise. A few bold ones would light crackers at the feet of passersby and shoppers, startling them and receiving a torrent of abuses in return. While there were timid folks like me, who would be content in hitting each other — with an occasional mishit on an unsuspecting stranger —with water-filled balloons. The splash of water that introduced me to this sport is still as vivid as the suhour I had yesterday.
Just when the believers would start making their way out of the mosques, we would turn on our heels and head back to our homes, looking like the soldiers of war returning from a glorious battle — happy and content.
Some childhood memories do wonders to your body and soul, as these memories of Ramadan do to me. I think humanity knows no better joy than the joy of childhood merriment, that’s when they are at their best.
Ramadan Kareem!
(A reduced version of this post has been published in Khaleej Times on September 16, 2009)

Let’s heal the world

Welcome once again to the newest blog on the block – wordsparkle. Here’s my first full post. Hold your breaths and don’t lose your temper until you read till the end. Feel free to key in your comments.
First of all let me ask you, what is the first image you get when you think of a butcher? Blood, gore, ruthlessness, cruelty etc., isn’t it? Don’t like the discussion already? That means you haven’t read my introductory post. Let me make it clear once again, this ain’t going to be for the fainthearted folks.
Anyway, let’s continue. What if I tell you so many of us would have been butchers, if we had our way. We even dream of making our little ones butchers, when they grow up. And what if I prove some of us already are butchers? Didn’t get it? No, I told you at the outset not to be impatient.
Let me ask you one more question. What do butchers generally do? They kill the animals for their living, right? Yes, but that’s a very basic answer. Let me take you a bit deeper. Any butcher when he sees an animal, what does he do? His eyes light up and he wonders how much meat he can get out of it, obviously he thinks money. He will cut every small part of the animal and sell it. (I know it sounds disgusting) Optimum utilisation of resources, that’s what they call it in commercial terms, isn’t it? Obviously, he will do that, he is there to make money and come up in life. Every one of us does the same in whatever profession we work in. Try to make the most of what we have. Don’t we?
You say it’s disgusting, don’t you? You despise the butchers all the more now, right? Or you may not. But, I feel for them. My heart goes out for these poor guys. Poor because they only slaughter animals for their living, poor because they don’t get to earn as much as the other set of butchers do, who slaughter humans. Yes a professional group and a noble one at that, who slaughter human beings – yes, your are reading correctly – more cruelly than animals are killed.
Still can’t get it? What do you think about doctors? ‘How mean?’ To use such harsh words for such a selfless profession is barbaric, isn’t it? To talk about these life giving demigods in this light is blasphemous, isn’t it? To mention these two completely contrasting professions in the same vein is no less than sacrilege, isn’t it? I can understand your sentiments. Pathetic you feel? I feel the same when I think about doctors. No, no, don’t go away as yet. I swear I won’t take more than a few minutes to finish this off. Let me draw a few parallels between these two noblest of professions, and you see for yourself what I mean.
What do doctors generally do? You would say they cure us and give us health — the most cherished blessing of God. Yes, but that again is a very basic answer. It’s not as simple as it seems. I know because my father is very closely linked to this noble fraternity (and he wanted me to be a doctor, thank goodness I didn’t even get close to being one).
What do you think about modern hospitals? Are they any different than slaughter houses? Do you think modern doctors generally — let me emphasise again, generally, but there are always exceptions — treat their patients any less than animals? Patients are no more than cash cows for them. They milk these cows as long and as much as they can and those who can’t be milked are slaughtered ruthlessly.
A layman is as gullible as a cow, except for a very few, and most doctors take undue advantage of this. Let me give one burning example of the point I want to drive home. We all know that US president Barack Obama wants to give a semblance of healthcare for the millions of people in the middle and lower income groups in America, who can’t afford healthcare, but the American medical fraternity is dead against it. Why? They don’t care. All they care about is money, that’s the only thing that matters, and they think they will incur loses if the existing system is changed even a wee bit.
Not just in America, they are the same everywhere. It’s the system tha’s designed to maximise profit. It’s very simple, ‘If you can pay me, I will treat you.’ Paying is fine, nobody is objecting to that. I agree that all of us — including doctors — have a right to earn a decent livelihood. Fair enough.
But, how much is the question. The fee that doctors charge these days even for common cold and flu is beyond a layman’s means. I am not talking about proper health care, forget about that. I am not talking about major ailments like cancer, kidney or heart problems here, that is a bit too much to expect, treatment for even common cold has become unaffordable for not just poor but even for middle class people. I know of cases, and I am sure many of you also must have come across such situations, where patients die because they or their relatives can’t pay and doctors refuse to treat. Even in emergency situations such as accidents and heart attacks, where the patients need urgent surgeries to be saved, doctors refuse to touch them until a certain amount is deposited.
Only yesterday I read a report in a newspaper about a man in India who killed his wife and children and than committed suicide in despair because he was unable to afford his ailing wife’s healthcare expenses. Every day you would come across hundreds of such stories in newspapers, TV and Internet. If you go through the statistics you will actually find that rather than getting cured more people die at the hands of greedy doctors every day. And I am not even touching the issue of growing kidney and other organ transplant rackets that these supposed healers run globally.
Let me administer you a quick dose of healthcare scares from my personal experience. A cousin of mine, a teenager, broke his neck in an accident and obviously he needed urgent surgery to fix it, but the doctor realised that the patient’s family can’t afford it so he just put a plaster around his neck and sent him home. When the family consulted another doctor they found out what the previous doctor did was murderous. Though what the new one did was no less, he charged three hundred thousand rupees to fix the poor boys neck. The boy’s father had somehow managed to deposit half of the sum before the surgery and that was the most he could do. But the doctor refused to discharge the patient until the total amount was paid and he neither did agree to make any concessions, leaving the poor father to beg.
More personally, when my wife gave birth to our first child four months ago I was happy that the entire cost will be covered by the insurance company, as mentioned in the policy. But after the delivery when we began to check out of the hospital I was handed a bill of charges amounting to Dhs3000. Furious, I dashed into the doctor’s cabin and inquired about the bill. I was all the more shocked when I was told that it was the expense bill for the healthcare they provided to my infant daughter and she didn’t have a health insurance policy so I needed to pay from my pocket. I didn’t say a word, I just walked out of her cabin. “Did you just hear that? Can you imagine, a health insurance policy for your unborn child! Isn’t it insane? This is how healthcare industry is being run, they are sucking the blood out of the common man, as much as they can. People are helpless because doctors are indispensable and they can’t avoid them and doctors know this very well. Healthcare is an industry and it’s just that — a ruthless money-spinning mechanism — it’s no more a service for humanity, that once it used to be. All that talk about service and care is bullshit.
Not just America, the entire world is in need of healthcare reform. Medical sector needs some emergency treatment and governments all over the world must take strong steps to regulate this very important aspect of human life. Healthcare needs to be saved from unchecked commercialisation before it spirals down further. Humanity needs a more humane touch of healing.

With love,
Shafaat Ahmed

Just a few words

Welcome to wordsparkle, this blog is for all of you who don’t run away from life’s realities. This blog is also for those who don’t take things on their face value. It’s also for those who don’t take life for granted but instead make optimum use of it albeit with appropriate dozes of fun. It’s not for those faint-hearted hedonists who shy away from truth. No, don’t get me wrong, it’s not going to be a series of preachy, dry and boring sermons. It’s going to be full of life and its pleasant as well as harsh realities. And not to forget it’s mysteries. So welcome once again to this roller-coaster ride of life.