2nd Innings Club – SZABIST Students Get Thoughtful!

The rapid evolution in the modern world we live in has lead to us abandoning our families at various stages of our lives. We have given in to the needs of being digitally connected to such an extent that we have started to let go of the idea of human interactions and relationship bonding. This change has come to mainly affect the elderly people of our society. Almost everyday we see people abandoning their old parents only because they don’t have the time and the will to take care of them and interact with them on regular basis. During such times when we have stopped thinking about the elderly people let alone spend time with them, students of SZABIST have developed a soft corner for the ones who get abandoned.

Recently I was approached by a group from SZABIST with the name of 2nd Innings Club for their hypothetical project of launching a virtual organization catering to a cause. I have had been approached previously for such projects by the students of the same university and I still believe that for students studying business this project is the best example of proper and effective teaching methods. I got the chance to see other hypothetical companies and their launches and their youth centric approach but this particular group took me by surprise due to their cause and the target market.

2nd Innings Club is basically a hypothetically launched place for the elderly people on social media. This place isn’t an old age home where people leave their parents during their final days. 2nd Innings Club is a paradise for the elderly people of our society who deserve our utmost attention and care.

The group carried a pre launch activity at SZABIST where they made everyone write messages to the elderly people. The group generated an emotional wave in the campus by making students write to their grandparents and take out a few moments from their busy lives to think about the people who played a key role in their upbringing.Blog

Later the group went to Bint-e-Fatima, an old age home, to meet elderly people and spent some time with them.

What really fascinated me was the dedication of this group towards the cause. Even though its just a virtual project, the group had loyalties and utmost determination tied to it.

This made me realize the need of such places and our I capability to take care of the people who had taken care of us without expecting anything in return. This also gave me a chance to go out and spend some time with elderly people and find joy in their stories and laughter.

This, like I had mention in previous blogpost, is the best teaching technique for business students to learn how to work with start up ventures and strategize their brand image and put social media to proper use.

Below attached are some pictures from the groups activities during the course of the launch of 2nd Innings Club.

EVENT LAUNCH

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“What’s the most brutal thing that I have done to you?” I asked.

“It’s the same as the most amazing thing you have done to me – Your words!”

 

Writer’s Block

There comes a time in your life when you have a million thoughts stacked up in your mind, several things pending, projects in the pipeline, work waiting to be done, words waiting to be said and you amongst all those quintessentially awesome and incredibly messed up things find yourself disconnected. Detached. Its like you want to flow with all the force but everything in the obvious and obscure time and space is holding you back. To me that’s a writer’s block.

Not being able to let go, not being able to let it all out and especially when words fail me.

I found these ‘Dyslexic fragments’ in an abandoned folder in my phone.

Thought I’d share. Just for the sake of words and all that’s beyond them.

*

He and the entire idea of his being are two things I can never wrap my existence around. Will there ever be enough words, expressions, sighs, touches, heartbeats or moments to make him aware of that?

Will there ever be enough of me to contain enough of him?

Fuck it! I don’t need to.

*

Incredibly close, utterly exquisite and unbearably distant.

What?

Your existence.

*

A pang of pain, a rumble in her chest.

His crooked smile that looked more like a smirk.

Shoes. Her broken heels.

The pile of their clothes at the edge of the bed. Broken pieces of glass everywhere on the floor.

Her need to break, completely. His desire to fall for a broken heart.

Will white pants go with this teal V-neck? Dilemmas.

The need of being loved. To love. Unconditionally.

For her to be his. His precious jewel.

Misery and mystery. The despicable games that can be played.

Adrenaline rush. Drugs running in the veins. Choking on the smoke from the cheap cigarrettes.

A death every moment. A death by choice.

The loss within.

*

Barefoot in the moonlight. A trance created by the joyous souls.

A goodbye to last forever.

The story of the night. Every other night.

The curse in the polite conversation.

The fall of the desperate kingdom of love.

Despise.

Demise.

Disappear.

Relive.

*

Ponder Over It, Yeah?

Suno, you guys wanna watch the match together at my place?” Samad yelled from the balcony of his apartment on the 3rd floor, looking at his friends playing downstairs. Raza and Ali rushed to get the popcorn and went to Samad’s house.

Funny commentary, joyous laughs over the fours and the sixes got overshadowed by a loud thud and the shaking of earth under their feet.

The three on them never found out the match’s result.

**********

Aliya: When will you reach home?

Sahira: In a bit. On the way only.

Aliya: Come soon. Bhai’s back from his trip. Get Coke on the way please.

Sahira: Sure thing.

Aliya had only read the last text from her sister when she heard the loud thud, saw the chaos spreading with the flames and gave in to the screams of pain and plea.

Sahira lost a roof and the souls breathing under it.

**********

“Ammi kab ayeing aap log, I’m dying of hunger.” Rizwan said. “Bas beta pohanch rahey hain, khana hi le rahey they.”

They never returned back to their sanctuary or a son awaiting to be fed.

**********

Sana kept sneaking glances at the phone hidden under a book in her lap while watching the Urdu TV soap with her family. Her face brightened up when she saw his name flashing on the screen of her phone. She tip-toed to her room and picked up the phone. “Hello”, Zaid’s voice at the other end made her sigh in relief. “I just got my phone recharged. I missed you.” “I love you Zaid.” She confessed.

A loud blast, a house set on fire, falling of the walls, last breaths.

He never heard her voice ever again.

**********

And a so many other stories ended today. So many shelters turned into dust which used to be filled with carefree laughs and tears of understanding. So many still struggling to live for a few seconds, hanging between life and death. So many praying for a prompt end for the pain is just unbearable.

And so many praying for they survived yet another day. For their loved ones are breathing and tucked in their beds, sleeping, dreaming… Hopelessly.

Our lives have become nothing but a number, a statistical figure to be flashed in huge fonts on the television screens, to be announced again and again by the nicely and expensively dressed news reporters and to be written on so many statuses and tweets on social networking sites.

Our sanctuaries are not safe anymore. Tonight it was them, tomorrow it will be you, me or someone we love. Think over it!

Pehle katl-e-aam sarkon pe hua karta tha, ab humare ghar hi humari qabar hain.

 

PROJECT TODAY!

During the passage of this life, I have come to realize the importance of imperfections and details present around us. How conveniently we ignore the beauty of imperfections for the quest of achieving the perfect. How easily we miss out the fine details just to focus on the bigger picture. Life is beautiful with all its imperfections and asymmetries.

Today I’m going to start a 30 days project and write about every fine detail, every small thing which plays an important role in the making of the bigger picture, every beautiful imperfection coming in my way. I’m going to make everyday worth a lesson and share it here for others to realize the beauty of this life.

It is another change, another step towards revelling in the beauty of imperfections.

Let’s see where it ends, or where it turns to another new beginning.

Just Another Day.

I woke up to his text today, well just like everyday. Can’t expect a better starting, can I? He told me that he’ll be spending the day at the beach and that he’d miss me there. Heart skips a beat, a sigh breaks. Simple words would have such power, I never knew.
Before I was completely awake, he left for the place he loves the most, leaving me behind lost in the wolrd of thoughts, his thoughts.
It was another of those stuck-at-home Sundays, with siblings busy sleeping and parents busy with grocery and other household errands. Thanks to the Pakistan Vs India match, of course.
I, how hopelessly, tried to concentrate on the highs and lows of the match and the rephrasing assignments of mine. But since when have distractions been so kind? All of it was done just to come back to thinking about Him. And Him only.

I kept my phone on charging, my laptop aside, switched off the television and went for a walk at my terrace. Even during the day, the place was full of the memories of the night long conversations I’d had with him. A beautiful land of stories, of our stories. A place I’d always come back to. Always. I aimlessly started walking, walking in circles maybe, thinking of him. Of us, together. I had all those moments in front of me like a beautiful movie playing in BluRay, vivid and brilliant. I thought of a vast crystal blue sea, glistering white sand and a clear blue sky. So exquisite, so majestic. I thought of Him. His bronze intense eyes, the smile always playing at the edge of his lips, the messy hair and the never trimmed beard. I thought of his eyes searching, scanning the beautiful beach with such intensity that it made me skip a beat. I imagined him observing the fine details which usually get ignored by ordinary eyes and smile at the thought of him saying “Attention to detail, you know.” I imaged him smiling at the hints of existence on the naked rocks, the foot marks on the glistering sand, leftovers from the people who must have had walked on this sand creating stories. I imagined him thinking about all those stories. And I imagined him smiling at the thought of all that was hidden and revealed, everything in the air, never failing to fascinate him.

I thought of us, in that very moment, together. I imagined us walking together, hand in hand, along the sea line, talking and laughing endlessly. I imagined his carefree laughter and the way he’d have looked at me, smiled and said every word that was left unsaid. I imagined the two of us making stories together, creating memories. I imagined myself running around playfully and him clicking a million candid pictures. I imagined us happy together and in that moment, I swear I found myself falling for him all over again.

I opened my eyes to a bright sun and texted him saying that I miss him. I walked for a while after that, reminiscing, losing the track of time and the count of the moments that passed.

When they walked hand in hand…

You know that feeling you get when you know someone is not in your reach but at the same time is more closer to you than everyone else? The feeling when someone slowly starts growing on you and you can do nothing but revel in that very feeling? Yes, exactly those feelings!

It was one of those beautiful nights. The moon was shinning proudly against the night sky in all it’s power and glory, the cold breeze was neither brutal nor gentle and there was still the feeling of peace in the bleeding, glowing, progressing, burning city. She asked him if he wanted to go for a walk and he held her hand in spontaneous agreement.

He was walking with his friends in the cold foreign city, smiles on the faces, laughter in the air, cold breeze brushing by when she brought him back. Took him to a whole new walk. A walk he had never experienced before. So far away, they were in two different worlds. She was sitting in her balcony with cup of coffee, thinking about the tales untold and blending in a cold silent night. And here he was walking on a busy road, with construction machines all around him. Yet when they held hands in their conversations their worlds collided and they become one, walking on the same road, together.

They took the road of expressive emotions decorated with words and conversed of tales untold. The silence between them got louder as they walked the unmarked roads, hands in hand, side by side.

They reveled in the stories of the feet that had walked the roads and emoted with the walls that were shagged. Sounds all around their worlds but the only sound they heard was that of the autumn leaves singing the song of silence.

And then in this walk they walked into the sunrise and that is where they met. Their world that they’d reprise.