all this fuss and such a beautiful spring

it’s going on to late in afternoon and i think i will call it a day.

the sun is brilliant.

and listening to the “gentle giant” israel kamakawiwo’ole’s version of somewhere over the rainbow and what a wonderful world is as good as it is a bit surreal with the surrounding here.

i am so anguished by recent happenings. all this fuss. all this much ado about nuffin. all this nonesense from all sides. this overwhelming and curious concentration of bad minds and broken ideas and pent-up angers and self-righteousness on all sides.

and all along i was innocently thinking about proselytizing the “dionysian faith” to the ready masses and legislating national days of revelry and bacchanalia. the masses have disappointed me to the point of depression. whence the gay wise old men of yore in this day and age of angry youthful vigilantes? as rumi would say

آن های و هوی و نعرهء مستانم آرزوست

and all of this, unforgivably, right at the cusp of the decade’s most beautiful and lush spring where, as nashinas once sang, every tulip is drunk and every narcissus revelling in their short-lived carnal beauty. what crime! what unforgivable crime! chill out people and enjoy the sun and the green and the spring and the company of your friends and the smell of rain. in the timeless voice of nusrat fateh ali khan:

yeh kaam ayn-e-ibadat hain mawsom-e-gul main
arey galain se lagaon,
bahar ki din hain-
hamain sharab pilawoo,
bahar kay din hai.

i ventured out of kabul to the beautiful shamali plains yesterday and it was lalazar and tulip strewn as one is used to expecting from that age old near truism شمالی لاله زار باشه همیشه and for a few hours left this crazy city where tension is so strong in the air you could cut it with fruit knife.

people who know, know that it used to be that the name ‘kabul’ evoked distant and unknown sensations of a happy and worldly place and lush gardens and a nonchalant, easygoing and happy people. a people that subscribed to an easygoing syncretic version of their own unique faith that brought everything together and kept them happy and contented. babur died in the gem of his vast empire and asked to be brought over and buried in a kabul garden where he had spent many a happy evening listening to the sorrowful moan of the rubab and harmonium under the city’s unusually large moon. and now just opposing his mosoleum are the twin minarets of the center that legislates morality and forbids and enjoins and punishes and pontificates. babur would be rolling in this grave. and…

you know what, i think i would rather enjoy the sun before it goes down today.


last day of the week and boy am i looking forward to a day off. although how much of a day off it will be with the two folders i am carrying home, i don’t know yet. an upcoming visit and preparations for that is making for some very long work hours.

the prospect of an upcoming visit to bamyan, and a day out to band-e-amir, however, is a relief. as i have said here before, going to the field and seeing how people and their lives are affected by the work done is reaffirming and satisfying in more ways than i can count. kabul can make a cynic out of one very soon -and without these opportunities to venture out to rural areas and see people’s lives touched by whatever work gets done -and i emphasize whatever, however short, however insufficient, and however inefficient- is… soul-restoring and a boost.


~ by safrang on April 16, 2009.

2 Responses to “all this fuss and such a beautiful spring”

  1. really enjoyed reading your post, hamesha.

  2. you are missed, missed, missed, missed.

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