Ayaz Khan

A Local Bus Journey: Knowing Different Shades of Life   “If I can’t invest enough strength in pulling myself into the local bus, I am going to hang for 2 hours,” I support myself to launch on the bus, as a wave of passengers descending from door forces entering ones frantically.  Partial anger of mine vented on the bus is owing to flaring fares of local transport. “Where are the ‘darn’ scientists sleeping? They should have invented hydro engines until now. The experts believe they are near to discovering a different solar system for us. New solar system! My foot! They can’t even lift our misery by producing hydro engines, at least during Captain’s government!” I complain to myself, but an unexpected calm sweeps through my brain after feeling that water in the world is vanishing, too. This leads me to stay satisfied with whatever means I have on the occasion. “Leave science! If that ‘cha cha’, who is seeing at my seat, lying empty, because I am still healing from scientific wou...

  When you wish to join a private school as a teacher, you have to take care of three things: be humble, complying, and assume yourself a professional prisoner who must have a flinching attitude to follow orders even making sure washrooms are properly cleaned! This is not a statement one might get surprised about! It’s the code of conduct which runs through the thread of discipline at Schoolnamo Bay. More beneficial are the incentives which a ‘prisoner’, within the ‘iron’ walls of the Schoolnamo Bay, can get. The incentives include: increased workload, ban on moving freely and eating without permission of the Jailer. Contrary to the jail rules, from Schoolnamo Bay, a prisoner can freely move to the gate without bail orders if found accused! Nevertheless, more complying are the Don’ts within the premises of the Schoolnamo Bay. The prisoners have to consider themselves blessed with the titbit (the delicious Dal Roti) they get from the Jailer! Asking for extra (grebi) might lead to ...

Part 2 After 14 days (2 weeks) After travelling 35 km, I have reached university. The officer is sitting in the chair leisurely. “G, you,” inquires the officer again in an indifferent tone. “I am Ayaz Khan, sir,” again I try to bring his lost memory! “Acha, Acha, yar meet me after 12 p.m... Give me some time to search your documents,” he tells me. 12 p.m. “Han Ayaz, yar, I am sorry I have misplaced your documents. Kindly make another photocopied set of documents and submit it immediately,” he tells me with hat off regret. Awestruck, I try to evaluate the matter. “How precious time is for them,” I curse myself and leave. "Documents, sir," I hand over photocopies to him. Once again, he requests me to give him one week to process the documents. After 3 weeks (21 days) Following the long-irritating drive, I reach university. Thanks to China bikes for making journey ‘comfortable’ and feasible too! “You are Ayaz, right,” the officer asks. “Yes sir, I am,” I ...

Part 1 My visually impaired colleague Ali Tareen and I hardly reach the fourth floor of administration building of Karachi University. We both are here to seek information about the initiative through which government of Sindh has announced to compensate fee for disabled students. Ali is perspiring. We both take chairs. The concerned person appears and takes his chair. Ali and I have cleared entry test for M Phil programme and Ali has brought his admission slip along with him as a precautionary measure. This is because one has to be cautious while visiting university ‘bureaucrats', for they can ask for anything that might fall beyond the imagination of the person who is visiting the admin offices. “G” asks the person with whom we are to meet, “what brings you here?” Ali, quite humble in his tone, pays him ‘salam’ and inquires about the criterion for applying for fee compensation. Ali has brought his disability certificate with him. “Disabled already, yet need to certify that th...

Part 2 The month of August, 2006, had already cast a dark shadow over the city and the shadow gradually engulfed the entire province. The day turned to be the launching pad for upcoming prolonged political, social and economic chaos which my city had never deemed coming its way. Next day, the usual garbage-burning miasma had changed with the smell of burning tyres. The smoke rising from burnt shops and tyres took over the pleasant view of the sky. Painted dark now, the sky depicted a picture foretelling about arrival of mourning days. Immature to understand politics and its ins and outs, I remained anxiously concerned about my football practice that was disrupted owing to prevailing chaotic situation in the city.   “What skies haven fallen that I cannot even visit the adjacent football ground for practice,” I cursed everyone, who had done whatever to disrupt my football practicing. Most importantly target of my castigation had been my paternal uncle, who often scold...

Part 1 writer, right, and his maternal cousin, left. The picture was made before liver surgery of the writer  It’s zealous for Pakistani students to answer the question what their aim in life is. Predictable are the answers for the teacher though. On a high pitch, students, with a passion instilled in them, reply they would be doctors, engineers, businesswomen or men, bankers and soldiers. To one’s astonishment, underweight and lanky students often opt for the answer to become soldiers in future! Teacher, in return, showers blessings upon students with a winsome smile thinking that the students have chosen the right path.   But why did my answer to the same question throw me at loggerheads with my mathematics teacher when I was in grade 7? My answer was at odds with my health conditions too, perhaps! Startled upon my answer, first unfamiliar with the word ‘Chelsea FC’ and then guessing the answer was something about soccer (football), teacher castigated me for being ...