Once in a while

Have you ever been avid Niel Diamond listener? Well from my teen age I have been and listening to his beautiful melodious voice and captivating lyrics still resound in my memories. 

And once in a while I listen to one of his popular songs: Once in a while. And when I do, the beautiful lyrics of the song take me into my nostalgic past - a time when we five brothers lived our childhood and later the teenage with our loving parents. I t wasn't long that we all parted in search of our future leaving the two most beautiful people that ever came to my life - my parents. And since then, it was only an occasional calling on as the dictates of our employments could not afford us longer stints with them.

And then time started to pass by faster than we could imagine - we had our families as once our parents had. And age started to set in we were growing in our age while our parents was growing old, fragile and then days came when the took their heavenly flights one after the other - leaving behind the nostalgia that still clings to my memory: those 78 RPM His Master Voice recodes and the gramophone that my father had and from it we listened to the English songs of 1950s and thereafter till the age of LPs came, or going to school making friends and then our father taking us to Shezan, a local thriving restaurent, on our birthdays and in the process making us learn the table etiquettes when in a hotel and even how to address a waiter and registering an order.

There is much more to say that keep coming back from memory hard disk every once in a while till my eldest brother Gul Hameed Bhatti, a renowned cricket journalist and analyst, and our dear sister in law Razia Bhatti, of Herald Tribune, later the Herald and then founder of the Newsline - famous English magazine of Pakistan, also took their buses to heavens. And leaving behind their memories forever with us brothers and their children and the people who knew them.

The presnt is becasue of the parents, siblings, friends and people we once had and knew. And when they are no more, it is only peeping back in our past and reminisicing the memories of the days when everyone was around - when life had parents and when life was fun. So do look back in your past once in a while frequently for it is those days which are trasure of life.

If you care, you may now lsiten to the beautiful song that complelled me to write this post:

Photo: My family (less the fifth brother who wasn't around when this photo was taken i 1978 - Lahore).
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Let us not be a prisoner of our past

There are people around us – or should I say most of us are prisoners of our past, living each day with the memories of miseries we endured at some point in time in our yester years. To many, living a nightmare life is taking a heavy toll of their health and happiness – sometimes finally ending in a suicide or becoming a criminal to avenge. 

We all have our bad and good days since childhood. I mostly read people coming from tougher backgrounds, hard life and then finally doing good and settling down for a full life ahead.

But most of the people are not willing to forget their difficult life or even prepared to forgive those who made their lives miserable. Some even continue to blame their parents for robbing them of their innocence for they could not afford them a better living or for not protecting them from the wrongs at the hands of the bad.

Though it takes real guts to forgive and forget, we should still try our best to forget the bad and tough days and start forgiving those who were unfair to us. If we do not do that, we will continue to be a prisoner of our past and would never have a happy life ever.

Nelson Mandela, when leaving the prison after spending 27 long years of his life in there recalls: “As I walked out of the door towards the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I did not leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.”

This is how great men are born – not living in the prison of their past. Please ponder over it!!

Photo: Pixabay
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It was a moonlit night (Not) in old Mexico

Last night was the full moon and it always fascinates me to go out and enjoy its majesty and might. So as usual I went out with my new Nikon Coolpix L820 camera to test some night shots of the full moon. I did not have tripod and it took me a while to shoot some palatable moon shots.

And while I was taking the shots, suddenly an old song recoiled from my memory: Speedy Gonzales

For many Speedy Gonzales is a cartoon of modern times - but people of my age who listened to the 78 RPM records in the 60s, Speedy Gonzales was a famous Pat Boone song that still vividly resides in my memory.

The song stared with a narrative that said:

It was a moonlit night in old Mexico. I walked alone between some old Adobe haciendas. Suddenly, I heard the plaintive cry of a young Mexican girl.

And then the song started with a shrilling voice of a young Mexican girl followed by the song that goes like this:

You better come home, Speedy Gonzales
Away from tannery row
Stop alla your a-drinkin'
With that floozie named Flo
Come on home to your adobe
And slap some mud on the wall
The roof is leakin' like a strainer
There's loadsa roaches in the hall

Speedy Gonzales, why don'tcha come home?
Speedy Gonzales, how come ya leave me all alone?

Spoken in a male Mexican accent: "Hey, Rosita-I hafta go shopping downtown
For my mudder-she needs some tortillas and chili peppers. "

Your doggy's gonna have a puppy
And we're runnin' outta coke
No enchiladas in the icebox
And the television's broke
I saw some lipstick on your sweatshirt
I smelled some perfume in your ear
Well if you're gonna keep on messin'
Don't bring your business back a-here

Mmm, Speedy Gonzales, why don'tcha come home?
Speedy Gonzales, how come ya leave me all alone?

Spoken in a male Mexican accent: "Hey, Rosita-come queek-down at the cantina

They giving green stamps with tequila!! "

Does this narration compels you to listen to the song? Well to some yes may be. So here it is for those some who are attracted to listen to the voice of the young Mexican girl or for those who have listened to this song in their teens. Here i t goes:

I am sure next time you see a full moon, you will be reminded of Speedy Gonzales and the plaintive cry of a young Mexican girl !!

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Even if your waves touch my feet a million times….

Every time a natural calamity or a catastrophe hits the mankind, it leaves behind sorry heartbreaking tales of human sufferings and miseries that take a long time to heal. Pakistan had had hardly recovered from the devastations caused by one of the most severe earthquakes that hit Pakistan’s northern areas in 2005, that Nature struck again two months back with one of the deadliest and powerful floods that is still ravaging the lower parts of Pakistan. These unexpected and flash floods have displaced some 20 million people from north to south, which also includes six million children.

Although, the human losses are not much, some 1800 lives washed away into the cruel water waves, but there are lamentations of children who have lost their parents, of parents who have lost their children, of elders of who have lost their young ones and of youngsters who have lost their elders. The scars are deep and tales of human loss will be many.

Yesterday I came across a post by Syed Asghar Javed Shirazi whose one lined post sent a cold shiver in to my spine. The post describes a phrase written on sand by a small boy who lost his parents in the flood and reads, “Dear River, I will never forgive you; I will never forgive you, even if your waves touch my feet million times.” Although fictionist, it is the true reflection of the sentiments of a child, and all those children who experienced the similar loss.

Even other than the loss of one’s parents, the flood waters washed away innocence from those six million children who have seen their homes, possessions and streets being washed away. I remember I once had a small wooden box in my childhood which had all my “belongings” in it. My comics, a small photo albums, stamps, and other small possessions of a child. And whenever we had a fight among us siblings, I was threatened by my elder siblings that they would take control of the black box, and I used to give in just to save my possessions and the black box. And now I think of many such possessions belonging to these children that must have been lost forever in the ravaging flood waters - a loss that would have taken away all the childhood memories for ever. And here I am remembered of that famous dialogue of the epic movie “Gone with the Wind,” when it was said “An entire generation gone with the wind (or words similar to these).” In this case, “Entire childhood possessions, memories and relations washed away by the floods.”

The post also reminds me of a similar incident that I shared with my readers awhile ago (Lamenting scars of soul) regarding the loss of two little dolls of our maid in the earthquake of 2005. Although, years have passed, the scars on her soul may take a a lifetime to heal.

Times would pass; the displaced people will go back, rebuild their houses and start afresh. But lost relations and possessions will never come back. And even if the waves of the nearby flowing river touch the feet of those who suffered, will never be forgiven – never ever.

Photo: HiSpek

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Speedy Gonzales

For many, Speedy Gonzales is the fastest mouse in Mexico – a cartoon character famous around the world, specially the children. But for me, it is something that takes me back to days of 78 RPM records and Pat Boon. I was a young boy then and a very select people had access to records and a player. My late father had a flare for music and had a good collection of 78 RMP records and HMV (His Mater's Voice) grammophone. His collection was mainly of pre-partition Urdu songs and a sizeable number of English records. Of all the collection, Mississippi the river blue was a favourite.

Then one day, a friend of my late eldest brother Gul Hameed Bhatti, the famous cricket analyst, brought us Speedy Gonzales. And from then on God knows how many times we listened to the “It was moonlit night in old Mexico” and the cry of young Mexican girl by then very famous Pat Boon.

Today is my birthday and being a bit nostalgic, I started to listen to some of childhood / teenage days songs that included The Beatles, Ventures, Shadows, Cliff Richard, Carpenters. And then out of the collection, came out this young Mexican girl and Pat Boon. And it was fun listening to the song after many many years. Good old days.


Watch the video below of Speedy Gonzales by Pat Boon (Original in stereo):

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On the Street where I Lived

Today while I was just listening to my old collection of songs, the famous song “On the Street Where You Live” from the all time classic and melody film “My Fair Lady” started playing. While it is one my best favourite, it took me back to the street where I lived as a five year old child, grew up there and then moved out as a young man to find avenues for my future life. And this post is all about the Street Where I Lived.

While I was born in Lahore, but it wasn’t after five years that we finally came back from Sargodha and Karachi to live my next fifteen years in a house that my father owned on the street I am going to talk about. Just adjacent to the famous McLeod Road of Lahore, it was a non-paved street ( as were most of the streets then in the very early 60s). So everybody would sprinkle water in front of their houses in the evening, and being the youngest in the house, it was my duty when I was about 10. In front of our house was an old “Haveli” where an assortment of people lived. It was a small community and everyone knew each other well. In those days, the Sui Gas had not found its way to our street, so we fueled our kitchen with the kerosene oil or the coal. Nor the present AC (alternate current) thing had found its way to most part of Lahore, so instead we had DC (direct current), something that perhaps many a people today won’t even know of.

Life continued as few years passed by and then one day we heard that our street is going to be paved. There was lot of enthusiasm and excitement when we also heard that before the work on the road began, the Sui Gas line will also be laid and connection provided for domestic use. So the machineries moved in, earth dug up and gas pipe line laid along with a Fire Hydrant, something that I did not know before so my father told me that this device is to be used for filling up fire brigade vehicles in case of fire in the area which would save them from bringing water from long distances. And then the road was laid and there was no more sprinkling of water as the dirt had gone and so I was relieved of my daily duty.

As roads bring development in the area, one day I found carts and trucks coming and people living in the Haveli across “the road” moving their luggage and belongings and moving away. It was a touching moment as people I knew since my childhood were going away for good as I was to come to know that the Haveli was being demolished to make way for a multi story building with shops and flats. Once the vacation was completed, there came a platoon of labourers who starting dismantling the building and by and by the entire structure was raised to ground and over a period of time, the Haveli was replaced by a three story building. The beautifully carved wooden doors and “Jharokas” were replaced by steel shutters and glass windows. The road robbed from us the romantic neighbourhood with modern structure. New people moved in and by and by we started recognizing our new neighbours, as the memories of the old ones started to fade away.

The time came for three of us five brothers to move out of Lahore. The eldest Gul Hameed Bhattil left for Karachi to become a cricket man, married Razia Bondray (later Razia Bhatti ) and settled in Karachi forever. The second eldest and I the youngest moved north, me to join the Pakistan Military Academy and Zafar to join the Pakistan Ordnance Factories. The twins, Kamal and Jamal, remained back in Lahore (both graduates of the famous National College of Arts). That was the time in between 1972-75 that our association with Lahore and the street where we lived dimmed as we three from then on were to settle outside Lahore and would come occasionally on leave to visit our parents and walk through the street. By then the street had become very congested as on the ground floor of the new building, many a shops had opened up and there was noise of people coming and going reinforced by noise of cars and motorcycles. The once calm and quietness of the area had been taken over by the business noises.

Then it was the same place where my ailing parents left for their heavenly abodes one by one while all us five brothers had already moved out to other places due to compulsions of our jobs. When after my mother, my father also bid farewell to the street where he lived, the house was one day also sold off, bringing an end to my old association with the place and the street.

Recently, one day I took my two sons to the place for a last visit as now I had nothing left but my memories of almost four decades – which will always be there till I am as nothing can replace one’s childhood memories ever, specially of the street where one once lived.

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