Posts Tagged ‘Plastic Tearz’

Come alone or bring your stone hearted friends ;  For once let’s show them how it will end.

Shying away from what your end will be is stupid. So, don’t be stupid — Come, for once, come visit my grave.

Stonehearted turn soft when they visit this compound, of dead men and women, lying breathless – waiting for their final journey towards beginning of another end. I am not warning you, I am requesting you – for many stonehearted came here and I could see tears in their eyes.

After seeing their final resting place, some cried like babies, some still could not let go of their masks and pretended to be ‘normal’ and fought with their eyes, who wanted to shed tears, but their image would be ruined — ah, the mask!

Here on my right lies a famous fashion designer, who designed expensive clothes for rich women, but now lies enslaved in simple sleeveless cloth. He did not wear cheap clothes, for it was a sign of poverty, but now this very simple white piece of cloth covers his body.

And on my left, a businessman, whose pharmaceutical company made millions selling drugs to sick but none of his drugs could save him. He used to brag about his riches, and was never satisfied with his house, so he kept building new castles to accommodate himself but he now lies here beside me, buried under ‘cheap’ stone.

In front of me, a spoiled brat from the elite, who had nothing to do in life, so he kept racing and it eventually took his life. His daddy bought him new cars whenever he requested – Oh those fine pieces of metal, the Mercedes, the Buggatis, the Jaguars. But the poor fellow rode a wooden box as his last car – when he was buried here few years ago.

Some here, in my new neighborhood, did not learn to serve, did not learn to give even when God gave them the worldly blessings. But now their time has passed and they cannot move an insect from their noses. Oh here lies those whose only purpose of living was to tan their faces, and be social in the ‘hip-crowd’ but now they have died and disappeared from their social circles, without making any difference.

Some here were big bosses, who used to roam with their heads high in their black suits and carrying branded leather briefcases. They used to hire and fire people daily but see if you can spot them? Who is who? And whose is what?

I came to know the one lying behind me did not like to eat cheap food, now there is no café to visit nor no food to eat.

Time clicked, tick a tock and that was it. All that we thought we possessed was left behind and here, only moments of truth live.

More about the moments of truth later…

Dead Man Talking Part I

Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi | Plastic Teaz: An Insight

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Growing up, my school text-books taught me our history, Pakistan’s history. Only after I was grown up, I had the “wisdom” to unveil the side of history never taught to me, the version of history at times, deliberately kept hidden.  

One could write a lot, complain a lot and express ones mistrust in these text-books as they teach distorted version of history to our kids, and fuel certain sentiments that overall, reflect the mind-set of the nation.  

As Quaid ordered us, not to let the clergy to overtake Pakistan and fulfill their self-prophesized “divine” missions here:   

In any case Pakistan is not going to be a theocratic State to be ruled by priests with a divine mission. We have many non-Muslims –Hindus, Christians, and Parsis –but they are all Pakistanis. They will enjoy the same rights and privileges as any other citizens and will play their rightful part in the affairs of Pakistan. – [Broadcast talk to the people of the United States of America on Pakistan recorded February, 1948.]


He also asks a Hindu, Joginder Nath Mandal to be the chairman of the first constituent assembly of Pakistan. Subsequently, he appointed Mandal as the law minister. Open-minded academics are yet to be convinced about how an adherent of the Hindu faith would have helped initially as chairman and later as minister of a law to draft an ‘Islamic’ constitution.  

One such portion of our history, intentionally kept hidden (as I assume) is the history of our national anthem.  

Pakistan’s first national anthem was written by a Hindu-Urdu poet Jagan Nath Azad, on orders of Quaid-E-Azam. The “Aye Sar Zameen-E-Pak” remained to be our national anthem till 1948 (for around 1 and half year after independence), only to be discarded after the death of Quaid-E-Azam. None of the Pakistan Studies books I grew up studying (and scoring highest marks, always, taught me that).  

For those of you wondering, what was our first national anthem like:

Aye sar zameen e Pak
Zarray teray ajj sitaron say taabnak
Roshan hai kehkashan say kaheen aj teri khaak
Tundi-e-Hasdaan pey hai, ghalib tera swaak
Daman wo sil gaya hai jot ha mudatton say chaak
Aye sar zameen e Pak
“Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”  – George Santayana


Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi | Plastic Tearz: An Insight  





Photograph by Obaid (for Photography for Change '10)

Photograph by Obaid (for Photography for Change '10)



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When there was nothing left to burn

I set myself on fire

Holding it strong between my fingers

I lit the cigarette of desire

As nicotine overwhelmed my mind

Words began to unwind

And here I am, with no shame

Writing poetry, up in flame

There’s something mad in the puff

That makes you bear even the cough

Feel the smoke dance in front

Feel the blaze of the blunt

Forget the sorrow and the joy

Feel the magic of this toy

Those who say it kills before time

Ask them, friend, are you divine?

And those who ask:

To smoke or not to smoke

Ask them: To hope or not to hope?

– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi: Plastic Tearz – An Insight

Disclaimer: Smoking is injurious to health. It causes cancer of all sorts and you should ‘nt really smoke, please. This was just a poetic rambling, of a smokin’ poet :P. Dont use any portion of this stupid poem as a justification to kill yourself (like you will live forever without it :P, HAHAHA)

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Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?

Jab Aamir nay, Jab Zaalim nay
Jab deen key jhotay aalim nay
Apas may tumhay laraaya tha
Nafrat ka sabaq parhaya tha
Tum apnoon say hi dartay thay
Apas may lartay martay thay
Jab maon behnoon key sar say
Wuh chaadar cheena kartay thay
Aur zulm ki chaahat bhartay thay
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?

Jab watan-e-aziz ki izzat ku
Wuh paon say ronda kartay thay
Iqbal key shaheen bachay bhi
Ek Haq ki baat say dartay thay?
Jab choor daaku mil kar sab
Taaqat key aiwanoon may
Qanuun banaya kartay thay
Aur qaatil loot key ghurbat say
Gallion may faakhir phirtay thay

Kahan thay Pakistani tum?
Kahan thay Pakistani tum?


Jab chaand tara jhanday ka
Zulmat ki aag may jalta tha
Tum sooba sooba kartay thay
Aur kaafir kaafir kehtay thay
Uss key naam pey dharti may
Khoon bahaya kartay thay.
Khud kash hamlon say apnay
Kya khoob tamasha kartay thay.
Ab Uss say naala kartay ho?

Ab Zaidi tumsay kehta hai
Key waqt hi tumsay puchay ga

Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi – Plastic Tearz: An Insight

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A Poetic Utterance of A Conspiracy Theorist.

Don’t believe the news
It’s all controlled by Jews;
And don’t wear those shoes
They spoil your sacred views?

This is all a propaganda
From Japan to Uganda
We never made mistakes
None of us was ever fake.

Wake up and don’t be weary
This isn’t another theory
I lost my wisdom tooth
They punched me for the truth

Don’t peep inside for faults
We are but sinless vaults
We are the soldiers of God
At us the angels nod

Our faith never shook
We memorized the holy book
Our ways are always right
We perform our religious rites

Zionists are on their way
To grasp their Muslim prey
Don’t correct yourself, just fight
You have the faith and might

At times I don’t have proof
But I know the truth, you goof
Their ways are void of reason
And I expose their subtle treason

They are bigger than you aspire
The very reason of worldly fire
But against me they can’t conspire
Because I am bigger then them, O Sire!

When my Lord had made the call
Iblis “conspired” to make him fall
Adam never committed the sin
The conspiracy brought him in!

And if Zaidi writes this song
To prove my fallacies wrong
He’s also one of them
A traitor not a friend..

– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi – Plastic Tearz: An Insight. A Madman. A Wanderer




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What should I tell you
How can I tell you,
How it was,
What it was,
When it was;
Them and us.

What air, what breath!
What life, what death :
What mortal, what divine
What yours, what mine!

When the difference vanished,
And duality went,
Unity overwhelmed;
You and me.

When the mirror reflected,
Me in you and you in me,
And I rubbed my eyes,
Only to find;
A clearer you.

It was just the start,
For my wounded heart.
As the mirror became sight,
And sight became eyes
And eyes were us.
Neither I, Nor thee.
It was WE.

– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi
A mad man, A wanderer.
Plastic Tears: An Insight.

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Before you look in the mirror of my eyes
Dont pretend to smile, dont wear disguise
I cant see your soul, see the life you live
Only source of truth is the bit that you give

Am I talking to the tree or child behind?
The whirlpool of thoughts clutter my mind
I want to know the truth, all that you do
The things that you think, the “you” that is true

Are you looking for dogma to live like a cult
Or seeking the truth like a mystic adult
Are you looking to live, living to find
Freedom from cages that limit your mind?


Do I scare you? Frustrate you?

Intice you or irritate you?

Do I shake your concepts or weaken your trust
Do I call dust, ashes and ashes, dust?

Look in my eyes, what do you see ?
Reflection of you, with sincerity
Do you see a little of yourself in me ?
Now take off the mask, so we can be free

Call me unfaithful, call me a liar

Curse my existence, damn me to fire

But expose the real, “you” have tried to hide
It may resemble the “me” that lies inside..

– Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi
A wanderer, a mad man!
Sketch Courtesy: Visaal Hashmi

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Lieutenant Omer Tirmizi, a young and dynamic individual and a brave solider was posted to Bajaur Agency to counter Taliban insurgency in 2008. He comes from a family of soldiers, who devoted their entire lives to protecting our motherland. Most of the young officers of his age and experience are hesitant to face these highly trained and well equiped barbarians in their home ground, but the day he received his orders of being posted to the war-struck area of Bajaur, he knew he his dream had come true and the reason he was made for will be tested to the core.

I still remember his words when he was about to leave for Bajaur: ” I will be lucky to come back alive, but I dont wish for that luck, I just pray that He gives me the courage and faith to live upto my name, this uniform I wear and the flag that is pasted on my forearm ”

Having known him for years, as a friend and as a brother, I knew he was special and made for “war”. Since the day he left for Bajaur, I started waiting for the “good” news

And the news came, Omer had been critically injured and from fighting the so-called talibs, he was now battling for life. The news got to me when he was being flown in a helicopter to CMH Peshawar, and doctors had informed his retired father and loving mother about his critical condition. ” We would lose him, WE WOULD LOSE HIM ” were the words of the doctor in the air urging the pilot to fly as quickly as possible.

The mother who used to worry about his son’s habit of not taking breakfast and running after him around the house, had lost her senses. Her loved one was battling for life!

The moment of truth had actually passed few hours ago, when he was ordered to lead a team of a few jawans into a talib-controlled stronghold. He being the only officer had to coordinate with his superior as to when to send the Cobras after his team’s mission was accomplished

He lead his brave jawans into the compound, knowing that his enemy were veterans in the field of guerilla warfare, an art of war neither he or his team was trained to counter. They had to adapt to this way of war, in areas their hostiles knew like their own backyards. And so did they! They fought bravely for hours and though overnumbered significantly, with limited ammunition and supply. They managed to distract over 200 talibans and as per their plan, called for backup support of helicopters and artillery shelling but to their surprize were told not to wait for the back-up as the promised support had to be diverted somewhere else.

Moments like these, test the faith of a soldier. Surrounded by enemy, with bullets and rockets hurling past their ears, they could not retrieve. Omer ordered his men to lay down and hide in the fields initially, thinking it would be madness to try and fight in such a situation where death was inevitable. He assembled his men, head to head, laying down in the fields and informed them of the situation.

” This is the moment we were made for, this is the day we were trained for, this is the day our mothers fed us for and this is the moment our fathers prayed for glory! I cannot force you to embrace death, which seems inevitable in this situation, so I beg for your advice. We all have to die, if somehow He wishes to give us some more time, we might end up dying on beds, but we all used to shout back in our training days – that we will not retreat no matter how big the enemy is and live upto the vow of sacrifise we made whilst wearing this uniform.

Listening to these words of their commander, the jawaans without even slightest of utters stood up together and pointed their guns towards the trees their enemies were firing from. Omer had lost his senses, the Nasha of shahadah and the will to defeat these ignorants who had defamed Islam and Pakistan overwhelmed his ability to think. He jumped out of the fields, came in the open ground where there was not even a single inch of earth that was not hit by bullets and rockets.

7 men were now face to face with enemy 20 times more. ” Nayar-e-Haidri ” – was heard amongst the sound of bullets. ” Himmat-e-Marda’n – Madad-e-Khuda ” saw its real interpretation and they saw their enemy falling down from the trees hit by their shots. Some who managed to jump down and moved towards this little army of only a few men, got hit before reaching 10 feet closer and died near their boots damped with blood. Omer saw one of his jawaans leg flying towards him, blood and human flesh plagued his uniform but he still stood strong and kept on reciting the praises to His lord.

Omer was drunk in the wine of martyrdom, he didnot realize he was hit by a sharpnel until he found himself lying in the fields, he felt something in left leg and when he looked, a shower of blood was flowing out. He couldnot see his jawaans, as some of them had been martyred and some had retrieved. He lay alone, in the fields, wounded but still wanting to stand up and fight. Having tried two or three times, he realized that he couldnot move his leg. He heard his enemies coming closer and talking in the local language that they have an officer injured, which meant a lot of money! He had heard stories of them peeling off officer’s skins and disgracing their uniform. He could not let that happen! His hands pierced in his pockets, grabbing a grenade, and waiting for them to come closer so that he could blow himself up. Each second seemed like an hour, the time was moving in slow-mo. They were near now, his grenade’s pin was in his mouth, ready to take it out and kill them, so what if he had died with them! But then “khota” – his favorite jawaan of relatively chubby stature came running towards him alongwith some jawaans who had retrieved, forcing the enemy backwards. “Khota” managed to pick omer and started running towards their base, bullets and rockets passed them by but khota ran like leopard then, and omer still found an element of humor in it .

He was brought to the base, given first aid and was boarded on a helicopter for immediate surgery in CMH Peshawar. He could hear the words of the doctor narrated above ” We would lose him, WE WOULD LOSE HIM ” but now having felt death so closely, his fear of it had vanished.

Omer had undergone several surgeries since then, he is on wheelchair with one leg disabled. And he still says with vigour, ” It was just net practise, the real moment of truth will come again”

His team had managed to kill over 50 insurgents that day, his Commanding Officer had a leg amputated and then lost his life afterwards. Many of his close friends and coursemates have embraced shahadah’

In midst of all the negativity that one witnesses in the country, brave men and women like Omer give us hope. If they are ready to blow themselves them, we have an army of 16 Crore willing to die for the green flag!

Syed Ali Abbas Zaidi

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