an itinerant observer

Introduction In a world that seems on the brink of self-destruction, the profound question posed by John Kaag in his book 'Hiking with Nietzsche' resonates powerfully: "What are the possibilities for human existence in an age determined to annihilate itself?" This query propelled me on a profound journey of self-reflection, marking my ten years in Pakistan after fifteen years in the United States. As I immersed myself in the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche, I began to explore the realms of nihilism, existentialism, and absurdism, searching for solace and meaning amidst the chaos and ambiguity of the 21st century. Nietzsche and Rumi The convergence of Nietzschean philosophy and the teachings of Rumi, the great Sufi poet and mystic, is a serendipitous encounter that has reshaped my perception of existence. While delving into Nietzsche's works, particularly through 'When Nietzsche Wept' by Irvin Yalom, I embarked on a journey through Turkey, traversi...

  T oday heralds the beginning of an era Not of interest to meaningless minds Regardless, the story must be told. Of an apparent merger of Yin and Yang In reality, the triumph of a trichotomy or perhaps a triumvirate? Since there was a He - the babysitter; a She - the divine feminine; and a Me - the Child Three companions on the trip of a lifetime whither thoughts were elicited, meaning sought, and purpose created, if not found. Let’s start at the beginning. But what was that? Or when? Was the origin the bright colors that tasted sweet? Or the vibration of chrysanthemums – a mere conversation with chlorophyll Or the music reverberating, drumming, thrumming…smelling of nostalgia  Or the tablecover’s patchwork of whorls That pulled you in when you felt the threads Drowning, then surfacing and breathing again, once called out Making love through head and hair And fingers reaching for one’s organic and inorganic anchors Or the appearance of dry figs and nuts    sittin...

T oday heralds beginning of an era Not of interest to meaningless minds Regardless, the story must be told. Of rain, sea, wind and rock Nature’s elements gone wild A blessing or a curse to observe Their might and mystery? And yet, only gratitude, that I’m alive! But there’s more… A magnetism An attraction within to the storm without Shall I embrace thee? Stripped to my bare skin Drenched to the bone Shall I walk into thine storm’s eye? Then stand still, very still Slam dunk in the middle Just feel and be Accept chaos without to get to peace within                 Shall we merge tonight, my love? Nature and I, conjugal rite A divine oneness, a solo journey Of darkness unto light My soul’s union Of communion. And that said, esoterica from an insomniac’s dream must come to an end Like the wave front comes to an end at the shore, No matter how calm or agitated ocean o...

  T oday heralds beginning of an era Not of interest to meaningless minds Regardless, this story must be told. On the anniversary of death One year later, Back from his journeys – inner outer. “You are no different!” says Shams The one - teacher, friend, lover Assumptions? Narcissus’ Shams - sun, mirror, lover And in that love’s reflection With many layers shed Love One year before, On the eve of death Girl on the second floor Who was she to Narcissus? To Shams everything And yet he wishes to turn back time To eliminate the darkness by the sea? Have you really not fathomed those indecipherable tattoos? That can be seen but not felt; if felt then not heard. And yet palpable to the eye and ear In the darkness by the sea. Pain Of continued separation. But what’s done is done And what’s done cannot be undone. One year was all it took For one to become one And in that one year, perhaps… This esoterica from an insomniac’s dream mus...

Back in 2020, while COVID-19 was peaking during its first wave, as a front-line emergency physician I was frustrated. It was not just my hectic work routine in one of the busiest emergency departments of the megapolis   of Karachi to blame. The unavailability of my gymming routine because of the pandemic-mediated lockdown was adding to my woes. To keep sane, I, therefore, settled into a nice daily home-based exercise routine: 2.5 km of outdoor running followed by 15 minutes of indoor creative movement (aka Zumba-like dancing, to be precise). The fact that I went overboard with my routine and ended up fracturing my right ankle is a story for another day .  After I had reflected enough on my intra-pandemic/post-fracture predicament and my ankle (with a metal screw inside) had healed enough, I resumed my home-based Zumba routine. But this time I added Salsa steps to it so I could make it a high-intensity/low-intensity workout. Although I became quite happy with my workout, I ...

Gullibility was my middle name. Till I met Erdogan.   I met him, or maybe he met me, in Istanbul. I had been in Istanbul for just a few days. I was staying in a small inconsequential hotel close to the famous Istiklal Street. Travel to the most fascinating cities thus far was attributable entirely to Ash. Her work-related conferences would be held in lovely resort-type settings and I was not entirely reluctant to tag along. Given a good book or two, my laptop, and my thoughts, I was pretty much a happy camper.      The trip to Turkey was no different. Within the first few days I had already read my book, caught up on my biomedical research writing, and mulled over the intricacy of life; the requisites of any trip with Ash. By then I had also toured the aromatic Spice Bazaar, the majestic Topkapi Palace, the resplendent Blue Mosque, and the breathtaking Haga Sophia. The descriptors were not mine; they were per the tourist’s guide. On the fateful day, I had n...

T oday heralds the beginning of an era Not of interest to meaningless minds  Regardless, the story must be told. Narcissus was fond of looking into mirrors, That perhaps comes as no surprise. But recently his attention had moved to photographs Unlike images in mirrors, photos didn’t talk back (as yet). What great photos! He marveled at what he saw: A plethora of well-dressed young pretty women and handsome men Smiles, frowns, joy, mirth, silliness. All captured for eternity “Ah! The unending possibilities of youth”, said his heart “But wait! Did you not notice that there was something missing?” said his head. For you see, there was a dearth of old people in the photographs Where did they go? Were they whisked off to someplace momentarily? Maybe a nursing home? One voice inquired, the loudest in the cacophony. His heart mused but for a few seconds and then kicked in, “More likely that the old folks have been relegated; To dark corners of the...