Disabled People & Special Humans

According to our faith, we have been sent into this world just like other creatures. The only difference being, we have the most prestigious title. Psychologically, physically and in any other way, we are far better than the species we share our planet with. In fact, one theory goes suggesting that we have been created with a potential to attain further perfection, while the rest of the creatures have been created in the form in which they generally die. 

It bestows a huge responsibility then, on the humans to contribute to evolution, perform beyond existing, expand horizons of capability and attain perfection. Interestingly, every moment, every second of the day offers us that opportunity. It is hence our prime role and responsibility in this world to contribute in any way we can. 

Most often, we grow up surrounded with humans with similar physical and psychological attributes. As young kids in school, anyone with slow learning ability was an immediate highlight of the class. An outlier. Similarly, any behavioural difference, whatsoever, was automatically pointed out. Such a human's inability to conduct social interactions like others was stereotyped. He was cut out from the "normal groups". 

We all grow up in such an environment. Naturally then, schools for special humans sprung up, catering to their special needs in special ways. We, however, the "normal" people keep away. As part of school societies, we then visit such schools/centres as field visits just like to any other visit to research lab or anomaly. Something that is not part of us. 

Not matter how hard we try, we remain different. And then, when given the chance to interact and come closer to these Special Humans, we fail. We try hard at knowing how to react and interact. Yet, we fail. We just look at them, blankly covered up in formal, anxious cautious smiles; while they just smile back; unaware of our disability to communicate with them. 

God gives us opportunity after opportunity to believe in them and help them attain perfection. In reality, He is giving us an opportunity to attain our own perfection through them. He is giving us an opportunity to know Him through His Special Humans. 

And while the humanity is busy discovering His miracles in the normalcy of Life, He hides His astounding Miracles in His Special Humans. 

And while we create special schools and places for them, while we isolate ourselves from interacting with them, while we hush them away behind the confines of excuses and walls, They wait. Patiently. For us to Discover the Gifts they have been sent with. 

They wait to narrate us the Miracles God has whispered to them. Their Souls wait to help us attain Perfection. 

While the activists' community fights every year for their rights, for the adjectives used to describe them, They just smile and continue being who they are. While we delve into making up for our materialistic and apparent shortcomings, They make us realize the Beauty of being and performing as they are and who they are. 

Look in their eyes for longer than a moment and it hits us. The Power, the Majesty, the Tales from the Absolute World. 

While trying to interact with them, we realize our own disability and disconnect. We realize, it is not them who are disabled. It is us. For they are Special Humans with Special ways of making us connect with Him. We first isolate them to make us forget our own disabilities and then, as disabled people we visit them to feel Human. 

They don't need us. We do. 

And then, We win :)

Once upon a time, there was a man, Mr. Ali, known for his justice in all aspects of life. He was consulted by those around him for every single problem. He was the prime example of how to lead a life with best of everything while attaining human perfection. 

One of his most talked about art was his war skills. He was the master for confronting enemies upfront, battling the toughest of battles and never running away from the ground. Despite fighting him, the enemy as well acknowledged and praised his art. 

There was one particular thing which astounded his men, his army and his enemies alike. His sword was extremely sharp, quick and responsive. On the other hand, he rarely paid attention to training his horse for speed. His horse ran fast indeed, but not as fast as his sword fought the enemies.  

Since it was a common practice to focus on taming the horse as the best runner, the man seemed like an outlier. Curious and endlessly inquisitive about the wisdom behind it, one of his men once asked him. "Why Sir, is it that your sword is so sharp, so quick but your horse is of no match to its speed?". 

The man smiled and responded, "Because high speed horse will only aid me in either running away from the battle ground or running toward the war booty. Both of which, I don't believe in. I like meeting my enemy upfront, fighting the battle till the end. I don't believe in walking away. And for that, I need to focus on making my sword sharp. Nor my horse run faster,"

We all are placed in battlegrounds often. Some we win. Some we lose. And some, we continue fighting till the end. It is like a set of various battles we are indulging in simultaneously. They may or may not be brutal. They may even be very peaceful. Willingly or unwillingly, we all have been assigned the battles. Some, perhaps, we choose to fight. Some, we choose to ignore.  

The dilemma is, we spend more time taming our horses to seek refuge. We spend time seeking, exploring options and alternatives. We indulge in obsessions. We go at length to prepare an endless list of refugee camps for us in terms of places, people, and things. We run away even before confronting our enemies and our fears because we tame our horses to run faster than we tame our swords to fight. 

Often, we forget that the battles we have been assigned are by the One who loves us the most. We trust our horse power more than we trust His Endings to the battles we fight. We sharpen not the swords He gave us to fight; but the horses we created to run away from the field. 

We forget, that, joy lies in facing Life upfront. We forget, that, the battle is not necessarily a series of happening, dramatic unwanted circumstances. A battle can be a composition of mundane, stagnant waters of uncertainty. Hence, sharpening the sword of patience to fight the happening and not-so-happening battles alike is the bridge to who we are, who we want to be and who we become. 

Just the satisfaction of standing there in the battlefield, fighting each passing moment is the only way to Experience the Internal Satisfaction. It is the only justified then, to Look up Confidently and take pride in the fact that you tried and that is my Victory.

Oh, I am Sorry.

I love interacting with people from diverse cultures and backgrounds. Stemming from a country drenched in loans, corruption scandals and extreme terrorist activities, I have rarely found an opportunity to meet people from other countries in Karachi. Hence, whenever I am in Dubai to meet my family, it also serves as a forum to fulfil my passion for learning about other cultures. 

Last week, while standing at the top of the world at Burj Khalifa, enjoying the astounding sight of twinkling urban lights set across the dark horizons of wide desserts, I stumbled across an enthusiastic French guy. Hardly in his 30s, he seemed animated and full of stories. Since I was with my Indian cousins, it was natural for him to assume the same for me. 

"So Sultana, tell me how Mumbai is different from Dubai?" was just the start of an awkward 10 minutes conversation full of condolences. 

"Er, it is indeed quite different, but I see Mumbai catching up. However, I am from Karachi" I smiled broadly correcting him. 

He paused. Smiling an awkward smile, he remarked, "I am sorry, you're from Pakistan?"

"Yup, That's right". 

"Oh, I am so Sorry. I heard the things are so terrible there...I am extremely sorry. I didn't know. How do you survive there? Is it going to get any better? I personally feel we could all do something for people there. I mean, really, I am so sorry" He seemed visibly sorry. 

"It surely will get better. Well, at least, that's what we're hoping for." Awkwardness was totally in the air. I really did not know what to say after counting the number of apologies he had used in a single breath. 

I sincerely did wish that I had some fanciful skills of illustrating those lush green mountains and somehow convincing him that Pakistan was still the best place to visit. And, how, I am still not sorry for being a Pakistani. But I stopped short. Not because I doubt my skills; but because, I realized I had to rely on my skills to portray a picture of a nation which it truly is not at the moment. I am indeed, sorry. I felt like I am receiving condolences on behalf of 180 million of us, and well, I surely was. 

The feeling intensified when I landed back in Karachi. Not even 40 days had passed before another targeted attack had left 80+ humans brutally killed in Quetta. At the airport, everybody seemed to be discussing the riots, protests and political turmoil in the country. Everybody was keenly interested and deeply engrossed in number of dead from firing, which routes are blocked, how the country is just helpless and what not. One thing in particular was, they still did not seem sorry. I suddenly remembered the French guy back from my trip. 

Not just remembered, I think, I felt like him. And ever since, have been feeling so. I feel like going and offering condolences to each and every one of us sitting at home today. 

I wish I could tell the community how sorry I am. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I sit in the comforts of my apartment; away from the threats out there. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I hug my parents; unaware of the orphans left behind from the attacks. 

For I am sorry for every single time that it has happened and will happen. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I have complained about closed routes and long traffic jams due to protests. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I have luxuriously debated and exchanged views on the conditions of this country over a cup of coffee.

For I am sorry for every single time, I have felt that pang of excitement after hearing of a strike and no school/work tomorrow. 

For I am sorry for every single time, my friends/family living in the cute bubble of socio-economic comforts have defended this country. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I have closed the chrome window and switched to facebook just because the news seemed depressing. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I have switched back to entertainment channels because the casualties from the blast were low. Rather the score as we call it. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I have driven past places feeling sorry for the state in which people are living. 

For I am sorry for every single tweet, every single facebook status expressing solitude over the current conditions while laughing off at a joke with a friend sitting next to me. 

For I am sorry for every single time, I have attended a religious gathering/sermon and not taken the essence of the message of Standing with the Oppressed. 

For I am sorry that it took me time to sincerely feel, realize and stand up. 

For I am sorry for not relating to the emotions of the oppressed. For I am sorry for sitting at home till now. 

But there is one thing I am absolutely not sorry for. And that is the fact that I am Sorry. I am indeed Sorry to the 270+ families whose loved ones were killed in the name of Religion in just the first 48 days of this year. 

I am Sorry Hazara and all the nameless communities/humans killed in the web of trade terrorism, politics and our ignorance/silence. I indeed, failed you. Please accept my condolences and give me a chance to Stand for You today. 

Decisions

It is 10am in the morning. After years of education, extensive training and months of experience, I go ahead to undertake another trading deal. The deal is worth $10million. If things go as rightly as I have projected and if the market reacts as well as the trend suggests, then, well, I am bound to make a profit of $40million by 10pm tonight. The party's on. I am almost there. 

9:59pm, the market crashes. My decision goes not as well as I had projected. I end up making a loss of $20million instead. 

With a pistol in my hand and almost on the verge of suicide, I wonder. How could I go wrong? Everybody is surprised. Astounded. Taken aback. And then, I pause. I realize, they are not surprised, astounded at me. They are not looking at me and how I could go wrong. They are not criticizing me. They are pitying me. They are not doubting my decision making skills. They are wondering at the market and its ability to churn things around in the spur of the moment. For, at 10am, I had made the decision with the best of my knowledge, skills and information available. How could I then, at 10pm, blame myself for that decision?

We all make decisions everyday. Sometimes, we think, ponder, compare, analyse and then decide. Sometimes, we just decide and then repeat the analysis process just to fend ourselves. Each decision comes with its own set of costs and benefits. From picking up the branded jeans over the counter to choosing between the two drinks from the menu. Each decision, every single time, has a price attached to it. We give something in order to have something. What we give is part of our brains, analysis, time and the cost of not choosing the other thing. What we get is a box of consequences of that decision.

The clearest way of defining it perhaps is buying a Big Mac combo from McDonalds. We get a with-cheese big mac with fries and a regular drink. In return, we pay Rs.350. In exchange, we get the apparent as well as the psychological satisfaction of consuming it. 

But imagine, standing at the counter and not deciding. The store may close. The attendant at the counter may get agitated;  request or even forcefully shun you away to let others in the queue get their chance. Your family, your friends may also get irritated at you for taking time and just standing there. Now imagine, standing at the McDonalds counter for 3years, with Rs. 350, you might be able to afford a Big Mac today; but not forever. 

Same is the case with all the decisions we take. They say, all decisions are not as simple as treating yourself to fast food. Not all decisions come with a tag of mere Rs 350. There are gazillion other factors involved. The bigger the set of consequences and the fatter the size of decision, the heavier the risk. The higher the human tendency of complicating it. 

Even till date, if I stumble across a  mathematics question which looks tricky and complicated, I automatically start devising complicated solutions. We all love complicating things and answers for questions that just seem complicated. And perhaps, that is the trick. Like one big cute examiner, even God poses us with life dilemmas and questions that seem apparently tricky. Helpless in the hands of our stupid addiction of complication, we immediately delve into looking for complicated answers. 

Often a times, we get so bogged down with looking for curved roads and twisted solutions, that we end up entangling ourselves in the process of deciding. The heavy weight of our illusions and complications numb us. Slow us. And eventually, robs of our ability to even decide. And then, the worse happens. We lose ourselves and stop deciding. We chicken out. 

We forget that deciding is imperative to living. There is no right or wrong decision. It is in the context of situations. Putting it in comprehensible way, there are two degrees of wrong decisions. One, when we decide without the information at hand.

Two, when we choose not to decide. Imagine, if we all stop driving for the fear of going wrong with our judgements. Imagine, if all pilots refuse to takeoff because of the threat of air accidents. Imagine, if we all stop breathing for the fear of our airwaves blocking the next moment. Imagine, if we all stop buying smart phones, joining jobs in always the hopes of getting a better one in the near future. Imagine, if we all stop striking any deal in life, in the hopes of something bigger, better. 

We die not when we don't get what we expected out of the decisions. We die only when we stop deciding. 

Decision is a tool. A result of thorough analysis of available information. The information available at any given moment is constant and perfect, yet with the ticking of each second, its changing. 

The perfect decision is the precision with which we can determine the reason for choosing, the options and the available information related to it. With evolving paradigms of ourselves and others, the decision may not seem perfect after sometime, to ourselves or even to others. But then again, the key is to remember, that it was in the strongest context of the situation. 

Successful is the person who curbs down his need to complicate things, makes the decision, courageously takes up the accountability for it, tries his best to sustain the decision's consequences and does not whine to the world for it. It is easy to let others decide and later blame them. 

The key is to not let the brains cloud the rationality with complications. 

Listing down complications attached to absolutely any decision is the start. If our list is greater than 4points, than know it for sure that either we are not ready to decide or we're over complicating things to eventually hand over the decision making responsibility to somebody else. 

For no problem in life can extend a four point description in life. 

For deciding and owning up the decision is the only way to live and move on.