Friday, 22 April 2011

Single Square Character

The wicked trick the manufacturers and governments now play on our minds is: if you subscribe to GPS tracking you can find out where your children are, where your stolen cars are, and—in case you are struck with amnesia—find out where you have been in the past few months.

The lure makes us suspect waywardness in our children, casts aspersions on the spouse’s fidelity and on the imagined thievery and knavery of society. But we need to ignore the suggestions of businessmen with trans-national interests and instead pay deeper attention to what parents always say and how older siblings warn us.

Students need to worry about their grade, jobs and, most of all, the debt they are incurring through the bloated over-priced elitist education system. Today’s young executives think that just by owning iPhones they will magically have job offers come to them or be able to Google-search for their soul-mates in cyberspace. For the health conscious, this obsession with apples—I mean, the Apple iPhone—will not keep the proverbial doctor away but rather invite sick patients from cyberspace, commonly known as hackers.

Recently, I got into a discussion with a young lady in a public transport when she enquired if I were using the latest Nokia set. Who in his right mind would not treat such probing with disdain?

“It’s just a phone! But why do you ask?”

“The first things I notice are: the phone, the shoes men wear, their clothing”.

“That is too much observation for a single evening but it’s nice to know that you remain faithful to your true nature. What brand is your landline phone at home?”

“Alcatel”

“May I know the model number?”

“I don’t know, umm——”

“—because you’re not supposed to know! How does knowing the model of my mobile phone make my life better? It’s just a phone that gets my voice from here to there. And besides, if I lacked good conversational skills or a gentleman’s manners, how would this or that phone truly help me?”

The conversation ended abruptly when the train arrived at my stop sooner than I expected and the lady escaped the humiliation of answering my questions. There was no hat on my head that I could tip so I just waved my Nokia whatever at her.

London is being the most ‘watched’ city on the planet. On an average day, one is seen at least three hundred times by secret cameras which now use face recognition software and predict if someone’s nervousness is natural or a precursor to some imagined horrific incident.

Modern means of communication are a treasure trove for the intelligence agencies and government officials who wish to track the citizens like Big Brother does in the novel called ‘1984’. It is now possible to ‘get’ anybody the government does not like or agree with, under the broken umbrella of ‘possible links with terrorists’.

In the name of convenience and the magic of technology, slowly the massive hard drives of these wonder toys we cannot live without have taken over our brains. One’s personal information, banking details, passwords, messages, emails, browsing history, pictures, videos, to-do lists, appointment schedules, everything lives inside these little monsters. Add to this the ridiculous carrot now being dangled in front of the forgetful ‘sheeple’: GPS that reveals where one has been. Nobody is safe from governmental snooping anymore.

I propose this scheme ought to work in reverse for the benefit of mankind. To begin with, the hard-working citizens would like to know who our tax-imposing leaders meet with, from which rat-holes they emerge from and where they suddenly vanish, what routes they follow while travelling, and what do they discuss behind closed doors while selling us to the IMF, the World Bank, or to the USA. This is of vital importance because these men in sharp suits continue to destroy our national interests—not to mention what is left of our ability to earn livelihoods as approved by God.

If incomplete means NOT complete, independence should mean we are still dependant. Our misrepresentatives remain protected by the police, the armed forces, and by the agencies whose job it is to protect the citizens from domestic and foreign devils.

The bad folks can now take complete control of an iPhone by merely text-messaging inconspicuous SMS bursts that will hijack it to control all the functions. The hacker can then send more text messages to hijack even more iPhones. What is the way out? If you receive a text message containing a single square character, immediately turn off your iPhone because the time has come when someone will take over every iPhone on the planet. New iPhone 3GS’ data encryption can be cracked within a few minutes using freeware, hence, avoid using the iPhone for business purposes.

Oddly enough, some jester in our government suggested a few months ago that ‘ordinary folks must not possess mobile phones and only the parliamentarians should be allowed the privilege to carry them’. As of this writing, our brainy Interior Minister has ruined the lives of mobile phone service providers by asking them to ensure compliance with a million of his impractical directives. This just might be the continuation of the hare-brained proposal we spoke of earlier.

So let the parliamentarians have these phones, and the citizens the trackers which should record their locations and display them on giant TV screens placed in shopping malls. So thoroughly entertaining will their idiocy be that there will be no need to watch one hundred cable channels at home.

Citizens must have full access to unencrypted files (labeled ‘consolidated.db.) inside the iPhones of these efficient gentlemen and which store huge lists of geographical locations with time-stamps. Instead of wasting resources on tracking 6 billion Earthlings, it is more practical to track lying politicians whose global population may not number more than 250,000 in this ‘always-connected’ world of over 100 million iPhones and 15 million iPads. If these bold proposals are turned into law of the land, my Orwellian dreams will at last come true.

Critics point out that Apple is possibly ‘violating the Wireless Communications and Public Safety Act, which allows telecom carriers to provide call information only in emergency situations. By asking for permission to collect location data, Apple may be trying to get around its legal obligations, by asking people to give up privacy rights they don’t even know they have.’

A great advantage of citizens tracking the politicians will be that the law will be seen chasing after genuine scoundrels instead of providing them full protocol and finally producing in court the electronic records of their official iPhones. This will keep the lawyers, the judges and the jailers happy for the next five billion years or until the sun dies as a star, whichever comes later.

Fantasy aside, what is the way out of this digital hell, this gadget lust created by the privileged few and passed on to the rest of us? Don’t buy these expensive spying devices, and don’t carry them everywhere.

I have reason to suspect that a near and dear one will buy me an iPhone as a present on my next birthday. I am confident this person will not mind if I tied the device to our footloose dog’s hindquarters in order to trip up the tracking system.

Actual 'spy' map of an iPhone user in California, courtesy of WIRED magazine.

Monday, 11 April 2011

A Faceless Friend

It is spring time. I see the birds and the bees doing their song and dance routines, and I think it is time for me as well to hammer out a few songs.

Hurry, the quills, my lute!

I have been writing since a long time now and it does not bother me if my words, set to hummable melodies, do not climb the global music charts.

Do we fall in love so that others may grade our emotions? Love is not a classroom with a strict teacher or a carved-in-stone principle. Love has a roof that reaches up to the heavens, with its own secret book written daily using the blood of longing; its roll-call register shows there are more absentees than those present. Love cannot be caged or bottled up but, mercifully, it can be expressed.

The reader is advised not to concern herself with speculating about who the supreme rejecter might be in this song. She could be anybody or nobody, or somebody-turned-nobody.

I am unable, as of this writing, to post a video of the song that might showcase the rhythm or the melody to which the lyrics are set. One need not imagine that this is a rock anthem set to a fast beat with distorted guitars. Far from it! It is a sensitive mid-tempo pop song that might be labelled ‘adult contemporary, MOR (middle of the road)’.

The interesting thing about the composition is that the guitar is not played in standard (EADGBE) tuning but utilizes the D-modal (or Celtic) alternate tuning that produces far more interesting tonal textures, poly-chords and bass lines. It helps me play the guitar finger-style instead of using a plectrum.

There is only one verse in the song, and then the chorus, followed by a bridge that re-connects with the chorus. And it all fades out like most good things in life usually do.

By all means, imagine the song like a video in your mind and send me a copy when you are done. Of course, until our last breaths, we are never done.

A Faceless Friend

VERSE:

You can’t buy what they don’t sell
Or don a feeling on your empty shell
Rules for fools break my spirit down
As you happily sound a death knell

    
    For you my lonely struggle
    Is a laughing matter, pure trouble
    En route to your moral high ground
    A thorn in the side, an obstacle

CHORUS:

A faceless friend I am
From the great beyond
I get no love from you
Only sophisticated taunts

    A faceless friend I am
    With endless wants
    Turn your face around, create
    Your perfect right from two wrongs

BRIDGE:

You want no waves of rascality
Only graveyard calm, tranquillity
With civic sense you slice me down
Into a one-sided plurality

    Your cup, my storm, and dire warnings
    I miss the good of your good mornings
    My simple gift was no poison pill
    But the drug of love so habit-forming

[Repeat CHORUS and fade…]

Copyright ©2011 Tahir Gul Hasan

Monday, 28 March 2011

Yashica Electro 35: Making Your Own Battery

9. Closed bottom
These are digital times, roll film is getting harder to find. You must be wondering why I have chosen to resurrect a 35mm film camera from the 1970s.

Well, I have news for you: film is not dead and even vacuum tubes (valves) are still being manufactured. You see, digital is merely convenient, though not necessarily cheap, and has almost become as good as her analogue father—well, almost.3. Spindle with cotton thread

While at a camera shop in Paris, I checked a $1,200 Nikon digital SLR (single lens reflex) camera that I intended to buy and was horrified to feel the flimsy built quality in my hands. China’s cheap products have ruined things for humanity which took eons to learn how to make find sturdy things.
5. Spindle top

Now compare the all metal-and-glass wonder, the Yashica Electro 35, with today’s plastic digital cameras and you will know what I mean. When Nikon introduced the model EM camera its size was intentionally kept small to suit women’s hands. But our matchbox-sized digital wonders are neither for men nor for women, but for adolescents who drop them, break them and then pester their parents for replacements. Surely, most of us have embraced the global throw-away culture, without reminding ourselves that these megapixel gadgets are not designed to be repaired.
2. Battery metal cover-2

Hold the Yashica Electro 35 in your hands and you will appreciate how well-made it feels even today. After all, it features Japanese parts that were merely assembled in Hong Kong in order to keep the camera very affordable. The Electro appeared in various finishes and model variations and was dubbed “a poor man’s Leica” (the German rangefinder camera that brought the 35mm revolution).
1. Battery metal cover-1

I will not delve into how much I love the Yashica Electro 35 camera; volumes have already been written. Its fourth generation GSN and GTN models appeared around 1973 and sold by the millions; little did I know that I would end up buying a few of these years later.
6. Spindle with metal spacer tubeRight out of the box (you can still find 'boxed' beauties), the Electro 35 is capable of shooting quality images rivalling fifteen megapixel results. You see, real men while shooting with roll film, never worried about LCDs, confusing menus or megapixels.

Now, to get great results with the Electro 35 one need only set the aperture while the camera automatically sets the shutter speed. There is no autofocus facility but this rangefinder is capable of very precise and quick manual focussing aid (split-image parallax method) even in poorly lit situations.

7. Spindle & batteriesThis Yashica comes from a time when one needed to know what one was doing as a photographer. Automatic point-and-shoot cameras have made humanity quite brain-dead. The only feature missing from the present day cameras is a mode that decides for the photographer when a picture ought to be taken, all without human intervention. I mean, must we even torture our brain cells deciding when and what to shoot when the computer can think for us?

8. Spindle, battery, end capMine is a genuine tirade against modern digital toys which are battery-hogging matchbox-sized plastic things that have made the battery manufacturers very rich. The Electro 35 originally used Mercury TR 164 (HM-4N) 5.6 Volt type of a battery.

Because mercury was declared a hazardous substance, the manufacturers stopped their production. But now I will show you how to achieve analogue nirvana by improvising to save your father’s Yashica from extinction. We will proceed to fabricate a 6 volt battery which will not hurt the camera’s 5.6 volt circuitry:
    10. Battery check button
  1. Open the camera’s battery compartment using a coin’s edge that fits the slot nicely. Turn anti-clockwise and inspect the compartment. Clean it, especially if the used battery has left leaked residues behind. The compartment’s lid must also be free of unwanted substances. Use demineralised alcohol on a cotton swab for cleaning. 
  2. Peep into your household sewing kit and dig out a paper or plastic spindle. This kind of tubular base is ideal for our DIY project. 
  3. Cut the tube to the length that the camera’s battery chamber will take. 
  4. The internal diameter of the spindle must be able to house, but not too tightly, four LR44 1.5 Volt batteries. Now pile these four little babies—negative side down—one on top of the other in the tube to get 6 Volts of power. 
  5. Over the last battery, drop a metal tube to act as a spacer. 
  6. Place over this spacer, a round metal plate to enable the battery compartment’s lid to make electrical contact with. 
  7. Close the compartment’s lid. 
  8. Press the Battery Check button and watch the lovely green light illuminate the counter. 
11. Final battery checkAnd you’re done! The total cost of this project is less than Rs. 86 ($1).

You could still buy a mint condition Yashica Electro 35 for as little as $30. I encourage you to activate your brain, load up a roll of 35mm film, and start shooting now.

If you have any more questions, please feel free to contact me.

©Tahir Gul Hasan 2011

Thursday, 10 March 2011

Alphabet For Politically-Incorrect Children

Dear grownups, sit back and let the children enjoy the new alphabet which took us so many decades of American intervention to develop!

A: army, aid, American (interests, ambassador), Ayub (Khan, the military DICK-tator)
B: boot, bomb, barbed-(wire), beheading, budget 
C: collateral (damage), C-in-C, CIA, court, chief(-justice), cartoons (of Prophet Muhammad)
D: drone, Defence (Housing Authority), debt, Dollar, DICK-tator
E: emergency, explosive, economic (sanctions)
F: FBI, fauj, flag-burning, flood, fundamentalist, flour (shortage)
G: Guantenamo (Bay), global (war of error or G-WOE), general, Green-(Card)
H: headquarter, hand grenade, halwa, hides (of sacrificial animals)
I: intelligence, ISI, Islamist, insurgent, IED (improvised explosive device), IMF, inflation
J: jacket (for suicide bombers), journalist, judge, Jew,
K: Kargil, KHAD, KGB
L: load-shedding, letter-bomb, lawyer, lota
M: medal, militant, miswaak, Muslim League (A,N and F), MOSSAD
N: nuclear, no-fly (zone), 9/11
O: Osama (bin Laden), operation
P: Plotocracy (diplomacy through plot allotments to cronies), Pentagon (pants-are-gone)
Q: (al)-Qaeda, Qur'an
R: RAW, rocket-launcher, regime-(change)
S: suicide-(jacket), Siachin, sugar (shortage), stoning (to death), Shariah law, security situation
T: Taliban, torture, terrorist, tax
U: USA, U.N.O, ultra-orthodox, underworld
V: visa (American), veto, veteran (of American crimes against humanity)
W: Washington, Waziristan, WMD, World (Bank), water-boarding
X: X-Ray (camp at Guantanamo Bay)
Y: Yankee
Z: Zionism, Zia-ul-Haq (the military DICK-tator)

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

Connect With Me

Greetings dear readers!

I have many friends with whom I communicate through different means. Some remain on FaceBook and refuse to leave that ‘convenient’ environment. A few enjoy email messages and the rest are waiting for a sign from up above to make them move in my direction.

It is for the esteemed members of this last group that I am outlining the simple procedure for having their names and photographs included in the FOLLOWERS sidebar on my blog.

Welcome to Google Friend Connect

Procedure:
  1. Go to http://writersblocktgh.blogspot.com/
  2. I would appreciate it if you add my blog’s URL to your browser’s FAVORITES folder so that you don’t have to type the lengthy address each time you visit me
  3. Scroll down while watching the left hand side sidebar
  4. Click on FOLLOW (under SIGN UP TO BECOME A FRIEND)
  5. A dialogue box appears which tells you that you may use various accounts to become a member (Google, Twitter, Yahoo, AIM, NetLog, or Open ID)
  6. Sign in with your ID and Password
  7. Fill in your Name, and upload your Picture
  8. Click ‘FOLLOW PUBLICLY’
  9. Click ‘FOLLOW THIS BLOG’
  10. A message appears: ‘Congratulations. You are now following WritersBlockTGH’
  11. Click DONE
  12. Check the blog to see if your NAME and PHOTO is visible in ‘Friends’ sidebar on the left hand side of the blog
  13. To edit further, press OPTIONS, go to SITE SETTINGS (to change data, picture etc.)
Presto! You’re done!

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Testing Alan Parsons

Those were such happy days and 9/11 was less than a decade away into the future. Digital audio had arrived firmly on the scene and good old analogue was fighting back with a little help from vacuum tubes. Torn between ones and zeros, I found it immensely rewarding in every sense of the word to regularly attend professional audio trade shows in England and Germany.

Back then, from a humble 4-track setup, I had upgraded to an analogue 8-track recorder that used ½” wide magnetic tape which moved at fifteen inches per second across the assembly of multiple heads and pinch rollers. Not many of today’s bottle-fed digital boys would know what it means watching 10½” wide reels spin. The same machine helped me record many jingles, voice-overs, at least two complete pop albums, and many pop singles, including Pyar Ki Piyas.

Back to the shows now; the one in Germany, called Musikmesse, would be held in April of each year at Frankfurt and extend over scores of stadium-sized exhibition halls. I only attended it once when invited by Studiomaster of UK. It was impossible to even walk casually through all the halls in three days, leave alone stop at each stall to see what was on display. The highlight of Musikmesse was the fantastic booth of Marshall guitar amplifiers. There a tall man, with curly hair covering his entire face, lead guitarist of Guns n’ Roses, stood dishing out autographs to the fans. Of course, Slash signed for me.
 
For all the APRS (Association of Professional Recording Services) shows I attended, the venue was always the Olympia Exhibition Centre in West Kensington, London. The English professional audio trade shows were always delightfully homely compared with other bigger shows held all over the globe. Apart from the relaxed yet professional atmosphere there, the great advantage was that everyone spoke English—even the Americans.

Making friends in the audio industry was as important as getting to know the manufacturers directly. I attended three APRS shows where the presence of rock stars and engineers like Alan Parsons, and knighted producers such as Sir George Martin (Beatles fame), always made the fairs worth attending.

Where professionals from the recording industry came from across the globe, it was important for me to have a neat business card. I would gladly hand out cards at the stalls of my choice and with great pride identify my studio, Sound On Sound, from Pakistan.

Sometime in the mid 80s, I designed the studio’s logo, keeping in mind the desirable elements of sine waves, two open reels with tape, spherical shock waves, and solid green letters placed against a black background inside a rectangular enclosure with round edges.

Soundcraft, Lexicon, Tube Tech, AKG, Neumann, Drawmer and so many other manufacturers quite unknown to the average consumer, would set up stalls at the show to highlight their latest offerings to the recording professionals. For instance, Japanese TEAC was a consumer brand, while the same company had a division called TASCAM that catered to audio professionals.

Similarly, Switzerland’s REVOX went by the name of STUDER for professionals. All through the three days there would be seminars, interesting demonstrations of new technology, innovative products using valves (things that glow in the dark and produce desirable warm sound), free drinks and snacks, all the product catalogues one could carry to the studio, and souvenirs to take home.

Particularly worth mentioning here is loudspeaker manufacturer JBL. When I complained to their European representative that one of the titanium tweeters of my studio (monitor) speakers had begun to distort within only a few years of use, he asked for my business card and said, “I’ll see what I can do”.

A few weeks later in Pakistan, I received a parcel. Inside it was a replacement tweeter for which I was not charged a single penny.

Of course, APRS shows were not meant for selling directly but rather for highlighting products and services. It was during one such wandering from booth to booth that I ran into a small kiosk being managed by a very tall man. A poster in the background identified him as Alan Parsons of the famous Alan Parsons Project.
Many may not have heard of this great British progressive soft rock band, active between 1975 and 1990 and popularly called APP. It had a cult following, produced global hits, and used ace studio musicians who worked under Alan’s recording and production umbrella. The band also released their 1976 debut album Tales Of Mystery And Imagination directly inspired by American writer, Edgar Alan Poe.

Hit albums followed, namely: I Robot (1977), Pyramid (1978), The Turn of a Friendly Card (1980), Eye in the Sky (1982), Ammonia Avenue (1984), Vulture Culture (1985), Stereotomy (1986) and Gaudi (1987). Alan is the same giant who, at EMI Abbey Road studios of London, engineered an album called The Dark Side Of The Moon by a group called Pink Floyd. In case you do not know Pink Floyd, please do not waste time reading this article.

Alan also did three albums for Al Stewart (including, The Year Of The Cat), worked on The Beatles’ Let It Be album, The Hollies (He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother, The Air That I Breathe), Paul McCartney and the Wings, and with George Harrison (All Things Must Pass album). With multiple Grammy nominations and Best Engineer awards under his belt, he conquered sound from the English soil. Befittingly, in 2007, the APRS Hall Of Fame inducted him as a Sound Fellow.

But what was Alan selling at the APRS show? In collaboration with Stephan Court (audio consultant and designer), he had produced the SOUND CHECK audio test CD. The disc was not to have songs but rather test tones and white and pink noises that professionals could use for sound analysis and audio equipment repairs. I may as well add here, so well engineered are Alan’s own APP albums that manufacturers still use them to demonstrate new CD players at audio trade shows.
 
Young, brimming with enthusiasm and thirsty for audio knowledge, I just had to have that test CD for my recording studio because I suspected that Alan would not speak to me unless I paid for the CD in cash. It was a perfect stop where I expected some magic to rub off on me if I shook hands with Alan. I was able to get him to mumble something about studio techniques; the man was a mountain of expert knowledge and experience. He was kind enough to autograph the CD for me and allow a picture of us to be taken.

And one last bit of trivia. Mike Myers being a dedicated Alan Parsons fan, named his Dr Evil’s Death Ray, The Alan Parsons Project in the movie The Spy Who Shagged Me.

Yeah baby yeah!

L i n k s  f o r  m o r e  i n f o r m a t i o n
Pyar Ki Piyas (پیاس کی پیار): Will The Real Man Behind It Please Stand Up?
Pyar Ki Piyas (پیار کی پیاس): Urdu Lyrics With English Translation

Friday, 14 January 2011

Pyar Ki Piyas (پیارکی پیاس): Urdu Lyrics With English Translation

As promised in (Pyar Ki Piyas (پیارکی پیاس): Will The Real Man Behind It Please Stand Up?, here are some more gifts for those who wish to understand what the singer is singing:

1. The Urdu lyrics of ‘Pyar Ki Piyas’
2. A translation in English

The important features of this effort are:

1. The rhymes are intact in English as well
2. The English lyrics can be sung to the same tune


Click to hear the YouTube ('audio' only) version or go to the link below:

Click to hear mp3 'audio' only version or go to the link provided below for better sound than the original video’s:


The term lyric comes from the Greek word lyrikos, meaning ‘singing to the lyre’. A lyric poem is one that expresses a subjective, personal point of view. In 1876, the word lyric became associated with ‘words of a song’.

Please appreciate the fact that a lyric is always conversational in tone and is primarily created for a singer to sing. On the other hand, Urdu poetry in a typical Eastern recital gathering (musha’ira) is narrated without the aid of music. Hence, those with a penchant for poetry need not feel vexed reading this matter-of-fact yet poetic lyric. Simplicity, though it appears easy, is a hard thing to do. Of course, if I were to re-do the song today, I would make a few minor changes to the lyric as well as to the melody.

Stay tuned for the next blog and I hope you enjoy this one in the mean time.

پیار کی پیاس

میں نے دیکھا ہے / پیار اس کا جھوٹا
میری خوشیوں کو جس نے دونوں ہاتھوں سے لوٹا
گزرے وہ دن کبھی لوٹ کے نہ آئیں
جوانی برباد میری وہ مسکراے
میرا دِل اداس ہے

مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے

کچھ پہلے سے / اس پہ شبہ تھا
دِل میں اس کے/ اک چور چھپا تھا
دولت لٹی / میرا پیار ہوا ضایع
محبّت یه ناچ دیکھو کیسے نچایے
میرا دِل اداس ہے

مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے

Guitar Lead

سمجھاتے ہیں مجھے اپنے بیگانے
(مانو تُم کہنا)
جاو تُم بھول / وہ گزرے زمانے
یادیں ہیں تلخ لیکن دِل کیوں نہ جانے
رکھتا ہے یاد بھولے بسرے فسانے
میرے یه حالات ہیں

مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے

مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
مجھے پیار کی پیاس

مجھے پیار
پیاس
مجھے پیار کی پیاس ہے
پیار

©Tahir Gul Hasan 1992
Thirsting For Love

I've seen her love, all of it so fake
Plundered my happiness, she took away what she could take
Those bygone days will never return
My youth is so wasted; she smiles now and it hurts
My heart feels truly sad

Chorus:
O this thirsting for love is so bad
O this thirsting for love is so bad

From the start, I had strong suspicions
A thief hid inside her heart with doubtful intentions
Lost all the money, my love’s not been tasted
The run-around of love, leaves so wasted
My heart feels truly sad

Repeat Chorus...
[Guitar lead]

Guidance comes, from strangers and friends alike
“You need to listen, forget the years gone by.”
Painful reminiscing, but the heart I don’t know why
Loves to recall forgotten stories by the bye
Such a bad state, I might add

Saturday, 1 January 2011

Pyar Ki Piyas (پیارکی پیاس): Will The Real Man Behind It Please Stand Up?



First, I wish all the visitors to my blog a very happy and prosperous 2011.

Second, I just made a leveraged buy-out deal; MTV is my property now and I am ready to launch my own satellite into space.

Third, I just made this up; in reality I have only launched my own video channel, TTV, on YouTube.

Since the world’s dumb fingers are too busy punching ‘smart’ Black Berry and I-Phone buttons these days, allow me to tell you something about the kind of work that I have done in the past. Now please do not get any ideas that might be funnier than my own.

Way back in the early 1990s, I was commissioned to write and compose for, arrange, record, mix and produce an upcoming band from Lahore called Wet Metal. The boys never played metal music but rather excelled at doing pop cover tunes at weddings and concerts.

I will spare you the details that will look better in a book I am contemplating writing and which is tentatively titled ‘The Missing Pages Of Pakistani Pop History’.

The title of the Urdu song Pyar Ki Piyas means 'Thirst For Love’; it was written in an era when men had stopped thirsting for knowledge. Najam Shiraz was then the lead singer for Wet Metal, with Shehryar as the guitarist, Ali at the keyboards and Saeed Hasan Turk on the drums (in the video you see Tariq Tafu pounding away at the drum-kit).

The song’s video was aimed to give the public a taste of Wet Metal’s upcoming debut album for which I was hired to do everything except appear as a regular band member. The song was slated for release as a debut single.

To this day, I retain the ownership rights to the lyrics, composition and the arrangement. It was also stipulated in the original contract that I had the ‘right to later release the same song with an altered arrangement under my own name’. Who knows, I just might decide to release a Pyar Ki Piyas video under the right launch conditions.

It will not be difficult to get people from Bollywood interested in a re-make of the song but then who wants to see scantily-clad women dancing to my song?—not I. As it is, Munni’s notoriety (Munni badnaam huwee) and Sheila’s (Sheila ki jawani) youth has been rather over-exposed in public.

Mismanagement claimed the life of Wet Metal; it split shortly after the release of this video. Najam Shiraz later released Pyar Ki Piyas in his debut audio album, Khazana, in 1996. Although not fully acknowledged for my work, my name was misspelled in the album’s liner notes as Tahir Hassan Gul. You will not see my name on pirated CD versions released later because the album was originally released in cassette format.

I wrote Piyar Ki Pyas in 1991, composed and played all electronic instruments (sequencing) and single-handedly recorded and mixed the analogue audio tracks at my own studios (Sound On Sound, Karachi). Najam Shiraz only recorded the lead and backup vocals. Because since childhood I have been quite comfortable with oohs and aahs, you can actually hear me do the same in the song’s backup vocal track.

Shehryar played the guitar solo whose melody I hummed to him as we recorded the take. Ali is pretending to play the keyboards and Tariq Tafu is doing the same with the drums; such make belief happens in film and music all the time. What was certainly not my idea was Najam getting caught with his pants down, wearing just the shorts, when he sings meray yeh haalaat hein (meaning: this is my condition).

Fast forward nineteen years.

Najam Shiraz is now an internationally known Pakistani pop singer. We still see each other every few years. He says he announces my name whenever he sings this song on stage; I have no reason to doubt that. Not many these days admit in public what ladders and shoulders they rented to get to such dizzying heights. Indeed Najam's success is his own doing.

All the meticulous track-sheets, master mix-down track and contractual paperwork are still in my possession. This is proof of the pudding I made years ago and which—despite the passage of so many years—I enjoy consuming in my memory’s dessert plate once in a while.

By today’s standards, the song might sound a bit dated but listen to it with ears from the 90s. If I manage to salvage the original digital audio tape (DAT), you will be able to listen to a high quality audio version of Pyar Ki Piyas. I also intend to post the original Urdu lyrics and their translation here on my blog.

Stay tuned and God bless you all for the hugs and kisses you will now despatch in my direction.

Read Pyar Ki Piyas (پیارکی پیاس): Urdu Lyrics With English Translation
For crazy Bollywood song parodies, please visit:
Bollywood Song Parodies by Tahir Gul Hasan

Thursday, 9 December 2010

What Shall I Preach To You, Doll Rubber?

SEVERE WARNING: Parents who are under twenty-one years of age, must be accompanied by precocious children when reading this. If you are unfamiliar with the Urdu language, decoding my subtle jokes is impossible.

It is indeed a beautiful frog anthem; notice the slow beat provided by a chorus of ribbiting and croaking frogs. Composer Madam Mohan caught and trained the amphibians and had the legendary Muhammad Rafi turn this song into a classic.

I like neither Nutan’s antics nor Shekhar’s (male lead) gestures. Right from the beginning of this picnic in a jungle (complete with formal dress fit for a nightclub), a stocky woman seated on the heroine’s right side is shown making the hero her real business. Frequently she salivates looking at the raw hero, and is quite unable to wait for the arrival of properly cooked dinner.

Now this whole bit of creative Bollywood song parody will be more fun of you open the video in one browser window and the text in another window (press CTRL+T and paste the blog's URL in the address bar), re-size them on your screen and place them side by side, then derive maximum forbidden pleasure by watching the video and reading my text.


What shall I preach to you, Doll Rubber?
Right before you is my Hell, hey!
(Its a bait of) just one look from you
(But) its (also) a question of my life, aye! (not to mention my wife)
What shall I preach to you, Doll Rubber?

My ‘kosher’ activities prosper because of you, dumb(o)
My life too is (going great guns) because of your (healthy) gums
[Repeat both lines]
Remain oblivious of your (labour) pain?
How could my heart be such a daredevil?
(It’s a bait of) just one look from you
(But) it’s (also) a question of my life, aye! (not to mention my wife)
What shall I preach to you, Doll Rubber?

I have one eye on your beauty parlour (bills)
What more (back-)breaking news have you in the morning or past dinner time?
[Repeat both lines]
My (each flirtatious) evening is (spent inside) Just-a-Jew (night club)
My dawn is (an excuse for strange) thoughts
What shall I preach to you, Doll Rubber?

Get inside my cardiac arteries and liver – 2X
Why should the distance of a (lustful) look remain?
Get inside my cardiac arteries and liver
Why should the distance of a (lustful) look remain?
Without you, (sweet) Ginnie Joe
This life is a banged up mama’s hell
What shall I preach to you, Doll Rubber?
Right before you is my hell, hey!
(Its a bait of) just one look from you
(But) its (also) a question of my life, aye! (not to mention my wife)
What shall I preach to you, Doll Rubber?

Tuesday, 23 November 2010

Island Of Blondes

As a young boy l remember reading Gulliver’s Travels and swiftly getting mesmerized by the idea of Lilliputians. Life is much more than Treasure Island or other fairy tales. Since I never seriously contemplated lowering my anchor at an island inhabited entirely by ladies who wished to be my loving neighbours, the fruit of my patience has finally turned out to be exceedingly sweet. Conservative outlook is doomed because a Lithuanian company Olialia (pronounced ‘ooh-la-la’) now intends to create a holiday resort in the Maldives islands that will be run entirely by blondes.

Mankind’s obsession with blonde womankind is half as old as the sponsor of such schemes: Satan. Ever since man set foot on Earth, his attempts to turn the blue marble into a cheap copy of the promised heaven have turned many small rational steps into giant leaps of insanity. It is for the perfect insān (Arabic for man) that the scriptures promise pleasures in heaven but without revealing the colour of the tresses of heavenly maidens who will make the lives of some men immeasurably enjoyable. Heaven is reprieve from the torture chambers of hell. Or perhaps heaven is the death of death itself, lack of taxes, absence of credit cards, nonexistence of debt and an acute shortage of mobile phone ringtones. We shall not know the whole truth until we renounce all modern discomforts, meaning, fly away as a departed soul to the air headquarters for an interrogation session.

It is true; Olialia’s latest scheme to transform a part of the civilized world into virtual heaven by releasing hundreds of blondes on an island is already drowning men in huge waves of lust because the film industry always stereotypes blondes as ‘dumb’ creatures who wear stilettos, have strange hairstyles and invariably speak in high-pitched tones. The end is nigh, the Baltic blonde movement is upon us and the days of raven-haired beauties are almost over.

The ambitious blonde plan has already attracted criticism from the citizens of the island nation of Maldives, who condemned it as ‘racist and discriminatory since it excludes non-white Maldivians.’

The Maldives islands are truly a sight to behold in the Indian Ocean; never attempt to locate them on a map without the aid of a decent magnifying glass. En-route from Colombo, Sri Lanka, only once did I have the good fortune of staying overnight in the Maldives. As for the abilities of the pilots and their flying machines, their landing on a tiny island literally took my breath away. From a distance of a few kilometres on approach, the airport island looked like the deck of a naval aircraft carrier. By the time the airplane approached the touchdown point, I had hurriedly consumed all my ten nails as snacks. You see, on all four sides of the runway, I found what attracted hordes of tourists to that location: emerald green water.

The captain remarked jokingly, “Landing short, overshooting, or veering to the left or to the right of the short runway is not an option here. Who wants to become lunch for sharks?”

Emerging from the arrival lounge, I hired a sea-taxi whose captain did not want to know the name of a road but rather the island I wished to disembark at. It made perfect sense as various hotels were located on one or the other island. Later the same evening, as I poured the famous 1000 Islands dressing over the salad, I realized how important the Maldives were to vegetarians.

Local laws dictated that resorts in the Maldives hire at least fifty percent local staff. The natives were almost exclusively dark-skinned. My eyes never met with a single inactive blonde during the short stay there, and if there were any such creatures, they were busy scuba-diving with incredibly muscular lovers, or lazily getting at an undisclosed location all the sun their fair skins craved for. Going home with suntans was the thing, but having burnt myself once and feeling twice shy, I decided to remain true to my colour.

Olialia knows more than I do about the Maldives and that is why it is run and staffed by blonde women who conduct business in seventy-five sectors, such as computer software, food products and pop music. Had Debbie Harry’s pop band, Blondie, been alive today, they surely would have become richer in old age. The office environment of Olialia is enviable because the few dark-haired women who work there are surrounded by beautiful blondes—a grim situation that leads to the former colouring their hair quite blonde with grief. The girls there are all very smart; some have as many degrees as a thermometer. To the utter disappointment of the local flesh traders, all the blondes there wish to do something more business-like with their lives.

Maldivian criticism aside, Lithuania might be on the verge of contravening European Union job application and employment laws; the future of older men and women with grey hair is bleak. The company, however, says that ‘it does not discriminate and welcomes all applicants, no matter what their gender, age, or hair colour.’

It will be quite difficult to silence the critics who call Olialia’s marketing strategy sexist because it uses provocative images of blondes to sell products and reinforce negative stereotypes. There is truth in a brunette’s comment that ‘it is clear they are not selling the idea that blondes are clever, they are selling the idea that blondes are sexy, because their selling points are Baltic women and selling lust.’ The car bumper-stickers that read ‘California or bust’ will now display ‘The Baltics or lust’.

All of Olialia's products are advertised using images of attractive blonde women in impossibly intellectual situations, such as, glamorous high-heeled blonde scientists conducting strange laboratory experiments to make a cola drink, or a board meeting of blondes applying make-up while discussing corporate tactics. Since advertisers know the minds of men more than their own wives ever do, Olialia’s campaign—offensive or clownish as it might seem—appears to be working. The company expects double the profit this year since ‘most of the Lithuanians recognise the brand’. If this peculiar Baltic blonde movement means ‘liberation from stereotypes for blonde women’ I demand a blonde re-partition of the Indian sub-continent, a re-enactment of 1947 worthy of being televised on a hundred television channels that we won from windmills in pitched battles fought by a hillock called Enlightened Moderation.

In this land we close down our businesses to honour persons of national importance but in the Latvian capital Riga, a two-day blonde festival attempted to cheer up a country suffering from economic crisis. With a clueless Prime Minister and a loveless President running our show, the common man expects no such festival here. Since we are a ‘branded’ state, the learned bearded ones cannot possibly think along Baltic lines, however, the tired masses would not mind entertaining blonde thoughts in their most private black and white moments.

To spice up the occasion, the festival’s organiser, president of LAB (the Latvian Association of Blondes) included parties, a concert and a march of blonde women through Riga to prove that blondes can be independent and show initiative. We too had a march in our federal capital some years ago in which stick-wielding women wore black hijabs (lose outer garments) and niqabs (face-concealing garments) and wanted the rest of the women of the land to immediately become invisible by walking in their footsteps to revive the garments manufacturing industry.

Although the year of my retirement is far into the future, the blonde resort is scheduled to open by 2015. The project was officially unveiled at a party with—you guessed it—a blonde dress code in a nightclub. The over-excited reaction to such events of quite a few male tourists in Riga proved that female emancipation was never the thing that mattered. On a stag weekend, the police detained a young man because he stripped naked—courtesy of strong drinks—at a concert of blonde women in the Old Town. Although the Baltic blonde movement is designed to attract attention but it also has the potential of causing considerable damage to the region's dream of attracting sober tourists who feel repulsed by its unruly stag party image.

In short, the Lithuanian Olialia’s blonde scheme is a corporate reaction to the public jokes about Baltic blondes being less intelligent, and that is the reason they thought of creating a blonde business empire that intends to attract merrymakers by offering direct flights to the Maldives flown entirely by—get ready for this—blonde stewardesses and pilots.

What is a perfect gentleman to do now? I think I will discreetly whisper, without being suggestive, into the ear of my employer just one thing: host the next annual dinner at the proposed blonde island if you wish to boost employee morale and productivity.

Thursday, 21 October 2010

First Anniversary Blog

It did not start with the flutter of butterflies and the appearance of rainbows, the desire to create my own blog sprang up because of a threatening situation.

I will not repeat here what I have already written in the blog’s sidebar (see ‘400 Volts Jolt’) but suffice to say that facing the imminent danger of having years of my work vanish overnight, on the night of 16 October 2009 I began to copy all the material from a certain website (which remains damned, literally and in the fullest literary sense).

As I did this, another writer who openly criticised the exploitive policies of western governments saw his work wiped off the same website’s archives. The website had hit back without a warning—much as I expected it would—where it hurt that writer most but it failed to injure me because I pressed the ejection button at the correct time. I also stopped contributing at the same website in order to concentrate on getting my own blog up and running.

It took me two full weeks to copy all my work and within a few days I learnt all I could about blogging. With conviction in what I wrote and a decent following to further encourage me, the timing was perfect for jettisoning the used first stage and propelling all efforts beyond cyberspace’s blogosphere.

On 02 February 2010, after a few months of beta testing, I announced my blog to the public. 8,900 hits later and having spent one year in the blogosphere, my work lives on the blog, categorized under the following three headings:

1. Chowk articles (things I had written since September 2000)
2. Chowk blogs
3. Blogs you’ll only find HERE

The last category caters to original material not published elsewhere on the internet.

The first blog came out on 04 February 2010 and whose title was a twist on Oscar Wilde’s famous quote ("That awful thing, a woman's memory!”): That Wonderful Thing

Right after announcing the blog I headed for FaceBook which undoubtedly helped attract more readers, many of whom I found interested in reading text more than a line long.

Even today the pessimists ask, “So, what exactly have you achieved with your dark socio-political satire?”

Do I need to prove through statistics what I have achieved? Must I look at people’s faces for a reward? The pessimists do not bore me; it is the naive optimists who provide me with satirical thoughts. Only if a certain intelligence agency, whose motto it has unfortunately become, does not interfere globally with the whole truth, ‘the truth shall set you free’.

It feels great to maintain a mailing list through which I am able to inform keen readers about new articles on my blog. The old layout and colour scheme recently received a complete makeover; the blog now has RSS (‘really simple syndication’ through which one can know, via the browser, whenever new material gets added) and Google chat too.

‘Writer’s Block’ is a terrible disease that seems to afflict almost every literary person at least once in a lifetime but perhaps by the word block, I do not mean stop or hinder but rather a chopping board of ideas. The blog is a record of my time, of thoughts turned into digital ones and zeros. They may not outlive the Egyptian hieroglyphics in terms of longevity but they will live until the globalists decide to end our freedom of speech picnic in cyberspace.

So how does it feel after having done it for a whole year? Wonderful is one word that comes to my mind. My blog has also very kindly been listed under the esteemed category of Webblogs/Think Tank at http://www.mazhar.dk/

I wish to sincerely thank all my readers and helpful friends who still visit my blog to comment on issues, and suggest changes in a well-behaved manner. I hope that you will continue to enjoy what I love writing about in this space.

Peace.

And now for the awards:

Most Visited And Commented Upon blog: Noah's Flood And The 9/11 Eid

Top Referring URL: http://www.mazhar.dk/

Top Referring Website: Facebook

Windows Users: 93%, Mac Users: 3%

Country That Most Reads My Blog is: USA (Pakistan is 2nd, England 3rd and India 4th)

Most Interesting Keyword Search: “what does TGH mean”