SiD’s Sphere!!

As you can probably tell from the sudden surge in my number of posts, I’m free. And I actually have time to catch up with things I had missed on. That also includes catching up on blogs I had stopped reading. Slowly, I’m trying to dig up what a friend from IBA calls my ‘bleh friends’.

Another thing that I’ve done is discovered twitter. I spent an entire day yesterday figuring out what it was, how I can use it, and how its different from Facebook. And you know what, despite its narcissistic qualities, I’ve actually put it to good use. As if I wasn’t spending too much time on the computer already, now I have something else to keep me busy.

So how is twitter beneficial? Before I answer that question, here’s some funny videos I found that you MUST watch if you are a regular twitterer.

Hahaha.. so I don’t need to tell you everything that’s wrong with twitter, but here a few things that are actually good:

1. Quick access to information: Follow news twits, like TIME or people like Guy Kawasaki, who are actually using Twitter to educate and inform people instead of being another full-of-himself-celebrity.

2. Maintains Privacy: A lot of people have been adding me lately on Facebook saying they read my blog. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make you my friend on Facebook. I do not feel comfortable sharing pictures of myself, friends and family just because you read my blog. Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you follow me on twitter? Add me here.

3. Active blog feeds I don’t need to check my blog feeds as regularly. Bloggers that I am following tweet when they have made a new post.

4. Choose who to follow: I may not be interested in everyone’s life, but there are people who I must know what they’re doing every minute of their day. Stalker-like, no? Not really. Now that I have graduated, I may not be seeing people I used to spend the whole day with so regularly. I don’t talk to them for a whole day, and something feels missing. Now if these people were on twitter, I’d know they’re still alive even if I haven’t heard from them in a couple of hours.

5. Marketing Tool: How could I forget? Guy shows you how. I told you. Follow Guy and you’ll stay ahead of the times. Do I sound like that tweetfreak from the video?

I can’t still use twitter from my mobile device. It doesn’t recognize Warid, but maybe that will soon change. Till then, tweet away!

Oh, also, guess what!! I’ve left behind a legacy of sorts at IBA. They wont admit it was my influence (ok.. so not completely my influence), but 3 of my class mates are now blogging, 2 of them, regularly. Introducing Nabeel, Omar, and Shazia.

Enjoy!

As you can probably tell from the sudden surge in my number of posts, I’m free. And I actually have time to catch up with things I had missed on. That also includes catching up on blogs I had stopped reading. Slowly, I’m trying to dig up what a friend from IBA calls my ‘bleh friends’.

Another thing that I’ve done is discovered twitter. I spent an entire day yesterday figuring out what it was, how I can use it, and how its different from Facebook. And you know what, despite its narcissistic qualities, I’ve actually put it to good use. As if I wasn’t spending too much time on the computer already, now I have something else to keep me busy.

So how is twitter beneficial? Before I answer that question, here’s some funny videos I found that you MUST watch if you are a regular twitterer.

Hahaha.. so I don’t need to tell you everything that’s wrong with twitter, but here a few things that are actually good:

1. Quick access to information: Follow news twits, like TIME or people like Guy Kawasaki, who are actually using Twitter to educate and inform people instead of being another full-of-himself-celebrity.

2. Maintains Privacy: A lot of people have been adding me lately on Facebook saying they read my blog. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make you my friend on Facebook. I do not feel comfortable sharing pictures of myself, friends and family just because you read my blog. Hey, I have an idea, why don’t you follow me on twitter? Add me here.

3. Active blog feeds I don’t need to check my blog feeds as regularly. Bloggers that I am following tweet when they have made a new post.

4. Choose who to follow: I may not be interested in everyone’s life, but there are people who I must know what they’re doing every minute of their day. Stalker-like, no? Not really. Now that I have graduated, I may not be seeing people I used to spend the whole day with so regularly. I don’t talk to them for a whole day, and something feels missing. Now if these people were on twitter, I’d know they’re still alive even if I haven’t heard from them in a couple of hours.

5. Marketing Tool: How could I forget? Guy shows you how. I told you. Follow Guy and you’ll stay ahead of the times. Do I sound like that tweetfreak from the video?

I can’t still use twitter from my mobile device. It doesn’t recognize Warid, but maybe that will soon change. Till then, tweet away!

Oh, also, guess what!! I’ve left behind a legacy of sorts at IBA. They wont admit it was my influence (ok.. so not completely my influence), but 3 of my class mates are now blogging, 2 of them, regularly. Introducing Nabeel, Omar, and Shazia.

Enjoy!

The Champions League just ended. I doubt there’s hardly anyone who doesn’t know what that is, but for those who don’t, its one of the most prestigious football tournaments around. The title winners are crowned the king of European football.

I was never a fan of watching sports. Ask me to play whatever sport you want me to and I’ll be the most eager player you’ll find but following a sport was never my thing. But then, I had to start following European football for the simple reason that that is all anyone at school talked about in the last few months. I had the choice of either sitting blankly at stare at faces; force people to talk about something else; or joining in the conversation. I’ll have to admit though that I have only gone as far as knowing team names and a few players and of course, quite a little about FC Barcelona history, thanks to an ardent fan.

I have seen a few games. Read up on some history of the teams, yet I still cant relate to the fan following of the game. How people can get so intensely involved in a sport is beyond my comprehension. So much so, that sports and certain games become more important than everything else in a fan’s life. Here’s an example from Good Will Hunting(psst..if you still haven’t seen the movie, you’re surely missing out):

Will: So, when did you know, like, that she was the one for you?
Sean: October 21st, 1975.
Will: Jesus Christ. You know the fuckin’ date?
Sean: Oh yeah. ‘Cause it was Game 6 of the World Series. Biggest game in Red Sox history.
Will: Yeah, sure.
Sean: My friends and I had, you know, slept out on the sidewalk all night to get tickets.
Will: You got tickets?
Sean: Yep. Day of the game. I was sittin’ in a bar, waitin’ for the game to start, and in walks this girl. Oh, it was an amazing game, though. You know, bottom of the eighth, Carbo ties it up at 6-6. It went to twelve. Bottom of the twelfth, in stepped Carlton Fisk. Old Pudge. Steps up to the plate, you know, and he’s got that weird stance.
Will: Yeah, yeah.
Sean: And BAM! He clocks it. High fly ball down the left field line! Thirty-five thousand people, on their feet, yellin’ at the ball, but that’s not because of Fisk. He’s wavin’ at the ball like a madman.
Will: Yeah, I’ve seen…
Sean: He’s going, “Get over! Get over! Get OVER!” And then it HITS the foul pole. OH, he goes apeshit, and 35,000 fans, you know, they charge the field, you know?
Will: Yeah, and he’s fuckin’ bowlin’ police out of the way!
Sean: Goin’, “God! Get out of the way! Get ‘em away!” Banging people…
Will: I can’t fuckin’ believe you had tickets to that fuckin’ game!
Sean: Yeah!
Will: Did you rush the field?
Sean: [surprised at the question] No, I didn’t rush the fuckin’ field; I wasn’t there.
Will: What?
Sean: No – I was in a bar havin’ a drink with my future wife.
Will: You missed Pudge Fisk’s home run?
Sean: Oh, yeah.
Will: To have a fuckin’ drink with some lady you never met?
Sean: Yeah, but you shoulda seen her; she was a stunner.

Poor Will can’t believe someone would miss a game for a woman.

That, I guess, is still acceptable. Also acceptable to me is how men and women who are otherwise known to be impassive and are hardly seen expressing any emotion can work themselves up over a game. But where the fanaticism crosses its line when people kill themselves or others following a defeat.

Sports, today, was one of the most healthiest activities around. Up till now, I considered the fan following to be healthy because it provided people with a much needed escape from the stress of their own lives. Fans are even important for the game itself. Its a proven fact that teams perform better on home grounds because of fans cheering them on. But now, I have my doubts. I am wondering why people need to be able to relate to a team to boost their own self esteem, or derive happiness or sadness from it.

Apparently, I’m not the only one grappling with the sports fans’ behavior. An interesting article, SPORTS PSYCHOLOGY; It Isn’t Just a Game: Clues to Avid Rooting tries to explain behavior from an evolutionary perspective:

One theory traces the roots of fan psychology to a primitive time when human beings lived in small tribes, and warriors fighting to protect tribes were true genetic representatives of their people, psychologists say.
In modern society, professional and college athletes play a similar role for a city in the stylized war on a playing field, the theory goes. Even though professional athletes are mercenaries in every sense, their exploits may re-create the intense emotions in some fans that tribal warfare might have in their ancestors. It may also be these emotions that have in large part fueled the explosion in the popularity of sports over the last two decades.

Another article in National Geographic, Sports Riots: The Psychology of Fan Mayhem reasserts my point. It says:

Experts say fan identification with sports teams is psychologically important for many people, particularly in our increasingly transient and insular society.

and also

“You’re finding satisfaction in a team that you’re not finding in your own life,” Najimy said. “When people lose perspective, that’s when the trouble starts. Don’t take the game too seriously—it’s not your win or loss, it’s the team’s.”

The importance of fanfare can not be denied. Especially not by marketers who are willing to pay through the nose for an ad spot during the Super Bowl ( Advertisers pay millions of dollars to run ads during the game.)Even psychologists admit to benefits to both the teams and the fans themselves:

Daniel L. Wann, who heads the Association for Applied Sport Psychology (AASP) Special Interest Group on Fandom says the following about the impact on teams:

Athletes want to live up to a high paying contract, as well as fan expectations. It is the same with Olympians who strive to live up to expectations. Athletes may say they are immune to fans, but we know better. It is like an adolescent who says they don’t care what their parents think.

He then mentions the positive benefits of supporting a team for the spectator:

Fans who make a connection with a local team have better societal connections. Identification with local teams have been shown to be related to lower depression, lower loneliness and feelings of alienation, higher self esteem, higher energy levels and greater levels of trust in people, as well as greater satisfaction in social life.

It is obvious that sports has become more than entertainment. It has become an escape from reality for many. It gives people an opportunity to yell at something, be euphoric, be angry… but excess of anything is harmful, and that is where I think the problem. Football Fever is getting out of control, and a few deaths here and there might escalate in the coming years unless teams and authorities act more responsibly. The world, as it is now, is already divided along too many fault lines. Sports does not need to become another dividing line…

With breath, deep yet bated;
Alone, she silently waited;
On the shores of her storming sea;
For the waves to set her free.

She always resented his decision of not letting her ride horses after she turned 12. The one thing that in years had given her the feeling of freedom that she so desired. The week long anticipation would culminate in a feeling of rapturous freedom once she mounted her horse. The army horses at the stable were majestic beauties- a good feet taller than herself. The trainer would always get off his own horse to hold her from behind as she mounted. She was, after all, the best girl rider at the club . His eyes always shone with pride when he talked about her to the other riders.

8 years later, one day, she couldn’t help going down memory lane, a walk she later regretted. Remembering the exhilaration of riding against the wind… she was taught to move to the beat of the horses hooves. ‘stand sit…clip clop… stand sit…clip clop‘. Soobeydaar Sahab, as the trainer was would place his hand at the front of her saddle beckoning her to bring herself forward while riding, his hand lingering on for a moment longer than it was necessary as she pounced up and down. ‘stand sit…slip clop..‘ After a month or so, the instructor had let go of her horse’s reins and she could make it cantor or trot by herself. Nonetheless, she still had to ask her mentor to help her onto one.

She tried to remember why she’d been forbidden. No one would tell her. She was just told that it was HIS decision, knowing well she’d never dare question the patriarch’s authority. No one ever did. She protested, but to no avail. As with everything else she loved, she let go.

As she grew up, the Sundays on the ranch had become a distant yet cherished memory. But it had come back to haunt her once before when she had read about a ritual in Baluchistan. Later, she discovered that the ritual wasn’t restricted to that one province in the south of Pakistan. The sheet display was a standard test of the bride’s chastity in primitive societies around the world. In societies where clean sheets meant stained characters, a girl couldn’t be allowed to do anything that could risk her virginity, not even ride horses. She winced with obvious disgust at the memory.

Moments later, she winced again. This time, with horror. She had remembered something else. Something she had buried deep in the vaults of her memory. Freud would have called it a repressed memory. She called it a nightmare. As a 12 year old it hadn’t bothered her. It had confused her but from the vantage point of an adult, it wasn’t confusing anymore. It was horrifying.

The special attention she got from her instructor was not just because she was a gifted rider.

I wrote this 2 years ago. My only attempt at writing a short story after O Levels. I made a few people read it to see if I had succeeded in putting across what I had intended to. Unfortunately, anyone who’s read this has asked for an explanation. Fiction, I guess, then is not really my forte.

Today, a friend found a printout of this story while cleaning up her room and asked me for an explanation… again. I was reminded of why I had written it in the first place. The story fails to speak to the reader, so I’ll put it here in simple straightforward words.

This story is about men in a typical Pakistani society impose themselves on the weaker sex.

On the one hand is the patriarch- the father, the grandfather, the older brother, the husband. Who the he in the story is irrelevant. All that is relevant is that what he says goes- no questions asked.

On the other hand is every other man outside the house who leaves no stones unturned in an attempt to exploit the weaker sex, be she any age. Teachers making advances on students, bosses harassing their secretaries, male students looking down upon their female counterparts. This is not a blanket accusation but these are trends that occur commonly in our society.

This perfect subjugation of women is set in the backdrop of a primitive society where ancient rituals and traditions justify the treatment meted out to women. It is OK for men to give their daughters off to atone for their sins.

I’m not a feminist. I’ve repeated that on this blog here often enough. But I have also repeated several times that being a girl in Pakistan is probably one of the worst fates you could be born with. In preislamic times, it was custom:

When news is brought to one of them, of (the birth of) a female (child), his face darkens, and he is filled with inward grief! With shame does he hide himself from his people, because of the bad news he has had! Shall he retain it on (sufferance and) contempt, or bury it in the dust? Ah! what an evil (choice) they decide on?

Surah Al Kahaf. Verse 46.

The customs may have changed, yet the sentiments remain. The grief is now cloaked in chauvinism and the women continue to suffer…

I have just discovered a new found yet deep deep hatred for the word competition and everything that comes with it. The idea of winning or losing has started to disgust me and the very thought of a race is repulsive. Why? Because it encapsulates everything I now resent about my last 4 years at a business school. It took 4 years and a business degree for me to realise this is not what I was cut out for.
I went in as a nice shy girl. I graduated as a bitch. Before I had set eyes upon those green walls, I had no malice or contempt in my heart for anyone. Now, the green of the walls is the colour of the monster I have become.

But I learned some very important life lessons too. I also found empirical evidence for my law of conservation of emotion. I managed to become a lab rat for my own social experiment. Quite aptly too, I’d say.

Is there a God? Is He sleeping? If not, why does He choose to sit back and enjoy the show while the world continues to decay?

Who am I? Why am I here? What am I doing? Why am I so bothered with the world decay? Why can’t I be like everyone else? Puppets, all of them out there.

Is God the puppeteer? Whose audience? Or is God laughing up there all by Himself?

What is the meaning of life? Does death mean your ticket to leave the theater? Is wanting to check out cowardice? Even when staying achieves nothing?

Did you ever have the feeling that you wanted to go? But you still had the feeling that you wanted to stay?

Do I ask too many questions? Why do I never find any answers? Should I just continue playing my script like all the other unsuspecting puppets?