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THE WAY IT WAS: Half-empty glass of water —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

While I fumbled the foreign gentleman turned around with a reassuring smile and said, “You know! You are not as bad as you think you are” and then added, “I have travelled a lot but have never come across people who are as angry and cross with themselves as the Pakistanis” Is half a glass […]

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THE WAY IT WAS: Grumpy heron and ingenious hen —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

The eggs were, actually, cholesterol free. It was after months of hard effort that he had finally succeeded in pressuring some of the compliant hens to lay cholesterol-free eggs It is a very muggy day. Not a leaf moves. I haven’t heard even the flutter of a wing for hours. Earlier I saw a common

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THE WAY IT WAS: Goofers, golfers and gardens —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

 I wonder where Lashari Sahib, as many Lahore citizens call him, has been squandered away. What an astonishing transformation he brought to Lahore, making everyone’s heart as they say, ‘Garden, garden’ My friend Aitzaz invited me to play nine holes at the Royal Palm Club. Tahir Jehangir was to make the threesome. Tahir is an

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THE WAY IT WAS: Gelded art and gilded capitalism —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

I must confess that the economic forces set into motion by capitalism are quite awesome. Many people of my generation fought to the best of their abilities for democracy and human rights. Is it not ironic that today the forces of imperialism should have usurped that agenda from us Aldous Huxley believes that no activity,

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THE WAY IT WAS: Gallan baatan —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

 The rhetoric of the Jama’at could no longer muddle the people. People found Bhutto’s sharp voice, which cracked under emotions at high pitch penetrating deeper into their hearts than lofty utterances coursing through well-greased gullets Last Tuesday, GEO’s Amna Samna programme had Professor Ghafoor, Vice President of the Jama’at-e Islami. The compere asked him all

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THE WAY IT WAS: From Rumi to Mao —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

An individual cannot be severed from his time and assumed to be indifferent or neutral to human and social conflicts, nor can aesthetics be separated from ideas. Ideas denuded of aesthetic experience become mere descriptions While clearing my writing desk and tables, which readily get littered with a pile of assortments, I came across the

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THE WAY IT WAS: Friends in the neighbourhood —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

 I am a great believer in Pak-India friendship. If we can’t be friends let’s at least learn to live in peace. Some of our generals have been at odds with democracy. But the largest democracy in the world has not been able to repress its aggressive chauvinism either. Unless this can be rectified there can

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THE WAY IT WAS: Forging a myth —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

 Myths cannot be destroyed by brute power unless they rest on lies or are rejected by the people who believe in them. For those who abhor his legacy, the myth escapes comprehension He stood out among his cabinet colleagues. Always impeccably dressed, ‘suited-booted’, as some would say, flaunting a silk handkerchief in his pocket. Others

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THE WAY IT WAS: For butter or for worse! —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

I am sure the cows and buffaloes, even the goats that can nibble at anything, find their repast deliciously crunchy and varied in taste — a kind of mixed grill, though I wonder if cows really care to savour flavour of plants individually The sky is getting dusty again. No one remembers the untimely shower

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THE WAY IT WAS: For a fruity, sporting Pakistan  —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan

We certainly have had more than our share of frost, however no one reported sighting the moon, which traditionally encourages lovers to break into sad songs, which it is believed soothe a broken heart. At least this is how it was in the black and white films. In those days lovers rarely got together in

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