Preamble

January 1, 2005.

 

“Behroze Betaaaa, get up, we are getting late honey, hurry up beta”. My mother continuous yelling awoke me up. Still yawning! I trotted down the stairs, sprawled in mom’s lap again on the couch, nestled, trying to catch balmy comfort sleep again free from those haunt yelling.

 

“Hmm! Beta mera…..don’t you want to go for a morning walk with mum, its eight honey”, my mother said in gentle voice, whilst clanking her wedding ring with a cappuccino coffee cup, snappishly blustering my mind and the jolty thuds were disturbing the nap. Another swerve to siesta, she was continually squeezing my nose with other spared hand before she had picked up newspaper. I was not giving her a good attention.

 

“Honey…Hurry up”, she uttered briskly while stowing newspaper on the side table. This time she lured in an intention of giving me a surprise in opposition to my pleasant sleep cum to accompany her in the morning walk. Before she could exasperatedly frown, I managed to leap up and tottered stomp steps towards bathroom. There as usual, I met my friends, Colgate brethren “Colgate paste and brush”. My pals helped me out well reviving me up. I was briskly moving my back, dancing gestures, and the foam was gurgling and drooling out of mouth dissipated into the basin. I washed my face with a famous soap “Imperial Leather”, after a glimpse on its wrapper labeling new enhanced characteristics like alovera and herbs especially designed for feminine face. Abruptly my mind fleshed the merits of alovera once I had read in some newspaper so without any further notion of feminine commodity I put that on and rinsed the face.

 

I had been opening and closing tap many times, staring fixed pensive, standing still, lost in something however it was common mischief. After all I had left bathroom and trotted to coach table, lift up a glass jug, and made a glass of water from two feet heighted droplets spilled hither thither.

 

“Naughty boy, what do you think you are doing, is it fun, Ill-manner boy”, rumbled my mother scolding a thunder slap in an instant very precisely on my neck back. For the time being I thought my memory had gone and eyes were flashing just was seeing hovering sparrows on my head. She stowed water spots from the table and floor, “where are your sneakers, tighten them up fast, now move on, hurry up” as she added further.

 

Its 8:15 now.

After I had swigged the glass of water and fastened my favorite sneakers. Attached eyes on sneakers still playing with laces, a thought had fluttered that once I wished this pair would be mine enviously. Pushing myself up from the couch, now I was kicking and stumbling to each and every article passing through in the house beckoned like “Zeedan”, frantically playing with an imaginary football, dodging visionary players, and finally hitting telephone stand I made a fantastic goal and raised hands up, moved alike embracing audience. Then I blustered “mo0o0o0om I’m ready”, whilst fluttering stomp steps in the house making shriek noises with sneakers on maple floor.

 

As few minutes soared, we went to university of agriculture for morning walk that was adjacent to our colony, “Gulberg”. Mom parked the car at General Post Office gate. I was engaged in playing “Assassin II” on my cellular phone. “Turn it off immediately, get out of car and don’t forget your bottle”, mom growled very low while striding off the car. I threw my Nokia on the dash board, unfastened the seat belt, embraced calm weather facing towards the mist out of car and slammed the door.

 

There was a feet heighted barrier; as usual I dashed towards the gate and agile two three times fluttering to and fro of the barrier ambidextrous feet together. Meanwhile mom had come handing me sweet chocolates to eat them before the saunter. As she had an opinion, it was best diet that she had an acquaintance in from some of the diet and health morning babbles on Television with experts and doctors.

 

She gave the remote a few shudders because it was not working properly and locked the car. It was a 2000 Honda Civic that was the comfort my mom enamored. She had told me once; she wished this car in her college life. But yet it was too old like my grandpa and also adequately repaired. Sometimes it made me haunt remembrance of school days, when it took nearly an hour to ignite in winter with great indebt of loud croaky echoing blusters, destroying the balmy sleep of neighbors and my inferiority complex.

 

Mom hardly trotted in her walk and I was very much furious clamping mom’s both hands pushing and urging her to make her pace with me. She had tried few times a bit but suddenly caught in panted breath. Then ultimately I started dashing here and there revolving around her, jumping calmly to reach her shoulder back. At last we had reached d-ground, the immense ground, where I was feeling freedom to run dashingly where ever I tempted, leaping, rolling, and frog-jumping.

 

There I found a burrow and I was watching it pensively at an arm’s length because of sensational under age fear thinking what it was and where it was leading to under the ground. Ignoring that burrow after a speck of time I was indulged again in smugy feats, serpent rolling. There were also usual other few morning pedestrians. Whenever I had felt some one swerving, just before a second I briskly move towards mom in psychological timid fear.

 

Before going back, mom took bit stretching exercise. I also used to mirror those taut steps. Not later than a small gap, mom said patiently, “Time to go, sweet heart”. I was mumbling in mingle of heart and mind to not to go back so early as it seemed we just had come but my tiredness shoved me out of there without the temptation of another moment staying there.

 

Way back to home, continuously I was thinking pensive, if I would be a student of this university but misty dream vanished suddenly because of engaging in other childish activities and I was also not in habit of rummaging through tempt notions.

 

I took pep up shower just after I had reached home sweet home and picked up my enamored novel “Harry Potter” the famous imaginative world and personality written by J.K. Rowling, a heart touching story writer. I was not used to read novels as I myself dislike this habit cruelly but just for increasing and learning by heart good vocabulary and I could bet J.K. Rowling novels were best for this intention. I used to accompany mom at kitchen table daily in morning whilst that day she had been chopping lady finger for lunch. I was folded legged, fully leaped on table bended elbows, seeing mom from header horizon of the novel. Usually I read novel in a bit loud sound to swerve away mom’s solitude. She had dulcet fragment of concentration on my zest reading in a voice full of zenith, pauses and falls.

Herald

 

As usual I awoke up, ajar eyes, in autumn dim dingy dawn in a bit scramble. I dashed for ablution and galloped to mosque immediately.  People had been bowing already, when I destined there and joined them staggering. Many times I had felt that FAJAR prayer in quite early daylight was responsible for cheering me up because of the reason when ever I oozed out of the mosque there were always some physiological pursue pull but I had to cross the verge.

 

On the way back home, I was feeling extreme excreted perspiration all over my body; first reason was guest like behavior of electricity and feats of WAPDA entire nighttime that I could hardly took a nap and secondly jogging class. After some time ascended, I swigged large gulps of water as I had heard that those were very good for health before taking anything else in the dawn. Pungent perspiration was then transformed in putrid smell squeaking me continually to take invigorating shower in order to get rid off it. I was splendid ATIF ASLAM in bathroom but my mom’s acerbic growls and especially allusion of HADITH ushered me to stand down those my juvenile ridiculous addictions.

 

It was the day my first lecture at IMIT institute and I was standing in front of mirror combing in dull haunt hopes. Abruptly bluster oozed in from door ajar, “Dad is calling ya bro….” My sister sudden frightening loud sound jolted me at once. Scrambling, I made hair a puffy look, spared down the comb from the distance that weaved leaping on the dressing table. I glimpse of myself again in the mirror and gave a final touch bagging my shirt a bit. I hanged over the shoulder my college bag rummaging through the room if I had left anything. Then I swooped down the banister on tepid hips.

 

I stepped into dad’s maple office, and he ushered me to sit down on the chair often where dad’s pals supine down like “Chaudaries”. I was always envious of dad’s office and had wished there could be mine too just one like that. He was rivet in some book, of which title, I was trying to see anything I could get from the distance, goggling.

 

Apparently, it was like a mother holding her 2 year old child beseeching for her thirst and strong appetite, leaned against electricity poll, paved right on the road side, nestled her son in her lap. And another woman with her 8 year old lass, a mature beauty, manicured with expensive frock, and equipped in emerald gleaming shoes stood nearby holding her mom’s hand in one hand and giving a penny with the other to that glumly miserable woman and in return the begging woman was weaving her second hand of blessing over the fluffy girl’s head.

 

Meanwhile I was goggling, abruptly dad closed the book in gun shot sound and placing in an apple pie order in his cup board of  scrupulous collection.

“Hey Asalam o Alaikum WA Rahmatullah”, Dad saluted me.

“WA Alaikum Asalam WA Rahmatullah”, dully with a spirit I replied.

“So what are you doing today, what’s today’s plan”, then in calm voice he asked.

“Today it’s my first lecture at IMIT”, I replied in loosing voice.

“Um...Hmm. then I have a news for you, son”, he said furtively.

“Oh Dad… horrible if it is then please keep it till evening tea and if startling, I’m anxious”, I said desperately.

“Ha-ha! What happened to you son, is there any thing you want to say”, he inquired.

“No dad, nothing special, just, please, you, I, dad I want to go dad please, I’m getting late for college”, I answered in quite scramble manner.

“Okay… If I say you that you are not going anywhere else university agriculture”, he said igniting me.

“Oh! Please no more squibs dad I’m already very desperate”, I chattered.

“It is true son, my son; your name is on the list we have seen while we have a morning walk at university agriculture.”

“Okay…” I said in deep consolation breath.

“Get your self there boy…” gave me bunch of advices but instead of listening I was lost some where else and was thinking my dream came true and simultaneously hopes were hovering. Sharp sensational feelings from my body were articulating through my face that was amble grinning at that time.

 

Suddenly I roared, “Is it true dad, am I am I, u serious, u mean me, I’m going UAF, is that institute, is it.” A series of questions I had made swiftly and he replied in a great triumphant laughter, “Ha-Ha ya beta it is true, get your self prepared”.

Again pensively I muttered my self, “Dad is not jinx, he is right, Hallueya!”

I mumbled heaving from the seat time and again in prod feelings, “yes yes I’m going yes yes I’m.”

 

With a grin smile on face and erupted breakfast appetite I left room and the door slightly opened soared towards kitchen. There my mom also conveying a broad smile dulcet that I had heard it from dad, so she put some fast food sandwich in front of me as I heaved up the revolving seat comforting my self against kitchen table. Without saying anything she turned away to the microwave oven to catch a cappuccino coffee cup.

 

As she would not even say a single word and she made her lip like “So!” and I retched an utter dashingly, “Mom, mom, I got it, I got it, admission, UAF, mom, mom, where you go every morning, and now I will accompany you too, mom as a student, when will I go, mom you have to come see me there¸ I will weave you through class window ha-ha mom, you shall flutter.”

 

Again in the fraction of moment the train of temp questions started, “mom what will I do there, many ethnic people will come there, it will be interesting ma, new friends, and this time best friends ma, you will see, I will make this alma meter the best part of my life, new books, teachers, and the UNIVERSITY ma.”

“Calm down beta do not be so curious”, mom whispered busy in her toil kitchen work.

“No ma, you don’t know ma, it will like…”, then a deep thought stowed a pause- a minute silence and mom broke the glass nodding, “Go beta finish your break fast and enjoy.”

Dad again yelped, “Behroze”.

Excitedly I replied dully, “Yes dad, I’m coming.”

There dad exchanged few mandatory parchments, “Take these and work for your domicile certificate it is necessary.”

“Yes dad sure I will”, I replied briskly moving.

“Today it means today”, he had a flat voice that swerve away my grin but I had still a fluttering popping heart beats.

I went out and become busy in gathering some other parchments, obviously the domicile requirements.

 

The whole day passed just galumphing as I had won something. Supine on the bed in my room was looking on the roof but mentally I was some where else as was before, was thinking, how I could thank to Almighty Allah for this great blessing He showered and then abruptly I jolted up from bed, got ablution, and prayed NAWAFIL.

 

Meantime after prayer mom and my sister came into my room. Mom settled down on the coach, took a sip of milk mug she had it when she came into the room, and my sister leaped on to my bed with a thud.

 

My sister said in teasing hush hush voice,”beta ab University jay ga”.

“Yea yea ha-ha g mama g lolx”.

 

We conversed for a while and then they went out transforming bulging light into dim light bulb saying “Allah Hafiz o Nassir”, and thus as I did reply. After finishing from toilet, brushed my teeth gleaming with Colgate salt, watched my self in the mirror for a moment and then leaped bumping on to spring mattress bed. I raised my hand to the bed side table, opened the drawer, and prod out personal actually very personal diary. Then up siding down my self I rummaged through the stationery for pen started blacking and white actually venting out my all the day feelings in that diary. I was brightening them more with colors.

 

As all the feeling ample stowed on diary I glimpsed on coco clock right beside me on the wall twisting my neck and turned close my dairy in snapshot sound. Clipping off the fountain pen I threw both items in the table drawer precisely. Yawning, lying on the right side as it is Sunnah, had supplicated just before ample closing eyes already squinting and do not know when I had went in deep nap after a long weary day. That day I slept in a list of abortive hopes more scrupulously hallucinations “Castles in the air”. Now that was time my dream book had opened and being written dash and for you to go to third chapter.lolx

The University of Agriculture, Pakistan .... Why Became a Choice?

 

 

In the heart of city, Faisalabad, there is an Asian biggest agriculture facility of research, a land of art and design, vision of our ancestors, factory of business tycoons “The University of Agriculture”. People around the world feel prestigious to be an element of this University. It delivers pride, education, discipline and honor. Its vision is to develop a research culture and capacity that make UAF a national leader with international recognition. To conduct a quality research and produce skilled man power in an academic environment, generate knowledge build capacity and find solution for strategic issues in agriculture and rural development. 

 

The University of Agriculture, Faisalabad came into existence through up-gradation of the former Punjab Agricultural College and Research Institute, Lyallpur, in 1961-62, and was given the mandate to accelerate infusion of science and technology in the process of modernizing national farming system and related activities in order to simplify productivity and bring more propriety to an aspirant nation. This it does by integrating the functions of teaching, research and extension.

 

There is a special act of 1973 to reconstitute and reorganize the West Pakistan Agricultural University Faisalabad and to establish the University of Agriculture at Faisalabad. It was first published after having received the assent of the Governor of the Punjab, in the Gazette of the Punjab (Extraordinary), dated the 24th May, 1973.

 

Institute of Business Management Sciences “UAF” is operational with considerably educated and experienced human resource. The workforce around the university love to relocate their competence in order to make more diverse transformed students. It also engages famous entrepreneurs from various businesses prevailing in Pakistan to keep up the student’s pace with time. They make us known to the current and prospective moves of the global businesses, the realm of geo-political gamers and how to conquer the hands of clock when time approaches to itch.

 

I’m not pouring a beer into a clean visionary glass but it is true Institute of Business Management Sciences is curious in fine art creation of students in Masters in Commerce, Masters in Business Administration, Masters in Business Information Technology and Masters in Philosophy of Marketing cum specializations in Accounting, Finance, Management Information System, Marketing, Management, Human Resource Management glamour’s their souls.

 

A garden of lilies and pansies is surrounded by the structure of class rooms including high-tech laboratory and a library. A sequence of staff rooms ends up to the generous administration, coordinator and director’s office.

 

After a trivial triumphant in Bachelor in Commerce from The Punjab University Lahore, now it is the time to search for an institute which could blossom my graduation. I rummage through a healthy list of universities earlier, though from the beginning I was tempted by UAF. 

Impressum

Texte: Behroze Pervaiz
Bildmaterialien: Google
Lektorat: Behroze Pervaiz
Übersetzung: Behroze Pervaiz
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 24.08.2016

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