Wednesday 14 November 2012

PHOTOS OF HISTORIC WALL OF ISTANBUL



Bu sitedeki arkadaşlara çok teşekkürler

http://istanbulium.blogspot.com/2011/12/istanbul-kara-surlar.html


İstanbul Kara Surları ve Sur Kapıları


Malum eski İstanbul'u çepeçevre saran surları bilmeyen yoktur. Hiç yakından görmeyenler bile en azından yoldan geçerken görmüşlerdir. Hele surlara yakın yaşayanların pek çoğu çocukluklarından kalan, surların üzerinde, çevresinde geçirdikleri anıları biriktirmişlerdir. Surlar genel olarak Marmara Surları, Haliç Surları ve Kara Surları şeklinde üç bölümde incelenmektedir. Kara surları da Tekfur Sarayı'ndan Haliç'e kadar olan kısım ayrı bir dönemden kaldığı yahut ön surları olmadığından ötürü olsa gerek, Blakherna surları olarak ayrı incelendiği de oluyor.

Zeytinburnu sahil tarafında Marmara Denizi kıyısından başlayan Kara Surları dahilindeki esas surlar 4,80 m. genişlikte, yaklaşık 11-14 m. yüksekliğinde  ve 50 ile 75 m. aralıklarda burçlarla donanmıştır. Bugün, Zeytinburnu sahilinde bulunan Mermer Kule'nin hemen orada, yolun kıyısında ilk burç bulunmakta, buradan başlayıp Tekfur Sarayı'na kadar toplam 96 adet burç var olup bunlar haritada da işaretlenmiştir. Tekfur Sarayı'ndan sonraki kara surları Blakherna bölgesine girmekte olup 20 burç vardır ve bunlar haritada ayrı renkte tanımlanmıştır. Yine bu surlar üzerinde bulunan kapılar da farklı renkte işaretlenmiştir.


View Kara Surları in a larger map
Esas surların yaklaşık 13.5 m. önünde yine benzerlik gösteren bir de ön surlar vardır. Esas surların 2 burcu ortasına gelecek şekilde ön surlarda bir burç bulunmaktadır. Ön surların önünde 14 metrelik bir alan ve bunun önünde 17.5 metrelik hendekler bulunmaktadır.
41. Burç önünde bugün bostan olarak kullanılan hendekler
Surlar üzerindeki burçların bir kısmı sağlam olarak gelmiş yahut sonradan restore edilmiş, bir kısmı sadece bir duvarlı, bir kısmı ise sadece temeli bulunur halde gelmiştir. Burçlar bulunduğu konumun topografik yapısı, surun dönüşleri dikkate alınarak dörtgen yahut çokgen olarak inşaa edilmiştir.
16-17-18-19-20. burçlar
Sur üzerinde yer alan kapılar, dönemin ana yollarının şehir dışına çıkış yolları ile bağlantılıdır. Kapıların her iki yanından burç bulunmaktadır.
Ayvansaray Surları
Sur kapıları aynı zamanda bulunduğu semtlere adını vermiştir. Bunlardan Top Kapısı ve Edirne Kapısı araç trafiğine kapalı sadece yayalar geçebilir, Sulu Kule Kapısı son gördüğümde civarın inşaat alanına dönmesinden ötürü yaya trafiğine de kapalı, Mevlevihane, Belgrat, Silivri kapıları ile Yedikule kapısı araç trafiğine açıktır. Altın Kapı ise Yedikule Hisarı'na bağlantılı olduğundan zaten geçiş yoktur. Haliç'e yakın olan Eğri Kapı araç trafiğine açıktır. Ayrıca sur duvarları üzerinde kapatılan kimi kapıların izlerini görebilmekteyiz.
Blakhernai Surları
Yakın zamanlarda doldurulan hendeklerde; esas surlar ile ön surlar arasında kalan bölgede özellikle Yedikule ve Mevlevihane Kapısı hattındaki kısımın kimi bölgeleri bostan olarak kullanılmakta, İstanbul halkının yediği yeşilliklerin üretimi devam etmektedir.
Yedikule Surlari ve Hendek
Ayrıca Fevzipaşa, Vatan ve Millet caddelerine yapılan bağlantılar nedeniyle bu bölümdeki surlar zamanında yıkılmıştır.
1. Burç ve 1. Askeri Kapı'nın hemen yanından sahil yolu geçiyor.
Surların kimi bölgelerinde üzerine çıkıp gezme imkânı bulunmakla birlikte dikkatli olmakta fayda var. Ayrıca bazı bölgelerde "balici" olarak tabir edilenlerin mesken edindiği yerler bulunmaktadır. Surların iç tarafı kimi yerlerde sur dibine yapılmış evler ve oluşturulmuş mahalleler nedeniyle de gezilememektedir.

Silivri Kapısı, Silivrikapı (Pege Kapısı, Gate of Spring) Fotoğrafları:







1894 sonrası Silivri Kapısı
Mevlevihane Kapısı, Mevlanakapı (Rhesium Kapısı, Gate of Region) Fotoğrafları:






19. yy sonunda Mevlevihane Kapısı
Mevlanakapı ya da Mevlevihane Kapısı
Mevlana Kapısı
Belgrat Kapısı, Belgratkapı (Ksilokerkos Kapısı, Gate of Belgrade) Fotoğrafları:






Yedikule Kapısı (Tabak Kapısı, Gate of Yedikule) Fotoğrafları:





Altın Kapı (Yaldızlı Kapı, Porta Aurea, Golden Gate) Fotoğrafları:









Nicholas V. Artamonoff, Haziran 1935

Nicholas V. Artamonoff, Haziran 1935

Top Kapısı, Topkapı (Romanus Kapısı, Cannon Gate) Fotoğrafları:
Top kapısı

Edirne Kapısı, Edirnekapı (Adrianopolis Kapısı, Adrianople Gate) Fotoğrafları:


Edirne Kapısı İç Duvardaki Detay





Sulukule Kapısı (5. Askeri Kapı, Örülü Kapı, Pempton Kapısı, Taer-Tower Gate) Fotoğrafları:

Sulukule Kapısı Dış Görünümü


Sulukule Kapısı İç Görünümü
5. Askeri Kapı; Nicholas V. Artamonoff, Aralık 1936

Eğri Kapı, Eğrikapı (Kaligaria Kapısı, Crooced Gate) Fotoğrafları:


Kara Surları ve Burçlarından Fotoğraflar:

62. Burç, Topkapı

57-58 burçlar arasında ön burç

62. burç Topkapı


56. Burç

48. burç ve duvarlar, Mevlanakapı

47-48. burç arası duvarlar yakın görünüm, Mevlanakapı

47. burç

37. burç Silivrikapı

41. burç duvarları ve bostanlar

28-29. burçlar arası, Silivrikapı

26. burç ve ön burç, duvarları, Belgratkapı
24 ve 25. burçlar, Belgratkapı

22 ve 23. burçlar, Belgratkapı

24. burç, ön burç ile esas burç arası, Belgratkapı

Ön burç, 18-17 ve 16. Burçlar

18. Burç

17. Burç

16. Burç

16-17-18-19-20. burçlar
14-15. burç arası

14. burç ve hendekler

Sur önünde çocuklar

78. burç, Sulukule

77. burç, Sulukule

Edirnekapı-Sulukule Arası Surlar

Edirnekapı Surları

71. Burç, Topkapı

69 ve 70. Burç, Topkapı

Edirnekapı Surları

Edirnekapı Sur Duvarı Üzerinden Detay
27. burç ve ön burçlar

29. Burç

29. Burç

24 ve 25. burçlar, Belgratkapı
27 ve 28. burçlar arasındaki ön burç

5. burç, Yedikule

6. Burç, Yedikule

4. Burç, Yedikule

6. Burç ve Ön Burç, Yedikule

4. Burç
86. Burç İçi, Edirnekapı

Ayvansaray Surları:



Kara Surları Eski Fotoğrafları:
Eğrikapı Tarafındaki Surlar, 1960 Senesi.
Yedikule
Yedikule Surları
Topkapı


Topkapı-Edirnekapı Arası Surlar

Eğrikapı Surları
Eğrikapı Surları
Anemas Zindanları, Nicholas V. Artamonoff, Ekim 1936

Ayvansaray
Ayvansaray-Edirnekapı Arası Surlar, 19. yy





Sunday 11 November 2012

1972 - FROM KARACHI TO ISTANBUL (2)

,


2nd November 1972 was the D day. We started off on that date. The life was never going to be the same anymore.


                                                KARACHI RAILWAY STATION

We boarded the Quetta bound train from Karachi city railway station. I was more than thrilled. The biggest adventure had started becoming reality. We were six persons. The whole family. My elder father was as usual the non-participant , displeased, somewhat annoyed  part of the group. My mother was more than usual busy in taking care of the children, and of everything else. My younger brother and sister were not too mature to understand properly as to what was going on. I was flying too high in excitement. I was too busy in  dreaming about Istanbul. My father perhaps had mobilised all his energies towards his ultimate goal. His ultimate goal was to reach Istanbul.

When i look back and try to understand my feelings of that time, i find out that i am still the same as i was on that particular day.

I am still aloof of my surroundings. I still have got my own dreams, which are too different from what other people feel and think. Whole my life i worked for my somewhat quer but thrilling goals. Still i am the same.
I am very different from others, like my father. We never ran after money, but thrill and adventure remained our goals . As i said earlier, my father was a different sort of person, i too.

I remember the friend of my father, SYED SHAFIQUE UDDIN, came to meet us , with his children, at the Kotri railway station. He had brought eatables.

We reached Quetta, the next day.  The brother of one of friends of my father, who used to work in Railways, received us at the Quetta Railway station. He arranged for our night stay in the nearby railway guest house. It was a beautiful small house. I liked that. I remember practising my hits on the wall. Yes i was carrying 4 hockey sticks and some hockey balls with me.



                                                        QUETTA RAILWAY STATION

We boarded the Zahedan bound train, the next morning. It was cold. I always liked travelling by train. Aloof of the problems that my parents were thinking about, i was enjoying the adventure fully. There were just a few, perhaps 6 bogies in the train. However the compartments were in quite bad shapes. It seemed that maintance of the compartments were not given due attention by the railways. However my father later on told us that it was not due to inefficiency of the railways, the smugglers used to hide banned substances in the openings of the walls, seats , roof and floors of the compartments.

Equipped as always, with the Railway Time table, my father was following the track. We were passing through small stations one by one.

Just before the Iranian border, the train was inching with very slow speed.  At that moment i witnessed something which i never saw another time in my life. The smugglers in the train were swiftly slipping down huge packets, bags and other things packed in blankets. People down the side of the train were quickly getting hold of these items. My father told me that they would be carrying these packets into Iran, on foot. That was how the banned goods used to smuggle into Iran. I was stunned.

It did not take much time that the train entered Iran. It was just getting dark, as the train stopped immediately after crossing fenced area of the border. There was pin drop silence in the compartment. Everybody was waiting in silence. Suddenly Iranian border guards and railway people appeared on the scene. First they asked all grown up males to get out of the compartment. They were lined up. Interestingly my father was the first in the line. My father repeatedly narrated this incident, whole his life. This is why i am mentioning it here.

According to my father, he was the first standing in the line, perhaps because no one else of the passengers was willing to head the line. Then two iranian officials came to him and said something in persian, which he could not understand at all.Then one of them gave a capsule to my father to swallow. My father was perhaps so much under pressure, that he dropped the capsule. The iranian officials at that time, were distributing the capsule to the other persons in the line. According to my father, none of the iranian officials were looking at him, so he took the capsule from the ground, but one of the iranian official noticed him, and shouted. They took my father out of the line. According to my father he became somewhat confused and afraid, about what was going to happen next. Luckily, they just gave him another capsule to swallow. He returned back to the compartment, like other passengers.

We were not allowed to get out of the compartment. The iranian officials were checking the passports of the passengers. One of them was checking and was reading aloud the contents of the passports, and the other one was writing all these in his register. I really enjoyed the way they were reading aloud. I could catch just a few words in persian, as i had studied persian also in the school. But the pronunciation of the iranians was too different, so it was almost impossible to understand what they were speaking.

They told us to bring out all our baggeages out of the compartments. We took them out, from where we were asked to carry them to an another goods compartment. All baggages were sealed in that compartment. We were told that these baggages would go directly to the custom department in Zahidan, from where we would like take them the other day.

The train continued its journey.

There was just four or five more persons in the compartment. The train was going to reach the Zahidan station late at night. So, with the consultation of fellow passengers my father decided to stay in the train at night at Zahidan, and then would go out to the city the next morning. I climbed up on the bench and slept. The train continued moving ahead towards Zahidan. Outside it was totally dark.

My mother jolted me all of a sudden. I opened my eyes, everyone was getting out of the train. The train had stopped. My father told me that the railway offiicials had not allowed us to stay in the train anymore. It was Zahedan railway station, and we were supposed to leave the train immediately.

With my mind still sleeping. I joined others to get out of the train. We went out of the railway station. There was a taxi there, which according to me was alraedy full. But there was no other taxi, so we had had to fit ourselves in that cab. We all were literally packed by the taxi driver in the cab, and it moved. I did not know where we were heading for.

The taxi stopped in front of a simple building. There was a small board hanging by side of the main door. It was PAKISTANI MUSAFIR KHANA (Guest /Rest house for Pakistanis). A person on that door was collecting the passports, and taking all of us in.

There was no building in the building. There were small rooms, with no furniture, except thick carpets. It was quite hot inside. We were given a candle to light the room. Although somewhat hungry, but we preferred to sleep. We were too tired.

For the first time in my life i had left the country, where i was born and grown up. It was a new experience in my life. A thrill that i do still feel inside me. It was the first step, after that MY LIFE WAS NOT GOING TO BE THE SAME ANYMORE . First step was taken,  the rest was to follow. For me a new chapter of my life had opened. Pakistan was left behind. Turkey was going to be the ultimately goal. A goal not to earn a better living, but just to be different from the rest.  Mentally, i had freed myself from being a Pakistani. I was going to live in Turkey, going to be a Turk. A direct result of a  very very different and unique mentality, which i shared with my father.

The next morning, after eating something that we could find in the shop nearby, we went to the custom house, by taxi. In fact we were not alone to go there. Most of the persons in the Pakistani guest house were going there, so it was not difficult for us.

At the custom house they opened all our bags and baggages, that we had put in a separate compartment of the train. We did not face any difficulty in getting our bags cleared off from the customs. We returned back to our guest house .

Now the next step was to decide. Where to go next. My father decided to go northward to Mashad by bus.

The next morning we all 6 persons, boarded a bus heading north for Mashad. It was too cold, particularly for us. We travelled the whole day and the whole night. An unforgetable event happened in the very early hours of the morning when the bus about to enter Mashad. We were all asleep. when we came to know that the bus was not moving ahead. Enquiry revealed that the traffic police had challaned the bus, and had imposed the fine. The bus driver had left the bus in protest, and the passengers were all stranded there. The driver returned back after sometime, but asked all the passengers to contribute money among ourselves to pay the fine. The passengers did not see any other way out but to contribute and pay the fine. Later on the bus entered the Mashad city. It was just dawn.

We found a cheap hotel, and settled in. It was terribly cold. The open water in the small fountain and pond in middle of the hotel, was all ice. My father decided not to stay anymore there. He went to the railway station and booked seats for Tehran. from where we were supposed to pick a train that would be going directly to Istanbul.
,
We boarded the Tehran bound train in the evening, which was supposed to reach Tehran the next morning.
It was a nice train, with separate compartments. There were six luxury seats in every compartment, three on one side and the other three facing them. We put our bags and baggages under the seats and in between the seats. We managed to lie down, somewhat uncomfortably , by adjusting our baggages in between the facing seats. We spent the whole night lying down in that uncomfortable way. After all it was a part of adventure.
But we were shocked the next morning, when we came out of our compartment and looked into other ones. The seats were infact meant to be hooked down to make a bed. My father laughed and saddened thinking about how and why he could not understand that. But it was past, nothing could be done about that.

We reached Tehran at about 8 or may be 9 am. We came out of the train. My father went to the booking office, to book our seats for the Istanbul bound train. We did know before hand that it was once a week train. We were shocked when the booking officer at the Tehran Railway Station told us that the Istanbul bound train had just left Tehran a couple of minutes back.

There was no other way out for us, but to stay in Tehran for one week, to get the next train, next sunday.

We stayed in a cheap hotel in Tehran for a week. The weather was cold. However, we got sufficient time to see Tehran. I remember watching a film, THAT MAN FROM RIO, in Tehran.


Well, the next sunday morning, we boarded the train bound for Istanbul. It was going to be a more than three days long journey.
PRESENT DAY SOME PHOTOS TAHRAN ISTANBUL TRAIN

CONTINUED TO ..........1972 FROM KARACHI TO ISTANBUL (3)








Tuesday 6 November 2012

1972 - FROM KARACHI TO ISTANBUL (1)

The Indo-Pak war of 1971 was in full swing. The life had become too dull, due to night curfews and blackouts. India had hit the Karachi port, and the burning oil depos at the Kemari port were keeping the whole city lit throughout the night. Repeatedly i had witnessed the air chase between the indian and Pakistani airforce jets. Life was passing through a different phase.

I was 16 years old.

We used to live in our Nazimabad house. It was half built. Rather left unfinished. However , we lived in the same house from 1971 till 1985.

At that time there were no window glasses in our house, so my late father had tied up some wooden pieces with the idea of that it might serve as a barrier for the incoming stray bullet from some Indian jet (a remote possibility). But that was his thinking, just like so many other off the beat sort of ideas that he always came up with all through his life.

Well, one such evening, we were all sitting on one single bed, and the Indian and Pakistani jets were chasing each others on the sky. All of  a sudden, my father asked us a question. "What will happen if a stray bullet hits us here?", he asked. He himself replied that one or more of us would be killed. We were listening to him quietly, awaiting for the ultimate subject matter to come forth. He continued by explaining that the considered the world (earth) as a wonderful gift from Allah to the human beings. "So i think it is not proper that we spend our whole lives at one single city or country", the ultimate new idea was just taking the initial shape.

He explained that being a human being it is his right to go and live anywhere in the world. "Because the whole world is ours", he said. We listened to him quietly. ( I wonder if he had been impressed by the song IMAGINE of John Lennon?)

So, according to my father, we should not remain stuck to the place of our birth. We must go out and see the world, and settle down wherever we want to.

WOW, it was a wonderful idea, according to me. However, not for all others in the family. In fact nobody had taken it seriously. My mother in fact was too used to different way of thinking of my father. She had witnessed too many in her life. My elder brother, was always having an anti stand against my father's views. My younger brother and sister were too young, to understand anything. Bur for me, it was something very thrilling. My father was too serious, and i was too anxious.

My father did not waste time, to open the Atlas. We both started looking at the pages of the Atlas. In a short period of time, the pages of Atlas ended. We had finished strolling the world, on paper. What next?

Touring the whole world, sounds nice, but in reality it requires huge financial resources, which we never had. It also needed Visas and other formalities to be taken care of. Honestly my father too knew that he was not in a position to go head on with such problems. But he had made up his mind to think seriously on his theory.

Where to go? and How to go? That was the question. Finance was never a problem, because we never had sufficient funds. No money, in fact had made us NOT TO THINK about money. That was one good way out. (I told you my father was a different sort of person.......very different.....unique)

So he dropped thinking about solving the problem of finance.

In those days there were RCD (REGIONAL COOPERATION FOR DEVELOPMENT) , a treaty between Pakistan, Iran and Turkey. The treaty had allowed the citizens of these countries to visit each other's country without visa. That had given moral boost to my father. The initial problem of visa formalities thus stood solved a bit in that way.

My father had made up his mind to go. He had found out the way on the map. He was sure that he could go without any problem upto Turkey. After that? He never thought of.

Then , extending his mental jimnastic of this topic, he started out thinking about the next phase. WHERE TO SETTLE? That was the next step of this theory. It was not an important question to be answered.

Oh yes, let i mention here, that as i had mentioned earlier, it was I who was also interested in these plans, so frequently he used to discuss these with me. But not just me, all through his life, he always discussed everything aloud at home, so everyone used to know what he was thinking. One interested in his plans used to discuss, the non-interested ones used to ignore. However, everyone in the house did know what my father was working on.

According to his plan, once out of Pakistan, he was free to go through Iran and Turkey, without much trouble. The trouble viz, visa formalities etc etc would be faced once past turkey. But he had had to solve the question of getting settled at some place in the world, once out of Pakistan.

Oh, let i further clarify here, that my father never wanted to go alone, he wanted to go alongwith the whole family.....6 persons in total. So indeed it was not something so easy to be dealt with.

Well, where to settle ultimately? That was the next question.

As i have mentioned earlier, my father was never after money. So he had never thought of going and settling in wealthy countries like USA or UK or to the middle eastern countries, where the expats used to earn a lot. He was a very simple person, who never went out for big money. All through his life he led a very simple life. So his plan was never destined for neither a better living nor for big money.

Perhaps he was after some adventure. Some very big adventure. And i was all too eager to be part of this extremely thrilling adventure.

It took almost 6 months to work on preparations for this big big adventure.

As i have mentioned earlier the ultimate question to be answered was "WHERE TO SETTLE IN THE END". My father did have a couple of basic principles in his mind.
1. We must live with muslims (muslim country)
2. But not in middle eastern countries. (he was never interested in living in these countries)

Based on the above ultimately he came up with three alternate places
1. Turkey
2. Spain
3. Morroco

In fact his choice of these places were the direct result of his deep study of islamic history. His interest had also given me a chance to have a look in the islamic history.

However, he did not take much time in giving his final decision in favour of Turkey . The place in mind was Istanbul. His logic was that Istanbul is located at such a strategic point, from where one can go to any other place and return back too. I agreed with him.

It did not take much time that all our efforts were fixed on Istanbul and Turkey. My father brought some detailed maps of Istanbul from the Turkish Consulate. He also bought a small handy book which showed sentences of routine usage and their translation in Turkish and Persian.

One day he went to a painting exhibition, at Arts Council, Karachi, where he met a Turkish musician, whose name was ERDAL SOYULU (or may be SOYLU), who used to work in a night club in karachi. My father discused his plans with him, so he gave the address of his house in Istanbul, to my father.

Days passed swiftly, and my father continued aheading with his plans.

I was a student of B.Com Part 1 then, i shifted my attention to my studies.

My father was too busy in arranging for finances for this big adventure. He had started selling furniture of the house. He had (perhaps) taken loan from his Provident Fund also.

First our passports were got prepared.  As far as i can remember now, we were scheduled to leave Pakistan in August 1972. As a first step, my father sent some money to one of his friends (Dr. ANIS UR RUB) in Italy. Secondly, he found out that we were supposed to take visa from Iranian embassy. He applied for that.

The passed through the first shock before even starting the adventure physically. The Iranian embassy refused to give Visa to my father, since according to their belief a person with the same name had gone to Iran earlier too. In fact my father had never gone to Iran. But there was no way out for us. The Iranian embassy decided to send his passport for further enquiry , to Tehran. We had had to wait.

Now when i try to understand my personal feelings pf that time, i become too confused. During that period, i continued with my studies, even knowing that i might not be in a position to continue my studies. At the same time i was too eager to play my part in the adventure of leaving Pakistan with the family, with no guaranteed or foreplanned future in sight. I become too confused now, when i try to find out that how come under all these conditions , i ultimately appeared in the B.Com Part 1 examination and got First class Third position in the Karachi university)

While we were all waiting for the Iranian Visa, one day i fell while playing hockey, and broke my left arm.
The arm was plastered. It was the second shock.

One day my father came to know that the Iranian embassy wanted to have visa of the next country where we would be going after Iran. Turkey , our next country in the line , was not having visa restrictions for Pakistanis. But the Iranian embassy persisted to see the visa of a country beyond Turkey. So the only way out for us was to take visa for some other country also before applying for Iranian visa. Well, in the meantime the passport of my father was returned from Tehran, and was cleared of the earlier suspicions. There was some mistake in the record.

So my father took Italian visas.

The Iranian embassy gave us visas without any further problems.

By that time (if i remember correctly) september had arrived. My arm was still in plaster. My exams were not too far. I took the exams with my plastered arm. My exams ended in October 1972.

By that time everything of our house was sold. There were only two things that were left unsold. One was our old refrigerator and the other one was our half built home itself. In fact, i never ever discussed my father how did he finance all that adventure. Yet all that i saw was that everything of the house was sold out.


CONTINUED AT .... 1972 - FROM KARACHI TO ISTANBUL (2)


Wednesday 17 October 2012

JOURNALISM AND I


JOURNALISM AND I

My late father was in the field of Accounts and Finance, but beside attaining educational degrees in differing field, he had done his masters in journalism way back in late 1950s (or may be early 1960s). Although he remained in the same profession till he retired, yet journalism remained one of his most favourite fields, throughout his life. He continued attached to this field in form or the another.

My entry in the field of journalism started in the year (?) 1968 or 1969. I was in class 9th then. My father used to write a ten minutes script for Radio Pakistan. The title of the program used to be KHABRON PER TABSIRA (news comments). It used to broadcast every wednesday at (?) 11.30am, in the Students' program. Obviously the topics used to be of interest of the school going young generation.

One day my father gave me the handwritten script, and told me to rewrite it neatly. The words should be written clearly separate from each other with two lines gap between every line. I wrote that. That must be 6 or 8 pages. It was my first induction into the world of journalism.

Later on, he started telling me more about it. Over a passage of time, he taught me how to find the material from Encyclopedia , newspapers , magazines and other relevant sources. (Unfortunately, there was no google those days). My father was a collector of books and magazines, so i always found it interesting to note down the required information from various sources. Usually my father used to give me one day time to collect the information. So, after returning from his office the other day, he used to call me to sit with him, while writing the script.

The same practice continued for a couple of years, in which i was promoted by him. Later on he used to phone me from his office to give me the topics, and i used to write the script till his arrival the same evening. He used to change a few words or sentences here or there, and as always the final script was to be written by me in good handwriting.

During my summer vacation, my father used to take me along to his office (at Burns Road) on Wednesday, and i had been going to the Radio Pakistan at around 8.30am to hand over the script. That led me to meet me some producers of Radio Pakistan. I can recall meeting the producers Yawar Abbas, Sabi Ahmed, Tabish Dehlevi, etc.and among the radio artists, Safia Moeni, Talat Hussaim, S.M.Saleem, Zafar Ahmed (bhai jan), Munni begum etc etc. That gave me chance of roaming around in corridors of Radio Pakistan, and to peep inside so many studios. (Unfortunately, the present generation cannot understand the environment of those days, those were the days of mutual trust. There used to be one normal policeman on the main gate of Radio Pakistan, who never asked me anything. People entering and coming out of the building were usually all persons known to the policeman, and as a way of common understanding unrelated person was never thought of entering the building...........the culture of klashinkof and bombs were not even heard of till then)

During the daytime my father used to be an Accountant in KDA, but after the expiry of his office time, he used to enter the field of journalism. A couple of times a week her used to work at night, as part time Proof reader in APP (news agency) and at times in the Morning News newspaper on the I.I.Chundrigar Road. Quite a many a time, he took me to those offices. That was my first experience with the printing media. For the first time i witnessed how news have been written, edited, re-written, composed and printed. I was always too amused by the speed with which that work had been done, due to sharp timing schedule.
I really loved that. There for the first time, i met the famous AZIZ cartoonist of Morning News,  The years were 1965 - 1970.

But that was not all. My father used to be a very energetic person. Ofcourse he needed some money too. There was a new magazine in the market. It was SCREENWORLD. My father became its reporter. In those days he interviewed the leading figures of Pakistan cinema industry too. The office and Printing press of the magazine was at a walking distance (about 15 minuıtes) from our house. Usually on sundays my father used to take me along there, while finalising the articles of the magazine. The printing press too was there. It was SHAHZAD PRINTING PRESS. Usually my father spent an hour or two in the magazine office, but that used to be sufficient time for me to go through the printing press and see how the types had been handset (there were no computers those days), proofreading done and printed. The printing press was just installing the offset machines. But i could not see them. My father had left the magazine. I was still in my school, and my practical knowledge of the field of journalism was improving.

I was a journalist in the making. I was still a class Tenth student in Government School, Nazimabad.

I forgot to mention, that my father was also attached to an another monthly magazine (perhaps as Proof Reader/Editor). The name of the magazine was Pakistan Textile Journal. He never took me there.

It was my initial entry in the field of journalism, which had made me deeply interested in the field. Perhaps this was what my father too was interested in.

We used to get DAWN newspaper daily, but MORNING NEWS and later on THE SUN(mostly on Sundays) were also started showing face in our house. Rarely i found PAKISTAN TIMES and OBSERVOR (Dacca) in our house. He was subscribed to TIMES, NEWSWEEK , READING DIGEST and LIFE magazines. (That is where a big part of his salary used to go)However over a period of time, Times, Newsweek, Rading Digest and Life magazines bowed out of our house to pave way for NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.

But that was not all. Although he was not getting urdu newspapers, yet he was buying urdu magazines of high standards. Among these , i can remember LAIL O NAHAR, NAYA DAUR, TALEEM O TARBIYAT, ZEYB UN NISA , etc. He was never interested in reading fiction .

Interestingly urdu newspapers were never got. The idea behind not inducting urdu newspapers in the house were perhaps two fold. One, just because my father was more involved in english journalism, so he was more interested in english newspapers and magazines. Secondly, perhaps he wanted to improve our english. Particularly, i was very weak in english. So my father, instead of teaching me english, used to discuss news as published in the newspaper with me. He usually asked me to read some news (of my own choice and interest) and then to explain that to my father in urdu.

He had realised that i was very weak in english, so instead of teaching me english grammer, he taught me practical english. He used to let me read any news item, and then to re-write that with differing sentences. I always liked inventing a new Headline in place of the published one.

Perhaps it was due to such interesting way of learning english, i learnt the journalistic english, without learning the grammer.

The first phase of my journalistic adventures end here. The year was perhaps 1969.

When i look back to the chronology of my life, i found the period from 1969 to 1979, as almost non-adventurious period. Although during these years i had made my entry in the field of drumming, yet i remained away from journalism, painting etc. My connection with the music remained on some light note, yet i had formed a very amateur sort of musical group named THE GRADUATES, with my friends Iftikhar and Waqar. Pervaiz had joined us after 1979. However, during all this period of ten years, from 1969 to 1979, i concentrated most of my energies towards my studies.

I remember once my father had said, that i must have worked hard on my studies, and to leave my other interests aside, till i complete my studies. He had told me that i would have quite much time at my disposal , to take care of my other fields of interest, once i get through my educational phase. He was right. I did do exactly as he had told me. I remained away from painting, journalism, hockey,etc, till i passed my Chartered Accountancy in the year 1979. In the words of my father, the whole world was open in front of me after that. Yes, i found it just like that. I started off re-entering the fields of paintings, music, sports and of course journalism, all at the same time, from 1980 onwards.

Honestly speaking, i was never having sufficient time to concentrate and excel in my professional field. Yet as the saying goes, to survive one has to earn his living by working . I had had to work in the field of Audit and accounts. But in no way i was going to sacrifice my interests in other fields, just because i was a chartered accountant. Till now, i am sticking to my same philosophy. Whole my working life, i simply could not earn a lot as a chartered accountant, just because i never wanted to give all of my time just to my job. No and never. My profession remained just one of fields of my interest. I admit that i could not excell as a chartered accountant due to these, and equally could not excell as an artist or writer or long distance runner, since i had had to give my first attention to my job as a chartered accountant.

However, still i believe that i managed to do a lot in my life. The moral of all this is that MONEY IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE. So i never ran after money, at the expense of my other fields of interest. I tried to divide my attention and time among all these fields.

Well, now coming back to the second phase of my journalistic life.
As i mentioned earlier, the period of 1969-1979 appear to be somewhat non-active period of my sports, painting and writing fields, yet it had never remained so totally. In fact, where most of my time was being spent on my studies, my activites in other fields remained in the background, just for the sake of keeping them along.

It was the year 1969. I was a student of class Tenth in the School. One day my father told me that one of his friends, wanted me to write his accounts. I was studying accounting in the school. I liked the idea. The next day my father took me to his friend. His friend was none else but Mr.SAFDAR BARLAS, the well known journalist. He was the Assistant Editor of DAWN newspaper. He was also the Honorary Secretary of the PAKISTAN UNITED NATIONS ASSOCIATION. I met him. I found myself in a totally different world. The Accounting work was not too much. Just to issue receipts for the membership fees received, and writing them in the books of the accounts. A few payments, and some miscellaneous works. That was all. In total, it was not more than a week work in a year.

However, i was too delighted to have a free entry in the office of DAWN newspaper. I started visiting there off and on, whether i had to meet Mr. Barlas or not. He used to come to his office at around 11 am. I had been going there, whenever i could, to read different newspapers and magazines. I had been observing the staff of the library to cut news and to paste them in huge registers, on topic basis. I did like that. Due to my personal style, however, i could never become friendly with anybody there, yet atleast the staff of the newspaper had been recognising me. I used all those periods to read newspapers and other journalistic materials. It was going to improve my english on one side, my knowledge about news coverage, news reporting, etc on the other. Although i never went there for than more than a week to the maximum, but for over ten years, it did contribute a lot in improving my journalistic vision.

My urge to write had awaken. But i had had to concentrate more on my studies. I was doing my B.Com ( I stood First Class Third in the Karachi University), and then i qualified as one of the youngest Chartered Accountants (in the year 1979). It was a decade of real hard labour for me.

During those days, once i remember telling my father my desire to write something, to be published in the newspaper. He asked me the topic on which i wanted to write. This was the toughest question. I never knew what did i want to write, i just wanted to write to publish. He suggested me to go and discuss this with Mr. Barlas.

The next day i went to the office of Mr. Safdar Barlas, and told him my desire to write to publish. He told me that since i was studying commerce, i should write something about economics or trade. I did not like his ides. I kept quite. In fact, all through my life, i never wrote about such topics. I simply did not, perhaps because i could not.

However, interestingly,  my first published write up in a newspaper was about Accoun ting. Hahahahahahaha.

It so happened, that one day my father showed me a letter written by Mr. Salim Essa Habib (I do still remember his name). The letter was published in the Letters to the Editors section of DAWN newspaper. He had discussed the idea of Inflation Accounting. It was rather a new idea in those days. (the year was 1976 then). I read the letter, and instantly decided to respond. I wrote a short letter, in which i had questioned some of his views, and gave my own suggestions about introduction of Inflation Accounting in Pakistan. I showed my letter to my father. I wanted him to correct that. But he did not. Perhaps he did not want to undermine my courage. He told me to go to Dawn and deliver it there. In fact my parents, never discouraged me while taking first or next steps. This is why i always say that what i am is due to my parents. They never discouraged me.  I still remember the first page of my 9th class (first) book of Accounting by Rup ram Gupta. He had honoured his book to his parents by writing.........TO MY PARENTS TO WHOM I OWE MY EVERYTHING.
Throughout my life i could never forget this sentence, and realize that i too my everything to my parents.

Well, to continue.
I delivered my letter to the office of the Dawn. I was never too hopeful, particularly i was never confident about the quality of my english, and also because of the fact that my letter was challenging the views of Mr. Salim Essa Habib, who was the vice president of the Karachi Stock Exchange. I was honestly no match to him.

I was more than excited to see my letter published in the newspaper, after perhaps two days. For me it was the opening of a totally new world. My father congratulated me. He was happy for obvious reason. I took the newspaper to my office. I was working at the audit of PIDC then, and showed the newspaper to my colleagues. It was a landmark for me.

Just two days after , i saw the letter of Mr. Salim Essa Habib , appearing in the same column in DAWN, where he had responded to my queries, and countered my views. It gave me an another chance to write an another letter on the same topic. This time i was confident of it being published. It published too. Hahahahahahahaha. I had entered the world of published journalism.

That was one stage that added a lot to my self confidence. I had realised how much correct my father was when he had not corrected my first letter. Although some corrections were done by the Dawn Editor, but that was normal . I would have never got the needed self confidence had my father corrected my first letter . He had let me write the letter of my own, and had let it go to the newspaper same. Thus the ultimate published piece of the letter made me assess my capability of a successful writer, capable of writing by myself on some topic. It was a wonderful achievement and  a turning point of my life. (Interestingly my life does not lack turning points, they are too many)

However, i could not do anymore in this field, for sometime, just because again i was never confident of selecting a topic that MUST be published. But in which newspaper or magazine. However, one more important breakthrough came a couple of years later. Again through my father.

One day he brought home a magazine. It was TEENAGER. He told me that the magazine had mentioned that it encourages voluntary writers. He told me to write something for that magazine. But again i was stuck at the same point. What to write and about what. The topic? It was the biggest hindrance.  I consulted my father. He gave me a wonderful idea. He asked me to send a letter to the editor of the magazine, and ask her about the topic and subject on which she might be interested to have me write something. Not much hopeful, yet i wrote a letter and posted.

I had had to go to my outstation audit assignment (perhaps Khairpur) . I stayed for over two weeks. On return my father told me that the editor of the newspaper had phoned, and expressed her desire to meet me. I felt honoured. However, i was always a shy sort of person, lacking the ability of marketing myself. However, i did go there.

It was a house in PECHSociety. I went there, and met the lady. She spoke to me, and encouraged me to write. I mentioned her the point where i had stuck. She tried to learn more about myself. When i told her that I play drums in an amateur band, she told me that i should build up a few simple questions about my group, and interview the members of the group. She promised that she would publish that interview.

In fact , that was the point due to which i had not been able to write. I wanted a guarantee that my article would not go to the dust bin. Because i was always afraid that i might not be able to bear the shock of being rejected. TEENAGERS gave me the guarantee that my write up would be published. I was too happy.

In a couple of days, i wrote a small interview about our musical group, and handed it over to the editor with our photos. Wow, my article and the photographs were published in the next issue of the magazine. Aha, that was it. I became too confident, and became more serious about writing articles.

However, i could not do much due to my studies. However, once i finished my CA, i jumped into the field of journalism, with great enthusiasm.

I wrote a couple of simple articles for Teenagers. There i got the chance of taking part in the formation of GALAXY OF YOUTH. An association for the young ones. It gave me an another chance to write the theme song of this association. I wrote it by myself, without consulting anybody. Interestingly , i had written it spontaneously in a matter of few minutes, during the meeting of the association, where the arrangement for the intitial introductory function of the society were being finalised. Interestingly, although our musical group was not upto the standard to play in that introductory function at the Alibhoy Auditorium , however i was lucky enough that my theme song was sung by Iftikhar, one of the members of our group, at the very start of the function. The song was sung by Iftikhar, as the curtains started rolling up. Iftikhar was standing in the middle of the stage, singing the song written by me. I was watching him singing, sitting somewhere in the hall. I congratulated myself for this great success. Interestingly, someone else in my place, would have been utilisied this achievement for coming in the limelight, but unfortunately i never knew the art of cashing my talent.

I can still remember the first two lines of that theme song

TODAY MY HEART IS FILLED WITH JOY
HERE IS GEE O WAAY G.O.Y.
THE GALAXY OF YOUTH

I remember this song writing led me to write an another song about THE BEATLES. I have forgotten almost all of the verses, except the initial line, which was just like this.........
GEORGE JOHN PAUL RINGO,
CHASE THEM WHERE THEY GO
HERE THEY COME AND THERE THEY GO
OH YES I KNOW THEM ALL
THEY R THE BEST
THE BEATLES
THE BEATLES

My friends and colleagues do remember my those days. I had been going to my audit assignments with a canvas brown bag. In that bag i used to carry my running short and track suite, my running shoes and my camera. I had been coming out of my official job at around 5 pm usually, from where i had been going to the YNCA ground, which was not too far from there, where i had been running . I had been using the same place to locate young sportsman and woman. I had been interviewing them there, and taking their photos. From there i had been visiting the Goethe Institute or Arts Council of Pakistan, or some other nearby places, to hunt for the young upcoming artists, etc to interview them and to take their photos. It had been my routine for around a decade.

While i was writing for TEENAGERS. i met Mr. Rashid Ahmed Durrani, who also lived in PECHS area. He was going to launch an another magazine for the young. He invited to write to his magazine. Like TEENAGERS, he too was taking me as a volunteer honorary writer. However, for me money was not the issue, i wanted to write . so i started writing for his magazine. It was very amateurely published. At times i wrote to fill the pages, on quite a many differing topics, in one single issue. That magazine gave me a chance to write on diversified topics.

In the meantime i started writing occassionally for the Youth Page of DAWN, MAG, READERS, and some other magazines. I had been hunting for people to be interviewed, and getting that published in some newspaper or magazine. Only DAWN  was making me a payment for published article. MAG started paying a small amount later on.

I remember my first article, published in DAWN, was the interview of a young energetic blind boy. He was a master in english. He was very active person, who was also involved in many social works. I remember putting SO WHAT IF I AM BLIND, as heading of that article.

In the meantime , i developed a liking for writing on sports. I started writing weekly on sports page of DAILY NEWS. I continued writing them for a period of almost 11 years (1980-1991). They used to pay me a meagre amount of 100 Rupees per article.
I remember writing a lot , and with great enthusiasm , during that period. I wanted to write daily, but it was difficult to find it published daily.

I continued writing about sports on weekly basis. But i was looking for the diversity. So i started writing a column of satirical humor in DAILY NEWS. It was also a weekly column. Its title was I AND WHY. It was basically made up of dialogues between two persons, whose names were I and WHY. They usually discussed social problems and cultural issues. I remember once i had put the heading WHY DO YOU SMOKE IN MY NOSE, for an article about smoking in buses.
After sometime i changed the pattern of this to a plain sort of satirical article.
I had been making sketches for the same article.
It was a short period when i had started making cartoons too. I never did that again.

I remember that way back in early 1980s i had suggested of introducing an additional umpire to monitor the close cases of stumping and LBW, by replaying them , and declare the ultimate decision from there. I do not know, if i am the first person to suggest this then. This process is now a compulsory practice in todays cricket.

There were so many differing topics , on which i wrote articles. I interviewd quite too many people from all walks of life.

During mid 1980s i came across through an another aspect of journalistic life. After i joined the studio of EQBAL MEHDI (artist) as an observor, he had asked me to help his maternal uncle Mr. ZAMMARRUD HUSSAIN, who was publishing THE VOICE OF PALMISTRY , monthly magazine. So i started visiting his office, a couple of times a week, in the evening. I used to do translation work, making sketches, proofreading, etc, etc. I had been through all the processes of writing and publishing a magazine. I learned a lot there. The journalist inside me, earned a lot of self recognition and respect. I was too happy.

I was a freelance journalist, who used to work free generally, just for the love of writing.

During 1990 i shifted my attention from writing for newspapers/magazines etc, towards writing books. I wrote and got published my first book THE CONQUEST OF CONSTANTINOPLE, in 1991. I not over learnt the technique of writing a book, but also learnt publication too. Interestingly, i sold just one copy of the book, perhaps also because of the fact that i was never interested in selling. I was more interested in achieving a landmark for myself. So once i got it published , i lost all my interest in that.

I published a very small booklet TURKISH FOR BEGINNERS, the same year. I had formed the Turkish friends Society, and was more involved in my never ending love for Turkey.

After i returned after a (failed) week long visit of Northern Cyprus, in 1989. I started working for an another book titled THE BACKGROUND OF VIOLENCE IN CYPRUS. I finished the book, before going again to Northern Cyprus in 1991. I ameneded some parts of it, after settling there. The then President of Northern Cyprus, Rauf Raif Denktas was kind enough to write its preface. However, due to financial restraints i could never get the book published. Honestly i had lost my whole interest in it.

My whole life went through a severe jolt, once i uprooted myself from Pakistan and settled in Northern Cyprus in 1991. Starting everything from a scratch (without a job and sufficient funds) was never so easy, particularly in a country where i was excessively over-educated.  I had had to fight for a living for myself and for my family. My activities in all other fields (music, painting, writing, sports, etc) had come to an abrupt standstill, and they remained so for quite a few next years.

It took me a couple of years to shed over the impressions of the initial jolts.  In 1995, i hit upon the idea of becoming a song writer. I started writing songs. I wrote over a dozen songs, and sent them to various internationally recognised music promoters. Interestingly i never got any reply from anywhere. I wrote some songs in Turkish too. But that was all.

The year was 1996 when once i wrote a book where someone had mentioned a long sentence of over a thousand words. It attracted me.

The next morning i started writing a long sentence. It took me a short time to set up the pattern. Once set, i kept on writing and writing, non-stop, and the words continued lengthening the sentence. I was too involved in writing the sentence, although i had been giving my foremost attention to my job. It took me a couple of days to cross the figure of 3000 words in the sentence. Although the sentence was not yet complete, however i decided not to prolong it any further.

I mentioned it to a friend of mine, who suggested to go to the newspaper office.  I went to KIBRIS newspaper the next morning. They found the issue worth publishing. They published my half page interview on the centre page, the next day. The daily HURRIYET newspaper too, published my interview the next day. Two local radio stations broadcasted my interviews. I was too happy. The writer inside me had awaken.

I did not take much time to write an another sentence, to break my own previous records. Once again i was in the newspapers.

But what next?

I decided to try my luck in turkish journalism. I started writing for a local newspaper in 1996. Again i was writing satire. Although my turkish was not upto the mark, yet they were publishing my column by correcting it. However, i stopped writing due to some ideological differences with the management of the newspaper.

Again, i remained untouched with the field for quite a long period, till the year 2010. I wrote an over 200 pages novel. Ofcourse i did not have the financial strength to publish it. So i decided to put it on line, in the form of a blog. It can be read at the undergiven link
THE TWO TULIPS

Since then i am writing in blogs, not too frequently. I plan to write an another novel about turkish history, but frankly speaking i am more involved in running/walking now a days.
The journalist inside me is still awake, and very young. I have have to write quite too many things. I will.