Archive for December, 2010

Muse/ic – “Part XII: Chapter V – ‘Saturday Night Fever’ soundtrack by Bee Gees”

December 21, 2010 Leave a comment

Excerpt from Chapter V: During our meals, my mind often wandered to Ali Baba and the forty thieves, as well as to the other tales from Shahrzad, like Aladdin and his oil lamp. I would have liked to own such a lamp, I thought. But what if it was one of those lamps that only gave you one wish?



Though far from a cave, Ali Baba restaurant held many riches: tasty delights, “Saturday Night Fever”, daydreams, and memories of home.

27 years later, the album plays the same role, only this time I travel back to Ali Baba’s.

Thank you Bee Gees.

Muse/ic – “Part XI: Chapter IV – ‘The Keeper Of Secrets’ by Luke Slott”

December 16, 2010 Leave a comment

Excerpt from Chapter IV: The next morning, we bought more fruit and, this time, cucumbers from the same fruit seller. If he only knew that his fruits were the highlight of my days spent in Rawalpindi— that they allowed the scent of home to overpower the murmur plans to leave for Islamabad. I wasn’t interested in the details–the only one that concerned me was to know when we would leave for Germany, for which no one had an answer I liked, wanted, or needed.


This particular piano solo lent itself perfectly to the chapter in Rawalpindi. Amidst the uncertain paths before us, I steal time, to smell, to peel fruit, to remember.

Thank you Luke.

Muse/ic – “Part X: Chapter III – ‘Mothers of the Night’ – by Moby”

December 14, 2010 Leave a comment

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Excerpt from Chapter III: I wanted to leave the train as well, to feel the soil under my feet. I had enough of the tracks and the shakiness; tired of the smell, the wooden benches, and the separation from my father and Joubin. I envied the people on the ground who were on their way to their families, as we rolled away from them in the hope of completing a voyage that seemed to have no end.


I ride the tracks with Moby’s “Mothers of the Night” and watch our bench mate, hear the wheels, dream of home, feel the rhythm, see the chickens, sense the motion, swallow the naan, swallow the hours,

and long for freedom..

Thank you Moby.

Muse/ic – “Part IX: Chapter III – ‘God Moving Over The Face of the Waters’ by Moby”

December 10, 2010 Leave a comment

Excerpt from Chapter III: I recognized that we had come to the moment they had discussed in our hotel room. Hamid reached the guard, who was not only trying to make sense of our pile of tickets but had to simultaneously keep control of anyone that might sneak past him.
Seconds, disguised as forever, clicked by as our fates were to be determined by the man, who wore a sweater with a badge and matching beret. What I wouldn’t give for Getafix’s magic potion, I thought. We wouldn’t even need to take a train. I’d carry everyone and run to Lahore.


The hurried piano notes, interwoven with the drawn out synthesized melodies perfectly capture the anxieties that were brewing over our sudden change of plans, our walk to the train station, and my longing to be in the same world as Asterix & Obelix..

Thank you Moby.

Muse/ic – “Part VIII: Chapter II – ‘Memory Gospel’ by Moby”

December 7, 2010 1 comment

Excerpt from Chapter II: This time it seemed that it was much more than the dust that kept us all quiet for hours. I couldn’t find reason or logic to anything that was happening. Why could this have been our end?  How did NIVEA cream end up saving us? When would we be free? In Quetta? It had to be.


“Memory Gospel” places me in a time where I could almost taste my cup of hot cocoa and freedom, though neither seemed to be within reach.  Layers of hope invested in a world that barely made any sense.

Thank you Moby.

Categories: Journey Through Music

Muse/ic – “Part VII: Chapter II – ‘Whispering Wind’ – by Moby”

December 2, 2010 Leave a comment

Excerpt from Chapter II:  The heat was unforgiving, the dry earth relentless, the truck wild. Locked in an orange world behind my closed lids, I welcomed the images from home that played before me. I heard from a time where all my friends were together–the Germans, the Iranians, the ones that were both–a time we had spent playing endless games of lay-lay, kesh-bazi, and tanab-bazi, sharing custard-filled peerashkis and Chiclets.


“Whispering Wind”.. and so it did. Whispers of sweet memories that once kept me company on my mute and blind journey through the dust… at last found voice on paper.

Thank you Moby.