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M. Syre

  • Shahzad Roy

    Today, Shahzad Roy, along with his spouse, Salma Alam, visited my district, Benazirabad, along with the team of RSU and Department of Education & Literacy, Government of Sindh. Benazirabad is a district in the center of Sindh province, at a traveling distance of three and half hours from Karachi–the metropolis of the country. I am … Continue reading

  • Imran Khan

    1992 World Cup (Cricket) on TV today took me away from Benazirabad (where I am posted these days as Deputy Commissioner) to regions of familiarity, particularly the times when I had had interactions with Imran Khan, first time in 2002 (I forget the month) at Civil Services Academy, Lahore, Pakistan.

    At the Academy, he was invited … Continue reading

  • Time

    Time…gives us…everything…really?…everything?…yes, it does…a pair of eyes…senses (not the positivism of August Comte, but like it)…mind (sometimes like a weight, at times light like a bird)…soul (full of…)…nerves (full of…)…everything…breathes for us…the sun…stars…the Earth…happiness…pain…nostalgia…flowers…thorns…experiences…and in return…we give back…ourselves to Time…everything…with a touch of…our individuality…subjectivity…colour…feeling…selective perception…and be…a drop of…collective wisdom…

    © M. Syre

  • Windermere’s Wordsworth & Lake Zurich

    Lake Zurich—in German, Zurichsee—unfolded impressive scenery that, I had not expected, uncurled my mental knots, which the fatigue of 12 hours’ driving had created the last night that I had commenced from Dusseldorf (Germany) to Zurich (Switzerland). On the horizon, I could, out of sheer curiosity, struggle myself for long to find it was Alpine … Continue reading

  • The Last Meeting

    I met her for the last time to leave her city and homeland for good and all. A half-broken relationship (outwardly) breathed in our breasts. She had come along other friends to bid me good bye. She was hesitant. I too. A few moments of space and some space for a few moments earned, we … Continue reading

  • Samuel Beckett?

    Strolling along the Champs-Élysées Avenue years ago, I still remember Samuel Beckett moving past me with a smirk on his face, stopping and saying to me “Like the unreal city, London, this city of Paris is like a Wrong Side to me; how could you pad along, my friend?” I could always engage myself in … Continue reading