Morning With Golf

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When the Greens Sleep, the Heart Plays On.

“Longing is the sweet pain of belonging to something.” Rumi

The snow lay thick on the ground, a relentless white quilt smothering the rolling greens that he loved more than life itself. The golf course was not just a place for Ahsan, it was his cathedral, his sanctuary, a place where the whispering grass and crisp clinks of iron on the ball made a symphony only he could truly hear. But now, winter reigned supreme, and the fairways were buried beneath ice-crusted drifts.

“Snow provokes responses that reach right back to childhood.” Andy Goldsworthy.

Ahsan from the window of his study, stared out over the frozen landscape. The adjacent river lay still and lazy, its surface cloaked in a frigid glaze that mirrored the icy grip of winter. The usual herds of deer were nowhere to be seen, their graceful silhouettes absent from the frost-covered banks. Neither turkeys nor squirrels darted about the barren woods, their lively chatter replaced by an eerie quiet. Even the birds had vanished from the scene, leaving the landscape bereft of song, as though the cold had silenced the very voice of nature. The world was silent, save for the occasional moan of the wind weaving through the pines. The clubs in his bag, polished and gleaming, seemed to mock him, standing in a corner like a soldier awaiting orders that would never come.

He turned away from the window and settled into his worn leather armchair, the seat molded to his body by years of devotion to the same spot. A steaming mug of coffee sat beside him, its tendrils of heat curling up like ghostly fingers. The television flickered before him, tuned, as always, to the Golf Channel. He watched as the pros strode across fairways in some far-off land where the sun still danced upon green blades of grass. He envied them, not for their skill, but for the simple joy of playing while he remained exiled in winter’s grip. The match unfolded like poetry: drives arcing like comets, putts kissed by precision, and bunkers turned to canvases of resilience. Ahsan leaned forward, gripping his mug as if it were a talisman, and felt a pang of longing so sharp it seemed to slice through the air. The game was not just a pastime; it was a language, and he was fluent in its every nuance. As the match ended, leaving him with both satisfaction and yearning, Ahsan reached for his laptop. If he could not play, he could write. He could capture the essence of golf in words, a way to channel the ache in his heart.

His fingers danced across the keyboard with the urgency of a man trying to bottle lightning. He wrote not just about the sport, but about the spirit of it, the humility of missed putts, the triumph of a perfect drive, the camaraderie born of shared struggles on the course. He described the way the sun felt on his neck during a summer round, the coolness of early morning dew beneath his shoes, and the serenity of watching a ball arc against a blue sky. He wrote of dreams deferred, of fairways buried under snow, of waiting for spring as a lover waits for a letter. His words were a hymn to the game, a love letter to the greens that slumbered beneath the frost.

The blog was finally complete, leaving him with a sense of fulfillment almost akin to sinking the final putt of a perfect round. Now, the anticipation began. Would it resonate with readers? Would his words soothe their longing for the game, offering a brief respite from the ache of unplayed rounds and snowbound greens? Only time would tell if his passion had quenched their thirst as deep as it had his own.

“Advice is like snow, the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and deeper it sinks into the mind.” Samual Taylor Coleridge.

Credits

Google. Quotes. Golf Channel. ChatGPT. Google Docs. AdobeExpress.

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber, AI Enthusiasts, Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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The Poet’s Round of Golf

Golf is a game where every swing holds a story, where each shot paints a picture on the canvas of the course. The chase of dimples on a golf ball mirrors our pursuit of perfection, but it’s the imperfections that often make the game beautiful. It’s the curve of a shot, the unexpected bounce, and the way the ball dances on the breeze.

“In order to understand the dance one must be still. And in order to truly understand the stillness one must dance.” Rumi

Standing on the tee box, the world feels still, save for the delicate bloom of a flower nestled in the grass, its petals touched by the morning dew. There’s a fragrance in the air, not just of freshly cut grass, but of anticipation, a promise in the mowing of the fairway, carving out a path for the next player’s dreams. With the flight of the ball, we feel a brief surrender to gravity, a graceful arc towards destiny. The green ahead, a tranquil expanse, welcomes the ball with open arms. It’s the moment of calm, the tranquility between the power of the swing and the quiet precision of the putt.

Sparrows chirp in the distance, their songs the soundtrack of the game. Geese glide by, gliding effortlessly across the sky as if they too understand the rhythm of the game. The sounds of golf are rich and varied, the sharp crack of the one wood, a distant echo of pure power, followed by the deep, deliberate silence that follows the putt. Each stroke creates its own narrative, as a protest of the tee pin pierces the stillness, and the shaft whistles through the air, carving its path.

The strength of the 7-iron is undeniable, a force of nature, as it strikes the ball with purpose. Yet, even in that strength, there’s a quiet dignity to the divot left behind, a reminder that even in the pursuit of perfection, the ground beneath us is altered, and we leave a piece of ourselves behind.

Golf is poetry in motion, a dialogue between nature, skill, and self. Each round is a verse, each hole a stanza, and every shot an opportunity to write a new line in the poem of the game.

Credits

Google, Adobe Express, ChatGPT, Grammarly,

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber, AI Enthusiasts, Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Featured

The Only Oasis

“The earth turns to gold, in the hands of the wise.”

Rumi

As we ascend into the heavens, carried aloft by wings forged of ingenuity and dreams, the skies seem to envy us. They watch, infinite and ageless, as fragile beings dare to explore their boundless expanse. In the embrace of the atmosphere, our tiny blue planet spins, an oasis of life in the vast desert of the cosmos. It is a pearl cradled by the void, a celestial jewel crowned by the radiance of human spirit and the indomitable story of survival.

“We live in the speck called Earth, think about what you might do, today or tomorrow, and make the most of it.”

Neil DeGrasse Tyson

The skies, though boundless, are but a canvas for Earth’s symphony. Beneath their shifting hues lies a world vibrant with the pulse of life. Here, rivers carve stories into ancient stone, and forests whisper secrets to the wind. The oceans roar their timeless songs, while mountains stand as steadfast sentinels. On this stage of unparalleled beauty, humanity has danced the fragile waltz of existence, sometimes in harmony, sometimes in discord, but always with a spark that refuses to be extinguished. How stark the contrast between our Earth and the desolate worlds that surround it! Beyond the warmth of our sun’s gentle embrace lies a realm of extremes. Mars, with its rust-colored deserts, tells a story of a world that might have been. Once it cradled rivers, perhaps even life, but now it whispers of loss, a melody of melancholy borne on icy winds. Venus, veiled in its shroud of clouds, burns with an unrelenting fervor, a fiery hymn to the price of imbalance.

These barren worlds, both cold and blazing, are mirrors reflecting solitude, a stark reminder of what makes Earth so profoundly unique. In their emptiness, they serve as foils to our overflowing vibrancy, as silent testaments to the fragility of life. We, the custodians of this living world, bear the weight of a privilege so immense that even the cosmos cannot rival it. And yet, as we explore the skies, we are compelled to look inward. Each step we take into the vast unknown amplifies our appreciation for the delicate thread that ties us to Earth. The pale blue dot, as Carl Sagan so eloquently described it, is our only home, suspended in a sunbeam amidst the great cosmic dark. It is the cradle of our laughter, the wellspring of our sorrows, and the sanctuary of our collective memory.

“There is only one corner of the universe that you can be certain of improving, and that is your own self.”

Aldous Huxley

Through the lens of exploration, Earth becomes not just a planet, but a sanctuary. The atmosphere, that thin veil between life and oblivion, becomes a sacred guardian. The ecosystems, with their intricate balance, seem nothing short of miraculous. And the human spirit, ever striving and ever dreaming, shines as a beacon of hope amidst the vast indifference of space. As we return from the skies, we must remember the envy they bear. They hold no life, no stories, no songs. They are vast but silent. It is Earth alone that sings, a vibrant melody of life and resilience. Let us cherish this song, nurture it, and ensure it endures, for it is the rarest in the universe.

Credits

Google

Docs

ChatGPT-4

Image – AI Movie

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber, AI Enthusiasts, Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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Golf in Autumn

“The leaf of every tree brings a message from the unseen world! Look, every falling leaf is a blessing.”

Rumi

As October bows out in a blaze of amber and gold, the last day of the month is cloaked in a rare warmth—a luxurious 70°F in the usually brisk New York area. It’s an unexpected gift, an invitation from nature to extend summer’s parting caress just a while longer. And there is no better place to answer that call than on the green, clubs in hand, taking that one last round on a day that feels like a small miracle.

Stepping onto the course, there is a tangible calm that the steady hum of city life rarely allows. With every footfall, the grass gives way in gentle crunches, still damp with irrigation in the drought. This day feels different; it’s a liminal space, a day that shouldn’t be this warm or feel this soft but does. And so you breathe in the deep, grounding smell of earth and grass, every inhale reminding you that winter’s chill is on its way but, for now, held at bay.

The fairways are dappled with patches of golden light filtering through the still-lofty trees, each leaf a jewel in hues of red, yellow, and deep, rich brown. As you prepare for the first swing, the sun hangs just right, neither scorching nor absent, but precisely at that sweet spot where you feel its warmth without wincing. The crispness of the air mingles with the sun’s last bit of heat, and there’s an underlying sense of reverence in each stroke. This isn’t just another round; it’s a farewell to the season.

On this unusual day, even the golf ball seems to glide through the air more effortlessly, as if attuned to the easy rhythm of the world around. Every shot is met with an air of appreciation, and the usual frustrations—an errant swing, a missed putt—are softened by the simple gratitude of being here, of playing on this perfect day, of having this small grace before the long stretch of winter. Perhaps there’s an awareness that, come November, the course will soon lie dormant, covered in frost, its colors faded and its greens sleeping under a blanket of cold.

“The autumn foliage, crisp air, and ideal conditions create those cozy comforting rounds, making fall my favorite golf season.”

Brynn Collins

Around the course, there are fellow golfers also reveling in this fleeting treasure. There’s a shared camaraderie, a nod of mutual understanding as paths cross. On this day, no one rushes. Each player seems to linger a bit longer at each hole, as if prolonging this respite from the inevitable. We are all, in our own quiet ways, saying goodbye to a season that has allowed us these stolen hours.

By the back nine, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the rolling hills. You find yourself grateful for every step, every slow pause as you look around, absorbing the autumn panorama. The colors of the landscape seem to deepen, a final crescendo before fading into memory. As the round comes to a close, there’s a sense of fulfillment, like finishing a well-loved book, both contented and wistful.

Packing up the clubs, a slight chill has finally seeped into the air, reminding you that the next round might be months away, and the green you leave behind today will soon be wrapped in winter’s grip. But today, on this last warm October afternoon, you were gifted a moment of perfection—a rare convergence of weather, landscape, and quietude that will linger long after the season’s end.

Driving away, the sky deepens into twilight, and you are left with the comforting thought that autumn has given you its finest farewell.

Autumn in New York

Ellie Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber. Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Credits

Google

Hudson Hills Golf Course New York

Mohansic Golf Course New York

Dunwoodie Golf Course New York

Orchard Hills Golf Course New Jersey

ChatGBT

YouTube

Featured

A Round with Tony Dadika

It was one of those perfect September mornings when the sun was warm but not overbearing, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees like the low hum of a distant jazz band. I found myself standing in a small queue at the tee box, mentally preparing for what I hoped would be a solid round of golf. In front of me stood a man who immediately caught my eye—he was wearing a flowery, slightly-too-loud-for-the-course bossier shirt. He carried an antique golf bag slung over his shoulder, looking as though he’d strolled straight out of a 1940s film noir, or at least the gift shop of a very niche thrift store.

The shirt wasn’t the only thing radiating brightness—this guy had a smile that could charm the grumpiest of golfers. As we shook hands, I could feel a sense of peace radiating from him. He didn’t just walk—he sauntered, as if the world was his stage and we were all just characters in his daily drama. His handshake was firm but warm, and when he spoke, his voice had the smooth, polished tone of a late-night radio DJ, the kind you listen to while contemplating life’s deeper mysteries.

“Name’s Tony Dadika,” he said with a grin that hinted at mischief and wisdom in equal parts. I returned the introduction and felt an instant connection, something like the spiritual equivalent of finding an extra ball in the woods.

Tony, it turned out, wasn’t just any ordinary golfer. In fact, after a couple of holes, I learned he wasn’t much of a golfer at all. What he lacked in precision and form, he made up for with an infectious enthusiasm. But here’s the kicker: Tony was an actor, and not just any actor—Tony Dadika, a name that rang a faint bell from one of those movies you catch on late-night cable. I couldn’t pinpoint his latest role, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was his ability to create a sense of joy and camaraderie, even when his ball flew wildly off-course and landed somewhere in the neighboring county.

Our golf crew was rounded out by two other guys, both decent golfers, and both much more serious about the sport than Tony and I. Yet even they couldn’t resist his easygoing charm. Every bad shot became an opportunity for one of Tony’s classic one-liners. After a particularly bad slice, he quipped, “If that ball goes any further, we’ll have to forward my mail to it.”

Between his jokes, Tony peppered the round with pearls of wisdom. He talked about life like it was a long, winding golf course—sometimes you land in the rough, sometimes you hit the green, but either way, you keep playing. “The game isn’t about winning,” he said as he lined up a putt that would take at least two more strokes to sink, “it’s about enjoying the company.”

By the end of the round, my scorecard was irrelevant. Sure, I might have added a few extra strokes, but what I gained from the experience was priceless. Tony had turned what could have been just another round of golf into something far more meaningful. It was a round filled with laughter, shared stories, and, most importantly, a renewed sense of the simple joys of life.

As we parted ways, Tony flashed me one more of his radiant smiles. “Until next time,” he said, as if we’d been friends for years. And with that, he sauntered off, leaving me to ponder how a round of golf had turned into an incorporeal journey.

Credits

Orchard Hills Golf Course

Google

Chat GBT

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber. Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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Petals Make a Rose or Rose makes Petals?

“If your thought is a rose. You are a rose garden.”

Rumi

In the eternal dance between creation and consequence, one wonders: does the rose exist because of its petals, or do the petals owe their existence to the rose? The question is simple, yet like all musings about nature, it blooms into something much more profound when given the time to unfold. Petals and roses, inseparable yet distinct, mirror the larger rhythm of life, where cause and effect swirl together, often indistinguishable. The petals of a rose are perhaps its most striking feature, soft as whispers yet vibrant in color, offering an invitation to touch the ethereal. They unfold delicately, layer by layer, each one revealing another hidden mystery, as though they hold secrets only a rose could know. The scent that drifts from these petals is the essence of a thousand memories, conjuring forgotten gardens and the soft sighs of the wind.

If we think of the rose as a whole, the petals seem like the brushstrokes that complete the painting, each one necessary to the entirety, yet each capable of standing on its own as a masterpiece of nature’s design. But is it the petals that create the rose, or is the rose something larger than the sum of its parts? Is the rose already contained in the bud, before a single petal unfurls, or does it only truly become itself when the petals announce its presence to the world? Perhaps the rose is the embodiment of the paradox. Without petals, it may not be recognized as a rose at all, but the petals alone cannot be a rose. The petals shape its beauty, create its allure, draw the bees, and whisper to the heart, but without the stem, the thorns, the roots entwined deep beneath the soil, can the petals alone survive?

One may argue that the petals are the creation of the rose, that they are born of its heart, a manifestation of its essence. From a humble green bud emerges this burst of softness, a display of nature’s artistry. And yet, as each petal falls, drifting down to the earth, does the rose become less of what it was? Or is the shedding of petals a necessary part of its story, a reminder of the fleeting, fragile beauty of life? A rose without petals remains a rose, just as a sky without clouds remains a sky. The essence of the rose resides not merely in what we see but in what it is—rooted in the soil, drinking the earth, stretching towards the heavens. The petals come and go like the moments of life, each one exquisite and ephemeral, each one giving shape to the whole but never fully containing its meaning. Yet there is a certain magic in the petals, for they are the rose’s voice, the way it communicates with the world. They are what we hold, what we press between pages to remember the summer that was, the love that bloomed. And as the petals fade, their beauty lingers in memory, much like the scent of a rose carried on the wind long after the flower has disappeared.In the end, perhaps it is neither the petals nor the rose that defines the other. Perhaps they are one, existing in a state of becoming, ever changing, ever transforming. As the petals make the rose, so too does the rose create the petals, a cycle of beauty and decay, life and rebirth. And in that fleeting moment when a rose is in full bloom, we are reminded of the delicate balance between creation and surrender, of the way in which beauty emerges from that which can never last.The petals make the rose, and the rose makes the petals. They are each other, reflections in the mirror of nature, both as fragile and timeless as life itself.

“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.”

Alphonse Karr

Credit

Google

ChatGTB

Quotes

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber. Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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The Perfect Shot

“Achieve some perfection yourself, so that you may not fall into sorrow by seeing the perfection in others.”

Rumi

In the hushed reverence of a crisp morning, as dew still clings to blades of grass and the horizon blushes with the first light, the golfer stands. Poised in a moment teetering between silence and celebration, a perfect golf shot is not merely a demonstration of skill, but a profound expression of artistry and precision that resonates far beyond the greens.

The impact of an excellent shot in golf transcends the physical dimensions of distance and accuracy. It is a visceral experience, a ballet of physics and finesse that can elevate the spirit of the player and onlookers alike. For the golfer, the journey to this apex of performance is often a labyrinthine path riddled with frustration and fleeting triumphs. Yet, the moment when iron or wood perfectly meets the ball is a confluence of all elements—mental acuity, physical dexterity, and perhaps a whisper of fortune—that aligns with the cosmos.

This confluence begins with the swing—a harmonious arc that is both an echo of practice and a whisper of instinct. The body’s mechanics engage in a dance, muscles and mind syncing to create a motion that is both fluid and precise. The sound that follows—the crisp, satisfying thwack—reverberates through the course, a clarion call that something momentous has transpired. It is the sound of potential unleashed, sending the ball soaring across a cerulean sky, a small white orb cutting through the air with determined grace. As the ball arcs beautifully towards its target, the world seems to hold its breath. The trajectory holds promises, not merely of a well-played hole but of the potential encapsulated within every golfer—the possibility of perfection made manifest. It is a demonstration of control over the small, yet uncontrollable, elements of wind and weather, of turf and terrain. Each excellent shot reinforces the golfer’s resolve, embedding a deeper love for the game, and a chase for the elusive perfect round.

Beyond the individual experience, an excellent shot has a ripple effect that permeates the entirety of the golfing community. It becomes a tale recounted in clubhouses, a benchmark for fellow players, and sometimes, a legendary moment that defines tournaments and careers. For spectators, witnessing such a shot is both a thrill and an inspiration. It is a reminder that mastery is achievable in fleeting moments, capturing the collective imagination and sparking dreams of similar glory.

Moreover, these moments of brilliance contribute to the cultural tapestry of golf. They weave into the history of the sport, moments like Tiger Woods’ chip-in at the 16th hole of the 2005 Masters, or the “Duel in the Sun” between Tom Watson and Jack Nicklaus in 1977. Each shot adds to the lore, the shared heritage that every golfer contributes to, each swing at a time.

Thus, an excellent golf shot, in its immediate glory, impacts more than the scorecard. It is a moment of pure joy and absolute precision that can inspire, influence, and invigorate the golfer and the global golfing community. It is a poignant reminder of the beauty of sports—a single, splendid moment where talent, preparation, and luck intersect, leaving behind a legacy that resonates through the ages.

“Only from the heart can you touch the sky.”

Rumi

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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Yoga or Golf

“I have been a seeker and I still am, but I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teaching of my soul.”

Rumi

In the calm embrace of dawn, where the first light delicately caresses the earth, two distinct worlds unfold, each offering its own path to enlightenment and mastery. Yoga and golf, though seemingly disparate, share a profound connection in their pursuit of harmony, balance, and inner peace. These practices, one ancient and the other relatively modern, invite their followers into realms where the physical and the mental converge in a delicate dance.

“It takes an athlete to dance, but an artist to be a dancer.”

Shanna LeFleur

Yoga, with its roots steeped in millennia of tradition, is a sanctuary for the soul. It is a journey inward, where each breath is a step towards self-discovery and tranquility. The mat becomes a sacred space, a microcosm of the universe where every posture is a prayer, every stretch a hymn to the body’s potential. In the stillness of a yoga session, one can hear the whispers of the self, the quiet murmurings of the mind finding its rhythm in the flow of asanas. It is here, in the gentle embrace of poses, that the practitioner finds not just physical flexibility, but a profound stillness that resonates within.

“Yoga takes us to the present moment, the only place where life exists.”

Ellen Brenneman

In contrast, the lush, rolling greens of a golf course beckon with a different kind of serenity. The sport of golf, with its emphasis on precision and concentration, offers a canvas where the mind’s focus is as crucial as the body’s movement. Each swing is a testament to the harmony between muscle memory and mental clarity. The golfer stands poised, the world narrowing to the ball and the target, a moment suspended in time where everything aligns for that perfect shot. The satisfaction of a well-placed drive, the quiet triumph of a successful putt, these are the rewards of a sport that, like yoga, demands a meditative presence and a disciplined mind.

“No matter how good you get, you can always get better – – and that’s the exciting part.”

Tiger Woods

Yet, beneath these apparent differences, yoga and golf share a symbiotic relationship with nature. Yoga often finds its practitioners in serene studios or outdoor settings where the breath syncs with the natural world. The practice of grounding oneself, feeling the earth beneath, mirrors the golfer’s connection to the landscape. The golf course, with its meticulously manicured beauty, is a testament to the delicate balance between human ingenuity and the natural world. Here, every blade of grass, every undulation of the terrain, plays a role in the game, reminding the golfer of the intricate dance between man and nature.

The essence of yoga lies in its inward journey, a quest for self-awareness and inner peace. It is a personal voyage where the destination is the self, stripped of all pretenses, a return to a state of pure being. Golf, on the other hand, offers a more external challenge, yet it too demands a deep introspection. The golfer must confront not just the physical challenges of the course, but the mental ones as well. Each game is a reflection of the self, a mirror showing strengths and areas for growth.

In both yoga and golf, there is a profound respect for the journey. The yogi’s path is one of continual growth, a lifelong practice where each session brings new insights and deeper understanding. The golfer’s journey is similar, each round offering lessons, each game a step towards mastery. Both disciplines teach patience, perseverance, and the importance of staying present.

Bally’s Golf Links at Ferry Point, Bronx, New York

In short, yoga and golf, though different in their practice and approach, offer a shared promise: the quest for balance, harmony, and peace. Whether one is finding stillness in a downward dog or focus, in a perfect drive, both paths lead to a deeper connection with oneself and the world. They are reminders that in the pursuit of mastery, whether of the mind or the game, the true victory lies in the journey itself.

Safar main Dhoop

Chitra Singh

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber. Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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Namli Maira Waterfalls

“Soul, a moving river.

Body, the riverbed.”

Rumi

In the heart of Nathiagali, Abbottabad there is a landscape sculpted by the artistry of the elements. Where the earth whispers ancient secrets through the rustling grass, time seems to pause, and nature composes its most heartfelt symphony. This is a scene where the power of water, grandeur of the pines, cedar, oak walnut, maple trees, and the gentleness of flowers collide in a beautiful paradox. A place that instigates romantic tales. It spins the threads of nature’s finest moments.

A cascade of pristine waters tumbles down with a grace that belies its strength, a waterfall that has danced through the ages, carving its story into the stoic rock. It’s a ballet of relentless motion, a rush of white foam that fills the air with the sweet music of flowing water. The vibrant green blankets the landscape that stretches up to the tops of a series of mountains. The colossal guardians touch clouds eight thousand feet above.

“Your fragrance is always with me.”

Rumi

At the foot of this tall waterfall, where the mist kisses the earth, there blooms a cluster of delicate flowers. The aroma of daisies, clematis, himalayan indigos, and many more that I don’t recognize add to the scents.They are like drops of sunlight captured in petals, their buttery yellows a stark, joyful contrast to the deep grays and lush greens that dominate the scene. These flowers are not just mere spectators to the majesty of the waterfall; they are an integral part of the landscape, a gentle reminder of the softness that exists even in the midst of such raw power. They whisper of love’s tender touch amidst the grandeur of passion, of the small moments that are easily overlooked but are, in essence, the foundation of all that is beautiful and enduring. On top of that, the momentary breeze loaded with the perfume of the self-grown cannabis like shrubs, instigates you to sit on a stone and take a deep breath. Although it is not intoxicating, nothing stops you from taking an imaginary trip.

As the waterfall sings its eternal song, it seems to perform just for these blooms, showering them with a spray that makes their petals glisten like stars on the earth. The flowers, in turn, offer their sweet fragrance to the breeze, a gift to the water that enlivens them. This is a dance of give and take, a balance between the forces of nature that is both inspiring and humbling.

The couples who wander to this spot, hands entwined and hearts beating in unison, the flowers serve them as a symbol of their own blossoming relationship. Each petal represents the layers of their bond, the experiences shared, and the growth yet to come. The water’s strength mirrors the courage it takes to love, to open one’s heart fully to another, and the mountain’s stature echoes the steadfastness of true companionship.

In this serene corner of the world, love finds a mirror in the wild. The flowers do not simply grow; they thrive because of the waterfall’s might, just as love flourishes with the challenges and triumphs shared between two souls. To witness such a scene is to see the poetry of the universe laid bare, a sonnet of water, stone, and bloom that sings of the enduring legacy of romance.

As the day wanes and the sky dresses in hues of twilight, the flowers seem to hold the last light within their petals, a beacon for lovers and dreamers alike. And there, in the embrace of nature’s grandeur, the language of love is spoken without words, in the silent understanding between the bloom and the fall, in the tranquil beauty of this secluded haven where the flowers dance softly to the symphony of the waterfall.

Credits

Galiyat Development Authority

Google

Rashid Ahmad local guide

Chat GPT

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

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Whispers of Winter

“I am a mountain. You call, I echo.”

Rumi.

In the heart of winter, when the days shrink and the nights freeze, still in the outdoors lies a beauty so profound yet often overlooked. It’s on a quiet fairway, nestled between a gentle hill and a tranquil lake, where the sky opens up in a grand display of colors, reminding us of the poetry that exists in nature’s simplest forms. There, in the lap of Sunset Valley Golf Course, our journey begins on a winter afternoon that whispers tales of serenity and reflection.

The sky, a canvas of the gods, stretches wide and far above. In the arms of the afternoon, it’s a masterpiece of blues and purples, colors blending in a dance that celebrates the closing of a day. The setting sun, in its final act of splendor, paints the horizon with strokes of orange and red, a fiery contrast to the coolness of the season. It’s as though the heavens are reaching down, gracing the earth with warmth.

“The sky is a dome of sweet, endless blue.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Below this celestial mural lies the hill, an ancient guardian watching over the landscape. Its slopes, covered with leafless trees, kissing the moving clouds, creating a scene of untouched purity. The hill stands as a testament to the enduring beauty of the natural world, unyielding and majestic.

“Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.”

Emily Brontë.

Adjacent to the hill, the lake mirrors the sky, capturing the heavens’ beauty in its still waters. It is a silent observer, a body of tranquility amidst the chill of winter. The lake, with its icy surface, reflects the world’s beauty above, creating a symphony of light and color that mesmerizes and calms the soul.

And then, there are the golfers, tiny figures against the vastness of this landscape, adding a touch of life to the otherwise still winter scene. They move with a quiet determination, their swings rhythmic and smooth, each stroke in harmony with nature. These game enthusiasts find solace in the fairway, a respite from the hustle of everyday life. In their presence, the course comes alive, a playground for those who seek joy in the simplicity of a well-played game.

“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.”

John Muir.

This winter afternoon on the fairway is more than just a moment in time; it’s a celebration of life and the enduring beauty of nature. It’s a scene that inspires poets and artists, a spectacle that captivates the heart and soothes the soul. In the quiet, in the cold, there is a warmth that emanates from the earth, a reminder of the enduring beauty that surrounds us.

As the day comes to a close and the shadows grow longer, the sky, the hill, the lake, and the fairway merge into a single, breathtaking panorama. It’s a scene that stays with us, a memory etched in our hearts, a reminder of the beauty that lies in the quiet, often overlooked moments of life. In this winter landscape, we find a peace that surpasses understanding, a joy that lingers long after the sun has set.

“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Ahsan Jamil

Featured

The Art of Putting: Mastering the Green

“Achieve some perfection yourself so that you may not fall into sorrow seeing the perfection in others.”

Rumi

In the world of golf, putting is often referred to as the “game within the game.” It is the skill that can make or break a round, turning a potential victory into a frustrating defeat. Despite being a seemingly simple act of rolling a ball into a hole, putting requires finesse, focus, and a deep understanding of the green. Let’s try to find out the art of putting and exploring the key elements that can help us master this crucial aspect of the game.

1. Reading the Green:

Putting is not just about hitting the ball toward the hole; it starts with reading the green. The topography, grain, and moisture of the putting surface all play a role in the ball’s behavior. Professionals carefully analyze the slope, break, and speed of the green before making their strokes. This process requires keen observation and experience, allowing us to make informed decisions that can lead to successful putts.

2. Developing a Putting Routine:

Consistency is vital in putting, and a well-defined putting routine can help achieve that. Many professional golfers have specific pre-putt routines that they follow religiously. This routine can include visualizing the putt, aligning the putter, and taking practice strokes to get a feel for the distance and speed. A consistent routine helps eliminate unnecessary variables and build confidence in every putt.

3. Controlling Distance:

Distance control is perhaps the most crucial aspect of putting. Hitting the ball too hard or too soft can differentiate between a tap-in and a three-putt. To improve distance control, we can practice lagging putting, which involves hitting longer putts intending to get them close to the hole rather than focusing on sinking them. This exercise helps develop a better feel for the green’s speed and allows us to leave ourselves with manageable second putts.

4. Face Angle and Path:

The alignment and path of the putter head significantly influence the ball’s direction. We must ensure our putter face is square to the target line at impact to prevent the ball from veering off course. Additionally, the putting stroke should follow a consistent path, keeping the putter on the intended line from start to finish.

5. Dealing with Pressure:

Putting under pressure can be daunting, even for seasoned golfers. Staying composed and focused in high-pressure situations is a hallmark of great putters. Visualization and mental imagery are powerful tools that can help us manage pressure. By picturing successful putts before stepping up to the ball, we can instill confidence and create a positive outcome.

6. Practicing with Purpose:

Effective putting practice goes beyond mindlessly hitting balls on the practice green. To make progress, we should set specific goals and challenges during our practice sessions. Incorporating various drills, such as distance control exercises or putting with visual aids, can help target weaknesses and build all-around putting skills.

There is no similarity between golf and putting; they are two different games, one played in the air, and the other on the ground.”

Ben Hogan

Putting is an art that requires a delicate balance of technique, mental fortitude, and adaptability to the ever-changing conditions on the green. Whether one is a beginner or an experienced golfer, dedicating time and effort to improve one’s putting skills can lead to significant improvements in the overall game. By understanding the nuances of the green, developing a consistent routine, honing distance control, and embracing the mental aspects of putting, we can become more confident and booming putters on the golf course.

I am in no way a great putter. By writing this blog, I am trying to learn more about it. Happy putting!

Credits

Google

Golf Quotes

Ask AI

Mohammad Farooq

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

A Morning at Margalla Greens

***“There is a morning inside you waiting to burst open into light.” Rumi***

There are mornings, and then, there are awakenings. As the golden breath of dawn sweeps across the dew-kissed fairways of Margalla Greens, the world seems to pause at the edge of something sacred. Tee No. 1 stands not merely as a starting point in a game, but as a doorway into serenity, where nature and rhythm, silence and song, unite in quiet celebration.

***“Everything that is made beautiful and fair and lovely is made for the eye of one who sees.” Rumi***

In this marvelous clip, it is not just the visuals that captivate. Yes, the manicured emerald carpets stretch like dreams into the horizon. Yes, the Margalla Hills rise in the background, cloaked in the misty hush of early light. But it is the sound, the soul of the morning, that stirs something deeper.

A cuckoo’s call threads through the stillness like poetry in mid-air. Its song, wistful yet unwavering, echoes off the leaves and lingers in the hollows of the heart. The gentle chorus of chirping birds, some shy, others jubilant, becomes a sacred prelude to the swing. There is no orchestra like this: wind in the pine, the coo of a dove, the rustle of wings unseen.

Here, time ambles. A golfer places the ball on the tee, not with urgency, but with the reverence of someone touching a relic. The club’s arc is framed not by scorecards, but by the cadence of the morning. Each stroke holds the hush of prayer, each glance to the hills, a moment of surrender.

Margalla Greens does not merely host the game, it elevates it. It turns competition into communion, turf into temple. And from Tee No. 1, the journey begins not toward par or birdie, but toward a kind of inner quietude known only to those who rise early enough to listen.

This clip captures more than a place; it captures a mood, a melody of morning. In a world too loud with urgency, here is a corner that hums with grace. Watch it not to admire but to remember. That somewhere, between swing and silence, between the whistle of wind and a cuckoo’s hymn, there lies golf, not as sport, but as poetry.

It’s a beautiful morning by The Rascals

Credits

Images: Waseem Khan

Quotes: Rumi Quotes

References: Google

Edited: ChatGPT

Song: YouTube

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber, AI Enthusiasts, Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Back to the Greens

The long winter slumber has ended. The once-silent fairways, buried beneath frost and snow, now whisper with the rustling of early spring breezes. The greens, softened by months of cold, breathe again beneath the weight of eager footsteps. And as the first tee shot soars into the crisp morning air, the soul of the game awakens, calling players back to their sanctuary.

“Remember the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.” Rumi

Stepping onto the course after months away is like reuniting with an old friend—familiar yet unfamiliar, comforting yet slightly daunting. The hands, once fluid in their motion, feel hesitant at first. The club’s weight, the angle of the stance, the tempo of the swing—each movement carries echoes of past rounds, waiting to be remembered.

The first drive may be wild, the first putt tentative, but with each step across the fairways, confidence returns. The body recalls the motion, the mind embraces the challenge, and soon, the rhythm of the game flows as naturally as the changing seasons.

Spring’s arrival paints the course anew. The bare trees stretch their limbs, shaking off winter’s grip, as buds begin to bloom. The fairways, once a patchwork of dormant earth, regain their emerald vibrancy. Birdsong replaces the hush of snowfall, and the scent of fresh-cut grass lingers in the air. The ground is still soft, the greens slower than they will be in summer’s prime, but that, too, is part of the beauty. Each shot must be played with care, each bounce measured against the season’s gentle unpredictability. The wind carries whispers of challenges yet to come, bending the flight of the ball, testing the patience of even the most seasoned players.

There is a simple, undeniable joy in the first rounds of the season. The scorecard holds little weight; it is the act of playing that matters most. The sound of a well-struck iron, the roll of the ball across dew-kissed greens, the camaraderie of friends reunited after months apart—these moments remind us why we endure the wait, why we count down the days until the courses open again. Each hole tells a story, not just of strokes gained or lost, but of the quiet pleasure of being outside once more, the renewal of a passion that never truly fades. Even the mis-hits are met with a smile, for this is just the beginning—the season stretches ahead, filled with promise.

The first rounds are not about perfection. They are about shaking off the cold, feeling the game return to your hands, and embracing the season ahead. Clubs will need regripping, swings will need refining, and patience will be tested. But the joy of golf lies not in the flawless round, but in the pursuit of improvement, the love of the game, and the quiet beauty of the course itself. Just step onto the first tee, take a deep breath, and let the game begin again. The fairways have been waiting, and now, at last, they are yours to walk once more.

Credits

Google, Golf Digest, ChatGPT, Google Docs, and Quotes.

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber, AI Enthusiasts, Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Bunker Shot & Convincing a Wife

“May this marriage be full of laughter, and everyday a paradise.

Rumi

Convincing your wife of something she doesn’t agree with might just be the ultimate challenge in life. Sure, trying to master a sand shot in golf is no walk in the park either, but let’s be honest here, at least with the sand shot, the ball doesn’t talk back.

Priscilla Rivas @ Pinterest

Imagine this: You’re standing in a bunker, the sun beating down on you, and there’s that little ball, just waiting to be rescued from the sandy abyss. You take a deep breath, adjust your grip, and hope that you’ll strike the sand just right. Now, take that same sense of anticipation and dread and apply it to trying to convince your wife that ‘maybe’ a weekend trip with your buddies isn’t such a bad idea after all. The stakes? Let’s just say that in one case, you end up with a ball still stuck in the sand. In the other, you could end up sleeping on the couch for a week.

“Too much ambition is a bad thing to have in a bunker.”

Bobby Jones

It’s often said, “Happy wife, happy life,” but sometimes you find yourself staring at a situation like a golfer staring at a sand trap, thinking, ‘How did I even get here?’ Just like in golf, where the bunker seems to pop out of nowhere, you often end up in debates with your wife you didn’t see coming. One minute you’re talking about where to eat dinner, and the next thing you know, you’re trying to explain why you came home late ‘again.’

Convincing your wife, much like the sand shot, requires finesse, patience, and, above all, timing. Too much force and—well, let’s just say the conversation will land further from the green and closer to a three-day silent treatment. Not enough force? You’ll find yourself stuck in the same argument loop, buried deeper than the ball in that bunker.

“Love is like a sand trap,” I once tried to tell my wife in the midst of such a conversation. She wasn’t impressed. I think I was halfway through my analogy when she gave me ‘the look,’ you know, the one that says, ‘You’re digging your own grave here, buddy.’ At that point, I had to switch strategies and go for what I like to call the “putt of persuasion,” small, gentle nudges. Forget the big swing; that’s a disaster waiting to happen. You have to approach the situation with all the calm precision of a golfer about to sink a five-foot putt to win the Masters.

And when it comes to romance? Well, let’s just say it’s a lot like those beautifully crafted love letters of old, but with the added drama of modern marriage. “Dearest Love,” you might say, “just as a golfer must read the winds and the sands, so too must I read your heart.” Sure, you’re over the top, but it’s a solid strategy because, as any experienced husband knows, humor is the best way to win over a reluctant wife. After all, if she’s laughing, she’s at least ‘listening.’

So, when you’re in that sand trap, metaphorical or literal, remember: precision over power, love over logic, and above all else laugh when you mess up.

“I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”

Rita Rudner

And just like that, you’re both out of the bunker and back on the green! maybe not with a victory, but at least with a smile.

Credits

Google

ChatGPT

Images Qamar Zaman

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber. Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Mansoor Malangi

Mansoor Malangi, a name whispered through the lush fields of Punjab and echoed in the heartbeats of its people, is more than a singer—he is a storyteller, a poet, and a keeper of the soul of the Seraiki heartland. With a voice that seems to rise from the very soil of his homeland, rich and deep like the rivers that wind through the plains, Malangi captured the spirit of his people in songs that speak to the universal human experience of love, longing, and loss. Among his many offerings to the world of music, one song, “Bochan Doriye Da,” stands like a solitary tree on the horizon—its branches heavy with memories, its roots deep in the heart of the land.

Born in the rustic village of Garh Maharaja in the Jhang district, Mansoor Malangi was a child of the earth. His music was not learned in grand halls or under the tutelage of masters; rather, it was a gift from the winds that swept across the fields, the lullabies sung by mothers at dusk, and the soft murmur of the Chenab River flowing under a silver moon. Malangi’s voice, textured with the grain of the land and the sorrows of its people, became an instrument of emotion—each note a tear, each lyric a sigh.

From his humble beginnings, Malangi’s journey to becoming a cultural icon was not a path paved with ease. He sang of the common folk, their joys and sorrows, their love and betrayals, their lives woven into the fabric of the earth. His songs are not mere entertainment; they are the collective memory of a people, a mirror to their souls.

بوچھن ڈوریے دا پتناں تے لوڑ آئی آں

Of all his songs, “Bochan Doriye Da” is perhaps the one that most poignantly captures the essence of Malangi’s artistry. The very title, “Bochan Doriye Da,” translates to “The Call from the Distant River,” evoking images of a far-off land, a place unreachable yet ever-present in the mind’s eye. The river in the song is not just a river; it is a metaphor for separation, for the distance that love sometimes places between two souls. It is the silence that speaks, the absence that fills the heart with a longing that words cannot express.

Bochan Doriye Da

The lyrics of “Bochan Doriye Da” weave a tale of love stretched across the vastness of space and time, of lovers parted by fate and bound only by their memories and hopes. The melody, haunting and melancholic, rises and falls like the gentle waves of the Chenab, carrying with it the pain of separation and the sweetness of unforgotten love. It is a song that transcends time, a lament that speaks to anyone who has ever known the ache of a distant love.

“Bochan Doriye Da” is more than just a song; it is a piece of the cultural tapestry of the Saraiki-speaking people. Through his music, Mansoor Malangi became a voice for the voiceless, singing of the pain and beauty of life in a language that, at the time, was often overshadowed by more dominant tongues. His songs gave pride to the Saraiki-speaking community, a sense of identity and belonging in a world that often seemed to forget them.
Malangi’s music, particularly “Bochan Doriye Da,” became an anthem for the marginalized, a song sung not just at festivals and gatherings, but also in the quiet moments of reflection, where the heart seeks solace in the familiar strains of a beloved tune. His music was a balm, a comfort in times of sorrow, and a companion in times of joy.

اُڈدا کاں ویندا

سجن مریندے ہن بن موت دا ناں ویندا

Mansoor Malangi left this world in 2015, but his songs continue to echo through the fields and villages of Punjab, carried on the wind like the scent of rain on dry earth. “Bochan Doriye Da” remains a song that is not just heard, but felt—a melody that runs through the veins like the rivers that crisscross the land he loved so dearly. His legacy is one of authenticity and emotion, a reminder that true art comes not from technique, but from the heart.

اک پھل موتیے دا

Today, Malangi’s music is sung by new generations, each bringing their own interpretation to his timeless words, yet always preserving the core of his message: that love is eternal, that the heart remembers, and that the soul’s deepest yearnings are best expressed through song. In the voice of Mansoor Malangi, the Seraiki bard, we find a reflection of our own humanity—a reminder of the beauty and pain that make us who we are.

Credits

Google

YouTube

Nabeel Anwar Dhaku- Dawn.com

Rehmat Gramophone House

Sada Pind Thathiala Daha – Facebook

Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, YouTuber. Conservationist.

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf