A Great Detour

“We carry inside us the wonders we seek outside us.”

Rumi

As I fly across the Atlantic to reach a corner of the earth near Cape Cod, I think about the forefathers who migrated from Europe and made this point their home. They had no idea that they were sowing the seed of the world’s most scientific and advanced civilization. Then I think about my forefathers and what they would have thought about this freezing town that I call my second home. Swansea is a small picturesque town on the mouth of Mount Hope Bay, an arm of Narragansett Bay. This land is a bistate junction of Rhode Island and Massachusetts shores. Taunton river offers a great length of its western bank to these intermingled villages. The spillover of this waterway is a favorite destination of many sorts of cold weather migratory birds like Anas ducks.

 It is home to wildlife like beavers, bobcats, coyotes, fish, foxes, bears, raccoons, skunks, woodchucks, and White-tailed deers. They roam here as an exemplary example of the peaceful coexistence with the human dwellers. Along with some kind people, my neighbors include swans, turkeys, squirrels, and rabbits. They paint this picturesque town beautifully and add to the ambiance of the neighborhood. 

On the eve of this New Year, a few lines from the book of my wandering destiny, bring me to this small village in Massachusetts. Which is like something out of a fairytale. Big Apple or other big cities like Lahore are having virtual celebrations because of the safe distance protocol. Plus seasoning in age has taught me subtle meanings of festivity. The crowd charms the pompous and show off attracts the arrogant. The mature prefer modesty. Humility provides calm. I think the invasion of coronavirus has helped most of us to sagacity.

The Christmas and New Year celebrations are angelic and decent in these towns. Just like the residents are sincere and simple, so are their festivities. They are sweeter than candy cane and warmer than New Year treats. They decorate their houses, churches, and shops with lights and season’s greetings banners. They open them for extended families, friends, and neighbors. In this individualistic society, it is a great illustration of communal care, love, and faith, in God and in each other. It seems as if residents of these country roads have discovered that living peacefully, in the countryside, matters much more than hasty urban lifestyles in cluster housings and multi-story buildings. Their driving etiquettes display their inner calm. The lawns, symmetry of picket fences, arrangements of flower beds, and decorated mailboxes tell a tale of their soulful lifestyle. 

The tranquility, patience, mellowness, stability, cleanliness, and unalloyed natural surroundings make this area seem like an Impressionist painting. The speed of time in this rural area is so aligned to the moon and stars that they seem like a choir performing on a Sunday morning. These towns sleep early to wake up with the rising sun. Although the sun itself emerges here at leisure. That’s why this territory is called New England. I am already a great fan of western urban development, but it cannot compete with the rural calm. Perhaps what impresses me most is that country folks are genuine and industrious. Their words have meanings and their walks have a purpose. Frankly speaking, I would love to spend the remainder of my trip to this planet at a place like this. 

I am taking a moment to be grateful for the serenity that surrounds me. The perfect alignment of the universe in this little part of the world reminds me of my wandering soul. I should be staying at home but I’ve been a traveler by birth, both physical and spiritual. My arrival at this planet may itself be a detour. Whatever it is, I am thankful for the fate that brought me to this beautiful partner of the solar system. It gave me a chance to be a humble member of the great species called Homospaiens. It provided me an opportunity to live with a loving family and walk with great friends. Though I know deep down that this life is not forever and I will one day move on to another place, I have been blessed. I have seen so much of the world and experienced even more. 

From the highlands of Lake Saiful Muluk to the floatable waters of the Dead Sea. From the Roman Colosseum to the daunting skyscrapers of New York City. From the Temple of Tooth in Sri Lanka to the Great Wall of China. From the Fox Studio at Hollywood to the cable car of Sentosa Island. From the London Eye to the Silver Carp, jumping fish at the Mississippi River. From Petronas Twin Towers of Kuala Lumpur to the Mardi Gras in the one and the only New Orleans. From the canals of Venice to the banks of the River of Love, Chenab River. From the courtyard of the Vatican City to the Temple of Heaven. From the Guru Janam Asthan to the cups of Zam Zam Well. From the concert of Bon Jovi at Memphis Pyramid to the street singers of Eiffel Tower. From the happiest city in the world Copenhagen to the Floating Market in Bangkok. From the square of Romerberg, Frankfurt to the halls of Hagia Sophia, this wanderer has heard the lyrics of hope and sighs of despair from the artistic lips in various dialects but the song remains the same. 

Credits 

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

No Golf, Snow Golf

The air this morning is sleety, ground is wet and visibility is low. Such mischievous conditions continue for the last three days. Then comes a sunny day but it is too windy to golf. Though the weather is not a dependable thing, the fact that it hinders my game is disappointing. The last few days I wasn’t doing much but playing the role of lazy bum with a sleepy head. Neither of those things attracts reading or writing. I either sleep or eat. What a rotten routine of raccoons. 

A trip to North America was never as boring as this one. COVID-19 is more to blame than anything else. No golf, no window shopping, no nightlife, no outdoor activity, and no boat cafes. Just Uber Eats, Netflix, Amazon, contactless deliveries, home cooking, and an occasional round of icy golf. How can one enjoy golf when most of the fairways are wet, bunkers are choked, water hazards are frozen and greens are bouncy. It makes it advantageous only in the sense that the ball doesn’t drown. Ponds pound the ball like Rojan Rondo. Sometimes it rebounds it back to the ground. Mostly it sits there on top of the iced hazards laughing at you comically. As a winter golfer, you are packed like a delivery item and wrapped like a USPS package. Your nose is running faster than your tee shot. Your ears shimmed like an Amazon box. You are wearing gloves on both hands while the mound is too frozen to tee. You till and till, till it tilts. 

Yet, for hardcore golfers, it is a great privilege to play in winter. Only a few clubs can afford to operate and fewer golfers can dare to challenge the freezing winds. I have had the advantage to play on frozen fairways of North America as well as in melting Middle Eastern heat. It takes some degree of derangement to find enjoyment in the freezing or burning points of a sport. And lunacy and craze are two major ingredients that make me who I am. A one-track-minded extremist. A fanatic golfer. 

“Be wild and crazy and drunk with love, if you’re too careful love will not find you.”

Rumi

It may be cold, it may be hot or it may be pleasant. Golf adds a lot to the hour, to the environment, and to the ambiance. It adds to the mood and to life. It pronounces pleasure and announces attraction. It grooms glamour and entices entertainment in your schedule. Golfers like me seek refuge in write-ups about golf at times that they can’t get to the golf course. I am tired of reading about golf techniques and how to swing and what stance is?  Everything written on golf out there is either coaching or marketing. Through my blog, I try to add a little literature, a story, an essay, and some light stuff. After all, a mind at peace stimulates.   

Stimulation ignites passion. Passion makes you practice. Practice increases your confidence. Confidence makes you perform. The performance breeds victory. And victory yields rewards. Success is the best source of fulfillment.  

I hope the rhythm of these lines will bring an inspired golfer to the course. Wishing you a great round in golf and life. Good luck!

“For this game you need, above all things, to be in a tranquil frame of mind.”

 -Harry Vardon

Credits 

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Roaming with the Stars

“When a man makes up a story for his child, he becomes a father and a child together, listening.”

Rumi 

One of the greatest pleasures of early marriage is early kids, they are grown up before you get old. On this sunny winter morning, I am grateful to have a round of golf with my sons. My eldest, Mr. K is a veteran golfer, playing since he was thirteen in the great company of his grandfather. He swings adorably and has a fine hand for chipping. Lately, he is out of practice because of his marriage and newborn. My youngest, Mr.Q, has recently stood second in the junior boy’s tournament. Luckily, we are together this winter holiday season in New England. Although it is awfully cold here these days, the angel of weather sometimes provides pockets of good golfing weather and I take full advantage of this. 

It’s one of those perfect days, where everything is not too much, not too little, but just right. The sun is shining, the temperature is 4°c, the wind is tolerable and the ground is not completely frozen. Thanks to the management of Swansea Country Club, the course is open and well taken care of even in this harsh weather. The course is neither vacant nor crowded. The presence of other enthusiastic golfers in this weather is proof of the popularity of the game in this region. We are taking off as a flight of three. A family flight. The loveliest flight. 

Today, my heart is full. Simultaneously I am proud, humbled, satisfied, grateful, and fulfilled. My steps are barely on the ground, I feel as if I’m walking in the air. This round is a dream come true. I wouldn’t trade this day for anything. 

Since my sons play golf much better than I do. I want to play this round at par with their standard so they don’t get bored by my slices and shanks. Walking briskly while playing trendy music by The Weeknd and Dua Lipa, I am dressed in straight fit pants and fashionable attire. I am making swings with full elasticity and combined by style. My smile is younger and I am talking about the future. In their company, I feel brighter and full of energy. I feel young. 

It is a rare privilege to avail the company of the young members of the family these days. They usually are away at college, work or they are busy with their own interests. Being together and being home is one thing this epidemic has gifted to our otherwise scattered family. On top of that, I am blessed even more to celebrate the company of my kids at the golf course every once in a while. I can’t express how it feels to play a sport one loves with their son or daughter. My vocabulary cannot convey my true tenderness. 

“When my father didn’t have my hand, he had my back.”

Linda Poindexter 

One can see the whole universe in a grain of bunker sand, one can see the entire oceans in a water hazard, one can smell garden of Eden from a feral stem on the edge of a fairway, one can taste heavens from a wild berry from the rough, one can roam with the stars while golfing with loved ones – all of this is possible while golfing with one’s own children. 

You will always be my son

Anthem lights 

“‘Just living isn’t enough’, said the butterfly, ‘one must have freedom, sunshine, and a little flower.’’

Khalil Gibran

Credits 

Golf.com

The Detroit News 

Google

Pinterest 

YouTube 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Good Morning My New Year

Drops of dew, the breeze of the dawn, rays of the sun, budding flowers, ticking seconds, chirping sparrows, dancing leaves, and my sleepy eyes welcome the first rise of 2021. The whole city was either glued to the television or out there to celebrate the festivities of a happy new year. I went to bed early in order to receive the morning while the celebrators slept stoned after a night out. Nothing is more beautiful than the rise of the sun each morning. Today’s sun is delivering us the first morning of the much anticipated new year. 

People celebrate the new year across all cultures. They follow solar, lunar, or lunisolar calendars. They celebrate it with worship or festivities, commencing either at midnight or in the evening. But the concept of a new beginning is a common phenomenon among them. Most of us plan to start afresh. While some shed their despair with the ending year, others sow the seeds of newer expectations with the emerging calendar. 

Western date of the beginning of the new year was chosen to honor the Roman god of the beginning, Janus. He is believed to have two faces, one looking backward, the past, and the other facing forward, the future. 

Chinese New Year is attached to the beginning of the spring season; they usually celebrate it between the twentieth of January to the twentieth of February according to lunar readings. One way or the other festivities of the new year are seen in almost all societies.  

Celebration and festivity always represent a crowd of happy people whereas the new year’s merriments commemorate a dance of the hopefuls. So many aspirations, expectations, ambition, aims, and floods of hope take steps to the tunes of the upcoming year. I would call it the largest congregation of the candidates and campaigners of good luck ahead. This is where humanity comes together to expect good from the future. 

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love; it will not lead you astray.”

Rumi 

The poem of the marvelous journey of human progress is written only in the pen of aspiration. The stanzas may speak in different dialects and lyrics might be composed in various languages but the poem only narrates hope. And hope is all the new year should bring. 

What is a better time to start converting our hopes into reality than a beautiful morning? Let’s take a fresh start from this first morning of 2021. Let’s struggle to stop all wars this year. Let’s cooperate to eradicate the ongoing pandemic. Let’s eliminate illiteracy. Let’s alleviate poverty.  Let’s discourage hate and promote love. Let’s build a world of souls instead of one of the swords. And most importantly, let’s aim to be the best versions of ourselves. 

New Year’s Day 

Bon Jovi 

Credits:

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Keeping It Cool

“Don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.”

Rumi

The weather app is predicting temperatures below or close to 0°c all day. The sun on the other hand shines in all its prowess. The weather on the East coast of America is deceptive and naughty. Yesterday it was 10°c and above throughout the day but there was no sun. It was rainy, windy and warm. Today it is -1°c despite bright sunlight. It’s warmer when cloudy and colder in sunshine. Such is the stealth of the weather people live by in this area.

A person from East Asia perceives the might of the sun and cluster of clouds in a different manner. For him rain is relief from the scorching heat of a stern sun. Whereas western societies call their bad times the rainy days and sunshine means a great day for them. After having a good look at the sunshine from my window, I called the club to know if the golf course was open. Most of them were closed due to the snowfall and ghusty rain earlier in the week. At Swansea Country Club though the lady at the golf shop seemed in a mood to celebrate the glory of the shining sun. She proudly announced on my phone that as long as the sun shone, a golfer intended to play, and Christmas holidays were on she would happily opt to open the course. “Today however I will allow no carts on the wet course but only golf by walking” she added. I love golf on foot anyway. The chill of Greater Boston will be a perk in addition. 

“When it’s cold and raining,

you are more beautiful.

And the snow brings me

even closer to your lips.

The inner secret, that which was never born,

you are that freshness, and I am with you now.

I can’t explain the goings,

or the comings. You enter suddenly,

and I am nowhere again.

Inside the majesty.”

Rumi

The course was washed and squeezed and the greens were neatly ‘pressed.’ The golf course at Swansea country club is demandingly designed, meticulously maintained and carefully crafted. I was completely covered, pridefully prepared, and entirely attentive to my game. Since there are no caddies here so it’s important to play to the point. The Swansea Club Golf Course is an eighteen hole golf course, with an additional par three course and a grand practice range. It pulls the crowd on usual days and by the time I reached the tee, some enthusiastic golfers had already taken off. Golf in New England is a trip of its own kind. It thrills, chills, and fills!

When there is no one to handle your mistakes you tend to make less. When there is no caddie to find your ball you carefully hit it within the bounds and keep track of it. Humans behave differently when they are on their own. With assistance handy they show attitude and pretension. All of my cuts, fades and draws go silent. Straight and acceptable shots come handy. In colder temperatures golfers are overpacked and on top of that, the ball doesn’t like to cover the usual distance. It doesn’t matter whether it’s cold or warm because golfers gotta do what golfers gotta do. I wish you a very happy new year from the midst of a chilling fairway.

Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.

Kahlil Gibran

You wouldn’t believe how quickly the ‘Sahibism’ (elitism) of the subcontinent people melts into the holy liquid of equality and civil rights once their plane touches the American soil. VIPs from Indo-Pak start to handle their luggage themselves and stand in lines happily. They wait for their turns, and play golf without caddies. They never ask for a pass during the round as they think that priority over others is their birthright back home. They behave in such a civilized manner overseas and instantly convert their arrogance into modesty at foreign soils. On the other hand we rigidly cling on to the curses of certain norms and taboos in our own neighborhoods. In no time do we become secular in belief overnight in other countries. At home we follow our religions to our bones. What a hypocritical bunch of people we are?

Golf is a nation on its own. Soon another gentleman appears from the veranda of the club heading towards the tee. I wait for him after my first drive. Mr. Jerome was a young man who was an operator of the huge construction (CAT) cranes. It was a privilege to have a round of golf with a person who moves mountains and turns rivers. He seemed a delicate and fragile young man in his appearance. I am sure now that those monstrous machines must have power steering. Yet Mr. Jerome and Mr. Jamil both know that power in golf only comes through a perfect swing and with proper torso movement. No hydraulic comes handy in the great game of golf. 

He is a skilled person of the construction industry and I am an executive from the same trade. I dream and conceive such projects. He sweats to bring those concepts and dreams into existence. I respect his trade much more than mine. Where my job and reputation is at stake, a courageous person like him puts his life on the line. I salute his courage, his effort and his determination. People of such stature live their lives looking straight in the eyes of hard work. They grab the ox of life from the horns and bend it towards their destination. They are the real construction industry. 

It might be a tiny ball but it requires more concentration than any caterpillar, I know that. He was a good player and I know how to handle players who play better than I do. Despite our utmost attempts to defeat each other we ended up even, thanks to my talkative nature. Any time he was ahead of me I would divert his attention to the upcoming summer when he would be toe to toe with his routine. After all I am a staunch believer of Mr. Bobby Jones saying: 

“Competitive golf is played mainly on a five-and-a-half-inch course, the space between your ears.”

The weather was cold but the round was cool. The wind was chilly but my colleague was warm. The ground was icy but my opponent was decent. So long friend and keep golfing. Happy new year to all my readers! 

Credits 

Goodreads

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Swansea Country Club, MA

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Forever Young

“From the moment of your birth. A ladder was placed before you. To help you escape.”

Rumi 

Isn’t it amazing how a tiny, fragile, lifeless object like a seed grows into a large tree, a smiling flower and food bearing plant? How a small roe develops into mighty whales. How microscopic sperm transforms into a pharaoh. How an egg begins to fly. The event of birth is complex yet brief. On the other hand, the process of growing up is long and hard. It takes years, storms, long nights, harsh days, and weathers of all kinds to become something as important as a life, especially in its prime. Life is temporary and it ends at any given point. Living under the constant shadow of death is the essence of living. Life knows that across the Sahara of existence dwells death yet it goes through the desert on the back of the camel of hope, oasis of faith, and dunes of determination. The umbrella of science and technology comes handy under the scorching sun. Growing up in itself is a journey. A travel in time, an intergalactic spiritual voyage. The travel of life is non stop and it ends in a valley of the unknown. 

Today I am on the move, going to an intercontinental destination. Each path has its charms and perils. Nowadays the fear of the pandemic is presiding and most passengers are abiding by COVID-19 protocols. So are the personnel working at the airports. However the presence of an imminent threat to life is increasingly dominant than usual. Air travel already is a freaky experience and flying during pandemic makes it even worse. Lahore is a city that is known for its dense fog, if not for smog, especially in the month of December. However Mother Earth does provide variety in weather & time. Fog usually disturbs flight schedules at Lahore airport. Even most veteren pilots don’t trust fog in Lahore; they wait for better visibility. Lahorites eat a lot of meat that why vultures rule skies in this town. They actually use blasts to scare them away from runway areas on normal days. Today my flight is having the same experiment. 

I am continually growing up sitting in a passenger lounge at this airport. People in masks look like some other species. I am familiar with the building and flight delays at this airport but this is a new kind of journey with new kinds of passengers. Other than their faces people do look like us humans.  I wonder when humans mature a bit more in science and technology, would the travel to other planets be the same. I know one thing for sure that cross universal passengers will cover their faces in some kind of hi-tech masks. The masks that we are wearing today may be the trailer of such future journeys and living on other planets. 

It is not only life that ends, time also expires. The ongoing year will enter the dead pages of history soon and a new year will ask life to follow another calendar. The new cycle of the days, months and quarters shall bring renewed hopes again. In the freezing cold around most of the globe one year is buried and another begins. 

Maturing, aging, and developing makes life wear out at a certain stage. Sweating at the gym and struggling at school is one kind of growth. Fumbling under the influence and staying behind bars is another. One is a respectable way of rising up, the latter is a mess though both are travels of their own kinds. The Inmate’s future suffers for the deeds of his past whereas the druggie drains his present for the hallucinations about the future. Like spacecrafts, life needs ignition in order to launch itself like a rocket in the cosmos of existence.

Forever young – Alphaville

Life surely has a short span but collectively it is as eternal as anything else. This is the only phenomenon in the entire universe that knows how to renew and refresh itself. A dead star becomes dust, sometimes gas and stays so but life keeps reappearing. A flower blooms each season. A crop grows again and again. Life is a great factory of recycling. Before death approaches, life breeds more life thus the cycle continues. The wheel of life rotates regularly but the wind of death only cleanses the rotten part. Well, if you sit for a while next to a blooming rose, near a ripe apple, in the company of a red tomato, you will realize that the immense beauty of such calibre can only exist briefly. Fruit ripes to be eaten, flower blooms to shed scent, the vegetable grows to feed. Simultaneously they all come to life to recycle the plant they grow on. They exist to ensure the eternity of their species. Can something else be more beautiful than this? How it ripes to be reborn. How it guarantees life, its existence, through death. Life hibernates inside a seed while earth celebrates its death. And love is the veil that life wears to cover it’s return. The metamorphosis of life is the real language of rhymes of love that nature composes. 

“What hurts you blesses you.”

Rumi 

What a flight it is. What a journey life disembarks on. All of us live on, in the lap of mortality yet celebrate our being. We all are grateful to nature for receiving this miraculous gift, though briefly. I came into being. I existed. I lived. I played golf. I ate, saw, spoke, laughed, cried, and had offsprings. My children and their offspring are my way of living eternally. That’s how I defeat death. 

Credits 

Google

Wikipedia 

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Surgical Shots

It is every golfer’s dream to play scratch or under. Most never get to that. There are those that come close but few touch the brinks of that desire. Golf is a deceptive sport. It seems like a piece of cake from the outside but playing is not like eating a pastry. It rattles like rocks and tricks like tears. The complexity of this game resembles surgery. The number of specifications, rules, and regulations of this game nearly surpasses the list at a hospital’s operating theatre. So does the tool kit of the golfer. A golfer’s bag carries a world inside; apart from golf balls, more than a dozen golf clubs and everything else in it has various sizes for different uses. No soldier and no doctor carries as many weapons simultaneously as golfers do. They need a trolley to bring it to the golf course. The only difference is that a surgeon throws his gloves away but a golfer dearly hangs on to his. 

I urge all my non golfer friends to refrain from putting their hand in a lady’s purse or a golf bag. They both carry sharp items that can puncture unfamiliar fingers unexpectedly. Nailing and affixing is a common phenomenon in both, the female and golfing community. 

The golf ball itself belongs to the world of wives. Most of its habits are derived from there. First and foremost it demands undivided attention. It won’t be tolerated if your eyes are looking elsewhere. It wants you to dance but only to it’s tunes. It can get irritated without a cause. It has a strong capability to hide or disappear right before your eyes. It also loves water. It will rush to swimming facilities wherever and whenever just like a tired housewife. Golf balls behave differently in the presence of lady golfers. They are immediately transformed to rowdy husbands. Annoying is the favorite hobby of golf balls and getting irritated is a usual business in this sport. 

Posture happens to be another necessary ingredient in the recipe of golf. Sometimes try hitting something as small as a golf ball with your head and body fixed, your knees bent, back bowed, arms stretched, holding a fifty inch club, and allowing only your shoulders and torso to move in order to create a swing. Only a spouse can put you through a punishment like that. 

This game should not be played by perfectionists and mathematically meticulous minds. Hope, faith, and blind moves are essential spices in this dish. I would advise my friends who are habitual winners especially those who hate to lose, to stay away from this particular sport. A game that is played on a wide field of 150 acres, that has eighteen gardens of different measurements, with tall trees and roughs, sand pits, and ponds, just to lead a ball that weighs 1.06 oz (45.93 grams) and is sized 1.680 inches (42.67 mm), into a hole which is 4 and half inches (10.8 cm) can not be won each time you come in. The elements of air speed & direction, weather conditions, sunlight, ground environment and mood of the golfer are factors of vital importance. 

Yes, practice makes us perfect but in golf it will only make you better. The word ‘Perfection’ doesn’t exist in the dictionary of golf. You need a fortune of circumstances, a blend of good luck and a secret prayer, more importantly faith in your strategy and a plan to get through this regular ordeal.  

Golf is a game of crazy and a touch of mindlessness is a suitable weapon to carry along. Keep your eyes on the ball and stroll on. 

“He who has led you so far, will guide you further.”

Rumi 

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

The Beauty Contest

“The beauty is a heart inflamed and a soul enchanted.”

Khalil Gibran 

In the name of the beauty present at the Cafe’ 19, he hit a great shot that crossed the long water hazard and landed at a putter’s grip away from the pin. The caddie shouts “you nailed it sir.” His heart wants to shout “she is beautiful.” Yes, beauty makes a lot of difference but a beautiful lady makes the hearts melt and also stirs them to beat faster. She was sitting on a chair facing the tee nine. He could  smell the Estée Lauder she was wearing and the smell of Alfredo chicken & pasta sauce from her plate was invigorating. A pink scarf (Dopatta) was clad over her head and black shades on her eyes were announcing her piety and innocence. Whether he had brought his eyes back to the ball in reverence to her sanctitude or to follow the hard rule of golf, ‘eyes on the ball’ remains a mystery. Her smile was trying to add more to the grace of the enormously colorful, chlorophyll-deprived leaves of autumn. As if she was there to distribute the alms of charm to the already riveting ambiance of the Gymkhana club. The swans on the pond’s banks were swimming about to show her that they too were worthy  contestants in this fashion parade. 

The marigold flowers were in no mood to miss this beauty contest.

The area around Tee nine is so magnified today that he doesn’t want to proceed to his golf ball at all, but what would a birdie add to this dream-like atmosphere? Even a Par at this occasion will make him part of that ongoing competition of cuteness at the stage of nature’s marvelous creations. 

He missed the much expected Birdie but he is grateful for the Par that he made. The birdie requires utmost concentration but he had divided one. Half of his mind was still dazed by the mesmerizing decency that was seated at Cafe’ 19. 

The sagacity of marriage is that one can only admire good looks of a person from a distance. And keeping the beauty at bay adds to its attention even more. A face illuminates from a distance and its deficits become apparent up close. The glow of a body dims sooner than a season whereas inner beauty accompanies till the end. 

“Of life’s two chief prizes, beauty and truth, I found the first in a loving heart and the second in a laborer’s hand.”

Khalil Gibran 

It is the soul of the life partner that keeps them together for decades, if not forever. 

Every now and then we cross a scene, a sentence, a face, a smile, a taste, a dream, a fantasy, or a fragrance that takes us to another dimension. Those who keep the eyes of their hearts open cannot overlook such enchanting encounters. Poets and painters look for these opportunities more often. Those who intend to appreciate beauty are followed by it everywhere. Those who are in the business of writing are sought after by words themselves. Traders of songs find melodies and makers of music create the rhythm and tones. A pursuer will find what suits him. Sinners will meet the devil before they even start looking. A caddie knows where the ball hides and a golfer knows where to hit. Only sometimes do you find more than what you are looking for and that’s when one can and should “Seize the day.” 

And this was his day. He came to play golf at his home course. He met many old friends. The affection of staff at the club towards him was evidence of this being his home club. His subconscious acquaintance with the course flips the pages of his history at this club. He enjoyed the company of his coach today. And he was going home with a lot more under his sleeve than he came to take.

 Happy golfing friends and graces to him and all my readers. 

There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.

Rumi

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Lahore Gymkhana Golf Course. 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Mystic Mist

The morning is like a vision impaired and a drunken mind.  It is hazy and full of delusions. The blanket of dense murk does not sit well with the time on my wrist watch—7am. The weather app itself seems a bit off this morning. Like most days, I am on my way to the golf course. The chauffeur’s eyes are fixated on the road and he couldn’t care less what’s happening elsewhere. The car is piercing through the heavy clouds on the road, sluggishly covering yard by yard, just like a lazy putt trickles towards the hole. I know my driver is secretly wondering how it’s humanly possible to play during such harsh weather. 

Little does he know that the history of  golf is rooted in such conditions. Those who know this game are all too familiar with the relationship between the fog and the fairways. There’s an unparalleled chemistry between the dance of the golf ball and the stupor of the intoxicated golfer minds. Most of the golfers are found in a daze after their performance on a couple of greens. Their state of hallucination may be a result of the putt or the miss. Meanwhile, through my car’s stereo, Bob Marley was adding his own blend to this bewildered hour.

Misty morning”

It seems as if this morning came straight from a pub, where it stayed long after closing hours. It isn’t too keen on making its daily appearance today. Rather, it’s bent on partying on. But I wish for the sun to rise and tell the world what warmth means. After all, who wants to wake up early after a naughty night. And so, I know better than to blame this sluggish morning for its obvious lack of enthusiasm today. Whether we like it or not, time doesn’t wait for anyone and there’s no reason why should this morning be spared. It has to rise to the occasion in order to abide by the laws of nature. Dawns are designed to appear and mornings are made to rise.  The wheel of time circles on, pausing for no one. Both me and the fog have no control over the span of our lives. Whether we like it or not, we will be here till our expiration date. Neither life nor fog is eternal. Yet our galaxy’s sun has withstood all storms and weathers. It will shine soon. 

Mist in a mind, haze in a horizon, and a dent in our destiny may appear from time to time, but we should carry on as it’s business as usual. We should keep both our minds and our paths clear. We must not only keep moving, but also do so in a dignified manner. Going gets us somewhere and stopping only strains. Whether it amounts to something or not,  I won’t avoid playing the game of golf, come rain, fog, or sunshine. And no drink will keep me from moving onto the next green. I would rather inhale the unadulterated breeze of dawn, and the fresh, unpolluted oxygen radiating from the tree-lined pastures of the golf course. 

For there is nothing else I’d rather be under the influence of. 

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Defence Raya Golf & Country Club

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Wandering Words

There comes bright day light after each night. The union of days and nights breeds time and time can be good or bad. It could be yours or mine. It can be delightful and it can be abysmal. Time is the one way stream of never ending marathons of the stars heading towards infinity. The earth rotates regularly to share the sunlight among all of its residents. What has passed is but a moment, and difficult hours seem like eternity. The breath in your arms is heavenly, the pulse in your absence is hellish. Time in your company is blissful, separation from you is painful. Hand in your hand is a journey, going alone is a travel.

All love stories don’t mature and all grudges don’t last. Neither all smiles are fake nor all tears are true. Every handshake is not for friendship and all promises are not for keeping. All mail is not love letters, and all messages are not from the beloved. All those running are not scared and all afloat are not swimmers. Most stars are lost in the abyss and not all suns rise from the east. Some blankets are to conceal sins for winter and so much piety is to attract fame. 

Youth is fleeting and beauty is ephemeral. Life is a ticking clock and age has diminishing returns. The sun shines for a few hours and darkness ends at dawn. A child crawls for a few months and toys lose attraction soon. 

Flowers bloom briefly and leaves fall again. You can not drink it all but a bottle will finish soon. Pain is periodic whereas cure takes time. Fruit doesn’t ripe in a day and not all rains bring storms. A rainbow is a smile of the skies and lightning is their fury. Romance is the grammar of passion and patience is the tense of the future. 

Grace falls upon the blessed and success follows the industrious. 

Happiness is a frame of mind and enjoyment is an attitude. The cure is a remedy and prevention is preemption. Ships sail through storms and boats stay at bay. Flute makes melodies and drums roar. Roses release aroma and seeds become trees. Time travels forward and water flows downward. Dreams move fast but the sleeper stays still. 

And I write all this because I have nothing else to write. I miss maundering. The pandemic has stretched too long. I need to go away. I need to fly. I want to wander. This writing is my way of wandering through words. 

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Google 

PAF Skyview Golf & Country Club 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com