A Morning With Farmers

It’s a great morning today, clouds have surprised us all. Dark skies and the temperature in the twenties on 6th of June in Lahore is a blessing. Super hot Jeth is covered by the roof of darkening shadows. The cool weather seems persistent this week denying the usual summer heat. 

Without a roar, clouds begin to seep little rain drops in my front lawn. Trees dance in the rainfall and grass absorbs all of the fallen aqua under it’s dry skin. Air conditioning further chills the TV lounge. Tea tastes better and the aroma of Paratha and omelet adds more to the savour of a cloudy morning. Rain embellishes a special fragrance to the delta soil that soothes souls. Together the shallow breeze and sprinkle on the window glass orchestrate a gratifying melody of precipitation. Mist descends into the veranda on the left. Black skies cover Lahore like a burka hides Afghan beauty. Candidly, my heart is receiving it all. I also want this temperature to last longer. Along with the greenery, I wish we could preserve this weather. 

Usually I spend summer in North America, this year COVID-19 makes this out of the question. Instead Northern weather follows me here. Everything and everyone is wondering where is this rain coming from in June? Herbs and bushes celebrate downpour, further straightening their leaves in order to welcome more drops. The entire life is revitalizing and promising to multiply at a greater magnitude. 

I decided to go on a drive towards the river Ravi outside of the city on the Sialkot-Lahore motorway. Both sides of the freeway consist of rich agricultural lands. From the car, I saw both male and female farmers  working strenuously in the field. I appreciated them from afar. Soon after, I felt compelled to get out of my car to take pictures. As I moved closer, I asked for permission to snap them. They did not allow me to photograph the females, I’m guessing because of their soaked attire. I conceded to their reasonable objection and proceeded to capture the males. In my exchange of words during the shoots, they conveyed their dismay towards the society for its complete disregard for them. 

It is the paddy plantation season in Punjab. Under the scorching sun in an inundated muddy field, farmers sow the rice crop.The process of planting rice herbs is a very laborious task. The hot weather makes it even more demanding. On a morning like this, the farmers must be thankful to the clouds that shield the burning sun. It’s nothing less than a practice of surviving in hell. Rain for this plantation is Godsent. The cooler weather makes it easier for rice growers that plant by hand. Imagine dipping each herb into the soil in standing water, under the sun in temperatures above 100*F. 

Most of the world is either fighting against the pandemic or protesting to seek justice and equality. Farmers indifferent to such affairs are determined to grow their crops in time. Just so we have food. These growers are doing the most important work, ensuring our food safety. The world does not pay any attention to the essential food warriors. Their work is hard but their payment is meagre. Worldwide, farmers are highly underpaid and at the verge of collapse. When the whole world is crying for change for equality and justice, I would like to present the case of agricultural labor before they come to the streets and shout for their rights. Governments across the globe should pay attention to their silent struggles. In the case that the agriculture workforce decides to go on strike, all of us would go hungry. 

The famous Basmati rice is the major product of central Punjab. This land is so fertile that nothing refuses to grow here. Punjab is the food basket of the subcontinent. Multiple grains, rice, wheat, sugarcane, cotton, vegetables and fruits are among major crops here. At the moment, it is a season of mango harvest. Punjabi mangoes are world renowned and they are absolutely delicious.

Punjab is a major milk producing region in the world. Unique buffalo milk has a taste of its own. Since most of us are locked in our homes, I would like to present some photographs that I took on my long drive on the Sialkot-Lahore motorway. You can witness the fertility of Punjab on your screen. The story of the Sialkot-Lahore motorway is incomplete without the mention of river Ravi. Ravi divides eastern and western Punjab between Pakistan and India. The land of Punjabis may be divided between two countries but their culture, norms, taboos, dialect, and agricultural practices are the same. So is the industrious work and plight

of the farmers on both sides of the border. 

Rainy weather is one of the most famous references in subcontinental literature and “swings of monsoon” is in the center of it. 

A poem from a contemporary poet. 


Since the 

First drop of monsoon rain fell,

In the front yard of my clay house.

The aroma of the soil 

Dominates across it. 

Like your fragrance used to. 


Tyar Khan 






Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, poet, blogger, author, entrepreneur, wanderer

Email: golfaij@gmail.com

Web : golfaij.com

Sultans Of Swing

The inspiration of today’s title is from Dire Strait’s track: ‘Sultans of swing.’ Yes we all desire to swing impressively but there is only one that can be called the sultan of swing, he is none other than the GOAT (greatest of all time), Tiger Woods. 

A child called Eldrick Tont Woods aka (also known as) Tiger Woods was born on December 30th, 1975 in Cyprus California. He descends from a hoard of different ethnicities. The only child of an African American Army Officer whose heritage consisted of white, asian, and native american; and Kultida, a native of Thailand whose own ancestry includes Chinese and Dutch. He turned out to be a golf lord and carries a corking career. The list of his remarkable achievements is long and envying. His life is an open message that multiplication of races can breed a generation of unprecedented achievers. Bob Marley is another reference in the context. 

Tiger is a son of Rtd. Col. Earl Woods. Earl was a Vietnam veteran, a college-level football player and a writer. He wrote books like ‘Training A Tiger,’ ‘Playing Through,’ and ‘Start Something: You Can Make a Difference.’ 

GolfDigest Associate Editor Mathew Rudy, asks Earl Woods 

“Let’s talk about training Tiger. Are you worried that your success in raising him has created a bunch of parents who push their kids toward unrealistic goals?”

Earl “Yes. And I tried to head it off. I make it very, very clear [in Training a Tiger] that my purpose in raising Tiger was not to raise a golfer. I wanted to raise a good person. And hopefully I gave specific enough directions that parents won’t go overboard and use their child’s success to validate their own self-worth”. 

Tiger was provided an opportunity and he got the maximum out of it. Time, age and resources were there at his disposal and he worked very hard to make use of all those. When the role of your duty combines with your passion you perform miraculously.  

Golf is a bouquet of swings. Some swings are perfect and some are loose. It takes a lot of practice to learn a proper golf swing. Tiger’s swing has achieved unprecedented record breaking performance that buried all competition. This makes him sultan of swing

Each golfer dreams to hit it perfectly, many spend hours practicing on the golf range but can not translate the swing in their mind to the field. I stand tall among them. I have played for a long time with this assumption that I have learned how to swing. The more I get seasoned the more I realize what is missing in my swing. I think it is a lifelong learning and lurking that lingers on. Golf requires patience, practice, skill, talent, and rhythm to get finer. It’s like learning to dance. The more you dance the better you become. 

I play golf with music. According to Michael Fasano co-host of Golf Podcast, waltz is best for golf practice on range. Of course we can’t play golf with earphones on so I have attached a speaker to my golf kit with the compliments of Bluetooth and iTunes. Tiger’s favorite song is “Return of the Mark” by Mark Morrison. He says he grew up listening to music from the late 80’s and 90’s notably Prince & Michael Jackson. 

Lately I am going through a dry spell in life and dull time in my writing. My mood is completely withered and my feelings are barren. Music, reading, calls to friends, chit chat with loved ones, TV, and movies nothing is comforting anymore. Once the COVID-19 attack inflated recently, I paused golf again. Again, no golf has turned into no satisfaction. That really takes a harsh toll and makes me sulky and morose. This swing in my mood is far from a Sultan’s rather frames me as obnoxious. 

This write up is an attempt on my part to stay in touch with my readers and to keep my blog afloat. Your opinion and feedback would matter much in my future endeavors. It’s the overlapping frustration from this long and unpredictable pandemic that’s ballooning up again. Wish you all healthiness, happiness and hilariousness.  May you swing & shine like Tiger. Swing on. 

Steel Panther: “Just like Tiger woods” 


Golf Tv

Golf Podcast








Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, author, poet, blogger, entrepreneur, wanderer 

Email: golfaij@gmail.com

Web: golfaij.com


On the move is all of existence, the universes, the galaxies, the stars, the planets, the moons, the asteroids, the stones, and the dust. So is time, the millennium, the century, the year, the day, the hour, the minute, and the second. And life too is on the go, the kingdom, the phylum, the classes, the order, the families, the genus, and the species. Water is also running, the ocean, the cloud, the precipitation, the glacier, the stream, the river, the lake, the tab, the drop. And there is homo sapien in the center of this whirlpool. In a human, lies the most mysterious of all existence, the mind. It lives in a brain that is 5.9 inches long and weighs 3 pounds. It’s the movement which goes inside the mind that counts. 

Movement is essential to existence and indispensable to resistance. Movement brings light and hosts night. Motion sometimes displays penumbra and shows an eclipse. Movement makes it possible for stars to shine in the sky and make them disappear in the brightness of another. The movement of stars is a precise constant. Everything is in search of something or doing it to appease another. 

It’s movement in a live heart that controls life. It is the running of blood that keeps it going. A slight movement of an eyelid can electrify someone’s heart and a minor movement of a finger can burn someone with rage. Sincere moves breed sincerity. Stable moves produce stability. Insecure movement leads to insecurity. 

Movement has played a very vital role in human evolution. According to Ibrahimic beliefs,  Adam was moved from heaven to earth as a punishment for his disobedience. I think that was the most innocent mistake humanity ever made. The punishment also reveals the creator’s mercifulness.

Love is also a movement in feelings. Kings left crowns and princesses chose salves. If love is a move, no other movement can be more magnificent than that. It’s love that shifts hearts and it’s love that makes life worth it. 

It was a movement that engineered an evolution from hominid to homo sapien to human beings, from half walk to bipedalism

Humans now have learned to move in space and beyond.The greatest asset that brought humanity to a marvelous stage is the movement of their hands. It got them ingenuity and craftsmanship leading them to be inventors of hand made objects. In my opinion, among these creations weapons are the most dangerous ones. The most important movement humans learned to make was the one of the tongue, prettiest of all is dance, sweetest of all is music and tastiest of all is cooking. 

Not all movements are body movements, some are born in the mind. Such are the ones that change the course of history. Mankind’s anthropological and social movements are as important as his biological and physical ones. Man evolved from a couple to a family to a clan to a tribe to a nation and to humanity as a whole. He makes this journey in the laps of different theological, philosophical, political and technological movements. Some of these are going on today as well. The recent, upward movement of the NASA & SpaceX rocket and “Black Lives Matter” that we see on our screens these days are among these struggles. The voyage of human progress owes a great deal to the movements in their collective minds.

The most important movements of our days are the environmental ones. All of us should contribute to these in all respects. So we can save and protect our only home in the entire universe. 

Photo by Ben Heine on Flickr.




Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari 

By Ahsan Jamil 

Author, poet, blogger, entrepreneur, Golfer and wanderer

Walk Like An Egyptian

I am the second golfer to reach the golf course this morning. While the first golfer opts to take off from the tenth tee, I choose to start from tee one. These two tees are twins sitting parallel to each other. The fellow sportsman doesn’t waste any time on warm-up and off he goes. 

I, on the other hand, begin to warm up by standing on the tee while my caddie makes adjustments for me to take a shot. In the meantime, an old fellow appears on the tee, fixes his ball, steals my turn recklessly, and  swings it hard straight to the bunker. I suppose he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, he is visibly angry. I smile and think how this guy will get through the rest of the day with a mood like that. He begins his morning violating others rights at 4:30 am. May golf calm and exhaust him, I hope.

I am trying to ignore him while my caddie insists that it’s our turn. I ask him to let it go. Anyone so discourteous at this old age, with such anguish for nothing valuable, is either in trouble or a trouble himself. Besides I am here to golf, not to lead society on the right path on a charming dawn like today. The apprehending weather and trees with open arms desire to hold me. The lushness of the grass is making me a sheet in the wind’s eye. It is only the morning breeze riding on the first light that keeps me attached to reality. Songbirds are performing polyphony of the daybreak and clouds are in the mood to pour drops of grace.It’s the sound of the “one wood” at hole two that adds splendor to this crack of dawn. The touchdown of the ball in the middle of the fairway appends glory to my nonpareil satisfaction. 

Trees on the right side of the fairway seem annoyed because my shot misses them and unexpectedly moves in the right direction. They think it’s my duty and their right to receive a ball each time I play at this fairway. I walk like an Egyptian whenever my tee shot goes straight; I don’t get to imitate a Pharaoh often. 

This shot grants me faith to attempt a regulation on the pin. Surprisingly the job is done well. The caddie utters, “good shot.” In the meantime I behave as if two good shots in a row was a routine. In a prideful move, I collect the putter from my bag and approach the ball waiting for me approximately two feet from the hole. Crowned by the previous two shots, I am anxious to usher it into the hole. It stops on the edge totally ignoring my requirements. I came so close to my long awaited “birdie”. My caddie however claims, “birdie”, he further explains that due to the coronavirus protocol it is considered a putt. I reply, “No, I won’t take it. I am neither in the mood to take a favor from a killer (coronavirus), nor I would accept a bribe from you”.

Borrowed victory in life gets us nowhere but to a jungle of shortcuts. When one makes a false claim, one only deceives oneself. Win through effort grants joy, while corruption digs you in depression. In order to maintain my positivity I happily add a par to the Golfshot app and propel myself towards the next tee. 

At times like this I miss my golf buddies even more. If we were playing together they could have bucked me up at the previous putt. Anyways, distance makes a sincere friendship more binding. I will play with my friend again since he has won the fight with COVID-19. Both of his tests came negative. He is in rehabilitation now. Soon I will do what coronavirus failed to do. I will beat his a… at the next round we play together. Get well soon bro. 

By Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, author, port, blogger, entrepreneur, wanderer 



Beginning of Birth

‘A pretty little fairy climbing up the stem

I asked, “which one is the prettiest?”

She replied, 

“All of them!”’

Zaria I. Jamil

I am present at an orb where the orchards crave for clouds and roofs desire drops. Soil longs for thunders and deserts lust for wind. Oceans blurt storms and glaciers aspire heat. Mountains look for nimbostratus and rivers anticipate streams. The seed wishes to imbibe and buds dream for the spread of sepals. Wasps await blossom and sparrows chirp for grain. 

Why? For continuity, for reproduction, to give birth and to keep life alive. This process prevails from the moment it all begins to the time it ends. Yes, birth and the produced, both are enchanting; the first marks the end of a process, and the second is the beginning of another. 

Scientists claim the Big Bang is the beginning of existence and theists pronounce it as an end of nothingness. Imagine the grandeur of its happening. Fireworks seem like a model replica of that. I could imagine the vast and black desolations turning to glitter at once. The caravan of the milky ways are a glimpse of the beginning of the universes. Appearance and disappearance of light is evidence of the start of time. 

Visualize the breathtaking captivity of the place where the first human was conceived. The creator’s magnum opus to come up with the idea of a female to guarantee continuity of existence. The heavens and galaxies must have stood still to marvel at the mindful and miraculous creation. 

How can anyone pen the magnificence of genesis? The patter of tiny feet is evidence of the formation which begins with the Big Bang and continues to this day. And nature allows it to carry on. 

“A baby is God’s opinion that life should go on.” Carl Sandburg

Time permanently delivers a fresh second, without disruption. Life renews itself through new births. Planets reiterate existence in every cycle. Stars refresh the skies with new twinkles and the sun continues to provide warmth.

Many questions come to mind regarding this subject. What is this fuss all about? Is it creation? What causes birth? What is the reason for life? Is the Big Bang an explosive scatter or it is a purposeful rhythmic collection of stars? Is it time that organizes the universe engineered by the big blast? Or does gravity attract the objects together? What is gravity? Is gravity love? It seems like that to me. My loved ones and I do carry a mutual pull. I float towards my darling unconditionally. I drift to golf each morning. I feel dragged to the things I love. Is it all in one or is it one in all? Is it a start or is it a finish? Is it moving or is it still? The confusion twists me between singularity and regularity. It is neither my expertise nor my domain to answer these questions but I have all the rights to ask them. 

The organization and continuation of all objects living or lifeless announce the presence of a system. Everything seems like a coordinated sequence. Each dawn is a rotation of harmony between a star, a planet and a moon. Their turn brings a new morning and every circle brings change in weathers that grow fresh crops. Insects vie for blossom to pollinate. Bees reach for flowers to slurp nectar, and in return they give plants their progeny. 

“Beggars provide us with opportunities to become a benefactor.” 

Wasif Ali Wasif

Yes, all of it has a great symmetry. It has decorum and decoration. It shines and it sparkles. It is silent but it’s hearing. It’s moving but doesn’t vibrate. It’s blind but it understands. It is all in one and it is one in all. It seems to be the work of an artist, a creator or a lover. I live on a wonderful planet. 

The Little Plant

“In the heart of a seed,

Buried deep, so deep,

A dear little plant,

Lay fast asleep.

‘Wake,’ said the sunshine,

‘And creep to the  light’

‘Wake,’ said the voice

 Of the rain-drops, bright.

The little plant heard,

And rise to see

What a wonderful 

Outside world might be.”

Kate L. Brown


Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, author, entrepreneur, blogger, poet, wanderer 


The Plant Baby and It’s Friends

Kate. L Brown



What is singularity? Universetoday.com

Golf’s Back

This is a story of resuming golf after weeks of pause because of COVID-19.  I was the first to begin a game at 5:30AM on the day Lahore Gymkhana Club opened its doors after a long break. Playing solo on a golf course is like flying boeing 777 alone. Thanks to my co-pilot, the caddie, my speaker and iTunes I wasn’t alone at the serene, vast, and narrow series of the fairways. There was no one on the whole course other than my caddie and a few employees of the club. This used to be the most crowded golf course in the city. The course is open to members only, no guests allowed yet. The course was completely unadulterated giving a strong sense of chastity; it was maiden and fresh. I didn’t see a single divot on the entire course other than the ones that I made. Making a divot seemed like a misdemeanor on the velvety fairways. The feeling of culpability overwhelmed me throughout the round. First time I felt like a pollutant to cause this pollution on fairways that 

I have played worldwide on some prestigious golf courses but I never felt my game caused any sort of pollution there. Yet, I did not feel comfortable playing on a course that subdued handmade Persian carpets in their fluff and textures. 

Tees boxes were seductively gleamy. Bunkers were combed in a complete geometric manner. Greens were picturesquely radiating. The shallow flag posts briefly held the ball only to spill it out hastily. Putting was a soulifying experience on a tip top green. 

My caddie and I both followed the COVID-19 protocol to the tee. I can tell you one thing fellow golfers, my stamina was lost and it wasn’t the same to play with a face mask on. I was wondering what it was that made me so exhausted in about 5 holes and why I was dragging my feet to the ninth hole. I was not even pushing my cart and had assistance on the course. I realized later on that it was the protective gear that caused all the weariness. Use of hand sanitizer ointment or oil based disinfectant also disrupt the effectiveness of grip and movement of hands. 

The breeze today was sweeter than the flute of Ranjha, morning was milder than Heer’s touch and the fairways were glossier than waves of Chenab. The May morning was warmer than their ‘Chori’ (breakfast) that they used to have together in an orchid on the banks of the river.

Golf today was a reunion with a lost lover. It was a release from the invisible chains of coronavirus lockdown. Yes, it was great getting back to the greatest game ever invented. 

My first post lockdown tee short landed in the left bunker. Superstitiously, I took it as a sign that beaches open soon and I will be on one sooner than I expect. Luckily my second short drops before the next bunker short of green. I made a double bogey on the first hole. It doesn’t matter how I scored today since I was awestruck by the grandeur of the course itself and freshness of the dewed fairway. Fresh air added a final blend in the already aromatic atmosphere of broad lush green fields. 

Here and there I could see remnants of spring flowers bushes still clinging on to existence in May heat. These leftover spring shrubs remind me what February and March would have been like, while we all were chained to COVID 19 restrictions.  

Next hole I only make a ‘bogey’ despite enormous effort to do better. Still I ramble to the third tee in pride. 

Unexpectedly, midway hut at 3rd was open. I didn’t dare go near it due to coronavirus, and golfed on to the tee box next to it. Being aware of the staff’s presence there I made a calculated tee shot. Like many times before, I hit the tree once more as if attempting to keep the ritual intact. It seems that the trees squint at me scornfully smirking on my recurrent defeat. Anyhow staff at midway hut is very well aware of my golfing potential. I humbled forward in search of my ball in the rough under the trees. While my caddie hides his obnoxious smile into his lips. I ignore all embarrassment, determined to make the next short worth a few claps. Defeat can stick with you if you cling onto it. The sooner you detach from the loss the better your chances to succeed. Moving forward I turned on the song by Mr. Mister, “ Broken wings ” My resolve restores my credence and I execute a soaring 9 iron shot gliding my ball over the tree lines to the edge of detoured green. Again I attempt a par to no avail. Contended with another bogey I stroll on to the 4th. 

This par three lays along the boundary wall of the club. Another narrow fairway with OB (out of bound) one side and three bunkers around the green this par three is a walk on the rope. Extra carefulness led to another bogey.

Hole 5 is another par 3 but with a water hazard before the green. I got to carry it to the green one way or the other which I did ideally with my 6 iron. This time it was a par, a rare practice at my part. ‘Great par sir’ My caddie, now I was grinning from ear to ear. The course rotates here back to the midway hut. This time I approached with a victor’s march to the previously chuckling bunch. My eyes were looking for appreciation from the same faces that giggled at me earlier. People live in moments. They shift sides sooner than flies. So they all inflate my golf portraying it to undeserving ranks. A few offered praises and others showered admiring gestures. As if they never made fun of me earlier. As a matter of fact a sportsman should never take admiration or hoot personally. People do it for your shot, not for you. 

With mixed feelings I ambled towards the 6th tee. There is another treeline in front of the 6th. I’ve got to fly my ball to the fairway, there’s no other choice. I confidently made the posture, vibrated my shoulders, and executed a marvelous 5 iron swing whizzing my ball over the trees to the middle of the fairway. I looked back at the midway hut and relished the nods, smiles and sound of the “good shot” “that’s a ball” etc. My caddie begins to subdue now. Once you don’t play your game, caddies like to upgrade themselves automatically assuming the role of the coach. Only a good performance would put them back to where they are supposed to be. Some of the senior ones do know the game but they don’t know you. I always play with designated caddies by appointment. 

Hole 7 and 8 at Lahore Gymkhana are pretty wide and long. It takes a pro or a very determined rough seeker to hit the ball out of these fairways. You only need patience to walk through the never ending fields. I made par on the 7th and a bogey on the 8th without an interesting anecdote. It was plain and simple golf there. I think the designer put these two fairways up there to encourage average golfers. The wider the fairway, the easier it is to golf. 

The 9th at gymkhana is a hole that has caused most golfers to decide to quit playing or seek other sports. It’s a par three, with water hazards, that has the size of the Dead Sea; club house is on the left is OB (out of bound), bunkers and ladies’ tennis court on back of it and an unplayable jungle like rough on the right. The only landing area is a small green surrounded by all. I have seen dreams of many golfers sink in that water or fly over the tennis court. Sometimes I happen to believe that tennis courts in the vicinity of this hole were put there on purpose. I think club management has those entrapments to attract the disappointed and hopeless golfers. So they wouldn’t leave the club membership. Maybe most of the tennis players and lunch seekers at the 19th are the ones that tried to play golf. But ended up in the pond of the 9th hole.

I myself have fed that hole a truck load of golf balls. Somehow or the other my strong will and slavery to golf has helped me to survive this hole. I did it again today. I intended to play 18 when I left home but it was impossible due to the quarantine protocol. The day I had been longing for has concluded. I was there at 5:30AM the day the course opened, this proves to what extent golf has enslaved me.  


Google images


Gymkhana Golf Club 


Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, author, entrepreneur, poet, wanderer

Email Golfaij@gmail.com

Webpage aijgolf.com


Today on the golf course, something was distracting me.  Once I concentrated, I realised it was the memory of a friend who has fallen ill to coronavirus and was unable to join me. This led me down a spiral of memories and I wondered what this human function is? I am pondering what is a memory and what role it plays in our lives. 

Memories are realities recorded in our heads. Life’s moments are fleeting, the minute moves on to never return, but what we do in that moment stays engraved within us. Life is nothing but our mark on time. We’ve got two shadows, one made by the light, the other by our memories. The latter stays on even in the dark. 

Scientifically to my humble understanding, memory is the adjustment of connections between neurons. There are two types of memories, short-term and long-term. Researchers say malleability of memories make the hippocampus capable of storing different types of evocations. 

Memories are the record of our living. The actual incidents amount to nonexistence once erased from our consciousness, such is the importance of remembering and not remembering.  When we are faced with the absence of a loved one, the yearning to be with them is only satisfied through recalling. When we want to relive cherished moments that have long passed, memory can oblige. Memories can make us a child once again. It has the power to take us back into grandmother’s arms or standing side by side with grandfather. Those who are no longer by our sides, sometimes relive with us in our memories.  

There are several kinds of memories: cheerful, sorrowful, cherishable, miserable, peaceful, scornful, sweet and sour. These can make you dissolve into laughter, and can stream your cheeks with tears. 

You can be sitting on your school bench and can be strolling through your university campus. You can hold the hand of your sophomore crush and can be sitting with a long face in the principal’s office. 

“In the twilight of memory we should meet once more. We shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song. 

And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.”

Khalil Gibran 

The Prophet 

Memories can play the role of a Messiah, bringing the dead back to life. 

Plentiful pages of literature were blackened in remembrance of the ones with great historic importance and so were the books of history flooded with accounts of the overmen. Tournaments are held in their memorial. 

Memoirs are published for the legends and poems are composed for the beloved. Some memories are so painful, one prefers them abolished. In order to accomplish that, people find a safe haven in intoxication through drinking and drugs. All to forget certain times, certain things, certain people. On the other hand, some take stimulators to boost certain reflections. 

As a matter of fact memory is one’s home in history. It’s a mark on time and it is the act of adding a dot in the vast void of the universe. One memory is an attempt to capture a lifetime in an album of ever expanding space. On the ferris wheel of time and memories, capturing a photograph is an attempt to steal a point in time. It’s a video recording of dwelling on earth. It’s painting a life on a canvas of thought. It’s a tome of grief and volume of pleasure. Memories can have deep supernovas, sometimes longer than the black holes and sometimes wider than the white ones.  

All civilizations tried to save memories eternally. Some had built pyramids, others engraved signs on cave walls. Today’s online civilization has developed ‘the cloud’ to store all memories digitally. Many modems have been used throughout history to store memories. 

In wars they commemorate the sacrificial stories of the historic warriors. They sing songs of ancestral valor to charge troops. History is nothing but a compilation of recollections. Reminiscence is a great source of knowledge. It teaches us to learn from our past experiences. 

Memories have their own importance in religious affairs as well. People admirably remember the holy transcripts in full. On top of that, they learn different versions of recitations by heart. 

The game of golf also requires a very sharp memory. 

It’s an art of threading a needle to assemble a garland of golf rules and wear it on players’ heads to ensure a perfect shot. Here is a set of certain principles that come to my mind at the moment but I am sure a few would be missing:

  • Choose proper club
  • Stance
  • Eye on the ball
  • Appropriate grip
  • Required swing
  • Speed of execution 
  • Prescribed body movements 
  • Direction
  • Complete concentration 
  • Mandatory weight shift

If you fail to remember one of these, you pay the price and often it is a common practice to miss a few. Keeping in mind all these rules in sequence is easier said than done. 

Musicians cram songs and beats before performances. Mathematicians remember complex formulae. Chemists learn elements by heart. Attorneys prepare entire cases in their minds. Politicians memorize lengthy speeches. Language itself is a recollective use of alphabets. Memory plays a vital role in human existence and helps shape its future. 


Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, author, blogger, entrepreneur, wanderer.





Once you bend a knee in reverence any object can become a deity. If you sit under a bush with devotion, it would begin to appear as a tree of life. Meditation can shed light in a dark cave. Death can walk through a locked castle. Worship can fly through the skies. Knowledge can reach the deaf and mute. Brightness can find the blind and love can find a heart. 

A drop of water can dig hole in a hill. A man can land on the moon. But nothing can reverse death. Still man’s titanic efforts to overcome illnesses are continuous. It even has goals to conquer death and make it possible for the dead to live again, although with meager results. But the struggle is ongoing. 

It is the effort that turns unfeasible to feasible. Effort achieves the impossible and performs the wonders. It opens the shut doors and brings down the skyward walls. It makes paths on hills and builds bridges on rivers. Effort awards sailors like Columbus new worlds. Conquered continents to pronounce Alexander, ‘the great.’ Effort carves Noah the Ark of survival, builds the fortification wall for Qin Shi Haung, it rewards a desert leader Umar with a caliphate, and it prizes Imhotep pyramids. 

It takes an enormous struggle to learn a skill and master it. So does sports. Golf however is a game that’s learnt in the mind first. It takes years to play it well. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to grasp its prowess. Most of us play golf just for the ambiance, exercise and entertainment without a desire of mastery. Still it is a considerable undertaking to go through each round. In most sports, players’ achievement is tabulated and preserved as the match progresses. Like in cricket if you score 89 and get out on the next ball your score could not be altered. Same goes for goals in football. On the other hand, in golf your steady performance can be ruined with a slight mess up in one or two holes. In other games you play against or with others but golf you play against yourself. 

‘Golf is the only sport where you can practice every day for six months and not get any better.” Larry David 

Golf is a continuous contest of creating control and command over the clubs and course. You keep kindling to execute and enforce the effective swing as long as you play. The effort is endless, so is the pursuit. 

The gap to do more persists growing on and on to a span of lifetime. Swings change with age along with many other things. Diligence is the only way forward, no matter what you do, playing golf or leading a life. Working laboriously is an option and victory is a chance. The universal fact is that only those who attempt, succeed. 

Good luck with your efforts in anything you are trying to achieve. 


Ahsan Jamil

Golfer, author, blogger, entrepreneur, wanderer.