Falling Leaf

It’s not easy to imbibe, grow, and flourish. I do all that. That’s when you grow on me and at that stage, I become a tree. You and I enjoyed the spring and summer together, we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons and the sun.  Autumn and winter are approaching. Now it’s time for you to fall, says the tree to the leaf.    

I abstract chloroform for you, blistering myself in the process. I face scorching heat to provide you with shade. I help you grow seeds and fruits. I decorate your barren trunk and branches. I resist the wind, rain, storm and heat. I give sound to your silence. I cover and protect you. Well! You begin to ignore me when I need you the most. When I grow weak, lose my colors, and when my life is in danger. Yet I will fall since obeying you is my virtue but remember, I love you and I am not a quitter.

I don’t give up. I am the leaf. You will throw me on the ground and I will become the fertilizer that makes you stronger. Your branches are my playground. My home. My love. I know I am a leaf that got to grow on a plant. Doesn’t matter how bad you treat me or how many times I fall, I will keep coming back.

Never say goodbye

Jon Bon Jovi

“How can I shed you by choice? Tell me my sweetheart!” sighs the trunk. You are an eternal part of me and I am incomplete without you. Only you decorate me and add beauty to my existence. You are the source of my chloroform, I breathe through you. You are my eyes and my ears. You are my lifeline. I become mere wood when you are gone. 

It’s the weather that departs us and makes me shed. I work hard to regrow you and witness your reincarnation. I will give a new birth. I preserve meristematic tissue for your new life. As soon as the weather becomes warmer, along with the availability of light, nutrients and water, I tirelessly begin to grow you back. What do you know how much I suffer without you? I go fasting, feel cold, face rains, snow and malnutrition. 

Only the living can write the songs of separation. The dead cannot imagine the agony of uncoupling. Only the living one faces the anguish of separation. The trauma of detachment goes to bones. The torture of severance throws one in the desert of abandonment. I miss you. We will meet again. 

I know nothing returns from the valley of death. If it does it never comes in the same shape. I would like them to enjoy the way they love each other. 

I will not interfere in their argument. I don’t intend to make their life miserable, like humans did with information, knowledge and the so called enlightenment. Living unconsciously like most of the botanical and zoological life may be a blessing in itself. Our conscious life gave nothing to this earth but pollution and plundering. What did we get from knowledge is also arguable? 

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Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

In Golf We Trust

The cool breeze makes the morning of an October a bit chilly yet my enthusiasm to play scratch today keeps me warm. The course is mystifying, dewdrops in the fairway are intoxicating and trees are already in a welcoming mood with open arms. 

In a beautiful golf attire with an envying Taylormade M6 kit, in the presence of a credible caddie and sun ready to rise in the background, I am all set to take off from tee one. 

In the crew is a very dear lifelong friend, a loving son and a great golfer, my nephew. Playing with these folks makes me so happy and grateful. This is a family flight beyond the bounds of victory and loss. It is a flight of gratitude and gratefulness. Life has given me so much more than I asked for. It’s time for me to appreciate and cherish it. One way to do that is  humbleness and thankfulness. 

Holy men and saints choose the path of gratitude to their salvation and eternal destination. No one succeeds without struggle and no success survives without acknowledgement. History witnesses that one of the ways a monk reaches nirvana, a saint acquires salvation, a sufi finds eternity, and a pandit attains Brahma, is gratitude. It is a road of the honorable and respectful. 

Gratitude As A Spiritual Path.

Robert Hudson

Coming back to our flight, it looks like I will not finish my round even close to scratch. Rather I was taken over by the lines of this write up. I can feel tears and sentences pouring. I am in the company of a friend whom I met the very first day I went to elementary school decades ago. My lovely son who’s diapers I had changed as a fragile infant now beats me in golf. My nephew who used to sit in my lap is now a graduate from an Australian university, runs his own business, and hits 300+ drives. I struggled in my life and it paid off. No one gets all they want but I should not be unhappy for what I didn’t get. Instead I am satisfied with my work, my gains and with my fate. I can only guess who wrote it yet I am grateful for the chapter that was written for me in the great book of destiny. 

Although millions of sperms were there, I was the lucky one awarded with the wonderful present of life. Among millions gifted with life I was the one to be born with affluent parents, rich both in love and in sacrifice. From millions of opulent infants I was awarded the life I have. Millions would be born with much more than I have but given the chance I would love to repeat my life cycle again and again. I am grateful to my creator, ancestors, parents and their siblings, my siblings, spouses, children, friends, neighbours, teachers, colleagues, city, state, country, world, universe and the heavens; where I hope to end up. 

If so I would be writing another note of gratitude another day, to fellow heaveners, fairies and angels. 

Buddha said: “A person of integrity is grateful & thankful. This gratitude, this thankfulness, is advocated by civil people. It is entirely on the level of people of integrity.”

Gratitude – Nicole Nordeman 

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Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Neighborhood of The Milky Way

The night is dark, the moon is missing, stars rule the sky tonight, and the Milky Way glitters in full.  When I bring my eyes back to earth, another constellation sits in my neighborhood as well. As a matter of fact, I am a part of this twinkling world at the moment. This is a hilltop village of the world famous Bhurban valley at 6500 ft. above sea level, called “ Aliyot.” The spread out lights coming from houses on the surrounding hills multiply this place with the shining stars. One can easily call it the man-made Milky Way on hillsides. 

Pine Court is an exclusive summer resort. This is a destination of the elite and affluent. I am nothing of the sort but through the courtesy of the chief executive of this expensive enterprise  I enjoy the perks of a five star guest gracing the presidential suite. The seat at the terrace restaurant is a chair among the stars that dominate the atmosphere from all angles. What a wonderful spot to appreciate the clear and open sky loaded with fixed luminous points. An emporium of scenes, snacks and sustenances. I disagree with the choice of restaurant furniture but who has time to care for a cane chair when there is so much to see out there. 

This is a hidden jewel on the top of a magnificent mountain. The bird’s eye view of the valleys below, constant cold temperature, breeze full of daisy scent and perfume of sanobar cones, waves of tall pine trees and frequency of clouds and mist add a blend of heaven to this piece of grandeur. The architecture and interior of the chalets has a class. This unique summer abode sits on a triangle of geography. Mountains on the East represent Kashmir, hills on the west constitute Galliat and in itself it stands for Bhurban valley. Scenes change here like in a movie. Marvel of the morning here is a cradle of blessings, the warmth of noon is a statement of strength, afternoons are melodic and evenings are romantic, nights dance here to the rhythm of celestial tunes. If earth was a painting drawn by the brush of nature Aliyot was the canvas. Tranquility of this hill is paradisiacal. Peace here touches a delicate mind and the ambiance is mystically lyrical. 

A brief stay at this particular facility has untapped some new faculties of my soul tonight. I tune myself to the calm and let all the anxieties exhaust and expire. Once the slate of the old thoughts is wiped clean, new ones breed in and that’s what is called a fresh start. 

“Remember, the entrance door to the  

 sanctuary is inside you.”

  • Rumi

In order to take a fresh start we must find a place, a person, a book or a task that would ignite our budding capacities. A seed carries cotyledons  within all it needs is germinative conditions. Yes Pine Court provides the soul with that environment. 

Good luck friends! You may find the opportunity soon to rediscover yourself and take a fresh start. May these celestial and hillside Milky Ways illuminate the candle that you are carrying within you. Your soul may twinkle to spread the light of peace and tranquility. 

Those who light up others burn themselves and those who burn in the fire of wisdom become the torch towers of enlightenment. 

A song of Peace

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Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer 

Email: Golfaij.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Off to Golf

It’s not easy to get up so early in the morning, especially on a darling day like Sunday. A day that is made to do things you wanted to do all week but you couldn’t or to do things that you wouldn’t do all week. Sleeping is a priority among them. All retirees who remind the sun to rise every day sleep late on Sundays. They leave the sun alone at the mercy of their dreams. Most golf clubs miss them on Sundays since they are regular bees on the tees. I am someone who is freer than all retirees. I take golf as a duty to my muscles, obligation to my lungs, as well as a challenge for my mind. So no sleep come Sunday would keep me from golf. This Sunday I have the pleasure to play with my youngest son. My daughter also wanted to join us but her mother was insistent to protect her from heat for a few more weeks. We will surely miss her. Nothing is more satisfying than to get beaten by those you raised yourself. That proves my right parenting. I love it. On occasions my son and daughter also assist me with editing my articles. Man I am blessed with the best of the kind. 

The sun is still struggling to ascend while morning birds are chirping post dawn symphonies. My son is brawling to return back to his fairway. Trees are trying to abstract maximum chloroform from the rising burning ball. The grass is in an attempt to keep the dew from evaporation. I am walking towards the flag post to keep the game going. We approached the second tee and I saw a strange guest peeking at me from tree tops. In the bright morning when the sun is shining with all its glory, the moon appears from behind the trees on our left. It is a great display of its strong will to shine, despite its meager glow while the mighty shiner is on the ascend. 

I wonder if these shining beauties would follow us to the heavens. What can I tell the sleepers this morning! Well they are the unlucky ones to miss this scenic morning. A walk on the dew drops at the lush green fairway makes the morning lovelier and panoramic. 

Nothing beats a good driver shot at a time like this. When our hearts, location, and actions align; heavens are born. If paradise was a state of mind here it is in a state of kind. Let life bloom on the berms of this wonderful morning, I would ask the gardener of creation today. Sometimes I wonder what I am going to do with these writings. Then I tell myself I am writing this for my grandchildren. They would know me through my blog and my online presence. Not for my mere introduction but to share with them the blessings I have had during my walk on this beautiful planet. When it comes to gratitude, I have no words to express my feelings, each spore of my body, every fabric of my thought bows to my creator, unconditionally. 

Have a great Sunday 

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Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

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Racing with the Dream Catcher

The sun had dimmed, twilight unfurling, traffic was bumper to bumper and I was in no rush to reach Lahore; my hometown almost 400 km to the south. The Lahore-Islamabad motorway is a marvel of Pak- Korean engineering collaboration. That makes the cruise between the two cities a fun drive. Tonight, a beautiful traveler was in celestial pursuit of my cruiser; determined to smile and shine. It was a sky rider on the move. People call it moon and I call it dream catcher. 

Speeding Luna was in no mood to lose the contest. The more my chauffeur pushed the paddle the faster it flew. Another glittering star was running along but both of us had no interest in inviting it in our gallop. This was meant to be an exclusive affair. At times Potohar hills would interfere in our tracks but we took it as hurdling and carried on. Crossing one obstacle after another, we had approached the Kalar Kahar mountains. These mountains are a natural castling between north & central Punjab. When Alexander the Great and other warriors like him had come across these hills, they found it impossible to cross this natural wall. They had to turn to the plains of the river Jahlum to cross over where they would have to face the fierce elephant-ridden armies of local Rajas. These mountains knew how to stop the inbound raiders. Nowadays human vigour has grown out of proportion thus they pierce nature’s strongholds at discretion. 

Man’s thrust to bend the earth’s environment to his own will has led him to invent machines like caterpillar excavators that would move any mountain out of his way. That is what happened to this mighty hill here. Pak-Korean engineers have snaked this motorway through this fat mountain. They have put one of the tallest bridges in the country to make the ride smarter & smoother. The moon played hide & seek with the lines of these hills and I drove through those with caution and care. I have traveled in the company of cute people before but traveling beside this beauty is an out of this world experience. I can talk to it but cannot touch it. I can feel it inside my mind but I know it cannot hear me. We can only talk through looks and thoughts. Tell you the truth, it has lots and lots of tales to tell. One can tell it is a lover, an amorist.

Our race continued; it remained parallel during the ride and did not cross us most of the way. As if it didn’t want to defeat us rather this race was all about staying in my window. And teaching me that all runs are not for defeating others. Some run to accompany you, others jog to show solidarity. I understand now perfectly that it was racing to teach me patience, to display we belong to each other, to support me, to stand by me, and to make me one with the universe. 

Stand By Me – Ben E. King 

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Email: Golfaij@google.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Routine

All of us humans are in a hurry, even in our sleep. We sprint through the shower, get ready quickly, have instant breakfast, rush out of our home, and try to reach the office within no time. Spending each moment of our life to get to the next one. We deny the now, wishing for a better then. Are we leading a life or just hustling through it? Why are we always wasting the present in an attempt to attain an estimated future? We go through our lives chained in a routine, rotating on and on around the same orbit. The same house, room, car, roads, turns, office, colleagues, boss, and windows in our workplace. 

Following a schedule feels like we are mere parts of a big machine, fitted at particular points, swirling along the rest of the fragments to complete some kind of a cycle every day.

Merry go round. Routine makes us follow a regular schedule, that’s good for a career but is it good for us? 

I am a bum that hates schedules and could never follow routines. Born a lazy soul who is always eager to go. Go where? Anywhere! Leave. I love journeys. Paths, roads, highways, and freeways amaze me. I love racing windows, running scenes, and traveling trees. Can you tell cars are my favorite mode of movement? A PING 710 in the trunk, Burmester sound system aided by BOSE, the breeze of DENSO air conditioner, adaptive sports seats with massage features, hugging seat belt with fine upholstery, Burberry shades, aquacqua di gio smell, bamboo fabric golf shirt, loose bermuda shorts and light bandanna, coastal highway, Porsche Cayenne, fast lane, American freeway, my sweetheart on the next seat and far away I go. On top of that, a long weekend, booking in a five-star suite, and the desired destination making it possible to celebrate life and its blessings. I appreciate the marvel of the places and I see an untiring beauty spread everywhere. Both nature and men are in competition to decorate this planet to attract admirers. Nothing would charm me more. Nobody wants the routine, doesn’t matter how much it pays. 

“Keep your eyes on the road and your eyes upon the wheel”

Make no mistake, it is a privilege to live beyond the chains of regularity. In order to successfully achieve a goal, one must make peace with regularity. Nature loves routine. Stars, planets, moons all follow a strict schedule. So do seeds, bushes, and trees. Weathers, oceans, and storms all work in regulation and patterns. The circus of life and death like the light of lantern-fly appears in a sequence. Nature does everything in precision, persistence, perfection, and in participation. Yet change is the deepest desire that drives humans to break from routine. 

It is remarkable to think that only humans have this ability to change or want change. What if a bird decided to place her eggs on the beach instead of a nest? What if the moon decided not to rotate so regularly? Would we still detest the mundane routine or will we miss the comfort? 

I prayed for change, so I changed my mind.

I prayed for guidance and I learned to trust myself.

I prayed for happiness and realized I am not my ego.

I prayed for peace and learned to accept others unconditionally.

I prayed for wealth and realized it is my health.

I prayed for a miracle and realized I am the miracle.

I prayed for a soul mate and realized I am the One. 

I prayed for love and realized it’s always knocking, but I have to allow it in. 

Rumi 

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I’d Love To Lose

Of course I wanna win in all walks of life nonstop, repeatedly. Players play to win, to stand out, to shine and to attain the spotlight. The gloat of standing on the podium even for a few seconds, makes me exercise, practice and sweat. I do push ups when others sleep. I jog while friends gulp beer. I net practice and my roommate goes clubbing. I diet where siblings pounce on pizza. I sleep when my spouse watches a movie. Why all this hassle? Just to win and lift the trophy whether it is a tournament or a friendly match.

“Of all the titles that I have been privileged to have, ‘Dad’ has always been the best.” – Ken Norton

Can we say winning is all that matters? No! Sometimes there are undoubtful moments, insane pleasure, deepest satisfaction, unparalleled peace, incalculable compassion, undeniable love, incapacitating crave, and cheerful surrender that inundate my heart with desire of defeat. These defeats are sweeter than triumphs, more fulfilling than winnings. These are defeats by my young ones, by my daughters and by my sons.

We play many games together, sometimes golf, usually poker. We also play monopoly and video games. Losing to them is my victory. It’s fun to transubstantiate the love of myself into an ancestral chain of proclivity. Generations after generations, parental intimacy has escorted humanity through all challenges to this day.

Thanks to the likes of Christine De Pizan, ‘The Shakers’, and Women’s suffrage; we now live in a society where caregiving is not only the mother’s domain rather fathers are an equal partner. Today’s children are also raised in gender equality. I wonder how parents could have loved one more than the other. Unfortunately, gender discrimination was a bleak chapter in human history. I am glad I was not living in that era.

Defeated by love

The sky was lit

by the splendour of the moon

So powerful

I fell to the ground

Your love

has made me sure

I am ready to forsake

this worldly life

and surrender

to the magnificence

of your Being.

-Rumi.

It’s not only their win that matters. I asked a question to their mother about what she feels when kids win a match from her, “It feels like all of the prayers that I have been making are being answered” she replied. Truly I get the same excitement. I want to see them perform and be much better than me. I want them to be what I have always wanted to be. Their loss is mine and their victory is mine.

Youth nowadays doesn’t find much time to spend with parents. Once they do, the day begins to twinkle and night shines all the way to the laughing moon. Two of my sons and a daughter play golf with me every now and then. Each one of them hits a low screaming bullet that starts out rabbit high and rises like an eagle to feather landing on the fairway. I love to see them putt. I can’t express how good it feels to pace down the Eden of golf with this crew of innocence.

The journey of love begins in paradise and it comes here all the way to my heart. I can imagine Adam’s eyes glued to Eve’s, springing love as God sprinkled the birth of humanity. That’s when parenthood was first seeded. If God is the creator of mankind, man is the initiator of attachment. If angels were the founders of worship, humans were architects of adoration.

Intentional losing just out of love wouldn’t matter much. My children’s competency, hard work, and laborious efforts would guarantee me the welfare of the future generations. Losing to their better play is the climax of the whole affair.

See what I see

If you could see what I see when I look at you,

You’d definitely love you, too.

You would hold your head up high,

For you possess beauty that no one can deny.

If you could see what I see when I look at you,

There’s no way you’d be so down and blue.

You wouldn’t be able to contain your smiles,

For your charm goes on for miles and miles.

If you could see what I see when I look at you,

You’d know there’s nothing you can’t do.

You’d do things without fear you’ll fail,

For you’ve got many talents yet to unveil.

Please try to see what I see when I look at you.

You will feel refreshed and new.

All the anger, shame, and insecurities will just go.

I promise BABY GIRL, you are too good to ever hang your head low.

-Selena Odom

Credits:

-Family Friend Poems

Ahsan Jamil

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

Email: golfaij@gmail.com

Web: Golfaij.com

Rain

Rain ruins the golfers routine; but it is an unavoidable and pleasant reality. Rain in different cultures is associated with different taboos. In some societies it is regarded as a bad portent, as they call it ‘rainy days’. In others, it is revered as a blessing. In most countries located in warm

weather hemispheres, especially the subcontinent, rain is ranked with romance and joy. The weather lady on the other hand, knows it as a science. 

Falling Rain

The precipitation family consists of seven members namely drizzle, rain, sleet, snow, ice pellets, graupel and hail. Today we are going to explore rain as a topic. The rainfall is a complex weather system. It would be quite boring to indulge in scientific details of weather systems since I am no expert on that so I leave you with reference in case. 

Earth rainfall climatology. 

The sky is a beautiful blue canvas and clouds paint it to the awe of our imaginations. I grew up in the summer monsoon region where rains of Sawan reassure life all the way from the depth of the Indian Ocean to the Himalayan heights.  How can I express the feeling of watching swirling pines, waltzing with clouds along the twisting roads of Nathiagali

Rain is a crucial aspect of human existence and throughout history 

ancient religions have nominated weather deities. Tefnut was a goddess of rain in Egypt. Zeus is a sky and thunder god in primeval Greek religion. Humans, along with prayers, have been continually developing secular and scientific knowledge to observe, predict and provide command and control over weather. Weather forecasts today are accurate to minutes and hours, predicting storms, hurricanes, and blizzards alike; we even fashionize ourselves accordingly everyday. 

In today’s write up our realm is more of metaphoric nature than scientific. “Sky won’t fall” is a common phrase. Yes, the sky never falls but the sea does; conversing with land through rain. It’s a way for the ocean to reach out to the inhabitants of land. It’s the sea’s way of knocking at our door, almost a home delivery of water. Earth itself is a combination of water and land, practically married to each other. Rain is literally a mating of sea and land, and flood is molestation. The rain makes rivers fill lakes and irrigate forests. It bathes those who otherwise have no source of water. It quenches the thrust of deserts and washes mountain tops. 

Rain of course, is a blessing and lifeline of flora and fauna. It surely brings about diversity both in our daily life and moods. Some of us adore rain while others detest it and would rather sleep through it. Few like to gaze at torrents of rain, others love sprinkles of drops on their hands. There are those who like pinpricks of raindrops on their faces, I prefer to sit in the veranda and witness the downpour. The rhythm of falling rain seeds songs in the literary minds. Poets occasionally blend love and rain. 

“The rain knows not 

of the land laying to waste, 

or the flood that

 washes all away. 

It just knows to fall. 

Love knows not of hearts 

that stays broken,

Or hearts that heal.

It knows to happen.”

– Unknown

Source: Facebook

Through thunder, the clouds transmit a million messages for people with different temper & tastes. Most shiver with fear, few take pleasure in the roar. I perceive thunder as an order from the sky: “Don’t pollute my planet.” And comes rain to rinse it. 

“We danced in the rain 

and watched as flowers 

grew out of our wounds”

CWpoet 

Golf however is forbidden during thunder and rain stops the game. 

Some pray for rain, some ring bells. Scientists create artificial rains and sorcerers predict the weather. Some bathe in rain to purify souls while some do it to look sexy, kids do it for the heck of it. Some relations are made and some are broken. Some rains fall in dreams, some in laps. Rain grows crops and sinks the nursery. Some like me, love the smell of the soil fumed by showers.

Seeds crave for rain and ants dislike it. Flowers blossom by it and the thorn gets sharper. Rain deluges villages and helps towns to grow. It gives some an excuse to hide and it brings others to the surface. Some meet in the rain, some depart. It makes wipers run and rests the sun shades. Rain opens the holes and fills the trenches. But no matter what, it cleanses everything it touches. 

Song of the Rain

By

Khalil Gibran 

I am dotted silver threads dropped from heaven

By the gods. Nature then takes me, to adorn

Her fields and valleys.

I am beautiful pearls, plucked from the

Crown of Ishtar by the daughter of Dawn

To embellish the gardens.

When I cry the hills laugh;

When I humble myself the flowers rejoice;

When I bow, all things are elated.

The field and the cloud are lovers

And between them I am a messenger of mercy.

I quench the thirst of one;

I cure the ailment of the other.

The voice of thunder declares my arrival;

The rainbow announces my departure.

I am like earthly life, which begins at

The feet of the mad elements and ends

Under the upraised wings of death.

I emerge from the heard of the sea

Soar with the breeze. When I see a field in

Need, I descend and embrace the flowers and

The trees in a million little ways.

I touch gently at the windows with my

Soft fingers, and my announcement is a

Welcome song. All can hear, but only

The sensitive can understand.

The heat in the air gives birth to me,

But in turn I kill it,

As woman overcomes man with

The strength she takes from him.

I am the sigh of the sea;

The laughter of the field;

The tears of heaven.

So with love—

Sighs from the deep sea of affection;

Laughter from the colorful field of the spirit;

Tears from the endless heaven of memories.

Ahsan Jamil 

Poet author blogger entrepreneur wanderer

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

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A tear and a smile

By Khalil Gibran

Clash of the Cousins

My youngest son Qadir and my youngest nephew Mr. Sairam both are high school students and golfers in the making. They decided to play some … Clash of…

Clash of the Cousins

Clash of the Cousins

My youngest son Qadir and my youngest nephew Mr. Sairam both are high school students and golfers in the making. They decided to play some …

Clash of the Cousins