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?

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




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.