Samir Tariq

Samir Tariq

A Strategy and Business Transformation Manager for one of the leading banks in the Middle-East. He lives and works in Dubai. A literature lover and a writer by hobby he mostly writes fiction inspired by true life events.

Of footballs ‘made in Pakistan’

As Pakistanis, by now we all know that while Pakistan is not playing in the 2014 FIFA World Cup, we are still part of this great event, watched by billions of people around the globe. In fact, I would say that we play a vital part in this year’s World Cup as the official FIFA footballs were manufactured and supplied by Pakistan this year. Here are four interesting parallels about the world ‘using and kicking our balls’ that will make you cringe, make you angry perhaps and then, hopefully, make you feel proud and hopeful as a Pakistani. 1. Our ‘balls’ are being kicked by ...

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Pakistan, the illusions of a glorious past and kafan chor

Times don’t really change much over the centuries. Or so I felt after reading one of the aphorisms or ‘hikayaat’ of one of the medieval times poet and thinker, Sheikh Saadi. It goes like this… Once upon a time, there used to be an evil, wretched man in a small town, who used to steal ‘kafan’ (white cloth used as a shroud to wrap the dead bodies) right after burial from the local graveyard. His means of income, therefore, involved opening up fresh graves, desecrating the dead for a meagre amount of money that he would get by selling the white cloth in the ...

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The eccentric professor and his metal detector

“What will you do if… you never recognise love!? What if you never see it coming and going, if and when it comes your way?”, the old professor asked in his usual manner, keeping his voice low, tone, dramatic, like a Shakespearean artist. Each pause, at a precise moment. Words, so well selected and measured. Knowing exactly how to catch the attention of all the young men and women in front of him, who might have been busy seconds ago in their thoughts about their favourite songs, movies or games and most importantly, the opposite sex, but now, he knew ...

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A Pakistani, an Indian and the gentleman’s game: And after the match…

Imran finished off the last bite of his dinner, washed it down with a cola and looked around the living room. It had been a long and tiring day for him, his wife and their house-maid.  Their friends had come over with their children for the day and the effects could be seen all over the house. He got up to switch off the TV when the familiar sound of an incoming Skype call diverted him to his iPad. He looked at the screen and grinned. As promised, it was Rajesh calling. Imran received the call and said immediately in a fake Bengali ...

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A Pakistani, an Indian and the gentleman’s game!

It was 8:30 at night. Imran was sitting in his apartment in one of the posh areas of Dubai. Sprawled on the comfortable couch, he lazily switched channels on his 60-inch plasma TV while typing a text message to a friend on his cell phone. His iPad lay next to him, opened to The New York Times online page.  It was a typical evening in the life of a Generation Y executive surrounded by technology 24/7 until the familiar ring of an incoming Skype call jolted him out of his lethargic state. He looked at his watch and then ...

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Mazar-e-Quaid or a ‘love shack’? What’s next?

Let’s acknowledge one thing folks. As a nation, we are an extremely industrious people and highly innovative as well. Therefore, our poor economic situation, which seems to be worsening by the day, is beyond any rational reasoning at least to me. Where else in the world would you find such highly creative, extremely ambitious and downright greedy, shameless and vulture-like souls who would rent out the mausoleum of their nation’s founder for a meager amount of a few thousand rupees? Imagine this scenario. You are the caretaker of a place – a place where the father of your nation rests in a grave, on the land ...

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A conversation between Ghalib and Iqbal

Once upon a time, a Pakistani who also happened to be an Urdu literature lover, was travelling from one city to another somewhere in the northern areas of Pakistan. Throughout his journey, only two books were his companion – Deewan-e-Ghalib and Kalaam-e- Iqbal. During a long bus journey, his tired and weary yet over-imaginative mind was in a half-sleeping and half-dreaming state. In this trance, he found Ghalib and Iqbal sitting in the seats right next to him talking to each other, completely oblivious of his presence. This is the conversation that ensued between these two great Urdu poets: Iqbal “Aah! Look at those beautiful mountains and ...

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Stuck in the concrete jungle of the corporate world, with nowhere left to go…

Pitch black darkness. Darkness so thick. And silence. He tried to say something. But no sound came out of his mouth. He had not spoken to anyone in years. Perhaps, the muscles in his throat had become weak and inactive. He used to talk to himself a lot in the first few days, weeks and months. But then he lost interest even in his own voice and soon silence replaced it all. Silence had become his only companion. Silence accompanied him every minute, every second of the day. He had tried so hard to break the silence at times. He hit his chains and shackles on the walls, ...

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Rest in peace Reshma: I wish Pakistan had treated you better

“Yeh Sachin Tendulkar kaun hai? Mein ne Imran Khan ka tou suna hai, magar mein cricket ke baray mein ziyada kuch nahi jaanti. Shayad yeh Sachin bhi koi mashhoor cricketer hoga?” (Who is this ‘Sachin Tendulkar’? I have heard about Imran Khan but I don’t know much about cricket. Perhaps, this Sachin is also some famous cricketer?) These priceless words were uttered by Reshma in an interview with a journalist in India. Of course the journalist forgave her for her ignorance when she spoke with such simplicity and innocence in her rustic Urdu. Reshma and Atif Aslam at the Lux ...

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What happened to PIA’s glory days?

A rapid drop in altitude, deafening noise, sheer chaos, emergency alarms going off, doors and walls shuddering violently and people crying out loud! This is not an account of a plane crash. Rather, it’s about a whole airline company coming crashing down; an organisation which has completely lost direction. Pakistan International Airlines (PIA), once soaring high in the skies of the aviation industry, has fallen into an abyss of financial and image crisis. So this is an account of our national flag carrier that used to be the nation’s pride; it is about Pakistan International Airlines. I still remember the time when PIA ...

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