Is It About me???

My dear homeland reckons me as Akhtar Shumaar (The Star Counter), so it is my name in literary and cultural circles here in Pakistan. These days I am appointed as visiting professor (Scholar) for the chair of Urdu Language & Literature and Pakistan Studies at the Ain Shams University Cairo in Egypt. Prior to this I have been working as Head of Urdu Department at Sir Forman Christian College (A Chartered University) at Lahore, Pakistan.
My teaching career at various colleges in Lahore; Government College, Government Dyal Singh College, Government Degree College Shahdara and Government Islamia Degree College Qasur is the wealth of my teaching career which wrought forth my present responsibilities to work at a very prestigious university of Egypt-Ain Shams University Cairo.
Those who are deeply involved in Urdu literature know that I have published my work in poetry, criticism and research coupled with a whole repertoire of academic books. I am a regular contributor to a leading Urdu language daily news paper (Nawa e waqt). I have also contributed columns in Daily Express, Daily Khabrain, Daily Pakistan, and weekly Family Magazine, whereas I have also worked as Editor literary edition. I also served as Secretary General of Halqa Arbab-a- Zouk; which has its literary and historical tradition of outstanding record
I have the honor to publish the first literary newspaper of Pakistan ‘Bjang Amad.’ I have participated in poetry renditions and conferences held in India, America, UK, and Europe and Gulf region to promote Urdu & Punjabi Languages. I have written songs and dramas for radio, and TV, and have appeared several times on TV as guest speaker in various literary programs.
But regardless of all these facts and figures mentioned above; which are of secondary importance to my intitutive-being, I am probing deep into my identity- a question of self realization- from where I belong to…where am I heading to…? Just like these enigmatic and celestially-hidden secrets of the universe, I find myself equally unpack-able; my ‘self’ …bounces beyond my intitutive bouts…a constant struggle to know thyself.
I wish I were born in times when secrets of the world were revealed in the form of preaching and teachings of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). I wish I were born to die in those times, when Holy Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was spreading the message of Islam. I wish if it could be a possibility to live at a mountain top… away from this entire crisscross of worldly material life; which is, actually not inconformity with my creative mind…to give me a chance to stop counting the stars and be part of them like a mystery which unfolds thousand secrets …but only to those who don’t count them but live in them. I wish I were as clear as crystal, and could hear and see each un-noticed particle of this being of universe. Is it my journey or an adventure, or an exploration of myself? I wish explorers shouldn’t have adventures and any struggle shouldn’t go waste. My frantic drives in poetry and pendulum efforts in story writing, column writing and back and forth are not merely harping on the same tunes but within these fiddling I hope a final word… a word, which can give one a reason to die with a sense of accomplishment or in other words to live in the memories of my readers-just like blood which circulates in our body with one single color but thousands of lives who carry them with every new aroma of their identified beings.