2nd Corporate Ambassador Awards 2012 held on 19 May 2012 at Carlton Hotel, Karachi.
The Curse of the Skies
Gloves white shielding knuckles pale Tautened like an iron rail Gripping, gripping till it seems Blood’s a–leaking at the seams. Nimble hands keep at their job Unmindful of an anguished sob Stemming from the cerebrum Spreading like the beat of drum.
Mayhem at Mehran
The past, it is said, is another country; seems more apt though in some cases than others. The country I intend taking my readers to is the fledgling Naval aviation base of MEHRAN of the late seventies. It all started when I arrived at the base, sometime in the summer of 1978, on a routine naval mission: to return the kit items I had been…
The Joy of Flying
The engines purred, the props whirred The Cessna slowly stirred. Pressure on the brakes released It steadily picked up speed. A tug so gentle on the stick Gave us an upward flick.
A Lesson in Trust
While on watch one wintry night, My keenly roving eyes espied A faint and faraway light Fine on starboard side. ‘A boat engaged in fishing’, The Captain said to me, ‘Looks like her bearing Is more or less steady’.
Medical Medley
Speaking generally, perhaps too generally, and with a dab of artistic license, I tend to classify (pun intended!) medical ratings serving in naval hospitals ashore as amongst the most sullen and the most starched, with an inherent hearing disorder. Uncharacteristically uncharitable of me, some may think. I am near certain, however, that possibly the only ones likely to take issue with me on this would…
Experiences on a Minesweeper
The ship’s rigged for sweeping, And that it never does, While up and down the coast It’s throbbing engines buzz. Patrolling and patrolling, That’s the game it plays, With aimless to’s and fro’s It’s a sport which never pays
The Mighty Ship BABUR
Leading a valiant fleet ‘tis the mighty ship BABUR, Whose deadly gliding sleekness The enemy’s aims deter. A greyish streak upon The blueness of the sea ‘tis the mighty ship BABUR Out on a hunting spree.
Battle Stations
It’s steady, shrieking, eerie tones, Which chills one to the very bones, Quickly fills the ship to spread A message of an unknown dread. It’s strangely brutal pounding rouses Men from weary, drunken poses, Forces them from bunks to leap These tired souls so drugged with sleep.
Boxing Day at PNA
Was it my fault that I took part In a boxing bout? Was it my fault that it turned out Into a complete rout? Now all is done, why not jut out My broken jaw and carry A cavalier smile on my swollen lips; And why tarry
