Friday, July 13, 2007

Once There Was A Blog I Called Mine ...

... and now its just a collection of writings that I indulged once upon time. Its like walking into an attic and discovering a cobweb covered box with old diaries in it. I had never been the kind whod write notes in a dairy or maintain a journal (how gay is that for men hehehehe) but still the blog allowed me to share my opinion with some lost soul on the web who would find their way to my blog through some coincidence or the other.
According to the activity tracked most people have visited this blog using the keyword 'kokaine'. It turns out that in some language the drug is spelled with a K and not with a C whod have thunk that eh. But while I sit here tonight in a darkened apartment (for effect not because of power failure) listening to Nusrat Fateh Ali, drinking a concoction with ingredients from the Appleton Estate and waiting for the fish bake, it only made sense to log onto the blog world yet again and dispose of the verbal diarrhea had been accumulating in my mind.
I think this blog needs a change of some kind. Some thing more inspiring and motivating, something that reflects change. Much like the several changes that have happened over last little while. I am not sure what the change should be, but a change is needed. In the words of Cheryl Crow, A Change Would Do You Good.
In the mean time I will keep on updating this blog with weekly blogwords, my opinions on anything from the lal masjid fiasco to girl who killed her parents in western canada and the family weddings that I recently attended. Actually I am dying to talk about the family wedding I recently attended but the fish is done and the drink needs to be topped. Till next time.


Tuesday, April 17, 2007

In The Name of All Thats New In My Life

Theres something very comforting about lying down in bed, while listening to some classic rock, and blogging. To some others out there like me it may be an ideal retreat from a dreary exhausting day, make that a week, no make that a month. I have been MIA from the blogsphere for the last little while. Not that it made a huge difference, no lives were lost, no hearts were broken, no dreams were shattered and rest assured several animals of various variety continued galvanting around in their pastures.
My life, on the other hand has, unbeknowest to myself, suddenly evolved. A handful of 'new' happened and its only now that I have started to recoup from being hit by the unforeseen, the unexpected and the unanticipated. My new job started litreally with a bang. My first day at it being far from ideal but thankfully things got back on track soon afterward. In hindsight, Id rather start with a bump than face it in the middle of the way.
When I blogged last I was living in Toronto. Yes, surprise, surprise, I have moved. With the good comes the compromise and in this case, the new job pulled me out of the big city. Well not all that much out since I am still a 20 minute drive from it, but none the less, I was forced to move to the king of Canadians suburbs, the place that is the epitome of all thats unholy about suburban lifestyle, Mississauga. The upside to the move is a very nice, cosy and comfy condo, stuck away in a corner of this land of strip malls and cookie cutter houses. Among all the bells and whistles that these complexes have my favorite one is the availability of an indoor swimming pool. At the same time, my little enclave comes not only with a beautiful view but also a working fireplace. And I am just waiting for next winters to throw a log in and bask in the warmth of natural wood fire.
So that was the unanticipated, I found the place and moved all within a span of fifteen odd days. Saturday was the start of the move, with all the fragile, handle with care stuff being moved and sunday saw me behind the wheel of a U Haul, hauling my furniture and other little belongings to the new pad. Unpacking has been brutal, boring and down right tiresome. The night before, Ryan and I paid parting tributes to some local establishments, like the duke of westminster, the duke of devon, jack astors and the wheat sheaf. And so began my journey as the urban suburban.
The unforeseen has been the demands of the job itself. No body said it would be easy, but its challenging in a very positive way. See I am a consultant who farms business for one of the largest IT companies in the world. I keep throwing out ideas to a set of clients about what they need to do to improve their business. My sector of focus is a tricky one so to keep up with the Jones' of the industry I have to stay on top my job and on my feet. Its fun, its rewarding but also extremly time consuming with the ability to suck the juice out of my brain and the energy out of my body and we are talking about a pretty big body here. But whats fun about a job thats not challenging!
And so we come to the unexpected,what might that be you ask? Well Ill leave that story for a more opportune moment, maybe it will keep your anticipation up and occasionaly drag you back here. Also, its a story in development and there is nothing worse than serving a half boiled egg is there. So the lid remains in tact on this pot boiler till the day its contents are simmering and ready to be served.
In the meantime, I will try and keep tossing in occasional nuggets of kokaine wisdom to keep you thrilled.

till next time

cheerios folks.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007


They say you can tell the age of tree by the rings that circle the circumference of its trunk. For people wrinkles do a similar job, but, as we are well aware, they only lead to estimate the physical age which may not say much about a person. Experience on the other hand, adds that poise to the personality, that receding hair line and prominent forehead to the physical being, that gleam in the eye and the tenacity in voice which is often characteristic of a mature adult being.
It does have an other side to it as well. The side where, again based primarily on experience, us allegedly mature adults surround our self in a comfort zone. We define our being with numerous objects and attributes and tend to surround our self with all things "us". We thus enter a state of constancy where life moves like a car ride on a highway through the prairie flat lands. "What’s up" is answered with "same old", the zing and the flash that had been a part of us, slowly start to disappear. We start spending more time at Wal Marts and Ikeas and less time at places closer to the soul with people closest to the heart and eventually, as Tyler Durden said, the things we own start owning us.
Then, while still in this comfort zone and tackling the routine path of life, we come across a person, a question, an event, that challenges our notions. The challenges seem oddly familiar, its happened before. Its like being hit in the face with a blow of wind that carries a new fragrance and one cant help but trace the path of the wind with their eyes closed and the nose leading all other senses. And this is how it all begins, the step that we had been waiting for, the one instance that pulls us out of our comfort zone and shakes things around.
Life suddenly gets more colour, the prairie highway suddenly turns into a curvy road snaking a path through a city market full of character. We get a new meaning, a new look and a new zest for life. We look at the monotony that had engulfed our being, the commodities that defined us and all we see are blue pills that kept us suspended in our comfort zone. And that person, question, event that met us a little while ago is the red pill of liberation that gradually brings the zing back to our life. We start feeling snap coming back, words that were previously lost somewhere in your head start rolling of your tongue, ideas that awaited action now take a course. Youth in its mature experienced and adulterated (for the lack of a better term) form re-emerges.
And when I find silver in my hair and rimmed spectacles holding on to my ears, I hope to tell several stories where a person, question, event changed the course of my life into something more glorious than it could have been. That, as I will tell anyone who listens, that person, question, event is how it all began.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

The Big Wait

Life, as someone wise may have already said it, is the greatest waiting game of all. Its a sequence of large waiting rooms connected by corridors of events. We step into these corridors and they end up in another waiting room. Our stay here is dictated primarily by things beyond our control. We wait for moments that justify our transition to the next corridor and the hall at the end of it. We seek out the right flag, the right light, the right cry, the right whistle, the right trigger to cause the action and so begins another transition from one point to the next.
I had been waiting for such a signal as well and I got the green light on Friday. A major career related move took place. Celebrations happened, congratulations were extended to yours truly, revelrous evenings and hillarious incidents ensued and then it was back into a new waiting room. Now, as I sit here in transition yet again I look out for signals. I pace the town looking for a new apartment like an anxious father paces outside the labour room in a hospital. I know its very unfair to compare a child with a new home but the idea is eventual feeling, the adrenalin rush that occurs at the end of the big wait. Its that moment when we are running through the corridor full of excitement, seeing that light at the end of it. Everyone around is equally ecstatic, life acquires fever pitch and suddenly you push through a door and land up in another waiting room. Your entourage falls silent, your adrenalin disapears and you look at all those eyes in the waiting room that are staring back at you for disturbing their peace and quite. Before you know it, you find yourself in a private corner keeping as quite as the others waiting for your turn to scamper through that fun filled corridor again and whenever a high strung group rushes through the door you join in, in staring at them.
Its this rush through the corridors of life that we, well some of us, live for. We will go through the pangs of boredom and monotony just for that one quick rush from one big white colorless waiting room to the other. I guess thats why someone coined the phrase, well worth the wait.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

why cant there be some healthy snack in the vending machine for 50 cents! :@

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Dear Scarlett

I came across this new item on Dawn a little while ago

Scarlett Johansson visits poor in India NEW DELHI, Feb 22 (AFP) Hollywood actress Scarlett Johansson is in India visiting projects to help the country's poor, the international aid agency Oxfam said Thursday. The actress arrived in the country Monday and met children in slums and schools in New Delhi, an Oxfam spokeswoman said.

Suddenly parts of Junoon's song Pehli Lagaan (from Talash) started playing in my head:

Mein yahan tum wahan
Buss yaadein reh gai
Keh Saka Jo na Mein
Woh Batain reh gai
Jagnay Kay Liey
Buss Raatein Reh Gai
Rastay Hai Waheen
Dooriyan Bur Gai
Chairti hain mujhay
Meri Tunhaiyaan

HAHAHAHA - I need to get a life.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

A Daring Wanderer

I was barely a teenager when I was introduced to the Spartans and the Greeks and how they fought the world. It was then that I learned the phrase "O Tolmon Nika", which translated to english means Who Dares Wins. It became a bit of a catch phrase for me that I freely dropped at every opportunity I got in my early teenage days.
While growing up in Bahadurabad and playing cricket matches at the Cocun Ground whenever we'd run into a tough spot Id my tell my team "remember boys, O Tolmon Nika." I remember Farrukh, my teams front line bowler, asking me what it meant and I saw his eyes gleam with hope when I told him the meaning. Hence, O Tolmon Nika, sort of became our teams unofficial tag line.
The best thing about that age is the lack of inhibition in friendships. We never cared that Iftikhar, our teams wicket keeper and opening batsmen was an Afghan refugee whose family lived and worked at the neighbours house. To us Ifti was akin to Shahid Afridi, yet a bit more reliable. Anyone who has played Cocun knows that its not the easiest of parks to hit a ball out of. Yet Ifti would go up to bat with his red and blue woven afghani cap on his head, the shalwar raised up and tucked in at the waist and would slam ball after ball after ball out of Cocun. I never expected him to remember the phrase or the meaning of O Tolmon Nika. But one day after a critical match in the mohalla league I joked with Ifti about his sparkling innings that would put Aamir Sohail to shame (Sohail was my favuorite Pakistani opener) and Ifti turned around to me and said "O Tolmon Nikkay". I laughed real hard and I said "Ifti its Nika not Nikkay. Nikkay means young one in Punjabi" and he said "I am Younger than you so nikkay for me" and we went laughing and cracking jokes all the way home.
Roughly a year after that my family moved to another neighbourhood and its been about fifteen years since I met Ifti. A few years back I ran into the folks whose house his family used to live in. I inquired if they knew what Ifti was up to. They told me he had done his BComm (Bachelors of Commerce) in Karachi and the they had heard that he had recently gotten a clerical job at some factory.
I was very pleased to hear that, Iftis family was not very well to do. That added to the fact that they were in a country that wasnt their homeland would have certainly made it more difficult. A number of refugees from Afghanistan had chosen to join the labour force at an early age and skipped schooling altogether. But it seemed Ifti had fought the odds. When I saw todays blog word, I somehow got reminded of Ifti. He dared to make a life from him and I hope he did well. I wonder if he still remembers the team, our matches at Cocun or O Tolmon Nika.