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.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Killing Time

Awful awful monday. For some reason, couldnt sleep too well and the got hit with a bad case of monday blues. In such an environment procrastination fosters and while going through Waking Life I came across across a little online app that lets you create your own South Park characters. What more could I have asked for.

So heres what I came up with.

This is what Id look like if I were in a south park episode. Notice the eye brows and till last friday my hair were pretty much the same.

This, as I elaborated to Hira, was what I felt like after a night sleeplessness.

This one was made with Zain in mind. Zain is a co-worker who is obssesed with Batman, to the level he attributes his short sightedness to his bat like qualities, as in blind like a bat (Yes, I work with loosers, but blame HR for it.).

I passed some of this work over to Adnan who insisted that I make a South Park character based on him. What came out was my best South Park character to date, introducing Addy in South Park (it looks a lot like Adnan in real life)

After many trashed attempts, I decided to make a dying crusader flying through sky. Hence, the picture below

After running out of other ideas, I wondered what a young slash (of the GnR fame) would look like if he were blonde and on south park.

I dont know why I put the soccer ball in there, but I did and could'nt get rid of it. So I decided to leave it there. So all these creations, a little bit of work and finally this post has brought the day to an end. I hope you enjoyed the fruits of my procrastination.

Till the next case of it.


Sunday, February 18, 2007

Kuch chayay, kia chayay, pata nahi
kuch kum hai, kia kum hai, pata nahi
Eik khaleej si jaisay dil mein ubhar ai hai
koi ghum hai, kia ghum hai, pata nahi.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Cant Get Enough

Well it's late, and I want love
Love that's gonna break me in two
Don't hang me up in your doorway
Don't hang me up like you do

--Cant Get Enough of Your Love, Bad Compnay

Thursday, February 15, 2007

A Wandering "Story"

Another excerpt from my own collection for you to enjoy.

Shireen: So, what’s your story?
Hasan: Do I need one?
Shireen: No body needs a story, they are a part of at least one.
Hasan: Really, how many stories are you a part of?
Shireen: That’s up to your imagination, how many stories do you want me to be a part of?
Hasan: Did you just come on to me!
Shireen: So you imagine things as well.
Hasan: Come on, you just hit on me.
Shireen: Goodness Mr, Akbar, dignified women like myself don’t act in such a manner. I was merely proving my point
Hasan: That being?
Shireen: That every person is a part of a story, the only limit to their roles is the imagination of those who conceive the plot.
Hasan: And you assume that I have a conceived a plot in my head that involves you?
Shireen: Certainly, I know I have one that involves you.
Hasan: Is that so, pray do tell.
Shireen: Its still in the making. This is the first time we have met each other, the story starts today, the first words are being written as we speak. It will be a while before even the first chapter is ready.
Hasan: and I am assuming I play myself in the story
Shireen: Well yourself, at this point, is a stranger who decided strike up a conversation with the first woman you found approachable at this party and now you are wondering if that was such a good idea
Hasan: You sure are something
Shireen: Thanks for the euphemism Mr, Akbar. I always wanted to be “something”.
Hasan: Are you always like this, you know, edgy
Shireen: No, certain people bring it out in me. I am generally considered great company
Hasan: Not in my story
Shireen: and that brings around full circle
Hasan: It does.
Shireen: So lets start again, What is your story?

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Stewie Griffin's Sexy Party: Hill'f'ing'arious

I saw this on Omar's Blog and had to put it here. Man this kid rocks.

Family Guy - Stewie's Sexy Party - video powered by Metacafe

Click here for the lyrics

Thank You TBS

WOW! What a treat. TBS decided to gain some point with Tarintino fans by putting up Kill Bill one and two back to back tonight. Whoever is calling the shots at that network did made a wonderful decision with this one.
I had almost forgotten how wonderful the movie was. I had only gotten around to watching the first volume of this part flick in theatre and had never quite gotten around to watching the second. If I were dying tonite, and I had the option to choose the method I would pick the five point palm exploding heart technique delivered by Uma Thurman.The only thing missing tonight was a huge theatre screen and a THX surround sound system. Other than that, I was glued to the tube like a three year old watching Barney sing "I love you, you love me we are a happy family".
So those of you who are in North America and havent seen the movie or wish it see it back to back, tune into TBS tomorrow at around 8 (thats what I think confirm the time to be on the safe side) for those of you who cant tune into TBS, find the next opportunity you can to rent the two movies and watch them back to back. Its honestly quite an experience. Heres a trailer to further accelerate the hype.

Kill Bill Vol.1 - video powered by Metacafe


Saturday, January 06, 2007

This Weeks BlogThought: It Takes Time

I had written this a few months back as a part of my multi-titled, never ending, ever chaging book. Its had many story lines and several major alterations, but I have promised myself to be more diligent about it this year. With that in mind, I am sharing an excerpt from a portion of the story that I feel reflects this weeks blog thought. Its unedited and in my opinion quite raw, but exciting none the less, or so I think. Your comments, including ones like "dont quit your day job", are always welcome.

“This is it” he said looking at Khaled, “Wish me luck my friend I am going in for the kill.” Khaled smiled coyly and responded “it’s a bad omen to mention killing before initiating matters of love.” Nadir laughed and high-fived Khaled as he stepped out of his car, took a deep breath and headed towards the building entrance. He thought of something and turned around. “Here are the keys” he told Khaled as he flung his keychain towards him “keep the car running, we may have to rush for it.” This time he didn’t wait for Kahled’s response and turned back towards Marjan’s building.
The thought of revealing his emotions to Marjan had put a spring in his feet. He scampered towards the elevators and kept fidgeting with his Zippo while waiting for the elevator to come. The lines were spinning through his head. “Have you ever known someone who sweeps you of your feet, no not feet, have you ever known some who makes life feel complete. Yes, that’s it, a complete life that’s what you mean to me Marjan, you and I forever.” While he was still pondering over those thoughts the elevator door opened and Nadir jumped in.
“Take me to cloud number 9” he said pushing the button as though commanding the elevator to take him to Marjan’s floor. Like a performer preparing his ground breaking performance, Nadir kept his appearance in check in the mirror and rehearsed the lines. He had it all planned, Rafiq, the one man driver/cook/go-for-man at the Kahlili residence, would open the door . He would help himself in cracking a few jokes with Rafiq and walk into the drawing room. Rafiq would inform Mehreen of his arrival. He would ask Mehreen to get all the CDs he had loaned her so that he could pack them. Marjan would obviously come to meet him and while Mehreen was away he would spill the beans to Marjan.
He was still working over the finer details of the plan when the elevator came to a halt at the 9th floor. Nadir stepped out of the elevator; butterflies were doing rounds in his stomach like race cars in the Indy 500. He reached for the door bell and then paused. “What if Mehreen is offended” he thought to himself “what if Mehreen gives me a piece of her mind?” “But its Marjan, Nadir”, came his own response, “Its Marjan and its just not the same without Marjan.”
He raised his finger again to ring the bell when another thought struck him “What if her Dads home. He works from home some times, what if he is there today?” the daring side of him responded again “come on Nadir, you are just looking for excuses. It’s your last week in Karachi. You have to tell Marjan how you feel, it would be sinful not to.” And with that he rang the bell. A short little buzz once, followed by a longer one that was accompanied with a rap of knuckles on the doors.
The door opened and Nadir’s plans went back into the vacuum that they had spawned from. “Marjan” Nadir said with a true expression of surprise in his voice. “Hi Nadir, come on in” said Marjan as she led him into the apartment. “Close the door behind you, Rafiq has taken Mehreen to the studio, chai chalay gi na?”
“Yeah sure” Nadir responded half heartedly, thinking about how his algorithm of expressing profound affection was now facing an unforeseen event. “Maybe its better this way” he thought and went in the direction of the kitchen where Marjan had gone to make him a cup of tea.
He stood still at the kitchen entrance, struck by the beauty that was personified in Marjan. Rays from the afternoon sun diffracted through the kitchen window and fell straight over Marjan marking a sunlit silhouette. In that moment, he couldn’t really put a finger on any one thing that had attracted him to her. Maybe it was her deep black eyes in which the best of swimmers could drown. It could have been her long black hair that in all their variations over time had spun a web on his heart. It may have been her elegance and her mannerisms, how she put the tiny little clips in her hair to keep them from falling over her ears or how she balanced those square frames on her cute little nose.
While Nadir stood awestruck, Marjan put the kettle on the stove and turned around to see Nadir almost gaping her. She smiled and Nadir found his answer. He smiled back. “You seemed dazed” Marjan said as she walked up to him “have you been smoking up”. They both laughed “I am naturally high Marjan.” Nadir responded. In his mind, he was calculating his moves and trying to grasp the best moment to initiate his emotional spiel. But Marjan beat his thoughts “You know what, baba is working from home today, you should meet him. He wanted to meet you before you left.”
“Goddam Murphy’s law” muttered Nadir. Marjan gave him a puzzled look and he brushed it away with “That would be awesome.”
“Great, you go meet him in the study, Ill get tea for the both of you.”
Half an hour later Nadir came out of Marjan’s building bearing a bored and weary look. Khaled had reclined the car seat and was lying with his eyes shut and listening to R.E.M singing loosing my religion. “Give me the keys, lets go.” Nadir said as he sat back into the driving seat. “What happened, what did she say, what took you so long?” Khaled asked as he pointed to the keys in the ignition switch.
“Matters of the heart” responded Nadir “take their own time Khaled.”
“You didn’t tell her did you” asked Kahled rhetorically. He knew his friend too well
“No, but I think the seeds been planted”
“How is that?”
“I spent the last half hour talking to her dad and now I am certain that he thinks highly of me” said Nadir as he started the car.
Khaled nodded his head in disapproval. “You are hopeless Nadir” he said “I sent a friend in their and got a mali on the way out.”
They both laughed as Nadir took to the road, hoping to conjure up another plan of expressing his relentless love for Marjan before he left Karachi.