I should have written this post on Sunday but thanks to all thats been happening in London and the travel agents in Karachi whom one cant really trust for a solid advice, I ended up delaying my trip for few days. I leave tomorrow back to Canada for an indefinite period of time, who knows when I come to Karachi next. The classic line came from Jammie who responded to my SMS about the delay in departing with "shes a keeper". Cheers to that and to all the good things the city has kept.
I think its a bit premature for me to be penning or typing my thoguhts down about the trip since I am still enroute to the conclusion of it. I would like to snuggle in my armchair in Toronto and reminesce over the past three weeks before categorically spewing out all that I loved and loathed about the city I call home.
At the same time I would like to thank all those of you who took time out to take me around for shopping lunches, dinners and breakfasts. Most of all the Two Ks, Kabeer and Kiran and their family and their dhaishatgard of a son who kept the dullest moments alive. I hope I can reciprocate the hospitality when you folks visit Toronto.
The saddest part of the trip was the the fact that I lost my camera, ah what Irony. I make it back home after 3 years and loose my camera. Theres no real pictorial proof that I was here. How sad is that.
Anyhew, to all Karachi friends, old and new, single and married, parents and pregnant, its been a pleasure. I will undoubtedly miss the great times that were had over the past few weeks and would look forward to more merry moments in the days to come.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Much Belated Blog Word: Rain
Almost in time for the next one. Ah well I am on vacation so I assumed I could be a bit tardy.
Rain - it cant be just a shower
Rain - its got to have some power
Rain - dark clouds, cool breeze and the smell of soaked sand
Rain - comes out of nowhere, spontaneous, unplanned
Rain - it brings smiles to many faces
Rain - it brings joy to many places
Rain - Its blamed for choked traffic and absent power
Rain - it treats all the same, Defence, Gulshan or Mereweather tower
Rain - you got to love it, its natures big surprise
Rain - you got to revel it, with samosas,pakoras, all things fried
Rain - for it cant come too late or too soon
Rain - so lets sit back and enjoy the Karachi Monsoon
Rain - it cant be just a shower
Rain - its got to have some power
Rain - dark clouds, cool breeze and the smell of soaked sand
Rain - comes out of nowhere, spontaneous, unplanned
Rain - it brings smiles to many faces
Rain - it brings joy to many places
Rain - Its blamed for choked traffic and absent power
Rain - it treats all the same, Defence, Gulshan or Mereweather tower
Rain - you got to love it, its natures big surprise
Rain - you got to revel it, with samosas,pakoras, all things fried
Rain - for it cant come too late or too soon
Rain - so lets sit back and enjoy the Karachi Monsoon
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Soaking In Karachi
Almost a week into my trip - I lost my camera somehow so sadly no pictures - but there are some random observations. Enjoy!
Its been about absorption ever since I landed in Karachi on the 26th this month. Absorbing the new layout of roads, absorbing the humidity and heat (of which there hasn’t been much so far), absorbing the bacteria in the city air, absorbing the elaborate sequence of dances at weddings, absorbing the fact that friends are now, parents, spouses and fiancés, basically just absorbing what Karachi is all about.
Things have changed, both for the good and the bad. It is difficult for me, at least right now, to give in an overall opinion of where things are heading. There is a slightly positive and hopeful attitude among people but this again is the opinion of the people I have spoken to. It may not necessarily represent the opinion of the masses. None the less there is lots of construction taking place. Roads, bridges, underpasses and that is always a good sign.
The purchasing power for the rupee has gone down significantly. Just last night, I spent 85 rupees to buy a small bottle of water and a big bar of Cadbury’s dairy milk chocolate However the consolation was that it’s a mere buck and a half in dollar terms. This does make me think about the Pakistanis who don’t earn in dollars, could they not occasionally spoil themselves by indulging in a luxury like chocolates.
Shockingly enough, as the prices have risen so has the level of consumerism. The concept of branding is being implemented across the board in all possible interpretations of the idea. Everybody is a marketer here. Engineers, Doctors, dentists, gardeners, cab drivers, they all “know what they are talking about” when they talk consumerism. Sadly, I am may not always be an ally to their opinion. Also embracing growth is the media industry, which has what some called boomed and what I would call bubbled, over the past few years. The number of radio and TV channels has multiplied in a very short span of time and the direct result of this expansion is an industry wide extrapolation of the law of crappy people. If someone is not a marketer there is a good likelihood that they maybe a producer, writer, director, of a segment on the plethora of channels that vie for a share of consumer viewing along with a huge number of international, primarily Indian, TV Channels. The quality of the content in such an environment is not surprisingly poor however, the availability of such channels suggests that aspirants wishing to develop high quality content would have an avenue to do so. If I were an investor Id wait a while before investing in the media here. I foresee that in a year or two, the bubble would burst, the underperforming stations would go under and there would be significant consolidation in the industry, with bigger players buying smaller stations and maybe even boutique channels coming into play. That maybe the time when the focus actually shifts from the channel to the product and in this case content alone.
Among other things that I have had to come to terms with is the fact that my good friends are now parents. Its one thing to hear about the children or see their pictures and a completely different ball game to watch the little critters in action. They are a bundle of joy to say the least. Leading the cast of the brat pack in my circle of friends are Najla’s Affiyah and Kabeer and Kiran’s Basim. They are just a super duper pack of energy, who go around frolicking in their care free lives like there is no tomorrow. What beautiful little things they are.
Aside from meeting a handful of old friends over the past few days, I have also ran into in some new people I had never met before, and would probably not have met had I been living in Karachi. These are the faces of a newer Karachi. People coming from all corners of the city and country and dwelling in the safer, better managed areas in the southern part of the city. They socialize with new people all the time, they drop names like there is no tomorrow, they supposedly rub shoulders with the who is who of city. They recreate and they procreate amongst themselves. They are gay, they are straight, they are sweet on the face and would stab someone in the back. They kiss each other every time they see each other and they talk as though life is an episode out of sex and the city. The level of plasticity in their life is beyond belief. Yet another shade of this ever growing city.
And in the past 2 days I have been experiencing the monsoon. That exclusive rainy season that graces this part of the world at this time of the year. Sheets of rain pouring down with unbelievable strength virtually without a break at all. Aside from the usual corners and ravines that would gather water in this season, the rest of the city or at least the locality that I am living in, has stayed much the same. This is a far cry from the Karachi of the yesteryears where a pour would imply roads clogged with water, immense traffic jams and a huge number of stalled cars. One thing that hasn’t changed about the season is the power outage. When rain comes, the power goes, but the coolness of the weather doesn’t make it unbearable. Update between the time I wrote this and uploaded it there has been additional rain and a good part of the city is water logged. The newly built Clifton underpass is being termed as the biggest swimming pool in the city.
Finally, so far, I haven’t fallen sick in Karachi (touch wood). I am only cautious about drinking water, but other than that I have freely indulged in consuming all the gastronomic delights that I have been offered. Halwa puri, Kebabs, Chicken Makhni, biryani, qorma falooda etc etc etc.
So I am of now, to enjoy the downpour a bit more. All this while Kiran tries to keep her one year old indoor, out of the rain. She seems to have control of the situation. Its unbelievable that a mere few years ago Kiran was one of the girls privy to all our naughty antics and pranks that we played in the college days. Karachi, its people, my friends, have evolved rapidly while I was away and like a sponge in a basin of full water, I am overwhelmed and bloated by the level of change that has come about. I missed some changes, but I am loving being here to see some more things in the process of change. Heres to Karachi, may you always change for the better and become the best.
Its been about absorption ever since I landed in Karachi on the 26th this month. Absorbing the new layout of roads, absorbing the humidity and heat (of which there hasn’t been much so far), absorbing the bacteria in the city air, absorbing the elaborate sequence of dances at weddings, absorbing the fact that friends are now, parents, spouses and fiancés, basically just absorbing what Karachi is all about.
Things have changed, both for the good and the bad. It is difficult for me, at least right now, to give in an overall opinion of where things are heading. There is a slightly positive and hopeful attitude among people but this again is the opinion of the people I have spoken to. It may not necessarily represent the opinion of the masses. None the less there is lots of construction taking place. Roads, bridges, underpasses and that is always a good sign.
The purchasing power for the rupee has gone down significantly. Just last night, I spent 85 rupees to buy a small bottle of water and a big bar of Cadbury’s dairy milk chocolate However the consolation was that it’s a mere buck and a half in dollar terms. This does make me think about the Pakistanis who don’t earn in dollars, could they not occasionally spoil themselves by indulging in a luxury like chocolates.
Shockingly enough, as the prices have risen so has the level of consumerism. The concept of branding is being implemented across the board in all possible interpretations of the idea. Everybody is a marketer here. Engineers, Doctors, dentists, gardeners, cab drivers, they all “know what they are talking about” when they talk consumerism. Sadly, I am may not always be an ally to their opinion. Also embracing growth is the media industry, which has what some called boomed and what I would call bubbled, over the past few years. The number of radio and TV channels has multiplied in a very short span of time and the direct result of this expansion is an industry wide extrapolation of the law of crappy people. If someone is not a marketer there is a good likelihood that they maybe a producer, writer, director, of a segment on the plethora of channels that vie for a share of consumer viewing along with a huge number of international, primarily Indian, TV Channels. The quality of the content in such an environment is not surprisingly poor however, the availability of such channels suggests that aspirants wishing to develop high quality content would have an avenue to do so. If I were an investor Id wait a while before investing in the media here. I foresee that in a year or two, the bubble would burst, the underperforming stations would go under and there would be significant consolidation in the industry, with bigger players buying smaller stations and maybe even boutique channels coming into play. That maybe the time when the focus actually shifts from the channel to the product and in this case content alone.
Among other things that I have had to come to terms with is the fact that my good friends are now parents. Its one thing to hear about the children or see their pictures and a completely different ball game to watch the little critters in action. They are a bundle of joy to say the least. Leading the cast of the brat pack in my circle of friends are Najla’s Affiyah and Kabeer and Kiran’s Basim. They are just a super duper pack of energy, who go around frolicking in their care free lives like there is no tomorrow. What beautiful little things they are.
Aside from meeting a handful of old friends over the past few days, I have also ran into in some new people I had never met before, and would probably not have met had I been living in Karachi. These are the faces of a newer Karachi. People coming from all corners of the city and country and dwelling in the safer, better managed areas in the southern part of the city. They socialize with new people all the time, they drop names like there is no tomorrow, they supposedly rub shoulders with the who is who of city. They recreate and they procreate amongst themselves. They are gay, they are straight, they are sweet on the face and would stab someone in the back. They kiss each other every time they see each other and they talk as though life is an episode out of sex and the city. The level of plasticity in their life is beyond belief. Yet another shade of this ever growing city.
And in the past 2 days I have been experiencing the monsoon. That exclusive rainy season that graces this part of the world at this time of the year. Sheets of rain pouring down with unbelievable strength virtually without a break at all. Aside from the usual corners and ravines that would gather water in this season, the rest of the city or at least the locality that I am living in, has stayed much the same. This is a far cry from the Karachi of the yesteryears where a pour would imply roads clogged with water, immense traffic jams and a huge number of stalled cars. One thing that hasn’t changed about the season is the power outage. When rain comes, the power goes, but the coolness of the weather doesn’t make it unbearable. Update between the time I wrote this and uploaded it there has been additional rain and a good part of the city is water logged. The newly built Clifton underpass is being termed as the biggest swimming pool in the city.
Finally, so far, I haven’t fallen sick in Karachi (touch wood). I am only cautious about drinking water, but other than that I have freely indulged in consuming all the gastronomic delights that I have been offered. Halwa puri, Kebabs, Chicken Makhni, biryani, qorma falooda etc etc etc.
So I am of now, to enjoy the downpour a bit more. All this while Kiran tries to keep her one year old indoor, out of the rain. She seems to have control of the situation. Its unbelievable that a mere few years ago Kiran was one of the girls privy to all our naughty antics and pranks that we played in the college days. Karachi, its people, my friends, have evolved rapidly while I was away and like a sponge in a basin of full water, I am overwhelmed and bloated by the level of change that has come about. I missed some changes, but I am loving being here to see some more things in the process of change. Heres to Karachi, may you always change for the better and become the best.
In Transit
I wrote the post below while sitting at the Abu Dhabi airport waiting for my flight to Karachi.
I am currently sitting in the waiting lounge between gate 21 and 22 at Nadia International Air Port in Abu Dhabi. The temperature here is 32 degrees and its not like the Toronto 32 where the night cools down or Karachi 32 where the sea breeze would temper down the evenings. As I stepped out of the aircraft at terminal that didn’t have Jetway facilities I was welcomed by the hot desert air. At first I thought it cant be that hot, its probably just the engines, but I realized in a short bit that that was not the case.
If I were to give an award for the cheapest, tacky and ill equipped airport that I have been to, Abu Dhabi would be it. National flag carrier did not have access to jetway facilities, the security staff can barely communicate in any language other than Arabic. I asked one of them a question about the location of the gates and got a “yes, yes” in response. The maintenance staff is primarily south asian, Pakistani, Indian, Bengalis, and all of them are familiar with Urdu/Hindi so that’s a bit of relief.
Another sign that I am currently in Asia was the lack of civic respect that other travelers had towards the folks waiting in the lounge. There were several individuals smoking away under a no-smoking sign. When requested, they said “this the last one.” The attendants weren’t too bothered either, they walked passed these smokers without giving it a second thought. A norm for them I am sure.
The funny thing is that no one seems to paying attention to the PA systems. There are regular announcements about reporting to gates but people only move when an airline representative comes in the waiting area and shouts “anyone traveling to (put destination here)” He shouts a few times, gathers the bunch that he can and like a cowboy managing his herd, leads these passengers to the relevant gate.
At the moment, the terminal is full of Pathans, I have nothing against them except their stare which is rather disconcerting. To add to that, I am wearing shorts, I guess they like to watch bare legs on anything that walks up right. Me, the stewardesses, maybe an ape even if it passes by here. I have walked to gay neighborhoods of Toronto, Montreal and New York but have felt such piercing stares (Ryan, I can feel the pain of your Pizza Panzerotto experience).
And another feature exclusive to our part of the world, the physical expression of male bonding. Men walking around holding hands of other men, others holding each other by their wastes. Throw in a few dykes and fancy floats and we can have a pride parade UAE style.
My flight will start boarding in another 45 minutes. I would then be heading home after 3 years. There are 3 people in my hometown who are aware that I am coming, the rest would be get a surprise, hopefully a pleasant one, when I call on them. The thought of that, the anticipation of the responses and mostly being in Karachi with childhood buddies make all this worth it. And to be honest, its not bad, but rather a very amusing experience. Cant wait to breather the Karachi air, and maybe cough afterwards, but still breathe on.
I am currently sitting in the waiting lounge between gate 21 and 22 at Nadia International Air Port in Abu Dhabi. The temperature here is 32 degrees and its not like the Toronto 32 where the night cools down or Karachi 32 where the sea breeze would temper down the evenings. As I stepped out of the aircraft at terminal that didn’t have Jetway facilities I was welcomed by the hot desert air. At first I thought it cant be that hot, its probably just the engines, but I realized in a short bit that that was not the case.
If I were to give an award for the cheapest, tacky and ill equipped airport that I have been to, Abu Dhabi would be it. National flag carrier did not have access to jetway facilities, the security staff can barely communicate in any language other than Arabic. I asked one of them a question about the location of the gates and got a “yes, yes” in response. The maintenance staff is primarily south asian, Pakistani, Indian, Bengalis, and all of them are familiar with Urdu/Hindi so that’s a bit of relief.
Another sign that I am currently in Asia was the lack of civic respect that other travelers had towards the folks waiting in the lounge. There were several individuals smoking away under a no-smoking sign. When requested, they said “this the last one.” The attendants weren’t too bothered either, they walked passed these smokers without giving it a second thought. A norm for them I am sure.
The funny thing is that no one seems to paying attention to the PA systems. There are regular announcements about reporting to gates but people only move when an airline representative comes in the waiting area and shouts “anyone traveling to (put destination here)” He shouts a few times, gathers the bunch that he can and like a cowboy managing his herd, leads these passengers to the relevant gate.
At the moment, the terminal is full of Pathans, I have nothing against them except their stare which is rather disconcerting. To add to that, I am wearing shorts, I guess they like to watch bare legs on anything that walks up right. Me, the stewardesses, maybe an ape even if it passes by here. I have walked to gay neighborhoods of Toronto, Montreal and New York but have felt such piercing stares (Ryan, I can feel the pain of your Pizza Panzerotto experience).
And another feature exclusive to our part of the world, the physical expression of male bonding. Men walking around holding hands of other men, others holding each other by their wastes. Throw in a few dykes and fancy floats and we can have a pride parade UAE style.
My flight will start boarding in another 45 minutes. I would then be heading home after 3 years. There are 3 people in my hometown who are aware that I am coming, the rest would be get a surprise, hopefully a pleasant one, when I call on them. The thought of that, the anticipation of the responses and mostly being in Karachi with childhood buddies make all this worth it. And to be honest, its not bad, but rather a very amusing experience. Cant wait to breather the Karachi air, and maybe cough afterwards, but still breathe on.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Blog Word For The Week: Believe
If you believe in something with passion you get it. Thats what I have heard people say a million time.
I have spent a good part of this year believing that I would make to Karachi for Koko's wedding. And I write this on the day of her Mehndi, sitting in my friends house, enjoying the Karachi breeze.
So I believed I could make it here, and I believed in that idea with unmatched passion. Hence, I am here :D
I have spent a good part of this year believing that I would make to Karachi for Koko's wedding. And I write this on the day of her Mehndi, sitting in my friends house, enjoying the Karachi breeze.
So I believed I could make it here, and I believed in that idea with unmatched passion. Hence, I am here :D
Monday, July 24, 2006
High on a Feeling
Havent had this much of an adrenalin rush in a long time! I got butterflies in my stomach and a smile on my face for no apparent reason, it could only mean one thing …[EDIT] it could only mean that I am heading to Karachi !! WOOO HOOO!
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Overcast Overbearing
I had the pleasure of having my mother and grand mother at my place for the month or so. My mother left a few weeks ago due to professional commitments, but it was fabulous to have my grandmother still around. Over this month and especially the time I spent with my grand mom I once again realized the privilege and the blessing of having the elderly in our house.To begin with, great things have happened since she’s been around. When ever I do the slightest thing for her she showers me with duas and it seems God listens to each and everything she prays for her, since a number of things that were stuck in the middle of no where started going my way. It was the first time since I moved in this apartment that someone prayed five times a day and recited the Quran on a regular basis. Things that I sadly don’t indulge in as often as I should. It was her presence, her stories from her youth, or her relationship with my grandfather or some story about someone that left me gaping that made every single minute of her stay thoroughly enjoyable.
Today, as the Toronto sky bears no resemblance to the tones of summer that it had been advertising over the past few weeks, I feel sad to be having the last dinner with my lovely granny for some time come. I call her ami because shes always treated me like her son, rushing me to the hospital when I would hurt myself as a child or picking me up from school when Id call her up saying I dont want to ride the school bus that day. She spoiled me and disciplined me, she let me loose and when needed restrained me. Some of my friends still remember her zipping through the streets of Karachi in her hey days. Now, in her own words, the only thing she can do for us is pray and do I need someone like that or what. I wish I can take more care of her, I wish I can achieve further financial progress to be able to look after her and have her blessings for days come. Rest assured, her absence in my apartment would be felt for days to come. And with the way the sky has been pouring today and the overcast predictions for Tomorrow, the city is not too pleased with her departure either. The skies are my partners in bidding ami adieu with a heavy heart. Boys dont cry but the skies can pour and pour they do with my emotions.
Adding further misery to this overbearing overcast is the fact that I shouldn’t have been in Toronto today. My dear friend Koko gets married next weekend in Karachi. I was all set to leave T Dot on Friday and would probably have been in Karachi by now. However reality is telling us a different story as I sit Toronto writing this post while my friends are certainly reveling in a dholki thrown in Kokos honour. Alas we all handle the cards we are dealt right, and I am handling mine. Cheers to all the mates rocking at the wedding and pre-wedding parties.
So that eventually sums up this weekend, which after moms departure is probably the saddest this summer. What made up for mums departure were the parties that ensued after she left, the Molson Indy, the Italian world cup wins, they worked like an ointment but that might not be the case this time. Ill spend tomorrow missing ami a lot and then hear stories of the ongoing wedding and sulk a bit further. Sad times on this planet I tell you.But heres the thing, I have a feeling that the next time I blog, I will have good stories to tell, stories of joy and happiness of fond memories and good stuff basically no more of these dark melancholy tales from this node in the WWW. So till then, cheerios mates.
PS: amis menu for the parting day meal, Nihari for lunch and Khichri Keema and Shahi Tukray for dinner - all my favorites.
Today, as the Toronto sky bears no resemblance to the tones of summer that it had been advertising over the past few weeks, I feel sad to be having the last dinner with my lovely granny for some time come. I call her ami because shes always treated me like her son, rushing me to the hospital when I would hurt myself as a child or picking me up from school when Id call her up saying I dont want to ride the school bus that day. She spoiled me and disciplined me, she let me loose and when needed restrained me. Some of my friends still remember her zipping through the streets of Karachi in her hey days. Now, in her own words, the only thing she can do for us is pray and do I need someone like that or what. I wish I can take more care of her, I wish I can achieve further financial progress to be able to look after her and have her blessings for days come. Rest assured, her absence in my apartment would be felt for days to come. And with the way the sky has been pouring today and the overcast predictions for Tomorrow, the city is not too pleased with her departure either. The skies are my partners in bidding ami adieu with a heavy heart. Boys dont cry but the skies can pour and pour they do with my emotions.
Adding further misery to this overbearing overcast is the fact that I shouldn’t have been in Toronto today. My dear friend Koko gets married next weekend in Karachi. I was all set to leave T Dot on Friday and would probably have been in Karachi by now. However reality is telling us a different story as I sit Toronto writing this post while my friends are certainly reveling in a dholki thrown in Kokos honour. Alas we all handle the cards we are dealt right, and I am handling mine. Cheers to all the mates rocking at the wedding and pre-wedding parties.
So that eventually sums up this weekend, which after moms departure is probably the saddest this summer. What made up for mums departure were the parties that ensued after she left, the Molson Indy, the Italian world cup wins, they worked like an ointment but that might not be the case this time. Ill spend tomorrow missing ami a lot and then hear stories of the ongoing wedding and sulk a bit further. Sad times on this planet I tell you.But heres the thing, I have a feeling that the next time I blog, I will have good stories to tell, stories of joy and happiness of fond memories and good stuff basically no more of these dark melancholy tales from this node in the WWW. So till then, cheerios mates.
PS: amis menu for the parting day meal, Nihari for lunch and Khichri Keema and Shahi Tukray for dinner - all my favorites.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
More For The Wanderers
Its funny how life works out
The more I get of what I wanted
The more I need all that I have left behind
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
A Sorry State of Affairs
All thats happening in Lebanon is absolute rubbish. Its like burning down a garden to avenge the prick of a thorn. Even worse is the US response, who do not support an immediate cease fire and according to speculators would not support such a thing for another few weeks. George W Bush, in his most disturbing statement so far about the issue has said that the root casue lies with the existence of Hizbollah. He obviously cant differentiate between symptoms and causes.
Word from CNN is that an Israeli land excursion has begun into the Southern Lebanon. The so called Muslim Ummah has maintained a mum. The atrocities continues. If we take a minute a to think about it. The timing of the Mumbai explosion and the Indian allegation of Pakistans involvement in that incident appears a beautiful gambit to came one of the strongest muslim armies at bay.
I am not suggesting that Pakistan flex it millitary muscle, it would bear devastating outcomes. But that any possibility of a country like Pakistan to vociferously protest against the exploits have been put to rest. Who in their right minds would pull a gun out for a cousin when the trigger happy sherrif is doing the rounds of the block.
What is certain that we have not and will not see the end of this latest example of Israeli bulleying any time this week or maybe even next week. One feels sorry for all the civilians that are loosing their lives in this insanity. I pray to God that their blood does not go to waste.
Word from CNN is that an Israeli land excursion has begun into the Southern Lebanon. The so called Muslim Ummah has maintained a mum. The atrocities continues. If we take a minute a to think about it. The timing of the Mumbai explosion and the Indian allegation of Pakistans involvement in that incident appears a beautiful gambit to came one of the strongest muslim armies at bay.
I am not suggesting that Pakistan flex it millitary muscle, it would bear devastating outcomes. But that any possibility of a country like Pakistan to vociferously protest against the exploits have been put to rest. Who in their right minds would pull a gun out for a cousin when the trigger happy sherrif is doing the rounds of the block.
What is certain that we have not and will not see the end of this latest example of Israeli bulleying any time this week or maybe even next week. One feels sorry for all the civilians that are loosing their lives in this insanity. I pray to God that their blood does not go to waste.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Wishes: Weekly Blog Word
So this week its "wish" and I wish that I could think of something wise and wacky to say about the blogword, but the only thing that comes to my mind is one of my favorite jokes. Its not neccesary that you find it amusing, but those know me would definitely say "I can see him laughing at that."
A young couple is enjoying a day out in the golf course and the husband is trying work on his wifes' swing. While practing, the wife miscalculates a swing and lands a big one on the wrong angle. The ball flys into a big glass house adjacent to the golf course shattering a stained glass pane. The couple runs in towards the house to meet the owner and apologize for the mistake. They knock on the door and a man asks them to come in.
They enter the house to see the big stained glass pane with a hole in it, shards of glass lying around it, a broken bottle on one side, the ball next to the bottle and a rather portly man sitting on a couch besides the mess.
Before the couple could apologize the man says "Thank You." he then looks at broken bottle and says "I was trapped in this bottle for the last 20 years. I am a genie you know. I have three wishes to grant, so I will grant each of you one wish and keep one for myself."
The couple cant believe what they have just heard. The husband, not the one to miss an opportunity, wishes to be the richest man in the world. "Done" says the genie "When you go home today, check your bank statement, it will have more numbers in it than you can count."
The wife jumps in and wishes for a house in evey country of the world. "Done!" says the genie " Tomorrow you will recieve the keys to all your houses."
The couple is overjoyed, and the inquisitive wife asks the genie, "so whats your wish?"
"Well" responds the genie while looking at floor "I have been in this bottle for twenty years. I havent had the privlege of female companionship during this time. If your husband doesnt mind I would like to make love to you right now."
The husband is shocked, but the wife drives some sense into his brain. "He has given us houses all over the world and more money than we could ever fathom. Whats an hour for that?"
The husband looks at her and reluctanly nods his head in agreement. The geneie gets up from his seat and the woman escorts him to a room.
After an hour of passionate love making the genie lights a cigarette and asks the woman "so how old is your husband?"
"32" the woman responds
The genie smiles and says "and he still belives in genies?" ... ;)
A young couple is enjoying a day out in the golf course and the husband is trying work on his wifes' swing. While practing, the wife miscalculates a swing and lands a big one on the wrong angle. The ball flys into a big glass house adjacent to the golf course shattering a stained glass pane. The couple runs in towards the house to meet the owner and apologize for the mistake. They knock on the door and a man asks them to come in.
They enter the house to see the big stained glass pane with a hole in it, shards of glass lying around it, a broken bottle on one side, the ball next to the bottle and a rather portly man sitting on a couch besides the mess.
Before the couple could apologize the man says "Thank You." he then looks at broken bottle and says "I was trapped in this bottle for the last 20 years. I am a genie you know. I have three wishes to grant, so I will grant each of you one wish and keep one for myself."
The couple cant believe what they have just heard. The husband, not the one to miss an opportunity, wishes to be the richest man in the world. "Done" says the genie "When you go home today, check your bank statement, it will have more numbers in it than you can count."
The wife jumps in and wishes for a house in evey country of the world. "Done!" says the genie " Tomorrow you will recieve the keys to all your houses."
The couple is overjoyed, and the inquisitive wife asks the genie, "so whats your wish?"
"Well" responds the genie while looking at floor "I have been in this bottle for twenty years. I havent had the privlege of female companionship during this time. If your husband doesnt mind I would like to make love to you right now."
The husband is shocked, but the wife drives some sense into his brain. "He has given us houses all over the world and more money than we could ever fathom. Whats an hour for that?"
The husband looks at her and reluctanly nods his head in agreement. The geneie gets up from his seat and the woman escorts him to a room.
After an hour of passionate love making the genie lights a cigarette and asks the woman "so how old is your husband?"
"32" the woman responds
The genie smiles and says "and he still belives in genies?" ... ;)
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Explosive Weekend and Explosions in the Week
Before I go on to register the thrills of the past weekend I have to extend my deepest condolences to the families of the victims of Mumbai Explosions. Terrorism in any way, shape or form, can not be condoned. It is a sad moment for the people of India and it is in this moment of sorrow that we need to keep all our political differences aside and embrace our neighbours in an unequivocal show of support. I pray to God that all injured in this incident return to good health and all those who have lost a loved one find the strentgh and patience to bear the loss. Rest in peace departed souls. For updates and details visit the Mumbai Metroblog
Although this incident has put a sour twist on the proceedings of the week, it certainly was not the way it was summoned. The past weekend saw Toronto indulge in some of biggest fesitivities of the summer. The famous Toronto Street Festivals and the Molson Toronto Grand Prix were further complemented by the elaborate street parties that ensued once Italy won the cup. Yours truly was fortunate enough to partake in all the activities with the regular gang.
The weekend began with preparation to bid adieu to mother on what would eventually prove to be a very busy sunday. To offer a true flavour of the Toronto summer, I took mom to the Corso Italia street festival which offered the choicest of italian foods, wine and desert as well and music and entertainment. There was dancing on the streets as the St Clair Aveneue between Dufferin and Landsdowne played host to a number of budding musicians as well as pros like the Samba Squad. It was evident that mother was thrilled with the proceedings of the evening, something that she mentioned she might not indulge in NY due to security reasons. She spent the saturday catching up with friends and family in town and left sunday morning. Like every other time when mother departs, I felt misreable, my gut wrenched and my heart sank. However its all for the best, we are both evolving in our own worlds which can only come in contact for a brief time period, at least for now.
The grief was short lived as not much later I ended up at the Canadian National Exhibition to witness my first grand prix. My displeasure with my current job is no secret. However its the remuneration and some benefits that keep me going. Benefits like twice a week bagel breakfast and lunches on the house, like the fortnightly Baskin Robins ice crean treat and not to forget having our own race car in the champ car series. I thus got 4 VIP passes to take myself and 3 friends to witness our driver, the 2005 winner of the Toronto GP, Justin Wilson in action.
Its one thing to watch these races on TV but believe me its a whole new feeling to be sitting in those bleachers watching cars at unreal speeds whiz by you 86 times. The sound, the stress and the cheers and chants, the humidity and the heat all add to the flavor of being at the event. That and the lovely ladies that we fondly refer to as racechicks. They all add to the experience. The most astonishing thing and something that took me by complete surprise was the sound of the cars. At ever shift on the course one could hear an explosion and feel a jolt of energy rip through the car as the added gas accelerated it to and even more unbelievable speeds. It was all so unreal. Sadly Justin had some car trouble and couldnt repeat his 2005 performance. Better luck next time buddy.
From CNE we rushed to meet the rest of our crew at the historic Toronto watering hole called the Wheat Sheaf. The bar was so packed for the game that people were sitting on the floor and late comers like us had to watch the whol game standing. The biggest anomally, specifically for Toronto, was that the pub was a stronghold to French fans. Every time Henry kicked the ball, everytime Zidane dribbled it through the opposition, every time a Vieira created a play, the whole pub with its 100 or so strong audience would burst out in OHs AHs and cheers. Although I was indifferent towards either side since my teams were already out of the running, yet France's onfield performance seemed more impressive to me than Italys. And although he got nailed for it, but was that a great head butt from Zidane or what. That too was an explosion of raw energy from Zidane's head to Materazzi's chest. Cheers to Zezu, hes my new hero! May every head get to butt into someone like that. The funny thing is that his head didnt hurt and the only pain evident in his eyes was that of leaving the field before the game was over. Ah well, not all stories have happy endings, and so Italy won.
The good side, or bad side for some depending on where you live, was the throngs of Italians and Italian Soccer fans that descended on Little Italy and Costo Italia.Although I was barely there in the flood of Italian colours yet I could feel that this was one party that was going to go into the wee hours of morning, an hour I may not be able to wee out.
As another weekend approaches so does other plans. Toronto in the summers is the place to be. Till next update.
Adios
Although this incident has put a sour twist on the proceedings of the week, it certainly was not the way it was summoned. The past weekend saw Toronto indulge in some of biggest fesitivities of the summer. The famous Toronto Street Festivals and the Molson Toronto Grand Prix were further complemented by the elaborate street parties that ensued once Italy won the cup. Yours truly was fortunate enough to partake in all the activities with the regular gang.
The weekend began with preparation to bid adieu to mother on what would eventually prove to be a very busy sunday. To offer a true flavour of the Toronto summer, I took mom to the Corso Italia street festival which offered the choicest of italian foods, wine and desert as well and music and entertainment. There was dancing on the streets as the St Clair Aveneue between Dufferin and Landsdowne played host to a number of budding musicians as well as pros like the Samba Squad. It was evident that mother was thrilled with the proceedings of the evening, something that she mentioned she might not indulge in NY due to security reasons. She spent the saturday catching up with friends and family in town and left sunday morning. Like every other time when mother departs, I felt misreable, my gut wrenched and my heart sank. However its all for the best, we are both evolving in our own worlds which can only come in contact for a brief time period, at least for now.
The grief was short lived as not much later I ended up at the Canadian National Exhibition to witness my first grand prix. My displeasure with my current job is no secret. However its the remuneration and some benefits that keep me going. Benefits like twice a week bagel breakfast and lunches on the house, like the fortnightly Baskin Robins ice crean treat and not to forget having our own race car in the champ car series. I thus got 4 VIP passes to take myself and 3 friends to witness our driver, the 2005 winner of the Toronto GP, Justin Wilson in action.
Its one thing to watch these races on TV but believe me its a whole new feeling to be sitting in those bleachers watching cars at unreal speeds whiz by you 86 times. The sound, the stress and the cheers and chants, the humidity and the heat all add to the flavor of being at the event. That and the lovely ladies that we fondly refer to as racechicks. They all add to the experience. The most astonishing thing and something that took me by complete surprise was the sound of the cars. At ever shift on the course one could hear an explosion and feel a jolt of energy rip through the car as the added gas accelerated it to and even more unbelievable speeds. It was all so unreal. Sadly Justin had some car trouble and couldnt repeat his 2005 performance. Better luck next time buddy.
From CNE we rushed to meet the rest of our crew at the historic Toronto watering hole called the Wheat Sheaf. The bar was so packed for the game that people were sitting on the floor and late comers like us had to watch the whol game standing. The biggest anomally, specifically for Toronto, was that the pub was a stronghold to French fans. Every time Henry kicked the ball, everytime Zidane dribbled it through the opposition, every time a Vieira created a play, the whole pub with its 100 or so strong audience would burst out in OHs AHs and cheers. Although I was indifferent towards either side since my teams were already out of the running, yet France's onfield performance seemed more impressive to me than Italys. And although he got nailed for it, but was that a great head butt from Zidane or what. That too was an explosion of raw energy from Zidane's head to Materazzi's chest. Cheers to Zezu, hes my new hero! May every head get to butt into someone like that. The funny thing is that his head didnt hurt and the only pain evident in his eyes was that of leaving the field before the game was over. Ah well, not all stories have happy endings, and so Italy won.
The good side, or bad side for some depending on where you live, was the throngs of Italians and Italian Soccer fans that descended on Little Italy and Costo Italia.Although I was barely there in the flood of Italian colours yet I could feel that this was one party that was going to go into the wee hours of morning, an hour I may not be able to wee out.
As another weekend approaches so does other plans. Toronto in the summers is the place to be. Till next update.
Adios
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Enough - Wanderers Word of the Week
Every time there is blood split
Every time there’s an explosion
Every time a woman loses her dignity
Every time there is an incident of sectarianism, terrorism or extremism
Every time the power fails for uncertain periods
Every time the city of lights goes dark at an early hour
Every time a person questions the existence of freedom
Every time the politicians make a mockery of civil rights
I wish one person or some people, preferably the entire nation
would stand up and say
"ENOUGH!"
Every time there’s an explosion
Every time a woman loses her dignity
Every time there is an incident of sectarianism, terrorism or extremism
Every time the power fails for uncertain periods
Every time the city of lights goes dark at an early hour
Every time a person questions the existence of freedom
Every time the politicians make a mockery of civil rights
I wish one person or some people, preferably the entire nation
would stand up and say
"ENOUGH!"
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Choices: Belated Blog Word!
1.Brazil
2.England
3.Argentina
My choices for the World Cup and even though the fell out of the running today, Id love the teams to death.
2.England
3.Argentina
My choices for the World Cup and even though the fell out of the running today, Id love the teams to death.
Its not about choosing the winners in life, but sticking by those whom you truly believe can win.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Two for the Wanderers!
Jammie has yet another great jammie like idea. A blog on every wednesday about a certain word thats sent to a fast growing group of people refered to as Wednesday Wanderers. I couldnt pass the opportunity to be categorized as wanderer so heres my post for this weeks word - TWO!
When I think of the word two - I cant help thinking about the song two to tango. And I write this, in my head I am humming - two to tango two to move ....but two holds much reverence in the life of this individual who was, ironically enough, spawned on the eve of two 2s of October.
Two is for fulfilment, end of a cycle, reaching the goal, finding a meaning, redemption.
Two signifies harmony and balance as well as dynamism and fluidity in all human endeavours
Two describes the sibling that I never had as well as some partners I have had at various instances in life
Two is the number of countries I have lived in and the number of cultures that have influenced me
Two reminds me of my best friends who arent single or the number of people they are immideatly responsible for.
Two belongs to the year two thousand and the concerts exhibitions and carnivals that four (two+two) people organized through the year.
Two has memories of Terminator 2 and Arnie's Hasta La Vista Baby
Two is the number of goals that Englands been scoring in their world cup matches (except with Paraguay and that was two minus 1)
Two is for two of my favorite women whom ill host for the next week at my place
Two to me is what two is to you - reflexive and transitive - that everything goes away from and comes back to. Two is associative, the well loved number that everyone like to hang out with. Two is powerful especially when you see it for the price of one. Two represents planning especially when it comes to growing a family.
So whats the bottom line you ask. Two is the essence of existence, the duality of nature.the single identity that represents adam and eve, balck and white, good and evil and if humanity could be quantified, ranked or be represneted by a number it would probably be TWO - which happens to be the blog word of the day! (see the coming back to the begining with two part :p )
When I think of the word two - I cant help thinking about the song two to tango. And I write this, in my head I am humming - two to tango two to move ....but two holds much reverence in the life of this individual who was, ironically enough, spawned on the eve of two 2s of October.
Two is for fulfilment, end of a cycle, reaching the goal, finding a meaning, redemption.
Two signifies harmony and balance as well as dynamism and fluidity in all human endeavours
Two describes the sibling that I never had as well as some partners I have had at various instances in life
Two is the number of countries I have lived in and the number of cultures that have influenced me
Two reminds me of my best friends who arent single or the number of people they are immideatly responsible for.
Two belongs to the year two thousand and the concerts exhibitions and carnivals that four (two+two) people organized through the year.
Two has memories of Terminator 2 and Arnie's Hasta La Vista Baby
Two is the number of goals that Englands been scoring in their world cup matches (except with Paraguay and that was two minus 1)
Two is for two of my favorite women whom ill host for the next week at my place
Two to me is what two is to you - reflexive and transitive - that everything goes away from and comes back to. Two is associative, the well loved number that everyone like to hang out with. Two is powerful especially when you see it for the price of one. Two represents planning especially when it comes to growing a family.
So whats the bottom line you ask. Two is the essence of existence, the duality of nature.the single identity that represents adam and eve, balck and white, good and evil and if humanity could be quantified, ranked or be represneted by a number it would probably be TWO - which happens to be the blog word of the day! (see the coming back to the begining with two part :p )
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
The Dive
My guts were churning with anxiety, there was a weird taste in my mouth, a bit of acid a bit of sweet like putting the tounge on a 9 volt alkaline battery. The operator was giving me instructions while hooking up the body brace that was suppose to be the thin line between life and death for me.
Once hooked we will turn you over horizontally and slowly lift you to the top. When all is set we would count down and ask you to pull the rip cord.
I noded my head and asked Dont I get a helmet? The operator responded that my head was completly safe and nothing could happen to it. And with that the cord that was tied to my body brace slowly got tense and lifted me slightly of the ground holding me parallel to it. The hydraulic platform that I had been standing on was slowly lowered away with the operator in it. I suddenly felt tension flowing in the cord as it started to elevate me.
Millimeters became centimeters, that convereted to inches and feet. As I was being elevated I could see the marking on the metal arch besides me. 10 feet, 25 feet, 50 feet. The people become pets and ants with every few feets of elevation. Far away I could see highway 400 with saturday traffic speeding away on it. The 18 wheeler trucks appearing no bigger than a small model. As I saw the 70 feet mark, a certain fear of height took birth in my heart. The Toronto wind with all its chill was as much to blame for the goose bumps as the venture it self. By the 75 feet mark I could not keep my eyes open. While still being elevated further up I recited the Kalma in my heart and recited some duas that my grandmother would recite when id ask her to pray for me.
By now I had come to halt. My eyes were still shut tight, I had reached the 115 feet mark. The speakers on the tower came to life with my operators voice. 5,4,3,2,1 Tower One You Are Ready for Launch. A sense of fear came over me and I thought it was better to be on the ground than 115 feet above it. And with my eyes still closed, I said bismillah and tugged hard on the rip cord.
All I could hear was the voice of Jim Morrison singing this is the end my friend. I rapidly descended towards the ground; I thought life could pretty much be over. However, I didnt want it to be over with my eyes shut. I wanted to see the end head my way. I opened my eyes and realized that I was heading towards the ground at a speed that my body had never experienced before.
I screamed OOOOOOHHHHH FFFFFFAAAAAA ........ and I swooped over the ground like an eagle picking up a pray while still inflight. The scream of fear soon became a scream of pleasure and I was shouting my trademark "woo-hoos" as I swung like a pendulum, suspended to the 115 feet tall metallic truss whose summit I had been at only a few seconds ago.
I continued swinging around for another a few minutes, flapping my arms, singing I am like a bird, claiming I had met god, gleeing with the fact that I was alive and breathing. For a second I thought maybe thats what freedom feels like. I saw the operator again he was holding a rod. Grab the end he yelled. I grabbed it.It was a elastic retardation mechanism that brought me to a stop right over the hydraulic platform.
Another minute passed before the operator unbuckled me and as I walked out of the staging area a few people in the queue inquired how was it? Best thing I have ever done I responded. better than sex quipped another person almost better my friend, almost better I said. And with a huge grin on my face, I walked away from the sight of my first bungee jump.
Once hooked we will turn you over horizontally and slowly lift you to the top. When all is set we would count down and ask you to pull the rip cord.
I noded my head and asked Dont I get a helmet? The operator responded that my head was completly safe and nothing could happen to it. And with that the cord that was tied to my body brace slowly got tense and lifted me slightly of the ground holding me parallel to it. The hydraulic platform that I had been standing on was slowly lowered away with the operator in it. I suddenly felt tension flowing in the cord as it started to elevate me.
Millimeters became centimeters, that convereted to inches and feet. As I was being elevated I could see the marking on the metal arch besides me. 10 feet, 25 feet, 50 feet. The people become pets and ants with every few feets of elevation. Far away I could see highway 400 with saturday traffic speeding away on it. The 18 wheeler trucks appearing no bigger than a small model. As I saw the 70 feet mark, a certain fear of height took birth in my heart. The Toronto wind with all its chill was as much to blame for the goose bumps as the venture it self. By the 75 feet mark I could not keep my eyes open. While still being elevated further up I recited the Kalma in my heart and recited some duas that my grandmother would recite when id ask her to pray for me.
By now I had come to halt. My eyes were still shut tight, I had reached the 115 feet mark. The speakers on the tower came to life with my operators voice. 5,4,3,2,1 Tower One You Are Ready for Launch. A sense of fear came over me and I thought it was better to be on the ground than 115 feet above it. And with my eyes still closed, I said bismillah and tugged hard on the rip cord.
All I could hear was the voice of Jim Morrison singing this is the end my friend. I rapidly descended towards the ground; I thought life could pretty much be over. However, I didnt want it to be over with my eyes shut. I wanted to see the end head my way. I opened my eyes and realized that I was heading towards the ground at a speed that my body had never experienced before.
I screamed OOOOOOHHHHH FFFFFFAAAAAA ........ and I swooped over the ground like an eagle picking up a pray while still inflight. The scream of fear soon became a scream of pleasure and I was shouting my trademark "woo-hoos" as I swung like a pendulum, suspended to the 115 feet tall metallic truss whose summit I had been at only a few seconds ago.
I continued swinging around for another a few minutes, flapping my arms, singing I am like a bird, claiming I had met god, gleeing with the fact that I was alive and breathing. For a second I thought maybe thats what freedom feels like. I saw the operator again he was holding a rod. Grab the end he yelled. I grabbed it.It was a elastic retardation mechanism that brought me to a stop right over the hydraulic platform.
Another minute passed before the operator unbuckled me and as I walked out of the staging area a few people in the queue inquired how was it? Best thing I have ever done I responded. better than sex quipped another person almost better my friend, almost better I said. And with a huge grin on my face, I walked away from the sight of my first bungee jump.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Country Roads, Take Me Home!
I fell in love for the first time in class 9. The hazel eyed girl just left me numb. I feared being a fool in front of her and feared expressing my feelings to her since her mother was not only a relative of my mothers friend but also my english teacher. Thus I left her hints, wrote poems for her and read them out aloud in front of the whole class while staring in those deceptively deep hazel eyes. I sent her valentines gift, dedicated her songs at Dee Jays, gave her expensive gifts, the whole shebang but never said anything to her on her face.
One of my friends, who had picked up what was going on, said something in a hopeful dreamy eyed way that only only a 14 year old could say. If you want her bad enough you will get her, she will know and she will call you. I guess I didnt want her that bad since she is now the mother of a child, not mine, and happily married to the childs father as well. The only good thing to come out of that stint was I learnt to rely on hope and push it, since in my want for the said lady I spent tons of cash over a period of two years to no avail. Just hoping that she would "know" and she would "call" me.
Today I learned that a trip that I had been eagerly planning maybe in a bit of jeoprady and almost instantly I was hoping that Karachi could hear my pleas and need for its company and "call" me. A few people very dear to me are getting married in July and Augsut, I had been planning this trip since last December. However I was told by my lawyer today that following the recent arrests in Toronto of suspected terrorists it was being suggested that people with out permanent residence papers not leave Canada till such documentation is made available. I hate lawyers and bearaucrats equally and I guess legalities and beraucratic structures are both coming in the way of a trip I had been yearning for so intensly.
In a typical lawyer like way my lawyer just spun the words, you could get it anytime buddy, tomorrow, next week, next month, its a wait and see situation. Oh how easy for you to say that buddy, you arent thousands of miles away from the city you grew up in where some of your dearest friends are requesting you to join them at the most important event in their life, are you!
Much like the lawyer, a co-worker of mine failed to see why I was annoyed with the development. I have been away from Karachi, the only place Id ever call home, for three years now. Over this span of time I have lost my feel for the city. Someone mentions Bar B Q tonight or Bundo Khan with a sense of pleasure and I cant relate since I dont have a memory of the taste. Some one bitches about the dry fish trawlers polluting the Sunset boulevard and I nod my head in agreement but I cant remember the smell. I have completly forgotten the smoothness of the breeze that flutters through the hair while walking along the beach or the crackling sound of makai as it roasts sand oven.
When I read Dawn, I get startled at the number muggings and robberies. I get shocked at nightlong power failures and stories of traffic jams. I am surprised by stories that are as inherent to Karachi as the revelling youth who throng the beaches on the eve of independence day riding motorcycles without silencers or the makrani donkey cart racing that takes over the streets of clifton on occasional weekends. In short I am slowly becoming what I promised I would never become, a disenfranchised Karachite. A faker who claims to have passion for something that he has trouble relating to.
This trip was supposed to reinvigorate the Karachite in me and if it doesnt happen the Karachite would continue its slow and steady march towards becoming what urdu best describes as a dhoobi ka kutta. So heres my plea, my one true love, my home, my lovely city, call me, bring me home. I have HOPE that I am meant be there. I am prepairing for it like I would under normal circumstances I am taking all the chances, so you take your chance on me as well Karachi, call me!
One of my friends, who had picked up what was going on, said something in a hopeful dreamy eyed way that only only a 14 year old could say. If you want her bad enough you will get her, she will know and she will call you. I guess I didnt want her that bad since she is now the mother of a child, not mine, and happily married to the childs father as well. The only good thing to come out of that stint was I learnt to rely on hope and push it, since in my want for the said lady I spent tons of cash over a period of two years to no avail. Just hoping that she would "know" and she would "call" me.
Today I learned that a trip that I had been eagerly planning maybe in a bit of jeoprady and almost instantly I was hoping that Karachi could hear my pleas and need for its company and "call" me. A few people very dear to me are getting married in July and Augsut, I had been planning this trip since last December. However I was told by my lawyer today that following the recent arrests in Toronto of suspected terrorists it was being suggested that people with out permanent residence papers not leave Canada till such documentation is made available. I hate lawyers and bearaucrats equally and I guess legalities and beraucratic structures are both coming in the way of a trip I had been yearning for so intensly.
In a typical lawyer like way my lawyer just spun the words, you could get it anytime buddy, tomorrow, next week, next month, its a wait and see situation. Oh how easy for you to say that buddy, you arent thousands of miles away from the city you grew up in where some of your dearest friends are requesting you to join them at the most important event in their life, are you!
Much like the lawyer, a co-worker of mine failed to see why I was annoyed with the development. I have been away from Karachi, the only place Id ever call home, for three years now. Over this span of time I have lost my feel for the city. Someone mentions Bar B Q tonight or Bundo Khan with a sense of pleasure and I cant relate since I dont have a memory of the taste. Some one bitches about the dry fish trawlers polluting the Sunset boulevard and I nod my head in agreement but I cant remember the smell. I have completly forgotten the smoothness of the breeze that flutters through the hair while walking along the beach or the crackling sound of makai as it roasts sand oven.
When I read Dawn, I get startled at the number muggings and robberies. I get shocked at nightlong power failures and stories of traffic jams. I am surprised by stories that are as inherent to Karachi as the revelling youth who throng the beaches on the eve of independence day riding motorcycles without silencers or the makrani donkey cart racing that takes over the streets of clifton on occasional weekends. In short I am slowly becoming what I promised I would never become, a disenfranchised Karachite. A faker who claims to have passion for something that he has trouble relating to.
This trip was supposed to reinvigorate the Karachite in me and if it doesnt happen the Karachite would continue its slow and steady march towards becoming what urdu best describes as a dhoobi ka kutta. So heres my plea, my one true love, my home, my lovely city, call me, bring me home. I have HOPE that I am meant be there. I am prepairing for it like I would under normal circumstances I am taking all the chances, so you take your chance on me as well Karachi, call me!
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sunny Montreal
So its official, summer has finally arrived in Canada. As luck would have it I was in Montreal to enjoy the first weekend of the sparkling sunshine. My family was in from New York for their memorial day weekend and I along with them and some friends of the family who live in Montreal made the most of the little time we had to revel dans la rue un Montreal. (I have to boast of the little, gramatically incorrect French that I pick up from here an there.)
Although it was my fifth or maybe the sixth trip to Montreal, but I had never been to the city in Summer before. My memories of montreal included snow covered streets, night clubs and indoor pubs, hotel hopping for work or for the academic competitions that my university sent me to or sometime even chilling out with some friends in some place covered. In my head, Montreal may well have been Pluto with some life form on it. I was however presently surprised to land up in a Montreal sans snow. Prior to heading over to my aunty's apartment I decided to stroll through the downtown and ended in a socialist protests against some folks being deported. But in true Montreal style the protest involved huge loud speakers playing euro techno beats like prodigy and chemical brothers, some protest. They should ask the mullahs in Pakistan what protests are all about !
I have always picked a certain vibe from all the major cities I have been to. Capitals have their own capital like laid back bureaucratic feeling. May that be Islamabad, Ottawa or Washington the feeling would be distinctly laid back. Similarly metropolis like New York, Chicago, Toronto and even Karachi have a buzz to them, theres a certain pace at which life is moving and its always a snoozers loosers situation there. However, maybe it was the weather, or the women, or both that made the summery Montreal exude a very sexy vibe. I recall an ad for Amerca Bavaria, a Brazilian Beer, in which the tag lines read something like in Brazil theres more to sweat than heat. The same may very well be true for Montreal.
All in all, I still feel that my earlier analogies of Montreal being to Canada what Lahore is to Pakistan may well be true. With sincerest of respect to my female friends in Karachi, the ladies of Lahore do out shine Karachi girls in the looks department (on an average, not everyone...I Repeat: ON AN AVERAGE :D ). Lahoris like to speak Punjabi more so than Urdu, much like Montrealers who prefer communicating in French. And Finally, every single time I have been to Lahore I have been thrilled to party there, much like in Montreal.
Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera with me so no pictures in particular at this time. However, I am planning another trip soon with my friends. I am curious to find wether there can be more to sweat than heat in Montreal. :D
Although it was my fifth or maybe the sixth trip to Montreal, but I had never been to the city in Summer before. My memories of montreal included snow covered streets, night clubs and indoor pubs, hotel hopping for work or for the academic competitions that my university sent me to or sometime even chilling out with some friends in some place covered. In my head, Montreal may well have been Pluto with some life form on it. I was however presently surprised to land up in a Montreal sans snow. Prior to heading over to my aunty's apartment I decided to stroll through the downtown and ended in a socialist protests against some folks being deported. But in true Montreal style the protest involved huge loud speakers playing euro techno beats like prodigy and chemical brothers, some protest. They should ask the mullahs in Pakistan what protests are all about !
I have always picked a certain vibe from all the major cities I have been to. Capitals have their own capital like laid back bureaucratic feeling. May that be Islamabad, Ottawa or Washington the feeling would be distinctly laid back. Similarly metropolis like New York, Chicago, Toronto and even Karachi have a buzz to them, theres a certain pace at which life is moving and its always a snoozers loosers situation there. However, maybe it was the weather, or the women, or both that made the summery Montreal exude a very sexy vibe. I recall an ad for Amerca Bavaria, a Brazilian Beer, in which the tag lines read something like in Brazil theres more to sweat than heat. The same may very well be true for Montreal.
All in all, I still feel that my earlier analogies of Montreal being to Canada what Lahore is to Pakistan may well be true. With sincerest of respect to my female friends in Karachi, the ladies of Lahore do out shine Karachi girls in the looks department (on an average, not everyone...I Repeat: ON AN AVERAGE :D ). Lahoris like to speak Punjabi more so than Urdu, much like Montrealers who prefer communicating in French. And Finally, every single time I have been to Lahore I have been thrilled to party there, much like in Montreal.
Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera with me so no pictures in particular at this time. However, I am planning another trip soon with my friends. I am curious to find wether there can be more to sweat than heat in Montreal. :D
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Pleasures of Disconnecting
One of the best things of living by oneself is the ability to take a step back from the day to day activities at ones own leisure. I took the opportunity of this past victoria day weekend to do just that. My buddy Ryan invited me to his cottage in Calabogie, some five hours northToronto, which may very well be a little quite corner of heaven.
Although it had been quite a while since my last trip to the Northern Areas of Pakistan but the smell of the pine in the air as well the quality of it reminded me of Kakul where I went to spend a few weeks of summer to meet my uncle who was at one point heading the millitary academy there. Living in the city, one does not realize what truly fresh air means. As stepped out of our ride at almost 2 at night I was welcomed by a chilly breeze which carried the aroma of pine woods and burning cedar wood which is commonly used as fire wood in the local homes. unlike city air that you can suck in for a bit before your lungs need to retract, the country just keep going in and the whole system responded as though it had come across a certain elixir like substance. There was a party in my lungs and the Calabogie air was undoubtedly the guest of the evening.
So being in such relaxing environment I realized the beauty of not having to respond to phone or emails or not worrying about the day at work or catching the right bus and other such rudimentary things that we become used to in the city. It was actually like disconnecting from the world which in this day in age is not a privilege but a need for all of us to do from time to time in order for us to maintain our sanity.
Although the weather could have afforded us a bit more of sun and a little less of rain, however we still managed to find ourselves the most peaceful of spots to enjoy an odd beverage or two while hoping to catch a fish or two. Wilderness was at complete harmony, for at some secluded spot the silence was harmonically broken the call of the loon or the noise of a blue heron gentally taking a dive from over our head into the lake looking for some fish. Speaking of Loons, I learnt from a local late one evening that they are one most loyal animal/bird alive. They always travel in pair and if their mate dies, they never find another companion. Thats a lot more than we can say for some people whose former mates are still alive :D
And so I used three days of a week to unwind from all the grime and stress that the city had pouring over in heaps. As we hit the dusty road back to the big city, both Ryan and I wished we could spend another day or so here. But what would be enough? Maybe small doses is the right prescription.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Sad Day
So how many of you have heard about the Charter of Democracy that was signed by the biggest crooks my generation of Pakistanis has seen a.k.a Nawaz Sharif and Benazir Bhutto. I a sure we all grew up hearing about honesty among thieves, but never had I thought that I would witness this "honesty" being contracted on paper.
My reasons for not believing in democracy for a country like Pakistan at its present status are widely known amongst peers. I dont think that democracy and government can be bed fellows in Pakistan anytime soon, but it would be even worse to see these crooked politicians riding on the claim of "democracy" and winning parlimentary positions. What Musharaf has done over the last seven or so years would all go to waste, it would be undone, there would be new scandals new HONESTY tribunals that would investigate in charges of "corruption" against the outgoing government. There would be a vendetta like situation where tax payers money, whatever little there is, would be used in a gong show of shit flinging over some people who had the nerve to take the responsibility of the country on their shoulders in uncertain times.
I only shudder at the thought of seeing someone as inept as Nawaz Sharif during the whole 9/11 and War on Terror situation or someone like Benazir and her nation pimping husband trying to bring in investment in key areas of the country. What worries me most is the fate of the president Musharaf. We have all had our differences with the guy and as big an advocate I have been of the person, I have been absolutely critical of his handling of womens right especially in situation like those of Mukhtaran Mai or the Dr.Shazia incident that some feel was the final nail in the coffin for Balochis that has resulted in the current state of turmoil in the province. However, he has done so much more for the this country on his own in the last year that he deserves the respect of the entire nation. Unfortunately I have a bad gut feel about his exit from the affairs of our nation, if only politics in Pakistan were less feudal and vengeful then we may have anticipated that mavericks like Musharaf to get the recognition they deserve.
I have said it before and I will say it again, Pakistanis need to wake up and smell he coffee, one by one, town after town, city by city people have to start saying NO to all the nonsense and take things in their own hands to bring about the change that is a must to sustain our encounter with progress that has happened over the last few years.
Lets do it ! ;)
My reasons for not believing in democracy for a country like Pakistan at its present status are widely known amongst peers. I dont think that democracy and government can be bed fellows in Pakistan anytime soon, but it would be even worse to see these crooked politicians riding on the claim of "democracy" and winning parlimentary positions. What Musharaf has done over the last seven or so years would all go to waste, it would be undone, there would be new scandals new HONESTY tribunals that would investigate in charges of "corruption" against the outgoing government. There would be a vendetta like situation where tax payers money, whatever little there is, would be used in a gong show of shit flinging over some people who had the nerve to take the responsibility of the country on their shoulders in uncertain times.
I only shudder at the thought of seeing someone as inept as Nawaz Sharif during the whole 9/11 and War on Terror situation or someone like Benazir and her nation pimping husband trying to bring in investment in key areas of the country. What worries me most is the fate of the president Musharaf. We have all had our differences with the guy and as big an advocate I have been of the person, I have been absolutely critical of his handling of womens right especially in situation like those of Mukhtaran Mai or the Dr.Shazia incident that some feel was the final nail in the coffin for Balochis that has resulted in the current state of turmoil in the province. However, he has done so much more for the this country on his own in the last year that he deserves the respect of the entire nation. Unfortunately I have a bad gut feel about his exit from the affairs of our nation, if only politics in Pakistan were less feudal and vengeful then we may have anticipated that mavericks like Musharaf to get the recognition they deserve.
I have said it before and I will say it again, Pakistanis need to wake up and smell he coffee, one by one, town after town, city by city people have to start saying NO to all the nonsense and take things in their own hands to bring about the change that is a must to sustain our encounter with progress that has happened over the last few years.
Lets do it ! ;)
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Tunes of the Pak Sarzameen
When I was little the only time when I got really annoyed at my uncle was when he forgot my favorite mix tape on the dashboard of his car in the blistering Karachi summer. The sun, with its peak at the noon hour, took toll on the TDK-D90 (remember those) that a certain Shankar at Virgin on Tariq Road had put together for yours truly in a matter of hours. I was annoyed, it was the 90s, there was teen spirit on on that tape. What I didnt realize then was that there would be a time when I would be able to store tons of my favorite music on a small portion of a hard disk that maybe prone to electronic and mechanical failure. As much as I moaned the loss of documents and pictures when my Lappie crashed last year, the loss that had the deepest of impact was that of my music archive. Pakistani music and music videos as well some classic english stuff ranging from Floyd and Zepplin to Dylan and BB King all was lost.
I slowly recovered my English classics through some friends and some back up CDs, however most of my Pakistani music was gone for good. And after running into an unusual situation two saturday nights ago that involved arguing with a coffee shop operator over use of the bathroom while a drunk women got beaten up on the roadside, I realized the value of finer and prefered things in life and decided it was bloody well time to get that music together. So since the past two weeks I have slowly been recultivating my Pakistani music archive from various sources over the internet. Everything from Khan Sahab, Iqbal Bano and Nayara Noor to Noori, Aaroh, Overload and Meekal. While doing so, I was once again pleasantly surprised at the depth and the talent that exists in the Pakistani music.
The growth of our music industry bears testament to the fact that no matter how much a certain aspect of life suppressed, it only comes out more polished and flourished when it does come out. You cant keep a good thing for long. On one hand I was entranced by the qawalis and thumris and on the other I couldnt get enough of Nazia and Zhoaib's disco. One end of the play list had Vital Signs experimenting with all the boundaries that the early pop music industry had to face and on the other end Strings spread their wings out in the skys that the Signs had pioneered. May it Alamgir's attempt to adopt Latino style with Albela Rahi or Faakhir's spin on Flamenco, Junoon going Santana with Jazba-e-Junoon or Karvan going Zepplin with Gardish there is possibly no comparison to the level of diversity that exists in Pakistan, also keeping in mind the size of the country as well as the market that these people cater too. I dobt if our supposedly creative and cultured and definitely bigger and more populous neighbour could even stake such a claim.
At the same time, what I find slightly funny is the influence of RnB and Hip Hop on the music scene. DJs and Free-styling rap artists have started making appearances in music videos sometimes even dressed and decored like our 8-mile brothers from the hoods of Detroit or Up Town Niggas from ATL (A Town, Upside Down Yeah C'Mon!). Ebonics would soon be course offered in some Karachi schools that want to earn a few extra bucks. But jokes aside, it honestly is a reflection of a society that is assimilative of its influences. If only all those influences were positive!
Rest assured, I am really looking forward to making that summer trip to Karachi and shaking a leg with friends over Nazia and Zohaib singing Dosti, or some Abrar and Jawad bhangra song.
I slowly recovered my English classics through some friends and some back up CDs, however most of my Pakistani music was gone for good. And after running into an unusual situation two saturday nights ago that involved arguing with a coffee shop operator over use of the bathroom while a drunk women got beaten up on the roadside, I realized the value of finer and prefered things in life and decided it was bloody well time to get that music together. So since the past two weeks I have slowly been recultivating my Pakistani music archive from various sources over the internet. Everything from Khan Sahab, Iqbal Bano and Nayara Noor to Noori, Aaroh, Overload and Meekal. While doing so, I was once again pleasantly surprised at the depth and the talent that exists in the Pakistani music.
The growth of our music industry bears testament to the fact that no matter how much a certain aspect of life suppressed, it only comes out more polished and flourished when it does come out. You cant keep a good thing for long. On one hand I was entranced by the qawalis and thumris and on the other I couldnt get enough of Nazia and Zhoaib's disco. One end of the play list had Vital Signs experimenting with all the boundaries that the early pop music industry had to face and on the other end Strings spread their wings out in the skys that the Signs had pioneered. May it Alamgir's attempt to adopt Latino style with Albela Rahi or Faakhir's spin on Flamenco, Junoon going Santana with Jazba-e-Junoon or Karvan going Zepplin with Gardish there is possibly no comparison to the level of diversity that exists in Pakistan, also keeping in mind the size of the country as well as the market that these people cater too. I dobt if our supposedly creative and cultured and definitely bigger and more populous neighbour could even stake such a claim.
At the same time, what I find slightly funny is the influence of RnB and Hip Hop on the music scene. DJs and Free-styling rap artists have started making appearances in music videos sometimes even dressed and decored like our 8-mile brothers from the hoods of Detroit or Up Town Niggas from ATL (A Town, Upside Down Yeah C'Mon!). Ebonics would soon be course offered in some Karachi schools that want to earn a few extra bucks. But jokes aside, it honestly is a reflection of a society that is assimilative of its influences. If only all those influences were positive!
Rest assured, I am really looking forward to making that summer trip to Karachi and shaking a leg with friends over Nazia and Zohaib singing Dosti, or some Abrar and Jawad bhangra song.
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