Archive for cousins

Madness

Wednesday – 22 Zilhaj 1428 – 13 Pausa 1929 – 02 January 2008

I do not refer to my unbelievably fickle nature with depression and sadness. Over the past couple of months I have been fighting very hard against my moods of depression. I would like to say that at any given time I am either a man of happiness and sunshine or of sadness and lamentation. And in that period of time I see only that particular taste of time till the end of time. Fickle I would agree. But, it adds tastes to life not expected by so many. And of course of the recently polled 149 friends, family, colleagues and acquantances 134 declared me absolutely insane and unpredictable, 10 said I wanted to seem different and hence overacted, and of course 5 wanted to go to the bathroom and said “To hell with your questions overly fat and irritating bitch, where the hell is the can???”. I rest my case.

The madness I refer to is what I see around me. My country, my society, my people, my land. I met with a very dear friend from Hyderabad. Yes, yes, I know, only people above fifty are allowed to use the word dear friend, but, fuck off, grow up, go kick yourselves in the nuts, I will do what I want to do. He was telling me about the absolutely insane violence that took place in his city. So did it happen in Karachi.

My cousins, who were in from the US forced me to take them out on the New Years Eve. I didnt want to go. I did. I saw everything. What had become of my city. The closed shops. The dark streets. The empty roads. I cried. I cried in the car. They asked me what it was. I stopped crying. They can not share in my pain. I needed someone who loved those streets as much as I did to be able to understand.

And here, I would like to share with you all something that went through my mind during a split second of the drive. I am walking across the India – Pakistan border.  When they try to stop me I run across it and declare “I demand political asylum because I am an Agnostic and the country behind me is a Taliban / Warlord hellhole”. The Indians do not say anything. They look at me with understanding eyes and let me walk on. I cross the guards. I look back. I look at the gate on the border with the Crescent and the Star. I know that my country descended into chaos. Another Afghanistan, another Baghdad. I saw it happen. And as I looked back across the border, I felt the pain of loss. Loss of each element of my existence. The sum of my being defined by a symbol that had restricted my world to what I ended up learning to love so strongly. Ghazal singers and Sufi Rock. Dawn newspaper and tv channel. As these images go through my mind I start walking back towards the Pakistani border. Something pulling me back. Towards destruction. Towards oblivion. But, the ability to think and process and decide rationally had left me. There was only one thing. Pleasure and pain, and the knowledge of eternal pleasure in the company of what I know and accept. And as I walk towards the border I am torn into two, one who wants to grasp at the last dying embers of what I love and cherish and hold above everything in the world, and the other who has the knowledge that seeing the destruction of a part of this whole would finish me. Yet again, as in my personal life, I am torn between two paths that both lead to oblivious destruction, I can not choose, and I can not decide, they are both right and they are both wrong. Am I only trying to run away from the questions by forcing so sudden a decision? As I walk towards the border, I fall down. I break down. I start to cry. A sound comes out of my throat like the primeval cry of an animal in pain. I dont know where it is coming from. Maybe it is coming from Pakistan. Maybe. And the images flash at me with increasing intensity. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan singing Pakistan Pakistan. The Azan of the Muazzin from my old home. I fall to the ground. Old late 80s PTV song / jingle that was played before the Khabarnama. I start to pull my body across the gravel towards the border. Jinnah Mausoleum along the MA Jinnah road covered in a soup of Rickshaw vomit. I know that I am going to die. Sunset from the Clifton beach on a winter afternoon. I know that I must cross the border before the inevitable. The large pothole on the road to my house due to which I had to drive on the wrong lane each and every day. I scrabble like a mad man on the gravel, making a lot of effort but little progress. The Kabab Fry from Burns Road. The Indian guards who had tried to stop me have just now let me be; they understand. Nayyara Noor singing Faiz Ahmed Faiz – خیر ہو تیری لیلائوں کی. I think my hand has hit the border; and now, I can finally die in peace. I turn over, on the border. Saadat Hasan Manto. Pakistan Paindabad. And all is peace forever.

 پاکستان پائندہ باد

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Weekend

Sunday – 10 Ramazan 1428 – 01 Asvina 1929 – 23 September 2007

Ahhhhhhhh. I love weekends. I just love them. I can finally keep awake for as long as I want. I can get out of bed when I want to, no sooner no later. Love it. The mere concept of waking up and not rushing to work, rather, going back to sleep is utterly amazing.

And I went to Sunday Bazaar today. Now, I do agree that Sunday bazaar has gone down the drain quite a bit. I mean, at least one hundred times worst that I remember. But, it is still fun to see things. Oh, and yes, the guys out there are totally delectable, to say the least. I just cant stop staring and it becomes slightly awkward. My mom or today, my cousin asking me something I was just checking out this guy and I was just hmmm hmmm hann hann, and she realized what was going on and she turned around. Thankfully, there was a hot girl standing over there and she just smiled and told me that she will tell my fiance that I was checking out a girl in an orange dress. Good God! Dude! How little you know. Need to be more careful in public. Aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa.

God I love Sundays.

Car

Thursday – 06 Rajab 1424 – 13 Bhadra 1925 – 04 September 2003 

hmmmm. well lets say that life is fine. things are going ok. slow and steady. my cousin persists on smoking like a train. and i persist on trying to stop him. we both stay on our own tracks.

and after that i drove my car from my cousins house to my own. my first car ride. yey. well it was much better than i thought. i didnt kill anyone or destroy my car. well i didnt hit it at all with anything. hmmmm.

well i love to drive. from now on. i will always love it. it is wonderful. but it was nice. more details later.

Rickshaw rolling down a bridge

Tuesday – 20 Jamadi us Sani 1424 – 28 Sravana 1925 – 19 August 2003 

today i am at my cousins. he just gave his exam so i came over because he would be alone otherwise. well he is a very nice guy. the kindof person that you can spend time with without getting bored to death and you will not want to leave his company.

that said i will proceed. the thing is i am a person who likes to joke a lot. well at times i forget that you are not supposed to go crazy with someone you just met. well i was on the bus. the conductor said something which i thought was something else. i joked about something. he got serious and said something. i again took it as something else. well lets just say he told me i was an idiot. not very nice when 15 people are hearing you being called that in a bus.

mental note to self : never joke with someone you have met the first time. and if you do, make fun of yourself, NOT his education.

also when you are at the top of a bridge. and the rickshaw stops and you and the driver get out. HOLD IT !!! maybe the driver thinks you will hold it and that is why he just left it. and when the thing starts hurtling down. you will have to run like a fucking horse on fire to catch it. which i did. and when you get to it. it will have a HUGE impetus. believe me. so stop it when it is easier.

mental note to self : contain the situation when you can. do not let it hurtle out of control.

well thank god i had a nice post today. i will see you later. bye yall. have fun at least someone should.

oh and yes another thing. my cousins friends came over. one of them made a point at me. he was known as the kindof person who is good at such things. well lets just say that after half an hour the other 4 people were falling out of their chairs while i made that guy look like a complete idiot.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!! the wonders of being a bitch and feeling good about it as well.