Sunday, October 31, 2004


It is half past two in the morning and I am up at this ungodly hour to see to a task that just could not wait until morn. While online, here's an update:
I have a theory about myself. I am a first born, and I don’t blame my parents for all those experimentations I was subjected to while growing up. Here is what it was like. Picture a newly wed couple, all lovey dovey, and both absolute trouble makers in their respective families. Try to imagine the havoc their progeny were to wreck on the world. Knowing very well what they were in for, they prayed for a real good first child. A kid everyone could look up to and cite as an example of extraordinary achievements, behavior…the whole hog of parent’s boring expectations. Unfortunately for them, they were told the only specimen of mankind (tbdl) available fitting their timetable and a suitable hotch potch of their combined traits, physical and mental, was erm…slightly flawed, a wee bit dented in the brain, nothing discernible from the outside and if they took it, who knows what wonders their bringing up could do for it. And there was a huge amount of sawaab thrown in if they took in this particular model. And so they did. To this day I can’t make out if I was accepted because Mom and Pop believed in themselves enough and had hope that I could turn out right despite the dent or was it the sawaab factor that led them to my crib.
And so I was brought up and with each passing day Mom and Pop realized what a rotten deal they had gotten themselves into. Perhaps they should have waited for the next available model, which, it turned out, was not really any better than the first one. But forever optimists, they did not give up hope and did what they did best. Somewhere in between genes got mutated. And since all of us siblings had had a dip in the same pool, the effects manifested themselves. This theory of gene mutation is quite a consolation to my parents. How could all of their kids be the way they are? Oftentimes I find myself wondering how lucky Mom and Pop are to be blessed with us all, and look up to find them staring at each other in disbelief/horror/speechlessness at one of their kid’s recent antics. The thing is, we siblings believe we are just Mom and Pop short of perfection, and Mom and Pop refuse to partake in our idea of perfection, so that essentially means we are perfections personified each pending parent participation.
And did I say I had a theory, well, I thought I did, but see how my brilliantly brazen brain works? And did I say it was about myself? Well, one thing, erm… kid lead to another.
If I am lucky, which I am so far, no one from my family will ever get to this blog entry. Mom and Pop couldn’t be bothered and in any case none of the ideas expressed here would be new for them. My siblings have conveniently forgotten the existence of this blog and I want not them to waste their time reading all this. I am sure they would have better things to do, like run some errands for me, or listen to me talk about all this in person. Life is bliss, follow the loser, dear ones!
And for certain passive readers of this blog who fathomed not how Her Kvetchness could listen to Mahi Ve ad nauseum, here’s an update. I heard Atif Aslam’s Yaqeen on Indus Music and downloaded it from Sangeet Radio. It’s been playing on my laptop since, much to the musical annoyance of those who live with me…Hmmm hmmm, ho hooo, ho hooo, ho hoooooo…
There is something seriously wrong with Asian tastes in chocolate. It does not agree with me…or rather,I don’t agree with the brown slab they proudly call chocolate. I made a big mistake when I picked up these chocolate covered hazelnuts on a whim from the supermarket today. It was swiss chocolate and that more or less settles the matter for me, but when I came home and popped in a hazelnut in my mouth, I was devastated. Too much sugar. Just to be sure, I checked the package and it said, chocolate made in Singapore, packed in Malaysia for….Zurich. It is always the same back home too, any locally produced chocolate and it would be sweetened to massacre the very spirit of cocoa. There should be universal standards for chocolates. And I don’t care who wins the US Presidential Elections next week, as long as it is not Bush and as long as the new Pres. assures me personally that the strictest of AWK compliant standards would be maintained in chocolate manufacture around the world and violators would be assigned the task of writing speeches for George W. Bush.< Rab Rakha!


blogger templates | Make Money Online