Amassing losses

So another year closes and I sit back to take stock of what has happened in my life, this year. Not much I’d say. I have lost on so many fronts to lose count. If I thought I was a fool as 2005 rolled in, I proved myself wrong; if I thought I was too much of an optimist for my own good, I need to think again. Such fool I be, I amaze even myself. And that pretty much sums up everything. I don't really look forward to what the new year has in store for me, I have a very good idea and dread it. Fatalism? But you aren't in my shoes.

There is hope

At times I feel I have sold out completely. Where are all those ideals and noble plans to fight for people's rights, where is that burning spirit, where is that quest for rights' advocacy...all squandered in the name of career, all lost in the prusuit of a fatter pay-check. The saddest part is that I sold myself very cheap...what was I to do?
وہ لوگ بہت خوش قسمت تھے
جو عشق کو کام سمجھتے تھے
یا کام سے عاشقی کرتے تھے
ہم جیتے جی مصروف رہے
کچھ عشق کیا کچھ کام کیا

Anyways, I am proud of Htoo Chit, one of the crazy band of HR defenders I met in Bangkok in 2003. He took the French company Total for a law-ride for the HR violations it had been carrying out againt the people of Burma/Myanmar. Here is the text of his press release:

Grassroots Human Rights Education and Development Committee (Burma)
Press Release 18/12/2005

Official Statement by Grassroots GRE on the settlement of the court case against the Total Oil Company

The French oil company Total has been operating its off-shore gas infrastructure since 1990 in Tanintaryin division in accordance with the agreement signed between the company and Burmese military junta. The large scale of human rights violations including rape, murder, torture, forced labour, forced relocation, and confiscation of land and properties has been the daily life of the vulnerable ethnic groups living in the area along the pipeline. The Total Company, the blood-supplier of the military regime, has turned a deaf ear to the complaints of Burmese people as well as to the outcry of international human rights groups for more than a decade as its only interest has been the company profit.

Grassroots HRE, a NGO promoting human rights of Burmese people, has long been collecting relevant documents, photographs, evidence and others necessary papers as proof of the human rights violations by Total's engagement over the local ethnic population. Finally, as the result of the support and encouragement of Grassroots HRE, a lawsuit against the Total Company was successfully put forth through the France judicial system in 2002. U Htoo Chit, the director of Grassroots HRE, has already given his witness testimonies in court in 2003 while two of the plaintiffs have given their accounts in court in 2004.

From the very beginning the lawsuit was aimed to obtain the compensation for the loss, destruction, and suffering caused by Total infrastructure. The lawsuit was done by the freewill of the plaintiffs and victims of the gas pipeline areas without any intervention or pressure of any Burmese political party or organizations affiliated with the party. Therefore, the acceptance or rejection of the compensation in the settlement solely depends on the free choice of those people themselves and has not been influenced by Grassroots HRE. In fact, the company's decision for the settlement is the admission of the human rights violation by Total over the innocent Burmese people.
Even though we, Grassroots HRE, have agreed principally on the final verdict of the French court, we do not give our consent to this sort of out-of-court settlement. However, we are human rights defenders and are pleased with the compensation that the victims justly deserve.
We firmly oppose any form of human rights violations over our people as well as any form of destructions of our environment. We are committed to follow up the evolution and the development of the resettlement program very closely and we are determined to stand by our vulnerable victims in all walks of life.

For every sell-out like me, there is a Htoo Chit to carry on the noble fight. And as long as we have people like him, there is hope for this world.

I have been reading Rageh Omaar's Revolution Day: The Real Story of the Battle for Iraq for two days now. It is a book to be read slowly, taking in each and every word as Omaar paints a painful picture of the pre-post and war days in 2003. Sterile news reports with casualty statistics don't move one as much as his account of how a family in Baghdad clung onto hope as they shifted homes just days before the war began in March 2003.

I read Salam Pax's Baghdad Blogger last year...a war account very personal, witty and incisive at times...I scoured news media during those days in a case of typical media induced 'Information anxiety; passivity; and the classic well informed futility' ...but nothing was like reading this account of a BBC journalist right in the midst of a war...reading of his interactions with ordinary Iraqis and their concerns and at times disdain...

But that is not what made me open up blogger. In the book Omaar writes:

Saddam Hussein liked to portray himself as a leader for all Iraqis...appearing in posters around the country in a variety of costumes according to local faiths or ethnic and class backgrounds...

The country's been in an uproar ever since our very own version of Saddam Hussein, Pervez Musharraf woke up one day and in a Dubya fashion (talk of East-West fusion) started talking about Kalabagh Dam like God-as He frequents Bush's dreams- decided to pay Mushy, Bush's best friend a visit as well.

And to attend to Sindh's concerns on the issue, Mush came down to make life hell for Karachi'ites, this morning his pictures were plastered across papers...see that ajrak on shoulders? Such stereotypical behaviour... I did not know if I should laugh at his obvious desperation or wait for the paper to get a day older and spit on it. I am not that politically naive to not know what image-making is all about...but somehow just a day after reading Omaar's words this did strike as odd...

PS: I haven't the time to research and offer my own learned opinion on the issue, not that GoP eagerly awaits it, but here are two schools of thought:

• Thousands shout ‘no’ to KBD
• View new dams with open mind, says Musharraf
• Musharraf warns of Sindh’s desertification: ‘Construction of dams essential’

If you have the time read through this:
Skardu-Katzarah dam best option: report

Also see how the links relate...and paints me as an obsessive compulsive mush-basher?
And yes, I have read through the report.

Highly combustible

It rained cats and dogs last night. By morning they morphed into human form and thronged bus-stops. As I rely on all forms of public transport imaginable – rickshaw, bus, rickshaw- to get to work, I was considerably miffed at having to wait for a good 40 minutes for my route bus to arrive with a respectable seat vacant for me to rest my seething self on. Each time I gnashed my teeth in a wait-induced frenzy, I reminded myself to calm down and took a deep breath. And I thought bad, terrible thoughts. I cursed my bro sleeping at home, I was riled his being an absolute lazy bum in not attending to the winter-striken excuse of a car we have parked at a jaunty angle at our gate, I worked up an anger at him and myself for not taking driving classes; him for not letting me enroll in a driving institute to learn how to get the hang of a manual gear car, and myself for listening to him, when both of us are absolute sloths…then as I ran out of people to get mad at, I raged at ma and pa. Fortunately no one was around to get a full treatment of my morning wrath. And I am so forgetful I would forget it by the time I reach home. The return journey is another task to be lived through.

The other day we were discussing if we should get our car, the same excuse of a vehicle that’s gone on hibernation, converted to CNG. And then mean bro said Pakistan would run out of gas by the year 2008/9. I asked him if we should put a hold on our plans. He told me he and others of his ilk, the biradari, could always wile me up and work out a way to convert my anger into a sustainable energy resource for vehicles. That should make our family millionaires and put me to some good use in the bargain. Pity he was too fast for the cold water I threw at him that landed at ma’s feet. I wonder if the anger-energy conversion scheme would work on ma as well. We do flare up fast in our family.

In the meantime there's all this talk of the GoP not passing on benefits of the international petrol price decrease to customers. Such meanos, ungrateful oafs these media-walas are. Of course us serfs, the citizens of Pakistan, the wretched don't want a relief, we want to bend our backs, hack off our limbs, sell off our kidneys, lungs and whatever can be sold, to finance another consignment of luxury vehicles for our representatives in the Parliament. They are doing such a good job at licking the armed seats, making our lives hell as they thunder through our cities in their motorcades, making token media appearances...

Hand it to me for being the mistress of trite. I’d thought of titling this post as Oops! I did it again…simply because I missed out on the day this blog completed three years. Three years and as disappearing acts. And no title to this post. Yet.

Anyways, there was a book fair in town and can it be in anyway that I not visit it?

I did of course, but it was such a quick, hurried and harried visit that I could not buy as if there was no tomorrow, which there wasn’t as I’d gone there on the last day. It was however heartening to see so many Karachi’ites turn up at the Expo Centre. Mean bro said it was mostly sight-see-ers, and I was adamant I saw a shopping bag in each visitors hand. True to his being mean, he said people usually collect brochures and pamphlets from such fairs. 'How can you be sure it was freebies, besides I saw and got none,' I made an attempt at winning the argument. 'How can you be sure they did actually buy books,' pat came the reply, 'besides it was such a crowded affair people could have taken an empty shopping bag and stuffed it with stuff unnoticed.' Such optimism, what can I say?

Back to what I bought. I got Raageh Omar’s Revolution Day for S. Edward Said’s Out of Place, Orhan Pamuk’s Snow, Anita Desai’s Voices in the City and Edward deBono’s I am Right, You are Wrong. I soo looked forward to replenishing my supply of chick-lit with The Devil Wears Prada but it was selling like hot cakes and wasn’t available at the time. So, I got meself no chick-lit.

Some days back I had discovered the Bargain Basement at Liberty Books. I go crazy every time I go there, which is frequent, considering it’s just a PKR 20 + 20 rickshaw ride away. And then I deposit my latest accumulations at work or plead a colleague to take it with them, collect it the next day and smuggle my horde home, book by book, trying to ward off Mom’s wrath.

I email myself links and neatly organize them all in a separate folder marked ‘Reads’. My desktop is pock-marked with .pdf files which are various other downloaded reads. I book mark webpages into folders in hopes of making good use of them all one day.

I should either hibernate away in winters, mild as they are in Karachi, or there should be more hours to a day. Or I could simply do with trying to be more organised, methodical and all that boring stuff. Yawn.

The Anglo-Saxons had some real brutal ways of punishment. One of them being to tie up the limbs of an accused and weighing him down with a stone and then throwing him in water. If he managed to stay afloat, it was assumed he was guilty, fished out of water and boiled in oil. If he drowned, well, he was innocent and could not summon all those evil powers to rescue him. The dead body was then taken out and given a proper burial.

One of Aesop’s fables is about an old man and his son taking their donkey to the market. Trying to appease all people they meet on their way to the market-place, they end up tying the donkey to a pole, the end result being that the poor ass manages to break free and drown himself conveniently in the river they were crossing. I am that donkey. I am a lot of things at the moment. I just hope I remember what frame of mind I am in these days to prompt such a gruesome re-telling.

It says something for the sorry affairs you have landed yourself in, doesn’t it, when your inbox announces new emails in excess of ten and all of them useless updates from sites you are not even remotely interested in, not now anymore. Nothing at all from people you once thought you can’t live without. Well, you can and are. So there.

What else was there I wanted to kvetch about? Laters. Then.

two past four

It kicked off with The Soliloquist, and I poured out all my thoughts onto this blog. Then came The Soliloquist's Kvetch-log/K-log and entries did justice to the name, all whining and kvetchings and cathartic typed outbursts. And then was Spiralling into Silence. So it's this silence on this blog that is now deafening, maddening. Makes me mad at least. Even the picture gives the impression of an abandoned spot...perhaps I wanted to make it cozier and went to fetch a cushion and forgot coming back? Duniya ne teri yaad se begaana ker diya/Tujh se bhi dilfareb hain ghum rozgaar ke.
Of all things I could write/blog about, nothing makes it past the confines of a random arrangement of cells I have tightly packed in my cranium. Excess of grey matter, or so I hope.
I have a whole list of things/projects that need to be done. Papier mache, decoupage, feng shui, paper making, trips to the tailor, readings, writings...So.
Saw Taj Mahal last night. The cable operator had put on a bootlegged DVD for our consumption. Trash, absolute trash, kitsch. Apart from Sonia Jehan, Noorjehan's grand daughter, there was nothing in teh movie to live up its hype. and Sonia was saved by her radiant complexion. her beauty is too bland. what irked me no end was Kim Sharma's antics as Ladli Begum. Puhlease, mughal ladies, especially princesses and Queen wannabes were not sluts! They did not pout or over-work their facial muscles. they did not have such way-below average faces. The only reason she bags a role in any acting project is becuase she prefers near-none clothing; in a role where she had to be properly, royally attired and present just a face for public consumption (ahem) she falls flat on her flat face! Pooja Batra as NoorJehan? Give me a huge break, in fact go break the producer, director and publicist's legs. What were they thinking? Zulfi as Prince Khurram...what a yawn and shame. What a waste of a good hour and half; i could not watch any more than that. Treatment, sets, acting, all, everything was banal, below average.

I realise I have a lot of tags to take up. For now I tagged myself from SE's blog and here goes:

. p . e . r .s . o . n . a . l .
-name: A. K
-birthday: mid October, last millennium, am that old.
-siblings: enough
-shoe size: varies, could be anything between a midget 5 to a huge 7.
-height: about average. Ranges between 5 4 and 5 5.

. r . e . l . a . t . i . o . n . s . h . i . p . s .
-who are your best or really close friends? It would be mean to say keep changing, so erm…my absolutely closest friend has to be M, me ikloti sis. The best part about having your sis as your best friend is that you never have to look an inch beyond the room in times of need. Next in line would be Mom, much as I want to, I simply can’t keep anything from her, and Pa, by proxy, except for my bank and credit cards statements…trailing close by would be my band of crack-pot brothers. There’s nothing like them in the whole world. In the usual friend sense, W and Bhai would top the list, in order of recency, then there would be N and A, going back it would be S and U and a decade ago it was T, R and R. B would also be listed, considering we’ve been friends since day one, my day one in this world, she’s a cousin nine months older than me. Does it say what I think it says?

-do you have a boyfriend/spouse: Is none an option? It should be, by choice.

f. a . s . h . i . o . n . s . t . u . f . f .
-where is your favorite place to shop: Too many to list. But I would rate the weekend, Chatuchuk Market in Bangkok as top of my list.

s . p . e . c . i . f . i . c . s .
-what kind of shampoo do you use?: Anything that suits fine to nearly non-existent hair
-what are you most scared of?: Failure
-who is the last person that called you?: A colleague
-where do you want to get married?: Hmm, now this is tricky…I have to agree to get married and then specify a place, right? Or can I do a Runaway Bride? In that case I would have a long list of places I’d like to get married at and not.
-how many buddies are online right now?: Know what, I am not online myself. IM is not instant enough for me. I’d rather call.
-what would you change about yourself?: I am happy the way I am. Well, most of the times, and if I would want to change anything about myself, this is not the place I’d be listing ‘em all!

f . a . v . o . r . i . t . e . s .
-color: mauves and lavenders and lilacs and pastels, and rose pinks…a pale palette.
-food: Anything with chocolate, and sheesh tawook, and French fries.
-subjects in school: English and Urdu, though I was equally good at all subjects. Yeah, comes with being a straight A student. How boring is that?
-hobbies: Not having a hobby counts? I think, a lot. And laze about, and when in mood, yak and yak and yak. At times I read.

h . a . v . e . y . o . u . e . v . e . r .
-given anyone a bath?: yeah, loved playing mom to a host of li’l cousins. Needless to say, real moms loved our juvenile ministrations. Child labour, now that I think of it.
-smoked: Oh yeah, smoked and quit. All in three days, how grown-up is that?
-bungee jumped?: want to, bad.
-ever been in love?: Oh yeah, so many times, lost count of it. That bag, those shoes, that mascara, that rouge!
-made yourself cry to get out of trouble?: nyah, too childish. Never been a child enough to cry except when was a child and did cry.
-cried when someone died?: yeah.
-lied: Wish I could, but I am cursed. Even a blind bat can tell when I make an attempt at lying. So I chicken out. It’s a skill all rusty not being used.
-used someone?: as in manipulate, of course, what decent woman worth her heels hasn’t? *bats eyes*

. c . u . r . r . e . n . t .
-music: Yar ko hum ne ja baja dekha (Abida Parveen)
-make-up: These days, tinted SPF moisturizer, rouge, clear mascara and gloss are staple. I skip a proper breakfast in the mornings to slather all that on the limited amount of surface area made available to me for the prupose. Dress up with eye shades. Love make up!
-annoyance: Ah, too many to list. But I hate, loathe, abhor repetitions. Urghhh!
-desktop picture: It’s a wonderful sun rising over a cloudy Dubai skyline. Can’t believe I was ever up that early to get such a picture.
-book you're reading: Now and Then by Joseph Heller, Miranmar by Naguib Mahfouz and Zen Attitude by Sujata Massey.
-in cd player: Lemme see. Dang! It’s jammed because of no-use.
-in DVD player: *yawn*

l . a . s . t . p . e . r . s . o . n .
-you hugged: A colleague, it was her b’day.
-you yelled at: Bro.
-who yelled at you: Bro, he can’t take my nakhras early in the morning.

. a . r . e . y . o . u .
-understanding: Oh yeah, or such is the impression I want others to have;)
-open-minded: A bit too much. It’s more of an open plan mind that I have.
-insecure: Should I be? Why? Who are you? Why you asking such questions? *Mommmee*
-interesting: Yes, very. Stay away!
-hungry: Mine is more specific hunger. SO I’d be hungry for a sandwich or chocolate cookies and so on.
-smart: Oversmart.
-moody: Could be.
-hard working: Depends.
-organized: I wish!
-healthy with eating: *burp*
-shy: No b way!! *blushes*
-difficult: Depends, there are a whole lot of things I would not compromise on.
-attractive: Depends on my mood, I can manage to look anything I like.
-bored easily: *yawn* next question please.
-messy: now that would be understatement. I live in an organized clutter, Feng Shui can take my chi right out the window in my relationship corner, mind it doesn’t trip over the stack of laundered clothes I would get round to putting back in my wardrobe one of these days.
-obsessed: About forgetting. I live to make it a point to remember something and conveniently, religiously forget it.

. r . a . n . d . o . m .
-in the morning i am: sleepy and cranky
-love is: over abused, over stated and a whole lot of overs.
-i dream about: getting some more sleep *yawn*

. o . p . p . o . s . i . t . e . s . e . x .
-what do you notice first: Hair line, eyes and nose. I hate it when men have such perfect noses and skins and glorious hair. What's the point? It's wasted on them anyways.
-makes you laugh the most: Sitting down with me siblings and making fun of each other, making fun of anyone. Such sessions crack me up.
-makes you smile: Me crazy family and their antics and time out with friends. Actually I smile, a lot. Very indiscriminatory smile. And considering the crooked set of dentures I have, mean bro insists I have some cheek to do that.
-who do you have a crush on: Right now, I have this huge crush on Hugh Glendenning, a character in Zen Attitude. Think I can find a real life version, in erm, real life?
-who has a crush on you: Now that should be interesting. I think all the neighborhood cats have a huge crush on me. Nothing keeps them from serenading at my window come night time, not even random shoes and rocks to shoo them away.

. d . o . y . o u . e . v . e . r .
-sit on the internet all night waiting for that someone special to IM you?: Never been online when I could be sleeping!
-wish you were a member of the opposite sex?: Eww! No wait, I do envy guys with good hair and noses and skins, is that the same as I wishing I was them? *thinks* Seriously, there are times when I think men have it easy, ludicrously easy, criminally easy...so, yeah...
-wish you were younger: Not really.
-cried because someone said something mean to you?: No. Not that I can think of.

.n . u . m . b . e . r .
-of times i have had my heart broken: can I go in minuses?
-of hearts i have broken: Limbs, all those cats and the projectiles they face in their catty efforts to woo me…
-of tight friends: 4, I think
-of cds i own: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

. f . i . n . a . l . q . u . e . s . t . i . o . n . s .
-do you like filling these out?: why else did I take it up?
-gold or silver: gold plated silver suits me fine.
-what was the last film you saw at the movies? Koi Tujh Sa Kahan
-favorite cartoon/anime? I remember this anime that used to come on Star Plus way back in 1993-4, and Muppet Babies, and Captain Planet…
-what did you have for breakfast this morning?: Was in a rush, just a cup of tea. Skipped breakfast in favor of an exact seven minutes layering on me face.
-who would you love being locked in a room with?: Books, lots and lots of them, and a DVD player and loads of movies. I can live by proxy, right?
-could you live without your computer?: I have lived without a PC and survived, so yeah. -would you color your hair?: Chemicals not allowed, but I do dye my hair with henna, love that shade of red.
-could you ever get off the computer?: No problemo.
-habla espanol? Nyah.
-how many people are on your buddy list?: somewhere between 25~30.


HAVE YOU EVER..?
-Missed school because it was raining: bunked classes, yes, requested teachers to let us off, yes, request friends’ teachers to let them off yes. Rain does that to me, it must be criminal to stay indoors when it rains.
-Put a body part on fire for amusement: Now that’s an idea. Whose body part could it be?

-Kept a secret from everyone: No. If all people I know get together, they would have all my life before them. Almost.
-cried during a movie: Nah! teary-eyed at the most, but not actually cried.
-been on stage: too many times to list…and I hate mikes, I mean I can be loud enough but hate hearing my own voice jeering at me from the sound system.
-Been sarcastic?: aha! *raises eyebrow* 'One of these days your eyebrows would refuse to come down', so says mean bro, meanly.

FAVOURITES
Movie: E.T.
Ice Cream: *drools* gimme all!
Person: hmm, family and friends? All of them, yes.

FRIENDS AND LIFE
-Do you have a soul mate?: and that means?
-Who have u known the longest of your friends: B, she’s been my friend since me birthday, and she’s still around. That we don’t talk or see each other much is another story.
-Who's the loudest: B and W would tie for that one!
-Who has seen you cry: B, but that’s only because she’s been around for ever.
-What is/are the best feeling(s) in the world?: Feeling sleepy and hitting the bed!
Being driven around. Time out with friends, bargain shopping/hunting with friends and actually bagging a bargain, and yeah, traveling to a new city.

Ignorance is bliss?

As I reached my workplace my cell phone signalled a new sms. Attending it was the least of all my concerns though as I was greeted by some office confusion and gnashed my teeth at a few people’s impudence. I should have saved teeth gnashing for later, as turned out. There were two sms’es. One from my brother and sister each while another brother had miscalled a good three times. I don’t pick up the phone while traveling. Turns out there was a bomb blast near the PIDC, right in front of KFC at about half past eight this morning. As I am the last to leave home for work, my siblings were concerned; at times I do take that route. It reminded me of another time when the New Zealand team was in Karachi for a cricket series and a bomb blast in Sheraton, where the national and guest teams were staying, blasted game plans in the city. I was enroute to work and only on reaching office did I learn the cause for all that security and chaos at the PIDC/Sheraton area. This KFC was the same where a friend and I used to walk to for lunches. I should have saved my teeth gnashing as a reaction to this blast. It makes me mad. It would make anyone mad. I would like to kill the perpetrators of this heinous act, if those bastards haven’t already got themselves killed in their myopic quest for Heaven. How could Allah let such fools enter Heaven? I surely don’t look forward to such company after death. Abdul Halim Sharar wrote Arsh e Bareen and I wonder if it was not about our times?

Aftermath

The other day when I posted the news on earthquake in Islamabad, I had sketchy information. It was some fifteen minutes past nine when i first learnt of the 7.6 tremors and the collapse of a building in Islamabad. Logging onto newsites, most reports were focussing on the devastation in Kashmir, Islamabad/R.Pindi and some of that information i started putting up in comments.
At that time all media had on hands was information from the capital and from the media's point of view, the collapsed Margalla Towers made great footage, any experts that they called in were from the Met office whoe went on about the kinds of quakes and its magnitude this time round.
and then reports started coming in and i went in a freeze.
if i thought islamabad was badly hit, it was nothing compared to waht happened up north.
I have an album from my trip with Uni to the Northern Areas in the summer 0f 2000. We went to Balakot, the same hamlet where 400 school children died. and that too was nothing. We were stopped on the trecherous mountain raods by random landslides, trapped on raod for more than six hours. the FWO was quick, they had dyanamite to blow up the landsliding. and that took six hours. the northern areas of Pakistan are essentially cut off from the country. just one road snakes through the mountain ranges. waht would be the speed of relief operations reaching the place is a disturbing thought. at least the nation has woken up and is responding to aid pleas.
and so is teh world chipping in. Its disturbing TV and newspapers. Mom's so upset that we are thinking of banning her from watching any more TV.
What's happened has happened. What is important is the rescue and rehabilitation work.
And prayers. Humans have an amazing coping up mechanism. if rescue teams can reach in time, those buried under the rubble can still come out live.
i have to stop thinking on what has happened and work on what can be done.
and pray that money raking bastards who remain so irrespective of what hits their cities/villages refrain from their activities for just a while. those profiteers...i am not even sure of what kind of help is needed. Monetary? try paying a mother who's lost all her kids in the school collapse. food packets? clothes? medicines? I just wish I were a doctor or even strong enough to fly up north and do my bit. life sitting here and paying token lip service sucks.

Earthquake in Islamabad

Scaree news to start the day.
News of a 7.6 magnitude earthquake in Islamabad and Rawalpindi.
Extending to New Delhi in India, Sri Nagar in Kashmir, Peshawar and Lahore in Pakistan.
Listening to Geo Tv's audio streaming on the web I wonder and pray for the safety of everyone.
experts say it could have been and would be better if its a defocussed quake, with major seismic activity deep underground and few tremors reaching up, thus lessening chances of damage and casualties.
Reports also say that people are in a panic and out of their homes since morning.
With no access to TV and without actual footage of the happenings I am quite worked up too.
At teh same time I wonder if all this makes for such good TV, would the media cash in on the panic, as is their wont and whip up a quake frenzy? Exaggerate?
Please pray for Saadat and Ajmal Sb. And everyone else.

Updates in comments and updated pic at 12:15 pm.

Vanity check

Cocktails at Ajmal Sb's place:
This is me, plain and simple:

How to make an A
Ingredients:
1 part competetiveness
3 parts courage
1 part leadership
Method:
Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of fitness.

With frills and fancies, erm, all caps as initials are to be:

How to make an A
Ingredients:
3 parts mercy
3 parts crazyiness
5 parts beauty
Method:
Stir together in a glass tumbler with a salted rim. Serve with a slice of emotion and a pinch of salt. Yum!

I can't decide which one to disagree more with!
And yes, nothing better that I could come up with either.

This was better and, erm, truer:

A may explode without warning

M EXPLOSIVE

The University of Blogging Presents to A An Honorary Bachelor of Cutting Majoring in Self Portraiture Signed Dr. GoQuiz.com ®

Alright then, I check in vanity today evening.

Ramadhan Mubarak everyone!

One day at work

*ring ring*
Hello
Hello, I am calling from *****, can you advice me what BMW series is latest in the market and I should buy?
Huh?
I mean would be worth spending all that money? Are parts readily available, what about maintenance and car specifications and all.
Oh, I see. Sir, how many wives do you have?
Excuse me?
Well, you see, BMW has a new notice out after Swaziland's King Mswati III invested in 10 new 5 series for his wives. BMW now stands for Beamers for Multiple Wives. So, the new policy dictates that only men who have more than two wives can now buy a BMW.
What? Is it BMW’s Karachi office?
*grin* Errr, no.
*click*

“Neoliberal democracy, with its notion of the market uber alles…instead of citizens, it produces consumers. Instead of communities, it produces shopping malls. The net result is an atomized society of disengaged individuals who feel demoralized and socially powerless.”

~ Robert W. McChesney, Introduction for Naom Chomsky’s Profit Over People

Imports to Latin America are heavily skewed towards consumption for the rich…the wealthy are generally exempt from social obligations, including taxes…The problem of Latin America is not ‘populism’…but ‘subjection of the state to the rich.’

My reading list these days:
From Beirut to Jerusalem, Dr. Ang Swee Chai
Che Guevera, Eric Luther with Ted Henken
Profit Over People, Naom Chomsky
The Economist’s Pocket World in Figures 2005

Everyday I face a barrage of gigantic billboards, trying to get my investment in world class residential projects, flashy cars, jazzed up home entertainment systems, latest communicating gizmos; trying to entice me into walking into their swanky outlets with promises of amazing sales and discounts, and mouth watering food.
Lowering my gaze, more to the ground, I see a huge mass of people sweating in the blazing sun, waiting for their route buses, little children running about barefoot on infernal tarmac.
A petrol station sports a spiffy billboard on how 88% of its customers found that their particular brand of petrol gives more mileage. And right across the road I see a teeming mass of ailing humanity stirring up on their tattered chadars on the pavement that served as their beds for the night. Entire families marking out their spaces. Some have not bothered with even a chadar.
This is Pakistan, with a growth rate of 8% that allows Pakistan and its people to raise their standard of living and improve the quality of life, something already beginning to happen.

With this growth rate, the per capita income will rise and people will spend more and that will create more momentum in the economy, Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz noted. "This buoyancy in economy is sustainable and will provide a base for even higher growth in the years to come."

I reach my workplace, switch on the aircon, answer a phone call that, grins aside, gets me thinking, run a google search on some words for old news items I remember having read , to see if all these months have been enough for the good effects to have permeated downwards in the society, and type out this blog. About time I paid lip service. Best that I can do.

On another note, Altaf Hussain turned 52 today. I just hope he starts acting like a sensible 7 year old, his real mental age.

(S)he died while (s)he was living...

At times I marvel at my own ability to live through it all; is it all worth the while? Or is it just whiling away awhile? Why bother? And then again, why not bother? Is it worth the bother, then? How much? How less? And why?

Questions, all unanswered. Tasks all undone. Time racing by and yet stagnating, suffocating in its slow pace. What is time? Does it limit me? Threaten me? Is there a deadline? Who set it for me? It wasn't me, was it?

A blank wall before me, painted ugly messages. I bang my head against it?

Past is a way out from the present mire? Is past not glossed over for just the good times? Was there no bad bout in the past? Would today be looked over as good tomorrow? Is is getting worse by the day, by the hour and second? Is there no future to look forward to? Are dreams to be abandoned? Is it a nightmare or am I living it all? Where am I? What am I upto? What is it all about? And worth it all? Really? What is reality? And what is that I want? Really? What is that I have missed? What is that I now regret? Worth a pine? Did I live through it? How? Will I live through this? Really? Will I live through that? Why?

Honestly, I don't know. But should I?

All I am certain of is my own uncertainty. And that it is not that time of the month for me to get in this mood.

Everything and anything and nothing bothers me. Why should it? Do I really know? Or care?

I just live. And marvel at how I do it.

Blasts from the past

I been cheating.
I started blgging in 2002. December 2002 actually. and have deleted this blog twice since. changed blogger name at least 4 times and changed templates a whole 6 times, that is not mentioning the minute tinkerings I carry out on a regular basis.
'Neways. Yesterday I was going through my 'soft' clutter and came across a CD that housed Version 1 of the blog. So I thought it might be a good idea if i gleaned and put up some old, antiquated entries...it makes for such a good study of my blogging and thinking patterns that when paranoia sinks in, I delete blogs. Not this time, figured out an other way. perhaps.
'Tis a shame I could not figure out a way to the interesting comments i had gathered at the time too.
and Blog Day tag was a previous post. Perhaps I should change back blogger display settings.

Tag a Day

Tag a Day

August 31st is designated to be a Blog Day. SAJ Shirazi tagged me to mention top five blogs that I enjoy reading. Now my blog reading habits are erratic. My top five read list these days would be:

1. Hypocrisy Thy Name
2. Olive Ream
3. WaiterRant
4. Opinionistas
5. UberHomme

I think all of them bloggers should come out with a book. I would be the first in line to get Sir Ajmal’s book, signed by him of course.
Oh, and I am not really updating, or checking up my own sorry place on blogspot. This should do, for a long long while. ;)

حال میرے دیس کا

Jashn e Azadi mubarak everyone!
yes, everyone irrespective.

I was thinking of an August 14 related post, but Ajmal Sb's beat everyone to an apt spoof of Iqbal. And yet not a spoof as it is a scary and sad representation of teh current state of affairs of this state founded in 1947.

باعمل مسلمانوں سے پیشگی معذرت
اقبال تیرے دیس کا کیا حال سناؤں
دہقان تومرکھپ گیا اب کس کوجگاؤں
ملتا ہے کہاں خوشہء گندم کہ جلاؤں
شاہین کا ہے گنبد شاہی پہ بسیرا
کنجشک فرومایہ کواب کس سے لڑاؤں
اقبال تیرے دیس کا کیا حال سناؤں
مکّاری و عیّاری و غدّاری و ہیجان
اب بنتا ہے ان چارعناصر سے مسلمان
قاری اسے کہنا تو بڑی بات ہے یارو
اس نےتوکبھی کھول کےدیکھا نہیں قرآن
اقبال تیرے دیس کا کیا حال سناؤں
بیباقی و حق گوئی سےگبھراتا ہے مومن
مکّاری و روباہی پہ اتراتا ہے مومن
جس رزق سے پرواز میں کوتاہی کا ڈر ہو
وہ رزق بڑے شوق سے کھاتا ہے مومن
اقبال تیرے دیس کا کیا حال سناؤں
جھگڑے یہاں صوبوں کے ذاتوں کے نصب کے
اگتے ہیں تہہ سایہء گل ۔ خار غضب کے
یہ دیس ہے سب کا مگر اس کا نہیں کوئی
اس کےتن خستہ پہ تو اب دانت ہیں سب کے

Bhai, can you imagine? It's been a year to our Baithak madness already?

ab yeh yahan kia hua?

Madrassa expulsions 'to go ahead'

So Mushy said:

...he took the decision because he did not want the madrassas "misused for extremism".

But it is all right to resort to extreme and myopic measures to curb extremism. Now that is 'enlightening'. Why do such news crop up before me just when I am packing up for the weekend? Is he and his stooge company in existence for teh sole purpose of making my blood boil? I t hink not, not. so that would be a yes. This being my place, i can say all i want and as i want:

I HATE MUSHARRAF!!! AND EVERYTHING HE BROUGHT WITH HIM THE NIGHT OF OCTOBER 12, 1999. IMPOSTOR! UNIFORMED RASCAL!

urghh!

Irish lottery winner speechless as she collects £77m prize

Speechless? Oh no, Ms. Dolores McNamara. Never again will you be speechless. For just a li’l one million I agree to write speeches for you. And it would be a wise move too, seeing how insanely I am in love with hearing my own voice permeate the airwaves around me. The words aren't that bad either. Yes I do have this annoying habit of taking my feet, toe by toe, all the way upto my mouth in any conversation that continues for five minutes or more, but it's not my conversational skills that should concern you. My word selection leaves a lot to be desired but then again, it's not me who has to pay up now. Normally my words are tagged on the steeper side but for you I can whip up a special one week discount. And that should be time enough. For the spotlight to have moved on from you. So. Deal you say?

When I am not daydreaming of striking instant riches without as much as raising a foot, I am lunching on Doritos. The best way to eat them, as I have discovered, is to crunch and crush them to small, eatable, bite sized pieces before opening the pack.

Think you can do better than such updates? What you waiting for? Send in a sample post already. Voluntary (non-paying) job. Type Guest (im)Poster in subject line. Faxed and snail-mailed requests will not be entertained.

Why does not the world not rot in hell?

Does it seem I live in a world where headlines don’t bother me at all? That’s why I cared not writing even a word on the London blasts? Or the Ghotki disaster? Or the earthquake that jolted the city but was not enough to get itself registered on my scale? Or the Harry Potter mania? Or His Doggyship PM’s speech to the nation last night? I do blog. Mentally I am blogging all the time. And that is when I don’t even have to pause for a minute and check if my fingers are fast enough in transferring words and thoughts onto the screen. So. I blog. Regularly. Sometimes as much as six times a day. Or three times in half an hour. But tangibility escapes them all. But I am sure all my blogs are great. In fact, I believe that the blogs I have not blogged yet have to be the best and best saved for my own self. It does not really matter whether or not I can recall them at will. See. That is what I meant. The moment I sit down with intentions to actullay commit words to a proper readable blog entry, it’s only nonsense that manages to escape the grey recesses of my mind. My mind has a mind of its own and mins everyone else’s business but its own.
So.
There was this pic I came across in the papers a day or two after Potter mania made headlines. It reminded me of another pic I was stupid enough not to save. But more on that later (or not).

These Bangladeshi street vendors are seen in this pic by AFP Photos, peddling copies of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. The quality was grainy even in print and there was no mention if it was the original high priced edition or the pirated, cheap version. Somehow I doubt if street vendors would be selling the original version. That has to be found in air conditioned, swanky bookshops. Where pre-ordering options were available. Salesmen all but bowed to your purchasing might. Offered discounts on purchase of merchandise on credit cards. And the kids (or adults) lining up to get their hands on a copy of HBP would’ve probably come to the bookshop in a chauffer driven air conditioned car.
So. The book(s) in this pic has to be pirated version. I wonder if the kid peddling this had an idea of what he held in his hands.A publishing phenomenon? What was on his mind? To sell the stupid heavy book off - wondering why anyone would want to way that much money for some cheap paper instead of buying some food - and get some money to take home? I wonder if these kids could read at all. I wonder if they were caught in the jubilation that heralded the release of this book. I wonder if they were happy only because it meant more demand for the cheap version and hence some more money in their pockets. I wonder how they may spend the money they earn from such book sales. I wonder if they go home and tell their parents how some stupid girls and boys had gone ga ga over a cheap print book and bought multiple copies of. I wonder if they talk to their parents at all. If their parents are alive and concerned of what their kids are upto.
Sometimes these disparities just get to me. And I want to quit everything. It is not fair that one kid can spend an obscene amount for a book and another hope that there is a demand for its cheap paper version. I want to jostle up everyone I sight, slap them till they see this depravity all around us and actually do some work. I want to kill myself for not doing enough, I feel for them, but my feelings don’t feed these kids, it does not ensure them a childhood they are entitled to. I feel worthless, not capable of anything save an occasional festering. I rant and rankle here awhile and go back to my routine. I really hate myself.

Someone please rescue me from this self loath and do me a guest post.

Wanted

This blog has come a full circle. Of sorts. Some two years after version one under a diffrenet moniker this time of the year version three seeks to commit to digital memory, again, my limited understanding of lunch. Staring at me, positioned between the telephone and the monitor, I have a red box of ‘original’ flavored Pringles. And that is my lunch today. It is worse than two years ago when my three course meal had Kellog’s Corn Pops as an appetizer, Pringles as the main course and Kit Kat for dessert. There were days when a Zaater Manakesh was the main course and Pringles relegated to a side dish. But Pringles was, in those days of trying to survive all by myself, a staple diet of this dietary challenged specimen of humanity. The last part is still under scrutiny. But. So. I remain innocent until proven guilty of being a human. I could also berate the weather, call it be-imaan and all, as in te song: Aaj mausam, bara be imaan hai…bara be-iman hai, aaj mausam. And there it would end. And it would never be sung in the same chirpy, coo-some, romance laden way. For starters, I sing terribly off key, of course it does not keep me from exercising my vocal chords and others’ auditory senses and patience. If I were to sing this song, an apt ode to the fickle weather, I would shout at the top of my voice, shout as in scolding for the weather having cheated. You see, when I started from home it was beautifully cloudy, breezy, pleasant. And now, it is brilliant harsh sunlight. And since I chose an outfit with noticeable white in it, the very idea of a walk out in the sun makes me squeeze my eyes shut. That white blinds in the harsh sunshine. Where is that rain the morning clouds heralded? Blah blah blah…
Anyone suggest something for Acute Attention Deficiency Syndrome? I don’t want to update ‘nemore.
So, Wanted Desperately: A guest post will be more than welcome.

Why?

Why did the rooster cross the road?
It waited and waited till it thought it was too grown up to answer this question.

Wish I was not lazy to not take out my camera and photograph this crowned fowl proudly strutting about mid road.

why?

My best friend's wedding

7/7/05 Camera: BenQ DC 3410 Email this photo Permalink my best friend`s wedding.

of MMM and prayers

While growing up I had a firm belief that there was an MMM, Muttahida Muhaz against Me (United front against me) with Pop at its helms and his sons all eager office bearers. Mom and sis were honorary members, with teachers being called on invite. So, the whole world, as I knew it, ganged up against me. Of course at that time my world was limited too. Cut to present when I know that the world is a huge place and has many many people in it (yes, that’s a ten year old’s speak) and it still feels the same way. Look at this one for instance. Pop’s bro, my CJ is taking his whole family for Umrah, his sister, my PJ is going with him. And I give her a list of special duas for me: As follows:
That I get a job at the UN Secretariat in NY and work my way up towards being the first woman, Muslim and youngest Secretary General who arm twists all these stupid world leaders into straightening up their act.
Or I get head hunted to a top slot by some TN NGO that does actual work and I am part of something big and meaningful.
Or I get selected as a UN Special Rappoteur on Media Affairs and go about the world talking some sense into the otherwise money minded myopic media moguls.
Or I find a sponsor for my dream project which, expanding internationally, leads to the above.
Oh, did I mention I wanted to have a Nobel Peace Laureate suffixed to my name?
Or I land an enviable job at the BBC and move to London, preferably as a travel correspondent so that I get to see the world. Extended paid vacation.
Or I win a jackpot and can retire somewhere in Northern Pakistan and churn out one profound work of words after the other, leading to a Nobel Prize or at least a Booker.
Or that I get a real scholarship and actually pursue it for higher studies at an institute known for its program. That of course paves way for all of the above but the last, which can be a stand alone. And this would be the most urgent, most needed prayer.
And the list continues.
But, what does my PJ threaten me with? That she would pray for me. And I know what that would be. So, now, it’s my prayers against hers. And my Mom and Pop’s and Grandma and Grandpa’s and uncles’ and aunts’ and cousins’ and friends’ and colleagues’ and well wishers’. If all these people wish one thing for me and the course I have charted for my life is entirely different from it, what does it mean? I was right all along. There is an MMM. The whole bloody world is conspiring against me.

The Colonisation of Pakistan

One would expect the Beeb to get their facts right.
Dubai firm in Pakistan phone sale
Etisalat is not a Dubai firm. It is a telecom monopoly, state owned and operated, in UAE. And now it has stakes in 26% of the only Pakistani concern that actually posted profits. Welcome O Sheikhs. Following on numerous other direct and indirect nosings in the Pakistani state of affairs, you can now snoop on our telcons too. What am I kvetching about anyways? Me, who waited and got a Warid connection. Warid, another one boasting a UAE base. Following on attempts to prove my credit worthiness to yet another UAE based bank, Bank AlFalah. Their rotten services are another story (read: they did not even have to courtesy to tell me my application's been rejected, yeah, don't trust me with your money).
And that is just royal money, let's not even talk about the other powerful groups that have stakes in numerous other mega projects...some days back I saw an ad in the papers about a residential project in Islamabad with a mention of the AlGhurair name.
And I read yet another news item in a newspaper about a new project, a whole new city, by the name of New Dubai

Spadework has started to bring up a new city, to be named as ‘New Dubai’ along the Northern Bypass, to make one of the world’s most modern cities. In order to achieve best results, foreign consultants will be employed in all aspects of housing and infrastructure for the new planned city.

So, you missed out on colonisation back in the 18/19th century. Worry not, our rulers sure are steering us towards another bout of it. That is enlightened moderation. Enlighten the nation in moderate steps. One piece of the pie at a time.
We can't get anything right on our own. It has to have some overseas element to it. Take that you low lives!
Urghhh!!! Excuse the exclamations, I am throroughly riled up.

This city will have all the present modern day facilities - from an international airport to tax-free industrial zone for non-toxic industries.
Brig Nasir giving an outline of the new city said that it will have four towns - China Town, Maktoum Town, Mahatir Town and Faisal Town besides 5-star hotel, filtration, desalination and recycling plants, diplomatic enclave, bus terminals, olympic stadium, middle income group apartments, international trade banking, expo complex, education complex, jurist enclave, graveyard, government officers’ residences - to name a few.

Why China Town? They could not figure out a politically correct Chinese leader's name to honor Pak Cheen Dosti? And they can, in the name of Tameer e Pakistan, go on digging the c**p out of Karachi, truck off all the earth to this new pet project where the powers that be may reside in peace ever after. That an Ivory Tower. Actually I don't mind this idea much, as long as they don't siphon off my tax money for this indecent project. My skeletal frame gets comprehensively jostled on the nightmare that is roads in Karachi. The contents of my cranium are in a state of frequent disturbance from all this, by the tiem the grey matter (and there is plenty of it to go around) gets settled to get work done, it is time to pack up and brave another road journey home. Why can't they work out some decent Mass Transport System. The Urban Transport System sucks, I mean literally sucks money. You pay for an aircon that does not work in the maddening Karachi heat. You pay road taxes for potholes and ditches to wear the life off your car, if you are credit worthy enough to get one leased that is.
Something about a desalination plant too? What next, would then a whole sea be marked out as the Exclusive Economic Zone of this New Dubai? never mind its proximity, or lack of it thereof, to teh sea. With all the perks why should it be land locked city? Perhaps they can ration water supplies to the poor Karachi city and create a huge artificial lake by the city?
Guess my brain content is settling down. Only it is capable of flinging such ideas.

عادت ہی بنا لی ہے، تم نے تو منیر اپنی
جس شہر میں بھی رہنا، اکتاۓ ہوۓ رہنا

Time check

There should be 30 hours in a day and weekends should be three days.
I have some three people waiting to kill me and if I have irked you in any way, feel free to join the line.
I hope your week has been and weekend will be better than mine.

On the road

OK. So it is not on the road. At least not technically. I mean I am flying to all destinations flying with those great people to fly with that man and woman the national carrier. And now I see my father's decision to not fly it. I mean you end up paying through your nose for courtesy and services never extended. Just take this one I am taking to ISB, the capital from LHR, the ultra thand city. They call you at the airport a good two hours before departure time and even an hour before the actual take off time (the one mentioned on the ticket at least) there is no one on any of the baggage counters. And once a passenger or two has gone to the shift in charge and given him a piece of his(her) mind, two people traipse in. Then there is no one at the belt counter. After three reminders and fooling aorund with the machine ourselves, my colleague finally figures out how to work it. So he belts up the luggage for two passengers before getting round to doing ours. In the meanwhile I have gone ahead and given a telling to the national carrier people. The one good thing is these internet kiosks. have yet to test if it works and uploads this update.
And don't even get me started on how it fared at the city's largest five star hotel. Terrible. Of course I politely smiled and gave it to any that merited it. It was good exercise, that thandi maar, with a smile. Take that. Overall I guess Lhr is a thand city. More later. they have announced my flight. That's another battle to be braved. Sigh!

On the road

OK. So it is not on the road. At least not technically. I mean I am flying to all destinations flying with those great people to fly with that man and woman the national carrier. And now I see my father's decision to not fly it. I mean you end up paying through your nose for courtesy and services never extended. Just take this one I am taking to ISB, the capital from LHR, the ultra thand city. They call you at the airport a good two hours before departure time and even an hour before the actual take off time (the one mentioned on the ticket at least) there is no one on any of the baggage counters. And once a passenger or two has gone to the shift in charge and given him a piece of his(her) mind, two people traipse in. Then there is no one at the belt counter. After three reminders and fooling aorund with the machine ourselves, my colleague finally figures out how to work it. So he belts up the luggage for two passengers before getting round to doing ours. In the meanwhile I have gone ahead and given a telling to the national carrier people. The one good thing is these internet kiosks. have yet to test if it works and uploads this update.
And don't even get me started on how it fared at the city's largest five star hotel. Terrible. Of course I politely smiled and gave it to any that merited it. It was good exercise, that thandi maar, with a smile. Take that. Overall I guess Lhr is a thand city. More later. they have announced my flight. That's another battle to be braved. Sigh!

Mixed bag

Ok, so I was supposed to be on the road this weekend but Moiz beat me to it and went on a cross country trip Down Under. And posted pictures of all this amazing scenery that makes me green with envy. And I was supposed to be on the road. Never mind, my version of being on the road means packing a carry all and jetting to all capital cities of Pakistan’s provinces. It’s a work trip so there might or not be a travelogue. A tight itinerary it is what I have but I would love to take time out and sneak away to meet bloggers anywhere. Shoot off an email will you? And then I can return next week and plan and organize a Karachi bloggers meet. It is about time I put a face to all blog authors that I read.
On another note, it was interesting that fact that exactly five years after my all Pakistan trip in the final year of my Uni, I would be taking another all Pakistan trip. This time more so. And I have yet to organize and get together that crazy gang of 20 people who were on that memorable tour. And write down about that tour, as I have been promising myself and my tour mates for the past five years. Last night I took out pictures and went nostalgic all over again, ah those wonderful carefree days. I was on a budget and yet I managed to shop like crazy. And now I can shop like crazy but that layer of true/false sophistication and worldliness so essential to keeping up a professional façade means I can’t act crazy anymore. Perhaps I would get down to writing about the ‘tour’ as I said, it is long due anyways. And with summers, as with every summer from 2000, it reminds me of that magical trek trip to Lake Saif ul Mulook. I mean, we could bend down and cup our hands for fresh, ice cold, crystal clear water any time we wanted a drink…just walking along with that bubbly stream leading way to the lake. If I can shake off laziness I can post pictures of scenic vistas to rival any. But more on that later.
For now it is this meme I have been tagged with.
*goes looking for the urdu post on memes on last deleted blog*

If I could be an athlete, and that would be a big if, I would have been a squash player and a swimmer par excellence. I just love the quick fire game of squash and of course the grace of body movements while gliding under water. Beach trips would have been so much fun then and no worries of adipose tissue excess just where it should not be.
If I could be a doctor, I would have been a surgeon. A general surgeon, perhaps even a trauma one. And to think all my teachers at high school so wanted me to become a surgeon. I was always called up for demonstrations, I had the most deft and light of dissecting hands, my biology teachers said. Yeah, never bothered asking what the frog(s) thought about my skill with the scalpel. Anyways, looking at my sister, I am ever so glad I did not jump on the medicine bandwagon and took (at that time) a road seldom taken.
If I could be a chef, now that would have been something and caused no less joy to my mother who insists on domesticating me and I try to wiggle out of culinary responsibilities as best as can be managed. And what I do manage to cook is barely fit for human consumption, I marvel at my own ability to survive after eating anything I have convinced myself into making. And my being a chef would have been such a delight to my family, at present when I want to be real mean to my brothers, I cook up something and watch them eat it. Revenge is a dish best served hot ;) If I could be a chef, I would have served absolutely amazing, all-halal, unforgettable eating experience cuisine. And it would have been a Michelin four star affair, my restaurant, where people would never have had to worry about ingredients. I mean I love good food but minding what goes into it does take out all the fun off an eating out experience. !

If I could be a lawyer I would have been with the UN, a special rappoteur on Media Affairs, civil rights or something similar. Failing that I would have been a high flying consultant with a international NGO registered with the ECOSOC of UN. Oh yes, UN is the culmination of all my career dreams.
If I could be a marine biologist…can’t think of anything better than what Moiz, the person who tagged me with this meme in the first place, has already said. For that swimming skills would have been a must, so two with one go. And I would have been snorkeling and diving and scouting all those exotic beach locales. Oh yes, I am a water creature through and through…and amphibian that can’t swim if you want. That can be changed though…I mean I am signing up for swimming classes one of these days.
And Moiz, you naughty child, you have tagged most people I know, who do I pass on the stick to?
Here:
Abez & Aniraz (Owl) they are a package deal
Baji
Devil’s Advocate
H
NJ

Added on June 7, 05: Road show starts today. Watch out for pics.
best.

Six days and counting

No, it's not been nearly a week since I took off k-log. It's been that long that I have been playing host to an ungracious fever. And it just can’t make up its mind; its comings and goings have left me woozy. Thermometer, that stupid glass contraption refuses to behave itself in my presence too. It steadfastly denies stop to the mercury at a normal human body temperature level. It either gets stuck at 96/97 F or goes all the way up to 102/103 F. Add a kaput BP apparatus to the scene, employed to identify and measure my blood pressure level, and I am all set for preservation in a museum of medical sciences. That bad is sub-normal that is normal for this mortal. 120/80 for me is high blood pressure; at 98.4 F I run a fever. Obviously ice cold press has to be slapped onto my forehead each time the thermometer reads 103 as technically it means 104. Five clammy presses later I reach for the thermometer and have it plunked thrice in my mouth. Each time mercury refuses to budge past the neat 98.4 F mark. Each time my one woman hospital of a sister eyes me suspiciously and orders me to put it back. It’s so neatly normal my temp., OWHS thinks I have rigged it up. Imagine that! And I am force fed medicine. Which tastes terrible as medicine should. I am loathe to coughing for fear of downing more of that stupid syrup that does not seem to do its job at all. I sneak to work one day and return home with fever shot up and a BP level nose diving in search of some elusive plankton down the Mariana Trench.
This is not to say deleting k-log was an act carried out in a delirious, medicinally justifiable bout of insanity. There was some nearly one year’s worth of blogging accumulated on it. A delete action was long past due.
A restart does mean a new phase in life. A new phase in life does not equate with a change in the marital status. Next thing you know, I would mention some 3-4 mentionable phases of my life and jaws follow my BP level assuming I have been married as many times. Or not. I may have a gun pressed to my head when I send off emails to friends telling them how I finally capitulated into saying yes but announcing it here would be too, erm... -let's not get into that-
*cough cough*
In case you are still wondering, keep wondering, keep those grey cells at work.
I would be on the road this weekend again. Around Pakistan this time. If you have your ears sensitized to a dry, raking, wheezing, whopping, sneaking cough, that would be me, if not fully cured by the time I land in your city.