Assorted Mundanities.

Moved.

2009-01-03T11:48:00.002+05:00

Blogspot sucks, driving me nuts.

Tired of this mess, moving to wordpress.

The Him II: Tomorrow.

2009-01-03T04:15:00.002+05:00

His eyes are dangerous, she thinks.

She offers him coffee, he drinks, still watching her, she smiles but falters. She is not comfortable. He is not comfortable. Then what are they doing?

He's dangerous. She thinks again. From the way he tips his lighter and his cigarette to the way he eyes her with his sparkling beetle black eyes, hair crossing the forehead in the boyish offhand manner. He is dangerous in all those ways. She smiles politely, crossing her arms over her chest. He grins. He understands her feminish defense and she cringes a little. She is twelve years old and caught. She stops cringing to grin back a feeble grin and begins to fidget.

"So what do you dream about?"

Her breath is stuck, her fingers turn a little numb. Who asks that question? Women. He had no right to cross border. He had no right to breach the barrier. Only aliens can travel from Mars that fast. He surely was one, she thought haughtily.

Well, waddaya know. I was being defensive back there. Huh.

"I dream about green hills." She serves him some more chocolate mousse. "Here. Have some." This way he will not pay any attention to her. She had lived a childhood of being called ugly. She would never resolve that conflict, she thought unhappily.

He ignores the mousse and continues the intent stare. "And?"

"And they are green. That's about it. Hills are uninteresting."

"People who talk about dreaming of green hills aren't uninteresting. Go on."

He seems interested. Dangerous, but interested. Her heart gives a little wiggle. She chooses to ignore it as well as she can manage.

"There is someone I dream about," she finally says after a moment of reconsideration. What the hell. Right?

"See. Now we're getting somewhere." He lies back into the chair. Oh dear Lord. She stares at his eyes sparkling. What in God's name have I gotten myself into.

She continues. Her division is clear again. The yes and the no. She listens to both sides and as always, does what she feels like doing. Going over the edge.

"I dream of being untouched, undiluted. Faith. Undiluted. Hope. Undiluted. Dreams. Undiluted. I dream of a constant me, not this juggernaut of emotions, this dissatisfaction."

"You seem together enough."

"I am. They are social graces."

"Oh. I see. So you're a hypocrite."

"I'm a pretender."

"Aren't we all, lady. Come up with something original for Crissakes."

"I'm outta originality. How's that for a cliche."

"Pretty good, actually. Are you always this socially appropriate?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Not in the least. You carry it off well enough."

"The insinuating tone?"

He holds her gaze. This time she doesn't back down.

"My tone? Look at me. Do I look like I want to insult you tonight?"

She stares into the pitch-blackness of his gaze. The complete ambiguity, the worm hole she had walked into. She reads in the same darkness the words he cannot bring himself to say. She finds him empty and alone, hungry and confused. They are all dangerous things. As always she feels her hunger can feed his, her hands can reach out to his, but she turns away her gaze.

Tonight is not the moment.

Today is not the day.

Peace for Palestine?

2008-12-31T04:30:00.003+05:00

Robert Fisk's article in the Dawn.

Read it and weep. Literally. All of the Muslim fundamentalists and Western democrats. Shame on you all.

We’ve got so used to the carnage of the Middle East that we don’t care any more – providing we don’t offend the Israelis. It’s not clear how many of the Gaza dead are civilians, but the response of the Bush administration, not to mention the pusillanimous reaction of Gordon Brown, reaffirm for Arabs what they have known for decades: however they struggle against their antagonists, the West will take Israel’s side. As usual, the bloodbath was the fault of the Arabs – who, as we all know, only understand force.

Ever since 1948, we’ve been hearing this balderdash from the Israelis – just as Arab nationalists and then Arab Islamists have been peddling their own lies: that the Zionist “death wagon” will be overthrown, that all Jerusalem will be “liberated”. And always Mr Bush Snr or Mr Clinton or Mr Bush Jnr or Mr Blair or Mr Brown have called upon both sides to exercise “restraint” – as if the Palestinians and the Israelis both have F-18s and Merkava tanks and field artillery. Hamas’s home-made rockets have killed just 20 Israelis in eight years, but a day-long blitz by Israeli aircraft that kills almost 300 Palestinians is just par for the course.

The blood-splattering has its own routine. Yes, Hamas provoked Israel’s anger, just as Israel provoked Hamas’s anger, which was provoked by Israel, which was provoked by Hamas, which ... See what I mean? Hamas fires rockets at Israel, Israel bombs Hamas, Hamas fires more rockets and Israel bombs again and ... Got it? And we demand security for Israel – rightly – but overlook this massive and utterly disproportionate slaughter by Israel. It was Madeleine Albright who once said that Israel was “under siege” – as if Palestinian tanks were in the streets of Tel Aviv.

By last night, the exchange rate stood at 296 Palestinians dead for one dead Israeli. Back in 2006, it was 10 Lebanese dead for one Israeli dead. This weekend was the most inflationary exchange rate in a single day since – the 1973 Middle East War? The 1967 Six Day War? The 1956 Suez War? The 1948 Independence/Nakba War? It’s obscene, a gruesome game – which Ehud Barak, the Israeli Defence Minister, unconsciously admitted when he spoke this weekend to Fox TV. “Our intention is to totally change the rules of the game,” Barak said.

Exactly. Only the “rules” of the game don’t change. This is a further slippage on the Arab-Israeli exchanges, a percentage slide more awesome than Wall Street’s crashing shares, though of not much interest in the US which – let us remember – made the F-18s and the Hellfire missiles which the Bush administration pleads with Israel to use sparingly.

Quite a lot of the dead this weekend appear to have been Hamas members, but what is it supposed to solve? Is Hamas going to say: “Wow, this blitz is awesome – we’d better recognise the state of Israel, fall in line with the Palestinian Authority, lay down our weapons and pray we are taken prisoner and locked up indefinitely and support a new American ‘peace process’ in the Middle East!” Is that what the Israelis and the Americans and Gordon Brown think Hamas is going to do?

Yes, let’s remember Hamas’s cynicism, the cynicism of all armed Islamist groups. Their need for Muslim martyrs is as crucial to them as Israel’s need to create them. The lesson Israel thinks it is teaching – come to heel or we will crush you – is not the lesson Hamas is learning. Hamas needs violence to emphasise the oppression of the Palestinians – and relies on Israel to provide it. A few rockets into Israel and Israel obliges.

Not a whimper from Tony Blair, the peace envoy to the Middle East who’s never been to Gaza in his current incarnation. Not a bloody word.

We hear the usual Israeli line. General Yaakov Amidror, the former head of the Israeli army’s “research and assessment division” announced that “no country in the world would allow its citizens to be made the target of rocket attacks without taking vigorous steps to defend them”. Quite so. But when the IRA were firing mortars over the border into Northern Ireland, when their guerrillas were crossing from the Republic to attack police stations and Protestants, did Britain unleash the RAF on the Irish Republic? Did the RAF bomb churches and tankers and police stations and zap 300 civilians to teach the Irish a lesson? No, it did not. Because the world would have seen it as criminal behaviour. We didn’t want to lower ourselves to the IRA’s level.

Yes, Israel deserves security. But these bloodbaths will not bring it. Not since 1948 have air raids protected Israel. Israel has bombed Lebanon thousands of times since 1975 and not one has eliminated “terrorism”. So what was the reaction last night? The Israelis threaten ground attacks. Hamas waits for another battle. Our Western politicians crouch in their funk holes. And somewhere to the east – in a cave? a basement? on a mountainside? – a well-known man in a turban smiles.

Robert Fisk
—Dawn/The Independent News Service

What the ...

2008-12-31T00:35:00.004+05:00

Picture this.

Picture it all. Good and proper, okay?

Sometimes I think we're born on the wrong side of this century. Or maybe I'm losing my mind.

No. Not the century. I'm definitely losing my mind.

This instance was not only the first but one of the most flabbergasting passer-by moments of my life.

Shadi shopping is tough, it can take a lotta zing outta you. After struggling for the thousandth time to tell your darzi that a kurta is a kurta is a kurta, you pretty much begin to lose it tenth time around.

My mom is a slick driver. She thinks she's on a race track when she's on Shahrah e Faisal and when the car hits a speed breaker, it's just something to fidget about. I had always been used to Dad's not-more-than-20-km/h driving, so for the initial couple of shopping trips I don't know how many times I recited the final kalima. Especially when Mom's bp was already high enough for her to hit and run. Really.

So Mom's hungry and irritated because we've already spent two useless hours at Jabeen's, not finding a single worth-it dress, and because I'd made her hurry out of house for the trip, she didn't take lunch either. We stop at Khadda Market's One Potato Two Potato and Mom yelps at the sight of "Fish and Chips - Limited Winter Edition".

I walk out of the car, as Mom parks in front of Ami's. The road is narrow, there's plenty of rush and I decide to bring the fish to Mom and take a can of Sprite Zero for her from Ami's. Comfortable little dinner eh?

Life was good until ...

I was standing placing my order at OPTP when a Vitz parks behind me. The driver is a older gentleman and the passenger seat is occupied by a young boy wearing a painter's cap. He's not more than twenty I suppose. He looks slightly familiar. I squint. Then I turn back round. The OPTP window guy has told me to wait for a moment.

Standing around waiting for the fish and chips to arrive, I turn around on my right this time and there's the young boy again talking to the OPTP waiter. Where have I seen this guy, I wonder, and am almost about to turn. Maybe he's a student, I think.

He smiles. Oh. So he's definitely a student. Before I even think of asking him if he'd gone to Iqra or Bahria or if I knew him from somewhere else, Little Gul Jee grins.

"Assalam o Alaikum." He shows slightly big pan-chewn teeth. He's thin and lanky and kinda makes me want to tell him to order a bigger dose of fries.

"Walaikum assalam. Do I- "

"Can I have your number?"

Same grin. I am shocked. No. Too precise an emotion. I wasn't even articulate let alone. Otherwise I would have given him a nice dose of masala to go with those fries. Shell-shocked? No. I didn't register shock of any kind. Flabbergasted? No. I didn't feel anything. Windfallen? No. I knew exactly what I'd run into. A stupid moron who thinks confused signals are a battle cry. Outraged? No. I was too miffed at my own loss of composure.

I turn around, my face burning, I sputter an indignant, "NO!" and feel like banging my head against the glass OPTP window. If the guy was an idiot, or a schizophrenic or a moron, or simply blind to see the dopatta on the head and the back-the-hell-up look frozen on my face, something like this had NEVER ever happened in my entire life. I have never been approached by random strangers like this and asked the number for. And believe me, I was completely haggard, looking like, yes, the hag after shopping for six hours straight. So the guy either had to be on a dare, a patient of hysterical blindness, temporary dementia or some sort of other psychological illness which my limited knowledge has not been privy to so far. Because I see no reason why a young, Himesh-listening guy would approach a random 25 year old woman with a dopatta on her head to ask for her freaking number.

I've stepped into a new world, I have.

And thus I need to ask you all. Have you men grown extra pair of ... pituitary glands to secrete excess testosterone? Or are you people completely devoid of keeping it in ... Okay. I'm displacing my anger, but honestly. Seriously. Give me something here, I cannot understand the weirder sex anymore, I am out.

What does a girl have to do to tell you that I am the FUCK NOT INTERESTED?

Prologue: Happiness and Romance.

2008-12-28T22:09:00.003+05:00

"Romance takes place in the middle distance. Romance is looking in at yourself, through the window clouded with dew. Romance means leaving things out: where life grunts and snuffles, romance only sighs. Does she want more than that - more of him? Does she want the whole picture?

"The danger would come from looking too closely and from seeing too much - from having her dwindle and herself along with him. And waking up empty, all of it used up - over and done. She would have nothing. She would be bereft.

"An old fashioned word."

------------------------------------

"Happiness is a garden walled with glass: there's no way in or out. In Paradise there are no stories because there are no journeys. It's loss and regret and misery and yearning that drive the story forward along its twisted road."

- The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood.

Differential.

2008-12-28T02:32:00.002+05:00

Okay, so this is good business. You take a movie that's already done well, hire a popular actor, someone with halfway decent principles (which in this world means an actor who refuses to dance on Dard e Disco or Ishq Kameena type item numbers), for a halfway decent script (which in this world means sweeping away a script of a critically acclaimed movie and giving it the desi touch) and lo and behold. You've got a brand new standard of what people like. Movie based on another movie that wasn't popular enough to the general masses.

Ghajini, ladies and gentlemen, and Memento. May God give peace to the soul of Christopher Nolan and more sense to Aamir Khan. Not surprised at the swipe, though would've expected something better from the Khan.

The Him part 1

2008-12-26T14:15:00.002+05:00

The wall sprang up again.

I don't know from where.

You were right there when it happened. I saw you. I saw you looking at me from the corners where you stand while waiting for the turn to confess.

Okay so maybe I know you don't confess truly. It is a show you put on. Like your toothbrush and your smile and your dainty fingernails. Isn't it odd how much effort women put into things that are either dying or already dead?

They should spend their time on the living. The way I do. I infuse myself inside you, like blood and carbohydrates. What? I can sound funny too. Every once in a while. If I want to. When needed ... ?

You said you'd tell me a story today. The story of the night and the tale of today. Isn't that right, my dear? Haha. I like the way you cringe when i say that. Makes me feel I have some kind of power over you, albeit small. Albeit insignificant. I'm still there. Blood and carbohydrates will come too.

Fine. Don't laugh. I'm done being the comedian. A bad one. I'll sing you a song. Write you a love letter. Stand by your window and compose a sonnet. Why do girls prefer a guy with a sweet tongue than a guy who can narrate facts, hard facts? A guy who can tell them EXACTLY like it is? You're all silly, the whole lot of you. Hold me, thrill me, kiss me. Why not teach me, objectedly respect me, reverently reason with me? Oh because it's more romantic? Romance is overrated. Like happiness, like life, even suicide. See? Now I've made you cry.

There, there. It's not the end of the world. Men will be men and women will be women. I'll never understand your sudden saline springs and you'll never understand my requirement to pull things apart just to see how they work. Right?

Here. Here's a hug. Stop crying. This hug should solve everything, make the hurt go away, make you feel whole again. Right?

Who's to say what's tomorrow? Why think about what you'll think about me then, rethinking this moment, reliving this hurt. See, that's another thing girls should be warned about.

Alright, alright, FINE. Let's talk about sunsets. Okay?

The once upon a time.

2008-12-21T18:34:00.004+05:00

I am trying to let go.

I dreamt of him today, and I am trying to let go.

We were standing on the top of a tall, green building. Green because it had shrubs growing everywhere, plants going everywhere; flowers and carved bushes and red-brick pathways. The stuff you see in movies. The stone statues were there, the heart shaped fountains and the fairy lights that blink when it's just the right time of dusk. He was there, standing tall and erect. I seemed out of place, out of sense, out of self. But he didn't notice. He just kept smiling the way he did when he knew I didn't know what to do with myself. I never found out if he did that out of habit or out of understanding. It made me feel my nervousness found an antidote of some kind. I want to believe he did it after much thought and deliberation. Makes me feel good about myself. Makes me feel important. Of significance.

It was short and fleeting, trite and simple. Our love, I mean. Do you understand that?

If we can only dream the dreams we dream and not the waking-ups, the rude shouts of tomorrow, if we can just wait for the good to come, it can still be simple. Do you see?

You probably don't want to hear my questions. You probably just want me to get over with this.

I do too. And I am trying to let go.

But he's still around. He's still there. I look everywhere to find a place where I can stop thinking or feeling or sensing him - he is there in camouflages, you know? I can dream of a movie star or a musical legend and I feel him in my bones, in someone's eyes, watching me. He isn't going away, you know. He doesn't go away. I think he doesn't know how and a part of me thanks him for that.

Hah. Do you miss him, you ask.

Of course I miss him. How can you not miss someone who hasn't left you alone in ages?

That's what it feels like. Ages. Have you ever stood in front of a window and stared out without purpose and lost the track of your thoughts and while coming back to life wondered what it would be if you could've written everything down and seen the pattern, the ideas, the thoughts, all grouped and you realized you could've made a fantastic story? But you didn't because when you're staring at a gorgeous horizon, you don't sit down and record stupid details, you go out and drink everything in. You just watch it and sense it and breathe it.

That's what I did when I was with him. Trite and simple, I told you.

His hands never touched mine, I only saw them. In fear. Like I'd break them if I touched them or something. You know? Haven't you ever gotten that feeling?

You haven't, I can tell by the look in your eyes. I know what you are thinking. How can you be afraid to touch someone you love like that? With so much fire inside your soul, how can you stay out in the cold?

I can. Pa taught me how and I never had any friends to teach me otherwise. So I kept admiring the things I loved. I never bought anything I loved because I was afraid of losing them. The hurt is too much. You know?

He was so smart, he guessed it right from the beginning. He guessed it right, he always did. Even when I didn't want him to. I'd turn away my eyes and he'd try to lift my chin with his forefinger. I'd shove it away, minimum contact of skins, the least interaction. No one can understand the elevation of the moment where distance creates the momentum, not contact. No. Not even you.

Are you bored yet? I like being reassured I'm not boring my audience. You seem awfully sleepy.

You should dream more. I don't like the way you look at me when I tell you about him. You have never dreamt. You've loved people in reality too much that's why. What to feed them, how to dress them, how to comb their hairs and send them to work or school or the park. You've never seen what they could be outside your spheres of routines and the mundane that you call life.

I have. It was once upon a time on that green hill.

And many times on many hills and in valleys, in Malam Jabbas and Swiss Alps and lands unknown. I have known him where worlds don't exist anymore. There is no sky or the earth, there is just us.

See. There is that look again. Like you think I'm crazy.

I'm not crazy. I just know him. I know he's out there. And I don't want to let go.

I am trying.

But I don't want to let go.

Can you understand that?

Yes. That you can understand. I think you see what I mean by this division. This wear and tear of the insides that is self-propelled, even gratifiying, no? How you understand it, I cannot tell. But you can.

You've been worn. You haven't loved, but you've worn yourself out.

You haven't let go either have you?

That's okay.

I know how it is okay. It is okay because you can dream. You don't always have to let go. You don't always have to give in to what you cannot control. I can create stories, you know? I can create places where I cannot be and people I cannot touch. They can call me crazy if they want to, I don't. I know what I am doing. They think I will be cured if you teach me how to let go. And they don't know I'm cured because I can dream. Of onceuponatimes, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of sky-less earths, of him, of us. He knows. He exists. He breathes like you and me. I know what I am doing, you know that, don't you.

You know. I can see it. You are already dreaming.

I'm not an addict - K's Choice.

2008-12-20T18:41:00.000+05:00

Breath it in and breath it out
and pass it on it's almost out
We're so creative and so much more
We're high above, but on the floor

The deeper you stick it in your vein
The deeper the thoughts there's no more pain
I'm in heaven, I'm a god
I'm everywhere, I feel so hot

It's over now, I'm cold, alone
I'm just a person on my own
Nothing means a thing to me
Oh, nothing means a thing to me

Free me, leave me
Watch me as I'm going down
Free me, see me
Look at me I'm falling
And I'm falling.........

I'm not an addict, I'm not an addict, I'm not an addict.

The Teacher Known as Lady Snape.

2008-12-18T00:17:00.004+05:00

The following is the text of the memento I received from one of the students today.

'This is an appreciative souvenir that I would ilke to give you which I believe would be on behalf of the batch of oral communication students that you so merely taught in an exemplified manner.

Your teaching methodology this fall has left a deepening impression on all of which has enabled most of us to grow in personality and stature. This fall of oral communication has been all about change and you certainly have embedded that in most of us.

Its been one 'fun roller coaster ride' and it amazes me to say that how much I would miss your vibrant presence at our campus.

As you set forth into the future and Ying away with your Yang to Yemen, I would ike to thank you with utmost honesty and sincerity for providing us the opportunities to explore our strengths and let us have teh time of our lives.

This is become far more of a cliche but, "Lady Snape", you are one hell of a person... You Rock!!!

Thank you.'

Must-read.

2008-12-13T15:59:00.003+05:00

The world is alive with the sound of war. Do we see another 65 or 71? Or another cold war with both countries gearing up their nuclear weapons on the opposite sides of the border?

Geez. Just when Indian movies had begun to come to Pakistani cinemas.

Even though a majority of us think in that aforesaid shallow manner, I was very happy to read the following article by Karamatullah K. Ghori who has struck gold yet again. This time he seems angrier than you would want to see a veteran diplomat which is pretty cool actually. Sometimes life's better when it's out of the natural order of things.

You can read the entire article here. The following are my favorite points of the article.

... what was so sacrilegious to suggest that Manmohan Singh saw in the Mumbai drama the chance of a life-time to shore up his electoral fortunes? Did he have a divine revelation that told him the terrorists had come from Pakistan? But a section of the Indian intelligentsia isn’t prepared to countenance the possibility that their PM took them on a flight of fantasy and was guilty of triggering a schizophrenic hate campaign against Pakistan.

Take, for instance, the mystery surrounding the actual count of the alleged terrorists involved in the episode. The official brief says there were only ten, out of which one — still alive and in captivity — was overpowered at the railway station. That leaves nine of them. Two are said to have held the inmates of Nariman House, the Israeli enclave. That leaves just seven. These seven must have divided themselves into two groups. Let’s assume they split 4:3. It couldn’t be 3 ½ for each of the two giant hotels invaded and occupied by them.

Can anyone in their right mind perceive, for a moment, that three or four people could hold up a huge 600-plus room hotel like Taj, and an equally cavernous hotel like Oberoi, for more than 60 hours, fight off hundreds of counter-insurgency commandoes, terrorise and kill scores of their hostages, trash the hotels from inside (as subsequent television footage so graphically displayed for the world)? They had to be supermen to accomplish all that.

Independent analysts and terrorism experts are at one in their prognosis that to carry out so many tasks simultaneously, over such a long period of time, there had to be at least 50 to 60 terrorists actively engaged in this episode. The question that India’s self-righteous intelligentsia refuses to answer is, who were the people assisting the impugned terrorists? They had to be local facilitators and accomplices, if they had not descended from the ethereal world that vanished in a UFO as soon as the job was done.

But they close their eyes to the stark reality that for well over the past two decades the Indian polity has been sliding, at an alarming pace, into the abyss of Hindutva, which not only pursues a philosophy of unremitting hate toward all minorities — exceptionally the 180 million Muslims of India — but also subscribes to the use of force as part of their dharma or belief to achieve its goals. It should be a matter of shame to most Indians, intellectuals or not, that their commitment to the ideals of a saint like Mahatma Gandhi is now only skin-deep. In actual fact, the heroes of many Indians, Hindus in particular, today are persons like LK Advani and Narendar Modi — with the latter’s hands soiled with the blood of thousands of innocent Muslims of Gujrat. What else could explain the rise of BJP, VHP, Bajrang Dal and such others of their ilk in a supposedly secular India?

In the latest bout of chauvinism and skewed nationalism, these NRIs in the US have embarked on a campaign to enlist official American support to sponsor a resolution in the UN Security Council to grant India a carte blanche to strike Pakistan’s alleged ‘terrorist sites’ if Pakistan fails to act on the Indian diktat.

As per India’s own statistics, eight Kashmiris have been killed every day over the past 18 years since they rose in revolt against Indian hegemony of their land. This makes it a cool 55,000 Kashmiris — at the very least — killed at the hands of 600,000 trigger-happy Indian soldiers encamped in the valley. The mahan Indians are wailing to the world for the loss of 170 lives in Mumbai. But why haven’t these mahan people ever shed a tear for the Kashmiris murdered in a blind frenzy of arrogance of power by India’s ‘brave soldiers’?

The Pakistanis are not a mahan people and don’t claim to be one. They have umpteen weaknesses but have at least one great quality: they never hide or cover up their appalling weaknesses. It’s hard to come by a Pakistani intellectual that would be condescending to the rise of militancy and fundamentalism in their polity. There is zero tolerance among the Pakistani intelligentsia for a militant Islam or its purblind practitioners.

The Pakistanis may be nationalistic but they aren’t chauvinists and don’t take the words of their leaders for gospel truth. In fact, Pakistan’s ruling elite have an abiding grouse against their intelligentsia for being their harshest critics and detractors. Just take the recent example of a dictator like Pervez Musharraf who was chased out of his powerful niche by the combined strength of the people and what he and his cronies disdained as the ‘chattering class’ of Pakistani intellectuals.

Thank God the Pakistanis, in general, aren’t self-righteous like their eastern neighbours. A self-righteous people are niggardly and self-centred. Pakistanis give credit, generously, where it’s due and admire India’s great achievement in consolidating democracy and democratic institutions, something they haven’t been so successful at themselves. But that doesn’t mean they will take Indian dictation or accept Indian hegemony, physical or intellectual.

Amreeka Palat - some stills.

2008-12-08T11:58:00.004+05:00

Amreeka Palat - Credits.

2008-12-08T11:40:00.002+05:00

The Story of Amreeka Palat.

2008-12-02T18:19:00.004+05:00

Once upon a time a strict, Hitlerish Sociology and Psychology teacher was handed a course that was known for partying and high profile events. The kids didn't know what to expect and frankly neither did the teacher.

After a couple of classes, she realized she wasn't going to live up to stereotypes. Her target was to oppose them and so she did. She decided to do the biggest, bestest, baddest play in the history of the university.

So now when you cross the Baloch Colony bridge onto Shahra e Faisal, take a sideways glance at Iqra University and see this:

The story of "Amreeka palat!" is the story of culture, language and barrier-breaking all at the same time. It revolves around the maid Neelo and Professor Mudassir (loosely structured on Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins, minus the chemistry) and her transformation from the uncouth maid to the lively, sophisticated babe of the modern era with a highly polished linguistic talent. He changes her world and life takes a new turn when Arsalan Mirza (pictured), the American-return Pakistani comes back to fall in love with the brand new Neelo.

That is scratching the surface by the way.

Beneath the plot, the big banner, the million rupees, lies a lot of blood, sweat and toil. A lead actress running out five days before the play, Karachi erupting in riots, tickets getting stuck in the printing house, friends fighting, scandals, auditorium bookings, faculty grumbles ... you get the picture.

But the good news is. We're almost there. We're almost through.

I'd love to invite my readers but this play is restricted for Iqra University students only. The only non-IU crowd will be the guests, who have agreed to come to honor the ceremony: Anwar Maqsood and Azfar Ali.

So pray for us, we're still wondering if the show must go on in the city of firing flies and saddened skies and terrified traffic and closed colleges (I realize I'm losing that poetic touch or maybe I'm sucking at alliterations right now). Doing something big and bureaucratic in Karachi is like stepping into quicksand without any idea if it's supposed to suck you in gradually or all at once. We have no idea how we are going to stage our show 3 days from now with the city conditions with the way they are. Thankfully, as I noted on the streets today, life is going back to normal but this is Karachi. No Pakistani or Amreeka-palat can expect anything normal for long.

"Amreeka palat!"

2008-11-30T12:03:00.004+05:00

"Bijli, Pyar aur Ammi Jan."

2008-11-21T22:48:00.004+05:00

The play staged by the Lyceum School students at the Alliance Francaise rocked.

That's my one-line analysis.

The sets and the lighting had their faults, the audience was limited and polite and civilized (they were even clapping at the not-so-great fifteen minute IVS English play staged before it) so we can't measure their performances on that huge macro-level, but the star actors were quite good. Being the current director of my own university play, I understand how hard it is to find good voices who come with the complete package of looks, confidence and stage-presence. So Lyceum was definitely equipped with that blessed lot when it came to its lead actors.

The play synopsis is such,

"Saalik has married Marya without telling his parents and now is running away with her. He is trying to collect all the valuables from the house and leave but the electricity and his parents are a hindrance to his progress. Dr. Zubairi, Saalik's father, realizes something fishy is going on in the house with valuables disappearing and therefore asks his friend DSP Theek Jumani to investigate and solve the mystery."

Dr. Zubairi (played by Hammad Zubairi) was truly the star. He acted brilliantly and it did help his role that he was quite good looking and had an Amir-Khanish touch to his personality. He does the role quite effortlessly, it seems, since he has a natural grace and a solid stage presence to boot. His wife, Mrs. Zubairi (played by Rabia Sadruddin) is also loud and clear in her dialogue delivery. Witnessing them bicker weren't the finest moments of the play but they certainly did that bit well.

Another major contributor to the 'masala' of the play is Zar Gul the cook from Waziristan. Played by Rashid Afridi, this character bags most of the laughs of the play and seems quite the comedian offstage as well. His love interest, the maasi Sakina, is played by Nida Habib Khan, who is pretty enough to pass off as a good actress (Katrina Kaif's echo?). The DSP, the son, Saalik all do very well but Zubairi steals the show with his candid and energetic portrayal of the frustrated psychiatrist who wants to figure out exactly who has been stealing his pants (with his important keys) and documents.

If you've seen it, you'll know just how good it was. If you missed it, you should regret it. What is to be regretted even more that the theatre culture ... i.e., what IS the theatre culture ... still lacks the support from society and the publicity it deserves.

... and that's why I need therapy.

2008-11-18T21:55:00.002+05:00

I'm a perfectionist. I like thinking that if things aren't going exactly the way they're supposed to they aren't working at all, and I deserve to die. I feel unhappy at the slightest chance of failure and cannot tolerate something that I've worked hard over to go even a bit off-strike. I am passionate, they say to put it politely. Otherwise I'm just a different brand of crazy.

I can't sleep at night, I wake up thinking horrible is going to happen to my family, the people I love and the things I hold dear. I often dream of earthquakes, deaths, calamities, fires, angry goddesses and monstrous heads popping out of flowers and the like.

I worry endlessly and fear flawlessly. I write neurotically and always have the best ideas when I'm just about to fall asleep. I've bought a truckload of books, but I only read Harry Potter a million times. The rest I start, get excited and read halfway through them in one night. Then I put them back down, promising myself that I'd pick them up tomorrow and the only time that TOMORROW has come ... has been in the case of Orhan Pamuk's Snow.

I take pictures of everything and people call me crazy for having over tens of albums on Facebook. I'm a masochist, because since 2000 I have refused to take anything in strides. I did a crazy batch of latter-teen years when I breathed and ate my pre-medical books, debated from my college and took part in anything from a class skit to the annual Sindh Board Science Exhibition in which I made a project on photosynthesis that was a symbolic representation of the process. The judges loved it, thought it was creative. We didn't win of course. Those dinky-car-highway boys won with their slimy teacher who kept hovering around the jury.

I also remember failures way too much.

I drown myself in guilt secretly and hide it away when I'm trying to be all 'normal'. Then one night, right when the hormones are doing their crazy dance in my pituitary, I sob my eyes out on a pillow calling myself every bitter, pathetic name known to mankind - or my vocabulary (I also have a neurotic need to be extremely pragmatic after ever rant) and feel that I will never and ever be happy. No matter what.

And then there are my good days where I'm smiling and cheerful, hoping for the best until my car breaks down in the middle of the road on the very day I was asked to come early after coming late for many days. Or I expect a nice word out of someone but get feedback that is so critical and undeserved, it makes my blood pound, my head spin and my feet all sweaty. Then my neck starts to hurt and I pick a fight with Ali.

Those are the days when my hope swings left again and I hate God and religion and mankind and every tiny leggo of my faith that I'd precariously perched on that high tower begins to wobble and eventually tumble into a heap of what can only be called as the darkest aspects in my shiny, usually plow-through-crap-no-matter-what self. That's when I don't want to hear 'there's a grand design'. I just want to hear that people fucked up as people and now we are who we are. Messy, uncivilized, uncouth and laughable.

And that's when I get my sense of humor back.

And I realize that as long as it's working ... I can avoid that appointment.

Yes I can.

What do we do now?

2008-11-15T11:18:00.006+05:00

This goes out to every Pakistani, every American and every possible human being who understands the crises the world is facing now.

Back in our debating days, we'd scoff at the speaker who'd paint the bleakest picture of the world with phrases such as 'bodies strewn everywhere' and Marxist rhetoric of 'poor getting poorer'. We knew these speakers were out to get brownie points with the help of goosebumps. It surprised us but little that these speakers often got the highest applause from the audiences and got away with most of the prizes in the competition. Speakers such as ourselves who usually tried sounding balanced and if at all biased, then positive, would scoff and ridicule them, thinking that they've encashed the world's misery in the form of their prizes.

Now I do wonder if they were all that wrong. Maybe it was us, the balanced, so-called sane individuals, who were sitting on the wrong side of the stadium.

The current day's business reports headlines are such:

14 units stop working; Large scale layoffs in car, bike industry.
India's rich lose 60 pc of their fortune.
S&P cuts Pakistan's ratings amid debt crisis (though the rupee remained steady despite it)
Stocks turn dull amid fading optimism
US retail sales plunge.
Europe officially in recession.

The economic crisis that has prevailed in the news since the Lehman bankruptcy certainly does not seem to decelerate despite hopes of many. Khanani and Kalia are busted, Abdullah Haroon is dead (though no one can blame the economy for that, I'm just going with the flow here) and the real cherry on top is that General Hayden, director CIA, thinks "every major terror threat involves Pakistan".

Isn't that exactly what every Pakistani would love to hear at the breakfast table? We're not only spending 678bn rupees on the 'war against terror' we're also inevitably the terrorists who are now invariably linked to anything remotely terrifying, whether it's a bomb hit in the US or a mouse squeaking underneath the Queen's chair.

Obama, the new face of the US, has regrouped and refocused the foreign policy matters in South Asia. He has now taken up the advices of Mr. Bruce Riedel who will now be reassessing Pakistan and Afghanistan (never thought I'd hear them both in the same terrorist agenda sentence - who knew?). Mr. Riedel plans to prioritize the "Kashmir issue" between India and Pakistan.

The efforts will not be based on the freedom of the Kashmiris; it will be a pressure on Pakistan to let go.

I had always agreed on that golden rule of International Relations that proclaimed a small country stupid if it decided to war against a country twice its size and thrice its population. Pakistan had been and will continue to be stupid if it deludes itself into thinking it can win over Kashmir. Muslim Ummah or not, strategically Kashmir is a bone of contention that has caused Pakistan nothing but decades of terrorist insurgencies in its tribal areas, big-and-small wars, and of course a constant flinch with its biggest, burliest neighbor. Bad idea.

Oddly enough, I quote Parveen Shakir,

Baat toh sach hai magar baat hai rusvaayee ki.

(It is humiliating, but it is true.)

Benazir Bhutto, in her first reign, opted for the same gradual release of Kashmir. Maybe she planned it a bit more stylishly than the begrudged let-go I'm expecting to come in the future by the Pakistani government, but she foresaw something the ISI did not. She understood that this was not only weakening Pakistan's economy but its international standing in the world. Unless it stopped sending its tribal militants, its feeble armies to fight for the 'atoot ang', it would not learn to stand on its feet, it would not be able to feed its poor.

But no. We're too happy fighting in the name of "Islam" or whatever we want to call it. What do you call an ideology when you use it at the time of foreign policy formation and discard it at the time of instructing PEMRA? Use it again when you want to establish a coalition with the mullahs, want a referendum, arm your troops for Afghanistan and discard it again when you make the President house a palace, give at least 20-30 guards per minister, let them go on luxury trips to Saudia Arabia and America and godknows where-else-off-the-record?

Obama's new regime will probably not be as great for Pakistanis are people may think but if it manages to force Pakistan to let go of Kashmir (with as little humiliation and pain as possible) it'll not only save us money and further shame in the long run, it might even help us regain a bit of that international stability.

Now if only we can convince them to let go of Bajaur too.

Frantic but coherent update.

2008-11-15T02:11:00.003+05:00

Before people start running away from this blog with the fears of being tagged, I've decided to talk about things real and present.

Karma:
Was it this that made me sit in front of the audience as a judge of the bilingual public speaking contest? In the same place where I had, years ago, opened house for the English debates? Was this the place where I ran with my fading-white uniform and my fading-dupatta on my head, eating chaats and french fries laughing over nothing? Life has come back a full circle. Here, I sit, slightly morose (flu, flu, flu), partly serious, partly smiling (some of the speakers did manage to sound funny) and all mature and judge-like. Deciding who won or lost the competition, which in my time meant all the world's happiness to me?

Work:
By a show of hands, if I ask my readers to respond to the question, "How many people face politics at work and often wish some of their colleagues had more sense than a boulder?", I'm guessing I'll be facing a full house. People are weird when they think they're Gods. Some of my work-associates certainly do think they've managed to outwit the Divine Creator in their images and have somehow managed to delude themselves that others are deluded thusly as well. It's time to shatter that dream. No one has done it before me yet and I'm granted to walk on unchartered territory here but I was never the one to walk the road more taken anyway. Additional good news is that I've got people who love me and support me at home and, surprising as that may seem, at university too. So hope springs eternal.

Flu:
Can't it go away? Like ... now?

Wedding Venue:
Decided! Finally! After much ado! Aaaa, the pains you have to go through to make sure everything goes right. Eeek.

Katrina Kaif:
Aah, to be young. And to be beautiful.

Weekend:
Glory, glory hallelujah.

Tagging I.

2008-11-09T16:22:00.004+05:00

Okay.

This tag is going to be different.

The rules are slightly revamped to suit varied choices.

And they are:

Tagging/Linking others is entirely optional. You don't have to sound needy and pathetic at all at anyone else's blog to beg them to come visit your blog and respond to your blog (God, I'm vicious).
The tag expires after a period of 24 hours.
Tag as many people you like. Don't tag them if you don't want to. Don't mention me if you don't want to. Mention me if you want to. Heck it's YOUR blog.
If you don't see yourself as tagged by someone that's pointless. This tag is universal. Everyone's invited.
And no more rules. Introduce a little anarchy.

The tag is:

You have to write

Three things which you pride yourself upon.
Three things you hate about yourself.
Three things that you can't let go of.
Three things that you love to eat.
Three things you cannot possibly eat in a million years.
Three songs you could sing to the rest of the world.
Three movies you would show if you had your way around Film Festivals.

I tag:

Barooq.
Hira.
Saadat.
Mampi.
Karachiwali.
Esfand.

My tag is as follows.

Three things which you pride yourself upon.
My faith in myself, God and a Spirit of Indepedence. That's three.

Three things you hate about yourself.
Anger, depressive moodswings and that I'm only five feet two inches.

Three things that you can't let go of.
My cell (snatchers, duur fittay moon), my books and a personal attack.

Three things that you love to eat.
Fruits, junk food, chicken!

Three things you cannot possibly eat in a million years.
Most veggies, unspeakable parts of cows and sheep that are considered delicacies and go around at Baqra Eid, and oh yes. Anaar juice. There's a story behind that.

Three songs you could sing to the rest of the world.
Hope for the Hopeless by A Fine Frenzy, Sweet Child O Mine by Guns n Roses and With or Without You by U2.

Three movies you would show if you had your way around Film Festivals.
Wall-E, Little Miss Sunshine and Batman Begins.

Random Photos.

2008-11-09T01:12:00.003+05:00

Ali took us out for dinner after he got paid his third paycheck.

KFC's really cute snapshot wall..

KFC's Pakistan promotion.

The Strawberry Cheesecake I made for Ali and his friends.

The candle that burns its last. Grotesque and scary to me. I'm terribly afraid of death.

Tagged III.

2008-11-09T00:23:00.005+05:00

I have been tagged by Hira. A million things have been rushing through my head lately and I choose to write a tag post is slightly pathetic. Obama won, people are leaving half-dead infants on the roads and Zardari took 200 people to Saudi Arabia with him on that tour of his. And I choose to talk about my quirks.

Some wonderful Pakistani I am..

Anyway. As if this post isn't enough about me already here goes:

So six completely unspectacular factoids? That's easy.

I'm an insomniac. A relentless one. I sleep less than 6 hours a day and can remain extremely fresh and bright and energetic. It's only the less-than-three-hour-a-day day that can dampen my spirits and make me go to sleep (Z can attest to that). Wait, did that just turn into spectacular?
I like to read all my text messages before I go to sleep. My N95 has a lifeblog. It tracks everything you did since you activated the phone. And I sometimes begin from the beginning. All the random pictures I've taken (that's another spectacular-nothing, I take pictures of everything, anything and then some), all the I'll be there in a few moments messages and videos. Everything.
I don't like the sea much. Khiites are obsessed with it but I'm not. It's just ... the sea. What's the big deal?
I hate the Iphone. I think it's charm dies down after the first few days. After you get over the phone without buttons, you realize you have been conditioned to push buttons (no dual meaning intended) ever since you were a kid. So buttons are good. Buttons are home. (Bet you don't think I'm spectacular anymore, eh? I'm talking about how good buttons are!)
I don't like carrying purses. Girls think it's some testament to fashion. I don't. I consider purses to be a lag and only carry them outta sheer necessity. If I'm wearing something ultra gorgeous and am at a formal gathering, I might carry it. But I'm a very pockety kinda person. Give me pockets, spare the purses.
I have the flu 6 months in the year. Yes, yes. Wrinkle thy nose.

Okay, I'm all out now.

I tag Ordered-Chaos, Roop, Erin, Natasha, M and M. And Barooq.

Phew. All the love to you, Hira. But this one took a zing outta me. Dunno why. Must be the flu.

Love, she wrote.

2008-11-06T18:49:00.004+05:00

This comes from a friend's blog. She wrote this one fine day purging away everything that had been going on inside her since the past few weeks. I took a special permission from her to put it on my blog (so you people better read the whole thing!) so that more people could hear her voice. Even though it comes from an unspoken corner.

'People look at me and say "but you're a psychologist! You should know better!"

Why the assumption? Are they psychologists that they know so definitely that "psychologists have the best coping strategies?" that is not so far from the truth. We may know the exact way to cope, but we also know how each and every coping strategy that we may apply is in fact just simply a defense mechanism we are using to hide the immense pain we are under. Hence in turn, we know exactly what we are doing and exactly what great pain we are trying to overcome, resulting in magnifying the pain to much larger extents and inadvertently just being a victim of more pain and suffering.

Lol (laugh out loud may I) but my Significant Other (SO) (yes yes I know he's no more there as a being, but within me he still is…and from where I see it, will be for a long long loooong time) seems to think I usually act like we're 16 year old teenagers. Now that's what I call a brilliant defense mechanism! The sad fact is, we have behaved like 16 year old teenagers. Getting together one day, meeting up, talking on the phone, smsing, and then suddenly, he dumps me. Is that what one does when they are committed? Committed adults? Sounds more like one of my "literally" teenage students flings. What am I to say? My dear child, I'm nothing but a victim of one such event? It's sad but it's true. But these kids. These kids have hope. They're young. They'll find new love, you know why? Cause they are mentally prepared to do so. Their story doesn't involved being engaged in front of 200 people, and having the promise of marrying the man of your dreams.

Now here's how my situation is different. For my entire life, I had imagined my prince charming. He was there, in my mind. I knew exactly what I wanted. And I was determined that until he came along, I would not give in to anything less. So I disregarded all the other prospective husbands. Of course in the society I live in, being so picky and choosy especially at my age was sheer stupidity on my part. But I know myself. I can't live with something lesser, knowing that I could have gotten better only if I was patient. And I was. I was happy for all around me who were getting married, all those who were getting engaged, and all those who had their lovers. I was happy. Happy because prince charming was in my mind. Right there. And I was waiting for him. And he was coming.

Whenever a proposal came, or people just came to "see me" (and I gave in to this pathetic norm because of major social pressures) I couldn't stop laughing when I entered the room. So when my SO's mom brought him to see me the same evening, I was like all hehhee ahhah…until I stepped into the room and I heard him. I was dumb founded. I knew it he is the one. I just knew it. In the pit of my heart I knew it. I knew it more than anything I had ever known. And when within a couple of days they proposed, I was on cloud 9 (falling from could 9 hurts a lot by the way.) I never saw him that one day he came , because I was so nervous and so shy that all I remember looking at was my own feet and the carpet design. Usually if I don't get to see the guy in such circumstances, I catch a glimpse while serving the coffee/chai/drink. But I just couldn't in this case…it was because I knew. I knew it. I knew it I was going to wake up next to him every morning of my life, and I'd look at him all I want. I want to say "I knew it" 1 million times more, because yaar…I just knew it.

Anyway, 10 days later we said yes, and another 10 days later was the ceremony. Ah yes. It was surreal. Me a bride? Lol. You know when girls go to weddings and engagement's they always imagined themselves as the bride. I never did. Mostly cause I honestly never expected to get married. Only because my prince charming was too perfect to be true, and I knew I would never compromise. But the day of the engagement, I was shocked to see myself. With the teeka and duppata and make up and heels and all. Might I add, I'm a tom boy mixed with laziness. Never bothered about fashion or looking good. Only thing that mattered was comfort. So I could spend my life in a couple of jeans, kurtis and chappals/joggers. I was very low maintenance unlike the norms of the girls today who end up spending 1/3 of their lives in parlors. But on that day, on that very day I was determined to look pretty. To look stunning, to look like a bride. I remember spending 12 hrs in the bazaar looking for the perfect dress to wear. And by perfect not perfect in my eyes, but perfect in my SO's regards. I was choosing things according to what little I understood of the type of person he was. Why? Just, wholly and solely for my SO. I wanted to be perfect. Because I'm very "puranay zamanay ke khayalat type." Because I believe you are your man's respect. And I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to be happy standing next to me saying "this, this woman is my fiancé."

So the ceremony happened. It was perfect. He was perfect. He was everything that I had understood him to be from those few minutes I heard him speak.

Time went on. Everything was perfect. He was so sweet. He would call, care, be such a romantic (although he always claimed he wasn't the lovely dovey type).

Until 2 weeks after the ceremony. My dreams came crashing down. I was told he wasn't happy with the engagement. And my world stopped. My self image, my self esteem just shattered. Might I add I do have severe low self esteem issues. I was also of course severely threatened not to ever tell him of what I was being told, or what I knew. And the reason was because I was told "he" would not like it. He would break off the engagement. I am a very simple girl. I live life in the moment. I take people and their words on face value. I trust people.

My entire image of my SO just became blur. I didn't know him anymore. Instead of being open and communicating with him I became so scared of him. I became so scared to say anything. He noticed, of course (since I'm famous for not being able to hide my feelings. As my professor used to say "Her face is like a TV" whatever she feels comes out on top.) I can't hide. I'm not chalak. Anyway.

When I'd ask him if he was okay, he said he was. But each time I was told he's angry with me (and I didn't know why) and I was told to ask him what's wrong, I'd ask him. Being in such a difficult position I couldn't not ask him, neither could I tell him what was going on. He started to get annoyed by my constant questioning. And I got ever more worried. I just didn't know what to do, who to talk to, or how to handle things.

I started to misperceive all his actions. Started to really accept that he didn't like me. And he was just being forced. It was heartbreaking for me. Because I felt I was with my prince charming, but he was compromising with just any girl.

So I started to try to become his princess. (I know these terms are very childish, but hello, right now, I'm just a girl, who lost in love. Who still waits painstakingly everyday for her prince charming to come back to her.) I caught on to his every word. When he'd say he was busy I'd try my best to stay away. When he didn't reply I'd just smile it away. When he'd simply say he'd love Cholas when we got home from work, and then a nice dinner, I'd cook and send it all immediately. I started to learn to make 1 billion different kinds of Cholas. When he really wanted to eat those doraji ke cholay I tried to get them for him, but alas the shop opened in the evenings. I threw away all the lawn, cotton duppatas and bought new silky ones because he said the other type looked like chadars. All my shadi shopping from clothes to perfumes to lingerie to shoes to bags was done according to my idea of what HE liked. Even my mom was telling someone, yeh kaisi hai, she doesn't buy what she likes, she just buys what she thinks he likes. But that's who I am. Always thought that when my guy comes, I'll do anything and everything in the world to make him happy.

As time went on I was under more and more stress. Because the outside pressures were directly effecting our relationship. And I could helplessly see it detoriate. A point came when I wanted to just tell him everything. I tried. Tried to ask him to meet up. But he was busy. And again being the I-cant-give-more-stress-to-my-guy type, I just delayed it. He said he was busy at work. I was keeping up with the business situations in Pakistan, and I had an idea of the kind of stresses he must be under. Hence the last thing I wanted was to give him any more stress. So finally after two whole months (and these were the toughest months) of feeling so alone and helpless, and more so scared, we went out for dinner. I felt that night our relationship was getting back on track. And the entire situation reminded me of our 1st two weeks. I didn't want to ruin it, so I delayed brining up issues. I felt we'll meet again shortly, and I'll clear things out. Mind you I was still very scared to approach the subject because it was so so sensitive that any slip here or there could bring everything crashing down.

I was in love. I knew it. I bet he'd say I'm being dramatic, but I was. I gave up so much for him. And in return all I wanted was to spend my life with him. I am not the demanding type at all. I don't care about materialistic things, or about designer stuff, or about being given gifts. But I still hung on to the rose he gave me one day. Just because he gave it.

He was so important to me. I wanted to tell him, but I was so scared he'd ridicule me. But I wanted to tell him that there are two men in this world who I love. One my dad, the other him. My dad left me, and so did he. But the only difference is, dad didn't have a choice, he did. And it was exactly this fear of abandonment that I told him two days after the engagement "Don't leave me."

I loved his dad as my own. In the depth of my heart I wished for one thing. I wished that my prince charming would have parents. I always wanted to live together, like one big happy family. I loved my SO's parents like my own. I still refer to them as mummy, papa when I talk about them. I respected them. Loved them.

A few days after the dinner, he calls. I still shiver at his tone. He was angry. I don't know what had happened at his end, but I knew he had had enough. I remember pleading again & again, I'm very happy. I'm very happy. I remember telling him, please listen, what you saw of me was not me. It was my reaction to the stress I was under. But I could feel I'm talking to a wall. 25 minutes and 25 seconds later he put down the phone. I thought he's understood that there has been something going on behind his back which he doesn't know of.

I cried that whole night. I cried because I hated myself for not telling him everything at dinner. I cried because of the way he spoke. I cried because of frustration that he didn't register anything I was saying. I cried because the man I loved so so much, was sick and tired of me.

I couldn't let anyone know how upset I was. Because I didn't want my family to worry. So the next morning I did what I had been doing. Shadi shopping. Still buying things that SO would like.

Two days later I come home from shadi shopping. Everyone's gathered. I thought the wedding date is being fixed. I'm smiling, while everyone's looking at me. And I hear the worst words ever "SO's dad called this morning and broke the engagement."

I was sitting on the sofa where SO had sat when he had come over too meet nani. I remember continuing to smile. My mind was jelly. I had a million all blurry thoughts in my head. I felt my face wet. Tears were flowing down but I was smiling. I knew one thought was the strongest. This is not happening. He's just upset. He'll come back.

So I started to discuss everything in a very objective manner. Until my uncle said, we'll have to call everyone tomorrow and tell them. That's when I laughed and said, "So like one second. You're going to tell people it's over? But it's not over? I mean how can it be."

Again tears started to flow, and with my thoughts, my vision became blurry. I saw mom's face. She had died inside. She knew how I had become when dad passed away. And I could see it she was seeing me starting to go through the same thing again. I controlled myself. Wiped away the tears and just smiled. The protocols were discussed, decided, and everyone left. Mom started to cry hysterically. I was broken, shattered, and dead from inside. I felt betrayed. I just couldn't understand how such a strong man like him could leave me alone in all this. I needed him. I needed his support.

Days passed. I kept looking at my cell whenever it beeped or rang. I thought it was him. I didn't answer anyone else, or reply to anyone else. I just didn't know what to say. When I did reply to smses after a few days, I'd just say "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

At home it was terrible. It was a replay of dad's time. Mom would keep crying. I would be as normal as possible. But whenever I'd go to take a shower I'd just sit helplessly on the floor, hoping my cries would die down under the shower. Every night, I'd cry myself to sleep. I'd wake up in a couple of hours desperately checking my cell to see if there's anything from him. His number is still saved as Mangetar. But there would be nothing. I didn't believe he was never coming back. Because taking away all the externally induced misunderstandings we were perfect.

Everything I'd see made me cry. Because I had inculcated him into every minute detail of my life. People started coming over, to "try and make me feel better." They'd attempt to humiliate him, try and speak about how bad he was. But that'd infuriate me. How dare anyone say a word against my SO. Denial was at its peak. People told me things about him that he was so bad etc etc etc. I didn't believe a word. I knew that he was good. He was a good human being, who just made a mistake. And more so, I knew he would come back.

A few weeks later, anger started to develop. I was desperate to call him and just tell him how he had ruined my life. This anger stemmed from how his leaving me had affected my life in such unimaginably drastic ways. I was someone who gave the impression of being strong, career oriented, independent, and being an individual. Not a clone like most girls these days. And here, he took away all that, made me into a girl, whose dependent, shy, romantic. Back at work I was mocked because everyone was saying "told you so. Told you not to leave your job for a man." I couldn't belive their ideas had been proven, because I knew in my heart they were wrong. Giving up yourselfp for your man is just love. Pure unconditional love. He stripped me of my cover, exposed me to the world, and when I thought he'd be my protection, he left me in front of the world as a laughing stock all alone.

I tired to move on. I promise I did. And as days went by, the anger subsided, but confusion came in. I needed that closure. I needed to know why he had done this. Where did I go wrong? Mujh mein kya kami thi? Cause I swear if I knew, I'd overcome anything to become what he wanted.

And one day I did. I called him. We spoke. And when I put down the phone, I just went back to square one. I knew I hadn't chosen the wrong guy. I knew my wait was worth it. He is a gentleman. And what he made was an honest mistake. Just an honest mistake. Unless of course he was doing a drama, which I know he wasn't.

And here I wait helplessly, yet again. And this time its worse. Because I cant rationalize it any other way. I cant use any defense mechanisms. I can't tell myself, he was a heatless jerk! Or he wasn't worth it. Because EVERYONE…hear me out loud, he was the man of my dreams!

And here I am. Again going through the pitiful process of rishtas. But there's a mental block. I can not accept anyone else. When people come I just look at them like normal aunties and uncles and their sons and daughters. Because in my heart I feel, hey I'm already engaged. I have my wonderful guy, and his wonderful family.

Again my problem is, I can't compromise. But the bigger problem is I won't be allowed to do this anymore. According to my society, I'm stained. I have to compromise. Staying single is not an option they say.

And I don't mind being single or alone or living with myself. Men weren't worth it, in my opinion, before he came along. But that short-lived, because how can he expect me to trust anyone ever again. This will break me. I don't think anyone deserves that. And this, this is the big one. Do you know what kind of miracle it is? I am an optimist. I still believe in true love and soulmates. I'm waiting for you. And if you don't come back from this, you will change who I am.

So here I am. A girl. Sitting in complete helplessness. Because this is all that I could do. Tell him we were perfect. I already broke so many norms telling him that. If I get caught it'll make my life a living hell. Some people (& I hope my SO didn't think the same way, cause I feel he's more intelligent than that) that I'm falling all over him. But who cares right? If there's that 0.00000000001% chance of having him back, I'm taking it.

So I wait. So I wait for him to take that step back towards me. Because in my world, mistakes can be undone. And if he takes that step, I swear I would fight for him. I would fight for us.

Or then, he'll just have held my hand and given me away to another man, who I know I'd despise. Who I know with whom each day of my life I'd think of my SO and cry and wonder, why? Just because of stupid wrong norms? Just because of ego? Just because of the road back being too rocky?

Here I wait. Wait for him. Again I repeat.

"I'm just a girl asking a guy to love her."..'

Tagged II.

2008-11-04T19:07:00.008+05:00

I have been tagged by Saadat. Although this comes at a very harassed time in my life, I'm way too polite to say no.

The McCains own 13 cars, eight homes and have access to a corporate jet. If you were as insanely rich as them, where would your eight homes be and why? The only rule is: The homes must be within the borders of the country you live in, so as to utterly emulate the McCains.When you’re done, tag 8 people, so that they may join in the self-indulgence, forgetting about the crappy property market and the equivalent of The End of Pompeii on Wall-Street. You could spend your time hammering your doors and windows shut in preparation for the Apocalypse, but this meme is so much more fun!

Karachi. Born and bred here. It's foul and spreads like Hades. Sometimes you'll find yourself driving for hours on end without Karachi ever ending. Sometimes green, peaceful, cool, livable streets will sprout out of nowhere, embellishing the hope of having a better future for the country, but soon, very soon, as is the rule with every residential area in Karachi, you'll run into a slum where you'll find butt-naked kids running and wailing across the roads, oddly sinister men peering at you from dirty-draped snooker rooms, boiling gutters and merry fruit and chat vendors telling you that you're still thirty years behind (at least) the rest of the world. Govinda and Mithun movies still run like wildfire here and Cyber Cafes are rife with titles such as "Bismillah Internet Cafe" and "Al-Raheem Cyber Services". What the hell is that supposed to imply anyway? God is watching over all the porn they're downloading?

But anyway. Karachi is home and Karachi, with all its bhaiiyaas and treeless roads and traffic jams is Karachi. Its life pulsates like no other. Not because it's got a population of over 1.5 crore people. Not because it's the biggest port in Pakistan. Not because it's one of the top ten metropolitan centres in the world. But because it has never stopped growing. If you ever see those Karachi-oriented exhibits (yes, I know I'm boring, but humor me, go to Mohatta Palace's photography exhibits one of these days), you'll see what I mean. This city doesn't know how to end. Be it life or people. It keeps living even in days of severe economic crises and suicide bomb attacks and stinking oil landing on the shore for weeks. Karachiites will never stop loving the sea.

Lahore. It sounds obscene but it really isn't. Unless you're french. Then everything sounds kinda crooked. Though its name needs more revision than a Frenchman's vocabulary, this city never meant much to me save the past four years. I hated going to visit it when I was a kid. My parents used to drag Ali and me to Islamabad and Lahore every year, without fail, to visit Minaar e Pakistan and Shahi Qila and Shalimar Bagh (that's one way to keep your kids extremely rooted to their cultures, make them stick their noses in historical sites and narrate stories of dead old kings) and apart from the slightly creepy surroundings Data Ganj Bakhsh's Mazaar and the eerie Changa Manga jungles, we didn't mind. What we did feel incredibly grumpy about was the stay we had to tolerate. We hated staying with friends and family in the city because we had to sleep in the drawing rooms and do nothing but watch TV all day. And no cable when I was a kid, so there you go. You couldn't even look comatose when your mom wanted you to get up and take a bath.

I'm guessing my perception visibly shifted when I visited there 2 years ago at a friend's wedding.

Swat. If they ever stop fighting there yeah, I would. Somewhere near the Lake Saif ul Mulook. A wooden hut with a cosy fireplace (you can tell I'm getting married).

Islamabad. The President House is good. But I'd have to be a spouse-killer for that. And I can't give up Barooq for the presidency of this country. He looks too damn good. So any place in the Blue Area would be okay too, I guess.

Peshawar. For times I'll desperately want a change of scenery and an appreciation of places where women can roam free.

Quetta. To gain easy access to buy smuggled video cameras?

Kashmir. It's ours man. Part of it anyway. If India and Pakistan ever stop bickering about it, I'd love a home in that valley.

Gwadar. But it's the port of the millenium!

Okay, I'm sorry I've begun to sound lame, but I'm outta places. Unless you count "Prem Nagar" which comes from the way to Lahore from Karachi through Allama Iqbal Express and had THE most romantic name in the world (maybe they should rename Lahore that!) and wouldn't it be so so cool if someone asked me my address and I said,

" ... House Number 1, Mohabbat Gali, Prem Nagar."

........

I tag: Mampi, Khizzy, Hufsa, Karachiwali and Hira.

The Grim and the Gore.

2008-11-02T13:18:00.003+05:00

You know what?

I'm just going to stop reading newspapers.

Yes. I'm going to just stop reading them.

Especially Pakistani news. And even more especially the Metropolitan section of the paper. It's just too depressing for anyone's good. I wonder how the editors sleep at night after they've set the paper off to print. And I don't wonder anymore why my own father, a journalist for 27 years, has paranoid attachment issues with letting his family go anywhere without him being the chaperone.

I have a weird habit of reading things while I am eating. Mom says it is disrespect to food and I can't help it anymore. It's been more than 22 years of doing it and unless it's Electric Shock Therapy that I'm in for, I'm going to continue reading anything I can get my hands on while I'm eating.

For the past couple of weeks, I'd been missing out on the deep perusal of the morning paper (breakfast without it is incomplete like a square without its lines - excuse the pathetic similie) and this Sunday as I settled down to eat the Chicken Jalferezi I made, the horrors began.

PIA's suffered a loss 38.4bn rupees. Interestingly having 16 pc growth and 17 pc hike in passenger revenue and 10 pc increase in cargo revenue - all at the same time as its losses. Pakistan, the nation, is quite ruffled by the US attacks - which recur remorselessly, just like aftershocks in Quetta and its whereabouts. And although we can seriously admire Mr. President to talk about raising money for ginners and growers, we mustn't try wondering why he won't just stop booking quotas in everything from Hajj flights to Saudia Arabia's Pakistan House.

The news is bad everywhere. TV channels milk it, people lap it up and politicians will continue to harvest the ground which breeds it all.

I am quite deliberate about this.

I don't think I can take it anymore. Newspapers sure put your life into perspective when you're down making you understand that the universe does not revolve around YOU - but they also do something really really disturbing. It makes us understand that this revolving universe which we struggle to survive in everyday - is full of crap and it's never going to change.

If I wasn't a journalist's daughter, I'd have stopped my subscription to Dawn today.But I know I won't. Mom loves the word jumble too much and I'm a crossword fan.

Not to mention The Wizard of Id.

That comic strip is funnier than George Bush on crystal meth.

Will Ferrell and Tina Fey as George Bush and Sarah Palin.

2008-10-30T23:46:00.004+06:00

Ferrell: Hello my fellow Americans. I've chosen to schedule this impromptu address at night. Because quite frankly every time I address in the afternoon the stock market goes to the crapper. I've come to you tonight amidst a very important election between two very qualified candidates. The Hot Lady and the Tiger Woods guy. And yes I did have three Xanaxes and a silver bullet about half an hour ago. I'm outta here in a few months so screw it! *creepy giggle* Now let's bring out here Governor Sarah Palin and Sentaor McCain.

Fey: It's so nice to meet you, President Bush. I've seen you on TV. But unfortunately Senator McCain upon hearing that you want to make him a super-public endorsement - cannot be found.

Ferrell: George Bush always finds his man save for one huge exception.

Fey: Yep, we're going to get 'er done!

Team Arctic guy brings in McCain (played by Darrell Hammond).

Ferrell: (shakes hands as McCain tries to tug his hand away) Hey let's get a photo of this. Lemme do this. I, George W. Bush, endorse John McCain and Sarah Palin. (McCain tugs to leave, GW doesn't let go.) John was there for me 90% of the time for past ten years. When you think john mccain think of me. Think of this face when you're in the voting, before you vote, picture this face.

"How to Steal a Million (1966)"

2008-10-29T21:44:00.003+06:00

I return with an ode to Audrey Hepburn, who, in this flick, plays the granddaughter of art-forgerer Bonnet. Her grandfather, out of obsession, out of a sense of adventure, likes fooling art-lovers and museum curators that he is in possession of pieces by none other than Monet and Van Gogh and since,

Bonnet: American millionaires must be all quite mad. Perhaps it's something they put in the ink when they print the money.

The film is considerably glib with characters that are justifiably witty (one's an art-lover, one's an art thief, and one's an heiress). Consider this:

Nicole Bonnet: I didn't want to keep you waiting, so I got engaged to him. Is it alright? Am I on time?
Simon Dermott: Perfectly. In fact, we have ten more minutes, so if you want to go back and marry him?

The film is 2 hours long and passes with enough enjoyment if you're an art-lover or an Audrey Hepburn fan.

Frantic update I.

2008-10-26T02:17:00.002+06:00

Work is killing me.
Sarah Palin is stupid.
Humanistic Counseling rocks. My future career is suddenly all-the-more clearer.
Writing plays is not easy. I have newfound respect for Oscar Wilde, Tennessee Williams and Anwar Maqsood.
I'm reading "Half Blood Prince" for the umpteenth time.
I had a 'near-death' experience. Our car almost collided into a bridge on a very busy, a very fast lane last night. I have newfound respect for life. Which didn't last very long - but anyway.
Facebooking through Iphone is boring.
You can't blog through your Iphone or your N95 either. Unless you want to go mad with frustration or blind after straining your eyes to read one word.
My wedding gharara is going to be blood red. *dreamy grin*
Madrassah started again. This time new teachers. I keep telling them I'm going to question everything about Islam and faith, so they should be prepared. Fariya Baji says she has also told them about M and I. So yay.
Our UPS has gone to hell so we're literally living in the "Dark Ages" now that KESC has decided to push tolerance levels even further.
I'm talking about electricity ... so that means I'm outta stuff right now. Or that I just want to begin venting (and who the hell wants to hear that, right?) ... so.

Until then, folks. Until I get a new video graphics card. See you on Facebook or email.

Huh?

2008-10-19T16:49:00.004+06:00

Can you believe it?

I just called Ather-Shehzad Studio.

Shahzad Raza charges THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND RUPEES for bridal makeup.

And if youwant him to come to Karachi, he will charge you extra ...

PLUS ...

YOU have to give him a Business Class ticket and five star stay.

Shahzad's assistant charges one hundred thousand. You can give him an economy class ticket and stay.

Benevolent.

Mom still thinks I'm joking. Even though I made the call in front of her.

Does this mean we no longer live in the good ol' days where looking beautiful came naturally?

But now it has to come with a private jet and a bank balance?

"Wait Until Dark (1967)"

2008-10-17T01:11:00.003+06:00

What starts as simply a creepy thriller ends up being an intelligent, well-crafted film with Audrey Hepburn outclassing everything else onscreen with her portrayal of the "world's champion blind woman" being tricked by a set of crooks. Wait Until Dark promises more to the audiences in its one sequence than at least 20 of those Final Destination-type blood-and-gore-filled flicks.

I absolutely and wholeheartedly fell in love with the talent Hepburn has. She has been irreplaceable. Alan Arkin has played the psychopathic villain brilliantly, his performance pairing up well with Hepburn's. Great watch, splendid cast and a plot that will keep you on the edge of your seat for sure. Stop wasting time. Go watch.

Frankly, m'dear ...

2008-10-15T02:08:00.003+06:00

I'm tired.

I'm tired of the same old swagger of the whiz kids and the biz kids at the university. Tired of the petty shameful politics, the insecure staff and the immensely self-conscious brats that walk through the halls decking it with their shallow intentions (I showed them August Rush and one kid said he liked 'the larki/girl' the best). I am tired of trying to write a script that can change the trend of the university to do shitty plays and begin it on a more classical, less third-grade path by trying to write a play with enough oomph to hook in the hoi polloi and enough jazz to let me look at myself in the mirror with a clear conscience.

I am tired of this. This is not what I wanted from teaching.

Having said that, I refuse to quit or give up (wish I'd learnt to though, it's such a blessing sometimes) on something I've promised myself I will end properly. So ploughing through is a teacher who is quite OUT of ideas right now. So any helpful hints on how to tolerate 160 18-year-olds will be appreciated.

And by tolerate I mean to hold out for the next 9 weeks without bombing their brains (or mine) out, managing a million (or plus) rupee function, checking mid and final term papers and saying good bye to university once and for all.

Oh and by the way. Readers of this blog, join The Black Mirror Network on Facebook. Confirmations on the author will be appreciated. And if you're too stingy to take time out to help a pathetic, miserable old teacher feel better, then fie on you.

Hmpf.

Living for the only thing I know.

2008-10-11T19:24:00.002+06:00

It helps to see things from that rose-colored glass. Even cynics do it when they need it.

They just don't like to admit it much.

Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
I'm closer to where I started
Chasing after you
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you

Forgetting all I'm lacking
Completely incomplete
I'll take your invitation
You take all of me now...

I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you

There's nothing else to lose
There's nothing else to find
There's nothing in the world
That can change my mind
There is nothing else
There is nothing else
There is nothing else

Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
I'm closer to where I started
Chasing after you....

I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you

Just hanging by a moment (here with you)
Hanging by a moment (here with you)
Hanging by a moment here with you

Hanging By A Moment - Life House

"Islam and Post Modernism."

2008-10-10T17:35:00.002+06:00

By Dr Asghar Ali Engineer

What is the relation between Islam and post-modernism? Earlier, we used to talk of Islam and modernism and now we talk of Islam and post-modernism.

First let us understand the difference between modernism and post-modernism. Modernism which ruled the roost until the early 1950s was characterised by a hegemony of reason. Modernism rejected anything which was not in conformity with reason.

Modernism was, in a way, quite intolerant of forces of tradition or even anything supra-rational, let alone irrational. It was for this reason that Freud’s theory of the subconscious or unconscious was also ridiculed by modernists. It was not deemed to be in conformity with reason. Even Marxists also rejected Freud and his explanation of deeper sources of human behaviour. Naturally they also rejected religion as something irrational. Thus, modernism was as intolerant of anything non-modern as one religion is said to be of another.

Europe throughout the 19th century was characterised by modernism and Asia and Africa were looked down upon by the Europeans as anti-modern and irrational. Thus, the 19th century was the century of modernism and of European hegemony. It was in the early 1950s and ’60s that new trends began to emerge and post-modernism began to be theorised by academics and social scientists.

In post-modernism, reason lost its hegemony and supra-rational forces came to be accepted. Post-modernism is mainly characterised by pluralism, be it cultural, religious or literary sphere. Europe and North America became multi-cultural and multi-religious societies due to the migration of people from the western powers’ former African and Asian colonies.

Also, it was during this phase that religion also found a respectable place again in western society. In other words, religion came to be re-appropriated. Thus, post-modernism, unlike modernism, is not hegemonic and is tolerant of other cultures; its main characteristic is pluralism. Now let us explore the relation between Islam and post-modernism.

Islam believes in religious and cultural pluralism, and while accepting importance of reason it also accepts supra-rational forces. According to the Quran, Allah has created several religions and cultures though he could have created only one, if He so desired. (5:48). Thus, pluralism is the very basic to the Quran.

According to the Quran the world has been created in its plurality, not only in matters of religion but also by way of ethnicity, nations and tribes. These have been described as signs of Allah (30:22). About national and tribal plurality, one only need see Surah 49, verse 13.

The Quran stresses pluralism to such an extent that even when one is convinced that others’ gods are false, it stops believers from abusing them. The Quran says, “And abuse not those whom they call upon besides Allah, lest, exceeding the limits they abuse Allah through ignorance.” Further, it says: “Thus to every people have. We made their deeds fair-seeming…” (6:109)

Here, it is a Quranic injunction not to say bad words about others’ religion(s) because to every people their religion looks true and valid. The Quran even says that in every place of worship Allah is remembered and hence it should be respected. Thus, the Quran says, “And if Allah did not repel some people by others, cloisters and churches and synagogues and mosques in which Allah’s name is much remembered, would have been pulled down.” (22:40).

Thus, there is no place for inter-religious conflict in Islam. The Quran also subscribes to the doctrine of what Shah Waliullah and Maulana Azad called the wahdat-i-Deen i.e., unity of religion, which means all religions are same in essence and in their core teachings. Both the eminent theologians have thrown detailed light on this question in their respective writings.

As far as multi-culturalism is concerned, the West accepted it only in the latter part of the 20th century. The West had otherwise long been a mono-religious and mono-cultural society, because the Christian church had rejected validity of all other religions except Christianity. The church now of course believes in inter-religious dialogue and has issued instructions to Christian organisations to that effect. The Quran had accepted all Biblical prophets during the revelation itself.

Islam accepted multi-culturalism too by saying that all believers are one Ummah regardless of their ethnicity, language, tribe or nationality. It also admonished believers not to discriminate between Arabs and non-Arabs, as Arabs were very proud of their ethnic origin. Islam spread far and wide among peoples of different cultures and even the Shariah respected the ‘adat (customs) of different people. Local customs and traditions were integrated with Shariah formulations from the earliest time.

Thus, it will be seen that Islamic teachings anticipated what came to be called post-modernism today. The most essential thing is tolerance for diversity and for those who are different from us. Being different should not mean being inferior, superior or hostile to the other. We must project Islam in the right spirit, emphasising the practice of tolerance it so ardently advocates to the faithful.

The writer is an Islamic scholar and heads the Centre for Study of Society and Secularism, Mumbai.

Taken from: Dawn.com.

Watan ka Sajeela Jawan.

2008-10-07T17:30:00.003+06:00

My brother Ali and his friend Saad reenacting Zardari-Palin encounter.

You can note the thurkeeness in Saad's eyes (on the left) and the slightly terrorized look on Ali's (on the right).

"The Color of Money"

2008-10-07T04:02:00.002+06:00

And then there is that one actor no one can take their eyes off of.

Shocking as it may sound, I am not and sincerely not referring to Tom Cruise. If you ask me, he's one of Hollywood's overrated stars and if he jumps on a couch, it just doesn't make him any more interesting.

I am actually referring to the legend, Paul Newman. If there's anyone who can parallel Brando and Peck in grace or DeNiro and Redford in artistic achievement, it's this guy right here. In this 1986 flick, he's got more poise and gallantry at 61 than most men do at 30. Tom Cruise was aptly chosen by Scorsese to play the slightly goofy-but-talented pool savant in front of a seasoned liquor-seller (Newman). There is no way anyone could have managed looking better than Newman.

The plot of the movie is a treat for pool-lovers but for those of us who haven't been around a pool table apart from our Iphones or desktop games, this film is more than just 9 balls rolling around on the table. It explores characters deeper than pool-playing money-winners. Scorsese has this knack of humanising elements which are untouchable, elements that can only be viewed from afar. Although this humanising is done brutishly, not as elegantly as Coppola, it nevertheless breaches the divide between a luxury sedan driver and an average Joe or any of the streetside hoodlums you avoid gazes of.

A must-watch. A must-must-must watch. Newman is truly one of the finest actors Hollywood has ever had - and they are absolutely right to mourn his death.

Whose War is it anyway?

2008-10-06T17:40:00.005+06:00

WASHINGTON, Oct 05, 2008 /PRNewswire via COMTEX/ -- A prominent national Islamic civil rights and advocacy group announced today that Howard Gordon, the executive producer of Fox's drama "24," has withdrawn his endorsement of the anti-Muslim film "Obsession" currently being distributed to some 28 million households in presidential election swing states by a shadowy non-profit organization called the Clarion Fund.

Source: Marketwatch.

The film and the words "anti-Muslim" are strongly tied. It makes me wonder if there's a Holocaust round the corner. I am back in the year 2001 right now where I would hear horror stories of Muslim kindergarten children being pelted at with bananas and Cheetos for wearing tiny headscarves.

The history of Muslims is conflicted, I'll give you that. But I don't altogether believe that we deserve as much hate as we are recently acquiring. Just like the war on terror isn't exactly a war on terror, I wonder if people are able to see that the "Jihad" in Jamiya Hafsa or the suicide-bombings from 9/11 to 7/11 to 9/20, isn't exactly like the Jihad the Prophet of Islam waged 1400 years ago. I wonder if there will be any room for an explanation for what a fundamentalist is in the next few years. And I sincerely wonder if the average Pakistani man will ever stop calling himself a 'radical muslim' just because he has a beard or prays at the mosque. I've never heard of the phrases 'radical Christian' or 'fundamentalist Jew'. Is it some South Asian dilemma? Radical Hindus and radical Muslims?

While we're at the topic, another problem with the Pakistani nation that is rampant and quite the trend in the holier-than-thou society: rejecting modernity. Refusing modern culture or the adaptation to technology. The more of a Luddite, the better a Muslim. The more of an idiot a woman is - all the better to be a wife. Because wives of present-day "good" Muslims, unlike the Umhaat ul Momineen, aren't supposed to be literate enough (Hazrat Ayesha RA) to have the ability to quote 5000 ahadeeth or advise on war matters or educate a nation, no. Neither should they be of enough power to assume a choice to divorce her husband (Hazrat Zainab bint e Jahsh RA) nor should she have enough gumption to be strong for a husband when he needs her the most (Hazrat Khadeeja RA). No. Our women's piety and chastity is justified by just how tightly our burqas are clad, just how quietly we can take a husband's beating and exactly by how many slaps and insults and acid-sprinkles we can withhold from our in-laws. Our society isn't an Islamic one - neither are our people, and I'd really wish the global media would desist the stupidity of calling us the 'followers of Quran' who wish 'death upon America'. If anyone's terribly un-Islamic, it's us. We are not waging Jihad in any way. We are waging a war of political interests, of international conflict, using and abusing Islam wherever we deem necessary, whenever we can throw in a quotation about God willing to fight the 'non-Muslims', to obliterate the 'enemy', forgetting it was the Prophet Muhammad SAW who announced sanctuary to the people of Mecca, the women and children, and anyone who took refuge in Abu Sufyan's house. And bonus points for guessing whose side Abu Sufyan was on.

They can all us great terrorists if they want to, but they should drop the Muslim alibi (which I know they won't, the war on terror hasn't shifted to OIL either - Operation Iraqi Liberation) which is just a bad excuse for a badly played hand by Al Qaeda. It's a shame that not even a few people in the Muslim world have had much luck explaining this to the west. Movies such as Obsession and Danish cartoons and 'anti-Muslim' sentiment will continue to thrive and multiply. We're seriously not interested in an image revamp.

--

Pakistan and Pakistanis Muslims, to the world, are torch-bearing, Kafir-killing, flag-burnig, suicide-bombing fanatics who beat and kill their wives, spit on modern medicine and probably eat their young daughters. And then there's that other end of the spectrum. Where we're belly-dancer oglers, suppressed, bearded, dark-eyed heretics who worship the Satan as badly as the other-enders worship Allah.

There are definite moments where I am not proud to be a part of this race - this Pakistani Muslim category which has proudly marshalled its militant image. Mainly because of the lay man who sported bin Laden's picture on the back of water tankers and pan shops. My greatest fear for my country and my people is that we are not even aware - not even remotely cognizant - of the threat we have come to face because of our incessant stupidities. We have supported Talibanization whenever the West has wanted us to without dictating a clear democratic or diplomatic stance. Instead of proclaiming a support for the US we have camouflaged our US-love as Ummah-love and in the end, eat our own vociferous speeches. There is no harm in accepting that we are quietly supporting a US-led war on terror in Afghanistan (which we are, are we not?) and quietly letting them dictate a future with India and now with Iran because our own infrastructure is weak and frail. It cannot withstand an enmity with the biggest dog in the yard.

I don't believe that America is the greatest nation to grace the planet but I do believe that it is indeed a powerful nation - and for good reason. I believe that Americans have survived great odds like war, famine, economic depressions, nuclear threats, the handling of a federation of 50-odd states, a combative bi-polar world of the 1960s - to overcome and emerge as one of the most powerful nations of the world. They have worked hard and they've gotten what they invested in. They aren't perfect but they've done whatever they possibly could in their powers. Which is something Pakistanis just do not understand. We are too busy fighting over petty issues, thrashing each other apart whether it is judicial killings or judicial positions. For us, all we need is a spark. We'll add the feul to the fire ourselves.

Muslims, along with the rest of the world, need to understand the clear difference between a Mullah and a Muslim. They need to understand the difference between sexist and gender-based; between jihad and political tactic; between diplomacy and consistency; between resentment and tolerance.

This entire hoopla on suicide bombs is only going to prove Marx right once and for all that religion is what masses get high on - how leaders can sway the devotion of people in their favor. Chant Allah hu Akbar and ram the fourteen year old into the mosque with explosives. Cite a certain text (albeit misinterpreted) and thrash your wife into a pulp. Give a misquoted example and wage a war against innocent American civilians.

Marx will also be right when we'll land as an American army on Iraqi/Afghani soil. Look at certain profits and send your troops in to wage a 'crusade'. Sign certain oil proliferation treaties and declare weapons of mass destructions all over any country you like. Find a potential threat and fool the prolateriat by any means necessary - economic downfall, a threat of terror or a politics of fear. The idea is to raise capital. And raise it must.

This is nowhere a holy struggle. The present state of affairs is in no way a prediction or order from the Quran or from the American constitution. It is a malady produced by the personal choices and greeds for more, an exploitation of the powerless masses, the ridiculed and the befuddled. We keep making movies like The Obsession, we keep chanting slogans against the Muslims or the Americans and we keep feeding to this black hole of vested interests.

This is not a war on terror, this is not a Jihad.

This is humanity at its best.

Power hungry and stupid.

The day I made THE cheesecake.

2008-10-04T19:35:00.004+06:00

Yes.

Consider this my fist in the air.

I am capable of being more than just cheesy, I also capable of making this:

THE cheesecake which turned out even better than I had dreams of expecting.

Life is great when that happens.

Happiness is in these great, happy, tiny realizations that indeed there existeth a world where existeth a perfecth cheesecake.

And now I'm only delirious.

But happy nonetheless. Apart from the cheesecake, I am also capable of making many other things but this day is important since I also made Singaporean Rice, Afghani Kebabs, Chicken Ministeaks and Green Chillies Qeema.

Lo and behold.

Chicken Ministeaks with Garlic Fried Rice.

Singaporean Rice - sideview. For additional information *smirk* on the layers.

Hari Mirch Qeema (with the hari mirch in the middle, hmpf) and Afghani Kebabs (in the bowl).

Pineapple Delight - a novel way of decorating it (a la Mom.)

The Dark Knight - Cinemascope.

2008-10-02T21:37:00.005+06:00

And here I thought I wouldn't get tickets.

The Cineplex's Cinema 2B, practically empty, was only occupying the four of us, a rowdy family with kids and ladies who looked dressed up enough for a prom and insisted on transliterating every scene to people sitting next to them, a couple with their tiny, well-behaved son wearing the cutest orange baseball cap over his stiff kurta and a dad with his three overactive boys. The latter repeated every shout and scream uttered in the movie and wanted a play-by-play of every scene including a loud session of trivia directed at their Dad regarding each and every one of Batman's personal reasons for anything from jumping off a high tower to driving his Batmobile at a deathly pace.

Which can only tell you one thing. Pakistanis: not ready for cinema.

After buying ridiculously expensive popcorn and soft drinks, we settled down to watch Heath Ledger in action, ready to devour each line of the film, for the fifth or sixth time at least since the release of the Dark Knight. We tried to ignore the loud disturbances and were actually happy to hear the eardrum-shattering noise drowning the "dhishoom-dhishoom" shouts of the kids (honestly I love kids, but some parents don't know when to tell their kids to zip it) and basically had a real nice time watching the 2-hour-plus flick again on the big (well, compared to my tv anyway) screen. During the intermission, the little dhishoom-dhishoom boy began dancing his butt off at Kismat Konnection's remixes.

After watching it again, my favorite parts of the movie are highlighted thus:

1. "People deserve to have their faith rewarded." - Batman.
2. "Because I'm not wearing hockey pants." - Batman.
3. "I like this job, I like it!" - The Joker.
4. "I'm not sure they'll let us," Harvey Dent referring to the bringing together of two tables together at a posh restaurant. Bruce Wayne responds, "Oh I'm sure they will. I own the place."
5. "Accomplice?" says Wayne to Alfred. "I'm gonna tell them the whole thing was your idea."
6. "Whatever doesn't kill you ... only makes you stranger." - The Joker.
7. "Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn." - Alfred.
8. "It was a big dog." - Wayne.
9. "Why so serious?"

And number 10:

The Joker: Aaah, never start with the head. The victim gets all fuzzy.
Batman: You wanted me. Here I am.
The Joker: I wanted to see what you'd do. And you didn't disappoint. You let five people die. Then you let them take your place. Even to a guy like me that's cold.
Batman: Where's Dent?
The Joker: Those mob fools want you gone because they want the way things were. But I know the truth. There's no going back. You've changed things. Forever.
Batman: Then why do you want to kill me?
The Joker (laughs hysterically): I don't want to kill you. What would I do without you! Go back to ripping off mob dealers? No, no, no. You complete me!
Batman: You're garbage who kills for money.
The Joker: Don't talk like one of them. You're not. To them you're just a freak. Like me. They need you right now. When they don't, they'll cast you out. Like a leper. See their morals, their code, it's a bad joke Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They're only as good as the world allows them to be. I'll show you. When the chips are down ... these civilized people .. they'll eat each other. See I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve.
Batman (has had enough, begins to beat the crap outta the Joker): Where's Dent?
The Joker (undeterred): You have all these rules! You think they'll save you?
Batman: I have one rule.
The Joker: Oh. Then that's the rule you're gonna have to break to know the truth.
Batman: Which is?
The Joker: The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. And tonight you're gonna have to break your ONE RULE..

The Day that was Eid.

2008-10-02T13:50:00.003+06:00

Eid is a fairly typical, conventional affair where I come from. Kids beg for Eidi, grown ups distribute the crisp (and now extremely pathetic-looking) banknotes and there are the siwayyans (sweet vermicelli) which grace every table in Pakistan. There is no pardon for sleeping in or arriving late at Dadi Jan's place. There is no way in the world you can sheepishly pass up on the opporunity of getting the five-rupees that your DJ has been giving you for the past 25 years (no wait, she used to give us 2 rupees when we were younger), it'd break her heart and you'd end up looking like a jackass anyway. There is no way you can tell your mom you don't want to wear the glass bangles this time (oh the horror).

But it's fun. Eid is fun because you get to meet relatives you haven't met since the last Eid, you get to join in the merry-making that you probably don't like a lot but it's family and it's fun and heck, it's Eid. You can let a few lame jokes pass once a year.

But perhaps the terminus optimus was my end of the feud with Ali. How Eid-spirrity, eh? I was mad at him for being a jerk over something and he messaged this last night,

"By the way. Thank you for the suit. And remember if I don't say sorry or thank you out loud doesn't mean I don't mean it."

These boys.

Tina Fey Rocks.

2008-09-30T20:09:00.004+06:00

Couldn't resist the pun when her show 30 Rock has won 7 Emmys this year, including one for herself as Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Series.

Her words were:

"I thank my parents for somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate to my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do."

She's an inspiration to all bimbos to be otherwise.

Tina Fey is my hero.

2008-09-29T16:05:00.002+06:00

Like millions, I've been a fan of SNL for a very long time. But this is something that makes me just accept it out loud.

Tina Fey is my hero.

Pineapple Delight.

2008-09-28T22:14:00.003+06:00

A really simple recipe. For dessert-lovers this is pineapple heaven.

Ingredients:

1 packet cream - Nestle, Haleeb, Olpers.
1 packet Pineapple Jelly - Rafhan etc.
4 tablespoons sugar
1 can pineapple tidbits.

Method:

Separate the pineapple tidbits from the syrups. Cut the pineapple pieces even smaller if you want the final dessert not to have big chunks. In a cooking pan, take pineapple syrup and add the packet of Rafhan Pineapple Jelly. Bring to boil and set aside to cool after cooking it for 2-3 minutes. Beat cream and sugar together in a separate bowl. Add pineapple tidbits and leave in the fridge to cool.

Once the jelly has set, through a fork or knife, make small portions of it by criss-crossing it. Gently fold in the cream-pineapple mixture with the jelly and put back in the fridge for another good hour or so.

Top a pretty raspberry jelly heart and serve.

Who are we to judge the Pakistani Psycho.

2008-09-28T19:45:00.003+06:00

Sometimes I wonder if we're way too influenced by the media and it's galore. It's need for drama and it's persistent doomsday conspiracy theories. Are we so absorbed by this hyperreality that we have forgotten what it was to have an objective opinion?

Right now, it's certainly a dilemma for me as I browse through the statements of President Extraordinaire, Mr. Asif Ali Zardari.

"I mean business," he says, says he to Roger Cohen. He says he is changing things, replacing ISI bigshots, hugging Manmohan Singh, creating 'Friends for Pakistan', establishing a hardline on the US attacks and lashing out at them directly and simply at the UN meet. So what if he also flirted with the US VP. Pretty much all of America is calling her sexy. Why aren't we just glad he didn't use those words too while he was grinning there like Moose in front of Midge?

Whatever the case may be with his big grin and oily hair, I want to give him credit for saying what he did.

"Unilateral actions of great powers should not inflame the passion of allies."

You have to hand it to the guy. After the day you flirt with the US VP, stand next to Condi Rice and say that the world is a safer place because of President Bush, to go out and say you won't tolerate any more crap coming from the NATO helicopters on Paki soil - I'm impressed.

Cohen states what he feels about this as such:

"My impression? This guy's very smart, a wheeler-dealer in an area full of them, secular, pro-American, committed to democracy, determined and brave. I never heard Musharraf frame Pakistan's fight against terrorism with such candor."

For an analysis of Asif Ali Zardari, it is more critical who he 'befriends' internationally than who he sleeps with confidentially. It is probably more of a joke that he swooned over Palin if he continues to keep his head in his place in places like the UN meets and at 10 Downing Street.

The guy's a sleazebag, sure. He's probably not even a seasoned democrat. But he's got what it takes to take the seat. He did what it took him to elbow out a far more seasoned democrat than he was (hint, hint, he's far from the running now), capture the loyalties of JUI in one day, pocket the England-executed party of Pakistan and successfully stand in front of the international community, humbly asking for help.

How he's doing it is beyond me. What I do understand is that he's latched on good and strong. And when it comes to Pakistani democratic olympics - that's what makes you a winner.

Oh yum.

2008-09-27T14:11:00.004+06:00

Eid is round the corner. Amidst the fear of bomb blasts and depressing headlines, we have something to celebrate. Festivals will always help humans survive pessimism, in my opinion, and why shouldn't they. We need something to celebrate, something to help us continue living, something to wake up to.

Barooq once said to me something that has been stuck in my head (he has a knack for saying stuff that sticks) about food. He said it when he was explaining his love for food. He called it a celebration for life. I don't know if he was quoting or being glib but he sure hit it spot on.

So this Eid, I plan to make some yummy stuff. I don't know if I'm like Monica who makes food when she's nervous or just plain happy I'm through Ramadan after burnt skin and abonimably-parched lips, but I plan to go nuts this time. Desserts are a no-no, after S's Mom, Dr. Y told me to lay off of sugary stuff (Mom had diabetes, her mom and dad had it too) and I'm already beginning to think I'm a 'buddhi khoosat' (as to-be-26 Mona wails) as soon as I'll hit the big 25 on January 1st (3 months and some days to go - YAaaaGH), metabolism begins to decline, calcium-production begins to go down, not to mention you begin looking like a 25-year-old. And ask any woman. The latter is worst than any of the former.

I know I sound like I've been looking at a Methuselah in the mirror or something - and I know I still look fine, I eat fine and I don't have a potentially damaging sweet tooth, so I don't need to worry about giving up a lot in that department. But 25. I'll be twenty-five. When I was seventh grade (I don't know why I have to measure everything through that kaliedoscope) 25 was senility. It seemed as if you could never reach that age even if you tried. My mind couldn't even venture that far a possibility of life and time and circumstance.

Yet here I am, planning a near-25 eid (I can hear Mona screaming somewhere) with recipes galore and moving to be 26.

I'll write some other day about how this year has been and what it gave to me and what I took from it - but today, I'll just think about how I'll celebrate Eid with dozens of yummy dishes. So who cares if all our family gathers at dadi's and all we do in three days is visit other people and relatives etc. Who cares if the only people stuck eating my food will be Mom, Dad and Ali - or maybe KJ, Nayyer Mama and Tariq Mama's lot, if I'm really ambitious. Who cares if I'm being neurotic - cooking because I'm trying to invest myself somewhere I can forget the noise in my ears or the chaos in the world. Who cares if there is a world much uglier than a cheesecake and far less delicious than an Afghani Kebab.

Who cares, I ask you.

I'm going to cook away my sorrows. Who cares if I'll only eat a bite out of every dish and relish the others eating it more than I'll my own palate.

I'm going to do it anyway.

These are a couple of good sites I've been hounding for the past three days. Mian Jee has a penchant for Mutton and these recipes sound deelish. Even if you're not a mutton lover as such, these websites are goldmines. Check em out. They are just plain too scrumptious.

Fauzia's Pakistani Mutton, Beef and Chicken Recipes.
This is what is on the agenda for today. If all goes well, my khandaan is getting fed soon. Next up are Shahi Mutton Qurma and Sweet and Sour Beef.

Khana Pakana Dot Com.
Stupid as the name may be - the website is truly wonderful. The recipes are in Urdu (no worrying over what is pimento and phyoll) and there are pretty inciting pictures to motivate the chef within you. My favorite happens to be the Steak and Singaporian Rice Recipes. Too good, I tell you!

Alta's Recipes.
You will honestly LOVE the chicken recipes. They're quick, efficient, easy-to-make, increasingly popular (Teriyaki Chicken, Chicken A la King - so simple!, Chicken Parmesan etc) and very handy for cooks new and old.

RecipeZaar.
This is another mother lode which has plenty of western-based recipes. One in particular that caught my attention was Russian Tea - which I'll be making for friends perhaps. Families are too creul to be used in experiments.

Indian and Pakistani Recipes.
Great stuff for this part of the Asian world. Stuff like Tandoori Chicken and Spicy Lamb with Onion can be just the thing for a killer desi menu.

And last but not the least.

The Cheesecake Website.

Aah, the cheesecake website.

For those of you who are still at the mercy of "Desserts" or "Kitchen Cuisine" to water your mouths, your begging days are over. Discover this is the chilled-cream cheesecake recipe and the topping recipe. This is your key to happiness.

So enjoy a great Eid everyone.

May you all have a lot to celebrate. Ameen.

"Chocolat"

2008-09-26T01:42:00.003+06:00

Storyteller: Once upon a time, there was a quiet little village in the French countryside, whose people believed in Tranquilité - Tranquility. If you lived in this village, you understood what was expected of you. You knew your place in the scheme of things. And if you happened to forget, someone would help remind you. In this village, if you saw something you weren't supposed to see, you learned to look the other way. If perchance your hopes had been disappointed, you learned never to ask for more. So through good times and bad, famine and feast, the villagers held fast to their traditions. Until, one winter day, a sly wind blew in from the North...

The sly wind brings in Vianne Rocher and her young daughter who open up a patisserie in a conservative, orthodox town. What follows is a battle between the new order and the old, as Marie begins to sell the 'sinfully delicious' chocolate to the locals. The attraction is natural as more and more people begin to draw nearer to the unlikely character from abroad.

Marie doesn't just sell chocolates. Marie defies tradition. She doens't wear black shoes like other women. She doesn't have a husband. She doesn't fear in befriending the local nut (enter Olin) or greeting the 'pirates' of the time (enter Depp) or challenging the traditions of offering chocolate in the season of Lent.

The film is packed with a strong message for non-conformists and otherwise. It shows the resistance to change and it comes with a price (although is heavily chocolate-coated in this movie, in my opinion) which is never easy to pay. But like all good feel-good movies, this movie has that note of optimism, that bittersweet lesson that is so necessary to keep one's head sane at moments of despair and dejection. Being different isn't easy. But you've got to keep on going anyway.

Père Henri: Listen, here's what I think. I think that we can't go around... measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think... we've got to measure goodness by what we *embrace*, what we create... and who we include.

"Dan in Real Life"

2008-09-26T01:30:00.004+06:00

This story has been probably done a million times. Guy meets girl, guy finds out girl is brother's girlfriend, guy pines, girl pines, eventual family drama. You know how it goes.

What is refreshing about this flick is Steve Carell. Everyone who is anyone watching television in the past few years has to note that this guy is nothing short of a quiet, unassuming genius. Unlike Jim Carrey, who has the loud, rambunctious act to his personality (I like him anyway though) or witty, dead-pan humor like Jerry Seinfeld, Steve Carell adds that awkward, very-human, sensitive bit to comedy. He's extremely versatile though but his niche is in the roles he's done as the pausing-too-much kinda guy, the often-ignored, talking-to-self characters such as Little Miss Sunshine, Get Smart and even Evan Almighty. Those were serious roles with the humorous edges to them and Carell did them extremely well.

The story revolves around Dan, an advice columnist for a local paper, living with his three daughters and struggling through each day after the demise of his wife. On a fateful weekend when he takes his daughters down to a family get-together, he meets Marie (Juliette Binoche). Playful, fun to be with and plenty of sparks that alight their conversation in which Dan finds himself talking about his most personal and deeply felt thoughts to a stranger.

What is more fateful is that the stranger isn't a stranger at all - she's his brother's girlfriend whom he's brought to meet the family.

Awkward.

Steve Carell, I repeat, has done this role remarkably well. A little too well in fact for a story that was basically cliched and not quite well executed. It lacked the pizzazz for the romcom and didn't really cut it as a slightly-poignant romantic tale. However if you see it the way I did - being a die-hard Carell and Binoche fan - you're bound to love it much more than if you'd seen the same flick with Delmort Mulroney and Sarah Jessica Parker.

"The English Patient"

2008-09-26T01:19:00.003+06:00

The desert begins and akin to it, begins the journey of two lovers set in the Sahara. The story however begins much before it.

The English Patient is the burn victim of a plane crash. He has vague memory of who he is and what has happened to him. His scars do not tell his story, as most scars do; in fact they have vanished for him any traces of his past, any recollections whatsoever. One act that does not leave him - is that he hums. Constantly.
The film swings back and forth through the flashbacks of Count Laszlo de Almasy, under the care of a devoted, passionate nurse, Hana, played by Juliette Binoche in her Oscar-winning role. Most understandably so. Binoche's bohemian, careless-yet-careful portrayal is heartwarming and sensitive. It caters to the senses as she tries to find beauty and solace and hope in the arms of war and plunder, serving to a burn victim in an abandoned monastery.

It's a sad, romantic little love story with a cast so stellar and performances so solid that despite the slightly mindnumbing length of the movie, you'll find yourself riveted.

But only if you're not used to happily-ever-afters.

Because believe it or not - they don't have to happen for every single one of us.

I cannot understand testosterone.

2008-09-25T22:13:00.004+06:00

I have been forced to confess it herewith.

I do not get it. Maybe men have same issues with oestrogen and progesterone, but come on. Progesterone isn't half the confusion as testosterone is.

Testosterone is so incredibly funny, it'll make nice, decent, intelligent people like my own darling brother, Ali, scream uncontrollably at a guy who merely cut in front of him at the CNG station a couple of days ago.

Don't believe me?

Alright, I'll elucidate.

While waiting for the ATM machine to work and observing the milling-arounders, one does get to notice interesting (and sometimes just plain gross) tidbits. For example.

Notice how the dashing old man stands.

Where the bloody hell does he think he's standing? His washroom, waiting for his kids to finish toothbrushing?

On roads where women walk like this, all covered and sour-faced ... :

Men actually have the nerve to stand around their hands up their waists through their kurtas. Like so. Notice it's not one but two intelligent species standing that way.

That's just too disgusting.

But no wait. Where there's disgusting, there's Zardari. And no one can refute he's not a good reason to be baffled at testosterone. Everyone's heard of his fawning over Sarah Palin. If I'm over the fact that we're slobbering as slavish puppies at the hands of the American government, I'm made to see him making sleazy innuendos at a remotely attractive female.

Your wife's been dead not a year and you're already grinning like a chipmunk.

I guess I should've taken the hint when you took over the party and ran for President, but you had to prove it to me, sir, eh?

And although I hate to use anything human in the same line as Zardari, I have to make an exception.

Then there are freaks who will insist on flirting with you despite your obvious display of the ring-finger. The freaks who think anything moving and female is worthy of their slimy attention. The freaks with their mad stares and creepy smile. Their bad teeth and slick (in their opinion, anyway) hairdos - do you actually think you're attractive if I see your knickers hanging out your pants? We're not blind, please. Or devoid of other senses either.

I'm sure the grievances are equal on the other side, the battle of the sexes will reign, never the twain shall meet, opposites will continue to attract, and so on and so forth ...

... but if it ever comes down to choices, I'd always choose oestrogen.

It's crazy, moody and maybe even bitchy at times.

But it won't flirt at every moving object in sight.

The Lady Snape.

2008-09-24T19:46:00.006+06:00

Teaching is an odd experience. Most people who look at a twenty-five-year-old fresh graduate think it's oh-all-that for her, but she will tell you, that on most days ... it's just plain odd.

Firstly, people don't give you way to pass when you're in a hurry to get to class. Most of them consider you yet another youngling in the halls of younglings rushing to get a good backseat in the room. It's not until you run into ex-students who start stepping aside, which tells other students that it's a faculty member.

Secondly, respect comes with a price. In the over-one-year that I've taught, I've had to 'endure' as Alfred says to Bruce Wayne (yes, the Dark Knight has gotten to my head), many rumors and impressions of me such as "Dragon Lady", "Miss Strict" etc. The rest of the rumors aren't worth mentioning because most of the deranged population of my university isn't exactly high-ranking on the creative lot. But they'll get there, I hope. Soon.

Some colleagues advised me to go to the university picnic at Nathia Gali Beach so I could 'bond' with the students. I didn't really find that fascinating. I'm old-fashioned and quite probably born in the wrong century, so a beach with a DeeJay and crazy boys and girls jamming in the sun isn't my idea of fun. I politely declined, encrusting the nicknames, heightening the grievances of the minions of Satan.

My class is dead-quiet and most students are shit-scared of me. It's like a court-room drama. I don't blame the little humans for hating me, I suck the fun out of their frolicking. I'm focused on delivering the lecture, making sure people understood them and discussing latest political affairs, rather than Atif Aslam and SRK.

But that was Sociology and Psychology. When I began teaching Oral Communication this fall, I had to reach out to the kids on a more personal level. I had to bring them to an understanding of who I was and how I did things. Moreover, OC is a hands-on course. It's got plenty of talking, jabbering, discussing and joking around. Activities include skits, parodies, plays, songs, etc, so it's got a big fun element to it. Thus when I walked into the first class of OC, students actually stared at each other, flipping through their time tables if they had their periods marked out right. Miss MA.? Teaching OC?

Hell no.

So I began straightshooting. After I'd taken the attendance, I asked,

"Who's surprised to see me here?"

And needless to say, countless hands shot up in the air.

I began explaining to them how things worked with more serious subjects such as Sociology and Psychology and how a teacher needs to have a firm hand if he/she has any desire to complete the course. Things began going well and from some I heard, in the later weeks, that M. A. was a fun teacher.

Fun. Me.

People who know me personally abet that I'm a big ball of bubbles most of the time. It being a revelation for my students lead to me hearing a lot of interesting quotes and statements.

One of them I'd like to share with everyone at which I could not help suppress my laughter.

In today's assignment "Carte Blanche" in which students were asked to talk about anything they wanted, with no holds barred, a kid came forward and said the following,

"I want to talk about change. I'll use an effective example. Last semester we had a teacher who taught us Sociology."

He glances meaningfully at me.

"Oh it was you, right! So anyway, she came into the class - and it was hell. It was so quiet. It was like almost scary. In fact - she was so scary that ... ah, well, how many of you have read Harry Potter? ... Okay, well, she was just like Professor Snape. A Lady Professor Snape. But things changed after the midterm. I guess she was happier because pretty much all of us failed it. But now I see a change that she's brought now that she's teaching us OC."

He went on talking about what he'd learned from life about change etc. And I kept seeing myself in the eyes of students.

The Lady Professor Snape.

At the end of the Potter books, I began to thoroughly love the character, so I don't really think I was offended. Plus public opinion matters but little when it comes to doing the job right. I find it inconsequential most of the times. Overrated and negligible, especially when it comes to something I thoroughly believe in. And I thoroughly believed in delivering my lecture on time, covering my course targets, and challenging the students' capabilities in my course. It would have been actually quite the easier path had I chosen to let the students run loose in the classrooms like Cornish Pixies and act like Lockhart but my choices were clear before me. I know they hated me for keeping them quiet (and they probably still do, regardless of all the fun assignments I make them do now - students don't let go of impressions that easy), I know they hated me for failing them on substandard papers, I know they dreaded my class and I know they looked at me wishing I'd drop dead.

But I believe - and thoroughly - that when a time will come for them to understand something from a sociological or psychological perspective they'll look back at what they learnt and not what they hated about me.

And that's all that matters.

If they call me Snape in the bargain, I'm okay with that.

Snape was too.

There's no place like home?

2008-09-21T03:41:00.003+06:00

After watching the pictures of the blast, after reading the political statements by the President, Prime Minister, the Interior Minister, the police officers, the survivors, the public, the youth, the media and the press ... I am left with nothing but fear. These threats are not being faced. I am taken back to January, this year, when there were over 15 blasts in one month all across Pakistan. These people are not waking up to smell what is going on. These politicians, the military, the international community does not understand that Pakistan is under a threat far too grave to be ignored anymore. We don't need, atop this, military raids from the US. We don't need stupid politicians to have petty issues. We don't need the media to show charred flesh everywhere. We don't need the blame game within the masses.

What we need is to take this threat very, very, VERY seriously. We need effective strategies, asap, to get rid of the Al-Qaeda threat, the Islamic militants who are not interested in anything Islamic (such as peace or dialog) whatsoever, to get rid of a horrific rampage that plagues the people everyday: fear and insecurity.

It's strange, though.

Just when you thought Zardari was the worst thing to happen to the country, something like this happens.

I don't think I'm out of the shock of the realization of what has happened to this country.

No.

I don't think I am indeed.

Little Mr. Sunshine.

2008-09-20T05:16:00.004+06:00

It's so hard not to kiss him all the time.

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG.

2008-09-19T04:02:00.004+06:00

I'm so happy.

Processing.

2008-09-18T10:13:00.002+06:00

I am currently trying to set up here. Blogspot has given me enough hell for the time being. Look at my blog right now. The header's looming out from behind like an ugly monster. I like the orchids but I don't like the blatant and in-your-face size of it.

Nothing's official as yet, but as they say, third time's the charm and I've already tried migrating twice on wordpress.

I need feedback. Is moving to wordpress a good idea?

"Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"

2008-09-17T09:12:00.007+06:00

I had no idea that this movie would be so charmingly life-affirming. After 19May80 advised me to watch it after I saw A Street Car Named Desire, I had certainly put it in my to-see list. Had I but known what it would make me feel after it was over, I'd have watched it sooner.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is the story of a family that stands at a critical turning point. "Big Daddy" (the Academy Award nominated role for Burl Ives), the father of the family is diagnosed with cancer and his two sons arrive for a celebrating of his birthday party. The elder married with a stereotypical breeding machine of a wife with four (or five, can't recall how many) kids and another one in the making, the younger Brick Pollitt (Newman) married to Maggie (Elizabeth Taylor) and 'on the rocks' with each other. Big Daddy and Big Momma are both kept in the dark by the doctor about Big Daddy's terminal cancer and the celebrations of his birthday proceed as normal. The overall twist is the money Big Daddy shall leave behind after him which the elder son, Cooper (Jack Carson) along with is wife, are deeply interested in. Brick however has no interest in anything whatsoever, including his wife, his father's estate and his teeming alcoholism.

Margaret "Maggie" Pollitt: We've still got one thing on our side. No, two things. Are my seams straight? Big Daddy dotes on you, Brick. He can't stand Brother Man and Brother Man's wife. That fertility monster, she's downright odious to him, I can tell. That's the second thing we've got on our side. He likes me. The way he looks me up and down and over, he's still got an eye for girls.
Brick Pollitt: That kind of talk is disgusting.
Margaret "Maggie" Pollitt: Did anybody ever tell you you're a back-aching Puritan, Brick? I think it's a fine thing that a man on the doorstep of death can still look at a woman like me with what I call deserved appreciation.

Brick's story is only half tragic. He is an alcoholic ex-football player who has lost his will to live after the suicide of his close friend "Skipper" whom he accuses Maggie to have had an affair with. Maggie tries to talk to Brick about it but he does not want to discuss anything since his loss of faith in most things in life after Skipper, including Maggie and her love for him. Maggie, desperate for his attention, tries to seduce him, reason with him, yell at him in coming back to her and having her talk over the matter to no avail, is frustrated with her situation but continues to plow at it with all her might.

Brick Pollitt: What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?
Margaret "Maggie" Pollitt: Just staying on it I guess, long as she can.

The truth of the story isn't in Brick and Maggie's marriage however. It lies deeper and interconnects all of the Pollitt family. Cooper's dissatisfaction in finding him always second-best even when he has complied to each and every wish of his father from career to personal choices. Mae's persistence in showing just how perfect she is in producing heirs and thus deserving for a fair share of the estate. Big Momma's deniail that works with everything, her love of her husband and the family. Maggie's troubled and one-sided relationship with her husband. Brick's unique bond with his father that somehow includes estrangement and resentment as a key factor. Big Daddy's intervention that somewhat clears the air between Brick and Maggie. Big Daddy's own fight against life, against circumstance. These themes are powerful, universal attractors. They rivet in the watcher as he/she sees relationships strayed around all over the place instead of the cohesive whole that you expect a family to be. What's more important is how it starts from the opposite end: from dilapidated ties to a stronger bond.

Harvey 'Big Daddy' Pollitt: - It's easin' somewhat now. When you got pain, it's better to judge yourself of a lot of things. I'm not gonna stupify myself with that stuff. I wanna think clear. I want to see everything, and I want to feel everything. Then I won't mind goin'. I've got the guts to die. What I want to know - do you have the guts to live?
Brick Pollitt: I don't know.
Harvey 'Big Daddy' Pollitt: We can start by helping each other up this stairs.

So this movie has done a number of things that are good. It's got my faith back in some things. It's made me a Paul Newman fan. And it has put a smile on my face again. Granted not as big as one as Wall-E. But a smile nonetheless.

Conversation Among Ruins - Sylvia Plath.

2008-09-16T00:12:00.000+06:00

Through portico of my elegant house you stalk
With your wild furies, disturbing garlands of fruit
And the fabulous lutes and peacocks, rending the net
Of all decorum which holds the whirlwind back.
Now, rich order of walls is fallen; rooks croak
Above the appalling ruin; in bleak light
Of your stormy eye, magic takes flight
Like a daunted witch, quitting castle when real days break.

Fractured pillars frame prospects of rock;
While you stand heroic in coat and tie, I sit
Composed in Grecian tunic and psyche-knot,
Rooted to your black look, the play turned tragic:
Which such blight wrought on our bankrupt estate,
What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?

Once upon a useless morning.

2008-09-15T00:59:00.005+06:00

I'm going to have to ask her to forgive me for sketching her son so badly but I was bored and I needed inspiration. Badly.

And then I thought of what was the last thing I saw which made the hair on my neck stand up. So I drew this.

And then I was just plain irritated.

Sigh. I never said I was a good artist.

"Adaptation"

2008-09-13T09:14:00.004+06:00

The first two minutes of the movie are spent listening to Nicholas Cage say exactly what is coming to his mind. His random, completely digressive thoughts, that help us roll the credits onto the movie.

A movie which is about a digressing, ill-focussed screenwriter, aka Charlie Kaufman, given the job to write a script for the book written on Orchids. Kaufman says this film is going to be 'about flowers'.

What starts off as a languid-paced film ends up as a dramatic thriller. I didn't find it as great as the critics did but I did enjoy extremely convincing performances by the lead actors. The idea of the story within a story within a story got little attention amidst all the drugs and rare flowers. This movie isn't something you'd see to hear good dialogs (though some had a rancidly realistic punch to them) or believable stories; this movie is to be seen solely for its quality performances, especially by Nicholas Cage, who always does seem a little high to me throughout his movies, whether he's playing a law-abiding citizen or a car-theif.

Something Streep fans will enjoy, Cage fans will appreciate and flower-lovers will watch expectantly.

"Keeping The Faith"

2008-09-13T05:17:00.004+06:00

This movie is the directorial debut of the critically acclaimed Edward Norton. The story is simple and straightforward. I don't see what much of a challenge Norton must have faced to make a movie with very basic a plot and really no room for dramatic achievement. It's a sweet romantic comedy with a theme of religious tolerance hovering in the background. Norton plays the priest, Ben Stiller is the rabbi and Elfman is the childhood friend who revisits just when Stiller needs to find a wife to get a promotion.

There really isn't much to be said about the film (which is a first considering Norton is in it) except for this dialogue:

Father Brian Kilkenney Finn: The truth is, I don't really learn that much about your faith by asking questions like that... because those aren't really questions about faith, those are questions about religion. And it's very important to understand the difference between religion and faith. Because faith is not about having the right answers. Faith is a feeling. Faith is a hunch, really. It's a hunch that there is something bigger connecting it all... connecting us all together. And that feeling, that hunch, is God. And coming here tonight, on your Sunday evening... to connect with that feeling, that is an act of faith. And so all I have to do is look around the room at this packed church... to know that we're doing pretty well as a community. Even if all of you failed my pop quiz miserably.

Disclaimer.

2008-09-12T05:38:00.003+06:00

I do love google. It's a modern day miracle. It's the answer to a hurried assignment. It's the given for a ridiculous fact which can't be found anywhere else. It's a treasurechest of information. Really, I love Google with my whole and total heart.

But it can really SUCK at redirecting you sometimes.

This post is exactly about those poor, floundering, misguided souls who land on my unsuspecting blog looking for that bundle of information.

So I must disclaim the following.

For people who land here looking for "The Current Status of Ground Zero", I am very sorry but I am NOT hosting a site in the wake of the September 11, 2001 attacks on the Twin Towers. The previous header of the blog "Ground Zero" was just given for fun and for a deeply personal reasons. Maybe you should look into the NYC's government website.

For people who come here looking for "Aeisha Varsey", I apologize deeply again that this is NOT an Aiesha Varsey homepage. I have asked her to host a site which she says she is working on.Varsey-design-hopefuls, I have yet another bit of bad news for you all. She will not be showcasing her designs online, she says she is against her designs going extremely public and common. All I can do for you is provide the contact information (which people often land up on due to searching for Aeisha Varsey Dubai or Abu Dhabi) which can be found here.

For people who come here looking for "Happy About Zardari Election" (I've lost the referral link but the search term made me laugh), I'd give up searching, if I were you.

For people who come here looking for more on the movie "Crowned and Dangerous", you sad, curious people have made me realize how pathetic some Saturday nights can get. We can watch movies that are incredibly, incredibly lame and then even Google them later on if the initial stupidity of watching it wasn't enough.

And for people who come here looking for this image, from the movie Charlie Wilson's War, I have nothing to say. You probably have an assignment due on it.

So keep your faith in Google, people. But don't trust every search result. And don't think I wear Aeisha Varsey, am happy about Zardari's election and have my own stash of information coming directly from Mr. Bloomberg. I don't. And I'm pretty sure Google doesn't either.

I want my spaceship.

2008-09-11T21:13:00.005+06:00

From Dawn.com

I want to follow suit of that big ship that deserted earth because it had become unlivable. It was home and it was unlivable. Tell me if that isn't torture enough and I'll tell you to inform me of what is not painfully obsolete.

The reasons are simple.

US is this close to a full-fledged war-on-terror in Pakistan. One wrong move and we're really looking at another 6 years of US's pathetic excuse for "counter-terrorism". Indeed. Millions of dollars, thousands of dead soldiers and women and children later, the US appetite of saving mankind from itself is still not satiated. How many more, I ask you? How many more to fill this oil-black-hole?

Another couple of billion dollars spent on atomic experiments. How about feeding people with all that money for a change? Help a kid get his eyesight back? Educate a couple of hundred beggars? Give blood transfusions to teenagers who might end up saving families in the future, if they can just have a better chance at life?

12 killed in Taraveeh prayers. Taraveeh prayers. Including children. Who are these human beings and what has gotten into them? But there. I cannot allow myself to ask these questions just as yet. Not when I have the following fascinating factoids outlined.

A teacher throws acid on a student's face. Acid. Saas and bahu suna tha. Teachers and students? And if that isn't bad enough for you to start saving for your ticket outta Planet Doom, hear this. Son kills 60-year-old mother declaring her kari. Kari. Your sixty year old mother.

But women deserve no sympathy. I'm almost mysogynistic after hearing about Ms. Gulzaran aka Bilo who claimed that the boy with the fractured hand that the police recovered was her son. The boy, Dilawar, 8, reports that he is not her son. He was kidnapped from Karachi and Ms. Gulzaran broke his hand with a hammer and forced him to beg. A hammer. An eight year old kid and a hammer to break his hand for petty cash.

And we are busy playing dosti-kut'ti, dosti-kut'ti. We're too busy fighting petty politics when we really ... and I mean REALLY ... need politicians who are as selfish about the nation as the US is about its foreign policy. We need the media to act responsibly and stop berating Pakistan for things we already know and get a move on already. If they can't do anything positive except to shake fingers and talk crap about problems we already know are there, then they should just shut their pieholes. If politicians can't just stop bickering then they don't deserve to be Presidents. If people like us can't take initiatives to do something about the environment, about the social dilapidation that is spreading like wildfire, we need to take a good look in that mirror and ask ourselves (f*** the fear of cliches) if this is the world we want our kids to live in twenty years from now.

I don't know how we do it and I don't care where we start. Let's just embark on this journey already before things get any worse than they already are. I'm in no illusion of removing world poverty but if I give in to disaster, that's probably just as stupid.

Do what you can. Plant a tree, feed a child, write a blog, report a crime, speak the truth, teach the alphabet, keep the faith, love the land.

The point is ... do ... because if this isn't heydey ... I don't know what the freaking hell is.

"Wall-E."

2008-09-11T05:48:00.003+06:00

After a very long time a movie has been able to leave a smile on my face.

Even long after it was over.

Pixar doesn't fail. It just doesn't intend on disappointing. From the tales of inanimate toys to a monster that wants to become a comedian and a rat that wants to become a chef to now the robot who after 700 years of living alone on a deserted planet craves the human (?) connection, Pixar has proven that it is not going to be beaten on its winning streak any time soon.

Wall-E is one of the best movies of the year. Including the Dark Knight and Hancock and The Incredible Hulk, Wall-E takes my cake. Wall-E makes you laugh and feel and experience through the entire length the journey from space and back. Such is the impact of the movie that I find myself murmuring "Eeeeveeee" and "Waaalleeee" as my mind goes back to his drooping eyes and a loneliness that is desperately adorable.

It is a given how far animation has come. The story is sensitive and intelligent, the tone is light-hearted yet influential as it touches the globally critical dilemma of pollution. The whole movie is just plain darn fantastic and it gives Kung Fu Panda a good run for its money, though both are remarkable in their own right. A must-watch for anyone. Yeah, just anyone, anybody. If you're a human, a robot or on auto-pilot. Just watch the damn thing and go back to being human.

Playing in my head.

2008-09-09T22:48:00.001+06:00

Hope For The Hopeless - A Fine Frenzy

Points to Ponder.

2008-09-09T21:23:00.004+06:00

In a recent article, writes Andleeb Abbas (a consultant and CEO of FranklinCovey) that no country in the world exemplifies peace, prosperity and progress.

Pasting the whole article again seems like a simple enough regurgitation so let me just talk about the finer points:

Concepts like globalisation which were supposed to make the world a better place have themselves become disputable.
As the superpowers struggle in wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, smaller nations like Pakistan and Zimbabwe struggle to shrug off dictatorships and corrupt politicians which have made them vulnerable to every form of socio-economic attack on their sovereignty and identity.
Stronger nations, in pursuit of their philosophy of ‘we can only become stronger if the others become weaker’ have forgotten how to become stronger themselves.
The political cost: Politics in the West is limited to being either pro- or anti-war. Americans and the British are choosing their leaders on this basis alone. Politics in lesser countries like Pakistan is also decided on the basis of whether the leadership is supporting the war in Afghanistan.
The economic cost: Recession is the inevitable result of bad politics and indifferent economic management. Stock prices are tumbling, the credit crunch is expanding and consumer spending is at its lowest. Companies have only one survival strategy i.e. tightening their belt. This of course means downsizing and cost-cutting which have worsened unemployment. Inflation is at an all-time high and food prices are unaffordable. Economies like Pakistan have gone into a freefall. Exports are down, the rupee is the most worthless currency possible raising the import bill to a level which cannot be paid thereby leading to further debts and deficits of all kinds.
The social cost: The pressure to live, and live up to, is so huge in today’s society that the ability to live for real values and principles has given way to adherence to social norms which result in artificial lives with no substance or character.
American society has gone into its worst period of racism and materialism; family units in the UK are almost an alien concept as the country has the highest number of teenage pregnancies where the mother being a child herself is incapable of rearing children. In Pakistan we have a society where extremism in both modernism and fascism has undermined its balance as a place with a reasonable ideology and identity. The youth of this country vacillate between two ends: some are partly copies of their western counterparts, the others of the Taliban, thus causing social confusion and emotional devastation.
The attitude of each one of us should be that we should not have to wait for the world to change but initiate the change at our own level, no matter how small it is, because as they say “what lies behind us, and ahead of us, is insignificant compared to what lies within us".
andleeb@franklincoveysouthasia.com

The Poor Little Rich President.

2008-09-06T21:11:00.003+06:00

I am completely and thoroughly tired of hearing "Dila Teer Bijaan Allay" everywhere I go. What are these people celebrating? The advent of another plutocratic President who by the way happens to be the second-richest man in the country?

Are these people seriously deluded or what?

Everywhere I go I hear the intelligent factions of society condemning the arrival of the man with the thicker moustache and yet here he is with all the fanfare and glory ready to rock Pakistan into a potentially explosive future (literally, now that I read about the US attacks). I can only ask the people of Pakistan, beg them, beseech them, pray for them, to open their eyes.

Open your eyes. This is a country where peopel are dying for food and health. And these are the assets of your President:

1. Plot no. 121, Phase VIII, DHA Karachi.

2. Agricultural land situated in Deh Dali Wadi, Taluka, Tando Allah Yar.

3. Agricultural property located in Deh Tahooki Taluka, District Hyderabad measuring 65.15 acres.

4. Agricultural land falling in Deh 76-Nusrat, Taluka, District Nawabshah measuring 827.14 acres

5. Agricultural land situated in Deh 76-Nusrat, Taluka, District Nawabshah measuring 293.18 acres

6. Residential plot No 3 (Now House) Block No B-I, City Survey No 2268 Ward-A Nawabshah

7. Huma Heights (Asif Apartments) 133, Depot Lines, Commissariat Road, Karachi

8. Trade Tower Building 3/CL/V Abdullah Haroon Road, Karachi

9. House No 8, St 9, F-8/2, Islamabad

10. Agricultural land in Deh 42 Dad Taluka/ District Nawabshah

11. Agricultural land in Deh 51 Dad Taluka Distt Nawabshah

12. Plot No 3 & 4 Sikni (residential) Near Housing Society Ltd. Nawabshah

13. CafT Sheraz (C.S No.. 2231/2 & 2231/3) Nawabshah

14. Agricultural land in Deh 23-Deh Taluka & District Nawabshah

15. Agricultural property in Deh 72-A, Nusrat Taluka, Nawabshah

16. Agricultural land in Deh 76-Nusrat Taluka, Nawabshah

17. Plot No. A/136 Survey No 2346 Ward A Government Employee’s Cooperative Housing Society Ltd, Nawabshah

18. Agricultural land in Deh Jaryoon Taluka Tando Allah Yar, Distt. Hyderabad

19. Agricultural land in Deh Aroro Taluka Tando Allah Yar, Distt. Hyderabad

20. Agricultural land in Deh Nondani Taluka Tando Allah Yar, Distt. Hyderabad

21. Agricultural land in Deh Lotko Taluka Tando Allah Yar, Distt. Hyderabad

22. Agricultural land in Deh Jhol Taluka Tando Allah Yar, Distt. Hyderabad

23. Agricultural land in Deh Kandari Taluka Tando Allah Yar, Distt. Hyderabad

24. Agricultural land in Deh Deghi Taluka Tando Mohammad Khan

25. Agricultural land in Deh Rahooki Taluka, Hyderabad

26. Property in Deh Charo Taluka, Badin

27. Agricultural property in Deh Dali Wadi Taluka, Hyderabad

28. Five acres prime land allotted by DG KDA in 1995/96

29. 4,000 kanals on Simli Dam

30. 80 acres of land at Hawkes Bay

31. 13 acres of land at Maj Gulradi (KPT Land)

32. One acre plot, GCI, Clifton

33. One acre of land, State Life (International Center, Sadar)

34. FEBCs worth Rs. 4 million

SHARES IN SUGAR MILLS INCLUDE:

1. Sakrand Sugar Mills Nawabshah

2. Ansari Sugar

3. Mills Hyderabad

4. Mirza Sugar Mills Badin

5. Pangrio Sugar Mills Thatta

6. Bachani Sugar Mills Sanghar

FRONT COMPANIES IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES:

1. Bomer Fiannce Inc, British Virgin Islands

2. Mariston Securities Inc, British Virgin Islands

3. Marleton Business S A, British Virgin Islands

4. Capricorn Trading S A, British Virgin Islands

5. Fagarita Consulting INc, British Virgin Islands

6. Marvil Associated Inc, British Virgin Islands

7. Pawnbury Finance Ltd, British Virgin Islands

8. Oxton Trading Limited, British Virgin Islands

9. Brinslen Invest S A, British Virgin Islands

10. Chimitex Holding S A, British Virgin Islands

11. Elkins Holding S A, British Virgin Islands

12. Minister Invest Ltd, British Virgin Islands

13. Silvernut Investment Inc, British Virgin Islands

14. Tacolen Investment Ltd, British Virgin Islands

15. Marlcrdon Invest S A, British Virgin Islands

16. Dustan Trading Inc, British Virgin Islands

17. Reconstruction and Development Finance Inc, British Virgin Islands

18. Nassam Alexander Inc.

19. Westminster Securities Inc.

20. Laptworth Investment Inc 202, Saint Martin Drive, West Jacksonville

21. Intra Foods Inc. 3376, Lomrel Grove, Jacksonville, Florida

22. Dynatel Trading Co, Florida

23. A..S Realty Inc. Palm Beach Gardens Florida

24. Bon Voyage Travel Consultancy Inc, Florida

ZARDARI’S PROPERTIES IN UK ARE:

1. 355 acre Rockwood Estate, Surrey (Now stands admitted)

2. Flat 6, 11 Queensgate Terrace, London SW7

3. 26 Palace Mansions, Hammersmith Road, London W14

4. 27 Pont Street, London, SW1

5. 20 Wilton Crescent, London SW1

6. 23 Lord Chancellor Walk, Coombe Hill, Kingston, Surrey

7. The Mansion, Warren Lane, West Hampstead, London

8. A flat at Queensgate Terrace, London

9. Houses at Hammersmith Road, Wilton Crescent, Kingston and in Hampstead.

ZARDARI’S PROPERTIES IN BELGIUM ARE:

1. 12-3 Boulevard De-Nieuport, 1000, Brussels, (Building containing 4 shops and 2 large apartments)

2. Chausee De-Mons, 1670, Brussels

ZARDARI’S PROPERTIES IN FRANCE ARE:

1. La Manoir De La Reine Blanche and property in Cannes

ZARDARI’S PROPERTIES IN USA — in the name of Asif Zardari and managed by Shimmy Qureshi are:

1. Stud farm in Texas

2. Wellington Club East, West Palm Beach

3. 12165 West Forest Hills, Florida

4. Escue Farm 13,524 India Mound, West Palm Beach

5. 3,220 Santa Barbara Drive, Wellington Florida

6. 13,254 Polo Club Road, West Palm Beach Florida

7. 3,000 North Ocean Drive, Singer Islands, Florida

8. 525 South Flager Driver, West Palm Beach, Florida

9. Holiday Inn Houston Owned by Asif Ali Zardari, Iqbal Memon and Sadar-ud-Din Hashwani

ZARDARI’S BANK ACCOUNTS IN FOREGN COMPANIES ARE:

1. Union Bank of Switzerland (Account No. 552.343, 257.556.60Q, 433.142.60V, 216.393.60T)

2. Citibank Private Limited (SWZ) (Account No. 342034)

3. Citibank N A Dubai (Account No. 818097)

4. Barclays Bank (Suisse) (Account No. 62290209)

5. Barclays Bank (Suisse) (Account No. 62274400)

6. Banque Centrade Ormard Burrus S A

7. Banque Pache S A

8. Banque Pictet & Cie

9. Banque La Henin, Paris (Account No. 00101953552)

10. Bank Natinede Paris in Geneva (Account NO.. 563.726.9)

11. Swiss Bank Corporation

12. Chase Manhattan Bank Switzerland

13. American Express Bank Switzerland

14. Societe De Banque Swissee

15. Barclays Bank (Knightsbridge Branch) (Account No. 90991473)

16. Barclays Bank, Kingston and Chelsea Branch, (Sort Code 20-47-34135)

17. National Westminster Bank, Alwych Branch (Account No. 9683230)

18. Habib Bank (Pall Mall Branch).

19. National Westminster Bank, Barking Branch, (Account No. 28558999).

20. Habib Bank AG, Moorgate, London EC2

21. National Westminster Bank, Edgware Road, London

22. Banque Financiei E Dela Citee, Credit Suisse

23. Habib Bank AG Zurich, Switzerland

24. Pictet Et Cie, Geneva

25. Credit Agricole, Paris

26. Credit Agridolf, Branch 11, Place Brevier, 76440, Forges Les Faux

27. Credit Agricole, Branch Haute – Normandie, 76230, Boise Chillaum

Yes, Mr. President.

2008-09-06T20:35:00.004+06:00

December 18, 1987.

1996. Mr. President of 2008.

2004. Release from jail.

2007. Benazir leaves for Pakistan from UAE.

2008. The future of PPP and Pakistan.

And the future unfolds.

Any discerning Pakistani would be asking themselves the same question. What, after this, is to ensue in this unfortunate series of events?

For a full article on Mr. Zardari's rise to power and all that in a situation where Pakistan must not afford anymore mistakes go here.

The only thing to fear is an American invasion.

2008-09-06T02:59:00.003+06:00

Just when I was thinking that Zardari was just about the worst thing that could happen to this country, I find this in the news.

What disturbs me even more is the deja vu that surrounds this event. The denial from United States (they only deny when they've got plenty to hide in the Oval Room). The upper-northern borders of the country being heavily involved in military action. And an insurgence. An insurgence.

I am afraid.

I am afraid of what is going to happen to this country if these operations continue. And the US denying involvement in a military operation is just as bad as the fat lady singing.

I repeat. I am afraid.

Tagged by Mampi.

2008-09-03T22:49:00.002+06:00

What kind of day would I be?

Bright and shiny. With a few clouds looming over. Little kids playing, birds chirping, a slightly chilly evening and a fantastic star-filled night.

P.S. That doesn't mean I'm fantastically starry, I just like starry nights.

2008-09-03T21:52:00.001+06:00

What a bloody mess - by Ardeshir Cowasjee.

2008-09-02T16:07:00.002+06:00

I'm not a big Cowasjee fan as such. His reputation for the NGO "Shehri" is bad enough for me to be blown away by pretty words. But this is too good to pass.

HOW ironic. Having reiterated time and time again over the past years that the then president of Pakistan, Gen Pervez Musharraf, was (and remains) the best of the worst lot, it was highly amusing to read in a column headed “Musharraf’s Pakistan had true potential” printed in the Boston Globe of Aug 26: “The sad thing is that Musharraf was the best of the current lot.”

And how factual was an editorial in The Independent (London) of the same day which opened up: “Even by the notoriously low standards of South Asian politics, Asif Ali Zardari, leader of the PPP, is a compromised figure, dogged by corruption charges. So it is hard to be enthused by the PPP’s decision to nominate its leader as the country’s next president.”

This was one day after the Financial Times had broken the news of the medical reports compiled by two New York-based psychiatrists, which had been filed in a London court to support an application to delay corruption cases brought against him by the Pakistan government. The diagnoses were delivered in March 2007 and successfully served their purpose. The FT report opens “Asif Ali Zardari, the leading contender for the presidency of nuclear-armed Pakistan, was suffering from severe psychiatric problems as recently as last year, according to court documents filed by his doctors.”

The FT report has also been picked up and commented upon internationally. Pakistan is in the news again to its detriment. Presidential candidate Zardari has been diagnosed as suffering from “emotional instability”, memory loss and concentration problems, and major depressive disorder. These court papers have caused alarm amongst the citizens of his country who question his ability, and his fitness, to occupy the presidential chair.

In these past few days, I have been inundated with e-mails calling upon me to come to the aid of the country and save it from Zardari. Little do they know what a columnist can achieve — all he can do is save a few blind donkeys and some old trees. Even were I to approach the courts, under the present circumstances, my petition would be thrown out quicker than a wink of an eye. And the same goes for the Election Commission. Citizens of Pakistan are, these days, wary of ‘consequences’.

Now, constitutionally where does Zardari stand in view of the court-backed doubts about his mental state? The president, under Article 41(2) is required to be “qualified to be elected as a member of the National Assembly”. According to Article 63(a) a person is disqualified to be a member of the National Assembly if “he is of unsound mind and has been so declared by a competent court”.

The court in London accepted the psychiatrists’ certificates and acted upon them. Zardari, if he wishes to deny the diagnoses, must plead that the London court is incompetent and that the psychiatrists were falsifying. We must go with an editorial of Aug 28 which counselled that “It would be unwise to dismiss the recent revelations about the fragile state of Mr Asif Zardari’s mental health as irrelevant,” and asked “Does the country really need another potentially deluded individual to lead it through these troubled times?”

Dementia, as any psychiatrist will confirm, is a progressive disorder which usually does not remit with any known treatment. A combination of major depressive disorder and post traumatic stress disorder can hamper memory and judgment. This goes a long way towards explaining the recent Zardari string of dishonoured signed agreements and broken promises.

As if the Zardari mental health state was not sufficient unto the day, news broke in Europe and the US two days later about the release by Switzerland of assets amounting to some $60m which were frozen in 1997 by a Geneva court investigating allegations of kickbacks received by Zardari and Benazir Bhutto between 1994 and 1997 (her second term as prime minister). In June, our attorney general penned a letter to the Swiss prosecutor general informing him that neither husband nor wife had done anything illegal and that the charges were politically motivated (thank you, USA and Musharraf, for the NRO). The money laundering case was dropped and Zardari is now richer than ever having pocketed a dubious $60m, though the PPP leader vehemently denies receiving this amount.

The investigating judge in Geneva, Daniel Devaud, was flabbergasted. “It would be very difficult to say that there is nothing in the files that shows there was possible corruption going on after what I have seen in there. After I heard what the general prosecutor said, I have a feeling we are talking about two different cases.” The Swiss release should not in any way be interpreted as a sign of innocence.

Now, let us revert to our mutilated almost incomprehensible constitution which as far as Article 62 goes is clear. To qualify as a member of the National Assembly, and thus to be able to contest the presidential election, a man must be “of good character and is not commonly known as one who violates Islamic injunctions”, and he must be “sagacious, righteous and non-profligate and honest and ameen”. No further comment is necessary.

We must wonder how our armed forces feel about all this. After all, the president is not only their supreme commander but he has his finger on the nuclear button. Zardari and his sycophantic supine political party must ask themselves if he truly qualifies to be a head of state. He has five days in which to prove himself a patriot and a democrat. Democracy, no matter what the party slogan may proclaim, is not a form of revenge and for him to carry through his ambition (which he has nursed ever since he made up his mind to rid himself of Musharraf) would be an act of vengeance upon his country and its people.

Of the three presidential candidates, Mushahid Hussain is by far the cleanest (the ‘best of the worst’). I have suggested to him that, as a directly affected party, he go to the courts immediately and at least attempt to obtain a stay order. The frightened people of the world and the people of Pakistan will undoubtedly support his move.

arfc@cyber.net.pk

Re: the genius of Zardari.

2008-09-02T14:52:00.004+06:00

John Maszka left a comment on my post and since the comment was slightly equal to the post itself, I'm thinking it justifies a new post altogether.

He writes:

"An Escalation of the War in Afghanistan and Pakistan is a Very Bad Policy.

"Conservatives and liberals can argue the merits of the surge in Iraq , or the need to deal with terrorism now rather than later (or the genius of Zardari). I want to focus on something else: the impact of the perspective of 1.5 billion Muslims around the world. I’m not implying that it is somehow homogeneous, just relevant; more relevant than my opinion at least.

"Taking the war on terror back to Afghanistan (and most likely Pakistan) is bad for a number of reasons: the perspective of the international Muslim community; the fact that a military solution has not worked thus far, so why keep kicking a dead horse (especially when it has the potential to trample you); the delicate balance of power in the immediate theatre and in the broader region; the likely negative reaction of other states; and last but not least, its potential impact on the price and availability of oil."

Democracy doesn't seem to be quite the stallion we imagined either. In a country where over 70 percent of people do not understand what it means to cast a vote or what it stands for, militant rule is almost as bad as a feudal democracy. I wonder why the West keeps pushing for a democratic solution when in fact leaders have failed to provide a democratic ground for leadership and representation to the people of Pakistan.

"Pakistan ’s reaction to the Bush Doctrine has been somewhat mixed. Musharraf was caught in the middle between pleasing the U.S. to ensure continued military and economic support, and the preferences of his constituents who resent the U.S. presence there. The region is already very unstable because of this tension between the US applying pressure from the outside and the internal desire of the populace to rid themselves of the unwanted American presence."

Pervez Musharraf had a lack of options, so to speak. On statements that read to 'be prepared to be bombed back to the stone age' and the famous 'are you with us or against us', a country which was already beleaguered by inter-provincial dividend factions and illiteracy, there was hardly a choice left. Hardliners couldn't have made the situation any better and the democratic leaders were too busy hiding behind foreign borders. People, deluded and fed with whatever mass-media and erring politicians shoved into their mouths, didn't know a war on terror from a war on oil. Musharraf was undeniably stuck between the devil and deep sea as the US pressure continued undeterred.

"We can say the exact same thing about Afghanistan , Karzai is in a very similar position as Musharraf was. In 2006, Karzai had to start rearming the warlords to maintain order. Similarly, in September 2006, Pakistan was forced to recognize the Islamic Emirate of Waziristan - a loose group of Waziristani chieftains, closely associated with the Taliban, who now serve as the de facto security force in charge of North and South Waziristan.

"If Senator Obama becomes president, and refocuses the war on terror in Afghanistan and Pakistan , the best we can hope for is another five to six years of what we’ve seen in Iraq . But this best-case scenario is very unlikely."

If you're telling me that five-six years is a good bet for Iraq, it's probably worse than what can be imagined for Iraqis surviving suicide explosions and a crippled socio-political atmosphere. Where Pakistan will be when Obama is chosen is not a matter of speculation. US foreign policy is dominated chiefly by self-interest and so it shall remain. Pakistan is only crucial so far Obama remains interested in holding ties strong enough til the war lasts. Once that patch fades out, it's back to the nuclear sanctions for Pakistan.

"In addition to a multiple-front war, we would be dealing, not with a fallen state as with Iraq , but with two established states. This could possibly work in our favor as long as they continue to remain on our side. But as already mentioned, the tension is high, and there is a very delicate balance keeping Karzai in power. What if Karzai falls to a coup or assassination? And now with Musharraf stepping down, what happens if Musharraf’s successor plays to the popular demands of the people? We could find ourselves fighting the armies of the sovereign states of Afghanistan and Pakistan , in addition to insurgent forces there. If we consider the history of this region, we realize that this is not as far-fetched as it might sound on the face of it."

The People's Party's chief interests are different than that of Musharraf. They may have vied for the same country's premiership but their M.O.s are quite different as we have seen from the past events. Musharraf decided futures with his handful of diplomats and consults. Zardari and his party-mates have been promoting a coalition for long and they quite understand the crucial significance of the alliance of Punjab for it's stay in power. It is although critical to question what and how Zardari sways the decisions of the country remains subject to confirmation.

"As we all know, the Taliban was comprised of Sunni Islamists and Pashtun nationalists (mostly from southern Afghanistan and western Pakistan ). The Taliban initially enjoyed support from the U.S. , Pakistan , Saudi Arabia , and the United Arab Emirates in the early 1980s to fight the Soviets. By 1996, the Taliban had gained control of most of Afghanistan , but its relationship with the U.S. and most of the rest of the world became strained. Most of the international community supported the Taliban’s rival, the Afghan Northern Alliance .

"Still, even after the U.S. began to distance itself from the Taliban in late 1997, Pakistan , Saudi Arabia , and the United Arab Emirates continued to officially recognize the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. Even after 9/11 when Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates officially stopped recognizing the Taliban, Pakistan continued to support it. The Taliban in turn, had tremendous influence in Pakistani politics, especially among lobby groups- as it virtually controlled areas such as the Pashtun Belt ( Southeast Afghanistan , and Northwest Pakistan ) and Pakistan-administered Kashmir.

"Going back to the perception of the international Muslim community … When the U.S. demanded that the Taliban turn Bin Laden over, it initially offered to turn Bin Laden over to Pakistan to be tried by an international tribunal operating according to Sharia law. But Pakistan was urged by the U.S. to refuse. Again, prior to the beginning of U.S. air strikes against Afghanistan , the Taliban offered to try Bin Laden according to Islamic law, but the U.S. refused. After the U.S. began air strikes, the Taliban offered to hand Bin Laden over to a neutral state to be tried under Islamic law, but the U.S. again refused. This is important because in the eyes of the greater international community, the war in Afghanistan was justified (at least initially). But in the eyes of the international Muslim community, especially given the Taliban’s offer to turn over Bin Laden, it was an unnecessary war. This, combined with the preemptive war in Iraq , has led many Muslims to equate the war on terror with a war on Islam. Senator Obama’s plan to escalate the war in Afghanistan and Pakistan will only serve to reinforce that impression."

Pakistan faces mountain criticism for harboring terrorists and fugitives and fundamentalists in the given years. Important factors must be understood that the Pakistanis have found themselves at the hands of facing agents which were never theirs to begin with. The Taliban culture which Pakistanis are being told to fight day in and day out are no more than the leftovers of the Afghan war. If the US expects Pakistanis to 'hand over' Bin Laden, it must remember that it is not talking to a state just as powerful to fight a proxy war.

"Muttahida Majlis-e-Amal, an Islamic political party in Pakistan , won elections in two out of four provinces in 2003, and became the third largest political party in the Pakistani parliament – with substantial support from urban areas (not just border regions). This speaks to the tremendous influence Islamic groups enjoy in Pakistan .

"This strong influence is fueled by the fact that the Pashtun tribal group is over 40 million strong. The Taliban continues to receive many of its members from this group today. In fact, the Pakistani army suffered humiliating defeat at the hand of these so-called “insurgents.” Finally, in September 2006, Pakistan was forced to officially recognize the Islamic Emirate of Waziristan. Many saw the Pakistani government’s acknowledgment of the Islamic Emirate of Waziristan as not only a military necessity, but also a political one as well – a concession in response to the growing internal pressure on the Musharraf administration from the people of Pakistan who resent the U.S. presence and involvement in the region.

"Just consider the many, many public protests against the Pakistani government’s compliance with the United States . For instance, on January 13, 2006 , the United States launched a missile strike on the village of Damadola , Pakistan . Rather than kill the targeted Ayman al-Zawahiri, al-Qaeda’s deputy leader, the strike instead slaughtered 17 locals. This only served to further weaken the Musharraf government and further destabilize the entire area.

"On October 30, 2006 , the Pakistani military, under pressure from the U.S. , attacked a madrasah in the Northwest Frontier province in Pakistan . Immediately following the attack, local residents, convinced the U.S. military was behind the attack, burned American flags and effigies of President Bush, and shouted “Death to America !” Outraged over an attack on school children, the local residents viewed the attack as an assault against Islam. On November 7, 2006a suicide bomber retaliated. Further outrage ensued when President Bush extended his condolences to the families of the victims of the suicide attack, and President Musharraf did the same, without ever offering their condolences to the families of the slaughtered children.

"Last year troubles escalated surrounding the Pakistani government’s siege of the Red Mosque where more than 100 people were killed. Even before Musharraf’s soldiers took the Lal Masjid the retaliations began. Suicide attacks originating from both Afghan Taliban and Pakistani tribal militants targeted military convoys and a police recruiting center."

Agreed. All were results of an insurgent foreign policy rather than an insurgent militant operation. The suicide attacks, the destabilization of the government, the assassination of one of the most prominent leaders of the country are not results of Pakistan's war on terror. It is the result of the US pressure to fight a war, to fight a man we have never seen, to beat an enemy hidden beneath caves and mountains of Afghanistan. How many more women and children will bear the brunt of the war on terror?

What the US continues to fail to realize is how their political methodology is focusing on not understanding how the war is further and further destabilising the nation. No amount of democracy is going to solve the millions of Talibans it launched into the borders of Afghanistan.

Pakistan needs to be separated from the Afghanistan loop. This suicide-bombing legacy is only going to spurl further if the pressure doesn't back down. This is not a matter of war on a battlefield where a certain number of explosions do the trick. It is not going to be about when Bin Laden gets handed over (what do you suppose will happen if he does? Who's to say there aren't a dozen more Bin Ladens waiting to be drafted?).

"There are countless more examples; too many to mention in detail. Likewise in Afghanistan ; April 30, 2007 for example, when hundreds of Afghans protested US soldiers killing Afghan civilians. Why can’t the powers that be recognize that we’ve been in Afghanistan for nearly seven years, and in Iraq for over five; a military approach is not working. If we must focus the war on terror in Afghanistan and Pakistan , let’s focus on winning the hearts and minds of the beautiful people of these countries, rather than filling their hearts with bitterness and hatred toward us. With their support, we can offer them the financial and technical assistance that they need to rebuild their infrastructure, their agriculture and their economy. With their support, we can offer them the needed resources to rebuild their human capital and start attracting foreign direct investment. But without their support, we cannot possibly have any positive influence in this region at all; our only influence will be that of brute force, bribery of corrupt officials, and outright coercion. It will be a long, hard, costly and bloody endeavor, and the people of these countries will continue to suffer.

"Let’s not forget that Pakistan has nuclear weapons. Let’s not also forget that this is a highly Muslim-concentrated area, the Islamic concept of duty to come to the aid of fellow Muslims would no doubt ensure a huge influx of jihadists in this type of a scenario. Why on earth would we want to intentionally provoke a situation that would not only radicalize existing moderates in the region, but could also potentially cause the influx of a concentration of radical jihadists from elsewhere into an already unstable region (that has nuclear weapons no less)? We would be begging for a nuclear proliferation problem.

"We like to assume that we would have the upper hand in such a scenario. But we have been in Afghanistan since October of 2001. And we have yet to assume the upper hand. The fight in Afghanistan has the potential to become much more difficult than it already is. Nor would it be unheard of to expect other major powers to back these radical jihadists with economic and military assistance in much the same way that the US backed the Taliban and al Qaeda in Afghanistan against the Soviet Union . Beyond the fact that roughly 1/5 of the world’s population is Muslim (approximately 1.5 billion people- 85% Sunni, 15% Shia, Ibadiyyas, Ahmadis and Druze), we have to remember that Muslims are the majority in 57 states (out of 195). Most of these have Sunni majorities, which gives them added political power.

"China has traditionally backed Pakistan . What would China do if the US were to find itself at war with Pakistan?"

Pakistan can not afford wars any more than it can afford education and literacy and resolving the power crises. It knows far too much how to kneel than to stand in the face of the United States. With or without fundamentalist agendas, including JUI, Pakistan continues to fear the consequences of a out-and-out conflict with the most powerful country in the world.

"India has tremendous economic and security interests in the region. Let’s not forget that while India has been in nearly continual conflict with Pakistan , primarily over the Kashmir issue, it has the second largest Muslim population in the world next to Indonesia . What happens if India were to side with the U.S. in a potential conflict with Pakistan ? It will have a very difficult task justifying that position with its very large Muslim population. A U.S.-Indian alliance could also spark more terrorist attacks in the Kashmir region; it could also create added tension to the already tenuous relationship between India and Iran , which has a long history of support for Pakistan . Or, if radicals gained control of Pakistan ’s nuclear arsenal, a nuclear attack against India could spark a nuclear altercation between the two nuclear powers. Or, what if radicals then gained control of India ’s nuclear arsenal?

"On the other hand, what happens if India for some reason (either via a coup or due to Muslims gaining the upper hand in the long-running Hindu-Muslim conflict) were to side with Pakistan against the United States ? It seems unlikely now, but not completely unrealistic considering the on-again, off-again relationship between the U.S. and every country in that region. We constantly flip-flop in our foreign policy. An attack on Pakistani soil would be a perfect example of this type of wishy-washy foreign policy, as the Bush administration guaranteed Musharraf that the U.S. would never do such a thing (as much as Karzai wants us to). Speaking of Karzai, what if he is ousted and we find ourselves at war with Afghanistan . What would India do then, given its friendship with Afghanistan ?"

Again something that has a seldom chance of happening. The Kashmir issue is far from being resolved. Until that day comes political ties will continue to remain strained between Pakistan and India.

"Also consider the U.S. position on Kashmir , which has a predominantly Muslim population. Pakistan wants a plebiscite, as called for in a 1949 UN resolution, to essentially allow the people to decide which state the region should belong to. India refuses a plebiscite, claiming Kashmir and Jammu as an integral part of India . The U.S. is arming both sides through billions in aid to Pakistan and selective proliferation to India , but insists Pakistan stem terrorist activities flowing from inside its borders, and at the same time discourages India from attacking Pakistan . Yet an escalation of war in the area could backfire badly."

That might have its effects but I'm sure the United States will find a way to turn it into its favor. As a rule, it is the smaller country that suffers. I'm hoping Pakistan's militia and intelligentsia have both learnt this lesson.

"Beyond all that we still have to consider a slew of other states such as Saudi Arabia , Iran , and Russia – not to mention the central Asian states - all of which have economic and/or political and security interests in the region. How will they react to an escalation of the war in Afghanistan and Pakistan?"

The same way they responded when the war on terror escalated in Afghanistan and then in Iraq. They'll cry and stomp and reject the war. But then eventually accept it.

"Finally, what would such a scenario do to oil prices and availability? I’m 100% in favor of America developing alternative energy sources, but again that’s my opinion, and the oil conglomerates have not been listening to me. Unfortunately, the facts are that the oil lobby is a very powerful entity. Even more to the point, our country could not ween itself off of oil overnight, even if it wanted to. We have to consider what such an escalation would do to oil prices, and the overall availability of oil.

"The oil embargo of 1974 (in support of Egypt and Syria in the Yom Kippur war against Israel ), in retaliation against the U.S. for its support of Israel had devastating economic and political consequences on the U.S. and much of Europe . Also, the more recent boycott of Danish products across the Muslim world, in retaliation for the 2005 cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad, demonstrates the ability of the international Muslim community to act collectively.

"Escalating the war in Afghanistan and Pakistan would also demonstrate the fickle and hypocritical nature of America ’s foreign policy. We supported the Taliban when it served our interests (to oppose the Soviets in Afghanistan ) in spite of clear human rights abuses. But now we condemn the Taliban (and much of the Muslim world) over the very same human rights abuses (against women … etc.), while we also continue to ignore similar or same human rights abuses in China, Saudi Arabia, Israel … etc., when it’s convenient for us to do so. We did the same thing with Saddam Hussein; arming him in spite of clear and egregious human rights abuses when he was our ally, and condemning the same actions when he wasn’t.

"The U.S. practices selective proliferation with India , and selective sovereignty with those it chooses (today Pakistan , tomorrow someone other than Pakistan ), while at the same time violating the sovereignty of other states- depending on its whim at the time.

"The United States government insisted that the Taliban turn over Bin Laden, but the United States itself has refused on several occasions to return foreign nationals (being held on death row in America) to their state of domicile because the U.S. wanted them to face execution, and the home state did not uphold the death penalty. We also continue to refuse to acknowledge the ICC because we don’t want American military personnel tried in an international court. How is that so different from the Taliban wanting Bin Laden tried in an Islamic court?

"Rather than blindly accepting that America holds some God-given moral superiority over the rest of the planet, we need to realize that everywhere, humanity has a God-given right to live, love and prosper. Our children have the right to grow up in an environment free of air strikes and constant assault from an external enemy. They have the right to attend schools without fear of being maimed and killed inside of them. And they have the right to be children, instead of orphans. No state has the right to take that away from your children, or from mine. Imagine now that Senator Obama is planning to escalate the war on terror where you live."

Couldn't have put it better myself.

Much thanks to John Maszka for the insightful comment and for taking the time out to read the post so thoroughly and effectively.

From a land of dumbfounded political scientists.

2008-09-02T14:40:00.002+06:00

Writes Anwar Syed:

I have been studying this country’s politics for some 40 years. I thought I understood it all. But evidently there is an abominable streak in the culture of Pakistani politicians that I had failed to see.

From the Dawn.com

"X Files: I want to believe"

2008-09-01T19:12:00.002+06:00

Critics at Rotten Tomatoes say that it was dull and boring, though it's worth mentioning that the movie remains true to the 90's series that involved less graphics and relied more on creepiness and of course the 'x' factor. This movie holds strong to the X Files mystique and couldn't have been any more satisfactory to a fan such as myself. The first movie was bigger in many respects but the second movie doesn't altogether prove to be as big a disappointment as RT suggested. Fans would love to see Mulder and Scully together (in the literal sense of the word ... finally!) to discover the 'darkness' and fight the paranormal forces all over again.

I don't care what critics say. I am a die-hard X-files fan. I want to believe and I loved it.

Behr e Tanhai main..

2008-08-30T23:59:00.000+06:00

... ay jaan e bahaar, larzaa hai.

The Genius of Zardari.

2008-08-30T13:11:00.004+06:00

I recently spotted a banner stating:

"Asif Zardari ki zahanat ko salaam."

Meaning, salute to the brilliance of Asif Zardari.

Hard to believe, but it was meant in total and complete earnest. How do I know that? A 'minjanib' (translated: from) postscript was added alongwith the green, red, black colors of the Pakistan's People's Party.

I laughed, of course. Which self-respecting Pakistani wouldn't.

However, as I was to read the following article later, it was foolish of me to do so. That banner had a hell lot of meaning to it. As it turns out, how Mr. Zardari has orchestrated the future of Pakistan. This is a must-read article for anyone who gives a damn.

So writes Karamatullah K. Ghori, and I quote:

A cynic could be pardoned for saying there’s never a dull moment in the ‘land of the pure.’ But the pace of political flux in Pakistan is, simply, much too mind-boggling even for the most jaded of pundits and crystal ball-gazers.Give the credit where it’s due. Asif Zardari has kept to his arcane game of breaking promises like chattels. This 21st century incarnation of Chanakya’s mantra of rajnit ( statecraft) — deceit, deception and duplicity — and Machiavelli’s guiding light of how the prince must take his subjects on a merry-go-round as long as he could, is a new phenomenon, even to the deeply duplicitous feudal culture of Pakistan. So Zardari has kept the whole nation of 165 million people spell-bound and literally on a wild goose chase.

The parting of the ways between Nawaz and Zardari had been on the cards from the moment they sat down together in Murree, or Bhurban, last March to ink the first of nearly half a dozen ‘agreements’ and pledges for the restoration of judges. The house of cards they had assembled had to collapse because the bigger partner never had the intent of following through on its commitment.

Zardari’s reservations on account of some of the judges doomed the agreement even before the ink could dry on it. The PPP supremo, elevated to the pedestal of his party’s kingmaker, didn’t want Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, in particular, to return to the bench of the apex court for a variety of reasons, mostly those focused on his past, present and future.

The burden of steering the coalition to a safe landing from the shoals had all along been on Nawaz, the minor of the two partners. He had taken a moral high ground on the issue of the judiciary’s sanctity from the moment he returned home from years of forced exile. His party won the election in Punjab largely on what it hawked as the moral imperative of restoring the top judiciary to its pre-November 3 position. Even if he wanted to resile from that moral plateau he couldn’t, because that would have doomed his future prospects for good.

The alliance with the PPP was also crucial to the fulfilment of Nawaz Sharif’s other high priority of getting rid of his arch nemesis, Musharraf. He knew that he couldn’t topple Musharraf from his perch without Zardari getting on board the juggernaut to breach his ( Musharraf’s) ramparts. The uneasy relationship, in that sense, was symbiotic, which kept it going for a while.Zardari may not have been as keen as Nawaz, initially, to kick Musharraf out of the presidency. There was a nexus of interests, no doubt, between Musharraf and him on several key issues, the most prominent of which riveted on Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry. The vocal and prying judge was a pariah in both their books; for sheer survival, the two of them were on the same page on this key demand of not only Nawaz but of the Pakistani people, en masse, to bring Chaudhry back to where he was on November 3.

But Zardari, in the meantime, had moved ahead of both Nawaz and Musharraf. His Machiavellian horse sense had guided him to make his own incursions into Musharraf’s erstwhile sanctum in Washington, the ultimate equaliser in Pakistan’s political dispensations. His team of court confidants at home, and one tribune positioned in the embassy in Washington, got him the audience that he had been seeking. The power brokers in ‘the capital of the world’ were finally convinced that Musharraf had become a liability and that there was a new asset available to run Pakistan according to their blueprint of priorities. Musharraf’s fate was sealed and delivered.

Musharraf’s glue, which had kept the two unnatural allies orbiting meaninglessly in the same sphere, becoming unstuck ordained the unravelling of the alliance. It didn’t take long to fall apart. There couldn’t be a different denouement than that for the two principal contenders to political power in Pakistan.

Putting the two in the balance, in terms of who gained how much and who lost what, Nawaz may still end up with a better deal, though not in the immediate sense of time. Taking a morally superior position and abiding by principles is not what Machiavelli would approve of. But Nawaz has secured Punjab on his side and the way the chemistry of the federation works — with Punjab being the prime element — it doesn’t need a political scientist’s brilliance and acumen to foresee the future.

Zardari, no doubt, is the prime beneficiary in the immediate sense. He has, in one stroke hit Musharraf’s ball out of the ballpark and got the presidency all but stitched for himself. Could anyone, in their wildest dream, have foreseen this cataclysmic change of fortunes, even a year ago? Could any of the jaded political soothsayers have perceived a man as universally reviled in Pakistan as Zardari in the hot seat of Musharraf?

However, Zardari’s victory carries the risk of proving pyrrhic in the long term, perhaps less for him than to the beguiled nation of mostly mute spectators. The first damage, incalculable at this stage, is almost certain to be caused to the federation’s moorings.

The strange spectacle of the provincial leaderships of the three smaller provinces of the federation — Sindh, the NWFP and Balochistan — handing down ringing endorsements to Zardari as president smacks of three vs. one: Punjab against the rest of the federation. Where would this drawing of the battle lines take Pakistan to? It doesn’t bode well for the health of the federation, if not, exactly, threatening its unity.The second quantum of damage, which can be sniffed even at this early stage of the fray, is the spirit of the constitution of Pakistan, if not its letter, being mauled in the ongoing shenanigans to have Zardari elected as president. It defies common sense that the kingmaker should also double up as the king.

The office of the president, rightly being touted by Zardari’s partisans and apologists as the symbol of federation’s cohesiveness, demands, in spirit again, that whoever succeeds to it must stay away from politics and be non-partisan. Musharraf failed this litmus test, miserably, and so will Zardari. He will not be — none can imagine him as such — another Chaudhry Fazle Ilahi, who dwarfed against Bhutto. He would assert himself in everything, ride roughshod with impunity and flaunt his authority with gusto, especially with a meek and obliging PM like Gilani ready to do all his bidding and kowtowing to his commands without so much as a squeak of demur.

And all those hankering to balance the current power inequality between the president and the parliament could kiss goodbye to 58-2(B) being removed from the constitution. In fact, the way the Nawaz-Zardari entente cordiale is fraying, the spark for a real flare-up between the two parties they respectively lead would, in all probability, come much sooner than expected over this very issue: PML (N) seeking to undo the blighted provision that arms the president with doomsday powers, and the PPP minions resisting this demand in order to keep their man overly empowered. This could be more than a catalyst for confrontation between them.

But while Zardari as president may be fractious and divisive for the nation, the power brokers engineering this deal are happy at their stroke of genius, in their convoluted sense. In Zardari they have found another prince of darkness, a la Musharraf, eager and anxious to be their frontline soldier — albeit in civvies — in the war against terror. That’s what they expect of any and all Pakistani leaders, damn the rest of the nation’s priorities, pressures and concerns.

Washington has good reason to feel comfortable with Pakistan under Zardari doing more of the same that Musharraf had been doing, in fact do it with more exuberance and élan. The single minded devotion and commitment of the civilian government, led by the PPP, to the strategy of force in Bajaur, Swat and other flashpoints in Pakistan is ample evidence of the new recruits to the war on terror doing their master’s bidding with flawless commitment.

Any body doubting the shape and contours of the new game of power politics in Pakistan need only read the lead editorials in the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times, both leading exponents of the establishment elite on both sides of the Anglo-American camaraderie of interest, appearing on the same day, August 26. Both the editorials have lambasted Nawaz Sharif for not giving top billing to the terrorist threat and being lackluster about it. Both have expressed satisfaction that he’s not in power and heaved a sigh of relief at his being out of reckoning at the power centre. Need any more clues as to where Zardari is steering his newly- won fiefdom in Pakistan?

Unquote.

"Bachna Ae Haseeno"

2008-08-28T21:22:00.002+06:00

There were only two good things about this movie.

Ranbir Kapoor and his acting. He's charming and refreshing. He's learning the ropes of being a chocolate-hero and so far he's doing pretty good!

Okay, so technically that's just one thing but that's the best I could do. I frankly don't know if this movie did any business whatsoever but it's plotless, themeless and seamless. How am I supposed to be interested in a roguish Don Juan who breaks hearts in half of the movie and tries to mend them in the other half? Originality, hello?

Stellar-casting can only take you so far. Deepika needs to understand some of that philosophy too. Looks can only be a bidding factor until you're in a masala movie like Om Shanti Om. When it comes to at least some amount of acting, she needs to see some movies without women-drenched-in-makeup. Maybe Shabana Azmi or Smita Patel flicks will do her good.

Minisha Lamba is actually not half bad, even though Bipasha certainly is forgetful, as all item-girls are. The Italian model sequence has 'we-needed-pretty-sights-apart-from-Basu' written all over it, so good for those who want to see Italy and Bipasha.

The direction is sloppy, though the dialogs aren't. Ranbir is going to make it big. All he needs is another couple of box-office hits and a critically acclaimed pack of films and he's set to elbow Hrithik and Abhishek out.

So all in all, basically just another Ranbir flick.

Wisdom from across the Atlantic.

2008-08-28T11:00:00.003+06:00

Barack Obama's running mate offers words of wisdom.

"Terror is a tactic," Joe Biden says. "Terror is not a philosophy."

Gwynne Dyer adds that it is a mantra that everybody in US politics should be required to chant each morning before work, even if it is slightly inaccurate. Terror is actually an emotion. Terrorism however is a tactic - a political tool or technique, more precisely - that can be used in support of a variety of causes. It is as misleading to declare war on terrorism as it would be declare war on propaganda.

One flew over the President House.

2008-08-28T07:35:00.002+06:00

There is absolutely no doubt that Pakistan is in the hands of the insane.

I'm not joking. I wish I was, but I'm not.

According to the Daily Dawn of the day, Asif Ali Zardari, PPP-poster dude, was examined by British and American psychologists during his imprisonment. Psychologists chiefly diagnosed him as a patient of dementia, post-traumatic stress disoder and major depressive disorder. The prognosis was bleak since he was not expected to recover any time in the year or so (this was stated in 2007).

Well, what does psychology know hai na?

So what if a guy's insane. He can still be president of our country. On humanistic grounds.

Bah, Americans think they're open-minded. Bah, I say. We're a hundred years ahead of them. They're still contending on whether a woman should be President. They're still struggling with issues of Black men to be President. A gay man to be President.

We're way ahead of them. We've got the certifiably insane as Presidential candidates.

You can't beat that, no sirree.

Our High Commissioner has been reported to state that Mr. Zardari is fine now and was 'impressed' on how Zardari dealt with the trauma of his wife's loss.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say he was counting pretty little birdies in the air.

"Singh is King"

2008-08-28T07:33:00.001+06:00

Singh is King is by any definition a masala movie, all set to spice your weekend family outing. Akshaye Kumar, in my opinion, is one of the most under-rated actors of Bollywood, rolls in plenty of laughter with his natural Punjabi good looks and good humor, calling morning cereal as "Doodh and chewera" and quips thus, when Katrina shows him a nice, tiny halter top for her to buy, "Bachay toh aik saal baad hongey, abhi se shopping kar rahi ho?". Om Puri is the other villager who accompanies him to Australia where Sardar-gang-mafia head "Lucky Singh" is blowing everyone to bits. Enter "Happy Singh" (Kumar) to bring the don back to his parents in Punjab where they cry and pine for him.

It's got everything, in good quantity and quality, that we look for in an entertainer. A beautiful, tastily dressed heroine, corny-yet-laugh-out-loud humor and a centre star who has the capability to carry off nonsense drama as well as thrilling action sequences, such as jumping from two lifts to an escalator. Bravo.

But. I've decided I'm not going to write about how beautiful Katrina looked, how Akshaye Kumar is akin to wine (getting more and more productive and fruitful as he grows older), how Neha Dhupia's wardrobe was breathtakingly classy and how Bollywood will continue to rule hearts even if the hero is a rooster-chasing villager to a gang-mafia-king.

I'm going to talk about the magic of CINEMA.

Jokes that are ordinarily quite unfunny will seem hilarious. Women who might sound sheepishly American will look adorable. Dance numbers that would on any other occasion leave you wondering what they were doing smack in the middle of a fight-sequence, will make you jig a bit in your seat.

That's all part of the magic. That's all part of the enigma we call the silver screen.

In the past given years, cinema has declined in Pakistan due to various reasons. Bad filmmaking being the topmost one. And then there's evergreen Saima who refuses to move a day beyond 16, who also, according to my friend, if jumps in a sarsoon ka khet, they won't have sarsoon for years.

Then there's Shaan. The terribly misplaced soul. I'd like to see him as Brando. And he insists on dressing up as Maula Jatt.

Too many people have had too many debates about this issue: why not the revival of Pakistani cinema? There are factions of society that refute it as much as they possibly can, considering cinema the work of Satan and the core cause of the downfall of any civilization. I'm guessing they're forgetting corruption, bhatta, cheating, bribery, adultery, rape, prostitution, child-molestors, robbers, dacoits as their top contenders. Ah, well.

Then there are factions who are remotely interested in it as a business proposition, watching it fare with the masses. Now that they see people are duly bored with cable television and Star Plus (fingers-crossed), it's time they seek other methods of entertainment. Cinema seems to be the next best thing and I can see the tide turning. Singh is King was sold out, advance booking, on Sunday afternoon. That's why I had to go see it today.

And then there are suicide bombers. But they haven't spared hospitals, mosques and army cantonments either, so cinemas don't have much of a fighting chance against those odds.

I can't say with much assurance that I'll like Meera shaking her groove-thang on a big screen where I saw Katrina batting her beautiful eyes at a man 20 years her senior, but I can definitely say that if they produce more movies like Khuda Ke Liye, I'll definitely go watch.

And the Premio goes to...

2008-08-27T07:43:00.007+06:00

Relax. I'm not handing out cars. I'm not a President. Not yet, anyway.

This is a very happy moment for me though. If I had cars (even toy ones) I'd hand them out because I'm all teary-eyed and sniffly.

I have been awarded with the Brilliante Weblog for the very first time, and I must say, friendly as the process may sound, I just about feel like winning American Idol (aren't you glad I didn't say Pakistani Sangeet Icon?) ...

So thank you, Mampi, for awarding me with the Brilliante Awards for, as she puts it,

For her simplicity, for the fire inside her that is wrapped up in tradition and yet is so effective.

Aww. High praise indeed. No matter how cynical we are, we can always find it in ourselves to blush a teeny tiny bit.

I would like to thank, on this auspicious occasion, the following:

Blogspot. You sound funny (like something with a flu) but you've done a great service to humanity.
My unreal capacity to write about almost anything.
Farigh time. Really, if you want to write a blog, you need to be free enough to type it, hope that electricity doesn't go to hell as soon as you were about to hit publish and drive you insane.
Worldcall Telecom. For working enough to help me blog. How many precious blog posts have been lost to their 'upgrading' I can only venture a ballpark: about a million.
Ali, for leaving me alone enough to think. It's like Dad says to him, "Beta, you've never written anything in your life. Please try to leave alone someone who has."
And to all my regular readers. Sitemeter loves you!

So the rules of this award are fairly simple and are as follows,

The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere.
When you receive the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back.
Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliante Weblog.’
Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
And then we pass it on!

The seven blogs I award are:

Barooq, for being the next Borges or James Joyce. Whichever comes first.

Hira, for being the next Prime Minister for Pakistan.

Z, for being true to Microsoft. I don't know if it qualifies for an award, but loyalty is always praiseworthy in my book.

Hufsa, for her candid and life-is-wonderful kinda tone. You're a real sweetheart.

Saadat, for the topsy turvy and a very cool template.

1980, for writing things that hit home so very much sometimes. There's something very familiar-sounding about her writing.

Madnas, for her out-of-this-world skill with the pen.

So yahoo, everyone! Enjoy the afterparty!

Everybody Loves Zardari.

2008-08-26T20:39:00.007+06:00

Okay, Hira and I are still not over the shock of someone, who has been charged with a plethora of corruption cases, being nominated for the next Presidential candidate. But maybe that's just us, you know, the parhe likhe jaahil who don't know how politics work.

So we try to absorb this piece of news and we keep trying to understand how this works.

BB comes and becomes popular immediately because she's the daughter of an immensely popular leader. She commits follies that are to be expected from any ol' political heir and then decides to marry a guy who looks like this:

Really. Even if character or wealth is something to go by, she could've done better. Why didn't she meet someone at those yuppie colleges she went to? And marry a prince of some unknown island? It's pleasant enough food for thought what that could've saved the country from in the oncoming years.

But no.

She had to marry a guy who looks like this:

So okay. Love is blind or whatever. Or the political imperatives to marry him were especially crucial to the prices of gas and electricity and flour in Pakistan in the year 2008.

But how is it that this fellow is claiming that people have never believed that he was corrupt? Not for one second? Does the word corruption mean anything to him at all or does it fail to lose all sensibility ... the impact of it in the global politics fail to have any semblance of logic?

Currently, it is estimated, that Mr. Asif Ali Zardari has more than 900 million pounds or 1.8 billion US dollars or even more. His estates range from Phase VIII DHA to Virgin Islands and that's just scratching the surface.

What this country refuses to understand and accept is that we are consistently letting idiots, corrupt politicians, militant crusaders and fundamentalist agendas ruin any chance of peace and quiet that may come our way.

Pakistanis.

PLEASE make me believe I have something to hope for in this nation.

Hira and I are terribly desperate here. Please.

Black.

2008-08-26T18:23:00.005+06:00

I seem to have begun with a fascination of black stone rings.

Morbid? No not really. That black is morbid is nothing than an old wives tale to me. I'd wear it on my wedding if I wasn't such a fraidy-cat of all the people I'd shock.

There's something terribly bewitching about them, these black stones.

Ali, from his first salary, has bought me a black-stoned ring (not the one in the picture, though), apparently what you call a black zircon set in silver. Reminds me of Diana's engagement ring, though that was a sapphire.

I'm such a sucker for jewelry. Which is sad, because I had never in a million years thought I'd be.

But of late, I've found myself ogling ornate jewelry shoppes, especially designer outlets, which smirk at me. They say, "Oh come to look at us, have you? Do you have any idea how much we cost?"

Especially diamonds. I don't know about them being my best friend, but they're definitely on to me. Their sparkle is like an allure I can't resist and if they're in white gold, you might as well expect me to start weeping.

It's odd. How could rational people act this way? Reminds me of that ayah in the Quran. We've instilled in men the love of gold and land and sons.

Amen, that you have, Allah Miyan, that you have.

Reasons why House rocks.

2008-08-25T09:41:00.001+06:00

House: "Do you notice how all the self-sacrificing women in history; Joan of Arc, Mother Theresa, can't think of any others; they all die alone. The men, on the other hand, get so much fuzz, it's crazy."

House: "There's an evolutionary imperative why we give a crap about our family and friends. And there's an evolutionary imperative why we don't give a crap about anybody else. If we loved all people indiscriminately, we couldn't function."

House: "Lies are like children: they're hard work, but it's worth it because the future depends on them."

House: "Gifts allow us to demonstrate exactly how little we know about a person. And nothing pisses a person off more than being shoved into the wrong pigeonhole."

House: "You can have all the faith you want in spirits, and the afterlife, and heaven and hell, but when it comes to this world, don't be an idiot. Cause you can tell me you put your faith in God to put you through the day, but when it comes time to cross the road, I know you look both ways."

House: "Why would you support someone who screws up?"
Cameron: "Because I'm not insanely insecure. And because I can actually trust in another human being, and I am not an angry, misanthropic son of a bitch."
House: "I'm sorry, you said you weren't angry."

Cuddy: "You know, there are other ways to manage pain."
House: "Like what, laughter? Meditation? Got a guy who can fix my third chakra?"

House: "I've been alienating people since I was three."

And then I clenched my jaw.

2008-08-24T14:00:00.002+06:00

I want to be whole again.

Got my finger on the trigger
But I don't know who to trust
I look into your eyes
There's just devils and dust

We're a long, long way from home Bob
Home's a long, long way from us
Feel the dirty winds blowin'
Devils and dust

I got God on my side
I'm just trying to survive
But if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love

Fear is a powerful thing
It can turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God-filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Well I dreamed of you last night
In a field of blood and stone
Blood began to dry
And a smell began to rise

Well I dreamed of you last night Mom
In a field of mud and bone
And your blood began to dry
The smell began to rise

Got God on our side
We're just trying to survive
But if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love

Fear is a powerful thing
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God-filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
It'll take your God-filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Now every woman and every man
They wanna take your right to stand
Find the love with God wills
The faith that He commands

I've got my finger on the trigger
Tonight faith just ain't enough
And I look inside my heart
There's just devils and dust

But I've got God on my side
And I'm just trying to survive
But if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love

Fear is a dangerous thing
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God-filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust
It'll take your God-filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Maybe if I repeat it often enough, it'll happen.

"A Streetcar Named Desire"

2008-08-22T21:20:00.004+06:00

This is probably one of the finest movies of all time. Marlon Brando and Vivien Leigh have outdone their capabilities. Vivien Leigh is especially to be lauded (and already has been, with her Academy Award) for her complex and extremely realistic depiction of the near-mad Blanche DuBois.

Marlon Brando on the other hand proves that it is possible to look like a jock and act like a pro. Although his "Stellaaaaa!"s kept reminding me of Raymond's daughter's rendition of it in Everybody Loves Raymond, when she and Frank are watching Brando movies (knowing Frank, you'd see why he loves the guy), I couldn't help but notice how flawlessly he executed the role of a macho stereotype of the 1950s. They can hit a woman and at the same time call her 'honey'. What's worse is the women can go silly putty as soon as they are on the letter 'h'.

The conflicted Blanch DuBois (White Words in French, as Blanch ostentatiously informs a smitten and befooled Mitch) is of course the center of the play but it is important to note how the rest of the characters hold the story together. The dialogs are also exquisite enough to keep the windmills of the mind running and discovering with each fabrication that Blanch produces, a new layer to the character of a delusional, adding to the twists and turns in the impacts she is creating in the lives of her sister's parasitic marriage. Towards the end when we see Stella walking away from Stanley (Brando) with her baby in her hand saying that she would never return to him. But somehow it doesn't seem to be quite as convincing. Women who are victims of abuse tend to develop either a self-blaming or a fruitless patterns of dealing with their abusive husbands, fathers, brothers or sons. Even if they realize what amount of injustice is done to her, she does not have the courage to walk out or walk away. If she does, there's a big chance she'll return to the same home soon enough.

As for Blanch, her diagnosis is simple enough. She is somewhat a nymphomaniac afflicted by delusions of grandeur that are clearly evident in her mannerisms and fancies and reminisces of the past. Vivien Leigh gives a final touch to that forged delicacy through batting eyelashes at the right time - not to mention the writer's talent when he introduces the rhinestone tiara.

Thus the film is not only symbolically well-integrated but is clearly filled with overt images of mental and interpersonal conflict.

Definitely, I repeat, one of the best movies of all time.

My precious!

2008-08-21T07:08:00.001+06:00

From a Gollum within.

2008-08-20T13:01:00.002+06:00

You know how that bumper sticker on FB goes: I had a life but facebook ate it?

Well mine is officially devoured.

Thanks to my friend R, who'd been trying to get me hooked for ages (oh had I but known what a precious addiction was waiting for me all along), I am now completely and totally useless.

Welcome to Scrabulous. If you are a language enthusiast or simply competitive or even borderline obsessive compulsive, you will forget all your sorrows on this board.

Bid me farewell, o' sad, pathetic world. I have found a well to drown in.

The end of an era.

2008-08-19T02:10:00.004+06:00

Pakistani politics are just about to be turned into a play. "Kionke General bhi Kabhi Sadr tha".

That's how Star-Plussy we've gotten. Governments coming back from the dead (literally), external control and influence (I hear you, Uncle Sam), evil (come on now, really?) dictators bidding their goodbyes and saving graces, inflation being the key factor of all the masses that will finally bring us to a grand finale of this drama we call democracy ... we're all set.

In what can only be called a charade of musical chairs, another dictator finishes his long line of policies that were undemocratic and in a lot of ways, insipid to the future of the nation. Nevertheless, as the popular opinion goes, Pakistanis have a knack of being apathetic and listening to the loud, whip-bearing, tongue-lashing ones.

Let's face it. We don't like democracy, no matter how badly America wants us to like it. Pakistanis are more interested in getting their electricity and phone bills under their tiny (thanks to the currency devaluation, getting tinier by the minute) budgets. We will not take affirmative actions because Pakistanis have an enduring historical pattern of listening to the unjustified voice of the times.

We thought we'd be saved when democracy was said to return. We thought we'd be back on the groove track when we elected a democratic Prime Minister (who has the oddest sense of repartee, I imagine). We thought we were on our way.

Ah, Pakistanis. Where do we draw the line to irrational hope?

And here we are again. Celebrating.

Over what exactly?

In the nine given years of President Musharraf's regime, in the six months of the democratic government, in the past 24 hours of a President stepping down.. how have Pakistanis reacted?

We have sat, shocked as always, as the dramatic developments of the stage that is the National Assembly, the script that is the Constitution and the actors which keep having plastic surgeries. Masked puppets dancing at the same tune. Corruption, lalalalalala, corruption.

This man who has just stepped down is no different. I have no sympathies for a head of the state stupid enough to sack a Chief Justice (even though it was constitutional), impose emergency for no apparent reason, make a mess out of a mosque issue and basically be stuck between a rock and a hard place for what seemed like a perpetual period of time.

I don't know about the future, but I do know this. Pakistanis need more than just a change of players. What happened today was not the end. We've only seen a bit of the tumult that is to follow in the next tidal waves of episodes.

Who needs soap operas when you've got a state to dramatize.

I hate insomnia.

2008-08-16T20:21:00.002+06:00

I hate staying up the night.

I hate not being able to sleep.

I hate this helplessness that makes me stare at the walls like some sort of crazy schizophrenic.

Is it odd that there are parts of Septimus that I can relate myself to?

I hate this helplessness it is driving me nuts.

I finished movies, began reading, watched television for hours on end and still couldn't sleep. I spent the entire day sleeping and the entire night staying up. And the worst part is even when stay up during the day I cannot sleep for more than three hours during the night.

I'm having the craziest nightmares. Or daymares, anyway. I relived every awful memory of the past few months.

I thought dreams were a way to ... disguise your anxieties ... not show em exactly as what you are afraid of.

Exactly what you are trying to forget in the first place..

I hate insomnia. I hate it. I'm going nuts.

Everyone has been sleeping - Exploding Dog.

Order of the Day.

2008-08-15T04:42:00.002+06:00

I never want to give up.

When will pigs fly?

2008-08-13T23:46:00.003+06:00

I realize I don't get chauvinists.

I don't get them just like I don't get a zit on my nose on the day I want to look remotely presentable. Like I don't get hysteria and like I don't get cheating.

Interviewing candidates for admissions in the fall semester gave me a sound opportunity to see how much I don't get them however. They're like a freak of nature. Sometimes they're so unbelievably stupid, it gets you thinking if human beings are really all that cracked up to be.

I asked a young man what his opinion was on women. He said he respected them. Then I asked him if he would be willing to be a stay-at-home dad if his wife wanted to travel the world for her job. He said, "No."

When I asked him why, he replied, "Because she is my wife."

Me: "So?"

Chauvinist number 1: "So I will not let her. I will not allow her."

Me: "Being your wife makes her your slave?"

My eyebrows were raised. If he passed this question, he'd get recommended.

"Yes."

Bad answer. Jerk.

The next guy gets it right between the eyes.

"So tell me," I ask, "would you marry a rape victim?"

"Yeah I would."

I brighten.

"If I'm already married, then yeah, I'd marry her."

The one guy who said he'd be willing to be a stay-at-home dad was the guy who said he was smart enough to know what people wanted to hear him say.

I recommended him for his sheer smart-aleckness. He'd get to be in places in the next ten years.

A fellow colleague on the panel was having the time of his life enjoying the conversations. After each candidate left almost puking with nerves, he would turn to me and say,

"You're really enjoying this aren't you?"

"Only so much. When they say they own their wives, it just makes me want to hammer their puny brains into mush."

"You can't blame 'em, you know."

"And why not?"

"It's what our culture and society has taught them since they were little kids. At 18 or 19 they won't have enough sense to come out of the rain let alone fight stereotypical thinking. You are being too optimistic to expect a rational 18-year-old."

"I was rational when I was 18."

"You can't expect everyone to be the way you are. The normal population thinks women should stay at home and be owned by the men while the man earns."

"I think they are better care-takers too. I'd probably want myself to stay at home to take care of my kids rather than go flying about neglecting my own home. Women are mothers for a reason. But that certainly doesn't mean they don't have the freedom of choice and that definitely doesn't mean men own them like chattle."

The day ended with our last interviewee being a frightened young woman smiling sheepishly and blushing uncontrollably.

"So," my colleague asked, "if your husband forbids you to work after you complete your BBA and your MBA, what are you going to do?"

"I'll quit."

After she left, Mr. D turned to me and began laughing, "I told you, beta. I was hoping a girl would come and prove my point. It's not just men. We're all sexists."

Are we all sexists?

Really?

Chauvinism is a strange concept to me because I don't call myself a feminist, a radical feminist or even any kind of -ist. I just feel equality is something that shouldn't be as awesome as a flight to the moon for the species who are growing to live out of caves into feats of architecture that can boggle the mind. When I see educated, intelligent, capable young men and women, seasoned, experienced old uncles and aunties and likeable, loveable people acting as primitive chauvinists I wonder if it's really that far along that we've come.

Sometimes I feel society breeds these vamps we hear stories of. Vamps who destroy houses and eat their young.

Religion plays a strong role in shaping our stereotypical behaviors and so does the heritage a land bears. Pakistanis have a strong reason to believe that their religion has taught them to be sexist and patriarchal. It is convenient enough to forget that Islam actually gave rights to women when it came instead of stripping them from them. Today feminists like to talk about a woman's signature as a witness and her dress code as a barbaric exploitation of women's rights in Islam. I ask them if they'd ever heard of the Prophet SAW's treatment towards Hazrat Ayesha RA when he would ask her if she needed her for anything before he would offer his midnightly prayers. How he handled his wife's anger. Today if a Muslim wants to show just how Muslim and a follower of Islam he is, he does it by proving what a strict check he keeps on his wife, how he doesn't allow her to say a single word in his presence, how he may even slap her soundly if she dares argue and recently got to hear this from someone I wasn't expecting it at all.. "It's really the best if women don't get educated."

I mean, please don't blame me for wanting to hate everything around me right now because people close to me who are capable, intelligent, sensible and usually logical have started to believe that women are the scum of the universe.

A woman should be seen and not heard. A woman must not say or do anything to offend her male counterpart. A woman must take in the butt of all the anger, the flawed logic and a man has the power and the capability to rip her heart out and feed it to the wolves to teach her a lesson. A woman bears lesser intelligence than the man because she is too emotional (if anyone quotes Islam here, I'll be the first to count the number of ahadeeth which have been proven authentic just because a woman .. and a young one at that ... has narrated them, viz, Hazrat Ayesha). A woman is a lesser mortal, a weaker mortal (try waxing your neck and push a kid out of yourself). She must take in all the unfairness with a smile. She must not speak of how life affects her and how must she bear what she does. She must not complain. Because if she does, she is irritating. If she doesn't do what she is supposed to do her grading goes one step down the phylogenetic scale of intelligence. A woman must never think of herself as a more capable person, no. She must control her outbursts, keep her emotions in check, and stop speaking when her anger gets the better of her.

So I'll shut up. Before I really piss people off.

Medha Ishq.

2008-08-12T03:57:00.000+06:00

Gandhiyan, median khool na mahi....
hin te gayen aan see see gandhiyan
My love, open my knots for me
these hundereds of knot i am tied in

Atak jhatak wak ankhiyan aryan
ate pe giyan yaanm khiirriyan gandhiyan
My eyes are fixated towards atak jhtak
and here I have these knots which cant be untied

Akhii rro roo matam karan nit yaad aawan tediaan gandiyan
yar fareed oo soohgan hoowayan jera naal mahi de gandiyan
My eyes mourn whenever I remember your knots my love
Yar fareed, those who are tied in knots with there love, only those become sohagan

Karachi Valiye - Rabbi Shergill.

2008-08-12T02:36:00.004+06:00

Je aunda maen kadey hor
Agar main kiss aur waqt aata
Ki mulaqat hundi
kia mulakat hooti
Je hunda maen changa chor
agar main acha choor hota
Ki jumme-raat hundi
kia jumme-e-rat hooti
Je aunda jhoothh maenu kehna
Agar mujhe jhoot bolna aata
Tan vi ki parda eh si rehna
kia yeh parda rehta
Hijaban vali
Hijab wali
Karachi Valie
Karachi wali
Kujh khali tere andar si
Kuch khala tumharay andar tha
'Te shayad mere vi
aur shayed meray bhi
Ik paase khahishan si kharhian
Aik taraf khawahishain ( Desires) kharri thii
'Te dujey haddan si
doosri taraf haddod
Ni haddan terian si nerhe meri door
Ni ( Oye) tumhari hadain kareeb thiin aur meri door
Ki karda maen si majboor
Kia karta main tha majboor
Mijajan valie
Mazaj wali
Karachi valie
Thhande sahan valie
thanday sansoon wali
Rukhe valan valie
Rukhay baloon wali
Thorha kasoor si mera
Thora kasoor tha mera
Thorha si tera kasoor
Thora tumhara bhi tha kasoor
Par dasso dil uthey kiven jit sakdai
Lekin bataoo wahan dil kaisey jeet saktay hain
Jithey rehndian ne mattan vadhoo
jahan aqal ziada important hoo
Tun tukdi si rakhdi si bujhdi si machdi di
tum takti thi, rakhti thi, bujhti thi, jalti thi
Jhakdi si kardi si gallan
hitchkhichati thi aur batain kati thi
Munhon dilon hor
Moonh se kuch aur, dil se kuch aur.
Maen takda si rah, kadey takda si daa
Main rasta daikhta tha, mooka dekhta tha
Kadey farhda si banh teri
kabhi bazoo pakatrta tha tumhara
Aakhar maen si chor
aakhir main choor tha

Asan lai ik sann kurhey
Main ne naqab zani kar li hai
Vehna kinna chir khaloni eyn
dekho kitni dair kari hooti hai
Vaddi kandhan valie
oonchi dewaroon wali

"Kung Fu Panda"

2008-08-10T09:02:00.004+06:00

You know it's a good movie when you start forgetting about the socio-cultural implications and start believing what the characters are trying to involve you in. Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, Angelina Jolie and Jackie Chan star in such an animated picture from Dreamworks, their dream-big, do-big blockbuster of the year, Kung Fu Panda.

Po is the Panda son of a restaurant-owning duck, in a Chinese valley where his ultimate dream is to become the 'awesome' Kung Fu 'dragon warrior'. But don't we all know that flabby bellies and cookie-love don't produce warriors that can move faster than light and swing sharper than a sword. Destiny however has great things in store for this dumpling-seeking ball of fur that breaks all previous records of heroic stereotypes.

Ogres, pandas, I'm really looking forward to what Dreamworks designs next as their unlikely hero. Now that I can safely say that I very much enjoyed this animated adventure, I am pleased to see audiences giving warm receptions to this redefining old schemas and images of what a hero should or should not be.

A definite thumbs up and mustn't forget a big-fat-Panda kudos to Jack Black for the relatable, believable Po.

What do you believe about communication?

2008-08-10T02:06:00.002+06:00

As the requirement of a communication course that I will be teaching in the fall at the university, I have had the opportunity to peruse through a book that really is turning out to be a very interesting read. Here are a couple of things which I think might be very interesting to the general reader as well:

Respond to each of the following statements with T if you believe the statement is usually true and F if you believe the statement is usually false.

Good communicators are born, not made.
The more a couple communicates, the better their relationship will be.
Unlike effective speaking, effective listening cannot be taught.
Opening lines such as “How are you?” or “Fine weather today” or “Have you got a light?” serve no really useful communication purpose.
When two people are in a close relationship for a long period of time, one should not have to communicate his or her needs and wants, the other person should know what they are.
When verbal and non-verbal messages contradict each other, people believe the verbal message.
Complete openness should be the goal of any meaningful personal relationship.
When there is interpersonal conflict, each person should aim to win even at the expense of the other person.
Like good communicators, leaders are born, not made.
Fear of speaking in public is detrimental and must be eliminated.

And what do you know. All above ten statements are false.