Ode to the daughter of the East

From a daughter rose she to the leaders role
A vision carried forth; afforded to the masses
Fearless in the wake of a rising storm
She rode each tide with graceful form

Traversing glory; fervor amidst the masses
Bellowed a voice that resonated between borders
Swaying the winds of change she progressed
Carrying a message, questions to be addressed

Exiting swiftly before time’s natural demise
Ripples a tide that has swept our corridors
Her presence departed; existence giving way
Remain the ideals, a legacy; the message will still play

Rest In Peace!

The last one breaks the camel’s back!

It starts out fine. You mellow into the zone, the mood kicks in nicely and you are at your ‘fluid’ best; friendly enough to have a conversation with just about anyone, yet coherent enough for them to understand what you are talking about.

Then time ticks away (slowly at first) and you refuel on another just to keep you level. And then the conversation gets funnier, the music sounds better and the moods gets nicer.

Tick tock tick tock, the activity repeats itself a couple of more times and now the conversation is funny without words, the music is perfectly synched to the evening and time is whizzing by on fast forward.

Next thing you know it’s closer to 2 am and you remember your early morning for an errand or some work that seemed quite manageable when you started out even though your schedule was heavily pre-booked.

Boom, you go for the last one of the evening before calling it a night and suddenly, conversations aren’t funny anymore; they are borderline irritating, the music isn’t quite synched in; its plain noise and you are in a rush to head home so you can get some shut eye before the day breaks!

Tick, tick, tick, boom, boom, boom, your head aches like it has a freight train doing the choo choo with a full load and the sunlight is a tad bit too bright for a cloudy day.

You heave yourself out of bed; grab that coffee and toast (bagel for the Americans I guess) and try to hit the day full speed.

Only to realize, the day isn’t friendly, people seem fresher (when compared to you) and conversations are best avoided as the slightest sound drives a spike between your temples.

Yup the last one does break the camel’s back. “Should’ve quit when I was ahead “you think to yourself; but soon enough memory fades as the evening nears and the cycle inevitably repeats itself. The people seem friendlier again, the conversations get funny all over and boy, are you glad to be in a good mood (again)!!

Rambling Remembered Randomly And Rapidly

Inspired Instinctively by V for Vendetta

Rhetoric resonance resorts to regenerating raw ramblings reviewed rather regularly. However, having hinted hurdles helps hamper hurried hatchings harming helpless humans who have hope. This tumult tries tirelessly to tease those trespassers trying tempestuously to tackle tedious tasks taken totally thoughtlessly though they think the tasks tried tabulate the tireless thoughts taken to town thanklessly. Seen sometimes suspiciously, some surreal suppliers submit such salacious stories, seeking subtle snapbacks, somehow stated straight-faced so sweetly.

When we wonder where we went wrong we wonder why; we wonder who, while we whither willingly with wettest waterworks while waning woefully! After all, arrogance and annoyance, awkward attributes, awarded anonymously, avail actions after acting abrasively and allot aches and agony.

However, harmfulness has handed humans hard hits, hampered human health but borne between banishment begins beautiful, infinite inflection impacting incidences inducing insight, initiating implicit expressions, enacting elegance, working wondrously when whatever weighs one wholly!

Holiday season!

Why is it that when I think of ‘holiday’ I imagine time-off, relaxation, time to myself and activities to do at my leisure but as soon as the season arrives, each day brings at least two overlapping activities/wedding invitations/dinners to welcome the season/evening soirees to reminisce the year gone behind/something or the other, every evening.

Not enough that one’s evenings are booked back to back; all this is coupled with an extra load of work to churn out before the long break equaling late evenings at the desk, rushing home to change equaling additional stress on the road (because I’m guessing everyone is going through the same thing) equaling no time-off, little relaxation (if you count falling on the bed late at night because your body is just giving up as relaxation), hardly any time to oneself (either on the road, at a soiree, wedding, dinner or something else) and no activities getting done because; well hey, one is too tired to do anything anyway!

Oh yes, there’s also Christmas shopping for some of us amongst all this and New Year plans to follow suit along with no added pressure of making resolutions you know you are not going to keep.

Why you ask?

Because you are probably too busy not taking time-off to reflect, not relaxed to put your resolution to action, have little time to yourself in order to see if the resolution is working and heck, let’s face it, the activities are running you instead of the other way around anyway!

But somehow, in the end, after all this retrospect, I can’t help but smile to myself and think . . . I like it!

It’s a busy life but someone’s gotta do it! And that someone is me, it’s you and it’s everyone around us.

Happy holidays, Eid Mubarik, Merry Xmas and a busy, hectic, resolute, active New Year!

The Elevator Look

Ever wonder why when you are in an elevator one tends to look at the numbers of the floors change? Why we are insistent on looking like we are doing something useful for those few seconds which seem to last a lot longer than they should?

Man (meant mankind here since this is an equal opportunity blog) by nature has an inherent need to be (or look) busy or let me rephrase that; man by nature does not want to look idle (meant stupid here) when in the company (close quarters owing to the limited space in an elevator) of others!

You all know about the 18 inches of space which is our invisible bubble within which we feel we are secure? My guess is this is an inherent instinct etched in our genetic code probably during our times when we were secure inside a womb protected from all elements outside our world!

What goes through one’s mind when in an elevator?

“Hmmm so the numbers really do change at exact intervals”

“I didn’t notice that there are 57 symmetrical lines each on both doors before”

“I hope my floor is the first stop so I can get out of this sardine can!”

“I wonder if jumping up at the exact moment before the elevator hits the floor really does work.”

Yes, yes we are funny creatures when we introspect on these little (but essentially important) activities that seem to have become a part of all our everyday lives.
Ding. ‘Second floor” blurts the computerized voice as I nudge my way out from this OTIS invention circa 1996 complete with an emergency stop button, a hidden security camera and an intercom I hope will work if when lights go out.

Trout or not to trout

Gutting a fish!

Well over the weekend I got into my cooking mode so decided to make some rainbow trout (the common name given to a number of species of freshwater fish belonging to the salmon family) for dinner.

As I opened the neatly sealed Styrofoam box from Shangri-La Fish Farms (+92-300 988 8338), I was faced with the realization that I would have to ‘gut’ the fish myself (on account that our cook has not come back from his one week holiday currently running into its third week!)

Well I sharpened the biggest knife I could find in the kitchen and washed the fish. Flipped it over and let the knife make a neat incision from neck to navel on the soft underbelly of a very good looking fish.

Boy was I surprised to find that it is not as easy as it looks when watching someone else do it. The innards are soft, hard to grip (due to the fish slime) and are quite securely (duh no big surprise) connected at both ends i.e. the mouse and the ass!
Well I dove in (hands first of course) and pulled out the organs and placed them in a sealed plastic bag to throw out in the dumpster (since I didn’t want the kitchen to reminisce and linger on too much about my mid-afternoon adventure). Using the knife with the skill of jack the ripper I sliced and diced out all the things that needed removal (am avoiding details for you light hearted readers).

One experience nonetheless needs to be shared on account of its grossness and humor.

As I tugged at what can only be described as the stomach attached to very frizzy intestines, (picture Weird Al Yankovic with electrocuted hair) the fish farted! Yes, it let out a rip-roaring flatulent flurry which sounded like a mini scooter motor sputtering on its last drops of gasoline. Thank the Lord it didn’t have the aromas associated with this particular activity, else the plan for dinner would have come to a very sudden stop at that point.

Needless to say I ventured on as a brave (and newly enlightened) chef and finished cleaning the fish till it was a smooth fillet out of a magazine and ready for the marinade (my own recipe). Into the wok it went with vegetable oil for that deep-fried taste and ten minutes later voila.

Mm hmm I tell you the trout was delish!

Next on the menu; prawn tempuras and clam pasta!

Destiny Vs. Freewill

The ultimate debate topic! Probably as old as the war between good and evil, more talked about than the last Oscar’s and an answer as sought after as the Holy Grail.

So I pose the question: In a battle between Freewill and Destiny, who would win?

My answer . . . well it’s more of a thought, rather than an ‘answer’ and it goes something like this...

First the definitions.

Destiny:

1. The inevitable or necessary fate to which a particular person or thing is destined; one's lot.
2. A predetermined course of events considered as something beyond human power or control

Freewill:

1. Done of one's own accord; voluntary.

Destiny, by default, would be the winner because as derived from the original word, Destination, it is the conclusion/purpose/objective of a journey. Why, you ask? Well because if destiny is the eventual end then freewill is the path towards that eventual objective/end.

We as humans wish to have the ability to manage or maneuver our choices as our own devices however its time to fess up people. Its already pre-ordained, its already written and though you chose between the latte or the cappuccino or the blue shirt versus the white, that ‘final’ decision of yours which you felt (and rightly so) oh so good about was already preordained to be that way anyway.

So here’s my two bits of wisdom: don’t waste time in debating or finding the eventual ‘winner’ of this debate, they are one and the same thing and its just a loop out there to keep your grey matter buzzing so we can feel like we really pondered upon some knowledge that was just not out there or that ‘aha’ moment when you reach a particular deduction.

Hey, I just noticed something! Destiny, Definition, Default, Derived, Destination, Devices, Decision, Devices, Debate and Deduction . . . huh? Do you see the pattern I am getting at?

I just had my ‘Aha’ moment. Let me know when you’ve had yours!

Selfish by Nature

Man (meant ‘mankind’ and not just the male species of the human race) is selfish by nature.

Perhaps one of the only ‘absolute’ truths in my opinion out there.

Definition of ‘Selfish’: Concerned chiefly or only with oneself (source www.answers.com)

Whatever it is that man does; an act of kindness, a good deed or a selfless action, it is motivated from one’s own desire to attain inner peace or that mental ‘feel-good’ fix where one enjoys that fuzzy feeling resonate within one’s self.

Hence, as my hypothesis states, the good deed is also a selfish act. Any selfless deed at some level when mined or looked inside the sanctorum of your spirit shall echo this one common denominator. It felt good! Now if it felt good to you (which would be the normal reaction/inflection), is that not an act of selfishness where your satisfaction or personal gratification is the motivation; and I’m speaking at a bare-all-the-bones, basic feeling in black and white and not the shades-of-grey, be true to yourself when asking this, kind of way.

Personally I think that we have associated selfishness with negative connotations however depending on the outcome of one’s actions it should be defined neutrally with consequences of a positive or negative nature, as would be the case with other traits we would not regard in a negative or harsh manner.

Now you’re thinking about intentions and all that jazz. Well intentions are another ball game altogether and I might be tempted to write another note on that sometime.
So I’m gonna be a bit selfish today and help out the next chap in ‘need’ so I can do my good deed of the day.

Yes I’m selfish; I’m not afraid to admit it and I like it!

Tribute to the Side Saddle Queens

Truly a talent mastered by few. I am talking about the hundreds, if not thousands of women in Pakistan that brave the streets of Pakistan (where traffic laws mean perhaps as much as the paper the ticket is printed on). These brave souls venture out every day with their chaperones (I liked using that words rather than spelling out husbands, brothers, fiancé’s et al) on the Pakistani mass transport medium i.e. the Honda CD 70.

Not only are these women riding on these timeless (I say this only because I cannot recall the last time a Honda CD 70 changed/improved its shape or design radically) 70 cc machines without helmets and with flowing dupattas (thats part of our national dress, a long section of cloth used to cover oneself from the leering-male eye) but they dare to do so while sitting in the old Victorian side saddle position. For description’s sake this is the ‘both legs on the same side” of the bike (horse during Victorian times) position in order to appear lady-like.

With some of the well endowed behinds one is sure to see (I’m being conservative when I say ‘well’ here) on the road (due to a healthy 3-times-a-day-diet of oily, spicy and cholesterol laden Pakistani food). Waitaminute. . .It’s not the diet alone dammit! I thinks it’s the lazy ass approach to “oh my life is over when I’ve had 6 kids and what is the point of looking good now” attitude that has landed the chubby chucker cheeks where your shapely hips once used to be! (But then that’s another note on its own)

These brave side saddle queens are the modern day daredevils risking it all for the basic necessity of transport.

If any of you have driven on the roads of Pakistan recently, especially after the banking boom allowing a thousand or so cars on the road everyday (and these roads are not designed to manage this load I tell you) then you would understand and appreciate the bravery displayed in this daily activity of our own side saddle queens!

Resilience and courage have new meaning when one sees these champions of the side saddle ride quietly while their chaperones maneuver their loyal steeds (CD 70 in this case) on thin roads between buses, zipping compacts and diesel spewing trucks at every corner.

"oh you side saddle queens of the world, i salute you and honor your bravery at every step of the way. Your courage displayed has not gone unnoticed!"

p.s. i forgot to mention that at most times there are more than two persons on each one of these bikes which adds to the possible thrill these daredevils are continually seeking. And for all you sensitive souls out there i am not discounting the necessity element here. . . im just rambling on a thought that has probably occured to all of us at one time or another.

The Commie Bag

Well I got a commie bag as a gift from my old friend Saad (please refer to a previous note the return of the Saad for greater clarity if needed).

The bag is your standard, no frills, canvas shoulder carry with an inked portrait of Chairman Mao and some funky Chinese lettering. I was on a flight to Karachi (a day trip with squeezed flight timings) so I decided to pack an extra shirt and my toiletries just in case!

I enter the plane and get the last seat on the left hand side of a creaking and very old Boeing 747 Jumbo (I think it was one of the planes banned by the EU for having outlived its utility by some 15 years) and hang the bag from the headrest of the seat in front of me. The reason for this (for you curious cats out there) was to have easy access to my iPod and my book (A Matter of Honor by Jeffery Archer).

A few moments later my fellow passenger arrives and as luck would have it; he was Chinese. Noticing my iPod in my ear and me engrossed in the book he glanced to the bag, muttered something to his other friend (also Chinese) and took his seat. He took out a magazine (in English, I think it was Newsweek) and started reading the latest article on Pakistan’s deteriorating political scenario. Every so often he would sneak a peek at my bag and then at me and then go back to reading the article while painstakingly underlining some of the sentences in the article.

We take off an hour and fifteen minutes late (the flight got delayed due to ‘technical faults’; and I thought this time they aren’t lying given the age and wear & tear to the plane) and the in-flight meal was served shortly thereafter. I continued to read while I enjoyed some Thievery Corporation tunes in the background. 10 minutes before our descent the pilot announced us to fasten our seatbelts and ‘bring our seatbacks to an upright position’ (the logic of which I intend to question someday) and I decided to wrap up the book and iPod for the return flight (it’s about 2 hours to Karachi from Islamabad).

Grasping the opportunity my neighbor blurts “That iz poltlait of Chailmen Mao! “ I nodded while briefly giving him a background on how I got in possession of the bag.

“You Know Chailmen Mao?” he asked.

“Not personally but yes I am slightly familiar with his political rule in China and the communist era.”

“Okay” He replied.

“What do you do?” I asked out of politeness

“Eye am Joulnalist” he stated.

“Well enjoy your stay in Karachi.” I replied and was on my way out when I stopped and asked “What is this lettering under the Chairman’s portrait?”

“Evelything foh tha People” was his stately reply.

And I was on my way off the plane, on the gangplank and on my way to the waiting office car to take me to my meeting.

All that way and till much later into the evening I kept thinking.

Why do we not have someone who can reform this country through a belief in those simple four words “Everything for the People!”

And then I was (and still am) sad about the current state of affairs in Pakistan. Sad to see all the potential in Pakistan go to waste, sad to see the talent in our Nation go astray, and sad to see myself not able to do much more than write this note to express how I feel.

p.s. I didn’t make the flight back and the bag (and its contents) came in mighty handy!

thou art man

thou art the the catalyst of development
thou art the reaper of this earth
thou art the volume of voice
thou art the epitome of creation

but thou art the inhibtor of development
but thou art the plague of this earth
but thou art the silencer of voice
but thou art the destroyer of creation

thou art the keeper of beings
thou art the practitioner of ideals
thou art the captain of the seas

but thou art the violator of beings
but thou art the abuser of ideals
but thou art the pirate of the seas

thou art the actuality of nature
thou art the shimmer of the night

but thou art the apparition of nature
but thou art the darkness of the night

thou art man
but thou art man

The weekend debate

Well it’s been a while since I’ve written a note. A lots been happening in life and somehow I haven’t been able to get the inspiration to write until this last Saturday night. Tariq and Reem (friends from Lahore) dropped in to attend a wedding so sat down with the ‘T’ to have a puff and then ramble on aimlessly over a cold beverage.

Questions from the ‘T’: Would I like to live forever?

Answer from the ‘O’: if you would have asked me that 3-4 years ago I would have said no but today I would say yes.

Question from the ‘T’: because ?

Answer from the ‘O’: because now I have come to realize that it would not be lonely to live forever. The background being that we, as human beings, are loners to begin with. We are born alone, we grow up alone (I mean realistically and not philosophically here), we grow old alone and then we die alone to be buried, cremated, frozen (whatever tickles your fancy) ALONE!

Then the discussion really got random. . . and somehow we got talking about man-monkey’s and language being the limitation to our ability to understand and attain out true potential to the battle between ‘Free-will and Destiny’ and what we know is life.

To pick on the latter I had an epiphany at that stage which (I think only to me) defines life to the ‘T’ (pun intended)

‘Life is best defined as a game of 5 card stud’ (that’s a game of poker to the unknowing eye where you are dealt 3 cards; you bet your round, are dealt another card; bet and then you are dealt the last card and you do the final round of betting and then there is a show of hands for all remaining players to determine the pot winner). Here’s how the analogy worked out in my mind.
The three cards you are dealt is your life from birth to teenage-hood. The betting is your feedback to the world on how good or bad your life is at that point. Based on that the ‘dealer’ (you can fit in any philosophical equivalent to this – parent, friends, God . . . whatever) hands you another card (in an effort to improve your odds) this second round is your middle age where one ‘finds’ themselves and makes a life by having a career, kids (or not) etc. the last card dealt is old age; you have invested your stack (that’s your chip count/money on the table), you have played your hand and you are now awaiting to reap the benefit(s) or not.

That to me is perhaps the simplest definition of life that I have been able to get to in my second round of betting  and all you poker players out there can definitely understand the excitement of the rounds and the tension, poker faces and anticipation of winning that ‘big hand’!

A question may be in your minds about the conclusion of this poker game/life. Well here are my last two bits. In case you won the hand and took the pot (which should be sizeable by now) you are one of those lucky few who faced life’s most stressful part at old age (call it terminal illness, a sickness that was killing you or just the stresses of life getting the best of you) and beat the odds aka the miraculous recovery from sickness, the windfall of good luck that buys you some extra years or the relief that your life isn’t all that bad and you might be ready for another round of cards (yea right . . .you nearly popped an artery at that last round).

What about the ones that fold their cards during the rounds of betting you ask?

Well we all have known or heard of untimely exits of people who we thought were least likely to exit the table haven’t we?

Until later . . . I am going to relish my round and place some chips on the table.

‘ALL IN’ I call at the table as I stop typing.

Oil a-la

Well here I am with another ramble of my overactive mind. Islamabad is facing perhaps its worst month if not year of instability, violence and general uneasiness.

The question that arises in my mind is "Is this all the fault of the Madrassah's/Talibanization or is there something more brewing here?"

The second question that comes to mind is "how did the last seven years of general optimism and liberalism end up in two sides of the same coin at loggerheads with one another?

Well here’s how my theory goes:

The US hunger for Oil is infamous in its background and has led to many dubious wars fought over one pretext or another. Who appointed USA as the policeman of the world I cannot recall however if there’s a problem in the Middle East, USA is eager to help. If there’s a problem in Iraq, call the USA. If the Afghans are having issues (created thanks to the US) call the USA. And now there are problems in Pakistan . . . guess who is already here but acting like they are likely to be called. The good ol USA!

Here’s my list of common denominators for all these locations:

US oil prices have had their peaks in 1980, 1986, 1991, and 2001 and most recently in 2005. (source Deloitte research)

And now for global events of the same dates: Afghan war began in Dec 1979 and ended in 1989 with the USSR breaking in 1990. Iraq invades Kuwait in 1990.Afghan Taliban-US war 2001 and ironically Osama is in Pakistan now.

A recent quote from Washington post posted by my friend Ali states "President Bush must order targeted strikes or covert actions by American forces, as he has done several times in recent years. Such actions run the risk of further destabilizing Pakistan. Yet those risks must be weighed against the consequences of another large-scale attack on U.S. soil."

What’s with this preemptive shit people??

Here’s my take on the afghan war that leads to the next possible action/operation we are bound to see:

USSR is broken up so that the now liberated Central Russian oil and gas can be sold to/bought by the highest consumer. (That possible means this shit was in the ropes since a loooong time back; referring to the first afghan conflict in 1979). All the big names we so familiarly hear these days were the small fries then but somehow are the big fish that are coordinating all sorts of crap around the world. Then came the Middle East oil reserves. This was the much needed fuel to bring the prices of oil from around 50+ USD to a low of 15 or less (the lowest it’s ever been since 1973). Now with the Russian states liberated all that is needed is a channel to ship the oil out from there to the good ol USA. As the direct route is through Afghanistan, what we find is the land locked geography of this piece of Asia with the only accessible way through Pakistan via Gwadar. A little footnote here to check out is the Pakistan-India conflicts some years back which nearly brought us to the brink of war twice.

Well that’s my take . . . they need the tribal belt stabilized (that’s the politically correct word for “finish the tribal problem”) so that a pipeline can be extended down to the Indian Ocean so that another tap of black gold may be opened for the good ol USA.

p.s. this all would go to shit if someone were to invent a stable nuclear cell to power our industry and transport in the next few years

p.s.s. in case I go missing you know I hit some nerves on this theory

Auntie Aziz Part II to Auntie Shamim

Well, well, well; here I am again after a long break from my FB notes (was on vacation but then that’s another note altogether) inspired to pen my thoughts after the proceedings from the last few days and their startling yet comical conclusion.

As the title states this note is a sequel to a previous note inspired by the events that have occurred in the little capital city of Islamabad over the past few months gaining steam slowly but surely. Yes people I am referring to Maulana Abdul Aziz, his band of ‘Mullas’ from Lal Masjid, Jamia Hufsa Women and their legion of Dunda (that’s long bamboo sticks to the non locals) brandishing associates, trying to establish a state-within-a-state. *(The word Mullas will be used in the note to refer to the representatives of the violent groups of Islamic students and their likes for sake of my laziness and easy summaries). These fools have been on a rampage to enforce the proper Islamic law in Islamabad after having quietly observed the obscenities and degradation of our social fabric.

The most recent example of their efforts to enforce this proper Islamic law was the abduction of 3 Chinese masseuses from a Chinese Acupuncture Clinic and Massage Parlor in F-8 (that’s one of the residential sectors of Islamabad). Yes, yes the first thought that does cross ones mind when you combine ‘Chinese’ with ‘Massage Parlor’ are the funny stories and thoughts of massages that end with ‘happy endings’ but this particular enterprise was indeed an acupuncture clinic and a kosher establishment albeit it did offer female masseuses for female and male clients.

Not only were three Chinese citizens kidnapped by these enforcers of the true Islamic law, but, also amidst the operation were two members of the MMA. A little background for those unaware; the MMA is the Islamic Cleric's political party that also is making efforts to establish proper Islamic law in Pakistan! How ironic it is that these two were the only clients getting massages at this particular establishment in the mid afternoon when the raid by the Dunda (please refer to earlier definition) toting representatives from Lal Masjid was carried out. Even more ironic is the fact that these two political representatives were quietly let go through the back doors of the stronghold of these Mullas located near a busy market center of Islamabad. Perhaps Proper Islamic law exonerates representatives of Mullah Political Parties from enforcing Proper Islamic law or then again there may be two different sets of laws in Proper Islamic law; one for the citizens of the country and two for the representatives enforcing the law (waitaminute this sound like the situation in any country and its above-the-law citizens and the rest of us normal folks).

Well to breeze through this issue (and not bore you too much with a history lesson) there was a stand-off between these ‘Mullas’ and the government law enforcement forces for the last three days which has included but not wholly:

1. The cordoning off of the sector G-6 in Islamabad
2. Exchange of tear gas and gunfire between both sides
3. The death of a few dozen innocent citizens who were not involved in either sides issues
4. Injuries to dozens more from stray bullets and flying debris
5. An overall atmosphere of stress and fear for the rest of the citizens (anticipating when their homes might get invaded by these ‘Mullas’ trying to enforce ‘Proper Islamic law’

The conclusion to this drama that has unfolded so tactfully and entertained the light minded citizens (such as yours truly) was a late night arrest of the main brain behind the entire operation; Maulana Abdul Aziz!

This dude was arrested at around 2100 hours while trying to make his escape under the guise of a Burqa (That’s the full body veil that very conservative, bordering on fundamentalist, women of Islamic societies don to keep leery gazes off their apparent (but not really) beautiful appearances). Hence the title of my note is aptly noted as Auntie Aziz. In fact this last thought has just prompted me to write a sub note here and take a vote:

I have never seen a shapely women wear a Burqa. In fact all the burqa clad women I have come across have been rather pear shaped with their behinds bigger than the seats they occupy in public places displaying the phenomenon of semi hardened Jell-O trying to mold itself around (instead of inside) the container it is set to solidify in (has anyone seen flubber???) YUCK! Any of you who may have seen different please enlighten me!!

Back to the main note. Well this Main Brain who shall now be referred to as Auntie Aziz was trying to escape his stronghold of Lal Masjid manned by a few thousand dunda and gun toting (I’m talking automatic AK 47’s here and not your BB gun the average man may acquire in a sports store here) wearing a Burqa!! What was this idiot thinking?? The police (male and female) have been frisking every person that enters and leaves the area and he expected to escape the premises without so much so as a surprised grin from a female officer when she would frisk a Burqa clad woman and find a noodle where it shouldn’t be???

On a vote between Auntie Shamim (my previous note and sequel of sorts to this one) and Auntie Aziz I state the following:

1. 1 point to Auntie Aziz for effort
2. 1 point to Auntie Aziz for fashion statement
3. 1 point to Auntie Aziz for initiative
4. And a sharp fist where the sun don’t shine to Auntie Aziz for messing with my city!!
5. 10 points to Auntie Shamim for entrepreneurship

And kudos to the government for finally addressing an issue pending since the last 5 months. Red tapism and bureaucracy delays at their best.

Adios.

I buy because of good packaging!!

Yes. That is correct.

I confess. I buy products if the packaging looks good.

Come on people! You know the new shampoo that says it will 'add life' with jojoba extracts and make your hair healthier and give more bounce is all crap!! Hair is dead cells people!! That's why is doesn’t hurt when we go for a haircut . . .

I bought it cause the deep blue bottle with the nice silver (matt finish) cap and the neatly typed white lettering (vertically aligned and Tahoma font I think) would look great next to my silver with blue trim shaving gel can!

The new Marlboro packs with their colorful visuals/graphics are cool enough to even make non-smokers pick up a pack . . . just because it looks good! Hey the Dunhill Light pack inspired me to paint my beetle in a nice ice blue shade that is ideal for the isloo scenery.

Everything in life is about packaging now friends! Else plastic surgery procedures would not be growing in double digit percentages year on year for the last decade.
I have just seen a new Orbit flavor and the pack looks awesome . . . it folds opens (like a wallet) to display the goods in two neat rows (perfectly aligned above one another) ripe for the plucking.

Yes sir I’m a sucker for good packaging . . . but hey . . . it’s probably a decent enough gauge for a product anyway. If the company is willing to invest in custom designing attractive packaging for its products just right, then there’s a good chance the product featured in the neatly lined, color coordinated pack with the textured box is worth the cash I am about to drop into the cashiers till!

And you know what . . . if its not that great . . . I’m not disappointed! I’ve got another cool container now that I can use to store my loose change in; and blow it on the next good looking product that catches my eye!!

Yes sir yes sir. The 21st century is all about what looks good and I am not ashamed to admit it!

the deadly mobile virus death ray!!

Sounds like the title of a new Tarantino film!! . . . But this has been the headline in all the leading publications and media channels across Pakistan.

The country has been in a near state of panic requiring an official notification to the media from all 6 (that’s right six . . . we just can’t get enough of telecom in Pakistan) cellular phone operators and the government regulator.

With cellular customer numbers crossing 50 million in a country whose population is 160 million (and not too educated) we have seen some leaps and bounds happening in thisconduit that delivers all human emotions on a daily basis. (an example - it now costs 2 cents a minute to call the US from Pakistan) These 50 or so million customers were in a frenzy since the 11th when a news item appeared in a leading English daily highlighting the rumor of a possible mobile phone virus that can apparently knock the listener out, cause bleeding from the ears and nose and eventually death!

Well its hard to describe but the rumor has to be one of the most successful hoaxes I have ever witnessed . . . this story had the entire country (and I am not kidding here) calling and texting each other frantically and educating them of this ‘oh so deadly virus’ which shows up on your phone as a call from an unknown number followed by the voice of a woman who asks the listener to hear a new song and then the listener faints!

How thick can one be??

I was even more amazed when literate, and I mean educated-in-colleges-abroad, have-seen-the-world, literate friends were passing the message (yea yea in good-faith or just-in-case-this-may-be-possible!!) and discussing the possibilities of the causes and the symptoms of such a 'deadly virus'.

The most original adaptation on the rumor was stated somewhere in Gujranwala (that’s a village in Pakistan). 'A cell phone company had placed a tower (the big ugly thing that sends and receives all sorts of technical frequencies which we commonly know as ‘coverage signals’) in a graveyard. This placement of the tower in the graveyard disturbed the spirits of the area and these spirits were now 'traveling' through the airwaves and taking revenge from the innocent customer in order to pressure the company and have the tower removed. Does this story even have the slightest hint of reason? Full marks to imagination and I wont be too surprised if Stephen King makes a book/movie about the “cellular phone killer spirit” or we see the title "the nightmare on cell ring". (Maybe Gujranwala recently saw ‘The Ring’???)

Well let’s just say that my phone has not stopped ringing with inquiries from nearly every news channel (there are more than 12 in Islamabad now) and over 30 newspaper reporters filing the scoop on this rumor over the last 4 days.

This eventful rumor definitely deserves its rightful place in Guinness as the most successful and rapidly spreading ‘virus’ (pun intended) in one country.

Mujhe maaf karo (forgive me)

Sorry. Such an easy word to say yet we, at times find it too hard to say or are too arrogant to acknowledge or simply all don’t understand the power this one word command's.

It fixes wrongs; it can make things better and in a slightly longer, more eloquent definition ala Omar: it can communicate the realization of the harsh, hurtful or callous consequences of ones actions upon another and the commitment towards not making the same error/frivolity again!

The inspiration for this note came from none other than the lyrics of ‘Sorry’ which I heard over this weekend while driving back from a dinner at a friend’s house in Tarlai.

For the lyrics of the song from the queen of pop you can click the following link http://www.mp3lyrics.org/m/madonna/sorry/ Point to be noted is the presence of ‘Sorry’ in Urdu in the 7th stanza.

You can imagine my glee when I heard our tongue on the airwaves of the world spoken by none other than my teenage crush and all time favorite female singer, trend setter and marketing whiz!!

The question that arises in my mind however is . . . have we diluted the very essence of this one word in today’s day and age?

Do we all still realize the true potency of this words’ utterance?

The fact that we can earn another’s trust (perhaps) once again by simply saying this word with feeling?

The idea that this word, in essence, can end spats, feuds, enmities and who knows . . . maybe even war and racial disparities? (Or am I being too John Lennon-ish)

I leave the question open to all . . . I have heard it all before

Auntie Shamim and her escapades . . .

Can someone inform the Guinness Records that we have a woman in Pakistan, in the capital city of Islamabad nonetheless, who is perhaps an aunt to the largest populace in the world. Auntie Shamim . . . a relative to over 150 male visitors per day!!

This is the latest of the talibanization cases in our happening city of Isloo. Dozens of female students from a nearby Mosque (Lal Masjid for the detail-savvy reader) had been monitoring a house in G/6-1 and one fine Tuesday morning raided the premises kidnapping Auntie Shamim, her daughter, daughter-in-law and 6 month grand-daughter along with the plainclothes policemen who were guarding the perimeter (aka bouncers).

The reason to raid private property? The house was plaguing our society through its illicit activities and needed to be reprimanded because the authorities were not taking any action to control this menace to our society. The reason for kidnapping Auntie Shamim? To educate release her once she repented for her un-Islamic means of livelihood; which apparently she has done in a press statement and is now a free woman clad in a black burka. (that’s the garb extremist women in Pakistan might wear [atop their regular clothing] as a means of protecting their virtue from the leery eyed)

I ask you what the hell is going on with our society and government. I’m not condoning the existence of brothels in any manner however, I am concerned with the fact that the reins of control are slipping from our illustrious President who apparently had 90% support from half the population of Pakistan during the referendum in 2002.

When such issues start happening in your own backyard it makes one wonder how long we can sit perched on our posts, all dog-eyed and ignorant to the fact that the fabric which bonds liberal Pakistan together, is slowly acquiring a new tailor and he intends to present us with a new style of dressing.

Lets just hope that the government innuendos and political messages to the powers-that-be are read soon and we can go back to having relaxing weekends with friends and a few beers and not have to worry that the trash is being sifted through late night by the students of a nearby madrassah (that’s ‘religious school’ to you) and a lecture on the ‘sins’ of sipping brewed water is in the pipeline.

for the media story you can go to the link below:http://www.guardian.co.uk/
international/story/0,,2044910,00.html

lahore again lahore again, jiggity jig

Well the last weekend was spent in Lahore on account of a wedding (wifey’s cousin Zeeshan). Lahore is the cultural capital city of Pakistan . . . a city alive with the beat of the drums of Punjab, the food of the mughal and the decadence of the Lahori. (this will require a note all on its own)

I had to stay back in Isloo for work and missed the mehndi (which for you non-Pakistanis is the happening fun party before the groom and bride realize what they are getting into) on account of the fact that Rob Conway (chairman of the GSM Association and apparent big fish!) was supposed to arrive on Thursday evening and the PR department (which is yours truly) had to arrange the visit protocol and meetings/activities etc for that evening and the next day.

Well lo and behold the airline gods were on holiday because he missed his flight to Dubai and the onward connection to Pakistan (well done PIA engineers who are on strike demanding the resignation of their CEO) and we missed the mehndi!! Apparently it was an enthralling bash with fire dancers and the works keeping the guests boogying till the wee hours of the morning.

We made it to the cultural capital on the day of the Shaadi (that’s the wedding ceremony for the locally unaware) and stayed with my cousins Hassan and Mehreen Afridi. The trip was excellent because we got to spend some good quality time with our hosts. Wifey caught up on the times and Hassan was kind enough to teach me the tricks of Texas hold ’em Poker on the net. He was generous enough to let me wash his online account from 1,000,000 to 300,000 in one evening (thought the currency is not real there is a lot of hard work and patience involved in making ones account grow from 100,000 to 1,000,000 plus). Their kids are great and finally warmed up to us on the day we were supposed to leave which was ok because Hassan’s daughter asked him in the morning; while I was sound asleep, “where is your favourite Omar” which made my day!

Monday we set off to drive back home and made it safe and sound to our own familiar settings by sunset. Looks like we might head back again sometime soon to just chill with the cousins and not have to change into the oh-so comfortable wedding attire which allows one to get some good pics to store in an album that eventually gathers dust till the kids turn 18 and want to see how funny their parents looked in the hey-days!!

Spring is in the air which means summer is around the corner. . .look out lahori’s its bound to be a scorcher.

the return of the 'Saad'

For those of you that are not aware Saad A Khan is an old buddy from the days of yesteryears when Mr. Vain was the hit song at parties and the running man was a cool dance move. This was in fact reminded to me by my buddy who has come into town on a short stint to visit the motherland.

It’s good to reminisce about days one has either placed in a memory jar at the back of the daily dealings. Old flames, bad haircuts and even worse shirts can bring a good smile to the dreary routine of work-home-work-weekend and its repeat performance played one time to many!

Saad’s a stand up guy with an exellent sense of humour; an investment banker by profession based in Calgary. Dealing with the oil moguls’ of the western world has added a deep sense of worldy economics to this young guy who was one of the dude’s when I knew him back in school (that’s Froebel’s for the Islooites). His lightneing quips, blunt remarks and the views on peoples personalities are a fresh change to the usual diplomacies one has so gotten used to in the Islamabad social circuit.

Rifi’s was the dinner joint where we all met up at and exchanged some good old stories (and some that were locked in vaults till someone spilt the beans – being Saad in this case!!) after merry laughs and a few wine glasses the evening came to a pleasant close and the routine started all over again.

Im glad for these moments that we get. It will be these times that we will ponder upon and smirk when we’re old and gray with our thoughts that will be our companions more so than these days of social chaos that seem to be our ‘hectic’ lives.

On the flip side this chaos will add to the thoughts that too will make us smirk eventually!

P.S. the Thai green curry (chicken) at Rifi’s is divine!! Definitely recommend an evening there.

the Dinner, the GT and the BBQ

“Looks like I spoke too soon about the weekends being short and time running quicker than normal...this weekend was PACKED!Friday night started out with drinks at Amin & Nadia’s and off we (we here is Ace, Sam, Amin, Nadia, Wifey and I) headed to Majlis (that’s the Lebanese dive in Isloo with an awesome open terrace, sheesha and some decent food). Met some colleagues (on account of the fact that Mobilink employs a fair number of Egyptians and Lebanese manpower) there, who are the usual suspects at Majlis.

After a night of good food, headed back home to chill cause the week does sap the crap out of me!Satur-day was spent at the workshop in Pindi getting the weekly tinkering done to Betty. Headed back ‘cause lunch was at my friend Omer’s place who has recently become the proud father of an adorable 'baby-girl'. (Asad this is for you!)

lunch led to the drive back home where a quick shower and a change of clothes. . and a bit of coercion from my best bud we headed back out for another evening of fun.

Sunday was BBQ at our place (again) and the grill was fired up to satiate the appetites of my hungry (and hung-over in some cases) friends. After some minor burns and singes a feast was concluded by a competitive game of darts with Ace Chinoy being the champ for the evening.

Needless to say the weekend deserves another day-off just to recover but alas that freedom was not extended to yours truly and here I am on a Wednesday afternoon relaying the hectic schedule that needs to be paced out!!

VW engines 101

Is it me or did father time start winding his clock a bit quicker than he used to? I can easily remember the times when I could play some Atari®, play cricket in the driveway, take the bike and go for a ride around the neighborhood and then play some cops and robbers with the cousins and all this before evening snacks!

These days by the time I get up and get done its past lunch already (mind you I have been getting up at around 930-1000 hrs on the weekends).Spent pretty much the better half of Saturday at the workshop again cause now ive caught the beetle bug and am tinkering with improvements to the machine.

It was interesting to see dismantled engines and get a quick Engine 101 from the Ustaad (lead engineer) about the fineries of German ingenuity. It is amazing to see 40+year old engines come to life at this chaps workshop which, to the average Joe, would look more like a car dump than a hospital that revives these relics back to pristine conditions. Apparently the German race is perhaps one of the most superior machine race in the planet.

They were assembling engines with simplicity and convenience that have resulted in an auto revolution. Have just joined the Islamabad VW club www.vwcop.com which sorta gives the starters like me a crash course on the beetle and its history.

I am now on the official hunt for genuine parts and accessories for what is now proudly know as, Betty the beetle. In case you come across any reference sites which can supply cheap parts and accessories for my bug please do let me know.

just another week

So there goes another week passing us all by. . . the boss came back from the conference in Barcelona so theres a whole bunch of things that need his John hancock before i can execute some more ideas . . .The week started as it usually does…DULLSVILLE. Did the daily crossword routine and then sat with the team to discuss the plan for the week and how to efficiently spin stories in the media. For those of you that are not familiar I’m the PR guy for Pakistan’s largest cellular service and labeled as the proverbial Microsoft of Pakistan, we get our fair share of flack on areas ranging from high tariffs to deteriorating service quality et all. Whats a 10 letter word for 'venetian boat songs' anyway??

We got great media coverage (http://www.nation.com.pk/d
aily/feb-2007/16/bnews5.php) on the visit to the technical site I had arranged last week so the management was quite pleased with our strategic plan for 2007. For the very inquisitive souls my previous work can be seen on our corporate website at the following URL: http://www.mobilinkgsm.com/about/press.php

It seems unlikely that the week is going to get any better because there are various items that have been awaiting the ‘return of the boss’ so it seems the week is going to only going to make more people anxious. Theres an upcoming press conference to announce another launch so gotta get cracking with the media relations in an effort to secure good media presence so the phone and legs better start working in tandem to touch all the editors spread over the country.

Hope lies in the fact that Friday is two days away and then I can unwind by working on the beetle.

the busy weekend

so it started like all the other weekends. went home on Friday, showered, changed and got ready to go out and then realized . . . there was no place to go! Wifey had a girly dinner at the new French restaurant that’s opened up in E-7 so I decided to chill with Mr. Walker and catch 'Groomsmen', the flick by Ed Burns.

Unchanged, pulled out the movie and the stogie (have quite smoking again for the umpteenth time so am killing the urge to inhale by lighting up a good Cuban). A so-so flick with a few moments where one can relate ones own relationships with the 'bros'crashed early (midnit-ish) cause had to head to a junkyard outside the city in the morning to hook myself up with an old 'WWII Triumph Tiger Cub'.

Landed at the lot and saw hundreds of bikes in an eerie sort of mechanical graveyard (complete with the dry thistle bush rolling on the soil with the cool breeze). surveying the expansive lot finally revealed the one and only triumph (totally junked, rusted and the works) supported by a make-shift brick pile bike-stand. I turned to the lot manager and asked him what the asking price for the triumph was and was told after a lengthy and detailed tirade of how Quaid-e-Azam rode this particular bike in the streets of Karachi after independence and this was the most amazing piece of history the country had ever possessed and had miraculously made it to the extensive collection of this 'well-known' and 'honest' lot managers antiques.

I tried not to choke when I asked what the price was (which he still had not revealed during this 7 and a half minute rant) and was told that the 'final-final' price was 150,000 rupees. (that’s approx USD 2500 for the not-familiar-with-exchange -rates friends of mine) for a hunk of metal that was being held together perhaps by the rust that had fused the bike into a big brown mass of immobile parts.negotiations failed miserably, perhaps because he knew I was keen on the bike and would have paid a premium price for the classic 'piece of Pakistani history'.

Needless to say I moved onto another collection of the not-so-famous bikes and ended up purchasing a 1973 (I think so because the registration papers haven’t arrived as yet) Honda 350 in army green. Popped the bike onto the truck and had it delivered to the bike doctor in a nearby workshop and am supposed to get the revived and hopefully running bike in 10 days time.rushed back into the city to eat delish laksa at Mehr's place and got a chance to chat with my cousin Zohare about careers and work-jazz.

Chilled after lunch with some melon sheesha (what? Sheesha isnt the same as cigarettes right??!) and then headed back home to change and get ready for the evening din-din at Ace's place. Nihari was the menu for the night so the weekend definitely added some extra pounds to the already expanding waist-line. Got back around 1 am and crashed cause I had another long day approaching.Sunday was spent supervising the laying of the garden at the residence (apparently planting season is here with all the rains etc).

Tthe gardener had his 'team of 10' working like little minions digging and weeding and planting and prodding the soil. The chaps worked through the course of the day till nightfall but I am glad to say the garden looks awesome…Wifey has some superb plants which are looking great in the rock garden. Am now excited for the grass to take root and another BBQ can be planned during the 'good season'Sunday ended with me starting the second season of Prison Break and then read “The Tipping Point” by Malcolm Gladwell.Got into bed to start another week.

Boy, do I hate Mondays!!

14th Feb 2007

Finally its friday!time to unwind from the hectic and loong week which had me bouncing off to lahore for a media tour to our NOC (network operations center) facility which in simpler words is the 'technical' thingamajig behind every cellphone call...trust me guys communication is not as simple as dialing a number and pressing 'send'Had 13 journalists from Islamabad who we flew (PIA has improved its service and believe it or not the menu has changed!) to Lahore. Landed and assembled at the PR agency to meet up with the additional media persons from Lahore and then teetered off to the location (45 minutes outside the city) via a mini bus.

The drive was uneventful except for the GEO reporter who gave the live breaking news update (via his mobilink cell phone of course) about fresh info recieved on the Islamabad Airport Bomber. Apparantly the guy was a divorcee from DG Khan with small children and a bad temper. . .what is wrong with these people??!!well we reached the site and showed them the in's and out's of the NOC and then went to a board room for the Q&A session... these guys can really grill you and then some!!after 40 minutes of i-said-he-said we left the facility and went to PC (thats Pearl Continental Hotel for the not so local friends of mine) for lunch.

Scrumptious food i must say! the Chicken Masala was dee-lish!!ended the day with some work meetings and then back to the airport for the flight home. PIA does need to realize that its winter time, and running the aircraft AC at full throttle (as well as the engines i guess to keep us airborne) is not one of the most comfortable of journeys i have had.

Landed at a quarter to 9 and then headed home to chill with wifey.had been up since 530 am so was totally pooped by 10. Crashed early (after watching a bit of Prison Break) and headed to work on Thursday. (thursday is the day i got my beetle back so will write a separate piece on that) am excited about working on my beetle (reference wifey's note about the 1966 vintage) and chilling with the gang over the weekend.will see you on the flip side of the week with the quirks of the weekend!

what a coincidence

A chicken farmer went into a local bar, sat next to a woman, and ordered a glass of champagne.The woman perks up and says "How about that? I just ordered a glass of champagne too"'What a coincidence,' he said. 'This is a pretty special day for me, I'm celebrating."

'This is a special day for me too, and I'm also celebrating!' says the woman''What a coincidence,' says the man. As they clinked their glasses he asked 'what are you celebrating?''My husband and I have been trying to have a child, and today my gynecologist told me i'm pregnant!''What a coincidence.' Says the man. Im a chicken farmer.

For years all my hens were infertile, but today they're finally laying fertilized eggs''That’s great!' says the woman, 'how did your chickens become fertile?''I switched cocks,' he replied.She smiled and said 'What a coincidence!'

Beans, beans . . .

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him. One day, he met a girl and fell in love.

When it was apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, "She'll never go through with the marriage if I carry on like this." So he made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Shortly after that they were married. A few months later, on the way home from work, his car broke down and since they lived in the country, he telephoned his wife and told her that he would be late because he had to walk.

On his way home, he passed a small cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him. Since he still had several miles to walk, he thought he would walk off any ill effects before he got home. So he went in and ordered three extra large helpings of beans.

All the way home he farted. By the time he arrived home, he felt reasonably safe. His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She exclaimed, "Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for dinner tonight!"

She put a blindfold on him and led him to his chair at the head of the table and made him promise not to peek. At this point he was beginning to feel another fart coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the blindfold, the phone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until she returned and went to answer the phone.

While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg. He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him.

He had just started to feel better when another urge came on. He raised his leg and rrriiipppp! It sounded like a diesel engine revving and smelled even worse. To keep himself from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while, hoping the smell would dissipate.

Things had just about returned to normal when he felt another urge coming. He shifted his weight to his other leg and let go. This was a real blue ribbon winner; the windows shook, the dishes on the table rattled and a minute later, the flowers on the table were dead.

While keeping an ear tuned in on the conversation in the hallway, and keeping his promise of staying blindfolded, he carried on like this for the next 10 minutes, farting and then fanning each time with his napkin. When he heard the phone farewells (indicating the end of his loneliness and freedom), he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it.

Smiling contently, he was the picture of innocence when his wife walked in. Apologizing for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner table. After assuring her he had not peeked, she removed the blindfold and yelled, "SURPRISE!" To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party.