Sunday, August 31, 2008


9,498 words. I'm done. This very minute.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Poppy Seed Roti

So here I am, listening to Gavin Rossdale in my self proclaimed lunch break, eating a cheese sandwich which has mayo in it instead of makhan bcos ammi realized the qeema had mysteriously dissapeared from the fridge AFTER she had already slathered mayo on the bread. Tsk. So, I'm in my office, on my rickety computer, who btw is called Ewe. Aadum's Soulmate. And because Hawwa might have been a bit sacreligious, thought Eve with a w would serve the dual purpose of the name perfectly.

(5 minutes later- Sorry, power cut and Ewe takes a lot of cajoling to start up)

So me and Ewe became instant friends, not only because her login and password were the same word (We're SO meant to be!) but she reminded me of the familiar. However, I shall be abandoning her for greener pastures a.k.a the FTP department where I get to hang out with the cool people and have a little work station which I can do up with pin ups of turtles and Bart Simpson. YaY! :)

(Virtual Memory Low)

Yeah, so I have become excessively forgetful of late. I always leave my phone on the charger and then run out of the car in the middle of the road outside my house, upstairs to my room, to the green armchair, to fetch it. Daily. So today I forgot it (finally!) and now can't shirk off work. My landline dials out PTCL numbers, and mobiles from the operator so Blah! Who uses landlines anymore anyway?

Anyway. Need to get back to the Lagoon. Its pronounced Nurri (like Curry, but more stress on the r) but spelt Narrari. Whodathunk?

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


So I spent the day with an orange Goldfish color pencil, a permanent board marker and a Panda bear. This is the new life, it seems! :)

Thursday, August 14, 2008


Sure, I have two flags tied to the main gate lights. I could wear my Pakistan jersey and parade the streets on a motorcycle all evening. Read all the newspaper supplements on the Quaid and watch all the TV specials. Even sing the national anthem at the top of my lungs from my roof. Is that really the best I can do?

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Finger Puppets.

oh what a contrast you were
to the brutes in the halls

No compulsions to complete this sentence. Or any of my sentences. Just to prove a point; a point which needed to be proven. To myself, to others, to whomever. If you make your point, but don't feel happy about it, is it a point well-made? If you teach someone a lesson they deserve to learn, without any gratification from giving them their due, is it a lesson worth teaching?

Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed

If you do good, but feel nothing but bad, have you done any good at all? Why must we be so scared to hurt others, who feel no remorse in trampling over us like five-leaf clover (the plural) in a field. We're just one leaf off, and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

You don't pay enough attention anyway.

I don't look back much as a rule

and all this way before murder was cool

And so we make choices we hate. Choices we need to make. To preserve what we call pride, honor, even ego (although i prefer not using that word). Choices we stick by. Because that makes us who we are, and sets us apart from the generic doll-eyed pretty faces, who bat their eyelashes on cue. We skip to our own beat.

when our kite lines first crossed
we tied them into knots
and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

K for .

It's after experiences like these you realize the joy of knowing a khandani person. Call it elitism, snobbery, or whatever-the-hell else, in the end no matter what, class cannot be bought, values cannot be taught and decency cannot be instilled in just about everyone. We talk of chamri, haddi and khoon and you know what? I'm a firm believer of ammi's theory, that the blue blooded, khandani person will always stand out and always be a pleasure to meet instantly. You can always tell.

Meeting K after roughly five years was wonderful. The effortless conversation, chivalry and etiquette was highly refreshing, after years of dealing with uncouth, brash men from this part of town. I'd like to beleive there is still hope, and pray that I am kept away from the plebs that plague my existence.

However, on a lighter note, now that we are on the subject of K, Krazzy 4 was the biggest ripoff of the year. Four crazy guys saving the world? Give me a break! Shahrukh Khan was only featuring in the title song? and Hritik Roshan in the credits? Who the hell came up with that! Or maybe I'm just a fool to have been duped by cheap Indian gimmicks. Oh well, they made a sale. And I guess that's what really matters. To them at least. *Grump

Speaking of which, 'them' is increasingly becoming a loaded term. Beware! We were always one of them, and now even more so by the day. This only matters to those who know what I'm talking about, the rest, don't flatter yourself. You will never be one of 'them', no matter how hard you try.

Good night.

Monday, August 04, 2008

It happened today.

"Called to see
If your back
Was still aligned
And your sheets
Were growing grass
All on the corners of your bed

But you've got too much to wear
On your sleeves
It has too much to do with me
And secretly
I want to bury in the yard
The grey remains of a friendship scarred

You told us of your new life there
You got someone coming round
Gluing tinsel to your crown
He's got you talkin' pretty loud

You berate remember
Your ailing heart and your criminal eyes
You say you're still in love
If it's true, what can be done?
It's hard to leave all those moments behind."