Thursday, December 24, 2009

Jabberwocky

Polaris
It was a clear night and since there were 20 minutes of blackout remaining, perfect to gaze. I spied a trace of the big dipper from the car window, but lacking your cosmological expertise wasn’t able to go beyond the aligned three. Having forgotten all I had learnt, I googled it instead. Braving the cold in my pjs and scarf I stared into the sky. Did you know the cities of the Indus Valley Civilization were astronomically aligned with Draconis, not the North Star?

Perfume
You know its time to get locks installed in the bathroom drawers when Fayyaz cleaner starts wafting Lancôme Miracle.

Gool
This was the name of a brand of woolen socks in Anarkali Bazaar I saw a couple of weeks ago while delivering some clothes to the caretakers’ family in Nazir Manzil. Silently amused at the name and at S’s suggestion (on the phone at that time, to whom I relayed my discovery of Gool mozay (not jurabain)) to steal them, I saw a burqa clad woman pass by and there I knew I had finally found my new character: Rubina Al-Hooda, who steals from the rich and gives to the poor; Your local super heroine, good Samaritan of sorts (Wait for more development on this front; don’t want to give too much away).

Gillani
I finally figured out what is wrong with him. His face is as thick as his neck; or rather, his neck is the same thickness as his face. So essentially it is one solid block of flesh from head to shoulders. Like Gumby.

Shania Spain
While channel surfing in our Seville hotel room, I came across a travel programme akin to Malaysia Truly Asia, about Algeciras or Malaga – cant recall – and kept watching the clichéd straw huts, handicrafts and flame grilled prawns. Since it was all in Spanish I was rather amused at their choice of soundtrack: That Don’t Impress Me Much, by Shania Twain. I suppose the beginning music is catchy, but you could’ve at least not played the chorus.

Go-go
I was kind of disappointed to see George Michael wearing a ‘Choose Life’ t-shirt in Wham’s Wake Me Up video. It kind of killed the coolth of trainspotting. Forever. Oh well. I guess he wins cos he came first.

Monday, December 07, 2009

Permanently Blue

So after much contemplation, I downloaded Limewire. But I am going to beware the spyware foosa with a vigilant eye. Another bomb blast today. I have a creeping feeling that I have become so desensitized to violence, that if God forbid something happens to me/my loved ones, I’ll be able to handle it. Yeah.

To get my mind off the inferno which was/is Moon Market, I took refuge in the Superhero Movie. And in between the ridiculous references to nothing funny, the polo ad posing the question: ‘what is your hole story?’ warranted a grin (accompanied with slight shock). But speaking of superheroes, I think we need a hero, or a savior, soon. I’m sure I’ve said this before, somewhere near M.M Alam road.

Speaking of heroes, I know (part of) my new year’s resolution. Since a personality makeover isn’t really on the charts (nor something I consciously want to do, I am liking myself more lately) I want to be honorable. The sort of person who will lay his/her life for others, the silent yet wise elder, the warrior who keeps his word even to his enemy, the soldier who gets shot saving others, the (native) American who takes the first arrow. Who isn’t driven by money, greed, material things, and is content in that life. In the midst of so much noise, hate, fear, avarice, deception, I could use some peace and quiet. Or a lifejacket.



p.s on a lighter note: if you read the lyrics of Lisztomania without hearing the song first, you’d probably think someone from India wrote it, only.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

MS.

62 isn’t really the age to leave. That’s what they said about nani too. But I just met you, sat with you on the lounge sofa, laughed with you, tried clothes on with you, criticized the darzi’s cut of the gala which was too broad for your liking. You were always so spirited, so full of energy, life and vibrancy. That is how I will always remember you. Your hilarious anecdotes of your grandchildren, children, mother, mother-in-law, naukars will always be remembered with the fondest of memories. I’ll remember picking you up from temple road, driving to goldsmiths jewelers, having chaat, and buying your favorite shadow-work joras from liberty. Your paan-stained mouth, impeccable British accent, and equally perfect urdu lehja. Your happy go lucky pragmatic approach to the most serious of things. Your pine cigarettes ki dabbi with the lighter inside. Your pink gharara on bibi khala’s mehndi. I’m glad you went peacefully. But, I still wish you had more time. Because we weren’t ready for you to leave.