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Thursday, 25 August 2011


Me: Hayee.. When will we reach? This train journey is nauseating!

You: Yeah.. am tired too!

Me: Hey listen, did you lock all the doors and all before leaving? Considering you were home and I was out the whole day?

You: Yeah I did. Just did not go to the terrace or chhatt.

Me: hmm.. not an issu- WAIT! What? Why?

You: terrace per jaa ker kia kerna tha? Jhanday ko fold kerta?! Haha.

Me: Meaning? *fuming*

You: I mean… I was not going to go up the stairs just to bring the jhanda down yaar!


You: whaa-a-t? the breeze wont hurt it. And trust me, the crows and eagles have better things to do than disturb our flag.

Me: *calming down* <clenched teeth> I did not get a chance to see the flag but where did you buy it from? Araam say mil gya tha na?

You: What was the issue in that? Nukkar walay baba say le lia tha. Very reasonable cheap rate mein.

Me: Do you realize what you just said?

You: Whaat?

Me: Do you know what a flag is? By any chance?

You: Yes. I mean, DUH! Its not something holy or something. Just a representation yaar. Chill ker.

Me: NO! *anger seething* You know what it is? I WILL TELL YOU what it is! It is the only non-verbal, non-text iconic graphic a country is symbolized with! Two colors our poor flag rests on. Deep green and stark white. These two invariant tones are seen trashed together and swaying with the support of a thin stick.
Is my point coming to the surface? No? TSK!

You: Kiaaaaa?!

Phattay huay jhanday

Me: Well, for a start, kindly look around.

You: *looking around*

Me: *slaps forehead* NOT your compartment smarty pants! But around, OUTSIDE your humble habitat. Do you see a bluish tint where the crescent and the star should be? Oh, and is a strip of white flashing behind? Yes? No. NOT ON THOSE FIELDS! But in your hardly-in-attendance imagination.

You: hainjee? Jee? Haanjee. Dikhta hai.

Me: *poses a know-it-all pose* THAT my friend is the reality! <hell of a serious tone> The basting of a flag has become such a mundane, low-on-priority-list task that the only flags hoisted high up on the chats are the one-silai walay.

You: *staring into space, ogling the fields*

Me: Uff. No, this is not a tailor-master-lesson-of-how-to-sew-a-flag. Trust me.

You: oh, good. Jee continue.

Me: okay. I will deviate a bit. Emotional deviation you know. You know the happiness I felt at age six when I raised my very own jhanda on my chhatt’s railing was.. <deep breath>.. Incomparable. I was hopping up and down. [yes, I have a thing for Pakistan. And it is called patriotism wala love]. The green and white flashing in my eyes was so soothing that I cannot describe via the medium of mere words.

You. Ah-aan. *all interested type look*

Me: But, now will you Imagine.. just IMAGINE my sadness coupled with heaps of fury when I witnessed the crescent and star torn away because of the samandar ki hawayen. And that, my friend is what constitutes to the reason behind this magnanimous issue I’m discussing. The hint of blue gaping at ur ogling eyes when you look around.

You: baat tou theek hai.

Me: Aur tou aur! The people who sell these jhandays, who tou bus miskeen shakal bana ker kehdetay hain. *screws face up together and speaks in a wheezy tone* “kyunki hawayen to taiz hoti hain baji, jhanda tou jhanda hai, Phatna hi hai”. Mutlab app check kerain na confidence! Sahi hai. Phat jata hai. BUT NOT ON 16TH OF AUGUST ONLY!

You: J..j.jee. th..theek kaha. Phat-ta tou hai hi..

Me: SO WHAT if it phatto-fies? CAN’T not you, the rest of you, spend a few extra bucks in showing off [trust me, best choice of word] showing off your patriotism? Jhanday walay nay esay jhanday diye hain you all say. Can’t you go and SEARCH for a good quality jhanda? Saal mein AIK din ata hai! But, kyun kerayn? We’ve to buy all the latest lawn kameezes and the latest kurtas na. Aik matching frill k liye gulf k 100 chakkar lag jayen gay. But for the flag? Nukkar ka baba bahut achay jhanday bechta hai.

You: *shell shocked* Woah. Chalain.. We’ll discuss this again later I hope-

Me: Excuse me? You’re staying here and listening to this. Hmph.

You: Sa-a-ahiii.

Chipkey huay jhanday

-To walls and To the dandas

You: Kia mutlab?

Me: oh bhae. How should a flag be?

You: Err.. clean?

Me: *smacks head hard* -Ouch! Well. NO! it should be lehraofying in the hawa and not chipkofied to a) the walls or b) the thin danda.

You: Ooo.

Me: jeeee! A flag should be swaying in the breeze. Not to forget, it shouldn’t even be wrapped around its danda.

You: you surely have a point, ma’am.

Me: You haven’t heard the most important issue as yet.

You: *about to get up* wait- there is MORE?

Me: Yes, what do you think this flag business is anyways? Some kind of a joke? Haan? Haan?!


Biiiig flag and smaallllll crescent and star

Come on! SERIOUSLY?! 

You: what’s that supposed to mean?

Me: Dude, listen up. A flag isn’t some palate where any and every nukkar wala baba exercises his artistic skills. It has a STANDARD! It IS a standard. The crescent and star occupy a certain-Standardized portion of the green area of the flag!

You: Yeah I get that, but where is this coming from? Exactly?

Me: Have you seen the flags which are big and mighty and have a 50 ft length?

You: *all excited excited* oh yesss!

Me: have you noticed how minute the size of the chaand and sitara is in comparison?

You: *thinking* oh. Point.

Me: So. Yes. Exactly my point. IF one buys a big mighty flag [especially the big big firms and banks on I.I. Chundrigar road] then one should MAKE sure that it is proportionate enough to be called a Pakistani Flag.

You: You have a very valid point with sound judgement.

Me: *all flattered*

You: but you know this is not that pressing a matter-you know what I mean?

Me: *eyes red, nostrils flaring, nose screwed up in anger* ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Wait. Let me calm down. <breathes in and out> Okay. How about if I say its your birthday today.

You: oh wow. That’d be an awesome example.

Me: And I get you a face-picture-cake. Like the ones those fancy bakeries make?

You: Wow, I’ve never had that stuff before.

Me: and how about I tell u that the baker ACCIDENTALLY used the gooify tool of photoshop and made your nose the size of Pinocchio and your eyes the size of a mole?

You: *eyes red, nostrils flaring, nose screwed up in anger* ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?

Me: See? The reactions are identical. So. Never forget that if Pakistan cannot speak for its image, there’s no use to care about it either. Never forget the amount of qurbaanis the people have given to give you a place in this land. To GIVE this land alone! And surely never forget that just like your birthday is so very special to you, the birthdate of Pakistan is also very special.

You: Yeess-

Me: Pakistan is our watan for God’s sake. The ONLY watan we have! At least pay tribute to its image properly. What with all the politicians stuff and the media crap the image of Pakistan internationally IS losing face magnified to the power of googol! But You can make a difference. So start by this small contribution of your part as this. Buying a proper flag.

You: I must say, interesting insight.

Me: Well, what can I say? This was, indeed a very refreshing train journey.

You: Wouldn't disagree oooooone bit! *beaming* 

Saturday, 13 August 2011

Offish. [1]

No one seems close anymore,
Now I live on this feeling-less shore,
Acquaintances are lost, now all is away,
I swear I can feel my heartbeat flutter and then sway.

No matter how much one may have cared,
An end comes to all the feelings felt and shared,
One cannot go on about life with a bag of mighty trust,
Which, well, Trust me, everyone will attempt to thrust!

Smiles they all give, but over a tear in your eye,
Hugs they all offer, But over your misery with a sarcastic, 'My, Oh my!'
Nothing lasts, my friend, all is spasmodic,
All the fluttering happy bits end in a flick!

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Why did I grow up?

I still remember locking myself in my mom’s room and applying blush on with her pink Revlon lipstick. There were times when I would try on her shoes. High-heeled and glossy. That particular epoch when a chilled glass of Tang would be ready in the kitchen when I’d come back from school. Uniforms ironed, the smudged-with-dirt tees all washed clean.

But now, the world is big. Like Really big. And there have been milliards of times when I have asked myself, WHY did I grow up? Growing up is natural, but ugly too. One is exposed to SO much. The lies, the back stabbings, the bffs breaking up, the drug abuse in the very vicinity one lives in, the psychopaths who kidnap and rape little children, the coffee becoming a favourite beverage. Tsk. All heavy stuff, dude.

The life of a grown up is SO huge. Grown up people eat sabzi k salan shawq say. Grown up people smoke. Grown up people enjoy lounging around watching sitcoms all day. Grown up people stick to their laptops all day and night. Grown up people watch news. Grown up people cannot eat candy as much as kids can. Grown up people are afraid of bruising themselves; while the kids are ever ready to take a dive-catch.

Now, grown ups feel the need to comment and compliment on anything and everything they see/hear.
“I really like the music of Selena Gomez”
Adult person’s comment: ‘She’s going out with that Bieber Kid, her music sucks’
Newscaster: “The media has reached the flood-affected areas”
Adult person’s comment: “haan, ab pani bhaag jaye ga na jesay

I could pen down milliards more of such bizarre comments but there has to be some balance.
And do Not take this entry as a lashing session for the poor adults. One day all go through that painful ‘I’m old’ phase. But isn’t it eerie how the adults seem so so so mind-numbing and lacklustre if you look from the eyes of a kid? It is. Yes, I get it, stop nodding.

Well, I am grown up. Everyone is. And to the grown up people, the kids of today looks squeamish while they themselves are the Bluto of the world.

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

Writer's Block

Writing comes naturally to people and that word ‘naturally’ also encompasses the world of ‘inspiration’. Well, these days, the awful beast I-e the WRITERS BLOCK is ruling the naturalism I may possess in relevance to writing.

Being an observant keera, I make sure nothing goes amiss from my eye. I make sure that I capture everything. Every moment I secure, if not in my hard disk via a click of a camera, then a deep stare and a later-on-hard-contemplation so as to certify its presence in my gray matter.

But today, nothing, I repeat NOTHING is glued to my gray matter. I tell you, it is a war between the two. Sadly the WB party seems to be scoring sixes and fours. These days, redundant topics rule my head. Interesting stuff seems to be allergic to my thought processes.

Writer’s block is a bug which bugs everyone at one point of their lives or another. Mine being repeatedly at the time when I have to write and submit something sensible.  

Writer’s block is... Enough said. I HAVE the writer’s block, you know.