Mushkilain itni pari mujh pe

Just when life seems to be taking a turn for the better, BAM! you hit a metaphorical random motorcycle wala and get stuck in a huge mess.

My exams will finish tomorrow and another ordeal shall begin.

My nani has taken rishta searching to new, unbelievable levels, and my mother does not make things any easier for me. Guys fall in love with her, and send a rishta for me on the principle of 'like mother, like daughter'; and my mother(in full deceptive "khayye na-yeh-meri-beti-ne-banaya-he" mode) does NOT tell them that I am a carbon copy of my dad.
Oh the deceit!!

WHEN will this shadi season end???

and I thought I would never write one of these posts. Goes to show you Allah is the ultimate comic genius.

Bijli, Mehndi, aur main

I am typing this in the drawing room, with no lights on and the door closed. My brother is in a catatonic state right now and I’m taking advantage of that by stealing his laptop, getting into wireless internet range and updating my blog without having to kick my sister off the pc downstairs. If everything goes according to plan Hani will never know of the evilness I have been up to.

How exactly is this evil, you might ask? Let me take you a few steps back in time to the day I put up this post about how I murder technological gadgets with a mere glance of the eye; and then remind you that my brother bought this laptop with his hard earned money working at Newburgh’s Dunkin Donuts as the-guy-at-the-cash-register (or whatever they’re called) and kisses it good night every night before going to sleep. I am putting 21 years of friendly relations between my brother and myself at risk.

By the way, while we’re on the subject, can someone please tell me how it’s possible that I can receive text messages but can’t send them? I go to cell phone-waale; they tell me it’s a problem with the service, and Telenor people say that their service is fine. Has anyone ever had this problem?

Oh crap. Something HAS happened. The laptop’s on charge yet the battery charging sign is stationery and the wireless has stopped working…oh shit.

And NO the battery is not full!

Ok no, it's all good. The broadband thing was just fluctuating and the battery level seems to be a bit higher than it was 20 minutes ago. *huge sigh of relief*. Everything in Karachi fluctuates except the crime rate and the number of people that stare at girls who enter the great outdoors (aka outside the chaar-diwari). Those are our happy constants and the way one can be sure they really are in this great cosmopolitan quagmire.

So anyway, reason for this post. Last night was my cousin's mehndi. Her family's settled in the US and they're getting the girl married to some guy here. Now silly us, we thought 'chalo, 20 saal se Amreeka main hain, in ke yaan waqt pe kaam ho ga' blah blah etc etc.

Obviously, we were wrong.

Actually, my mum and dad were wrong. I was right *obnoxiously smug smirk*

The minute we enter, electricity vanishes. These people were told to rent a generator for one night! What happened to the contingency planning Americans are supposed to be so good at? Are Germans the only efficient people on the planet?!

We were crazy early, got there around 8 30. Event starts around 11; from contemplating killing flies by aiming at them with rubber bands, I graduate to killing myself. Survive the night somehow and get home by 1. Joy.

Highlight of the night: aunt who's daughter is getting married says "tum log tau yahin pe rehte ho, tum kyun waqt pe aye?" then dashes off into the bathrooom to change.

Damn the predictable unpredictability of this city.

Dhewri

It’s raining during the middle of shadi season; let’s hope it saves me from having to attend any.

I helped my mother make dhewri today. They’re laddus made of aata with nuts mixed in and taste like…well…like sweet aata with nuts mixed in. Not my favorite form of mithai but dhewris, it seems, are a necessary part of Gorukhpuri weddings. I don’t really understand why, considering it’s extremely hard trying to eat one; it crumbles into dust at the slightest touch and you can’t get more than a few powdery bits in your mouth at a try, the rest just dissolves into smoke on your sleeve, but I guess that’s the charm of traditions. They’re there because they’re there. No logical reason behind them.

Nobody in my family (other than my mum and an aunt) knows how to make dhewris anymore, but all their elders (well, the women at least) could. It’s funny the stuff we leave behind as we move forward. We shed traditions like snakes shed old skin- they no longer fit so off they go! None of this generation knows how to speak the old gorukhpuri that my eldest taya could. The avats and jaavats and dekh-yuns, and we understand next to nothing of the customs that they insist are part of our heritage. We absorb their stories in wide-eyed disbelief- but I doubt any of us can picture their life in India. I can’t even begin to comprehend how an entire wedding could be pulled off in 5 rupees- regardless what century it was.

It’s sad realizing that at some point in time even these dhewris will be a forgotten bit of my culture, like giving a ‘dhuuni’ to a bride is. Like making lapsi and puuri when it rains is, like the gathering of all the family women for the dupatta- takai is. I remember these from my childhood, they don’t happen anymore. After all, who has the time?

So rationally speaking, as one progresses one must discard the things one no longer has any use for. This includes superstitions, traditions, and clingy people who keep calling you in the middle of a nap to ask you whether you have someone’s address. Technically it’s the right thing to do.

But emotionally speaking, rationality should go hang.

Dissertation and Blogger Party

Have you read those epic fantasy books that go on for 5-6 volumes and end in an epic (can’t find an alternate word) battle between right and wrong, good and evil, or light and dark? Liar, I know you have. Stop hiding your copy of the Belgariad under your bed.
Khaer, that’s how I feel right now with the end of semester drawing near. I feel life rushing towards this one point where the fate of my world will be decided, and all hope, or all fear shall be lost.
Final year is SO the drama.
I somehow managed to finish my dissertation last night, so what if it was 2699 words over the limit, 2 hours late and without references and literature review? I had one of those epic choices to make: finish my dissertation on time, or attend the blogger meet-up, and I obviously took the path of least resistance. I went to the party. And I don’t regret it. In your face, you evil forces of Evil.
Anyway, it was fun. Exponentially more fun than my dissertation.
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I hear a car pull up outside my house and Karachiwali asked the address from my kamwali’s husband who’s sitting on the lawn of that very house and the idiot had no clue what place she was talking about. Such morons have no right to marry and have children. People should take IQ tests before they’re allowed to reproduce.
*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

So we reached Nandos. Finally. What I found out during the ride to Nandos: SAWJ will not ask for directions, and Karachiwali is as lost as I am. And Nandos is not inside the Naheeds wali gali.

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*
Ek tau everyone there was so science-y. Khiwali wants to do a Ph.D in AI, SAWJ and Safi are electrical and electronic engineers (don’t remember which one is which) and Mahw is a psychologist.
I felt like the most jahil person there, but shukar he Farooq bhi tha :D

I don’t think he likes me very much.

*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*
I hope Purple fit in. I hope she feels better. And once again luv, you’re NOT fat. Not even in a hijaab.
*--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

I’m still trying to figure out HOW my cheesecake cost me Rs.500 :(

First things first.
I've been tagged by SAWJ and Anas and if i didnt waste so much time hanging around other people's blogs i might never have known. Damn my loserpana.
So, here it is:
(Copy-paste starts here!)
Rules:
* IT’S HARDER THAN IT LOOKS!* TAG 10 PEOPLE INCLUDING THE ONE THAT SENT THIS TO YOU.* USE THE 1ST LETTER OF YOUR NAME TO ANSWER EACH OF THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS.* THEY HAVE TO BE REAL PLACES, NAMES,THINGS. NOTHING MADE UP!* TRY TO USE DIFFERENT ANSWERS IF THE PERSON WHO TAGGED YOU HAD THE SAME 1ST INITIAL.* YOU CAN’T USE YOUR NAME FOR THE BOY/GIRL NAME QUESTION.
(Copy-paste ends here!)

SCATTERGORIES:
1. What is your name: Hira
2. A 4 Letter word: Hair
3. A Boys Name: Haris
4. A Girls Name: Huda
5. An Occupation: Hairdresser
6. A Color: Hot Pink
7. Something you wear: hairbands? helmet while driving?
8. A Beverage: hot coffee?
9. A Food: Hungarian Goulash ( i googled that)
10. Something found in the bathroom: sigh...hairbrush.
11. A place: Hungary
12. A Reason for being late: HAD forgotten what time class was.
13. Something you shout: Haye! (no i dont. this was all i could think of)

And I won't tag anyone. Ha.

My first Interview!!!

So yes, I've already planned the press conferences I will give once I'm PM of Pakistan but this interview shall always remain carved in lino in my mind as my first ever interaction with the 'papparazzi'.

I feel so Angelina Jolie right now.

Sprinkle topped Eid

I don't like Eid much, but some moments are pretty sweet.

It's funny how a cupcake can make life so much happier.

The unbearable lightness of being lost

(with apologies to Milan Kudera whose book I tried valiantly but unsuccessfully to read)

This book was torture. Most contemporary classics are. Modern day writers believe the more unbearable the characters, the more chances of winning a Pulitzer and being considered a literary phenomenon. Why, I ask you, why would I read about people I would hate if I met them in real life?

Actually, it’s funny, but hate requires a lot of effort. I really can’t find the time or reason to more than slightly dislike anyone and even then they have to be pretty Goddamn awful to me. Similarly I find it just as much of a nuisance loving anyone too. I sometimes (and this will shock a few people ) find it very hard to remember that I love my parents, and during these amnesiac fits I tend to imagine elaborate escape plans to New York City using my dad’s credit card, and sending them a “You’ve failed! I’m freeee!” phonecall from the JFK. Yes, I’m evil, but only during periods of memory loss.

This post has nothing to do with the title. I just thought it would sound cool.

Actually no, the title is relevant.

There’s a never ending war between faith and science, according to Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons. Scientists forever put down religion with theories like Evolution and Occam’s razor, and the clergy (whichever faith) constantly try to reconcile Science to God. If one has faith, he/she must learn to take certain scientific ‘truths’ in stride; if one is rational (in scientific terms), he/she must realize that religion might not provide ALL the answers and at some point one has to stop asking questions to keep one’s faith intact.

An acquaintance renounced Islam a few years ago and I didn’t do much to stop him. The minute I say “Dude, you’re going to hell” he whips up a “Technically you’ll be in a shittier spot than me, Hira, you’re a munafiq” type dialogue with a smirk and I clam up. Damn him. He’s read a lot more on Islam than I have. And even I know where I’m headed. I waver between Muslim and Agnostic to a horrifying degree. If I find it so hard to remember I love my parents, imagine how hard it must be to convince myself I love a God I can neither see, nor hear, nor touch. It’s logic that keeps me from renouncing Islam myself. There MUST be a God- this world could not possibly work on its own. And this is the only religion that makes any sense whatsoever; therefore it’s the best out of all the other choices. I am Muslim, but my faith is like nalkey ka pani- turned off and on at will. I wish I was stronger-willed. I wish I was less cold.

Wese, I may not be a Muslim in the true sense of the word, but I think maybe people like me understand Allah just as well as proper Mutaqqi people do.

Thing is, the more I read, the more I question and the more I realize why Allah left a lot of things unanswered. Love requires blind trust, and blind faith. Allah asks for love. Not fear as much, not worship. Those come AFTER love. And I think once I learn to love my God, after believing in Him absolutely, maybe, maybe then I could be able to call myself a Muslim? Maybe then my prayers, fasting and purdah might actually have significance. And maybe, just maybe, I might not end up in Hell.



PS: By the way, Eid Mubarak :D

Twilight

So I come back home after a long tiring day running around the city in a rickshaw and find a thick book with a "Snow White in Goth land" type cover lounging on my bed, waiting for me and think, “It’s a gift from heaven, now all I need is some tea and privacy…”
Then I read the back cover

About three things I was absolute positive.
First, Edward was a vampire
Second, there was a part of him- and I don’t know how dominant that part might be- that thirsted for my blood.
And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

Ok up til now it doesn’t sound that bad. A bit ridiculous, but if I can read Miranda Keyes ‘The other side of the Story’ out of sheer boredom I can manage this as well. Plus maybe it’s the Buffy-Spike thing, and I loved that…Spike mostly, what with the accent and the coat and the attitude and wit and the accent and the coat *lost in wispy daydream, but wakes up abruptly*… Khaer I could share him with Buffy, after all she totally kicked ass and deserved an equal in every sense of the word, be it Angel or Spike though Spike is still the better vampire (He’d killed 2 slayers! How many did Angel kill huh?) yada yada

Then I read on:
With his porcelain skin, golden eyes, mesmerizing voice and supernatural gifts, Edward is both irresistible and impenetrable.

My sister tells me he’s inhumanly gorgeous. Every 4th line of the book stresses how beautiful he is. His eyes turn from jet black to gold, he has super strength, super speed, a freaky (her word, not mine) sense of humor which it seems is spent making catty comments about her to her [tip for you aspiring Romeos out there: girls adore intelligent jerks. You want her? Be one (some of you might not even have to try). Call it masochism, or stupidity- whatever.] Edward can read faces- but not Bella’s and he is forever asking her what she is thinking and how she’s feeling and whether she’s comfortable on top of that tree.
Oh, he saves her life too.
This Prince Charming-ish vampire unconditionally loves this clumsy, average looking, nerdy girl and it seems he’s not the only one. She has a gaggle of admirers and I really can’t see why…Bella is irritating. She’s no Buffy at least.

Please don’t tell me he can see her soul deep inside. He’s a frick’n vampire- she could be Jesus in female form and he shouldn’t care.

I can’t stop my sister from reading or watching anything. She’s 15, and 15 year olds deserve the Chase Crawford with the soul of John Mayer dreams. They need the belief that some really amazing person is out there for them because Heaven knows, those hormonal imbalances don’t make life easy. Romance is their drug. So what if it produces hallucinations along with the euphoria?

But it’s harsh when the dreams end. When you realize the geeky girls are still the brunt of jokes, and beautiful people rarely have the time to glance into people’s souls- they’re too busy glancing in glass windows at their own reflection.
It’s harsher when you find out love is never unconditional. It’s like the Pizza Hut deals…get a regular pizza FREE and the ‘free’ has an asterisk. Taxes apply. You’ll want things, He’ll want things. You’ll get clingy and he’ll get defensive. He’ll give you presents and time and will wonder how much of yourself you can give him in return…No, it’s rarely unconditional.

But harshest is when you also realize how necessary it is to find an equal. And how many people you hurt along the way because they are either too good for you, or I don’t know, not good enough? See how cruel that sounds?

You don’t tell that to a 15 year old. You let her dream about Edwards and Spikes.

Pearl grip and chrome plated

I’ll kill for a gun right now.
Ok, that just sounded wrong.

Recreating bullet holes in cloth without a gun is hell. The best I can do is just rip holes in the fabric and blacken the edges with a marker. Spraying around the frayed edges with red ink helps make it look a little authentic, though my very logical mind keeps telling me dried blood is brown and NOT red and doesn’t look this ketchup-y. But you explain that to imagination-less management students (the potential buyers of anything I might make) who believe Tarantino is a 'kind of spider’. And a thesis advisor who can’t tell where the name begins and ends:

“Tumhari kiya theme thi? Arey haan…tintin tantarantinotosotoso…”

I live among philistines.

For some reason I thought I’d graduate without having to go through this shit. When I’d see Kaki and Siddo working their butts off for their thesis it never occurred to me I’d be doing the same thing a few years later.

I seriously thought I’d die before 4th year.

But obviously, I didn’t. I have much to be thankful for.

Khaer, conclusion: my thesis would be a lot simpler if I had a gun.
Second conclusion: My life would be a lot simpler if I had a gun.

An Auto Ordnance 1911A1 , to be exact:


This baby proves that evil things can be very very beautiful…



I wonder what I'm going to turn into by the end of my thesis.

Gotham

I’m braver than a lot of people.
I use my name.
I don’t hide between pictures.
Or aliases.
But that’s a hindrance. It would be so much more safer to be personal under the bullet-proof vest of anonymity.
No. Wrong metaphor.
Wrong metaphor, wrong timing.
Wrong city.

Gotham is not Metropolis. Gotham deserves Batman- a man who will resort to anything to save a worm-infested city; while Metropolis has Superman- a boy scout with awful fashion sense who knows the world needs him more than Metropolis does.

Karachi is our Gotham, now all we need is Bruce Wayne.

Can you hold the phone baby, there’s another newsflash.

There are sprinkles on my brother’s birthday cake. I added them to keep it from looking anemic- Heaven knows why the only flavor of anything he eats is vanilla. There’s only so much white I can take, and only so much darkness. Though I am a chocolate fiend I’d still prefer an Angel food cake rather than the Devil’s.

And you can hear gunfire outside.

Screw Tarantino. Violence is NEVER aesthetic.