Two nights ago, I was leaving work. I sat in my car, checked the rear and side mirrors and instead of taking the usual route home, went in the opposite direction. Intending to go home, but just not the same way.
I was about to accelerate when a small form crossed the dim yellow pool of street light. I slowed down. My friends think that I was fitted in with some radar that alerts me to the presence of animals, a few hundred yards away. As it turns out, the little form was a puppy. Black with brown markings. He did not seem to belong to anyone and he knew it.
So he tried to belong to whatever seemed to be moving: a cycle, a cat and then eventually my car as it came closer.
I slowed down even more, crossed the puppy and the stopped the car in the middle of the road. He was still following my car, but a little distracted. I really really wanted to get out of my seat, pick him up and take him home.
A thousand reasons existed then and exist now for why I cannot take home another animal. Most of them are related to my mother. I wanted to push them all out and bring him home. But somewhere, logic, cold, bitchy and calculating reason prevailed. I could not rescue him for a few days, and I could not remove him from the fight of the survival of the fittest to spoil him and then release him back to the wild.
So I drove off.
I cannot shake the image out of my mind. A dark T Junction with a orange yellow glow cast from one side the road. A little, black puppy rolling along, trying to belong to anything that moved. And I took a left and drove on.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
privacy, isloation and relationships
Facebook is another method of voyerism, especially for those who do not want to identify the habit. We try and create all these limitations: choosing who can see our walls, photo albums, profile details yet we want to follow those very same things in other peoples facebook lives. I think if there was an option for a live feed via webcam people would stop working, going to bathrooom without their laptops in fear of missing what other people are doing.
It seems it is our solution to boredom, to loneliness, to keeping up with the Joneses.
We indulge in, we tempt people with teasers as statuses, we provide almost erotic glimpses into our otherwise dreary lives. Even those who follow up their FB albums with real life drama seem to be hiding from the actual vaccum in their lives. Trite, cliched words, but it seems so true as daily people use facebook to create more relationships, to pretend that their life is worth your living.
Isolation is lathered and slathered with catchy nicknames, cute messages on others Walls and most of all...following the lives of others through the news stream that passes through the homepage.
It seems that the internet wants to provide an alternative to the problem it created. Sort of like mass capitalistic strategy: create a problem and then sell the solution. I love the internet, make no mistake. It is my gateway to knowledge in a way that nothing else can replace. Yet. It created this ringing hollow in everyone's lives by taking away the actual time spent with actual people doing actual things. So the fix was virtual time, virtual people and virtual activities.
Like my writing this blog.
It seems it is our solution to boredom, to loneliness, to keeping up with the Joneses.
We indulge in, we tempt people with teasers as statuses, we provide almost erotic glimpses into our otherwise dreary lives. Even those who follow up their FB albums with real life drama seem to be hiding from the actual vaccum in their lives. Trite, cliched words, but it seems so true as daily people use facebook to create more relationships, to pretend that their life is worth your living.
Isolation is lathered and slathered with catchy nicknames, cute messages on others Walls and most of all...following the lives of others through the news stream that passes through the homepage.
It seems that the internet wants to provide an alternative to the problem it created. Sort of like mass capitalistic strategy: create a problem and then sell the solution. I love the internet, make no mistake. It is my gateway to knowledge in a way that nothing else can replace. Yet. It created this ringing hollow in everyone's lives by taking away the actual time spent with actual people doing actual things. So the fix was virtual time, virtual people and virtual activities.
Like my writing this blog.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Psych 115
I have uploaded this because the person mentioned in the first of the four parts to this work recently went through something that upset her. Something, because of her formal relationship with animals, stilted her ability to deal with the situation. I know how hard it is to swallow such ugly incidents, but I also know it is within her to understand these are important aspects of life meant to desensitise the desensitization.
I experienced the loss of a pet recently, and since childhood, I do not talk about issues that are painful or unresolved. Yet, the human desire to share with another person was stronger than my coping mechanism and I text messaged a friend of mine. A simple one line message that just stated what happened and my desire to not speak about it.
This friend has been in my life since I was 7. We have shared the most horrendous, excruciatingly painful moments as well as high on life joyous occasions, with no hesitations or barriers. I know she is averse to animals, but out of love for me tolerates them whenever she encounters them, even if I am not there. I still expected her to fumble with words in the reply to my text, not knowing what to say to an obsessive animal lover. Her reply flooded me with what I can only describe as pure undiluted love for her. It was honest about her inability to appreciate pets, but at the same time, her empathy for my situation combined with her love for me, and for any life form reached out to me in my moment of weakness. And nothing usually does at such moments.
The only motives that I assess in this situation were possibly my desire to have human contact in a moment of need and hers were to be there for me. And both motives seem to fit in perfectly with each other, with fluid communication that is a result of 18 years of a relationship.
For many people music is just a background score to their lives. For me: music is a sublime experience that I feel can even raise humanity from the filth and squalor that it is mired in so deeply. People usually enjoy music as an accompaniment: while they drive, while they dance, or eat. Everyone perceives it in a different manner. I perceive it as a life sustaining component. I was at a concert recently. One of Pakistan’s legends was performing. And just listening to that performance, watching it through the eye of the camera was a moment of hard hitting euphoria. It was like riding a wave of high quality intoxicants, though the irony was that such music is an intoxicant enough! That euphoria lies in the moment when there are goose bumps on my arms and those who are present around me melt away in the background and all I can see, hear, feel is the music.
The motivation to listen to music or to be surrounded by it varies according to the given state. At the moment that I have described, the motivation was simple: to be at the concert for an experience I was sure would be nothing short of euphoric.
I got upset at a friend of mine a couple of months ago. She was shifting out of the country and circumstances led to such a point where I felt she was being difficult on purpose. It really angered me: her obstinacy and what I perceived as selfishness. I felt aggravated and on the disadvantaged end of a relationship thread. The negative emotion was overwhelming for a while: self centeredness. I wanted to react, instead of calmly analysing the situation; instead of rationalizing I wanted to act out.
In such a situation, the acting out is motivated by balancing the anger seesaw: lash out so that the other person is also upset. The motivation is inflating the damaged self esteem; damaged by what you perceive as the other persons rejection of your self. If you can manage to get a reaction from the other person, a reaction that signifies your importance to that person, the motivation is fulfilled.
Since almost a year now, every week is coloured by rivulets of blood. Karachi, Lahore, NWFP, Wanna, Bajur, Gaza, Congo there seems to be an unnecessary slaughter on a daily basis. Each time I hear the news listing the number of dead, sandwiched between the daily sputtering by the PM and the President, it sounds hollow till it hits home. And the most negative emotion out of the entire range of emotions that I feel is of helplessness. The rest can all be attributed to a basic positive emotion but helplessness cannot. It is this sense of drowning, where the heat leaves the body, limbs feel weak and jelly like.
It’s easier to feel this negative emotion and temporarily let it sweep you off your feet. It seems to be motivated by this primal urge to run. Nomadic societies used to turn their backs to many problems and find new pasture and land. Its only when the options are narrowed down, eliminated that flight is overpowered by fight. That minute or two of helplessness seems to be motivated by the survival instinct: to run and protect oneself.
All these incidents cannot be tied up in a neat package with a bow on top. They are all dissections of even more minute parts of my person. They do teach me a lot, but only in context with other incidents and emotions. The emotion of helplessness teaches me that I can stand through a lot, but when my body or mind tires, I am motivated to run. So that weakness comes after strength and before strength. That same strength comes to me when I want to share the loss of a pet with a friend whom I presume will not understand. That strength makes me open up to her and at the same time, it stops me from other negative emotions like self centeredness which pushed through when I was upset with my friend who was leaving. All emotions are interlinked and there is not hard line where one emotion ends and the other begins. And it is important that I allow myself to experience all these emotions, before letting over struggle with the other and overtaking.
I experienced the loss of a pet recently, and since childhood, I do not talk about issues that are painful or unresolved. Yet, the human desire to share with another person was stronger than my coping mechanism and I text messaged a friend of mine. A simple one line message that just stated what happened and my desire to not speak about it.
This friend has been in my life since I was 7. We have shared the most horrendous, excruciatingly painful moments as well as high on life joyous occasions, with no hesitations or barriers. I know she is averse to animals, but out of love for me tolerates them whenever she encounters them, even if I am not there. I still expected her to fumble with words in the reply to my text, not knowing what to say to an obsessive animal lover. Her reply flooded me with what I can only describe as pure undiluted love for her. It was honest about her inability to appreciate pets, but at the same time, her empathy for my situation combined with her love for me, and for any life form reached out to me in my moment of weakness. And nothing usually does at such moments.
The only motives that I assess in this situation were possibly my desire to have human contact in a moment of need and hers were to be there for me. And both motives seem to fit in perfectly with each other, with fluid communication that is a result of 18 years of a relationship.
For many people music is just a background score to their lives. For me: music is a sublime experience that I feel can even raise humanity from the filth and squalor that it is mired in so deeply. People usually enjoy music as an accompaniment: while they drive, while they dance, or eat. Everyone perceives it in a different manner. I perceive it as a life sustaining component. I was at a concert recently. One of Pakistan’s legends was performing. And just listening to that performance, watching it through the eye of the camera was a moment of hard hitting euphoria. It was like riding a wave of high quality intoxicants, though the irony was that such music is an intoxicant enough! That euphoria lies in the moment when there are goose bumps on my arms and those who are present around me melt away in the background and all I can see, hear, feel is the music.
The motivation to listen to music or to be surrounded by it varies according to the given state. At the moment that I have described, the motivation was simple: to be at the concert for an experience I was sure would be nothing short of euphoric.
I got upset at a friend of mine a couple of months ago. She was shifting out of the country and circumstances led to such a point where I felt she was being difficult on purpose. It really angered me: her obstinacy and what I perceived as selfishness. I felt aggravated and on the disadvantaged end of a relationship thread. The negative emotion was overwhelming for a while: self centeredness. I wanted to react, instead of calmly analysing the situation; instead of rationalizing I wanted to act out.
In such a situation, the acting out is motivated by balancing the anger seesaw: lash out so that the other person is also upset. The motivation is inflating the damaged self esteem; damaged by what you perceive as the other persons rejection of your self. If you can manage to get a reaction from the other person, a reaction that signifies your importance to that person, the motivation is fulfilled.
Since almost a year now, every week is coloured by rivulets of blood. Karachi, Lahore, NWFP, Wanna, Bajur, Gaza, Congo there seems to be an unnecessary slaughter on a daily basis. Each time I hear the news listing the number of dead, sandwiched between the daily sputtering by the PM and the President, it sounds hollow till it hits home. And the most negative emotion out of the entire range of emotions that I feel is of helplessness. The rest can all be attributed to a basic positive emotion but helplessness cannot. It is this sense of drowning, where the heat leaves the body, limbs feel weak and jelly like.
It’s easier to feel this negative emotion and temporarily let it sweep you off your feet. It seems to be motivated by this primal urge to run. Nomadic societies used to turn their backs to many problems and find new pasture and land. Its only when the options are narrowed down, eliminated that flight is overpowered by fight. That minute or two of helplessness seems to be motivated by the survival instinct: to run and protect oneself.
All these incidents cannot be tied up in a neat package with a bow on top. They are all dissections of even more minute parts of my person. They do teach me a lot, but only in context with other incidents and emotions. The emotion of helplessness teaches me that I can stand through a lot, but when my body or mind tires, I am motivated to run. So that weakness comes after strength and before strength. That same strength comes to me when I want to share the loss of a pet with a friend whom I presume will not understand. That strength makes me open up to her and at the same time, it stops me from other negative emotions like self centeredness which pushed through when I was upset with my friend who was leaving. All emotions are interlinked and there is not hard line where one emotion ends and the other begins. And it is important that I allow myself to experience all these emotions, before letting over struggle with the other and overtaking.
Submitted December 2008 to Ms Ayesha Haider
Monday, December 15, 2008
this is my circle...wheres yours?
Henceforth I will carry an indelible piece of blazing red chalk. I shall draw a big circle around me, which will have the powers of moving with me while I move, of bouncing off people who try to step into MY circle. It will burn the groping hands that insidiously make their way in crowded spaces, it will decimate the seemingly enquiring fingers of women as they caress/ greet you and the red chalk will be my haven and it will, with nuclear force throw those of their feet who rudely bump into me with no concept of an apologetic glance. And one more joyous destruction my little red chalk will cause, it will grind invasive elbows of those who sit next to me while travelling thousands of miles in the air.
Anal, isolating, condescending, nose in the air...however, someone can describe my sentiments, I have had enough.
It seems people in in this country, particularly those from the fertile plains of vacuous culture have not wrapped their heads around the necessity of "personal space". This innocuous, unnecessary tidbit that has been passed down by the hands of natural selection, seems to have passed right through a certain group of homo sapiens. This lot still bumps, grunts, shoves and pushes for daily survival. Even though they have adopted other gadgets and facets of evolution, these not-so-homo sapiens still feel the need to crash through crowds, and while miming the gestures and contraptions of driving, they grunt and shove their way through swarming vehicle infested lanes applying the "might is right" principle.
Being objectified by men, leading to their quick reflex grope, is as insulting as comprehend able but the amazon woman who bulldozes through the crowds, elbows locked and loaded, shoulders freshly armoured is unbearable.
If you do not fall out of her way in the blink of an eye, she will pivot and glare. The auntie glare that I have come to detest. These women come in all shapes and sizes. There are the naive debutantes who think the world is their catwalk, then there are the spineless females who will immediately try to hide in the crowd after shoving you and then the self assured aunties who will stare you down and if in the mood, pass a disparaging comment on your hair, skin colour, weight or attire. And of them, the worst are those who have protected their own self with big black cloaks and self assured in disguise, they eradicate the entire purpose of the veil: purdah, hayya and most of all the genteel manners Islam advocates.
This breach of personal space is often conducted using a verbal barrage. One recent incident:
I was standing in a small clothing outlet, waiting for the salesperson to find me the right pair of jeans. A lady was sitting there, while her very young daughter was in the changing room. Their unabashed conversation about the size of her daughter's thighs with the shop keeper is a blog post for another day!
I felt her eyes scalding my skin through my clothes as she "checked me out." And as uncontrollable as diarrhea, she asked me "Do you know what safaaid zeera (white cumin) is?" I responded with a noncommittal nod. The woman then proceeded to explain what it looked like, its usage in daily cooking and what it felt like when touched. When she was met with disinterested silence, she asked me again whether I knew what the godforsaken seed looked like. Finally attributing my silence to medieval eager shyness, she rattled away a recipe of safaaid zeera paani (white cumin seed water). And punctuated it with "accha baita?" twice. No explanations to what good the concoction would do me or what prompted her to have this one sided conversation. Perhaps, even the presence of a warm human body translates into an avid reply to such women!
Later, I came to the conclusion that either she gave me some miracle weight loss recipe or an acne remedy. Even later, I realised how easily she kept on invading my space, ignoring my closed body language and my poker face.
I can tolerate and even appreciate the genuine hug, or those who are bound by their need to lean close enough for me to smell what they had yesterday for lunch. I cannot and will not accept, condone or waste my time comprehend the bulldozing auntie, the concerned busybody or the neanderthal bigger phallus attitude.
The next time I will simply take my red chalk out and very soon, and the criminals will be identifiable in a line up by the incriminating results of the red chalk!
Anal, isolating, condescending, nose in the air...however, someone can describe my sentiments, I have had enough.
It seems people in in this country, particularly those from the fertile plains of vacuous culture have not wrapped their heads around the necessity of "personal space". This innocuous, unnecessary tidbit that has been passed down by the hands of natural selection, seems to have passed right through a certain group of homo sapiens. This lot still bumps, grunts, shoves and pushes for daily survival. Even though they have adopted other gadgets and facets of evolution, these not-so-homo sapiens still feel the need to crash through crowds, and while miming the gestures and contraptions of driving, they grunt and shove their way through swarming vehicle infested lanes applying the "might is right" principle.
Being objectified by men, leading to their quick reflex grope, is as insulting as comprehend able but the amazon woman who bulldozes through the crowds, elbows locked and loaded, shoulders freshly armoured is unbearable.
If you do not fall out of her way in the blink of an eye, she will pivot and glare. The auntie glare that I have come to detest. These women come in all shapes and sizes. There are the naive debutantes who think the world is their catwalk, then there are the spineless females who will immediately try to hide in the crowd after shoving you and then the self assured aunties who will stare you down and if in the mood, pass a disparaging comment on your hair, skin colour, weight or attire. And of them, the worst are those who have protected their own self with big black cloaks and self assured in disguise, they eradicate the entire purpose of the veil: purdah, hayya and most of all the genteel manners Islam advocates.
This breach of personal space is often conducted using a verbal barrage. One recent incident:
I was standing in a small clothing outlet, waiting for the salesperson to find me the right pair of jeans. A lady was sitting there, while her very young daughter was in the changing room. Their unabashed conversation about the size of her daughter's thighs with the shop keeper is a blog post for another day!
I felt her eyes scalding my skin through my clothes as she "checked me out." And as uncontrollable as diarrhea, she asked me "Do you know what safaaid zeera (white cumin) is?" I responded with a noncommittal nod. The woman then proceeded to explain what it looked like, its usage in daily cooking and what it felt like when touched. When she was met with disinterested silence, she asked me again whether I knew what the godforsaken seed looked like. Finally attributing my silence to medieval eager shyness, she rattled away a recipe of safaaid zeera paani (white cumin seed water). And punctuated it with "accha baita?" twice. No explanations to what good the concoction would do me or what prompted her to have this one sided conversation. Perhaps, even the presence of a warm human body translates into an avid reply to such women!
Later, I came to the conclusion that either she gave me some miracle weight loss recipe or an acne remedy. Even later, I realised how easily she kept on invading my space, ignoring my closed body language and my poker face.
I can tolerate and even appreciate the genuine hug, or those who are bound by their need to lean close enough for me to smell what they had yesterday for lunch. I cannot and will not accept, condone or waste my time comprehend the bulldozing auntie, the concerned busybody or the neanderthal bigger phallus attitude.
The next time I will simply take my red chalk out and very soon, and the criminals will be identifiable in a line up by the incriminating results of the red chalk!
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Fake soup and children
It has been a tough week. Alone, infected and driven to the bone with work. What pulled me through. No it was not fake love this time round! It was fake soup. From its fake white chicken on a synthetic foil red packet that could have very well had a condom inside it, to the fake soup that had a fake smell of fake wholesomeness. Yet, for those who are for some "abnormal" socially deviant reason living alone or are too busy to boil the broth, that red foil was more valuable than safe sex.
The honest too goodness faux smell of the powder broth actually activated the receptor cells of my olfactory senses and duped my brain into considering unpeeling the red foil as a labor of love. Some evolutionary throw back to caring-for-the-brood-gene actually works when fake caring and the warmth of powder soup is cupped between the hands!
Keeping my sinuses intact, the other conversation that entertained by mucus clogged brain was fake children. The two lahori loves of my life, Rakae and Mehr have been mercilessly going on about children that I do not have, do not imagine and do not foresee in the future. Fake children. What possibly do their well intentioned words bring to me? They bring the promise that there can be someone who can be the seeder of thoughts of actual children and yes perhaps an actual sperm donor who will donate actual soup and actual coffee and make me want children one day.
So why do we do this? Put up with fake soup and children? Because the real ones are too hard to achieve in this libido and silicon driven book we rush through and because we might replace the fake with the real someday.
The honest too goodness faux smell of the powder broth actually activated the receptor cells of my olfactory senses and duped my brain into considering unpeeling the red foil as a labor of love. Some evolutionary throw back to caring-for-the-brood-gene actually works when fake caring and the warmth of powder soup is cupped between the hands!
Keeping my sinuses intact, the other conversation that entertained by mucus clogged brain was fake children. The two lahori loves of my life, Rakae and Mehr have been mercilessly going on about children that I do not have, do not imagine and do not foresee in the future. Fake children. What possibly do their well intentioned words bring to me? They bring the promise that there can be someone who can be the seeder of thoughts of actual children and yes perhaps an actual sperm donor who will donate actual soup and actual coffee and make me want children one day.
So why do we do this? Put up with fake soup and children? Because the real ones are too hard to achieve in this libido and silicon driven book we rush through and because we might replace the fake with the real someday.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
nocturnal notes
its just that moment at the end of a long hard day that we cannot bear that one tiny push, one tiny prick, that ideally we should ignore. it all falls apart at the seems, from the inside out in such a haphazard mess of toxin waste that even the bravest of men cannot wade through it to see the crumpled ball of weakness that is us curled in our foetal position. i was recently at a book launch that showcased a book which was at best cliched and at worst nauseating, when a newly found friend pointed out that it felt like the room was not full of humanbeings but of uterus'. sometimes in the worst moments i wonder whether it does actually boil down to simply that. a uterus with an umbilical cord that someone detached from only one end.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
it all leads to...food
Perhaps I am stating the obvious, something that no one works to better because everyone is so used to it, like men scratching their nether parts in public, too many stray dogs and of course the smell of urination on every road side.
The lack of entertainment in Lahore that is not directly related to food is one of those in your face dilemas that we just take in our stride precisely because its been there for too long.
A good month is one which showcases one concert and one party. Nothing that can be shared by everyone. Some high end club event is not conventional entertainment.
A good week becomes where one attends a few meetings or attends a rally. One can tell that even the rich have run out of places to be seen and to buy out: the most regular 'gt' is a protest for the judiciary. On a positive note, at least someone is interested on any level in the antics that our government plays at.
I was out today with a friend, post lunch of course. Since I am not indigenously from Lahore, I often turn to my friends for entertainment solutions. So she thought, we wasted some CNG, added to the carbon emissions: too hot to sit in a park, too broke to go bowling in a place where two lone girls could venture safely, only two Indian movies up in the closest cinemas, the zoo had no parking since it was a Sunday and...
Nothing, she could only suggest PC for coffee at which we both laughed since we didn't even have money for bowling, let alone a cup of over brewed over priced PC coffee.
other than work and some very slow directionless activism, what is there to do in the city of Lahore?
Hold that thought while I go fix myself a plate...
The lack of entertainment in Lahore that is not directly related to food is one of those in your face dilemas that we just take in our stride precisely because its been there for too long.
A good month is one which showcases one concert and one party. Nothing that can be shared by everyone. Some high end club event is not conventional entertainment.
A good week becomes where one attends a few meetings or attends a rally. One can tell that even the rich have run out of places to be seen and to buy out: the most regular 'gt' is a protest for the judiciary. On a positive note, at least someone is interested on any level in the antics that our government plays at.
I was out today with a friend, post lunch of course. Since I am not indigenously from Lahore, I often turn to my friends for entertainment solutions. So she thought, we wasted some CNG, added to the carbon emissions: too hot to sit in a park, too broke to go bowling in a place where two lone girls could venture safely, only two Indian movies up in the closest cinemas, the zoo had no parking since it was a Sunday and...
Nothing, she could only suggest PC for coffee at which we both laughed since we didn't even have money for bowling, let alone a cup of over brewed over priced PC coffee.
other than work and some very slow directionless activism, what is there to do in the city of Lahore?
Hold that thought while I go fix myself a plate...
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Hendrix
My friend, one of my nearest dearest looniest ones posted this on her blog about Halima i.e Me...
"A Day in the Life of...
Halima wanted to get Cerelac for her puppy, Hendrix. Yes, it's quite hard to accept a dog named after a musician, and that too receiving processed cereal in the same world that has children dying of hunger. But then, Halima does her fair share for serving all kinds of living beings and may Allah Accept her worship, Ameen.So she wanted to get Cerelac for Hendrix and we stopped at a pharmacy for it. Conversation that follows took place inside the store.Halima is wondering whether she should take Cerelac Banana or not, and I suggested that she had the option of choosing Cerelac 3 Fruits as well, since she was considering fruit nutrients.To which Halima replied, "Kutta hai..." in a self-explanatory tone.To which I cautioned, "Halima... Munnay ke baaray mein aisay baat nahin kartay."Pharmacist looks on. "
Posted by Fatikay
All I wonder is, why the distinction, whether I feed an animal or a human being? Fatima, I know how you make this distinction and where you blur it, but the rest of the world, I wonder, hasn't seen the world around with their their 3D googles on recently.
Its not just animals, its all of those who cannot speak for themselves, take a stand for themselves, feed or clothe themselves: they need someone. I mostly chose to be that someone for animals as they always get the shorter stick in our country.
"A Day in the Life of...
Halima wanted to get Cerelac for her puppy, Hendrix. Yes, it's quite hard to accept a dog named after a musician, and that too receiving processed cereal in the same world that has children dying of hunger. But then, Halima does her fair share for serving all kinds of living beings and may Allah Accept her worship, Ameen.So she wanted to get Cerelac for Hendrix and we stopped at a pharmacy for it. Conversation that follows took place inside the store.Halima is wondering whether she should take Cerelac Banana or not, and I suggested that she had the option of choosing Cerelac 3 Fruits as well, since she was considering fruit nutrients.To which Halima replied, "Kutta hai..." in a self-explanatory tone.To which I cautioned, "Halima... Munnay ke baaray mein aisay baat nahin kartay."Pharmacist looks on. "
Posted by Fatikay
All I wonder is, why the distinction, whether I feed an animal or a human being? Fatima, I know how you make this distinction and where you blur it, but the rest of the world, I wonder, hasn't seen the world around with their their 3D googles on recently.
Its not just animals, its all of those who cannot speak for themselves, take a stand for themselves, feed or clothe themselves: they need someone. I mostly chose to be that someone for animals as they always get the shorter stick in our country.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
MIlitary Inc the new Rushdie best seller of the military regime
Those who are wondering why suddenly all shops claim to be out of copies of Military Inc. should rush to Khadda market karachi. I don't want to name the shop specifically but look hard and you will find it.
Otherwise email me, and perhaps u can be helped.
Buy it just to access your freedom.
Otherwise email me, and perhaps u can be helped.
Buy it just to access your freedom.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
man eat man
Sometimes I wonder what gives us the inflated sense of superiority as a race that allows us to plunder cross species, countries, generations and genders.
Animals fight, true that is. True is also the fact that human beings are possibly the only species that cause so much damage cross spectrum.
We kill each other; for honour, for money, for power, for fame, for the 'greater good of the world', for self satiation.
We kill animals; animals we eat, animals we dont want to eat but want to collect skins and tusks of, or showcase as shawls so fine that they can pass through a ring, we kill insects that bug us and bugs that aren't even harmful or in our way.
We ruin the eco system; we create substances that mother earth cannot ingest, we create toxic waste that in turn kills us and them, we create fuel wastage that burns our lungs and our ozone layers. We chop trees to make signs that say do not chop trees, we create ciggerette packs that say smoking is injurious to health and then sell them at competitive rates.
And we rape. Even animals.
Sustainable development evades us as we create so much that we cannot sustain our resources for any further sustainable development.
We give other nationalities peace prizes while we fatten our defense budget.
The animal kingdom choses a leader who is best for the pack, in a fair fight they chose their leader. We chose a leader who at best is best at filling his own swiss bank account.
They all say I am mad that I want to drop my own life for the life of an animal, I say they are mad, they want to inflate their sense of inferiority by a pretense at superiority.
Big phallic representations that shoot across, acclaimed to be guided to the closest metre, then falling on a family of women and children.
I accept, Allah gives us the ability to be the superior race, I do not accept that merely by being we are.
Animals fight, true that is. True is also the fact that human beings are possibly the only species that cause so much damage cross spectrum.
We kill each other; for honour, for money, for power, for fame, for the 'greater good of the world', for self satiation.
We kill animals; animals we eat, animals we dont want to eat but want to collect skins and tusks of, or showcase as shawls so fine that they can pass through a ring, we kill insects that bug us and bugs that aren't even harmful or in our way.
We ruin the eco system; we create substances that mother earth cannot ingest, we create toxic waste that in turn kills us and them, we create fuel wastage that burns our lungs and our ozone layers. We chop trees to make signs that say do not chop trees, we create ciggerette packs that say smoking is injurious to health and then sell them at competitive rates.
And we rape. Even animals.
Sustainable development evades us as we create so much that we cannot sustain our resources for any further sustainable development.
We give other nationalities peace prizes while we fatten our defense budget.
The animal kingdom choses a leader who is best for the pack, in a fair fight they chose their leader. We chose a leader who at best is best at filling his own swiss bank account.
They all say I am mad that I want to drop my own life for the life of an animal, I say they are mad, they want to inflate their sense of inferiority by a pretense at superiority.
Big phallic representations that shoot across, acclaimed to be guided to the closest metre, then falling on a family of women and children.
I accept, Allah gives us the ability to be the superior race, I do not accept that merely by being we are.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
nirala sweets: sweets for the murdered
Car snatching, robbery, petty theivery, mobile snatching: almost all these crimes refer to the poverty of Pakistan, where mostly the uneducated, poor, malnourished, underfed and under supported population either neccesitates their requirements through those acts. Or has reached a point of apathy that psychologically they feel that these crimes are their due, their right. Snatch what they do not have, and enter a circle of laziness and depravity.
Thats their excuse.
Whats the excuse of a man, sitting behind a new Porsche, sitting on a chain of uppercrust confectionary chops, who while satiating his need for speed, kills a 2 month baby as it is tossed out of a windscreen and presumably his already maimed body run over, breaks the mothers spinal cord and injures the father? How can anyone justify his threatening by brute force, the family members of the ruined family unit to stay silent and then having enough clout to override the system and go scott free on "pre arrest bail" ?
Where are the headlines? Accuse America of propaganda, of excessively highlighting one instance of someone accused of assault and battery and trumpeting it on national television, but wait and see. It works. Even if this propaganda can be used to elect the Texan monstor, it can and IS repeatedly used to achieve justice.
Today a teacher rather defensively pointed out how we just make drawing room conversation. I want to challenge her statement. Lets act this time. Make an example. Stop using Nirala. If the Danish cartoon controversy could rile up the masses cross continent, then why not in an educated, civilised manner use it in our own country to cause ripples across Musharrafs badly knitted surface and cause that rip. That tear that will cause everything to fall apart because its weak.
And restitch the fabric of this nation.
Thats their excuse.
Whats the excuse of a man, sitting behind a new Porsche, sitting on a chain of uppercrust confectionary chops, who while satiating his need for speed, kills a 2 month baby as it is tossed out of a windscreen and presumably his already maimed body run over, breaks the mothers spinal cord and injures the father? How can anyone justify his threatening by brute force, the family members of the ruined family unit to stay silent and then having enough clout to override the system and go scott free on "pre arrest bail" ?
Where are the headlines? Accuse America of propaganda, of excessively highlighting one instance of someone accused of assault and battery and trumpeting it on national television, but wait and see. It works. Even if this propaganda can be used to elect the Texan monstor, it can and IS repeatedly used to achieve justice.
Today a teacher rather defensively pointed out how we just make drawing room conversation. I want to challenge her statement. Lets act this time. Make an example. Stop using Nirala. If the Danish cartoon controversy could rile up the masses cross continent, then why not in an educated, civilised manner use it in our own country to cause ripples across Musharrafs badly knitted surface and cause that rip. That tear that will cause everything to fall apart because its weak.
And restitch the fabric of this nation.
Friday, December 22, 2006
it works it works
I have had a blog account (? is that how we refer to it?) since summer 2005 I think and never completed the set up. Someone i love dearly inspired me today to continue the possibility known as blog. I realised that where I might not get every article published or even bother to articulately write an article, I can post on blogspot everynow and then...
Thoughts for today
If President Pervaiz Musharaf is for the masses as apparently he is not from the masses, then would he not care to keep his engagements far from our mainstream venues and transport networks?
In the blistering cold of winter Mr President deigns to visit PC Lahore creating utter chaos and melodrama: all the guests or visitors were made to walk in the cold of the night to access their cars from an alternate uncomfortable long route. This discomfort after having to endlessly wait for him to safetly scuttle in with his endless protocol. I am sure others entertain the same feelings of anarchy when upon finally leaving PC Lahore they come to halt on the Mall and Jail road to a back tail a mile long and halted for 45 minutes.
Shame Mr Musharraf, even if every head of state in Pakistan desired this paranoid exalting measure of security, why claim to justly rid the system of gliches when you become a glich the minute you leave the artificial security of the barracks?
Thoughts for today
If President Pervaiz Musharaf is for the masses as apparently he is not from the masses, then would he not care to keep his engagements far from our mainstream venues and transport networks?
In the blistering cold of winter Mr President deigns to visit PC Lahore creating utter chaos and melodrama: all the guests or visitors were made to walk in the cold of the night to access their cars from an alternate uncomfortable long route. This discomfort after having to endlessly wait for him to safetly scuttle in with his endless protocol. I am sure others entertain the same feelings of anarchy when upon finally leaving PC Lahore they come to halt on the Mall and Jail road to a back tail a mile long and halted for 45 minutes.
Shame Mr Musharraf, even if every head of state in Pakistan desired this paranoid exalting measure of security, why claim to justly rid the system of gliches when you become a glich the minute you leave the artificial security of the barracks?
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