Saturday, October 24, 2015

Drunk aur Darweshh!

Islamabad, the city that sleeps like a baby, after killing a 100 cats, each who killed a 100 rats, but failed to go on the pilgrimage, those who did, sleep tight in parliamentary lounges. Cleaned, dried and wrapped in the laundry.
The night was the dawn of freedom for the devil. Although, Aleem sort of fell short of hydration on this night, he could be no less lethargic. Now if an idiot all-alone, eats up the entire cuisine of fried things, its not going to give him body water.
Raz came to pick Aleem, on his modified Yamaha heavy bike that his elder brother once bought from Torkham border for 1 lakh, at the start of American war in early 2000s. Now after one and half decade, it makes the sound of a silencer affected by a bad choice of desi ghee. A pang went through aleem’s spine, in effort to balance himself at the back and to not cross the line of bromance and romance.
Zara had Celebration on this night. She had got accepted at Bahria University, with three Es. And tonight, a gazillion of selfies will get uploaded on her ‘open access’ instagram, from Margalla avenue,15-A  street 1. She has invited the few who had managed to keep their judgment of her to themselves or by stroke of luck, fail to reach her as yet.
Amad was, as of recent, romantically involved with Zara. But in light of(which was shed by Amad’s parents), Zara’s ‘religious sect’, her taste for learning and her prospective ability to snatch their son away and make converts of their grandchildren, Amad was made to break up with her right before the CIE results came online. Was Amad responsible for it? Or were his parents? The thing was, its all in the hate speech.  You listen to your parents and elders, talking about the cult of vicious women, who manipulate, burn, black magic, incinerate your holy innocent ace, and take it all the way to ‘hell’, away from your parents, in the end, you think ‘hell! She is a witch’.
But once Amad gets out of the sphere of his family, upon inquisition this is how he recalls:
‘How does your life feels like? Once there was someone, who said that she loves reading my manuscripts. Once there was someone who said that I have got words to express my feelings, while she can not. Once there was someone who thought of me as someone who would really make her happy.
I mean, I don’t know what to feel. I don’t have that someone in my life anymore.  Life is strange.’
 And anyone in his right mind, will never take this shell-shock, on a fun hangout! He is a block! Fun-block!
Now, this party was practically an ode to survival, for Zara. She might have not invited Amad but further showed her inconsiderate attitude and i-am-above-him mindset by inviting Aleem and Raz, close but baygairat friends aka chuddy buddies of Amad, who also happen to be ‘very-good-friends’ of her. These poor souls manage to keep up with an unbearable Amad and zealous but denial-stuck Zara.
This is a capital’s October, when the summer flirts with the winter and ends up with autumn. The nights are cold and the days are hot, quite like a desert paradox. So, on a bike and in his nike trousers,Raz was feeling cold at the speed of 60 km/hr. The thought of finding any drinks from stash of Zara’s dad, was the only hope, as the famous’ Shandy Bass’ was off market shelves since 3 months.
Thing about the Margalla avenue is that it’s the best kept secret of party places in the capital. The only way to distinguish one is by finding a bunch of cars parked together. Zara’s house was in an adjacent lane, once you enter, there was a smell of lavender in the air, the place was dark due to presence of unrepaired street lamps, but compensated by presence of a guards sitting outside each house in front them, in a dead end street.  Five vehicles were parallel parked on the grassy patch next to the side walk. Raz turned his bike infront of black A4 audi, Mian Waheed’s car, their classmate whose dad is recently fighting the local election.
Dim neon bulbs had illuminated the car park, of house that was designed to look like a back porch and lawn from the entrance. Waheed in his white shalwar kameez and a black waist coat, was doing a great job reflecting his father. He was standing next to Shiza, Zara’s BFF, trying to explain how Islamabad is capital that has status of a province, inhabited by citizen’s who do not have the rights of living in a city! And how his dad is planning to end this disparity after winning the election. Shiza was more concerned with Waheed’s commitment to her than his father’s to the union councils.
Raz and Aleem, got greeted by the couple once they got noticed. They proceeded to the house, to find the rest settled in different corners with the element of their amusement, Raz had to find his. This was a place where one can finds black label and he liked what he saw. Kemistry lab ki flat bottom flask ki tarha dekhnay wali nay Kemistry ka A lagwa diya tha.  He was one who believed more in drowning the fear of failure then finding a way to increasing his heart rate blurring it with smoke. This bottle in the kitchen was next to two girls, Zara and Ayla, Zara’s neighbour and O-levels’ classmate who left school due to the fact that her parents believed that she has more chances of getting into medical school with Fsc.
Lamenting over her lack of recognizing a lost cause, the two were connecting with an anecdote cum love flick from bollywood and how Amad can still learn from it. They saw Raz enter the kitchen, overhearing their conversation.
‘Apparently 20 year old lads want to know the girl’s name, 25 year old guys want to know who is her dad and 30 year old men want to know the mother in law… and the 45 year old uncles…. Well they just want attention!’, Raz tried to say in his pre-drunk-wise-man style, sounding a bit arrogant, ‘ Don’t be too surprised with what men choose to do.’
He grabbed a glass and had some poured into it by Ayla. They moved off to TV lounge, a much more fascinating side, with leather sofas and LCD running the popular G channel, as somebody wanted to know about the development of byelection, which was most probably Waheed. The next thing they do is start taking shots of a foreign vodka. With half hour of camera work and no order made  for food, the bunch seem as CID team at a crime scene. Apparent no selfies were to be made tonight from 15-A. No one cared to come either. Half of the class was out of the capital to LUMS, GIKI or IBA, or the rest waiting to fly off to America or England, unlike Raz, none on this list were bothered to get drunk. Those who could come, were out of Zara’s list for gossiping on her recent breakup.
Aleem felt like a darwessh, he could see Zara’s mature aura. To him she has grown up. She looked up and smile at him. In that moment, he realized why he had fallen for her long ago. Left at home by his retired general of a father, who also left his wife long ago and found solace in becoming a muslin evangelist. Now Aleem was left with nothing else but follow his father’s footsteps, getting into EME college. Whereas, he did not believe in love nor wish to get involve in such manner. His unshaven face had nothing to do with religion. Aleem has grown up too.
This, party of the lost generation came to an end on fine twilight. Some rode, some drove, back to the land of the frustrated… the university.
p.s. as an old line from a friend's debate goes by… rul tey gaye ah, par chas bari ayi ah!

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Mediocrity aur Mangni!

To start with, I will go ahead with a sarcastic joke: 
A 9 year old son asks his father, ‘baba, what is mangni?’, the father replies,’son, it is the desi wedding proposal, where the results are already fixed by the umpires’. -nahi ayi hansi... ani bhi nahi chahiye, zara sochiye!-

Living amongst the two very similar rivals with iti-kuttay-da-wair, I wont mind spending more than half of your budget on defense. The point is, the money that is allocated for health or education, should be based on a proper vision and clarity, with inference of successful outcome. Last but not the least, none of the money should go to waste, thus, a transparency shall be implemented.
Humbleness is key to a mediocre life.
The fact the more you are grateful about things, the better it is. The reason behind is simple, in this frustrated and deprived country that is also over-populated, the thing is you have one item and 100 applicants, so the insecurity is obvious! Kabhi valima peh mehmaano ko khanay pey totay dekha hai??!! Some similar sort of insecurity runs illogically and unstoppable among the veins of our country men. As a result we forget what we have been given and end up with list of things we have lost.
Why mediocrity? The fact is, its good to be mediocre, if it makes you happy, once you are happy and content, then you are no more mediocre, it’s a bad version of catch-22. And the point of being over populated, well, imagine if we were among only the 1/5 of the population, what then?! Chota kumba, khushal gharana!
I mean think about it! That day when you are driving in a dense traffic and all of a sudden ninety percent of the traffic just vanishes… WOOSH!! Just like that! And the cars ahead of you are gone, and the road is absolutely clear. How awesome is that! My friends.. just imagine. Just sit back on your chair, and take a deep gentle breath … and imagine! hmmmmmmm....
But peace is not exciting, stress is!
Sitting on the driving set of a fast moving train in a densely populated area is challenging, but if you start to get over that fear, start to enjoy the edge. Its your passport visa to growing as a person. You have got to break a few eggs to make an omelet. And in this case, the eggs better be your neighbours', if its your first time.
So, fixed matches, good governance, mediocrity, lowering population and tale of beaten eggs… we come to this country’s hot topic, khanay mein kiya hai?! Kutta karahi, khota kabab, pajjay dey pehray paye…. a food dilemma for the nation. I mean what can you do. How have we come to be so liberal at our food selection. As if the bull's reproductive cells were not enough for energy drinks and porcine derivatives for making potato chips! This is a constipated dilemma.
As a nation we are good with humour, least lahoris are! Its like our last smoke… and thus, into the fray my friends…
p.s.  barya cigarette petay hi har shaakhs ko maaf karnay to ji karta hai. Khawa, wo rishtaidaar hi kiun na ho! – Mushtaq Ahmad Yousufi

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Hangover aur Hansna!

Apparently the writer has caught fire, is on fire or is getting fired… But its real, this is history… two blog posts in a row, in one day… the-vele-hangover-write amigos!!!

Nowadays we don’t believe in ourselves, as much as we believe in love. Getting the soulmate through this belief is far more clear to us than the job status in next 5 years. I mean, this is how filmi we have become. And it gets difficult to cure yourself once you are in mist of people suffering from schizophrenia too.
Well the state in am right now is a little logical. The daily routine is getting up before rush hour, reaching my workplace, performing the duty, getting back home, dealing with the chorus at home and falling asleep. I mean the life has come to an all time clumber-wumper, that when I had to call an old chuddy-buddy, and I could not find his number in my cell phone. The odd moment when you forget that you actually saved your buddy’s contact over his nickname. –face palm- -high five to self-
Life is crazy – or I have gone hazy!
There are times, one is pinched by self-actualization. When one feels like doing something that will define oneself. Boost their power, bank account or number of admirers!! You know… getting to do something by thinking out of the box, something not so mainstream, something different! But most of the time this ‘something’ needs ‘sum of money’ and a thing between your ears. Thus, one is left stranded. The sum was spent last night and number of other nights on partying and the thing between the ears has been fried-up by the ‘mist of people’ you are in.
 But don’t worry my dear believer, you will find numerous shrewd people living that in this metropolitan city, without any real ambition to make real difference. They just focus on the greenback! Sadly they are right… once one is hostage to this crowd, Stockholm syndrome does not take long to sink in, thus, many have fallen before you! Money is sweet, notoriously tastes and smells like victory.
So now, do in Rome want Romans do! As Descartes maxim say, which he wrote in Discourse on Method, for practical life till the finding of truth! Though he basically considered the first three as major but the fourth nontheless was included inspite of his doubts.....
1. Respect, in real means, for the societal norms as well as adherence to the practices of the sensible, for the course of your actions.. in other words, gel in.
2. Pursuit yet even on the most doubtful paths when adopted.. aik dafa commitment karlo to apnay aap ki bhi na suno
3. Try to master oneself rather than fortune, and change one's own desires rather than the order of the world…. Kabil bano.. paisa jhaak maar kay peechay aaye ga…
4. Review the various professions and chose the best…. Sir jee! Aye riski hai!
You know what, you can always grow old, let the time pass by, an maybe nothing will change, but remember… be cool! Look at Jack Nicholson, he is still awesome!! I mean, just google him and look at him!!
P.s. hansna mat bhoolo … hans kay geo, mazay mein geo, geo ki hidayat ki dua maag kay geo!!

Vapourizing aur Vele!

I am having a feeling, for procrastination and desk-hinged-legs-laziness. I basically have driven the genuine ability to concentrate, out of my account. Thus, there is massive space for the love of ‘creative output’. But as long as I weld my strong self to such trivialities, I would only be dancing with my own good-for-nothing ex-MNA recital over a current political dilemma. And that my friends, is the ‘too much thinking and doing nothing’.
You know that life is fun when you are in medicine field. Endless shifts, constant pressure, force of karma lingering over your head, effort to benefit ratio being next to clean street and messed up sweeper, the frequent trashing from your supervisors and constant piling up of others workload on your shoulders. One can ask for nothing better. The cherry on top, no one says ‘thanks’ like forever and not even a single ounce of appreciation! Because those awesome things that I mentioned are part of my job!
Being almost half way down the road, you feel the wonderment of where the road is going. When I look at new born, the one thought that comes to my mind is, ‘how innocent, how pure, how free!’. There are endless prospects for newborns, for I, all grown up, the energy vapourizing every moment, more confused and insecure, like a boyfriend of a girl, who is totally in love and mothering, a cat! So its sad.
But I am single, and by default, like any other guy from Pakistan, desperate to get attention and hitched! And the only friends that I know or to be close to people, actually are the ones I have got properly in mud with, thoroughly dirty and ended up with two happy parties. Ironically most of them are from kindergarten and I hate my communication skills! DAMN!! My life is stuck… with my kind of dogs! Probably sometime at the end, I would be sitting with same pack, dirtier than ever! And certainly happier… which I wish would be due to having freedom from our wives, actually to hangout together.
My attention span being of size of a politician’s ability to speak truth, has led me to be a blogger instead of a novelist. And my bad choice of metaphors has made me a sucker at it! So I am insincerely apologetic.  Since, I am leaving you high and drying… figuring out this post! I do appreciate your concern… KUDOS TO YOU!! adios amigo!!
p.s. here is a improvised line from a chick flick.. asi vele, sab vele, aah velaa ho ja ray!! Jeray aapay vele, oh vi sano vele kehday!!

Muzaffarabad aur manzar!

Its not always that I fall prey to writing imprompto yet, right now I feel nothing else to do. The inhibitions and negativity within me mig...