So folks with all these wedding extravaganzas rolling around us, there is this one incident that tends to reinstate ones belief in sanity. So here it goes…
The incident involves the following characters…
Rabia – an independent girl in her late 20s. She belongs from a elite family. Drives her own Toyota. Is outspoken and painfully blunt at times. She is the original lady who is excruciatingly unhypocritical.
Shahreen – a daughter of a landlord. Is in her mid 20s. Shrewd as it gets. Is more feminize but not a feminist. She is a bit low on her sense of sarcasm. Recently got married to a government gazetted engineer.
Kamila – a girl belonging to inner city, the downtown, of a metropolitan. She, too is in her mid 20s. Belongs to a middle class family. Is usually objective and observant. Is unmarried.
Me – you know me, right!? -wink-
-
After what seemed an eternity, I look on to the monitor screen for the signs of a peek for folic acid. HPLC is genuinely courageous piece of an instrument. Being completely uncooperative to its user, yet again. Thus, it looks as if I have to run the test, yet again.
Rabia, who happens to be my amiable senior/TA, approved of that. Life of a MPhil student is an arrested development and it can’t get any better. Kamila, under the umbrella of same supervisor, having the same responsibilities, won’t even bother to run her test, rather sit beside Rabia, and talk about matters which are painstakingly none-of-my-concern, as you can see.
These laboratories remind me of church. High ceiling, uncovered stained windows, cold in winters, empty except during congregation of a practical, and we happen to be priests and nuns left in-charge by the supervising bishop. So the ambience gets pretty gloomy on the weekdays with an incorruptible HPLC.
So, I sat by the duo, ironically sulking over past procrastinations of coursework.
So after sometime, there came in Shahreen. She looked flamboyant, with three layered makeup and green lens-worn eyes. Gave her a pashtoon look, I do say.
Her thesis on plant extract was recently accepted and she was no way near to getting a paper published on her own, like most of us.
She came straight to Kamila and they greeted like a pair of Arab leaders, except with more high-pitched sound.
‘So how was the wedding?’ Asked Kamila, to which Shahreen gave a clichéd reply, ’It was brilliant, I had this wonderful dress, let me show you the pictures’. Kamila gave an awe struck look, and courteously returned with ‘ I am so sorry I could not make it, I really missed it’, while Shahreen was rummaging for her Iphone 6 within the debris of the thing called purse.
But while she grabbed the cellphone, her brain took up a snarly little question for, the ever centre of attention, Rabia.
‘Oh, haven’t you got married as yet!’
I and Kamila, focused our attention to everything except these two.
‘No, I haven’t!’ replied Rabia in a stark manner. To which Shahreen returned, while holding her Iphone 6, ‘But, why?’
‘Because I don’t feel like getting married to one those foolish ignoramus nincompoop of an imbecile buffoon tool you did! I had them, several of these proposals but sorry, I don’t feel like bringing up a manchild. As, for when would I get married? Well of all the things in the world, I won’t jump on to the bandwagon in hast, rather do it on my own terms when I find a proper man of my own liking!’, Rabia slayed the question and gave a savage overdo to its corpse.
Shahreen was absolutely livid, as if she had her’s and her clan’s ego stabbed irrevocably. Rest of us where seemly dumbstruck!
Now in the normal circumstances Shahreen would have replied to such horrendous accusations towards her groom, I guess she knew deep down that although he was a comparative catch but needless he was still among the dominant league of manchildren. Thus, she dropped in the Iphone 6, back where it came from. And burst out of the laboratory entrance door.
-
Women having the freedom of such ideology like that of Rabia, probably would seem like the thin edge of the wedge, for our society. May be they should. May be her rebuttal was a mere backlash. Let, them be free to choose their own fate, no matter what they may. As for me, that this reply was sane and partly close to the reality. The guys I see out here are either repenting over their married ex or childishly overjoyed on getting married to their GFs.
P.s. A tale of a manchild…
Mein pi kar nahi behakta, ussay dekh kar behakta houn, itna bata sharab haram huwi ya wo?
pechay say maa ki awaz ayi,
kameenay sharab haram hai aur wo haramzaadi - sources: internet
The incident involves the following characters…
Rabia – an independent girl in her late 20s. She belongs from a elite family. Drives her own Toyota. Is outspoken and painfully blunt at times. She is the original lady who is excruciatingly unhypocritical.
Shahreen – a daughter of a landlord. Is in her mid 20s. Shrewd as it gets. Is more feminize but not a feminist. She is a bit low on her sense of sarcasm. Recently got married to a government gazetted engineer.
Kamila – a girl belonging to inner city, the downtown, of a metropolitan. She, too is in her mid 20s. Belongs to a middle class family. Is usually objective and observant. Is unmarried.
Me – you know me, right!? -wink-
-
After what seemed an eternity, I look on to the monitor screen for the signs of a peek for folic acid. HPLC is genuinely courageous piece of an instrument. Being completely uncooperative to its user, yet again. Thus, it looks as if I have to run the test, yet again.
Rabia, who happens to be my amiable senior/TA, approved of that. Life of a MPhil student is an arrested development and it can’t get any better. Kamila, under the umbrella of same supervisor, having the same responsibilities, won’t even bother to run her test, rather sit beside Rabia, and talk about matters which are painstakingly none-of-my-concern, as you can see.
These laboratories remind me of church. High ceiling, uncovered stained windows, cold in winters, empty except during congregation of a practical, and we happen to be priests and nuns left in-charge by the supervising bishop. So the ambience gets pretty gloomy on the weekdays with an incorruptible HPLC.
So, I sat by the duo, ironically sulking over past procrastinations of coursework.
So after sometime, there came in Shahreen. She looked flamboyant, with three layered makeup and green lens-worn eyes. Gave her a pashtoon look, I do say.
Her thesis on plant extract was recently accepted and she was no way near to getting a paper published on her own, like most of us.
She came straight to Kamila and they greeted like a pair of Arab leaders, except with more high-pitched sound.
‘So how was the wedding?’ Asked Kamila, to which Shahreen gave a clichéd reply, ’It was brilliant, I had this wonderful dress, let me show you the pictures’. Kamila gave an awe struck look, and courteously returned with ‘ I am so sorry I could not make it, I really missed it’, while Shahreen was rummaging for her Iphone 6 within the debris of the thing called purse.
But while she grabbed the cellphone, her brain took up a snarly little question for, the ever centre of attention, Rabia.
‘Oh, haven’t you got married as yet!’
I and Kamila, focused our attention to everything except these two.
‘No, I haven’t!’ replied Rabia in a stark manner. To which Shahreen returned, while holding her Iphone 6, ‘But, why?’
‘Because I don’t feel like getting married to one those foolish ignoramus nincompoop of an imbecile buffoon tool you did! I had them, several of these proposals but sorry, I don’t feel like bringing up a manchild. As, for when would I get married? Well of all the things in the world, I won’t jump on to the bandwagon in hast, rather do it on my own terms when I find a proper man of my own liking!’, Rabia slayed the question and gave a savage overdo to its corpse.
Shahreen was absolutely livid, as if she had her’s and her clan’s ego stabbed irrevocably. Rest of us where seemly dumbstruck!
Now in the normal circumstances Shahreen would have replied to such horrendous accusations towards her groom, I guess she knew deep down that although he was a comparative catch but needless he was still among the dominant league of manchildren. Thus, she dropped in the Iphone 6, back where it came from. And burst out of the laboratory entrance door.
-
Women having the freedom of such ideology like that of Rabia, probably would seem like the thin edge of the wedge, for our society. May be they should. May be her rebuttal was a mere backlash. Let, them be free to choose their own fate, no matter what they may. As for me, that this reply was sane and partly close to the reality. The guys I see out here are either repenting over their married ex or childishly overjoyed on getting married to their GFs.
P.s. A tale of a manchild…
Mein pi kar nahi behakta, ussay dekh kar behakta houn, itna bata sharab haram huwi ya wo?
pechay say maa ki awaz ayi,
kameenay sharab haram hai aur wo haramzaadi - sources: internet
