Saturday, December 18, 2010


nothing like an overdose of beef to get the creative jewses flowing. turns out that us kashmiris might just be the lost tribe; long-forsaken children of israel.

oh, and i was reminded of words read long ago, today, but i bit through the hunger-pangs and resisted.

at the base of a passion-less disposition lies an immense fear of disappointment (rejection?). and that very base remains strengthened, and lined in place, with one's ego. after all, if you love one thing, or anyone, and face an off-hand dismissal, what truly makes one crumble? is it not the bruised ego and wounded pride which speaks, then?

but i doubt the meat played a bigger role than the voluntary alienation.


but you (I) haven't. me theory is that i've exhausted the supply of distractions afforded to me. it's always two steps back to square one.

oh, and you: get married already so we can move on with our lives.

...please don't.

wassup chengez? it's been good hanging, my furry, feline friend.

the word, is brooding.

tired. x

Monday, December 13, 2010


the secret's out. too many people know already; they're looking in, and they're doing it too.

the internet is public.are you reading?

it's been a chilly period, and well, i want a pet. i feel like the human connection is grossly over-rated. like meat in a diet- it's just a small part of all that you need.

i grow sick of the mainstream, and the comparison. it's been fun swimming with the fish. fish-eat-fish world out there; throw your crab-crap off the boat, please.


speaking of; it's time to revisit Ghadir Khumm and other points of relevance in history.

the dim studio lights up, the camera starts rolling and after a brief introduction, the host quickly gets to the point.

Host: ...and what say you of all this?

well there is much i would say, and will. it's really quite simple. you've got the more eloquent of these modernist, progressive 'muslims' saying hey, man...we really need to sit down and think, and talk and UNDERSTAND. hey, man, it's a personal matter...HEY, i think it's all about interpretation man, pass the dooby.

while you've the leftist bunch going Ali, Ali, nobody's talking about a whole lotta other shit.

who's praying, anyway?

Host: excuse me, sir?

see you have to admire the spirit. and plus i've spoken to the boys down at the card factory and hope to be rounding these chimps in at 21 to get a decision that'll determine their rights. if this bill passes...'Not Applicable' will, Inshallah be an option, and we hope to eventu-

Host: WHAT did you just say?

... remove the option altogether. pretty soon they'll be talking about it. we'll just need a few opinion leaders to start off what should Inshallah become a chain reaction.

Host, taking off his glasses: dude, you just said Inshallah. Twice.

Yeah, I'm trying to kill off God. I need all the help I can get.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

karachi nights

the lights were out in the parking lot tonight. the lifts weren't working either- something about residents not coughing up their monthly maintenance bills used to pay for these facilities. the big billboard at the top of one of the buildings was discussed and it was agreed that it had brought home Rs. 1.6 million a year of income to the association as formed under government stipulation.

waqas's father had been the CEO of said association when the money was rolling in. after winds knocked billboards across the city down, the government decided to have them enforced (at the builder's cost, of course) and to have them taxed. once the money- and we're talking massive sums- started pouring in, the suits nearly wet their pants and got greedy.

the obvious reaction to greed of any sort is rebellion. an ego-battle follows where either the parents discipline the child, or the child disciplines the parents. yes, the latter does happen. in fact, it happens more than we realize.

those 'wild kids' that to this day get away with being just... disrespectful. the parents end up serving the child's whim instead of the other way around. at some point, the chubby little thing probably realized that their parents were greedy, or rather hungry for whatever social gain they could see in their offspring.

my daughter goes to harvard. la dee da diddle doo daa.

wondering how i strayed from the building story: the money stopped pouring in and spoilt residents are too used to not paying their bills. result? no lights in the parking lot, and a lift that doesn't work.


ok so, what's this talk of the americans at KPT? they shifted their embassy? okay...

they have a new one in KPT (I don't know the area exactly, but i'm assuming it's that chunk under/around the netty jetty). okay, fine.

it has a huge underground structure of some sort that extends about 40 floors downwards like that of the umbrella corporation from resident evil.

wait. what?

supposedly, there's also a tunnel linking this bunker-superstructure to the actual port underwater somewhere where submarines can offload marines so they reach the lair without stepping onto the port.

man, i love conspiracy theories when they are this close to him. mai kolachi's right there.

talk of drunken secretaries to ministers and policemen who live out their fantasies at the station. karachi's a diverse place.

my hip friend speaks of another world. it is a prettier world with dance and music. it has alcoholics and those who will trouble themselves to get collectively, and artificially untroubled.

the same forces govern this pretty world, though. there are conspiracy theories and theorists. there is ego and there is disciplining. there is the government, and there is greed.

greed is good, and it should have been the only quote on that paper today.

on a tangent, my dad's question, or one-third of it: how do you explain beauty? (and compassion, and time in a god-less world.)

beauty i've thought about lots. beautiful things may often turn about to be a source of grief and unhappiness.

but where did i say i wanted happiness? or that beauty was linked with it?

we want beauty. it may be sad beauty, or evil beauty. we might reconsider evil, but anything else goes. fuck it, with the english language at your disposal, who's to say anything's evil, anymore. the better lawyer wins.

but yes. i seek beauty. i could push it a whole lot and say beauty is what every man seeks to find. happiness, grief, sorrow and despair are only what the weary traveller meets on his way.

daddy, beauty is the goal that you walk towards, and the path that you walk upon. all that any man really needs, is beauty.

but even as i write, i sense the presence of gibran in my words.

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

for the watchmen, beauty is such, and for the injured it is such.

he was a wise man, but with an aching heart like the saeen's. s-baba sits in a stupor of spirits and longing with quiet tunes to pay homage to the beauty that is kept away. he is not the master of this bird yet and she must return whence she came.

but lovers are a sad bunch. they say lots, and worship and it was the brother who took on brad pitt for the sake of helen, the ultimate BABE. yeup, i'll use capitals for this.

see now i appreciate beauty.


Monday, November 8, 2010


I like to think that I've been too busy living the crazy, upbeat life of this metropolitan to have the time to blog about it.

It is not true.

However, if wasting time is part of a precise process that will lead me to precisely what I'm heading towards, then I'm really quite helpless, aren't I?

It's confusing, but think of it this way: what you do decides the future. What you do not do is just as, if not more important. I've been doing little, but there's a lot that I haven't been doing. There's a lot that I could do, but I don't. I'm glad that in the continuum of responsibility, I am far from being completely reckless.

Though that is not to say that I'm getting my jollies off mediocrity.

I sense that my time here may come to an end. It may not, but there is a strong chance that it will. The possible end to this journey is now within sight. I see an oasis in the distance. It is either where I set out from, or it is a place completely new. It may be a mirage, and this desert may be never-ending.

such bland text. crap, even by rambling standards.

you see that, though? The self-doubt is a dead give-away. I am getting weaker by the day. I am slowly but surely heading to the same place that I spent all summer digging my self out of. My family, and the clean, welcome air of Lahore was my guiding light.

I am tempted, with my layman understanding of endorphins, to think that exercise will solve my problems. This may be so, but the problem may be a bit more complex.

Or it may be very simple, a notion that my superego would carelessly dismiss. simple, you say? nay!

Oh, and there's a whole lot of stuff I need to do. A check-list has come into play. If I am really to leave, then I will make sure that I take care of all unfinished business. you, and you...and you.

but mostly just you...

we're being forced to grow older and I don't like it. but if it is to happen, then let me have this last dance. grant me frolick, teenage dreams and absurd fashion. complete childishness is what this would-be adult is asking for.

I need a damn lantern.


Friday, September 17, 2010


It's tense here in the windy city. A few burnt cars and a confused political party.
It was midnight in Karachi as four men congregated in the car park of an apartment complex on Boat Basin. The weather was pleasant but the mood wasn't. A young man, probably twenty five, fished out a rolled joint out of an empty cigarette pack. He lit it up, and started speaking.

As with most discussions amongst men, the smalltalk crept surely into the realm of politics. The oldest of them, an allegedly honest government official had begun defaming the MQM.

'It's a mob', he says. 'They killed their own guy.'

According to him, a US convoy had visited Grandmaster Altaf Hussain and had spoken of plans for their joint 'revolution'. As planned, Altaf would go on air and invigorate the party to get them on board for this inqilaab. He worried that this would include propaganda for the spread of immorality under the banner of secularism- an incurable evil.

Conversation drifted to other insider dealings and Daud Ibrahim came up. It was concluded that he was a champion for the Muslims in India, who, were it not for him, would be getting their womenfolk raped (they still do, of course, but that the situation would be much worse); that he was the only 'fuck you' to the Shiv Sena. Somebody offered a Babri Masjid quip.

And then back to Daud. Apparently, Javed Miandad's winning sixer had won his heart.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

super saturday

The festival of Eid marks the end of the Islamic month of fasting and is celebrated by Muslims around the world. It is an occasion that gives Christmas a run for its money and is symbolized by the same basic themes: dressing up, getting together with family and gorging till you pass out.

Koran Burning Day, scheduled for this Saturday by the New Dove Centre-Church in the United States of America has been met with much public criticism, including that by the current president of Pakistan and of the USA.

While the statistical significance of Eid falling on the 11th of September on the Roman calendar is interesting on its own- this happens once in x thousand years- what makes this a Saturday to watch out for is the fact that on the same date, a Pastor and his fifty odd followers will be orchestrating a world-wide Koran-burning.

The event is bound to spark protests- many of them violent- in Muslim communities the world over. What’s worse is that the American government, a champion of all sorts of civilian rights, cannot legally stop it from happening. The underlying hypocrisy, and moreover the sheer absurdity of the entire scenario, however could form a thesis of its own.

Is it just me, or does anybody else have a bad feeling about this Saturday?

Monday, August 30, 2010

the feudals

Two gunmen slipped out through the high, wrought-iron gates that protected the mansion within and headed towards my car.


I parked behind the dozen odd luxury cars already present and was greeted by barks and howls. Caged and crazed, the German Shepherds served as a second line of defense, and as menacing receptionists forewarning against any funny business. Not only was I keen on not being funny, I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

I was intercepted by the elder son at the manor entrance who, after giving me a quick glance, nodded dismissively and went on his way. I was glad, for I was busy making note of the slender, ornate columns that stood outside the door- grandiose, and borderline gaudy.

I was here to defend a friend, I reminded myself. A friend who listened patiently whenever we argued, a trait virtually nonexistent in my generation of the feudal families; raised voices leading to threats of force were the norm.

Going over the conversation I had had with the kinder feudal, I couldn't really remember much of it, except that I had put my best cards forward in refuting his notion of a supreme deity. He had listened, too carefully it seemed for he had then broached the subject with his closest friend. In this case, a friend's friend was not necessarily a friend.

As expected, I was assaulted with insults and jeers as soon as I entered the room, mostly pertaining to my beliefs, or lack thereof. I sighed a heavy sigh and went to work.

After a good hour of yelling and my best attempts at diplomacy, I had managed to maneuver the discussion to a relatively calmer, and in my opinion, more relevant topic area. Using a cocktail of schoolboy charm and flattery, I had gotten the ill-tempered youth to dive into an area of his expertise; while I was a mere commentator in the dark realm of politics, the domain thereof was his birthright. I was no match for his innate political acumen.

I wanted all I could get. After all, I had given up dinner with fairer company to be there. I was eager, therefore to know where my ideals for a secular Pakistan fit in with the leadership of the morrow. I spoke hurriedly of progress and modernity, of Turkey and of the future. I had gotten my comrade's attention.

I was disappointed, however when he offered no conclusive insight into my queries. Considering that we had previously argued over the validity of his faith, it was hard for him to accept that abandoning our quasi-theocratic state of affairs, or affairs of state could be the way forward.

Throughout, in his traditional shalwar kameez ensemble, he had made statements on his unshakable faith but was ill at ease when forced to balance his faith, political agendas and the habits he had picked up studying in Britain.

And so, staring definitively at the bottles of premium scotch on the mantel, I left.

This kid was just as confused as I was.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

of cricket and corruption

One thing after the other, and I'm suddenly taking my mother's words seriously:

It's the wrath of God, love. We are all guilty.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

just another article on the lynching

Any self-respecting, 'humane' individual would respond to the Sialkot lynching videos with a variant of the following phrase:

'I hope all those merciless attackers- those murderers- die a horrible death'.

Ironic, isn't it?

But if you still don't see it:

It would appear that our natural reaction to what befell Mughees and Muneeb would be one of anger; uncontrollable anger so potent that one's insides weaken. Fury so vivid that the red pales to, if not completely white, then to a very light gray.

It is this gray that frightens me. Sure, my stomach felt a lurch, but it possibly won't at the copy-cat lynchings in say, Sheikhupura. It is highly probable that my curiosity is satisfied, and that my thirst to know and see humanity's latest lowest is quenched for a long, long time.

I will not google the next uncensored lynching video.

It is beyond doubt that our nation is diseased. To this we all seem to agree, but differ on our diagnoses. Though young in my years, I too learnt of said disease early in life when my first love moved away.

We believed, at 15 years of age that we would stay together forever. This childish notion was brought on by a combination of excess emotion and ignorance. While the former can be explained away through the teenage hormones, the ignorance was in the assumption that we would stay the same people, that we would feel the same way.

Through the gradual decay of our castles in the sky in the face of circumstances we could not help, we changed. While one grew stronger, the other weakened. Lo and Behold, an excruciating, unexplainable divide, bridged only by a misty indifference.

We are not a whole, you say?

Understanding that most of us don't speak in colors or relate well to seemingly trivial narratives, a simplification is in order.

I ask you this: you would hang all those who laid a brick, stick or bout to the brothers from Sialkot, but for what crime?

They were burning 'witches' back in the day, an offensive launched by the church. As with any institution, abuse is a natural consequence. Justice is a term thrown around.

As with any institution, ignorance is the most effective opiate for its army. And what better way to propagate ignorance than by suppressing rounded education, and allowing by means of filters and censorship only a particular doctrine to be spread and taught?

Everyone fasts in this country. If you don't fast people look at you with contempt and even disgust. But if you're in Sialkot and you're fasting, you're welcome to join the rest of the devout in beating two teenagers to a gruesome death.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

back to this

whirlwind. from the big city to the small. to the mountains and back home.


funny word. it's where the heart is, they say. it's ironic that without the big city this sheep is pretty lost. or too found for comfort. i miss you. and you, and you...but if we're going back in time, i miss you the most.

it's strange to be back home for this long a stretch. they throw at me free love and wads of cash. they show concern and i show disdain. i'm a wretched thing.

i'm being stubborn. what point i'm trying to prove is beyond me. that i can do it all, on my own.
when in reality, it's quite the opposite. it happens by itself, really. right place, right time.


but the point being: every defeat leaves its mark, and i have fallen one too many times. this war has left me weakened and as I spend these months recovering, i will chant a new mantra...

fight only for something worth fighting for.

in retrospect: you were worth it all. in comparison, you were above these grey beings. (am i now doing what i always do and hate myself for- this need to worship?)

so let us gather our strength. let us build our muscle and soldier on. let us not be fooled by shiny things, and let us fight for true beauty.

this inconsistent bastard. x

Sunday, June 6, 2010


Voice of Reason 01 -

mehboob: ...remember when we talked about the straight path and virtuous life decisions?

me: there's no reason to believe that it would happen that way! that's what they all think- that's the deception, innit? i know you and your plans, this would only work if everybody did it. any negatives elements can and will exploit your system while you're selling your idea. furthermore, and in line with yin-yang philosophy and that newton feller, there's always them to opposing forces in either equilibrium or constant flux, take your pick

mehboob: but our cause is just and fair.

me: your cause is a cause, and that is all there is to it. you think you're the only ones selling virtue? claiming to be the life choice? pah!

...and yet this did he KNOW? those two notes on the bass. and that line...maana keh teray qaram behisaab...

mehboob: what's that now?

me: oh nothing, nothing. just a little ultra-perceptive to rythms and vibes.

mehboob: wali ULLAH!

me: tsk. and plus it's not like I can, anyway. i'm not supposed to!

mehboob: but that's a direct contradiction!

me: i know it is. there are forces, of course but those of human desire and ambition. our thoughts constantly and without bondaries. c'mon man, kleinenberg is a God in his own right. forces of human bodies swaying to those rythms. RYTHMS. there's a point for you if you want it.

mehboob: might as well. yes?

me: well yeah, again, man. humans. i want to worship. not a spinner but this storm, sure. storm, there you go. but i'm bored of this drift. throw something else my way.

mehboob: think miss current is worth it, then?

me: nobody's worth it, really. but in the moment, anything's worth it. i feel like i might be a moment-maximizer.

mehboob: freakonomics.

me: akhh man, don't remind me.

mehboob: haha. caughtchu.

me: tsk. from YOUR side of the fence, fool. i don't WANT to be there, or think I should.

mehboob: uhh, no, you know you should.

me: you're wicked. you know that, right? cruel. sadistic.

mehboob: hahaha. no sonny, you don't have it easy. :)

me: how do you know?

mehboob. scroll up. capital G?

me: @#$@#$@#

mehboob: exactly. nice pattern, mr. piano-man.

me: why thank you.

mehboob: so? your windows need taping. it could be worse tonight.

me: thanks.

mehboob: playing that're losi- what is it?

me: just realized that this could be schiz 101. goshdarnit.

mehboob: bwahahaha. you and your words, yaar. honestly.

me: go AWAY.

mehboob: whatevs.

what now, hero?

me: going to tape the windows.

mehboob: hahaha

me: fuck you.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

may and before

past 3am on a wakeup-at-6 school-night. this does not bode well! quiet distress, and the damn apples. uh-oh.

it's been long, and much has happened- but has it now...has so muchreally happened?

i think of the months that passed and of what stands out.


of goo goo eyes and the great rush. chemical romance? those tantric rhythms and rhymes- this is like a...

go away, come back another day. or, on second thought, don't. akh!

think, think- of anything but this! what of recent accolades, that morph seamlessly onto your mantel. what of logic, and reason?
i WISH. and i don't like thinking I have a passionless disposition, or a fear of rejection backing it. i don't like thinking that i'm too proud to get off my horse to pursue the elusive, to really get into the muck and mud. i can do dirty, i think.

the doe runs far into the thicket, wary of the encroaching shine. lest the armor be removed, and reality rears its ugly head. quick, think of the circle. of the merry-making and elixir. the clearing in the woods- saturday! lalala.

elixir. see now, on a conceptual level. very dorian gray in it's deceptive forever-young-ness. check it: to feel young (frisky?), every time. till you die. that's called forever.

forever young, but the receding hairline would perhaps beg to differ. crows feet? when do we stop playing, and let loose? the fearless, bold and reckless. battered and bruised, skid-marks to the casket, grave, whatever.

it's between being the freak and ring-master, really. to lead the circus, or be in it.

to fool or be fooled. to eat, or be eaten!
yada yada yada

it's sad that you deny me, sir that middle ground! the cave, the mis-match, the detachment. far from the madding crowd! cafe de hunza, and fresh air. the breeze, the berries and the beloved.

maybe tomorrow.

barkley: whose gonna save my soul now? how will my story ever be told.

he was the son of a big man. a big, communist man. a man with many children and many factories. I wonder often of his relationship with this big man, his big man.


all-star, all-nighter.

Friday, February 26, 2010


spring creeps into this swamp, and the nymphs now speak in excited whispers of big waters and surprise. there's a distinct buzz in the air and it's not the damn mosquitoes.

here's to the end of a harsh winter!

Saturday, February 20, 2010


figure if i can fit enough things into m'schedule i won't have time to spare. this thinking business is what gets to me. think, think...wham.

to be reminded of the bitter truth, again and again! my failings, and then some more to follow.

missed lunches, more pretties and pokes. well, hullo shawty. sit and stare, and do nothing.

i hate me: actor, opportunist. the stage is where i belong. well, that's taken care of!
oh, love-for-sale world.

what's the point of all this, anyway- ungodly hours and self-pity.

cheers, cuervo. x

Friday, February 19, 2010

late night blues

to be the same again! we grow quieter with age, I reckon. by that logic, those who lapse into childhood, and those who never grew up- mao mao?

so what of growing. i pine for those days of abandon. duties, akh!

and we came to understand beauty. t'was a cruel truth to find- to have known and thrown the best of them. the resilient, the steadfast. the pure. we ask you of these others. of their shapely limbs and so what of their clothes and shoes. we bow to thee the righteous and stay awake in quiet homage to her strength.

would you listen to these blues the boys cooked up. in remembrance, in longing and in quiet resignation. consumed by our monsters, we're done-for little cookies! ha ha.

another little missy to prove the point. going in to lose, headfirst without a chute. again. all of you on a silver platter, pickings and morsels. for you, anyway.

bloodshot. x

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

no solace

early morning pilgrimage-

memories are a strange affair; strike without warning, and so vivid sometimes that it's cruel. i have not the heart to go back to where i know i belong. hear me, and know that i am, without you but a silhouette against a rising sun.

life passes this dark shadow and i bathe alone in unsung glory. x

Saturday, February 6, 2010

well hullo, 2010

it's been ages, hasn't it.

the new year brings with it the looming fork in the road. the cross-roads clearer than ever, and just so in-your-face. i've turned 21. happy birthday to me. none the wiser for it all, it seems. except now i understand truly that i am a fool, and may remain one. the saving grace to this state, and the strategy in place is to thrive on m'ability to appear otherwise; knowledgeable, experienced...even trustworthy. trust. haha!

the God debate continues. i feel, and possibly know for certain now that there is no escaping my fate. i see the world for what it is, and i see the power-battles and political mechanisms in place, vivid and smack on. hullo, reality X10.

Wali Ullah. Protector. Friend.

i've given to free-writing, with no structure, no purpose- much like my wretched, existentialist state. why, mother must i go, yet again to the holy land. i have incorporated spiritual wandering into this life that i've created with daddy's bank account. for that, then i owe you, not the truth- because the only truth i've known is that there is none, and that when relativism comes into play, we're all standing on either side of the fence thinking we've got the one-up- but obedience.

oh well.

i've tasted defeat. it was a delightfully downward experience; a spiraling stupor, of sorts. i was in awe, and i became her. it's ironic how being empty can be so...wholesome. so complete in it's thematic entirety. i loved you, and the pain for which you stand, and for which you fight. the mourning and the rituals, vicious and cyclical- the quiet fury of an aching, broken child.

heavy hearts and the devil's piss make for long nights and sorrow.

i like this new practice of rambling without the strains of grammar and structure. pour out as it pours over, and we'll make lovely music out of it all. sing me a song, piano-man.

i am now convinced that man is a selfish, self-loathing addict.

and with that statement ladies and gentlemen, good night.