halfway through;

Work ends at about 3:30 am for me. Curse and damn time zones, and globalization (recently, I saw someone blame globalization for bird flu, but that’s a whole other debate). Since the troika of my bosses holds court in New York, New York (I love saying that), I have the upside down working hours. But working so late in the night has its benefits too, and I have only started realizing them recently.

First of all, coming back home at 3:30 am really feels like coming back home. The streets are quiet (almost) and empty (almost). Lahore is a city that absolutely refuses to sleep. She’s like the petulant child who is sent off to bed at nine, but when you go to check up on her, she’s still clowning around at 12 am. However, at 3 in the morning, everything is mellower, a gentle breather. All sorts of ills are talked about being out in the city so late (so early?) but I have only seen the softer side of things during the night in Lahore. Maybe I am too naïve and a hopeless romantic, but to put it out in one sentence: the city doesn’t scare me at night, it fascinates me.

And this is where my current revelation comes in.

I saw Aasim Zafar hitching a ride at the back of a friend’s bike the other day!

Er. Ok, so maybe that’s not a revelation, and hardly even an observation. It’s called my sheer inability to talk straight. Anyways, the revelation comes in the form of various sightings of political agents (activists? Workers?) getting their groove on all along the Main Boulevard, in Model Town, and all adjoining areas. Like silent thieves in the night, I have seen men with scarves half hiding their faces jump out of really shiny SUVs and mini-vans, putting up banners (for their candidate) and pulling down banners (that of their opponents’), writing slogans on walls, pasting ugly stickers on walls of people’s homes and gates, and other such colorful stuff. It is really interesting to see snippets of the Pakistani Political Saga unfold on the city streets in this crude fashion. More than appreciating the gusto of the candidates whose smug and self-satisfied mugs shine out of the banners, stickers and posters, I feel like adding moustaches to them, or at least adding a few moles and crossed-eyes.

Why, you would ask. Am I so immature?

And I’d say, yes, I am.

For the past twenty years, the same players have played havoc with our lives and the collective life of our country and they continue to do so. I am one extremely disillusioned and jaded citizen and I am not about to take this farcical nonsense seriously. Ms Bhutto, who has been nursing a consistent sore throat because of talking about democracy so much, she is in full swing as a candidate for the seat of prime minister. Did someone forget to tell her that the constitution does not allow that, the same constitution she wants to uphold?

I wish I had selected amnesia like that. I’d like to forget a lot of very heavy things, such as how nobody wants to call out the bozos who continue to rule – not govern – the country, how elitist schools think they are supporting ‘underground revolutionary activities’ and running anti-establishment news papers (come on and kick down the false gods, already!) and I’d also like to forget how I was cheated out of the last serving of bihari kebab at Bundu Khan last Sunday.

I am voting for myself in the upcoming elections.

I also have issues with how parents tend to unlearn all civility and common sense outside public/private schools while their children are learning it inside. The worst traffic jams, the most abominable insults and the most horrific fisticuffs I have encountered are outside schools when it is time to go home. I haven’t been to many places, but is it the same throughout the trying-to-develop and well-kinda-developed-but-currently-on-halt world? It is absolutely appalling! If it were up to me, I’d ban parents from picking up their kids from school, unless and until they learnt how to behave. It is stupid, watching two fourth grade boys try to pry apart their fathers who are pulling punches at each other for who has the right of way.

But that’s that, really.

I am incredibly moved by what Radiohead is doing with their new album, In Rainbows, rather, I am incredibly moved by what Radiohead is allowing us to do with In Rainbows. I might be the last person rejoicing the pay-what-you-want-for-it approach for the album, but trust me; I am in love with Thom and the boys all over again. Now, there may be corporate peripherals and grand conspiracies involved, but the fact of the matter is, I happily, gladly, lovingly paid $25 for the download and if I had more money, I’d buy the box set too.

So what if the bitrate is 160 kbps, it’s the pride in their music, the trust in their fans and the sheer apathetic well-fuck-if-we-care attitude about the whole set up that intrigues me. You can choose to not pay anything at all for the album, but that would be just cheap. Maybe later the band will say the whole downloadable album was recorded by a very good tribute band, but I still won’t care! It’s Radiohead, baby, and they are kings. They can get away with giving away almost-free downloads of their new material and they can get away with giving record label execs major heart attacks. They can get away with throwing all caution to wind. They can get away with a sneer and a smirk and subterfuge. They are that good. You wish you were, too.

Try to measure your greatness against that of Radiohead here: In Rainbows.

---

Pithy Movie Review: Goal (The Indian Version)

Football: *becomes the axis of hope for a bunch of rag tag, extremely clichéd Asians residing in South Hall*

Cast: *is a bunch of uninteresting, un-funny, under achievers that you don’t really feel like sympathizing with*

English Cast Members: *have dialogue consisting of only one word: Shit!*

Plot: *has a lot of predictable twists and an extremely lewd ‘item-number’*

Audience: *ZzZzZzZzZ!*

Remind me never to go watch an over-hyped Bollywood film again.

my anger through fists, into walls;

Three days ago, while on my way home from work, I saw a banner in Model Town congratulating the ‘Lion of the Land’ (Musharaf) on saving the nation and the country with a sensible decision to impose state of emergency. For a second, I paused and wondered whether to take the garishly bold text seriously or to dismiss it as sarcasm. These days, everyone’s a cynic with his or her opinion about the current political upheaval in the land, so I tend to take every statement condemning or praising Musharaf with a massive pinch of salt. But this banner got me thinking: would it have been allowed to stay up if it condemned rather than praised Mr. General President? Maybe, maybe not. I have seen instances of tolerance and moments of impatience in the man who made a brand out of Enlightened Moderation, so even now, I am rather confused about how to comment on his mercurial behavior.

To be absolutely honest, my apathy kicks in when I hear about political fiascos these days. It is my version of Ginsberg reaching for his feather boa whenever he heard the word 'democracy'. I don’t care about political tantrums and intrigues. I could not nod twice about the hypocritical, manipulative scheming of the likes of BB, Main Mian, The General President and Ran Khan et cetera. All I know for sure is that I am a citizen of this country. I am the common man everyone wants to talk about but not to. I am a part of the nation that has very spectacularly been look over than looked at by verbose but lacking civil and military dictators. I am the ‘awam’ that has been let down so many times it has mastered the art of passive aggressive nonchalance. So what do I understand from the current situation? What do I want?

I want a revolution. I want the inside of our heads and hearts out, finally, for good. I want the hungry to be fed and the naked to be clothed. I want the shamed to be awarded the grace they deserve. I want promises fulfilled. I want my say in the ideals that should be making a better future for this country. I want those who toil twelve hours a day, bare-foot and thirsty under the sun in the fields to have the same right. I want us to be informed about our rights and then be allowed the freedom to exercise them as well. I want to fulfill our duties and I want everyone in the football team in Islamabad to do the same. I want water and education, I want light and protection. I want doubt, religious paranoia and fear of every stranger to be exorcised out of me by some sensible souls who do it in halves, but hope to make it a whole one day. I want to not be trivialized by the world community and the government, and I want to not be the sensational piece of breaking news for the local media. I want some piece and quiet, and I want my damn country back.

Enough, as they say, is enough.

They are surely wiser than us. Look at them burning gold into their history pages while we collect the ashes.

I want the flame, not the residue.

instances of grace;

I like being hopeful and having faith in the goodness of people/things/indie bands/gravity/50% off sales on my favourite outlets. In correlation, I like being hopeful about the fate of the world at large and people who are resilient and hardy about their dreams. I like endorsing nice people, nice ideas and nice things; things and people I believe in, that make me proud directly or indirectly and that have – in small measure or great – have restored my fate in the fact that maybe 10,000 years of human evolution really did happen and we are no longer mooching bananas off of each other anymore. Or at least trying not to. I’d use my mad unofficial PR skills to further the cause of these people/ideas/things without break.

It’s like a grown-up version of your five year old cousin making his first Lego castle and then boasting about the mad skills employed and the ingenuity of it all till the cows come home and beyond.

So.

Anyway.

Currently I am endorsing Pete Doherty’s Books of Albion (sort of…) and Zerobridge. While Pete’s book has received a buy-it-and-get-Doherty-more-crack-and-possible-death-from-an-overdose review from me (buy and read The Friday Times 26th Oct - 2nd Nov...or I'll just post it here, heh), Zerobridge receive a buy-it-even-if-you-have-to-skip-lunch-for-three-days-and-that-includes-crack-too review from me. There’s been Interpol in my life, and Voxtrot, and Editors, and Wolf Parade, and Andrew Bird, and Frames, and Lucksmiths and Arctic Monkeys and so on and so forth but Zerobridge feel closer to home and heart. Their music is superb and the lyrics hit several nails on the head. Their resolve about going ahead to do what they love the most is a direct inspiration for me, for despite having studied filmmaking and advertising, I am still making career decisions that will lead me to certain poverty and being cheerfully disowned by my future progeny, if I am to have it in the first place on this budget.

But don’t think I am endorsing babies. I am endorsing Zerobridge. And their brand new EP is called Havre de Grace and it is available through i-tunes. And those who like to maintain their indie cred and keep their playlists updated with some of the best eclectic music (I am looking at you, buyers and supporters of the likes of The Cinematics, British Sea Power, Arctic Monkeys and Cold War Kids!) must have this EP.

Apart from this Endorsement-of-the-Day, I have a rant;

Why do people at workplaces automatically assume that if you are nice and friendly and crack jokes, they can walk all over you? I’m glad I keep my don’t-mess-with-me-when-I’m-working side going as much as my hey-look-I’m-the- technological-deficient-new-person-in-your-software-house-type-thing-ha-ha side. But this newer girl has been yelled at by a colleague for taking her break on time (surprised? Me too) and I’m not too happy about that.

Working in an all men environment doesn’t mean you should be made to grunt and pick your nose like the rest of them, and be subjected to sexist jokes and be called out for something that you haven’t done wrong.

A boot-in-the-ass-only-on-the-reversed-side approach may be extremely satisfying, but sadly, it is not my fight, and I have only advised the girl to calmly discuss this issue with the offending party. Hope it works out!

Oh, also…did I tell anyone I’m thinking about enrolling for NaNoWriMo?

a. hahahah. ha.

cough.

'sesky' is a state of mind;

The fun part of having a thing for words is that you get to make some remarkably embarrassing mistakes when using them. Whether its a grammatical slip or a spelling disaster, you can never truly escape the typo demon that possesses your pen or keyboard sometimes.

I made one such incredibly stupid mistake when typing out my Eid Edict e-mail and sending it out. For those of you who received it and wondered what the heck 'alliteratopn' meant, I have to inform you that I was trying to be smart and witty in one go and wanted to write 'alliteration'. Clearly I am neither smart nor witty. I have sinned against the principles of language and ruined the happiness of many people. Forgive me.

Apart from that, I had something running in my mind regarding the return of BB to the Land of the Not-So-Pure. I wanted to try and be smart and witty about BB getting a third chance to lead the whole nation into a tango with someone ending up flat on their arse (hint: it's not BB!) but after the recent developments, I don't feel like making fun of megalomaniac politicians anymore.

pretend like everything happened;

Well, pretending comes easy in a world full of acrobats. You tend to learn from the best. In any case, my Eid was loud. I have forgotten the amount of Eidi that exchanged hands, but I can tell this much: I gave myself the best Eidi possible.

On my way to work yesterday, I stopped at Readings and bought myself some books.

i. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
ii. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
iii. My Antonia by Willa Cather
iv. Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem
v. The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The last one has a ridiculously cheesy period romance like title and a sticker that says 'Wal*Mart 2 for $1' on a garish neon orange sticker that won't come off. Waqas, who works with me, (reads Mad Magazine and books only by Stephen King) said it must be a trashy book because of its cover and the sticker. I wanted to say something about not judging the book by its cover, but didn't because it is not as if it would've changed his overly self-satisfied sense of superiority.

Oh, how easy it is to be judgmental, huh.

It is getting colder. By December, it will possibly be winter. Lahore's is such a stubborn heart to chill.

And I haven't heard the new Radiohead album yet. Do I want to?

Three kinds of yes.

P.S: Despite the fact that it features one Mr. Hareb Farouk, I think it is unfair of Evernew (and Servis) to go the cheapskate way and put up the ye olde Don Carlos billboard at Kalma Chowk, and God knows where else. It looks horribly dated and bland. Sure, Mr Farouk's face could possibly launch a thousand - or at least a couple hundred - ships, but that still doesn't excuse the fact that the brand needs a new jolt of life.