Gulbadan

After having a thoroughly enjoyable time listing the daily activities of Palestinians in my previous post, I have now decided to do the same for the diverse and troublesome ethnicities within our glorious country.

Let’s start with my own:

Punjabi

1. Wake up.
2. Comb moustache.
3. Have cholesterol-enhancing and fattening lassi for breakfast.
4. Buy new Naseebo Lal cassette and play while driving tractor.
5. Spit. Blow nose and clean with kameez.
6. Go to cinema to watch Saima movie.
7. Ogle at picture of Saima in wallet.
8. Beat wife for serving cold tea to guest, and also for not looking like Saima.
9. Beat all seven kids for being loud.
10. Scratch groin.
11. Go to theatre and watch Mastana in stage play.
12. Watch Nargis ka mujra in same play. Whistle.
13. Jerk off to Nargis ka mujra when home.
14. Eat mutton karahi. Curse and go to bed.
    

Sindhi

1. Wake up.
2. Curse Punjab for using all irrigation water.
3. Curse Mohajirs for occupying native land.
4. Till fields with stone-age tools.
5. Apologize to landlord for taking one more bale of crop than was allowed.
6. Give daughter to landlord in exchange for that extra bale of crop.
7. Sleep on floor.

Mohajir

1. Wake up.
2. Try to wash up. Curse random people for lack of running water in Karachi.
3. Curse Punjab for hijacking culture.
4. Curse Pathans in general.
5. Praise Miandad as greatest batsman to ever play cricket.
6. Tell kids about massive ancestral home in Lucknow.
7. Look down upon rest of the country.
8. Go to beach and throw banana peels and toffee wrappers. Curse inefficient administration for failing to keep Karachi clean.
9. Listen to latest Altaf Hussain speech.
10. Go to sleep, cursing authorities for lack of electricity yet again.

Pathan

1. Wake up.
2. Put naswar in mouth and get high.
3. Curse America for ruining spiritual fatherland in Afghanistan.
4. Make trip to spiritual fatherland in Afghanistan.
5. Bring back poppy.
6. Make charas and distribute across nation.
7. Eat undercooked lamb and tasteless pulao.
8. Consume green tea and burn fat.
9. Host Mullah Omar.
10. Buy new weapon from shop down the street.
11. Kill neighbor using new weapon.
12. Sleep content.

Baloch

1. Wake up.
2. Clean shoes for tribal chief.
3. Blow up gas pipeline.
4. Fish near Gwadar coast.
5. Blow up railway track.
6. Host rest of Taliban.
7. Blow up policeman.
8. Cook lamb.
9. Sleep.
   

In the spirit of utter randomness, I conclude with the sublime poetry of Abrar ul Haq

kaleyan reh reh thak gaye aan
sehbalay ban ban akk gaye aan
ho ranna waleyan de pakkan parathay
te chhareyan de agg na balay
oh taa hee te tenu akheya e
aja ni beja cycle tey
dil bolay karri karri tu dil di jani eh
sari duniya maani mein pyasa tu paani eh
ni zara lakk nu hila, thora kum ke wakha
kadi jaan-eeeay

So the instructor I talked about in a post previously, the one who had a sexual harrassment case against him, has now been 'asked to step down.' Which basically means he got the boot. This is interesting in two extremely opposite ways: on one side, he was a kick-ass instructor who knew his shit better than anyone around and was a pleasure to study with. On the other, tharak-pan bhi bhi ek bari mazedar cheez hai. It's cute how us men are ruled by six inches of flesh.

Kher, museebat yeh hai keh now I won't even try to hit on any girl in any course I'm TAing. Awayein penchod sexual harrassment case hee na ban jaye.

At a friend's suggestion, today I watched 15 Park Avenue, an elitist-type Indian film about a schizophrenic young girl and her much-older sister. The film is very nice, very moving, very slow, and very highly recommended (especially and only for days when you feel lazy). I, being the perennial prick that I am, found a few things I didn't enjoy about the film:

1. The slow pace
2. The plethora of random, unnecessary characters
3. The ambiguous ending
4. The fact that the film was in English. I hate desi films in English. They appear elitist and unapproachable. They also make it unrelatable and unwatchable for a large chunk of the population. As if goras are going to watching these films in any case. Plus I have issues with understanding spoken English. Which is why I don't listen to English songs. At all. Yep, I'm paindu by default.

One line in the film that's really cool, especially in the context of the whole darned film: "You know, it would've been funny, had it not been so sad."

And now for something completely different: (Talk about unoriginal lines)
Today, while trying to catch up on my European History stuff, I was reading about the Thirty Year's War on Wikipedia. (Wikipedia, by the way, is the best website in the whole wide world. It's much more useful than stupid and ridiculous course readings. If you don't agree with me, you deserve to be rolled up in a carpet, and trampled upon by a dozen horses till you are made mincemeat of. Hmm, that's another historical reference, to be thrown light on some other day.) The Thirty Year's War was a religious-cum-political conflict fought by Protestants and Catholics from all over Europe in the 17th century. Now fuck the rest of the war, there's this rather interesting story about a mock court trial in Prague (which was near the area where this shitty war began). Two Catholic men were tried of treason (or God knows what nonsensical crime) by the people of the city (who happened to be staunch Protestants, or at least most of them). After the trial, they were thrown off a window 50 feet high, to fall to a miserable, shameful and gruesome death. They survived, the bastards. How, you may ask? Ah, here starts the fun. The Catholics say that angels appeared and carried the two men to safety. The Protestant version? The two fell on cow manure, which broke their fall. And I thought us Muslims were this demented.


Continuing the historical-bullshit bit, here's a picture to tickle your, well, fancy. It's Louis XIV, the greatest king in the history of France, the guy who called himself the 'Sun King', the guy who brought glory and power to France, made it the most powerful nation in Europe. The guy who made that spectacular palace at Versailles. Really one of the most important characters in the history of the modern world. And here he is, in tights. I have never seen such beautiful and shapely legs on a man before. Ever. Stunning!!

Continuing in the spirit of positive news about our beloved motherland (as in the post below), I just came across a fortnight-old piece in Dawn that talks about the gang rape by some Pathan tribesmen of a group of women in a village near Hyderabad (far down to the south from where I'm sitting right now). Now as depressing and mortifying as this situation may be, quite a few things about it amuse me:

1) The presence of Pathan men in interior Sindh
2) The impotence of local village men to protect their women and hence honour in the face of ravaging Pathans
3) I'm supposed to be shopping for a new suit ka kapra right now at Link Road rather than sitting here on my rather significant posterior and bashing our great tribal peoples of the North (who are doing God-knows-what in Hyderabad!)

So, anyway, the poor women were gang-raped by these Pathan tribesmen. That brings us to our motto of the day:
*clears throat and takes out pretentious-sounding voice*
Help prevent rape. Consent.

Now with questions of honour and integrity bound to be raised, making the lives of the victims hell, I predict that some of these women will take the glorious and sacrificial path of self-immolation. What say thee?

The picture below is fascinating. It's Benazir meeting Indira Gandhi, I think around the Simla Pact of 1972. Oh, how cute she was, our little prodigal daughter, and oh, what a mess she's become. Eh, funky kameez too there, making me all jealous.

My comment on the two ladies is simple and succint. One was shot and the other should be.




In other, non-related news, I read today's newspaper inside out and could not find any reports about deaths in Balochistan. A trainquil and serene day, it seems, in a tranquil and serene province. How no one was killed there yesterday is beyond me though. For the satisfaction of the cynics I can proudly say that one man was gunned down in Miramshah, NWFP though. Yay. It's so much fun living in a bubble, removed from such life-altering experiences, where our only worries revolve around the effectiveness of our respective airconditioners and watercoolers. It's the life, I tell ya!

So the other day I was reading in the paper that Jamaat-ud-Dawa, that brilliant band of merry bearded men, who plant bombs at sunset and help Kashmiri earthquake victims at sunrise, has been banned by the United States. It put the organization on its 'terrorist list', so to speak. Obviously, a lot of people are not happy with the decision. In fact, "hundreds of people staged a rally (in Muzaffarabad) to condemn the ban". By the way if you look at their website (linked above), they're talking about that Pakistani Cheema guy who tried to kill a German newspaper editor and ended up dying himself in jail. Hmm, you go to kill a man and instead die yourself. Talk about botched attempts. Kher, funny phrase on their website regarding his death: It is not a difficult to kill a person and then hang it. Hehe at use of the word "it".

But the even more humourous thing to note is that, Kashmiri Muslims aside, even minorities are standing up for our Jamaat. Today in The News I saw a picture of a rally of tons of Hindus and Christians holding placards and chanting slogans praising the Jamaat's charitable work. Hmm, the glorified maulvis even have wajib-ul-qatal kafirs in their spin. Wow.

http://www.masturbateforpeace.com/

Lo jee, issi ki kasar reh gai thi ab. There's even a song somewhere in there.

Masturbate for Peace Bumper Stickers

• Hairy palms, not cluster bombs

• Peace is spiffy, stroke your stiffy

• Don't send the fleet, just beat your meat

• Side with France, reach down your pants

• Peace is the issue. Use a tissue.

• War is Crappy, Slap Your Pappy

• and my personal favourite: Cream your khakis, not Iraqis.

So come on, all you beautiful people of the world, whip it out for the sake of world peace at least.

Gulab jamun. The fact they look like cow balls is a tiny blotch on an otherwise heavenly dessert. Simply sublime. If you're free, go to Dilbar Sweets in New Muslim Town and have theirs. Hell, even if you're not, rush there. As if you're doing something really important in your life at this moment.

"Life in the state of nature is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short", he says.

Today in Euro History class the teacher spent a good thirty minutes talking about Hobbes and his philosophy, to establish a basis for the structure of secular political governance in Europe. As usual, the teacher was a pleasure to listen to, and Hobbes is a very interesting character. I even wrote a research paper on him a year ago, in which I promptly got a standard dev below the mean. :)

Kher, take a look at his picture. Kitna sex-piece hai. Aged so brilliantly. Serves him right for removing our pyaray Allah-mian from all political discourse.

As a child I used to be really cute.

Then shit happened.

Being an Accounting and Finance major here at LUMS sucks. It's boring, mind-numbing and extremely competitive. The people doing it study too much and too long, which puts constant pressure on you to either respond in kind or fall away. As I often say, it's ridiculous.

Oh, and one of my ACF faculty members is under investigation for sexual harrassment. Hah. Apparently a group of 25 ladies, led by an extremely sexy instructor, ganged up and complained about him to the administration. It's interesting seeing how things work out, as the dude is an asset to the college because of his prowess and brilliance in his field and hence cannot be let off without compromising the quality of the major. And yet there is the question of upholding moral values and standards. You know, the usual jazz. To sum it up, kanjar tharki insaan bara cheeta hai.

And for any young, impressionable lads reading, don't ever think about being a CA. Trust me. The job sucks more than Jenna Jameson and Sylvia Saint put together. I had a taste of it last summer at Ferguson.

Waise, if the LUMS admin finds out I wrote this, they won't be very happy. Confidentiality issues, you see. They might even take away my poor ol' scholarship. Ah, the pleasures of flirting with danger.

MINDQUEST 2006

Now, let's start with something fun for me and boring for you. Mindquest is a quiz competition that's held every year by this thing called the Debating and Recitation Society of LUMS. In my first year (I'm in my third right now) I entered the competition, having pride in my unsurmountable knowledge of general and useless facts. I lost in the prelims. It sucked. The next year, I couldn't participate, and the team that beat us in the first year, they ended up winning the competition in my second year. Oh well, this year we decided to participate, me and my perennial quiz competition buddy Aqeel made a team. The team ended up being called the Pakora Sisters (don't ask why) and we (me, him, Talha the ganja) passed the prelims with a lot of luck. We then added a new, fourth member to our squad, another ganja by the name of Ammar. That made three fucking AIESECers in this team. In the quarters we came across, and beat an amazingly wehshi team of freshies (who were appropriately called Wehshie Freshies). It was an extremely close match, and only one darned question separated the two teams. The losing captain was really depressed, poor guy. I'm sure the bastard will shine next time 'round.

Kher, the semifinals were beautiful. We were up against the favourites, the same team that won last year, the same team that beat us in my first year. And we beat them. Actually, we ass-raped them. By the end of the second round the score was 40-10 to them. By the end of the sixth, it was 100-50 to us. Total ownage. Felt good.

Last night was the final. It was, again, ass-rape. We won :) Ammar, our new ganja, was simply sublime. Aqeel was good, as usual. I was adequate. Talha probably wanted to be somewhere else :p
My contribution to the team was a total of 3 measly correct answers. Fuck it, I can always say it was a team effort. What was funny was that our opponents, being certified sons of bitch, were actually preparing and cramming before the match, going through CNN.com and mock quizzes and what not. Haramzaday. One kept saying "I will kick your ass, ass." Hah.

Special thanks to our lovely red balloon that I had tied to one of my fingers throughout the match. In memory of Hamoon Jadugar and his dimagh, we all rubbed our heads against the balloon to gain knowledge and wisdom before the match. Those who didn't get the Ainak Wala Jinn reference can hand in their privates to me, as they simply don't deserve any pleasure in life.

We got a grand total of 500 rs as victory booty, which we obviously split evenly. I spent mine treated my "friends" to davidoffs and botlein.