Gulbadan

“Remember, every man must pay his full attention first to his work, then to his horses, and then to his women, and strictly in that order.”

Words of wisdom from one of Lahore's greatest ever rulers, the Sikh big-brotha, defender of the Punjabi heartland, defier of the British might, crusher of the Afghan pansies, patron of bhang all over, Maharaja Ranjit Singh. *brass band sound*

Clearly Mr Singh had his priorities in order. Would've made for a fun interaction though, a tryst with a feminism proponent from Britain. Most interesting part is that no less than eleven women of his harem jumped on his funeral pyre. Eleven, goddamit! Eleven women ready to die after you. And the first one did so with a smile. Sher-e-Punjab must be a sher in the sack too, I can only assume. Heh.

Source: Majid Sheikh, best columnist ever.

The recently concluded test series between Pakistan and England will sadly be remembered for all the wrong reasons. And I say this not because I have any sympathies with any side about the events of the last test, or that I feel offended and humiliated as a Pakistani, or that I feel cricket as a game has suffered and a bad example has been set for all stakeholders. Heck no, that's all bullocks. The only reason why I'm sad, and why you should be so too, is that now another incident of equally magnificent and dramatic proportions, and having a thousand times more comic potential, will now be ignored and put to the sidelines while the rather mundane, repetitive, as-old-as-Pakistan's-pace-dominance issue of ball tampering and all that jazz will forever remain in the limelight as far as this fascinating series is concerned.

The incident, of course, is Inzamam's hit-wicket dismissal in the third test at Leeds. Now, for all those who know even a little bit about cricket, and watch it for what it is (an entertaining game), this particlar five-second spectacle ranks right up there as one of the career-defining moments of Inzamam's long and illustrious career, one that is thankfully filled with events of similar, or slightly lesser comedy.

For those of you who were unlucky enough to miss it, let me try and replay it for you to the best of my narrative abilities. For those who witnessed the moment of glory, read on and play it in your head all over again. You know and I know that it's worth it. Hah.

So it all started when the bowler decided to pitch the ball a little short. Sadly the bowler was a spinner, so when he pitches it short you expect Inzamam to get on his backfoot and smash it. This time, sadly, his bearings were screwed up, his hand-eye coordination absent, his attempted sweep a pathetic miscalculation. He ended up receiving the ball on his chest. This, as we all know, is a blow to kill all blows, ranking almost right up there on the pain threshold with the mythic kick in the nether regions. What followed was utterly spell-binding! Inzamam twisted and swiveled nimbly, as if having been wrapped by an electric eel, and realized that he was going to fall on his stumps. Since he is a smart man, he obviously figured out that that wasn't the best course of action, and hence decided to somehow avoid that calamity. To do so, he displayed levels of flexibility and skill that were on par with and reminiscent of legendary Olympic gymnast Nadia Comaneci, and actually attempted a summersault so as to hurl his magnificent body over the stumps and avoid dismantling their perfect arrangement. The plan would've worked to perfection, but for his measly hands, for while he was engaged in his acrobatics, his hands clipped the bails. So, while the rest of his body sailed over the stumps in a wonderful display of dolphin-style showmanship, it all amounted to nought because of his measly pesky meddling pair of gloved hands. It was sad from a certain angle, and comical from all others.

Funnily enough, Inzamam and his bro Mullah Yousaf have been involved, over the years, in a rather large number of comical dismissals, never disappointing the casual cricket viewer with some top-notch entertainment and an odd story or two for their grandkids. This, though, takes the cake. And the whole bakery, for that matter.

So today Pakistan turns 59. Or 60, according to GEO. Heh. Which one is it? Hmm...well, 2006 - 1947 = 59 according to my calculations. Oh well, maybe they have a super computer that knows some advanced arithmetic that I sadly was not taught in class four in Beaconhouse Garden Town Campus, Lahore.

At any rate, it is Pakistan's birthday today. And hence the phrase jashan-e-azadi mubarak, congralutations on the celebration of freedom. Well, aapko mubarak. I'm good without that. As my dead uncle used to say with great poignancy, "celebrate what?" There is only one reason to celebrate, and that is hope for the future. A better one, it is implied.

Being a closet single-minded patriot, I would like to draw your attention to a fascinating website/blog that I came across yesterday. All Things Pakistan is a must-read, for it is insightful, thought-provoking, moving, and also quite relevant. What they are trying to do with that site deserves respect and support.

Mobilink, by the way, has become my favourite cellular phone service, even though I do not use it nor do I plan to in the near future. And this I say without any sarcasm and with a completely straight face. Honest. My affection for them is related purely to what they have done recently with 'Yeh Watan Tumhara Hai, Tum Ho Pasbaan Iske', one of my favourite patriotic songs, and sung by Mehdi Hassan. They've made a new video of it, with Mehdi Hassan himself in it, frail and weak but with intense emotions in his eyes, and tons of kids. Something about the transferring of responsibilities to the new generation, as implied in the song even. Fascinating stuff.

You should listen to that song today. Another song you should listen to today is 'Hum Dekheingay', sung by Iqbal Bano and written by Faiz. If you want it, let me know. I shall burn a cd for you, free of cost. I'm feeling generous today. :)

Adeel Naeem wrote something about a date he and I went on a couple of days back. It is delightfully embarrassing, and since I'm never one to shy away from my own embarrassment, I reproduce in entirety the whole damn thing below. I obviously am not asking for his permission, because of my firm belief that copyright laws are for pansies. (This obviously is expected from a person who actually remained depressed one whole day when news reached him that the piracy factories churning out film DVD's in Karachi have been shut down). Also notice how Adeel has spelt rendezvous incorrectly. :)

Rezendevous

Today I met up with a friend who i had been trying to meet for the past 7 days now. The irony of the situation is that he lives 5 minutes away from my house and for some odd reason we never got a chance to meet! Today, however I picked him up while i was going to get my sister's cell phone fixed. We grabbed a subway sandwhich on our way back, parked our car at a small khokha and enjoyed the meal in silence. The only few words that were uttered during the hoovering of the sandwhiches were:

Sohaib: "there is not enough sex in the sandwhich today!"

Me: "maybe you need to take it the other way to enjoy the way you wanty it too!"

Sohaib: "No i think its beacuse I got a double meat and somewhat the sauces aren't balancing it!"

Me: "Or may be because you ordered a 6 inches?"

Silence....

Sohaib: "Adeel the other day i had chicken Karahi at this place in Laxmi chowk. (a very popular eating place in lahore) It was so orgasmic!"

Adeel: "Dude explain to me, how was it orgasmic? why are all your food experiences related to sex?"

Sohaib: "You have to think the way I do!"

Silence.....

Obviously, not everything is bad and shitty about our lovely country. There are some things that are truly intriguing, fascinating, and breath-taking. Just two of these things are: this country's natural beauty and the colorful truck art that embellishes our favourite mode of transport.

In your spare time, kindly peruse the following sites:

Some pictures of our breathtakingly beautiful country taken by a gora tourist

Pictures of truck art taken by same gora tourist

Products based around Pakistani truck art

And these are just a humble few.

The first time I heard this song from the Arrogant Worms at a friend's house in the city of Multan, it changed my perspective forever. Both for the good and bad.

For the good: it made me realize the importance of udders in the bovine biological system, and the fascinating yet useless factual tidbit that the gas we so fondly excrete from time to time happens to be methane, the same one that lights our heaters and stoves.

For the bad: since I made her hear it, my sexy ex-girlfriend starting permanently calling me 'cow' after this. Yep, that's right, 'cow.' Every time and all the time. In sickness and in health. I believe that was the beginning of the end of a perfectly normal, healthy, horny relationship. How can a woman take you seriously when she incessantly calls you cow, and that too with a straight face.

I am cow, hear me moo
I weigh twice as much as you
And I look good on the barbecue
Yogurt, curd, cream cheese and butters
Made from liquid from my udders
I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo (moo)

I am cow, eating grass
Methane gas comes out my ass
And out my muzzle when I belch
Oh, the ozone layer is thinner
From the outcome of my dinner
I am cow, I am cow, Ive got gas

I am cow, here I stand
Far and wide upon this land
And I am living everywhere
From b.c. to newfoundland
You can squeeze my teats by hand
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!

Habib Jalib was an Urdu poet who got into a lot of shit. The guy wrote verses against each and every Pakistani government from Ayub Khan's to Nawaz Ganja's. Being a leftist, the poor chap was arrested numerous times for his ideas. Now this quite frankly is an extremely weird situation to begin with: getting arrested for your ideas.

People normally get arrested for, amongst numerous things, raping the twelve year old coming back from school, snatching cars from Iqbal Town here in Lahore, giving safe haven to Lashkar-e-Taiba militiamen from Jhang, burning down Pizza Hut during a protest on the mall, and killing that bastard guy who threw a copy of the Quran in the garbage. Actually, no, you never get arrested for that bit here in Pakistan, because according to my limited and inadequate legal knowledge, blasphemy laws here permit the execution of any sorry individual who defiles the name of Islam's holiest symbols and icons. Wow, another win for human rights and religious tolerance. Score for The Land of the Pure! Come to think of it, this is mighty convenient. The next time you piss me off, I will proclaim to your neighbourhood that I saw you tearing up the Holy Book and throwing it in the canal. Oh baby, then you're done for! Try and fend off that hockey-and-gandasa-carrying mob outside your house.

Anyway, we were talking about Habib Jalib. Oh screw it, he's dead anyway. And no one cares about him besides the commies. Plus he's too ugly/funny-looking to be taken seriously. Case in point: picture below