An acquaintance of mine who works in the Daily Times Sunday magazine asked me to write an article for the magazine. Realizing that it'll be my first ticket to fame and glory, I obviously complied, and resultantly came up with a masterpiece. Unfortunately, they refused to publish it, saying it was not in tune with their magazine. Well, since I've put in so much effort to rake my thoughts and type that bloody thing out once, why not use it somewhere? So, find below the article in its entirety. It is as random, self-obsessed, and pretentious as anything else on this pointless blog.
I have always been intrigued by the Sunday magazine that’s printed by Daily Times. When it started, I used to go to my maamu’s place every weekend specifically to read it. Since I’m not much of a family man, it came as quite a pleasant surprise to my mother that I had suddenly taken an interest in my uncle and his family, so much so that I engage with them in that ultimate family affair – the Sunday lunch. Sadly, though, those visits didn’t last long as I soon discovered the online edition of this magazine, which allowed me to sit on my lazy posterior on my hard and uncomfortable cane chair (with a weird O-shaped orange seat cushion on it, recommended to me by an incompetent doctor for my incessant tailbone pain) and simply download all the pictures from the website for future viewing.
Ah yes, the pictures. Like all hot-blooded, immature, freshly-out-of-their-teens boys, the only reason I used to regularly view the magazine was because of the fashion column and its nice, funky pictures of pretty models looking, well, very pretty. Actually, ignore the past tense in the previous sentence…it’s still the only reason. Being a massive fan of Pakistani models like Tooba Siddiqui has its disadvantages. There aren’t enough websites out there where pretty pictures of them are uploaded for the general entertainment of tharki men across the urban landscape of our pure country, which is why the Sunday magazine website is a rare treasure (and which is also why whenever there is a male model featured in the fashion segment people like me always, always, let out a disgruntled groan, simply heartbroken at the great travesty of having to wait another week for someone like Tooba to grace these pages. (Or Neha, as is now the trend.)
Of course, then there are those society pages, where pretty people pose wearing pretty dresses and holding prettier drinks. I normally browse through them in a bored manner, commenting on how it’s the same people week in and week out (so much so that I’ve even begun to memorize their names as a pastime - Aamir Mazhar, you are one busy social kitten, whoever the fuck you are!) and bemoaning how I, despite having a personality that oozes eloquence, pure charm and quick wit beyond measure, am never invited to these get-togethers at all, hence depriving me of my God-given right to enjoy a feeling of sheer liberation and abandon dancing the night away completely inebriated.
So there I was one fine day clicking away looking at those pictures and wallowing in my usual self-pity feeling discontent at not being invited to the big Halloween bash that I suddenly came across a picture with a lady in black. Whoa! Why is she familiar? Holy mother of all things good and pure, she’s in my university! And that too a sophomore. Now it’s not that I don’t expect freshmen girls from my university to be more socially acceptable than I am, or look exceedingly hot in a slinky black outfit. But it’s quite disconcerting when a person you watch on a daily basis in her pajama pants and sweats speaking in class in that horribly pretentious and accented angrezi that she has become notorious for suddenly appear in front of you, in the society page of a leading magazine, looking like a million dollars canoodling with charming and eloquent men and engaging in stimulating conversation (I’m sure) while you sit here sulking at how mommy doesn’t let you get out of the house after midnight.
: Saturday, May 19, 2007 
