Gulbadan

A week or so ago I decide to tour the city of Cambridge and visit a mall for some shopping. As a proud indicator of my nationality (and to announce it to the world), I decide to wear my Experience Pakistan t-shirt. For those who have not seen it, it's dark green in color with a crescent and star on the front and the words "Experience Pakistan" on the back. Turns the wearer into kind of like a walking talking flag.

On my way back, while at the bus stop, I notice a lady wearing a headscarf carrying a million bags of groceries. Thinking she is Arab, and keeping in mind by general dislike for Arabs (as a retaliation to their normally held view that the Islamic world consists just of them and not of anyone outside the Middle East. (Hehehe.)), I decide to ignore her and not be a gentleman and help her with the grocery bags which she was quite obviously struggling with.

As I am boarding the bus, she turns to me and says (in perfect Urdu): "where in Pakistan are you from?"

Me (thinking): oh, that's a pleasant surprise. She's Pakistani.

So I tell her and we board the bus. And then we start chatting. And that's when the fun begins!. Within five minutes, she informs me of her entire life story. She chats without break and does not ask me a single question about my life. So I now know she's born here and is an only child and has lived here all her life but went to the homeland for medicine and is now back working as a doctor and does not normally make friends with girls because Pakistani girls are the jealous type and always work to demean her and the desi girls she has met here are very hypocritical and of weak moral standing and always bring boys home and she does not want that kind of people as roommates which is why she rejected their roomie requests and always befriends boys as they are more genuine and less conniving and even at the hospital she only has one female friend who is also a Muslim and in fact an Arab and since she can speak Arabic fluently they enjoy conversing in that language and...and...and...

Yea, so there was no full stop in that sentence. Because there was none in her monologue.

Me: so if you are an only child, where do your parents live?

Her: oh, they live in Saudi Arabia. Oh shit, I shouldn't have said that aloud. Now everyone in the bus will hate me. Anyway it doesn't matter. I am fasting today by the way. Even though Ramzaan is starting tomorrow, my parents follow Saudi Arabia and I don't know why even though most of the people there are idiots but still I thought what the hell so I'll fast today and that's why I went grocery shopping to buy lots of stuff for sehri tomorrow and I also bought ice cream but I've been waiting for the bus for half an hour so that's probably melted now. Hey, you want ice cream?

Me: Heh, no thanks, I'm good.

Her: oh, why don't you come to my house right now. I'll also show you where the mosque is.

Me (thinking, and quite clearly taken aback): right, so let's analyze what's just happened here. This is the very first time in my twenty-four years of existence that a girl has invited me into her house like this. This is definitely a moment to relish. But, wait a second, what did she just say about a mosque?

Her: Oh, so here's our bus stop. Come, let's get off!

I reluctantly agree. This time I decide to help her carry her bags. She lives in an interestingly quaint little house typical of this city, and takes me inside. It's empty. She just moved in yesterday and is sleeping on the floor, a fate that, interestingly is to soon befall me in the coming days as well.

Her: Have water. It's really hot outside.

She hands me a glass. I start drinking.

Her: Oye, what are you doing? Don't drink water standing up. Shaitaan does that!

So naturally I plop myself on the wooden floor and gulp away.

Her (fondling with the ice cream box): Okay, so this ice cream has clearly melted. Which means you probably don't want it.

She then proceeds to lick the ice cream box to enjoy the melted goo. Yes, lick. And then...

Her: Oh shit, shit, shit! I was fasting! Shit, shit, shit!

Me: Oh, yea. Hehe. It's okay, it's a mistake. Doesn't count.

Her: No, no, no! Excuse me.

She then proceeds to the bathroom, puts her finger down her throat, and throws up the entire contents of her stomach, including, I presume, the freshly-licked ice cream.

Me (thinking): wow, I thought only drunk people did that to get the alcohol out and sober up as quickly as possible. (Actually, there is a similar story where I was eating haleem at a restaurant after consuming some....acha, more on that some other time)

Her: okay, now that that's out of the way, have some chocolate cake. And please keep it away from me.

And so now I have chocolate cake. It's actually quite tasty. :)

Her: great, now let's go to the mosque and I'll introduce you to everyone!

Me (thinking): introduce me to "everyone"? Who is "everyone"? Abu Musab Al Zarqawi? Baitullah Mehsud? Wait, is she Dr Aafia Siddiqui Part 2, looking to recruit? Sohaib, beta, run for your miserable little infidel life.

"Actually, I better be going. I have to get to my Kennedy School orientation as well, and they are expecting me."

Her: Eh, what's Kennedy School? Acha, doesn't matter. I'll just show you the mosque from outside so you know where it is and you can proceed onwards.

Me: That sounds reasonable.

With that, we exit our house. A bus is just leaving the nearest stop. It's the same one that apparently goes to the mosque and in the general direction of Harvard.

Her: shit, that's our bus! Run!

And she starts running. With headscarf flying in the air. Naturally, I follow. We manage to get the bus.

Her: hehe, that happens every day with me! Anyway, so I get off at the next stop. That's where the mosque is. You proceed to Harvard. I'll hopefully see you some other day. You know where I live, do drop by!

And hence ends my most interesting one hour so far in the new country.