Gulbadan

Me and Mullah Roommate, my housemate for my first academic year here, used to have quite random conversations. As like random conversations between any other pair of men, the topics would vary considerably, ranging from the erotic appeal of women's forearms to the religious undertones in the fantabulous TV show "Battlestar Gallactica."

Our best conversations, however, were through Facebook comments. Usually, we would be sitting in our own rooms and talking to each other virtually.

Going through some old photos, I came across one such time. It was indeed a most fun evening. I share the entire conversation below, in all its inanity.

The context is a photo of mine he had tagged, in an album called "California." The photo was titled "Dinner with OCD roommate." (He likes to think I have obsessive compulsive disorder because I tell him how to put things in the kitchen.)

Me: technically, you are grammatically incorrect. you should say "OC flatmate" or "flatmate who has OCD." just wanted to point it out, you know. :)

And btw, how the fuck is this photo in an album called California, when I've never even been close to the place?

Him: Yes, but I love you so much, I can't have an album without you in it. Naw, I like to have the first and the last picture of a travel album be a home picture.

Me: oh, thats v cute. but why is the last picture of this album not of home then?

Him: Because there is another album in the works genius. This is just part 1

Also, much thanks for the grammatical input.

Me: well then it should be labelled "California Part I!" rather than "California!" And what's with the silly exclamation mark? How would you feel if someone wrote "Balochistan!"?

Him: I would think: "Holy @#$! Our army @#$#$ up again!"

Was the Mummy called The Mummy Part 1? Maybe I will call my second album The Return of California!

Me: the army is not the root cause of every problem in pakistan, you neo-marxist luminite fucktard.

Him: Says the Punjabi guy.

Yar mein bata raha hun, koi parhai nahee honee aaj. Let's watch Top Gun instead. Come out of your room.

Me: punjabis are not the root cause of every problem in pakistan, you mohajir-hugging karachiite.

yar im sorry i am about to upload an album of facebook. then i will watch two episodes of how i met your mother, and then go to sleep. i have to wake up early morning and learn about jihad. oh, oops, that sounds totally dangerous and reckless on facebook. let me rephrase: i have to take a class in harvard, the most well-respected educational institution, about the history of jihad (in whose final paper i will naturally espouse the idea that it is a dead and irrelevant concept and its supporters should be bombed out of their rustic caves)

Him: I will have you know I am a Punjabi and am hence unable to hug anything, courtesy my fat tond.

Re your jihad training: I sympathize with your stance. I too shall attend a class on Democratic Theory soon, at the same august institution where I shall without a doubt argue in favor of the most auspicious democratic polity that surpasses all others for the sole reason that it is Western. I too shall then proceed to advocate the bombing of any (possibly oil rich middle eastern persian) state that attempts to incorporate the medieval Islamic political system into it's every day life. Either the buggers are with us, or against us.

Me: acha dont go all intellectual on me. i hate smarty-pants. and you are a disgrace to all punjabis. you have no tond. you, on the contrary, like to jog and swim. eek!

Him: That is true. I shall withdraw myself from the generalized pool of fat Punjabis with tonds. *walks away into the sunset, sniffling*

End of conversation. Sigh. I miss him.

(This was such a fucking lazy thing to do, what I just did above. Basically just a shit poor copy-paste job. Just another way to procrastinate at my summer internship. :D)