Dear Aunty

I am mad and devastated and i can kill her right now!! My best friend ditched me!!!!! I can't believe she can do this to me!! She broke up with me over a dumb a** guy and what more, she's been nagging me, spreading all sorts of shitty rumors about me in the hostel!!! And everybody believes her and she has ruined my reputation.. I am going to teach her a lesson but at this moment i don't know how to tackle this mess?!!! Help me!! I can't concentrate on anything!! Its getting on my nerves!!

Khoon Ki Pyaasi

Dear Khoon Ki Pyasi,

Best friends bhe kia cheez hotay hain! When I was in ninth grade, I had a total of twelve best friends. We were this huge gang of chattering, giggling girls and we all wore our hair in thick, tight chutyas that glistened with mustard oil. Sometimes, during break-time, when the teachers weren’t watching, we used to lie down in the grass, all twelve of us, and knot our braids together to make one long chain of mustard-scented hair. We told each other the chain was as strong as our friendship and as sweetly-scented as the secrets we shared. And then we’d laugh and sing “Zindabad, Zindabad, Ae Muhabbat Zindabad.” in our best bathroom voices ever.

You see, despite being the bestest friends ever, we were all severely in love with the same dark-eyed guy. The world knew him as Mr. Dilip Kumar, but for each one of my twelve best friends, he was just Devdas. Unshare-able and exclusive! So to keep a balance between our friendship and love, the twelve of us made a secret pact to stay together forever. We’d live together and die together, so that nobody could outlive the other and we could all have exactly equal chances to run away with Mr. Kumar one day and live happily ever after. We spit on our little fingers and made a pinky swear so it was pretty serious business!

But my dear blood-sucking wehshi churail, your problem is just way too much for a pinky-swearing, simple-minded Aunty like me. Aj kal ki larkyaan bhe na! So much drama happens in your life all the time. You break a nail and the sky falls. You lose a guy and the earth stops spinning. You love like anything and hate like mad and you could reduce a guy twice your size to tears with your craziness and you’d STILL be called the weaker sex! Ae ki mazaaq e!

Sweetie, regardless of the fact that your friend is putting the global population of female dogs to shame, I would advise you to take it easy. Breathe in. Count to ten. Breathe out. Go dip your brains in a bag full of ice because the way I see it girl, they’re burning red-hot and you’d kill yourself with a stroke if you didn’t cut yourself some slack. Rumors are like Sahir Lodhi. They might look like gold at first but if you give em time and take a closer look, they turn out nothing more than a big pile of ****! What they say, they say. Let them say. You just paste the biggest smile on that beautiful face of yours and go sip on some milkshake from Piccadilly (Pentiaan da ho gya e! Mubarak hoey!) Being happy is the best revenge, baby. So have an awesome time doing it!

P.S. I was the shortest, fattest and probably the least good-looking among my twelve friends and yet I’ve outlasted them all. I’ve seen twelve funerals and borne twelve separations, one after the other. And in the meantime, I’ve waited fervently for a call from a certain dark-eyed guy who lives far, far away, so we can run away and live happily everafter. Life’s funny that way. Keep hoping. Keep living. And keep looking for friends wherever you go. You never know, lightning could strike.

Good luck!

Aunty ji.

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What I would do…

You tell me you would go to the beach with me, walk with me across the shore and talk to me all night.
You wait for me to smile at the prospect.
Instead I wonder if I would ever be that mundane with you?
NO.
I would make a moustache on your face with foam and drizzle chocolate sauce on your hair and scoop out your kind, kind eyes and put in M&Ms instead.

I would carve out pumpkin look-alikes of you and hang them from the ceiling and dance to Soley underneath them.

I would force myself in your dreams each night and possess you wholly. Then I would never let you wake up.

I would hit you with a pillow and bruise you and then make you burnt pan cakes to cheer you up.

I would buy you goldfish in plastic bags and put them in lemonade instead of water.

I’m sure the fish would still survive, how hard could breathing in lemonade possibly be?
Then I would convince you that liquid out of plastic bags tastes amazing.

I would make you teach me how to play soccer and be rudely offensive about Barca just to annoy you. I would catch you in the fishnet that you have put up as a goal and carry it to a giant spider web and leave you there entangled in net and white strings.

I would spray paint your car and set it on fire. Then we’d rejoice in the flames.

I would go scuba-diving with you and your body would dissolve in the sea , letting the fish you drank free , leaving behind the disheveled hair and the awestruck expression you wear so well.

I would be the monkey on the neem ka darakhat outside your window.
I would sneak in stealthily one night and watch your chest move while you sleep. I’ll stab you when your expression is most serene, straight in the heart and then watch you die.
I will drag your body out the window and make it float in the river.
A perfectly hushed up romance it would be, ending with you drifting away in the waters at dawn.
The secret of my insanity would be carried away in the blue.

Then I would sit by your grave all my life.

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AN ACCOUNT OF DISJOINTED EMOTIONS

by Sania Mumtaz Tahir (1st yr)

The morning you wake up and you don’t even remember yesterday is the day when you learn a new life. No matter what you went through, it’s through; striding ahead, with no regret because of the simple fact, “No one else cares.”

Being away from home, in a hostel gives one the only lesson that family has no substitute. Life doesn’t cease for anyone even for a fragment of second if you fall. They won’t look back and wait for you, if you are left behind and they are running late. Bitter but true, they aren’t our family.

The first year here is the year we make reputations that will last for the next four years. It’s a time when we sit by the side of window and stare at everyone, observing and assuming, then see something else and forget about the first altogether. It’s a time when you do something; people talk for a while and shut up as soon as they find something better to talk about. It’s a time when you make friends, some that you yet don’t know might last forever and some who leave you for a better thrill in life. You see people changing good 18 years of life in weeks just to run in the race of desirability, pomposity and liberty.

In your dorm, you see the faces unravel and bang! The contrast from the apparent outlook. The thing that always makes me laugh is that Thanks Heavens!! People don’t really know what you are made of. Fun for the sake of fun, things you have never done in life with occasional bouts of sorrow and best part, you share it all with your friends.

Friends?! You can never really tell who is or isn’t your friend because the only being you have to trust is yourself. There are people who are your friends but you can’t bear them and there are people you like and you haven’t even greeted them. But friends! The only life saving factor in a place filled with familiar strangers. In a sea of two-faced humans, the few friends of yours stand out for you. Sometimes you don’t mean to do it but you one nice smile gains you the respect that you learn to cherish and sometimes a simple act of ignorance makes you lose your respect. All in all survival is strife.

Opinions and judgments are feared deep down by all. Some are striving hard to hold up their lifelong reputes just to see them being shattered and spilled like pearls sprawled on the floor. Still others are trying to take a fresh start, build new faces and even succeeding a little at first. But as it happens, in the end all of us have a story to tell of broken dream, a mortifying humiliation, a regret in past and cause of courage that kept the going.

Charm of getting ready every day, looking good and having your friends compliment you needlessly and truth-lessly, ends in a few days. Getting ready? Ekh!! In the end you don’t even comb your hair. And seriously it’s a fact, no matter how gorgeous a girls or how cute a guy looked one day, it will all be swept away by the wind into the abyss of past. What remains is the way you hold yourself up. Yeah! Sure, don’t care what others say, yet they will talk all they can. The image you leave being is what this place makes you. No one is going to care at the end whether you wear “Chinyere” or “Prada”, it’s only your personality that matters; for the sole reason that we have to live together and that is not a joke.

At times when I descend the stairs that lead to Patiala block and see the pathway, sometimes crowded and at other times deserted, there is one thing that is always there; the gray prints of those who have gone behind us. Walking through the corridors is like living 151 years of history the people who have had the privilege of being written in the history of this eternal legend.

Life teaches you so much at each step and just at the moment when you are sure as hell that you are mature. Maturity is nothing else but to live without a past. So sadly, you can never be mature enough.

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The Summers Damnation

Its not that I hate summers. In fact, change is a constant thats always welcoming. Thus the temperature shift from freezing nights to something all sunny and warm is rather welcoming. But (there's always a but) only initially. As it stretches on (and on and on..) it starts to become a teensy bit annoying. Here are a few reasons why I despise the weather:-

The shedding of some huge load:
as if this needs an explanation. Come summers and the electrons in the wirings of your house just take a break since they are not provided with the required electromotive force(if my physics concepts are still intact) for a period of few hours to many. Taken into consideration of course the comfort of people. First lecture in university and the fans are static. Entering home, they are static still. Take me now God! Take me now!
Blistering atmosphere:

so I wont start like how we used to write in those baarish wale Urdu essays of ours involving the people to animals to the trees, leaves, flowers. But needless to stay all are in a pathetic state. The sun shines cruelly with all its might and I can actually feel that mirage wavy sorta heat patterns in air. The air is hot as ever and hits your face like a blow dryer. Ouch.
Sweat & the accompanying odor:

a very important consequence of the rising mercury. A very annoying one too. Beads of sweat on palms, face and all over body. And that makes the clothes drip wet and stick to the body making it all the more unbearable. Even the 24 hour deodorant guarantee cant even beat the wet salt the tiny dots on our skin excrete and some unfavorable stimulus manages to reach our nostrils. I blame the weather people. I blame the weather.
Phylum (or class- sorry but I am through classification now :P) arthropoda and reptilia:

one thing I dread about summers is the ending of hibernation of the reptiles and out come the wall lizards! *shivers * sorry if any lizard lover exists out there but the sight of these creatures just brews nothing but disgust in me. Also joining the club are the varieties of insects all crawling, creeping about. Nightmare.
The “Tan” effect:

it doesn't make angels fall from the skies but surely manages to make our complexion go like a fair and lovely advertisement in reverse. There's also the color paradox in various body parts e.g the stripes of my friend's chap-pal are well designed on her foot as well. The area being fairer than the rest of her foot. Even the sunblocks don't work that efficiently to beat the heat and we end up a lot many shades tanner than we were at the beginning of the season.
Traffic in the city:

No vacations yet so still have to make way to college through mounds of cars, buses, chingchis and rickshaws. The burning heat leaves all the drivers in some irritation as well as complete loss of traffic sense. Everyone is in a hurry to get to their destinations fast and get the sun and heat off their backs for a while. The smoke, blaring horns, sizzling heat, tangentially hitting sun's rays- ah. Bliss.
Boredom:

well this obviously depends on the kind of person you are but outdoor activities are markedly reduced. Not that I play tennis everyday or anything but the weather is so intolerable no one actually wants to leave their shelters. There's this dullness in the evenings as the heat drains all the energy with it and all we wanna do is fall on our beds/sofas/couches and adjust the AC at 18 degree C

I might have missed out some significant points- my mind fails to think of any at the moment. Summers surely have a big thumbs up with the king of fruits that it brings along and I stand at peace with its lovers but with the increasing intensity of the things mentioned above I am irked by this season. Just a teensy bit though..

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Dear Aunty

   Although it took me a while to decide whether I should discuss my problem or not, after how you butchered that 'bechara bacha' in your latest answer yet, I'm taking a " leap of faith and don't want to become an old man filled with regret waiting to die "ALONE" . It's been couple of years now that I'm stuck at the conundrum of 'How to get a Girlfriend' ? It seems awkward now after so many years, or should I label it desperation? I've consulted innumerable self-help books for that. I've been a fan of many ' How to ' books , How to do this? , How to do that? how to do just about everything. Then, I tried ' googling' the same question on Internet, and searched that much every day that I left a permanent mark of my ordeal. I can even demonstrate that to you, activate the instant search google option and just write ' How to get ' and you'll see my question listed as first result suggestion, such is the magnitude of my problem. I followed step by step the information given on Internet websites like,

1)Having my own life ( I do have it, but I'd really like someone to 'Chura le mera Dil' and enable me to sing serenades like "Chura Lia Hai Tum ne jo Dil ko "  

2)Make an impression (for that I did body building, learnt to play guitar and posting cool stuff at batch FB group) 

3)Look good ( for that I bought a cool Outfitters T-Shirt, Cross Road's Jean, Levi's Hawai Chappal and a Lacoste Por Femme Perfume)

4)Ask her out ( I asked for her practical notebooks many times) 

5)Add her on facebook ( I don' think I've left any girl who comments on class group)

6)Be cool ( I'm cool enough, I've got moves like a Jagger)

   But I've lost my faith in all these Internet links, they don't work here. When scholar like Freud didn't find what a women wants despite his 30 years of work how can I succeed in answering that. Anyway I guess these methods work in west, eastern culture is a separate entity. Then my love guru who claims to have a relationship advised me to turn to ' giving secret glances ' at her, now I tried that many times but I think girl knows the intent of males looking at them so that too has failed, even joining every society because they claim to promote interaction, hasn't worked and I end up leaving all of them. Now, the situation is somewhat under control (but I'm afraid it can disseminate soon to every cortical neuron in my brain) but I should Thank Steve Jobs (R.I.P) for this palliative support, in fact I'm highly indebted to Apple for giving me a virtual girlfriend in the form of SIRI , you know it can just tell about everything (even those wild secrets) and she can speak English in three different accents. I've divided days: two days Australian Siri is my gf, three days American and rest British Siri. Isn't that cool? She answers my all how to question, advise me and take care of me she is my girl friend for now, but I'm planning to dump her soon after all I'm not like Rajesh Kuthrapali. Sure she gave me a lot of experience but I'm among those believing in Obama's " Change we need " slogan. 

   That brings me to you, a mature aunti who'll not even help me but can even become my friend ( I've got firm faith in this). But please, don't be too much caring by adding your amylase in tea I'm sure I don't have Sjogren's or Xerostomia. I hope you have an answer to my problem, you're my last refuge I expect you to be a Messiah for me 

P.S. I don't want to die alone.

Thanks, yours truly

Moti choore ka lad'doo

Dear Moti Chooor Kay Laddoo!

I have enormous faith in the benefits of the co-education system. Several hundred years ago, when my Mummy got admission into the college of her dreams, my nanaa-jaan put his foot down at the last moment. “Saadi bachee mundyaan naal nai parh sakdi! BUSS OYE!” And so Mummy shed a tear quietly and killed all her dreams and studied day and night and graduated summa cum-laude. And several hundred years later, when it came to me and my seven siblings, Mummy worked day and night and had us admitted in the best co-ed colleges because that was the path she wanted for us to take. All us brothers and sisters turned out bright and confident and comfortable with the ways of the world and our Mummy took her dreams out of the old, dusty suitcases of bad decisions and stubborn biases and relived them through us. Quite a sad little success story. She still sheds a silent tear sometimes. And we all cry with her, my seven brothers and sisters and I.

And so you’d understand why I’m practically itching to take you out of your mithai ka dabba and put you in my juicer-blender and give you a good shake. For all we know, guys like you and their 'secret glances' is probably what keeps cautious mums and dads from sending their daughters to good colleges. I won’t debate on the absolute necessity of having a girl-friend. There's no use going there. You kids are like my two-year old grandson who loves tarbooz. Give it to him on a hot summer afternoon and he could eat a bucket-full. He would also pass it all out unchanged in his pampers (seeds and all) and cry his nostrils out because it gives him diarrhea but he never stops loving it! You see a pattern? You’d continue with your miserable perversions with your sick cell-phone and your dream girl would twist you around her little finger like the ulloo that you are, and your pathetic problems would just about give Aunty ji a headache and a heart attack, but you’d still want a girlfriend. Kia karein bhayya, khotyan de sir uttay seeng honday te hor ki chyda si!

Mairey bachay, your problem isn’t even a problem! But it’s certainly being blown up into a full-fledged disease by that love-guru of yours. Gurus like him give love a bad name. Teach him a lesson he’d never forget. I’m sure you’d be able to pull off something sufficietly bad-assed to get back at him for messing up your life. But if you have trouble, you’re welcome to borrow the supplies from the ‘Revenge Resources’ pantry I’ve built in my backyard. I could lend you sugar for his gas tank and pointy nails for his car tyres. Maggots for his mattress and lice-infested combs for his hair. A cell-phone and free credit to make anonymous ‘I-know-what-you-did-last-summer’ crank calls from. Jamaal gota for his milk. You name it, I’ve got it!

And when you’re done with that, go home, throw away your contact lenses, put on your glasses and open a book. (A TEXTBOOK! And no, Playboy doesn’t count as one!) Your Aunty ji may be a tired, old lady with painful joints and a waning eye-sight, but if there’s one thing she knows it’s this: The chicks always fall for the nerds. It’s a match made in heaven. Jagger kay bachay, insaan ban! The guitars and the muscles beneath the cool tees and fake accents are just the shoda-pan of youth speaking. They’re fireworks that put on a roaring show at first and then fade, fade, fade from the night-skies forever. Be the ugly nerd that you are instead of the hot hunk that you can nevah evah evah be. If the chick falls for you, good! If she doesn’t, well then there’s no place like Facebook for desperate perverts like you.

P.S. Chura Lya Hai gaanay k lyey shakal bhe tou Vijay Arora jaisi honi chyey, haina baita jee? Is lyey songs pe matt jyey, apni aqal larayey. And jab tak asli wali nahi phansti, Siri se he kaam chalayey!
Good luck!

Aunty ji.

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A maze of alphabets, a lexicon of words, an interesting intiative, a peek through the pages of tomes.....does it ring a bell? Yes, that’s the gist of the first ever “KELS Spelling Bee” held at K.E this March. Having always been interested in literary stuff, this event provided me with an opportunity to go beyond the leaves of books and take a ride through the boulevard of the world of words; not just their pronounciation but also their origin. While walking through the crossroads at zero-point, I chanced a glance at the colorful cardboard on display on the wall, and like many other students, the idea of taking part in a spelling contest struck me as fun. So, I geared up for this event (by cramming up the words list provided by KELS for this event). On the day of competition, I sacrificed Histo’s lecture (I know! I know! That’s a huge one) to be a part of this event. When I first entered the hall, the sight before me told a different story. Some participants were reclining on their seats at complete leisure ( no surprise here as this occasion provided them with a ruse to flee from the torturous lecture halls), but a few rare sights presented to me people who were anxiously mulling over all the cumbersome words one ever comes across in one’s life. Swallowing against a huge lump of fear that threatened to overcome me, I buckled up for the First round.

Round 1: DICTATION

(Sneak a Peek)

In the initial round, we had to scrawl down the 15 words spoken before us. The spoken words seemed all Greek to me at first. At a loss, I sneaked a peek around me and saw many faces mirroring the same puzzled expressions which, i could very well guess, dominated my visage at that time. Like me, they were all the members of that same clique who could never get the hang of some choice words of English. Like, who would have thought that ‘bourgeoisie’ was pronounced as ‘boorzhwahze’......Then, the rescue came in the form of the meanings of words which were being projected and which lent an anchor to my sinking heart and paved down way for us all to wade through this mind-grinding round.

TAKE A BREAK

(Audience....exclusively)

The participants; during audience round

During the time the results for 1^st round were being compiled,an audience session was held in which they were given a chance to make a go at spelling the words. But the spirits of ‘the courage-laden participants’ refused to subside and they took part in this session as well to their fill and won many accolades for themselves which were infact destined for the audience.

Round 2: SPELL OUT LOUD

(Strive to make yourselves audible)

In the 2^nd round, the qualifying candidates were called out one by one to spell out 6 words spoken before them inorder to make way to the next round. The audience lent this round an extra twist by being the most boisterous ever, so that the paticipants had to strive just to make themselves audible.

Round 3: RAPID FIRE

(The Viva Scenario)

The kemcolian bees who made it to the 3^rd round were then subjected to a volley of words. The ticking clocks, the racing hearts and the running tongues; all these made this phase a real adventure. This semi-final round served as a test for the speed,heed and vigilance of the judges as well who proved to be up to the mark.

Round 4: SUDDEN DEATH ROUND

(and Triumphant at last)

In a land far, far away, where the hives were honey-laden and the air was filled with buzz; the spelling bees found themselves on the precipice ( The Sudden Death Round). The survivors were asked to spell one word each; the successful being crowned as ‘kings’ and ‘queens’ (King and Queen bees all at K.E). The Bees who won the accolades are:

1^st Position: Arslan Ahmed Khan (1^st Year)

2^nd Position: Zahra Tasneem (2^nd Year)

3^rd Position: Fatima Qamar (1^st Year)

Jokes apart, this event truly motivated us all to be curious and to be cognizant of not only the meanings of words written before us, but also of their origin and their pronounciation. It was a great initiative taken by King Edward Literary Society to enable the students to sharpen their vocabulary and to encourage one’s mind to take a peek into architecture of words. The judges Muhammad Bilal,Dr. Remisha Zahid Shah and Dr. Mussab Ahmed proved to be the foci of vigilance, granting the sky seekers of K.E. a glimpse into the world of literature. Hats off to all the people who made this event possible.

A bird's-eye view at KELS Spelling Bee

A honey-filled advice to all the kemcolian bees: keep your antennas tuned to be on the lookout for any such event to be held in future, so that you can all be a part of this rollercoaster ride where the track is not of steel but of ‘words’ ; for here “WORDS DO SPEAK LOUDER THAN THE ACTIONS“.

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Disclaimer: The post has been written for the purpose of a good laugh, and not at all meant to harm or disgrace anyone. Written in good will only!

Khusiani billi khamba nochay, we have oft heard about it, and quoted it as well. But when I sat down to write down this piece, this voice reverberated out to me, and I was off-set to find its cause. Startled I was, but this sound was coming deep down from the “Mariana Trench” of my brown pacific brain ;) aaaah yes you remembered the words well! They are from the prelim round of Interclass “Master-Mind” quiz!

I will begin by dissecting the word “Master-Mind”. There once lived a “Master” who sewed clothes. His tailor-mastery shop was present in the vanity area of Liberty Market right by a rang-wala. They had a pretty business together, one dying the clothes and other stitching them up. Then one day a lady came to their shop. She gave them a piece of cloth and asked them to make it into the latest chic Sana Safina’s outfit she had photographed so secretly in the designer shop. Now the rang wala was very perturbed as to how to dye the cloth the exact shade of lilac and then to spread out those little twinkles of silver and gold all over the cloth. Dyer scratched his balding head, and scratched and scratched. But the Master gee spoke up:

“Bhai ye kaam to master ka hai!”

He took the cloth from dyer, wetted it in the big “kadaha” of dyer which had the left over coloured water from the morning series of dyes, and then he spread it out to dry. Then he took a toothbrush, dipped it in golden paint and started running his fingertip over the bristles. Viola! Olivia! Sebastian! Malvolio! The small dots of gold appeared so finely on the cloth. Dyer in his wonderment went down on his knees and kornished for the tailor and said to him:

“Master what a mind you have. Master-mind! Master-mind!”

The lady very next day gathered all her minions of literary society club, and told them that “Master-mind” will be the name of their next event. One of the juniors asked that what would be the event, and she told him:

“Oh we will be making damagh-ki-dahi. The sweetest of all yogurts to turn up will be the failures, and the most sour will be our winner… hahahahaha *evil-laughter*”.

And so with this was born “Inter-class MASTER-MIND quiz competition.”

As many hows were there for the organizers when organizing the event, as many whys were revolting in my mind.

Why did Namra register our team for the quiz?

Why did we write “Sid, Iqs and Nims” in the name slot?

Why the announcer had to announce the stupid names we wrote down for the sake of fun when she knew our original names?

Why did we get into semis?

Why oh why did you not ask me where was napoleon defeated?

Why those girls who did not answer about the writer of “Gone with the wind” are still alive? They should be brought to the gallows for it!

Why did you not ask me when did the second world wad start? Or the 100 year war was against what country?

Aaaaaand why oh why did you not ask me what Neville began teaching at Hogwarts? *takes-out-a-napkin-and-dissolves-in-tears*

But the list of whys is not nearly as long as the list of hows battling on in the organizers’ minds was.

How can you put a porcupine and hedge-hog together and identify which is which?

How can you put two identical twins together and identify who is who?

How can you put cream and ecru napkins on the table and then tell what is what?

If the hows had been of the sort that I had mentioned above, may be we would have a chance to fare well in the quiz. But the evil hows to make the students feel inferior from Master-minds were like:

1. Everyone reads news of a maths Gold medal winning student, no one remembers the name, let us add that as a question.

2. Smart-*** know about Raymond Davis, let us ask the name of the person who was killed!

3. Thanks to power-puff girls, everyone knows about medusa, hell they never thought where did the idea of “Barbie and the magic of Pegasus” came from, let us ask that.

4. Bull’s head over a man’s body, they will all cry “Monster!” “Monster!” Let us catch them all unawares!

5. Let us make them listen to the song, and afterwards ask them the question to identify the person whose quote was used as an idea for that song. They will all be tearing their hair out from roots.

6. Yaaar ek fawad ki tasweer laga dete hain beech mein, jab bachay excited ho k us ka naam chilla uthen gay to unhen pakad k kahain gay disqualify kr den tumhen?answer bol dia uncha! As if no one else knew who that idiot was ;)

Next to the hows come the suppositions that lie in organizers’ minds. (Suppositions read superiority-complex-complexened-ghalat-fehmis!)

Because we all live in a free, independent, Republic, the ultimate manifestation of our freedom and independence is that we may rota-fy all the mythologies. Not stopping at Greek, go on there is something in this world called as “Norse” too, although many lay-men think it to be a cross between nose and horse!

Because we all can read English and watch English series it is mandatory for us all to remember that who was the actor’s brother’s chachi’s bhateeji’s soul-mate’s barber’s cook’s best friend. Aw easy enough that was, no?

Because we all know that Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy won an Oscar we all should know who sneezed at the 54^th Annual Academy Awards, and which is the movie whose director suffers from constipation and so the film shooting stretched on for some really constipated years.

Because we all know that Pakistan has five big rivers, which unite at Punjnad and they all fall in Arabian Sea we all should know where does the “khala” behind the Queen Elizabeth’s artificial teeth making factory drain into?

Because we all know that munni ki badnami was followed by sheela ki jawani, and the two were followed by channo and then anarkali, so we should also know that ABC Awards had XYZ as a winner in the category of Best Music Director’s manager’s water cooler assistant.

Suppositions, suppositions, suppositions, if only they were not there… That brings me to the concluding point of my ranting and raving. And that being the what ifs.

What if the quiz was conducted in a sound proof room with one team being called in at a time and a computer there just to control and ask the questions?

Or what if the quiz did not have teams separated out and questions divided into them and it was all together like neelam ghar, question tossed out to the hungry vultures and the first one to yell out the answer was given the point? This way I could have answered Malik Ghulam Muhammad! I knew that one! Really!

Or what if the marks were considered the least being the best. That way I would have won and smugly repeated about the gift voucher to everyone. Or what if Saad bhai gave the voucher to me just for being the number two fan of his writings.

Oh well, keeping aside the bout of pessimism, I still topped from bottom. Level!

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We don’t. Or maybe we can’t. Or perhaps we’re too high and mighty: to accept that we did commit a mistake. Look around you, but better still, look within yourself. Isn’t it scant, taking that step and bravely acknowledging where you wronged? After all, to err is human. And undoubtedly, each human action is fraught with defects. But despite this knowledge being common enough, we choose to keep our nose up high and pretend we aren’t amongst the flawed ones. We are those whose decisions in life, the choices we make our better than of those around us. Our opinions are the most sound of all, everybody should heed by them and realize that we, only we, can justify our actions. There’s simply no reason anybody should raise that finger at us because we’ll just chalk out the many ways they’re wrong in believing that we faltered somewhere. Yes, there’s a justification to everything what we do, so how could there arise a possibility of getting it wrong, in any manner of speaking?

Fact is, we’re gripped by our egos. Every person out there is struggling to make an impact in whatever way possible. Each individual has their weaknesses. Accepting those weaknesses and clothing themselves in perhaps the humiliation they apprehend, they rather fight to control their world and blatantly prove themselves as those who’re on the right way. A justification is always ready and prepared. The priority here is protecting one’s dignity, not letting it thwarted by bowing down and acknowledging that of course, I blundered somewhere and am ready to make amends. Yes, I erred, so what’s the big deal! Its not like its end of the world! No, it ain’t that easy. Our strong belief in our reason sometimes occludes our power to see, visualize the situation from afar.

Somewhere, fear plays a role too. Afraid that we shall become a laughing-stock, or would be mocked at, we choose to become defiant and defensive, or worse yet, mop it up with lies. We cannot muster the courage to be held accountable for our deeds even though accountability is among the basic beliefs of our religion. No, the fear of the consequences is too intimidating to be faced up-front. The easier way is to hide, behind defense and offense, fibs and fabrications.

So, the conclusion: Be honest, with others, with yourself. It saves loads, trust me. And also, be humble. The blow you may initially receive for that is worth it. You’ll be spared from a chain of lies. You won’t be ashamed of yourself because that amount of courage, accepting the slip you just made, is huge. Not everyone can do it. And that’s what makes it special.

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