Not a lot to write really - midterms and such keeping me busy and miserable. I did read an article at Time.com this morning that was rather interesting: an email home from a U.S. Marine in Iraq. It was a series of best/worst moments etc from his experiences over the past year. The snippet below was the highlight for me:
Most Profound Man in Iraq — an unidentified farmer in a fairly remote area who, after being asked by Reconnaissance Marines if he had seen any foreign fighters in the area replied "Yes, you."
Oh snap!
Speaking of profundity, my blog has evolved into something drastically different from what I had originally envisioned it to be. It has been, in grossly simplified form, a four step process of sorts:
1. Early 2005: I have thoughts. I like expressing these thoughts. People blog. I should blog. A blog would be good. I could tear into dishonest politicians and bring about a positive change in the world, maybe even a revolution. Oooh.
2. First blog: About a fungal skin cream commercial (Lamisil AT, if you remember). Maybe I'm not destined to change the world then... stupid Lamisil. But I can at least write about global events, right?
3. Two months later: I'm blogging about my job finding woes - remember when The Daily Show rejected me? Alright, so I'm going to mix global events and personal issues. That's alright.
4. October 2006: My last 12 postings have been about me, my life, my thoughts and my world. I have ceased to be a global citizen. World events be damned; what goes on in my life is important. *sigh* And the blog had so much potential.
To be fair to me though, the first two paragraphs of this posting are about things other than me. So I'm not COMPLETELY self-centered and self-absorbed. Maybe there's still hope. I wouldn't count on it though.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The Grandfather II: Memories of a Hero
My grandfather (who I had talked about in an earlier post) passed away yesterday. I've been thinking about him and the family a lot (more so than usual) for the past day or so and I figured I'd share with you another couple of stories/memories of him (and also of my grandmother, who is being very brave right now).
My brother and I (I was probably 12, he 7) were walking to the general store near our house one Saturday morning. Why we were going to the store together is beyond me... that was probably the last time we did anything together that didn't involve the lure of defeat and humiliation for the other. Anyway, the grandparents happened to drive by us on their way back home from a store of their own and, being our grandparents and all, decided to kidnap us. The brother and I were obviously helpless (and willing) victims. Imprisoned in the backseat of the old Mazda 929, we conveniently ignored the fact that our mother would be waiting on us to return with much needed groceries, until that is:
Grandmother: We'll call your parents once we get home
Us: OK
Grandmother: Your mother won't be waiting for you, will she?
Us: *silence*
Grandmother: Will she?
Me: Erm... well, she is expecting us back with groceries...
At which my grandmother, not wanting to incur the wrath of her daughter, instructed my grandfather to turn the car around and take us home.
Grandfather: It doesn't matter. We'll get to our place first.
Grandmother: No! Their mother is waiting.
Grandfather: Oh, let it be.
Clearly my grandfather, as usual, had his priorities straight.
Wrath of daughter = Small price to pay for time with grandchildren.
What transpired next was nothing short of shocking. The grandmother, with another "No!" leaned over and yanked the steering wheel to one side in an attempt to make the grandfather return us to our owners. The car veered towards the gravel median. The brother and I watched excitedly as the parents of our mother struggled manfully and womanfully against each other. Somehow, in the midst of the threats and the yelling, the car returned shakily to the center of the road. Huzzah! We were saved! Unfortunately, the matriarch's attack resulted in victory in the psychological battle... the grandfather glared and reversed course... we ended up back home... without groceries to boot... and with some explaining and storytelling to do.
Next story. My grandparents had had some trouble with a neighbor, and one of the other neighbors had helped in sorting the matter out. We had the gentleman (the one who helped, not the one who created the problem duh) over to tea (or was it lunch, I don't remember... I was about 17 though, if that helps). We (grandparents, parents, uncle, aunt, cousins) were sitting in the drawing room being all grateful and entertaining. My grandmother was going on about the callousness and wickedness of some people (quite rightfully too, I might add). She turned to our guest and, almost accusingly, said, "They had no regard. My husband is a heart patient."
At this second, I caught the heart patient's eye. For some reason, he grinned his infectious grin at me. And I couldn't help but grin back. So here we have my grandmother going on in a deadly serious vein about heart patients and bad people and I have all my teeth showing. My uncle happened to catch this out of the corner of his eye. Loudly, he said, "Why are you smiling? Leave the room right now." I almost pointed at the grandfather and said, 'He started it!" but that would have been inappropriate. So I left. Trust the grandfather to start grinning when his heart condition was being discussed... and trust him to get away with it at someone else’s expense. *sigh*
I used to have a couple of toy guns (1 or 2) when I was small (5 or 6). One of them was a huge plastic Kalashnikov, almost as big as I was. Whenever the grandfather saw the weapon in my hands, he would feign terror. You know, eyebrows up, eyes wide, hands shaking and waving in typical "don't hurt me" fashion. My six year old self thought this was hilarious, so I'd display my arms threateningly at every opportunity. He never failed to disappoint with his trembling and occasional whimpering. I outgrew the guns (thank God) but the memory of the grandfather's fake terror never fails to bring a smile to my face. It's funny that even stories involving guns and terror (albeit both fake) go only to show what a kind, caring and family oriented man he was.
We may not be seeing him for some time now, but the joys and memories... and mishaps we shared will always keep him near. If, one day, my grandchildren feel about me the way I feel about my grandfather, Mansoor Karamat Ahmad, I'll know I've done well.
My brother and I (I was probably 12, he 7) were walking to the general store near our house one Saturday morning. Why we were going to the store together is beyond me... that was probably the last time we did anything together that didn't involve the lure of defeat and humiliation for the other. Anyway, the grandparents happened to drive by us on their way back home from a store of their own and, being our grandparents and all, decided to kidnap us. The brother and I were obviously helpless (and willing) victims. Imprisoned in the backseat of the old Mazda 929, we conveniently ignored the fact that our mother would be waiting on us to return with much needed groceries, until that is:
Grandmother: We'll call your parents once we get home
Us: OK
Grandmother: Your mother won't be waiting for you, will she?
Us: *silence*
Grandmother: Will she?
Me: Erm... well, she is expecting us back with groceries...
At which my grandmother, not wanting to incur the wrath of her daughter, instructed my grandfather to turn the car around and take us home.
Grandfather: It doesn't matter. We'll get to our place first.
Grandmother: No! Their mother is waiting.
Grandfather: Oh, let it be.
Clearly my grandfather, as usual, had his priorities straight.
Wrath of daughter = Small price to pay for time with grandchildren.
What transpired next was nothing short of shocking. The grandmother, with another "No!" leaned over and yanked the steering wheel to one side in an attempt to make the grandfather return us to our owners. The car veered towards the gravel median. The brother and I watched excitedly as the parents of our mother struggled manfully and womanfully against each other. Somehow, in the midst of the threats and the yelling, the car returned shakily to the center of the road. Huzzah! We were saved! Unfortunately, the matriarch's attack resulted in victory in the psychological battle... the grandfather glared and reversed course... we ended up back home... without groceries to boot... and with some explaining and storytelling to do.
Next story. My grandparents had had some trouble with a neighbor, and one of the other neighbors had helped in sorting the matter out. We had the gentleman (the one who helped, not the one who created the problem duh) over to tea (or was it lunch, I don't remember... I was about 17 though, if that helps). We (grandparents, parents, uncle, aunt, cousins) were sitting in the drawing room being all grateful and entertaining. My grandmother was going on about the callousness and wickedness of some people (quite rightfully too, I might add). She turned to our guest and, almost accusingly, said, "They had no regard. My husband is a heart patient."
At this second, I caught the heart patient's eye. For some reason, he grinned his infectious grin at me. And I couldn't help but grin back. So here we have my grandmother going on in a deadly serious vein about heart patients and bad people and I have all my teeth showing. My uncle happened to catch this out of the corner of his eye. Loudly, he said, "Why are you smiling? Leave the room right now." I almost pointed at the grandfather and said, 'He started it!" but that would have been inappropriate. So I left. Trust the grandfather to start grinning when his heart condition was being discussed... and trust him to get away with it at someone else’s expense. *sigh*
I used to have a couple of toy guns (1 or 2) when I was small (5 or 6). One of them was a huge plastic Kalashnikov, almost as big as I was. Whenever the grandfather saw the weapon in my hands, he would feign terror. You know, eyebrows up, eyes wide, hands shaking and waving in typical "don't hurt me" fashion. My six year old self thought this was hilarious, so I'd display my arms threateningly at every opportunity. He never failed to disappoint with his trembling and occasional whimpering. I outgrew the guns (thank God) but the memory of the grandfather's fake terror never fails to bring a smile to my face. It's funny that even stories involving guns and terror (albeit both fake) go only to show what a kind, caring and family oriented man he was.
We may not be seeing him for some time now, but the joys and memories... and mishaps we shared will always keep him near. If, one day, my grandchildren feel about me the way I feel about my grandfather, Mansoor Karamat Ahmad, I'll know I've done well.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Canadian Toilets: A Symbol of Quality, and Other Stories
Canadian Toilets: A Symbol of Quality
The last refuge of a sub-par blogger: Bathroom humor.
Housemate Chris was in Canada this past weekend. He returned Monday evening, and promptly clogged our toilet. I thought there was something wrong with the flushing mechanism, or the water pressure, or something else unrelated to human waste. Chris put paid to my innocent theories by nonchalantly informing me that the blockage was due merely to the fact that he had just returned from Canada. The items in question needed some time to "soften" as he put it. Canadian food, it would seem, has a higher iron content... or something.
Fortunately, we have another bathroom in our house, so calls of nature could be heeded unimpeded. And true enough, when I got back from class the next day, approximately 18 hours after initial discovery, our toilet was as clean as can be (well, as clean as can be in a house of three male graduate school students). Apparently, poop is harder in Canada. They must have stronger, sturdier toilets too then... maybe with reinforced titanium and high pressure suction. Canadian toilets: A symbol of quality. Who would have known?
The Bluegrass Concert... Or was It?
While Chris's digestive system was getting reacquainted with its Canadian roots, I was in Salyersville, Kentucky with Tif visiting people she worked with over the Summer. One of the townspeople told us about a bluegrass concert in a town 20 minutes north of where we were. Hmmm... Rural Kentucky? Bluegrass concert? It seemed like the ultimate Southern experience. Banjos, harmonicas, fried chicken, toothless old codgers with war stories, right? Certainly not a Democrat running for Morgan County Judge Executive or anything of that nature, right?
Wrong.
It so happened that our "Bluegrass Concert" was actually a "Political Rally" designed to "Drum Up Support" for "Democrat Mike Gevedon" as he takes on "Republican Incumbent Tim Conley" for the seat of "Morgan County Kentucky's Judge Executive" in the November elections. The "concert" part was 4 slightly overweight fellows singing songs that no one really paid any attention to. It was bluegrass though, I'll give you that, with banjos no less, but still a far cry from a "concert." I guess it might have been a bit of a PR spoof to get unsuspecting idiots (like me) to convince the people with them (like Tif) to attend the rally. So that was that. It wasn't a total loss though. We got to use their facilities. And I came away with a "Mike Gevedon Democrat" nail file. Very handy. Very handy indeed.
Forgot My Lines & Covered My A**
So this goes back to my time as Leo in The Producers. We were on 10 nights (11, if you count the three scenes we did for the press) and I only forgot my lines once. But it was memorable. Not only did I forget my lines, I didn't realize I had forgotten them.
It was the middle of Act 1 Scene 2. I was supposed to say, "So is he good... I mean is he bad?" and cue Aly (Max) to say his next line ("Bad?? He couldn't direct you to the bathroom!") which in turn cued Mikail (Franz) to knock loudly on our door. But I didn't. So Mikail waited patiently off stage, Aly stood patiently on stage and I sat on a couch facing the audience wondering what the hell was going on. 300 pairs of expectant, just-paid-800-rupees-for-this-farce eyes watched our every move.
After about 5 seconds I realized someone had missed their cue (of course it couldn't have been ME) so I looked at Aly and, without thinking, said the first thing that came into my head: "Was there something you wanted to say?" Now Aly, being the better actor and the quicker thinker, covered my gaffe quite well. The scene got back on track, and we ended it as planned. As soon as we got off stage though, Aly shared with me his deepest feelings:
"You (expletive deleted) (expletive deleted) (expletive deleted)!! You NOT ONLY forgot your lines, but you managed to make it look as though I had forgotten MINE!! (Expletive deleted) (Expletive deleted)!!
Which, in retrospect, though completely unintentional, was quite true. Aly, being on the whole quite good natured, got over it (at least I think he did) but I'm probably not going to be allowed to forget that shining moment as long as I live no matter how often I apologize. The perils of being a superstar... alright fine, a medium star... minor star... never mind.
The last refuge of a sub-par blogger: Bathroom humor.
Housemate Chris was in Canada this past weekend. He returned Monday evening, and promptly clogged our toilet. I thought there was something wrong with the flushing mechanism, or the water pressure, or something else unrelated to human waste. Chris put paid to my innocent theories by nonchalantly informing me that the blockage was due merely to the fact that he had just returned from Canada. The items in question needed some time to "soften" as he put it. Canadian food, it would seem, has a higher iron content... or something.
Fortunately, we have another bathroom in our house, so calls of nature could be heeded unimpeded. And true enough, when I got back from class the next day, approximately 18 hours after initial discovery, our toilet was as clean as can be (well, as clean as can be in a house of three male graduate school students). Apparently, poop is harder in Canada. They must have stronger, sturdier toilets too then... maybe with reinforced titanium and high pressure suction. Canadian toilets: A symbol of quality. Who would have known?
The Bluegrass Concert... Or was It?
While Chris's digestive system was getting reacquainted with its Canadian roots, I was in Salyersville, Kentucky with Tif visiting people she worked with over the Summer. One of the townspeople told us about a bluegrass concert in a town 20 minutes north of where we were. Hmmm... Rural Kentucky? Bluegrass concert? It seemed like the ultimate Southern experience. Banjos, harmonicas, fried chicken, toothless old codgers with war stories, right? Certainly not a Democrat running for Morgan County Judge Executive or anything of that nature, right?
Wrong.
It so happened that our "Bluegrass Concert" was actually a "Political Rally" designed to "Drum Up Support" for "Democrat Mike Gevedon" as he takes on "Republican Incumbent Tim Conley" for the seat of "Morgan County Kentucky's Judge Executive" in the November elections. The "concert" part was 4 slightly overweight fellows singing songs that no one really paid any attention to. It was bluegrass though, I'll give you that, with banjos no less, but still a far cry from a "concert." I guess it might have been a bit of a PR spoof to get unsuspecting idiots (like me) to convince the people with them (like Tif) to attend the rally. So that was that. It wasn't a total loss though. We got to use their facilities. And I came away with a "Mike Gevedon Democrat" nail file. Very handy. Very handy indeed.
Forgot My Lines & Covered My A**
So this goes back to my time as Leo in The Producers. We were on 10 nights (11, if you count the three scenes we did for the press) and I only forgot my lines once. But it was memorable. Not only did I forget my lines, I didn't realize I had forgotten them.
It was the middle of Act 1 Scene 2. I was supposed to say, "So is he good... I mean is he bad?" and cue Aly (Max) to say his next line ("Bad?? He couldn't direct you to the bathroom!") which in turn cued Mikail (Franz) to knock loudly on our door. But I didn't. So Mikail waited patiently off stage, Aly stood patiently on stage and I sat on a couch facing the audience wondering what the hell was going on. 300 pairs of expectant, just-paid-800-rupees-for-this-farce eyes watched our every move.
After about 5 seconds I realized someone had missed their cue (of course it couldn't have been ME) so I looked at Aly and, without thinking, said the first thing that came into my head: "Was there something you wanted to say?" Now Aly, being the better actor and the quicker thinker, covered my gaffe quite well. The scene got back on track, and we ended it as planned. As soon as we got off stage though, Aly shared with me his deepest feelings:
"You (expletive deleted) (expletive deleted) (expletive deleted)!! You NOT ONLY forgot your lines, but you managed to make it look as though I had forgotten MINE!! (Expletive deleted) (Expletive deleted)!!
Which, in retrospect, though completely unintentional, was quite true. Aly, being on the whole quite good natured, got over it (at least I think he did) but I'm probably not going to be allowed to forget that shining moment as long as I live no matter how often I apologize. The perils of being a superstar... alright fine, a medium star... minor star... never mind.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Stand Up: Karachi My City
So I did a bit of stand up comedy this summer. My buddies Imran (of ADP fame) and Tia Beg (of threatening-to-sit-on-me fame) had a little Thursday open mic performance night thing going so I took advantage of it. In a nutshell, I was not-very-good-at-all-but-give-me-a-break-I'm-just-an-amateur.
However, my Ode to Karachi rap, an entirely original creation I will have you know, became quite the hit. I performed it on no less than three separate occasions, each time to considerable acclaim. It makes sense, now I'm no longer a performance artist, that I should share my composition with the world at large, especially those of you who were unable to make it to The Basement Cafe behind 4th Zamzama Commercial Lane on those balmy Summer evenings.
For the benefit of my non-Urdu speaking readership (i.e. the illiterates), I have included Urdu to English translations wherever needed. All the asterisked words in the poem/rap/revelation will be explained in English right below the verse they are in. Is that alright? Would you like an interpreter? CAN. YOU. SPEAK. ENGLISH.
I had originally intended to have the translations/explanations directly to the right of the verse they appeared in but, since I can get kind of somewhat unnecessarily even when there's no need for it you know what I'm saying long winded sometimes, they wouldn't fit. So we'll be sacrificing user-friendliness for content.
You'll see #harmonica# typed early on in the poem. For my first performance, I actually had my harmonica with me and played a couple of bluesy notes on it (couple of notes is all... I didn't even know what they were... I don't actually know how to play the harmonica you see)... but then I lost it so I was reduced to making harmonica sounds with my mouth which was another farce altogether.
By the way, after the "But you're still so fiiiine," Yasir (or Joshua; Yasir stood me up the last performance... haha, the stand up was stood up) would give me a nice percussion beat on the Arab (or Turkish; Joshua didn't have an Arab) drum so I wouldn't have to do the whole thing acapella. The drums really made the performance worthwhile in my opinion... maybe I should have had a drum playing throughout my act... anyway, back to the Ode.
Ode to Karachi
Karachi my city
#harmonica#
Oh city of mine
#harmonica#
You fail to consistently supply your citizens with basic amenities like electricity, water and telecommunications
#harmonica#
But you're still so fiiiine
Karachi man it can't be beat
A million people you will meet
Dressed in jeans or just a sheet
Roadside vendors you will greet
Ministers with smelly feet
Don’t forget there’s lots to eat
Rotis* of domestic wheat
Cool lassi* namkeen* or sweet
Houses: reinforced concrete
Evenings cricket* in the street
Lata ke purane geet*
Harbor, there's our naval fleet
Army men now kind of dheet*
Traffic jams all in the heat
Road construction incomplete
Karachi man it can't be beat
*Roti = Tortilla
*Lassi = Refreshing yogurt drink
*Namkeen = Salty
*Cricket = The game not the insect
*Lata ke purane geet = Old songs by Lata Mangeshkar (famous old Indian movie singer lady)
*Dheet = Stubborn (like our favorite in-the-line-of-fire General)
Karachi's a city where the heat is on
AC's dont work coz the bijlee's* gone
All the bandas* and bandees* agree
God must hate the KESC*
*Bijlee = Light/electricity/power
*Banda = Man
*Bandee = Woman
*KESC = Karachi Electric Supply Corporation
Bijlee nahin to paani kiyoon*
Water tankers empty too
Mobilink ka network down*
I am full of rage now frown
*Bijlee nahin to paani kiyoon = If no electricity, then why water?
*Mobilink ka network down = Mobilink's (cellular phone service popularly known as Maybelink) network is down
Driving man, its an ugly scene
Spent 6 hours on Shahrah-e-Qaideen*
Trucks and minibuses rule the road
Chal gari hata kamine bahen*****
*Shahrah-e-Qaideen = One of Karachi's many major roads
*Chal gari hata kamine bahen**** = Come on, move your car inconsiderate ******* (expletive deleted, but it rhymes so well!)
Yo, the bus conductors are so brave
Hanging from the doors and doing the wave
They're yelling with voices full of masti*
Gizri Punjab Colony Defence Mor Aazam Basti*
*Masti = Impishness
*Gizri Punjab Colony Defence Mor Aazam Basti = Gizri, Punjab Colony, Defence Mor (Turn), Aazam Basti (Settlement) are names of areas in Karachi falling along the route of bus number W-21
Saddar*, man, is where its at
Sabzi* or a cricket bat
Whatever you need you'll find for sure
Aslee cheez ya naqli ho*
*Saddar = Karachi's major market (i.e. madness)
*Sabzi = Vegetables
*Aslee cheez ya naqli ho = Either genuine or fake
Rainbow Center* I love you so
DVDs aur CDs do*
You won't find this stuff in Quetta* or Lahore*
I'm glad we trade with Singapore*
*Rainbow Center = Karachi's hub of cheap cheap pirated software and entertainment CDs/DVDs
*DVDs aur CDs do = Give me DVDs and CDs (do rhymes with so)
*Quetta = City in the step-province of Baluchistan
*Lahore = Punjabi City, one of Pakistan's mistakes
*Singapore = We get most of our stuff from Malaysia I think, but Malaysia doesn't rhyme with Lahore
Your neighborhood is never dull
Thelawalas* selling phul*
Aunties walking in the park
Salaam khala sab kuch theek thaak?*
*Thelawalas = Handcart vendors
*Phul = Fruit (pronounced phal with aspiration on the p to give it a huh sound)
*Salaam khala sab kuch theek thaak? = Hello Aunty, everything going well? (Technically, this means "Peace be on you, elder sister of my mother. Is everything in order?")
Beaches, museums and the zoo
How else may we pleasure you?
Hungry? Barbecue Tonight*
Angry? Phadda!* Yeah lets fight
*Barbecue Tonight = Popular Restaurant
*Phadda = Violent fight, generally involving youngsters with too much time and money on their hands (pronouncd Padda, but like Phul, with aspiration during the release of the P, if you know what I mean)
Karachi’s boys have common sense
Lots of nerve and confidence
But ladies don’t they understand?
You do not want to be their fraand*
*Fraand = Friend (this isn't even an Urdu word... the origins of this will take an entire posting to explain)
Karachi’s girls are clever dames
They know all the mating games
No lift* now, but listen dear
Flirt with me, when mom’s not near
*Lift = Lift
Hungry still? Tikkas* tonight
Kulfi falooda for your delight
Halwa puri* from Boat Basin*
There’s some stuff no one’s replacing
*Tikkas = Meat fried in spices
*Kulfi falooda = Ice cream with spaghetti-type-things-that-are-kind-of-tasteless-but-people-like-them-so-I-pretend-I-do-too.
*Halwa puri = Another food item I'm too illiterate to explain
*Boat Basin = Popular area with lots of restaurants
Lets all visit Quaid’s* mazar*
Jinnah* was a superstar*
He said, “Bury me where I was born
Coz Karachi knows what’s going on!"
*Quaid = Literally, leader. Refers to Muhammad Ali Jinnah, our George Washington
*Mazar = Tomb/Mausoleum
*Jinnah = Superstar
People say they hate this city
Silly fools! Its them I pity
Lahore* and Pindi* don’t make the cut
Karachi always kicks their butt!*
*Lahore = Punjabi city, one of Pakistan's mistakes
*Pindi = Rawalpindi, another mistake
*Butt! = Rear end!
And stop.
#Applause & Autographs#
If you have questions/require additional translations/would like to correct my translations/wish to heap more praise on me than I have heaped on myself, let me know.
However, my Ode to Karachi rap, an entirely original creation I will have you know, became quite the hit. I performed it on no less than three separate occasions, each time to considerable acclaim. It makes sense, now I'm no longer a performance artist, that I should share my composition with the world at large, especially those of you who were unable to make it to The Basement Cafe behind 4th Zamzama Commercial Lane on those balmy Summer evenings.
For the benefit of my non-Urdu speaking readership (i.e. the illiterates), I have included Urdu to English translations wherever needed. All the asterisked words in the poem/rap/revelation will be explained in English right below the verse they are in. Is that alright? Would you like an interpreter? CAN. YOU. SPEAK. ENGLISH.
I had originally intended to have the translations/explanations directly to the right of the verse they appeared in but, since I can get kind of somewhat unnecessarily even when there's no need for it you know what I'm saying long winded sometimes, they wouldn't fit. So we'll be sacrificing user-friendliness for content.
You'll see #harmonica# typed early on in the poem. For my first performance, I actually had my harmonica with me and played a couple of bluesy notes on it (couple of notes is all... I didn't even know what they were... I don't actually know how to play the harmonica you see)... but then I lost it so I was reduced to making harmonica sounds with my mouth which was another farce altogether.
By the way, after the "But you're still so fiiiine," Yasir (or Joshua; Yasir stood me up the last performance... haha, the stand up was stood up) would give me a nice percussion beat on the Arab (or Turkish; Joshua didn't have an Arab) drum so I wouldn't have to do the whole thing acapella. The drums really made the performance worthwhile in my opinion... maybe I should have had a drum playing throughout my act... anyway, back to the Ode.
Ode to Karachi
Karachi my city
#harmonica#
Oh city of mine
#harmonica#
You fail to consistently supply your citizens with basic amenities like electricity, water and telecommunications
#harmonica#
But you're still so fiiiine
Karachi man it can't be beat
A million people you will meet
Dressed in jeans or just a sheet
Roadside vendors you will greet
Ministers with smelly feet
Don’t forget there’s lots to eat
Rotis* of domestic wheat
Cool lassi* namkeen* or sweet
Houses: reinforced concrete
Evenings cricket* in the street
Lata ke purane geet*
Harbor, there's our naval fleet
Army men now kind of dheet*
Traffic jams all in the heat
Road construction incomplete
Karachi man it can't be beat
*Roti = Tortilla
*Lassi = Refreshing yogurt drink
*Namkeen = Salty
*Cricket = The game not the insect
*Lata ke purane geet = Old songs by Lata Mangeshkar (famous old Indian movie singer lady)
*Dheet = Stubborn (like our favorite in-the-line-of-fire General)
Karachi's a city where the heat is on
AC's dont work coz the bijlee's* gone
All the bandas* and bandees* agree
God must hate the KESC*
*Bijlee = Light/electricity/power
*Banda = Man
*Bandee = Woman
*KESC = Karachi Electric Supply Corporation
Bijlee nahin to paani kiyoon*
Water tankers empty too
Mobilink ka network down*
I am full of rage now frown
*Bijlee nahin to paani kiyoon = If no electricity, then why water?
*Mobilink ka network down = Mobilink's (cellular phone service popularly known as Maybelink) network is down
Driving man, its an ugly scene
Spent 6 hours on Shahrah-e-Qaideen*
Trucks and minibuses rule the road
Chal gari hata kamine bahen*****
*Shahrah-e-Qaideen = One of Karachi's many major roads
*Chal gari hata kamine bahen**** = Come on, move your car inconsiderate ******* (expletive deleted, but it rhymes so well!)
Yo, the bus conductors are so brave
Hanging from the doors and doing the wave
They're yelling with voices full of masti*
Gizri Punjab Colony Defence Mor Aazam Basti*
*Masti = Impishness
*Gizri Punjab Colony Defence Mor Aazam Basti = Gizri, Punjab Colony, Defence Mor (Turn), Aazam Basti (Settlement) are names of areas in Karachi falling along the route of bus number W-21
Saddar*, man, is where its at
Sabzi* or a cricket bat
Whatever you need you'll find for sure
Aslee cheez ya naqli ho*
*Saddar = Karachi's major market (i.e. madness)
*Sabzi = Vegetables
*Aslee cheez ya naqli ho = Either genuine or fake
Rainbow Center* I love you so
DVDs aur CDs do*
You won't find this stuff in Quetta* or Lahore*
I'm glad we trade with Singapore*
*Rainbow Center = Karachi's hub of cheap cheap pirated software and entertainment CDs/DVDs
*DVDs aur CDs do = Give me DVDs and CDs (do rhymes with so)
*Quetta = City in the step-province of Baluchistan
*Lahore = Punjabi City, one of Pakistan's mistakes
*Singapore = We get most of our stuff from Malaysia I think, but Malaysia doesn't rhyme with Lahore
Your neighborhood is never dull
Thelawalas* selling phul*
Aunties walking in the park
Salaam khala sab kuch theek thaak?*
*Thelawalas = Handcart vendors
*Phul = Fruit (pronounced phal with aspiration on the p to give it a huh sound)
*Salaam khala sab kuch theek thaak? = Hello Aunty, everything going well? (Technically, this means "Peace be on you, elder sister of my mother. Is everything in order?")
Beaches, museums and the zoo
How else may we pleasure you?
Hungry? Barbecue Tonight*
Angry? Phadda!* Yeah lets fight
*Barbecue Tonight = Popular Restaurant
*Phadda = Violent fight, generally involving youngsters with too much time and money on their hands (pronouncd Padda, but like Phul, with aspiration during the release of the P, if you know what I mean)
Karachi’s boys have common sense
Lots of nerve and confidence
But ladies don’t they understand?
You do not want to be their fraand*
*Fraand = Friend (this isn't even an Urdu word... the origins of this will take an entire posting to explain)
Karachi’s girls are clever dames
They know all the mating games
No lift* now, but listen dear
Flirt with me, when mom’s not near
*Lift = Lift
Hungry still? Tikkas* tonight
Kulfi falooda for your delight
Halwa puri* from Boat Basin*
There’s some stuff no one’s replacing
*Tikkas = Meat fried in spices
*Kulfi falooda = Ice cream with spaghetti-type-things-that-are-kind-of-tasteless-but-people-like-them-so-I-pretend-I-do-too.
*Halwa puri = Another food item I'm too illiterate to explain
*Boat Basin = Popular area with lots of restaurants
Lets all visit Quaid’s* mazar*
Jinnah* was a superstar*
He said, “Bury me where I was born
Coz Karachi knows what’s going on!"
*Quaid = Literally, leader. Refers to Muhammad Ali Jinnah, our George Washington
*Mazar = Tomb/Mausoleum
*Jinnah = Superstar
People say they hate this city
Silly fools! Its them I pity
Lahore* and Pindi* don’t make the cut
Karachi always kicks their butt!*
*Lahore = Punjabi city, one of Pakistan's mistakes
*Pindi = Rawalpindi, another mistake
*Butt! = Rear end!
And stop.
#Applause & Autographs#
If you have questions/require additional translations/would like to correct my translations/wish to heap more praise on me than I have heaped on myself, let me know.
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