What is your favourite building? in pictures

The National Art Gallery, London

Taliesin West, the winter home of the architect, Frank Lloyd Wright

Images by: Me

What is your favourite building?

It’s a strange question, isn’t it? One that we never really think about or actually ask people. Do you have one? Think about it. In Karachi? Or in the places you’ve visited over the past few years?

A lot of people might say Burj Khalifa because it’s the tallest building in the world and an engineering marvel. I don’t like it very much. It’s kind of scary. Whenever you look at it don't you wonder how it’s standing up? Aren't you afraid it might come crashing down on the dancing fountain? I do. 

Can the favourite buildings of a friend also become dear to you? I remember seeing the Chrysler building through the eyes of my dearest friend, Samiya. It was through the pictures of her first trip to NYC (maybe in 2002?) that I was introduced to the skyline and architecture of the city in-depth. It didn’t mean much to me then but all I thought of was her when I finally saw the Chrysler building two years back. Or the house of Frank Lloyd Wright, her favourite architect, in Arizona. 

What about buildings in other cities? Maybe the National Art Gallery? It was one of my favourite haunts in London. I loved going there again and again. Whenever I approached it I felt comfortable, as if I’ve come to a familiar place. There was this one time when I rounded the corner and came across it, completely unaware, and it brought a smile to my face. In many ways, that building was the focal point of my everyday exploration of London. 

After giving it some thought I’ll probably say one of my favourite buildings in Karachi is the Hindu Gymkhana which is now NAPA. That is where I hung out with my husband during our courtship period and it was such an important part of my life in the initial years of our marriage. 

I think Atif was right when he said that buildings by themselves don’t carry any meaning. It is only your experiences with that particular building which makes it important for you. We all admire buildings, or are disgusted by them, or just give them a passing glance as we walk or drive by them everyday. But if they are the place where we spent time with a lover, or where we saw our first Van Gogh and Monet - then they acquire a special place in our lives and I guess, become favourites. 

Note: This blogpost was inspired by a conversation with my friend Atif who told me that this is a question in the IELTS speaking test. 

The Power of BFFs

I'm one of those people who sort of shut down during Ramzan. I call it 'the hibernation mode'. It's the one time of the year when I go nocturnal; all my reading and some writing happens after iftar. Because let's face it, I can't think one creative thing on an empty stomach. My friends will tell you that I become a gorilla when I'm hungry and to save the world from yet another calamity, I tend to spend most of the waking hours of fasting, sleeping. 

So what has fasting and my sleep habits have to do with my BFFs? These past five rozas, I did not just abstain from food and water, I also kind of lay low and didn't talk to any of my friends. Well, most of them are not even in Pakistan and by the time I can figure out the various timezones, it's not the 'decent' hour to make any calls. And five days of not gossiping with my girls turned me into a freak who was talking to herself while brushing her teeth at night!

There was a time, some many years back, when I spoke to my friends everyday for at least an hour. And this was after I had spent most of the day with them in school and later, college. And the next day, we started off from where we left our previous conversation, which was usually a couple of hours old only! 

Owing to marriage, work and in some cases a combination of the two, most of us are now in different timezones. We are 'connected' through the good old WhatsApp group, but exchanging occasional messages and pictures isn't the same as having a good, long, fulfilling talk (which can range from how the kids are doing in school to the husband's frustrating habits and end at how everyone feels about Kim Kardashian's contouring).

Friends, both old and new, are so important in our lives. As a woman I cherish the friends I have whom I can still call and tell stuff that's bothering me, after we've gone over the preliminary conversation about kids (theirs) and weather of course! I'm lucky that I have girlfriends, both old and new, who are willing to listen and share 'stuff' without passing judgement. Just like in the good old days, when we were young and all we had to worry about was grades and nail colour shades and whether any one of us will ever see Sampras play at Wimbledon!  Most of us are scattered in various timezones now but when we get the chance to be together, we continue from exactly where we left off, even if it was a couple of years back.

As far as my freaky behaviour of the night before is concerned, all it required was a powerful dose of BFFs - even if all three of them were in three different time zones!

Note: Yes, I'm sort of binge watching SATC these days. 

Image: Google

Thirty days to a new-ish me

There was a time when writing here wasn't so difficult. The blog is an online diary of sorts which one mostly writes for oneself but also with a faint hope that someone out there in cyber-space will read it, like it, share it and comment on it! Which, of course, doesn't happen all of the time. Or in my case, MOST of the time. And you know in the initial days of blogging, it really didn't matter. What was important for me was to write everyday. No, that isn't correct. Let me rephrase it. What was important for me was to write what 'I wanted' everyday. Over the last year or two, I've become so affected by what other people will think about me, I've not done any 'honest' writing here. When I do write it's with so many ifs and buts in mind that I usually end up not writing a single word. 

I've been struggling with writing for almost my entire life. And isn't it dumb that I'm always thinking about writing but never end up doing it? Maybe I haven't been true to myself about what I really, really want to write about. Do I want to write epic fantasies or chick-lit novels or maybe, literary fiction (gulp!)? Maybe all three or none of the above? 

While driving the other day I heard one of the RJs on City FM 89 say something like how Ramzan is sort of a break from our everyday, all year round-the-clock routine. It's true. For thirty days we get a chance to unwind a bit and get our shit together. Some of us find this the best time to lose weight while others consider this as a chance to reconnect with God. And I thought that maybe THIS Ramzan I, too, can change. No Ramzan Reading Challenge this month, oh no! What I want is to feel different after these thirty days are over. I'm sure I won't turn into a completely different person and that's not what I'm aiming for also. Maybe someone who is at peace with who she is; mind, body and soul. Yup. A simple goal during the one blessed month we have all year. Besides my birth month, of course!

The importance of creation

Creating stories was a part of my life since a very young age. As a little girl of five or six I had this habit of telling stories to whoever cared to listen. Most of these stories were made on the spot or were a mixture of stuff I read. Mostly unsuspecting aunts and uncles became a victim of these sessions. Some, like my dear youngest Chacha Jeff, encouraged me immensely and I distinctly remember sitting in my eldest phuppi's big living room, telling some spur-of-the-moment-created story to him.

The love for reading came at a very early age too. It seems I was born with it. Maybe the reading genes of all my ancestors from both my parents' sides came into me. And of course, when a person is a reader, he/she naturally wants to write. 

Although the love for stories and storytelling was something I identified with at a very young age, the ability to transfer that onto paper was something I failed at. I've been thinking about this for a while now. Writers create stories from fragments of life around them. Some stories come from experience, others from observation, and some from a combination of both. Sometimes a certain setting inspires a story, at other times a memory. One of the first stories I wrote, and that too for a writing competition in school, was about the pets of my friend and neighbour who also happened to be in the same class as myself. In the story the pets, two rabbits, drowned. The story almost won, I forget why. However, I was asked to read it out to the entire school, which I did and found myself at the receiving end from my friend. In fact, he was so upset that I had killed his pets (even if in a story) that he said something like I deserved not to win.

That hurt. 

Maybe it's that fear of hurting others or more importantly, being judged for what I write, that has held me back. There is this thought, always, at the back of my mind about the audience, whether it is the unknown reader or the friend. 

This fear, more than anything, is what had crippled me as a writer. It is still very much present, filling me with doubts and anxiety. Nobody will read your work. The world doesn't need your stories, it has better ones out there. The truth is that yes, there are better stories out there and yes, maybe no one will ever read my work. But that doesn't mean I stop the process of creation. After all these years, and more recently, weeks of agonising over this, I've realised that I need to create. For myself. I have to write what I want to read. I have to write without shame, judgment and fear. And most importantly, I have to write because I do think I have a story to tell. 

The Memory Jar Project

After stuffing papers in an envelope in my drawer, I finally got around to buying a proper jar for the Memory Jar project. So far I've managed to write almost everyday which has, I think, more to do with filling up the jar more than anything else! But it's very interesting to sit down every night and think over the various events which make up my day. The challenge here is not to just list down things I do everyday. The aim is to record how the various things I do everyday make me feel and how they affect my life and those of others around me. So that at the end of the year, I can appreciate my year for the memories I created, no matter how big or small. 

a new year post - sort of

I'm not a very new year party person. Fireworks are nice but in Karachi the fireworks can be lifetaking so it's much safer to stay indoors and just watch the celebrations in different parts of the world on television. I think I've not been to a single new year celebration party in the past ten years. In fact, come to think of it, I can actually count the number of such celebrations I've attended in the past 35 years on my fingertips! 

[I'm still not sure if that's cool or not].

While counting the various celebrations on my fingertips just now, one particular party stood out. I think it was in 1993 probably. Winter holidays in Karachi, six of us cousins together to celebrate the new year, music in my grandmother's drawing room, and pizza after midnight. We even had a dress code I think - white shirts and jeans. It was a pretty amazing party but then everything seems amazing in retrospect!

A new year with new possibilities and new adventures. Resolutions? Yes, a few. One of the things I am doing this year is the Memory Jar project. Elizabeth Gilbert calls it the Happiness Jar. So it's a simple idea. Every night, or maybe early next morning, write down the things that made you happy that day. At the end of the year or more precisely, on 31st Dec, open the jar and go through your little notes. Not only will you relive the many happy moments of the entire year, it'll also give you an idea of a)basically how happy you were most of the time and more importantly, b) you didn't require a lot of material things to feel great. 

[I even gave my friends small memory jars last year although now that I look at them, they do seem quite small for the entire year]. 

Photo courtesy: Batool Curmally

So here's what I really have to say in my new year post:

Try and appreciate the little things in life. It might sound clichéd but it is something we almost never do. Share a good laugh with a friend and cherish that. Good friends are so hard to find (and someone recently told me that it is almost impossible to develop meaningful friendships after 35. Is it?). Read. Whenever you find time - in the car, in waiting areas, departure lounges, on a flight. It's a wonderful escape and don't we all need an escape now and then. Watch good films especially foreign language films (may I recommend La Grande Bellezza and Youth?). Do at least one new thing this year. Just one can't be so tough. Create something. 

And write it all down, everyday, and put it in your memory jar. 

The Sad life of the lime green iPod

An aura of sadness surrounds an object which we buy but don’t use. The object becomes dejected and eventually the grief permeates its soul and it assumes the title of just ‘another-thing-in-our-life’.

In the day and age we live in, we have lost the value of things. The world of shopping malls and the internet has made access to ‘objects’ all the more easier. Catchy taglines and smart advertising makes us want things we don’t really need. We have shiny plastic cards which give us the impression that we are not spending real cash. Our cupboards are altars to so many dejected objects that if we look through our stuff, at precisely this moment, we will find at least five things we haven’t used in the past one year. 

Sad, isn’t it?

I, too, am guilty of this. Of buying things which sit in my cupboard, waiting to see the light of day. I’m sure some of them are super dejected and have completely given up on me. 

When was the last time you bought something that gave you immense joy? Which had you grinning widely and you couldn’t wait to head home and open it? We buy so much stuff almost everyday that we have forgotten the excitement that comes wrapped inside our buys. Be it shoes, books, clothes, stationery or an iPod. I still remember my joy when I bought my first mobile phone. It was a tiny Sony Ericsson which I had bought from my very first paycheque. Or my first iPod Nano. It was the very first Apple product I had bought and I was over the moon when I came home with it and opened the box. I still have it and even though it has retired (read: doesn’t work), it is still a happy reminder of all the times it was there for me. 

I think the joy, for me at least, has diminished because of the increase in the frequency of shopping. Where once extensive shopping was only done either before Eid or a wedding, it is now a part of our everyday lifestyle. Almost every single day, we get to hear of how something we don’t really need will make our life better and happier. We know that it is a gimmick to lure us into the quagmire of consumerism yet we willingly walk into it and remain stuck, sometimes for life. 

And there is no better way to pass time when one is stuck then listen to some music on a lime green iPod. 

The Morning After........movie night

There are some movies which leave you speechless, you can’t find the right adjectives when you’re trying to describe them to someone. Movies which have the perfect story, breath-taking cinematography, whose every shot is a work of art, a lovely music score and brilliant acting. The Great Beauty, for me, was one such film. Last night I added Youth to the list also. 

What movies does your list have?

Down the rabbit hole I went

I was trying to hide from the world and following Alice's example I decided to go down a rabbit hole. But instead of finding Wonderland, I discovered:

1. All holes are full of mud and poop (rabbit or otherwise).

2. There is a Mad Hatter inside each of us.

3. We create Jabberwocky ourselves and feed it with our fear and insecurities. 

[A message I sent to a friend a few weeks back when I was floating about in the land of blues]. 

Ramzan and the Game Show Mania

Muzammil and his family had applied for the Ramzan game show a month in advance. They got the confirmation call a week before the first roza. Within hours the news had spread like wildfire among their friends, family and neighbours. 

After the initial excitement ebbed away the first issue was the list of people from the household who will go on the show. After a lot of discussions and many arguments, six  family members (which was the maximum number allowed by the channel) were finalised. This included:

1. Muzammil

2. His grandmother - being the eldest

3. His sister - the youngest in the family

4. His father 

5. His mother

6. His widowed aunt (father's sister) - she lived with them 

The remaining family (three brothers, one sister, a cousin) reconciled with the fact that they'll get some gifts from the show.

A few days later friends, family and neighbours started calling or visiting. While some came to wish the family good luck, others came with requests (and in some cases, demands). 

'If only you can get a laptop from the host'.

'My son could really do with a new mobile phone'.

'My daughter is going to be married a month after Eid. If you win a food processor, can you please give it to me? Consider it a wedding gift'.

'I always wanted a designer kurta for my son. You know he was born after five daughters'.

There were some veterans of previous game shows who overwhelmed the family with advice. 

'Learn some religion trivia. It always helps'.

'Request for a car and you might get a bike'.

'Religious trivia is good but memorize some good shair (poetry)'.

'Colour coordinate the clothes. It might get you a few small gifts'.

'Isn't your youngest going to fast for the first time this year? You should tell the organisers this as soon as you reach. She'll get a separate gift hamper'.

'Compose a song around the brand which is giving the bumper prize. A basic tune, nothing fancy. It can help you gain attention. You have to stand out from the rest'.

'Arrive real early to get a seat in the front'.

'Do take a gift for the host - that tasbeeh phuppi amma got from hajj last year or how about making a small handkerchief with the name of the host embroidered on it?' 'But nobody uses a handkerchief these days'.  ' Think of something else then... how about a small keychain with the name of the host on it? And make sure Dadi gives it. That will really move the host'.

'Don't be shy when the host starts giving away gifts at random. Your aim is to get as much stuff as possible'.

'Also, make sure you keep your possessions safe. Take one or two strong cloth bags with you and as soon as the show finishes put everything in it. Not like Zarina khala last year who lost two mobile phones while she was leaving the studio. Of course, somebody snatched it from her, the poor woman!'

After going to the game show and winning a considerable number of prizes, including a bike, Muzammil and his family were the talk and envy of most of their acquaintances. 

Muzammil's excitement about the show fizzled out a few days later when a friend told him that they had won double the gifts Muzammil's family had won. The secret of it all, he said, was to have different family members put in the application on different channels. More shows...more gifts!

Ramzan mubarak!

Note: This is a fiction piece. Just in case you thought otherwise.

Down and Out in Karachi

You know that feeling in your throat when it seems all dry and itchy and a little voice in your head whispers that you might be coming down with something and your cook is off on his weekly holiday and you want soup but there isn't anyone to make it and your mom doesn't pick up the phone and the restaurant you go to serves all kinds of fancy soups but not chicken corn soup and you end up having too many throat lozenges and then you remember the homeopathic medicine your grandfather told you about and luckily, you have it in your medicine box and you chug it down hoping that all will be well the next day.

Unless.......

Of Travels and Destinations - Dubai Part III

Within three hours of landing in Dubai, I was at the mall and in the make up store. It's easy to explain why: I needed to buy makeup. Why the urgency? Simple, because I had none. And the reason I had hardly any makeup was because on a similar getaway trip to Dubai I had made in the first weekend of April, the airline had lost my luggage. 

The airline has still not officially declared the luggage as lost. They are hoping to find it so they are spared making the compensation payment (which is peanuts....I mean, how can they put a price on the emotional attachment I had with my stuff? sniff! sniff!). I've kind of gone through all the stages involved in losing a piece of luggage; denial, more denial, hope, anger, frustration (usually involves the question, why me?), resignation, sliver of hope and finally, acceptance. 

Living in Downtown Dubai (I almost wrote Downton...and I'm not even a fan!) is very convenient. Dubai Mall is just minutes away! And it has the answer to all your shopping needs, more or less. It certainly had the answer to my needs and once we were done with the much needed bathroom trip, we stepped out of the house, hailed a taxi and off we went to Dubai mall. Our driver was from Peshawar and as soon as we told him we were from Karachi he asked, MQM? It is at times like these that one feels like, well....anyone living in this city would know what one feels like when asked this question.

So this taxi driver, Faiyaaz, was living and working in Dubai for the past 17 years. He told us how the entire Downtown area was all a desert wasteland and now they had made it into this concrete wonderland. We chit chatted about Pakistan, Karachi, Peshawar, etc and in under ten minutes, he deposited us at the mall entrance and refused to take money from us. You are our guests here, he said, politely shaking his head. We shook our heads too, politely thanked him for his gesture, made a small speech on how we couldn't rob him of his livelihood, handed him the money and stepped out of the taxi.

In all my trips to Dubai over the past five years I've never met a taxi driver who refused to take money from me. The gesture was very sweet and it gave me a bit of hope. There are still people out there who think from their heart, and are sentimental of sorts. There is good in this world and if you're good too, there is no reason why you won't run into some goodness now and then!

Dubai is a perfect example of how so many different people from different parts of the world can live in one place. I'm going to hold onto this thought for a bit and talk about it in detail in later posts. Meanwhile, in Travel and Destinations part IV: my detailed conversation with another taxi driver to find out the truth about why Pakistani taxi drivers harass Pakistani clients. 

Of Travel and Destinations - Dubai Part II

I always carry a book on me, even while I'm in Karachi. You never know when you'll need to kill the time and I'd rather read than play Candy Crush, thank you very much! I was carrying the novel, Thud! with me but when hubby dear stepped into the book stall in the departure lounge, I couldn't help wandering over too. Maybe it was nostalgia or the resolve to do new things on this trip that made me buy a copy of the 'Suspense Digest' May issue. 

Hubby dear raised inquisitive eyebrows when he saw my buy but I shrugged nonchalantly, said this is all part of the plan, sat back on the uncomfortable waiting area seat and started reading the first story. The thing that has always attracted me to Urdu digests is the artwork. As a child I used to make stories based on the ink drawings which were usually on the title page of the story. My grandmother was an avid reader of these digests and at any given point in time there were quite a few digest copies in her room. It's a fun exercise actually and some drawings are really done well. This copy of the digest has not excited me very much as far as the artwork or the stories are concerned (yes I've read a few of them and that too after coming back!).

What was exciting, as I tried to maneuver my hand luggage, enormous handbag and myself  through the narrow aisle without brushing against other passengers, was the holiday itself. And more importantly, the quest! We were surrounded on almost all sides by men who seemed to be going to the Middle East for work. What  caught my attention was the phone conversation the fellow sitting behind me was having. Although we humans strive to be different, we are all so similar in so many ways. No matter what social strata we belong to, we all ask/say similar things when travelling abroad for work, leisure or study: pray for me, the blessings of mothers are the best, don't cry that I'm leaving, etc. All those workers on the plane with us had left behind their wives, children, parents, friends, the comforts of home. They were going away so that their loved ones could lead a comfortable life while they lived and worked in average and in some cases, below average conditions. And I kept thinking, why are we letting these people go away? Why can't our country provide livelihood for its people? Why don't we value our labour? What is wrong with us? 

On a lighter note, it was amusing to see all these people being served by a foreign and 'gora' (for want of a better word) crew!

The flight to Dubai takes approximately two hours which is almost the same as Karachi to Islamabad. However, the world turns 180 degrees once you land in Dubai. From the moment you step into the Dubai airport, it seems as if you've entered 'la-la land'. Everything is spotlessly perfect. The perfection continues as you walk out of the airport, into the car and on the road. Perfect roads with perfect sidewalks and perfect cars in perfect lanes perfectly following all rules and regulations to reach their perfect (or in some cases not so perfect) destinations. And the latter is what I'm meaning to discover in my (perfect?) trip.

Read in Travel and Destinations part III: Why our first taxi ride was almost free, my first buy just hours after landing and how the Dubai Mall aquarium has the answer to all problems that plague mankind. 

Of Travels and Destinations - Dubai Part I

"A question, a quest is a starting point that gives any trip a purpose." 

                                                                                                         (Pico Iyer)

Before leaving on holiday with hubby dear last month, I happened to read the above quote. I have, never, set an objective before embarking on a journey. So I asked myself: what do I want to come back with from this trip besides the usual suitcase full of stuff (70% useful and 30% useless shopping) and an SD card with photographs? 

This quote (and the article it was a part of) inspired me to do some serious thinking which excluded the 'things to pack', 'gifts for friends' and 'holiday shopping' list. In all honesty, it wasn't easy to set a question for myself. What kind of quest can I give myself for a trip to Dubai? Besides setting a budget and STICKING to it? Which, I assure you, is quite a challenge. 

After much thinking I decided to set myself two goals. The first one was simple enough, do new things on this trip. The second one was a bit tough. Try and scrape through the glittery surface of Dubai and discover what lies beneath. Is there any personality to this city? 

Armed with these two questions, some Khaadi kurtis (their western pret kurtis are my favourite pieces), a pair of jeans which I succeeded buttoning up after holding my breath for what seemed like an eternity, my funky orange 'Listen Girl' bag, and multi-colored kolapuris, I was ready to discover Dubai like it was nobody's business.

With me usually the whole excitement of discovering new places, doing new things and other holiday jargon-y stuff fizzles out a few days into the vacation. The same happened in the case of this trip also but I managed to stay true to my goals which I will reveal in the next few posts which I will be posting in the next few days.

Read in Travels and Destinations part II: My 'new genre' read for the journey, observations on the plane and the concrete jungle that is Dubai. 

Finding Freedom

How many of us are liberated in the true sense of the word?

I'm not. Not completely. Of course there have been some brief periods in my life when I felt free...but they have been few. Lately I've developed this very bad habit of pondering over everything. What will someone think or say if I wear this? What will that person think if I write on a particular topic? How will I be able to justify to someone my inability to do some xyz task? Is our manner of life correct? Are we not misfits in the family, society, world? Will people be interested in what I have to write? Do I really have a story to tell?

I am plagued with such thoughts almost every single day. Thoughts like these create self-doubt and once that finds roots within you, life becomes hell. When I mull indefinitely over a tweet, a blog post or a story, I eventually end up not tweeting, not blogging and not writing. And thus end up feeding my self-doubt even more. 

It's not easy to liberate oneself. A change of scene is not a solution, as I've experienced because the self-doubt neatly folds itself into your luggage and comes along for the journey. And of course, spoils it. 

So, what to do? After some thought, I've brought it down to these. 

1. Let go. More like.......LET GO!

2. Believe in ME.

3. Always look at the grass on my side of the fence and be grateful for it. 

4. Laugh more. With friends, family, loved ones. 

5. Make no.1 the goal of the year. 

And most importantly,

6. Write. Without shame, without care, without remorse. 

To Plan or Not to Plan

You know how there are some moments in your life (can be weeks or months or a month) when things happen one after the other, some planned and others not so planned and you find yourself in a whirlwind of activity at different fronts?

March was such a month for me.

I stepped out of my comfort zone this month, met some new people and touched base with some old ones. And all this activity has made me start thinking. About my writing, this blog, social media in general and how much do I want to be out there. 

I'm donning my thinking cap from tomorrow. Tonight I've got to be at the top of my game at the, hopefully, last event of this month. Here's where I'm going to be at Language and The Writer: An evening with Aamer Hussein. Come over and say hello if you have the time! 

1999 - the year I stopped watching cricket

I was in Karachi in 1999, preparing for my IBA entrance test which meant that I had ample time on my hands to watch ALL the matches of the Cricket World Cup. I was at my grandmother's house and with all cousins over for holidays there was a big, festive gathering which sat down to watch each match. Over tea, snacks and Cadbury fruit and nut chocolate, we discussed the merits of our team versus the rest of the world. 

And what a team it was! A solid fast pace 'killer' bowling attack in the form of Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Shoaib Akhtar, Azhar Mahmood, and Abdur Razzaq. And an equally solid spin attack with the veteran Mushtaq Ahmed and the spin maestro & pioneer of 'doosra', Saqlain Mushtaq. Moin Khan was the perfect keeper. The batting line up had veterans like Salim Malik, Ijaz Ahmed and of course Inzi. Lending support to the veterans were Saeed Anwar, Yousuf Youhana and the young Shahid Afridi. What a team! 

It was one of the first (and last) Cricket World Cup in which I followed all the matches, kept a tab on scores of teams, and even made notes of high scoring batsmen and top wicket takers. [Saeed Anwar was one of the leading run scorers in the tournament while Saqlain Mushtaq was among the highest wicket takers.]

Steve Waugh & Wasim Akram before the final.

Our team did surprisingly and amazingly well. The loss to Bangladesh was avoidable but just three losses to the final wasn't so bad. And what a super victory we had over New Zealand in the semi-final! There was no doubt in my mind and probably in the minds of almost all Pakistanis that we were bringing the World Cup home.

The final was a total anti-climax and with a few exceptions, probably one of the most disappointing match I've ever witnessed in my life. It was like our team was drugged or under a spell. When the batting failed, there was hope that the bowling attack will rip the Aussies apart. But it was not to be and we lost, miserably. It wasn't the loss that hurt as much as the manner in which we lost. Every effort seemed half-hearted. It was as if the team had come prepared to throw away the match. 

I don't know why we lost. Maybe the team was suffering from a bad hangover. Maybe they all got off from the wrong side of the bed or a black cat passed in front of the team bus just when they were stepping out to play. Or maybe someone, the captain perhaps, decided to throw away the final to earn an extra buck. 

Whatever it was, 1999 was the last year when I took cricket seriously. 

And in the present circumstances, it seems like a great decision!

Image: Google

Of Rooms and Views

Inspired by the title of the novel, A Room with a View by E.M.Forster  (which was a part of my February reads in the Grand Reading Plan 2015), I came up with some past, desired and present views. 

From a room with a view of sky, sea and sand (Ko Pha Ngan Island)

A view I greatly desire from a room (Laguna Beach, LA)

The view right now.

Note: All pictures are by the author of the blog. 

a post-crash confession

In the middle of the afternoon today, I crashed.

It wasn't a physical crash although eventually I did crash in front of my telly and watched a christmas chick flick which incidentally gave me a great idea for my new lamps which are technically not new lamps but a gift from my aunt who is giving away her stuff but in a way they are new.

Why did I crash? Why does one crash? In my case it's usually a combination of pending things to do and things that I AM supposed to do and things I PLANNED to do. When I'm unable to meet the latter, postponing the planned activity day after day after day, frustration builds up and then at the most unlikely moment (which has NOTHING to do with the planned activity), I snap. 

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

Emotional snap = morose face and zero response to anything including phone calls from close friends. Also, ignoring hubby.

Mental snap = Self pity, mostly!

Physical snap = Lethargy which usually leads to long periods of time in front of the telly. 

And so I sat for almost three hours, staring at the telly, watching the Top Gear team travel through Rwanda, some bits of the television comedy Web Therapy (which is a great find!) and finally a chick flick. Between the time dinner started and the chick flick ended (roughly ten minutes), I directed all my angst at the remodelling of the lamp shades which I don't want remodelled anymore. And while having dinner I kept thinking I'll probably end up dreaming about the whole fiasco (which, in reality, isn't that big really) and wake up miserable the next day when I heard about the massacre in Nigeria. 

And my snap! moment kind of melted into a little pool of water. The same one in which one is supposed to drown in the Urdu proverb (chullu bhar paani). 

Here I was, twisting my insides over a bloody lamp and there were people in Nigeria, who not many days back, were killed mercilessly and some actually drowned because they were trying to escape being killed by militants? It was like a jolt of electricity. A major wake up call for me. What am I doing? Why am I focusing all my energy on something which is not going to, in any way, change the direction of my life?

So I took a deep breath, smiled at hubby dearest and thanked HIM. Things might not be perfect all the time but they are pretty good and that, I think, will do just fine for now.