Something's fishy

Yesterday, I left work a little late then my usual 7 pm. I spot eight-wheelers all around; trucks, heavy vehicles sporting emblems of obscure mexicana traders and jagozai groups. The air is heavy, smelling of sea. There is a frivilous activity all around me. Honking cars, buses with sing-a-song horns, bellowing trucks and over enthusiastic women shoppers. Whats up? Karachi seems suddenly a bit too charged up to me. Everything audible has been multplied by 100 decibels.

I am not confined to my Alto, today, where I can slide-up the glass and turn up the radio. I am driving my dad's old car today, his first ever. Still intact after eighteen years of committed service. An 800 suzuki mehran. My car was hit few days back. I had forgotten how my city looked like behind the facade of this atrocious driving and maddening traffic, behind cluttered buildings and frenzied morning drives, behind tight-deadlines and boxed food.

I spot this guy in plain shalwar kameez driving a sheriff's bike. The mini-bus driver shares a laugh with him leaning halfway from his driver's seat. I feel like laughing too. The irony of pseudo-policewalah in real time.

The sights and sounds of Karachi are still very much there, ready to be devoured, to be cherished. We choose.

Summer of 2002

The class of 2002, met at the Arizona Grill, couple of months back. Attached is the visual proof. Enjoy!

A day in a life of me

The Non-refundable 1/2 calorie bottle of Diet Pepsi Cola is lying before me. Occupying its own little space on my cluttered desk. I havent been able to drink much from it. The label is all damaged, tattered. The used n abused NR bottles. Unlike cans, I cant even crush it. I can only break it.

Hail Pepsi Cola International!