I’ve been crying in the rain – II

The Great Flood 2.0 aka the second bout of torrential rain in Karachi deluged us all today.  Surprisingly – and I knock all tables as I write this – KESC did not leave us contemplating suicide. We still have electricity, a fact I am so very, very thankful for.

And this is how the afternoon went down..

I return home in the afternoon having been filled with a sense of deep foreboding at the dark skies. At home is the sister, who missed the Great Flood’s first edition and has not yet taken my hysterical recollections seriously.

4:30 PM: The rain begins.

4:35 PM: Turn AC off, since its located on the wall that water leaks in from. H seems extremely excited at finally being able to help, and has brought containers and cloths to mop up water with, and is ordering me to wear slippers. She would get the cat to wear slippers too, if she could.

4:36 PM: Attempt to move stabilizer results in me banging my knee against it. Believe may have broken one, nay, several bones, such is the pain. Scream in agony.

4:40 PM: Still screaming. Cannot believe I have been so stupid as to injure myself on an afternoon where no travel to a medical facility is possible.

4:42 PM: H is still mopping away, entranced and now thoroughly enlightened to how exactly our room floods.

4:45 PM: H interrupts mopping to examine knee. We judge it cannot be broken. Screams abate.

4:50 PM: Enter Smoky, resident cat, to survey progress of work. Utterly surprised at how both of us are not working at such a terrible hour (containers having overflown and mops having been wrenched for the umpteenth time). Of course, life must be good for her, sitting on top of the TV.

4:55 PM: H bemoans fact that we have been interrupted from watching Namaste London by the rain.

5:10 PM: Dad enters, utterly soaked. Smoky’s expression shows utter delight at having been avenged by the skies for all the times she has been bathed by evil Dad and evil H.

5:15 PM: Inform Dad about state of knee. He was going to ask me to make tea. Clearly, aforementioned accident has its benefits.

9:20 PM: Rain seems to have stopped. Am reminded of favourite line from the utterly fantastic film Les triplettes de Belleville: ‘Is that it, then? Is it over, do you think? What have you got to say to Grandma?’

9:30 PM: Attempt trip outside to the shop. Lanes and streets flooded with water. Find one dry street patch, feel like kneeling down and kissing it. Would have, if wasn’t scared of contracting diseases.

9:40 PM: Shopkeeper in entirely high spirits. Clearly, he is also as delighted at KESC’s miracles. His attempts at humour are not appreciated, he’s not drenched, is he!?

All in all, not a bad day. Its almost 11 PM and I know there’s rain forecast for the next 48 hours, but at least its over..for now.

Random thoughts on a Sunday

So the blog stats show that viewing on this blog took quite a jump after I posted the Daily Intel quote from Salman Rushdie. I have no idea why or where this was coming from (limited stats on WordPress that do not show geographical locations) but is this the way to blog superstardom? I unfortunately cannot spend all my life looking for random news items on Rushdie.

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Is anyone as tired as I am of the same question: “so what do you think will happen to Pakistan after the imposition of Shariah in Swat?” I really want to scream and say “I DON’T KNOW” instead of saying the same things about peace and how this may be the end of the conflict or the beginning of the end. The scenes of the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan replay over and over in my head. In Pakistan, how do we ever know how anything’s going to play out? What is ironic though is that the man responsible for this mess is  holding press conferences and can’t be bothered to put his cigar out.

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Also – the must read of the month has to be Mohammed Hanif’s satirical 7-point letter explaining why Shariah should be imposed on DHA. Its really best read in Urdu, but for those who can’t read the language – Chapati Mystery has an English translation up as well.

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Have just realized how long its been since I’ve blogged. Acting as an unpaid maid to the sister who has fractured her foot and the cat who is joining her on the quest to see who can spend most time on the bed. Leaves little time to self, unfortunately, and whatever time I do have is spent shopping.

Oh no, the inane Gtalk convos are back!

The family’s internet messaging sagas continue. After Dad asked me the question I’d been dreading for a year, “what is Facebook?” (which was followed by a conversation where I told him I would only explain it if he wouldn’t join, and his comparing it to some age-old networking thingy) I thought we couldn’t get any more net-dysfunctional.

We obviously can – as evidenced by the Gtalk conversation this morning

Huma: did u turn the tank off before u left?
me: yes i turned it off and i double checked
Huma: k..once bitten, twice shy (i once left it on and the house literally flooded)
me: indeed
me: or..a stitch in time saves nine
Huma: or..a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush
me: or a rolling stone gathers no moss
Huma: enough!
me: hmph.. all that glitters is not gold apparently
Huma: i will strike u when the iron is VERY hot
me: danger is next neighbour to security
and foul water..will quench fire
Huma: yeh kaunsa idiom hai
do u know why 9 was scared of 7?
me: no
Huma: because 7 8 9
me: LAMEEEEEE
Huma: i kknooowww

Of Czars and cups of tea..

So – in more family related news. I’ve been de facto maid around the house since I arrived – I suppose my persona of a self proclaimed domestic goddess has not vanished away yet into the land where all alter egos go. H has been my employer of sorts – to the point where I have started calling myself H’s unpaid Filipino maid. (you gotta live in the Middle East to get that reference)

And to top it all off..we had this conversation a few days ago..

H: Please go make me tea
Me: Too tired to!
Me (trying to divert the conversation): Dude, Dad got this insane paste to kill cockroaches! Its called – (I kid you not) Czar! and is Russian made or some sort. That’s why we don’t have roaches in the kitchen anymore
H: Ha ha, that’s funny
H: Go make tea now!
Me: Nooo
H: Why not? There aren’t any roaches anymore, right?!

(At which I had to shamefacedly about turn to the kitchen and make that blasted cup of tea)

On another note – please, dear God, don’t let it rain until DHA decides to fill up all those ditches at every corner. If it does rain, all the houses are going to resemble castles in the medieval era, surrounded by water, and someone will make a fortune building moats and drawbridges so people can actually leave their house.

Post Martial Law

I don’t remember the last time I spent this much time poring over news websites from home or actually watching TV channels streaming online. Most days, I am proud to be from Pakistan – since that shapes so much of my identity living abroad – but I am embarrassed to have a moron of a military dictator as the recognized leader of the country.

While my nonchalant father (nonchalancy comes after having seen this happen four times in his life. I told him about what had happened online since he wasn’t watching TV and well, not like that would have made a difference) reassures me that everything will be fine, I find comfort in the smaller things that have come out of the country being under Martial Law – the judges that have refused to take oath under yet another Provisional Constitutional Order, the lawyers and human right activists that have been taken under house arrest for the conviction of their beliefs and their power to mobilize masses, and of the journalists who continue to work despite having a gag order. Seeing my sister’s news report today (for the first time, since she started reporting right after I left and I never got a chance to see her on TV) made me realize that were my mother alive today, she’d be proud of her daughter speaking out on the current state of affairs in the country.

Today, if I had the chance to exchange my passport for one that didn’t come out of the banana republic that Pakistan is slowly becoming thanks to the whims of a power hungry dictator, I don’t know what I would do. Living in Jordan has made me realize that at least I come from a country that is legally recognized, as opposed to the numerous Palestinians and Iraqis I encounter at various Ministries and Embassies, who have to fill out countless forms and endure questioning and raised eyebrows, and often appear to suffer a complete loss of identity, even though some of them are second generation Palestinians, for example.

Am I worried? Yes.

Do I want to go back home? I don’t know.

Quotes from the family..

Honestly, we are more dysfunctional online than in real life…

Huma: this all sounds very familiar.
i think u are just camouflaging ur feelings
what did harry and sally or their desi counterpart saif and rani teach you?
men and women cannot be friends

me: anyway, what is new in your life
Huma: nothing man
i went to a fortune teller today
the parrot guy
to tell me benazir’s future

Huma: in another monumental moment
abba got the tv shifted to his room
me: WHAT
why
this is it
life as i know it is changing
Huma: and to inaugurate the occassion
he also fell asleep in front of it

Dad: Yeah – really cool
me: since when do you use words like cool?
Dad: My daughters’ lingo caught up with me

me: How is Smokie?
Dad: Smokie is great.
She meowed and walked me to the kitchen. Then turned around and faced the fridge. But, she did not want food, she wanted cream
Then she went and perched herself on the window sill so that I feed her there. Utterly, totally, entirely, wholly spoilt

Adopted Vietnamese?

Conversations with Dad – asking why sister has flown coop..

Saba: why did she go to sukkur?

oh she is big high flying journalist now

abba how does she look like on tv

do you all sit around and wait for her to be on?

Dad: She went to cover Shahdadkot where the village is totally inundated by floods.

She looks swell – but then she is your sister. I have only seen her a couple of times but even your Grandmother has seen her, Aunt feels she looks a seasoned broadcaster. Housekeeper says she looks like a foreigner. Some butter-layers from office said her voice resembles mine. A client from Dubai phoned to ask whether this Huma Imtiaz is related to me.

Saba: hahahahahahhahahahahhaha

butter layers!

hahahahahhaha

Saba: so did you say that this Huma Imtiaz is related to you?

Dad: What do you think I said? “That she is an adopted Vietnamese?”

the parrot saga..

Okay, so remember the jigsaw puzzle saga? How H and I labored into the morning hours everyday, trying to put the pieces together and curse all parrotkind to hell?

The puzzle now hangs proudly on the living room wall.

Just one problem.

Its over 3 feet tall.

Will post a better picture once I have more time. But seriously. Seriously!

Of puzzles and parrots

So for the past 3 days, H and I have been trying to create a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle.

Before you ask – “why?!?!” – let me share with you the legacy of jigsaw puzzles.

My mom loved making jigsaw puzzles. My grandmom’s house and ours had atleast 2 – 3 jigsaw puzzles that she’d made over the years, hanging proudly on the wall for the entire world to admire. The most talked about puzzle was one of the Taj Mahal; the legend behind which is that the framer dropped the created puzzle and hence my mom had to re-do it again.

And unfortunately, one piece was missing.

My parents then made the framer sweep the entire store; and he called them back with the good news – he’d found the missing piece in a dusty corner.

Some people have framed family pictures, others have mounted animal heads (ugh!) – we have jigsaw puzzles. They are as much a part of my memory as any other family member. And when I came back from India, and my Dad asked me how the Taj Mahal was like; all I said was “exactly like the puzzle.”

Now, H and I thought we might have been blessed with the same jigsaw-puzzle-making-gene; and hence embarked on a mission to make one which features four parrots.

We have not been blessed. God has a great sense of humor.

H: I want to quit!!
Me: Imtiaz girls never quit on jigsaw puzzles!! This is our legacy.
H: What kind of legacy is this!?! We can’t even Google it.

Anyway, it has been 2 days and a severe hatred for parrots has been the subject of conversation amongst us; while my Dad has been oddly silent. I think he sits in his room and chuckles at how artfully he has killed any social life we might have had by engrossing us in – the puzzle.

Sigh.

post 4-am sleepwalking.

Oh dear God. Just a few minutes ago – this is what happened. Divine confirmation of us being complete workaholics.

H gets out of bed with great sense of purpose, walks to kitchen, comes back.

H: Where are the *mumble mumble*
Me: Where’s what?
H: Where are the VJ’s clothes?
Me: Whaaaat?!
H: The clothes we got from that place..

I paused, and looked at H closely to check if she was sleepwalking. Nope, eyes are open.

H: Woh jo catering ka intezaam karwaya tha
Me: Catering? For what?
Me: *waving hand in front of her* Are you awake?
H: Of COURSE I’m awake! Catering for the people who have to EAT!
Me: *bursts into giggles*
H: *raises hand to slap me..*
Me: No, I don’t know

H walks back to bed
H: Do you know where *insert coworker’s name* clothes are? I’ve looked for the clothes everywhere, they’re not in the kitchen either. (fyi h: you haven’t been away from home that long. we still keep clothes in the closets)
Me: Have you checked in the closet?
H: No
Me: Maybe they’re in the trunk..
H: *angrily* then its your problem, not mine.