if you dont stop beating yourself down for once, maybe things would be a little easier. nevine and ali act so juvenille sometimes. its so easy to get angry. walking back and forth was strangely calming. watching blood spurt out of her hand was not. it wasn't even funny. she was tired, the kind of tired you are when you're turned away again and again, always talked to, never listened to and you figure that if they don't care, neither should you. its hot, and you can't go through the day without breaking into a sweat. you can't hold someone in contempt for having a watermelon bed and matching curtains? watch me. everyone wants to leave this house. that door has seen more people escape than enter, and that's not illogical. nevine and ali are people. so am i. and i'm the one who will break the cycle, hoo-ra. and up she goes. will you marry me?

[ founding eveneverland. ]

three bright orange oranges, tossed up into the sky, into the air, we laugh, the universe split and the sun was created in that moment, and the clouds rushed to cover it up, to dim its brilliance. paper planes soared through the sky, we went flying that winter, wingtip to wingtip, drinking the ocean, crushing sand beneath our toes. we danced like we dreamt like we slept and we said goodbye, everytime we say goodbye again and again i keep forgetting but one day i fear that is all i will remember. this feels hideous as the world looks on, these are things we all stopped believing in, that we threw away, that we fear, loathe, hate. and here i am, an outcast of an age, the girl who never grew up (or who grew old, died, and was born again, because of someone she knew) and here i am, celebrating things that dont exist, because either i lied before or i am lying now when i say there is no such thing, no such thing (if you believe in fairies, clap your hands or the last one will die) and i am telling you that there is.

and there is this giddy silence, this hideous, beautiful moment when we were poised at the place where two mountains met and there were rocks and sand between and a sheer drop to the roaring river below and our heads spun, dizzy with fear and then there was that moment (we felt) this manic grin split our face, grit our teeth, laugh at the sky and let our feet run across showering loose earth in our wake. it doesnt matter. at that point, nothing does. i'd rather dieonmyfeet than liveonmyknees.

the evenings are beautiful, these days, brightly pink because of the heat and the smog. karachi is so much to look forward to. tiny trill-prickles jump under my skin at the sparks that bristle at the very fingertips of pylons, sparkling gold against the neon night sky. i love the rush you feel when you stand on a roof and the city just sprawls to all sides of you, and you can feel it pulsing as if were connected to you, physically, organically, that if you flex your fingers half of the lights in KDA will glow brighter and dim, that the sound of motorcycles at 3 am is just resonating to your own tired restlessness. i love waking up, even. the air in the morning (7 am) feels like your skin (goldenbrown, texturelikesun). i've woken up at 7 for as long as i can remember, even if i do go back to sleep. wake up, eyes stare blearily at the clock, mind slightly confused, skin smiles in happy reassurance (he's there. good.) and we go back to sleep.

..it's never been this way before. stones don't make cities. people do.

coruscate, coruscate, aster minifique..

it is interesting and much joyful to know that the reason i can barely afford fuel for my own car is because i am paying for the ministers' cars. and mobiles. and luxury bills. and (who knows?) utility bills. and the water, leave us not forget that. --->

which reminds me. LAHORIS, THERE'S NO BLOODY WATER IN THIS COUNTRY. KINDLY STOP DEPLETING WATER RESERVES. KINDLY READ THE NEWSPAPERS. WAKE UP.

finally (and this is to crown it all off, this is when i start thinking that the world has truly gone mad) :

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

FIR against Khuhro, 4 MPAs

KARACHI: Treasury Member of the Sindh Assembly (MPA) Eshwar Lal registered a first information report (FIR) on Tuesday against five MPAs, including Opposition Leader Nisar Khuhro, for beating him up on June 21. The FIR has been registered against opposition MPAs Munawar Abbasi, Murad Ali Shah, Salim Hingoro and Mohammad Nawaz Chandio, besides Khuhro. The FIR was filed at Preedy police station under Section 506-B of the Pakistan Penal Code (threat to murder) and Section 324 (attempted murder). No arrests had been made by the time this report was filed on Tuesday evening. On June 21, the opposition MPAs beat up Lal during a Sindh Assembly budget session for sending a “love note” to MPA Shazia Marri of the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP). The opposition MPAs and Lal were suspended by the assembly speaker. The four MPAs from the PPP defied the ban and continued attending house proceedings. The Opposition in the Sindh Assembly announced on Tuesday that all its members would court arrest as well should the police arrest the five MPAs. “We have been informed that an FIR was registered against me and four other MPAs,” Khuhro said at a press conference in his chamber. “I am proud to have been named in the FIR.” He said that the FIR was a “plot hatched by the Sindh chief minister”. Qaim Shah of the PPP said that the speaker had punished Lal for the incident by suspending him for the remainder of the session on that day, but had banned the other MPAs for two more days. “The MPAs have been punished and they cannot be punished twice,” Shah said, adding that the FIR had “no legal status”. staff report

and as long as you're reading that, yeh bhi parh lo:

Should women get a dressing down for dressing up?

By Zarnageen

KARACHI: Men and women belonging to different professions spoke to Daily Times about their perception of the Eshwar Lal-Shazia Marri incident. They were specifically asked how a public figure should dress and how should they be treated.

Ruet-e-Hilal Committee Chairman Mufti Munibur Rehman said that women of the assembly should follow the dress code as laid down by Islam and also display the expected mannerisms as taught to them by the teachings of the religion. He said that every Muslim knows that it is mandatory in the religion for every woman to wear complete hijab. Women in the assembly should have separate seats and as far as Shazia Marri’s case is concerned it just goes to show that only modern women face such problems.

PPP MNA Fauzia Wahab said that a workingwoman should be modest and simple in her dressing and mannerisms. Love letters are always showered on women but to blow a little “chit” out of proportion was not appropriate. Eshwar Lal’s beating does not prove bravery or heroic behaviour. Shazia should not have created such a big issue out of nothing. She ended up making a fool of herself.

PPP MPA Rubina Qaimkhaani said that a workingwoman is allowed to look after herself in the form of dressing nicely and grooming herself. MPAs, especially women, should be role models. She said that a woman’s work is judged by her physical appearance and it is important to look nice. Shazia’s incident has nothing to do with the fact that she dressed well, if this was the case then Mukhtaran Mai would have never gone through such an ordeal.

Sindh Hilal-e-Ahmar Vice-Chairperson Shamim Kazmi said a working woman is looked down upon in our society no matter what profession she is a part of. Jamaat-e-Islaami MNA Laeeq Ahmed said like seats for MPAs should be segregated. Men of the Sindh Assembly should respect their fellow MPAs. A woman is worth respecting no matter which field she belongs to.


we spend days and nights throwing the concept of empowerment back and forth. i realise i am left out of that loop because i dont really believe in empowerment of women at all. it doesnt mean that the harrassment and discrimination, the stares and leers and aggression will stop; it only means that women will learn to deal with it on the streets. its a daft word. it suggests that by tolerating a man's gaze long enough to ride a bus a woman is powerful. more powerful? marginally? maybe.
the funny thing is, if we tell our parents (ok, fine. the patriarchs) about the harrassment we face on the streets, they'll only put us back in the house. nothing changes. because we're not talking. isn't it amazing, that metal grill that seperates lecherous male hands from chaste female backsides? i've seen cages in the zoo made of lighter material. we're animals, aren't we?

one day, this country (its people) will realise that nothing matters. not religion, not god, not morality. those books and stories, priests and soothsayers tell you nothing, they have no idea of what you are going through. you trust only yourself, and the people stuck in the same prison. let the rich fly away and become shit-scrapers in other countries. turn around and tell me that your life doesn't have any significance for anyone but yourself. at this point, i really dont care what most of us think about it. what will matter (only, ever, in the end, ultimately) is what any one of us choose to do about it.

so i've been told i stopped blogging. acheeeain. you mean people still check? i am sorry. nothing more disappointing than a un-updated blog [hint hint, UA Tribe].

i am in karachi. this much is known. i went swimming today. there were some fat balding CEOs, a retired millionaire, five screaming kids, two ants and bits of grass in the pool. after blowing everyone away with my spectacular freestyle and less-than-spectacular stamina for two laps, i realise that swimming is actually bloody hard. and bloody exhausting.
i stood at the shallow end, stooping slightly, scoping the scene, looking cool, nonchalantly gasping for breath. zia-ul-haq in goggles drifted in from the deep end, two lanes to the left. two CEO's bitched out a third (not present). you know that one? kal hi i saw him. he came in a Corolla. the new one. acha? haan, haan. must be doing well. god knows, yaar. where these people get their money from.

bhaiyya, you're supposed to go on the higher one! the boy looked 14, until i noticed the bulging arms and abs. 17, perhaps. he bounced up and down on the lower diving board, bouncing like one of those olympic medalists. he grinned, skipped in front, pinched his nose and jumped in, bum first.
make that 16.
the retired pensioner came down the right lane, pah, pah, like a small, very slow motor boat. pink goggles sat at the bottom of the pool. a small fish-like child in a bright blue two-piece stared at them through goggled eyes. the boy swam around and dove inside. resurfacing, he snapped the pink rubber around his own head. bhaiyya, you're a girl.

i pushed myself for five laps, trying to concentrate on the way skin looks when it glistens in the sunlight to distract myself from the burn in my muscles.

it's hot today. tapish. i feel myself going darker. feels nice. for those of you who remember the paper that was presented at the SS conference right after our student panel... the one on the politics of beauty in SAsia.. there was something on the way the darker one is always the wayward one (fitnaa).. none of this white purity chastity bullcrap. i hate being mistaken for a gora in my own damn country. offices, cool white tiles, protective concrete, none of the sun-heat-unskilled labour stuff for us. might as well be gora.

its not Chicago Manual Style. its Chicago Manual of Style, like Vogue or Cosmopolitan. get the latest copy today.