From:	Zahoor Hassan	Sent:	Wed 10/12/2005 1:46 PM
To:	Faculty; Staff; 'a&vfaculty@lums.edu.pk'; STUDENTS
Cc:
Subject:	IMPORTANT DECISION REGARDING LUMS DISASTER RELIEF FUND (LDRF)

IMPORTANT DECISION REGARDING LUMS DISASTER RELIEF FUND (LDRF)

Dear Students, Faculty & Staff:

Based on careful discussion and deliberation, we have decided to ask faculty, staff and students to voluntarily contribute certain minimum amount to the LUMS Disaster Relief Fund (LDRF), to be deducted from/charged to their accounts (details given below).

With every passing hour it is becoming tragically obvious that we are facing one of the worst humanitarian crises *insert more official schpeil on the matter here*

Yesterday, we had announced a LUMS Disaster Relief Fund (LDRF) Target of Rs.10 Million to be reached by the end of this week. Many from the LUMS community have already stepped forward and contributed generously to the LDRF. However, before we look to our outside links and contacts, we have to clearly demonstrate and set the example that we who really constitute and make LUMS, have genuine empathy and a generous heart. We, as an institution have to show reliance on our own resources and commitment and lead from the front. We have to show that we can raise Rs. 10 Million on our own and once we do so many others will be much more galvanized to further contribute to this effort. In order to get to our target of Rs. 10 Million, after long and careful discussion and deliberation we have decided ask faculty, staff and students to voluntarily contribute the following minimum amount to LDRF, to be deducted from/charged to their accounts.:

All LUMS Faculty will contribute the equivalent of their two-days salary, every month for the next three months.

All LUMS Staff (with a salary over Rs. 25,000 per month) will contribute the equivalent of their two-days salary, every month for the next three months.

All Students will contribute Rs. 3500 (i.e. the equivalent of One Unit of education at LUMS).

LUMS will make deductions from the faculty and staff salaries (starting next month onwards) and bill the students for their contribution in their fee cards.

If a faculty or staff member is unwilling to make this contribution or feels that he or she does not have the financial capacity to make this contribution, they should inform the Dean of their respective school by email.

Students who are not willing or able to make this contribution should inform Ms. Samina Hafeez, Deputy Manager, Admissions and Student Services, (E.Mail: samina@lums.edu.pk)), by sending an email with their name, father’s name and roll number.

If at all you fall in the category of people who do not or cannot make this contribution, please send the aforementioned intimations by 12.00 noon on Friday, October 14.

We are sure that many of you are already making contributions to this very worthy cause in many other ways and through various other avenues. This, however, is an opportunity to do something through the common bond, avenue and institution that holds us together and gives us the identity of being associated with LUMS.

We will be keeping you posted on a daily basis as to the decisions and actions that have been taken pertaining to usage of LDRF. Last night a team of five experienced LUMS trekkers left for some remote villages of Bagh in NWFP under the superviison of Dr. Sohaib Khan and they were carrying Rs. 200,000 from LDRF for purchase of food items for people in the area as well as Rs. 60,000 worth of medicines and equipment. We will continue to collect cash, medicines and other provisions. The collections will be rapidly disbursed primarily through 1) Islamic Relief, and 2) Edhi Trust. Some funds will also be utilized to provide direct immediate support. At the same time, ideas for long-term contribution towards rehabilitation are also being discussed by committees constituting of faculty, staff and students and at the moment adoption of certain badly hit areas for constructing and sustaining tent villages and helping the local school and education system are being streamlined, in collaboration with local partners.

We, therefore, strongly urge and request you to support the spirit of this endeavour and contribute.

With best regards

Dr. Syed Zahoor Hassan
(Vice Chancellor)

Dr. Jawaid Ghani
(Dean - Suleman Dawood School of Business)

Dr. Anwar Khurshid
(Dean - School of Arts & Sciences)

some thoughts on the issue of institutionalized charity.

1) in our community (Ismaili, for those of you who dont know that about me yet) we dont give zakat. we fill out zakat waiver forms which are frankly a pain in the ass but ill get to that later. we are expected to contribute 12.5% of our salary every year in what we call dasond. no one reminds you to give dasond. no one offers to remove it from your paycheck, your bank account or assets. im not sure if theres even a fixed date by which you have to give it.
im sure there are people out there who dont pay dasond. im sure there are people who give less than theyre supposed to. but i can safely say that the majority of people take it out, all by themselves, whenever they can- end of the fiscal year, during eid, whatever- sometimes giving a fraction less, sometimes giving significantly more. they sit and calculate 12.5% all by themselves. take the initiative to go to the bank/atm and withdraw money. curse the bank/atm for being closed/not functioning/out to lunch. go back the next day. bother to find out WHERE to give the money, WHO to give it to. but somehow, by some miracle, people believe in that 12.5 strongly enough to go and do it all by themselves.

2) it annoys me when people create convenient loopholes for themselves. a clean, surgical, hassle-free removal of money from your bank account. given that your assets and reserves are revalued, devalued, go up and down all the time, i doubt it makes a difference. the act of parting with cash you earned is lost. the act of being motivated enough to go out of your way to give, Give... is lost.

3) if people arent giving, its NOT completely a lack of morals on their part. thats too easy. the cold, miserly, tightfisted Scrooge who doesnt care. the majority of people who dont give part of their money are NOT, by and large, Scrooges. theyre disconnected. targeting a lack of funds in the zakat pool (or the LDRF, for this matter) is TOO EASY- just take it out of their accounts. actually getting people to feel, to think, to give... make them feel part of a community, feel some responsibility is difficult. its cowardice to avoid that challenge. to critically look at society and think- where are we screwing up? where is the love, anyway? thats much more difficult than a couple of swift accounting measures.



im sorry guys... but as much as i try to love people in econ and accounts, theres always this one little thing, little slip... it can be a mental block when trying to comprehend concepts of NON-PROFIT-MOTIVATION or ambivalence/apathy towards the various ills of the world... they cant think beyond that, at the end of the day.. no matter how genuine their intentions are. sometimes some people go beyond that block. they are currently seriously questioning their choice of major/career.


finally... that little bit... "This, however, is an opportunity to do something through the common bond, avenue and institution that holds us together and gives us the identity of being associated with LUMS" we did that... all of yesterday, and the day before, and today... sacrificed mids, term papers, food, sleep, time, energy... and we'll be doing it for the next week, inshallah, if the need be. you are welcome to join us. you are welcome to be part of that. Give a little. do yourself the inconvenience... its not that bad.

day 2

11pm, storm. need we say any more? temperatures dropped to an easy 21 in Lahore, god alone knows whats happening Pindi and beyond.
heartwarming turnout today, feeling a lot better about humanity in general and luminites in particular. LAS boys on their way to Bagh in this crazy weather. six hours to pindi, and onwards from there. how the hell those people up north are going to survive in this weather for another night is beyond me.
at least now i know that there are a decent 100-200 people out there who will show up for these things, come rain or shine. and there are people who will give everything they can, and then some. hope our efforts end up making some small difference in the end.
at the end of the day, im just exhausted. and theres a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that our efforts seem so small, in the grander scheme of things. that truck we loaded looked tiny against the flashing sky and billowing clouds of dust. men shouting, tarpaulin snapping, gunny bags and jerry cans piled high... somehow its still not enough. all this, and we still need a miracle.

so much to do. come on now, they're counting on us. for we have promises to keep, and miles to go before we sleep, and miles to go before...

thank god ibad came up to me last night and said "fuck, dude, i dont know why im doing this anymore"- waving a sheaf of linear algebra notes in my face. yeah, i know. ghotki was the same. fucks you in the head, so many people gone like that.
last night i ran back to the dorms to get the blanket and sweater i had left in the room. shandana had told me to get people from the dorms to help pack the stuff, but there were very few people in the dorm. since most were out on campus, i assumed there would be tons of volunteers at the collection-packing thing too. i was pretty surprised to see only a handful... made me wonder what everyone else was doing. bhai bethey they, guppay maar rahey they... you couldve just come n helped. people did show up later.. and i realise several of them were with the blood camp.
also cheered me considerably to see so much stuff... people have really given from their hearts. top quality LAS jackets, blankets, clothes. well, maybe not sooo much, but a lot. and i know more will come, i know there are great people out there. those who will step up and donate blood without a second thought, help in any small way they can. trying to push disappointment out of my mind and believe that we have what it takes to come together as a community. disappointment like salma saying "aww.. this sweater is too cute to be worn by a kashmiri kid" and disappointment like the religious society not lifting a finger, a freaking finger to help any of us. they hold prayers. oh god. trust God to come into everything and FUCK peoples minds over. you'll sit for three goddamn hours in that mosque for fucking tarawih and feel self-righteous, but you wont come and pack some clothes up so that the people actually helping these people have an easier time. disappointment like compo and writing today- thought sara was going to break down, but i could feel her frustration. ma'am, i think one i reminded through these things of Gods supremecy.... and miss, i know people can help themselves... i mean, theyre already so poor, they cant need much aid, can they? wiasey, dude, where ARE the 09's? bhainchod nazar hi nahin aarahey, except for the odd one or two. i KNOW 5-fucking-hundred of you were admitted... is this not cool enough for you?

you find yourself working with all sorts of ideas and politics you never thought you would. you have the sense to keep your reservations to yourself. and just do it. let what happened affect you, realize that very little else matters, at this point.

[ Stoppard. ]

[Guildenstern is pretending to be Hamlet]
Rosencrantz: Let me get it straight. Your father was king. You were his only son. Your father dies. You are of age. Your uncle becomes king.
Guildenstern: Yes.
Rosencrantz: Unusual.
Guildenstern: Undid me.
Rosencrantz: Undeniably.
Guildenstern: He slipped in.
Rosencrantz: Which reminds me...
Guildenstern: Well, it would.
Rosencrantz: I don't want to be personal.
Guildenstern: Common knowledge.
Rosencrantz: Your mother's marriage.
Guildenstern: He slipped in.
Rosencrantz: His body was still warm!
Guildenstern: So was hers.
Rosencrantz: Extraordinarily...
Guildenstern: Indecent.
Rosencrantz: Hasty.
Guildenstern: Suspicious.
Rosencrantz: Makes you think.
Guildenstern: Don't think I haven't.
Rosencrantz: And with her husband's brother!
Guildenstern: They were close.
Rosencrantz: She went to him...
Guildenstern: Too close.
Rosencrantz: For comfort.
Guildenstern: It looks bad.
Rosencrantz: Adds up.
Guildenstern: Incest to adultery.
Rosencrantz: Would you go so far?
Guildenstern: Never!
Rosencrantz: To sum up: your father, whom you love, dies. You are his heir. You come back to find that hardly was the corpse cold before his young brother pops onto his throne and into his sheets, thereby offending both legal and natural practice. Now... why exactly are you behaving in this extraordinary manner?
Guildenstern: I can't imagine.

All your life you live so close to truth it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye. And when something nudges it into outline, it's like being ambushed by a grotesque.

.....
...
..
.


-Shouldn't we be doing something... constructive?



-What did you have in mind? A short, blunt human pyramid?

[ john lennon lovers, burn in hell. ]

let's talk of peace....

sounds so cliche
a
novelty,
catch phrase of the day
middle, index,
sign of the time
just as complex,
as water to ...

someone said

give peace a chance

and, that's all that we're saying

while we're sitting
on the fence

pretending,
our hearts are in the right place
but, your face
shows a trace of

hypocrisy.

~Extreme




thankoo, x :p

well, i dreamed i saw the knights
in armor coming,
saying something about a queen.
there were peasants singing and
drummers drumming
and the archer split the tree.
there was a fanfare blowing
to the sun
that was floating on the breeze.
look at Mother Nature on the run
in the nineteen seventies.
look at Mother Nature on the run
in the nineteen seventies.

i was lying in a burned out basement
with the full moon in my eyes.
i was hoping for replacement
when the sun burst thru the sky.
there was a band playing in my head
and i felt like getting high.
i was thinking about what a
friend had said
i was hoping it was a lie.
thinking about what a
friend had said
i was hoping it was a lie.

well, i dreamed i saw the silver
space ships flying
in the yellow haze of the sun,
there were children crying
and colors flying
all around the chosen ones.
all in a dream, all in a dream
the loading had begun.

flying Mother Nature's
silver seed to a new home in the sun.

flying Mother Nature's
silver seed to a new home...


..just.. nice :)

[ discovering the americas, for anarchy. ]

dark and silent late last night, i think i might have heard the highway calling

~Carolina in my Mind. Indigo Girls, James Taylor cover.

IF A MAN TELLS YOU THAT HIS FAVORITE MOVIE IS FORREST GUMP, HE WANTS TO GET INTO YOUR PANTS.







this Public Service Message has been brought to you by People Who Care.

to look life in the face

always

to look life in the face

and to know it, for what it is

at last, to know it.

to love it, for what it is.

and then,

to put it away.


leonard

always the years between us

always the years

always

the love

always


the hours.

[ Janis ]

Janis Joplin was absolutely a barnstormer and a complete groundbreaker. She wasn't just a great woman in rock -- at the time she was the woman in rock. Janis really created this whole world of possibility for women in music: Without Janis Joplin, there would be no Melissa Etheridge. Without Janis, there would be no Chrissie Hynde, no Gwen Stefani. There would be no one.
I was a freshman or sophomore in high school when Janis first connected with me. Pearl was the first record I bought. I remember that I was kind of scared. I think that if Joni Mitchell gave me the idea that a woman could write about her life in a public forum, Janis gave me the idea that a woman could live a wild life and put that out there in a public forum, too. At the time, I was this very proper Catholic girl, and Janis was a frightening presence. But being scared didn't stop me from buying Janis' records, and it didn't stop me from wearing a black armband to school the day she died.

It's hard to imagine now the extent to which Janis was so completely shocking at the time. There had been blues singers who were wild and unrestrained -- but even they tended to be a little more buttoned-down than Janis. She always seemed on the verge of being totally out of control. Last summer, I watched the Monterey Pop Festival film for the first time in ages, and I was absolutely stunned by Janis. She had this focus that was relentless. She was a spectacle, like some kind of nuclear being bearing down on the crowd. In the film, you see Mama Cass at the end of Janis' performance just shaking her head, standing up and applauding, like, "Oh, my God, what just happened?" She had an unshakable commitment to her own truth, no matter how destructive, how weird or how bad. Nothing else seemed to matter. She was such an individual in the way she dressed, the way she sang, the way she lived. She loved her whiskey and made no bones about it. This was a full-blown one-of-a-kind woman -- no stylist, no publicist, no image-maker. It was just Janis.

The beauty and the power of Janis Joplin as a singer is her complete lack of fear. She held nothing back. She went to the edge every time she opened her mouth. She sang from her toes and from her soul. She could also destroy you when she got vulnerable, like on "Me and Bobby McGee," where you saw the little girl underneath. But through it all, Janis never lightened up. She didn't live long enough to lighten up. She was a very fierce, very beautiful bright light that burned out way, way too quickly.

~Rosanne Cash




for the boy who irretrievablely, irreversiblely brought music into my life. thank you- i will always love you, if only for that.

[ gems. ]

KARACHI, July 20: The benefits of market economy through healthy competition have started trickling down...


lol. they sound so relieved, the poor bastards. Yes!! Mankiw and Freidman are Gods! The Free Market liiiiiiveeeesss!!!! :D


for all interested, the rest of the article from http://dawn.com/2005/07/21/local14.htm:


Calling cards facing tough competition

KARACHI, July 20: The benefits of market economy through healthy competition have started trickling down to the common man in several sectors, and the telecommunication sector is one where the cost of various services is constantly declining and, as a result, users are getting services on cheaper rates. An official of a major company in the telecommunication sector, while talking to the APP, said though there was no even playing field for various players within the telecommunication sector, there was still a tough competition going on.It would become tougher, he said, as more players enter the market forcing basic changes to be brought about and make money through economy of scale instead of skimming the market.He said the calling card business was loosing fascination and charm with which these had been launched in the beginning since most of the telecom service providers were offering long distance and international calling services at competitive rates as package and value added deals on their own networks.Responding to a query, he said, the first wireless phone working on the WLL was offering 99 paisas per minute as charges on nationwide and Rs4.99 per minute for international calls.Call charges within the country on the same net was already lowest at 40 paisas per minute, he said, adding that it would force others to bring down their rates to the same level.When asked if the said company had any hidden costs, he said the long distance and international (LDI) and wireless local loop (WLL) licenses had made it possible to offer such rates and make money from a broader clientele.Substantiating his statement, he said various players in the telecom sector were now focusing on widening their network so they could catch the leftover or the dry market.One such company, he said had planned to have 200,000 public call offices (PCO) by the end of the year at competitive rates, adding it would be a final nail in the coffin for calling card companies. Eventually, the PTCL would also have to reduce its calling rates, he observed.He said there was tremendous demand for new business and residential telephone services in many developing countries.More operators were looking to wireless technologies to rapidly provide thousands of new subscribers with high-quality telephone service at a reasonable price.Furthermore, new service providers could quickly deploy non-traditional WLL solutions to rapidly meet the community’s telephone needs.He said advanced technology had seriously challenged the monopoly of the state-owned entity, which was now entering the private sector and would be made to work according to market forces and competition.The arrival of the WLL in the country was playing an important role in the country’s social and economic development.The WLL-based phones, he explained, eliminated the need to put in place expensive copper wires and, therefore, could be installed in any locality.In fact, some analysts were of the view that the WLL was the ideal alternate to fixed line telephones.—APP



dedicated to Tina ;)

one night. one am. one car. three tipsy women and a nida. there's something bout khi :)

why do you build me up [build me up] buttercup, baby just to let me down let me down and mess me around and then worst of all (worst of all) you never call, baby when you say you will {say you will} but I love you still i need you - i need you - more than anyone, darlin' you know that i have from the start so build me up (build me up) Buttercup, don't break my hearrrttt...

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made.

~The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien

In the beginning there was a river. The river became a road and the road branched out to the whole world. And because the road was once a river it was always hungry.

~the famished road, Ben Okri

[ karhi. ]

1/4 tsp. rye
1/4 tsp. zeera
1/2 tsp. lassan
karhi patta (about 5-6 leaves)
1 green chilly (fat, uncut, stemmed: the non-"chilly" variety.)
1/2 tsp. haldi
1/4 tsp. red chilly powder
oil
salt

Batter
1/2 cup dahi*
3/4 cup besan
1 tsp. salt

*preferably just a little tangy, borderline sour. the kind which can cause a bit of a tingle in that area at the back of your mouth.. the space between the ear and the jaw bone... where it is always nice to kiss and be kissed.
put the ingredients for the batter into a mixing bowl and add two cups of water. process the mixture anyway you like- fork, spoons, whisks, electric beaters, food processor- as long as you've got the lumps out.

heat oil in pan. considering you're going to be pouring in a good three four cups of water, make sure the pan is large. and make sure its hot. and make sure the oil is just the right amount, at just the right temperature. three-four tablespoons at medium heat for five mins should do it.
at this point, you reach a crucial juncture in family history. my mother only likes onions in moderation. my father was weaned on them. so my dadi would always throw in half a small chopped onion at this point until it turns from coral-pink-white to transparent-honey. in my opinion onions add great texture to just about anything, but if you dont agree, proceed to the next step.
toss in the rye and zeera. the flame should be low at this point, so as not to burn the stuff. add lassan paste. stir for a bit, then throw in the fat chilly. at this point something or the other is almost always burning, so add a bit of water. add red chilly powder and haldi, and then pour the contents of the batter while stirring. add another cup of water.
and then we add the karhi patta.
if you live in some far flung corner of the world that does not have karhi patta growing just about everywhere, youre going to have to settle for a dried/fried variety. drying and frying, while both excellent ways of preserving flavour, cannot compare to fresh karhi patta plucked from your (or the neighbour's) garden. unfortunately, this is where instructions cannot guide you anymore. to know how much karhi patta it will take to make the perfect karhi, you have to rely on intuition. does it smell powerful, potent- does the scent rub off on your fingers? does it kiss the back of your throat? then three or four big leaves will suffice. do you have to lean in, close your eyes, open your mouth and inhale before you can taste that faraway flavour of heat, lemon and spice? then you should throw in at least 6 leaves. it all depends.
stir the karhi for a minute. then leave it on a slow fire to cook, covered. check after five-ten minutes, it should thicken. check for salt, and then leave to cook for another twenty minutes. serve with rice, khichri* or eat plain, with bits of bread.

*for best results, scoop khichri into a mound on your plate. very carefully create a hole in the centre of the mound, to make a well. pour karhi into the well. and then mash the whole thing up.
while it is uncertain whether this does anything for the taste, two 3-year-olds (now 20) will testify that it does enhance the experience.

Satellite

ending,

beginning- the

sum of parts and the whole

leave; enter, fight

escape. Blend, mix

dance and play and

hurt each other, so gently

that they laugh in

astonishment. No tears.

tears are for flavoring kisses

of farewell, so sweet but

so incomplete without

that sad, salty trickle of

fear… transit room boarding

passes loading space shuttles

flying off into the great unknown

and both of us remain

here but I’m still alone

without you, spinning

satellite. more moving

more pushing shoving

take no luggage,

leave no bags

of love, and

sorrow

all the memories of

walking down empty

morning beaches, finally

figuring it out… memories

of the times we never

had.

[ if you haven't, go hear it already. ]

Saying I love you
Is not the words I want to hear from you
It’s not that I want you
Not to say, but if you only knew
How easy it would be to show me how you feel
More than words is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me
Cos I’d already know

What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn’t make things new
Just by saying I love you

Now I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand
All you have to do is close your eyes
And just reach out your hands and touch me
Hold me close don’t ever let me go
More than words is all I ever needed you to show
Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me
Cos I’d already know

What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real
What would you say if I took those words away
Then you couldn’t make things new
Just by saying I love you

~Extreme

in the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade and he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him ’til he cried out in his anger and his shame i am leaving, i am leaving, but the fighter still remains... yes he still remains.


li la li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li, li lalala li la li, li la li, li lalala li la li, lalalala li....

[ forgive me a cruel chuckle. ]

who'dda thunk i'd be endorsing F-16s.
i guess i know how they felt when women could finally smoke in public. its terrible, it shouldn't be done, but if it means thumbing the patriarchal system, i guess you'll get a grin out of me.
so, while hello kitty and the like have apoplectic fits, allow me to introduce you to the new face of the Pakistan Air Force ...

Saba Khan
'Equals'

The air force academy is still male-dominated, and it's not clear what the real feelings of the male cadets have been to the induction of women onto the fighter pilot programme.

Officially, most have welcomed the move.

But when one male cadet said the women should be shown compassion, female cadet Saman Ahmed was swift to say they were there to compete on equal terms.
"We don't expect compassion, we don't get compassion, and we don't want compassion," she said.
And this confidence is not without reason for Cadet Ahmed has already won praise in her engineering studies, beating both men and women.
Her excellence is not confined to the classroom, either.
During a rifle exercise, I watched as she shot all five bullets right in the bull's eye.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/4533367.stm

so from the thousands of women who cradled their babies in one arm and their kalashnikovs in the other and faced the men in their war machines, we now have women flying the war machines. historically, wars have meant greater participation for women.. but so have revolutions. and its great (i guess) that women are now, "finally" part of this whole mad war, but they've been part of the revolution for so many more years...
in reterospect, the last thing we need is die-hard feminists going like "yay, we can be fighter pilots now, patriarchy's finally dying out, pakistan's finally become more moderate".. for god's sake, no its not. hatch as many "conspiracy" stories you want (musharraf wants the army to be looked upon as "liberal," theyre making a few concessions to the west, its just affirmative action, whatever)... ultimately, stuff like this just distracts us from the real battle.

roger dat, houston. over and out ;)

[ a corporate story. ]

so one morning in good old lums, we open our eyes and see this



and this



and this



and this



now, naturally, those of us who
a) know that advertising, selling or endorsing tobacco within 5 miles of a university campus is explicitly prohibited by law
b) dont like a bunch of ugly men with puppoo sideburns and shiny white teeth staring at us
were obviously very, very annoyed. and many of us are smokers, however we know that at the end of the day tobacco is tobacco (a carcinogenic drug, not a pretty little plant), PTC is big tobacco (affiliated with the British-American Tobacco company), and the only reason THEY still have a business is because of their advertising, governement pay-offs, and our dedicated chain smokers. so lets be honest. if PTC wants recruits to sell, manage, manufacture and advertise their tobacco, we'll give em something better. many many very very happy happy SMOKERS!!!! :D

at the end of the day, it was just a move to slam the hypocrisy of our administration in their face. for those of us who know lums history and the babar ali foundation, we know that this joint was established as a manufacturing plant for yuppies. in the 80's big business needed dedicated young managers in their outlets in pakistan, and the Lahore University of Management Sciences was set up to provide just that. for those of us who study here, it is becoming increasingly obvious that the highest bidder owns the walls, pillers, arches, and any other sqaure foot of advertising space in this uni- no questions asked- while our societies scrimp and struggle to get a single banner or poster up to advertise a sports tourney, or a mela... and even those are confined to specific softboards. this isnt the first incidence of corporatization of this campus: PnG, unilever, Nestle are in our faces twenty-four/seven. and you might argue that- well, what do you expect- a business is a business. yes, but then people's power is people's power. moreover, while some people might not be aware of the creepy underbelly of happy-happy brands like Nestle and PnG that own everything from your butter to your toothpaste, the tobacco issue is blatant.





thanks.. adeel, emad, izhar... good work :D

i made the poster in the labs at about 12. qasim and i got it signed by azmatullah (it says "SUPPORT British-American Tobacco," after all) at 1, and by 1:30 there were thirty of these all over the place. at 3:00 ammara decides that confining ourselves to softboards is useless, and slaps one on one of those standing banners that you see there. very effective. you know where it said "you know who you are, but who do you want to be?".. she took a piece of paper and wrote in huge letters "CANCER PATIENT", and stuck it at the bottom :D
twenty minutes later, a huge suited booted guy comes around, does a double take at the poster and rips it off, shaking his head, muttering "this is such bad publicity.."
twenty minutes later, the posters mysteriously reappear... :P

by 5 pm, everyones confused. who put these up? who keeps putting these up? qasim and i go around and meet the PTC guys... salaam, shake hands, take pics etc :P
azmatullah came running up at that point, with a bunch of torn down posters in his hands. apparently, some MBA faculty member had FINALLY gotten it, and called azmatuallah up and asked him to take them down.... beychaara, he was obviously very confused and kept asking us.. iss mey kuch ghalat to nahin likha hai?

the next day, at 6:30 we meet the vice chancellor (they still dont know we did it, we went voluntarily). he informs us that sending such confusing messages was unethical on the part of the miscreants.. that some society should have endorsed it.. and that "if you have an anti-smoking campaign, ill be right behind you!" they LOVE the idea of these little channels of communication ... they wont support dissent, but they'll loudly tell us to "voice your opinion". dont have protests... have debates, have little little petitions with lots of nice signatures. they wont answer straight... there was no mention of responsibility of the admin to the students, no.. "the students can start a program where you make one smoker into a non smoker everyday!!" ohh goody gumdrops i feel so much better knowing that its so freaking easy getting hard smokers to quit gee whiz thank you for your ignorance, sir...

hassan j and qasim kept their cool and decided that the green light to "express any opinion" is all we really needed. and we will start an awareness campaign about smoking. however, i still maintain that there was no time, during this whole process, to make our point in any way other than what we did. we went in with the explicit purpose of embarrassing and slamming both the PTC (for sheer audacity, if nothing else,) and the LUMS admin (who probably thought no one would notice, that no one would care...). and we'll take your debates, and your petitions, and we'll make you honor them, no less.. all in good time.
but this was just sneaky. touche. :)


nausheen... thanks so much for the pics :)

[ mmm.. ]

there's something about the

look in your eyes

something i noticed when the light was

just right

it reminded me twice that i was alive

and it reminded me that

you're so worth the fight

im beginning to notice how much this feels like a waking limb, pins and needles

adecadeago, i neverthoughtiwouldbe, atwentythree, onthevergeofspontaneouscombustionWoe-is-me.But iguess thatitcomeswiththeterritory; anominouslandscape ofnever ending calamityI need you to hear, I need you to see that I havehad all I can take andexploding seemslikea

so pardon me while i

could you show me, dear?

killthequeenandcrushthehive

[ this funk the feelin that you stay for ]

Fellas, I'm ready to get up and do my thing... I wanta get into it, man, you know.. Like a, like a sex machine, man, movin' and doin' it, you know... Can I count it off?

One, two, three, four!

Get up, (get on up) get up, (get on up) stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up) get up, (get on up) get up, (get on up) stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up) get up, (get on up) stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up)

Wait a minute!
Shake your arm, then use your form
Stay on the scene like a sex machine
You got to have the feeling sure as you're born
Get it together, right on, right on.

Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)

Hah!

Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)

You said, you said you got the,
You said the feeling,
You said the feeling you got to get
You give me the fever 'n' a cold sweat.
The way i like, it is the way it is,
I got mine 'n' don't worry 'bout his

Get up, (get on up) stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up) get up, (get on up) get up, (get on up)

Bobby! Should I take 'em to the bridge?
(Go Ahead!)
Take 'em on to the bridge!
(Take em to the bridge!)
Should I take 'em to the bridge?
(Yeah!)
Take 'em to the bridge?
(Go Ahead!)
Hit me now!

Come on!

Stay on the scene, like a sex machine!
The way I like it is, is the way it is
I got mine, (dig it!), he got his

Stay on the scene, like a lovin' machine
Stay on the scene, like a lovin' machine
Stay on the scene

I wanna count it off one more time now
(Go ahead!)
You wanna hear it like it did on the top fellas?
(Yeah!)
Hear it like it did on the top?
(Yeah!)
Hit it now!

Get on up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Get on up, (get on up)

Stay on the scene, (get on up), like a lovin' machine, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)

Taste, (get on up)
Bein', (get on up)
Taste, (get on up)
Bein', (get on up)

Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up)

You gotta have the feelin, (get on up)
Sure as you're born, (get on up)

Get it together, right on, right on
right on, right on, (right on, right on)
right on, right on, (right on, right on)
right on, right on, (right on, right on)

Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)

And then, shake your money maker,
Shake your money maker, shake your money maker, shake your money maker, shake your money maker, shake your money maker, shake your money maker

Get up, (get on up)... get up, (get on up)... get up, (get on up)... get up, (get on up)... get up, (get on up)

Huh!

Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)
Get up, (get on up)

Can we hit it like we did one more time, from the top
Can we hit like that one more time
(One more time!)
One more time!
Let's hit it and quit! (Go ahead!)
Can we hit it and quit? (Yeah!)
Can we hit it and quit? (Yeah!)
Can we hit it and quit? (Yeah!)
Hit it!

~ James im-black-n-im-PROUD! Brown

“
One of the (sub)-themes running through Woolf's [A Room of One's Own] is the "convention... that publicity in women is detestable." As a result, "anonymity run's in [women's] blood. The desire to be veiled still possesses them."
”

~Kofi Owusu

remember once.. i had asked you.. if were alright for me to cover myself (as i often do, when going to the market, when stepping into public spaces) and we agreed, that yes, i can and i may...
but you must detest it. as much as they detest your presence in their public. and by THEM yes, i mean men, and women who agree to live by Man's religion and Man's economy and Man's rules... made by that Man-God, the Tyrant...

[ opp. sector u, dha, lhr. ]

And the women tug their hair
Like they’re trying to prove it won’t fall out
And all the men are gargoyles
Dipped long in irish stout

The whole place is pickled
The people are pickles for sure
And no-one knows if they’ve done more here
Than they ever would do in a jar

This could be rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or rome
’cause rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone
Anywhere alone

And everyone is blonde
And everyone is beautiful
And when blondes and beautiful are multiple
They become so dull and dutiful

And when faced with dull and dutiful
They fire red warning flares
Battle-khaki personality
With red underwear

This could be rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or rome
’cause rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone
Anywhere alone

The whole place is pickled
The people are pickles for sure
And no-one knows if they’ve done more here
Than they ever would do in a jar

This could be rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or rome
’cause rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone

This could be rotterdam or anywhere
Liverpool or rome
’cause rotterdam is anywhere
Anywhere alone

~beautiful south

the bullet hit the back of her at the exact instant the coffee cup touched her lips. in all honesty it was absolutely fascinating, the way it seared through her skull so that you could almost hear it straining against the metal, bone and flesh and carving another door at the end, smashing straight into the unsipped-first-sip of gently steaming coffee.

and i do believe she heard the explosion as it happened. and that if you reassembled her face, stuck it back with elfy you'd see that her lips were twisted into the first smile in a long, long time. and if you'd known her for many, many years before, you'd realise that the only way you could possibly know whats inside her mind was by putting a bullet through her head. i peered inside, half expecting to see the hard, heavy locks and bolts she used to keep everything to herself. half expecting to see a mind undergoing metamorphosis, struggling to become more resiliant, more insensitive, more... 'male'.

i dont think she ever realised that there was a paradox in her ardent misogynism. she wasnt the profound sort. she probably didnt even realise that she was battling aganst her femininty to get ahead, snapping out ideas, flaring at the slightest provocation. rage is a wonderful thing. only the truly violent can understand the rush of irrational anger, the exquisite, trembling fear of having gone too far- it feels like running off a cliff. it feels like the air would, if there were only air around you. then you fall, of course, but you'll be surprised at how thick skinned some professional violents can be. she found herself addicted to this game; her addiction grew with the number of people who began to fear her moods, respect her dedication... loathe her acerbic tongue. and because we still live in the real, un-politically-correct world and prejdices are woven into the fabric of our skin, these traits were seen as, if not completely male, then definately less female. ruthless. thats the word. thats what she was going for- ruthless. minimum family, spartan living conditions, no husband-kids-and-a-dog, and yet people in movies always handled it so much better. the charred fragments of her brain revealed nothing of the hunger and fatigue every day, every night. they told nothing of the fact that no matter how far you went in this world, you would always only be second-best. and that you could never possibly excel at a game in which they tailor to their own suiting, and make their own rules. and if there was a fuel to this fire, it would be the rage she felt evertime someone felt sorry for her. or helped her. or said "dont push yourself so hard"... they might as well have said "you cant handle it".

but, she reflected, none of this would be revealed by a bullet. or an axe. or anyother weapon designed by man to spilt her head into half. gentler, subtler, much more powerful forces of love, compassion, friendship were left undiscovered by her and those around her.

the coffee cup left her lips and was set carefully on the table. two strong arms folded firmly before her as she leaned closer, fixing the man in front of her with a peircing, cool glare.

".... i refuse to compromise on this..."

so much blood i'm starting to drown
runs from cold to colder
time to time the sky's come down
to help me lose my way
tears and lies for answers
you and open veins, god knows i'm gone
girl i just want you to
come on down
lord it's a storm and i'm heading to fall
these sins are mine and i've done wrong, oh babe
come on down

long gone day
mmmm, who ever said
we wash away with the rain

see you all from time to time
isn't it so strange
how far away we all are now
am i the only one who remembers that summer
oh, i remember
everyday each time the place was saved
the music that we made
the wind has carried all of that away

long gone day
mmmm, who ever said
we wash away with the rain

so many tears i'm starting to drown
the rain in heaven's all come down
silver spoons affix the crown
the luckless ones are broken
fears and lies for answers
you and open flames
god knows i'm gone
and i just want you to
come on down, hmmm

lord it's a storm and i'm heading to fall
these sins are mine and i've done wrong
i want you to, oh, i just want you to
come on down

i fear again, like then, i've lost my way
and shout to god to bring my sunny day

~mad season

:: gems ::

"...And I begin writing again. Word by word, the pustules erupt. The infection begins to drain. Such a fine motivator, is guilt. Type type type, tap tap tap, may I have this dance? It doesn’t matter that I’m out of practice and out of step. It doesn’t matter that I’m silly, selfish, self indulgent and misinformed. So is George Bush, and he rules the most powerful nation on earth. "

~Shandana Minhas, Chowk Tale




think about that. just before you hit "Publish Post".

[ allah hafiz. ]

a long december and there’s reason to believe
maybe this year will be better than the last
i can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaven’
now the days go by so fast
and it’s one more day up in the canyons
and it’s one more night in hollywood
if you think that I could be forgiven...i wish you would
the smell of hospitals in winter
and the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
all at once you look across a crowded room
to see the way that light attaches to a girl
and it’s one more day up in the canyons
and it’s one more night in hollywood
if you think you might come to california...i think you should
drove up to hillside manor sometime after two a.m.
and talked a little while about the year
i guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her
and it’s been a long december and there’s reason to believe
maybe this year will be better than the last

i can’t remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
to hold on to these moments as they pass
and it’s one more day up in the canyon
and it’s one more night in hollywood

it’s been so long since I’ve seen the ocean...i guess I should

~Counting Crows.

Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Don't be taken in by his welcome grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit within his skin
Never smile at a crocodile
Never dip your hat and stop to talk awhile
Never run- walk away; say good-night, not good-day
Clear the aisle but never smile at Mister Crocodile.
You may very well be well bred
Lots ot etiquette in your head
But there's always some special case, time or place
To forget etiquette.
For instance:
Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can't get friendly with a crocodile
Never run- walk away; say good-night, not good-day
Clear the aisle but never smile at Mister Crocodile.

:D

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brings back so many memories, for some reason. of school, of singing in the car, in the days when we were three, and not two. before ali azmat shaved his head, before they fired brian, before salman ahmed delivered his "the thing about peace is.." speech. when they were rebels. the gang that went to the farm on the 14th of August listening to Neend Aati Nahin and Dosti, came back listening to Mitti.

in lamhon key peechey.. koi to hai lamha aisaa bhi
jo beganaa bhi hai apna bhi..
jahaan thehray ye lamha, wohee say to aagay jaana hai
jissay soocha hai usko pana hai

jaaoon mein.. jaatay pal say aagay jaaoon
paaoon mein.. aagay jaa kay usko paaoon, chahoon,
aagay hee jaaoon mein..

and then my favorite... kabhi niklun gaa subha, shamon sey..


...
the best part of having a room of your own is slamming the door and taking off your shirt before you do anything else. if you're wondering why its so important to be stripped shirtless as soon as you enter your house, ask any man...

Then take me disappearin' through the smokerings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time,
far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees,
out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea,
circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

~ Dylan.

yayy... i knew it... :D (thanks n'sheen.. :))
"What Disney Princess Are You?"

Ariel
You can swim, flip, dive and be one with fish...WHY DO YOU WANT MORE?

[ "we're slipping off the map." -Stoppard ]

this land is your land, this land is my land...

Though the earth, and all inferior creatures, be common to all men, yet every man has a property in his own person: this no body has any right to but himself. The labour of his body, and the work of his hands, we may say, are properly his. Whatsoever then he removes out of the state that nature hath provided, and left it in, he hath mixed his labour with, and joined to it something that is his own, and thereby makes it his property. ~John Locke, 1690

...i saw above me, an endless skyway...

But perhaps the deepest aspect of the common law text of possession lies in the attitude that this text strikes with respect to the relationship between human beings and nature. At least some Indians professed bewilderment at the concept of owning the land. Indeed they prided themselves on not marking the land but rather on moving lightly through it, living with the land and with its creatures as members of the same family rather than as strangers who visited only to conquer the objects of nature.
The doctrine of first possession, quite to the contrary, reflects the attitude that human beings are outsiders to nature. It gives the earth and its creatures over to those who mark them so clearly as to transform them, so that no one else will mistake them for unsubdued nature.We cannot have our fish both loose and fast, as Melville might have said, and the common law of first possession makes a choice. The common law gives preference to those who convince the world that they have caught the fish and hold it fast. This may be a reward to useful labor, but it is more precisely the articulation of a specific vocabulary within a structure of symbols approved and understood by a commercial people. ~Carol M. Rose, 1995

...this land was made for you and me...

"i'd like to do a song of great social and political import.."
she said, before starting... "oh lord, wont you buy me a mercedes benz..."

we dont know what its like to be there, banging on tin plates with spoons, screaming, chanting, waving flags. we dont know what its like to protest, not simply protest. music is entertainment, a drug, an escape and not a statement, a banner, an anthem. no one's really interested in "sticking it to the man". our music is love and depression and lonliness and all that good stuff... uniting us only in our isolation. post-mordenist, existencialist, nihilist... the world is at once too big and too small for us to handle. and im only talkign about pakistanis here- i dont squat about how people in other parts of the world feel. we seem to know nothing about ideals, challenges, even faith. sure, people all around the world know nothings going to happen during their lifetime- that doesnt stop the rallies. that doesnt stop the screaming, the dancing, the chanting. we're a nation of cowards, at the top. down below they still have some fight left in them... but everything middle class up is scared shitless.

and we shrug it off, talk it off, rationalise it out, smile indulgently and say "bhai what can we do?"

nothing. nothing until thats a "what-can-we-do".

Don't believe them
Don't believe them
Question everything you're told
Just take a look around you
At the bitterness and spite
Why can't we take over and try to put it right

We're a suspect device if we do what we are told
But a suspect device can score an own goal
I'm a suspect device the Army can't defuse
You're a suspect device they know they can't refuse
We're gonna blow up in their face

you gotta suss, suss, suss, suss, suss out...

-stiff little fingers

[ for you. him. and donnie darko. ]

all around me are familiar faces
worn out places
worn out faces
bright and early for the daily races
going no where
going no where
their tears are filling up their glasses
no expression
no expression
hide my head i wanna drown my sorrow
no tomorrow
no tomorrow
and i find i kind of funny
i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which i’m dying are the best i’ve ever had...

i find it hard to tell you
i find it hard to take
when people run in circles its a very very
mad world
mad world
children waiting for the day they feel good
happy birthday
happy birthday
and i feel the way that every child should
sit and listen
sit and listen
went to school and i was very nervous
no one knew me
no one new me
hello teacher tell me what’s my lesson
look right through me
look right through me
and i find i kind of funny
i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which i’m dying are the best i’ve ever had
i find it hard to tell you
i find it hard to take
when people run in circles its a very very
mad world
mad world
enlarging your world
mad world

-gary jules

[ finishing touches ]

cool, damp softly pressed into the air, on to your face.
your eyes in the rearview mirror.
end of week laundry, two neat rows of damp underwear on the bed.
muddy jeans. does wet sand-concrete squish?
im gonna learn to play like clapton, someday.
black, white and lime green poster paint. b&h lighter.
itscoldoutside...shouldtakeashawl...
blue beads. purple beads, shell beads.
long flat hair swinging down her shimmery pink back.

why does your blog go cosmic on me?

it doesnt. it just is. me sharing something i think is rather nice with you.

in-sane. inn-sane. sarahashim.com

really funky visuals. thanks, sara b :) 

December 22nd, 2003.
http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/



...it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...

And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life...

:)

You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure...but don't worry... you will, someday.

~American Beauty.

[ "and the thing is, bank windows- they're tinted, right? so you cant tell if its, like, just ok-weather out there or if its amazing..." ]

Until you've seen this trash can dream come true,
You stand at the edge, while people run you through.

And I thank the Lord, there's people out there like you
I thank the Lord there's people out there like you.

While Mona Lisas and mad hatters,
sons of bankers, sons of lawyers,
turn around and say, "good morning" to the night.
For unless they see the sky,
but they can't and that is why,
they know not if it's dark out side or light.

This Broadway's got, its got a lot of songs to sing,
if I knew the tunes I might join in.
I go my way alone, grow my own, my own seeds shall be sown, in New York city.
Subways no way , for a good man to go down,
Rich man can ride, and the hobo he can drown.

And I thank the Lord for the people I have found,
I thank the Lord for the people I have found.

~Elton John

http://www.sparkology.net

Overqualified:

Looking for work is an exercise in selling yourself. You write cover letter after cover letter, listing the parts of you that you respect the least, listing the selling points that make you valuable in a buyer's market. You leave out the little details that you tell yourself in the morning to make things okay. You don't mention the way your heart flutters when you meet your lover's eyes across the table, the way your feet felt like lead at your aunt's funeral. You write cover letter after cover letter, listing the same store bought traits in the same wording, day after day, hoping to find another job.

And then maybe one day you just snap a little.
You sit down to write a cover letter, and something entirely new comes out.

And you send it anyway.

http://asofterworld.com

some questions that occurred to me while recalling that the sea is the color of my shirt, ashen blue-grey and splitting at the seams.

does she write like this because?
or why?
or if she writes like, is she then
enormously
green, engulfingly
simply, humongously
grande,
and if her hair
dances with the leaves
and if her eyes
flirt with the wind
and if talking to her is like
visiting your saturday night
fever, can you come home?

do you eat with one hand, or both?
do you aim for the lips, or the mouth?
do you bleed with your veins or your heart?
and when it hurts, do the tips of your fingers
tingle?

do you do that out of habit?
or do you really mean to say?

i can warm my eyes by just staring at the stars. one night, alone, on a roof somewhere. the sky glows pink because of the city lights. i want to be spiked, cropped and the centre of the universe.
life is mine, mine, mine, mine.....

I threw your keys in the water, I looked back, Theyd frozen halfway down in the ice. They froze up so quickly, the keys and their owners, Even after the anger, it all turned silent, and Then everyday turned solitary, So we came to February. First we forgot where wed planted those bulbs last year, Then we forgot that wed planted at all, Then we forgot what plants are altogether, and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and the nights were long and cold and scary, can we live through February? You know I think Christmas was a long red glare, Shot up like a warning, we gave presents without cards, And then the snow, And then the snow came, we were always out shoveling, And wed drop to sleep exhausted, Then wed wake up, and its snowing. And February was so long that it lasted into March And found us walking a path alone together. You stopped and pointed and you said, "Thats a crocus," And I said, "Whats a crocus?" and you said, "Its a flower," I tried to remember, but I said, "Whats a flower?" You said, "I still love you." The leaves were turning as we drove to the hardware store, My new lover made me keys to the house, And when we got home, well we just started chopping wood, Because you never know how next year will be, And well gather all our arms can carry, I have lost to February.
 
~Dar Williams

and i said that i know who i am. and laughed, self conciously i said people may think im crazy but i know im ok. and i said people arent autists.. i dont take that back, theyre not, theyre just... silly, naive, selfish and if we knew exactly how each of our butterfly kisses caused every tornado we wouldnt have a single nights sleep. i think. but these arent butterfly kisses. theyre so much more.

woke up curled up on the floor, comfortable between a blanket and a bedsheet except that the blanket was under me, and the bedsheet over my head. soft whispers of female voices talking nearby. the room bright with streaming sunlight, cool with the humming AC. fluffy pink green yellow blue huddles all around, breathing softly. groped around for the cell... 9:25am. sighed happily, pulled the sheet back over my head and went back to sleep.

took me back... all the way to autumn quarter, when all of us used to troop up to the common room to sleep. somewhere in the back of my head, before i left khi for college, i was afraid that i'd have trouble sleeping in a new place for the first few days, because i usually do. never had trouble sleeping here... always tired, always comfortable between good ol' blanket and bedsheet.

hahahahaha.... fresshhiieee :)

as we were talking outside it was cold we were shivering yet warmed by the subject matter my wife is in the next room
we've been having troubles you know
please don't tell her or anyone but i need to talk to somebody

you said "wouldn't it be a shame if i knew how great i was five minutes before i died i'd be filled with such regret before i took my last breath" and i said "you're willing to tell me this now and
you're not going to die anytime soon"
and i said i haven't been eating chicken or meat or anything and you said yes
but you've been wearing leather and laughed and said we're at the top of the food chain and yes you're still a fine woman and i cringed

i was hoping we could heal each other
i was hoping we could be raw together

we left the restaurant where the head waiter (in his 60's) said "good-bye sir thank you for your business sir you're successful and established sir and we like the frequency with which you dine here sir and your money"
and when i walked by they said "thank you too dear" i was all pigtails and cords and there was a day when i would've said something like "hey dude i could buy and sell this place so kiss it"
i too once though i was owed something

i was hoping i was hoping we could challenge each other
i was hoping i was hoping we could crack each other up

i too thought that when proved wrong i lost somehow
i too once thought life was cruel
it's a cycle really you think i'm withdrawing and guilt tripping you i think you're insensitive
and i don't feel heard and i said do you believe we are
fundamentally judgmental? fundamentally evil?
and you said yes i said i don't believe in revenge in right or wrong good or bad you said
"well what about the man that i saw handcuffed in the emergency room bleeding after beating his kid and she threw a shoe at his head. i think what he did was wrong and i would've had a hard time feeling compassion for him"
i had to watch my tone for fear of having you feel judged

i was hoping i was hoping we could dance together
i was hoping i was hoping we could be creamy together

i hate you, blank sheet.
youre going to mock me again, arent you? you and those insane black figures on you. youre going to sit there, and mock me.
and i can see my fingers pressing buttons on teh plasctic tablet, like it were the most ordinary thing in the world. and i can see them scratch lead out of wood, as if that too was no big deal. and i can see my eyes...funny thing, to see ones eyes, but i see my eyes looking at a blinking vertical line on a white screen, following its path leaving a bunch of black igures in its wake. and i see my mind comprehend these characters. and so on. we love doing this. like a ugly threesome we play each other this way. se, dancing on her plastic platform, him, feeling the world press down on his eyes and i, lapping up words like a hingry kitten.

she wears a silver ring. she's beautfiful. we shut her in a box the other day, all five feet nine inches of her. coiled up in a little fetal position, her scruffy jeans riding low on her ass, flashing her canary yellow undees, her crumpled whit t shirt bulging around the stomach and the flabby upper arms, her hair breaking free of the neat, compact little bun behing her head. we packed her in, her toes stubby and dry and dirty, in the same old unpretty, unlovely black sandals. we told her we loved her very very much and that she was an amazing person and shut the lid down.

she must have sat there for hours, huging her legs, her arms sanwiched under the crook of her knee, rocking gently back and forth on her behind. she wont cry. she cant. she says she cant, and i belive her. she's different from the other girls because she doesnt run to her mummy and tell. she pretends that she enjoys it. she says it gives her strenght.

i knew her as my little sisters best friend. she used to come over to play all the time, with the clay pots and pans and little wooden rolling pins and rolling plates. and she loved the bunnies in our garden. and the big coconut trees. she didnt have trees, because they lived in an apartment, and we had the bigger house. and my mother used to give her a chocolate, every time she came. and she loved the cuckoo clock in our dining room. and when maliha and her werent playing they watched cartoons in the living room. and when malihas maulvi sahab came for teaching her the quran, i would get to play with her.

she called me bhai.

i told her her panty was crooked.

she asked me, how do you know.

and i said i dont, let me see.

and she did.

chocolate crumble
you're like cookie dough
small stubby toes and wide eyes.
everything so astonishingly
large from where you look
everything so bewilderingly
new from where you are.
i wish i were
you
when i see your tummy rise and
fall.
wouldnt it be wonderful to be back
home, rocked gently in your
deep quiet ocean
half-familiar voices a
faint mumble
away?

mood ring

silver ring
my silver moods
my silver silence like frost
on glass.
silver powder of a lover moth
darkened footprints on
silver grass.
streetlight fascinating
silver skin
moonlight watching your
silver sins
breathing deeply
shiver, grin
twirling muse my
metallic past.

A Poem on the Underground Wall- Paul Simon

The last train is nearly due,
The underground is closing soon,
And in the dark deserted station,
Restless in anticipation,
A man waits in the shadows...

His restless eyes leap and scratch,
At all that they can touch or catch,
And hidden deep within his pocket,
Safe within it’s silent socket,
He holds a colored crayon.

Now from the tunnel’s stony womb,
The carriage rides to meet the groom,
And opens wide and welcome doors,
But he hesitates, then withdraws
Deeper in the shadows.

And the train is gone suddenly
On wheels clicking silently
Like a gently tapping litany,
And he holds his crayon rosary
tighter in his hand...

Now from his pocket quick he flashes the crayon on the wall he slashes deep upon the advertising a single worded poem comprised of
four letters.

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding
The poem across the tracks rebounding
Shadowed by the exit light
His legs take their ascending flight

To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night...

*sigh*... sheer poetry :)

i think we were all brought up thinking that one day somebody's going to come along and complete our empty, lost halves. and all the halves in the world will link up perfectly, because at some point in your life, even if it were for just a second, you've met the other half of your soul.
when i think about the half that wouldve completed me, i think about all the people ive crossed on the street, made brief eye contact with in elevators, buses, bazaars. maybe we reached for the same book at the same time. maybe we bumped into each other in school, apologised vaguely and went on, not knowing. because despite knowing all i know today, about myself; my restless, anxious, fidgety soul... prone to running away and drowning her sorrows in a swimming pool or paul simon's voice, prone to cigarette breaks behind the cafeteria, prone to staring out the window and wishing i could pick the loneliest spot in the world and let my heart inhale the huge, vast emptiness of everything.... despite knowing all this, a part of me still wonders if the half can ever be wholed.
its a myth, honestly. all people arent built that way. some of us will find our halves, some will find lesser substitutes, some of us will wonder why the hell we're still so lonely, despite everything. our hearts and our lives are filled by our families, our partners, our children, friends, work... it doesnt just have to be one person.
and for some people, being a wanderlust is such a big part of your personality, that if you were ever to be with somebody, that would mean you would have to change. and nobody, nobody should try to tame a wanderlust's spirit. its one of the most powerful, exciting, beautiful, lonely things in the world. if you love somebody...set them free.

Maria's Song, Sound of Music.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!

Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
How do you keep a wave upon the sand

Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

When I'm with her I'm confused
Out of focus and bemused
And I never know exactly where I am
Unpredictable as weather
She's as flighty as a feather
She's a darling, She's a demon, She's a lamb!

She'd outpester any pest
Drive a hornet from its nest
She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl
She is gentle, She is wild,
She's a riddle, She's a child,
She's a headache, She's an angel,

She's a girl

Girl. Respect. ;)



someone in the fishbowl is rolling his eyes and asking me to get the hell back in the car. abhi aaiee. zindagi ajeeb cheez hai, baccha....

i'm sorry i blogged Red Rubber Ball. it's not true. it's terrible being the cause of someones pain and suffering, and im sorry im doing it. i wish i could do something that would make it easier for you, but i can't.

I hope its gonna be alright for you. i hope that the worst is over, now. come out, yaar... it really is a beautiful day. the morning sun is shining....