LOVE FROM ABROAD: I Miss Karachi..

There is something about Karachi that captures your heart and makes a special space in it that no other place can take. Unfortunately it is only when you leave that you can appreciate it properly. May Allah’s wrath come upon those evil no good scoundrels who are creating havoc in our beautiful city. And Allah if you don’t mind, could you hurry it up a little?

Although it is hot and dusty, I miss Karachi. I miss the mornings and the busy buzz of people going about their activities, I miss the subziwalla ringing my door bell so violently that I trip on my own feet in my rush to reach the door. I miss the intellectual discussions I had with him on the current situation of the city. It never ceases to amaze me how the sabziwalla and the dhobi seemed to know all the inside information about what was really going on in the country and why.

I miss the influx of phone calls while I tried to get my house work done. The concerned caller would insist on filling me in on all the latest news of family and friends while my salan was burning on the stove.

I miss my massey. I think of her fondly as I wash the dishes, wash the clothes, cut the vegetables, iron the clothes, scrub the bathrooms, water the plants, do the dusting, sweep the floors, mop the floors, put things away, clean the cupboards, knead the dough, cook the roti…sigh! You get the message.

I miss my afternoon nap with the A.C. on full. I never seem to have time for naps now. Sniff! I miss my massey! I even miss swearing my head off at KESC when the electricity would disappear and the room would turn into a tandoor.

I miss the frequent evening visitors, never mind that evening in Karachi extended to 11 p.m. and beyond even on a week night.

I miss the smell of frying samosas and crispy jelaibees at the mitai shop when I would got to get some stuff to munch on. I miss the smiling mitai walla as he nodded and got my order ready without any instructions because he already knew my regular order by heart.

I miss the littered streets and the paan stains, the crows rummaging through the plastic bag of biryani someone had thrown in the heap of garbage on the street corner. The cats who fought over a chicken leg they managed to dig out of the biryani much to the dismay of the crows who had gotten there first.

I miss my friends, the lunches we had managed to get together for. The lawn exhibitions we had saved up for, the rush and the pushing and the shoving and the fights that would break out between customers. We would stand and watch the entertainment. Then we would go out for coke and garlic mayo rolls. The fact that my best friend would drop all the stuff she was doing and come and drive me to the bazaar to help me get my chores done. I miss all the people and all the things that make Karachi ‘Home’.

-Karachi Tips

World Book Day: Book review 'KARTOGRAPHY'

Winter break was made worthwhile thanks to a generous friend who lent me Kamila Shamsie’s Kartography for a while. Hence I got to read the book a second time and fell deeper in love with my city of lights: Karachi.

In this book, the author brings together an interesting narrative, woven into the Karachi backdrop. The storyline initially revolves around the main character Raheen and her relationship with her best friend, the person she speaks in anagrams with, her spit-brother; Karim. Later on, the plot brings into perspective their parents’ lives as they were during the civil war in 1971 as well as an insight into their friends’ lives as they get affected by the woes of power and affluence.

Raheen and Karim had been best friends since birth, a fated friendship as their parents liked to say. Early in the narrative Karim makes a very meaningful comment to Raheen, ‘You know, if I wasn’t me, you wouldn’t be you,’ the depth of which is revealed as you turn the pages.

As Karachi’s conditions worsen, Raheen and Karim’s parents send them to Rahim Yar Khan to spend some time at Uncle Asif’s farm. It is here that Raheen begins to ask questions about the fiancé swap that occurred back in 1971. What was it that caused her father Zafar to break off his engagement with Karim’s mother Maheen? And how was it that the four of them still managed to remain such good friends even after the love swap? At the farm Karim becomes obsessed with cartography, the art of map-making, and this annoys Raheen as his obsession increases distance between the two of them.

Further distance is created when Karim’s family move off to London and his parents separate, and Raheen moves to the US for higher studies. They communicate through letters and phone calls; Karim talks mostly about the situation in Karachi and Raheen updates him about her own life at college. Raheen does not understand why Karim writes so accusingly, what had she done to receive such treatment from him?

Raheen does not know the reason behind the fiancé swap of ‘71. Karim, on the other hand, is well aware of the past. This piece of information causes him to judge his best friend, saying that she ‘really is her father’s daughter’. Their other friends, Sonia and Zia, are also part of the plot as it touches upon tragedy, love and power.

The storyline is gripping as soon as the reader finds out there is a mystery lurking behind the events of 1971. One by one, unforgivable revelations about the characters are exposed yet by the end the power of forgiveness dominates and we learn to accept people for what they are. People from Karachi are bound to enjoy it as Shamsie writes about the winters and the violence in the city, the beaches and the streets, the beggars and the socialites, and apart from this the pulse at which Karachi’s heart beats; the relationships, the influence of power and politics, and the inherent issues. The geography of the city captivates throughout and the writer never ceases to fascinate with her use of wit and intellect. This is one book you are bound to fall in love with!

-Karachi Tips

Stuff Overheard In Hamaray Bazaar

Just yesterday, I was in a Bazaar with my mom shopping. While my mom was busy looking at different things I noticed different salesmen and customers who’d all nearly have the same set of dialogues to say to nearly every other customer and/or shopkeepers.If, by any chance you’re wondering how come I being a girl was least interested in shopping and more interested in noticing the others’ dialogues then let me tell you, I’m not really interested in shopping and roaming about in Bazaars like complete fools ..unless of course the shopping is being done for me which was so not the case this time. Anyway, so here are some statements that I noticed:

Lady Customer: Ye kitne ka diya hai bhai?

Salesman: 1200

Lady Customer: Kia keh rahe hain bhai? Itne ziaada? Is se kam mein tou paposh mein mil jaata hai. (I wonder what the salesmen think when women say that. I think that they think ‘phir waheen se le lein yahaan kiun hamara waqt zaya kar rahi hain’. Wese, I’ve even heard some rude salesmen say that aloud.)

***

Lady Customer: Dekhein 2000 tou buhot ziaada hain munasib rate lagayein.

Salesman: Dekhein baji aap purani customer hain aapse tou customers waali baat hi nahi hai.(Tou phir kesi baat hai? :O )

***

Salesman: Chalein na aapki na meri 1700 de dein.

Customer: Kia baat kar rahe hain? Itne ziaada nahi dungi bas 1500 lagayeinge tou batayein.

Salesman: Nahi nahi baji itna ka tou humein nahi milta maal.

Customer: Acha chorein phir. Chalo Sara chalo.

Salesman: Acha chalein baji 1600 karlete hain.

Customer: (Stops. Looks at him for a minute or two) Acha chalein de dein.(Haha, exactly what the customer wanted! Rooth ke jaane lago khud hi manane ke liye pese kam karde ga. )

***

Random shopkeeper to a passing woman: Aunty ayein idhar dekh lein.The woman: (Turns around and gives him the look that says, ‘you call me an aunty again and you’re dead Mister’)

***

Random pathan shopkeeper: Baji yaahaan aa ke dekh lo. Zaalim kapra hai baji.(Seriously? Zaalim? Eh?)

***

Two lady Customers to one another: Abhi matching wale se iski shalwar ka kapra lena hai phir iske dupatte ko rangne dena aur upar se tailor jhoote ne sana ke mehndi ka jora bhi ab tak see ke nahi diya.

The other one: Aray yeh tailor saare hi aese hote hain. Mera bhi bhai ki shaadi ka jora ain waqt pe diya tha woh bhi dheela.(Aur phir tailor becharay ki buraiyan shuru..)

***

A small kid to his dad: Baba, mujhe yeh toy dila dein na.

Dad: Abhi us hi din tou tumne naya aesa toy kharida tha.

Kid: Wo pata nahi kahin gum gaya hai.

Dad: Nahi guma hoga kahin. Ghar mein dhoondo mil jayega.

(Kid starts crying) Kid: Mujhe ye chahiye!

Dad: Mana kardia na chalo ab foran.

Kid: Nahi chalunga.

(Dad starts dragging him away) Dad: Wese bhi yeh bilkul bekaar hai mein tumhe acha waala laake dunga. (Salesman in his mind ‘Kia matlab bekaar hai? Mere maal ki burai woh bhi mere mun pe?’)

***

Customer: Nahi chorein aap buhot mehenga bata rahe hain. (And then walks away) Some minutes later.. (Returns) Customer: Acha kitne ka bataya tha aapne?

Shopkeeper: 750.

Customer: Acha chalein de dein. Wese aap hamesha aap apni baat manwaate hain.

Shopkeeper: *evil smile* (Inside his mind, ‘I win!’)

***

Random thelay wale selling churiyan: ‘KumKum ki churiyan! Kashish ki churiyan! Ayein baji idhar dekh lein. KumKum ki, Kashish ki, Parvati ki churiyan!’(Eh? Seriously? Are you nuts? Get a life dude.

***

In a shoe shop. Customer: Woh waala dikhayie ga bari heel waala. Nahi nahi woh nahi. Woh silver wala. Haan haan woh

Salesman: (looks up and shouts) 26 ka colour 35 dena!

(26 ka colour 35? :S What type of a language is that?)

-By Alvina Ahmed @ Karachi Tips