Me and Him.

When I was a child, of around 7 years of age, I remember going to bed every night, praying I'd wake up as a boy. And every morning, I really and surely expected to wake up different. I never did, but then come night, I'd have the same prayer again. I was never bitter, a few hours awake and I was distracted the way only children can be. I wanted a different life, but I wasn't blind to how good I actually had it. I don't think I ever formally thanked God, prayers really been something I haven't learnt to stick to yet, but God was a friend to be loved. He was the one who took care of me when mom was angry, who made sure I found the Snickers bar my folks hid and protected me from what was beneath my bed every night. He didn't punish me. Every time I fell from my bicycle, I learnt how not to steer. Mom and Allah Mian were the first two entities I called out when I was sad or hurt.


22 years of age. 


I don't call out to mom. I call out to the friends I was lucky to be blessed with.


After that, way after that, I call to God. But mostly I remember Him when I'm really sad and nothing else helps, or really happy and I am afraid something will jinx it.


However, I'm mostly bitter or angry. And I'll take that out on food, or sport. Or God. Thats the excuse I'll give for not praying. The days when I actually need to give myself an excuse that is. When stupid conscience starts poking. 

Like right now. But I'm not moved enough to kneel just yet. 

Koi mujhay

Badnaseebi. The saddest, and most redundant excuse there is.

You kill me ? I KILL ME!

All those missing people, you know what, they're more than numbers. They've been on this planet for years and each of them, their presence and now their absence, effected multiple social and personal relationships.


Fuck we're cold. And you know what, we will be till it touches someone important to us. But we wont do much beyond lament and cuss.


However, let it touch a big gun, with political and social clout. Then there might be some action.


Let the industrialists and the workers be. Someone, go for the bureaucrats and the MNAs and the MNPs.


Kill/kidnap the right people.


We just might see change.

Forward March....

Now, adult/parental whining with respect to their children/younger charges often have very similar themes. One of them being where your folks tell you how much harder their lives were, and how we take for granted our cars and drivers when they had to cross rivers to get to school, only to be pulled out because there were so many other pressing responsibilities. Never mind the alternate times when they reminisce about how once they played on the streets well into the night, choc bars on the roof at 2 am, and how aunt will tell you your dad flunked his exams, and your mom was as much of a tomboy as you are, if not more. 


Kids from the late 80s and the 90s, including myself were polite, our folks were strict with us. On the other hand, our later born siblings, the end 90s and the 2000s batch, facilitated by the fact that their old man and woman had grown, well, older, turned out to be sassy, cocky twits with ready comebacks, and the guts (in lieu of a Ramzan inappropriate word here), to blurt those out. And ofcourse, more "guts" for rebellion too. 


For instance: 


Scenerio 1: Dad and then 13 year old brother, year 2002.


Dad : "Hum tou parh nahin sakkay, issliay ab main aap ko itni achi school bhaij raha hoon takay aap parhlou"
Bil : *respectful silence and nodding*
Dad: *stern tone* Now I want an A in Math next time, you're a memon's son for Gods sake. And no playing for a week.


Scenerio 2: Dad and now 11 year old Monkey, year 2011.


Dad : "Hum tou parh nahin sakkay, issliay ab main aap ko itni achi school bhaij raha hoon takay aap parhlou"
Monkey : Haan tou papa, kya huwa agar main fail hota hoon, apnay bachon ko tou main Harvard bhaijoon ga"
Dad: *amused laughter* My son is so haazir demaagh. 


The rest of us, *stunned*

The primate thats going places <3

Click here for more on Monkey.