Come on in, it's Kool inside

The Sequel

I have set out to ruin everything. At least, I've set out to set out to ruin everything. Most of it has fallen apart anyhow. One way or the other, it'll all be gone. The only question is, what is it going to be like afterwards?

On Home

A few months ago, I was sitting on one of the small stools in the kitchen, the ones that make you feel like a little child again, waiting for the water to boil. I was making tea for my dad and thought how cool a feeling that was, to be home again, doing home-things in a warm kitchen where everything was as familiar as it was leisurely. But later, in a different city, in a place just called home, a place that I have to remember by numbers - fourth right turn, third house on the left - a place I have to recognize by signboards and which I sometimes pass over in the dark because I miss the gate, a place where almost-strangers let you in when you ring the bell; I waited the same wait, standing and waiting for the water in a newer pateeli. It wasn't warm at all; it was just a cheerless, empty, disconsolate feeling. It made me feel low to even think of another place as home. Eating in alien plates, drinking in alien glasses. I never learnt to memorize the house number or the telephone number because it just didn't feel like home.

I drank Cherry Coke today and it tasted the same as regular coke, but the aftertaste was cherry-like. That might have been the most symbolic thing that's happened to me in weeks.

decaf

:)

one year, two years, another year?

The Law school just started, and they're making a new school of Physics and Engineering and what not. They're having such a difficult time trying to fit 3000 people in here that they've overlooked the most fundamental issue: the bloody name of the university!

Pokerface (staring at the logo on the cover of her Contemporary Philosophy pack): Why is it still called the Lahore University of Management Sciences? They're going to have, what, Physics, and Chemistry, and (quizzical look) Biology?

Decaf (shaking head): No, not biology. But yeah, all those other things.

Pokerface: Well, where's management in that?

Decaf: There isn't.

PF: Well, what're they going to call it? LUS? Lahore University of Sciences? LUDS? Lahore University of Different Sciences?

Decaf just sits there thinking while PF goes through LUAS (Lahore University of All kinds of Sciences), trying to save good ol' LUMS with (the ingenious) Lahore University of Many Sciences, or even . . . . . .

(random snatch of conversation overheard in the middle)

Act I, Scene I: Near empty lab 1 with six, maybe 7 people.

Phone rings. (ring, ring!) Wait, actually it went "Kajra re, kajra re!" in full polyphonic grandeur. The marvels we have now!

Girl: What's your problem?
Girl: (louder): What's your problem?

(some simpering mixed with static. What I wouldn't give to have heard that answer :) )

Girl (again!): I'm in the lab, where else? For the last (looks at PC clock) 32 + 5 . . . (long pause) . . 37 minutes!

Girl puts down phone.

PF and Decaf laugh like crazy.

(and now, back to saving LUMS!)

. . . . . . ..

Act I, Scene III. This is an existential play. It never had a scene II. Good ol' Hima, she was funny, I'll give you that.

Decaf: How about . . . how about . . . Lahore University of Management and Pure Sciences?

PF stares at me for a second. Then we both burst out laughing. LUMPS.

LUMPS! Bachon ko batayain gey, beta, we studied in lumps. One year, then two years, then another year.

Man, I had a similar conversation in freshie year with Xeb and Saad and all we ever got to was Lahore University of Matrimonial Sciences. How we've (not!) grown :)

We're all all right

You know, when things go wrong everyone finds their own reason. Not an explanation - that's the logical thisishowithappened and thisiswhyithappened. The reason, the illogical, unprovable, but significant happening(s) that we thinked caused something to go wrong. "This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been so . . " and "I'm sure it's retribution for . . ". None of it is sure to be true, but more importantly, none of it is ever false. Everybody feels there's a reason that it went wrong, and we're all convinced that our slight was important. And see, none of us ever believe that it wouldn't have happened without our reason. It would have. But our reason is why we deserve it, why we're not lowlifes or criminals but just people who've lost our way, people who made a mistake and are being punished.

God humbles us all, sometimes quickly, sometimes late and sometimes very very late. Feeling helpless (meeting people . . ) is easy. Being humbled is harder, and sometimes it just happens to you. Our reasons humble. Our reasons sometimes make us a little less sad, give us hope that correcting ourselves (and then some) will show God that we are humbled, that we have learnt. Being humbled makes the petty things easy, the harder things easier. God bless us all.

Grim

Walking out into colddarkwinternights, stumbling while you're climbing footpaths, being slightly, strangely short of breath - your head starts spinning the way it only can when it's dark and a little lonely. You stare straight ahead trying to maintain this . . this dignity that walking alone at night in the dark seems to rip away from you. I tend to walk briskly but that's not the point - the dignity doesn't drain away because you feel like you have to walk fast. It's just that the space seems infringed upon if you walk in the quite night. The people on the sidewalk? They're superior- they either ignore you or stare through you with disdain. You haven't interrupted anything but you still feel like it's more theirspace than yours. Or nightspace. Or anyspace but yours. Sometimes this cat roams the dark alley which the searchlights can't quite invade, and sometimes the orange glow of the construction workers' lights sets off some memories that aren't even completely formed but when you're short you'll do with a memory, any memory that has clung.

They're fortresses, these buildings, fortresses that only hold familiarity captive. When you walk from one building to another, you might as well be crossing the formerly dangerous jungle that had all its animals killed - there's no ostensible fear but you still feel it, like the magnificence of a fallen monarch. You can't help but feel it.

Remember the glory days, Manny?

Long gone, my friend.