My first ever Jalsa: A non-political perspective!

 I wouldn’t say I’m partly Lahori… yes; I admit I’ve lived in the city for over five years and it has injected some profoundly typical Lahori traits in me, for instance I like to pry and stare! These are my favorite part time hobbies! I also like being friendly… and friendlier soon after! I love Lahore. But nonetheless, I’ve always been a true Islamabadi! You know the sort who become occasional activists and blog about it and go to jalsas wearing their new shoes! Yes, JALSAS!

So, while I was in Lahore, which btw was till three weeks ago, my truly enthusiastic, politically charged friends heavily kept themselves involved in multiple Jalsas and PTI support oriented bees in the bonnet! Being the snooty Islamabadi that I’ve always been, I’d never join them… didn’t want to stand, lost in a lahori bouquet of a million people, more than half of who had B.O issues, didn’t not notice my perfectly self manicured finger nails, gawked at me for having an eyebrow piercing, gave me the look that a cow on the road en route to some village would give to the driver, pretending like the road belonged to Daddy Cow when I spoke to them with my not so ill-fated urdu and more importantly being cut off from bbm-ing the rest of the world due to jammed networks! Mazel tov to the barve people who didn’t mind all that!

But now, since I’m back in Islamabad, two days ago the politician inside me decided to manifest  and here I am blogging about the first ever PTI Jalsa I attended in Islamabad on May 10, 2013. Goes without saying I only went for the kicks, but the sentiment slowly distorted itself into real enthusiasm and soon I was overwhelmed by the excitement and the hope that people had! The Jalsa was a flawless event where everyone positioned themselves  at the venue with beautiful smiles that broadcasted invigorating fervor and commitment…  including my mom who kept waving her flag and refused to go back home even an hour after the Jalsa had ended! It was endearing!

My personal highlight of the day was the authentically bona fide public service passion that a very dear friend, Amna Malik, instilled in me! We went round painting over 1500 faces of friends and strangers, at lengths, soon after the crowd started building up! No one misbehaved, everyone was too involved… everyone, except me!

Being at the Jalsa kindled my Lahori tom foolery! I went around staring at people; half of whom, I must add, weren’t entirely unattractive. I snooped away, prying at the conversations they were having and “believe you me”, as one of them so confidently exclaimed, some of the tête-à-tête was rather remarkable!  It took the Jalsa to a completely new level…

It all started when a my friend exclaimed, after hearing man buying corn from an opportunist vendor, complaining about how he had increased the “rate” and over priced corn for the occasion, “Naye Pakistan may rate sahee ho ga!” and burst out laughing herself!

Another, being bugged by one of her friends for not wearing shalwaar kameez to the jalsa and being unable to cover her head during azaan thereof, screaming ,“Tabdeeli la rahee hou may – Naya Pakistan!” and her friend responding to her statement with “Aisa naya Pakistan tau gaya Pakistan!”

While painting the faces of complete strangers with my friend who had the red paint while I had the green, I heard someone saying “Yaar in dono ko shaadi kar leni chahiye... PTI marriage!” and another, responding to the infinitely noble idea with, “Politically correct!” Hear that Amna? Do I hear wedding bells?

An aunty sniffing away like a cat confirmed, “Yahan kissi ne pleasures lagai hui hai… may bhi apni laai hui hou!”. Having said that, she struggled with the items inside her gigantic bag and dug out a perfume bottle and sprayed some on herself! How cute… I love people who smell nice!

A young boy with spiked up hair went on and on lecturing his friend about how great PTI was and that no one other than Imran Khan was worthy of his vote. After a million years of his endlessly inspiring speech his friend slapped his head and followed the gesture with “O demagh na kha yaar! Tub bolna jub 18 saal ke ho jao gy!” Tch! Tch! Why was the little enthusiast was not told the entire election affair was PG 18!

One from a gossip girl inspired bunch of girls wearing a hair bands complained to who I assumed to be her BFF, “Woh larka mujhay dekhay ja  raha hai and I’m not even looking at him”, to which her BFF rolled her eyes and said “How do you know he’s looking at you if you’re not looking at him? Anyways take my picture with my PTI flag”. She instantly arranged herself into a pose with a victory sign and demanded a look at what had been captured. Dissatisfied with the photographers failure she exclaimed “Dubhara lo, mera pout theek nahi aaya!”

Another from the same bunch later exclaimed she’d walk up to Imran Khan personally post-elections and tell him that she had voted for him and that he should marry her thereof! Sigh… If only getting married was that easy!  

What was classic was a woman tick tocking her way towards the main stage before the jalsa had started to avoid the mob of people hosting the late comers who had to struggle their way in before they were even close to the stage, let alone next to it. Her heels, though gorgeous, weren’t the classic element, it was the fact that she had brought along her personal help, or should I say a slave, to carry her purse for her, that was beyond something that could be ignored!

Another such high maintenance girl sat down, closed her eyes and nodded her head horizontally for a good 2 minutes! I instantly knew she was overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of those around her. And I realized I was right, but only, on a different perspective after I heard her say “Uff itnay log hai yahan, mujhay to saans nae aa raha.” Poor damsel in distress, I wish someone had told her this wasn’t going to be an invite only, exclusive rendezvous!

The PTI aficionado that my mom is, she wandered off into the crowd with her flag that looked like all the other million PTI flags there! So I had to go in search of her. Beyond a point there was just no space to even step on the ground, there were too many people. A boy stopped me from going any further to avoid getting lost myself. I told him I was looking for my mom. We were standing right next to the speakers so I had to yell it out for him to comprehend. And his expert advice for me was “Call her”… and I thought to myself “What an idea sir jee… she’d be able to hear me soo clearly just like you could”.

I acknowledged his concern and told him that the signals were jammed and I couldn’t call her thereof. Instead, he said, “Why don’t you just text her then.” I just wanted to bang my head against the speaker but I prepared and froze myself into a forced smile walked away with the expression still on.

It was hilarious! The Jalsa was not only informative, but entertaining too! Honestly, it felt great. I went home satisfied! At least… now I know I’ll be voting! Voting for change… voting for Naya Pakistan!

P.s: Live tweet @FaizaanAhab: I plan on wearing my mint chinos to the polling station! :P Lets bring change with style! Forever Pakistani...

* All content has been posted in good humour and I apologise if I offend any of my readers who happen to be one of the people I've written about.
* Photo credit: Tepu Malik, Jehanzeb Aftab and Sulmeen Ansari

Journey of Two Women

Gender issues in Pakistan… TYPICAL! I could go on endlessly about the suffering and distress… but I won’t, it makes me nauseous! Truly.

Often have I heard teary stories, seen dramatic documentaries and morbidly theatrical screen depictions addressing what now appears to be something we live with. Many moan, while others try to brilliantly illuminate the distorted messages about gender that constrict and sometimes destroy the lives of many across the nation, which includes men too!

Check out this documentary showing the spectrum of possibilities that these funny, candid, searching young women, Risham and Ghazal, navigate. Yes… this documentary is about women and their roles in the society. Oh the pity - all they have to go through.  It would amuse me to know more about the whole experience of being a woman, on the streets and interviewing people who astoundingly, completely lack even remote signs of finesse or even slight scruples. I must say, for a change I’d like to be a woman to know what its like!

Dear men, be alarmed! The candour with which the subjects of the documentary speak – in this case, students, activists and media personale discussing their frustrations with gender roles and stereotypes, is nearly threatening. If only we weren't the cliché’s we appear to be!

Find the documentary here... (Click away!)

To Karachi, With Love!

I often grumble I’m becoming old. But, let me tell you, I’m 23! Far from when my bones start to creak like a dinosaur! Nonetheless, this abysmally appalling obsession to pseudo ageing curiously made me want do something... For those of you who’re expecting I got up and did something outlandishlingly inspiring, I apologize. I did quite the opposite! I sat down, picked up my phone and then I bitched and moaned for endless hours before my friend hung up on me! I felt unloved. Then I opened Facebook and came across this article a friend had posted called “25 Things to do before you’re 25” by Stephani Georgopulos! *

At first I was like, “B****! What would she know!”, but then I decided to open the link and diss her even more for trying to be all rousingly motivating! I hate self help, I gave up on self help reading material a long time ago when it failed to cure my ridiculous mania with banana bread! I only had to have it a million times and a half to have had OD-ed enough to puke it all out and never have another one again.  But it turned out, this wasn't self help material. It was an awesome articulation of text that merely screamed out “YOU ARE BECOMING OLD”.

I instantly wanted to read this down to the last full stop. It was reassuring, I had found a friend! A friend that made me realize I had two more years to go! Well, a year and five months! I’m turning 24 in August! It was only till I had reached point 23 that read, “Leave the country under the premise of “finding yourself.” This will be unsuccessful. Places do not change people. Instead, do a lot of solo drinking, read a lot of books, have sex in dirty hostels, and come home when you start to miss it.”, I went mad!

Epic. Reminded me of the million blunders I had made earlier last year in a span of just a month. My Karachi trip – the time I lived like a bohemian bourgeoisie in search of love. I left home in a chase, the only problem was, I just didn't know who I was chasing! Clueless I fell in love with three amazing people. And each time, it was true love, and I was on the rise to becoming a man crushing over someone new my eyes rested on every time I rolled my eyes at the previous one. Yes Karachites, feel flattered! You are the reason the city is always sizzling!

As for the three simultaneous loves of my live at the time, I just had to wait for one to tell me, dreadfully indelicately, what I would have otherwise decently said, to get lost; another to unleash a severe case of schizophrenia on me by declaring me an alien reporter and the third to eventually become a nauseatingly interesting friend, who I’m not even remotely attracted to any more   Eventually, I found no one, BUT MYSELF! Hence I believe point 23 is totally wrong! It is fool proof, you can totally be successful in finding yourself ageing away looking for love, while still having done all that jazz before you return home and fall in love with someone you missed out on, back in the city! 

Of course, I’m still a lover…  and I’m going to give point 10 a shot  “Start a relationship with your crush by telling them that you want them. Directly. Like, look them in the face and say it to them. Say, I want you. I want to be with you.” I believe, another Karachi visit is definitely in order... The city accelerates my heartbeat with all the gorgeous strangers I can gawk on! This stranger, however, I know. Thank God, I still have time…

*Link to the article: http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/25-things-to-do-before-you-turn-25/#q4E9d1RtcMmVmdXO.01

The Rickshaw Chapters: 1

Chapter 1: "Girls should NOT be Trusted!"

Yes, I live in Lahore. Its been five years since I gave up the privilege of a daddy financed, chauffeur driven, air conditioned car and moved to Lahore from Islamabad to study. Ever since then, life has been nothing but an excitingly colourful, distastefully kitsch, romantically poetic, bumpy "Richshaw Ride".

The other day, I was standing on Ferozpur Road, near Model Town hoping to stop one of the million rickshaws, or Ricky as I like to call them, that jaunt around, cruising the heavily used main road, so I could go visit a friend. To much of my surprise, just that evening, they all probably decided to take another route. I couldn't catch one for what seemed to be long enough for me to have buffed my nails in the mean time!

At lengths, a dishevelled structure approached me and I thought to myself, "Oh! The ray of hope".. though it was just the ricky's headlight, right in my face! It stopped near me and the ricky dude asked me where I wanted to go.
"Bhai saab mujhay Askari 10 jana hai."
"Nae ji!" - and with this determined statement, he drove off!

I stood there in disbelief! This day, too, had to come when rickies would decide who their passenger are going to be, and I'd get rejected in their decision making -  so much for public transport. I looked around to check if anyone had seen this rather unfortunately embarrassing episode happening with me, and then I pretended to not care, rolled my eyes a few times and told my self, I wasn't going to take that creaking dinosaur after all.

All of a sudden out of no where, a super excited voice from behind startled me with a statement which, I'm still not sure, had the intention to offend me or was a consolation: "Koi nae, aisa hota hai! Kahan jana hai?"  I turned around to find a spick and span, perfectly manicured ricky parked behind me, and a young ricky boy in a flashy, studded Diesel shirt, with hair bleached to look blonde, looking daggers at me with a grin more deadly then that of the Cheshire cat! I told him where I wanted to go and he asked me to hop in.
"Kitnay lo ge bhai saab?", and I just knew what he was going to reply to that with - "Jo munasib"
"Batao phir bhi?"
"Aap beshak kuch na dena, may aap ko le jta hou."

Sounded tempting to me, though I was obviously going to pay him, I reluctantly got into his ricky and we drove off. Half way through a very comfortable ride, ignoring, of course, the ricky dude's occasional out of tune, full of intense expression singing "sanu ik pal chain na aawey, sajna teray bina", he slowed down and turned around to ask, "Bhai, aap say aik personal sawaal poochou? Aap ki koi girlfriend hai jis say aap pyar kertay hai?"

I told myself, this couldn't get worse! I wasn't going to discuss my love life with a ricky dude, so I bluffed.
"Jee meri to shaadi ho chuki hai"
"Acha, to is ka matlab us nay aap ka dil nahi tora!"

I sighed and decided to not respond. He refused to take the hint and continued. "Meri girlfriend hai na, wo kehti hai wo mujhay pyar nahi kerti! Kehti hai ussay koi or pasand hai."

"To phir to wo tumhari girlfriend na hoi na."

"Nae hum 3 saal se aikathay hai, aik doosray ko sub kuch batatay thay. Meri saari kamai zong ke cards may lag jati hai takay may us say baat ker sakou. May jahan jata tha us ko call ker ke batata tha, laiken ub wo suna he nahi chahti."

"Allah behtar keray ga. Us ko koi or pasand hai to ussay chor do, tumay bhe koi or behtar mil jaye gi."

"Girlfriend hai, koi train to nahi ke aik gayee to doosri pakar lounga."

I was speechless yet again, till he decided to break the ardently required silence saying, "Aap se pehlay wali sawari ko bhi may ye hi bata raha tha! Girls should NOT be trusted!
I was surprised by the sudden profoundness of this random floating statement, and his knack to emphasize on it in english, or should I say ainglish. The surprise was short lived, since it was topped by the statement that followed, "Aap bhi apni begam to trust ne kerna! Kahi ka nahi choray gi!" And with this he started weeping!

I dug out and handed handed him a crumpled cleenex from my pocket and pep talked him into believing things were going to get better, hoping he wont erupt again with his unsolicited life advices. Though, really, I had him moan and whine about how this one heartless girl had messed up his life, for endless hours till finally my friend's house was close! I started giving him directions to the house to distract him from mewling away about his oh-so-terrible life. Sadly, I failed. "Meray paas ub siraf ye rickshaw he reh gaya hai, may is ka khayal rakhta hou or ye mujay kaam may masroof rakhta hai. May ub us larki ke khayalon may gum aik minute nahi guzarounga! Khush rehnay ka ye he tareeka hai, achay kapray pehno or acha rickshaw challao!"

He continued till I got off at the gate and gave him money to shut him up. He refused to take them saying I was too kind to him and that this ride was therapeutic. He said he was roaming around in his ricky just to take his mind off her and I had helped in keeping him distracted. All I could think was "HARDLY - how could he have had his mind off her when she was all he went on and on about through out the way!"

I stuffed the money into his palm and said, "Ye rakho, or itna na socha kero. Allah behtar keray ga!"

"Shukariya bohat aap ka. Meri baat ka bura na manana, magar ye baat humesha yaad rakhna, Girls should NOT be trusted! Ub aap jao apni begam ke pass!" and with this he drove off... As for me, I think I learnt my lesson for the day - Never waste a cleenex on a ricky dude again!

“The Secrets of Eve”

“The Secrets of Eve” – By Ahmer Farooq

Displayed, rather articulately, at the Drawing Room Gallery (Lahore) is Ahmer Farooq’s solo exhibition, Titled “The Secrets of Eve”; a series of remarkably worthy of note paintings that address the role of women from a relative perspective, particular to that in our society. It explores women more personally out of the standard roles that we see them in. Seeming fundamentally grave, the subject is tactfully painted to invalidate the brutally sealed principles of these roles that conform to the familiar image we have in our heads.

When I read the artist’s brief, I was instantly instigated to invite a passionately feminist friend of mine, Mehmooda Maqsood, who was more than eager to accompany me to the exhibition. En route, I had prepared myself for an artistic debate, over a cup of coffee, once we were done scrutinizing the paintings. I had assumed the display to be another socially pretentious derivate demonstrating depravity. Hence, my idea behind inviting her was foreplay for me to act unattractively dramatic.

On the contrary, a smirk ran across my face, in honesty wrapped as it was in a sense of realizing how pompous I had been - as the exhibition casually divulged into playful, expressively communicative and refreshing host of creative output, piece by piece. The tasteful use of colour and medium was substantial, as was the well developed sense of irony depicted in the composition of the stylized elements of Ahmer’s lucid work. It was by no means titillating in a generic yoko ono kind of way!

This magical thing many of us had dared to think about from time to time was soo contentedly brought forth in a subtly sublime and creative expression and conceptual development, without making the audience ill at ease or summing it up as liberal propaganda for justification. The comfort with thich the exhibition welcomes and unfolds the other side of the women was hardly a kitsch factor.

Dramatically expanding the definition of the role of a woman to be more inclusive in all areas, from subject matter to media and presentation, Ahmer reintroduced the articulation of a exceedingly vast, yet relevant issue, socially, in an era of apparent establishment, while pioneering a statement with such personalization, having focused on his own siblings, sisters in law and even nieces, within a fine art idiom.

We remained at the venue at lengths before either of us had a sound opinion. The haughty post exhibition, dramatic coffee plan was substituted by a spontaneous idea to seat ourselves silently just in front of the display and observe the overwhelming response. It was an endearing feeling!   

“It was a great effort to put a woman’s banal role in the society separate from the realm and actually recognize her as a separate entity.” Mehmooda Maqsood

- Faizaan Ahab
Blessezz...*

Image: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10152703650235727&set=oa.424610227616258&type=1&relevant_count=1&ref=nf