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It’s the last day of November and I just realised I never got around to telling you guys about my story which got published in Good Housekeeping’s November issue. It was a surprise to me because I thought they had forgotten about it, or maybe they didnt like it and just forgot to send me a rejection email. So here it is:
This is just a test
http://www.addsyou.com
username=MjAwOC0xMS0yOSAwMDowODo1MQ==
I’ve been to Mumbai only once. And I don’t remember anything of the visit except that the road where our hotel was located became crowded in the evening, because of Ramzan and Ammi and I would sit at the window looking at the world going by. Of course, we were there for only one day and one night. The little I knew about Mumbai was based on what I had gleaned from TV, films, and yes, books. The last book I read that painted Mumbai in such a real manner was Shantaram, and although I’d been meaning to review it here, I never got around to it.
Shantaram made so many landmarks in Mumbai so vividly real to me, that when I heard that Leopold cafe had been the scene of a terrorist attack, I was as shocked as though I had been a regular there myself. And then the Taj. I had never even seen it properly on TV, but it was Gregory David Robert’s magnum opus that had brought it to life for me. And like Mika says on her blog, that it seems odd to mourn for a building when so many lives have been lost, I do mourn for what it was, and what it will never be again.
I am sick and tired of hearing cliched phrases like the spirit of Mumbai lives on and all that…I cannot imagine the audacity of those terrorists who have done this. For them, all lives are a joke, including their own, and that’s why they are not bothered about starting something that is clearly suicidal. The increasing number of such attacks just makes me think that clearly qayamat is on its way, unless its already here as Lubi was telling me the other day.
The media is calling it India’s 9/11 but they had already done that in July 2006 when bombs ripped through the local trains. They’re having a taste of what it must be like to be in a war zone and yet, some media houses like Times Now are crowing about showing exclusive footage. However, some scenes I won’t forget are Shobha De openly lambasting Advani and other politicians who are trying to get leverage from this horror, and one bystander(or journalist) telling the media, ‘They have attacked ‘meri Mumbai’. I am not moving from here until I see their bodies being carted out’
People are citing the army, police, NSG and RAF as heroes, and yes, they are truly heroes, but this whole situation is so pathetic…hundreds of such heroic men are being brought to neutralise some twenty or so terrorists. Whoever organised this is probably having a good laugh out there, getting kicks from all the footage, but I pray with all my heart, that Allah makes sure they do not have the last laugh.
November is full of birthdays! Starting with Zakia aunty’s(my mom’s sister), then Zoha’s, today it’s Junaid’s, tomorrow it’s Shazu’s and then on 26th, it’s Rayaan’s! Whew! In between one of these days( i forgot the date, there’s also Saleem mam and his wife’s as well!)
So, it’s Jun’s birthday today. And he’s sitting in Hong Kong far away from us – he also missed his daughter’s first birthday.
Jun is younger than me by 2 and a half years and my memories of early life begin with him. I don’t remember a time when I was an only child and there were plenty of times when I resented him at that age, because I was so sure that Ammi loved him more than she loved me. Aah! Sibling rivalry! And what fights we used to have….they used to trouble Abbu like anything, but you know what…I think, all brothers and sisters fight. It is natural. I mean, we’re not saints are we? And those same fighting kids grow up and become good friends, like me and Jun.
Jun, there are too many things to say here, but I don’t want to right now. Many reasons for that. I guess I am not able to put them down here succinctly enough.
Jun, have a fantastic birthday and all the best for this new year. I hope all your dreams come true and you meet with success at every step! Happy birthday once again bro!
Yesterday was Zoha’s birthday and it was a fabulous occasion. Ammi had invited the whole family over and everything went well, mashallah! Have a look at some of the pics! Doesn’t Zoha look like a little princess?
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- Yum Cherry glace cake!
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- Cute decorations…thanks to Anjum, Sarah, Sidra and (very) little help from me!
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- Zoha and Uroosa, earlier in the day
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- Zoha in her birthday outfit
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- Zoha and Uroosa
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- Princess Zoha!
People, no time to write about the details now. Will write during the weekend. For now, enjoy the pics!
Sometimes I think like how native Americans have alternative names, native names for everyone, like Eagle Eye or Bear Face(I’m making these up on the fly ok!), I should have the name Andy Flying Fingers. My fingers fly a lot when I am texting people and that has been the cause of many a dangerous and embarrassing situation. I’m sure all of us have got into these scrapes, but probably not as often as me.
A few years back I got into a rather hellish situation when I furiously texted something insensitive about someone and in stead of sending it to my friend, I texted it to the very person who I had mentioned in the message. It will suffice to say that the sms was not treated kindly and well, I faced a lot of cold stares and unsocial behaviour for a few months!
Later on, I did it again. I was again texting about someone very close to me, and I sent the sms to her itself. Luckily, she didn’t realise that the text was about her and when she asked me what I meant, I glossed over the situation quickly, telling her I was referring to an old school friend. Gosh! What an idiot I can be at times! Ever since then, if I want to share controversial and insensitive information with people, I never text them, I just call them up and speak to them. Makes life much more easier!
Today, I didn’t do something like that but the end result was rather funny. I’ve already mentioned Sowmya in my blog posts quite a few times, and she’s a friend I made in college. I have another friend from school, also called Soumya(spelt with a ‘u’) and naturally, their numbers are clustered together. I was planning on calling Sowm from college to find out when she was leaving for the US and i’d been trying her number from a couple of days, and both, hers and Poornima’s (her sister) number was switched off.
Today I thought I’ll call her landline, scrolled down to the contacts list and hit the green button when I came across the number. Needless to say, my flying fingers f*&#ed up again, and here’s how the conversation went:
Andy: Hi. I’m Sowmya’s friend from college, Andaleeb, Andy actually. Can I talk to her?
POTOS(Person On The Other Side): Hi Andaleeb. I’m Ramya.
(Ramya who? I wondered. Sowmya’s sister’s name is Poornima, and her sister in law’s name is Chitra. Anyway, I continued on)
Andy: Oh ok. Can I talk to her? I thought I’ll talk to her before she leaves.
Ramya: Sure, but she’s leaving right now.
Andy: She’s leaving right now? RIGHT NOW? I’ve been trying to reach her from Friday! And her number was always switched off! Can I talk to her?
Ramya: Why don’t you call her later? She’s getting late, she has duty today and she has to go on her rounds.
By now, I am TOTALLY flummoxed. What duty, what rounds? And THEN it hit me, I had called the OTHER Soumya, from school, who is a doctor now! I haven’t spoken to her in eons (not from the lacking of trying on my part because I have called her now and then and her landline was always busy or not working)
Feeling extremely foolish, and thankful that I hadn’t mentioned any airport(that would have got Ramya confused too!) I ended the conversation and started laughing.
I came and told mom who didn’t find it too funny. Why are you always getting into these scrapes over mobiles? she wanted to know.
Anyway, no answer to that. Got to ask my flying fingers that question. I looked up Sowmya’s number, called her, and her mom picked up. I spoke to her and found out that Sowm had already left for US on Friday night! Guess she’ll have a great laugh when she reads this!
I sincerely hope, actually more like, PRAY…..
there are NO MORE such accidents in my life guys!
There are few books that make me want to catch hold of the next person I see and tell them, ‘Read This!’ and this is one of those. Written by Pakistani author Mohammed Hanif, this book is about the mysterious circumstances that lead to General Zia ul Haqs death in an airplane crash in August 1988.
We know so little about Pakistan and about the military circumstances there, I think that itself is an impetus to get hold of this book. But I loved the way Hanif has written it. It’s what we call, a political satire and written so well, so superbly for a first novel! In fact, I heard William Dalrymple lamenting on why this wasn’t nominated for the Booker on TV after Adiga won.
Anyway, back to the book. Even if you didn’t know who Zia was, or how he died, you will eventually and you might think that, what the heck, we know there’s going to be a plane crash in the end. But it is the skill with which Hanif leads us to this moment, which is absolutely laudatory. The story is told intermittently through the eyes of Ali Shigri, a young air force office, and there are third person accounts of Zia, which read so well that you will wonder how much is fiction and how much is real!
Zia is reduced to a religion spouting, piles suffering, egomaniac who thinks he ought to receive the Nobel prize for liberating Afghanistan! I didn’t want to google about Zia and find out for myself about the facts so I waited till I finished reading the book. And the accuracy of the research that Hanif has done is impressive. But then, as a writer you might think, what’s the big deal…he already had his story out there…the main plot, and he just had to insert Ali’s track in it. But then, as a writer again, you will marvel at how beautifully he has woven all the strands together into a cohesive unit, that when you’re reading it, clutching it actually, to turn the pages, you are not bothered about reality and fiction.
There were moments when the book dragged a bit…the homosexual references between Ali and his cadet friend Obaid…the constant introspection by Zia…but there are other moments that lift this book into a different league altogether. And yes, before I forget, there is this curiously vague encounter with OBL at a party thrown by the American ambassador. OBL of the Laden construction company…Osama Bin Laden, if you haven’t figured it out even now. 
I dunno what he was doing in this book because there is nothing else of him except at that party.
If you happen to see this book in your library or book shop or anywhere…don’t even think twice! Just grab it!
On a last note, I wonder how Pakistan took to this novel though. What did they make of Hanif’s mockery of Zia and everything? Maybe I ought to google that up now!
A couple of days ago, there was no power from 7 pm onwards and the kids and I were getting bored. So I resorted to my favourite job of taking their pics. These pics were taken on my mobile camera, LG Viewty, and there’s a setting for some ISO 800 in it, in which I can take pics in near darkness! Cool!
The power came back at 9 pm by which time Saboor had exhausted the battery on my old phone by repeatedly playing, Shaan’s ‘Bhool Ja’ song and dancing to ‘Romeo’ from Roadside Romeo.
She still hasn’t come and I’m truly annoyed, waiting for her to roll her cart by. Every morning I make it a point to hand over the garbage to her personally because if I ever leave it outside, then the street dogs have a field day scattering it, and then I have to clean that disgusting mess again! I’ve tried all sort of ideas for keeping the garbage outside without trying to attract the dog’s attention but they’ve failed. Even a closed dustbin doesn’t work, because the dog knocks it over, pries open the lid and simply goes crazy with all the garbage. Particularly Azhaan’s soiled diapers if there are any. And THAT is disgusting.
On weekends, I inevitably miss the foul faced, irritable garbage lady because I get up late. But today I got up early and was waiting for her to come, but she STILL hasn’t come and I doubt she will now. Which means the garbage is going to remain in the kitchen till Monday, 
because I’m planning on going to mom’s house today and coming back tomorrow.
Yesterday Sowmya and I took that proverbial walk down memory lane when we went back to college. We were meeting for lunch and decided to meet in college and then we took a quick look around the blocks. So much has changed! But I shouldnt be so surprised because I had gone there in the beginning of this year to speak to one of Sidra’s teachers. I think the new auditorium had me gaping. It is nothing like the tired old audi that we had, totally new and swanky but I missed the old audi too. We did so many crazy rehearsals for Mad Ads and it was behind the audi that Sowmya, Neeta and I spent endless afternoons practicing for Pictionary competitions.
So many new blocks have sprung up and the new gate has taken off all the romance of the old gate where we used to try and trick the watchman into going out. Then, we couldn’t go to the new canteen because it was getting late for lunch but I was glad I wasn’t alone. I think I would have felt sad if Sowmya hadn’t been there, because with her, we both pointed out the places where we used to sit for lunch, or the spots where we sat under the shady trees and spoke of our crushes and heartbreaks. Those places have changed, but not too much thankfully.
I was thinking that I was glad I did college in the mid nineties, when cell phones weren’t around that much and neither did we have internet chatting. Of course, all the girls who used to queue up to the one rupee phone booth to talk to their respective boy friends will not agree with me, but then, the very quaintness of that now, is something that I miss!
It’s strange but I spent twelve years in school and when I left it, I didn’t miss it at all, and I didn’t want to go back there. Every little thing that changed there, structurally or otherwise, made me feel more and more of an outsider whenever I visited school, which I did often because of Sidra. But I spent just 5 years of my life in JNC and even now when I go there, I feel welcomed. Not by any teachers or anyone, but by the college itself. I can’t really explain it…maybe its something at a subconscious level. In school, right from the time I was small, I had to fight a number of prejudices by teachers and I think by the time I proved myself to be a bright student, I was tired of it all. In college however, I think I entered, already feeling confident and the best thing about it I feel, is that I could do what I wanted to there. I guess it’s not very clear but then its something that I can’t explain very well.
Yesterday all those memories came rushing to me, so many important moments happened there. Everything is so intense when you’re that age right? Everything seems like a matter of life and death, and I remembered the times I sat with Ayesha on the drive, talking to her about so many things, or the lunches we had in the canteen with that smelly dog, ‘Sexy’ hovering around our feet…the tiny fears and problems we had, and how everything seemed fine when we spoke about it to friends…gosh, there are times when I really wish I could go back to those days and live them again. Then again, I remember the uncertainty I had in my life regarding my marriage and how desperate I was in life for miracles to happen, and how I wondered about what would happen to me…I think I’m happy with my present life too.
