Lahore is beautiful in November. Mornings are warm and sunny and nights are still cool, somehow, very inviting.
I've always waited for November rain. Brings with it, recalls the past. And wash away the sorrow. And it goes with you, a feeling. Therefore, prices and content.
I woke up
until the sound of water. Rain. There was. That delicious, musky, the smell of my homeland in November rain. And I just knew my day would be okay.
It took a while for me to get out of bed. Extremely vague. Possibly genetic. I got up and drew the curtains. For a moment in time over whelming, I thought it would be skinny dipping. Or, in this case, dancing naked in the rain. But the thought of otherwise. My neighbors might be watching. It was after all Lahore.
Sh * t, shave and shower - all in that order please. My daily ritual. Time for my jeans, my shirt and my regular regular pair of red shoes. A guy has to be underground. Dig?
It is still raining at the time I went down to my regular daily cup of Lipton tea. I'm just an ordinary plain old. I am 26. Still unemployed. Polite, "Yes quite enough. I mean if you have an understanding of the anchors of accents in a Pakistani English Channel.
I loved slurping my tea when nobody was watching. A fetish, you see. Also, what was not Lipton Lahore? 11:14 am. I grabbed my keys and limited Cuore out.
In mid-Model Town Mall to the highway, I remembered that I had left my Dunhill Lights in the bed. Sh * t!. I just hope my mom did not discover them. Yes, I live with my parents. I am the whole package is not I?.
Anyway I was going to meet a friend at a bank of first class shopping center. My dear father had pulled some strings for me an interview with the manager in the bank a "formality" as the man kept repeating over the telephone. He told me to come occasionally, with the "casual Friday" and all.
Please be informed, I am single by choice and the unemployed. I refused to work for someone who was less intelligent than I, which occurred in almost all cases. And detested the notion of "Safarish, a Lahori endemic to get a job in a" top "of the Bank. Of course, parents with "Lambay Haath" were mandatory and a prerequisite for a successful life in Lahore. Means to an end, you see.
Thus, although theirs was a truly Farin (foreign) graduate, and also from a top university, I was unemployed by choice.
I like to think that women are too intimidated to get hitch. I mean it was an "attention", as my mother reminds me every day. So women do not take interest in me by my appearance, seemed out of the question. He had to be something else. Anyway, I was too lazy to get romantically involved with anyone and make the effort. Furthermore, how could someone as unemployed as I pay a friend in Lahore? It was just me and my baby Dunhills.
The rain was light in the channel of the unit, even more beautiful then it already was. I stopped halfway to my Khokhar in a smoke. "Dip, Dip, Dip 'n Sip, I realized the campaign Lipton around Lahore. Huge billboards. I think the boy knew. Afro hair. I was more than a Dip, Dip' n Sip type. Dips 3 were too strong for my taste.
The interview was 12ish. Could afford to be late, my father is a "well connected" men in Lahore. And yet, my younger sister's lead Cuore. I think it could be another reason that I was still single.
Although the rain was light, the roads were very slippery. And empty. I had a sudden desire to make a 360 'but I said to myself 26. A-levels, so there's more. Also, I was listening to Bono's version of "Summer Wine."
My November rain followed me all the way to shopping center. I was in a good mood. The phone rang. Picked. And the director made me more traffic. Apparently, one could not talk on the phone, drive and smoke all at once. Especially in malls. Using mobile while driving was banned. I insisted I was sober enough to multitask. I leave you with a warning slip. And, of course, I used my "my-dad-is-a-big-shot" card. I congratulated myself for being a hypocrite in times of trouble. Note to self: no cell phones at Mall Road.
I was only 10 minutes late and went to the first floor where the interviews were conducted. I arrived and I realized that it took "casual Friday" a little by chance. All other "possible candidates for the job" is wearing. I mean it was like a Lahori Walima. And I looked the oldest. Good.
Apparently, I was going to go last. So I went down and smoke a few Chit Chat with my friend. At the moment my back, which was only three of us left. I went and sat next to a little girl, picked up an old magazine and a few pages back.
"The man in the shelter to walk along the sidewalk in the heavy rain - the home of a long way to go - you have to seek shelter for the night. His hunger is unbearable for all he had for the day was a great cup of tea. " Boring story. I started playing snake on my cell phone.
Tea. I wanted my regular cup of Lipton tea. I got up to talk to the lady at the reception. Flirted with it a little and left my tea-instar. The office of the child would be more right, I was told. With a smile. I went back and sat down. And observed, was the only one without a resume. "Sh * t!.
Since it was supposed to be the last to enter, there is plenty of time. Firstly my regular cup of tea and then I go to print my resume via my dear friend's log-in. Well took me about a strange reason for not USB.
"Light" for the little girl and "strong" to the man sitting beside. Not the perfect combination. A full spectrum. The office boy scampered off.
So we started talking. I mean the three of us. I heard he was a Social Science major Neha were offered on weekends in some NGOs. The guy seemed ambitious. He was an MBA in France. A little too pompous. And loud.
I told them that I graduated from a local university in Multan. The set of "Hello, I am a graduate of Yale" routine that they have beaten very hard. You see, I also have this strange habit of creating scenarios and experiment with people. No I was not a psychology. I actually majored in economics at Yale. Summa Cum Laude baby! Besides that I had believed when I was celebrating "casual Friday" in a job interview?.
Perfect for tea time. I noticed how my hypothesis that personality could be judged by the choice of tea, it was very acceptable at 1% level of significance. "Light" for the kind, shy girl and "strong" for the ambitious type. And for me-Regular. As always. Life can really be this simple.
We were interrupted when the strong-and was called in. Neha was supposed to go now. In another 10 minutes. She puts the cup of tea on the arm of his chair and bent down to pick up your resume. Before he could warn her, dragged her and the cup of tea, as light as his personality was spilled on his clothes. She could not believe all this is happening to it, not when the clock was ticking too fast. And like all women, panic began. A little too much. I calmed down and offered to go first, while it was dry.
So basically I left without a resume. I saw the manager holding too casual Friday. He was not wearing no tie. Went well. The interview. I avoided some of the same questions. A graduate of Yale, in Pakistan. Why? How could you say that, while I was there, my mother suffered from recurring nightmares of her marriage with an only child "Gori" and never return. I told him I loved Lahore too far for too long. So I took to be a little hard to move headquarters in Karachi. I never bothered to correct.
At the moment I have at home, it was dark. The rain had stopped. After the interview, my friend had pushed for a gymkhana game of squash and a quick bite to eat afterwards. He had called in sick at the Bank.
Nobody was home. I assumed my mother was in a "Kitty party" a group of pseudo-linkage of aunts and their children to suggest names for your future grandchildren. More than a mouthful sandwiches. I had no idea that the rest of the family.
I sprawl in front of my big screen TV. Correction: My Father, a large television screen. And he became the news. What was I shocked.
"Saab JEE, you want tea or regular light?" Akram could hardly hear, my cook.
Shots were fired at random against the same bank where I had the interview a few hours ago. Some one had died. While going to the park. A little girl. Neha.
I was suffocating. It could have been me. In place of it. If only it had not spilled the tea.
I could have died today. But she did. That guy, shy, child of light. Neha.
It started to rain again this time. My November rain.
I finally found my voice. "Strong tea for me, please."
I've always waited for November rain. Brings with it, recalls the past. And wash away the sorrow. And it goes with you, a feeling. Therefore, prices and content.
I woke up
until the sound of water. Rain. There was. That delicious, musky, the smell of my homeland in November rain. And I just knew my day would be okay.
It took a while for me to get out of bed. Extremely vague. Possibly genetic. I got up and drew the curtains. For a moment in time over whelming, I thought it would be skinny dipping. Or, in this case, dancing naked in the rain. But the thought of otherwise. My neighbors might be watching. It was after all Lahore.
Sh * t, shave and shower - all in that order please. My daily ritual. Time for my jeans, my shirt and my regular regular pair of red shoes. A guy has to be underground. Dig?
It is still raining at the time I went down to my regular daily cup of Lipton tea. I'm just an ordinary plain old. I am 26. Still unemployed. Polite, "Yes quite enough. I mean if you have an understanding of the anchors of accents in a Pakistani English Channel.
I loved slurping my tea when nobody was watching. A fetish, you see. Also, what was not Lipton Lahore? 11:14 am. I grabbed my keys and limited Cuore out.
In mid-Model Town Mall to the highway, I remembered that I had left my Dunhill Lights in the bed. Sh * t!. I just hope my mom did not discover them. Yes, I live with my parents. I am the whole package is not I?.
Anyway I was going to meet a friend at a bank of first class shopping center. My dear father had pulled some strings for me an interview with the manager in the bank a "formality" as the man kept repeating over the telephone. He told me to come occasionally, with the "casual Friday" and all.
Please be informed, I am single by choice and the unemployed. I refused to work for someone who was less intelligent than I, which occurred in almost all cases. And detested the notion of "Safarish, a Lahori endemic to get a job in a" top "of the Bank. Of course, parents with "Lambay Haath" were mandatory and a prerequisite for a successful life in Lahore. Means to an end, you see.
Thus, although theirs was a truly Farin (foreign) graduate, and also from a top university, I was unemployed by choice.
I like to think that women are too intimidated to get hitch. I mean it was an "attention", as my mother reminds me every day. So women do not take interest in me by my appearance, seemed out of the question. He had to be something else. Anyway, I was too lazy to get romantically involved with anyone and make the effort. Furthermore, how could someone as unemployed as I pay a friend in Lahore? It was just me and my baby Dunhills.
The rain was light in the channel of the unit, even more beautiful then it already was. I stopped halfway to my Khokhar in a smoke. "Dip, Dip, Dip 'n Sip, I realized the campaign Lipton around Lahore. Huge billboards. I think the boy knew. Afro hair. I was more than a Dip, Dip' n Sip type. Dips 3 were too strong for my taste.
The interview was 12ish. Could afford to be late, my father is a "well connected" men in Lahore. And yet, my younger sister's lead Cuore. I think it could be another reason that I was still single.
Although the rain was light, the roads were very slippery. And empty. I had a sudden desire to make a 360 'but I said to myself 26. A-levels, so there's more. Also, I was listening to Bono's version of "Summer Wine."
My November rain followed me all the way to shopping center. I was in a good mood. The phone rang. Picked. And the director made me more traffic. Apparently, one could not talk on the phone, drive and smoke all at once. Especially in malls. Using mobile while driving was banned. I insisted I was sober enough to multitask. I leave you with a warning slip. And, of course, I used my "my-dad-is-a-big-shot" card. I congratulated myself for being a hypocrite in times of trouble. Note to self: no cell phones at Mall Road.
I was only 10 minutes late and went to the first floor where the interviews were conducted. I arrived and I realized that it took "casual Friday" a little by chance. All other "possible candidates for the job" is wearing. I mean it was like a Lahori Walima. And I looked the oldest. Good.
Apparently, I was going to go last. So I went down and smoke a few Chit Chat with my friend. At the moment my back, which was only three of us left. I went and sat next to a little girl, picked up an old magazine and a few pages back.
"The man in the shelter to walk along the sidewalk in the heavy rain - the home of a long way to go - you have to seek shelter for the night. His hunger is unbearable for all he had for the day was a great cup of tea. " Boring story. I started playing snake on my cell phone.
Tea. I wanted my regular cup of Lipton tea. I got up to talk to the lady at the reception. Flirted with it a little and left my tea-instar. The office of the child would be more right, I was told. With a smile. I went back and sat down. And observed, was the only one without a resume. "Sh * t!.
Since it was supposed to be the last to enter, there is plenty of time. Firstly my regular cup of tea and then I go to print my resume via my dear friend's log-in. Well took me about a strange reason for not USB.
"Light" for the little girl and "strong" to the man sitting beside. Not the perfect combination. A full spectrum. The office boy scampered off.
So we started talking. I mean the three of us. I heard he was a Social Science major Neha were offered on weekends in some NGOs. The guy seemed ambitious. He was an MBA in France. A little too pompous. And loud.
I told them that I graduated from a local university in Multan. The set of "Hello, I am a graduate of Yale" routine that they have beaten very hard. You see, I also have this strange habit of creating scenarios and experiment with people. No I was not a psychology. I actually majored in economics at Yale. Summa Cum Laude baby! Besides that I had believed when I was celebrating "casual Friday" in a job interview?.
Perfect for tea time. I noticed how my hypothesis that personality could be judged by the choice of tea, it was very acceptable at 1% level of significance. "Light" for the kind, shy girl and "strong" for the ambitious type. And for me-Regular. As always. Life can really be this simple.
We were interrupted when the strong-and was called in. Neha was supposed to go now. In another 10 minutes. She puts the cup of tea on the arm of his chair and bent down to pick up your resume. Before he could warn her, dragged her and the cup of tea, as light as his personality was spilled on his clothes. She could not believe all this is happening to it, not when the clock was ticking too fast. And like all women, panic began. A little too much. I calmed down and offered to go first, while it was dry.
So basically I left without a resume. I saw the manager holding too casual Friday. He was not wearing no tie. Went well. The interview. I avoided some of the same questions. A graduate of Yale, in Pakistan. Why? How could you say that, while I was there, my mother suffered from recurring nightmares of her marriage with an only child "Gori" and never return. I told him I loved Lahore too far for too long. So I took to be a little hard to move headquarters in Karachi. I never bothered to correct.
At the moment I have at home, it was dark. The rain had stopped. After the interview, my friend had pushed for a gymkhana game of squash and a quick bite to eat afterwards. He had called in sick at the Bank.
Nobody was home. I assumed my mother was in a "Kitty party" a group of pseudo-linkage of aunts and their children to suggest names for your future grandchildren. More than a mouthful sandwiches. I had no idea that the rest of the family.
I sprawl in front of my big screen TV. Correction: My Father, a large television screen. And he became the news. What was I shocked.
"Saab JEE, you want tea or regular light?" Akram could hardly hear, my cook.
Shots were fired at random against the same bank where I had the interview a few hours ago. Some one had died. While going to the park. A little girl. Neha.
I was suffocating. It could have been me. In place of it. If only it had not spilled the tea.
I could have died today. But she did. That guy, shy, child of light. Neha.
It started to rain again this time. My November rain.
I finally found my voice. "Strong tea for me, please."
