Life Change Unit

HRH Makes a Newspaper

2012-01-29T15:56:00.001+05:00

Is It So Hard To Say?

2012-01-27T01:58:00.001+05:00

Yesterday I was at my parents place for lunch after picking HRH up from school.

Two of my sisters and my father were seated around the lunch table, alongwith HRH and I. My son suddenly (while playing a game on the iPad and chewing a bite) said, "Ammi, I love you." I, just as distractedly replied, "I love you too baby". This is a conversation we have at least 5-6 times in a day (unless we are really at loggerheads).

One of my sisters looked at us and said "What is with you two constantly declaring your love for each other? Did our parents ever tell us they loved us?" After thinking about it for a bit, I reached the conclusion that no they didn't. They never told us directly in so many words, that they love us, which doesn't mean that we didn't know or don't know that they love us unconditionally (which they do). But it was never something that was stated in such clear words as "I love you."

Perhaps it wasn't the done thing at the time or perhaps it was supposed to be a given anyway, either way I don't remember my parents being as demonstrative as my husband and I are with HRH, or even as they themselves are with him now.

I'm not sure why it may be difficult for some to say, but it's really not too hard to announce (once you get over any embarrassment you and/or the recipient of the 'I love you' may feel).

Of course in some cases, there may be some expectations after those words, as was what happened earlier today -

HRH: Ammi I love you
Me: I love you too
HRH: You look pretty today
Me: Hmm.
HRH: I'm waiting...
Me: For what?
HRH: I gave you some compliments. You have to say thank you.

Better at Bullying, Paying Dues & Holiday Highlights

2012-01-21T21:11:00.000+05:00

HRH: Ammi you're an even bigger bully than me.

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HRH: No homework today...No torture for me and you!

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HRH: You and Baba get paid for going to the office. Why don't I get paid for going to school? That's my job.

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Me: I missed you when you went to spend the night at Nano's. Did you miss me?
HRH: Umm...it was just one night and we were both in Lahore.

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HRH: I'll never wash my child's potty
Me: Who'll do it then?
HRH: I'll make my wife do it
Me: Baba washes you doesn't he?
HRH: Yes but I don't want to get my hands dirty

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Conversations during the winter holidays in Italy and Spain -

Faisal: We'll be going back to Lahore soon
HRH: Noooo...I want to live in holidays

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HRH: I saw two people kissing on the lips on the metro...it was really gross
Me: Hmm
HRH: They didn't stop kissing
Faisal: That's ok
HRH: But their tongues were also touching

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Career motivation after a walk down La Rambla, Barcelona -

HRH: I want to be a street performer when I grow up

Me: What kind of performer?

HRH: I'll be a statue sitting in the air

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At DXB airport, waiting impatiently for Faisal to be done with eye scan -

HRH: How long is this going to take? What will they do next? A CT scan?

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An hour after seeing Trevi Fountain -

HRH: I liked Saturn at the Trevi Fountain

Me: You mean Neptune?

HRH: I knew it was a planet name

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HRH: When a bride throws a barbecue, the person who catches it will get married next?

Me: Bouquet?

HRH: Yes

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Religious Reckoning

2011-12-10T04:34:00.001+05:00

My husband, Faisal and I are kind of confused about whether HRH should start reading the Quran in Arabic. While most of his friends/class-fellows have been receiving religious instruction as far as starting to read the Quran goes for a while now, we are still debating about what the point is if he doesn't understand anything.

While our respective parents have been begging/pleading/telling us off about how lax we are as far as HRH's religious studies go, neither of us thinks, having been through the same process when we were his age, that it added anything to our lives at that point in time (apart from dreading the hour the qari saab was supposed to appear).

I suggested I would read a page of the English translation with HRH every day. This was vetoed by Faisal who thinks (and on further pondering about, I agree), HRH is a little young for the intricacies that lie therein (or in other words, we wouldn't know how to answer the questions that would be bound to come up).

The other day HRH and I had the following conversation (much to Faisal and HRH's amusement) -
HRH: Why were all prophets men?
Me: I dunno..
HRH: Maybe Allah thought women are nasty.

So, yes, I don't think we'd be able to answer the queries that are bound to crop up (especially as we seem to be pretty clueless ourselves).

Can we simply stick to just be a good human being and take it from there?

Sentence to Death

2011-12-07T17:40:00.001+05:00

HRH: Homework makes me feel annoyed.

Religious Medication, How to Draw Booty, Vowing Vengeance & More

2011-11-28T08:55:00.001+05:00

HRH: Plants and things like cars are lucky because they are safe.
Me: Safe from what?
HRH: From going to hell.

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HRH: We are learning the doosra kalma in school...doosra kalma shahdat..shahadat manay dawai dena
Me: Dawai dena?
HRH: Yes it means give medicines

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HRH trying to eavesdrop on a conversation -
HRH: What are you guys talking about?
Me: You don't have to know everything
HRH: I do have to so I can be wise in future.

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HRH (singing): I'm a coolio! I'm a genius!
Me: Are you modest as well?
HRH: Yes
Me: Do you know what that means?
HRH: No
Me: It means someone who doesn't praise themselves saying I'm a coolio or a genius
HRH: I guess I'm not modest

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HRH: In Urdu we did fill in the blanks like "mein baray ho kay _____ banon ga". I wrote 'farmer'
Me: You want to be a farmer?
HRH: No but that's the only word I knew how to spell..fay alif ray meem ray.
Me: Farmer is an English word. Do you know what you call a farmer in Urdu?
HRH: Kabooter?

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HRH: I know how to draw booty..first you draw a C..then u put a straight line and then you draw another C but the opposite way.

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HRH jumping on the bed -
Me: Stop doing that
HRH: Jumping gives my legs enthusiasm

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HRH: Wouldn't it be cool if we were the Prime Minister of Pakistan?
Faisal: No..it's so much responsibility
HRH: But we wouldn't be greedy

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Faisal and HRH fighting over who gets to play on the iPad -

HRH: When I grow up and you're my son, I will bully you too.

Alien Invasion (....Luckily They Didn't Stay Long)

2011-11-25T01:48:00.001+05:00

HRH writes/draws a comic -

Getting an Earful, Suggestions for Space, Clearing up Clarity & Watery Wisdom

2011-11-20T19:36:00.001+05:00

HRH: I told my friends about when we went to Quaid-e-Azam's house and someone asked me if I met him..
Me: So what did you say?
HRH: I said he was dead at the time.

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(This one's my favourite)
After an explanation about something -
HRH: You are absolutely right Ammi.
Me: I usually am, aren't I?
HRH: Yes you are....Baba is mediumly right.

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Faisal and I arguing –
HRH: Can you two stop quarreling
Faisal: We aren’t quarreling…we are just discussing something
HRH: Then you should do it politely
Me: We are being polite
HRH: No you’re not. I have ears.

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HRH: Are there people on other planets?
Me: Only on planet earth in our solar system
HRH: So what are the other planets there for?
Me: I'm not sure how they were made..we can look it up
HRH: Maybe they are there to make space look good

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HRH: Can I get a balloon?
Me: No you can't because you misbehaved earlier.
HRH: That's a bit hurtful.

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HRH (cleaning up his room): How come it's so easy to make a mess and so hard to clear it up?

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Me: Why do you need to drink water as soon as you sit down to do homework?
HRH: Water is good for your brain.

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Me: Hurry up and finish your work or you will sit all alone working while the rest of us have fun
HRH (looking disappointed and muttering under his breath): ...scaring your own kid..

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Siri Silliness

2011-11-17T12:50:00.001+05:00

Like everyone else with an iPhone 4S, HRH and I have been messing around with Siri.

HRH had the following conversation with Siri the other day:

Desperate for homework help

No philosophizing and no jokes either

If I tell you, I'd have to kill you

The meaning of life series/Siris -

New(s) Headlines

2011-11-16T23:38:00.001+05:00

HRH has started reading the headlines of the daily newspaper every morning on the way to school. After reading the biggest headlines he demands an explanation for them.

Today's headlines were:

Later during the day I overheard him informing one of his khalas what the news was for today.

PPP ready for frontal attack on Qureshi was interpreted as -
"So lots of people and Zardari are having a party and they are going to say bad words about someone called Qureshi."

NA passes pro-women bill unanimously lost a lot more in translation -
"Pro-women....that's about women who are professionals...NA means National Anthem...that's it."

Boys Don't Hug, Faulty Flagging, National Analysis & Freedom

2011-11-09T12:12:00.003+05:00

Me: I'm going for coffee with my friends.
HRH: So it'll be just me and Baba?
Me: Yes
HRH: Thank God...Baba always says yes to whatever I say.

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HRH (looking intently at a pic of our president in an old newspaper): Was Zardari always a crook, since he was a child?

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HRH: I know the source of oil
Me: Wow..really? So what is the source of oil?
HRH: Oil tanks

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HRH: Who's Nawaz Sharif?
Me: He's the head of the PML-N party
HRH: And Zardari?
Me: He's PPP
HRH: Pee pee pee..lots of peeing

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HRH (after drawing the flag of Pakistan): Ammi, I know what the colored parts of the flag mean..the white part is the Muslims..and the green part is the maulvis.

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Me (giving HRH a hug): You're my baby
HRH: I am not. I am a big boy..I have my own life now.

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Pushing Literary Boundaries

2011-11-07T21:59:00.001+05:00

Yesterday we were at a dinner which began extremely late due to the usual Lahori problem of having no concept of time. Since HRH was already about to fall asleep as soon as we arrived at the dinner venue, I had the unenviable task of amusing him till we could all leave.

As HRH's current (read for the past three years) favorite obsession is toilet humor, there was no better way to pass the time than to write gross rhymes for each other.

HRH begins - A golf fan speaks

Can't go wrong in HRH's eyes with nose related rhymes

Lovely. Not.

HRH really enjoyed this one

Illustration for poem included (the thing at the end is a grasshopper apparently)

Desperately attempting to keep HRH from throwing a tantrum in sleep-deprived state

Spy game

HRH ended up falling asleep anyway.

When I Am 40+ (Or Hell, Any Age At All)

2011-11-05T02:37:00.001+05:00

I am someone who is not very adventurous with what I wear. I'll wear anything which I feel comfortable in and which looks alright.

So not to tempt fate or anything, but I will never:

1. Wear any item of clothing resembling a cheetah (or any other feline). No scarves, tops, bottoms..nothing.

2. Have blonde streaks or have a hair color tending towards blonde.

3. Have a handbag that has a giant blingy skull on it (really, really, really wanted to get a picture of this but had to stop myself from appearing too uncivilized).

4. Wear black nail polish with sequins or anything else which is shiny stuck on top.

5. Wear thigh high leather boots.

6. Adorn myself in a velvety dress combined with knee high suede boots.

Having said that, hats off to those who do wear the above and think they look good.

Tentacles, Religious Remix & Political Awakenings

2011-10-21T14:09:00.000+05:00

Profound political discussion -
HRH: Who's the next biggest crook after Zardari? Something Ali?
Me: Gilani? There are too many crooks unfortunately.
HRH: Too many pottys.

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HRH: When you were small did you tell your teacher she's pretty?
Me: I don't remember. Why? Do you want to tell your teacher that?
HRH: No..it was just a hypocritical question.
Me: You mean hypothetical?
HRH: Yes

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Adele's 'Rolling in the deep' - the HRH remix :

'There's a fire burning in my nose..reaching a fever pitch and its bringing it out the butt'

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HRH: Are you sure Sandoz On works? I haven't seen any mosquitoes bouncing off me..

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NanaAbu: Come pray with me
HRH: I don't want to. I wish I was a Christian then no one would ask me to pray.

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HRH: Who's Imran Khan?

Me: He's someone who played cricket for Pakistan, then he built a hospital and now he wants to be the leader of Pakistan

HRH: First he was a cricketer, then he was a builder and now he wants to be a leader? He should make up his mind what he wants to be.

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The day Steve Jobs died -

HRH: How did James Bond die?
Faisal: James Bond isn't real..he's just a character in books and movies
HRH: No Baba..James Bond the one who made the iPhone and iPad

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NanaAbu sleeping -
HRH: He looks like a little orphan.
Me: That's a terrible thing to say. Do you even know what an orphan is?
HRH: No..
Me: It's someone who's parents have died
HRH: NanaAbu's parents have died
Me: Ya but u still don't say that to anyone. They'll feel bad.
HRH: You can say it when they're asleep cos they can't hear you.

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HRH (climbing on Faisal): I'm an octopus
Faisal: Actually you are a quad-ropus cos you only have 4 tentacles and an octopus has 8
HRH: My pee thing also counts, so that's five.

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Me: We're buddies too right?
HRH: Yes
Me: Yay! So who's the better buddy..Baba or me?
HRH: You are both equal. Now stop with the buddy business.

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HRH: If you're looking for fun..all you need is a gun.
Me (horrified): No..What? Where did you hear that?
HRH: Looney Tunes...it's wabbit season!

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Wills, Cucumbers, Prayers & Punishments

2011-09-29T09:58:00.001+05:00

HRH: When do you write your will?
Me: Before you die
HRH: But how do you know you are about to die?
Me: Well that's why you do it way before..why do you want to write a will anyway?
HRH: For giving away my toys.

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HRH: I want to eat keeras.
Me: You want to eat insects?
HRH: No..that green vegetable..
Me: Oh kheeras.

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HRH: You are being very rude today. I am very disappointed in you, mother.

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Me: Go pray with NanaAbu
HRH: I'll pray when I'm 7. I'm only 6..that's a small number.
Me: You went to Eid namaz and to one Friday namaz also remember?
HRH: Ya so that's enough for now. I'll pray in a few months.

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HRH (complaining to Nano about me): Nano, she snatched the phone from me
Me: Who's 'she' Eisa?
HRH: That's your punishment for snatching from me. I will call you 'she'.

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HRH: Why did Allah make bogeys?
Me: Umm...I don't know..
HRH: You always don't know anything.

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Me: Eisa come and talk to me
HRH: I'm watching TV..
Me: You can watch TV later can't you? I'm so bored
HRH: Hmm..I'll let you know in 15 minutes what my suggestions are.

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Me: Go and wash your hands. Don't make me say it again.
HRH: Please stop gritting your teeth at me. Otherwise I have a long list of punishments for you..like hiding your phone or telling your mum.

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HRH misbehaving -
NanaAbu: I am going to get really angry with you now.
HRH: Uh oh. NanaAbu is going to squash me like a bug.

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My Mother by HRH

2011-09-29T01:38:00.001+05:00

Homework Horrors...and Some Hope

2011-09-21T18:19:00.003+05:00

HRH not interested in homework on the importance of cleanliness - 'How would you feel in this room and why?'

I really don't think they loved the zoo that much.

A Busy Day with a busy evening planned -

Make a sentence using the word 'nature' -

Make a sentence using the word 'princess' (Attempts 1 & 2) -

An optimistic conclusion to an essay titled "All About Me" -

English comprehension -

Hateful Homework, Swearing Guidelines, Marriage Miss & More

2011-09-19T12:42:00.000+05:00

HRH: The moment I hear 'homework' I feel like there's something disgusting in my ears.

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HRH: Do I have to get married?
Khala: You don't have to if you don't want to
HRH: What a relief.

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Me: There's an insane amount of homework to do in these holidays
HRH: Torture for both of us.

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Faisal: What the...
HRH: Don't say the word. Just say 'what the' and 'why the'.

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Me: Hurry up and practice your Urdu imla words
HRH: Forget it Ammi
Me: No I can't forget it
HRH: Ammi you don't have to win everything. I'll just do my best...without studying.

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Me: Please don't be rude to me. It makes me sad and I feel like crying
HRH: ...more like pouncing.

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NanaAbu: Come here and give me a hug
HRH: Men don't kiss men.

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Faisal force-feeding Eisa breakfast -
HRH: If I say bad words in my head then that's ok right?
Faisal: No it's not.
HRH: But they aren't coming out of my mouth
Faisal: ...wait..are you thinking those about me??
HRH: grin

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Me: Do you need to pee?
HRH: No.
Me: So stop touching yourself then
HRH: It’s part of my body so I can touch it

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Me: We are not going to play after school today ok? We'll come straight home, got it?
HRH (with a sigh): I know when I'm beaten.

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HRH (sitting on the pot): I can do stink-bombs....from the air-conditioner in my butt.

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HRH: Allah can't see us when we do bad things right?
Me: Yes He can. He can see us all the time.
HRH: So why does He need the left and right shoulder angels to write and send messages about what we're doing?

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Misery and Morbidity

2011-09-14T01:08:00.001+05:00

Army checkpoints where there were none not so long ago.
Taliban.
Killing schoolchildren (Were they infidels too? These 'people' really think they're going to Heaven?)
Dengue.
Floods.
People dragging their buffaloes, cycles and motorbikes through swirling waters.
Crime ('We got robbed at home the other day.' 'Someone snatched my phone at that traffic light.' 'Our mugger was rather nice thank God..such a polite young man..even apologized for traumatizing us.')
Kidnappings ('He was sold to the Taliban. Came back after 6 months.' 'At least he came back.')
Gratitude for things which should be a given.
Murderers serenaded as heroes. Loadshedding ('What are you waiting for yaar? Generator lagwao.')
Schools closed for 10 days (after being open for 7 after a 3 month summer break. At least it's only a dengue epidemic. Last time schools closed down it was because of possible terrorist attacks).
Politicians too busy fighting over who said what and who did (or didn't do) what (They have proof though so it'll all be okay now).
Apples are no longer apples and bananas are no longer bananas (At least we got a whole lot of jokes out of that one).
Horrible, hate-inciting humans on TV.
So much screaming.
A timeline for everyone.
Discussion on jumma prayers ('Don't force him to go...You never know.')
Religious or irreligious? Who cares? ('People do. They do. Don't talk so loudly..you never know who's listening.')
'Where are we going? What's going to happen?'
'Bus it'll just go on like this. Things will be better in a few years.' (Been hearing that for the last few.
Reassuring or trying to convince yourself?)
Living in a bubble of self-denial.
Everything's slowly closing in.

Troubling Questions

2011-09-08T09:30:00.000+05:00

Looking at the DAWN headline "Suicide blasts rock Quetta" and picture of the blast aftermath -

HRH: What happened here?

Me: There were some bomb blasts

HRH: Like bon voyage?

Me: No that’s B-O-N. This is B-O-M-B.

HRH: So who put it there?

Me: Some bad guys

HRH: What’s suicide?

Me: It means to kill yourself

HRH: So what’s suicide blasts?

Me: It’s bad guys blowing things up

HRH: How?

Me: They wear the bomb and then they get killed and theykill people around them

HRH: Couldn’t anyone see the bomb?

Me: They hide it under their clothes so no one can see andstop them

HRH: Good thing this wasn’t in Pakistan

Me: It was in Pakistan…Quetta is a city in Pakistan

HRH: Thank God it didn’t happen in Lahore

Me: It’s sad for all the people there and also for all of usin Pakistan isn’t it?

HRH: Yes.

Dengue, Donkeys, Deceit & Defending Dad

2011-09-05T09:17:00.000+05:00

HRH: I wish I was a dengue mosquito. I wouldn't have to go to school and I would sting bad guys and people I don't like. I wouldn't have to take orders from anybody.
Me: What kind of orders?
HRH: Like come and eat, do your homework. That kind of stuff.

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HRH: Can we eat donkeys?
Faisal: No
HRH: What about homemade donkeys?

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HRH: I want to open my old toy castle again
Faisal: We gave it away
HRH: It's in that box. You lied to me. You lied to your own son. Now your left angel is busy writing down your lies.

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Me to Faisal: Why is this child not eating his dinner?
HRH: I know why you aren't using my regular name 'Eisa'. It's because you don't like me very much right now.

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Me: Are you enjoying Eid and all your Eidi?
HRH: I would but you are taking all my Eidi.
Me: I'm just keeping it safe for you
HRH: It's like you are taking it forever.

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Gave HRH a long list of dos and donts before he left for his first Eid prayers -
HRH: Why do we have to be so serious? The masjid can be a fun place.

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Me to Faisal: You are really mean. I told you I wanted to get out of Lahore during the Eid holidays.
HRH: Ammi he has taken you to so many places. Don't be mean to the poor fellow.

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Easter Envy, Buddies, Homework & Hell

2011-08-29T20:41:00.000+05:00

HRH: Did Baba ask you to marry him?
Me: Yes
HRH: How do you know if the girl you ask is not already married?
Me: You can find that out..anyway you don't have to worry about getting married for another 20 years at least..
HRH: I don't ever want to get married cos then I'll have to share all my stuff.

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Faisal reversing car -
Me to Faisal: You were about to run me over
HRH: He didn't hit you. 'About' is ok.

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Faisal throwing something over to me -
HRH: Good throw Baba
Me: What about 'good catch Ammi'?
HRH: Ok you're right. Good catch and throw..you are both equal..but I'll give Baba one point more cos we are buddies.

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HRH: Do you think the angel on your left shoulder has written the bad things you have done?
Me: Yes I guess so.
HRH: I know some of your bad things..like saying rude words. You shouldn't in case you have to go to Hell. In cartoons Hell is underground. When Allah puts fire on bad guys are they dead?
Me: He brings them back to life then He burns them if they were bad.
HRH: I thought Allah is very nice...why does He want to burn us?

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HRH: Let me tell you about pee. When we drink water, it goes through all the meat inside you and becomes dirty and turns yellow. That's why pee is yellow.

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Flattery will get you anywhere -
HRH: Ammi can you do me a favor and get me a glass of water? I appreciate your hard work.

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After watching Hop -
HRH: When will it be Easter?
Me: I'm not sure but Muslims don't really celebrate Easter
HRH: I wish I was a Christian so I could have Easter and Christmas

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Trying to get HRH to sit down and do homework -
HRH: WHY are you doing this to me?!! My hand will fall off!!

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Me: Would it be ok if I went on holiday somewhere for a week by myself?
HRH: Hmmm...I can go with you...to keep you company.

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Faisal watching a movie on TV -
HRH: This is Hard Kill 4 right?
Me: It's Die Hard 4

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Religious Rhetoric

2011-08-24T17:59:00.000+05:00

HRH: Do you think the angel on your left shoulder has written the bad things you have done?
Me: Yes I guess so.
HRH: I know some of your bad things..like saying rude words. You shouldn't in case you have to go to Hell. In cartoons Hell is underground. When Allah puts fire on bad guys are they dead?
Me: He brings them back to life then He burns them if they were bad.
HRH: I thought Allah is very nice...why does He want to burn us?

A little later after misbehaving -

HRH (punching himself on left shoulder): I'm squashing the angel so he can't write the bad stuff I did.
Me: You can't do that. The angel would still write it down.
HRH: I better ask Allah to forgive me then
(pause)
HRH: He didn't answer
Me: He doesn't answer. But He knows if you say sorry. He knows whatever you are thinking.
HRH: Allah likes to keep quiet?
Me: Well He doesn't talk like us.
HRH: Does he have a magic wand to make things? What does He look like?
Me: I don't know.
HRH: Look it up.
Me: No one knows. No one has ever seen Him.
HRH: Before I was born if I was with Allah then when I opened my eyes didn't I see Him?
Me: No...I told you no one sees Him EVER.

Later -

HRH: How old is Allah?
Me: I don't know. He's just always been there. He doesn't have an age.
HRH: He doesn't eat, He doesn't sleep, He doesn't talk, He doesn't have a birthday..how come?!

Government and Politics 101

2011-08-24T11:49:00.000+05:00

Today's DAWN newspaper headline is "Govt comes out with strange warning". Next to it is a picture of a policeman standing guard at a deserted road in Karachi.

HRH (after staring intently at the newspaper): This guy is the government? He's a bad guy?

Me: No, that's just a policeman.

HRH: So why does it say 'Govt' next to the picture?

Me: The government is not just one person. It's made up of lots of people, like the President, Prime Minister, other ministers, all the people working in government offices and so on. They run the country together.

HRH: Where are they running to?

Me: No I mean they make the country function, for example making sure people have enough to eat, there are no bad guys around, building roads...things like that.

HRH: Are the police also part of the government?

Me: Well the army and police are supposed to be controlled by the government.

HRH: So the government told this policeman to stand on this road.

Me: Yes in a way. But our government isn't really doing a good job.

HRH: Why not?

Me: Because they are corrupt...which means they steal money. Also there are so many bad guys around. The electricity going all the time is also because they didn't do their job properly.

HRH: If the government have guns then why can't they just kill all the bad guys?

Me: That's not how it works. Will you try to make our country a better place when you grow up?

HRH: I'll try.

How Not To Explain The Concept of Hell

2011-08-22T11:01:00.000+05:00

HRH: Why did Allah make ants? What are they supposed to be for?

Me: Well he has made all kinds of animals and insects…so sometimes we might not know what the purpose for everything is..

HRH: But insects bite us so why has He made them?

Me: Sometimes humans are also bad, like they hit or kill others…but He has made them too right?

HRH: Hmmm…can’t we write a message on a piece of paper and send it to Allah to ask him why he made ants?

Me: No, Allah doesn’t answer questions like that. You know He wrote the Quran and sent it to us, so we can just read that and try to understand it.

HRH: How did He send it down? With a machine?

Me: No He told an angel to come to Prophet Muhammad to tell him what the Quran said, then Prophet Muhammad learned it and taught it to everyone else and then they wrote it down and so we have the Quran. You know there are surahs in the Quran called The Ants and The Bee.

HRH: Really? Tell me about them.

Me: Well Allah tells us to believe in one God and in the Day of Judgment and to be nice and kind to everyone especially your parents. He also tells us about how we should be good otherwise we’ll be in big trouble…you know how right?

HRH: Yes. Hell. Does the fire burn you there?

Me: Yes it’s very hot and bad people burn, and they get boiling water to drink.

HRH (looking slightly terrified): I can be good now, but what about the other times before when I wasn’t good?

Me: No no, don’t worry, you can just ask Allah to forgive you and He will do that because He’s kind, but you must promise you won’t do those bad things again.

HRH: *silence*

Me (trying to make up for terrorizing child by changing the subject): You know Allah also talks about all the nice things He has made for us. Like the sun, moon, stars, animals, rain, trees, fruits and so on.

HRH: How did He make them? Which materials did He use?

Me: Well all these things are made up of different materials I guess, but Allah just says something should be and it is.

HRH (still looking worried): Hmmmm.

Me (thinking): Oops.

Taliban in London, Spit Bubbles, Using Google, Independence Day, Censorship and More

2011-08-15T13:09:00.000+05:00

HRH: I want to go to London...actually no I don't want to. There are too many Taliban there.
Me: Those weren't Taliban..they were looters and rioters

----

HRH: You know the bubbles I make with my spit? I try to make them as sturdy as possible so they don't pop.

----

During a homework telling off -
HRH: I am going to tell your mother you are misbehaving
Me: What will happen then?
HRH: She will teach you a lesson.

----

HRH (using NanaAbu's stethoscope to hear my heartbeat): ...I can't hear anything and you're still alive!

----

HRH: Independence Day is Pakistan's birthday? Quaid-e-Azam made it on 14th Aug so what was he doing all the days before that? Thinking about making it?
Me: Yes
HRH: He even made the trees in Pakistan? I thought Allah made those..
Me: Allah did make those but Quaid-e-Azam said this area of land is Pakistan
HRH: Why couldn't he call it London? Then it could snow here too

----

iPhone v Bleakberry debate -
HRH: It should be BBBB - Boring BlackBerry for Baba

----

Me (glaring at HRH): Do not misbehave.
HRH (backing out of room): Uh oh. I better get away before she pounces on me..like a cheetah.

----

Watching Faisal pray -
HRH (in amazement): Wow. That's the first time I've seen him pray.

----

HRH: What's the name of that little store near LUMS? Heaven store? Future store?
Me: Paradise store?
HRH: Yes that one.

----

HRH (while eating dinner): Look I ate so quickly...I think some of my food disappeared. Maybe Allah ate it
Me: Allah doesn't eat or drink anything
HRH: How do you know? Won't He be starving and thirsty? Look it up on Google

----

After picking HRH up from Nano's -
Me: Were you good? Did you behave well?
HRH: ....hardly
Me: What did you do?
HRH: I can't tell you. You might banish me.

----

Faisal teaching HRH to use Google -
HRH's first few Google searches: 'potty', 'dinosaur', 'snot'

----

HRH: Can you copy The Sound of Music on the iPad?
Me: No I can't cos some parts in that need censoring...if you promise to fast forward those bits then maybe I could
HRH: I hardly promise.
Me: What does that mean?
HRH: Sometimes I'll watch the kissing bits and sometimes I won't

----

Me: Bloody hell.
HRH: Well obviously you will go to hell if you say words like these.

----

Schooling for Life

2011-07-31T03:06:00.000+05:00

For all my partners in crime

I got a text message today from one of my best friends from school/college telling me that she had just watched Zindagi Na Milege Dobara (ZNMD) and was remembering how she, I and another friend watched Dil Chahta Hai (DCH) together so many years ago.

Not being a Bollywood fan, I truly feel that Dil Chahta Hai (and now apparently ZNMD, though I have not seen it yet) was an amazing movie that so many people related to simply because it brought back so many memories of friends and the joyousness of youth. In fact my first argument with my then-fiance-now-hubby was that DCH was a 'Boys movie!' (him) and 'NO! Friends movie!' (me).

Now, at the ripe old age of 31, I look back and think of all those people who told me when I was in school and college that 'these are the best days of your life'. It sure didn't feel like it then with the torture of teachers, homework, tests, exams, O levels, A levels, quizzes, assignments, GPAs, professors who thought you were 'shallow' and 'feeble-minded', intelligent chappas (DC na baith jayay yaar) and what not.

Now, through the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia, those really were some of the best days of my life. The sort of days which you hope will remain with you till the end. Bear with me here, but they really were the days when looking back now, you can smile and even laugh aloud at the antics that you got up to.

Some of the things I remember off-hand from my O level days:
- A middle school science teacher's jeweled bra (She was also the first person ever to kick me out of class for something that wasn't my fault. Really...)
- Locking the Physics teacher in the science lab (Why would you put bolts on the outside of a classroom door? That's just asking for trouble.)
- Locking juniors on the school rooftop (Again, seriously, the bolts? Who decided on the placement of those?)
- Pretending to have misunderstood that C-II meant Class 10 and not Class 2, and waiting for the Physics teacher to show up in the grade 2 classroom where 15 year old girls were sitting on tiny pink chairs)
- Udhar at Yunus' canteen
- Riding the bicycles of the school gardeners around the school playground
- Seeing a Math teacher stand arms widespread, sweat patches on the shirt, in front of an AC in the middle of summer while the class tried to hold their breath
- Switching off the electricity supply of the school from the main electricity switchboard (again in the middle of summer)
- Getting kicked out of History class for reading a 'Seventeen' magazine under the desk
- Switching the canteen boards for where particular classes were supposed to line up before break so that chaos ensued
- Drooling over Take That
- Being informed by the Chemistry teacher that we were a 'nailakon ki toli'
- Stink bombs + fake vomit in English class (Backfired as the teacher went and stood outside while the rest of us had to sit inside and bear the stench. Resulted in one student actually throwing up.)
- Saturday lunch at Zouk
- Spray painting the school cat

....A level days:
- Making up a concoction of various items including expired food products for a Math teacher's milkshake (he survived so no harm done)
- Stealing eggs from the food and nutrition lab and egging the principal's car
- Bunking Saturday morning Math classes and going on self-organized field trips with the majority of the class (some nerds obviously refused), which included trips to the zoo, Racecourse park, nihari at a really shady spot which had a stage with mirrors all around it in the basement
- Stealing a girl's shalwar which had got wet when she slipped in a puddle and asked another friend to dry it for her while she waited in the loo (said friend obviously lost possession of item of clothing when pounced upon by a group of bullies)
- Roaming all over the city in a friend's 'dabba'
- 1 Mehran. 10 girls. Nuff said.
- Udhar at Yunus' canteen
- mIRC and the torture of having a dial-up PTCL connection
- Princess Di's car crash

......Uni days:
- Discovering uni friends from mIRC (Usually from sitting in the computer lab, chatting and then saying aloud 'Who's this XYZ person?' and someone around would say 'Err...that's me'. Many a friendship sprung up thanks to mIRC)
- Forcing a group of friends to go for a walk outside campus to the nearest 'super store' to buy items not sold on campus
- Playing cricket with little boys in park near super store
- Borrowing spoons from the university cafeteria to play Spoons
- Playing hide and seek around campus
- Chasing a friend with a box of kebabs around campus as smell of kebabs made her retch
- Bunking countless classes (yes you can graduate even of you attend only 4 out of 20 Discrete Math classes)
- Dreading the day GPA slips were put into lockers (one particular quarter it was '2.9...2.9.....2.9....2.9)
- Roaming around in a car with friends during the summer holidays sulking and unable to decide what to do and where to go
- Queuing up for McDonald's on the first day it opened in Lahore
- Watching DCH
- Q:"Khana khaya hai?" A: "Pata nahi..."
- Hearing the news of the Twin Towers plane crash while at the campus store.

I did my O levels in 1996, my A levels in 1998 and graduated from university in 2002. A lot has happened over the years. My friends are either married, unmarried or divorced, with children and without, with careers and without, living all over the world. Some I have met off and on over the years and some I have not. And yet, when we do meet or talk, it's a surefire way of being transported back in time to a former 14, 18 or 22 year old self.

While most of us manage to fool everyone with the disguise of being responsible adults, deep down many of us still can't believe we are as old as we are and can no longer be as youthfully exuberant as we used to be (at least not when there are too many witnesses).

Super 6

2011-07-29T14:05:00.000+05:00

Faisal chasing lizard out of room -
Me (to HRH): When can you start getting rid of lizards for me?
HRH: When I'm 6 Me: That's day after tomorrow...so you promise?
HRH: Maybe.

-----

At midnight -
Me: Happy birthday!!
HRH: But it's still the 27th
Me: The date changes at midnight so it's the 28th now
HRH: Allah has a calendar?

-----

Me: Please eat your breakfast yourself
HRH: No I can't..it's too hard
Me: You promised you would eat by yourself when you turned 6
HRH: I said we would talk about it.

-----
HRH: I don't want to eat anything
Me: Ok..you don't have to
HRH: Are you posilutely sure?

-----

HRH dressed in his pirate costume -
Me (while feeding him lunch): Look at you...Captain Hook has to be fed?
HRH: Captain Hook has servants to do everything for him.

-----

Call from HRH while I was at work -
HRH: What time are you coming home?
Me: In an hour. Are you being good?
HRH: Sort of….Sort of bad.
Me: What sort of bad things have you been doing?
HRH: Attacking people with a sword. Things like that.

-----

HRH: If I grow up and become a pirate I'll make you walk the plank..without a life jacket

-----

HRH: I want the iPad 5
Me: There is no iPad 5...3 will come out soon. I want the iPhone 5.
HRH: And I want the iPad 3.

-----

HRH: Does everyone die together on the Day of Judgement?
Me: Yes those who are alive at the time do
HRH: I think when everyone wakes up there will be cranes and construction vehicles everywhere Me: Why do you think that?
HRH: 'Judgment' sounds like it has something to do with construction

-----

At Fujiyama after trying wasabi -
HRH: What was that? Hibiscus?
Me: Wasabi. So what did it taste like?
HRH: I had a pinched tongue...it tasted like fire...Hell fire. -

----

Baba's the Best (apparently), Babies, Burps etc.

2011-07-27T23:42:00.000+05:00

HRH: I'm going to attack you with my vampire claws, kung fu legs, head-butting head and punching hands

-----

HRH: What is Christmas?
Me: Well it's celebrated by Christians..
HRH: We are Christians
Me: Umm..no..why do you say that?
HRH: Cos I want it to snow

-----

Me: My friend was at the wedding I went to and she really wanted to meet you...will you come with me next time?
HRH: No thanks. I want to hang out with Baba.

-----

HRH: Can I help it if I have to burp
Me: Yes of course you can. Just don't do it.
HRH: It's hard for a little kid.

-----

On being informed HRH has forgotten all his Urdu (re: summer holiday homework)
Me: Have you forgotten all your Urdu?
HRH: No..only most of it..I know alif bay pay tay tay say jeem chay..ha-ha.

-----

Me: Please try to behave while you are at Nano's ok?
HRH: I am outraged. How can you say this to me?

-----

HRH: I don't want to eat anything
Me: Ok..you don't have to
HRH: Are you posilutely sure?

-----

Faisal traveling for a week -
HRH: Yay Baba's coming tomorrow!....Ammi why don't you go somewhere for a few days? Me and Baba will have fun!

-----

HRH: How did you pick me to be your baby?
Me: We didn't pick you..Allah sent you with a stork to us
HRH: No..the nurse brought me to you.
Me: No I think the stork brought you..
HRH: Maybe the nurse threw me up in the air and Allah caught me and then sent me with the stork. Like pass the parcel.

-----

HRH: You know mums are supposed to be panicky sometimes?
Me: Yes...
HRH: Well you are panicky all the time.

-----

Talking Points

2011-07-18T14:10:00.000+05:00

HRH: Who is Zardari?
Me: He's the President of Pakistan
HRH: It will be so much fun when he leaves...we will have electricity and gas again.

----

Faisal (panicking): Where's my phone? Help me look for it..
HRH (bored): Oh man. My parents. Always forgetting things. Especially their phones.

----

HRH: Am I disobedient?
Faisal: Sometimes
HRH: What is disobedient?
Faisal: When someone doesn't listen
HRH: Then I am quite disobedient

----

Faisal telling HRH off -
HRH: You say mean things
Faisal: Because you don't listen the first time. Should I take you to an ear doctor?
HRH: Maybe I should take you to a mouth doctor.

----

Faisal: Let's have dinner at the Lebanese restaurant today
HRH: Is that on the megamind floor?

(Megamind = Mezzanine)

----

HRH: I am stuffed of sleep
Me: That doesn't make sense
HRH: It means I'm full of sleep

-----

HRH: I'm going to be a paleontologist when I grow up
Faisal: Will you be able to do that? Paleontologists have to be really patient and you are really impatient
HRH: I'll become patient when I grow up

-----

HRH: I think all parents favorite words are 'No!' and 'Don't'

-----

HRH: Why do you always threaten me about my misbehaving?
Faisal: Because that's how we get you to behave
HRH: When I grow up I will also threaten my son..when I don't have to live with you guys.

-----

Me: Hurry up!
HRH (scowling): I'm going to tell your parents you are rude to me

-----

Life with HRH

2011-07-07T19:52:00.000+05:00

School performance jitters -
HRH: You know for one minute I feel fearless and then for 10 minutes I feel shy.

-----

Me: Why are people so daft?
HRH: Maybe because they are muddled up.

-----

HRH: What's 'reluctantly'?
Me: That means if you aren't eager to do something but u still do it. Try using it in a sentence.
HRH: Reluctantly Ammi prayed after NanaAbu told her to.

-----

HRH (at the top of his lungs, in the middle of a crowded restaurant): Let me tell you what the explanation of a fart is. It comes out of your bottom and has a lovely smell.

-----

To me after being told off -
HRH: Oh man. You killed me...to death.

-----

Under Discussion

2011-06-29T10:34:00.000+05:00

Me: Stop whining for God's sake and don't talk to me for the next 10 minutes.
HRH: What's the point of having a child if you don't want to talk to him?

-----

HRH (talking about his little cousin): She liked me and Baba..but Ammi was deleted from her thoughts

-----

HRH: Are you patient like a tiger?
Khala: Are tigers patient?
HRH: Yes...when they are waiting to pounce.

-----

Khala: She looks like Cher
HRH: Sher who? Sher Khan?

-----

Sulking HRH being force-fed lunch by his khala -
HRH: You are a Nazi.

-----

HRH: I have a headache
Me (worried): Seriously?
HRH: No haha just tricking you
Me: I wish you wouldn't do that
HRH: You are a nervous wreck.

-----

HRH on Rabies, Tennis, School & More

2011-06-22T11:21:00.000+05:00

Me: Behave yourself or I won't bring you here again
HRH: I know you are just threatening me....as usual.

------

HRH: I made potato wedgies in cooking class today.

------

HRH (pretending to choke): I have rubies!
Me: Rubies? U know those are gems right?
HRH: Oh what's that thing like mad cow disease you get from a dog bite?
Me: Rabies

------

HRH: Do u want to run a mile, jump a stile or eat a country pancake?
Me: Eat a country pancake I guess
HRH: Hahaha u want to eat a cow pat!

[Courtesy: Horrid Henry series by Francesca Simon]

------
During one of the French Open 2011 matches -

HRH: Who's winning?
Me: Rafa but Murray playing well too..Who do you want to win, Nadal or Murray?
HRH: Murray
Me: Why not Nadal?
HRH: If Federer isn't playing then I want Murray to win..but I'm on Fed's side.

------

HRH: What's soyool?
Me: Huh? That's not a word
HRH: S-O-U-L
Me: Soul? That means spirit
HRH: Don't crush my soul

------

HRH: I had my Islamiyat assessment today
Me: How did it go?
HRH: It was good. I got an A or a B or a C.

------

HRH: Today in computer class we learned to use Facebook..
Me: WHAT?!
HRH: Haha just kidding
Me: Thank God..do you know what Facebook is?
HRH: Its for uploading pictures

------

Don't

2011-06-16T09:31:00.000+05:00

Don't yell.
Don't kick.
Don't whine.
Don't argue.
Don't punch.
Don't scream.
Don't do that.
Don't be rude.
Don't interrupt.
Don't stop chewing.
Don't make a sound.
Don't be a dinosaur.
Don't be so annoying.
Don't jump on the bed.
Don't head-butt anyone.
Don't make me say it again.
Don't lie down while eating.
Don't sit so close to the TV.
Don't pretend to have rabies.
Don't practice kung fu on her.
Don't make me come over there.
Don't talk with your mouth full.
Don't do flying jumps off the chair.
Don't make a fuss about your homework.
Don't do karate moves while having dinner.
Don't keep saying 'teapot' over and over again.
Don't say you have nits (especially when you don't).

Vaccination Wackiness

2011-06-07T20:58:00.000+05:00

There was a time when getting an injection caused no fear in HRH. Vaccination time was no big deal. Then HRH hit the age of about 4 and there was a sudden spike in the irrational fear of sharp needles.

For the past year and more, a trip to the paediatrician involves first being quizzed about what exactly will happen when you get there. First there is the 20 questions play (out of which 10 are a repetition of "Will I get a shot?", "Are you sure I won't get a shot?", "PROMISE me I won't get a shot!" and more along those lines). Initially we used to lie and say no you won't be getting an injection, even when HRH would be. That plan backfired though as it made even non-vaccination visits to the doctor, a torture.

Adopting the honesty-is-the-best-policy plan next, we started telling HRH the truth about what the doctor would be doing when we went for a visit. Unfortunately when it's time for a vaccination and HRH has been informed of the impending trip, a couple of hours before the whining begins.

"How much will it hurt?"

"How big will the needle be?" (Needle size options are demonstrated by HRH with hands being held apart between 1 to 3 feet)

"Show me how much it will hurt?" (With pleasure, I show him how much it will hurt with light pinches...really very light...)

"How long will it take to give the injection?" (Counting to 5 seconds is done to show him how long it will take, at the most. This leads to objections about how slowly I counted to 5 and to count faster).

"Where will the doctor put the needle? I want it on my arm!" (An argument ensues about how the doctor knows best and it will either be on the thigh or the bottom).

Repeat above line of questioning, for the entire time from HRH being informed of forthcoming shot to waiting for an hour or more in the doctor's waiting room to actually entering the doctor's room. Then there is a minute of crying while the injection is brought in and prepared. When the jab is over and done with within seconds, there is some sniffling and a "I was kind of brave right?"

Today's post Hepatitis B booster injection conversation went as follows:

Me: See you made a fuss over nothing
HRH: No I didn't. It hurt like a dog bite.
Me: No it didn't. Dogs have lots of sharp teeth.
HRH: It was like mad cow disease.
Me: You don't even know what mad cow disease is.
HRH: Ok then it was like a raptor's claw scratch.

With another injection scheduled in the next week or so, promises of bravery have been extracted from HRH. However, on the day itself I will be expecting the usual valour-less vaccine routine.

Summer of Cynicism

2011-06-02T12:25:00.000+05:00

I hate the summer.
I hate the heat.
I hate the load-shedding.
I hate that every day we have to listen to bad news ranging from bomb blasts to journalists being tortured to death for daring to reveal the truth.
I hate the bubbles we are all being forced to live in.
I hate dreading the moment when mine will pop.
I hate that nothing will change here, not for as far as I can foresee anyway.
I hate that I really believe that now.

Grandparents are Grand

2011-05-27T09:20:00.000+05:00

Yesterday an epic battle took place during HRH's Math revision. The second he sat down the whining soundtrack began to play.

"I don't want to do thissssss...."

"I want to take a breakkkkk..."

"I want to playyyy....."

"I am so tireddddd....."

"I am so thirstyyyyy....."

The stretching of the last letter should demonstrate how the whining went on and on and on....

Finally with nerves frazzled due to the endless sounds of misery emitting from HRH, and the final straw being the rolling off of his pencil from the desk for the 67th time, I unleashed a verbal assault.

As I continued my tirade, with each second HRH's face got sulkier and sulkier, which annoyed me more and more, and when I eventually stopped yelling, I realized I had made a grave mistake.

The mistake was to have censured the child in front of his grandparents. My parents who were witnesses to this showdown, thankfully waited silently, till he had left the room then proceeded to give me an earful of my own. It was all about being patient and calm and not yelling at him and how his self-esteem may suffer.

The funny thing is I remember being yelled at on numerous occasions when growing up and I believe my self-esteem wasn't damaged in any way. Nor have I been scarred for life.

Grandparents and their grandchildren generally speaking, share a loving, supportive and wonderful relationship that makes you the common enemy. Children have a survival instinct through which they can sense when they will find support from their nanas, dadas, nanis and dadis, and will exploit this to their own gain. On numerous occasions, when expecting a telling off from me for something wrong he has done, HRH will dash off to shelter behind a grandparent, who will grin sheepishly and signal with a shake of the head "Let him off the hook".

HRH is a lucky kid to enjoy the showering (read monsoon level) of love he receives from all our family members. At the same time I am lucky that (mostly) the grandparents keep their differences of opinion to themselves till HRH is out of earshot. While I may feel irritated by these suggestions at times, I love seeing the happiness HRH's mere presence causes among his grandparents. He seems to be the miracle cure resulting in the disappearance of all their aches and pains, which you would think had never existed at all when he rides on their backs and shoulders yelling 'Giddy up horsie!'

HRH's Taliban Analysis

2011-05-23T13:26:00.000+05:00

Day of the PNS Mehran, Karachi attack -

HRH: Bin Laden was the boss of Al-Qaeda right?
Me: Yes.
HRH: Are they in Lahore?
Me: Well they are in Pakistan
HRH: Are they going to make me dead?
Me: No..you'll be okay..
HRH: I guess the Taliban are the most baddest people in the world.

5 Things I Hate About HRH's Exams

2011-05-20T11:59:00.000+05:00

1. Implementing lockdown mode i.e. making HRH physically sit down to revise.
This involves the rising of both stress levels and voice volume, since he needs a 'break' after each sum he completes or after a couple of lines he writes, since he gets very 'tired'. Too tired to sit still and finish working, but not too tired to run around madly, jump around on all kinds of furniture, yelling during the work break.

2. Coming up with new threats each day.
These range from 'You will not be allowed to play/watch TV/use the iPad' to 'If you don't finish your work I'm going to cancel your weekend golf/going to Humpty Dumpty Playland (which I would love to do since the music on those rides drives me mad)'. Threats require a certain level of inventiveness. They need to be realistic while at the same time be creative, since issuing the same threat over and over again can become boring for both the child and yourself. After all variety is the spice of life.

3. Getting HRH back to the desk after a break.
This involves letting him know 2 minutes in advance when his 5 or 10 minute break will end. The first warning is ignored. When informed it is time to start working again, there will be an argument about how 5 or 10 minutes have not actually passed yet. There may be some truth to this as I try to cheat on a couple of minutes here and there. For someone who can't tell the time properly yet, HRH seems to know precisely to the second if his break time is being cheated on.

4. Answering unrelated questions during revision time.
HRH's philosophizing on life and the meaning of it, along with other fascinating concepts, all seem to happen in the middle of writing an Urdu essay on 'aam' or 'mera ghar'. What is it about finding out how many more apples John has (56 apples) than Sam (37 apples), that brings forth a sudden interest in my well-being with questions such as 'So Ammi tell me how was your day?' No, I'm not going to fall for that.

5. Discovering the way I am imparting knowledge is incorrect.
Me: So this is how you subtract by borrowing
HRH: No it isn't.
Me: What do you mean? Yes it is.
HRH will then show me another way of borrowing. (Who knew there were multiple ways of doing that?) After having to hear a scornful laugh along with 'You don't know anything Ammi', I am forced to concede defeat and agree that he can stick to subtracting the way his teacher has taught him.

Boo to B.O.

2011-05-20T10:08:00.000+05:00

Time to rant. With the daily BBQ we all have to endure in the Lahori summer, the additional flavoring of B.O. can make things really unbearable.

It is understandable that some people suffering from this unfortunate affliction may not be able to do anything about it due to a lack of knowledge or resources. However, people who should know better deserve no sympathy, for there are plenty of products out there for this very purpose. These people can be found everywhere. In schools, colleges, universities, workplaces, on flights (unfortunately sitting right next to you), in supermarkets and more.

We have all come across people who enter the room and make you instantly recoil at the sudden atmospheric assault (as well as at the horror that such an odor can come from an individual who is apparently completely unaware of it). Trying to recover from the shock, holding your breath, writhing in agony internally, can be an exhausting experience (especially if aforementioned person remains in a space around you for more than a few minutes).

I humbly request all such nasal ninjas, please, if not for yourself, then for those around you, use some body freshener (for there are plenty out there) to make the environment more conducive to breathing.

Too Much To Ask

2011-05-18T08:58:00.000+05:00

I want my child to not ask me if a pile of burning rubbish we pass by is the result of a bomb; or pass by a building with broken windows and ask me if the Taliban did that; or issue threats like 'I want to sell you to Al-Qaeda'.

I want to have someone to vote for in the next election who inspires confidence and will not turn out to be an incompetent crook, like most of our 'leaders' seem to be.

I want to know what the results are of the 'investigations' that happen after a top official is assassinated or a suicide bomb goes off. Why doesn't anyone tell us anything? Is it because no one is actually investigating anything? Or is it because we are just supposed to be kept in the dark?

I want our news channels to follow up on these investigations and not just churn out tabloid journalism with screaming talk shows thrown in.

I want to know if our army really is as incompetent as it is being made out to be after the OBL episode or if it's actually playing all kinds of double/triple/quadruple mind games.

I want to not hear 5 different conspiracy theories about any event that happens.

I want to have electricity all day. I don't want to schedule my phone/laptop charging, ironing or microwave usage. I also don't want to have to dread when the power goes off at night whether it will come back on again or not.

I want someone to give me some hope that things will get better.

Since I'm 'wanting', I might as well mention world peace and a cure for cancer.

It's all too much to ask.

Bedtime Bother

2011-05-14T02:40:00.000+05:00

I hate HRH's bedtime as much as he does.

He doesn't want to sleep and I have to sit around with him until he does.

You would think an almost 6 year old would fall asleep himself. Unfortunately, he refuses to let me leave the bedroom till he's asleep. So while he fidgets around in bed, I have no choice but to sit and fume.

Typical bedtime routine post brushing teeth and lying in bed:

HRH: I'll sleep after reading my book for 5 minutes.

Me: Ok but just 5 minutes.

5 minutes later -

Me: Ok time to sleep now.

HRH: I asked Baba earlier and he said I can watch 10 minutes of TV before going to sleep.

Me: But you just spent 5 minutes reading didn't you?

HRH: Yes but I asked Baba about the TV.

Me: Fine.

10 minutes later -

Me: Ok now I don't want to hear another word. I'm switching off the lights.

HRH: Ok but I'm not sleepy at all.

Me: Just try and sleep.

2 minutes post lights off -

HRH: I'm thirsty.

Me: Your water bottle is lying next to you.

HRH: Ok switch the lights on so I can see.

2 minutes post thirst quenching -

HRH: My nose is blocked. I need Vicks.

Me (swearing under breath): Fine. I'll put some Vicks on your nose.

2 minutes post nose unblocking operation -

HRH: I'm really not sleepy.

Me: (silence)

HRH: Ammi did you hear me?

Me (silent scream of rage): I know. But you still have to try and sleep.

2 minutes post having made me acknowledge he's not sleepy -

*Sounds of rustling*

Me: What are you doing?

HRH: Nothing *sounds of things being hurriedly moved around in the dark*

I switch on the lamp to discover he has sneaked toys under his pillow earlier which he is now playing with.

Me: Will you stop playing and give me those things.

HRH: Ammi...you shouldn't snatch things.

Me: [refuse to be drawn into an argument (especially since he's right) while overcoming urge to throw something at him]

2 minutes after yet again settling him down -

*Sounds of wrestling emerge from his bed*

Me: Now what?!

HRH: This stupid quilt!

I turn on the lights to see him completely tangled up in the duvet.

After rescuing him from the coils of the quilt, I once again reiterate that if I hear another word from him he will be in big trouble.

HRH: Why don't you go, I'll sleep myself.

Me: Really?

HRH: Yes....I'll just read and play till I feel sleepy.

Me: I don't think so. I'll stay...JUST GO TO SLEEP!

After a few more requests ranging from 'I need to go to the bathroom' to 'I'm hungry again' to 'What does 'pitcher' mean?'/'When can I get married?'/'What's the plan for tomorrow?' and so on; eventually, at long last there is silence in the room.

This is due to HRH having fallen asleep....or both of us having fallen asleep.

Love and Live

2011-05-14T02:22:00.000+05:00

I got married almost 7 years ago. It was in the most traditional way possible.

I had always thought there was no way I would marry anyone whom I met through a 'trolley scene' (This did not of course involve me pushing a trolley laden with tea-time goodies into a drawing room for a prospective husband, but means just that it was very much the traditional way of doing things). After all, how can you say yes I'll marry someone without knowing anything about them and just meeting them at occasions when they would be on their best behaviour?

The Parade of Prospectives began just before I graduated from university.

"What time will you be back today? So-n-so knows someone who wants to come over..."

Come over to do what? Inspect me to see if I am good enough for their beloved male offspring?

It used to make my blood boil.

I met various people in various settings arranged by various people.

Oh the stories I could tell.

There was the father of the 'boy' ('boy' being used very loosely to describe a 35 year old balding man) who asked me 'So what salary are you getting?'

Then there was the mother of her 'chand ka tukra' who wanted to know if I would stop working after getting married.

This is not leading to the logical conclusion of how much traditional trolley scenes suck (they do 95% of the time by the way).

Surprisingly, I ended up marrying someone who after I met him for all of 25 minutes, I decided was alright to marry.

A huge decision based on what exactly you may ask? During that 25 minute meeting we discussed our respective organizations mutual advertising agency and it's strengths and weaknesses.

As the visitors (not meant at all like the 'V' visitors...mostly not anyway) reversed out of the driveway and my mother cleared away the remains of the tea, I was asked 'So what should I say if they say they want to go ahead?'

I found myself saying very surprisingly and nonchalantly 'Okay.'

Faisal told me later, his mother asked him as they were reversing down the driveway 'So? What do you think?' and he said to his own surprise, just as nonchalantly 'Okay.'

As corny and cliched (and yes pass-the-bucket-worthy it may sound), that's just how it happened.

During the 6 months from our engagement to our wedding, we became the best of friends.

Today I can honestly say he is my best friend and I am lucky to have found him the way I did.

There have been countless stories of 'lowwe' marriages and arranged ones sadly falling apart down the road. There have been childhood sweethearts who after getting married have decided to go their separate ways. There have also been plenty of arranged marriages which fall apart for all sorts of reasons or (perhaps worse) last unhappily forever for a number of incorrect reasons.

The bottom line I suppose is that its all the luck of the draw.

I have been extremely fortunate to have married someone who I clicked with instantly, who I share numerous interests with and who luckily has a sense of humor and a unique maturity (I'm not saying he can't be pretty obtuse...because he can), but who ultimately is truly my soul-mate.

It hasn't been all smooth sailing of course. We have had our share of disagreements, arguments, not talking for days and more....and will continue to do so I'm sure. The happily ever after in the cartoons, movies and books don't take into account the frustrations of daily life, such as, there being no electricity all day, the child being a pain in the backside, your co-workers acting like morons or your just generally being bored and looking to pick a fight.

I sincerely hope everyone is as fortunate to find that special someone who ends up being their best friend/punching bag/therapist/cheerleader/partner in crime.

Since I can visualize the bags and buckets being passed around now I'll stop.

Faisal, this one's for you. (P.S. it's your turn to do the dishes)

Night Terrors

2011-05-02T21:35:00.000+05:00

In the evening after a day of watching the news of Osama Bin Laden's death -

HRH: Osama Bin Laden was a bad guy?
Me: Yes
HRH: Those men with guns behind him are his soldiers?
Me: Yes
HRH: Are they also dead?
Me: No not all of them
HRH: Do they live in Pakistan? Will they attack us? Do they kill children?

----

Later at bedtime -

HRH: I can't sleep because I keep thinking of Taliban and those soldiers. Do they live in Pakistan? Can they come here?

----

Next day while driving down Main Boulevard and seeing a building with broken windows -

HRH: Maybe the Taliban broke this building

----

A week later -

HRH (fighting with one of his khalas): I want to sell you to Al-Qaeda and get the Taliban to kill you.

----

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

2011-05-01T01:31:00.000+05:00

Life and death.

You don't really think about the death part unless it hits you in the face. The illness of a loved one. The death of a friend in a freak accident. The tragic loss of a stranger. That's when you would feel that fleeting emotion of sympathy and terror mixed in one.

It could have been me.

That could be me.

What if that happened to me?

Numerous scenarios related to the various what-ifs would cross your mind. You would think of what needs to be done. That insurance policy that needs to be bought. Those details you need to tell your partner in case something happens to you. Those instructions you would want passed on to your child.

You remember all the cheesy quotes and sayings you have read or heard about living each day like it's your last and everything else along those lines, and for a minute or two you will resolve to live by those rules. Living each moment to the fullest.

Then the feeling passes. You move on. Perhaps in a few hours, or a few days or even in a few weeks. Eventually it's only those directly affected by the aftermath of whatever tragedy has befallen them, who are left to deal with it.

You go back to living your daily routine. Sending kids off to school. Going off to work. Paying the bills. Whining about the heat. Complaining about the power cuts. Grumbling about how bored you feel. Bitching about how horrible people are. Moaning about how awful everything is and how nothing will ever change. Basically, getting on with the process of 'living'.

Maybe that is the way humans cope. If we were constantly sitting and fretting about when we're going to die and what would happen after that, perhaps we would cease to function.

I remember when I was a teenager who was 'misunderstood' I would think about what would happen if I died and how it would serve 'them' right and how sorry they would feel then. Kurt Cobain's suicide note apparently said "It's better to burn out than to fade away". At the age of 14, I thought that was poetically brilliant (it was only later I found out it was actually said by Neil Young).

Now having seen some people burn out, cut down in the prime of their lives, leaving in their wake families who will never recover from a loss such us the one they have endured, I can only (vainly) hope that no one has to go through this sort of trauma.

Life and death. If you're alive, then you are guaranteed to experience death. I suppose all you can do is pray for one that will be relatively painless and at a time when you won't be leaving too many loose ends behind.

Though who wants to die ever?

From tomorrow, I will live each day to it's fullest. I will not yell at my son unnecessarily. I will not snap at my husband (without cause). I will be more patient with people in general. I will not complain about work. I will make sure that if I were to die at any second, I would be able to say "I had an awesome life".

I can hope anyway.

An Irritable Hip & An Irritated Kid

2011-04-19T21:01:00.000+05:00

HRH was diagnosed with an irritable hip. And I thought only bowels got irritable. So either a physical injury or an infection have led to the irritable left hip thanks to which HRH cannot stand or walk, let alone run around in the wild fashion he usually does.

After a visit to the orthopedic doctor what was revealed was:

Physical injury/infection = irritable hip = rest for up to 2 weeks = only lying down or sitting = frustrated 5 year old = irritated parents = overall irritability (not just confined to hips)

Day 1 of bed rest-

Entertainment: iPad, Jurassic Park 3, George's Marvellous Medicine (the book, not the lethal concoction), some visitors

Number of escape attempts from bed made by HRH: 3 (thwarted due to lack of speed on his part. Can't get far while hobbling in pain)

HRH also took full advantage of being immobile by ordering all around to fetch him things. In fact he got a little too used to it -
HRH: Get me my dinosaurs.
Me: Excuse me? What's the magic word?
HRH: Abracadabra.

----

Day 2 of bed rest -

Entertainment: iPad, Charlotte's Web (twice), George's Marvellous Medicine, some visitors, Tangled

Number of escape attempts from bed made by HRH: 2 (fewer thanks to having the pushchair taken out for his transportation as carrying a 5 year old will most likely result in an irritable back)

Side effect: HRH refuses to sleep till late at night due to lack of energy expulsion

HRH: Yay I don't have to go to school for many days!
Me: Yes but you will still do your school work at home

Later in the day -

HRH (sadly): I'm going to miss my school field trip to the zoo.

----

Day 3 of bed rest -

Entertainment: Jurassic Park (twice), The Giraffe and the Pelly and Me, Tangled, Princess and the Frog

Side effect: Suddenly feeling extra sick when told it's time to do homework
Me to HRH lying in bed (glazed-eyed from boredom): Let's do some homework now
HRH (suddenly interested in playing with pirate ship): But I'm playing
Me: No you aren't. You are just lying there looking bored, so let's do some Maths
HRH (pained expression): My leg hurts more now.

Also thank to Tangled we had to hear Flynn Rider's lines said sleazily all day -
HRH (with part wink and part smirk): "May I just say...hi..how you doin'? The name's Flynn Rider. How's your day going?"

----

Day 4 of bed rest -

Entertainment: Princess and the Frog, Kung Fu Panda, Esio Trot, some visitors

At 10 AM:
HRH: Oh man. I am very depressed and disappointed today.
Me: Why??
HRH: I am missing the fun thing at school today. My field trip.

----

Day 5 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: Kung Fu Panda (twice), The Magic Finger, Tangled, Ice Age 3

HRH: I am a ruffian and a thug.
Me: What? No you're not.
HRH: I want to be so I don't have to go to school.
Me: I think you should stop watching Tangled.

Today the doctor allowed HRH to walk slowly as his leg seemed better. While running around and jumping is still not allowed, HRH being given permission to walk around the house is a relief for all (especially our spines). However, no school for another week. Only one person is pleased by this prospect.

----

Day 6 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: Tangled, The Magic Finger, Madagascar 2

Number of times HRH has had to be stopped from running: Countless. Also had to be stopped from cycling thrice.

HRH (observing me while I was having a go with his get-well-soon present, a remote-controlled car): Baba and I are better drivers than you.

----

Day 7 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: Mr. Men, The Brave Bunny, Sesame Street

HRH snuck upstairs, despite knowing he is not allowed to walk up stairs yet. On being asked why, he claimed he had forgotten the doctor's instructions. This has led to the use of a new threat - "...if you are well enough to take the stairs/jump around wildly/run madly, then you are well enough to go to school..." Result: HRH instantly calms down and obeys instructions for resting leg.

HRH to Faisal at bedtime: Can I read my book before bed?
Faisal: No you can't. Just go to sleep.
HRH: Why?
Faisal: Bus.
HRH: I want to hear a reason, not just 'bus'.

----

Day 8 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: How to Train Your Dragon, Horrid Henry's Underpants, Tom and Jerry

HRH (inspecting pee stream): My pee is the color of Rapunzel's hair.

----

Day 9 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: Toy Story 3, Horrid Henry's Underpants, random Cartoon Network shows

HRH (bobbing head to music): I'm head-bumping
Me: It's headbanging

----

Day 10 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: Horrid Henry and the Football Fiend, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse,

HRH (waiting a number of minutes for pee to stop): Today my pee is as long as Rapunzel's hair.

Later during the day after wearing someone's sunglasses and a smirk: Hey, little lady

----

Day 11 (allowed to walk slowly) -

Entertainment: Toy Story 3, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Various masterpieces were also created which included:

HRH: When can I wear jeans instead of shorts?
Me: When it's cooler..but right now it's going to get a lot hotter..
HRH: As hot as Hell?
Me: No Hell is much hotter
HRH: I hope I don't go to Hell
Me: I hope I don't either
HRH: I think you might cos you say bad words like when you are driving

----

Day 12 (allowed to walk slowly - who am I kidding? :/ ) -

Entertainment: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (twice)

After seeing me watch the Royal Wedding all day
HRH: When are you going to stop watching TV?
Me: I'm seeing a prince get married to his princess. You see them? They're getting married.
HRH: Yuck. I hate the word 'marry'. It makes me sick.

----

Day 13 (allowed to walk slowly - yeah right...) -

Entertainment: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (2.5 times)

HRH: You know I'm looking forward to going to school on Monday.
Me: (speechless from shock)

----

Cartistry II

2011-04-07T10:33:00.000+05:00

There seems to be no dearth of creative car and bike stickers in Lahore. Here are a few more:

Don Corleone who?

This is one my favorites - "Memory Full. Delete Some Girls."

Check out Cartistry I for more gems.

March Madness

2011-04-05T09:31:00.000+05:00

HRH: Happy birthday Ammi!
Me: Thanks baby
HRH: So how old are you now?
Me: 31
HRH: Wow. That's old.

------

While the Pakistan PM was staying in the same hotel as us in Tashkent -

HRH, Faisal and PM security guy in elevator.
PM guy pressed 'P' for the Presidential floor where PM staying
HRH to Faisal: What's P?
Faisal: Presidential floor for the Prime Minister
HRH: ...or Potty

------

Me to Faisal and HRH (walking ahead): Both of you turn around so I can take a pic!
HRH (looking exasperated) to Faisal: Just ignore her.

------

Me to HRH: Hurry up and drink your milk.
HRH: "Nag, nag, nag. If there were prizes for best naggers, Mom and Dad would win every time."

- Really regretting letting him read "Horrid Henry's Underpants"

-------

HRH (on the way back from school): It's hot as hell today
Me: Don’t say that
HRH: No Ammi, I mean the real Hell.

-------

After watching Aladdin -
HRH: I wish I had 3 wishes
Me: What would you wish for?
HRH: First that I had something interesting for dinner. Number 2 that whatever I did Ammi wouldn't be furious with me..and number 3, that school would close forever.

-------

HRH: I wish Allama Iqbal was undead
Me: Why?
HRH: Because then we would both match - Eisa Faisal Iqbal and Allama Iqbal

-------

HRH Learns About Cricket

2011-03-09T20:26:00.000+05:00

The day after Pakistan v New Zealand's World Cup 2011 match -

HRH: Who won the match yesterday?
Me: Not us..Pakistan lost
HRH: It was the wicket guy's fault

Later in the day -

HRH (holding up his toy wicket from cricket set): This is the wicket right?
Me: Yup
HRH: Like yesterday the ones the guy who could never catch the ball was behind
Me: Yes that's it
HRH: So did they send him to jail? Like Mr. Salman Butt?

The day before the Pakistan v India World Cup 2011 Semi-Final

HRH: I don't think I will watch the match tomorrow. I'm worried about the butterflies in my stomach.

Small Talk with HRH II

2011-02-24T09:32:00.000+05:00

HRH dressed up as a ninja as soon as he got out of bed - asked him for a hug and was rejected with a non-negotiable 'Ninjas don't hug.'

-----

20 mins after ninja outfit, HRH walked in wearing a cowboy hat -
Me: Can I get a hug now?
HRH: Cowboys don't hug either. You can get a hug when I'm regular.

-----

HRH (eating Lays): How come junk food tastes much better than regular food?

-----

After taking HRH to a tea party with me -
Me: So did you have fun?
HRH: No. It was so girly.
Me: Well you went to play in the park so that was fun for you right?
HRH: Only a bit fun. Tell your friend I didn't have fun. Tell her it was girly.
Me: I can't do that. Even if you don't have fun at someone's place you have to pretend you had fun.
HRH: Why? I'm not a liar.

-----

Me to HRH (on 14 February): Happy V Day!
HRH: Happy Vomit Day!

-----

Watching Dubai Desert Classic on TV-
Mamu: A bogey for Tiger
HRH:...to put in his nose

-----

For Heaven's Sake

2011-02-17T19:33:00.001+05:00

HRH: What is Heaven?

Me: That’s where good people go on the Day of Judgement. So you must always behave nicely.

HRH: How long do I have to stay there for?

Me: Forever

HRH: I don’t want to live there forever. I want to come back and live in Pakistan

Me: Pakistan won’t be there then. There will be no world.

HRH: How do you know that?

Me: Cos Allah says so in the Quran

HRH (looking up): Allah! Is that right?

Me: He doesn’t answer like that

HRH: Why not? I don’t want to go to Heaven

Me: Why not?

HRH: Will I have friends there?

Me: I guess you can make friends.

HRH: What if no one wants to be my friend?

Me: Don’t worry. You’ll make friends.

A Dose of Bedside Manner

2011-02-07T21:24:00.000+05:00

Yet another trip to HRH's doctor today. After the customary one hour wait (thankfully it wasn't as long as last time) we were allowed into the eminent pediatrician's office. Our time slot was to be shared with another family. Apparently at this particular doctor's clinic two patients go into the tiny room at one time.

If you are second in line then you get to hear all about and sit through the first child's illness description, examination and prescription dispensation. All the while trying to scrunch up in a corner and seem as unobtrusive as possible. A difficult task to accomplish when accompanied by a sick and whiny 5 year old who wants to know 'when will it be my turn?' every few seconds.

When it was our turn today, we were told to come in along with a couple who had a baby with them, who looked to be a few months old. While sitting and trying to keep HRH quiet on one couch, the doctor informed the baby's parents about how sad he was to tell them this but their child was brain damaged since complications at the time of the child's birth; he had not grown in the past few months; was not doing any of the things a child his age ought to be doing and how it was with great sadness he had to say the damage was irreversible. All this while my husband and I sat shocked and horrified that the doctor would deliver such an awful diagnosis in front of us, with no sensitivity to at least give that family the time and space to digest such terrible news in private.

The only explanation I can think of in having two patients in the room at the same time is that the doctor's time is so precious that he cannot waste the minute or two one patient leaving and another entering, would take.

It is understandable that doctors do need to be less emotionally involved in order to be able to cope with the pain and misery they see and deal with every day. However to be so insensitive as to not even think it necessary to give a patient the privacy he/she needs or deserves (forget about doctor-patient confidentiality), is horrifying to say the least. Just as children need to be taught manners, perhaps doctors should be instructed in bedside manner too.

In Sickness and In Health

2011-02-03T22:42:00.000+05:00

HRH has been quite unwell for the last week and especially sick since last night. This resulted in
- A frantic morning spent dispensing Brufen and Panadol
- Getting a doctor's appointment
- Waiting 2.5 hours at the doctor's clinic before finally being able to see him
- A panic attack when he demanded a chest X-ray immediately to rule out pneumonia
- An immediate chest X-ray for HRH
- Pneumonia being ruled out thank God
- Another panic attack at an ominous 'might need surgery for adenoid removal'
- Receiving a prescription a mile long
- Gathering the prescribed drugs
- Sorting out medicine schedules
- Force-feeding a very unhappy HRH and so on

During this stressful day, HRH, during the few times he ventured to speak, which did not involve whining and tears, had a couple of interesting conversations with me -

A comment by HRH prompted me to explain to him that I clean his nose, wash his hands, give him a bath, clean him when he goes to the bathroom and so forth. His answer put me in my place when he said very matter-of-factly, "Yes, but I will also do all this when I have a child."

Later when he was feeling particularly miserable with a fever of 104, HRH asked me to ask God aloud to make him feel better.
Me: Allah please make HRH feel better
HRH: Tell him to make my cough better and my fever less also
Me (obliging): Allah please make HRH's cough better, his nose less stuffy and his head less achey
HRH (after a couple of minutes had passed): So is He going to do it? Did He hear you?

HRH Writes a Joke Book

2011-01-31T19:00:00.000+05:00

HRH wrote a joke book today.

The highlights were:

Small Talk with HRH

2011-01-31T12:05:00.000+05:00

HRH: What is misery?
Me: Misery is feeling sad, unhappy or depressed
HRH: I am misery.
Me: Why are you miserable?
HRH: Because I have to do too much homework.

------

After watching Gulliver's Travels -
Me: So what was your favorite part?
HRH: The pee!

------

HRH (enjoying one aspect of his sickness): I never want to go to school
Me: If you don't go to school then you won't know anything
HRH: Everything has instructions doesn't it?

------

Faisal: What the F.
HRH: I know what F is. It is the king of bad words. I won't say it cos Baba said he will chop off my tongue.

------

Cartistry I

2011-01-24T23:13:00.000+05:00

During the joyride that is driving in Lahore, you are bound to spot some artistry displayed on the windshields and number plates and even as paint jobs of vehicles of all kinds, ranging from cars to motorcycles to trucks and more.

Here are some which I have spotted in the recent past:

A motorbike number plate

On the fuel tank lid of a taxi

Now why would you want to advertise that?

That's a Mercedies Benz - in case you didn't recognize the emblem

Probably something you wouldn't want to flaunt

Piffer?

Speaks for itself I suppose

iCar

Speed thrills, but kills?

Shouldn't Dr. Boost fly high rather than low?

Is that really a bad thing?

Moms do deserve all credit.

"Lado Rani - Matric Pass"

Sound advice.

Some other embellishments of cars (which unfortunately I could not get a picture of):
"Flirt Is My Game"

"Headless Hawks"

"Love Guru" (in blood-dripping font)

The Power of Puke

2011-01-22T20:22:00.000+05:00

HRH has been sick today. The kind of sick that involves throwing up every couple of hours or so. After the clean up operations for vomit number 6, I realized how much motherhood has changed me in this particular regard (as in countless others).

No longer do body emissions of any sort, hold the power to disgust me.

HRH has made up a song which consists of repeating the following lines over and over. It goes as follows:
"Booger, potty, pee
Thooki, vomit, burp
Potty, snotty!"

This song pretty much sums up everything gross that can be discharged from the human body. All of the above are also generally regarded as nausea-inducing when coming out of another human being. For me any squeamishness vanished once HRH appeared.

Over the past 5.5 years, since HRH arrived on the scene I have cleaned countless nose nuisances (runny and otherwise), innumerable below-the-belt discharges of all colors and consistencies, and multiple regurgitated food/drink occurrences. Gone are the days when these had the ability to invoke queasiness in me.

Conversations with HRH

2010-12-24T10:04:00.000+05:00

HRH: The electricity goes all the time...tell Baba to fix it...
Me: He can't. That is a problem in all of Pakistan..
HRH: Can't we tell the owner of Pakistan to fix it?

-------

(Post-explaining why there is a load-shedding problem in Pakistan & the electricity going off for the second time in 3 hours)

HRH: So is it because of the President that the electricity keeps switching off?
Me: Kind of…yes
HRH: I want to smack the President.
Me: You and 170 million others.

-------

Faisal wearing a FCUK Tshirt -
HRH: Baba what does ur T-shirt say?
Faisal: ...nothing...
HRH: It says 'facuck'. Didn't u know that?

-------

Driving on airport road -
Me to Faisal: Watch out for the ditches
HRH: Ammi! Did I hear you say a bad word?
Me: No no..I said 'ditches'
HRH: Oh ok. I thought maybe something starting with 'B'

-------

Me: Today we will go to Quaid-e-Azam's mazar..that's where he is buried
HRH: What is buried?
Me: When you die you have to be buried..
HRH: He eats berries there?

-------

HRH: I won't use 'ass' like 'you are an ass' only like 'a donkey is an ass'.

-------

HRH: I love money
Me: You shouldn't love money..Why do you love it?
HRH: I can buy stuff
Me: Money can't buy you love
HRH: But it can buy toys

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While reading a notice from school -
HRH: "Fee bills have been sent..." What is 'fee'? Like in 'Fee-fi-fo-fum'?

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Examiety

2010-12-17T14:44:00.000+05:00

Examiety - a temporary state of worry and nervousness occurring among parents and children age 5 and above, usually twice a year during the periods of November/December and May/June. Usually accompanied by feelings of apprehension, anxiety and panic. For parents it includes shouting questions about topics taught at school at random moments in order to quiz progeny, resulting in further stress, confusion and frustration.

Now that HRH is in Grade 1 and it is that time of year, I have finally experienced what I had observed and not entirely understood in other parents earlier. This year, HRH will be taking ‘exams’ for the first time in English, Urdu, Maths and Science. Last year he had end of year ‘assessments’ which still sounded less horror-inducing than ‘exams’.

In school HRH has been revising for the past month, he has also been told constantly that exams are a big deal. To such an extent that he would start feeling worried and start asking me to teach him something or the other that he was not sure about and which ‘might come in my exams!’ Since this is hardly healthy behavior, we have all been telling him at home that exams are not a big deal and not to worry about it. Thankfully some of this has started to sink in.

While HRH and I may not be suffering from examiety as badly as some others, there are still plenty of mothers in school who are overly concerned about how their offspring are progressing in comparison to others.

“Does HRH know how to spell the months of the year?” (Purpose of question - Trying to figure out where own child stands and whether it's okay to not know how to spell the months of the year)

“How many hours do you make HRH revise in a day?” (Purpose of question – To determine whether child will have to spend more time revising)

“Can he figure out the Math word problems or is he confused about those like my child?” (Purpose of question - Seeking reassurance)

Such queries further fuel feelings of insecurity and examiety among all concerned. I personally think there should be a gag order put in place during exam season. No parents should be allowed to speak to each other about exams, revision or how much a child does or does not know. Unfortunately these insecurities are then transferred to the child, who at age 5 or 6 is pretty confused already about what the big deal is. Now during meal times, children are asked mid-chew, to spell 'September', or are asked 'What is a 6 sided shape called?' while rubbing soap out of their eyes during bath-time, or are told to come over during their run around in the park and ambushed with 'What is 19 minus 7?'

While I may not be that bad (really I'm not), I do feel bad for these little kids who had better get used to all this. After all there is a long way to go for them. As for me, I feel like I'm going to school all over again, but without any of the fun.

Grade 1 December Exam Prep

2010-12-17T13:51:00.000+05:00

Science revision - A note for me when HRH could not think of the last two of eight fruit names. Rather than come ask me, he decided to write the note and then go off to play till I came back to the room to check on him.

English revision - I hope he does not plan on leaving notes like these during the exam itself.

Words with 'th' - this, then, thin, thoocy...
Me: What is thoocy?
HRH: Thoocy means spitty.

HRH: I made interesting sentences.

"I hate rhyming words!"

HRH-isms II

2010-11-11T22:05:00.000+05:00

HRH: What the heck...
Me: Stop saying that
HRH: I said 'heck' not 'hell'

---------

HRH: Don't hug Baba in front of me
Me: Why?
HRH: It feels sick to me.

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HRH: NanaAbu told me stories about prophets like Noah and Venus.
Khala: Venus?
HRH: Yes with the whale
Khala: Oh. Yunus.

--------

While getting tangled up in his jeans, HRH (muttering under breath): What the hell..
Me: Did you just say 'what the hell'? Do NOT say that
HRH: Ok I'll just say 'what the..'

--------

HRH: Thank God there are 4 holidays. I am allergic to waking up early in the morning.

--------

HRH changing discs/songs constantly in the car -
Me: Leave the stereo alone
HRH: You can't say that to the DJ.

--------

Faisal to HRH: Come here M-I-S-T-E-R
HRH: You can also say M-R. It's a shortling of mister.

--------

HRH (while watching ARY Musik): Look! They spelled ''music" wrong!

--------

HRH: Will I have to go to school even when I'm 11?
Me: Yup. You have to go till you are 24
HRH: WHAAAT! 24??
Me: You know how many more years that is? 24 - 5 is?
HRH: 19 *shocked silence*

--------

HRH: I wish I was 7 years old.
Me: Why do you want to be 7?
HRH: Because then I would be a big boy.

--------

Me: Hurry up and eat!
HRH: Are you out of your patience?

--------

HRH: Dam...
*Me glaring at HRH*
HRH: I didn't say d-a-m-n. I was saying d-a-m. Like 'a dam'...you know the water one.

--------

HRH to Khala: What is 'saddi'?
Khala: Saddi means century
HRH: No that's not it..
Khala: Ok use it in a sentence
HRH: 'Mujhay saddi lag rahi hai'

--------

HRH: What is gown?
Me: It's a long dress that ladies wear
HRH: Hmmm. No like in 'I am going to my gown'?

--------

(HRH sulking after Faisal beat his score in 'Rat on a scooter')
Me to HRH: It's ok. You are better than him in some games. He's better in this one.
HRH: Don't say that in front of me.

---------

Me to HRH (playing cricket inside the house): Don't hit the ball so hard you will break something
HRH: I can't control my strength.

---------

Tried to convince HRH to shoo out lizard from bedroom -
HRH: No way. You do it.
Me: It's a boy's job.
HRH: Where did you get that from?

---------

HRH (at Gloria Jean's): What is 'whiffy enabled'?

---------

HRH (after watching Toy Story 3): Why don't big people play with toys?

---------

HRH with pencil and paper in hand (angry with me after an argument): I am going to draw you fat.

---------

Me (to HRH): For the last time SIT DOWN or else...
HRH: Are you threatening me?

---------

HRH (at lunch): I am so full! I am exploring!

---------

HRH: I want to be a conductor in an orchestra when I grow up..or a farmer so I can wash pigs and cows.

Of Blood and Beyond

2010-10-24T12:47:00.000+05:00

There are so many of my relatives I can’t stand (and I can write this fearlessly and confidently knowing none of them will be reading this). Throughout my life there were all the mamas, chachas, tayas, phupis and khalas (blood and otherwise, including all the ones we love to adopt along the way) and their various offspring present at Eids, births, weddings, funerals and all the other life-changing events that happen in, well, life. As a child all I noticed were the same-age category ones that I got along with. These were the ones who were on the same wavelength as you. The ones you had built tents on the terrace with (even in mid-summer, which were perhaps not as lethal back then) and played cricket in the garden with (the boys were good enough to play in the house lawn rather than on the streets/nearby empty plots, being considerate enough to keep your gender in mind). They were also the ones you fought tooth and nail with one hour and the next were happy enough to watch Thunder Cats on NTM with. They were also the ones you would invent the most disgusting snacks to eat with while watch programs like 'V the Final Battle' and 'Tremors' for the umpteenth time (was that the only English movie STN ever played or what?). The aforementioned snacks included slices of cheese on toast melted in the microwave for 20 seconds and un-toasted bread with mayo and crisps squished inside (I already mentioned the snacks were gross didn't I?)

As you grow up, the childhood memories remain but there is an increasing awareness of politics on the adult level. While 'big people' (as HRH calls adults) did their best to not talk about or include their kids in their internal tussles, there was nevertheless the dawning of knowledge in the sense that 'Yes so and so should have done so and so' or 'XYZ should not have said that' and the consequential questioning of loyalties.

As in all families (unless perhaps you live in some Enid Blyton-esque familial setting, I’d say most of us are more Roald Dahl-esque), there were conflicts. Unwittingly or otherwise you formed opinions on who you liked and who you didn't on the basis of
1. Your own perceptions, i.e., you grew out of the childhood bubble you had been ensconced in
2. The tidbits you overheard from discussions around you

As I was growing up I always knew who I connected with and who I didn't. When I was in my teens I used to rant and rave about why I had to meet so and so when I didn’t like them and they weren't very nice frankly speaking. You would then get to hear the parental spiel about "blood is thicker than water" and "family is family at the end of the day" blah blah.

When the "I am going to marry Robbie Williams before I'm 22" thing didn't work out for me, and I was actually getting married (to someone so much better than RW I might add, {can you tell my hubby is one of the few readers I have?}), I wanted to have a small wedding. For me small meant a maximum of 70-80 people. My parents are averagely social. I have three younger sisters who are also normally social. Yet when it came down to making the guest list, there was suddenly a multitude of individuals who just HAD to be invited as they had ‘invited us on ABC, DEF, GHI occasions and if we didn’t call J,K and L then they would feel offended as we would be calling M,N,O,P after all (the gist is you run out of the alphabet and repeat it more times than the double alphabets in all Defence Housing Authority's blocks, in all cities combined). You get the idea. The small wedding didn't pan out.

The good thing was after marriage I could dump all the relatives I didn't think were worth keeping in touch with due to their lack of interest/concern/care (of course this was off-set with the wide range of relatives-in-law who I now had to meet. I still can't decide what's worse. And yes the relatives-in-law won't be reading this either. Hopefully.)  6 years into my marriage, I still see the same cycle continue. While I may have got out of it somewhat, the balance my parents try to maintain with 'blood' relatives still annoys me. When it's someone who reciprocates your feelings it's all well and good. But when you try to maintain relations for the sake of maintaining them as they are "blood", it stops making sense to me.

At the same time, I am eternally grateful to my parents for having formed some super-strength relationships which started either with them or even their parents and have continued into my generation. These people have proved that being of the same blood is no criteria. In fact they have shown themselves to be far more loving, caring and reliable than the so-called blood relations. As time progresses, I have observed that more and more people now give increasing importance to the friends they know they can count on as opposed to the individuals they share genes with. Maybe we don't have the time and patience our ancestors had or maybe we have reached a point where we are beyond caring. Either way, life's too short to spend dealing with the pointless politics of extended families and individuals who just don't care.

If by some minuscule chance this is read by someone who might know they are being referred to negatively, there is the following disclaimer: "Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. For those who (blood or not) know they are held in high regard, respect and love; any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely intentional (you know who you are)."

Getting a Grasp on God II

2010-09-25T02:06:00.000+05:00

HRH: Is the tooth fairy real?
Me: What do you think?
HRH: I don't think so
Me: So who do you think takes the tooth and leaves money for it?
HRH: I think it's Allah cos He's real

------

HRH: Do you have God's number?
Me: No...
HRH: I wanted to ask Him or Her something..

------

Me: See you were being rude to me so you walked into the door and hurt yourself
HRH: Who made me walk into it?
Me: Maybe Allah, as a punishment
HRH: Allah's a good guy isn't He? So it wasn't Him..I walked into it myself

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HRH: How does Allah send babies down? Can you show me a picture?

------

Back to School Blues

2010-09-20T10:36:00.000+05:00

The extra-long summer vacation is over. I still fail to understand why the Punjab government wanted to extend school summer holidays for an additional 2-3 weeks. Not that I'm complaining.

So now there is the usual setting 4 alarms for the morning to ensure you get out of bed at the right time (which is at an obscenely early hour), the dragging self and others out of cosy beds, while some family members either whine (me and 5 year old HRH) or snap fangs bared at each other (that would be all three of us - HRH, hubby and myself).

The previously relaxed routines for all concerned (yes the adults were still going to work but at least that still started at a later more civilized time), are suddenly fraught with tension as the day is strictly regimented for HRH's sake.

Typical school day routine:

6:10 AM - Alarm number 1 goes off. It is switched off lethargically and a low decibel 'HRH wake up baby' is called out. It goes unheard.

6:15 AM - Alarm number 2 goes off. It is also switched off and a slightly louder 'HRH get up now please' is emitted.

6:20 AM - Alarm 3 goes off. A definitely audible 'Get up now...please!' is sounded.

6:25 AM - Alarm 4 goes off. There are definite signs of movement as a very loud and stern warning is given, all signs of politeness gone. 'GET UP! NOW!'

Then begins the chaotic hour during which teeth are brushed, faces washed and HRH's breakfast shoved down his throat while he says 'I'm sooo sleepy' every 2 minutes (this despite having slept 10+ hours at night) while the parents who only manage to get about 5-6 hours grunt randomly at any questions or queries the other makes the mistake of asking.

7:30 AM - HRH and Faisal leave for school and work respectively. Lucky hubby gets to go to work half an hour earlier due to having to drop HRH off to school by 8 AM.

7:30 - 9:00 AM - The morning tornado like effects in all rooms are sorted out while getting ready for work

9:30 AM - The advantage of going to work at this time is that you are now wide awake having spent what seems like half the day already up, while childless individuals are still blearily rubbing eyes and having shots of caffeine to wake up.

1:00 PM - Leave to pick HRH up from school. Involves battling through traffic while swearing left, right and center at the loons on the roads (all swearing for the way to and from school must take place now as no 'bad words' must be said in HRH's presence as he will then proceed to tell you off).

1:30 PM - Reach school and find parking 5 miles from the gate. Trudge back huffing and puffing and wishing you had carried a bottle of water and maybe a snack for the trek.

1:30 - 2:00 PM- HRH insists on playing on the slides/swings/anything climbable in the playground

2:00 PM - Set off on the journey back to where car is parked with HRH saying 'I am so tired. Why is the car parked so far away?' (this coming from a child who spent half an hour whizzing around the playground showing no signs of 'tiredness').

2:30 PM - Reach home with bleeding cheeks due to clenching all 'bad words'

2:35 PM - Unceremoniously dump HRH into bathtub for a shower

2:45 PM - Place HRH at the table for lunch, which can last anywhere between 1 to 2 hours depending on how long he wishes to store bites in his mouth without chewing.

Post lunch comes homework time. Another joyful time of the day when either it will completed in no time at all or may take ages if there is whining, staring off into space and further declarations of tiredness, pencil rolling off the desk numerous times and a million unrelated-to-homework questions are asked such as 'When do bats sleep?' or 'Do you like Woody better or Buzz Lightyear?' or 'Can we become extinct like the dinosaurs?'

Then follows some leisure time for HRH during which there is some TV watching, playing etc

At 6:30 PM begins the stress about HRH's dinner and bedtime.

7:00 - 8:00 PM - Dinnertime for HRH consists of more of the lunchtime same-ness. Gazing blankly with unchewed bites sticking out of cheeks which have to be poked and prodded for masticating encouragement.

8:00 - 8:30 PM - Teeth are brushed, a bedtime story is read and HRH is put to bed.

8:30 PM - Parental sighs of exhaustion are heard, as you struggle not to fall asleep with HRH.

The rest of the night is spent watching TV or a movie or socializing with friends and somehow even if you tell yourself you will go to bed early today, you still don't get to bed by 12 or 1 at night.

And thus dawns another day.

HRH isn't the only one looking forward to the winter vacations.

Little Red Riding Hood - A Book Review

2010-08-22T01:15:00.001+05:00

HRH got a summer reading list as part of his holiday homework. One of the books he was supposed to read was 'Little Red Riding Hood' from the Ladybird series.

I had already told him the story many times before. We would both act out the parts of the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood (LRRH). My version (as passed down from my parents) included the wolf eating Grandma and then being axed to death by LRRH's woodcutter father.

I had also very cleverly (I thought) incorporated the never-talk-to-strangers concept in it. (While walking through the forest on her way to Grandma's, LRRH meets the wolf. The wolf asks LRRH where she's going and she foolishly tells him. This results in Grandma's death as the wolf rushes over to the poor old lady's house before LRRH gets there, giving him ample time to devour Grandma and dress up in her clothes and get in her bed.)

After HRH read the Ladybird version he looked distinctly disappointed. This version had no wolf eating grandmother bit. In fact grandmother's presence was simply non-existent. The wolf was in her bed when LRRH got there. Also missing was the wolf being hacked to death by LRRH's father when the animal attacked her (post the 'Grandma, grandma what big eyes/ears/nose/teeth you have' conversation).

Some may think it's a good idea to not scar children emotionally by introducing the disturbing concepts of murder, death and bloodshed. I personally thought (as did HRH) that Ladybird's version was plain boring.

As we know justice is rarely served in the real world (or at least in our part of the world). At least in fairytales then, the villain should get what he deserves.

I Don't Understand

2010-08-06T00:32:00.000+05:00

In the morning I read about the President’s visit to France and the UK, the violence in Karachi, the floods all over Pakistan, and the suicide bombing in Peshawar where the commander of the Frontier Constabulary perished.

I went to dinner tonight at a friend’s place.

The menu was grilled prawns and red snapper, amongst other delicacies.

I came home afterwards in an air-conditioned car.

At a traffic light I saw a family of three on a bicycle.

At the next traffic light I saw a family of six on a motorcycle.

The entire way I heard Husn-e-Haqiqi on repeat.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

I don’t understand where Pakistan is going.

And I don’t understand what I am supposed to do.

Ban This Baby or Ban Baby Ban II

2010-05-23T01:02:00.000+05:00

With Facebook and hundreds of other sites still blocked, these are some of the things that should actually be banned in Pakistan:

1. Blockades 15 minutes before and 15 minutes after every Tom, Dick and Harry 'VIP' passes through. I know the plebs are there to be abused but if you want to live amongst us then at least have the decency to not detain us whenever you decide to leave/return to your home.

2. At least half the local 'news' channels starting with the ones who played a slideshow of Shoaib/Sania photographs with romantic Indian songs in the background. (Gee-Oh I wonder who this could be?)

3. Men peeing on road sides in full public view. I can't believe this is still so common (As much as paan-spits along any appropriately placed structure it seems. Appropriate for the paan-chewer of course.)

4. Entertainment taxes. 65%? Really? (Having to pay PKR 500 each to take HRH to watch 'Alvin and the Chipmunks 2' is a little painful)

5. The Pakistan cricket team for toying with our emotions (No I still haven't recovered from our T20 World Cup semi-final defeat. Sniff.)

6. Politicians who don't have degrees but then suddenly do but don't actually but are still elected. Also politicians who lie, steal, cheat...(this one is pointless isn't it?)

7. Everyone who has a holier-than-thou attitude (that would help with population control too) To quote something I really don't want to - "Jiyoo aur jeenay do"

Ban Baby Ban

2010-05-21T00:50:00.000+05:00

As of now I cannot access Facebook or YouTube or Flickr. There are reports of Wikipedia, Google and even Blogspot perhaps being blocked in Pakistan. All instigated by a 'Draw Muhammad Day' group on Facebook.

Facebook: Shame on you. Despite the group being reported for inciting hate speech and racism you still did not block it (and from what I saw/read the one time I went to the page to report it, you'd have to be blind or not bothered to not have removed that page).

'Islamic group of lawyers' (who apparently raised the issue in the Lahore High Court): You did as expected.

Lahore High Court: You actually listened to the Islamic group of lawyers? Seriously? The Facebook block must be the quickest decision taken by you (Just wondering why you aren't that quick on rape/murder/robbery etc cases?)

As people on Twitter rant and rave (or in some cases pat themselves on the back with halo shining brightly overhead at a job well done, while naturally letting others who may not agree with the course of action taken know that there is something wrong with their level of religiousness or I quote what someone said to me 'maybe you need a refresh or restart on your emaan (faith)'), (yes I know that is an exceptionally long sentence but I'm ranting and raving here), I would like to know what exactly the LHC, the government and the PTA are aiming for? What are we hoping to achieve by shutting down all websites that have this objectionable material? Are we not ostriches with our heads stuck in the sand? Ignorance is bliss? Is it a case of 'See no evil, hear no evil'? But that does not mean it stops existing does it?

I would have thought there would be more intelligent ways of registering protest. Perhaps by urging Facebook users in Pakistan to report the group (Now we don't even know what's happening on it. Though I'm sure that group will appreciate the publicity we have provided them with). Or perhaps by contacting Facebook itself and telling them to do something about it. Or even by engaging with people on that group to explain what a Muslim's position is in this regard. Was it really necessary to cut ourselves off from the world?

So as farms and livestock die virtually (I may not like Farmville but I do feel for you Farmville inhabitants) and I shake my hand to subdue the itch to update my status or upload a picture of HRH, I would like to appeal to the LHC and the PTA to let us know what their thinking is behind this decision to so trigger-happily 'ban baby ban'!

Tweeting Twits & My Twee Cents

2010-05-01T02:56:00.001+05:00

4000+ tweets later, I have learned the following:

1. There are some very intelligent/interesting people on Twitter.

2. There are some morons on Twitter too.

3. You have access to celebrities like TV personalities, Hollywood/Bollywood actors, sporstmen/women, politicians etc who you would ordinarily not be able to address nor expect a response from

4. There are a lot of stalker/drooling fans of said TV personalities, Hollywood/Bollywood actors, sporstmen/women, politicians etc who think nothing of saying the silliest things in the hopes of said star replying to their 'I love you's' or 'Marry me's'

5. Just because you exchange tweets with someone does not mean they will add you on Facebook

6. Some Tweeters will get offended and stop following you if you do not accept their Facebook friend request

7. Just because someone follows you and has replied to 2 of your directly tweeted questions does not mean he/she wants to meet/greet you in 'real' life. For all he/she knows you could be a serial killer/regular murderer/rapist or stalker.

8. There is a vast amount of information/news available to you according to your interests provided you follow the right people.

9. There is a lot of spam rubbish out there too.

10. You can get all the latest news from around the world from various sources. You can stop checking news websites for the latest happenings.

11. You will find 'profound' statements from sources such as pop stars, starlets, politicians and their cousins thrice removed (plus everything in between)

12. You can enjoy tweet-wars between rival politicians.

13. You might get stuck following people you wish you had never started following (if you are someone who doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings).

Bottom line: You will most likely be a stranger to whoever you start following or who starts following you i.e. I don't know you. I will not add you on Facebook. I will not give you my email address either. I also would not like to tell you HRH's name. So stop asking me.

I may do one or all of these things after I feel comfortable enough having established that you are not in fact a serial killer/regular murderer/rapist or stalker. But till then please don't ask.

I am prepared to lose a few of my 200+ followers after this (hoping they will be the ones I want to lose, otherwise there is always the Block option I guess).

The Science of Babysitting (or Acquiring It)

2010-04-11T03:22:00.000+05:00

Pre-child Scenario:
Arrive when you feel like at any social event you are invited to.
Leave when you feel like.

Post-child Scenario:
“There’s a dinner/party/play/movie that we have/must go to.”
“When is it?”
“On XYZ day”
“Okay we can ask one of the khalas or the phupos?”
“Can’t he go for a night-spend?”
“Let’s see.”

The 'let’s see' usually last till the last minute. Till whoever the potential babysitter is can be bribed to come babysit (which usually means overnight babysitting).

“Can’t he stay with you?” or “Can’t you(babysitter) sleep over?”

When my son was born I thought my life was over. Being the (yes fine, overly) paranoid parent I always knew I would be, I would not want him left anywhere except with my parents or my sisters. I thought this was the end of my enjoying my life as I had known it. That turned out to be true. It was indeed the end of me enjoying my life as I knew it. But it was the start of enjoying my life in a different way.

This involved a lot of time and effort from trusted babysitters (who in the first couple of years of my son’s life I manipulated by bursting into tears and announcing melodramatically “My life is over! Boohoo! I can never do anything ever again! I can never go out anywhere again without him! I’ll have to wait till he’s 20 till I can do anything!” and more along those lines). I guess I was lucky that my family was so easily emotionally blackmailed.
Over the last 4.5 years I have realized there is a science to acquiring babysitting (obviously from trusted sources, who have in fact got lives of their own). The first rule for a parent looking for babysitting is: Be selfish. Forget what other people’s plans may be. Forget the fact that they may have to let down others and remind them that it is their beloved niece/nephew that requires their attention and care. (Try to play down your own ultimate enjoyment. Perhaps use phrases like “I really don’t want to go, but it’s just something we have to go to unfortunately.” or “I don’t know why XYZ (XYZ being your spouse) agreed to going, but it’s just something that we have to go to. Just for a little while?”

When the baby is younger and its far more painful to babysit him/her, you can expect far greater resistance. As the child grows, the babysitters will:
a) be more willing since child is less trouble
b) have been beaten into submission (from various guilt trips/knowing no matter what at the end they will have to babysit).

However in defense of parents everywhere who leave kids with babysitters, we do feel guilty. Honestly we do. We are well known as the KPKs (Khao-Piyoo-Khishkoo ie Eat-Drink-Leave). We are infamous for it in fact. If hosts want us to stay on till later, they will set dinner later, for they know we will leave immediately after.

We really do feel bad about forcing our child on you so we can go out and have fun (in a harassed way, while having an ear/eye open for a SOS call or SMS, which might make us rush home). We try to cram as much enjoyment as we can under pressure. We shove food down our throats in order to be back in time for the babysitter’s deadline.

To sum up:
1. If you need babysitting, beg, plead plaintively and ultimately bribe. Every babysitter has a price.
2. Once babysitting is acquired, be grateful. Babysitters’ egos need careful nurturing. Offer words of gratitude and a dessert (if babysitter has a sweet tooth). A little sugar goes a long way (especially in the form of a brownie/ice-cream or a Mississippi mud pie from Hot Spot, in the case of my sisters)
3. Once out, message once to ask how your offspring is. Do not expect this SMS to be answered, after all you have held babysitter to babysitting duty against her wishes.
4. Try to KPK as soon as possible. It is most advisable to be back home to relieve babysitter of duties in order to avail babysitting next time around.
5. Allow a decent time to pass before asking babysitter for next babysitting session. This may be just a day, but if you play your cards right, the babysitter will be back on duty as required.
6. At least once, come back earlier than the time you said you would be back. Babysitter will feel more kindly towards you.

Once these rules are followed, any parent will be guaranteed babysitting as and when required.
(You do need to have wonderful sisters to actually succeed…see? scoring points with sisters who will be reading this. Future babysitting guaranteed…or would have been had this last sentence not been written).

SM/SM - So Much Stalker Media?

2010-04-05T11:00:00.000+05:00

SM/SM (Sania Mirza and Shoaib Malik) looming nuptials has sparked a media frenzy in Pakistan. When the news was announced a few days ago, a tsunami style wave of attention crashed upon the couple. Some were happy (as witnessed in the form of dancing citizens outside Shoaib's house in Silakot), some were angry ('How dare he marry an Indian?' And vice versa 'How dare she marry a Pakistani?').

Most of us though were just bemused. Why was there such a hype about them? Yes he is an ex-cricket star and yes she is an ex-tennis star in their respective countries but the level of scrutiny and detail being broadcast about them and their wedding is a little sickening. Especially when we have far greater problems to deal with. One theory is that people are so sick of the sad state of affairs around us, that we have hungrily turned on anything that distracts us from the permanent depression.

While SM/SM have provided light relief as well in the form of jokes being exchanged over SMS and Twitter ('Pakistan no longer needs a tennis star, humain jahaiz mein mill gayi' & 'IPL rejected 11 Pakistanis, Sania rejected all of India'), I think I can safely say we have all had enough.

However, the exclusive dance practice video filmed through a crack in the door, the apparently current wife of Shoaib Malik and her hysterical interviews, the claims of a possible pregnancy, the telephone nikah (in this day and age? seriously?) validity, police involvement and Shoaib not being allowed to leave India now; all means that the media piranha feeding of this tale won't end anytime soon.

Marriage Worries - Age 4

2010-03-30T15:18:00.000+05:00

Me (to HRH): Today is Nano and Nana-Abu's anniversary so we'll go over and wish them a Happy Anniversary later.

HRH: What's anniversary?

Me: It's the day you get married, then every year you have an anniversary like you have a birthday.

HRH: When will I get married?

Me: Not any time soon...many years later

HRH: How many years?

Me: I don't know. Maybe when you are 26 or 27 years old?

HRH: That's so far away! Who will I marry?

Me: I don't know. You can see who ever you like at that time.

HRH (worried): I don't know any girls!

Me: Well you will know girls when you are older, so you can see then.

HRH: Can I marry you?

Me: No. You can't marry your Ammi.

HRH: What about my khalas? Can I marry one of them?

Me: No. You can't marry your Khalas either. You can find someone later. You don't have to worry about it right now.

HRH: What about Stephanie?

Me: Who is Stephanie?

HRH: She's from Lazy Town (a TV show on Playhouse Disney) *pause* I have a dream that I marry Stephanie.

Man Or Mouse?

2010-03-29T15:43:00.000+05:00

What is the deal with married men playing the victim? Boohoo my wife is so horrible/I am trapped/I need to get away from her. That’s the sort of thing I am referring to. There are thousands of jokes about the wife or the wife's mother being the bad guy (whereas at least in this part of the world at least we know which mother-in-law is apparently the bad guy).

So what exactly is this need to make your wife out to be a monster? Or insulting a guy who is messaging or calling his wife when she is not there? Or branding a man a pathetic loser for not succumbing to peer pressure and doing his own thing (which most probably involves doing something his wife wouldn't like?)

I have my own name for this phenomenon. It's the Trapped-Male syndrome. It is an off-shoot of the victim complex family and effects married men.

Scene: Socializing in civilized company where members of both genders are present
Married man # 1 (cue for escape): ‘Chal yaar bahar chaltay hain.’
There is a stampede of males trying to exit the room as quickly as possible. Apparently the reason for stepping outside is to smoke. However when the indoors is also a smoking zone the only difference between outside and inside would be the lack of estrogen outside. Are the women so un-intelligent that men need to get away for a while? These 'getaways' usually revolve around insulting each other and exchanging a few dirty jokes. As far as I'm concerned I would be happy to hear both (especially since half the time I wish I had a getaway opportunity too from all the talk to children, tailors and maids).

I really don't understand the wish all men have to escape whether it is to get half an hour alone in a two hour social gathering or a holiday with the 'boys'. Firstly you are not 'boys' any more. Being nearly 40 does not make you a 'boy'. Sorry to burst your bubble. Secondly do men really think they are the only ones who need a break? I'd think these men's wives who are running their houses, children and organizing their social lives deserve a lot more credit than they get. They certainly deserve a lot more credit than being lumped into the 'my wife is the bad guy' category.

The other day I attended a wedding with my husband. It was the marriage of the child of a golf buddy of his. As expected most of the men there were golfers, most of whom appear to have a stunted sense of humor, as there was one standard joke. After the initial exchange of pleasantries, the comments varied from ‘Please let him play golf on more days of the week? Pretty please?’ (As if I am my husband’s boss. Obviously husband has been portraying me as the bad guy who does not ‘allow’him to play as much as he would like to. Now if only he really were that obedient) or something along the lines of ‘So he tells you he’s coming to the golf course huh?’ wink wink nudge nudge. Yawn.

Almost all married men love to perpetuate the I-am-a-victim-save-me-from-the-bully-that-is-my-wife persona. Quite a few of them who are in stable, loving relationships also continue to do the same. They act like one of the 'boys' in public, despite being caring husbands with strong family values. These guys will be loud and obnoxious, but everyone knows it’s all just a facade to act macho when underneath they are just normal, sensitive guys. Awwwww.

There are also those men who are in fact actually pigs, who think their wives are simply for raising their children and doing as they are bid. ‘I am man. Oo oo oo’ (That was supposed to be more of a caveman sound rather than that of an ape. But either works.) Even this category of men pretend to act like victims which is a little amazing.
“My wife doesn’t let me do that.”
Seriously, who are you kidding?

So whether men beg, plead, bribe, cajole or bully their way into doing whatever it is they want to do (for they will indeed do whatever it is they want to), he is of course still victimized by his wife.

One way or another, I suppose you just can't take the boy out of the man.

30 - Dirty, Flirty or Just A Parent?

2010-03-29T08:17:00.000+05:00

30 came.

30 + 1 day later = contemplation

Thinking about health, relationships and of course HRH (apologies to anyone who thinks HRH won't make an appearance in at least one of my blog posts for a change. Sorry, I can't help it).

I worry a lot. About how difficult it will be for me to lose weight if I need to (apparently your metabolism slows down post 30). About if something happens to me what will be the effects on my husband and child (Thank you horrible old lady who read my hand when I was 14 and told me sadly something awful would happen to me mid-life and then told me most un-convincingly that I would recover from whatever horrible thing it was. I still look at my left hand life line and wonder why it splits in halfway through).

Anyway. HRH makes me want to be around forever to help and support him where ever he may require some assistance, in whatever way. No one knows what's around the corner. I suppose the healthy thing is not to dwell on it either since you may forget to live out of fear. But when you do think about all the uncertainities in life, it's frankly quite terrifying,

Having come beyond the age where I think I am invincible, now there is the fear of mortality. Perhaps that wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for HRH.

HRH made me a wonderful birthday card (thanks to Faisal, who made him sit down and spell the 'hard' words for him). The card had a masterpiece of HRH and I in the garden outside our house. The inside said "I will give this card and and (there were two ands for some reason) present and lots of hugs and kisses to you because you are the best mum of the world. I love you a million, billion, trillion, google, double google." Needless to say I was quite teary-eyed.

Life is weird. I don't understand and far more eloquent people have tried to sum it up. All I can surmise is that it is short and unpredictable. When you are young ie before you have a child it's all fun and games. The feeling of invincibility and the world being your oyster and so on is a given. Post-kid, life is suddenly uncertain. You don't stop living but now you live for someone other than yourself. The feeling of invincibility is gone. Instead what's left is a hope and a prayer that you can live long enough to see your child grow up and be in a happy, settled place in the world.

P.S. 30. Shit.

Lawn Yawn

2010-03-23T22:58:00.001+05:00

It’s that time of year again, when the weather changes and the sweaters and jackets start coming off. Along with all other Pakistanis, women too complain of how hot it has become, how this year’s summer temperatures are bound to be worse than before, how the load-shedding will be as frustrating/high-blood-pressure-inducing as always and so on. Pakistani women though (during the ranting and raving about summer, temperatures and power cuts) will have a little gleam in their eyes. There will be some salivating as they think of some of the names which will make the summer better for them.

Sonya Battla, V9, Gul Ahmed, Sobia Nazir, Sana Safinaz (Eeeeeeeee! Imagine women shrieking, arms raised as they salivate over what lovely lawn prints they will be able to lay their hands upon.) Days are counted down in all the major cities around Pakistan as lawn exhibitions come to town, causing traffic havoc in their wake.

Hordes of women descend upon the venue of said lawn exhibition. These venues can be recognized by the fact that they will be surrounded by cars of all sorts, with a driver in each one, with a murderous, boiling rage bubbling inside as they battle with other unfortunate men who must wait for ‘madam’ or ‘baji’. Madam/Baji in the meantime is inside the venue battling it out with other ladies in screeching and snatching at the lawn print of choice. Feet are trod on, little toes crushed, apologies are muttered (in a non-apologetic manner), elbows are dug into ribs (of others) and battle lines are drawn.

Sometimes when battle lines are crossed then all thoughts of age or self-respect go out of the door. I refer here to a pitched battle that took place at a certain lawn exhibition in Lahore, where rumor has it, two ladies had a disagreement and there was a punch-up. The two then proceeded to slap, kick and pull each other’s hair. While this is a hilarious story to tell, I feel rather puzzled about the object of the conflict. A lawn suit? One which has no special quality other than being ‘designed’ by the lawn designer of the year? One which is not exclusive in any way at all? One which has been bought by hundreds of others and will be bought by hundreds more? One which is bound to be worn by at least two other women when you go to work or out shopping or to pick your kids up from school? And if not worn on the same day then definitely worn some time during the week by a few others at least? You seriously want to fight over THAT?

I am not entirely sure why there is this craze for lawn prints. Obviously I am missing some important point about something which a lot of others do understand since each year there is a mushrooming of a few new lawn print designers. I am assuming they must do well, since they seem to appear the next year again, with another batch of designer-mushrooms.

Lawn print prices rise every year and still a manic state of consumerism is achieved. Ladies rush from lawn exhibition venue to home, for suits to be soaked and impatiently wait for them to dry, before rushing off to deliver them at the tailor. If you make the mistake of not going to check out the latest prints immediately, at least do not make the mistake of wearing last year’s lawn print in public. For you will be looked down upon if not outrightly sneered at.

The stacking up of pile after pile of the latest lawn print from every ‘designer’s’ collection is continuing unabated at the moment. With a towering heap of lawn suits precariously balanced, the appetite for lawn is quenched (at least until next weekend’s lawn exhibition anyway).

About Turn

2010-03-20T08:05:00.000+05:00

This article may not make a lot of sense. You have been warned. It is an emotional (perhaps nonsensical) piece inspired by my son, as well as by a poem of Khalil Gibran's that my sister shared with me earlier today. The poem entitled “Children” actually gave me goosebumps and is a must-share (I should add this is probably the first thing I have read by him. I know, I am ignorant).

Children by Khalil Gibran

“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”

Every day my son, HRH, asks me one question which leaves me speechless. Today, on the way back home after a long day of various activities after school, I thought he felt feverish and asked him how he was feeling. I also said, “I hope you haven't got a fever..”

HRH said to me 'Why don't you pray to Allah that I don't have a fever'

Agreeing that this was a good idea I said aloud 'Allah please don't let my son fall sick.'

HRH asked me, “What did Allah say?”

I replied that he had not said anything in reply.

HRH said to me “Why doesn't Allah answer back when we talk to him?”

I told my son that Allah does not reply in the way humans talk to each other.

HRH said to me, very matter-of-fact-ly, “Why? Is he rude?”

I tried to explain no that's not how Allah communicates. Neither to his (nor my) satisfaction.

My son is four and a half. Today while looking at him I was amazed to see how he was a tiny actual (starting from a cell) part of me not so long ago. It amazes me that he is now a proper human being. Yes, I know he was one 4.5 years ago, but now I realize he is his own separate human being. With his own thoughts and his own feelings and his own way of expressing himself.

HRH has been sleeping in his own bed, in his own room for the last six months or so. Each night I have to lie with him till he falls asleep and every night he has a routine he goes through.

“Ammi, are the windows and doors closed?”

“Yes.”

“Can any cats or dogs come in my room?”

“No.”

“Are there any alligators here?”

“No, there are not.” (Exasperation setting in.)

“What about bugs? Are there any mosquitoes or flies?”

“No.” (Needless to say we have a religious Mortein-spray routine going on a few hours before bedtime along with a Mortein socket-plug-in device on all night. And no I am not a Mortein ad but seriously it seems to work for us.)

“Ammi.”

“Yes?”

“My quilt looks like a dinosaur.”

“So take it off.”

Silence

“Ammi?”

“Yes?”

“Now the quilt looks like a Brontosaurus. Can you flatten it?”

After flattening his quilt and asking him with clenched teeth if he is comfortable now, he announces, “I am scared.”

That's when I get him to start reciting whatever prayers/surahs he knows.

When we are done, HRH seems secure enough to stop talking and fall asleep.

Tonight, my husband and I were going out for dinner and had his aunt over to babysit. I had told him before he went to bed that she would be babysitting and we would be back soon. He asked me if he could sleep in our bed and we could shift him to his room when we came back. I agreed. When he was about to sleep, I asked him to say his surahs/prayers.

He said to me “I don't need to say them today.”

Asked why, he said “Because today I am sleeping in your bed.”

The sense of confidence and security he gave just by sleeping somewhere where he felt safer was overwhelming. I still made him say his prayers. He went to sleep without our usual conversation of cats, dogs, crocodiles and so on.

I stared at him when he was asleep. It amazed me that this 4.5 year old had come out of me not so long ago (ok I lie, it feels like a LONG time ago). But that he was still so much a part of me that I still cannot tolerate any sort of pain he feels, whether emotional or physical. When he is sick, I feel like I'm the one who can't function. When it's emotional pain, I feel frustrated that I can't fix it for him.

Maybe all those (infamous) desi mothers-in-law are just the same, who just can't tolerate the thought of their son being unhappy (seriously though, come on, your son's 25/30/45 years old...let go already!....Perhaps easier said than done?)

I think of all the parents I know and know of, who have lost sons and daughters of various ages. There is the 18 year old who died in a car accident. There is a 30 year old, who died a month before his wedding. There is the 24 year old, with a 4 year old child, who died of cancer. There are numerous other cases.

I have met some of these parents who have dealt with such tragedies. From meeting them, I know this.
You never get over it.
Yes, you go on with your life.
Yes, you breathe, you eat, you sleep, you meet people, you smile, you laugh.
You act like you are alive and you behave the way (apparently) normal people behave.
But underneath all the mundane things you do, the truth is a major part of you has died.

Children are strange things. You give birth to them. You tolerate their night time bawling for months on end (the unlucky ones perhaps years on end). You do the proper-child-raising readings. The toilet trainings, the disciplining, the educating and so on. You may or may not forget the pain and torture of it all (considering the number of people who have more than one kid, I'm assuming a lot people have more short-term memories than I do), but at the end of the day that child is the most important thing in your life. Whatever decisions have to be made, are made around him or her. Suddenly you don't matter. Neither do your needs or desires. What now matters is what the bawler wants, and you are happy to give it to him or her(ok, not necessarily 'happy' but feel is more important than what you want anyway.)

Kids change your life. In ways you never knew they would. Or always assumed “I'M not going to be like that.” I was like that anyway. I was the obsessive paranoid parent I never thought I would be. I assumed I would go back to work 3 months after HRH was born, and I couldn't. I thought I would do all my socializing and traveling just like I had done before him, but I couldn't.

I look at HRH and my heart aches. For all that he is going to go through while growing up. Which is what we all go through in order to 'grow up'. I also know I am going to have to let him fight his own battles (I bought him a punching bag with little gloves for that very reason to practice for the battles right now). I am also going to let him make his own decisions. Right now these only go as far as 'I don't want to wear this shirt. I want to wear those shoes' etc.

It's hard for parents to let go. It's especially unfair since they are the ones who get the least amount of credit from their offspring, when they deserve the most. (That is until the offspring have offspring, which is when said-offspring become suddenly thankful.)

I think I should just end on a heartfelt 'thank you' to my parents. And a hope that I can make my son feel as secure, safe and loved as they have made me feel through out my life and still make me feel today.

Angry Young Man

2010-03-15T02:37:00.000+05:00

My sisters and I are very fond of using the phrase ‘angry young man’. Considering neither of us is a ‘man’ let alone a young one, the phrase simply describes someone who is angry for no apparent reason. You could say someone who is a rebel without a cause.

In our case, or since I can only speak authentically for myself, it means becoming uncharacteristically angry or annoyed about something which if you really think about it, you shouldn't bother much about. A lot of things anger me. It angers me when I think HRH is being too thick learning something which I know should be easy for him. It angers me to have to drive with maniacs on roads who make being in their vicinity a hazard to my life.

Amongst other things that anger me are (in no particular order):

* Having to wait for some bloody VIP to pass by as and when he feels fit. After all your time (and the hundreds of others being held up) is obviously not as important as theirs. (Not even if you are a woman who ends up giving birth in a rickshaw because the President will be passing through sometime in the next three hours)

* Being pushed aside by a man armed to the brim, at your son’s school gate and told to wait while some VIP’s son/grandson/third cousin twice removed is dropped off at the same school with his escort of 10 armed bodyguards (I guess they start the inculcation of holding up others at a young age)

* Having some person pass judgment on something you say or do with no prior knowledge of the background and simply on their own pompous-ness

* Watching morons on TV channels all day spouting their theories on life and religion, which leave you spluttering in indignation

* Meeting people who are nothing but hot air. One pin prick and there would be nothing left (except for a deflated prick)

* Rude salesmen/waiters. You are not doing us a favor by answering our queries. That is your job.

* Idiots who think they know it all, when in reality they do not. Really. Nothing. At. All.

* People who are always on the lookout for sympathy. Look everyone has tough times. Deal with it.

* Having to be polite to rude/pompous data-entry and interview personnel at NADRA and passport offices. No I have not changed my name after marriage. No I do not think there is anything wrong with me. And no, I would not like a lecture on how wrong that is, thank you. Just stamp the damn paper and get on with it.

* Men who stare in market places or on motorcycles/cars next to you at traffic lights. What I wouldn’t give to kick them where it would hurt. A lot.

* Politicians and all their bullshit.

* Having to hear a bomb blast go off (Heard twice now and hope I won’t have to hear any more. Though I probably shouldn’t hold my breath).

* Having to watch the news and see dead and maimed people in places where I or others I know frequent.

* Having to watch the blood and tears of countless others who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

* Having to be paranoid about the places you go to and hurrying through errands to get home as soon as possible. You still go to all these places (after all life doesn’t end..at least till your time is up), while glancing over your shoulder on multiple occasions wondering who and what looks suspicious.

* Having to stop at checkpoints and wondering what if someone decide to blow themselves up right now.

* Wondering how to protect your kid from the bombs/blasts/bad guys (So far so good as far as bomb blasts go. He does know the ‘bad guys’ are the ‘Taliban’ and they have beards. He also thinks the 6-8 commandos outside his school/on the rooftop can keep him safe. I hope so too.)

* Trying to figure out if the nightmare your kid woke up from screaming in terror was just a 4 year old’s bad dream or because of subconsciously absorbing what you and everyone around him talks about, discusses and watches on TV.

* Seeing no end in sight to all the madness going on in my country.

As disillusioned as I may sound, I have not given up hope. Everyday, I along with all other Pakistanis hope and pray that we may find our way out of this quagmire.

Till then, I think I will remain an ‘angry young man’.

NOYB

2010-03-12T02:00:00.000+05:00

We seem to have more issues with everyone else’s life than we do our own. Whether it involves someone we know, or don’t know, or know remotely, or wish we knew, or glad we don’t, or somewhere in between all these (it would make a very complicated Venn diagram); we want to talk and gossip and dissect whatever we know, have heard or can speculate on.

I think this is a major waste of brain power. Especially where this ability is already severely lacking in some people. You already only have a few brain cells, yet you want to waste it on other people’s lives. How about dealing with your own first? Also do you think those you want to inspect so closely really care enough about you or your life?

The main point of this rant is the prescribed life cycle of Pakistani females which primarily involves getting married and procreating. The involvement of opinion of female in question is actually not required at all. It is actually everyone else's perception of her and what she ought to be doing which is most important. Said female may be very happy doing whatever she is in fact doing. Whether it is studying, working or even just simply enjoying whatever point she is in her life. But oh no, she obviously does not know what she needs.

Age 18 - 21 (for a single female)
“So are you still single?”
“So beta what do you do?” inquisitive questions from Aunty jees with ‘marriageable’ age sons, or Aunties who will do their best to hook you up with ‘marriageable’ age males whether you like it or not.

Age 21 - 25 (if female is still not married)
“Are you still single beta?”
“Abhi tak shaadi nahi hui…” said sadly by Aunty jees who may or may not know female in question but are of course entitled to believe that it must indeed be a sad and horrible existence to be leading without a man featuring in it.

Age 21 - 25 (if female is married without offspring)
“Bacha kab ho ga?”
“Bacha jab ho ga na…" *dreamy expression* (Probably since they have forgotten what actually happens to new parents when a kid is born). All knowing Aunty jees know what’s best for a woman and her uterus. (Said to all 21 - 25 aged females they know; which is probably countless. Thus adding to the already explosive population growth. What’s one more right?)

Age 25 - 30 (if female has one child)
“So when’s the next one coming along?” *wink* *nudge*
Oh gee I don’t know really. Wanna keep track of period cycles?

Barely a year (if you’re lucky), after child number one is born, everyone is hungry for child number two. After all no family is complete with just one child. If your first is a girl, then you must have a boy to make the family ‘complete’ and vice versa. Not entirely sure how this works but maybe they have a magical way of deciding what the gender of the next potential child will be.

Age 30 (if still with only one child)
*Sad expression* “There must be some problem.” (Whispered). After all what woman in her right mind would only want to have one child? After all what more is there to life than to produce offspring? And look after them forever and ever until you are dead or close to it?

Age 21 - 30 (if still single)
Well you don’t want to hear what’s being said. You are a waste of space. You are a non-entity until attached to a male.

What I want to know is this; why does everyone from your closest family (who you might allow to question/nag/inquire about your lifestyle/choices) to the remotest stranger who you meet once every two years want to know why you are either not married or have only one child or only have two children (“teen tu honay chahiyay na”).

Why?

Do you not have enough going on in your own lives? Do you want to forget about your own miserable existence by transferring that misery onto other people who may not be miserable in the first place? Or perhaps you want to see people suffer as you have suffered by being forced into making choices that you didn’t want to make either?

Maybe I am happy with where I am. Maybe I am not. Maybe I want more. Maybe I don’t. But either way, its really got nothing to do with you, or with what you think, or with where you think my life should be, or what schedule I ought to be working on.

I have 4 words for these people. NOYB.

None of Your Business.

Feel free to add an F in between the Y and the B if you like.

Day 1 of Unemployment aka Twiddling Thumbs

2010-03-04T11:50:00.000+05:00

6:45 AM - Woke HRH and Faisal up

7:30 AM - Actually got out of bed (thanks Faisal for doing the HRH teeth brushing/breakfast stuff as always)

7:35 AM - Made HRH sit on the pot with his reading material ("Be Quiet, Pooh!")

7:36 AM - Made HRH's school lunch while having him yell letters of the hard words at me which he couldn't read. Yelled back what the word was.

7:45 AM - Dressed HRH for school

8:00 AM - HRH and Faisal left for school and work respectively

8:01 AM - Bijli chali gayi

8 - 9 AM - Twiddled thumbs and looked at watch 34 times

9:01 AM - Bijli aa gayi

9:05 - 9:25 AM - Burned 200 calories on the treadmill (yes I walked slowly)

9:30 - 10 AM - Updated CV/Sent out a few mails/Read BBC News online

10:01 AM - Bijli chali gayi

10:15 AM - Bath

10:35 AM - Looked at watch and thought 'Oh my God. Why is time going by so slowly??'

10:35 - 11 AM - Skimmed through newspaper

11:01 AM - Bijli aa gayi

11:02 AM - 12 PM - Wasted time on Facebook/Twitter/random internet surfing

12:01 PM - Bijli chali gayi.

Still 45 minutes to go before I leave to pick HRH up from school.

Sigh.

All Good Things Come To An End

2010-03-03T17:43:00.001+05:00

My American employers informed us today that they were shutting down the entire Lahore office where I am based.

HRH asked me as per usual, on the way back from his school after I had picked him up "Ammi how was your day?"

Me: Well not so great. My office is being shut down.

HRH: yayyy! (with obvious happiness)

Me: Huh? No no, not yay. I am feeling sad.

HRH: But why? I would be really happy if my school was being shut down.

Me: No you wouldn't. Anyway I'm really sad.

HRH: But you always like having a holiday, don't you?

Me: Yes, but only when I have to go to work.

HRH: (looking confused)

----

A few hours later -

Me: HRH give me a hug

HRH: Why?

Me: Because I'm feeling sad.

HRH: Why?

Me: Because my office has closed.

HRH: I really wish my school would shut down.

---

Playground Politics

2010-02-17T19:16:00.000+05:00

Generally if you go to any preschool when parents are there to pick their kids up, you will be able to make many observations. You will notice the children playing in the sandpit and on the play-gym, parents pleading with kids trying to get them to leave, while others try different tactics with their offspring, such as bribery or threats.

“Betay chalo abb, dair ho rahi hai!,” says a mother wearily.

“Ok bye I'm leaving. You can stay in school if you want.” This threat will work on a younger child usually.

“If you don't stop crying right now, I'm going to..(threat hissed in ear of child to avoid any judgmental looks from nearby parents/teachers).” This may result in a louder howl or an instant silence with a shocked expression on the face of child.

Apart from child-parent conflicts, you will also notice conflicts of various levels taking place amongst children. There will be a little girl taking on someone larger than her over possession of a ball, a boy pleading for a turn with another on a tricycle, two kids making a sandcastle which one decides he would rather destroy than build. These kinds of disagreements either result in tears or fisticuffs (which eventually end in tears).

If you look even more closely you will notice contests of another kind going on as well. These are far more civilized in the sense there is no physical contact or any blatant threats involved. But once the gloves are off, eyes slit, claws appear and fangs protrude (not literally of course) but it might as well be that way. These are the 'conversations' playground moms have amongst themselves, while waiting for their kids to tire themselves out a little more or agree to going home (which ever comes first).

Usually the emergence of these 'monsthers' takes place when their style of parenting or their child's intelligence or any perceived insult related to either of the above takes place. For example if you start eavesdropping on the conversation of a group of mothers sitting around, you will notice that usually they are about the same topics. These include moaning about how their child spends ages here and doesn't want to go home, how the child is doing academically, discussing which park you take your kid to after school in the evenings and so on. If you venture into the territory of which elementary school you plan on sending your child to, maternal blood pressures start rising immediately. Almost everyone wants desperately for their preschool-going son to get into the (so-called) 'best' boys school in town (for which preparation begins at age 3 for an entrance exam that takes place at age 5.5 – 6). Any mention of said school's entrance exam results in anxieties and sensitivities increasing to the point where you would think it was the mother who was going to be taking the exam.

“I have started sending my son for some extra tuition in the evenings,” says one such mother (about her 4 year old son).

“I'm going to start sending mine soon too,” says another, not to be out done.

“My son doesn't need to go for tuition. He knows everything,” says a third, silencing the others.

Please imagine growls emitting from throats, as unbeknown to the kids, preschoolers moms battle for glory.

“So will XY be applying for 'TheBestestSchoolInTown'?”

“Yes of course. XY will go there,” says mom with the kind of determination seen on the face of an athlete going for the gold, or a gladiator about to face tigers in a fight to the finish.

Apart from the friction caused by discussions of future educational institutions to be attended by their progeny, mothers also manage to feel insulted where no insult is meant. The other day I was having a conversation with a couple of other moms about which milk we give our kids. One said she gave her kids fresh milk. I said "Oh I've heard that's good but I feel paranoid about germs." She asked me what I gave my son, when I told her, she retorted, “Well I have not heard good things about that. The amount of preservatives they must put in, it can't be any good.” In order to appease her (as I honestly had not meant to look down on her or anything), I said, “You're right. It's just that I guess I'm a little paranoid.” She still looked annoyed though. I was quite amused by this outburst on her part.

Then there was the mother who wanted to know in all seriousness if my child could write within the red lines of his English notebook. When I said yes mostly he did manage, she got a look of panic on her face and whispered, “But my son can't usually....” I felt really bad and wished I had lied rather than have her walk away muttering under her breath with a manic look in her eyes.

My son started school at the age of 2 and when Playgroup ended for him, a report was sent home which had a general good/satisfactory rating for things like 'motor skills', 'hand/eye coordination' (which were signified by smileys) etc. Later in the evening a particularly competitive lady called to ask 'So how was HRH's report?' For a few seconds I didn't have any idea what she was talking about. I asked her “What report?” She replied impatiently, “The school report card.” I was amazed she wanted to compare 2 year olds 'report cards'. I wasn't sure what to say, “Oh it was alright. There were 8 happy smileys and 2 satisfactory smileys?” or maybe I should have announced proudly “It was awesome! All happy smileys!”

HRH is 4 years old at the moment. With battle cries resounding from every corner of the school playground already, I dread the level of competition that is to come. For me that is.

Class – The Lack Thereof

2010-02-09T10:01:00.000+05:00

“Money makes the world go round.”

“It's all about the money.”

“Money money money, must be funny, in a rich man's world.” - ABBA

So much has been said, written and sung about money. We all know the importance of money. After all we all have to work for it (well most of us anyway). What I don't understand is how those who have it want to flaunt it. When I was growing up money was something no one talked about. We knew there were kids who's parents were 'loaded' and then there were those who weren't that well off. But no one talked about it. No one showed off about it. No one flaunted what they had bought and where they went and what they ate and where they stayed on holiday and so on.

Nowadays however it seems a lot of people's sense of self-worth comes from exactly what they are worth. (Some go to the extent of letting you know vaguely in whatever way they can about how many zeros you can assume there bank balance has. Or balances as the case probably is. Just a ball park figure you understand?) Well I don't understand. I don't want to know what you own, where you shop, what you bought or where your kids go to school. What I do want to know is if you have some worthwhile, intelligent conversation to make. If you have some slight amount of general knowledge and if you can look beyond the end of your nose.

I love meeting 'rich' people. With the exception of a few (I actually counted them on fewer than the fingers on one hand), they all give me a great sense of superiority (though that is clearly not their intention mostly). One lovely lady who I met for the first (and last) time ever, was telling me about her husband's place in the world and how her kids go to the 'best' school in town. She paused for a nano-second to ask where my son went. When I told her she said, without missing a beat, 'That's a good school for the middle class'. One could give her the benefit of the doubt and say perhaps she was uncouth and did not know what to say in civilized society. Perhaps like Eliza Doolittle yelling 'Move your bloomin' arse!' at the Royal Ascot. Or perhaps for the more cynically minded (or the first-hand witness) that was supposed to be a put down. Needless to say I was a little rude to the lady, ended my conversation and moved on.

This is what the so-called upper class (read 'Got money. Lots of it and won't let you forget it') is like - without any class what so ever. There are the pompous gentlemen who either sit around living off what their fathers worked for, or may even have worked for it themselves but pretend they have been well off forever (the nouveau riche). Even worse are the spouses of said gentlemen. These are the ones who spend the day preening themselves, while knowing nothing of the world or anything apart from their clothes, shoes, bags, jewelers, tailors, drivers, maids, cooks...well you see where I am going with this. These are the ones who live off the accomplishments of their fathers and after marriage, their husbands and think that they are 'the shit' (which they are, not in the way they think, but more literally).

Keeping up with the Jones' is another aspect of our society which wears my patience thin. So someone bought a new car, a new phone, went on holiday somewhere. Let's all jump on the bandwagon shall we? Can anyone say 'Baa'? As a very small example, when HRH (my son) started school, when ever it was a child's birthday usually parents of the child would bring in a cake and goody bags for the class and have an in-school party. When the school year began, the goody bags were the usual small-scale affairs that they usually are, that is, a small plastic bag with the usually assortment of sweets, toffees, pencils, erasers etc.

As the school year progressed though there was a rise in the level of each goody bag and its contents. By the end of the year some child's parents had replaced the goody bag entirely, with a big box (price PKR 300/- as printed at the bottom of the box), stuffed with imported chocolates, expensive toys and so forth – for each child in a class of twenty. Needless to say many 3 year olds were rather excited. A few of the mothers I spoke to were not. There was grumbling of how they would have to do the same, how it wasn't right and how they would have to compete with this.

The school took notice and a letter was sent out saying please refrain from sending such elaborate giveaways and from then on goody bags were inspected by school staff to ensure they did not contain anything expensive. So the next goody bag to arrive had reverted back to the initial usual standard. HRH on inspecting it in the car and casting it's contents aside, said to me, “Where's the rest of it?” I said there was no more and how great this was; to which he replied, “This is boring.” Is this the kind of competitive-ness we want our kids to emulate? I certainly don't. But I hear this is what kids nowadays talk about in school; which car you got dropped off/picked up in, where you vacation in the summer and where you buy your designer clothes from.

Class is not about how much you own or plan to purchase. It's about showing some. This 'showing class' is more or less equivalent to 'not showing off' (which includes refraining from setting your Facebook status to a poll on which car you should buy next, an Aston Martin or a Maserati). If you've got it, DON'T flaunt it. It's a) not nice to show off; b) others won't like you better just because you drive a fancy car and c) grow up. Do not take Jerry Maguire's line 'Show me the money!' literally. This category of people makes me feel bad for all that education gone to waste. Usually they go to great schools and colleges and have traveled the world over (no I don't mean just London) and yet have acquired none of the culture that even a laboratory petri dish possesses. They still don't know how to converse or conduct themselves in civilized society. However, since they do still socialize with others either people have a better tolerance level than I do, or must have a better way of hiding their disgust.

I think all I'm trying to say is, get over yourselves people. Life's too short. Live the life you want to. But it's always a good thing to try and broaden your horizons. And don't think you are superior to anyone due to your zeros.

Show some class.

“I don't care too much for money, money cant buy me love.” - The Beatles

Age is just a number

2010-02-07T13:49:00.000+05:00

I turn 30 next month. Thirty. The big 3-oh. (3-uh-oh?)

I can truthfully say that I started freaking out a little about this a few months ago. For along with the 'I'm getting oldddd..waill' (think Rachel from the Friends episode where she turns thirty), I have also been introspecting, for the first time really on the approach of a birthday.

When you are a kid, you look forward to adding another number to your age, as well as to the cake and the presents you are going to get. HRH for example asks me every few days when he will turn 5 and how many days are left to his birthday.

From age 13-18 you can't wait to get older so you can 'do your own thing' and not be suffocated by your un-cool parents.

From age 18-22 it's all about enjoying where you are at that point in your life, which is basically having a good time with your friends in college (and of course the studying..yeah who am I kidding?)

There is a slight realization that your teens are over when you hit 20. But then the 20s are cool and hip (think Friends in their first few seasons). The world is still your oyster.

Going through your twenties is really when you grow up and turn into the person you are probably going to be. Habits that are formed stay with you and personalities more or less solidify. People start working, some have jobs, some launch careers; some get married, some don't; some have kids, some don't. During this decade you also realize your parents actually did know what they were talking and trying to teach you about. (You still only truly appreciate all they have done for you when you have your own child though.)

As I approach the runway of 30, I can look back and see how I've grown up. No I did not become the archaeologist or the first female soldier of Pakistan that I wanted to be at the age of 10; nor did I become the lawyer or the journalist that was my dream at age 18.

What I did do was enjoy university, work at great organizations and find out what I really enjoyed doing, learned what things I truly loved and found fulfilling, married a wonderful man, gave birth to a child who does not cease to amaze me every single day, discovered how important every single person in my family is and how there is a well of love and support if you are lucky enough to have had strong, loving and meaningful relationships with family and friends. I have also learned that dreams change with time.

At 30 I may feel I'm almost halfway through, and I better get on with whatever it is that I want to do and get done. So this decade is it.

...But 30 is still young right?

After all age is just a number.

"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be." - Douglas Adams

HRH-isms

2010-01-22T15:30:00.001+05:00

"Quaid-e-Azam and Mickey Mouse are both our friends." - after drawing a Mickey Mouse stamp and sticking a Quaid-e-Azam stamp next to it

"It's a paani-thook-er. (water-spitter)" - when showing us something resembling a water sprinkler built with his blocks

"Please Allah, don't let it squish my pee thing." - when trying to pee at a toilet where the seat kept falling back down

"Hey! Is it Christmas Eve?" - after seeing snow falling while video chatting with his khala in London in January

"Knock knock!"
Who's there?
"Boo!"
Boo who?
"Boo-ger!"
(Also pot/pot who?/pot-ty! & vom/vom who?/vom-it!)

"When u need to pee fast u say 'zoor ki pee ayi hai'!" - when he needed to go to the bathroom desperately

"Please don't argue with me. I have told you one hundred times I don't want to eat anything." - on repeatedly being asked to eat something

"Where's your hair?" - asking a bald man who we had just met five minutes previously

"There's no one here to save you now! Buhaha!" - said to his Khala whom he had in a stronghold, when no one was around (there actually was an evil laugh too)

"It's a good thing we are at home. You can go to the bathroom and wash your mouth out with soap." - on hearing me say a 'bad word'

New Year's Resolutions for 2010 (or Learning to Cope)

2009-12-29T09:22:00.000+05:00

1. Try not to get blown up.

2. Give our leaders some respect. After all they work so hard (for themselves), trying their best (to take all they can for themselves). 'So little time, so much to loot!'

3. Learn new games to play in the dark, as load-shedding hours increase. Perhaps purchase night-vision goggles?

4. Purchase warm clothing for the extra layers required when gas load-shedding begins. Imagine camping out at a scenic point (instead of gazing forlornly at all electronic items which are not functioning due to power shutdown)

5. Practice lining up at CNG pumps overnight in anticipation of a tankful, imagining you are lining up for Wimbledon tickets or the Glastonbury festival to make it easier. Perhaps pack a few friends into car, along with various entertainment options. Make a night of it!

6. Learn a few more prayers to say while stopped at check-posts, while shopping, while eating at a restaurant, while...well you get the idea.

7. Discourage HRH from playing games which include phrases such as 'I am a bomber!' and 'That was a huge blast! BOOM!'

8. Control road rage. No swearing at lunatic bus drivers, crazy van drivers, motorcyclists and bicyclists who think nothing of weaving out randomly in front of you, people who want to stop and chat in the middle of the road, pedestrians who wish to walk in the middle of the road (which is for VEHICLES...repeat after me 'I am not a car. I am not a car.') and so on.

9. When stuck in traffic due to a VIP movement, instead of silently fuming, pass the time by coming up with appropriate acronyms for VIP, such as Very Insult-worthy Person, Very Idiotic Personality, Vendetta Is Possible etc (This may conflict with Resolution #2).

Wishing everyone a happy, safe and hopeful new year!

For A Laugh

2009-12-13T22:57:00.000+05:00

There are so many things you recall from your childhood only when you have your own child. Cartoons and TV shows you used to watch, books you used to read, games you used to play, all these memories come flooding back when you see your kid going through a certain age and time and want to share those things with him or her.

I used to love corny jokes. I still do but there was a time when a I had a repertoire of jokes at my fingertips. Some of which I only recalled after receiving the following SMS forward;
Can U Translate the following sntnce in a SINGLE ENGLISH WORD?
'Moti Aurat intezaar kr rahi hai'...
"MOTIVATING"

Since HRH is currently going through a knock-knock joke phase (most of whch are not funny) such as
Knock knock
Who's there?
Umm
Umm who?
Ammi!

Umm. Ok. You see what I mean?

He knows a few good ones too like
Knock knock
Who's there?
Deceit
Deceit who?
Deceit of your pants is wet!

And...

Knock knock
Who's there?
Keith
Keith who?
Keith me thweethheart!

But there is no such thing as not knowing enough corny jokes. The next few I intend to teach him are:

what did one pea say to the other?'
'nothing..it just muttered'

What did one flower say to the other?
Why do phools fall in love?

What's a vegetable's favorite love song?
Love me tinda!

What did the half eaten naan say?
I wish I was a poori

Why was the banana crying?
Cos he was a-kela!

These should be funny for a 4 year old, presumably. (I was 16 when I discovered these and I still thought they were hilarious!)

I was thrilled when HRH was a little older and I started showing him Sesame Street and all the classic Disney cartoons and movies like Jungle Book, Mary Poppins, Robin Hood and Peter Pan among many others, not to forget Tom and Jerry, Popeye and Pink Panther. The feeling you get when you find your child loving the same things as you did is really something amazing. To be able to introduce him to the joy you got out of reading a book or watching a movie or doing an activity so many years ago is an experience that cannot be put in words (though I'm trying).

That is not to say that I am blind to what's to come. I remember what an obnoxious teenager I was. How I thought my parents didn't know anything or 'understand' me. All that angst which honestly translated to being a rebel without a cause.

I think Mark Twain summed it up perfectly with "When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years."

So while I await the day (Inshallah) that HRH thinks I know nothing, I will make lists of all the things I want him to see, read, watch and hear and hope that he enjoys them as much as I did.

Life Goes On – Amidst the Death and Destruction

2009-12-08T17:51:00.000+05:00

In the wake of the bombings in Peshawar, Quetta and Lahore yesterday, 8 December 2009 (yet another bloody day in our history), we are left talking once again. We talk about how awful it is. We talk about how depressed we are. We talk about all those lives lost in the violence. We talk about who’s fault it is. We talk about who the culprits are ranging from TTP to JM to RAW to CIA to any other bad guy abbreviation we can think of. (Geo wanted to talk about the NRO 1.5 hours after the deadly Moon Market, Lahore blast in which over 50 people lost their lives and more than 100 people were injured). Life goes on. Buy some Johar Joshanda. Zong connections are awesome. Do the dew.

I am the same as everyone else. I love to talk too. And like everyone else, I too am getting increasingly paranoid. Of course the feeling of paranoia also comes and goes. It will peak when something happens in my city. After a few days I’ll stop thinking about it. After all how long can a human being sustain being on edge?

Almost every day there is a bomb that goes off somewhere in Pakistan. No city has been safe from Peshawar to Islamabad to Lahore to Quetta. No location has been safe either from police stations and intelligence agencies buildings to mosques and markets being targeted. Every few days we are on ‘high alert’. Police at their checkpoints become a little more vigilant and apart from peering into your car may ask you to show them an ID card too. We worry about what will happen if someone decides to blow up that particular checkpoint.

The truth is I am scared. Every time I send my kid to school I say a little prayer. I worry about seeing him safe and sound (especially when I am crossing Bhatta Chowk on the way to his school, where I feel extra paranoid thinking this would be a crowded enough place for anyone who wants to cause some carnage). I go to work and try to forget how many minutes it will take me to pick him up from his school in case there is an emergency. (Provided I will be able to considering in the case of the Sri Lankan team shooting at Liberty Chowk, Lahore, HRH was less than a kilometer away from the scene at school and I couldn’t pick him up until nearly 3 hours later as everyone was scared psycho terrorists were on the loose…which they were and we still have no clue where they are).

What can I say? That I have nightmares of suicide bombers? Or that every time I am in my car and I stop at a traffic light, I look around to see who might be a potential ‘shaheed’? Wanting to take down as many ‘infidels’ as possible or exact revenge for whatever distorted, warped brand of ‘religious’ belief he/she has.

I, along with many others, am sick of having to live like this. Thinking ‘OK during this drive if someone or something was to blow up what would I do? Would I fight or take flight? Would I die instantly? Or would it be a slow-painful-soul-sucking death?’ Perhaps I should just live obliviously and ignorantly and assume nothing will happen to me? Is this how we will all live? In fear? For how long? Pretending to lead safe and fulfilling lives? Always thinking it could be over in a second (or if you’re unlucky perhaps some painful minutes?).

This is not how I want my kid to grow up, with HRH knowing that ‘Taliban are the bad guys’ and asking me to explain what a bomb is or if the army is in his school playground (don’t know where that one came from). Or why there are men with guns standing outside his school gate, inside his playground and on top of his school rooftop.

“These men with guns are here to protect us.”

“Protect us from whom?”

“From the bad guys.”

“Will the bad guys come to my school?”

Not if they had half a brain between them. Or a conscience. Or a soul. Oh but they do apparently have some god and some half-baked interpretation of paradise. And we must not forget the ‘x’ number of virgins.

I believe in God. I pray every day. Though not in the five times a day we are supposed to perhaps. I believe in being as good as I can be. But no I don’t cover my head. I don’t pray in the manner prescribed. And no I don’t lose any sleep over it either. I also don’t believe that it is the be all and end all of being a ‘Muslim’.

No one buys into the warped brand of Islam the suicide-bomber squads are pushing and we all unanimously think that something needs to be done to stop them. There is a consensus on that at least. However, no one seems to know how or what to do.

So while our cities burn and we count our dead, life goes on. We send our kids to school. We go to work. We hang out with our friends. And we talk.

Getting a Grasp on God

2009-12-08T11:57:00.000+05:00

A conversation HRH, my 4 year old son, had with me the other day regarding life, death and God.

HRH: Ammi, what is 'dead'?

Me: Umm..dead is when you go to sleep for a long time.

HRH: On a bed?

Me: No, you go to live with Allah.

HRH: Where is Allah?

Me: He's really high up and no one can see Him

HRH: Is Allah a boy?

Me: No..He's not a boy

HRH: So why do we say He?

Me: Err...we just do. (Standard parental response to anything that requires too much time to explain or to which you don't know the answer)

HRH: Does Allah wear clothes?

Me: No..

HRH (looking surprised): Is he naked?

Me: No He isn't a human being so He doesn't need to wear clothes.

HRH: So what does He look like?

Me: No one knows what He looks like. He's not a boy or a girl but we just say 'He'.

HRH (looking unsatisfied by response but lets it go):So dead people live with Allah?

Me: Yes

HRH: Does Allah play with them?

Me: No because they are asleep.

HRH: When will they wake up?

Me: There's a day when everyone who is dead wakes up.

HRH: Then what happens?

Me: Then people who were good go to a really nice place to live.

HRH: In a house?

Me: Maybe. It's a really beautiful place with delicious food.

HRH: Like chocolate cake?

Me: Yup. Lots of chocolate cake and other things too.

HRH: And the bad people?

Me: They go on a time-out. Forever.

Lead The Way. Someone? Anyone?

2009-12-06T18:52:00.000+05:00

I was talking (or rather tweeting) with someone some time ago and there was a discussion (of sorts in 140 characters or less) on the lack of leadership in Pakistan and what characteristics an ideal leader should possess.

Here's a list of attributes that I feel would be of great importance in anyone leading our nation:

Honest

Educated - at least a Master's degree (a real one)

Professional - doctor, lawyer, engineer, IT professional etc

Work experience of a certain number of years at least

International exposure in education/professional career - studied or worked abroad

Foresight to see what needs to be done long term in all areas

Courage to stand up to landowners, fundamentalists, all other groups with vested interests in all fields whether in civilian organizations, military, politics etc

Strong enough to stand up to outside powers ie the US

Supporter of secularism - leave religion out of the country's running and focus on the real issues

Capable of understanding and promoting the importance of education, literacy, accountability, women's rights etc

Not surrounded by ignorant henchmen or yes-men but with a council of similarly educated professionals who can advise and counsel honestly without fear

Two Muslim countries we should look up to and try to emulate are Turkey and Malaysia.

Will the Pakistani Mustafa Kemal or Dr. Mahathir please step forward?

The Case of Imanae Malik – How one person CAN make a difference

2009-12-06T03:33:00.000+05:00

The loss of a child is something no one wants to even begin to imagine. Being the mother of a 4 year old I certainly don’t. My son, who I refer to as HRH (His Royal Highness), drives me up the wall, as children of this age are wont to do. Endless questions, mind games and battles of will combined with the displays of love and affection which comes spontaneously, makes it all worth it (as clichéd as that may sound).

So when you hear of a child’s death, however old the child in question may be, it is a tragedy. A tragedy for the parents who invested so much love and care into the upbringing of a being that they would have molded to ensure that he or she was the best they could be, and a tragedy for the world, for having lost someone who may have one day had the potential to change something for the better.

The death of 3 year old Imanae Malik on 29 November 2009, on the second day of Eid, was such a tragedy. Only this tragedy was all the worse for it could have been avoided.

The facts are such:
Imanae burnt her fingers from some hot water. She was in pain. Her parents rushed her to Doctors Hospital, Johar Town, Lahore. The doctor on duty then gave her an injection which also did not help for she continued to cry and complain of pain. After that she was given another injection, used as an anesthetic for patients who are to be put on a ventilator. She was not put on a ventilator and must have passed away within minutes. On realizing Imanae had no heartbeat the staff started CPR. The hospital staff then insisted she be taken elsewhere as they did not have a baby ventilator and they could not treat her further. They claimed they had no ambulance to provide them and refused to send their doctor with Imanae’s parents. Instead a ward boy was sent with them. Imanae’s parents then took her to Children’s Hospital in their own car, where she was pronounced dead on arrival.

Who is to blame?

The doctor on duty who was on a locum and turns out to not even have had an authenticated medical degree? Or the hospital administration that allowed such a person to work in their hospital knowingly or unknowingly? What is the level of scrutiny for medical staff before they are unleashed on unsuspecting patients (read victims)? What is the appropriate punishment for the level of negligence shown that day?

Nothing can change the fact that Imanae is gone and cannot be brought back. This is something her parents will have to live with for the rest of their lives. However we can all ensure that her death was not in vain.

Aqeel and Maheen Malik, the parents of Imanae decided that while they may have lost their beloved child, this should not and would not happen to anyone else’s loved one. With the support of many others who mourned the loss of this young child, and others who had also suffered at the hands of the so-called healers at Doctors Hospital, they have started a campaign to inform others of the atrocities committed that day and on days past. Through widespread awareness they managed to get the Chief Minister Shahbaz Sharif involved who constituted a committee to investigate the case. This committee then presented some recommendations which included that Doctors Hospital be shut down and the administration of the hospital be charged with criminal negligence. This fight for justice is far from over. It has probably only just begun. With the support of the public and the media, we can ensure that the outcome is one which we can all benefit from.

We all sit in our drawing rooms, wring our hands, have heated debates over our dinner tables about what all is wrong with our country. Then we sigh ‘Ah well what can you do?’ Well we can do something. Aqeel Malik has shown us that we can.

All our prayers go out to the little angel Imanae, who has gone where all angels go, and to her parents to have the strength to make it through this tragic event. The courage and resilience shown by Aqeel and Maheen should be applauded. What Aqeel Malik has displayed to all of us is that one man CAN make a difference. We should all take heart in this achievement and support him in his on-going battle, while thanking him for trying to make this city a little safer for all of us.

Please support this cause and visit http://www.imanae.co.uk/ for more details.

Life Change Unit

HRH Makes a Newspaper

Is It So Hard To Say?

Better at Bullying, Paying Dues & Holiday Highlights

HRH: Ammi you're an even bigger bully than me.

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HRH: No homework today...No torture for me and you!

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HRH: You and Baba get paid for going to the office. Why don't I get paid for going to school? That's my job.

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Me: I missed you when you went to spend the night at Nano's. Did you miss me? HRH: Umm...it was just one night and we were both in Lahore.

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HRH: I'll never wash my child's potty Me: Who'll do it then? HRH: I'll make my wife do it Me: Baba washes you doesn't he? HRH: Yes but I don't want to get my hands dirty

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Conversations during the winter holidays in Italy and Spain -

Faisal: We'll be going back to Lahore soon HRH: Noooo...I want to live in holidays

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HRH: I saw two people kissing on the lips on the metro...it was really gross Me: Hmm HRH: They didn't stop kissing Faisal: That's ok HRH: But their tongues were also touching

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Career motivation after a walk down La Rambla, Barcelona -

HRH: I want to be a street performer when I grow up

Me: What kind of performer?

HRH: I'll be a statue sitting in the air

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At DXB airport, waiting impatiently for Faisal to be done with eye scan -

Religious Reckoning

Sentence to Death

Religious Medication, How to Draw Booty, Vowing Vengeance & More

Alien Invasion (....Luckily They Didn't Stay Long)

Getting an Earful, Suggestions for Space, Clearing up Clarity & Watery Wisdom

Siri Silliness

New(s) Headlines

Boys Don't Hug, Faulty Flagging, National Analysis & Freedom

Me: I'm going for coffee with my friends. HRH: So it'll be just me and Baba? Me: Yes HRH: Thank God...Baba always says yes to whatever I say.

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HRH (looking intently at a pic of our president in an old newspaper): Was Zardari always a crook, since he was a child?

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HRH: I know the source of oil Me: Wow..really? So what is the source of oil? HRH: Oil tanks

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HRH: Who's Nawaz Sharif? Me: He's the head of the PML-N party HRH: And Zardari? Me: He's PPP HRH: Pee pee pee..lots of peeing

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HRH (after drawing the flag of Pakistan): Ammi, I know what the colored parts of the flag mean..the white part is the Muslims..and the green part is the maulvis.

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Me (giving HRH a hug): You're my baby HRH: I am not. I am a big boy..I have my own life now.

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Pushing Literary Boundaries

When I Am 40+ (Or Hell, Any Age At All)

Tentacles, Religious Remix & Political Awakenings

Profound political discussion - HRH: Who's the next biggest crook after Zardari? Something Ali? Me: Gilani? There are too many crooks unfortunately. HRH: Too many pottys.

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HRH: When you were small did you tell your teacher she's pretty? Me: I don't remember. Why? Do you want to tell your teacher that? HRH: No..it was just a hypocritical question. Me: You mean hypothetical? HRH: Yes

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Adele's 'Rolling in the deep' - the HRH remix :

'There's a fire burning in my nose..reaching a fever pitch and its bringing it out the butt'

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HRH: Are you sure Sandoz On works? I haven't seen any mosquitoes bouncing off me..

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NanaAbu: Come pray with me HRH: I don't want to. I wish I was a Christian then no one would ask me to pray.

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HRH: Who's Imran Khan?

Me: He's someone who played cricket for Pakistan, then he built a hospital and now he wants to be the leader of Pakistan

HRH: First he was a cricketer, then he was a builder and now he wants to be a leader? He should make up his mind what he wants to be.

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The day Steve Jobs died -

HRH: How did James Bond die? Faisal: James Bond isn't real..he's just a character in books and movies HRH: No Baba..James Bond the one who made the iPhone and iPad

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HRH (climbing on Faisal): I'm an octopus Faisal: Actually you are a quad-ropus cos you only have 4 tentacles and an octopus has 8 HRH: My pee thing also counts, so that's five.

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Me: We're buddies too right? HRH: Yes Me: Yay! So who's the better buddy..Baba or me? HRH: You are both equal. Now stop with the buddy business.

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HRH: If you're looking for fun..all you need is a gun. Me (horrified): No..What? Where did you hear that? HRH: Looney Tunes...it's wabbit season!

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Wills, Cucumbers, Prayers & Punishments

HRH: When do you write your will? Me: Before you die HRH: But how do you know you are about to die? Me: Well that's why you do it way before..why do you want to write a will anyway? HRH: For giving away my toys.

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HRH: I want to eat keeras. Me: You want to eat insects? HRH: No..that green vegetable.. Me: Oh kheeras.

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HRH: You are being very rude today. I am very disappointed in you, mother.

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Me: I missed you when you went to spend the night at Nano's. Did you miss me?
HRH: Umm...it was just one night and we were both in Lahore.

HRH: I'll never wash my child's potty
Me: Who'll do it then?
HRH: I'll make my wife do it
Me: Baba washes you doesn't he?
HRH: Yes but I don't want to get my hands dirty

Faisal: We'll be going back to Lahore soon
HRH: Noooo...I want to live in holidays

HRH: I saw two people kissing on the lips on the metro...it was really gross
Me: Hmm
HRH: They didn't stop kissing
Faisal: That's ok
HRH: But their tongues were also touching

Me: I'm going for coffee with my friends.
HRH: So it'll be just me and Baba?
Me: Yes
HRH: Thank God...Baba always says yes to whatever I say.

HRH: I know the source of oil
Me: Wow..really? So what is the source of oil?
HRH: Oil tanks

HRH: Who's Nawaz Sharif?
Me: He's the head of the PML-N party
HRH: And Zardari?
Me: He's PPP
HRH: Pee pee pee..lots of peeing

Me (giving HRH a hug): You're my baby
HRH: I am not. I am a big boy..I have my own life now.

Profound political discussion -
HRH: Who's the next biggest crook after Zardari? Something Ali?
Me: Gilani? There are too many crooks unfortunately.
HRH: Too many pottys.

HRH: When you were small did you tell your teacher she's pretty?
Me: I don't remember. Why? Do you want to tell your teacher that?
HRH: No..it was just a hypocritical question.
Me: You mean hypothetical?
HRH: Yes

NanaAbu: Come pray with me
HRH: I don't want to. I wish I was a Christian then no one would ask me to pray.

HRH: How did James Bond die?
Faisal: James Bond isn't real..he's just a character in books and movies
HRH: No Baba..James Bond the one who made the iPhone and iPad

HRH (climbing on Faisal): I'm an octopus
Faisal: Actually you are a quad-ropus cos you only have 4 tentacles and an octopus has 8
HRH: My pee thing also counts, so that's five.

Me: We're buddies too right?
HRH: Yes
Me: Yay! So who's the better buddy..Baba or me?
HRH: You are both equal. Now stop with the buddy business.

HRH: If you're looking for fun..all you need is a gun.
Me (horrified): No..What? Where did you hear that?
HRH: Looney Tunes...it's wabbit season!

HRH: When do you write your will?
Me: Before you die
HRH: But how do you know you are about to die?
Me: Well that's why you do it way before..why do you want to write a will anyway?
HRH: For giving away my toys.

HRH: I want to eat keeras.
Me: You want to eat insects?
HRH: No..that green vegetable..
Me: Oh kheeras.

Me: Go pray with NanaAbu
HRH: I'll pray when I'm 7. I'm only 6..that's a small number.
Me: You went to Eid namaz and to one Friday namaz also remember?
HRH: Ya so that's enough for now. I'll pray in a few months.

HRH (complaining to Nano about me): Nano, she snatched the phone from me
Me: Who's 'she' Eisa?
HRH: That's your punishment for snatching from me. I will call you 'she'.

HRH: Why did Allah make bogeys?
Me: Umm...I don't know..
HRH: You always don't know anything.

Me: Eisa come and talk to me
HRH: I'm watching TV..
Me: You can watch TV later can't you? I'm so bored
HRH: Hmm..I'll let you know in 15 minutes what my suggestions are.

Me: Go and wash your hands. Don't make me say it again.
HRH: Please stop gritting your teeth at me. Otherwise I have a long list of punishments for you..like hiding your phone or telling your mum.

HRH misbehaving -
NanaAbu: I am going to get really angry with you now.
HRH: Uh oh. NanaAbu is going to squash me like a bug.

HRH: Do I have to get married?
Khala: You don't have to if you don't want to
HRH: What a relief.

Me: There's an insane amount of homework to do in these holidays
HRH: Torture for both of us.

Faisal: What the...
HRH: Don't say the word. Just say 'what the' and 'why the'.

Me: Hurry up and practice your Urdu imla words
HRH: Forget it Ammi
Me: No I can't forget it
HRH: Ammi you don't have to win everything. I'll just do my best...without studying.

Me: Please don't be rude to me. It makes me sad and I feel like crying
HRH: ...more like pouncing.

NanaAbu: Come here and give me a hug
HRH: Men don't kiss men.

Faisal force-feeding Eisa breakfast -
HRH: If I say bad words in my head then that's ok right?
Faisal: No it's not.
HRH: But they aren't coming out of my mouth
Faisal: ...wait..are you thinking those about me??
HRH: grin

Me: Do you need to pee?
HRH: No.
Me: So stop touching yourself then
HRH: It’s part of my body so I can touch it

Me: We are not going to play after school today ok? We'll come straight home, got it?
HRH (with a sigh): I know when I'm beaten.

HRH: Allah can't see us when we do bad things right?
Me: Yes He can. He can see us all the time.
HRH: So why does He need the left and right shoulder angels to write and send messages about what we're doing?