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Continue reading...23. July 2008
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Continue reading...Written by Batool Habib
July 30, 2008 | Published in Opinions, Pages from Life, Random Thoughts
Wanna give your esteem that extra boost?
PUMP your morale?
Become hotness personified!?
Try the following:
1. A haircut - even a simple trim does wonders to make you feel good
2. A Dye job - preferrably in deep red and copper (understated is always so much hotter)
3. A manicure and pedicure - pamper those tootsies 
4. A new outfit - who doesnt like new clothes!
5. and lastly - a big BIG SMILE!
(nothing is more attractive than a happy person)
bring out the boa feathers, and have fun girls 
Written by Batool Habib
July 30, 2008 | Published in Opinions, Pages from Life
The only fact in this book - is that General Zia’s plane took off , and crashed four minutes later.
The rest is a delightful tale of fiction, with a humourous version of zia’s character, of the mangoes in the plane…the imagery is delightful, the author has painted many a vivid picture of army life…the uniforms,the C 130’s… The marching, and smiles, that were betrayed by body language..
Today, at the reading, Mohammad Hanif, in his own voice, brought to life the characters, their various roles. Most amusing perhaps, was the scene in the jail cell, the poetry enscribed in beautiful urdu, and stuffed in a hole in the mattress.. The overuse of the word pansy..and the irony of the letterbox when the letters never come..
The author himself is quite interesting - he lives abroad, and his book was published in india… quite the global mix for the pakistani audience.. specially since the book has three different covers.. the Pakistani version had a picture of zia in black n whit, with a maroon plane crashing under his face. The Indian version has a mango with a crow pecking at it…and the American version has a mango with a wick which is burning…just like a time bomb about to go off!!
All in all, a fabulous reading by a fabulous author of a fabulous book. Do get your hands on a copy..
Written by Batool Habib
July 30, 2008 | Published in Pages from Life, Random Thoughts
The black square package lays before me - The red lettering tells me these are light gauge strings… The sealed sepia packet spills out of the flap, the overlapping tags on each individual rounded coil clearly visible. Two picks, a purple and a red, poke out of the side of the package…
I snap out of my reverie when the gentleman behind the counter asks me if I want anything else… I smile, pay the man, and leave…
* * * *
Familiar music plays… Fingers glides over the strings, producing wave after wave of soothing melody..and wave after wave of emotion…My thoughts wander… Scenes play in my head like screenshots from a movie… The past year flashes by…. His question flashes on my screen, but my hurt does not allow me to reply… My head is tilted downwards, my elbows rest on my knees… Only my eyes flicker upwards.. a single tear trickles down..and I sing… “It’s too late…to apologize…. Its too late….”
Written by Amir Saleem
July 24, 2008 | Published in Pages from Life, Random Thoughts
In the morning, while on my way to the bus stop, I often see this gentleman cleaning the footpath. Plenty of dust flies around while he cleans from one end to the other. Cleaning is a kind act in itself; but he adds more to it.
The first time I ran across him, he saw me approaching from a distance. I thought, “Damn, I am all dressed up to nine and this guy is about to mess it all up.” My feet stuttered for a moment and then I saw him stopping his work and letting the dust settle down as I went by. No harm done to my spotless dress or my hair or my shoes. I would reach office in a clean attire.
And then it happened a number of times in coming days. He would stop his work as soon he saw me approaching. “I owe him an expression of gratitude” I would always think but couldn’t utter a word. How can I ever lecture anyone on ethics and morals?
Today, as I passed by him, I finally looked at him. He had that polite smile on his face while he stood there, his work all held up because of me. I smiled back at him and said, “Thank you”. A strange thing happened; I felt light, some load went off my mind.
Him doing his job, cleaning the place where I live, is kind enough; but doing it with such consideration is noble.
Look around. Appreciate.
Written by Batool Habib
July 24, 2008 | Published in Pages from Life, Random Thoughts
Surma.
Henna.
Rooh Afza.
Oil, a comb, and a mirror.
Shot glasses, ironically, to drink holy water.
Ittar …
All the things a bride needs ….
.. if only she were to be a bride.
Written by Amir Saleem
July 23, 2008 | Published in Opinions
Inzamam Ul Haq
March 21, 1992. Auckland
He wrote the lyrics for the songs of their glory. He breezed through the obstacles and stroked his way to victory; he even made the word “victory” sound easy. 60 runs off 37 balls is a mere statistic; but having the guts and courage to fight the odds and lift the curse of Pakistan never winning a World Cup semi final is a page of history written by the gentle giant; the man they call Inzamam ul Haq.
In the days that fell afterwards, they sang the songs he wrote, they danced on the tunes he composed with his bat, they rested in comfort for he was yet to come to bat, they trusted their heartfelt wishes of victory for he was still on the crease, they screamed with joy for he had won it for them once again.
His calmness was his trait and his humbleness a habit. Others would bat well on their day, but he would bat with utmost ease and passion of a cornered tiger whenever he wanted to; whenever he was in his mood. He could and did make many bowlers seem as ineffective as a door of sand standing in the way of a hurricane. His fifties, his hundreds, would, more than often, mean that Pakistan would not lose the match. He stood their with his subtle presence, even sometimes unnoticed, stealing the moments and incentives from the opponents, playing a better mind game and walking away with pride, as a winner.
For 15 years, he was a hero.
March 21, 2007. Jamaica
They wrote the slogans of hatred for him; they rose in anger and disrespect, they burnt his posters and dented his persona with words of wrath. One match, one defeat, one ousting stood between them and him. A thick fog of disgust and fury rolled in. They forgot; he was the hero.They blamed him for being emotionless on the field, for being a passive captain, for being stubborn in his team selection, and above all they started questioning his performance as a batsman and ultimately objecting to his presence in the team. They did not have the patience nor the moral courage to let him go with glory he earned and honor he deserved. They had their reasons, their logics, their arguments to prove he was the guilty; that a patriot had turned into a traitor. He had only one reason to prove them wrong; his passion to play cricket.
His passion still alive, he stepped in the field for one last time in an ODI, to rekindle the magic he once had so skillfully woven, on the same day, a decade and a half ago; to relive those moments of purified willingness to achieve greatness, to bring back the memories into their minds of the strokes that brought them their most prized glory. But pain had taken over his will, a flame flickered hard before it went off; 37 runs on his last outing and Jamaica bid farewell to a traitor.
They let him go.
They forgot … he is a hero.
Inzama ul Haq, unarguably Pakistan’s greatest One Day batsman, retired from this form of cricket on March 21, 2007.
23. July 2008
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