Say Something Let’s Talk

It's humid and warm in Karachi. I have drawn up my baint ki kursi right up to the centre of main chowk. I have two almost new Deer pencils, lovely thick notepaper, a mug of coffee and plan to call out for some dilpasand chaat soon. Of course you chowkwalay will transalate and know that for once the bijlee is actually there and all is well in Netscape!

I guess all I really want to do is talk. I want to talk about the terribleness of the Pakistani economy and share with you the awesome truth that this time when we counted the nations money we spoke of negative Capital Investment. I want to talk about Nusrat Fateh Ali and tell you that I for one would never have heard of him if he had not been popular already and regretfully I never did meet him and now never will. But know him, I did, for I loved his music.

I want to talk about the invasion of Indian television and cinema into our homes in Pakistan and how I don't see the great difference between us as people. And about what a farce political dialogue is and how politicians don't talk about what they mean but rather hope that what they say convinces someone else to do what they want. Much like relationships gone wrong and getting worse. I want to speak about how wonderful it is to belong to this nation and how nice it feels to be part of it. In spite of, and humorously because of, being the second most corrupt nation in the world. (why not first?...I feel almost cheated).

I also want to ask whether you over there way across from Dilpasand Chaathouse down in Silicon Valley ever worry about the Ozone layer and HOW will ’they' ever fill it with nice clean oxygen. I want to wonder about why big words mean so little and how little ones so much. I want to ask why is it that leaves in Karachi are a different green from the ones in Lahore. About why the ’Mohajirs' sing ’Punjabi' wedding songs but still feel superior to one another? I want to share my delight at attending weddings in Pakistan these days and getting lots of drinks if the hosts are pretentious and just a coke if not. I want to loudly hope that the bride and bridegroom may one day actually behave like they are happy and the bride may actually MOVE from the ’Stage' and behave as though she did say ’Yes' when they asked.

I want to ask whether you fellow Chowkwalay ever wonder of a cloudy evening whether the side of clouds away from us looks the same as the one we see? Yes I know one can see the other side on a plane; but then one does not see this side...I want to talk about Buddhism and Descartes. I want to speak of Iqbal and humanism. I want to ask why is it that we don't know how much we love something till we lose it ? Is that what will happen with Pakistan? I want to ask why Winnie the Pooh's little red jacket never quite covers his tummy. Do you think he feels cold? Or have I missed the point a bit?

I want to ask whether you over there ever feel like the rat race is making you a rat? That the shininess of your souls is something you don't think about anymore? I want to speak in fanciful terms and basic terms and terms of negotiation. I want to postulate and pontificate. I want to debate and tear your ideas to bits and have you pull mine to bits. I want to say what I want; and I want to hear what you have to say. I want to learn from you and grow.

Say something...let's talk.