there is a bad smell in the air.. like someone died.. no kidding, just a few billion bakras uh... zooming on way to a baasi eid lunch, we stop at the traffic signal before the clifton flyover, opposite the marriot... in a yellow cab come 6 jawaan ka bachaaz, chowkidaars and drivers they look like, remarks my amma.. they are singing a sweet, ajeeb sa song... without looking towards them for thats not done, i try and listen to what they are singing.. its in pushto and the men are in bright mirrored caps... two of them are sitting with their hands resting behind the seat, under their heads.. its very very strange... its also very very touching.. theyre singing softly...theres somethign very moving about the song these grown men are singing... and it reminds me of a dholki many years ago where my cousins hindustani boyfriends sister was getting married.. the old ladies in that house would sing a song after which the young boys and girls would sing some cheap indian song .. it went on for a few hours... one song i remeber.. kya laya kya laya, gajrae ka mala laya.. the women sang in a slow, excritiating way.. kya laaayaaa- kyaaaa layaaa... they sang seriously, one would close her eyes and sway.. old woman in purple sari.. these men reminded me of that.. they made me, for some odd reason, want to die of love... but then we had to get to the lunch

what is it about beign cryptic? why is it so cool? who uses cool nowadays? hell. who uses nowadays, nowadays? three weeks of unbridled shopping, eating and chilling with paindoo family...indyeaah, here i come.. and i do believe, thats as non cryptic as one can get