Samandar-e-Bemaina - The Abbasnama

while the title of this post does indeed refer to the nightingale of india, sarojini naidu (specifically in her capacity as the woman who wrote this piece of magic), like any good dan brown reader, you're supposed to focus on the duality of meaning - so any other nightingales reading this can take this for an apology for the little outburst at the valima.

anyway that's settled then. i hope.

now that the days of the palanquin bearers has passed and all the mystery and magic of the traditional wedding has evaporated under the sunbeams of practicality, wedding transport is about as magical as the flush on your toilet. no grooms on horseback. no palkis for the brides. 2d, 1e, 4l and even 52a. the big black smoke spewing diesel engined road monsters of the day are the garishly decorated washed and scrubbed carriers of the barats by night.

picnic aur party ke liye says the sign on the back.

the bride, normally, waits for the perpetually late barat at the house, nervously sweating away under the layers of makeup and jewelry. and when the barat does arrive, shes rushed to the venue, typically with the driver and one of her aunts.

so the song changes...

the nervous bride

swiftly o swiftly to the crossroads i fly
i cant even breathe as my life passes by
i cant even speak when i want to scream
and they told me it would be just like a dream
gaily o gaily they dance and they sing
i dont even know what the future will bring

the harried aunt

lovely o lovely she looks like a doll
this driver cant drive, we're going at a crawl
she looks just as fresh as dawn's first drop of dew
just the right type of look when u start life anew
now i've got the nose ring, the lipstick and comb
oh shit i forgot the damn sehra at home

the forgotten driver

loudly o loudly they've yelled all day long
whatever i do - its got to be wrong
come here, go there, don't take long, hurry back
i've been working so long, i'm soon going to crack
i took her to school, she still calls me bhai
i'll be there when they take her with a tear in my eye

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 12:52 AM | Permalink | Comments

hulleye comes by.: taking a dump

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 3:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

this is beginning to get interesting. and the comments recieved show how much into other people we desis all are.

the last table in the second row

I

she looks to her left deliberately ignoring the girl on the other side of the table. she listens to her neighbour’s gossip. there’s no makeup for the wrinkles on her brow.

“why did he have to say yes to just her? i showed him so many girls. now she’s stolen him from me, little witch.”

II

she looks to her right deliberately ignoring the woman on the other side of the table. the smiling hellos can’t hide the flow of thoughts broadcasted by the distracted eyes.

“if she hated me so much why did she bring me home? and he can’t even stand up to her. if only amma were alive…”

III

he sits in the middle tired, bored, frustrated. he’s been working late, avoiding the reality that is waiting at home. he’s nearly thirty and still no peace at home. he looks at the distant relative with the grandson in his lap and smiles ruefully, wishing they would understand.

“theres enough of me to go around.”

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 12:27 PM | Permalink | Comments

the series continues...

guest 1

he’s been sitting for the past two hours looking for someone he recognizes. no good. “should i remove one of the thousand rupee notes from the envelope?“ he wishes the host had the balls to flout the law and serve dinner.

he leaves two thousand bucks poorer with a pocket full of uneaten chhuaras.

guest 2

she flits around from table to table. “you’re looking lovely!” “long time no see!” “oh this is your niece??!! she looks just like you!” hollow words - yet everyone follows the ritual.

she glances at the bride and notices the one piece of jewelry she can’t wear, hoping the mascara hides the divorced-ness from her eyes.

guest 3

he looks around nervously before sitting at a corner table. no need for introductions, just discuss cricket and the weather. the families are obviously large and from all over so its easier to blend in.

this is the eighteenth wedding he’s attended in this hall. he knows nobody but a free meal’s a free meal.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 1:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

this is a very good video i found on youtube. even though its singaporean or malaysian or something i feel you'll find all the five attitudes displayed in it right here in karachi. out of my few regular readers, mahwash and sheza you two might be able to associate with some of it...

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 1:07 PM | Permalink | Comments

time, time, time! wish i had more time to write. until then tolerate my 55ers. and i'm continuing with the shadi series because of the shadi season. it seems kind of appropriate.

father of the bride

“i’ll ask them for an advance. payable by the end of the year. they know my daughter’s getting married and there are expenses. they won’t refuse. thirty years of loyal service.”

he clicks on the lotusmail shortcut it took so long to get accustomed to.

"we are sorry but due to the current rightsizing process…"

the qazi

for these thirteen minutes that he’s the centre of attention he feels power in his being. his voice gets louder and clearer as if filled with a resonance that is achieved only for the occasion. the groom signs the nikahnama, thanks him, and embraces him.

he is steadily ignored for the rest of the evening.

the waiter

he sneaks a glance at the girls dancing in front of the stage then looks around guiltily to see where his boss is. The one in the brown shalwar kameez and gold dupatta is so beautiful. Just like he always pictured his girls in his fantasies.

“sharfoo jaldi aa!” his boss calls out.

“aaya sahib”

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 11:36 AM | Permalink | Comments

i found a really cool shorts site. and after what is typically icemanic in nature, an interlude that is so long its almost an epoch, i've decided to restart the 55 fiction thing. and syaing that takes some nerve whaen you consider i only made one post last time round.

anyways here goes.

mother of the bride

she watches with all the weary concern of a desi mother as the new in-laws do their own family’s rituals with the bride. face taut, nerves wracked. “that woman has no etiquette, she better keep my daughter happy”

the bride glances up, searching out her mother through the yellow chiffon. eyes meet.

“she hates me”

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments

Xill-e-Ilahi: .... blah blah blah [ad nauseum]

N: hmmm

Xill-e-Ilahi: [pause] [pause] uh... khair.

i never liked the way people normally talk and chat nowadays. all the formality, the verbal flourishes, the "calculated to make an impact" stuff has gone. its usually just a statement in response to a statement these days. even the most impassioned of debators simply add inflection to what used to be the vocabulary of a six year old.

but every now and then our new mode comes up with a gem. "hmmm" she said. that word can hav so many meanings. so many contexts. yes, oh really, exactly, yeah right, whatever... you have to hear it to understand.

and sometimes bored people can be very interesting. hmmm.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 11:03 AM | Permalink | Comments

ok shoaib was already out. asif and sami are in doubt and to compound things rana is gone too. who's going to bowl? the umpire?

the good news is that federer is still the king. finally we have a proper tennis rivalry. read more. as my brother-in law was saying, the michael jordan of tennis.

which brings me to the subject of this post. who is the greatest of the greatest in his own field? would it be mohammad ali, the flamboyant boxer who was an inspiration to millions? or michael jordan, the basketballer par excellence? or even tiger woods, the mild mannered golfing prodigy? none of them.

it would have to be and i mean absolutely have to be our own down to earth jahangir khan. this is the guy who didn't lose a match for five years and eight months (five years!). a winning streak of an unbelievable 555 matches. and after losing that one match he had another undefeated run of nine months. he once won a championship without conceding a single point. i don't think any professional sportsman can match that record no matter what sport we choose. true hero. even if we don't always think of him when we list the major sortsmen of the past century.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 2:02 AM | Permalink | Comments

there's actually a copy of the video on youtube, which i haven't imbedded here because i'm a bit nervous about the copyright infringement and other associated crap - but i am putting down the lyrics of the song which i seem to like more every day. even though i am so not a rock person.

madhosh hoon, gum hoon kahin
aao yahan, yoonhi kabhi

khamosh hoon, hoon beqarar
aao yahan tum aik baar

aansoo-on main chupaye hain saaray gham
chahat teri na ho kum, bus yehi dua

chup main nahi, na bayzuban
kuch tou suno, yoonhi sahi
keh do jo tum bus aik baar
meray ho tum, yoonhi kabhi

aansoo-on main chupaye hain saaray gham
chahat teri na ho kum, bus yehi dua

bichar kay bhi
alag na ho saka
mujh say too
teri yaad hai saanson main meri har dum
kabhi socha na tha keh kabhi woh qadam
chor jaingaye mujhe...

sadioun ki hai yeh lagun
kaisay kar doun main khatam
aagaye bhi hain aur jahaan
abb shoro hai nayi dastaan

aansoo-on main chupaye hain saaray gham
chahat teri na ho kum, bus yehi dua

bichar kay bhi
alag na ho saka
mujh say too
teri yaad hai saanson main meri har dum
kabhi socha na tha keh kabhi woh qadam
chor jaingaye mujhe...

chor jaingaye mujhe
bichar kay bhi
chor jaingaye mujheee...

call - bichar ke bhi

you have to hear it to feel it. as my man, the stud, would say, "yaar awaaz set karanee parey gee ye gana gaanay ke liye...."



in more disturbing news, zidane made an almighty mess of what was supposed to be his crowning glory and can arguably be blamed for costing france the world cup. shame on you zizou! to think i once called you the jahangir khan of football...

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 2:29 AM | Permalink | Comments

irfi has had the most boring love marriage i've ever been too. all the rasms were more or less come, sit, eat, go things. wierd when you consider the couple is positively radiating happiness. happy life buddy. hope its more fun than you're shadi. and may i never see the retard who spilled my mountain dew again.

my new paraa head has saddled me with the unwelcome but slightly motivating responsibility of review. this may not sound like much but when you consider its not just "review" but official documented "reviewed by" and all the associated shit it makes me wonder why the people in the other paraa don't have to do it. they should. the increased responsibility will definitely improve audit quality and isn't that what pricewaterhouse coopers in 2006 is all about. radical move. but its still unwelcome. largely because i then have to bear the brunt of mango and aitch ell's own review.

theres something awesomely amazing about sawan ki pehli phuaar. even when its accompanied by power cuts and a sweaty two hour wait for the fans to go on again. rain in karachi is bad. the roads (what's left of them) get dangerous, the electricity goes off, the poor thousands of homeless have horrible nights - and yet rain in karachi is good. its like every raindrop brings a smile to someone's face. like the water somehow washes away the sense of despair in everyone's lives. we love rain. and if its drizzling when you're listening to tina sani singing faiz's bahar aiyee, well then its simply magic.

bahar aiyee to jaise ek baar
laut aaye hain phir adum se
woh khwaab saare, shabaab saare
jo teray honton pe mar mite they
jo mit ke har baar phir jiiye the
nikhar gaye hain gulaab saare
jo terii yaadon se mushkbuu hain
jo tere ushshaaq kaa lahuu hain
ubal pare hain azaab saare
malaal-e-ahavaal-e-dostan bhi
khumaar-e-aaghosh-e-mahwashan bhi
ghubaar-e-khatir ke baab saare
tere hamaare
savaal saare, javaab saare
bahaar aiyee to khul gaye hain
naye sire se hisaab saare

faiz ahmed faiz, 1975


and that reminds me of another faiz gem. one he wrote in jail in the 1950s.

dil na-umeed nahin, na-kam hee to hai
lambee hai gham ki sham, magar sham hee to hai

nothing captures hope for a better tomorrow than that. nothing.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 2:38 AM | Permalink | Comments

N: the subject is veneration... i painted a picture of a girl once... theres a man's shirt hanging out to dry, quite obviously wet... she's sitting with her back to the observer holding up a glass and collecting the drops dripping from it....


now thats poetry. without even using words.


and she was discussing it with me to see if i could come up with some ideas.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 3:20 PM | Permalink | Comments

apparently bitching about low readership levels on your blog is a good thing. not only did deevan of the rambling on blog fame give me some dilasa (beautiful word dilasa, just like bharaas and takalluf)but this guy named adil najam, who happens to be an assistant professor at this fancy american university, actually quoted me extensively on his own blog which is very cool to say the least.

just the thig to brighten up an otherwise dull day. as malik would have said, main bhi star banoon ga

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 2:17 AM | Permalink | Comments

and this is all of us after the dholki - all eleven cousins (for the first time in years), the first "through marriage" relation, and the next generation.

and for the record i'm not tall enough to earn that peechay wala spot, i'm standing on the dhol.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 1:01 PM | Permalink | Comments

tonight was fun. even though the day started with me answering mango's phone call.

we had dinner at the wannabe zone - taanbay ki kaitlee, because sheeba wanted to go there. been a long time since iv'e hung out with that crowd. sheebas daughter is an angel, mashAllah, sheeba herself is exactly the same as she was eight years ago when we joined college, roohama's as nuts as ever and sarah is well, sarah. no need to say more. and unplanned and unorganized as it was (and frankly the food sucked) we had what is becoming a rare thing for me, stuff i could throw my head back and laugh about - without it being part of the class clown facade.

the rest of the night was fun too. even though it was a dholki and i dont like stuff that has anything to do with weddings. i mean most funerals are more fun than shadis. try singing aaj jaaney ki zid na kero and mujh se pehli si muhabbat meray mehboob na maang to the beat of a dhol when you're a quartet of 20 something guys with voices like rickshaws - you'll definitely get a few laughs.

i sense my readership has gone down.... not good iceman, not good.

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 1:29 AM | Permalink | Comments

Karachi Traffic Jam

this unfortunately, is becoming all too common.....

Posted by Xill-e-Ilahi at 4:15 AM | Permalink | Comments