Monday, October 29, 2007
An open letter to the skeptic eye on the Pakistani Pie
boy did that sound dirty
You know, its such a sad and incredibly depressing thing when you can find better news results for Ethiopia and Myanmar. When you try to google pakistan for business news, good business....actually ANY business news is awfully hard to find. Why?
Everything that happens in Pakistan is put under a microscope and analyzed by each and every lunatic, scholar, blogger. This is not a bad thing, but being the center piece on the poorly executed war on terror, doesn't really help. Any car jacking, any kidnapping, any crime and every medium sized event in Pakistan is instantly associated with a failing country full of terrorist sympathizers. Atleast this is the understanding I have gained after trying to search on multiple search engines, that most of the first 10 pages is the same exact news...just a different version by a particular publication. There are plenty and tons of great economic news buried in the back...but one has to SEARCH HARD for it on western media outlets. I mean if I wanted to know about the telecom industry which is booming, and I tried to search the news for it all I would get is 30 google pages of the same story on a suspected terrorist that was arrested in some remote area of northern Pakistan!
I just wanted to share that life goes on, and Pakistan is in a better position then the bigots give it credit for. It has a head strong economy, its people are still proud and its military mighty. Given the chance of a fairer share of the news, Pakistan would be at the forefront of the companies that are about to leap into the industrial nation pool. Indian media and the unhelpful western outlets are pain enough...we have to contend with stupid Pakistanis worried about and too busy expressing their love for or trying to battle or demean another's political affiliation.
Given the consequences Pakistan is in right now, ANY other country would have given up, failed and had broken down into hundreds of tiny pieces about 10 years ago. Its not a miracle that Pakistan survives, its reality that people don't care to see. Everyday journalists love to invoke the name of Pakistan and relating it to terrorism or some juicy story related to a terrorist. Thats all they have. They smear the country with the pile of terrorist rhetoric as they fail to notice the quietly building economic infrastructure supporting and keeping the country alive.
boy did that sound dirty
You know, its such a sad and incredibly depressing thing when you can find better news results for Ethiopia and Myanmar. When you try to google pakistan for business news, good business....actually ANY business news is awfully hard to find. Why?
Everything that happens in Pakistan is put under a microscope and analyzed by each and every lunatic, scholar, blogger. This is not a bad thing, but being the center piece on the poorly executed war on terror, doesn't really help. Any car jacking, any kidnapping, any crime and every medium sized event in Pakistan is instantly associated with a failing country full of terrorist sympathizers. Atleast this is the understanding I have gained after trying to search on multiple search engines, that most of the first 10 pages is the same exact news...just a different version by a particular publication. There are plenty and tons of great economic news buried in the back...but one has to SEARCH HARD for it on western media outlets. I mean if I wanted to know about the telecom industry which is booming, and I tried to search the news for it all I would get is 30 google pages of the same story on a suspected terrorist that was arrested in some remote area of northern Pakistan!
I just wanted to share that life goes on, and Pakistan is in a better position then the bigots give it credit for. It has a head strong economy, its people are still proud and its military mighty. Given the chance of a fairer share of the news, Pakistan would be at the forefront of the companies that are about to leap into the industrial nation pool. Indian media and the unhelpful western outlets are pain enough...we have to contend with stupid Pakistanis worried about and too busy expressing their love for or trying to battle or demean another's political affiliation.
Given the consequences Pakistan is in right now, ANY other country would have given up, failed and had broken down into hundreds of tiny pieces about 10 years ago. Its not a miracle that Pakistan survives, its reality that people don't care to see. Everyday journalists love to invoke the name of Pakistan and relating it to terrorism or some juicy story related to a terrorist. Thats all they have. They smear the country with the pile of terrorist rhetoric as they fail to notice the quietly building economic infrastructure supporting and keeping the country alive.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
One of my own favorite characters. I hope i can use this sililoquy in a meaningful story one day
What was it with dames anyway? You stood in front of some two bit preacher for five god dam minutes and when you walked away, everything was inside out.
Before you were married, it was great. You were the king. She stood there with one hand on your cock to let you know when she wanted it, and with the other, tried to light your cigarette, wash your back, feed your face and smooth your pillow all at the same time.
Then came the magic words and you got to beg for it. You got to go by the book. You got to play with it, warm it up, treat it gentle. You got to rest your elbows and light her cigarettes and carry shit and open doors. You even have to thank her when she lets you have it, the same piece she couldn't stop offering you before.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
A friend returned from his annual trip to india
I developed and narrated passages on my friends travels to india and back. He told me in broken sentences about his travels, he was irritated, and I found it interesting. So I storied it and here we are. Enjoy:
India is a third world country. The exaggeration's about its "advancement" are self evident. Ever been to Madras? World class city it is. Yes of course. One doesn't realize it how remote and distant this country is from anything advanced. Soon as you step out of the plane you are slammed in to the sweet stench of rotting vegetation and open sewers. In the dark, it takes a while to figure out that the tin-ish building near you is the Madras airport terminal.
Inside the terminal, the wobbly ceiling fans only manage to stir up the hot air. Sweat drips off your nose. Thanks to a broken luggage belt, bags from who knows how many flights form a mountain in the middle of the concrete floor. Two porters fight each other while climbing to the top to retrieve the same bag. Three other porters follow you around, pestering to carry yours, as others watch the show. They simply don't listen when you tell them that you intend to carry your backpack yourself. All the while a beggar with a withered arm and an amputated leg scoots behind you, pulling and pushing himself along the filthy floor with his good arm and leg. Every once in a while he reaches up and grabs at the leg of your pants. It doesn't seem to matter how many rupees you drop into the pouch around his neck or how fast you hopped form one side of the terminal to the other. He just keeps following.
You finally surrender and give one of the porters some money to retrieve your backpack. You give him 50 rupees and he appears 20 minutes later with three, out of which one is yours. You are the only civilization here, it seems.
India is a third world country. The exaggeration's about its "advancement" are self evident. Ever been to Madras? World class city it is. Yes of course. One doesn't realize it how remote and distant this country is from anything advanced. Soon as you step out of the plane you are slammed in to the sweet stench of rotting vegetation and open sewers. In the dark, it takes a while to figure out that the tin-ish building near you is the Madras airport terminal.
Inside the terminal, the wobbly ceiling fans only manage to stir up the hot air. Sweat drips off your nose. Thanks to a broken luggage belt, bags from who knows how many flights form a mountain in the middle of the concrete floor. Two porters fight each other while climbing to the top to retrieve the same bag. Three other porters follow you around, pestering to carry yours, as others watch the show. They simply don't listen when you tell them that you intend to carry your backpack yourself. All the while a beggar with a withered arm and an amputated leg scoots behind you, pulling and pushing himself along the filthy floor with his good arm and leg. Every once in a while he reaches up and grabs at the leg of your pants. It doesn't seem to matter how many rupees you drop into the pouch around his neck or how fast you hopped form one side of the terminal to the other. He just keeps following.
You finally surrender and give one of the porters some money to retrieve your backpack. You give him 50 rupees and he appears 20 minutes later with three, out of which one is yours. You are the only civilization here, it seems.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
I had begun to address my concerns as he interrupted me. I don't recall what he was saying. It didn't even matter. Because what I had planned to say was much more important. Its significance was in everything I was at that particular time and point. As he spoke, I rehearsed in my mind my soliloquy and strengthened the choice of words i was going to use, articulating and purifying my argument in my mind. It was imperative that I concentrated on what I had to say. It was after all the most important thing that had number one priority on my list. By the time I had stopped thinking, and was ready to interrupt him, he finished talking and got up and left the room tapping me on the shoulder. I unknowingly obliged to whatever he had said. It took me a further three minutes to reassess what had happened.
Cursing, I gotten up. I had severe attention deficit disorder. I had a hard time speaking and keeping up with acquaintances and life became even more excruciatingly difficult at work. It was simple. I was trying to get somewhere in life, and asking people to repeat complex and important tasks every second became too much an obstacle to do. So I devised a simple plan. To go with the flow. I could recall stuff that was said, but not totally. Keywords remained in my head and bounced around like tennis balls as i jogged my memory. That was the only way I could cope with the situation. People always say go to this doctor, go to that doctor. They do not want to go the extra distance by offering to pay for that damned famous doctor.
Cursing, I gotten up. I had severe attention deficit disorder. I had a hard time speaking and keeping up with acquaintances and life became even more excruciatingly difficult at work. It was simple. I was trying to get somewhere in life, and asking people to repeat complex and important tasks every second became too much an obstacle to do. So I devised a simple plan. To go with the flow. I could recall stuff that was said, but not totally. Keywords remained in my head and bounced around like tennis balls as i jogged my memory. That was the only way I could cope with the situation. People always say go to this doctor, go to that doctor. They do not want to go the extra distance by offering to pay for that damned famous doctor.
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