The journey of a thousand miles can start in many ways. My journey to Southern Lebanon started with thinking….well not much really. Last night when I heard that Israel had announced to ‘take it easy’ on Lebanon for 48 hours, I knew this was our window of opportunity.

Don’t get me wrong…a journalist never looks for safe passages. It’s just that no driver was willing to take us to Southern Lebanon and as I said earlier, everybody advised us against it. But now I knew I could talk our Driver into it. And I did!

Even before I left Beirut, news of Israel violating the 48 hour cushion period was being aired. We drove through Beirut and on the outskirts I saw the road that had been bombed. The crater was the proof. At this point the driver stopped the car and we bought white tape to emblem the word ‘TV’ on our vehicle. It won’t make our vehicle bullet proof but may win us passage through some areas with Hizbollah’s help.

As we exited the city limits, I saw long queues of cars coming in and going out of Beirut. Apparently I wasn’t the only one trying to make use of the time.

‘We couldn’t drive out of Jieh because we were scared’, Omer Tai’ab told me when I stopped his car to ask him why he was headed towards Beirut. ‘My family and I just want to get to a safe place’.

Omer isn’t the only one trying to find refuge in Beirut. An estimate reveals that out of every four Lebanese, one is now an internally displaced person.

I had seen the smoke rising from the power plant before as well and I have actually been to the coast and seen for myself dead crabs and polluted water of the Mediterranean Sea. It got me thinking about the dimensions of war. It doesn’t just effect human lives, it trenches deep into a country’s roots and this time it has affected the marine life just as badly. We get figures for humans at least…the loss to marine life is intangible.

We traveled around the bombed bridges and roads trying to cover as much area as possible before we were stopped by a Lebanese police officer. On the condition of remaining anonymous, he told us that this area was bombed two weeks ago but then the damage wasn’t severe. Next day as reporters published pictures and aired visuals, the Israeli jets returned…vengeful. The result was complete destruction of the roads.

He also told us to be careful. The area surrounding Jeih Power plant is being monitored by satellite and every vehicular movement in the area is potentially dangerous. Only yesterday, Israeli battleships in the area were firing on any vehicles they could point the guns at.

We remained mobile, passing through villages. Those that had received heavy bombing were ghost towns; a few who had been miraculously spared still had some semblance of life to them. I entered Saida, another prosperous city where Rafiq Hariri’s pictures on tall buildings were a sign of people’s veneration for him. While talking to Reema Maktabi, an Al- Arabiya correspondent, I learnt that Lebanese youth regard him as the man who created the ‘modern Lebanon’.

We moved on to the city of ‘Ghezei’ where the signs of war and destruction became more apparent. There we were told that making any video footage without Hizbollah’s permission was completely out of question. As it turned out later on, all we had to do was ask and we even found a willing guide in the youthful members of Hizbollah.

It’s still not easy describing what it feels like to see signs of life that once existed, annihilated. I saw the buildings targeted by Israel reduced to rubble. One building still had some of the kitchen intact. Utensils and edibles were strewn across the room. Nearby was a hospital. I found ultrasounds and X-rays on the ground. I am scared to think about what happened to its patients.

I am headed to Qana tomorrow inshaAllah, mentally bracing myself for the destruction I am yet to see. But I don’t think I will ever really be prepared. And I can’t stop wondering…how long the mankind will take to end wars before wars put an end to mankind.

Nothing in my life could have prepared me for today.

I woke up this morning as usual to give my daily update. It doesn’t vary much…the number of Israeli attacks, the diplomatic efforts to solve the conflict in Middle East. But this morning the news was more grim than I am used to relaying. It wasn’t just another attack…this was a massacre!

Civilians have been attacked before and have been brushed aside by Israel as ‘tragic mistake’. But this morning I couldn’t believe my eyes. Over a hundred people who had huddled together in a three storey building in Qana were attacked. They had come under that roof to save their lives…that’s where they lost them.

The pictures are horrific, bodies buried under rubble, buildings destroyed. I have seen this before last year in Kashmir. But this wasn’t earth’s wrath on human beings. This was, if possible more cruel, more intense and certainly very irrational. Of the 54 killed according to official sources, 37 were children. Lives that had never begun ended and for no reason.

I shook my head to push away the images so I could get on with my work. I had an interview lined up with Ali El Mokdad, the Hizbollah representative in Lebanese Parliament. I have been here for three days and I finally caught hold of the guy for a meeting. I gave my telephonic reprt, relayed the news after speaking to a Red Cross Rep and moved on to MTC building in downtown for the interview. As I drove through the city square, I saw a few girls with banners in their hands. I was touched. I thought, if only more people had spirit enough to publicly tell the world what they thought about Israel.

The interview took twenty minutes. As I thanked Mr. Mokdad for his time he shook his head saying how he just can’t believe that this has happened to Qana again. Only ten years ago in a similar attack on Qana, hundred people had died. I asked him if I could possibly tag along with hizbollah team any time at all possible. Traveling to Southern parts of Lebanon has become atrocious. No one takes you there. It’s just not advisable anymore. He assured me he would look into the matter.

My colleague Yasir Qureshi and I walked out of the building talking about somehow getting to Qana. The Journalists who are there already have traveled through Jordan and we don’t have Jordanian visas.

As we walked out of the Building we noticed that the number of people had grown in the twenty minutes significantly. The little girls, who took an initiative to state their anger against the Qana Massacre, had become a force. There were easily hundred people there, carrying banners and posters, some were carrying Hizbollah flags. And the number of people was multiplying by the minute.

Shouts of ‘down with israel’ started to rise from every direction. And every where I looked I saw people coming from every possible direction. Collectively they started to move towards the back of the building. I am not familiar with the area so I followed them while communicating with my colleagues in Pakistan about the demonstration. As the crowd reached the back of the building, I saw the UN offices. Lebanon had come out to vent its anger collectively and they knew exactly what they wanted to do.

In just over twenty minutes, every window of the building had been shattered. People burnt the flags, stomped on UN sign boards, pounded the doors, and destroyed the furniture. The Civil Defense Officers and Lebanese police stood aside while the crowd did everything they could possibly think of…even as far as spitting on UN crest, a seemingly meaningless act that is but a small reflection of how the people felt in that moment.

The crowd started chanting…’Allah, Nasrullah and Dahir and then changed to ‘Allah, Nasrullah and all of Lebanon’. With my own eyes, I saw a nation come alive. Regardless of their religion or political affiliations, people of Lebanon, Shi’aites , Sunnis and Christians had come together.

I moved with the crowd, in those moments becoming one of them and possibly witnessing a turning point in this war. It won’t solve anything, not anytime soon but it is still the strongest reminder yet to the world that rockets and missiles can never crush a nation’s spirit.

So as I said earlier, I am in Beirut. I know most people tell me that I am insane. People are fleeing out of Lebanon as everyone justifiably fears for their life. So what am I doing here?

I admit that till this point I haven’t been able to come up with a single plausible reason. Not that I have given it much thought. I just know that when I walked into talat’s office…I knew that I wanted to be here. And I am grateful that he thinks I am capable enough to handle this assignment.

I flew from Pakistan on Wednesday morning and stopped briefly in Bahrain. The city has a charm to it I can’t define but I absolutely loved Damascus. For one thing, I felt at ease…being there. I saw women wearing scarves and I saw women in western clothing opting not to cover their heads. I was happy because back home, I am the odd one out. There I was just like any other female.

I spent only a day there, my first evening with the Waheed family. I didn’t know if they would be in Damascus but the moment I landed, I called up the embassy and went to see Uncle Waheed. His Mrs. Is probably one of the sweetest ladies I know. And without doubt, the best cook! It was a good evening. They took me shopping. We drove around the city as well. Really, I’d go visit Damascus any time at all.

The next morning I registered myself with the Syrian Information ministry and received my accreditation. Then we hired a cab and drove towards the Syrian-Lebanese Border.

I knew and expected Lebanese people to be coming into Lebanon. Syrian Red Crescent Society was present on the Border with aid supplies. What I wasn’t prepared for was to see over a hundred Palestinians who have no place to go. They cant live in Palestine…they had found refuge in Lebanon and now because of the war, they can’t stay there. Somehow they reached the border but because they’re Palestinians they cannot enter Syria because they don’t have the visa. Some of them had been there for over ten days without proper shelter. It’s almost a double jeopardy for them. What does a person do when only on the basis of their nationality…they’re not accepted?

I wrote these lines on Thursday. Its Sunday morning now and I have been up since four last morning. I only get about four hours to sleep…I have been up for the bulletins all the time and right now, though I am tired…I cant sleep.

It’s been radically busy these past days. I have seen so much, met so many people. In the mornings I am working out of mbc office and APTN. I meet all these people I had only ever heard of, or seen on TV. I’ve heard my TV channel is trying to plaster my face on the screen constantly. I’d rather just sleep!

Its been a busy day. I woke up as usual when Karachi called me for a beeper. I think I had a nightmare as well. Something to do with my dada ji…cuz I remember waking up and crying. Nothing to do with the war…no…that was not it. It was something else…something to do with searching for something and taking it back to him.

Shan just signed in. I needed to talk to someone from home.

So much has happened today, Rice reached Israel, Hassan Nasrullah threatened to bomb Israel and Israel responded by bombing a check post on the border. For the first time the Syrian-lebanese border has been closed by Syria. This war is not ending any time soon.

Things look bad here and thats an understatement.

Somehow I cant write now. In the past days…all I have heard is bad news. All I have imparted is bad news. I have driven through beautiful towns…deserted. It’s a ghost region here.

I entered zahlay…a border town and it’s beauty captivated me. And yet…I couldn’t see anyone alive there…save five horses tied in the ranch. Their owner left them there...probably in a hurry to save his life. They must have been prized once.

I found out later that Zahlay had been bombed only hours ago. The burnt trucks and houses…a bitter sign!

I think I should get some rest now. Its midnight and I have to wake up in three hours for my morning update.

I am in Beirut!
Last week at this time i couldn't have imagined that i could be sitting in mbc Beirut and covering the Israel Lebanon war. I have so much to write about and probably will towards the evening in more detail.

"The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not
protect you"

‘It doesn’t make sense’
‘War never does’
‘But Batool this isn’t even a war. They’re hunting ghosts’.

Khalil was right. It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. They think they have the license to bomb whichever city they please, whenever they please. Power gives them that license.

He showed me pictures of children with maimed bodies, beautiful faces burnt, and fearful eyes. He was visibly shaken and I couldn’t believe my eyes. But nothing shook me more than a picture of a Israeli girl no more than 10 years old writing on an Israeli missile…’from the children of Israel to Lebanon’.

Is this the generation growing up in Israel?

I have been following Anderson Cooper’s movement through the war torn areas. US government’s laxness in evacuating their people is being questioned constantly. But who is going to pull out the people of Lebanon?

And what is this war truly worth? Hezbollah isn’t exactly hiding in cities and towns being bombed. And who gave Kofi Anan the right to judge them?

And what is wrong with us? Why can’t we defend our homes? The people we love? And whatever happened to common humanity?

And why does ‘power’ continue justifying all kinds of horrendous acts? Israeli’s capture while Hezbollah kidnaps. Israel’s actions are valid...they fear for their lives. They want ‘two’ of their soldiers back. So it’s perfectly logical to kills hundreds of civilians and children. It gives Israel the license to do as it pleases, when it pleases, if it pleases!

I can’t help but fear the world right now.

Somebody said that a human being is never a finished product. I sit today and think if that’s true.

Like most twenty somethings, my life is all about my family, my friends, my work and most importantly about myself. Like most twenty somethings, I don’t know which direction my life is taking. Unlike most twenty somethings, I don’t care anymore.

I wrote an autobiographical essay last year, right around this time. My closing sentence was…’everybody writes their autobiography…I am only trying to live a better one’.

Have I lived a better life this past year?

Things is…its not even a question of that anymore. It’s not a question of living better or worse but simply about surviving.

I know that most of my life’s sweetest philosophies have been put to test and have suffered badly. As a cynical twenty something, I don’t believe in love and marriage anymore. As an optimistic twenty something, I believe that life still goes on (most of the time for the best). As an agnostic, I question rules that allow men to hide behind their beards and use religion as a shield. As a believer, I just want to meet someone who embodies all the values I envisioned in a man. In my honesty, I admit that I followed readymade dreams because they were fantastic to believe in. In my hypocrisy, I am still trying to justify them to myself. As an individual, I am more aware of my need to break the barriers I have constructed for myself over the years. As a girl I have mastered the fatal art of believing my own lies.

I am doing things now that I never believed I would ever do, testing my limits everyday…maybe trying to see how far Allah ji will let me go before he calls me back. In my folly, I still believe I am a creation worth holding on to.

As a girl…am I worth holding on to? Frankly I see myself every day and see the plainest face staring back at me. And yet, there are people who have actually wanted to marry me. And what have I done? I have laughed in their faces. Sometimes I wonder if I have done the wrong thing. But my heart’s just not in it anymore.

Love? Yes I believe in love. Makes excellent material for writing poems and articles...it even helps blogging sometimes.

Companionship? Books may not give me warmth but most of the people I meet are a distant second to a warm bath and a good book.

Money? It can’t buy me happiness but it does help in looking in the right places.

Children? Even in my most cynical moods…I can’t say I don’t want kids anymore. I am not that good a liar still.

But I have improved tremendously. I can smile now. My laughter, faiza tells me has changed. It’s hollow and loud. But I don’t care anymore. A few days back in one of my vulnerable moments, I told Nubla how lonely I feel sometimes. As long as I am busy, I am alright. But the moment I find myself with a break in the succession of busy nothings, I am once again weak and tired with my emotional baggage. And she said that even if I were, I give a good impression of being everything but.

Oh the smiles that we wear!

And then I question myself whether this pretense is more out of boredom, of my inability to appreciate just how beautifully effortless my life is. Do I deserve these blessings? There’s nothing extraordinary about me. How did I get so lucky? And why cant I, for once be truly grateful?

Last year I was sinking…this year at least I am floating around and there is some sort of chaotic beauty in that.

Most of what I write is gibberish, the sentiment mostly cynical. But despite everything, my pretenses, my candid confessions, my confidences and slips, I am really only human. And in some rare moments…maybe all too human!

This Morning as I was reading the newspaper, an article caught my attention.’ Brilliant men always betray their wives’. It stated examples of people like Einstein, Kennedy and Picasso who were not just brilliant and successful…they were also unfaithful to the women they had promised to love and cherish till their death. The reason quoted is that these men were over endowed with the desire of taking risks…which was fulfilled through extra-marital affairs.

I confess that having grown up in a typical Pakistani household, marriage is an essential way of life. There’s no digressing it. Until some two years back, I couldn’t possibly have imagined this to be rife in any society…let alone in mine.

This was until I read Will Durrant’s statement ‘Men are secretively, essentially and ravenously polygamous’.

I respect Mr. Durrant for his work and given the fact that he is a man himself…I think it’s safe to accept his statement as true and valid.

But why? Why is it that man feels the need to cheat? How is it that somehow, just one woman no matter how wonderful she is…just isn’t enough?

A few days back I was conversing with a friend about how men seem to choose their mates. The apparent hypothesis was that it’s an instinct that has evolved through time. Men look at females and according to their weight, proportion of their bodies’ etc try to judge if the female will be healthy enough to carry their children. The opinion expressed was that it’s basically innate and covert behavior on the male’s part and doesn’t require any conscious effort.

Frankly, I found it absurd. Knowing full well that an average male nowadays does his best to avoid any long term commitment let alone marry a girl for the purpose of procreation. And when he does marry, it’s some little girl scarcely educated enough to know how to really look after her kids. She learns eventually, but by then the man has moved on to fulfill his desire for taking risks.

As I was thinking about this, Nubla sent me this quote on the messenger.

‘Later that day I got to thinking about fairy tales. What if Prince Charming had never shown up? Would Snow White have laid in that glass box forever? Or would she have gotten up, spit out the apple, gotten a job and a health care plan and moved on with her life?" Carrie Bradshaw is a genius...!

After reading this, my mind turned into a different direction. Apparently its not just men who are going against their instinct of finding a perfect mate. Women for whatever reason are also going down a different path. Slowly and gradually we have begun to accept that romance really is restricted to Hallmark cards and movies. Relationships do not necessarily mature over time into something worth holding onto. And that there really is no such thing as a life long love. We get married if we are lucky and if the person we get married to doesn’t give us ulcer in five years, we are luckier still. We read about passion in novels at night and during the day we make sure that our pensions are enough to support us in our later years…provided we live that long.

But what happened? What has gone so wrong in the past decade or so that it has become alright for men to cheat and women to become money minded? And whatever happened to dreaming and living? How is it that the two are so different now? And most of all doesn’t religion figure into any aspect of our life anymore? The man earning and the woman taking care of the home, together the two raising good strong individuals that contribute to the world positively.

I wonder if I grew up holding on to the wrong notions, was raised on the strictures of polite society where girls could only converse about weather. Whatever it is the society or me…I know that I am in for a good lot of learning. And by the time I am done learning…it will all be useless. After all, life really is a lesson we learn once we are through.

It’s just not my day!

I ripped out one of my contact lenses the other night…right out of my eye so naturally I have to wear my glasses. Other than the fact that I look the way I do, I wear a scarf which really does make me look like a mushroom that whose cap has wilted after rainfall. And the glasses would normally be the final nail in the coffin. But no…I had to look loony as well because my glasses are cracked! I don’t even have time to get new lenses or glasses. Result…I look like a wreck.

And I had to look like this today! Today…of all days…today!!!

I will NEVER forgive myself.

This is going to hurt like hell:)

Whether it’s my personal life or my professional aspirations…all it takes is one person’s heartlessness and the opportunities I build for my self come tumbling down.

It was my concept…my brain child…my research…my time...my toil…it was all my own…how did one person get the power to ruin it for me…after I had come this far?

I believe its time to move on. I am going to build a different world for myself…and I am going to be a different person. Life doesn’t give one many opportunities to re-invent oneself…and I am not willing to let this one pass.

InshaAllah I will be celebrating this birthday in my birth city!

Alhumdulilah, I have been allocated a group after my CSS result and my father is actually happy about my allocation. And I am happy that I made it in the first attempt Alhumdulilah. However, with this great news, I am confronted with the responsibility to make a decision for myself.

Making decisions is never easy especially when you realize that you and you alone are responsible for the consequences. My life has been easy till this time in one way…and that is that I have come this far with ready made decisions. My education, my choice of my college and university and till last year the decision about my marriage was my parents. Except my decision to join this channel, everything else has pretty much been decided for me. And I honestly have no regrets on them. I have been educated well, and I always liked the institutions I studied in. Except for the fiasco of last year...I really wouldn’t change much in my life. Sometimes I think, I wouldn’t even change last year.

But now…it’s a question of deciding my life’s path. I admit that my career has been some what erratic. I started off as an economist and went on to becoming a high school teacher instead of becoming a banker as per my major and then I became a Producer in a news channel. And now civil service as an officer? All of this in a little over two years.

I spoke to my boss about it yesterday. I told him about this decision that I have to make and asked him for his take on it. I like talking to him because I know I can discuss everything under the sun with him. He is honest and forthright and I appreciate that. He told me that although I handle my work assignments very well, what I do end up accomplishing is a lot less than what I am capable of. However it is a question of my priorities. I started off as a reporter in this organization and although meeting people in the power corridors and being present on important occasions was exhilarating…I realized quite quickly that I couldn’t carry on like that for long. I want to spend my time with my family and need to know that every now and then I can meet my friends without worrying about work. Work is necessary but my family is my priority. And I have told him that. He also told me that I am ‘too nice a girl’. This statement really surprised me. ‘too nice’ ? His argument was that in order for a girl to succeed in this profession, she needs to be (these are his words) ‘a bit of a bitch’. I am too polite, too proper. I don’t dress up to impress. I don’t push and manipulate people to get my work done and often end up doing other people’s work as well. That and the fact that I am always tripping over my scarf. (the scarf had to be mentioned).

Under any other circumstances, I know that I probably may have been flattered. But I know these are my short comings. Although I believe I am ‘not that nice’, I do agree that instead of being bossy, I am always requesting people politely to do what needs to be done. I come to office early so I get a head start on the day. And I know that I can be really good in field work but I prefer to get things done from my office.

On the other hand, I know how the bureaucracy works. My dad is a bureaucrat and although it’s a good stable job and if I take care of my career, I can go a long way and Alhumdulilah Allah has always been very kind to me. But still, there are too many loop holes, too many flaws in the bureaucracy. It tends to become stagnant; you have to go through so many channels to get things done.

Here I can barge into my Boss’s room anytime, whether he is eating apples and I want one or if I have a problem to discuss even if it’s personal. I can call up my CEO anytime if I want to. I am on first name basis with my controller news. It’s a comfortable environment.

I don’t fear change…not really. I like stability but I know change is inevitable. It’s just a little over whelming. Girls around me have different kind of decisions to make. I don’t know who to ask for advice really. Everyone only has one side of the perspective. And it’s complicated. On one side there’s the prestige and respectability of civil service, on the other hand I have financial stability and creative freedom. Civil service offers me opportunities of growth in so many different strati; media gives me the license to become anything I want to be. Civil service gives me stability; electronic media allows me to be spontaneous.

These are good choices to be made. People tell me how lucky I am…making it in the first attempt. I know people put in years of effort. Believe me, I know that I can never thank Allah ji enough because I can never fully comprehend how kind life has been to me. I just hope that I make the right decision.

Its been interesting these past ten days. And my failure to blog about all of them means a very long post this time around.

I start off with Saturday…June 24th. Saddy had been on leave from office on account of SHOPPING for her wedding. She called me in the morning to see if I was free for lunch…and when am I not! So we went to Subway…grabbed a bite to eat. Then she takes out this black box and hands it to me. Inside was a ruby trinket.

Now I know that I lost my bet to saddy on a mere technicality of ten days…but still she got me this ruby wristlet!!! I wuv you saddy!!! You maybe Moiz Bhai’s Pearl but you have always been my sunshine.

Sunday was alright I guess…cant recall much from most of the week other than my usual work. I have started outlining my first documentary that I will be hosting, scripting and producing. It will inshaAllah be my first major production and I am naturally very psyched about it.

Friday was a difficult day. I came to office as usual and had the coverage plan well underway when I got a call from my friend Usman. He asked if I were in the office and then told me that Saba’s dad had passed away in the morning. Saba and Usman both are two of my dearest friends. Saba and I used to live close to each other so on every function or outing, we used to help each other with logistics. This way, I shared countless rides with her and her father. Uncle was a very nice guy. He never made an issue about the frequency of our outings or the lateness of our timings. And although I hardly ever exchanged more than salam with him…I held in him in high esteem because of his love for Saba.

I happen to know all of Saba’s sisters and her mother and I are very friendly. It wasn’t easy…seeing Saba cry, seeing how her mother was going to pieces. Even Usman had tears in his eyes. He had been looking after uncle in the hospital and Saba later told me he hadn’t slept in three days.

I know that for anyone losing a member of their family is very difficult. But it jolted me to my core when the sweetest avowal of love I have ever heard came from Saba’s mother. In my attempt to console her, I stayed by her side mostly. And she kept on telling me all the little things about uncle. What he liked to eat, what he liked to wear. How protective he was of her. She kept on referring to him as ‘my life’. I don’t know what love is…but whatever it is…it can’t be any different than what Saba’s mother felt.

I spent the whole day with Saba’s family. I also met Usman’s mother and sisters. I had met them on the wedding but it was a very formal setting. Usman’s mother is so much like Ammi…uncomplicated and willing to love everyone unconditionally. I think that it is times like these that people are the most important. Their compassion and kindness is often the push one needs to make it through really trying times.

The next day I came to office and after taking care of some necessary things, I went to Saba’s again. Around noon time, I think there were some 20 women in the room and I was sitting between Saba and Saba’s mother. Ok! This is the part where my life goes from mundane to ridiculous. As I was sitting, this lady sitting right across from me asks me my name. Now it’s a room full of women and needless to say, her voice was rather loud. I told her my name and next she says…’ can I ask you something directly…I don’t want to ask anyone else’. Now everyone was looking at me. I mumbled a yeah sure. And then she goes…’are you married?’ I replied in negative. ‘Are you engaged?’ My response was the same. And then she said ‘are you sure?’. At this I couldn’t control my laugh. I said ‘believe me, if I were engaged…I’d know about it’ And then she goes…’ok! Good! I am glad to hear that’. Next thing I know, she gets up and makes her way to me. And I was literally backing into a corner. Then Saba started elbowing me…’ Batool! Be polite!’. And I was thinking…just because the lady has so publicly singled me out…I am supposed to start acting like a door mat. Anyhoo, the lady gave me a hug and said May Allah bless you. And I was standing there, all wooden. The moment she left, the room erupted…’Batool! Her son is such a catch!’( I didn’t know I was fishing!!!). You’re as good as married now. And I couldn’t believe my ears. Only moments ago these women were crying their eyes out. Maybe it’s life…how everybody is unconsciously looking for things to hide their pain or maybe it just how our society works…! I don’t know really. It was just shocking.

Anyhoo, I came back to my office and then tied up with Sobia to meet her at GA. Sobia, Saddy and I were classmates in school. Saddy was the interesting one, Sobia was the weird one who gave herself haircuts and I was the ugly duckling. We weren’t great friends or anything, we just hung out together in one large group. That is how Saddy and I became friends. After matric, I met sobia a couple of times till she left for Canada. Since then, from the pictures we say, she matured into this gorgeous beauty while I have stayed pretty much the same. She is visiting Pakistan these days and wanted to meet up. I enjoy talking to her every now and then online but meeting her…well lets just say, I’d rather not be in a mile radius of her. It makes me feel so …

Anyhoo, Sobia was some thirty minutes late and I was alone in GA without a book…quite miserable actually. And then she came and really everyone turned to look at her. She was dressed in a really smart sleevless top and I was wearing a scarf & white shalwar qameez since I had to go to Saba’s. We made quite an odd picture. She was accompanied by one of her friends who in turn was accompanied by this boy, probably in his mid teens who looked like he hadn’t showered in ten days with a mouth full of metal and he was smoking. We sat and talked for some fifteen minutes before I bid them adieu. It wasn’t bad…the meeting. Sobia was quite charming. Only I know that I will NEVER look anything like her…ever!

Sunday was lazy. I spent the day in alternate states of sleep and cursing myself for being fat! In the evening, we went to watch M.I.3 in Ciros cinema. The place was dingy but we were determined. And we got the laugh of our lives when we were asked to stand for the national anthem. Don’t take me wrong…I love my country but I didn’t know that they played National Anthem before every movie. But it was heartening to see that everyone honored the anthem, I cold even hear someone singing along. Once the anthem ended, everyone clapped as well. The movie itself was alright and the crowd was very alive. They grunted, they laughed, hooted, clapped…it was a lot of fun!

So that’s pretty much it…the bad, the good, the sublime and the ridiculous of my life!