So I totally stole that from Yasmin, but do you blame me? That girl knows what she's talking about. She has got it goin' on. Etc. By some swoop of luck, Yasmin is also one of the only couple people in my life who think I have a broader relevance in the world. It's so completely arrogant to think you're relevant in any way, isn't it? Yet it's the one thing we're all crossing our fingers for constantly. Silently, because it would be so lame to admit to anyone you'd like to be more. More than you? More than now? I have a whole Filofax of rhetorical questions, but why go down that road tonight? Tonight I'm more interested in learning what fucking relevance actually is.
This being a brand new year, I'm actually feeling hopeful about what's to come, unlike the super grim conversation in writing Yasmin and I had had at the end of 2010. The world is a little older this year, as are we, and as people are so fond of saying, we're all a little bit more set in our ways. Which in my case would mean, I'm digging my heels in and standing by my choices a little bit more this year. The good thing about being a little bit older is that there's going be less opinions contesting your own. Everyone figures you know what you're talking about at 30, more so than at 23 or whatever.
But not always.
At 23 I was more serious-minded, at 18, even more so, at 15 I could have been a professional pallbearer, and so on. My life's plan was all chalked out by the time I was 20, and had things gone according to plan, I would be writing about the travails of being a 30-year-old mother of three. Or not writing at all. You'd probably find me brooding under that poster of Homeboy at Roadside Cafe while I scowled at people smoking sheesha, which my serious self as well as my fluffy, Kardashian lovin' self thinks is for suckers. Man up and smoke real cigarettes people! Or man up and say no to tobacco and nicotine! Either way, if you're smoking sheesha, we're never going to be best friends. On the other hand, you'd probably be looking at me funny because I had brought my toddlers to the smoke infested Roadside, which I love, by the way.
Anyway, as I've said before, life hasn't gone according to plan, but I kinda love where things are right now. Please don't quote back John Lennon at me. Unless you've heard every song on John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, in which case, feel free to quote Lennon at me any time of day. I keep digressing from relevance and its place in our lives. Somehow, in modern-day Pakistan, and I believe this to be a very Pakistani phenomenon, unless you're constantly saying very important things, you're not relevant.
But that would be the case anywhere! You might argue, and I agree. But see, Pakistan is the focus of a lot of the world's hoopla right now, including our own, and somehow, if it's not about what Amreeka pandering chors our politicians are, or how ridiculous the state of Pakistani cricket is, and how plain horrible things are right now, any contribution to conversation you make is irrelevant. I'm not saying everyone should chill out and get a mani-pedi, but I am saying, chill out. A little bit. And how will you do that if you spend all your time tweeting links to super duper important articles and opeds from around the world, which highlight all these problems? Moreover, if you're tweeting all this on the minute, plus your take on it, when are you actually reading anything? I am genuinely curious here. On the flipside is the other end of the social-intellectual spectrum: If you're not married and have a bagful of really, really bad marital issues, no one cares what you have to say.
So you see, I'm stuck in the zone of irrelevance. I don't like Imran Khan. I'm not particularly left or right wing, although if I had to pick, I'd lean more to the left, I have not read A Case of Exploding Mangoes, and left The Reluctant Fundamentalist midway. I did read Beautiful From This Angle, but I don't think it qualifies as chick lit on any level. Or as lit for that matter. I didn't change my Facebook picture to one of Benazir Bhutto post December 27, 2007.
I like red nail polish. I like Whistler and Pakistani music. I like intensely funny people although I understand they're possibly just very intense at their core more than funny. I don't adore the beach although I live in Karachi. I love life and have an absolute romance with people of all kinds. My name is Zainab, and I am irrelevant.
This being a brand new year, I'm actually feeling hopeful about what's to come, unlike the super grim conversation in writing Yasmin and I had had at the end of 2010. The world is a little older this year, as are we, and as people are so fond of saying, we're all a little bit more set in our ways. Which in my case would mean, I'm digging my heels in and standing by my choices a little bit more this year. The good thing about being a little bit older is that there's going be less opinions contesting your own. Everyone figures you know what you're talking about at 30, more so than at 23 or whatever.
But not always.
At 23 I was more serious-minded, at 18, even more so, at 15 I could have been a professional pallbearer, and so on. My life's plan was all chalked out by the time I was 20, and had things gone according to plan, I would be writing about the travails of being a 30-year-old mother of three. Or not writing at all. You'd probably find me brooding under that poster of Homeboy at Roadside Cafe while I scowled at people smoking sheesha, which my serious self as well as my fluffy, Kardashian lovin' self thinks is for suckers. Man up and smoke real cigarettes people! Or man up and say no to tobacco and nicotine! Either way, if you're smoking sheesha, we're never going to be best friends. On the other hand, you'd probably be looking at me funny because I had brought my toddlers to the smoke infested Roadside, which I love, by the way.
Anyway, as I've said before, life hasn't gone according to plan, but I kinda love where things are right now. Please don't quote back John Lennon at me. Unless you've heard every song on John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, in which case, feel free to quote Lennon at me any time of day. I keep digressing from relevance and its place in our lives. Somehow, in modern-day Pakistan, and I believe this to be a very Pakistani phenomenon, unless you're constantly saying very important things, you're not relevant.
But that would be the case anywhere! You might argue, and I agree. But see, Pakistan is the focus of a lot of the world's hoopla right now, including our own, and somehow, if it's not about what Amreeka pandering chors our politicians are, or how ridiculous the state of Pakistani cricket is, and how plain horrible things are right now, any contribution to conversation you make is irrelevant. I'm not saying everyone should chill out and get a mani-pedi, but I am saying, chill out. A little bit. And how will you do that if you spend all your time tweeting links to super duper important articles and opeds from around the world, which highlight all these problems? Moreover, if you're tweeting all this on the minute, plus your take on it, when are you actually reading anything? I am genuinely curious here. On the flipside is the other end of the social-intellectual spectrum: If you're not married and have a bagful of really, really bad marital issues, no one cares what you have to say.
So you see, I'm stuck in the zone of irrelevance. I don't like Imran Khan. I'm not particularly left or right wing, although if I had to pick, I'd lean more to the left, I have not read A Case of Exploding Mangoes, and left The Reluctant Fundamentalist midway. I did read Beautiful From This Angle, but I don't think it qualifies as chick lit on any level. Or as lit for that matter. I didn't change my Facebook picture to one of Benazir Bhutto post December 27, 2007.
I like red nail polish. I like Whistler and Pakistani music. I like intensely funny people although I understand they're possibly just very intense at their core more than funny. I don't adore the beach although I live in Karachi. I love life and have an absolute romance with people of all kinds. My name is Zainab, and I am irrelevant.
That bench, under the Homeboy poster, is reserved for HMNaqvi only. He's often seen brooding there, cringing with writer's block, sitting in a 'banyaan', with long boots, incessantly smoking Marlboro Lights.
ReplyDeleteIs that before or after he goes looking for kebabs and beer at 2 a.m.?
ReplyDeleteI'm guessing before that. He functions on what we call the premack's principle. Once he's written a page or two he rewards himself by hitting Moon Wine Shop, followed by Ghaffar.
ReplyDeletePS- Should join Twitter
Method of champions.
ReplyDeleteAm on Twitter - @burgerbachiz