Yellow

I swam across,

I jumped across for you,

Oh what a thing to do.

Cos you were all "Yellow",

I drew a line,

I drew a line for you,

Oh what a thing to do,

And it was all...

Coldplay- Yellow

You're allowed

He was all dressed up and I, in casuals. He was smoking and I, I was just watching those puffs rolling and thawing between us.

"You know this place is so quiet"

"Quiet? What?... man this place is damn earsplitting! Yeh chutiyeh apni bak bak band hi nahin kartey"

"Freedom of Expression bari behanchod cheez hai bhai"

"Hahaha! Haan par Expression of Freedom ka kiya?"

"Expression of Freedom?? Hain?"



"Abay saala light chaley gayi"

__________________________________________

If I ask a question, its not necessary that you come up with a relevant answer. Expression of Freedom should allow you to say anything. If my girlfriend decides to sleep with someone outside my knowledge, freedom allows her to do so. Can I stop her? Can I blame? If a group of vandals decide to beat the hell out of me, what can I do? I can't stop them! Expression of Freedom should allow them to beat me. If a sparrow shits on me, all I can do is swab it off. If a dog bites me, I can just take off my shirt to get those 14 something injections. If a baby decides to pee on me, I can't clutch his smallish dick and stop him from doing so. Its his freedom and you know its 'innocently wet and warm'. If people laugh at me, they should be allowed to laugh, if they cry, no one should try to console them. If someone wants to, he can dance at my funeral and should be fully allowed to do so.


Freedom is such a dangerous expression. Its inherent but rare. One has to surpass junctions like Act, React, Accept and Neglect to reach it. And one has complete freedom to decide where does he fall.

Friday, September 26th,2008

1:25 AM

Inspiration...

Allah Ke Bandey Hanss Dey..
Jo Bhi Ho Kal Phir Aayega...

One of the most inspirational pictures I've seen in a long, long time.

Thrusday, 11th September,2008
1:59 AM

As Winners

You want to win, don't you?

Competitions all around offer three closely related but immensely original choices. You win it, you lose it or you survive. When you lose it you don't really have the choice, but if you choose to lose, then the competition isn't for you. Even survival is such a negative word. I believe its just another form of losing. Why should someone with survival in his mind enter the game? And spoil it. If one merely wants to hang, hang out somewhere else. Competition is for the leaders. For those who want to win.

Losers and survivors can't take anything away from the winners. Winners are decided way before the game. And regardless of the result, they stay as winners. Winning is an attitude. A way of living. Winners evolve from burning heat of their desires. From the relentlessness of their thoughts. From turbulence of their manners. From passion, from madness, from longing, from yearning.

Winners are beyond competition. They compete with themselves. They are the one to lead. They are The Face of the Future.

The Police

Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take

I'll be watching you...

Pimp-istan Meri Jaan!!

It's time to celebrate. A military dictator resigns from his office. The "Pimp-istan" sighs in relief. And why shouldn't? It shall now go back to where it belongs, the most. The Pimps.

It's a brothel really. A Khota. Bhuttos, Sharrifs, Khans, Maulanas, Chaudharys.. So many customers. The high-profile ones! MQMs are on the roof. Arranging lights. They are good at it you know... Aitazaz Hassan has been assigned Tablas since his position is still precarious. Kamran Khan and Hamid Mir are the Darbaans out there. " Ji naazrein.. Ji naazrein.." But wait a minute! Where are their pants? Did they leave them at that Khota just beside the Mohatta Palace in Karachi? At their favorite Cherry Rehman's? May be we should call and ask The Original Shiekh about it.

"Nach meri bulbul tujhey paisa miley gaaa"..... And the lawyers are dancing. What co-ordination. What spirit. What "Josh"... How cleverly and 'professionally' they hid their colorful ghaghras and cholis. The black coat didn't show anything at all.

"Abhi tou mehfil jawaan hai Zardari Sahab... Kahan chal diye aap??"

"Kyon naa ho Shariff Bhai.. Bhutto ka naam jo Zinda hai... Mein zara kamrey se aaya.. Cherry intezar kar rahi hogi"

"Likin Cherry tou Karachi mein haina?"

"Galat!! Azaad Riyasaton mein Cherries tou har jagah milti hain!!"

"Hahahaha! Jiye Democracy!"

_________________________________________________


And what about us commoners? It doesn't sound comfortable no? Commoners? Lets not worry.. some way or the other, we all qualify for the prestigious honor.. "The Nishaan-e-Pimp". A hardened, bulging, full to burst.


Democracy is not in our blood. We simply don't know about it. We, as a nation [questionable!] and as individuals are inherent to dictators. Since always we have lived like this. Under a Danda Rule. Right from our birth. Moulvis, Parents, Teachers, Spouses, In-laws, Politicians, Bosses....

__________________________________________________


Personally, I like Musharraf. But I don't support him. And I don't care.

People distributing sweets, friends calling, texting 'Congratulations', "Balley Balley"... Discussing politics... Guessing the next president, Guessing fate of Musharraf... This all is very DEPRESSING! I don't want to discuss this anymore. I don't find a reason to celebrate. Dictator is gone but I'm expecting no one else than a bloody pimp. And you know that too.

My last post was a birthday wish, but I'm sorry... I'm dejected... And

I accept. I belong to the Pimp-istan. I'm the one.

Monday, August 18, 2008

5:48 PM [Resignation Day]

61st!

Happy Birthday!

Photographer: Amir Mukhtar