February 2009
Civilian peace mission returns from India
Butterfly appears in society magazine
Again peace mission has gone and come back from India. Again they didn't take me. Dekho zara! All these bore, bore types went instead. NGO wallahs and human writes wallahs and journalists and politicos aur pata nahin kaun kaun. No wonder they have come back with their own faces. No wonder Indians are still not talking to us. I wouldn't do sullah with such bore types either, baba. That'll teach them to take more interesting people next time.
Honestly, mein hoti tau I would have had all the Indians eating out of my hand in two sticks. I would have talked about how even our farishtas don't know who Ajmal Kasab is and how I am so much believer of Pak-Hind dosti, and how we should all follow example of Dawood Ibrahim and Javed Miandad who've got their bacchas married despite of being from opposite sides of the boarder.
Then I would have makkhan lagaoed them by telling them how my favourite book is The Wide Tiger (which I haven't read but hear has won the Noble Prize) and how my favourite film is Slump Dog Millionaire (which I didn't like but hear is going to win the Oscar) and I would have said how true their depictation of India is and how world is saying hai, what a lovely, neat and clean place India is and how much of human they have and how much I admire them. Then I would have gone shopping to Khan Market and I would have won over each and every shopkeeper by giving him best custom he's ever had. Bus. Peace achieved.
And all this time while I've been making my Pak-Hind dosti plans, Janoo has been blubbing in front of TV watching Barrack and Mitchell Obama's inoculation.
'This is historic!' he said again and again like a struck record to poor Kulchoo whom he forced to watch the whole thing on CNN. 'This is bore,' I whispered from behind my latest copy of Good Times which has a picture of me on page four, top right hand corner, third from left. I'm the dazzling one in blue. Royal blue, not light blue. In light blue is my best friend Mulloo, who's looking in that picture like a blue whale-the largest animal that's ever inhabited earth, as Kulchoo was reading to me from his homework yesterday. Bigger even than the tyrannosaurus sex.
Haan, so Mitchell Obama in yellow frock and green shoes. Okay, I suppose. Vaisay mein hoti tau I would have added some more blings. You know jhoomar ya solitaires ki bangles ya guluband ya rani haar or something.
'Maybe Mitchell Obama should appoint me as her fashion adviser,' I said aloud, lowering the corner of my Good Times.
Both father and son ignored me. Luckily I am immunized against them. And aur bhi luckily, tension tau mein leti hi nahin. So I went back happily to my Good Times, to page four, top right hand corner, third from left . . .
Then I would have makkhan lagaoed them by telling them how my favourite book is The Wide Tiger (which I haven't read but hear has won the Noble Prize) and how my favourite film is Slump Dog Millionaire (which I didn't like but hear is going to win the Oscar) and I would have said how true their depictation of India is and how world is saying hai, what a lovely, neat and clean place India is and how much of human they have and how much I admire them. Then I would have gone shopping to Khan Market and I would have won over each and every shopkeeper by giving him best custom he's ever had. Bus. Peace achieved.
And all this time while I've been making my Pak-Hind dosti plans, Janoo has been blubbing in front of TV watching Barrack and Mitchell Obama's inoculation.
'This is historic!' he said again and again like a struck record to poor Kulchoo whom he forced to watch the whole thing on CNN. 'This is bore,' I whispered from behind my latest copy of Good Times which has a picture of me on page four, top right hand corner, third from left. I'm the dazzling one in blue. Royal blue, not light blue. In light blue is my best friend Mulloo, who's looking in that picture like a blue whale-the largest animal that's ever inhabited earth, as Kulchoo was reading to me from his homework yesterday. Bigger even than the tyrannosaurus sex.
Haan, so Mitchell Obama in yellow frock and green shoes. Okay, I suppose. Vaisay mein hoti tau I would have added some more blings. You know jhoomar ya solitaires ki bangles ya guluband ya rani haar or something.
'Maybe Mitchell Obama should appoint me as her fashion adviser,' I said aloud, lowering the corner of my Good Times.
Both father and son ignored me. Luckily I am immunized against them. And aur bhi luckily, tension tau mein leti hi nahin. So I went back happily to my Good Times, to page four, top right hand corner, third from left . . .
Also read:Pakistani writer Moni Mohsin's back with her Butterfly
From HT Brunch, July 13
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