Samhain

If you have seen Darth Vader, Mary Queen of Scots, Professor Dumbledore and Wonder Woman walking hand-in-hand, chances are that you witnessed a group of kids heading to a Halloween costume-party (or a hallucination thanks to your funny smoking habits).

Halloween, celebrated on October 31^st, is marked with elaborate festivities in many countries. In Pakistan, there is a rising inclination towards anything “foreign”. Naturally, Halloween-themed parties are becoming quite the fad with every youngster feeling “hip” at simply the prospect of an invite.

When Sameer told his parents he was headed to IBA’s Welcome Party for the Batch of 2015, they refused to believe him. The reason was that he was dressed as the Joker, with his face painted white, his eyes hollows of dark kohl and his lips the vibrant red of blood. Without explaining, and cackling madly to add to the effect, Sameer left the house, leaving an air of mystery behind.

The reason Sameer did not bother to explain to his parents that he was headed to a Halloween costume-party was because he knew his parents believed it to be a Christian tradition (one not to be followed by devout Muslims) and clarifying the misconception would have taken hours.

Most of us are under the same misconception.

Halloween is actually a secular tradition, dating back more than 2,000 years to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain. In U.K. and France, the Celts celebrated the New Year on November 1^st to mark the end of the summer harvest and the beginning of winter. It was believed that on this night, the ghosts of the dead returned to Earth and their presence allowed the priests to make predictions regarding the future. To celebrate this occasion, bonfires were built, animal sacrifices were made and the Celts dressed up in costumes. When the Romans conquered the Celts, they combined Samhain with two of their own festivals. By the time Christianity’s influence had spread to the region, the Church had to sanction November 1^st to be celebrated as “All Souls’ Day” (to honor the dead) in order to replace the Celtic holiday with one of their own. The All Souls’ Day celebration was also called All-Hallows, and the night before the celebrations began (i.e. October 31^st) came to be known as All-Hallows Eve, and later, Halloween. The American version of Halloween included “play-parties”, characterized by sharing ghost stories and mischief-making. To commercialize the concept of Halloween, Americans began to dress up in costumes and go “trick-or-treating”. Because of these developments, Halloween lost its religiosity and became the nation’s second largest commercial holiday.

While Sameer enjoyed the Welcome Party, he feels confident assuming his parents would not be happy with his explanation and would question him on his eagerness to celebrate “Christian” holidays more than the upcoming Eid-ul-Azha.

Young Man of 24

Sameer had been pacing like a caged tiger in his room for over an hour and was beginning to feel hot in his cotton kurta-shalwar. Having no prior experience in such matters, he wondered how the next hour would unfold; his mind raced over the possibilities.

When he heard a vehicle approach, Sameer repeated his ritual of rushing to his first-floor room window to observe the make & model of the car. He peered down to see a white Margalla stealthily inch forward and stop right before the protruding black gate of his house. For an inexplicable reason, the Top Gun anthem started playing in Sameer’s head.

They had arrived.

Four people descended from the car: an uncle with a white beard, an aunty wearing large gold bangles that glittered in the sunlight, another aunty clad in a sari and a young man of 24 years of age in a sharply-pressed suit.

Sameer ran to his sisters’ room. Sabina was helping Sadia get ready for the show-and-tell. As Sameer proclaimed, “They are here”, the doorbell rang. Sadia nodded in resolution, looking much less nervous than Sameer felt.

When Sameer entered the drawing-room, his father had already started debating Imran Khan’s politics with the uncle and his mother was already discussing tomato prices with the two aunties. This gave Sameer the opportunity to scrutinize the young man of 24. He was well-built and well-educated, having done his M.B.B.S from the same university Sadia was in, Dow Medical College. Sameer knew the basics of what Aaliya aunty (Sameer’s mother’s friend who had set up the rishta) had told the family the previous evening, but that was obviously the golden side of the toast. Sameer was searching for the blackened, burnt side. Did he do drugs? Did he have a girlfriend? Did he eat naswar? Did he pick his nose in public? Sensing Sameer’s eye on him, the young man of 24 attempted to make polite conversation. Sameer replied warily, not willing to approve of the guy easily.

Over the next few minutes, as the conversation turned towards the families, the real agenda of the night was set in motion. The aunty in the sari began lauding her nephew in not-so-subtle words. She even hinted at the vast number of rishtas he was apparently receiving from beautiful girls all over Karachi.

As Sadia and Sabina entered the room with refreshments Sameer kept his eyes on the young man of 24, who had started ogling his sisters. Feeling uncomfortable, Sameer offered him a samosa.

As the aunties began grilling Sadia with questions, Sameer couldn’t help but feel proud of his sister for handling the situation well. He on the other hand, was still waiting suspiciously for the first wrong move by the opposing party. Aaliya aunty had warned the family that rishta-walas deliberately visited the washroom on some pretext to see its cleanliness, purposefully asked the girl-in-question to show her skill in the kitchen and intentionally arrived just before Maghrib to see if the girl was sufficiently religious to excuse herself for prayers. The formula proved undeniable: the aunty in the sari claimed she was staying off sugar (which in all honesty, she needed to do) and asked Sadia to make another cup of tea for her. The uncle asked to be led to the washroom so he could perform ablution for Maghrib prayers.

3 points for the Margalla team.

After prayers, the families sat down to some serious business. Sameer sensed a perceptible change in the air but didn’t understand it until the aunty with the gold bangles started interrogating Sabina. Sameer saw his parents exchange a worried look. The uncle stepped in boldly to claim that their son liked Sabina not Sadia. This announcement was met with stunned silence, though given his way, Sameer would have responded with some excellent abusive words. Sameer’s mother signaled him to take his sisters upstairs.

When he returned, the room was thick with tension. Sameer’s mother was explaining that Sabina was just 16 years old and not ready for marriage, while Sadia was ready to get engaged. He did not approve of the pleading in her voice. Sameer’s father turned to his wife and said, “We don’t need to send our daughter to a house where she was a second choice”. Sameer felt proud of his father in that moment. With nothing left to say, the Margalla team hid their faces and scurried away.

Game. Set. Match.

What Will Your Obituary Say? - Part II

Imagine what your obituary will say. That’s who “you” are.

Or is it?

                

In one class with the aforementioned teacher, while discussing the compartmentalization of knowledge that man does today to specialize in one particular field of interest, the question arose of who Man really is and whether meaning should be derived from the material life.

Compartmentalization of knowledge has created a breed of human beings indistinguishable from their field of specialization. Thus, a doctor has no meaning in life other than the one he derives from his job. A banker has no sense of being other than the one she obtains from her daily work. A newscaster does not know anything other than reading out transcribed news; a chef’s life is defined by the food he prepares.

Sameer and his peers have already started identifying themselves with their chosen fields of interest. Sameer intends to major in Finance and therefore, all his activities are garnered towards this field. Once the transformation is complete, Sameer would come to identify himself solely with his profession. If asked to describe himself, Sameer would use the terms “intelligent financial analyst” or perhaps “calculated risk-taker”. Either way, who Sameer is becomes contingent on his specialization.

The alternate is to view oneself as the creation of a supra-human entity. For a Muslim, this entity is Allah. But are we truly absorbed by the essence of religion? Evidence suggests that today’s life calls for a separation of religion from the core existence i.e. religion is used simply to add cosmetic beauty to one’s material life.

Sameer can already see this happening in himself and his colleagues. Religion has been shunned as a secondary aspect of survival. Communication with God is reserved for moments of pain and suffering. Prayers are conducted automatically five times a day without understanding the meaning behind the Ruku, the Sajda and the Salam. The mentality is that if one is religious, one cannot hope to survive in the business world. Consequently, who “Sameer” is cannot be fully explained via religion; Sameer is lost in translation.

Sameer’s obituary will not describe him, rather his achievements (or lack thereof) in life because that’s how he appears in front of the world. His thoughts and emotions become irrelevant. Such an existence is naturally caustic to happiness. Increasingly, humans are becoming psychologically challenged as the world is fragmented into smaller niches, each niche attempting to understand life but being unable to do so on its own. As a result, Man is unable to understand life and is stuck questioning the point of it all.

On the one hand, Sameer feels lucky to be able to think this way, to question and to attempt to understand his own existence. On the other, he feels lost in the cosmos of this life, stuck between materialism, religion and oblivion unable to even describe himself.

What Will Your Obituary Say? - Part I

While no one expects to come across intellectual thought on a social networking website, Sameer did, while gliding through Facebook. He stumbled across a surprisingly pensive status-update from someone on his friend-list. It read: “If you can read this, you should thank your teachers”.

Few people in the world are blessed with the opportunity of acquiring formal education and fewer of these few truly gain the benefits of a first-rate one.  In moments of clarity, Sameer can envisage his life being molded by the schooling he has had. Sometimes at night, in the few minutes before sleep engulfs his brain, deep thought captivates him and he cannot help but be grateful for all that he has been taught over the years.

In Physics, Sameer remembers being told that the atom can be broken down into its constituents, the electron, the proton and the neutron. In Micro-Economics, he recalls marveling at the negative income elasticity of inferior goods. In Ethics, Sameer learned to appreciate the beauty of John Rawls’ theory of justice behind the “veil of ignorance” and in English Literature, he understood the irony in Twelfth Night, where Feste, the “Fool”, is the wisest character in the play.

With time, some of these concepts erode or are replaced by new ones, but some remain with the student forever. Concepts that stand the test of time do so because of how they were taught.

Some of the more peculiar teachers and their eccentricities remain etched in Sameer’s memory. He will never forget the teacher who doesn’t teach and instead, keeps smiling at the class, making everyone feel uncomfortable. He will also remember the teacher who treated the class to “funny” brownies one day. However, the teachers he will remember most are those who have left a mark on him because of what they bring to the class with them.

In the current semester, Sameer has come across one such teacher; a brilliant man who cultivates interest in the subject by adopting a teaching style that captures students’ attention and by allowing students to think for themselves and raising questions about the meaning of existence, life and religion. The said teacher could take the easy route by assigning readings and taking exams on rote-learning but he chooses not to do so. Instead, the classes are designed to stimulate realization. Sameer manages to not only stay awake in the classroom, but also ponder over sensitive topics.

Normally, the teacher begins class by asking each student a question that delves into the inner thoughts and feelings of Man. For instance, “if there was an earthquake, what is the one thing you would save?”. The reality is that Man would save other human beings.

Another question he asked was “who are you?”. Seemingly obvious, this question is the hardest to answer. Is who “you” are how you see yourself or how the world defines you? Sameer believes it’s the latter.

Man is defined by others based on what they see and perceive. Existence is shrouded by the appearances one keeps. Therefore, how people view you is not who you really are. You are described by your profession and lifestyle rather than by what you think and how you feel.

Imagine what your obituary will say. That’s who “you” are.

TGIF

Thank God It’s Friday.

Sameer is not reminiscing about the American restaurant chain that failed to capture the “casual dining” market in Pakistan. He really is thankful that tomorrow is Friday.

The reason for his gratitude towards the Holy Power for bestowing this day upon mankind is quite trivial. This Friday marks the end of political campaigning in his university, which had pervaded his life since the beginning of Senior year.

Sameer is not implying that there is something inherently wrong with the notion of political campaigning or that the candidates vying for Papacy of the sacred thrones of IBA’s Student Council are somehow ill-suited. He is only expressing his frustration with the way the struggle for power has divided the students and caused them to partake in unmentionable activities; Sameer witnessed speeches aimed towards desecrating the opposition’s religious beliefs, education and upbringing more than glorifying one’s own capabilities, and tactics meant to harm the opposition more than benefit oneself.

The process began harmlessly enough with candidates indulging in legitimate and acceptable means to acquire positions of authority. This involved creating Facebook groups to air views and plans, handing out stickers and flyers and occasionally annoying people with SMSs. However, things took an ugly turn when some ambitious people started campaigning based solely on painting a negative picture of the opposing party. What culminated from this negativity could hardly be positive.

Today, every sentence spoken seems to have double meaning, every smile looks deceiving and every hug is seen as insincere. What worsened the situation for Sameer was the fact that two of his friends were campaigning from opposing panels. Even though he firmly believed in both friends’ competence and credentials, he was constantly asked to choose between them.

Sameer’s way of dealing with the situation lay in finding humor in it. He studied the dynamics of the voters and realized that they can be easily categorized into four groups:

The Friends of the Candidate: these BFFs genuinely believe in their candidate but are the ones to avoid because, suddenly, they’ll be everywhere you go, urging you to vote for their friend because he/she is a deserving gem, falling barely short of sainthood.

The Loyalty Cards: these people are the eternally grateful ones, who were, sometime in the history, “assisted” by the wonderful candidate. They will do anything to be able to pay back the favors the candidate bequeathed on them.

The Players: these are the most interesting lot. They are the ones who promise every candidate that they are supporting him/her and somehow, get away with it. Truly insidious, they are the ones the candidate should fear because amongst them, they hold enough political clout to topple armies. Sameer believes these people will be running the country in a few years.

The Idealistic: these are the innocent bystanders who get trampled by all sides in their quest to discover the ideal candidate. They firmly believe in logic but are steamrolled by disingenuous promises. Sadly, with exposure to politics over time, they usually turn into one of the aforementioned three groups.

Sameer wonders what the results of the elections will bring with them. For now, he only prays that the remaining few hours until D-Day do not prove Ronald Reagan right when he said, “Politics is supposed to be the second-oldest profession. I have come to realize that it bears a very close resemblance to the first”.

It’s What Every Pakistani Heart Throbs For

The ball escapes the fingers of the spinner and slices straight through the air before curving suddenly towards the batsman’s leg stump, rendering the slip useless. The batsman anticipates the spin, goes down on one knee and twists his bat 135 degrees in a sweeping maneuver. As the ball scampers towards the boundary, outside the diving reach of the leg slip, the batting team’s fans cheer as one. Alas, the ball is stopped just inside the boundary by the deep fine leg fieldsman, as the batsman comes back for the second run.

The entire play takes about 3 seconds but in those 3 seconds, a fan’s heart can stop beating.

This is the wonder of Cricket. For Sameer, Cricket always has and always will, come before any other sport. Growing up discussing the grass at Lord’s, Sunil Gavaskar’s batting test average, Jonty Rhode’s epic catches, Inzamam-ul-Haq’s broken English, Hansie Cronje’s match-fixing scandal and of course, the ups and downs of Boom Boom Afridi (Sameer can still recall his fastest century in just 37 balls against Srilanka in 1996), Sameer was converted into a die-hard fan. Evidence? From street cricket to fantasy leagues, Sameer has done it all.

No amount of Football or Tennis can possibly elicit the fervor in him that one game of Cricket does. Aamir’s attempts to make Sameer appreciate Roger Federer’s win in the 2003 Wimbledon backfired completely. Instead, Sameer triumphed and got Aamir inducted into night matches of Cricket in his gali (lane). Sameer’s friend from IBA, Ebad, actually managed to get Sameer to play football at the infamous Rahat Stadium a few Saturdays. But his stories of Arsenal’s surprising defeat in the 2006 UEFA Champions League Final, of Zinedine Zidane headbutting Marco Materazzi in the 2006 World Cup or the recent 8-2 & 4-3 jokes failed to capture Sameer’s interest.

Sameer knows that most men today do not follow Cricket the way they used to in the 90s. He still remembers the Golden Age: tuning into the radio commentary in the school van because he couldn’t bear to miss Australia’s batting in the Ashes in 1997, the eerily empty Shahra-e-Faisal during the 1999 World Cup matches or simply screaming at the television set during a particularly intense game.

Perhaps, they have been let down by the fall from glory of the Pakistani Cricket team. Perhaps they have been disillusioned by the conspiracies that surround the game itself. Sameer doesn’t care. Even though Cricket is not the national sport of Pakistan (for those who don’t know, Hockey is our National Sport), Sameer thinks it should be, because the one thing that can irrefutably unite the divided masses of the country, is Cricket. 

Musings of An Intern

For an IBA student in the 6^th semester of BBA, the prospect of the looming compulsory internship is nothing short of a harrowing experience.

From countless aptitude tests answered by shading circles of MCQs to innumerable nerve-wrecking interviews in formal attire, the process stretches for months. Students usually approach it in either of two ways: the first way is chosen by the lackadaisical, where the internship is viewed as a cumbersome duty that has to be performed while the second way is chosen by the rather ambitious, where the internship is deemed the ideal platform for networking. Sadly, few people approach it with enthusiasm and the desire to learn.

In truth, the students can hardly be blamed for this attitude because at several internships, interns are treated as disposable beings. Expected to merge quietly into the background, they are presumed to be satisfied with sharpening pencils and achieving the exhausting task of “looking busy while doing nothing”. Thankfully, companies are trying to reverse this ideology by utilizing interns productively.

Sameer was lucky enough to obtain internship at one such place: PricewaterhouseCoopers Pakistan. Why he seems so content with his internship might not be apparent to a random observer but the random observer would probably be unaware of the minute details that make a job interesting. Allow me to elucidate.

When asked about their dream job, most people respond with clichéd fantasies involving a stimulating work environment, freedom to make one’s own decisions, flexible work hours and finally, the inevitable, a substantial paycheck. Few are fortunate enough to realize that it is really the small things that count and make any job truly worthwhile. Sameer is pointing to the praise given by the supervisor, be it simply a thumbs up. He is talking about the conversations with colleagues over tea, discussing the best restaurants for iftar or that terrible traffic jam on Shahra-e-Faisal in the morning. He is referring to the helping hand of the employees in the cubicles next door when they help figure out why MS Excel is being infuriating.

For Sameer, this internship was beautiful in its simplicity. The office is furnished unpretentiously with identical cubicles and rotating chairs. The people are friendly, helpful and not associated with formal titles. The environment is not bureaucratic and the work? The work is fascinating.

Looking back, Sameer has several memories to take forward with him such as the lunch trips to Boat Basin and The Elbow Room with some of the crew at work, enjoying moments of laughter and seeing the fun side of the people at PwC or that odd, daily ritual of having Omore at 4 p.m. at the khokha in the building.

Family Stories Best Left Secret

Erstwhile, the biannual religious festival of Eid was celebrated with unmatched zeal in Sameer’s family. It was characterized by pure gluttony (for a host of desi delights including puri-kaleji, kebabs, cholay, dahi baday, gulab jamun and the final entrée, siwaiyaan) and impressive monetary returns (in the form of eidi) from relatives Sameer never saw otherwise. Much less thought was given to the religious significance of saying Eid prayers in the Mosque or hugging one’s Muslim brothers thrice. Rather, the emphasis was on dressing up in a brand new kurta shalwar, having sheer khurma repeatedly, and comparing Eidi received with friends.

This year, however, Eid-ul-Fitr (or Meethi Eid as considered by some) was marked by a gloom like never before. Karachi’s halaat (conditions), the early morning downpour on the first day and the tightening of pockets owing to the economic strain left a damper on the celebrations. Sameer’s relatives cut corners in every way they could think of. While some kept fewer food items on the table, others sufficed with paying a paltry Eidi. Still others seemed to have given up the use of showers and deodorants; even the quick act of hugging them gave Sameer migraines.

Moreover, to his annoyance and his sister’s amusement, Sameer seemed to have become the talk of the day. Apparently, he was receiving rishtas (marriage proposals) right, left and center because he was expected to land a well-paying job after graduation. The fact that Sameer was the most-wanted bachelor in the family manifested itself in the behavior of aunties, who eyed him as if he were the juiciest piece of meat around and kept pushing their daughters to talk to him. After a while, he began seeing the humor in the situation too.

What Sameer really enjoyed though on these three days was the family gossip that leaked from everywhere. From the female second cousin who eloped with a really hot Greek in college in Winchester, to the uncle who got caught buying illegal Cuban cigars in Arizona (and apparently having to pay a whopping fine of 5,000 bucks), Sameer believed his family had finally done it all. This was however, only one side of his family. The other extreme’s expertise lay in religious fanaticism. One cousin had decided to join Jamat-e-Islami with the aspiration of being selected at an annual convention at Raiwind (in North-East Punjab) to go preach the message of Allah around the world. Sameer knew an act like this required dedication and courage and was in awe until one of the heavily made-up aunts condemned it with a flourish of “Woh sab tou theek hai magar kamaye ga kaise?” (That is all good but how will he earn?) Sameer thought she really had a point there but was too ashamed of his materialistic thoughts to voice them. So he hurriedly excused himself from the conversation and switched on the T.V., hoping to catch a mindless sitcom.

20 Rupees

Usually, if you get off to a bad start, your entire day is ruined. Sameer doesn’t believe in such things but this one Wednesday, everything seemed to be going wrong.

Sameer woke up late for his exam. He was supposed to reach IBA early and study with his friend, Anam, but that did not seem likely anymore. As he quickly shoved down his breakfast of toast and tea, he realized his clothes weren’t ironed. Pulling on his jeans, he searched for a clean t-shirt, but that very moment, the electricity went. Damn KESC’s scheduled load-shedding! 

As he grabbed his car keys off the computer table, his phone started silently vibrating; Anam was calling him, which meant she had reached IBA and would be furious at his tardiness.  He ignored the call hoping she’d think he was driving. Alas, driving today would not be possible as Sameer’s blue Alto refused to start; the more urgently he turned the key in the ignition, the more the car protested and spluttered. Finally, he gave up and started searching for a rickshaw. No empty rickshaw passed for 5 minutes so he realized he’d have to take the bus and end up missing the study session altogether.

As the G7 came speeding towards him, he raised a hand and jumped on before collapsing in the back seat. Thank God the bus wasn’t overflowing. He pulled out his phone and sent an SMS to Anam indicating that he was running late and how very sorry he was. She didn’t reply. Sameer put the issue out of his mind and pulled out his Financial Institutions and Markets’ textbook. Flicking through the chapter on monetary policy, he was barely conscious of the fact that the bus had stopped and two people were climbing on. Only when he heard raised voices, did he look up from the calculation of the reserve ratio.

An aged, frail woman, who had got on earlier with her adolescent (and by his looks, highly unkempt) grandson, was arguing with the conductor that she never pays the fare for her grandson. The conductor was adamant on getting the fare as the boy was old enough to be charged for it. Sameer shook his head at the strange principles people have and had half-a-mind to pay for the kid just to shut up the old woman. But as she continued screaming and abusing the conductor, Sameer realized the problem was the woman did not have 20 rupees to pay the extra fare. As waves of shock crashed over his head, Sameer sat paralyzed, watching the scene.

Here he was, completely unconcerned about a mere 20 rupees and there she was, fighting till her last breath for it. He tried to imagine what her day must have been like and couldn’t. While he was worried about his car and clothes, she was struggling to make ends meet. The darkness of her life made his day shine like a beacon. He marveled at the disparity that existed around him and couldn’t even enjoy the irony of the situation highlighted by his textbook: the affluent decide the monetary policy in the economy, while the common man neither knows nor cares what the discount rate is since he has no money in his pocket.

The Demerits of Merit

In a glorious age not so long ago, the worth of Man was not ascertained by, or limited to the number of degrees he had. Sadly, the population boom, stagnating job growth in the recession and rising competition have significantly reduced the value of higher education and hence, of Man himself. For instance, twenty years ago, a Bachelors in Business Administration was an honor; today, on its own, it counts for nothing.

Naturally, the course of action chosen by most BBAs is to add fancy three-letter degrees to their extensive CVs. While some tread the waters to become FRMs (Financial Risk Managers), others struggle to be converted into CFAs (Chartered Financial Analysts). Still others, the rather ambitious ones, gravitate towards the heavy-duty stuff: Chartered Accountancy and Actuarial Sciences. Ironically, as more and more people set sights on these degrees, the degrees start becoming redundant.

Undeniably though, the need to shine has become eminent. For Sameer, entering the corporate world via his internships was an eye-opening (read: earth shattering) experience. What Sameer realized is that there will always be someone a step ahead. So what do you do? Chase the shadows of those in the lead, hoping to catch up to them? Or lag behind and find contentment in being just a fraction of the person you can be?

Sameer thinks the correct answer is that you do neither. The real challenge is figuring out that one thing that you do best; that one thing where people would be willing to chase your shadows. It could be avionics for one person, landscape horticulture for another or, strumming a five string bass guitar for a third.

Sameer understands that whilst his friends in colleges abroad could secure jobs at JP Morgan Chase and the likes, he could not possibly hope to replicate their success without years of further studies. Therefore, with hordes of other students, he automatically registered himself for the CFA program. Still on the precipice of discovering his true calling, he believes the CFA exam in December will help him understand his core strengths. There is just one problem though.

Laffer Curve? IFRS? Exchange-traded Funds? Swap Contracts? Oh oh.

CFA curriculum is very taxing.

Abstention

Spicy aaloo chanay with Fresco’s meethi dahi puri.

Garma garam pakoray dipped in Mitchell’s tomato sauce.

A refreshing glass of orange Tang, full to the brim with clinking ice cubes.

For Sameer, the focal point of the month of Ramadan has always been mouth-watering food. True, the consecrated spirit of the occasion brings out the religious convert in him, making him staunchly punctual for his Fajr prayers. But the joy comes in the form of platters of deep-fried delights. In his opinion, there is nothing better than sitting down with family for iftar after fifteen hours of abstention from food, drink and unwelcome thoughts.

More often than not, Sameer’s family is unable to congregate for meals due to everyone’s varying schedules. For this reason, sehri and iftar are welcome changes, when the five of them (his parents, two sisters and Sameer himself) can enjoy the chow as well as some light conversation. This year though, each day at iftar, the family has started discussing issues of real importance and yesterday, Sameer’s sister raised a topic of huge concern.

While having tea after the maghrib prayers, Sadia asked everyone to talk about something they were thankful for. Sameer was reminded painfully of the Thanksgiving scene from The Company Men. He wondered why Sadia did not jump right into what was on her mind. Nevertheless, he played her little game. When Sadia’s turn came, everyone looked at her expectantly but what they heard was nothing short of unexpected.

Sadia was thankful that in the holy month of Ramadan, depraved men on the streets had the decency to lessen their harassment of women. She was grateful that on her way home from DOW (where she was a second year student), men in the bus did not try to caress her behind through the gap between the women’s seats adjoining the men’s compartment. Sadia was relieved to be able to commute the walk from the bus stop to their house without being x-rayed from head to foot. She was happy that wolf whistling and cat calls did not pursue her every step and that no one tried throwing chits at her with their phone numbers printed on them.

Sameer was stunned, angry and disgusted. He knew that women on the streets were often subjected to blatant sexual harassment but he had never assumed his own sister would become a victim. Ironically, the men’s behavior only seemed to fortify Sadia’s confidence in herself and Sameer was proud of her for handling herself so well. Sameer did not like that women’s cries fell on deaf ears and it was only men like him who could possibly take steps to change the sick mentality of his fellow countrymen.

He wonders how men can pretend to wash away their sins in the mosque or cleanse their souls by fasting when their thoughts and actions remain as perverted as before these rituals. Sameer couldn’t consider such men Muslims or Pakistanis because neither his religion nor his country stood for wantonness like this.

Sameer’s Foray Into Marketing 101

In the wee hours of Saturday, Sameer was awoken by an avalanche of SMSs from his friend Aleena (she was a part of Sameer’s close group of friends in IBA and an extremely stubborn person). Aleena wanted to meet everyone one last time before Ramadan started. Sameer wondered why the planning couldn’t wait until the sun had risen for the day but he knew the easiest way to stop the incessant messaging would be to reply. Therefore, he quickly agreed to meet at Park Towers.

Despite several delays, Sameer reached earlier than his perpetually-late friends. To kill time, he decided to delve into the pleasures of Movenpick’s Swiss Chocolate. As he did, he observed several excited people milling about. The central atrium of Park Towers is usually host to some activity and today, the hustle bustle of a large crowd and the presence of news reporters suggested something grand was underway. Sameer sensed a coup in the making.

It soon became apparent that Procter & Gamble’s latest BTL feat, Pampers Premium Care Baby Olympics was being held. Normally, Sameer wouldn’t have given it a second thought but he swore loudly as he realized that Aleena’s plan all along had been to witness the event. Aleena was a Marketing Major at IBA and a very annoying one at that; she discussed every Safeguard commercial, analyzed every Sana Safinaz billboard and drank the ink off Synergyzer.

Before he could scurry for cover, Aleena arrived and pulled Sameer into the midst of the crowd. The colorful setup was attractively designed and decorated. Toddlers were participating in games on a life-size racing track mattress adorned with balloons. Parents were happily ushering their kids into crawling races, push balls and running games, celebrating the freedom of movement. Sameer, not a fan of babies, particularly in public places, where their amplified wailing gives him migraines, was relieved to see most of the kids laughing, although a few looked downright terrified by the cheering, music and lights.

Sameer has to hand it to the team behind the concept. The event not only garnered parents and their toddlers and allowed them to enjoy a fun-filled activity, but also provided Pampers’ customers a medium to interact with the brand’s creative heads. Takeaways from the event included free photo frames, certificates and gifts. Moreover, parents could get their children photographed at the victory pedestal.

Now Sameer is no marketing buff but Aleena very kindly pointed out the ingenuity of the concept to him. In her extensive knowledge, toddlers are happiest when they are playing and running around and Baby Olympics was an ideal way to cherish those moments. Something Sameer picked on was that the event cleverly allowed busy parents, specially working mothers, to spend some quality time with their children, thereby increasing Brand Affinity for Pampers.

As soon as the words escaped his lips, he regretted them. Aleena started laughing at him for using marketing terminology so casually when he was trying to feign disinterest. To change the topic, Sameer suggested shisha at Indulge and started messaging the rest of the group to come save him from Aleena’s jokes.

The Boy Who Once Lived

One name, four syllables. Take the name and children begin weeping at the “end of an era”. Murmur the syllables and people start quoting their favorite passages from the books, or recounting childhood memories associated with the saga. You’ve probably guessed it: the name’s Harry Potter.

Millions of people of all ages, races and nationalities across the globe are enchanted (no pun intended) by Harry Potter’s fictional world. Sameer has never understood why the story of an ordinary boy, who goes on to do extraordinary things, appeals to the masses. True, he read the books just like all other teenagers around him did (and even tolerated the first couple of movies) but does that mean he started brandishing a broken piece of wood screaming “Accio” or wondering if the pebble he stubbed his toe with might be the Resurrection Stone? No, thank you.

While a lore of friendship, love and all things right had charmed (c’mon, pun obviously intended) Sameer’s sisters, they had never expected the last movie of the series to hit the cinemas in Karachi. But it did. Predictably, Sameer’s sisters bugged him endlessly to escort them to it. When he finally gave in and went to purchase the tickets, he was not surprised to see a long line of eager fans, simply dying to watch the movie. After standing in line for 20 minutes, he finally managed to secure 3 tickets and claw his way out of the crowd. When he called his sisters to inform them of the time and date of the movie, they squealed so loudly that people nearby got alarmed. Smiling weakly at them, Sameer hid his face and left.

The cinematic experience itself was shockingly pleasant for Sameer. Expecting a high amount of deviation from the book, he was prepared to leave disappointed, but the movie delivered as promised. What made the watch worthwhile was not Helena Boham Carter (although she did play a large part in keeping Sameer glued to his seat), but the crowd he was sitting with. When Bellatrix and Voldemort died, the entire hall erupted in cheers and catcalls. When Neville chopped Nagini’s head off, a ludicrously short girl next to Sameer, clearly an avid fan, actually leapt off the seat to clap and hoot. Though people kept quoting the dialogues, kids behind Sameer kept whispering incantations and a large group of very annoying aunties kept discussing Tom Felton’s rating on the “hotness meter”, Sameer’s eyes and ears were riveted towards the screen.

Sameer did not cry during the Pensieve scene (the way his sisters did) or feel despondent that no more was to follow. Yet, he was deeply moved by the experience. He hadn’t understood until then the immense power of words because he hadn’t witnessed the craze for The Boy Who Lived. Now, he realized that mere words, if used with good intentions, can unite people across continents and generations…the way the fantasy of Harry Potter did.

Strangers That Aren’t So

You may not know them, but you cannot forget them. They are the faces etched in your memories simply because they have been a tiny (albeit significant) part of your life. You may not even remember their names and it might take you a while to recall why they seem so familiar. But when you do, a smile winds up on your face or a thought flickers past your head. Who are these people?

For Sameer, these are strangers with whom he has shared some part of his life, be it utterly random moments. Like the unnamed doodhwala (milkman) who brings unpackaged milk on his trustworthy motorbike every evening, or the man who lives two blocks away but meets Sameer regularly at the barber’s shop on Sundays.

This week, Sameer was saddened to learn about the deaths of two such people; people who were never close to his heart, but are irrevocably pieces from his past, his glorious childhood. The first is his kindergarten teacher. Sameer is ashamed to say he does not remember her name. What he does remember is her warm hand helping him cross the road on the day of the annual field trip and the twinkle in her eyes as she painted a moon on his face on the day of the carnival. He cannot recall the things she said but he’s certain what she taught him was invaluable. Perhaps it was just the series of English alphabets; perhaps it was how to hold the crayon over the artpad. But without such crucial basic knowledge, would he be able to understand his textbooks in IBA or appreciate the beauty of colors in his photography? Sameer thinks not.

The second person Sameer lost is Zahoor baba. Zahoor baba was the owner of the only kiryana store within walking distance from his house. It was at Zahoor baba’s shop that Sameer devoured countless Jubilees and purchased 1.5 litre Pepsi bottles for guests. It was Zahoor baba who gave him free Eclairs when he got good marks in his exams and it was Zahoor baba who guided him how to select his first ink pen in 5^th grade. Sameer remembers saying salam to him every day but never asking him about his health. He was dependably present and it never crossed Sameer’s mind that one day, the shutters of Zahoor baba's shop would be down and people would be heading to his namaz-e-janaza.

Eccentricity

Eccentricity is a word with a nice ring to it. But most people’s eccentricities are quite unacceptable in civilized societies, such as necrophilia or infinitely less controversial, but equally strange, seasoning fried eggs with mustard.

Sameer himself may not have any particularly peculiar habits (at least none that he’d care to share), but he knows plenty of people who do. Today he’s going to reveal some of his friends’ odd behavior around beggars.

One of his neighborhood friends has been blessed with a 2002 model of Mehran and the permission to return home at any ungodly hour. Naturally, this friend spends a lot of his time cruising around town. Every Thursday night around 11 p.m., however, he can be found passing the Teen Talwar signal and while doing so, playing an unusual game with the beggars present. As soon as the signal timer shows a few seconds remaining till GO, he beckons a beggar with his index finger and tries to run over him/her, laughing maniacally. The intent is not to hit the beggar but to watch him/her dodge the car. Sameer was astonished to discover that the beggars are not only aware of this game, but willingly take part in it because afterwards, they are rewarded with hard cash.  In fact, the beggars dream of being the ‘Chosen One’ each week. Sameer wonders what his friend does when the tullas (traffic policemen) are around…perhaps they are a part of this game too.

Another story is of Sameer’s friend from IBA, Minahil. Minahil is terrified of beggars. When Sameer discovered this fact at the signal outside IBA, he could not stop laughing until he realized she was truly hobophobic; her fear is so profound, that she refuses to go to Cafe Coffee Day or Hot & Spicy, just because of the beggars outside. This causes quite a few problems for Sameer’s group of friends in IBA because Minahil starts hyperventilating as soon as she sees a beggar.

On a lighter note, is Aamir’s eccentric and amusing custom. Aamir is not a fan of giving money to child beggars, except in one situation, when he literally, chases them down to do so. This happens after Aamir has had an expensive meal. Sameer is not quite sure what the bracket is for a meal to be considered ‘expensive’ but every time they eat at a half-decent place, Aamir gives child beggars a hefty amount. If child beggars are not around, he drives around looking for them. Apparently, he feels guilty for enjoying a lavish meal while children on the streets starve. Sameer has never questioned this behavior and secretly applauds Aamir’s gesture. At least no racy Mehrans or hyperventilating is involved.

Smile Please

The growing fetish these days of taking dozens of pictures in the same pose has its roots in weddings, where the bride and groom remain seated on their thrones on stage, while family members crowd around them, jostling each other to catch the best angle of the camera’s frame.

While some people are simply “photogenic”, others may find themselves not so blessed. The good news for such people is that with today’s cameras and editing softwares, anyone can generate beautiful pictures. Sameer’s camera is one such tool.

Sameer is usually called upon by family members to photograph wedding events they are unwilling to pay professional photographers for. While his parents normally disapprove of the hobby, they acquiesce very easily to such demands. Sameer doesn’t mind. Not only does he get to do what he loves, he manages to sail through what would otherwise be some very long hours. After all, what else would Sameer be doing at mayons, mehndis and dholkis?

Funnily, because of the camera in his hands, Sameer gains access to ceremonies other men may not be allowed to witness. At a second cousin’s mayon, Sameer was asked to capture the hues of the jahez (dowry) being given to the ladka-walas (groom’s family) so as to maintain evidence of the bride’s monetary worth. Another time, for a combined mehndi, Sameer was asked to travel in the bus transporting the girls so that on the way he could record their song-singing ritual. He was the only male in the bus apart from the driver.

But sometimes, things go a little too far for Sameer’s liking. One such occasion was a mun dikhai/mayon at some random relative’s house. The event began with the bride in focus, sitting on stage under a veil, being forced to eat motichur ke laddoo and receiving money for it. Following that, she was taken inside the house for the ubtan applying ritual, while in the garden, music was turned on and the boys started making fools of themselves, dancing to “mein tou awein awein awein awein lut gaya”.

What made Sameer uncomfortable was being called inside the house to photograph the ubtan-laden bride. This was a family where the ladies observed parda, yet he was asked to photograph the bride with her lower legs, arms and face fully visible. He could see the bride was extremely uncomfortable having him around and Sameer himself felt awkward. But shockingly, the older women around did not seem to care. So Sameer had to endure a painful hour of snapping shots of girls he rarely saw while they posed and laughed openly in front of him. Sameer knew most people who did parda did not indulge in such behavior and he wondered why this particular family felt the urge to put together such a grand sham when they clearly did not believe in it.