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.

Principles of Being Filthy Rich

Whoever says security is a non-existent phenomenon in Pakistan needs to visit Aamir’s home.  It’s a different matter that they would never be able to put one step over the threshold for the very same reason.

Aamir and his family are Sameer’s mentors when it comes to learning the Principles of Being Filthy Rich. Having continuously demonstrated the power of money, Aamir and his family have taught Sameer not just to understand, adore and desire money but also to trust it to solve most of everyday concerns.

This Summer, Sameer had the fortune of discovering Aamir’s family’s newest hobby. It seemed that since the past year, Uncle and Aunty had decided to take the failing Law & Order situation in the country personally. Determined to ensure their safety, they had taken measures some might consider extreme but Sameer thoroughly enjoyed learning about. In 11 months, they had managed to not just renovate but completely redesign their beautiful home located in Phase VIII.

Apart from the standard security at the gate (reinforced steel gate, armed guard and electronic sensors switched on at night), new technology had been acquired. Doors to rooms had been fitted with digital, password-protected locks, which meant that even to enter Aamir’s room, Sameer needed to know the 4-digit password. In case of three incorrect attempts, the Police would be alerted by an automatic alarm and the entire house would light up like a Christmas tree.

But this was not all. Descending from the large spiral staircase in a heavily embroidered sari and expensive-looking diamonds, Aamir’s mother informed Sameer that while they had begun the electrical work on the security system, they also “jazzed up” the décor. Sameer wondered how she felt secure in her pricey attire but more importantly, what the new jazz was. To show him, Aamir led Sameer to his room. There were no switches in the room. The room had been trained to understand voices so now the lights, curtains and even air-conditioning could be controlled with a few syllables. Talk about grandeur. Sameer could bet even the President did not have access to such lavish technology. Or maybe he did. Who cares?

Before he can fully explore and marvel at the developments in housing security, Sameer has to sit and program his voice into the system so that just in case he wants to take a leak, he won’t get locked inside the washroom for good. 

Aamir

They have seen it happen before. The phone rings once and Sameer is found speeding away. His family is used to the 3-year old tradition now. Every summer vacations, Sameer’s best friend from school, Aamir, comes traipsing back from his college in New Jersey to spend the hottest days of the year with his family in Karachi. And the moment he arrives, Sameer rushes to meet him, no matter how late or early in the day it is.

If there was ever someone Sameer could call his brother, it would be Aamir. They had been friends since Sameer joined KGS in 7^th grade. They had done everything together from shaving for the first time to smoking the first cigarette. It had been Aamir’s idea to sneak into his dad’s liquor cabinet and it was Aamir who taught Sameer things that can be done with cars and are only seen in The Fast & The Furious series. Naturally, Sameer has spent half his life at Aamir’s house and is treated like a member of the family.

While it wasn’t apparent to Sameer, Aamir claims to have learned a lot from him, his family and his lifestyle. Sameer’s life had always fascinated Aamir. In fact, that was how they became friends in the first place.

It was Sameer’s third week in Grammar and he had never been this lonely in life. The lifestyle was completely foreign to him: people conversing casually in English, talking about holidays in Italy and discussing Tennis rather than Cricket. Although Sameer had never had difficulty making friends, he could not seem to make any headway in this alien world.

So when he was invited to an Aamir’s birthday celebrations at Area 51, he jumped at the opportunity to mingle with his new classmates, the OGs. What he didn’t know was that his family would be so narrow-minded about him befriending the “rich kids” that they’d forbid him from attending the birthday party. It was with a gloomy face that Sameer declined Aamir’s invitation. While the other kids ridiculed Sameer, Aamir observed him silently.

What happened the next day was not something Sameer could have ever foreseen. Aamir arrived at Sameer’s house, without warning, to convince Sameer’s parents to let him attend the birthday party. Sameer worried about what Aamir would say in school about his small abode and plain family, but he needn’t have.

Aamir introduced himself to Sameer’s parents and acted like the perfect gentleman. Not even for an instant did Aamir seem to judge Sameer’s lifestyle. On the contrary, he seemed genuinely interested and Sameer could see his parents changing their minds about rich kids. When Aamir asked them to allow Sameer to attend his birthday party, they readily agreed. Sameer was utterly perplexed but at the same time, grateful.

At the gate, Sameer only asked Aamir one thing: “Why?” In reply, he got a shrug and a smile. To this day, Sameer wonders what made Aamir come to his house.

To this day he’s glad that Aamir did. 

47 Minutes

Sameer spent 47 minutes, 23 seconds at the PSO petrol station on M.A.Jinnah Road today. You might be wondering if Sameer adores the smell of petrol. Not particularly. Or perhaps he enjoys watching the attendants wipe cars’ windshields. Not at all. He wasted so much time at the petrol station because yet again, an infamous political party (you know which one) has called for a 2-days strike, which means that petrol stations are most likely to be closed over the weekend and hence, the awaam is lining up for fuel today.

Sameer is not going to go in details about the heinous target killings happening in Karachi, the efficacy of strikes or how individuals outside Pakistan exert such powerful influence over its largest city that they dictate the fate of the residents; He’s going to leave it for the countless talk-shows airing on the numerous news channels as he types.

What Sameer wants to highlight today, is simply the inconvenience caused to the common man by such antics. In the narrow sense, owing to unnecessarily elongated traffic jams and undue panic, people are hassled on their way home. Moreover, during the strike, public transportation is scarce and expensive, affecting the lower tiers of the population most. In the broad sense, the daily-wage earners lose crucial income when strikes are called. Sameer may not be one of them but he understands the devastation caused to the economy by these strikes. What is unfathomable is that the enforcers of these strikes rise from amongst those most affected, and Sameer wonders what they gain from disrupting the lives of their own countrymen.

Certainly, in school days strikes were nothing short of celebratory occasions but as one continues to spend days locked up at home owing to political squabbles, one comes to realize how frustrating it is to have to endure yet another day of late breakfast of anda paratha, a marathon of How I Met Your Mother and incessant SMSs to friends.

Congraduation!

He twists and turns in his bed, unable to find comfort. His head is swimming with thoughts as bitter-sweet memories flash past his drawn eyes. His heart is laden with emotions he had never felt before. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that tomorrow is his last day…

This is how the night before graduation passes. Or so Sameer believes. Since he is a 3^rd year student at the Institute of Business Administration, Sameer still has a year to go before his own graduation. But he fears the time.

In Sameer’s opinion, if your days are marked with a cycle of stress, relief, depression, happiness and anxiety, there’s a great probability that you are graduating. Having witnessed his seniors pre-gradation celebrations, Sameer realized that the joys of finally escaping the ruthless academic world are masked by insecurity and anticipation. For the seniors, it wasn’t just a time of rosy festivities and cheery farewells; it was also a time of unrewarding job search, paralyzing self-doubt and fear of the unknown future.

Sameer is going to be the first boy in the family to be graduating from such a prestigious institution. His family consists of drop-outs and failures. The pressure of excelling, it’s safe to say, is therefore very high as he must bear the fruits of his “mehngi parhai” (expensive education) quickly. But there’s still time for this melodrama. Right now, Sameer wants to share a story.

While the seniors were taking pictures like there’ll be no DSLRs tomorrow, their gleeful smiles and bright eyes hid their innermost fears: the fear of not being able to secure a Rs. 75,000 job with Unilever, P & G or Engro, the fear of not possessing the things only money can buy and the worst of them all, the fear of lagging behind their peers. While some romantic hearts were concerned about keeping in touch with their BFFs, others were worried about their BFFs being more successful than them. Oh the shame.

So here’s the story: Sameer’s friend Fatima confessed her biggest fear to him and while Sameer laughed it off, he couldn’t help but secretly agree with her. Fatima’s biggest fear is to ask a successful friend for a job and being mocked for it. She painted the scenario:

Imagine that you are meeting your friend (let’s call him Zeeshan) for breakfast at Butler’s. You arrive early in anticipation of the meeting while Zeeshan arrives fashionably late, in a fancy suit talking on his BlackBerry, and emphasizing how he has taken time out JUST for you. You sit through a discussion of how his job is hectic and challenging but simply the best. He claims to want the best for you and will (obviously) try to help you secure a job but that he can’t make promises. You cringe at the diplomacy. Over Spanish omelet you bring up the good ol’ university days but even his laughter has become professional.  And what do you do if suddenly Zeeshan whips out a company-paid credit card and insists on getting the bill since, well, you don’t have a job and (laughing) he says you can cover it the next time?

Fatima shudders at the very thought. Sameer is speechless.

Listening to this painfully vivid description, Sameer realized that “Congraduation!” is a dreaded word if you are graduating without job offers. And worse is accepting a job that is considered, let’s say, demeaning for a graduate from IBA.

He is thus, forced to question whether the rat-race is really worth it. Is it really that important to have the best job, the best abode and the best car? Isn’t there more to life than material success at mechanical 9-5 jobs? But how does one place a limit to wants and decide how much is enough? Sameer wonders…