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.