The speech that never happened.
(Originally by my twin rtraja. I did tamper with it a tiny bit to ‘blogify’ it, but it remains, for the most part, unaltered.) I’ll post my own perspective shortly. My readers will know how much I love series 😉
The Opening Address
The one aspect that truly shines like a beacon in the dark which I will carry with me wherever I go is the warmth, kindness and care that I have experienced throughout my years at Manarat — in short, the friendship that I have come to know.
As the friendship of a classmate has been focused on, I would like to draw attention to my teachers.
They have always been there for me, with a keen interest and a discerning eye to ensure not only my success, but that I would rise should I fall, and push forward with greater fervor and tenacity. These are but a few of the qualities which have forged the body that I can sincerely call friendship.
I will be ever grateful to all my teachers, especially those that I am privileged enough to call my friends.
Last but not least, we hail our mothers for their selfless role as our unfailing friends.
Finally, I wish to leave you with a thought:
Educate a man, you educate a man, but educate a woman and you educate a nation … nay, a generation.
This is what my teachers, and our mothers, are doing, and it is for this that I say thank you!
Glad to see Earth Hour making an impact in Pakistan, too, however small. Definitely worth a read. Oh, an Andhera, for those of you who don’t speak Urdu, means darkness.
I just came home from a short yet extremely memorable trip to Karachi and right now my mind is too numb to conjure something of my usually creative standard. I’ll just say that I’ve done a complete makeover of my WordPress (yes, again) and that I had an amazing time in Karachi and wish I could stay longer. Watch this space for more.
Okay, so it’s been a while (I seem to say that every time now!). I’ve been cleaning up and getting rid of my piles and piles piles of IGCSE past papers, many of them untouched. And many of them which I won’t ever need again, like Physics, Business Studies and Environmental Management which I’m not doing at AS Level. So what the hell was I supposed to do with them now? Recycle them, of course. You weren’t going to throw them away, were you?, said my ever eco-friendly soul ;). Oh, and only the used ones. The untouched ones formed another pile. (What will be done with those will be decided later!)
And so the cleaning began. The pile was initiated … and got bigger …
… It got thicker still … until it filled a mega-sized Ikea bag.
And that’s just the used ones! (despite that, I still think there’s more hiding somewhere). But at least that was a major cleaning task out of the way! In other news …
Okay, so strictly it was ‘a marvel’ and not ‘marvels‘, but still. It was so cool! What happened was that I left a spoon with a plastic handle behind a pot which was being heated. Since the plastic and the hot metal pot were touching, the resultant was a severely melted handle, with a blob of plastic left on the stove(which, sadly, I couldn’t photograph). The resulting spoon handle looked like this …
While I was very awestruck at my accidental masterpiece and the chemistry which caused its creation, my mum was just upset that I’d damaged her spoon. What can I say, I guess some people are just disbelievers in the wonders of everyday science. My youngest brother on the other hand … now he though it was epically cool. There’s my little budding scientist. 😉
It is these little everyday things that add colour our lives, right? Where would we be without them?
I felt like this the day my IGCSE ended. Maybe it was the terrible cold I had, maybe the lack of sleep. Maybe both. In any case, hardly exciting.
I very nearly cancelled my trip to the mall. The headache. The sleepiness. Akch, the sneezes. I went to bed the night before hoping I could make it the next day. (I can hear my friends gasping at this point — their plans would have been demolished!)
I wasn’t exactly ‘suspicious’ when I arrived at the mall. Just slightly ‘weird-ed out’ by the number of ‘”Happy birthday”s I was receiving. I mean, okay, my birthday’s in the summer and most people will miss it as they’re away. But in late July, for crap’s sake. A little closer to the day would be more appropriate, perhaps?
And then I was taken, nay, escorted (by bodyguard friends) to The Pizza Company (wasn’t it Chilli’s as per the original plan?),where I was seated right in the corner under close supervision. And in a spot where I couldn’t see the rest of the restaurant. Very smart, now that I think about it 😉
But the real bomb was when they wouldn’t let me leave. Why not? the bill was sorted, the movie sorted, everyone had arrived … I just wanted to get a drink and come back. And there was Khushi acting like my mum (I only sat up because I was stiff, I wasn’t abandoning you, for crap’s sake), Kaltham acting all hurt (“We don’t like our friends to leave like this”) and everyone else sitting obediently (all part of the evil plan, yes?).
What the hell was going on?
And then this arrived.
“To make up for all the birthdays that you’ve organised” , they said.
Aww. So it did pay off after all. You might need Google Translate for the next part.
To Kaltham: Dankie dat jy!
To Baraa: Cảm ơn bạn một triệu lần!
To Sana and Khushi: Teşekkürler!
To everyone who sat witness: Väga nutikas. Sa lihtsalt tunnistajaks kogu asi?
To Rashmi: Χρόνια νωρίς γενέθλια1 (Chrónia no̱rís genéthlia!)
And to all of you who weren’t there: Kami benar-benar benar-benar rindu padamu!
Much love 🙂 And, oh, a final word:
Enjoy yourselves! Until next time 😀
Well. There goes Post A Week down the drain. Should have called it Post Every Twenty Days or something (unfortunately, WordPress have no such initiative). In any case, better late than never.
Things have changed in these past few days; but if they’re for better or worse I can’t quite figure out. Allow me to start here:
For the past 16 years, I have fended questions about my ethnicity, or rather, the cricket part of it ( 😉 ), with an “I’m not really a cricket person” or “I don’t speak cricket, mate”, or quite simply, nodded along to whatever the other person was saying, pretending I knew what they were talking about when, really, I hadn’t a rat’s poop about what they were saying. For 16 years, I have held my head up high, very proud of the fact that I hadn’t yet fallen into the black hole of cricket, hadn’t succumbed to this infectious, seemingly ubiquitous craze.
How this turnaround happened, I am at a loss to explain. Surrounded by friends, colleagues and family who were addicted to the game, I have long considered myself ‘immune’ to cricket. To me, it seemed like a game designed either by a mathematician or a drunkard playing chess (both are just as bad). Not anymore. I think the real ‘switch’ happened when, for the first time ever, I actually watched cricket in class. Our business studies teacher is Irish, and he was, well, really rubbing it in our faces that they beat a hotshot team like England. In fact, he designed a whole poster to proclaim that they would beat in turn, England, India and (this really did it!) Pakistan, each represented as a cricket association logo with a large, red cross on it. I think that proved a bit too graphic: not just for me, but for the entire class. We were up in arms, sounds of protest piercing the air. Not a surprise when the majority of the class comprises of Indian and Pakistani students. And that wasn’t all: he even went as far as to say that when Ireland beat Pakistan he’d give us the lesson off. Now, that ‘when’ would have made any dignified Pakistani stand up in anger, be it a hard-core cricket hater like me. Besides, all my Indian friends were scowling too (he’d made a similar comment about them), so it was all the better ;). We walked out of class that day with deflated souls, ready to slaughter our teacher with blunt knives, ensuring he died a slow, very painful death. (okay, I’m joking … but still).
But what really struck me was how cricket could unite people from all walks of life, regardless of where they came from. How it made people feel like they were part of some bigger picture. How they were giving back to the spirit of the game. How they yelled and screamed for their side to win, not because they were mad (like I previously thought), but because they were patriotic. And that was a very, very difficult pill to swallow. For the first time in my life, I felt a little ashamed to have bluntly stated my hatred for the game; it wasn’t fair to the thousands who loved it. I’d just discovered the key to understanding what this confusing tangle of cricket was all about: giving back to where you came from. It was an undeniable part of Pakistani culture, part of who I was. Hidden somewhere beneath my dislike for the game, but definitely present anyway. I think I was finally able to understand this inexplicable passion, perhaps not able to relate to it yet, but I certainly got how people were falling head over heels for the game. And it made me smile – on the outside as well as the inside. I think that, through the strangest means possible, I’d made an even bigger realisation, (and I say this very sheepishly in a quiet voice) that I am, er, very proud of where I come from. All I can say is that when Pakistan play against Ireland, we all know which shade of green I’ll be cheering for this time around. Not shamrocks, but stars and crescents all the way!
Until next time 🙂