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Monthly Archives: January 2014

پتہ بھی نا چلا

Child hurt in suicide bomb
بوٹیاں ہوا میں اُڑ گئیں

اور پتہ بھی نا چلا

ایک زندگی گزر گئی

اور پتہ بھی نا چلا

ایک بھیڑ تھی غبار تھا

جائے وقوع پر

ایک لمحے کی خبر تھی

اور پتہ بھی نا چلا

ایک گونج تھی دھمک تھی

مقام سے کچھ دور تک

بجھے دیئے کی راک تھی

اور پتہ بھی نا چلا


 فیصل ارشد


Consoling Asma After Her rs.20 load

My Dear Asma,


My deepest sympathies for your tragic illness. May God helps in your speedy recovery, and may others replace your hospital bed and die starving for easy load.

Now that I’ve sent you what you needed, let me console you with an explanation why others won’t bother giving a damn to your innocent plea.

First, it’s 2014.People literally dont give an F to respond to unsolicited SMS anymore. You appear to face a stiff competition from Ghar Ghar Benezir messagea, Mobilink’s sAb Keh Do messages, Warid’s FREE FREE 0.3+t FEE messages, and others. You don’t even seem to promise ‘Sachi Yaari’ for bachi-hungry guys who did move a little from the words ‘Kar dun ge’ at the end of your message.

Secondly, people literally can’t understand what on earth gave you  phone numbers for the mass message. They suspect that you’re a crook of a bloody easy-load shop, or a guy in disguise of girl.

Third, you fail to supply enough information about your illness, neither do you mention the security for the credit. You should’ve at least mentioned that AIDS would send you to eternal abode in a few days, and that each rs.20 load would sow 20 million seeds in heaven.

Finally, 20 rupees is a big amount for a stranger, you see.  Depending on one’s needs, twenty rupees can give you an eternal bliss of a regular Pepsi, or a cup full of Doodh Patti, or 4 Gold Leafs, or 1 kg carrots, or 2 Nescafe sachets, or 2 Jet Spots.

My dear Asma, it is my humble request to pardon those poor souls who couldn’t understand the agony of your miserable life. I am sure each of them would buy 20rs of petals to shower at your grave.

Your Ch Donor


Cursing Life Down The Road

I had cleared the job test and was up for the final interview at the bus stop. My attire consisted of a fairly whitened shirt, and a blue trouser my uncle had gifted after he was convinced that its patches were too obvious to hide. I had also managed to secure an oversized tie from my friend, triple knotted it, and built a false imagination that it matched the color of my black shoes.

Fearing that travelling in the bus would be a risky affair for such an expensive get up, I decided to fetch a rickshaw that promised a safer and quicker ride at a few extra bucks. I was so engraved in the thoughts about the job that I failed to sense any trouble standing next to a pavement surrounding a whole mess of sewage water.


I noticed a slowly approaching qingqi and prepared to signal it with excitement. But your car overtook it, speed passing it behind and splashing the sewage filth all over my body. And it was there my heart pounded this curse for you….


‘I pray that a truck meets you with a greater speed at the next intersection; and may you find not even a fractional second to pull your brakes. May the car overturns an umpteenth time before it throws you out in pieces, with your head open, your brain splashed on road, and your clothes bloodstained and torn into an infinite, irreparable patches. May flies dance all over your cut out intestines, and may dogs arrive on the scene quicker than the ambulance. ‘

‘The core of my heart also wishes that your materialistic wife marries a richer bastard, and your bragging kids receive all forms of molestation. May your brother promotes to the next level of corruption and rips off all what you’ve left behind.’

I was just about to end the painful spell when I saw the car reversing. Proactive this time, I had already got a stone clutched to break the moron’s head. But the sight of driver stunned me. It was the HR manager accompanying the key figure who was supposed to take my final interview.

I quickly put my stone-filled fist into one of the trouser’s pockets, expecting an apology and an impromptu interview…


P.S. The burned out character of this story presumably got the job, but he lost it in a more surprising fashion. See what happened next in my blog ‘Losing Your Job’.

Hope you’d like it.


Games Children Don’t Play Any More

I don’t understand this, but the modern-day child just can’t have enough for play.

When I ask a ten-year-old what’s hot on the playfields other than CS and ‘League of Legends’, I usually receive a blank stare following an absurd response ‘I also like cricket, I play it every two months!’
If I continue with the ‘what else’ thing, I am generally termed ‘Pakao’…

And that takes me back into the gaming nostalgia of 1990s, the period of my childhood.

Children of that era were never asked about their ‘favorite’ games. For a 90’s kid, every game had a fun to offer. If a game or a sport ever existed, it was ought to be played. So there was a long list of morning games, afternoon games and evening games. And to try them all, they were naturally set for different seasons.

I may not be able to list them all. But let me take the challenge anyway.
First, the traditional games – or the ones that are somehow played until the present day. I will, however point to the ways in which playing literally everything was somehow possible:

Cricket did not always require long pitches and evening times. And we could play in as small a place as school van. Yes! a paper ball wrapped in scotch tape, combined with a notekeeping register, was all what was needed in a running vehicle to ignite our cricket fever. And at homes, we could play ‘one-tip’. On rooftops, we could be happy with just right/left bat play, and of course on roads, streets, parking plots and playgrounds, cricket was played in much flexible manner.

Football also did not need a long course ground as we see in FIFA leagues. Two medium-sized stones placed across the street were used as indicators for goalpost. Again, no one ever cared about wearing a particular set of sport shoes. If you could make with joggers, that was pretty much accepted.

Badminton courses had to be constructed, but not so much in a professional manner as one we would rather find under college or university compartments. In streets, we would just use limestone to chalk badminton courts. A homemade net tied on tree trunks or house gates would usually suffice for the nighttime sport.

Hockey, like badminton, had to be played in the same not-so-professional manner. But it was still fun. We used to assume plain streets as hockey fields and other than the hockey stick itself, no other requirement of the sport was (could be) met. In place of hockey ball, a rubber made cricket ball was used, for the sake of keeping the game going

And now some games which have already died or slowly approaching death:

Pitto-Maari & Maarm Pitti
It was not a cultural thing, but whenever it rained, children would hunt for a few vase pieces or marbles, set them up in a loose structure (Pitto) on the centre of the street and play what was called Pitto Maari.
The game rules varied, but the general principle was to get the pitto reordered after it was shattered from a ball hit.

The opponent team had to make sure this would not happen, hitting and ousting everyone from the other side trying to arrange the Pitto with the ball hit.
Maarm Pitti was simpler, and it was usually played when the Pitto was totally shattered or destroyed. The teams would simply hit their opponents and get the out.


Langri Paala

This was much more popular in girls than in boys. The game only required skip-jumping boxes made on ground from a chalk piece, first with both legs, and then with one.

The last and the most difficult level required skipping twice 3 boxes with one leg!


Chupan Chupaayi / Pakram Pakraayi
The western name is Hide and Seek, but at that time very few of my childhood friends knew it. The game was the favorite sport to kill the time of unexpected (and sometimes daylong) power failures.

Scheduled loadsheddings, and the common use of UPS and generator has almost caused this game to eliminate from the streets.
Pakram Pakaaryi was the simpler form. Children would only chase run after the opponents until all were out.




Ludo, Carom, Chess and Dwarf
Board games were always the best escape for an extraordinarily hot or cold day. Ludo, carom, chess and dwarf were the most common indoor games and were usually played amongst the best friends, siblings or cousins. Although these games have survived, they are only the last resort for the present day child who see ‘Need for Speed’ as a better alternative.


Patangbazi or Kite-flying were used to be our favorite pastimes for the Asr-Iftar period in Ramazan and at the spring time. Nowadays, that time space has been taken by Aamir Liaquat.

Some Bad Games That No Longer Exist
Some games, like Latto and Kancha, formerly considered bad are now completely dead. These games were usually considered as pastimes of the the extreme illiterate people, and those involved with these games were alleged to be gamblers or ‘Jua-rees’. But as games, these had their own fun…And I have tasted both of them.

And finally there were video games, the SEGA, the Nitendo and the Atari.The electronic gaming was just born so we were really excited replacing our old pastimes with it.


When these were not enough, as they usually were, we could explore video game shops, foos-ball (the unpopular Patti), Dabbo (the real big carom), garden wrestling, bicycling, Kings, arm wresting,  and I don’t remember.

I’d really like to know if you’ve played anything more than that…