“This is my country. I love my country.”
For the longest time a faraway land pled for a pink Summer. The auspicious occasion brought on a false promise of hope and commitment. The foreign vision listed a huge asset as a byline for countries and wonders of the World. Be it Niagara Falls, cryptic road messages, colorful Graffiti and old bridge towns, the fortitude just needed five reasons to crisp the waves and smooth oceans. A Nomad falls in a different constituency. His life is a gold stroke. With private conversations and life of a spherical band, the perfect glide is an art. Going to Bali is a commitment. (Subtle reference to engagements aka Baat Pakki in Pakistan that are a vocal deal until the Nikkah; Bali over here refers to a ring that ponders on commitment.) It has ups and downs which releases yet picks up quickly.
Bibi Asma
The point of location is a vivid indicator of immersion; to respect with a bit of love, honey and intention. A vegetable will still give life if you let it grow. The bass of a hold is hollow; yet fulfilling it is a necessity. The blow torch is a sparkle of life that can be planted out in clamors of sparkle and politesse. Getting in the shell is fast, coming out is a process. It’s built with bricks of determination and bronzed out destinations.
“A book should not cost more than a pack of cigarettes” ~Mr. Allen Lane, founder of Penguin Books.
A wise sycophant will portray themselves as weak. A liberated spirit will walk, run, cycle or even take a bus. They introduce an idea that develops and learns. Millions of people in developing countries have their sense of trust, instinct and belief. If you want to belong to a culture, taste their Onions. They will seclude you from any harm. Indulge with baked tomatoes and add meat and/or vegetable with salt according to taste. My sense of aroma would light up in the northern areas. They grasp a strong hold from behind. A sense of peace that only comes from Home. A six hour bed rest makes up for that. Wrong. A home is not just walls and a rooftop. It’s inside you.
‘It’s not the place, it’s a sense of belonging to pour out all your inhibitions and bring you back with bent knees filled with gratitude.” – Kinza T. S. Monga
A nomad is power and curbs your own. Belonging is not my cup of tea. It’s coffee.
Pakistan — Built in the 1940s, I’m from the third generation of hookahs, boiled eggs and cremated cigarettes butts. This form of socialization will get me to meet an Egyptian student, a Turkish navy officer, a Canadian drummer and my heritage of Jalandhar and Amritsar. From the province of Punjab that is famous for “chul” aka Party, Punjabi blood is raw and vivid. Loud, proud and the coleslaw crowd. Habit of listening is an art and I’m learning every day. Distinction is key yet average is also a number. Perfection is sweet yet overbearing. Molten with strong ‘juggad’, acceptance and tolerance is a protective gear.
Follow the rule or follow the door; one must maintain flexibility and demand. Supply will be limited if it lacks give and take. An open mind is a virtue and wisdom is not a privilege. The hold of control must be let go to allow a trust fall. To be instigated, an idea is cult until broken into tiny shards of glass. Exploring and still learning, from mine to yours.
Image courtesy: YoulinMagazine
Karachiites 