Thursday, August 12, 2004
on rainthe rain in Islamabad- and the rain on the motorway, to be completely fair- has purpose. it mills around in the sky, chewing its cud as it were, rolling a mouthful of water around in its cloudy mouth, flashing lightning like a flickering tubelight behind layers of clouds before spraying the ground below. phooosh. Lahore rain tends to pitter-pat, softly, like baby powder. tinkletinkle on a windowpane. Islamabad rain comes down in an intent, steady open-faucet stream. zor se, thundering down. it means business. i’m comin’ down whether you like it or not, and i’m gonna be here with or without you. Islamabad rain is thunder and lightning and real-life proper water-from-a-showerhead kind of monsoon rain. Home rain is so much more watered down (pun so intended).
i’m writing a story.
on the taxis
there are no rickshaws in Islamabad, only lots of yellow and black taxis. bumblebees with oversize numberplates and things written on their bums- ‘mila karo’ ‘don’t follow me’ ‘live life’. my personal favourite was a vertical venetian blind hanging in the back window proudly bearing ‘naseeb apna apna’ in red letters and, underneath in black, ‘don’t touch me’. the refined ricksha.
on food
united bakery has my heart. buttery, soft croissants we buy by the cling-filmed tray. once i get the oven of my dreams, i’m going to make them. baking your own bread seems like the epitome of the sughar aurat, now that i know how to make jam and pastry (scandalously easy, its such a deliciously overrated skill). and i had some smashingly good lunches and dinners here and there; i am the true culinary child of my kashimiri ancestors.
on books
i leave a trail of musty pages in my wake and i love it. old book shops zindabad, and Isloo is such a wonderful place to find things you want to read, all the goray dump their lovely books in little delicious khudday where they wait for you to sneeze over their dust and take them home. i got the fountainhead, much to my delight, a history of god (hooray!) and a nancy friday- no, it's not a sex-fest, it's about the impact of appearance and beauty in our lives, borders on psychobabble but is enormously interesting. oh, and i read the da vinci code (more like inhaled it) and although there were a few plot eye-rolls, i have to say that it was a fabulous romp. i now pack keeping in mind i'm going to need space for at least six books on the way home- the three i always travel with, and the (at least three) i will acquire. hehehe. bliss.
on skin
attack of the invisible keeray! i've come home covered in dark pink welts and a funny itchy patch on my right forearm that's faded to rose from its original angry purple. reminds me of the time when we'd just moved back and the machars drove me insane; i used to be covered in massive red welts. machars love me and the skin's always been on the sensitive side, so field day for marauding keeray.i don't mind them for their colour and interesting texture, but they itch.
Mina at 7:18 PM
