barish ka hai mausam… (updates on my life)


while i continue to gradually rot and decay (an also inflate) at hpml, it has been raining hard (yes hard – as someone said, farishtay tika tika ker maar rahe hain) in our delightful ruins by the sea. and on the first, and incidentally the worst, day of the downpours rehan of prl fame finally got be-nikkahed to mahive. or bhabive as we will now refer to her. and it was in this dooba dooba road situation that the motley crew of juniors met at various points on the way to become a part of the barat. interesting. well that was the only interesting thing about it. otherwise it was standard fare boredom.

the other thing about rain in karachi (ok so i didnt give a first thing but i’m too deep in this sentence to use backspace) is that it usually serves as a moodlifter. yeah i know we curse the broken roads (and when we speak of broken roads, hats of to saan t, or the way she handled mustafa kamal on metrolite), the powercuts, the parwanas that seem to come out of nowhere, but we still, stereotypically speaking, have a btter time. or am i just saying that because we’re talking once again?

normally a long, dark, green carpeted corridor becomes a drag tens seconds after you step in it. whe its dirty it becomes a turnoff. and if u can hear the constant hum of the small exhaust fans combined with the drip drip drip of water in the plastic bucket placed under the leaking styrofoam – well its simply not something you wait for. nothing smacks more of wasted lifetimes and low budget movies than dark dingy corridors – even if they’ve got quaint legends about them being haunted. but this post isn’t about lousy interior decor and office architecture. this is about how much i miss those whispered phonecalls and “can you talks?” of yesteryear. of how an hour seems like a second when i’m talking to you. of how you lift my mood more than any pouring cumulonimbus ever could. you were, once upon a distant time, the sawan ka mausam in my life, the breath of fresh ai. but that “were” in all the sense of past tense that it implies, is pretty damn final, don’t you think?

so? so nothing. we’ll be talking again tonight na?


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