bearded goats, horny toads and oh i live in wimbledon

26Dec06

there are times when even the most alpha male type of chauvinist pigs probably end up wishing they were females. like when you’re standing in line to pay your electricity bill for instance. or when you get stuck with a flat tyre and no jack in the trunk. or when the waiter signals you to the corner table near the kitchen door while the pabx operator from your office gets the best one in the restaurant. but most of all when mr. boss clears the new junior associate’s work without even reading it and starts nitpicking when it comes to your own near-perfect work.

there are people who would say that the beard does not necessarily indicate a greater control of what in modern urdu slang is referred to as thark, something between libido and lust when you attempt to translate it (but thark sounds so much better – like barjista instead of “impromptu” or humjinsparast instead of the now awami “gay”), but in my opinion there should atleast be an attempt to resist the rosy cheeks. and the guy’s married for christ’s sake. and she’s probably young enough to be his daughter. well kid sister. but thats besides the point. in a remarkable feat of evolutionary performance, the bearded goat has transformed into the horny toad. like nusrat bhai sang:

bus hamein shaikh ji aap jaise
Allah waalon say Allah bachae

of course on the plus side you could say i was saved the hassle of his nitpicking his way through that stuff as well. and going from that perspective, maybe i should delegate all the stuff i would normally be expected to do to her. hmmmm.

have you ever met the kind of person who, if you were standing by a car, would assume that you own it? interesting incident at the otherwise boring wedding the other night. by virtue of sitting with two londoners i was “recognized” by a third londoner as someone he’d seen at the idara.  now if he hadn’t had the anglo-gujrati accent and if the kebabs hadn’t been served a tad too much on the tender side, i would have politely disabused him of the idea (now there’s a lovely english word, “disabused”). but let’s face it. we were bored. so i too confessed to feeling that his face had a familiar look to it but i hadn’t been able to place it till he mentioned idara. so the gentleman started telling me about how he lived on some sherwood road in norbury. i told him i lived on elborough street near winbledon park – an address i recalled off a david lodge novel – and though the guy gave me a queer look i started talking about how being so close to southfields station made it a convenient location. the conversation then shifted to work and such and i actually managed to get a couple of mashallahs out of him when i told him of how my career in the london offices of pwc was moving. it would have been fun if it ended here but he had to give us his whole life story of how he’d spent the last 32 years in london and how much karachi has changed since he visited four years ago. thankfully he had a little pest of a son who managed to drag him out for a walk or something. i’m quite proud of my bullshitting skills. i actually sold the story of my last six years in london to a seasoned citizen despite never having visited the damned place. way cool.

unfortunately it made me realise that i have to bullshit to be taken seriously. either that or finish this damn chartered accountancy thing very soon. until then, however, being a fake farangi will have to do.

appropriate shair of the day:

bana hai shah ka masahib, phiray hai itraata

wagarna shehr mein ghalib ki abroo kia hai?

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4 Responses to “bearded goats, horny toads and oh i live in wimbledon”

  1. very funny… but dont take it as an encouragement to lie!
    glad to see you are back to blogging. What about your finals results? did they come in yet?

  2. you don’t ask a ca trainee about results! ever! its considered insensitive and unsympathetic.

  3. ooops! sorry a bout that. But u asked me to pray for you.. doesnt that give me a right to ask?

  4. you can pray but you can’t ask. keep praying.


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