pretty flowers and pleasant hours and a whole lot more besides

03Mar07

when humans first started to develop society and moved from the roving hunter/ gatherer paradigm to that of the settled agrarian, the biggest threat to those societies was attack from hordes of nomadic wild men, commonly called “awdeetars”. disshevelled and unkempt, these awdeetars would move in packs of four to twenty, were predominantly male – even though there were some amazon types who moved with them – and drew energy from some deep wells of inner frustration. they would raid cities and villages, murdering and plundering, carrying off virgins for sacrifice to their god of war, finstando. this continued till 5978 bc when the agrarians united under the banner of their greatest general, rustam the third, who defeated the last of the awdeetars in the ninth battle of fillyphilia. society then thrived more or less comfortably for thousands of years and history has all but forgotten the terrible days of the awdeetars.

but their bloody saga did not end there. shrouded in secrecy among hidden caves reached through secret pathways, the awdeetars continued to gather for the yearly sacrifice to finstando. longest night, as it was called, coincided with what is now the 31st of december on the georgian calendar. come rain or shine, they met every single year through the centuries finally raising their hidden flag to public view with the formation of the first joint stock company. they now called themselves “auditors”.

trust me, i’m not kidding. 

we don’t sacrifice virgins to finstando a.k.a. financial reporting standards anymore but i bet they often wish we would sacrifice them and get done with it rather than put up with our constant staring and ogling and comment passing. yes all auditors behave in public places like thirteen year olds do outside a lingerie store. either that or they are labelled with the tags of bharam khatam hi nahin hotay.

so do not be surprised if, when you’re manning the gate to a flower show, a car stops with the screech of hard braking, and three guys in neckties pour out yelling flowershow =  girls =  attack!!!!! well not exactly, but you get the point. fortunately the pakistan horticultural society’s annual thingamajig attracts the kind of girl who does not give two hoots if the three losers behind her are practically climbing over each other to get a glimpse of the butterfly tattooed on her bare shoulder. of course, it helps if you can talk about bonsai without sounding like an amateur. to cut a long story short, we came, we saw and we left satisfied without having made too much of a nuisance of ourselves.

time passes pleasantly at the hellhole i call my office if i can manage to talk for a few minutes to a certain someone on the phone. even if that means that the grin on my face that lasts for an hour or two manages to ensure that i’m ribbed about talking to the now almost definitely existent “zeenat“. ho hum. how i wish she was zeenat. dammit i wish i knew if she knows what i feel. how i feel. or whatever is the correct way to say it.

fudge, you know this is you, don’t you?

Filed under: fudge, ramble, the sweet stench of life   |  20 Comments