Come clarity

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It is those from the nation of the unbelievers that ask God for signs. God, I'm not saying I want a sign, but a little clarity would help. These days I spend a lot of time being troubled by my own mind. Given the profession, time to reflect on what has happened, what is happening and what remains to be seen is very short, if there at all. But, God provides and a little time for reflection was at hand. Introspection, how I love thee.

My uncle was to arrive from Lahore to catch another flight to take him to Kabul. In between, there was plenty of time to meet up and have a little fun. Little did we know that PIA had plans of its own. The flight got delayed three times. We found ourselves at the airport at 1:00 in the morning. At this point going home was useless so I managed to convince my parents that they nap in the car and I'll stand guard, ready to wake them at the appropriate hour. You see, my uncle didn't know we were going to meet him and we had to catch him before he checked into international departures.

So, here I was. In the front seat of a Toyota Corolla, in the Islamabad International Airport parking area (I refuse to call it Benazir Bhutto International Airport), my parents asleep, and me staring out the windscreen. That cursed big blue sign bearing the incorrect name of the airport staring back at me. It was while I was playing tug of war with my eye lids that I realized, I was having fun. Just sitting there, watching people go by, almost as if I was invisible. They were all there, the concerned grandmother, the excited child, that guy who has literally the whole family there to see him off and completing the line up were the villagers who were confused with the whole airport experience.

What did I do with this time? What did I think of? Nothing at all. The only thing running through my mind was the calming track "From The Heart" by X-Ray dog (link). For a time, after a very long time, I felt content. I just needed the time alone. However, slowly, stray flashes converged to form thoughts in my mind. It was all that I had been through for the past two years. I find it strange that through it all I only remember the good things, never the bad. They are after all important. I only remember the important things. Always the important things. For once in two years I wasn't thinking about the future, I wasn't worrying myself to death. It was all just about where I was and who was here with me. Only the important ones. You know who you are.

Finally, my uncle arrived and we changed the venue from from the airport parking lot to the Front Page Cafe at the Rawalpindi PC. It was the only thing close enough at the time (@Sara: Exam Hall! :P). There we were, talking over sandwiches and coffee at 4:00 in the morning. What do you eat at time like that? Muhammad Asad writes of an Arabic saying about coffee in his book "The Road To Mecca" (Highly recommended read). The saying goes "Good coffee is bitter like death, and hot like love". Now I can't say much about the death part, but if love is anywhere as hot as this coffee, sign me up. It was that good, but at 4:00 AM, I guess everything is. There I sat, staring out the glass panelling of the hotel lobby, watching the deep ink blue of the night sky give way to the light azure of the morning. The first sunrise I had seen in a long time. The caffeine worked its magic and finally I made the transition from nocturnal to insomniac. This time, it was "Love Washes Over (Airwave remix) by Art Of Trance (link) that echoed in the cavern that is my skull. I imagine if I ever got high, this is what it would feel like (@Sara: calm down, I'm not going to get high. Ever.)

Now, I was thinking of everything. Clarity. I thought of the future. This time no worrying. It could just be the lack of sleep, but I seemed to have that optimism that I lost long ago. This optimism however had lost its taint of naivety. I thought of the reality I had seen in the past two years and how I had dealt with it. What I had to do, what lay ahead was clear. This time there was no confusion. There was nothing to be confused about. It's all up to me what I choose to do ahead. I even thought of the blog and the forum attached to it. As far as the blog goes, I know that the reason I make random posts is because that is the zone where I feel comfortable. I prefer to deal with the abstract, Sara does a better job at the concrete. I'm the dreamer, she's the thinker. I'm the idealist, she's the realist. I'm allegro, and she is vivace. Posts about nothing, yet kind of about something are my niche. I know that now.

As me and my mother stepped outside to give the brothers some time to talk, my thoughts switched to the forum. The pale light of dawn greeted us accompanied by the cold morning air. I was still playing in the recesses of my own mind as my mother and I talked. To someone else I may have appeared distant and uninterested, but my mother knew what I was up to, how could she not, and she knew not to disturb me when I'm like that. So, we walked, keeping the conversation going, me intermittently counting off the gun shots I heard in the distance and my mind thinking of the forum. I wanted to make a community, but I was wrong to think that it would just grow itself. It's going to take effort on my part. Anam, Sidra, Abbas and Osama, thanks for taking the time to comment on the forum. Omair, thank you for taking the time to actually read the entire blog and comment as well. I promise you I'll be participating actively in the forum myself from now on.

The whole experience ended with an emotional brotherly hug in front of the international departure lounge of the Islamabad International Airport (NOT the Benazir Bhutto International Airport) and with me writing this post at 7:00 in the morning. At this point I don't know if this was all a dream or not, but I guess I'll find out when I see the blog after I wake up.

Talha A. B.

The after-party is after the party

The regular readers of A&V, the ones on whom I bestow the title "The Loyal Ones", might remember me writing something about a wedding in a post I made not too long ago. Every wedding is different from any other. If that is true, then a Butt Khandan wedding is incomparable to any other. Why that is you will find out as you delve deeper into this post.

There are traditions that are followed on every wedding. Traditions set by our ancestors, traditions set by religion, traditions set by our culture, traditions set by society. The Butt Khandan takes care to follow all of these and goes a step further. It adds to them. Traditions set by the family. And traditions must be followed.

So just for those who  don't know what a Pakistani wedding entails lets run through the sequence of events. You see, weddings are fun. So much fun in fact that one day is not enough for them. That is  why we have three days. One day for each event, the Mehndi, the Barat and the Valeema.

We begin with the Mehndi. think of it as a pre-party where all the family gets together for just one thing. Having illegal amounts of fun. Just like all the Mehndi's before, the evening was filled with loud music, lots of dancing, lots of food and lots of dancing. Did I mention dancing? I think I didn't. There was also a LOT of dancing. Oh yeah, the bride and groom were there too I think. Wonder who invited them? The function finally winded down late into the night (Read when the owner of the premises told us the time. Politely) and everyone disbursed and proceeded to their own bat caves to prepare for tomorrow. There was however one tradition that remained unfulfilled. The tradition of the after-party. Somewhere in the dark hours of the night the council of cousins gathered to decide the location where this ritual would be performed. Once it was done, the entire khandan switched to nocturnal mode and proceeded to the secret location and celebrated. After all, a party is only as good as the after-party.

The first nightly celebration was tame, after all there was much more to come. It was a simple ritual where we all partook in coffee and other sweet delights.

The second day brought with it, the Barat. My co-author can actually explain better what it is. To keep it small and simple, this function is hosted by the brides family. So we all dressed up, slipped on the shiny shoes and put on our best smiles. The caravan was assembled and we finally made our way to the hotel and yes, we were late. When we got there the situation was dire, the brides family had taken positions at our flanks and the moment we entered they opened fire. It was madness, there were flower petals flying from every direction, a camera crew was in front of us with a blinding light to disorient us. It was total mayhem. We all surrounded the groom to guard him (and to fit in the camera frame). I myself took several hits from the flower petals but I managed to keep it together and escort the groom to the safety of the stage. Then the usual followed. Meets and greets, food, pictures, pictures and pictures and then thank you and goodbye. The council of cousins gathered once again and we headed again to the usual spot except we were late. They had closed down. But as I said, tradition must be followed. So we all got back in our cars and made our way to the opposite end of town to pick up a sheesha from a friends place at three in the morning. On our way, we stopped at every market to pick up something to eat and drink. Then, back at home the party started again. The sheesha filled the room with a smokey haze and the smell of apples and we all talked til sunrise about life, studies, family, the wedding and gir....ummmm.... politics.

The third day came. All of us fulfilled another custom. That is, sleep in the same clothes you wore last night. I'll fast forward here and skip the family breakfast and preparations. The Valeema was upon us. Again, my co-author is better suited to explain what that is. What you need to know is that this function is hosted by the groom and his family. This was our event. I'd really love to tell you what happened but I myself have no clue. What I remember is standing at the doorway greeting every guest that came in, then eating (after having served everyone) and making it in time to get a picture with the bride and groom in an almost empty hall so I could one day say “Hey kids, I was there you know!”. So yeah, that was the Valeema. Oh yeah, like I mentioned, the bride and groom were there too. Who keeps inviting them to these things? Again, to the after-party!

After being denied the fun we had planned the previous day, we decided to go all out. This was the last event and so it had to be big. So, like a vampire brood, we went off into the night. The moment we got home the car stereo was set to full blast and the council of cousins started dancing in the street, a sight that both confused and amused the passers by. Then, our first and only victim came along. The brides father was on his way home but his car was stopped and he was pulled out. The only way he could win his freedom was to join us for one dance, which he did. Once that was over, we all proceeded to the after-party ritual altar chosen by us, Glorias. We were late once again. No need to worry though. The council of cousins had taken precautions this time and they were informed of our arrival well in advance. The smell of sheesha and coffee filled the cold night air accompanied by the sound of several out of tune and out of sync voices as the whole family proceeded to play antakshari (again, Sara Q, help me out here). The fun finally had to come to an end. The residents of F-6 wanted to sleep, in particular one very cranky and vocal gentleman. We all returned to base camp and went to sleep. The next day everyone started to go their own way. The wedding was officially over.

Words can't really describe how much fun we had. When the whole family gets together after such a long time you might not do anything at all but it would still feel like you're having the time of your life. It's good to see how everyone is doing, how everyone has grown and how everyone is moving on. Each character more interesting than the last with their own charms and their own nuances. I really do wish I could describe the feeling.

Til the next post,
Talha A. B.

Note: Don't listen to dark gothic and industrial music when writing a blog post. Otherwise you end up putting words like vampire in a post about weddings. Ever seen that before? :P