Saturday, February 05, 2005
Mushaira, Blackey, and Knicq 22.
There was an Urdu Mushaira here today, and yours truly was there by invitation - make that earnest invitation. They really really needed me there today, and they told me this in no uncertain terms. I put forth a condition that I could not be caught dead in a Mushaira if Jalali Baba were not one of the honoured guests there. They gasped. They said they had never known Jalali Baba was a poet too. I laughed. I told them he was not; but he liked 'sher' and appreciated a good one as long as it was not by yours truly. They said they would make sure he got the most sought after, the V.I.Piest invitation, and got the best seat too. I said I would consider then. They said there was no reason for me not to consider. After all, they said, it was not as if I were going to be reciting my work.
INTERROBANG!!!
Like, wha?
*Regains composure.*
So, I smiled graciously, and I said, I had considered, and that I would come. They said, they were thankful. I said they were welcome. The $&%*@$ shallalabumistikasters!!!
So, go we did, Jalali Baba and I. And it was a lovely evening. Actually, Jalali Baba and I agreed the young poetess was lovelier, but then it was an evening brimming with poetic paraphernalia. Jalali Baba kept repeating it was brimming with poetic justice too. I never for once thought he was referring to the injustice done to this legend in making by barring him from reciting his masterpeices. He insisted, he was.
It was difficult to get him to keep quiet. He, for his part, was brimming with these anecdotes from his Karachi days. The gentleman in the seat in front of us coughs, and off Jalali Baba goes about how one of his students used to cough incessantly during his classes, which reminds him how once he had seen one of his fellow professors hit the guy, who used to sit in the seat in front of the incessantly coughing guy, with a duster; which he had taken to be the disciplining norm for the faculty in that institution, and had gone on to apply this disciplinary tactic in his class the very day.
He then proceeds to tell me, how he had spotted one of his students in another class that day not paying attention to his lecture, and how he had fired a chalk missile right at his head. Here, he takes a breath, and then goes on and tells me how he was petrified when the student had gone down holding his hand to his eye.
The student, Jalali Baba explains, was the son of some high ranking military officer, and he had thought his career over as he had walked to the student. The poor thing had looked up at Jalali Baba, and Jalali Baba had asked him if he had been hit in the eye. When the student had told him he was not, a relieved Baba had told him that he had been aiming for it. At this point Jalali Baba guffaws and concludes his story telling me that he had never, after that, faced any disciplinary hiccups in his teaching career. This is all told to me, when some poor chap is trying very hard to get the hazreen-e-mehfil (audience) to shower some daad (appreciation) on his verses.
I tell Jalali Baba he is going to get us thrown out. He agrees, and slides into this time when he had managed to get four of his friends thrown out of a wedding party, which was funny to him because one of the thrown out guys was not only one of his closest friends, he was also the groom's brother! Now this reminds him of how when he was the groom, his friends had presented him with a bottle of Habib Cooking Oil as a wedding present, which reminds him of the old peon at his school whose name was Habib, and whose daughter was the best friend of the girl his best friend's cousin had a crush on, which reminds him ...
Its a miracle, they did not throw us out!
So, the Mushaira ended, and Jalali Baba proceeded to Abu Dhabi, while I left for Sharjah.
Oh, and on the way back, thanks to some brilliant team-work that Blackey and I were able to come up with, we were home in slightly under 15 minutes, having maintained 140 Kms/Hr cutting and swerving our way through the viscous weekend Dubai-Sharjah traffic at 1:00 a.m. It had been a looong long time ever since I had felt 22! Its been a long time since I was 22.
It feels great to know I can still be 22 behind the wheel, when I want to be... ¶ 2/05/2005 01:43:00 AM
INTERROBANG!!!
Like, wha?
*Regains composure.*
So, I smiled graciously, and I said, I had considered, and that I would come. They said, they were thankful. I said they were welcome. The $&%*@$ shallalabumistikasters!!!
So, go we did, Jalali Baba and I. And it was a lovely evening. Actually, Jalali Baba and I agreed the young poetess was lovelier, but then it was an evening brimming with poetic paraphernalia. Jalali Baba kept repeating it was brimming with poetic justice too. I never for once thought he was referring to the injustice done to this legend in making by barring him from reciting his masterpeices. He insisted, he was.
It was difficult to get him to keep quiet. He, for his part, was brimming with these anecdotes from his Karachi days. The gentleman in the seat in front of us coughs, and off Jalali Baba goes about how one of his students used to cough incessantly during his classes, which reminds him how once he had seen one of his fellow professors hit the guy, who used to sit in the seat in front of the incessantly coughing guy, with a duster; which he had taken to be the disciplining norm for the faculty in that institution, and had gone on to apply this disciplinary tactic in his class the very day.
He then proceeds to tell me, how he had spotted one of his students in another class that day not paying attention to his lecture, and how he had fired a chalk missile right at his head. Here, he takes a breath, and then goes on and tells me how he was petrified when the student had gone down holding his hand to his eye.
The student, Jalali Baba explains, was the son of some high ranking military officer, and he had thought his career over as he had walked to the student. The poor thing had looked up at Jalali Baba, and Jalali Baba had asked him if he had been hit in the eye. When the student had told him he was not, a relieved Baba had told him that he had been aiming for it. At this point Jalali Baba guffaws and concludes his story telling me that he had never, after that, faced any disciplinary hiccups in his teaching career. This is all told to me, when some poor chap is trying very hard to get the hazreen-e-mehfil (audience) to shower some daad (appreciation) on his verses.
I tell Jalali Baba he is going to get us thrown out. He agrees, and slides into this time when he had managed to get four of his friends thrown out of a wedding party, which was funny to him because one of the thrown out guys was not only one of his closest friends, he was also the groom's brother! Now this reminds him of how when he was the groom, his friends had presented him with a bottle of Habib Cooking Oil as a wedding present, which reminds him of the old peon at his school whose name was Habib, and whose daughter was the best friend of the girl his best friend's cousin had a crush on, which reminds him ...
Its a miracle, they did not throw us out!
So, the Mushaira ended, and Jalali Baba proceeded to Abu Dhabi, while I left for Sharjah.
Oh, and on the way back, thanks to some brilliant team-work that Blackey and I were able to come up with, we were home in slightly under 15 minutes, having maintained 140 Kms/Hr cutting and swerving our way through the viscous weekend Dubai-Sharjah traffic at 1:00 a.m. It had been a looong long time ever since I had felt 22! Its been a long time since I was 22.
It feels great to know I can still be 22 behind the wheel, when I want to be... ¶ 2/05/2005 01:43:00 AM
