Here We Were Taught the Golden Lesson...

 *How to sift out wrong from right.


Idly browsing through Facebook today, I came across several updates, all sharing the same link. St. Joseph's Convent turns 150 years old. Without hesitation, I clicked the link, without missing a beat, I 'shared' it too, and without a second thought, I proudly posted a rambling tribute, which ended with "What a great school we belonged to." 

Ah the very essence, of what our convent school was about. Greatness. Introduced to us, when we took our first tentative steps, into that massive structure, and from then on, drilled into us relentlessly over the years, by every faculty member worth her salt.

We were great! We were special! We were Josephians! It becomes almost second nature, to think like that.

*Honor and glory to our school. 


Screw the rest.

We were served an elitist mindset upon admission, and encouraged to like it.

As one reader graciously commented "Having studied at St. Joseph’s Convent, is like being part of the royal family! We can always hold our head up high and walk with everlasting pride." 

Reading that article, I see nothing has changed. Because, while celebrating 150 years of education, students produce plays poking fun at the "lesser" schools. Baconhouse, Amma Farsi, and Karachi Punctuation School. Are you fucking kidding me? 150 years, and this is how they're allowed to honor their school? 


*We are taught to fight the fight.


Ms. Kazi still stands front and center, to remind everyone how "lucky" they are, and apparently she still affects a fake British accent, while she over pronounces words.

What started out as a Christian mission of five nuns, starting a school of just ten pupils, turned into one of the leading educational institutions for girls in Karachi. No doubt.

But, they fail to talk of the blatant discrimination within that institution. They fail to mention how if you were good, privileged, or "pure bred" you were accepted. Dare I say Cambridge = Worthiness, while Matric equaled... um yeah right, stand over there and shut up. And, how if your parents scraped together every penny to pay for your education, you had better be grateful to the school, for accepting you. I was lucky I came from "an aristocrat, Brahmin, Catholic family" and luckier my sister before me was a star pupil. That I dashed their hopes of carrying on her tradition did not go over well. I was forgiven however, and probably prayed for a lot.

I think the praying took place, when I got thrown out of religion class (several times a month) for daring to question the Bible.



*God's blessings shower down on all
Who through it's portals dear
Leave well-equipped to meet the call
Of life, each passing year

I was told at the age of nine that I had "disgusting" handwriting, and an inability to string together a coherent sentence. But, that was tame compared to what was said, to the poor Urdu speaking girl who sat beside me. I watched fellow Christian students berated for being "Anglos" by self-righteous Goan teachers, and slammed repeatedly if they came from "broken" families. I watched fellow classmates, learn at an early age not to cry, when called an idiot by an adult. The same teachers instructed the "pure breds" to not associate too much with those "beneath" us. The same teachers complained to our parents, when we broke that rule. Students who didn't do well in a subject, were forced to sit at the back of the class, if you struggled in a subject you were labeled "lazy," and heaven forbid you should ever question authority. 

*Kind guiding hands, keep us from harm.
And, make our hardships light.

My school, taught me to loathe bullies with a passion, I didn't know I possessed.

My school, helped me to understand the privilege of class, and status. 

The friends I made there, I will always remember fondly. The fun and good times, remain memories carved in stone. And, some teachers admired, and loved dearly, always. Cannot end without a tribute to the two canteen owners, who fed us crap worth it's weight in gold..

*We'll always have a special thought

For our dear convent home.

*Lyrics from the official school song

Tired of being a Pakistani

After recent events in Pakistan, where yet another life is taken, yet another voice is silenced, we realize we're not so much back at square one, but that we never moved from there at all. 

I'm tired of the blame games, the finger pointing, the defense of dogma, the useless rants of liberals, the silence of moderates, and the fanaticism running rampant in this nation. The bloodshed. The despair. I am tired of people jumping up to defend their religion, after every tragedy. As if that makes all the difference. It does not. 

I'm tired of the dependency on scripture and Holy Books, as if they are the only source of moral codes for what is right and wrong. They are not.

I am tired of searching for hope in all the madness, tired of those who have stopped searching for it, and so tired of those who hold on to it, preach about it, offer prayers for it, then sit back and live in it with comfort, and a solid dose of denial.

I am tired of shielding my children from the news, tired of attempting to explain to them why it's not safe to go here, or there. So very tired of words like "terrorists" "assassination" "serfs" "elite" "fatwa" "minorities." "Shia, Sunni, Ahmedi, Christian, Hindu, religion, rights, law, repeal...  Blasphemy."

 

I'm tired of news channels, and their panels of 'experts' engaging in so called discourse, with some borderline hard core extremist, hell bent on defending bloodshed. I am tired of people taking to the streets, and burning flags of nations they could not find on a map, setting ablaze vehicles of hardworking individuals, destroying public property, as if it is their duty to stand up for themselves in such a barbaric manner.

I am tired of no longer reacting in shock, when I hear of tragedies.

I am tired of watching news clips of bomb sites, in all their gruesome glory, and only feeling grateful it wasn't me, or my loved ones who perished.

I'm tired of the poverty, and the power hungry who prey on the poor. I am tired of those who can do something about it, but do not. I'm tired of people telling me to 'get out' if I don't like it, and just as tired of people telling me to 'stay and fight' so we can have peace. 

I'm tired of constantly being confronted with the fact, that the only way to achieve peace is to fight for it.

I am very, very tired of being a Pakistani.

But, I cannot be anything else.

Friendship, Social Barriers, & All That Crap!

In the last few weeks, I've had some interesting conversations with various people, regarding friendship. Not one to give it too much thought, since I've always applied the theory "either someone is your friend, or they're not" when it comes to all the friendships I've ever had or continue to have. Now, I can't help but ponder about it, as my kids have both reached the age where they've begun to choose their own friends, without my encouragement.  I've always chosen my friends wisely, or rather chosen them with what I consider some wisdom after a few nasty experiences in my youth. 

Some people can be strange about friendship, and the views I received recently left me a bit disconcerted. Class, standard, religion and money seem so important. I watched my husband get ignored and treated like less than nothing in the company of "friends" I was reunited with after five or six years. A lot of them probably deemed him unworthy of their time, and respect because.... He's a teacher by profession? And, chooses to work and support his family, instead of jumping from one business venture to the next with lightning speed, and no purpose? Yet, they fawned over me, like I was the prodigal daughter returning home. 

I don't take offense to that, because people are what they are. But, there will be no more reunions.

And, I can't stand "in your face" friends. With their constant need for interaction, get-togethers, fun, fun, and more fun. It simply bores me. I was once firmly fixed into those types of friendships, and I found them shallow. Then, there are the one sided friendships, I for some reason have mainly had with women... I look back on those with quite a bit of disgust, because my goodness, did they waste a ton of my time, incessantly talking about themselves, their problems (of which they had plenty each day), and never giving the slightest heed to the advice they begged me for. I was honored with a few seconds of their interest in me, and my life, before being completely dismissed as unimportant. It amused me, and built in me an aversion to women who never seem to have a grip on their lives. 

Last night, I found I have much in common regarding friendship with someone, who from our first meeting over a year ago, I clicked with almost effortlessly. It didn't matter that we met up after months of planning to meet up, even though the distance between our homes is probably not more than 11/2 mile. It didn't matter that her two kids were running in circles around us, while we enjoyed a long awaited Margarita night, husbands and all, because it wouldn't occur to us to exclude them, and opt for "Coffee at Espresso" instead. 

I stopped after only two (but pretty strong) ritas, because I felt a happy buzz I haven't felt in years. The buzz which comes when you are your most relaxed self. I ate like a pig, and I eat like a bird in public otherwise. 

A few hours before that, I sat on the floor of the home of a person, who doesn't own a couch, or any other furniture besides two metal cupboards. They served us food which they could ill afford... I couldn't stand to see the gratitude in their eyes, that we felt they were worthy of a visit from us. I don't see why my children shouldn't visit and play with their kids out in the compound, with sticks and an old rubber ball. 

They're not ready for me to withhold encouragement, and my opinion on their choice of friends, which at present is nothing more than what is acceptable in the little society they're a part of in school. 

They will not be encouraged to only have "Christian friends" because "that's what they come from." It was how I watched people raise their kids in the small community I belonged to. I found it ridiculous from the start, and hypocritical that they still boasted about having friends "from all walks of life" while never having the slightest bit of respect for them on the inside.

I don't refer to my Muslim friends as "Mozzies." Neither do I "keep them at a distance." Diwali is not celebrated by "a bunch of people who are crazy enough to worship thousands of gods." Neither are Parsis' "weird about their burials." Or, Urdu speaking Christians "not acceptable to attend Christmas midnight mass with us English speaking folk."

Yes, fuck the barriers, is what I intend to teach my kids. 

Taking Time Out to Tag!

Over the last month I've drafted all of three blog posts, and published none. Well, don't I sound all writerish when I use that word? Published. Perhaps, one day... When I scan through all those old journals, and actually make some sense of all my ramblings, when I was at my rebellious best. 

So, no posts for about a month, because while I'm not lacking in rants topics to post, I just did not have the energy. But, today I see I have no choice but to post something, because I was trapped into it by my good friend Mr. Millions of Atoms, who posted some questions on his blog, and then tagged me. 

If he were standing right in front of me, I'd swat him with a rolled up newspaper.

Entrapment!

If he didn't provide me with those awesome belly laughs, I'd kick his ass. (I mean it, seriously, the guy is hilarious... Check out his blog).

And, on to the questions, I must answer. And, yeah, I'm going to post my own questions and tag five other bloggers too... That's how this works. 

1. How many M&Ms could you eat in one sitting? Round up.

Six hundred, I swear to Zues my demand could go higher than their supply.

2. Do you own an iPhone, and why/why not?

I own a Berry, and no I will not join the war on which one is "the better phone." Although, I really should, because it's fun to rouse the rabbles and watch them get all uppity about their toys.

3. Describe the first time you were aware that you had feelings for me that went beyond the "Criminal suspect" feelings that the Police have for me.

I'm picturing a certain friend of mine right now (your wife), one of my best friends actually, dressed as a female version of Rambo.... Storming over continents, and heading straight to my house. So yeah, I have NO feelings for you, besides that of sisterly love. (Pssst... Let's set up some secret email accounts and discuss this further).

4. Describe the one t-shirt that you should have thrown away five years ago, but you still inexplicably find in your t-shirt drawer.

Remind me to describe in detail the impact OCD has had on my closet. 

5. Why did the new Twilight movie make 30 million dollars in 3 hours?

I personally believe... that the producers of Twilight are able to do so... because... Uh... some people out there in your nation don't have books... And... uh... I believe that your movie industry, like such as in South Africa and... uh... the Iraq, everywhere, like, such as... And I believe that they should... Your Twilight movie over there in the U.S. should help the U.S... uh...Or, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries... So you will be able to build up your movies... for your children.

And my five questions for my blogger friends are.

1. Why do you think homophobic people always feel that gay sex is just a stepping stone away from sex with goats?

2. How many friends do you have on your Facebook friends list?

3. How many of them are your real friends?

4. Your first teacher crush was? Describe him/her in detail.

5. Why in the world would young female teens, and middle aged mothers find a sparkly virgin vampire hot?

Tagging.

Desperately Searching for my Inner Mary Poppins

Lurking in Ambush

Manic Motherhood

Pajamas and Coffee

Deadpan Thoughts

Is it Wrong?

That every time my kids talk about stuff they're going to do when they grow up, like get married (their newest favorite thing to talk about) or become three or more of the six hundred things they want to be when they're older, or back talk adults because now they're kids and have to be "prespectful" (respectful) and "all that stuff grown ups think is how kids should be" ***insert gagging noises*** I remind them that it can happen only if they go to college first?

B was talking to the neighbor the other day, and she asked that typical adult to child question. "So what do you want to be when you grow up?" His standard response this month has been "A ROCK STAR." Up till last month, he wanted to be a red sports car, and the month before, a red dragon. This kid is obsessed with the color red, and I swear his TV time is limited. So, she's just about to alter the look of amusement on her face, (what would she have thought, had he told her her wanted to be a computer game and live in a monitor?) when he follows with "But, I have to go to Rock College first." She: Do you mean music school? He: No, Rock College is where rockers go to learn all about becoming Rock Stars.... You can't do anything in life if you don't go to college you know............ My mom says so."

He sounded like a parrot. His eyes took on a glassy look. How often do I say those words to my five year olds? How much am I brainwashing my kids? And, do they know when I say college, I really mean therapy?

Because, that's what J and I are saving for.

Caffeinated Confessions

Getting right to it.

1. The kids went back to school this week and, I don't know who was happier, them or me.

2. The weather has been great, all cloudy and pleasant. Yet, I want to scream when I hear
people wishing for rain.

3. I've decided to throw out most of the stuff from my closet.

4. And, buy myself a new designer wardrobe.

5. But, I'll settle for off-the-rack stuff.

6. I think Kirk Cameron is still mentally in middle school, with the whole I want to tell the
world, I won't kiss anyone but my wife thing.

7. Some people don't get why I roll my eyes at crap like this.

8. I roll my eyes at them and then laugh.

9. My kids have decided to help me plan their birthday party in November.

10. I don't appreciate them barging into my territory, and told them so.

11. My daughter refused to give in and let me plan it by myself.

12. I threatened to sell her to a sweat shop.

13. It didn't work.

14. So, I told her there would be no party.

15. She laughed.

16. I went out to a girls night thing last Saturday, then told everyone who would listen about
it.

17. Apparently, it's not a big deal, because "Women do these types of things" and I don't do it
enough.

18. I really should.

19. I have nothing else to confess.

20. I'm pathetic, I know.

20 Confessions This Week

Too little time to post a whole long and drawn out post this week. Sad really, but I blame the heat which makes me lag behind on every major and minor chore around the house, outside the house, on top of the house... whatever.

01. I signed the kids up for dance class, and now wish I had checked the timings first.

02. Afternoon drives in what the weather bureau claims to be 35 degrees C is unbearable,
even with the air conditioning on full blast.

03. Weather forecasts for this city are always inaccurate.

04. I hate pollution more than everyone else.

05. Dance class does not drain kids of energy, an hour of it is like six tablespoons of sugar
washed down with Coke.

06. My husband cooked dinner today.

07. Because I pretended I was going to, and then let him insist he would.

08. I'm a good wife otherwise.

09. Made a plan to meet a fellow twin mom for breakfast, and kept my fingers crossed she
would be normal, and not one of those moms I love to hate.

10. She was better than normal, she was awesome.

11. My children have taken to wearing nothing when they're home.

12. I can't thank them enough.

13. My washing machine can't thank me enough.

14. It's 10:00pm and I haven't eaten dinner yet.

15. The husband can cook, and cook well... it's just taking a while today.

16. I'm a little hungry but won't ask how long before dinner's ready.

17. Because I'm a good wife like that.

18. My OCD kicked in big time today, and I cleaned like a mad woman.

19. I also decided my dining room needs a makeover, as in paint, new table, some this and
that.

20. Mentioned it to my husband... He pretended he didn't hear me.