Karachi, baby!

So I’ve finally moved to Karachi and started my one-year term as blah-blah for AIESEC in Pakistan. I have a super-cool apartment in Zamzama, right above Gunsmoke (if you call sharing one with eight other people whose stuff is lying in suitcases all over the floor supercool). And for those of you who thought I was doing shitty, meaningless, from-home work, fuck you all: we have an office, and at a pretty neat location too! It’s in the SIEMENS building somewhere in Saddar (it’s actually right next to Zainab Market, from where my gora colleague has somehow managed to purchase the same tshirt twice!).

So, anyway, allow me to present an account of my time in this city so far:

The train was on time. Yep, fucking amazing. I am now in love with Karakoram Express. Karachi Express Night Coach can kiss my naala good-bye!

I made aloo bhujia on my first night. Unfortunately due to a slight miscalculation in the quantity of ingredients it turned out to be a bit more spicy and discolored than I hoped for (picture shows the horrid color), but was an overall worthy accomplishment all things said and done. My first hurdle in the way of becoming a master chef in the next one year has been crossed. Baby steps, I say.

The breeze simply doesn’t stop! It’s the coolest darned thing ever! Everywhere you go, you feel like there’s a big pedestal fan following you! Utilizing this to my advantage, I have been sleeping on the roof of my apartment building ever since I arrived. Yep, charpai and all. You see, even though the breeze is cool and all, there is still the bloody humidity to contend with, which turns you into a cucumber in ten minutes. Add to that the fact that we sadly have not been blessed with airconditioning in our apartment (on a 10k salary, you can hardly afford such luxuries), and sleeping inside becomes difficult for a spoilt brat like me used to water coolers and Russian ACs and the like.

Water. It runs out. Often. We have 2 backup tanks, but still. My boss theorizes that the Gunsmoke people below are stealing t. What with their cowboy hats and mean playacting, they might just be crooked enough to do that. Bastards. In conclusion, most of the time there’s no water. So the dishes lie unwashed, shit remains unflushed, and roomies continue to stink. I have discovered the magic of using buckets all over again. In your face, stupid running water!

The beach. So the other day an old friend invited us over for BBQ at a fancy beach hut far far away. In getting there I saw some interesting areas (read: low income neighborhoods that are a far-cry from the uptight snotty luxuries of Zamzama). The fun, though, only started when we got there. We indulged in the usual hanky panky that kids indulge in at such times, and a miserably failed attack on Emad and a small confrontation with Klepo later, I had tasted salt water and sand twice, was completely inundated, had almost been washed away by the powerful high-tide waves (random fat guy saved me – I don’t know swimming :p), was covered head-to-toe in sand, and realized only later that I had forgotten to empty my pockets. The results were obviously not pretty: daddy’s business cards, currency and my ATM shit in the wallet got damaged slightlycell phone got permanently screwed, and sand had reached every single angle and crevice of my pristine body (there was even sand on my testicles somehow!). Considering the above-mentioned events, I henceforth hate the beach.

Finally, I.I.Chundrigar Road was a massive disappointment. Fucked up, dirty, dug-up, messy, down-market, congested, you name it. Such high expectations, so badly let down. How can a self-respecting corporate whore work there is beyond me. Leaving that and heading to Pakistan Chowk (for some work-related stuff), I observed a view that was quite ironic: in the foreground, an expansive, congested street with overflowing sewage water; downtrodden and closely-built residential buildings; random MQM monuments, flags and markings along the whole route; rude and impatient shopkeepers; while the tall and handsome MCB Tower rising magnificently in the backdrop. Quite the contrast between the rich and gleaming and the poor and stinking. I wanted to whip out some cell-phone camera shit and take some pictures, but have been advised not to show such cool gadgetry in public :p

Plus I miss my mommy. But don’t let her know

Leaving LUMS

So on June 5th, 2007, I ended my association with LUMS by giving my last final exam. It was quite an interesting experience, as having spent four long (and sadly rather uninteresting) years at the place, I felt a great tinge of sadness at leaving it. This was quite surprising for a number of reasons: first, I am normally a tight-ass who considers showing emotions a weakness that only those unworthy souls display who are pansies (this is probably the reason why Bellatrix Lestrange is my favourite Harry Potter character – I wonder who’ll play her in the movie. They said Elizabeth Hurley was supposed to, but that didn’t work out. Cinema lost a few cool moments because of that, I can tell you!) and second, it was not as if my LUMS journey was a rollercoaster ride of memorable moments. On the contrary, most of my time was either spent in class, or bunking class to go to the nearby market for food, or, most of the time, sitting in one of the labs playing one obnoxiously addictive video game or another. And yet, everything felt extremely sad. The labs area smelt unnecessarily sweet, the scant plantation around campus appeared greener, the few chicks braving the blazing sun appeared chikni-er. Everything, thus, appeared rosier and nicer.

The last exam went really well. I had the choice of preparing for it really well, or indulging for one last time with my newly crowned favourite person in the world, who was most generously treating me to some extremely valuable liquid costing 3 fucking rupees per millilitre! Ably supported by him and two old buddies, I spent the night indulging in the most banal of conversations that normally accompany such occassions, and went to give the paper at an insanely early 8.30 am next morning with a strong headache and half-shut eyes. Thought I’d use the grand effect on my last ever activity at LUMS. Kher, the paper went fine, but when Aqeel called time (bastard was my TA), I continued to write one last line of my brilliantly crafted answer and he, in all his audacity, came and snatched the paper away from me! Saala! I could not believe my eyes as he walked off clutching my unfinished paper. Not a memory I wanted to take to the grave!

Of course, studying with the ACF group over three years was most fun. Some teachers were excellent, and taught a lot. The learning and self-discovery was good. Being involved with AIESEC was a fascinating experience, something which will continue for some time in the near future, no matter how much fun my friends make of that.

I now begin the next stage of my life, which involves me heading to Karachi for one full year to work full-time for AIESEC. It’s scary, exciting and extremely challenging at the same time, and one of the things I am most looking forward to is how it will make me become truly independent and self-sufficient. Now, if only I was better at washing my own underwear and cooking aloo bhujia!