Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Pain-do ordeal.

Hello friends. I am back home, not that you cared about it, I’d tell you anyway. As I have just returned from Islamabad I just HAVE to post about it. So here you are. Maybe I got carried away at places and left out a lot of things too. Hope you’ll hate this post more than you hated any of the previous ones. Enjoy!

-Why can’t I fasten my seat belt?
To start with my trip was totally unexpected. I was unaware of my trip two hours before my Air Blue flight, how sweet. My parents were leaving for Iran that night and I was imagining all possibilities all outlawed stuff I could do with my parents away. My mother smelled something evil and conspired with dad to dispose me off somewhere where other people would be safe.  Keeping me safe is not an issue. My parents know that, it’s the others who need to be kept safe from me.

An hour before the flight my dad calls from his office, ’Beta, pack some clothes you are going to Uncle Choudary Bhatti’s place for a week. ’

Me:-Dad!! Who the hell is he? Where does he live?

 Dad:- "He’s a cousin to Uncle Ahmed? I presume you know Uncle Ahmed?  He’s got kids of your age and Islamabad is quite beautiful this time of the year and so you are in for a terrific week. I have bought a ticket for you on the next Air Blue flight and that is scheduled to take-off in 1.5 hour. Be swift and reach the airport on time’.

Me: ’Hey Dad!!!!  How can I get ready to catch a flight to Isb in 50 minutes! “And I don’t even know this uncle? Am I going alone? Hello? Hello?’


Ah, that’s my Dad. I packed my bags, hugged my mom and before I knew was I was fastening my seat belt, and failing. I have never managed to fasten my belt myself on a plane. Never! But I do not do this on purpose. Pakistani Airhostesses are not that HAWT. They are not worth the trouble. It must be some other normal reason like maybe the seats I get each time have rusty seat belts. That must be it.

 The super-awesome IMPRESSED uncle.
15A, the seat I was on. It’s usually a 90 minutes flight; relatively short but long enough to bore a lone teenager. As soon as I arrived at the airport I was wishing that may the passenger next to my seat be a super-duper-hot-awesome-girl. Despite my wishes, no hot girl had her seat next to me. In fact the seat next to me wasn’t booked for anyone at all. I was the only passenger in that entire row! Talk of bad luck. But wait the girl seated in the row behind me seemed cute. Yes just ‘cute’.
But she was with her family and dad with a dwarf-ish beard looked murderous and I don’t think he would be pleased to let be flirt with her daughter so no opportunity for me to make my flight ‘memorable’. Severely bored, I took out the Quran I carry with me and mutely I stared revising my Hifz.

Minutes ticked by. Then I heard the-cute-girl’s dad say something to his son that almost blew the red-blood-pumping-balloon in my chest.

“Look at that boy, he’s going all alone and he is not listening devilish songs like you but reciting the Blessed words of the Almighty Lord. His parents must be so proud of him! How lucky they must be to have such a son!”

Man, I was like Oh My God! When exactly did I ever imagine that people would point me to their sons and say look there’s a good lad, you got to be like this’. I had NEVER imagined anything like this. And mind you DO NOT presume that my imagination is limited. Even with my massive imagination I had failed to imagine something so exquisite. I believed people would point me and say instead, ‘see that what happens when you fall into bad ways!’

Surely, the uncle was a devout Muslim and his devoutness reflected from his extra-large-sized beard. Now knowing that this uncle was somehow impressed by me, I wished that he does not notice my vile ‘FBI’ shirt. (FBI shirt vileness refer to “Female Body Inspector” caption) Ha-ha, how naïve people could be, they take appearances so seriously.

The landing was smoother, than I had wished for. A bailing-landing would have been a lot better. You never know! The infinite romantic possibilities there are in a catastrophe! Imagine me rolling with that Cutie on the slide out of the plane through the emergency door or coming out of the burning plane with a hot, grateful damsel in my arms with everyone applauding y heroic feat. Possibilities are infinite so is my imagination. But what I ended up with was a normal, smooth landing. Ah so cruel, next time I’d fly with PIA they are known to hire more quixotic pilots than Air Blue.  

Now while waiting for my lone bag at the luggage belt, the uncle came up to me. THE UNCLE, the Cute Girl’s Daddy!!  Omg, why is coming to me!!

Impressed Uncle: - “(Put Islamic salutation here) Son. What is your name?’

Baffled me:- “(Put Islamic salutation here) Uncle. I am Hamza From Karachi. (Hope he doesn’t see the shirt)

Impressed Uncle: - Oh great. Me too, Ha-ha

Me:- Ha-ha (I thought that was pretty obvious, both of us just got off a flight from Karachi) 

Impressed Uncle: - So what are you here for? I am here with kiddos for summer. I saw you reading the Quran. I liked that.

Me with a smile replied: - Same here. I am here for my vacations too.
(You liked that? So what are you gonna offer me for that, your daughter’s hand in marriage?)

Impressed Uncle: - So young man, what do you do? How old are you? And are here alone? What class you are in?

Me:- {(Under breath) why doesn’t this damn belt move??}  Um. I am 17 and yeah, I flew alone from Karachi but my uncle’s coming to pick me up. Oh, there’s my bag. Nice talking to you. Bye.

Impressed Uncle: - Pleasures all mine. Remember me in your prayers.
Me: - Yes I surely will. (If I ever pray)

Muslims and Asians, these people are so nice and friendly.  I have met so many people like this all over. One I still vaguely remember is the Huge Arab who talked to me while I was sitting on the stairs of the Great Mosque in Makkah. I had lost my parents during the Ta’waaf, the religious ritual in which Muslims walk seven times around the Holy Kaaba. So I was sitting on the stairs looking at the Kaaba and wishing that my parents find me soon (I was a kid then only 11 year old then). It was then a huge man, an Arab sat next to me and noticing my Kurta Pajama, asked me if I was a Pakistan. After I I said yes, he asked me loads of questions about Islam and Pakistan and the Atomic Bomb. He seemed to be impressed by a kid been so informative and confident. He introduced me to his son who was around my age and we shook hands.

Writing this makes me think that don’t we all have so many people in our lives that we don’t meet every day but still they occupy a certain importance in our memories. How odd. Anyhow stranger are strangers. They are nice as long as they help you kill time, but no further than that. Strangers are not to be trusted. Not even with your dirty underpants. That is what my parents have taught me. Not the underpants part of course, just the trust part. I figured the latter myself.

Out in the airport lounge I was told to expect a tall man with big whiskers, I mean mustache with a card with my name on it. Great, the exactly thing I wanted. I imagined tall, whiskered man roaming about with my name on a card, maybe with a picture too asking people that have you seen him. You know what I mean.

Dreading the worst, bracing myself for anything I swept my eyes across the airport lounge to locate… Hey, there was he. Just as he was described, he was tall had whiskers and all. And he had a huge belly. I love people with huge bellies, partially because my Dad has one. He always let me use it as a jumping castle till I got heavier.

God, I started walking towards him. I was still a few yards away from him that he recognizes me. Maybe he got a picture of me after all. And right in the middle of the crowded lounge with that cute-girl-and-impressed-uncle-family a part of the crowd, my over excited host cries out, aloud.

“ Oyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee mera Putttttttaaaaaarrrr Hamza”.

Overkill mate. I travelled miles for this. I was meeting this person for the first time in my life. He is not exactly a close relative too. He’s my Dad’s cousin’s cousin. But to the cute-daughter-of-the-impressed-uncle I might have seemed a son-of-this-shouting-pain-d0-uncle returning home. THE HORROR.

Bear hugged, hand crushed I made way out of the building to the parking area. The Uncle was still talking, not that it made any sense to me; apparently he was saying what a nice person my dad is. Cool. He drove a Santro, my least favorite car. Drive to his place was uneventful, if I don’t mention the speed. He never crossed 15. First I thought this is a capital city maybe they have strict speed restrictions around her, for security reasons. But then I saw this.

Man. His place would have been 10 minutes from the airport but he made it 30. My reception at his place was grand. The entire family was there, waiting for me. Later I thanked God at least they did not have garlands in their hands! Introductions and salutations were exchanged. I won’t write their real names. Because I don’t want to, Okay? You should have no problem with this.
Please do not mock my paint skills!!

The Chaudary Family consisted of two daughters, and a son. The son was 16 years old; they said so, because to me he did not look anything below twenty. Maybe the good-abundant-food makes you grow quickly there. Though he was shorter than me, in fact all of them except the uncle were shorter than me. Been 5’11 feels good when many 5’5s are around.

The aunty was quite heavy, she LOOKED heavy. I certainly did not try to lift her in my arms to weigh her! Jokes apart, she was quite lovable and cuddly, just like a huge teddy bear. I loved her most than all of them. 

I think I discovered a Mrs. Weasly in her.

Not because her son looked like Ronald nor did any of her daughters was a bit like Ginny but because She said the following words to me,’ you are so skinny, just like a skeleton. You need to put some flesh on you. I’ll make you fatter before you go back’. For the first time, I realized that I am too skinny, too bony. I do not want to be a shapeless dumpling and lose my sumptuous abs, but putting on some flesh didn’t seem a bad idea.

She made a dozen scrumptious Desi Dishes for me each day. And the best part I loved was the ‘Parathas, made in unprocessed oil, commonly known as the Desi Ghee. My brain did enjoy the trip but the taste buds surely did. But sadly I never gained any weight; I am kinda stuck on 56.

I wish the Aunt could give some cooking lessons to my Mom. Cause Momma doesn’t a thing about the exquisite Pakistani cuisine. I just love the smell of the Desi Ghee now. It’s now my 2nd most favorite smell after petrol.  

The daughters, they were main pain-doers. Their ages were 15 and 17 respectively. The 17 year old one got pretty excited for reasons known best to her, when she came to know that my birthday came 19 days earlier than hers.
And I think she had a crush on me. Seriously and I was frightened by the mere thought of her and me in a relationship. Ever seen a Buffalo flirt with a normal human bean? I guess not but it happened with me. Each evening they would go for a walk in the nearby park and during that walk this bhains (buffalo) would look at me, bash her eye lids, and smile with her huge teeth jutting out like a cannibal.
And at night, she would suggest, force more like, me to watch a movie with them. So the two sisters and their 24/7 mute brother and me would sit and watch the odd Bolly-wood movies like  Kaho na pyaaar hai, koi mil gaya, Hum aur tum, blah blah blah. One day when I couldn’t bear anymore I asked them to watch movies of my choice and they politely agreed. Then we watched Kung Fu Panda, Gnomeo & Juliet, Rio, Tangled and Rango. Well, this was all I could watch with them. Watching something tender with her might have increased complexities for me.

Losing the Camera and the mediocre flight back Home
To top the irritation and double the trouble, I lost my camera somewhere, on the plane or the airport. 17 year old Buffalos camera was used to snap some pictures. And when I was leaving I thought she’d offer  me to take the memory card with me, but no she didn’t. Maybe she’d mail the pictures later.

My trip back was ordinary. The plane had much less passengers than before, and there were no uncles-with-cute-daughters on board. An insurance company employee sat next to me and he smelled like Crabbe or maybe Goyle. I am not sure, but his smell was out-of-this-world-ish. And as I sat tensed trying not to smell him, he seemed to sense it. 

He looked at me and said, ’Hey kiddy, no need to be tensed, I am not a kidnapper! Ha-ha‘.

‘Sure sir, you might not be a kidnapper but you smell just like a kid’s nappy’, thought me.

After almost 2000 words, I realize that I should have and have not mentioned the places I have been was it necessary?  So there you go; I spectacled the beautiful views of Shakrpuriyaan, Rawal Lake, Gojrah, Taxila, Murree, Pakistan Monument, Faisal Mosque, Quaid-e-Azam Avenue, Supreme Court of Pakistan and many more.

Maybe you are thinking why on earth this post is so monotonously long. The raison d'être behind this is the urge to prove that I can write nonsense non-stop better than most maybe all of you.


My life is one big joke. It’s all upside down. Nothing is upside up. Maybe the word ‘normal’ was overlooked while my destiny was been written. Parents, siblings, education, routine everything is so out-of-the-ordinary. In a good way or a bad, I am not to judge that, nor are you. Don’t EVEN think of it!

I am weird. Perhaps spending a week with Pain-dos makes you even weirder. Islamabad was one big bore. It felt like a huge park, full of trees, flowers, huge buildings, important-looking-mean-illiterate-bureaucrats and Whores. Your eyes widened an inch at the ‘whore’ part? No, then maybe you already knew this. If yes, then here’s some news for you, if can’t afford the fare to Los Vegas or Bangkok then Islamabad is a much accessible and cheap substitute for you.

Now we have touched this very attention-grabbing topic, let’s talk of other ‘red-light’ areas active in the ‘Citadel of Islam’. To begin with, I presume that most of you would be familiar with the ‘red-light’ area in Lahore. No? Kindly please pay a visit to Badshahi Mosque and peep in the streets around it. You’d be …umm what’s the word for it, ah ‘Fascinated’. Diamond Market is the name to be very precise.

Moving on to Karachi, it is surely my home-town but I am ashamed to say Karachi does lack a respectable, state of art ‘Red light’ area. Maybe I am unaware of it. No, I am not trying to prove that I am a chaste guy. Hell no, If I knew I’d have told you and also would have gone into the minute details of my endeavors in that area. You can be very sure of that. I have heard ‘rumors’ about the presence of veiled whores in the vicinity of the Mausoleum in Karachi. The Mausoleum, the final resting place of the Founder of our state, a fitting place to find some ‘ah’ earthy pleasures!

There are a couple of other rumored places like Soldier Bazaar in old Karachi centre and the Chinese Spa in North Karachi. Tourists coming Karachi might not find proper ‘Escort agencies’ here, but don’t worry. We have got everything down here, but it just simply unofficial. From Russian to a Malaysian you can get your favorite ‘escort’ @ cheaper rates than any other nation!  

OhmiGod. What’s got into me? I got little angelic kids reading my blog. I am a bad guy, like the ones at school who sell you cigarettes and vanish when you get caught. Am I a pest destroying my innocent readers’ chastity? No I am simply advertising a neglected industry of our nation. And BTW this is a PG 17+ Blog and you are here on your OWN responsibility!

I don’t like spilling my beans to the world. Nobody does. But right now I FEEL like spilling one fat ugly bean to you people.  I lost my face! Have you ever lost your face? Losing things is not unusual for me, I lost my camera last week, my lucky boxers last month and I lost my girlfriend four years ago. But face? How upon Johnny Bravo’s small jeans do I get back my face? Please people with corresponding experiences help me out. Help me find my ‘face’. PLEASE!

How did I lose my face? Last month a couple of articles I wrote got REJECTED because of ‘Grammatical mistakes’. Such a slob I am. So I am a faceless person right now. WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? NO one gave you the authority to laugh! I’d laugh at myself but I cannot figure out how one laughs without a face. Apparently face is compulsory ingredient for throwing a laugh.

I won a Quran Competition.
The second piece of self-related news I have is better than the first face-losing-one. I won the 2nd prize at Qirat Competition held by Dars-e-Quran organization at ASH Community Hall last month. A ‘Qirat’ competition is an event in which Muslims take part and recite verses of the Holy Quran in melodious voices. The Grand finale was supposed to be held in Indonesia but due to anonymous reasons the organizers have canceled the event. Nevertheless, I am going to get a shield next week and I feel really good about it. It would be my second Quran- related-triumph.

In short, the Chodary family was not bad. They were super-awesome hosts and their friendliness and hospitality made an impression upon me. Because they endured me for almost a month without a smirk but with smiles. I loved the trip because of the food, the lovely sights and the RAIN! YES! It rained 5 times in Islamabad while I was there.

Paindos are splendid people but they have one major drawback which earns them the title of Pain-dos, which is their accent. The accent is not something I can explain to you, you simply have to meet a Paino to get the ‘real’ feeling of it. One thing I am extremely curious about is ARE Pain-do species found in the west? It’d be severely cool of you if you lemme know about that, because my ‘fist’ hungers for justice. *Brain gurgles*. Those are my fist.

Why did you read all this junk?
Reading 3500 words about something which is not even mildly intriguing demonstrate your patience and love for me. Confess the truth that you are madly deeply incredibly in love with HBL. There’s no other way about it. Only the strongest feeling in the world would make you read all this junk. And that strongest feeling in the world is love, according to Professor Dumbledore of Hogwarts, the once famous Magic school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Been home feels nice, but been away from Blogosphere doesn’t. I have so much stuff to catch up with, so many posts to read at my favorite blogs Blah-Blah-Blah. Thank you for reading and hating. Show your hatred through your comments. Now it’s time to say, Amigos, Adieus and Ciaos.

PS:-The template change is temporary. I am on quest for a perfect template. Any suggestions? And is the blog readable? Also I think the previous post was quite funny. You should read it if you haven't already. I don't write funny things everyday!


Lioness Without A Pride said...

I love you. I read most of it. I still love you. You're awesome. Welcome back!

bengalimishtiz said...

"Jab khuda ne tujhe banaya hoga,
Ek suroor-saa dil mein chhaya hoga,
Pehle socha tujhe jannat mein hi rakh loon,
Baad me use ka khayal bhi aaya hoga."

Why can't all blogs be like this one?

Amna Siddiqui said...

I am writing because I am awesome o.O
Also, I LOVED your comment on my blog - is lie wanted to comment BAD :P

Lioness Without A Pride said...


Anuradha said...

Awesome post, man. I loved reading it. I kinda wish I had ah, colourful relatives like yours. xD

AcetylCholine said...

I laughed my ass off. That was your best post so far. GO BACK TO ISB AND DO MORE POSTS LIKE THESE!

Heard it's going to rain here again this week! :D

Jason said...

Really very good post! Keep up the great work!

ME said...


tarunima said...

And this was not junk,i really enjoyed reading this:)
YOu have a talent of making people laugh by the written word hamza:)
keep it up.

P.s- congratulations for winning the Quran competition:)

Fahham Asghar said...

Haha !
Loved that part - You've to meet a paindo to know the accent .

So true :p

aaishah said...

I LOVE your bloggg! :D
And yes, I read ALL of it! (H)

Imma do this in points.
-God, I hate Islamabad. SUCH a dead city. Best thing about Punjabis however is their hospitality. I love parathas in Desi Ghee<3
-Hahahahahaha LOL@ the poor girl who was most likely crushing on you. Becharii. :P
-Sorry to hear about your camera and losing your face. :P
-No comments about the whores.
- Congratualtions on winning the Qirat competition.
-I'm jaylusss. Caz I want rain in Karachi.

AZ said...

OMG I was stuck on every word of your post. WoWiE it must have been weird and awkward knowing a paindo has a crush on you :P
No damn rain in Karachi so unfair!!
Been waiting to read about your visit and now that I have I am extremely happy :3

Furva said...

hhahahahh you should seriously go back to islamabad and write more posts like thesee. made me laugh so muchh! :P especially the airport episode hahah! :P

Nas said...

Nice and juicy.
I think there are many nice people around us, we just don't bother looking.
Congratulations of winning the Qur'an competition. You should put a recording up. :)

Have a good weekend dude!

Hamza Bin Ladin said...

*Blushes* Blushes*
and *Blushes again*
You are awesome to read the entire thing! Shukria.:P

Haahaha. Quite the poet aren't you? How kind of you. I loved your comment. No, all blogs can't be like this. Not everbody is carp like me out there. They have got better things to do.

@Amna Siddiqi,
Sure you are awesome. You would have been aweosomer if you had read the post entirely!

@LWAP, again,
Hahaha, thank you. Thank you. God bless you, Pride-less lioness.:)

Long tyme!
Pleased to have you again on my blog. Hahaha, colorful relatives.
Haha they weren't my relatives exactly but yeah
In a way they were.:D
Thanks for reading and liking.

Hey, why did you not met me, you live in ISB:( Hahaha, I can write better posts without going to ISB :D

Welcome to the mutiny headquarters.
And Thank-you!


Thank you.
The encouragement and the comments keep me going.
Thanks again.

@Fahham Asghar,
Yea' one has to meet a Pain-do to write a pain-do ordeal :D

-Islamabad was boring. Desi Ghee was awesome.Correction, it is awesome.
-Poor GIRL>? You should say POOR ME.Like it was me who was been molested.Have some pity on me,gal..=D
-Thank you.
-No rain in Karachi still. huh. I hope it will rain in Ramadan.
Thanks for your super cool comment. You are now one of my favorite bloggers.Cheers!

Haha, yea' it was ODD. And Awkward.
And no rain in Karachi makes me pull my hair. Taking a shower doesn't seems a good idea now. I need rain.

Hahahaha, at last someone enjoyed my favorite part of the post. THE AIRPORT PART. Thank you.
RAIN! :(

I missed you!
And you nice and juicy comments, soft and cuddly remarks and fleshy and squishy compliments.
Good to be back home again.
You too have a great weekend.

Shoaib Ishrat said...

lol after a long time read anything like this you rock buddy...!

PurpleMist. said...

LOL you're so lucky the cute girl's dad didn't see your shirt :P But I'm guessing he might not have understood what it says anyways..
I actually LIKE your paint skills!

Hahaha, the buffaloes, that's a little harsh :P Who still watches movies like kaho na pyaar hai? :O

Wooooah I never knew that about Islamabad. Or even Karachi.

Awww I'm sure that once you fix your grammar mistakes, you can get your face back! Don't worry, I was in the same situation. Actually, I still am but now college takes up too much of my time so I temporarily given up on writing articles.

Wow, that's amazing. Congratulations on winning the Quarn competition!

I read all this 'junk' because I like your writing style, it's so conversational, I feel like I'm actually talking to you, which is good.
Btw, sorry my comment is so long :/

The Me. said...

Hahahah. Funny stuff.
I don't usually, rather, ever, read this long of a post. But this one, i kept on reading. Which means. That you write well. You. Have ay skill. Be happy.

You're a Hafiz? Im impressed too.

And now i want to eat lots of yummy desi food. +.+

Furree Katt said...

OMG I SERIOUSLY DIED LAUGHING READING THIS POST. it's my new favourite post in the whooole universe!
whoa, i cannot imagine how fast you must have prepared to catch that flight.
haha the airplane-uncle thing was hilarious! but i can sure see why he thought that way about you, it's not always that you see a youngster reading Quran in public.
I LOVE THE DRAWING OF CHODARY UNCLE LOLOLOLOL the card with your face on it is classsiicccc!!
i think the family's hospitality was awesome. i have never experienced anything like that so i can't relate, but i'm glad they weren't a mean bunch of people in your case. :D
THE BUFFALOES HAHAHAAHA imagine agar tumhaara rishta taii hojata kisi aik buffalo kay saath?! i swear you would have deprived Karachi girls of their rights over you :P
*rolls on the floor laughing at 'lost my face' part*
and wow, that's really great that you won the Qirat competition :D *pats on the back*

Rutaba Tariq said...

Haha, I don't know if it's love that got me reading it all but rather your sheer ability to write fluently, well that and the damn interesting life you live! :D (Will this categorize as me judging you? Well then GOOD, let me see you try and change that) *shades on*

The post was thoroughly hilarious and made me slightly envious, I can't pick which part of it I like more. :3

Congratulations on winning the Qirat competition! :D That makes one thing more clear, your voice must be very melodious.I won't mind hearing a verse or two actually.

Oh and I don't know why you'd think you can't be put out as an example for others, lets see
Hafiz,Humorous,Perspective,Fearless... so on and so forth. That's you and you think you can't impress? Either you're being modest or are seriously blind! :P

Thank you! :3