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Celebrate with a light chocolate cake

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When you are a follower of a club like Chelsea FC, you don’t come across many reasons to celebrate. However, this week in the second leg of the Champions League semi-final at Camp Nou, Chelsea against all odds beat the Spanish giants Barcelona to the final. Overjoyed by the victory of my club, I instantaneously decided to celebrate and came up with this interesting version of a chocolate cake. You can call it an imitation of chocolate fudge cake because of the exclusion of butter and sour cream, which have been replaced by corn oil and buttermilk, respectively. This recipe is light and guilt-free - to a certain extent. Astonishingly, the absence of butter does not compromise on the softness. The cake still comes out moist and supple. I also kept the quantity of sugar less to compensate for the sugary icing. Here is the recipe of this extremely delightful chocolate dessert. Do treat yourself to the comforting texture and well balanced flavours that will melt in your mouth for sure! Ingredients for the cake 2 cups of flour ¾ to 1 cup of sugar 3  eggs ¾ cup of oil (corn oil or vegetable oil) 2/3 cup of buttermilk (normal milk with juice of half a lemon) 2-3 tablespoons of baking cocoa 1 teaspoon of baking powder ½ teaspoon of baking soda 1 teaspoon of vanilla essence 1 teaspoon of chocolate essence (optional) Ingredients for the icing: ½ to ¾  cups of icing sugar 1 teaspoon of butter ¼ cup of water A few drops of liquid blue colour Directions to bake the cake

  • Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.
  • Sift flour, baking powder and baking soda and set aside.
  • In a large mixing bowl beat oil with sugar (grind the sugar in a coffee grinder if it is not fine). Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. This way the batter will get fluffy . Now add the vanilla and chocolate essence followed by cocoa powder.
  • After this, gradually add the flour, baking powder and baking soda mix to the batter along with the buttermilk. The batter will get thick as you add the dry ingredients, but keep adding the milk till the mixture reaches a smooth consistency.
  • Line your baking tin with wax paper, grease the sides and  pour in the batter.
  • Bake for 30-40 minutes or until toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Directions for the icing
  • Dissolve the blue colour in water.
  • In a bowl mix the butter with icing sugar and slowly add the blue water, teaspoon by teaspoon, to this mixture. Keep mixing until you get a fluffy icing.
  • Spread over the cooled cake with a flat knife or the back of a spoon. Decorate as you desire and celebrate with friends and family!
Read more by Saba here.


A tale of eras: Christmas in Pakistan and Bethlehem

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Pakistan, 21st December, 6pm: Rodney and his friends drive into their apartment complex in a truck, in which lay 10 meter long dried bamboo shoots, the kind used to put up wedding tents. Watching from the balcony of an apartment upstairs, Rodney’s cousins run down with machetes and knives to start stripping the bamboo into long yet tough strips. Kids are playing in the compound, cycling on their little 3-wheelers or playing among the cars, innocence abounding from them. 7:30pm: They now have ten strips of bamboo ready to be used. Time to go have some tea and talk about what comes next. As they sit in their homes, neighbours come over with gifts to put under the Christmas tree for the children. 8:30pm: Someone presses the intercom from the ground floor. Rodney answers it. His friends have come from the other apartments.

“The cloth is ready, and we've bought the glue! Come down quick let’s start. My mum’s bringing some pakoras!”
Rodney and his cousins start to make their way down for what’s going to be a long night. At the same time, in the parish around the corner, a choir is practising for Christmas Eve’s signature ‘Midnight Mass’. Strains of ‘Oh Holy Night’ and ‘Silent Night’ waft through the air, carried by the chilled evening winds into the homes surrounding the church. The choir master goes over the carols with them meticulously one by one, knowing the congregation at mass will want to live their emotions and feelings for the birth of Christ. No other mass except for Easter will evoke such passion – and perspiration – from them. 0 B.C.: It is a cold, wintry night. Bethlehem is preparing for another quiet sleep. For a few nights now, shepherd and merchant alike have noticed a bright star in the sky. A pregnant woman and her spouse make their way slowly trudging along the pathways of the city towards a barn. They are accompanied by a lady who had no room in her inn. She took pity on the pregnant woman and offered them the only other option she had -- a place in the stables where a little manger lay empty. The couple thanked her and proceeded to prepare for sleep. Present day, 9pm: A few of the boys from the complex have been busy nailing and tying the ends of bamboo together to form a geometric structure. The girls have also joined them, spreading swathes of glue all over the bamboo strips. Knowing they’ll be hungry, other families have now joined them in the complex compound bringing thermoses of tea, pots of hot home-cooked meals and rotis. One enterprising young chap brings a little stereo and begins to play Christmas carols. By 9:30pm, almost all the families are now in the compound, helping in some way or another. The patriarchs of the families help in their own way, rushing to the markets to buy any essentials for the project. Others stand and talk about the day’s goings-on and how everyone is preparing for the beginning of the Christian year. In the church, the choir is now all set. They have practised and practised and are almost perfect. They’ve left the room and now make their way towards their homes in groups, carols still in their heads, talking about the new clothes they will be wearing and the sweets their mothers are preparing for the big night. 0 B.C.: The woman is experiencing labour pains late into the night. Her spouse is helping her as best he can, and prepares the area around her in the stable to accommodate for a child. He places straw and hay into the manger and places his cloak there, the only place decent enough for a newborn child. The man and woman prepare for a birth. Present day, 11pm: Red cloth cut into two pentagons and multiple triangles are stuck meticulously onto the glued areas of the bamboo strips. The strips have been arranged in a way where two strips lay on top of each other, forming a hollow. They wait until the glue dries. One young boy guides a bulb attached to an electric wire along one strip of bamboo. They take a break for 30 minutes to have some more tea and socialise. The air is abuzz with anticipation. People from neighbouring homes, complexes and even the local mosque have come to watch with eagerness. This is an annual ritual that the entire area awaits every year. The glue has dried. The boys get together in a group for what comes next. Rodney guides their every action from here on, knowing that the slightest miscalculation can end their hopes for this year. They slowly tease the strips apart to increase the depth of the hollow. Everyone gathers around, watching them. The boys now raise the structure onto its base. There in front of all to see, is a 10 metre high five-pointed star covered in bright red with strips of silver paper covering the criss-crossing lines of bamboo. The Christmas Star is now ready. Everyone bursts into applause at the end of phase one of the project. It is now 12am, December 22. Only two nights remain for Christmas. Over the next few days, in a tradition that dates back to the formation of Pakistan, Christian families across the nation start to bake Christmas cakes, cookies and other delicacies. The aroma of pure ghee, sugar-thick oil used to fry goodies and the sub-continental Christmas specials called ‘nayoree’ and ‘kalkal’, fill the air. The decorations go up, the trees are lit up and each home prepares the highlight of their Christmas decoration, the Crib. The Crib is a miniature mock-up of the stable of Christ’s birth. In the 1960s, the Catholic Church declared all Masses can be conducted in the native language of the parish instead of the traditional Latin. This made waves in Pakistan too, where from now on they could celebrate their services in a language they could understand at heart. Masses in Urdu, English, and Punjabi grew in number and the faithful began to truly live their faith in their daily lives. The Christian community could now share their faith more openly, with their traditions and culture being visible to all. Nothing underscored these traditions more than their preparations for the Christmas season. December 24, 10am: Rodney calls up everyone and they join him at the Star. Three boys each run to the top of the apartment complex as well as to the neighbouring complex carrying thick nylon ropes. When they reach the top, they throw down one end of the ropes to the bottom, where they are affixed tightly to the top ends of the star. Slowly, they start raising the star up. It takes just five minutes and the star is now 40 feet in the air. The ropes are securely fastened to hooks on the rooftops, and everyone comes down to join the cheering crowd. At this height, the bright red Christmas Star is now visible for miles, right up to the Habib Bank Plaza tower. 11:55am: The faithful have gathered in the various parishes of Pakistan in their hundreds of thousands. Carols are being sung, as the older generation makes their way to the fronts of the churches. The youngsters come in their Sunday finest. A candle-light vigil is assured. The bishops and parish priests go the backs of the churches, as the choir goes silent. The churches are plunged into darkness as everyone waits. The clergy light the Christmas candle, and from here all other candles of the faithful get lit as well. The procession starts to make its way up the Church aisles, beginning with the Altar serving children, followed by the priests and the bishops and finally by some of the congregation who waited outside. They walk in to the choir, who after weeks of practice, have perfected their delivery, and yet the emotions behind the hymns tonight are different. They began singing ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. Mass has begun. In the apartment complex, Rodney has attached the wire coming from the star to an electric socket in his home. At midnight, he flicks the switch and the large bulb in the star lights up and sends a bright red glow across the compound. The star is now visible for miles around even at night. A smile crept across Rodney’s face: His gift to Christ was this, a way for his community to have a visible representation of their festive season in a country where they are a statistic. 0 B.C: The Virgin Mary gives birth to the child Jesus, the Saviour of the world, in a humble stable, joined by her spouse Saint Joseph. The star in the sky burns brightly, casting its glow across Bethlehem. Angels come to visit the shepherds in the field and sing to them the same song now being sung 2000 years later across churches in Pakistan at 12am:
“Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the Newborn King!”
Christmas in Pakistan has begun. Read more by Anthony here or follow him on Twitter @AnthonyPermal

Christmas and Boxing Day: Celebrations in pictures around the world!

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Christmas- a day of celebration for most of the world and Boxing Day – the perfect cherry on top. Besides Eid, Christmas takes priority in my life as well. My grandmother, a Czech national, Christian who converted to Islam long long ago still celebrates Christmas with the same zeal as she does Eid. Secretly, I believe Santa Claus still exists too. Many argue that being a Muslim I should not be celebrating a Christian tradition- however, being brought up in the family that I have, I believe that life is way too short and we need all the occasions we can get to celebrate with our loved ones- you never know who leaves you and when. On the night of December 22, 2012, early morning between 4:52 and 4:58, I lost the one person I dreamt my life with, my future with- I lost my fiancé, Asfandyar Munawar Siddiqui to a tragic car accident. The reason I am telling you all this today is because the loss I felt is incomparable. He was just 28-years-old and we were going to celebrate Christmas together this year at my house. Unfortunately, this year, I didn’t know when Christmas came and when it went. So instead of sitting and debating about the logistics of celebrating an event- celebrate it anyway. Put up a Christmas tree and place presents underneath for all your family members, friends and loved ones. Have a Christmas eve dinner, pull each other’s leg and enjoy the company of one another. Everyday should be Christmas and Eid, and every day should be celebrated. Having come back to work, I decided to look at how the world celebrated Christmas and Boxing Day- despite the trying times. Here are some wonderful pictures that I came across and thought I’d share them with you all. I wish I could share them with him as well. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="German bicycle designer Didi Senft, known during the Tour de France as "El Diabolo", presents his latest Christmas-themed construction in Storkow, Germany (PHOTO:AFP)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="A diver dressed as Santa Claus swims with a dolphin at Hakkeijima Sea Paradise in Yokohama. (PHOTO: REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree is lit on November 28. (PHOTO: AFP)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="A postal employee dressed as Santa Claus displays letters as he poses for the opening day of the Santa Claus secretariat in Libourne post office in France. (PHOTO: REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="A chocolate Santa Claus waits in a display window of a boutique in Munich. (PHOTO:AFP)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="A teddy bear rests on the snow-covered grave of six-year-old Benjamin Andrew Wheeler, one of 20 schoolchildren killed in the December 14 shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School, on Christmas morning at the Newtown Village Cemetery in Newtown, Connecticut (PHOTO:REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="The Oxford Street Christmas lights are switched on in central London. (PHOTO: REUTERS) "]The Oxford Street Christmas lights are switched on in central London[/caption] These were just the Christmas celebrations around the world, here’s what Boxing Day did to the once normal people! Yes, Boxing Day is the one day you can become a crazy shopper, lose all sense of etiquettes and mannerisms and let loose that shopper devil inside you -and the best part is- you’re excused for it all! Please tell me you guys shopped your hearts out- if you didn’t, take a look at these pictures and enjoy the expressions of some of these determined shoppers. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="482" caption="(PHOTO: AFP)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="513" caption="Boxing Day in London (PHOTO:AFP)"][/caption] I want it! Even if I don’t like it I want it- I want it even if I don’t want it! Just give it to me! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="London- Shoppers check out handbags as they crowd inside Selfridges department store in central London in search of a bargain during the post-Christmas Boxing Day sales. Hundreds of thousands of bargain hunters headed to the shops despite a strike on London’s underground train network. (PHOTO: AFP)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="MILLIONS of excited bargain hunters descended on stores and malls in a record-breaking Boxing Day sales spree. (PHOTO:REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="(PHOTO: AFP)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="Shoppers rest outside a clothing shop during the Boxing Day sales on Oxford Street in central London (PHOTO: REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="515" caption="Shoppers scramble for perfume in Selfridges department store in London's Oxford Street - while millions of others shop online. (PHOTO:REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="Shoppers fill the aisles in Selfridges on the morning of the Boxing Day sales in London. (PHOTO: REUTERS)"][/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="(PHOTO: AFP)"][/caption] What I imagine this gentleman saying;

“Pick that one up too, honey- today, I’ll buy you as many things as you like!”
*evil snicker* He thinks this will count for her birthday and anniversary present too- poor guy! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="535" caption="(PHOTO: AFP)"][/caption] You can never get enough of these photos! With these pictures, I hope everyone saw the little moments of joy in the world- even for a few minutes. I hope to God that He grants Asfandyar a place in heaven, I hope he celebrated Christmas just like we would have together and I hope that the world celebrates the smaller moments in life. Mankind needs a reason to celebrate every day. Don’t live your life fretting over why you should. Live like there is no tomorrow, love like you have no time left. Read more by Erum here or follow her on Twitter @shaikherum  

10 things to do before the year ends

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The curtains to the year 2012 are slowly drawing upon us. Another year will be soon stored as a box of dusty memories in the shelves of our hearts. Before the arrival of the New Year, dissolve any bitter recalls, discard misunderstandings and declare unspoken love that is buried deep within your heart! Here are 10 things to do before this year ends:

  1. Visit your parents
For those who are not so lucky to be living with the ones who gave you life and soaking up their duas, before the year ends please spend time with them, thank them and express your love for them!
  1. Discard misunderstandings
Whether it was a fight with a sibling or a friend, forget it, let it go! Don’t drag bitter feelings into a new year! Apologise and feel alleviated from the burden you’ve been carrying around!
  1. Say I love you
Busy schedules, monotonous routines and mere lack of appreciation make us forget just how precious our spouses and loved ones are to us. Express your love and appreciation to them and remember that they are your better half, your companions in Jannah and half of your own faith.
  1. Have a family get together
Chachas, mamoos, phuppis, khaloos (uncles and aunts) may be scattered far apart for the sake of their jobs. This is the best opportunity to bond, catch up and make masti (mischief) with your cousins! I promise you, the smile on your daadis (grandmother) face, seeing all her children and grandchildren together, will be priceless!
  1. Be generous!
Whether it is summer or winter in your part of the world, there are always people less fortunate than you are. While you may be in a celebratory mood, others may be in discomfort. Donate your old clothes and toys to shelters and charity homes- make someone’s day and put a smile on someone’s face. With that smile- I promise you- you will feel like you are on the top of the world.
  1. Volunteer and help make the less fortunate feel loved!
During the holidays, many organisations are in need of volunteers. Donating ‘yourself’ to a worthy cause is even more rewarding! Feed the poor, visit sick children or spend your time creating awareness about something that is close to your heart. That is what you call time well spent.
  1. Be grateful!
After seeing the plight of those suffering, thank God for all that you have. Thank Him for everything that happened this year, the good and the bad. Ask Allah (SWT) for strength to deal with whatever awaits in the following year.
  1. Do what you love and do it now!
Exams, studying, family commitments and business deals make it impossible for us to enjoy the little things in life. So relax, take a step back, and leave what you are doing and just breathe. Play a sport, paint, read a good book or bake!
  1. Declare your love before it’s too late
We’ve heard it before and I’ll say it again; if you love someone, tell them! You don’t know what the next year holds, they might be someone else’s; they might be in another country- anything could happen. But the worst feeling is regret; you don’t want to be sitting and crying, thinking ‘Kaash agar main unko bata deita’ (I wish I had told them.)
  1. Stop believing in hoax prophecies
We are less than three days away from 2013, so let’s welcome it with everything we have! Just remember, people who you love might not be with you next year, so express your love to them now and cherish them till you have them! Savour each moment, strive to be a better human being and live in the present! This was just my top 10 but feel free to add on to the list- inspiration is something that never tires one out and is always always needed.

Single on Valentine’s Day? Nothing wrong with it!

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As soon as February 14 approaches every year, I am forced into contemplating my inadequacy to celebrate the “day of lovers” because I happen to be single. The fête kicks off weeks ahead of 'the day'. Roadsides begin to line up with stalls of red balloons and bouquets of roses priced so shockingly high, it’s hard to believe. A plethora of cheeky commercials start bombarding every television channel, where two love birds are somehow fitted in every advertisement (ranging from washing soaps to tractors). Numerous Valentine’s Day special deals start popping up on my Facebook page, luring me into believing that a “heart-shaped cushion” is all that I need right now- the pillow that possesses magic powers- the solution to all my problems. All the indications appear as constant reminders of my seclusion from the 'couples’ league', and hence I am deemed unfit to be part of the festivities that paint the town red. Since the advent of social media, Valentine’s Day has no more remained a cosy, personal affair. It has become a kind of war of prides as well. Every couple is under immense pressure to architect a perfect photo album to upload to Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, that can adequately demonstrate their lavish and romantic Valentine’s Day arrangements. On one hand, the increasing number of “likes” and “comments” makes the effort totally worthwhile for the couple; on the other hand, those incapable of presenting such public displays of affection only fume and churn in their seats with every click. However, singles can feel comforted by the fact that all that fancy stuff comes with a hefty price tag plus a lot of stress. To combat Valentine’s Day blues, you can relish knowing that on this particular day, you don’t have to deal with the stress of choosing a striking outfit and looking absolutely gorgeous. You don’t have to worry about getting a dine-out reservation in time, or bear pressure of finding gifts that meet expectations of your partner. Be relieved that you can skip the shower, order a pizza, sink comfortably into your favourite couch and do whatever you want. This Valentine’s Day, you can remind yourself that you are a free elf and you can indulge in all the crazy stuff that singles have the liberty to do. Send anonymous flowers to someone you absolutely detest. Devour an absurd amount of chocolate delights (which you can get at great discount nowadays). Get together with single friends and laugh your heart out to a comedy movie. If you are seeking to vent out anger, go for an anti-Valentine’s Day party. As far as combating the army of “love-struck” Facebook statuses is concerned, feel free to show everyone you’re not sulking around feeling sorry for yourself but instead are having a blast in your own way. You’re single and that’s just great! Follow Aroob on Twitter @aroob_p


Say yes to Valentine’s day

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There is no better indicator to how little Pakistan has done to prevent the nation slipping down the extremism rabbit hole than the increasingly visible outcry against Valentine’s day. Back in the 90s, nobody was concerned with the celebration of Valentine’s day. The general population was unaware of the event, and the few who knew went their merry way with chocolates, cut-out hearts, red balloons and the hope of securing a date or making a loved one feel special. The 2000s have, however seen each Valentine’s day turn increasingly into an ideological battleground between the forces of extremism out to score political mileage, and well, teenagers with red balloons. One would hope the government would notice this trend and intervene before the ideological fight turns to actual violence, but perhaps such foresight would be expecting too much. So here we are in 2013 with these big billboards up across Karachi: And on vans: Photo: Parked at Bahadrabad Chowrangi, Can't believe some one paid for this, lol SOURCE: mezaajedeen.blogspot.com

Say NO to Valentine’s Day! “If you do not have haya in you, you are free to do whatever you like” (Bukhari) This tradition reflects our insensitivity indignity and ignorance of Islam. STOP NOW!
www.tanzeem.org Who is this group willing to spend tens of thousands of rupees per billboard? They are the Tanzeem-e-Islami – a splinter group of the Jamaat-e-Islami who state on their website that their basic belief are “the same as that of Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamaat” and:
“Since Tanzeem-e-Islami addresses specifically to the duty of struggling for the establishment of the Deen, it believes that the Western constitutional and democratic model is not suitable for this purpose.”
At this point, any readers who feel democracy is ‘cr*p’ may exit stage left. For everyone else, we need to realise that Valentine’s day is no longer a pop-culture/globalisation phenomenon – it is now a political statement. I personally do not like Valentine’s day. I think it is gaudy, commercial and just plain silly at times. But I am willing to fight for the right our nation’s hormonal teenagers and sappy romantics have to celebrate it. You should do the same, because an ideological war is being fought here, and while you may personally detest Valentine’s day, please realise that the endgame of extremist outfits like the Tanzeem-e-Islami is not to bring an end to Valentine’s day, but to democracy and any/all of the (few) freedoms you currently take for granted. Take a look at the 'methodology' section of the Tanzeem-e-Islami website if you are having trouble visualising the 'change' this organisation wishes to bring. So have a heart (literally). Celebrate Valentine’s day in some small visual manner this year to establish where you stand politically. If you don’t do this for yourself, do it for the minority out there who consider this day important. At the very least, when you are bashing Valentine’s day, just be extra careful with the words you use so as to not end up being a part of a very real movement aimed at taking Pakistan down a truly dark path. PS: I do not think the solution to this problem is the removal of such billboards, as that would be limiting free speech. I do believe the answer to this is a communicated response, and a level playing field whereby violence and threats in the name of religion are not used by those with another world view to enforce what they want. [poll id="249"] Read more by Jahanzaib here or follow him on Twitter @jhaque_  Correction: An earlier version of this post stated that the English translation from Bukhari in the billboard was not found. It was identified by commenters in an Urdu translation. 

The chubby drone

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A favourite lyric of mine is by octogenarian soul man  BB King in a ditty called Better Not Look Down.  He describes a beautiful woman walking by

“If the arrows from cupid's bow, that had  passed through her heart, had been sticking out of her body  she would have looked like a porcupine.”
 It may not be Gulzar but I love it. Most straight thinking people wouldn’t trust a low flying chubby child firing random shots down to earth with a bow and arrow but there’s nothing like tradition to fly in the face of logic. Cupid (for it is he) is a winged assassin armed with the weapon of love and with a little technical know how the cherub of love could become a fully armed weapon of mass destruction,  the baby child of Rambo,  an angel of death. All hail the chubby drone. With this in mind it strikes me as imperative that you take on board my first lesson of love is to enjoy it  while it lasts. Enjoy it  for what it is now not for what it could be in future. But this is were my teachings end because I am the worst, the worst,  at following my own advice.  When it comes to those four letters. – E.V.L.O.  I am positively dyslexic. Take the following example. She was beautiful. She was tall. Her skin was  smooth and the colour and fragrance of warm caramel. In an intimate moment the woman to whom I was engaged to be married asked,
“If you could change anything about me what would it be?”
I forgot the universal reply of,
 “Darling, I wouldn’t change a thing. You are perfect as you are” and considered the question as if it were a gauntlet thrown across the laboratory of love.   Was it a question or a trap? “Can I have a little time?” I asked.
A month passed and then out of the blue the penny dropped. I had noticed something that needed changing.  It was unnoticeable to most but  it had become noticeable to me.  Not only noticeable, but slightly irritating.  I prepared my conclusion and laid the path.
“You’re tall.” I said “And I like that your tall.”
And I did like that she was tall.   I paused to give the impression of deep thought  “But you do stoop a little.”
 She stooped, “really?”
I back tracked
“I don’t mind…. That you stoop….. look you’re doing it now….. but I guess as you get older it will start to get more pronounced. I guess it is because you’re tall that you do stoop to listen… and listening is good… but really…….. you don’t have to… and it could become a hump. I’m not saying you’ve got a hump but when you bend your neck down repeatedly over years….”
She returned to America – from whence she came - with my diamond encrusted engagement ring firmly clamped to her finger.  I fully believed she was coming back. It took some time and some fraught phone calls to realise that she wasn’t. She was twenty one at the time and I was twenty five. Getting  married,  it turned out, was the best thing that never happened to us.
“Did you fall in love?” I was asked a few years later. “No” I said “but I did a lot of falling."
If Valentine's is just a reminder of love lost then you’ll spend it armed to the hilt with surface to air missiles to take cupid out in a valentine massacre of your own making. Love yourself and leave cupid’s arrow alone and you’ll see that the love of others will come at such a pace you’ll be walking round like a porcupine. Read more by Lemn here or follow him on Twitter @lemnsissay 

In Lahore: Bridging divides through culture

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As I was taking my place in the audience at the first Lahore Literary Festival, all eager and ready to report for this paper, my gaze took in around 50 or so young people milling about. It was 9:30am on the morning of February 23 and there they all were, dressed up in their fashionable best, to hear that leftist Tariq Ali speak about all things revolutionary. And there I was, thinking it was mandatory for all young people to stay in bed past midday at the weekend. This is not to say that the Festival was without groupies. Much love almost immediately started being spread in its name on social media platforms. Folks just could not stop congratulating each other. Interestingly, all of this played out under the manufactured Resurgence-of-Culture-in-Lahore banner. About time, people sighed, with collective relief. Lahore was on the up. The city could do it. And certainly, Lahore is in need of such reassurances right now. Cultural traditions and spaces, such as Basant, the kite-flying festival, and the Rafi Peer World Performing Arts Festival, have been squeezed out. And the last year has been abysmal in terms of bringing folk together in cultural spaces. However, in no way should the success of the Lahore Literary Festival fool us into mistaking it for some grand resurgence of cultural activity. An innovative tool for marketing books n’ burgers, n coffee? For sure. There, I’ve said it. And, really, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Even we ‘burgers’ need a spot or two on which to hang our hats while we get on with the serious business of pontification. Yet, it remains a shame that the once vibrant city of Lahore can no longer boast kites and music as its cultural offerings. A shame because such celebrations manage to cut across class divides. Though to be fair to the Punjab government, it did, this year, give us the Model Bus Service. Thus for a mere Rs20, you can buy yourself a very different type of cultural experience. Thus, what we need today, more than ever, is a partnership between cultural groups and local government which will see events appealing to people from all socioeconomic backgrounds. In short, where anyone can go and feel welcome. I remain excited about literature festivals for the next year. But, I will be way more excited if cultural spaces that cater to different classes were once again opened up in this city. Here is hoping. Read more by Saeed here



Before and after: Chaand raat in the city of lights isn’t the same

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Chaand Raat, 1995 Lights, camera, action, food! After thirty days spent in prayer, fasting and being on our best behavior, Chaand Raat is finally here. Our emotions about this joyous night vary from excitement to contentment and relief to gratitude. It’s time to let loose, put on your favourite henna design, iron your spanking new clothes, and paint the town red with family and friends. The city shines with colourful qumqumay (small light bulbs), while the roads are flooded with cars blasting loud songs in celebration. Women gear up in glittery outfits and put on matching bangles; then go out to shop for more! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"] PHOTO: AFP[/caption] You can see stalls everywhere, selling coloured hairclips, jewellery and henna cones. Everyone is trying to benefit from the Eid sales in malls, which are to last for a few more hours. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] PHOTO: INP[/caption] Children dressed up looking exceptionally tidy with their freshly polished shoes, too prepare for their own battle; their fight to get attention amidst others of their kind. Men in their crisp white shalwar kurtas, looking handsome - and slim after a month of eating some less - flaunt their victory. It’s time to celebrate. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] PHOTO: AFP[/caption] Cars and motorbikes overflowing with passengers crowd up the roads, as people try to catch a glimpse of the magic that emanates from within the city. Each person with a smile on their face and a yummy treat in their hands makes the most of this night in their own way. Shopping centres in or out are crowded, restaurants packed, streets flooded with empty wrappers and henna cones. Eid lacks exclusivity and all appear committed to celebrating its well earned arrival. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="410"] PHOTO: REUTERS[/caption] For those who remain unimpressed by the numerous lights or crowds, there is the liberty of getting away. Often groups of young boys are found racing around town; some decide to even have dance-offs (Read: Karachi Sea View on Eid!). The silencers in their motorbikes are out, and although this can really annoy others, they do what they feel like; after all, it’s Chaand Raat. This is not because the law and order situation is out of control; this is because it is harmless in 1995 and adds to the verve of Chaand Raat. Families and friends celebrate together and everyone forgets and forgives. Children can hardly wait for their pockets to fill up with Eidi. The spirit remains alive and happening till the early morning. 2013 Ramazan flies by and just like that, it is time for Eid. There are no celebrations, plans or excitement. In fact, just recently, there were four bomb blasts in the city. Are the lack of celebrations because people have become too consumed in their own lives? Or is it because it is unsafe or pointless to even plan the celebrations that mark this holy day? A mix of both, I suppose. Last year on Chaand Raat, we were excited to hit the markets only to find out that mobile networks were switched off; friends and family couldn't be contacted and we all ended up spending the night meant for family and fun alone. Not only were our plans thrown off but so were our moods. Our phones didn't buzz with 'Chaand Mubarak' messages or early morning ‘forwarded’ SMSes wishing us a 'Very happy Eid' from strangers and distant relatives. Today, the Eid stalls outside Aghas, Aashiana and other shopping malls although present don't have that sort of excitement as they did when we were younger. The beauty of the Meena Bazaar is lacklustre, with fewer bangle stalls and customers. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="410"] PHOTO: REUTERS[/caption] It seems the whole concept of celebrating the end of Ramazan, thanking God for being able to witness and be a part of this Holy month, has lost its spirit in the city of lights. No more do you see children lighting phool jharris on the roofs of their homes. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] PHOTO: AFP[/caption] People have moved away from the things that they found happiness and 'togetherness' in; they don't appreciate the little things or value them. Guilty, I don't have new clothes or plans for Chaand Raat either. Albeit, it’s unsafe to go out, we are too busy to celebrate with our loved ones. Each one of us has commitments that are more important and therefore timelier. The scent of henna in the Chaand Raat air is dying out; dressing up isn't as important it used to be; expensive meals and cakes to distribute have taken precedence over just dancing in the street and having fun. This family affair has narrowed down to an individualistic one and this is something to think about. What happened to our spirit? What happened to the hustle bustle of the city – the loud horns, the traffic, the aroma of desi food and henna combined? When did we become so aloof from our religion, from our people? A month of fasting no longer brings us close to our souls and elevates our spirit like it did in the past. In addition to the security issues and the plummeting crime rate, our wants have become more complicated. Gone are the days where a person would fall asleep smiling, satisfied at the thought of having matching bangles or a new kurta. As the rich get richer, their demands are not as simple. On the other hand as the poor get poorer, fulfilling basic needs leaves little resources for sequinned dupattas, and sets of glass bangles. As the divide between the two widens, the faint knocking of the festive night goes unheard. Another important aspect that has made us lose sight of the significance of Eid day and Chaand Raat is the fact that we have truly moved away from the entire month - the prostrations have become shorter, the fasts have become fewer and the late nights at mosques are substantially reduced. For so many, Chaand Raat is no longer a reason to celebrate, simply because they have not earned it with a month of being pious. Having lost a connection with the holy month, they feel less for the night that embarks its end. I yearn for the days gone by - for the lost laughter and joy, not for the bangles or the clothes, but the excitement with which they were procured; not for the numerous cakes ordered and delivered amongst family and friends, but for the promise of sharing the event in a spirit that speaks of unity and love. And not for us to rush past the night crossing things of a to-do list but for us to stop and break a bite together. Let's celebrate this one like we did in 1995!


An intolerant educational system made me indifferent to the death of non-Muslims

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As the Twin Towers came crashing down in New York City on September 11, 2001 an eight-year-old boy remained unmoved some 7,000 miles away in Lahore as the horrifying images unfolded before him. The boy then, descended into a mode of celebration upon discovering that the towers were in ‘non-Pakistani’ territory and that a significant majority of the dead were non-Muslims.  This boy was no suicide bomber in the making. He was not the product of an extremist madrassa nor was he the son of a jihad veteran. In fact, this was a boy who was being educated at one of the finest institutions this country had to offer. Yet, the boy had failed to appreciate the value of human life. He was insensitive to the deaths of more than 2,000 people. What is more alarming is that at the tender age of eight, this boy had justified his delight by distinguishing between the life of a Muslim and a non-Muslim. As much as I hate to admit it, I was this boy. In retrospect, I question why I showed such insensitivity to the events around me. On what basis had I come to believe that the value of the life of a Jew or Christian was less than that of a Muslim? How did I develop this extremely bi-polar perception of an ‘angelic’ East leading a crusade against the ‘demonic’ West? After some pondering, I realised that my response to the events of 9/11 points towards an educational system that is deeply flawed, particularly the content of our textbooks. The factual inaccuracies, historical inconsistencies and the inherent bias that permeates these books has been criticised on numerous occasions – the most prominent being The Murder of History by KK Aziz. However, beneath the veil of this customary disapproval lies a subtle but grave problem that still goes unnoticed. This problem is primarily two-sided. The first side is concerned with our treatment of the two identities that any Pakistani holds dear, that is, their nationality and religion, while the second arises from the content of our textbooks. Think about it – Islam and Pakistan have always been portrayed as products of persistent persecution. Textbooks on Islamiat repeatedly drive the point home that Islam faced significant oppression before attaining the global status that it has today. Similarly, our history schoolbooks constantly highlight the cruelty faced by the Muslims of British India before acquiring the independent state of Pakistan. It is not difficult to understand then, why this theme of persecution and oppression adopts such a paramount status in our treatment of Islam and Pakistan. Consequently, this breeds an instinctive feeling of vengeance against all those who fall outside the boundaries of Islam and Pakistan. Hence, children are subconsciously taught to view the people of this world through a binary lens – one is either a Muslim or a non-Muslim; a Pakistani or a non-Pakistani. The second problem is concerned with the content of our textbooks. Books in both, Urdu and English are infused with tales that shed light on the lives of our national heroes. However, the irony is that while we have packed our textbooks with the bravery of Rashid Minhas and the valour of M M Alam, we  have ignored the compassion of Abdul Sattar Edhi and the accomplishments of Dr Abdus Salam. Intentionally or unintentionally, through our textbooks we have placed the traits of courage, bravery and valour on a higher pedestal than the traits of honesty, compassion and skill. Unfortunately, this is the reflection of an educational system that contributes to the glorification of war at the expense of humanity. In no way am I trying to suggest that Islamic and Pakistani history should be eliminated from our curriculum, and neither do I intend any disrespect towards our soldiers who have sacrificed their lives for the security of our homeland. I do, however, propose the adoption of a more balanced and refined approach towards teaching these subjects. Where we celebrate a war hero, we must also celebrate a hero of science. Where we honour the bravery of an officer, we must also honour the compassion of a philanthropist. Where we recall the sacrifices of our Prophet (pbuh), we must also recall the sacrifices of Jesus. Of course, such parity would require a shift in the very foundation of our educational system from psychological programming to a more open, pluralistic mode of critical thinking which is based on logic and reason. There is no doubt in my mind that unless we shift these foundations, we will not succeed in removing the ever-present ‘conspiracy theory’ syndrome as an explanation for all evil. I grew up in a Pakistan where there was at least some sanctity of life and yet, I failed to recognise the intrinsic value of human life. I now fear the response of the next generation who unfortunately, have opened their eyes to a world of terror; a world where human life has been stripped of its very value and sanctity. Thus, it is for the want of a better future for our children, that we must attach monumental significance to the task of reforming our educational system and waste no time in changing it. Otherwise, we will just be raising insensitive, fanatical and closed-minded individuals who have no value for human life. And we will have only ourselves to blame.


Pakistani sports channels and death by advertising

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As I write this, Umar Gul has just bowled out a Bangladeshi batsman. Gul screams in celebration, begins to jump with his fists in the air and then there’s Rameez Raja with a cup of tea in his hand. Wait… what? That can’t be right. Sadly, it is. Few things get under my skin as much as excessive advertising during cricket matches. Whether we’re being convinced that a slab of not-so-expensive chocolate will suffice as a midnight anniversary present (take it from me, it doesn’t) or that the amount of egg in a biscuit is reason for six women to put on shiny clothes and dance, glimpses of our beloved cricket team are supplemented by these pieces of… um… art. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1dcezg_lovely-commercial-cadbury-dairy-milk-kuch-meetha-hojaye-tvc-2013_people[/embed] There’s been a steady upward trend in recent years where as many as six to seven advertisements are being shown on TV in between overs. Actually, they’re shown as soon as the last ball of the over is bowled. And when a wicket is taken. And when they can’t find the ball that Shahid Afridi just hit for a six. And when a poor Bengali man is holding his knee in agony. And – this just happened – when Saeed Ajmal takes a brilliant catch. I would have loved to see him celebrating but no. Thou shalt not celebrate. Instead, thou shalt discover what thou shalt eat at 7pm or risk being screamed at by thy maiden. Hint: It’s a biscuit. I’ll buy the damn biscuits, just let me watch him celebrate in peace please! Oh and did I mention the beautiful, artfully made, aesthetically pleasing, absolutely divine logos that keep popping up during the match? [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1enhmq_last-over-pak-vs-bangladesh-asia-cup-2014_sport[/embed] These are usually facilitated with an, absolutely necessary, little ad-belt at the bottom of the screen, as there is one right now while Kamran Akmal yells out in anticipation of another wicket. [embed width="620"]http://vimeo.com/50384852[/embed] “24 hours free” (Like we just told you a minute ago, at the end of the last over but in case you’ve forgotten, we’ll just tell you again. Also, we don’t really mean 24 hours. We put an asterisk. Somewhere.) It’s gotten out of hand. I understand the need for TV channels to show advertisements to finance their transmissions and that companies want the best possible slot for their advertisements (that being when most people are glued to their screens) but is it fair on the people watching? Is it really necessary for a sports channel to cut off wicket, century and match winning celebrations (the essence of the sports) to show Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis playing with bottles of carbonated beverages? (We also discover elsewhere that Wasim bhai loves socialising on his phone. What a man.) [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1dk1cl_dany-genius-tab-tv-ad-starring-wasim-akram_people?start=6[/embed] Oh and here’s tea-bearing Rameez bhai again, cutting off commentating Rameez bhai midsentence. [embed width="620"]http://vimeo.com/82272978[/embed] This problem seems to be exclusive to Pakistani TV channels. Indian sports channels also show advertisements but always at the end of an over – after the commentator reads out the score - or after there’s been a sufficient amount of time following the fall of a wicket. South African and Australian sports channels sometimes don’t show advertisements at all. That’s why you will find me browsing the vast array of channels at my disposal, desperately searching for an alternative to Pakistani television. Oh, and they just stopped Lala mid-celebration in favour of a man selling potatoes who is somehow related to a bank. Blasphemy! If Pakistani channels really want higher ratings, they need to stop getting other channels banned and increase their own allure. Cutting down on advertising will go a long way. There must be a way to reduce the number of ads – shorter ads, maybe? PEMRA restrictions, maybe? Having 30 sponsors on the cricket team’s uniform, maybe? (Just, please leave some space for the flag). Having chirpier pre-match show hosts and panellists might also help (I’m looking at you, Bazid Khan). [embed width="620"]http://vimeo.com/89195573[/embed] I will end this here because now I really, really feel the need to go and buy insurance (because its good with trucks), some biscuits (they solve marital issues and make women want to dance, why wouldn’t I?), only one kind of carbonated beverage (because I really love Ayesha Umar’s totally not auto-tuned voice telling me that my “heart wants it now”, again and again), a couple of phones (the perfect way to make friends and be k3wl. There. I said it), five mobile phone SIM cards (there must be some way to save money by using all five simultaneously, right?) and to wash it all down, a cup of tea (because Rameez bhai said so). And here’s Wasim Akram selling that phone again. What. A. Man.


An Indian in Pakistan

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A simple white shalwar kameez, a pair of traditional Peshawari shoes and a black jacket. The packed hall of about 900 people exploded into thunderous cheers and a standing ovation. Young boys and girls jumped up with excitement, thumped their tables and filled the air with whistles. The welcome befitted a rock star. The man in white moved to the stage and commenced speaking. He spoke clearly, simply and in elegant Urdu; every member of the audience could understand him. His thoughts were crystal clear; he stood for a multi- cultural and secular framework, believed in a corruption free society, condemned the attacks on minorities and their places of worship, and had faith in the young and rapid economic development. Each proclamation drew acclaim from the audience. Clearly the speaker was the darling of the youth of Pakistan. Seeing the stunned disbelief on my face, a Pakistani manager remarked,

“For us, he is your Sachin Tendulkar, Virat Kohli and Amitabh Bachchan, all rolled into one!”
True. Mr Imran Khan, the former captain of the Pakistan cricket team and now an important leader of the opposition, was generating mass adulation, bordering on hysteria. He represented hope and peace. Raj Gujar, a young student, asked,
“Why should we vote for you next time, when we Hindus are facing problems? Our temples are being attacked in Larkana.”
Imran responded,
“The attacks should be condemned.”
I was taken aback that a youngster would dare to ask such a sensitive question publicly; I was even more surprised to see that Imran respond with a straight bat. With his rugged, Pukhtun features, brilliant declamation skills and shining sincerity, Imran could have cemented a place in the movies; but he bravely chose a road not taken, secularism and modernity. A few nights earlier, my father had asked me,
“Are you sure you will be safe in Pakistan?”
He had lost a lot during partition; his parents, his home in Tandlianwala, his farms and his future. He had arrived as a penniless refugee in August 1947 in new India. He and my mother slept the first night on a street in Amritsar, using some bricks as pillows. In the ensuing decades, he came to terms with a new life, but the pain of losing his parents remained. The fact that I was part of a Harvard Business School delegation on a Pakistan study visit assuaged his concerns about my excursion. The mistrust and hurt of partition has become ingrained amongst Indians and Pakistanis. Over the years, radical elements have fanned these doubts into fears in both countries. I was in the crowded 200 year old Anarkali bazaar, shopping for Peshawari chapals for my father who had spent his childhood and youth in Lahore, the Paris of the East, when I was taken aback by a middle-aged lady who boldly and bluntly inquired,
“Is it true that Muslims in India are persecuted?”
The lady had realised that I was Indian, as I struggled to put together some local currency to pay the shopkeeper. So I asked her,
“Madam, I could be the only Hindu and Indian in this ancient, beautiful market of about 15,000 Pakistani Muslims. Yet I shop here, alone without fear. So how can about 177 million Muslims in India be frightened? Remember, we have as many Muslims in India as there are in Pakistan.”
I could not help adding,
“Look at many of the nationally admired idols in India – actors Dilip Kumar (Yusuf Khan), Shahrukh Khan, Aamir Khan, Nargis Dutt, Madhubala (Mumtaz Jehan) and Waheeda Rehman amongst others. We have had three Muslim presidents Zakir Hussain, Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed and Abdul Kalam, and one of the richest Indians, Azim Premji, is a Muslim.”
The lady, after taking it all in, summarised,
“So perhaps the media and politicians exaggerate issues.”
The shopkeeper refused to accept money for the shoes after hearing my passionate response. Osman, the hawker selling ‘Kharbujas’ (sweet melons) on a handcart near the Wagah Border would not accept any money from me either when he realised that I would carry the fruit all the way to Mumbai in India. Now, I had expected to visit a country where people would be reticent and introverted in dealing with Indians. I presumed that security levels would be high and could be literally tailed as a group of Indians. I presumed that some parts of the country would be as dirty as many parts of India. But to my surprise, I found that every person I met was very warm and friendly. People were immensely hospitable. Pakistanis are, without any doubt, the most hospitable people in the world. The hotel doorman was extra polite and wanted to know where I in India I was from. A tea vendor in the street found that I had no local money and gifted me a few cups of tea. Shaikh, the Serena Hotel doorman gave me some Pakistani coins from his pocket as mementos, but refused to accept US dollars in exchange for them. With a broad smile, he says,
“Enjoy our coins and remember us.”
I was delighted to visit the Samadhi and Gurudwara of Emperor Ranjit Singh who ruled the undivided Punjab in the immediate proximity of Lahore Fort. I also spent two wonderful hours at the Faisal Mosque in Islamabad, seeking solace and admiring the architecture. Every stone, every pebble in Lahore holds a secret. It conceals centuries of history in it; from the Mongols, the Mughals, the Sikhs and the British to present. Lahore is not just a petite town; it is an open book of history. The spring festival had adorned Lahore with bright yellow and pink flowers at every corner. Lahore, after all these centuries, resembles a beautiful girl in bridal finery. It is clean and tidy. The gurgling canal runs through the centre of Mall Road, providing twinkling chimes throughout the day. Tradition merges elegantly with modernity and the ruins of Emperor Akbar’s Lahore Fort blends with contemporary villas and hotels. Islamabad is a steel, cement and glass modern city. Its five star hotels have world class amenities and services. The 367 kilometres M2 Motorway from Lahore to Islamabad covers the distance in five hours, crossing the highest pillared-bridge in Asia at the Khewra Salt Range. Pakistan also boasts incredibly low prices of consumer products. A good leather jacket costs only $300 at Hub whereas in Dubai, it would cost $500 to $600. The prices of food products, clothes and footwear are about 30% cheaper than in India. The fine range of fabrics, embroidered clothes and hand-crafted shoes are impressive. So, you splurge beyond the budget. No wonder visitors from India return home with bloated suitcases and empty wallets! Despite all the differences that plague the countries, Bollywood films and songs are immensely popular in Pakistan. Movies, music and cricket can bond these two distant neighbours and eradicate all differences. The moment a Pakistani delegate, shopkeeper or hotel staff realised I was an Indian, I would be transformed into a special guest and they would put their best foot forward. New friends like Nabeel, Syed, Rahail, Nofil, all young students, pampered us with Punjabi lassis, pickles and melodious songs at Monal, a restaurant on a mountain near Islamabad. The city seemed like a twinkling fairyland from the top of the mountain. I was intrigued by the high interest of common Pakistani citizens in the elections scheduled in May.  Ahmad, a general manager of a foods company in Islamabad asked,
“So what will happen in the elections in India? Will Modi be your new PM?”
This was the most common question asked of me during the visit. At various times, about a dozen people asked me who I thought would win the elections and become prime minister of India. Each time I replied unequivocally that Modi would lead the next Indian government, and each time there would be pin drop silence. When I asked Ahmad about his concerns regarding Modi, he replied,
“Well, the Gujarat riots and his RSS background.”
I explained to Ahmad that India is a secular country and whosoever manages the nation will have to administer it in a fair and impartial manner. If any government were to persecute Muslims or Christians, the first protests would emanate from the Hindus themselves. The Hindus realise that the Muslims, Christians and other minorities are an integral part of the country. In new India, our goals are development and growth, not religious dominance or strife. Like simple, common people across the world, simple, common Indians too seek rapid improvements in their lives. The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), affiliated to Modi’s party, Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has basic Hindu leanings. Now, Hindus do constitute about 85% of India’s population and have organisations to express their religious and social aspirations. This is natural. In every country in the world, there are organisations which embody the feelings of local citizens; for example, the Muslim League in undivided India before partition and in Pakistan now. I also mentioned that no charge of rioting had ever been proved against Modi, despite painstaking legal reviews. Despite my passionate explications, there were reservations in Ahmed’s eyes. He would have loved to believe me, but could not. One other factor that increased my admiration for the country was the well organised and friendly customs and immigration officials at the Wagah border. Two pretty, comely Punjabi girls stood at the immigration counter who warmly welcomed me to their country. This was my first exposure to Pakistan. Within a few seconds, they had stamped my passport and I was at the customs counter who waved me on speedily as well. In a total of about eight minutes I was through with the formalities of entering Pakistan. Even while returning to India, it took me three minutes to clear customs and immigration. Their system of processing arrivals was impressively fast. Upon my return to India, I presented my father with a simple bottle of water from his home town. The look on his face was priceless. Seeing his delight, I thought to myself that here are two neighbours who are united by centuries of culture and tradition but are divided by a rottenly managed partition and mountains of misunderstandings. During a lecture, Suzanne Houby, a speaker at our symposium in Islamabad, said,
“In my most painful and toughest moments in climbing Mount Everest, I told myself, one step at a time.”
She would know. She was the first Muslim Arab girl to whack Mount Everest in May 2011. India and Pakistan can also wallop the mountain of misunderstandings, one step at a time. The fresh, youthful breezes blowing across both the countries may usher in new possibilities for each other.

Coke Studio 7 comes with strings attached

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What an opening! The much-awaited Coke Studio season seven begins with the hope of fresh music, sounds, return-to-roots and much more. Strings have teamed up to become the sound producers of a huge franchise even though they have no prior music production experience. It was but expected that, apart from picking all the right people, their overall presentation would be a ‘celebration of strings’, given Bilal Maqsood’s love for the guitar. Episode one fared well and stumbled a little as well, but gave much to celebrate. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x25xopb_coke-studio-pakistan-season-7-episode-1-promo_music[/embed] Ustad Raees Khan and Abida Perveen: Mein Sufi Hoon Who can go wrong placing these two maestros together? It was a joy to see someone with the stature of Ustad Raees Khan in Coke Studio and what better way to celebrate ‘strings’ than to celebrate the sitar! Abida ji’s and Ustad Sahab’s juxtaposition in front of each other was a brilliant visual placement and was well-captured by the camera. However, coming to the song itself, one needs a superb maestro level producer to really be able to arrange and pull off the performances of such experienced stellar musicians. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Coke Studio Facebook page[/caption] The two giants remain largely ‘separated’ throughout the song. Ustad Sahab’s Alaap was followed by Abida ji’s singing which was then followed by Ustad Sahab’s solo and then Abida ji’s (and the drum’s) crescendo. The sitar should have been given the space to ‘talk’ to the song directly. A continuous memorable short sitar melody should have been woven into the song such that without it, the song would seem empty. There were many places where there could be a ‘nok-jhok’ between the vocalist and the sitar which would have created more balance in the song, but we never got to experience that beautiful possibility. Overall, the two flowed beautifully in parallel, but never did meet. And that is where it fell short. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2696w0_ustaad-raees-khan-abida-parveen-mein-sufi-hon-coke-studio-season-7-episode-1_music[/embed] Sajjad Ali: Tum Naraz Ho Before regaling his songs, one should commend Sajjad Ali’s style. The man just looked dapper! The casual top unbuttoned black shirt gave a hint of how comfortable he was with his surroundings and the ease with which he was going to own the song. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Coke Studio Facebook page[/caption] The overall “Coors” stringed sound was a great start to the song. Sajjad on the flute was a perfect complement and of course we all love him – even when he whistles! But again, there were moments when the song could have gone a notch up – the harmonies were largely wasted. Instead of humming and singing the same lyrics in different pitch, the harmonies could have vocalised ‘sargams’ instead – something that he himself is very good with. Strings gave tribute to ‘strings’ by bringing Faraz Anwar in this song – a fine, skilful musician and guitarist of Pakistan. However, his hurried ligardos and hammer-ons did not do anything for or in the song. Though his technique was spot on, Faraz’s solo was largely forgetful. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2696pn_sajjad-ali-tum-naraz-ho-coke-studio-season-7-episode-1_music[/embed] Niazi brothers: Lai Beqadraan Naal Yaari Another fresh and great choice for Coke Studio! Loved the way they worked the mike, performed, entertained and sang! The opening mandolin piece by a scion of the Taffoo family, Ustad Tanveer, was a great inclusion. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Coke Studio Facebook page[/caption] Just like Abida ji brought the Sufi heart of Sindh in her song, the Niazi brothers brought the robustness and the celebratory mood of Punjab to us. Again, flautist Sajid Ali was perfectly in sync with the song, as was Ustad Tanveer’s mandolin interjections with Babar Khanna’s dhol; even Faraz delighted in his little riffs! The Niazi brothers are capable of far more vocal versatility and it would have been even more delightful had they experimented a bit more. But I guess the mere thought of tinkering with a folk song popularised to international level by your father can be a bit daunting! But then again, isn’t this what Coke Studio is about? [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2696vq_niazi-brothers-lai-beqadraan-naal-yaari-coke-studio-season-7-episode-1_music[/embed] Asrar: Sab Aakho Ali Ali It is heartening to see Coke Studio embrace freshness and Asrar’s uninhibited vocals were a great addition to the line-up. His first properly produced song seemed to be greatly enjoyed by all musicians as maybe there was no ‘pressure’ to measure up. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Coke Studio Facebook page[/caption] And how lucky is Asrar to get Aamir Zaki as the guest musician on his song? Zaki’s first solo was soulful and restrained; he completely owned the song in the end. This is master musicianship and I hope all other musicians were taking notes! Could there be a better way to celebrate strings? [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2696p1_asrar-sab-aakho-ali-ali-coke-studio-season-7-episode-1_music[/embed] The Coke Studio line-up is great and the first episode has brought with it great promise. Strings itself is a part of the line-up and while Ahad Nayani is superb, the guitarist seems redundant. Ahad’s bermudas maybe someone’s ‘styling and personality’ idea, but it does not make music look, appear and sound sublime. And Asrar would be well advised neither does smoke doth a true Sufi make. Here’s to hoping that Coke Studio also encourages instrumentals, and musicians aren’t just mere accompanists to vocalists. There are many like Ustad Tanveer, Aamir, Ustad Raees and Faraz who can carry off entire shows on their own. So I am looking forward to seeing the gap between vocalists and instrumentalists being bridged in the rest of the season.


Have a heart, PCB, postpone today’s match

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My fellow Pakistanis, there is a cricket match scheduled for today. Yes, you read that right. At 4pm, Pakistan time, our nation will take on New Zealand in the fourth cricket ODI in Abu Dhabi. Needless to say, that such an event is taking place a day after one of the blackest days in Pakistan’s history, just doesn’t feel right. If anything, sport is a celebration – a celebration of athleticism where human beings compete in an arena of onlookers to determine who has more skill. We watch them simply because we can’t do what they can do. They can hit harder, bowl faster, and run harder than the rest of us. As children, some of us dreamt to be them, but as our dreams faded with the reality brought on by age, we instead cheer on those of us who managed to live out that dream. Yesterday, over a hundred young boys were brutally murdered in Peshawar. Surely, many of these boys carried the same dreams of perhaps walking out in Pakistan’s national colours one day to soak in the adulation of millions and better another nation’s men in a contest. Surely, a number of these boys wanted to emulate cricketers such as Shahid Afridi and Younus Khan. It pains me to consider that the only national colours these boys will be wearing now are the colours of the flags draped on their coffins. But I digress. These 11 men who shall take the field today are the best out of a country of over 180 million people. Since they stand for the dreams of so many of us and they represent our nation, in a manner, they are an extension of us. And for us, there is no honour in taking the field today. You can tell that the cricketers themselves are not in the right frame of mind to compete. Statements from Moin Khan, Younus, and Afridi published in the media leave little room for doubt that the team is hurting. NDTV reports that while speaking to Geo SuperYounus said,

“It is a national tragedy and a barbaric act. Playing the match is going to be very difficult. How do you play a match when your spirit is not in the game? That is our state of mind right now. When Phillip Hughes died, it shocked every one of us and we postponed a day’s play in the Test match against New Zealand. It would not be a bad idea to postpone this game as well.”
As Younus says, Hughes’s tragic death brought the entire nation of Australia to a halt. Cricket worldwide, including a Test match hosted by Pakistan, was postponed. Yet, by all accounts, Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) is going ahead with today’s match. The PCB may think that our cricket has no relation with yesterday’s tragedy, but they would be wrong. Dead wrong.

Eid lunch – For the love of family and food

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Eid will always remind me of my childhood and growing up in Pakistan. I have a clear sensory memory of awakening to aromas of cloves and cardamom wafting from the kitchen into my bedroom. This is a day that revolves around family togetherness and a celebration of food, after a month of abstinence and contemplation. Though a global Muslim festival, Eid is celebrated differently in each country, highlighting the fact that this is not just a religious day, but a time to celebrate our culture and identity. But, the one unifying similarity is that Eid is a celebration of food, authentic flavours and family togetherness. As a child I would eagerly await Eid, as children we would receive eidi’ in tiny colourful envelopes from older family and friends, and I would always look forward to collecting my ‘king’s ransom’ from my father, who would promise me this only if I woke up early, changed into my pretty new clothes and bangles! Food took centre stage – from breakfast of seviyan, hot cardamom chaijalebis and dahi baras made by my mother, followed by ‘elvensies’ of sheer khurma at my nani’s house. Before lunch we would distribute food from our homes to the needy, this is a big part of the Eid culture in Pakistan, feeding those who may not be able to afford it themselves. Our lunch would always be at my dadi’s (paternal grandmother) place, which always promised to serve a lavish spread of biryanishami kebabskoftas, and always ending with mithai and her version of seviyan. A day of family visits, sitting together, being force-fed an obscene amount of food, laughing and cherishing what is on our tables is how I would describe Eid in Pakistan. To me, Eid is a moment of thankfulness – for the food we receive, for our necessities being fulfilled and the presence of our loved ones in our lives. These recipes for me provide the essence of Eid in Pakistan. I learnt them from my family and still cook in the UK today. Bavette shami kababs with black cardamom, black cumin and cinnamon [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] I have adapted a traditional recipe and used bavette steak which is cheap and just beautiful.[/caption] Shami kababs are usually melt-in-the-mouth, pureed, spicy meat whisked in channa daal (chickpeas) based kababs found in nearly all homes in Pakistan, with a history as far back as the Mughal Empire. Often a laborious task, I have adapted a traditional recipe and used bavette steak which is cheap and just beautiful, and instead of purred mince beef – as it is traditionally done – I leave the meat to cook slowly until it pulls apart, mixed with spices and channa daal. When it is dry and cool, add fresh herbs and ginger and mould together into burger patties, dip lightly in egg and shallow fry; perfect Eid guest treats with some spiced tamarind chutney. Makes six to eight kababs Cooking time: Two to three hours Ingredients Bavette steak – 400 g Channa daal – 50 g (soaked for about 30 minutes to overnight before cooking) Cinnamon stick – 1 Black cardamom – 2 Black cumin (or regular cumin if not available) – 1 tsp Coriander seeds – 1 tsp Star anise – 2 Dried red chillis – 2 to 3 Black peppercorn – 1 tsp Cloves – 8 to 10 Ginger – ½ inch (chopped into tiny pieces) Coriander– ½ bunch (chopped finely) Mint leaves – 20 (chopped finely) Green chillies – 2 (chopped finely) Egg – 1 (beaten) Vegetable oil to shallow fry Method: 1. Add the first 10 ingredients in a heavy based saucepan and add one and a half pint of water. Bring to a boil and then return to a simmer, cover and leave to cook for about three hours on low flame. Keep checking to make sure the meat doesn’t stick at the bottom. Ensure that you stir it occasionally. Do not add any more water. 2. After about two hours or so check to see if all the moisture and gone, the meat is tender and falling apart and the lentils are mushy. 3. Break and pull the meat apart, add the finely chopped ginger, chopped mint, coriander and green chillies. Mix until all is well combined with the meat. 4. Take about two tablespoons of the meat mixture and, using your hands, make flat burger patties. Dip each into egg and set aside on a plate. 5. Heat vegetable oil in a shallow frying pan, once hot add about three to four patties in the pan. Fry for about one minute on each side, until both sides are medium brown. 6. Serve hot with any hot sauce or ketchup. Pakistani festive beef biryani [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] This recipe is a labour of love, as is the Eid lunch[/caption] This recipe, as well as lunches that one prepares on Eid, are products of affection.  Your loved ones deserve such dedication when you cook for them. Red chilli powder – ½ tsp Braising steak/ beef chuck pieces – 400 g Greek yoghurt – 200 g Saffron – ½ tsp (seeped in 2 tbsp hot boiling water for 15 minutes) Mint leaves – 10 Lemon – ½ (sliced) Rose water/ kewra essence – 2 tsp Melted ghee – ½ tbsp Green chillis – 2 Pistachios – 1 tbsp Edible rose buds – 10 (or 1 tbsp edible dried rose petals) Method: 1. Begin by par boiling the soaked rice, drain and set aside. It should be firm but not entirely raw. 2. Heat a heavy based saucepan on medium low, add the oil and ghee. When hot, add all the whole spices and cook for 30 seconds, or until you can smell the oil aromatised by the spices. 3. Turn heat to medium. Add the red onions and fry until light golden. Next add the ginger and garlic. Cook for 30 seconds or until you can smell that the garlic no longer smells raw. Add tomatoes, cook until the moisture of the tomatoes is gone. Add about one to two tablespoons of water if the tomatoes burn. The result should be a thick, rich sauce with no hard tomato bits and oil rising to the surface of the sauce. Add the turmeric and red chilli powder. 4. Next add the beef and stir fry until sealed. About two to three minutes. Add the Greek yogurt and continue to stir fry until the moisture of the yoghurt evaporates and you are left with a sauce. Cover the pan and turn the heat to low. 5. Allow to cook until the sauce is thick reddish brown sauce with, oil rising to the top. This will take a patient 15-20 of cooking. At this point you may need to add a little water if the meat isn’t cooked through and cook covered for a few more minutes until the sauce is thick again. 6. Once the meat is cooked through, it’s time to layer the rice on top and infuse the aromatics of saffron, lemon, mint, green chilli and rose water or kewra. Layer the rice evenly on top of the meat. 7. Poke the aromatics into the rice, pour over the saffron and rose water or kewra and then, using a piece of foil cover the entire surface of the saucepan and place the lid firmly over to create a seal, so the steam does not escape the pan. Turn the heat to its lowest setting and steam cook for 10 minutes. Once done, remove the foil and let the steam escape. 8. Gently mix the rice and meat with the sauce using a dessert spoon to prevent breaking the rice. 9. Serve hot in a serving dish and scatter pistachios and rose petals or buds. My Nani’s Muzaffar seviyan served with clotted cream – sweet vermicelli with saffron and cardamom [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Muzaffar Seviyan served with clotted cream – Sweet vermicelli with saffron and cardamom.[/caption] There are many ways to make the quintessential Eid dessert called seviyan. This is a sweet roasted vermicelli that can be made in either milk or water and sugar. The flavour is one that always reminds me of Eid and the excitement it brings. This is my maternal grandmother’s recipe, traditionally served with khoya (milk solids), but I think clotted cream works equally well, giving it a British touch! Serves: 6-8 people Preparation time: 10 minutes Cooking time: 10-15 minutes Ingredients: Ghee (clarified butter) – 2 tbsp Chopped pistachios – ½ cup Green cardamom seeds – 4-5 (discard husks) Fine wheat vermicelli – 1 ½ cup crushed into small pieces Boiling water – ½ pint Saffron – ½ tsp, seeped in 1 tbsp boiling water for about 5 minutes Caster sugar – 60 g Silver leaf to decorate (optional) Desiccated coconut (to garnish) – 2 tbsp Sultanas – 1 tbsp (to garnish) Silvered almonds – 1 tbsp (to garnish) Pistachios – 1 tbsp (to garnish) Clotted cream – 100 g Method 1. Heat the ghee in a wok style pan over medium heat and melt until hot. Add the chopped pistachios and cardamom seeds and stir-fry for 30 seconds. The cardamom should be fragrant and the pistachios very lightly brown. Turn the heat to medium low. 2. Add the crushed vermicelli and stir-fry until evenly light brown (takes about three to four minutes of stir frying). The vermicelli will now smell toasted and the colour should be a medium brown. 3. Add the boiling water to the vermicelli together with the seeped saffron, mix until combined and cook until the vermicelli is tender and all the water is absorbed (about three to four minutes). 4. Next sprinkle over the caster sugar, stir until dissolved (about one to two minutes). 5. Turn heat off, place in a serving dish. Decorate with silver leaf (optional). Serve warm and top with nuts, sultanas, coconut and clotted cream. (Keeps on its own for about three to four days covered in a cool dry place) All photos: Sumayya Usmani This post originally appeared here.



Pop-up in the Park: Reclaiming public spaces in Karachi

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Spoken Stage, in collaboration with Girls at Dhabas, hosted an event coined “Pop-up in the Park” at Frere Hall this Saturday in order to reclaim the public spaces in Karachi. Spoken Stage is an organisation that fosters the growth of individual expression through the projection of spoken word poetry and prose. Girls at Dhabas was created with the intention of enabling women to claim public spaces, and is quickly gaining influence as women all over South Asia are using the hashtag #girlsatdhabas. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="534"] The event took place at Frere Hall with the intention of reclaiming public spaces.
Photo: Maheen Humayun[/caption] An investment in the arts has grown rapidly amongst the youth of Pakistan, and the Pop-up Stage was a platform that allowed the youth to project their voices in the form of spoken word poetry, music and painting. It was a casual affair with rillies lining a small patch of grass in front of Pakistan’s famous Frere Hall. Chai was served throughout. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"] These people are amazing and the delicious chai from their pop-up dhaba was flowing throughout. ‪#‎popupinthepark‬
Photo: Spoken Stage Facebook Page[/caption] Talent was bidding and the air was thick with inspiration. Karachi is abundant with talent and Pop-up in the Park allowed this talent to flourish on public land. The time for the talented to hide behind closed doors and anonymous pen names is over – the youth is slowly taking over one public space at a time. This was the first time I had encountered something like this in Pakistan. It’s so rare to find a group of people openly expressing themselves in a society where expression seems to be squandered by taboos. This in itself is a step towards progress. A girl recited a poetry slam for all the women that have ever felt like they had to hide their thoughts, or take a back seat to men because of the patriarchy that looms over us. We cheered her on as she echoed over and over again the importance of taking a stand. A band sang a song for all those that have ever felt any kind of pain; their harmonies floated through the air and attracted people from around the park. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="337"] Participants singing at the event for those that came to offer their support for the initiative.
Photo: Maheen Humayun[/caption] Another girl painted a portrait of Qandeel Baloch in her honour. [fbvideo link="https://www.facebook.com/spokenstage/videos/1753286398222806/"][/fbvideo] A young girl read a piece of powerful prose about loneliness and the shackles of the human mind. Later she sang the famous Hallelujah, and everyone grew still as her voice rendered thought into all those that had ever felt lost in their lives. There was little to say or do, except immerse ourselves into what was being recited and sung. A spoken word poem filled with fiery repetition sparked excitement in the eyes of everyone there. Another boy read a piece about adjusting back into Karachi after four years of schooling abroad. He went on to discuss his dream of becoming a writer, and the fact that there is always a story to be found in a city like Karachi. Off in the distance, someone blew bubbles into the air, a cotton candy vendor walked around in awe, people stood and people sat and swayed to the music. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="519"] Our ‪#‎popupinthepark‬ was a raging success, organically growing as more and more joined in to sing, to perform, and reclaim public space.
Photo: Spoken Stage Facebook Page[/caption] Everyone there had one thing in common – they were intrigued by the celebration of art. They were invested in the recitation of poetry, and the calming hum of prose. An environment of creativity is essential in inspiring our youth and hopefully many more events like this will follow. There are numerous public spaces available to our advantage and yet we have grown accustomed to staying indoors. Our people need safe spaces to express themselves, and by slowly taking over public spaces, we are allowing ourselves to flourish into an expressive, confident, and creative society.


Why Islamabad United’s victory celebration was a breath of fresh air

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Our very own Internet darling, Momina Mustehsan, giving her thoughts on women empowerment, Shakeel Sheikh finally coming to terms with Misbahul Haq’s success, Ahmer Naqvi performing duties and no ‘bhabhi, bhabhi’ chants every time Shaneria Akram came on screen – Islamabad United’s celebratory match in Rawalpindi was a genuine celebration of things finally heading in the right direction – a celebration of cricket in Pakistan. Our grounds have been deprived of such jovial occasions for over past nine years because of one act of terror that refuses to detach itself from us. When plans for Pakistan Super League (PSL) were in its preliminary stages, it received undue criticism from people who were supposed to own it. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] When plans for Pakistan Super League (PSL) were in its preliminary stages, it received undue criticism from people who were supposed to own it. Photo: File[/caption] It was labelled as a bound-to-fail proposition for many factors including its location, clash with the Masters Champions League and a lack of top names. PSL became a reality, attracted large numbers, catered two geographically separate markets and fully convinced people to invest their emotions into every happening. The event in Rawalpindi was a celebration of Pakistan formally introducing themselves to the cricketing world and to some of their own as well. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Captain Misbah and Muhammad Sami of Islamabad United
Photo: Humari Web[/caption] At that time, Pakistan had hit rock-bottom and things only worsened when Pakistan’s name was thrown into a spot-fixing scandal. Misbah took charge of what was a group – not a team – plagued with leg-pulling, groupings and self-serving figures, those who had grown to become larger than the organisation itself. Misbah, combined with the efforts of Waqar Younis, Dave Wathmore, Mohsin Khan and every other individual involved, invested his emotions, sweat and time into the group with the sole intention of creating a new and spotless identity for Pakistan. The introduction of PSL was a historic accomplishment and it was only fitting for Misbah to score the winning runs for Islamabad United and have his name go down as the very first winning captain. The event in Rawalpindi was a celebration of the six years of Misbah that allowed Pakistan to re-conquer the world and play a brand of cricket that was respected, admired and loved by everyone. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] The introduction of PSL was a historic accomplishment and it was only fitting for Misbah to score the winning runs for Islamabad United and have his name go down as the very first winning captain. Photo: ESPNcricinfo[/caption] One of the highlights of the evening was, unsurprisingly, Dean Jones. While many would gladly bring forward arguments suggesting that Pakistan is unsafe for tours, Dean Jones is certainly not one of them. Whether it was him playing mind games with Amad Butt on the ground, coming down the track to hit Kamran Ghulam for a six, spending time with the crowd or simply giving his thoughts on the upcoming tour of Australia, Dean did not, for a moment, display any emotions of fear or discomfort. His Urdu tweets were largely appreciated by people in Pakistan and are only indicative of the undying love and yearning that these fans have for international cricket to return home once again. The event in Rawalpindi was a celebration of hope that sooner, rather than later, our stadiums will be used for their original purposes and hope that Pakistan is capable of making the shift from a warzone to comfort zone. https://twitter.com/ProfDeano/status/777903128406528000 One of the best moments of the evening was witnessing Misbah and Javeria Khan bat together. The involvement of players from Pakistan’s women’s team was a welcome addition. Pakistan’s newly appointed T20 captain, Bismah Maroof, Diana Baig and rising sensation, Anam Amin, were all involved in the match. Anam Amin, 24, outshined her teammates as she replicated similar form from her memorable World Cup spell against India and troubled both Javeria and Misbah with her left-arm offspin bowling. In the past few years, women’s cricket has begun breaking the shackles of societal norms and stereotypes in Pakistan and demands more attention. Beating the Indian women’s team in India, issuing of central contracts for the first time and start-ups like Khelo Kricket organising Ramazan tournaments for the women of Karachi are notable steps that indicate the serious progression of women’s cricket in Pakistan. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] start-ups like Khelo Kricket organising Ramazan tournaments for the women of Karachi are notable steps that indicate the serious progression of women’s cricket in Pakistan. Photo: Khelocricket[/caption] The event in Rawalpindi was a celebration of female cricketers who perform with the same drive and passion as the men’s team and want nothing more than words of encouragement from the public. Islamabad United’s victory and celebrations cannot be confined or classified as any other major tournament win because cricket is more than simply any other sport in Pakistan. Cricket is the binding force that brings people together during times of sorrow, despair and happiness. Through the event, Islamabad United and Pakistan succeeded in bridging the gap between men’s and women’s cricket, displayed the soft, welcoming nature of Pakistan to the world and brought back much-needed smiles on usually tensed faces – all while celebrating, a simple act of bat and ball; cricket.


This Valentine’s Day, spoil your loved one with some perfectly chewy and gooey red velvet pancakes and cinnamon rolls!

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This time around when I was writing this blog, for some odd reason, the only thing that kept coming to my mind was the phrase “spreading love”. Last year when I visited the UK, I had a chance to watch the Lion King musical – an absolute breathtaking experience, which can never be replaced and is one of the highlights of my life.

“And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far And can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”
That last line really had an impact on me and made me realise afterwards that a little bit of love does do wonders. Recently, when the earthquake struck Islamabad, I was driving around F-11 Markaz after work, and I saw this old Afghani lady sitting on the steps. I had seen her often but maybe it was one of those stress-induced days that I actually approached her. I went to OPTP next door, got some warm food, sat with her and asked her how she was. We talked for more than an hour about life in general, and then I bid her adieu and left. As I was driving away, I saw her in my rear view mirror and could see her toothless smile. I felt something, which I hadn't been feeling for quite some time. I felt happy. Rather than repeating the same mantra of  making the day special for your significant other, family and friends, this year I would like to focus on people who need a bit of loving. Don’t get me wrong, celebrating the day with your loved ones is by all means fun and exciting, but I wanted to spread a little happiness among people who can’t fend for themselves. See those beggars on the streets, those old people who don’t have any family and have been neglected, maybe go sit with one of them. They have a lot to say and every person has a story to tell, so listen to them. Some though have nothing to offer except silent companionship. But sometimes, that is all one wants and needs. Moreover, I would like to leave one very important message and I hope it doesn't fall on deaf ears. If there is one thing I have learned in the past year, it is that always take people’s feelings into account. The slightest of harsh words can leave a mark, so always be considerate of how you make people feel. They may not show you that they are hurt but trust me, it is hurtful. And always remember, karma is a real thing and it will come for you too if you hurt someone else. Avoid instigating those silent tears, which might become the anchor that pulls you down one day. That was a bit too gloomy but alas rings true! Moving on to happier things! This Valentine’s Day, I tried to do something different. I’ll leave you with two desserts: Red velvet pancakes and cinnamon rolls – the former because hey, its Valentine’s Day, and the latter because it’s not mainstream pink and gooey. Both of these dishes are very easy to make, and when  cravings hit hard (especially in winters) and the nearest food saviour is just out of reach (even by Foodpanda standards), then its best to make these little pillows of deliciousness and have them with a cup of warm tea. Also, it’s better to bake something on your own and fill it with love rather than throw money at marketing companies. You can experiment with the glaze that goes on top and even with the filling. Cream cheese, Nutella and sometimes even jam make for a great topping with these amazing fluffy, perfectly chewy and  gooey pancakes and cinnamon rolls. Red velvet pancakes Ingredients: All-purpose flour: 2 cups Cocoa powder: 3 tbsp Baking powder: 2 tsp Baking soda: ½ tsp Salt: ½ tsp Milk: 2 cups White vinegar: 2 tbsp Granulated sugar: ½ cup Eggs: 2 Red food colouring: 1 ½ tbsp Vanilla extract: 2 tsp Salted butter, melted: ⅓ cup Directions: 1. In a mixing bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda and salt, and set aside. 2. Measure out milk into a liquid measuring cup and whisk in vinegar, allow mixture to rest for two minutes. 3. Pour milk mixture into a separate large mixing bowl and add in sugar, eggs, red food colouring, vanilla and melted butter. 4. Whisk mixture until well combined. While whisking, slowly add in dry ingredients and mix just until combine. Butter griddle if necessary and pour about a ¼ - ⅓ cup. 5. Cook until bubbles begin to appear on the top surface of the pancakes then flip and cook opposite side until pancake is cooked through. Cinnamon rolls Ingredients for dough: All-purpose/plain flour: 4 cups Instant yeast: 2 ½ tsp Granulated sugar: ¼ cup Margarine or butter: ⅓ cup Salt: 1 tsp Eggs: 2 Warm milk: 1 cup Ingredients for filling: Packed brown sugar: ½ cup Cinnamon: 1 tbsp Margarine/butter, softened: ⅓ cup Flour: 2 tbsp Ingredients for Icing Butter: 2 tbsp Powdered sugar/icing sugar: ½ cup Cream cheese: ⅛ cup Vanilla extract: ¼ tsp A pinch of salt Method 1. Knead the dough with all its ingredients until nice and soft. If it's a bit sticky, don't worry about it. It will come together later on. 2. Put in a bowl, cover and let it rise in a warm place for about one hour or until the dough has doubled in size. 3. Preheat oven to 180⁰ C. 4. Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface, until it is approximately 21 inches long by 16 inches wide. It should be approximately ¼ thick. 5. To make filling, combine the brown sugar and cinnamon in a bowl. 6. Spread the butter over the surface of the dough, then sprinkle the brown sugar and cinnamon mixture evenly over the surface. 7. Press down gently with your hand so the sugar sticks to the dough. Then sprinkle 2 tablespoons of flour using a sieve for light dusting. This will help absorb any extra moisture from the sugar as the cinnamon rolls are baking. 8. Working carefully from the longer side of the rectangle, roll the dough down to the bottom edge, like a Swiss roll. 9. Cut the dough into 1¾ inch slices, and place in a lightly greased baking pan. 10. Bake for 10-15 minutes or until light golden brown. 11. While the rolls are baking, combine the icing ingredients. Beat well with an electric mixer until fluffy. When the rolls are done, pour and spread the icing generously and serve warm! Leftovers warm up beautifully in a mini oven toaster or in the microwave. Enjoy these scrumptious recipes and keep spreading the love. Happy Valentine’s Day! All photos: Arhama Siddiqa

From Zahid to Bubbly

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“So you have decided to keep humiliating us in front of people,” he said with a roaring voice.
His beloved Baba had slapped Zahid on wearing red lipstick again.
“You are a boy, a man! The only waris (successor) of our hundreds of acres of land. I will beat you black and blue if I ever find you doing anything girly again.”
Zahid had tightly clenched a broken red lipstick in his hands. Baba was continuously lecturing him about masculinity but surprisingly, all this scolding was appearing so rhythmical to him. Baba was admonishing him but he was dancing in his mind, wrapping red dupatta and responding to the beats of the tabla.   Zahid had recently turned 17, the age when his fellows were thinking to either appear in the Inter Services Selection Board (ISSB) exam or get enrolled in tuition academies to help secure better grades in intermediate exams. His condition was different from all the other boys of his class. Secretly wearing his sisters’ clothes in the washroom and applying makeup on his face, were chores which used to consume most of his time.
It’s the wedding of Chaudhry sahib’s only son who is Zahid’s next door neighbour. The whole street has been laminated with dazzling lights. Most of the people are waiting for the savoury food to be served, but Zahid is anxiously waiting for the shemale Sheela to come. Majority of the houses in Zahid’s streets were at least three-decades-old and when it came to any celebration, be it the aqeeqa or mehndi of someone, Sheela’s performance was considered as an understood part of the parcel.
The wedding ceremony has ended. Helpers of the contractor are busy wrapping up the marque and uninstalling all the supporting poles. One person is searching for missing plates and another assistant is running here and there to collect all the glasses. Sheela is done with the counting of currency notes showered on her during her dance performance. She is packing up her bag and is leaving the venue with her tablanawaz (tabla player). Chatting with the tablanawaz gleefully about the event, Sheela is happy about the sum of money collected from her performance. Her ghungroo are breaking the pin drop silence of the streets as she is strolling through them. Suddenly, she senses as if someone was following her.
“Aah Zahid! My poor boy, it’s you.” “I beg you to please take me with you.” “Please go away my child. Do not get fascinated by this mask of happiness on our faces.”
With this, Sheela wiped off her red lipstick and rubbed her glittery eyes. She was indeed looking ugly with her multi-tone skin and smudged makeup afterward.
“But I don’t belong to these people. My body does not belong here. I feel like a female soul caged in a male body.”
Sheela turned her face to the other side and controlled her tears from falling at the last millisecond, as she knew what it meant.
“Don’t leave me, please. I want to go with you. I am you. I am like you. I am one of you. Don’t let my feminine soul die in agony amongst these barbarians,” Zahid kept pleading, unaware of consequences.

Zahid has been missing from home since last night.
It’s a dirty patient bed of some small clinic in the interior city. A small yellow bulb is hanging over the bed with a worn-out electric chord. Zahid’s mind is messed up with the recollections of sounds of ghungroo and his father’s roaring voice but the pain of newly implanted silicone to give his bosom a feminine look is dominating every other thought. 'Am I dying? Is this the result of anesthesia? But I was never given any anesthesia. I guess it’s the pain which is making me fade out'; hundreds of questions were wandering in his mind. 'Seems like my feminine soul has finally been awarded a woman’s body'. The curves on his chest covered with the stinking bed sheet were making him think that. He called for Sheela. He would have been relieved that he has finally achieved his purpose in life if he had not touched his legs the very next moment. Coarse voice, hairy arms, and all other signs of manhood were slapping his face. The sound of slapping was getting mixed with the sound of Baba's slapping. With every inch of his body throbbing with pain, Zahid had been handed two tablets to be taken in case of extreme pain with reassurance that it will eventually go away in a few weeks. Sheela was patting on Zahid’s back with mixed expressions in her eyes as if she wanted to say, “Boy! I had warned you a gazillion times to go back”.
Everything in Zahid’s life turned upside down in one night. Name, identity, sexual orientation, social class, profession, relationships and above all, the purpose of life. Zahid, is now known as Bubbly among his newly adopted transgender family. Just one decision has thrown him out of his cozy bed to live with these stranded souls in a one-room decayed quarter. Getting made fun of, humiliated and earning bread with the movements of hips and artificial hair has now become his destiny like other transgenders.
Though the recent census of 2017 revealed that the total population of transgender people in the county is 10,418 (that is 0.005% of the population), however, authorities believe that the number is under-reported. No matter what Supreme Court does - grants them right to vote or paves way for them to get an identity card - the mindsets of the remaining 200 million cannot be changed, as that magical wand does not exist in reality. Tall claims of rights-based approach get dumped every night in Indus, when a transgender performs for hours and hours at a wedding and yet stays underpaid, is molested and even beaten. We love our pets to an extent that even their seasonal sneezing makes us rush to the vets. We protest abuse of donkeys and dog poisoning. But we can’t give an iota of respect to the transgender community as they earn their living through means that are unethical to us? Even if we don’t agree with their profession, the least we can do is consider them human beings. Living, breathing human beings. Human beings that have emotions, just like us. Human beings who cry, feel pain and get hurt like us. Or have we forgotten how to empathise in this society? After all,' jo mein hun, woh tum bhi ho (what I am, you are too)'. 

Bored of the same ol’ bbq? Spice up your Eidul Azha with these mouth-watering yet easy recipes

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Eidul Azha, more commonly known as Bakra Eid in Pakistan, is that time of the year when Muslims sacrifice cattle in the remembrance of Hazrat Ibrahim (AS). But alas, the majority of the population here is either immersed in a statement marathon or avails this festival as a money-making opportunity. A growing trend has emerged nowadays, where people prefer to buy their animals a couple of days before Eid to avoid the costs and efforts required for maintenance of the animals. That doesn’t feel like it is in the Eid spirit. However, there is still a glimmer of hope. A few months ago, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that there are still people here who take the traditional route. Purchasing the animals well in advance and fattening and caring for them for the big day. When I heard about this, it evoked childhood memories of the excitement we, as children, felt when the goats used to come to our home. At first cautious, then slowly whole-hearted petting ensued. The way we used to feed them, bring them pails of water and even cover them with blankets in the winters are right up there in my (now-aging) memory log. We even had the time of our lives picking out names for them, Chikini and Chambeli were two favourites, Akkar and Bakkar were another two. Children these days rarely have these memories and this is a major cause for concern. They probably would never know the true Eid feeling. Every family has its traditions. Ever since I can remember, it has always been a ritual in our household that we gather around the oldest members of the family (my grandfather and grandmother) and pray that our sacrifice is accepted. The kids (regardless of whether you were the help or not), according to their ages, are lined up and then eidi is distributed. No one is left behind. After the meat has been sorted into packets, the children are bundled into cars, with grandparents calling shotgun, and driven out to the rural part of the city where we distribute the packets. I once asked my Nano (maternal grandmother) why we had to go there like this every year. She told me she feared that if we did not, we would grow ungrateful of our blessings and become desensitised to the poverty in which people live. When the responsibilities are dealt with, we get to the fun part: the food! Meals have to be prepared for lunch and dinner for the Eid guests. In my household, spicy stir fried kaleji (liver), mutton stew and kheer are a must. For the blog, however, I am going to make a three-course meal and bring in something close to Pakistan, close to my own home and then a little something from the Middle East. I hope these chapli kebabs, mutton stew and umm ali bring joy to your dinner table. All these recipes are simple, easy-to-make and delicious from the very first bite. Beef chapli kebabs The word kebab originated from the Arabic language, but the word is also used in Persian, Turkish and Central Asians cultures. Ibn Battuta mentioned that kebab was an integral part of the daily diet of Indian royalty as early as 1200 AD.  Kebabs are meant to be fried, burnt or cooked on a skewer by grilling or open fire cooking. In Pakistan, chapli kebabs are very famous and originally come from the northern areas, in particular the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (K-P) province. Ingredients: Beef or lamb mince: ½ kg Onion: 1 medium, finely chopped and dried using paper towel Tomato: 1 medium, finely chopped and without seeds Green chillies: 3 to 4, finely chopped Fresh coriander as desired, finely chopped Fresh ginger and garlic: 1 tbsp, finely chopped Cumin: 1 tbsp, roasted and crushed Coriander seeds: 1 tbsp, roasted and crushed Fresh anaar dana (pomegranate seeds): 1 to 2 tbsp Red chilli flakes: 1 tsp, roasted Chaat masala: 1 tsp Garam masala: ½ tsp Haldi (turmeric powder): ¼ tsp Salt to taste Gram flour: 3 to 4 tbsp Ghee for frying: ½ cup Method: 1.Mix in all the ingredients well into your meat and make round, flat kebabs. I don’t add eggs in my chapli kebabs but if your kebabs break, you can add half or one egg. 2. Shallow fry till golden brown. Spicy mutton stew One of those age-old and timeless dishes that will probably outlive mankind is the good old fashioned stew. No matter where you go in the world, every country has some version of a stew. Even if named differently or eaten differently, a stew is a stew. This is probably the easiest, most convenient dish to make when you are going to have a house full of guests and are pressed for time. Ingredients: Mutton: 1 kg Ginger and garlic: 2 tbsp, chopped Onions: 3, chopped Tomatoes: 3, chopped Green chillies: 4 to 5 Crushed chilli flakes: 1 tsp Chilli powder: 1 tbsp Garam masala (Cloves, Cinnamon sticks, Black Cardamom) according to preference Salt: 1 tsp Method: 1. In a pot, heat oil and add the washed mutton, chopped garlic and chopped ginger. 2. Then add crushed chilli flakes, garam masala, chilli powder, salt, onion, tomatoes and green chillies. 3. Then add in one and a half glass of water and cook till oil floats on top. 4. Garnish with fresh coriander (optional) and serve. Umm Ali Umm Ali is an Egyptian dessert, almost like a bread pudding. It originates from lower Egypt “falaheen” (peasants) and has many stories attached to it regarding its invention. While some say it was made to celebrate the tragic death of Shajarat Al-Durr, who was the first and last woman Sultana to rule Egypt. Others say Umm Ali, which means the mother of Ali in Arabic, was a life saver for her village. She made a good example of the saying “necessity is the mother of all inventions” by conjuring up a dessert when the Sultan demanded she make a dessert with whatever she had in her house. Ingredients: Bakarkhani (puff pastry): 6 pieces, unsweetened Milk: 1 litre Sugar: 1 cup Heavy cream: ½ cup and some for garnish Rose water: ½ tsp Ground nuts (pistachios, almonds, cashew): a handful Method: 1. Preheat the oven on 180°C. 2. Crush bakarkhani and spread in a pyrex dish. 3. In a pan, dissolve milk and sugar, and cook for five minutes. 4. Add rose water in the mixture and pour in the dish. 5. Pipe cream on top and add the nuts. 6. In a preheated oven, bake for 20 minutes and serve hot. Eid Mubarak! All photos: Arhama Siddiqa


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