“A sleeping person can awaken by a single drop of water but if a nation goes to sleep then to wake it up, the blood drops of martyrs are needed!”
Ali (A.S.)
Aakhir Abba Kis Ke Hain!
Monday, July 13th, 2009I went out with my cousins and sister to Arena for bowling on Saturday, and for dinner later in the night. If I go out, it’s fine but my sister has to seek my father’s permission to go on such occasions. (Thank God I was spared the misery of being a daughter! 
)
We were told to return by midnight (Dad gets angry if sis stays out later than midnight) but we got late, like really late…we went for dinner at 12 a.m. Told mom that we would be late.
Later, when we were eating, Mom called me to ask where we were. Told her we were eating and would be back in half an hour.
When we came home at two-thirty, Mom was angry as expected.
Reason for anger: Your father woke me up around two to find out where you two were goofing around and wait for you, and calmly went to sleep himself!
In Urdu (On Raapchick’s request): Tumharay Baba bhi ajeeb hain. Mujhay utha diya ke tum log nahin aaye aur khud mazay se jaa ke so gayay!
Tum Karo To Chamatkaar… 2
Wednesday, May 6th, 2009Almost one week later, things are no brighter.
Apparently on Monday, Mr. Senior Manager of Forde…err…For…uh…whatever, decided to complement Mr. Manager’s terrorizing effect on my sister by dropping in unannounced and asking her why she was late. Which in turn led to me being the target of frustration of the whole family, as always.
On Tuesday, she announced that her new leaving time would be 8:15 am, not 8:45 am. When my mom tried to wake me up at 7 am, I decided, in my sleep, to go to office by myself in hopes that the car would be back by 9 am. Ain’t the first time I was wrong.
As expected, both her Manager and Senior Manager don’t mind twenty minutes of make-up and other uselessly wasteful stuff. I woke up at eight, only to find her in the bathroom. Later on, when I was in the bathroom, she announced that she would leave after eight-thirty as one liability on her had been killed by my selfless decision to go by myself.
I got ready around 9:45 am, and my grandfather dropped me off. I was more than late but I could afford it as my bosses were busy with their exhibit at the ITConnect Expo.
As my luck has had it multiple times, another was no surprise: Mr. Senior Manager failed to show up. He postponed his visit by one day to…yes….today. The whole world wants to see me miserable.
My sister left this morning, again at “8:15 am”. And I being the smartest and most agile guy in the world, got ready at ten. Thinking that everything was going fine, I got out of the shower only to be verbally clobbered by my mom with a lecture on punctuality.
Got into a fight with her and after watching all my counterattacks being gunned down by her ultrasonic comebacks, I resorted to the last tactic in my arsenal: self-annihilation!
Well, not exactly. You wouldn’t call “refusing to eat breakfast” that.
This tactic worked, until she decided to use her last one as well: Call Daddy!
I fought valiantly, like a brave soldier to the last drop of my willpower and resisted the temptation of omelette and toast but her last attack made me shit my pants.
You won the battle mom, but you ain’t winnin’ the war: Daddy ain’t always home!
Now I’m sitting in office, feeling luckier than ever after being informed that Mr. Boss was inquiring into our arrival timings in the morning before leaving for the exhibit.
Someone kill me please!
Tum Karo To Chamatkaar…
Wednesday, April 29th, 2009My office starts at nine in the morning. Being the most punctual guy in the world, I leave at nine. Miraculously, my sister also leaves at nine for her ACCA internship crap at Forde Rhodes or Foot Rhodes or Food Courts, whichever way it’s spelled. [Don't blame me, there are at least a quarter of a million words in English, they could've picked up any uncommon ones and formed a name. But they had to act all childish and invent a crappy one.]
According to her, she has to reach at nine-thirty or her manager manages to become a volcano (I wanted to use the word mango here but I had to compromise for the sake of comprehensibility, not everyone’s as smart as me. And if you didn’t get this one, comprehensibility is not a word as far as Dictionary.com knows). For the past week, she kept my ass on fire and started becoming a wailing alarm clock everyday as soon as the minute hand got within 60 degrees of nine o’ clock. And the magnitude of the continuous wailing was always alarmingly proportional to the increasing attraction of the minute hand to the number ‘12′.
Ali, niklo bathroom se, main chhor ke chali jaoon gi!
So I had to bear the pain of getting ready by nine everyday. Yes, this is the reason for me being the most punctual guy in the world. I mean, come on! I need time to get ready for office. And I’m always sleepy in the morning. (Well you can blame my sleeping hours everyday which are usually < =5).
On Saturday, I had to listen to her screaming and it became even more bearable when my parents and grandfather decided to contribute some. I’m seriously going to kill this manager dude someday!
Now on Monday, I decided I had seen enough wailing and got ready before nine. Proud of my acheivement, I came to the dining table only to find that my stupid sister was not ready yet. She was calmly going around, getting “ready” which is essentially wearing extremely stupid clothes with some extra-stupid make-up, and thopafying herself with so much perfume that my eyes roll back in my head from the excruciating pain in my nose!
And then I was like, “What the hell! Isn’t the manager going to lose it today?”
And she kept on thoping make-up. I was pissed! We left the house a good fifteen minutes after that.
My office is near CAMS P.E.C.H.S., not on the main road. The route we take is from Guru Mandir to Shahrah-e-Quaideen, where I get dropped off and the driver takes my sister away. Whenever she gets late, I have to get off on the main road and walk the rest of the way.
Now my anger reached it’s peak when after getting me late, she asked me to get off on the main road because SHE WAS LATE. Can you believe this?
Ain’t no way I was getting off on the main road! Hell NO!!!
I punished her by taking the car all the way to my office. It was her own fault. And apparently, dressing up for office was very important and worth getting it from the manager.
Then what’s wrong with me taking my time to get ready?
Yeh kya baat hui?
Tum karo to chamatkaar, hum karein to balaatkaar?
Something To Make The Ladies Happy Too
Friday, March 27th, 2009A couple had been happily married for years.
The only friction in their marriage was the husband’s habit of farting loudly every morning when he woke up. The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.
Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it made her sick. He always used to reply that he couldn’t stop it and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor because she was worried that one day he would fart his guts out.
Years went by and he continued to rip them. Then one Thanksgiving morning, as she was preparing turkey for dinner and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the innards of the turkey and a malicious thought came to her mind.
She took the bowl of turkey guts and went upstairs to where her husband was sound asleep. Genty pulling the bed covers back, she pulled the elastic waist-band of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts in them.
Some time later she heard her husband wake up with his usual trumpeting, followed by a blood-curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he ran into the bathroom. She could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor in laughter, tears in her eyes. After years of torture, she reckoned she had gotten back at him pretty good.
Twenty minutes later, he came downstairs in his bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit her lip as she asked what the matter was.
He said, “Honey you were right. All these years you warned me and I didn’t listen to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you always told me I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally happened. But by the grace of God, with some vaseline and two fingers, I think I got most of them back in.”
Moral of the story: Men are innocent, women are cruel!
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