tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240Wed, 16 May 2012 21:48:58 +0000cookingcurrent affairstravelmansionofficeICsocietyvacationpak emergencyrandom musingcricketeuropepoliticssportslahorereligionaiesecF5updateTurkeyhttp://emad.nomadlife.org/noreply@blogger.com (E)Blogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-7031021319418506554Sun, 21 Aug 2011 18:01:00 +00002011-08-22T03:00:36.553+05:00<div style="text-align: left;">I drove a supercar today. It was awesome.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div>The gang gifted me an experience for my b'day a good few months ago (thank YOU! you know who you are!), and it was only now that I got around to redeeming it. While there was an array of machines to choose from, I went with the conventional - a bright electric blue Lambo. Why not eh?</div><div> <br /></div><div>As I write this, I can physically taste the coppery testosterone that resulted from three laps of one of the best experiences I've had in recent times. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div>It was awesome.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div>Got there and got fear-closed into buying insurance (£25 for 4 mins is a bit steep, especially as I later discovered they have safety brakes too! hmph!) but the £5K excess if I clipped someone's bumper was enough to make me sign on the dotted line without much of a protest.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Then the waiting. A guy drive you around in a Range Rover so you can see the track prior to getting on it, and then more waiting. And the moment of truth. </div><div> <br /></div><div>I settled into the bucket seat of my purring Italian wildcat:</div><div> <br /></div><img src="http://images.instagram.com/media/2011/08/21/6ba677a6606d4c6ea25c47c30e6f6306_7.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 306px; " /><div></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Lamborghini Gallardo. 5.2L V10 engine. 6 speed single touch electrohydrolic manual transmission.</div><div> <br /></div><div>And what do I do? I get my wrist slapped in the first 10 seconds. "Mate, you're on a race track. You don't need to indicate to get outta the pit lane!". Whoops. Bad habits die hard.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Anyway, lap 1 - decent; just getting to grips with it all. Realising that the car actually does make a sharp left even if you're at 110mph. Nice!</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lap 2 - confidence well high. I get asked to floor it. I gently tap it. 'FLOOR IT!', he says. And oh BOY do I floor it. The velocity literally makes me lose all sense of gravity and I am buried deep into the back of my seat. S-WEET! Lap 2 over in a jiffy.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lap 3 - My confidence is sky high. Using all of the track, the car is now an extension of my very existence. Brake, Floor. Floor. Floor. Brake. Brake? Hang on a second? A loser in an Ariel Atom is creeping slowly ahead of me. WTF! What a sad end as I have to pull into the pit lane. Oh well..!</div><div> <br /></div><div>My score (dunno what the matrix is): 85/100. Comment: 'Good smooth drive' - read: first timer. didn't really push the limit, but hey, did alright and didn't kill anyone.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Then a high speed lap in the back seat of a modified ford with a rather bored driver. </div><div> <br /></div><div>Now the dangerous bit - getting back into MY Ford and having to drive back home. Roads. With people. And rules. Shyte!</div><div> <br /></div><div>The closest that this experience has ever come to is a stint at the go-karting track last year.. must be done again!</div><div> <br /></div><div>The whole thing was a bit orgasmic, but in a very teenage-boy-buys-sex-in-amsterdam kinda way. It was regulated, incredible, and ended too soon. But still left me beaming.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Needless to say, the reflection is simple - No I don't want a £45 picture of me in the car, I want <b>one o'</b> <b>dose</b>!</div><div> <br /></div><div>There's only two kinds of smell in this world: </div><div> <br /></div><div>The smell of burning rubber. And the smell of failure. Make your choice.</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-7031021319418506554?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/08/tasting-testosterone.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-7568733424520505Thu, 30 Jun 2011 12:40:00 +00002011-06-30T18:01:44.548+05:00travelsocietyI just spent my morning at the Ukrainian Embassy in London, trying to hack my way through an incredible complex visa process. Unsuccessfully. May or may not write a review on how best to get it done, once I've cracked it.<div><br /></div><div>But right now, I can't help but reflect on something quite simple, that has been at the core of many of my challenges since having moved to London - the absence of 'a guy'.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before people start taking this any other way, allow me to elaborate.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having gone to university in Pakistan, and then running a startup social organisation dealing with foreigners, has meant operating successfully in an environment of imperfect information, clientelism, and incredibly thick red tape. How did I get by?</div><div><br /></div><div>By knowing 'a guy' of course.</div><div><br /></div><div>I knew 'a guy' to sort out visas, 'a guy' in government board of investment, 'a guy' in the intelligence (or so he said - effective still), 'a guy' for cheap laundry, 'a guy' that could deliver anything from any part of Karachi, 'a guy' for my haircuts, 'a guy' that fixed my car, 'a guy' that could sort us out with substances illegal (still living in times of prohibition), 'a guy' that could fix the doorbell even if it broke at 1AM and woke everyone up, 'a guy' that knew stuff of fashion schools, 'a guy' for sound systems for events..</div><div><br /></div><div>Hell I even had 'a guy' in case I needed 'a guy' for something!</div><div><br /></div><div>'A guy' is now missing. I am getting to know him for some purposes, but less so for others. I'm becoming lazy, and relying on (silly) things like websites, notice boards, and even letters in the post for information, because it exists.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ever so often though I realise that I need 'a guy'. Especially when operating within microcosms of society even here that operate under principles similar to Pakistan. This whole experience with the Ukrainian Embassy should, at the very least, prove to be a good exercise in getting out of my comfort zone and of relying on systems! Now all I need is 'a guy' who can sort out some docs for my visa.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-7568733424520505?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/06/missing-guy.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-3726661756643517188Mon, 16 May 2011 15:00:00 +00002011-05-16T21:34:54.007+05:00travelrandom musing<div style="text-align: left;">For those familiar with the content of this blog, it will come as no surprise, that yet again I find myself impossibly stuck in the core of bureaucratic machinery involving visas.</div><div><br /></div><div>I like/need to travel a whole load. Most of my recent travel has been in Europe, and my travel history is airtight. I ran out of space for visas on my last passport. I go to countries. I spend money. I see stuff. I do stuff. In a nutshell, I'm an average guy in travel terms.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yet again, they're giving me hell, and lots of it. It's tough being a young male with a Pakistani passport. And getting tougher. And in all likelihood, I will miss a wedding that I want to be at quite badly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>But this rant, you'll find as a reason to be relieved, isn't about visas. It's about haircuts. Now, long before I became the average traveller, I've had two obsessions - the perfect pair of shoes (GRR! Manly!), and a perfect haircut (GRRR.. oh what the hell).</div><div><br /></div><div>Mediocre haircuts have been the bane of my existence ever since I was tall enough to look in the shortest of mirrors. The first real argument I remember having with my dad involved my staring wayyy up at him and screaming, "I hate your hairdresser. He's old and has no sense of what a good haircut is!". And I cried.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>As I grew older, I got to make decisions on where I got haircuts. But I learnt quickly and harshly that it wasn't my dad's fault - there was just an incredible void in the market for a good barber. I stumbled from one place, to the next, yearning for that perfect hand of scissors - a never-ending quest of epic proportions. And I kept failing.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there was a glimmer of hope. I met a man.. (I really HAVE to stop with these references). Lahore became my favourite city, because every time I walked out of his saloon, I had the confidence of a peacock! It was done. Even when I was in Karachi, I would find ways to coordinate work trips around my haircut cycles. I knew the value of this, and I would pay any price to retain this shiny new object - salvation was achieved.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>And then I moved to London. Square one. I'm still stumbling. This is the story of Today.</div><div><br /></div><div>I needed a haircut. There was a fancy hairdresser down the street I was walking. I am due to go to that wedding in 4 days (the visa to which I will not get in time anyway.. but I promised to shut up about that). I walk in, and am greeted by someone with a questionable association to the male or the female gender. Alarm bells were soon replaced by curiosity - surely this person knew how to give me a damn fashionable haircut. WRONG!</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qNUvlcolvA8/TdFNcCytZhI/AAAAAAAAAMU/bRqRctlo3K4/s200/29208-royalty-free-cartoon-clip-art-of-a-sexy-blond-bombshell-beautician-woman-wearing-a-tight-orange-dress-and-tall-orange-boots-and-holding-a-pair-of-scissors-and-blow-dryer-at-a-salon-by-andy-nortnik.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607348155234215442" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I shoulda left. I didn't. I stayed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Still unsure whether to refer to her/him as a he/she, I shall call use the colloquial reference: sHe. Bear in mind, I am not discriminating. Hell, I let this person near the thing so dear to me - my hair. Anyway, sHe took my jacket, and reached straight for my shirt buttons. Woah. I acted calm, but sHe was clearly uncomfortable and inept at it, so I took over and unbuttoned my second button myself. sHe played with my collar for a few seconds, and that was that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I shoulda left. I didn't. I stayed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I sat down on the barber's chair. Flashy red synthetic leather. Oh well. And the scissor work began. I spent the next few minutes dividing my attention neatly between observing the clumsy hand movements on top of my head and trying to figure out whether it was a scar, or an Adam's apple. I didn't care either way (about the latter that is), but I was curious. I like knowing. sHe exclaimed, "my.. you have such a beautiful neck.. my my!". My my. Nothing to do but to ignore that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I shoulda left. I didn't. I stayed.</div><div><br /></div><div>The assault on my hair continued. Snippaty snap. This was disastrous. Ok ok. Breathe. Breathe. Focus on happy bunnies. Wait. No. Bunnies being chopped by scissors. EW. I stopped looking at the mirror. sHe came over in front of me, put me chin up with a forefinger (eep EEEP!), and said, "hey look in the mirror. Sexy, no?". No. I said so. Mistake! "Ok - I do something else to it I like."</div><div>"Wow your hair is so nice".</div><div><br /></div><div>I shoulda left. I didn't. I stayed.</div><div><br /></div><div>After what felt like an eternity, my ordeal was soon to end. My hair was ruined. But at least this would be over. No! Shampoo time. Ok. New chair. No mirror. Fine. Breathe. Breathe. As the head massage began, she launched into 'personal stuff'. "Where are you from?" "oh you look Brazilian" "you have no accent, were you born here?". yada yada. More my comfort zone with standard responses I could issue with a facial expression that suggested this was the first time I'd heard someone say that. And then.. sHe decided it was only fair I got to know more from the other side. "My ex-husband is Pakistani", sHe exclaimed, "what a nice guy. He was so open-minded. Like you...", "..and so pretty. Like you...". Uh oh. </div><div><br /></div><div>I shoulda left. I didn't. I stayed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Shampoo done. The towel work begins. And continues. And goes on. Then the waxwork begins, along with another session of unnecessary caressing. Time to go. NOW.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I half run out of the shop while considering just leaving my change behind, sHe plays the final card. "Hey - I can't wait for your hair to grow back very soon. Do come back, and ask for me!". Hell, I'd rather ask for Sweeney Todd, than this, buddy!</div><div><br /></div><div>I left. I didn't look back. I ran.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now as I stand in front of the mirror, a pair of scissors in one hand (I have never risked this, but there's no way I'm going back to another saloon after this, for a WHILE!), I suppose it's a good opportunity to bring baseball caps back in fashion eh?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-3726661756643517188?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/05/curses.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-1412639391252759784Thu, 03 Mar 2011 08:50:00 +00002011-03-03T14:47:27.976+05:00politicsSo, it's all gone a bit wrong, hasn't it?<div><br /></div><div>Things have been rough for a good few years, but I found it particularly hard to sleep last night, having started the day of the<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-12617562"> news </a>of the minorities minister being assassinated in Pakistan yesterday. This had followed a <a href="http://tribune.com.pk/story/125853/george-ka-khuda-hafiz--i/">really disturbing article</a> yesterday from 'George', our symbolic white man that loved Pakistan - alas it was mutual not. We've still got a few of them lurking about.. Only a matter of time? I hope not!</div><div><br /></div><div>The issue is that this 'war' is being lost, and lost badly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Redefinition is required on the concept of war itself though. Conventional armed forces are organised to prevent loss of territory and to gain some. Guerilla warfare isn't concerned with territory, nor organised to gain and retain it (read: Swat bad scene), but to create sporadic burss of terror in cities. It's an evolving virus, rather than a tumour that you can apply chemo to. It's not a blogpost, it's a facebook poke (ok - that one was a bit much..)</div><div><br /></div><div>America's already contemplating an exit strategy but the true levers of stability lie in how that exit actually plays out. A few different scenarios that some academically advanced friends and I were discussing last night (gosh, I miss the luxury of being able to have such deeply informed quality conversations nowadays) - </div><div><br /></div><div>1. [Not in our control] America exits Afghanistan, but installs some relatively moderate taliban in power, that are on the payroll. The t-dawg's win on a symbolic level, but the West gets to dictate ideology. Risky, but positive.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. The Pakistan armed forces continue to play the 'long game', still treating the western border and it's agency as a strategic depth with India still being public enemy no.1. Ultimately settle for autonomous areas where they radical boys can do 'their thing' as long as they don't try to gain territory.</div><div><br /></div><div>Risk: long term radicalisation of the army. This issue crossing right back up in a few years. Continued challenge to writ of state in northern areas.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Dismantle the structure that operates and feeds the growth of these organisations. Do away with madrassas, provide only strictly developmental help. Weed out radical viewpoints from literature. </div><div><br /></div><div>Risk: oh so painful and difficult. Some massive sacrifices required, including peace with India. Some loss of control from the armed forced. Long term success, and I can make that long-awaited trip to the northern areas.</div><div><br /></div><div>The scariest bit is the fact that this is now, for the first time in over 60 years of existence, beginning to seep into the foundations of society. It's appalling to see average Pakistanis voicing such intolerance so openly. There's an argument to suggest that, perhaps, people always have held such a hardline view and in fact it is the fact that there are forces that are actually encouraging debate on prior 'unsaid' issues like the b-word, that the common man is feeling somehow threatened and feels the need to voice their defence of faith.</div><div><br /></div><div>The trouble is that this is making us look very very bad indeed. The rules of the debate are not defined clearly enough and it's resulting in people being divided and silo-ed into two camps that are radically different.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's someone new every day, belonging to a more 'moderate' approach to it all, that tells me, 'Pakistan - it's increasingly not for us anymore'. Neither is any other landmass, though - it's all we've got. </div><div><br /></div><div>Stuck between a rock and a hard place, really. What's our version of chopping off our right arm in an attempt for survival...?</div><div><br /></div><div>On a lighter note, someone suggested that Zardari might actually be sent from 'the future' to help dismantle Pakistan (in the form of an ugly ogre) - a necessity for humankind's survival. Are <i>we </i>skynet? Is he Arnie? Dang!</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-1412639391252759784?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/03/tipping-point.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-3383025694052475281Mon, 21 Feb 2011 20:39:00 +00002011-02-22T04:09:54.971+05:00current affairspolitics<div style="text-align: left;">Libya's plastered all over the news, the Bahrain Grand Prix has been called off, and I stand corrected on <a href="http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/01/its-alive.html">my analysis</a> of <a href="http://butttickler.blogspot.com/2011/02/feb-20-2011.html">Mubarak's</a> resistance.</div><div><br /></div><div>The astounding reality of Arabs taking to the streets is beyond doubt an unimaginable reality coming to life. It's comic to see the defiance of the rulers' faces while the fear in their eyes is evident. You may be waving your finger threateningly, but the image of a glistening forehead (that goes on forever) is worth a thousand words.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/02/21/article-1358972-0D49D597000005DC-926_634x515.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 380px; height: 309px;" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><br /></div><div>The UN is calling the Libyan situation a genocide, and the BBC is playing back-to-back images of Cameron <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-12523572">getting in bed</a> with the military in Egypt and Tony Blair's loving embrace of Gaddafi. Go back a few decades, the West was doing nothing different. History, she repeats herself.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we chatted out the scene over dinner, <a href="http://andrewbenjaminwebster.blogspot.com/">my housemate</a> had some profound thoughts:</div><div><br /></div><div><i>"What? The Libyan government is doing what? Killing civilians? What? With British weapons? damnnnnn...."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Oh crap... What's that you say about the Bahraini military? Shooting civilians? British weapons again... Shhaaaeeeettttt..."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Rock and a hard place, really. </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"Oh well, they'll be coming back soon asking for ammo."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"It's great for the economy, Osbourne says."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Sigh.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Verdict</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Putting my neck out on this one, I'd say that Gaddaffi's done - quietly exploring (or already exercising) his <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/feb/21/muammar-gaddafi-exile-options?INTCMP=SRCH">exile options</a>, Bahrain's rulers will buy some time due to their slightly more flexible approach and their relatively affluent citizens having more at stake with an economic shut down, and this movement will continue to proliferate. </div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing will change in Iran, as broadly speaking, the underlying institutions are democratic even if their transparency is clear as mud. Pakistan's hopes of a revolution are likely to be crushed as the military steps in moments before the tipping point to 'save the day', although one has to really hope .. not again. Please, not again.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Here's a thought...</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>How will this mood of revolution - this transformation from decades of status quo - likely to impact the West, specifically Western Europe? Nearly every election in the region is churning out a right-wing government. Some of it has to do with the economic climate, and people's need for change, but the rightist campaigns often prey on xenophobia with regard to extremism and the internalisation of its Middle Eastern connection.</div><div><br /></div><div>It feels like a tricky turnaround is on it's way. Embracing the principles of democracy, and bucked up by Western governments, the next 'democratic' regimes are likely to be slightly more conducive to their democratic peers in the West, especially as they get lent a hand or two for the creation of their institutions. Historically, dictators, by and large, have been pretty great at singing to the West's tune, at the cost of their people, but rest assured the US and the EU will be quick to change course and realign to this new movement.</div><div><br /></div><div>Is this likely to kickstart a slow but hopeful process of de-radicalisation? Possibly? Are the fighter pilots that <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-12520937">escaped seeking asylum</a> in Malta on account of refusal to bomb their people going to get it? Probably. Are citizens of Western Europe watching closely, sympathising with the protesters and celebrating their success? Definitely.</div><div><br /></div><div>Opportunities galore. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-3383025694052475281?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/02/case-of-trigger-happy-police-state.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-1176696368503417176Tue, 15 Feb 2011 18:35:00 +00002011-02-15T23:50:49.711+05:00random musingFunny enough, as one would expect, I had to go back to pick up my passport from the High Commission of Pakistan.<div><br /></div><div>Leaving office at 2pm on a Tuesday is hard work, but one has to believe you do it for the important things. Like your passport.</div><div><br /></div><div>Long story short, I got there and there was a sign on the door - </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><u>Circular</u></b></div><div>The Pakistan High Commission will be closed on 15th Feb 2011 on account of Eid Milad-un-Nabi.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>First response: Panic!</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Had I missed Eid?! Every year, twice a year, I had craftily managed to figure out Eid dates while being away from home in order to ensure that phone call was made and the ones received were not met with overt surprise. Now I'd really outdone myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>But wait, which was the Milad-dun-Nabi one? I mean there's the bakra eid and the.. eid eid. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Second response: Self-loathing</i></div><div><br /></div><div>What an idiot! It's the other name for 'bara rabi ul awal' right? Prophet's b'day and all. Phew! Close call.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Third response: Reflection</i></div><div><br /></div><div>After having already vented on Twitter after my first response, I got an @reply from another overseas Pakistani. I could tell he was in my first response mode too. While I replied to him, I couldn't help but think.. damn.. how awful is this?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ever since I learnt to think for myself, and stumbled upon the thought that I knew best, I had embarked on a journey of distancing myself from traditions in general and those I'd grown up with, in particular. </div><div><br /></div><div>I do wonder now, whether this was just a step too far. Recently, while I find it hard to connect to these traditions when faced by them, I can feel a bit of envy creeping against those that whole-heartedly immerse themselves in them and have managed to preserve and grow them in their immediate surrounding.</div><div><br /></div><div>With the trajectory I'm on, there's a real chance this connection will fade further, but while there's still a flicker, I thought I might as well acknowledge is and at the very least give it some due respect. </div><div><br /></div><div>Confused; alienated; defiant.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-1176696368503417176?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/02/thoughtful-and-disconnected.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-401210143944158756Tue, 01 Feb 2011 12:28:00 +00002011-02-01T20:05:03.221+05:00<i>[Public service info post]</i><div><br /></div><div>A few easy steps to minimise the amount of hassle that you have at the High Commission for Pakistan in London, when renewing your passport:</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Address</b></div><div>High Commission for Pakistan</div><div>34-36 Lowndes Square</div><div>London</div><div>SW1X 9JN</div><div>Nearest tube station: Knightbridge (Sloane street exit)</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Opening hours</b></div><div>10.00AM-12.30PM for submission (get there early)</div><div>3.00PM - 5.00PM for collection</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Items required</b></div><div><ol><li>Current passport with a valid UK visa [Original]</li><li>CNIC (Computerised National Identity Card) or NICOP (National Identity Card for Overseas Pakistanis) [Original]</li><li>1 photocopy of CNIC or NICOP (both sides)</li><li>1 photocopy of passport page with UK visa</li><li>1 photocopy of passport front page (the one with your picture and information)</li><li>(only in case of work permit) 1 photocopy of work permit</li><li>Cash - The embassy does not accept cards or cheques [£28 for normal, £48 for urgent - this includes the bank surcharge of £2]</li><li>A full morning</li><li>Yourself (You cannot apply for someone else)</li></ol></div><div><i>(No photographs are required)</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Process</b></div><div><ol><li>Behind the embassy, in the lounge there is a marquee/tent. There are signs pointing to there.</li><li>Go to counter labelled M.R.P. (machine readable passports), where you will get a set of slips after the administrator look at your documents </li><li>Tell the administrator on the counter whether you want an urgent or a normal application</li><li>Take slips and your documents to the building next door and go all the way to the basement following signs that say 'Bank'. Make sure that you again tell the cashier whether your passport is urgent or normal</li><li>Take remaining slips and documents upstairs and go to counter #1 - Here you will be issued a token with a number on it - you need to present your CNIC/NICOP and passport as well as give your fingerprints at this stage. Make sure your token has the correct name and information and says Urgent or Normal</li><li>Go to the next counter to get your photograph taken - if it's horrible, as the person to take it again</li><li>Go to the next counter called 'Data capture'. Check all the details on the computer with the person there and make sure they are all correct. A form will be printed out and you just have to sign it. The person will attach the rest of your photocopies and slips to that form. Make sure you check all the information on this form and get anything changed that is incorrect.</li><li>Final stop - the officer. You will go into a room after this where your form will be attested by a public officer and he may ask you some basic questions. He will take your forms and photocopies, but will give you back the token with a collection date on it. He will also return your passport and ID card to you.</li><li>Be happy, you've done it!</li></ol></div><div>(Note: Unless you're a diplomat or from the military you have an 'Ordinary' passport)</div><div><br /></div><div><b>My advice</b></div><div><br /></div><div><ol><li>Get there early - If want the process of waiting to shortest (funnily enough) make sure you get there early. I got there at 9AM and had completed my entire process by 10.45AM. If you're ahead in the queue, you wait less, even though you wait to start with.</li><li>Make 1 friend, preferably the person right ahead of you in queue. While this helps pass time, it will also mean you will know where to go because you can simply follow him. Make a smart friend, not someone that looks clueless. Do not socialise otherwise. Mindless chatter delays things for everyone.</li><li>If you can afford it, it is completely worth going for 'Urgent', which takes 6 working days (8-9 calendar days). While the 'Normal' process is supposed to take 3 weeks, in reality it can take between 5 and 8 weeks, probably because everyone is trying to get ahead by giving urgent applications.</li></ol><div><br /></div></div><div>It's relatively painless if you've got everything and know what you're doing, and the staff is actually quite courteous.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good luck!</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-401210143944158756?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/02/renewing-pakistani-passport-in-uk.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-9022494095171964040Sat, 29 Jan 2011 16:12:00 +00002011-01-31T00:30:04.754+05:00current affairspolitics<div style="text-align: justify;">The Middle East is a fascinating part of the world. To those outside, it looks like a land that is constantly in turmoil. For those that have had the pleasure of living or visiting, the truth couldn't be further.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Despite the geopolitical issues around Israel/Iraq that mar the region, peace prevails by and large within the borders of these nation-states. Most rulers are self-appointed, and maintain a tight grip over dissent. They've done well in the last 4 decades. With most of the economies booming, abundance of resources, favours of the West and a large supply of expatriate labour and for some tourism, there's always been enough distraction for the common Arab to stay preoccupied. They sell the oil, or their sponsorship over businesses run by foreigners; they make the money; they buy fast cars and gadgets; they take trips to Europe and have personal shoppers. Enough of them do anyway.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I call these lands politically dead. Besides small pockets of dissent that are quickly and easily eliminated, not very much goes on in the way of political expression.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://totallycoolpix.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/28012011_egypte_riots/egypte_91.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 431px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is a ginormous surprise, therefore, to see the uprisings at the scale that they are occurring. Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen... Every ruler on the Arabian peninsula must be dumbfounded and furiously mobilising the state machinery in case of disorder, while transferring large amounts of assets (and wives?) abroad (just in case) - I'll say watch the price of the US dollar rise in the coming weeks.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Egypt's a fascinating example. Hosni Mubarak, in bed with the West, has essentially been the Chiefton for over 3 decades. My generation hasn't lived in a time he wasn't. Of those 31 years, he's been, one has to really admire the man for having successfully bottled and locked away any semblances of civil liberties, through a continuous period of state of emergency rules. [Hell, one winter of Emergency+ created a havoc in Pakistan read:<a href="http://emad.nomadlife.org/search/label/pak%20emergency">this space</a>]</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While opposition forces, long silenced, are trying to piggyback on this tide, the belief that this can be done 1 country away (Tunisia) and an increasing awareness resulting from the proliferation of knowledge courtesy the internet, are the true leaders.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The advent of the world wide web was seen as a minor nuisance by most rulers (note: on a very academic level, I cannot refer to them as leaders), with blanket censorship being rolled out to tackle the evils of pornography and 'blasphemous' content. To their credit, the energy and interest of the masses was focused quite heavily on the former anyway - so good place to regulate. However, with time, that focus became irrelevant, as people got exposure to what was happening outside their borders in a regular and instant manner. An entire generation has grown up having juxtaposed their own reality with that of the world at large. Whoops!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://totallycoolpix.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/28012011_egypte_riots/egypte_02.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 222px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's also intriguing to see the use of social networking as the primary forum of organisation in this movement (be proud Zucky boy!). However, we're far from the achievement of liberty and pursuit of happiness in Arabia for the moment. Even if this isn't just a prolonged flash in the pan, while the masses have mobilised, it will take further academic and political leadership and organisation in order to replace the current system with a new order, and there's likely to be too large a vacuum to fill.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps it was an early morning class at university that we were discussing Samuel Huntington's take on how one must achieve order prior to democracy, and then further conversation occurred around the preconditions of democracy .. yada yada.. I am a vehement opposer. Democracy necessarily has to be a process of learning. And the region is taking its first significant step towards that - one that demands admiration and respect. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It <i>won't </i>be easy; it probably <i>won't </i>result in a radical immediate regime change; it <i>will </i>leave that region transformed and its current rulers weak and nervous. Perhaps some hope that the predominantly 'muslim world' can actually taste the values of freedom and right to self-determination and not be resigned as being 'incapable to govern themselves'. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://totallycoolpix.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/28012011_egypte_riots/egypte_95.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 210px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">[Full collection of images at <a href="http://totallycoolpix.com/2011/01/the-egypt-protests/">tinycoolpix.com</a>]</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-9022494095171964040?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/01/its-alive.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-4870827265987592920Wed, 12 Jan 2011 22:45:00 +00002011-01-13T04:29:30.132+05:00religionpolitics<span class="Apple-style-span"><b>[There's a few hyperlinks in this post that may only be visible in the original post, not on FB] </b></span><div><br /></div><div>Pakistan: a political issue has (once again) spiralled into complete and utter chaos.<div><br /></div><div>It is not as much as the fact that the law and it's implementation when it comes to blasphemy is unfair, but the highly divisive debate that is underway. Just reading the thread of comments below this <a href="http://tribune.com.pk/story/101294/20000-protest-blasphemy-law-change-in-pakistan-police/">Tribune.pk article</a> makes one realise that this division is deep and surpassing all socio-economic strata. "A nation that has lost religion has lost everything", one says. "The nation's gone to the dogs if we're being held hostage by such laws", another responds. Neither is listening to the other.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having inherited religion from tertiary sources, unlike in Arabia, the Pakistani is insecure, God-fearing, and confused. However, he is not willing to change their way of life in any shape of form with regard to state guidance on religion, evident from the fact that in over 60 years, in what is a country overrun by closet conservatives, the religious right has been unable to secure any substantial form of political mandate. That being said, they are still the most organised groups are are able to mobilise masses of support instantly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Without going into Salman Taseer and his posthumous glorification, I'm hoping to examine the fundamentals of this issue as I view it from a distance.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two days ago, even the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-12157778">Pope spoke up</a> against this law - which I guess 1) shows how central Pakistan is to the world's agenda, but 2) gives you a feeling that someone ought to issue some advice to the man about keeping distance between himself and fun ol' Pakiland. Anyway, I digress.</div><div><br /></div><div>Laws are not the problem (believe it or not, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blasphemy_law_in_the_United_Kingdom">UK still has a law</a> against blasphemy), but the institutional discrimination that they've resulted in. It is common practice for people of influence, especially in rural areas, to achieve a ruling against lower class individuals on grounds of blasphemy, to serve a political gain, or simply exhibit their power. The judicial system is broken and incapable of delivering punishment for such extreme laws.</div><div><br /></div><div>The trouble with this debate is that a new term 'liberal' has been coined without any understanding of what that means as an ideology. Post Musharraf's 'moderate muslims' reference, this is the latest fad. Additionally being against the blasphemy law is being equated directly to liberal or secular. These are two different things. Your belief in God has nothing to do with your opinion of a law that is executed in an inherently unjust manner.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is undoubtedly the fear that by being part of a generation that 'let' the law be repealed that is causing such an outburst of emotion against its repulsion. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me put you at ease, fellas. I can bet any money that in a society that has great amount of respect for religion (superficial or otherwise), it is not like removing this law would necessitate the creation of a scenario where any random striker was out there tearing up copies of the Holy Book or calling the Prophet names. It is <i>not </i>going to happen. Relax.</div><div><br /></div><div>In fact, it isn't going to affect the way of life for a majority of people, but then again, I suppose they wouldn't be so pro-Islam all of a sudden if it did.</div><div><br /></div><div>And for heaven's sake, what's with the acute insecurity, and the need to 'protect the honour' of God and such. Look - If you believe that God's Almight, and that the Prophet's a great figure, then how is it that a mere mortal's words or action can hurt such a divine honour. Surely, that honour is not that easily tarnished? (Case in point, the Danish cartoons incident from a few years ago - sigh..).</div><div><br /></div><div>In some ways, the govt must be rejoicing at the fact that this has distracted people from what the real issues in the country are. In other ways, it's good that albeit violent, this debate is at least being aired. Once can only hope that the final outcome is similar to the fate of the adultery law, another brutal legacy of a.. God-fearing.. military dictator.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>We've got a problem. The white on the flag, representing minority rights, is shrinking.</div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-4870827265987592920?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/01/to-believe-is-human.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-2635048435751616512Tue, 11 Jan 2011 19:03:00 +00002011-01-12T01:51:56.404+05:00europevacation<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >[Original post at emad.nomadlife.org - may not see pictures in FB note]</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >3 different land masses and over 3000 miles of driving in 3 weeks time has left me with a significant amount of fodder for this post. One of the great things about not keeping a travel journal is that you can reflect on your trips in an unbiased manner when trying to sift through all those wonderful experiences to reach those that remain etched in your mind fairly quickly. Of course, the downside is that stories are short and fairly non-descriptive. Oh well.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >Ireland, Republic of.</span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >To be perfectly honest, it was never the obvious choice for a weekend away, but when C moved down there to work for G, the clock was tickin'! I'm a big fat waste of a traveller on most occasions, because things and places have a rather hard time fascinating me. People's always the make-or-break. And oh lord, do the people make Ireland a fantabulous place to visit, or what! Random strangers stop you on the street to explain the stories behind things you appear to find interesting, cab drivers sing along to female pop songs in a thick accent. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >They drive on the correct side of the road (mine), yet they use metric units. They are an improved version of Britain. Hell, even their airport announcement dudes make jokes over the big announcer! Land of harps, I'm a fan.</span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" >(my official photographer is still working her magic on the photographs, so we all have to wait for those). </span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>France</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >When you live on the island of Britain, people often share stereotypes about France and the French - pride, arrogance - score high up on that list. So armed with that all that cultural insight, I was prepared for the worst. Wrong. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9pUzG03I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/9gJfAJNJdMc/s512/IMG_2704.JPG"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9pUzG03I/AAAAAAAAAJ8/9gJfAJNJdMc/s512/IMG_2704.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 338px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Dune du Pyla</b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm no fan of French food, but customer service in that country ranks better than most places I have been to on this planet. As for pride, there are so very many things that have made it into pop culture from this great country, that if I was French, I would not let you hear the end of it! Camembert, Dijon, Bordeaux.. products, no, cities! The list goes on. This land's made a contribution that is significant and humbling. There's culture on every corner, and history on every turn. Now, if only they spoke in English..</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >French radio leaves a bit to be desired, but we were entertained by how regardless of which channel you tuned into, there seemed to be a coordinated record of the day! 'Over the rainbow' on Monday, 'Time of my life' for Tuesday, and so on. Funny. Oh and there's free and unlimited wireless broadband access, like, everywhere!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Honourable mention for the vineyards of St Emilion, Honfleur's baguettes, and Dune du Pyla. Dishonourable mention for the toll taxes. I find paying for roads as toll offensive at an academic level and the fact that we paid an arm and a leg in them was less than impressive. The roads were pretty great though and on occasion, I secretly prayed for a faster car, as my co-pilot tried to work out our next destination of interest, and cars overtook me from the wrong side.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >There's way too much to do, and I'm glad it's this close, so a return trip is being planned no doubt.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >On the way to Spain, I cursed the EU under my breath as the entrance into Spain, a country I had looked forward to going to since I was aye-high, was an incredible anticlimax. All I wanted was a picture under the 'Welcome to Spain' sign, and all I was got 'France ends in 1000 meters' sign. In French.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Spain</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Before I left, the things I was looking forward to most were: Spanish food, and Barcelona. Things turned out to be somewhat different. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9rTUMjeI/AAAAAAAAAKI/nNj0sHaBEnQ/s800/IMG_2921.JPG"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9rTUMjeI/AAAAAAAAAKI/nNj0sHaBEnQ/s800/IMG_2921.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Pintxos</b></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Pintxos (pron Pinchos) is essentially bar tapas in Basque country. While the variety was overwhelming, they did undeliver every time I had one. By the end of our pintxo-trail, all I wanted was a big fat fithy burger. But then again, I always want a big fat filthy burger. However, that was the only underwhelming part of San Sebastian. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9qtIM82I/AAAAAAAAAKE/WCpz5LBftns/s800/IMG_2874.JPG"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9qtIM82I/AAAAAAAAAKE/WCpz5LBftns/s800/IMG_2874.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >The sun was shining and it was 22 degrees on the 29th of December, which alone would be worth it. The atmosphere was chilled out and the <a href="http://www.sansebastianturismo.com/info/sansebastianturismo/turismo_cultura.nsf/vowebContenidosId/NT0000095A?OpenDocument&amp;idioma=ing&amp;id=T433636&amp;cat=Esculturas&amp;doc=D">wind was combed</a>. It was definitely the highlight of the trip. Saw the crap outta that place!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy-GvwaLhI/AAAAAAAAAKY/V8_E35Tyzu8/s512/IMG_2998.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9qJVBgcI/AAAAAAAAAKA/WnOLxMHAsMM/s800/IMG_2841.JPG"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9qJVBgcI/AAAAAAAAAKA/WnOLxMHAsMM/s800/IMG_2841.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a></span><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy-GvwaLhI/AAAAAAAAAKY/V8_E35Tyzu8/s512/IMG_2998.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 338px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Zaragoza was sorta cool, and the one night spent there was well worth it, and not just because I got to meet the biggest cotton candy I have ever come across. We had some epic food, which only got ordered through sign language and some expensive bit of data roaming on google translate. I did feel like this city's architecture was constantly hinting at a past that involved some form of Islamic influence, and I want to learn more about it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9sAf1-CI/AAAAAAAAAKM/TPk7HC6TSHs/s800/IMG_2991.JPG"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy9sAf1-CI/AAAAAAAAAKM/TPk7HC6TSHs/s800/IMG_2991.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><b>Reflection time in Zaragoza </b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Finally, Barcelona. The intensity of my time makes me want to shed some tears of frustration. Now, don't get me wrong. It's an epic city. It's just more than a handful in so many ways, and my expectations were probably quite different. There's loads to see, and Gaudi's influence over that city is unmissable. In fact, besides the fact that the tourist authority couldn't be f***ed off to make sure the timings for opening hours on the wall are correct (you can tell I hold a grudge), the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sagrada_Fam%C3%ADlia">Sagrada Familia</a> in the most fascinating structure I have come across in my life. And it's still being built! I'd really like to see it completed in my lifetime.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_JwqYUrPaVio/TSy-Hr58tlI/AAAAAAAAAKc/8HAJ5v23Xm8/s512/IMG_3155.JPG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 338px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>Inside Sagrada Familia</b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >There was no place to have dinner on NYE and there were no fireworks. Although we eventually got an overpriced, late, but incredibly funny meal, I don't rate it as a city to spend the end/start of any year. The beach was nice, and I found a ritual around eating 12 grapes at midnight amusing, but where's da party, yaar? Magical fountain was neat, but only if you haven't seen the <a href="http://www.usefilm.com/image/402271.html">Aqua Fantasia</a> at Dubai Shopping Festival. All in all, it was intense. It was good, but I want more, and I know that city has more. I want to meet more.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I love the language, and I want to come back having learnt it. New year's resolution #2. Just need to ensure I take account of siesta hours next time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Also, I came in and out of Brussels (well, actually given the icy roads and the summer tyres, I more skated-without-any-control in and out), I haven't got much to share at the moment. Honestly, I am finding that I am not doing Belgium justice despite the frequent trips. This shall be rectified.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Regardless, arguably the most epic holiday ever taken!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>More pics will be on my FB as soon as they've gone through the requisite processing.</i></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-2635048435751616512?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2011/01/harps-and-baguettes.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-4371247986831823900Sun, 19 Dec 2010 20:06:00 +00002010-12-20T01:44:28.926+05:00<img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_8M1AOlRglSI/THdPW67tCiI/AAAAAAAAebo/8IcA8X7TCQE/tumblr_l6iid28npx1qb53jco1_500.jpg?imgmax=400" alt="tumblr_l6iid28npx1qb53jco1_500.jpg" /><div>Moribund. A pretty fantastic word. I first came across it at the ripe old age of 21 at the one creative writing class that I audited at university. Topic: "The feeling you get when moribund". Clueless. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wrote a two page essay about how I felt about not knowing what it felt like to write about a word I didn't understand.. perhaps this was similar to the feeling you get when moribund. It was. I am sure if I discovered that piece of paper today, I would regard it as sheer genius.</div><div><br /></div><div>Much unlike this piece of literature I'm adding to the wordfill.</div><div><br /></div><div>Forced. I only write when something deserved being felt strongly about. At the moment there is none. I'll test the theory that just restarting the process of writing might at some point trigger the appetite to find things that are worthy of the word.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here goes nothing 'quite <i>literally</i>'.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-4371247986831823900?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2010/12/scratch-scratch.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-4348609782589933587Fri, 10 Dec 2010 13:45:00 +00002010-12-10T18:56:24.336+05:00Feels like it's been a nice long time away from the good ol blog, and a whole lot's happened since.<div><br /></div><div>Instead of playing catch-up, maybe I should just pick up from where I'm currently at, and run with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think the biggest mindless distraction that's kept me away from sharing my thoughts (no it's not all the chocolate!) is the iPhone. What a fascinating piece of kit! Those tap farms, kitchens, boutiques, and such apps really beginning to take a toll on little sparks of intelligence that may have remained post moving on from AIESEC and uni.</div><div><br /></div><div>In fact, just observing people on the tube (a truly entertaining activity, I will have you know!), it's amazing how, in the space of a couple of years, things have changed so drastically. There are officially more people trying to unroll a bog roll on their iPhones than there are people reading books (well, not 'officially', but I am sure if someone has time to conduct some mindless research.. wait I'm sure there's an app for that!). Even on the more literate side, there are more adverts for the Kindle on stations than there are adverts for new books (barring Jeremy Clarkson - that's not literature).</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh well. That's the iGeneration.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-4348609782589933587?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2010/12/attempted-return-yey-or-nay.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-6162294451290203147Mon, 25 May 2009 14:26:00 +00002009-05-25T20:27:47.031+06:00Hosted A Massive House Party! Pictures Soon.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-6162294451290203147?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2009/05/hosted-massive-house-party-pictures.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)67tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-2475389087712957925Sat, 23 May 2009 15:42:00 +00002009-05-23T21:43:33.920+06:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; ">London is diverse. The harmony of various cultures operate together is intriguing. I wouldn't say it's assimilation per se - rather it's more of a comfortable truce of mutual respect. While you do get your pockets of racism here and there, it's seldom something that becomes an impediment in every day life.<div><br /></div><div>In that spirit then, here are a few juicy insights from my new home:</div><div><br /></div><div><ul><li>Brown people are generally the most racist of the lot.</li><li>Romanians are the new Indians. They're everywhere. There is no escape.</li><li>Contrary to my prior beliefs, women do cut your hair better. You can't discuss politics on the chair though.</li><li>British girls - generally <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">not </span>very hot.. generally <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">not </span>very aware of that fact.</li><li>British guys <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">can </span>actually be fun. Except when they drink. They drink a lot.</li><li>British-born Pakistanis. Steer clear of them. 'nuff said.</li><li>Indians here all have affected accents. All of them.</li><li>The only thing worse than 'Cheers!' and 'mate!' is 'Cheers, mate!'</li><li>Where are all the Chinese people?</li><li>People admit to liking pop music.</li><li>More people know the color of the outfit Paris Hilton wore to the club last night, than the name of their neighbour.</li><li>The classiness of a club is inversely proportional to the number of Aussies present.</li><li>Turkish people are nicer in Turkey than in London.</li></ul><div>There. I think I've p****d off most people I know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lovin' the diversity.</div><div><br /></div><div>(fun fact: I accidently posted that on the mail nomadlife page by mistake! EEK!)</div></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-2475389087712957925?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2009/05/non-pc-post.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-1007770155982999264Thu, 21 May 2009 18:14:00 +00002009-05-22T01:20:00.126+06:00I recently engaged in a rather insightful exercise with a small subset of my real close friends. These guys are part of an elite (!) group of people that I would imagine know me quite well.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Q. Where do you see me in 10 yrs?</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>After brushing aside the initial feelings that it might be a joke, they were all kind enough to indulge - Here's a subset:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"I see you back in Pakistan making a different to that society..."<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">"I think u will have your own business..something different..but not a non-profit..."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"You will be working as a VP in some multinational evil corporation..."</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">"I see you working in some high flying organization in dubai..having a place with a flamingo pink sports car..." </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"You've built ur own company with a coupla other crazy dudes involved in lotsa different initiatives..."</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">"So i see you all cool and professional in the corporate world doing cool stuff, supporting lots of cool organizations.. giving motivational speeches..."</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"i see you heading up a kick ass company that makes wicked money but is also helping to build capacity in pakistan so ur not making soap and plastic shit..."</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">"working for your own company in Pakistan, being involved in some good international projects together with your friends from all overthe world.. projects meant to bring peace..."</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">"I see you in south africa selling coal..."</span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Save for my last friend (lol!), everyone has similar thoughts about what my future holds. There's a variety if 'impact' elements, but everyone seems rather united in seeing it done through a particular path.. </div><div><br /></div><div>The shock really starts to kick in on the personal side of things - </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">"I think you'll have a girlfriend so you're not necessarily married. And she's not Pakistani..."</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">"you would be married to a rather desi girl with one kid (AAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!! =p)"</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">"happily married to a girl with "model" like features who your ami jee will select ! and ull be a content man..."</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">"freshly married :)" </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; "><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">"I would put my guess (on you being married) at somewhere around 30-31. i think u will make a decent husband but you will make an awesome father."</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span></span></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">"with a f****** hot wife :)" </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">"you'll marry at 31 to a girl whose half pathani and half iranian...will have 2 kids...boy and a girl..."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Marriage? Kids? Really, guys?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">The entire exercise has me rather confused. The confidence my friends have in me is rather fear-inducing. However, my future appears to hold no real surprises. Nothing unpredictable. Certainly, nothing outside-the-box.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Answers to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">that </span>question open up counterless others.</span></div></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-1007770155982999264?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2009/05/universe-and-i.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-8670144424122398975Tue, 03 Mar 2009 19:14:00 +00002009-03-04T00:54:01.328+05:00I haven't written in many months. Was looking to reinvent this space in light of a very new and different life I'm leading. Many good things are happening in that life..<br /><br />I'm drowned in indescribable hate at this moment for coming back and writing about all the things that I wished to never have to discuss.<br /><br />Today was especially dark.. too close, too personal. I live less than 10 minutes away from the location at which the incident took place: Liberty square - the heart of modern Lahore, a place seldom affected by the chaos that you read about in the papers every day in relation to Pakistan.<br /><br />There's also a deep sense of embarrassment stemming from the fact that those that were targeted were the one's that came to play cricket in a country everyone else had refused to do so. Cricket is the lifeline of a Pakistani. We don't have a Bollywood or a crazy happening night life, but Cricket is what we live for, every day. Every child in Pakistan grows up dreaming of becoming Imran Khan, and that single moment captured on camera when he lifted the crystal World Cup trophy is by far the most inspiration moment in the country's 62 years of history.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7bT7VlydI1c&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7bT7VlydI1c&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UOvpxxmq3HY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UOvpxxmq3HY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />And the events of today have effectively signed the death certificate for the only thing that is a source of passion and hope to a Pakistani.<br /><br />Further shame and fury stems from the aftermath. As always, everyone, led by the media has begun the process of blaming India, American Drones, India, Tamil Tigers, Taleban, India, Nawaz Sharif and India, the government, ISI, the army, the chimpanzees, the colour blue, and India. Why is the press calling it 'Our Mumbai'? It's not. It's my Lahore - and I'm having a pretty damn rough time dealing with this!<br /><br />Can we not for once stop absolving ourselves in this convenient manner. We need to be spending every living moment kicking our own behinds for our complacency and apathy. Take some responsibility! And for God's sake, stop asking God for help! Take SOME responsibility!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-8670144424122398975?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2009/03/why-blog-now.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-5901806007188877767Mon, 18 Aug 2008 11:43:00 +00002008-08-18T19:27:51.558+06:00politicsAs someone that has spent their teen years watching a Pakistan under Musharraf, this is the only era of Pakistan that I know from experience. All else that I know of my country comes from either a reading of history or speaking with those older than me.<br /><br />While today appears to reflect in some manner the series of events that led to a similar resignation of Ayub Khan almost 40 years ago, for me this experience was very new, and it leaves me with many thoughts, emotions and concerns.<br /><br />This post is no attempt to sum up the last 9 years, to analyze his successes or failures - political, economic or social, or a glorification of the Musharraf era or otherwise. It is a mere exercise in thinking aloud and reflecting on recent history and the future of this country.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1-KcJXUZDlY&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1-KcJXUZDlY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >Musharraf resigning - with English translation<br /></span></div><br /><br />Sitting at the student lounge at LUMS, I saw the small crowd erupt in an applause the moment the words (I translate), ".. in light of this, I am resigning from my post", were spoken by the now former President Musharraf.<br /><br />Almost 9 years ago, I had rejoiced in a similar manner seeing him oust Nawaz Sharif in a military-led coup. For years after that, I was a vehement supporter of the man and his policies, calling him a benevolent leader. I did buy into his charisma and the straightforward manner of his expression. I did appreciate the skill and confidence with which he carried the flag of the country internationally. I liked the easing relationship with India and I appreciated the moderate views he brought with him to office. My single bone to pick with him (big bone, that!) was the fact that he was an unelected military person, and for that, I opposed him in principle, while I did speak about voting for him, should he contest a direct national election.<br /><br />However, over the past year, I was the same person who had to switch sides due to Musharraf's actions on the judiciary and the state of emergency. I marched along the civil society, chanting 'Time to Go, Musharraf!', and I wore a black armband to register my silent protest, wherever I went and I protested the loss of civil liberties that are at the foundation of the social development of any nation.<br /><br />The country is bigger than one man, be it ANY man.<br /><br />So what does the future hold?<br /><br />He's probably going to remain in Pakistan. I don't see Musharraf being prosecuted as he has probably bargained his immunity in return for a resigning and preventing a lengthy and intense impeachment process. But it is now that the political focus will shift to the differences between the coalition parties PPP and PML-N. There will be massive horse-trading for the decision of who will succeed Musharraf and there is bound to be friction on other issues such as the restoration of the judiciary, the state of the economy, the War on Terror and so on..<br /><br />In any case, I am terribly concerned to the point of fear for the upheaval that lies ahead. I dread a Pakistan ruled by Zardari. Just like every other Pakistani, I truly do. But that may in fact be the price we have to pay to move ahead in the hope for democracy and the institutional development that is bound to come after this period of strife. Let me reiterate: It is GOOD to see the end of an era led by an unelected man. It is GOOD to see the remnants of military rule disappear for now. Musharraf, for all his true intentions, was the embodiment of both. It is GOOD to see hope return.<br /><br />Coming back into my classy little financial sector office, I reflect on the events of today while staring blankly at the stock market's graph for today. I guess popular sentiment wins the day.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://emad.nomadlife.org/uploaded_images/KSE100_18Aug08-743428.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 237px;" src="http://emad.nomadlife.org/uploaded_images/KSE100_18Aug08-743423.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >The Karachi Stock Exchange - 100 Index for today<br /></span></div><br /><br />There IS this one thing, though. I do hope to one day sit with Mr Musharraf and really talk about what was it that drove him through his term and what specifically was the thought process behind the events that took place in his last year. I hope to someday understand.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-5901806007188877767?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/08/end-of-era-initial-reactions.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-4169691233731236010Sat, 16 Aug 2008 09:59:00 +00002008-08-16T16:39:20.023+06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.erceg.biz/images/CIA/SMILEY%20WEB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 132px;" src="http://www.erceg.biz/images/CIA/SMILEY%20WEB.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Today's been one of those days you get up in the morning, and with a smile on your face you try to exude positive energy for the day. And then.. the universe begins to conspire against you. To test your resolve towards that positive energy. And you fail!<br /><br />You go to get your car thats lying with the workshop. It's not fixed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Fight or Flight?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Flight</span>. You ask the guy to make a temporary fix so you can use it for a few hours.<br /><br />You're driving to your next stop when standing at a traffic signal, a motorbike zooms by, hitting your sideview mirror. It's intact. You look at the biker who doesn't appear the least bit apologetic.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Fight or Flight?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Flight.</span> You smile and let it go. You still wanna save this day.<br /><br />You begin the pursuit of a 'Passport protector' - a ridiculous, pointless, mindnumbing, expensive, time consuming process that a Pakistani has to engage in when they are planning to start work internationally. Long story short, this was your 4th visit to that office and you had finally gotten all the documents and their exact number of photocopies and the bank receipts to submit your application. They tell you that your passport shall be returned to you in a few hours and that you had to sit for a compulsory 'Living outside Pakistan' briefing.. Sigh..<br /><br />So you go for the briefing which is a gruelling two hours of bullshit, about how you must be a responsible Pakistani, respect the law, pray 5 times, live in the religiously 'correct' manner (that was how the speaker described not sleepin around so you don't contract AIDS! Funny that this guy was still so uncomfortable with talking about it given he does the EVERY day for the last 15 years. Oh well!). You thank your lucky stars for being tech savvy and begin chatting randomly on Gtalk on your cell phone via eBuddy. Then there is a voice coming from an untidy, extremely corrupt looking official, 'Come get your passports now!'. The expected hoard of people begin throwing fists at each other in an effort to get ahead. You decide that you're better than this and you will wait for the nonsense to be over before you get yours. Funnily, yours is the first name thats called so you have to make your way through the mess of living breathing flesh that is between you and the window where your passport is being held hostage. You finally make it there, getting jabbed and pummeled by a few people on the way and stand there waiting for instructions. The grumby dimwit on the window tells you to stop wasting everyone's time, and you're like 'Woah?', still waiting for him to peacefully hand over your documents. He gives you a dirty look grabs your passport and throws it at your face.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Fight or Flight? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Flight.</span> Swearing under your breath you take your green booklet and walk off.<br /><br />Next stop's a photo studio. You want to print your some pictures of close friends to take with you. You go in and hand over your flash disk. The guy, who looks like he had been having domestic issues looks at you and says, 'No'. 'No?', you ask. 'No!', he reiterates.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Fight or Flight?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Flight.</span> You take your flash disk back and walk back to your car.<br /><br />Driving carefully, you look for a parking space in a congested market. You find one. You smile. You're patiently waiting for the exiting vehicle to peacefully be able to leave so you can replace yours in that space. Waiting. Waiting. BANG! You look at your rear view mirror and you see some random striker has decided to hit your car. You get out, still trying to keep your composure to expect the damage. You look at the person in the car and it's a gray haired old man with a family. You smile and you say, 'Please be careful, Sir. You could hurt someone.' You've been brought up to respect gray haired dudes as a general rule. Of course, it doesn't work vice versa. He starts screaming at you for having stopped like that. You continue to be polite and tell him to walk away without incident even though its his fault. He curses at you loudly.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Fight or Flight? </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.gifs.net/Animation11/Animals/Primates_and_Monkeys/cartoon_gorilla.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.gifs.net/Animation11/Animals/Primates_and_Monkeys/cartoon_gorilla.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Fight!</span> You blow your lid. Within a matter of moments you transform from the cool headed, sweet talking, respectful young man, to a street style, pissed off, flustered, growling, visibily furious person. You are ready to bash his head into the pavement for swearing at you when you were being so polite and when it was his fault. His family hold him back as he makes a symbolic attempt to come out of the car and lock horns with you. You're ready! His eyes give him away. He isn't. You let him walk away.<br /><br />You park at your prized spot, and go into the departmental store to pick up a new perfume. The guy at the counter is no eager beaver. You ask him if he has the brand you want. You can see it behind him on the shelf. He looks around, and says he doesn't. You point it out. He says, 'No'. 'No?', you ask? 'No!', he reiterates.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Fight or Flight?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Flight.</span> You're done dealing with these morons. You'll come back another day.<br /><br />On your way home of course, a car decides to come outta nowhere head-on on the wrong side of the road. You swirl outta it's way just in time and it clips your side view mirror. It shatters into a million pieces, as glass flies directly towards your face. Thanks to your sunglasses, you can still see as you type this post.<br /><br />You're now going to go hide under a quilt and wait for this day to pass without further event. Good luck to you!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-4169691233731236010?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/08/primal-instincts.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-4443974753229192698Fri, 15 Aug 2008 18:57:00 +00002008-08-16T01:00:37.436+06:00My Nokia N70 decided a couple of days ago to stop notifying me when I would get new messages or missed calls. You have NO idea how annoying that can be.<br /><br />96 hours of software updates and reading every forum out there, all I could find was that there were others with the same problem and no known fixes existed! Sigh.. After trial and error, I figured the only way to fix this was to delete ALL my text messages. Now I feel like a year of my history has been erased - 2800+ msgs..<br /><br />This sucks more than anything that has ever sucked before!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-4443974753229192698?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/08/truly-tragic.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-6219355745751122480Thu, 07 Aug 2008 18:26:00 +00002008-08-08T00:44:33.799+06:00politicsChain of events that might be possible in the next few weeks:<br /><br />1. Musharraf's impeachment begins<br />2. Musharraf restores judges, NRO potentially gets thrown out<br />3. Impeachment fails<br />4. Musharraf used the constitutional clause to dissolve parliament (saying I gave them a chance but they ruined the country)<br />5. Musharraf resigns taking a moral high ground making (4) look selfless<br />6. Caretaker government formed. Military plays a role in constituting it.<br />7. Caretaker government files a petition with the Supreme Court to not have re-elections in 90 days since the political atmosphere does not allow for elections.<br />8. Caretaker government spends 1-3 years in office, being run behind the curtains by the military.<br />9. Stability returns<br />10. Possible chance of assassination attempts on Nawaz/Shahbaz or Nawaz getting back in power as he has a clear victory in this chapter<br /><br />Word has it that Benazir's son, Bilawal, who is co-Chairman of the PPP has refused to sign a power of attorney to Zardari saying, 'Mama said no!'. Her daughter recently tried to commit suicide and the kids are all against him. Breakup of the PPP is a potential outcome.<br /><br />Of course certain things such as the Taleban situation, relations with India, etc. still remain in the open..<br /><br />This I-day, I pray for my country..!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-6219355745751122480?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/08/theory-time.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-7950346747048573359Wed, 06 Aug 2008 11:22:00 +00002008-08-06T17:28:32.152+06:00politicsThe politics in Pakistan are about to take a real interesting turn. The PPP and PML-N, leading parties of the coalition have reached a consensus on impeaching Musharraf. Reports just coming in that Musharraf, in an act of self-defense, has signed the order for restoration of the judges of the Sindh High Court.<br /><br />Now, the controvesial National Reconciliation Ordinance (NRO), that protects Zardari, Kingpin from the PPP, is under direct threat due to judges being back. Musharraf is making a point saying, you mess with me, I KEEEEL you!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"God makes dinosaur. God kills dinosaur. God make man. Man makes dinosaur. Dinosaur kills man." <span style="font-style: italic;">(Jurassic Park)</span></span></span><br /><br />What be happen now!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-7950346747048573359?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/08/round-1-fight.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-514714505770190959Sat, 02 Aug 2008 10:16:00 +00002008-08-02T16:31:01.325+06:00politicsOver the last couple of days, a lot of things have spun out of proportion in Pakistani foreign relations. The latest episode is where the heat is on the ISI for playing a malicious role. It's really all a big mess. I am pretty pro intelligence reform but the nature of these organizations whether they are called ISI, CIA, Mossad, RAW, KGB and so on will always remain rather shady.<br /><br />There's a lot of negative news coming out of Pakistan and I felt a great sense of grief while writing <a href="http://www.voicesoftomorrow.org/420/international/pakistan---unkept-promises-and-shattered-hopes.php">this article for Voices</a>. I certainly hope more than anything else, I am able to one day write about success and prosperity, the way I have had to write about despair and failure.<br /><br />In 12 days, this country turns 61 yrs old. Perhaps, now.. A little less conversation, a little more action required for Pakistan. There <span style="font-style: italic;">is </span>light at the end of the tunnel.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://we.linkmuslims.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/pakistanflag.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://we.linkmuslims.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/pakistanflag.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-514714505770190959?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/08/world-peace-starts-at-home.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-4149000393482917910Sat, 26 Jul 2008 09:03:00 +00002008-07-26T15:29:02.385+06:00F5Given the suggestion of an awesome friend, I figured, I'd post my own little list of people I would like to structure hell for:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Types of People who will have special, customized place in hell for them</span><br /><br /><ol><li>Aunties in South Asia that insist on asking young people when they will get married</li><li>People who continue to tell me how awesome Dark Knight is, knowing fully well I do not have access to it</li><li>Drivers that choose to constantly drive with high beams on</li><li>Visa Officers</li><li>Incompetent people at work that give each other continuous and needless credit and praise</li><li>Editors that make 'little changes' to my written pieces without consent<br /></li></ol><span style="font-size:78%;">(It's still Friday in some part of the world when I post this, I hope! And I know they're not five. Deal with it.)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-4149000393482917910?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/07/hell-structure-task-force-1st-meetings.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-7609309339180757896Sun, 22 Jun 2008 07:54:00 +00002008-06-22T14:00:11.028+06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.comics.com/comics/pearls/archive/images/pearls2008305650619.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 429px; height: 158px;" src="http://www.comics.com/comics/pearls/archive/images/pearls2008305650619.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-7609309339180757896?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/06/apt.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35121240.post-3425070266410544733Fri, 13 Jun 2008 17:13:00 +00002008-06-13T23:36:17.435+06:00F5Sticking to the theme then..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Five Incessant Fears I Live With</span><br /><ol><li>Apathy - I no longer want to make a difference/change the world<br /></li><li>All my closest friends would be married and the peer pressure builds while I continue to blindly pursue 'the perfect one' for me</li><li>Balding/Deteriorating Eyesight Combo<br /></li><li>Alzheimer's.. My memories are too precious to me</li><li>Waking up in a coffin having been buried alive - bad case of claustrophobia</li></ol>A bit morbid, that last one.. sorry!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35121240-3425070266410544733?l=emad.nomadlife.org' alt='' /></div>http://emad.nomadlife.org/2008/06/friday-13th.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (E)5