tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67284149236598775392012-02-11T12:02:32.093-08:00Beebly's WorldArimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.comBlogger651100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-64497591905736418722011-12-23T13:39:00.000-08:002011-12-23T13:39:01.341-08:00

(I know it's dreadfully late and I should be in bed but...) I was reading my Urdu blog and don't know what motivated me to click the translate to English button, but I did. And here's the result: More to the Planning پتا نہیں کیوں آج کل مجھ پہ تک بندیوں کا دورہ سا پڑ گیا ہے۔ بیٹھے بیٹھے عجیب وغریب ہونق قسم کے آئیڈیاز کی بھرمار اس کے علاوہ ہے۔ بہرحال، مزید تک بندی حاضر خدمت ہے، تاکہ عوام الناس کو

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-3647719143133379372011-12-18T02:02:00.000-08:002011-12-18T02:02:09.798-08:00

1. Heartache cure pill: (Not to be confused with coronary diseases!) There should be a magic pill for heartache. Once you swallow it, you stop being hurt. 2. Fill the void pill : A pill that instantly heals the heartache and fills the void left by the departure of a loved one, especially recommended when a loved one passes away. But of course it can have multiple uses. 3.

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-53788588232282914312011-12-13T13:30:00.000-08:002011-12-13T13:30:49.665-08:00

Dancing Fountains at the Dubai Mall Another picture of the same The Burj Khalifa itself

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-26418960760535424352011-11-25T13:16:00.000-08:002011-11-25T13:16:11.500-08:00

It seems as if this happened eons ago, but I still remember the way weddings used to be in our childhood. First they would put up those hideous yellow tents in the middle of a busy street or thoroughfare, leaving the tiniest gap on either side so that those stubborn folks (or lazy ones?) could negotiate a way, rather than using a different  way or by alley. Next would be the red, yellow, green

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-38098399369945761352011-07-14T14:21:00.000-07:002011-07-14T14:21:05.934-07:00

A few years back, a friend lent me this collection of short stories by Rudyard Kipling. When I returned it to her, she asked me what I thought of it. "it's very boring. Didn't like it at all." She sounded very surprised and disappointed and said, "oh, the blurb made it sound really interesting and I was looking forward to reading it."  Perhaps a more honest reply should have been it completely

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-28821586734624722952011-05-01T02:38:00.000-07:002011-05-01T02:38:44.871-07:00

Thank you so much Phupha jan. I really appreciate your appreciation of my photo. My abba and amma also appreciate your appreciation. Abba had put up my photo as his profile picture, but I was surprised to see that you had posted it on you wall. Now I can almost walk, but I pretend not to, otherwise my parents will have one less thing to bug me about. I have also completed a year long course in

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-34189424317658644002011-04-05T13:58:00.000-07:002011-04-05T13:58:43.644-07:00

It's such a depressing thought. There was a time when I used to enjoy writing. It used to be such a pleasurable hobby, even if the only person who read it was me. I was just going through my older posts, and realized that my favourite pieces had been written way back in time. And April 2009 was possibly the funnest month of writing for me. Now I cannot even imagine writing something like "The

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-29275698216369031792011-04-05T13:43:00.000-07:002011-04-05T13:43:14.158-07:00

Lately I have been haunted by these, and while I have tried to think of a coherent way to articulate them, somehow I have been unable to do it. It is as if my mind has gone numb. And since they are so random, there is obviously no order, method or even connection amongst them. Patriotism doesn't mean that you have to think that your country or community or whatever it is that you are loyal to is

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-20464529326406861272011-03-22T15:55:00.000-07:002011-03-22T15:55:21.631-07:00

I wouldn't say this is my fondest memory of her, but that is one of the days that I remember most vividly. We were in our classroom, (grade 8th). Everyone had just been back from the recess and we usually felt very lazy after the half hour break, so no one was too keen on completing the tasks assigned by our class incharge Mrs. Dar (may her soul rest in peace). It was one monotonous day, and

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-10266980858026770282010-07-02T13:42:00.000-07:002010-07-02T13:42:52.926-07:00

Once upon a time, A. and I went to the Dubai mall to see the much talked about aquarium. (In fact, wasn't that sometimes last year?) It's definitely huge and it's amazing how they have managed to get so many different varieties of fish. The ones which most fascinated me were the sharks of course. Then there were shoals of beautiful little fish which swam up and down gracefully. Pretty spectacular

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-20623899618332690702010-06-29T04:52:00.000-07:002010-06-29T04:53:26.164-07:00

Why is it that:  If you go to a dawat they have to have two dozen dishes on the table when it should be quite obvious that no normal human being can eat and or enjoy so many dishes at one time. And anyway, isn't that a terrible waste of food??? On the other hand, another unwritten law is that as a guest you must refuse any thing that you are offered several times before you concede to your hosts

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-27540382670405590562010-06-27T13:25:00.000-07:002010-06-27T13:27:40.906-07:00

On my recent trip to Pakistan, I happened to drop in a ladies beauty salon for a few minutes. Both of us had just been to see a doctor who also happens to be an old acquaintance, On our way back to home, she said she wanted to make a quick and brief stop at the neighbourhood salon and I happily agreed. After all, even if you don't need anything done, what can be more fun than seeing other fellow

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-83948852599077444662010-06-27T03:36:00.000-07:002010-06-27T03:36:30.666-07:00

Now this is an ordinary story about an ordinary man. And he had a very ordinary name too, Chiragh Deen. Like most ordinary men Chiragh Deen had lots of children and a wife. He would have liked to have more wives and fewer kids, but that was not to be. However, what he wanted more than anything else in his life was to have electricity in his village, which was a very small village named Roshan

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-74617558321920289302010-06-25T13:41:00.000-07:002010-06-27T12:04:57.005-07:00

I cannot be too exact, since I don't know much about time and watches yet, but I assume it's 7:00 A.M when I normally wake up. It's really hot and bright outside, and the sunlight barges into the room despite the thick curtains. My mom is still asleep, I patiently wait for her to wake up. Usually I give her a couple of minutes  to notice that I am up), however if she continues to sleep I have to

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-72410187850909760942010-01-26T09:01:00.000-08:002010-01-26T09:04:57.888-08:00

When my cousin Talha's uncle came to visit and brought about a dozen tennis balls for him; his joy knew no bounds. And, it was instantly decided that we should play a game of cricket. Cricket is said to be gentlemen's game. Talha hardly qualified, if we are to judge by that strict standard. Because, being just 4 ½ years old, the prospects of manhood for him were still years away. Besides, all

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-33014553097745217892010-01-21T08:21:00.000-08:002010-01-24T23:08:13.509-08:00

The Exorcists The smoke of the cigarettes had filled the entire room to the point of suffocation. The room was tightly packed with various people; men, women, and kids. Some were the relatives of the mad-looking woman, about whom it was being said she was possessed by a jinn. Most kids though were hanging about out of sheer curiosity. Some were sitting on the few chairs in the room, a few

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-21883667698202936882010-01-19T08:42:00.000-08:002010-01-19T08:42:43.793-08:00

The Faithful: The Road to Paradise The sun had set and the darkness was descending slowly but surely to enshroud the village. A few screeching sounds and the loud speaker came to life. “Gentlemen! The date palm of the mosque has lost its keys. If anyone finds them, please to return them, thank you.” Obviously the announcer had been either too panicked, or in too much of a hurry. So instead of

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-45395216301962993852010-01-18T01:01:00.000-08:002010-01-18T01:01:33.925-08:00

An American friend asked my father to describe how a Pakistani village looks from the air and he said, “All Pakistani villages look the same from the air: a few houses and a mosque surrounded by a few fields”. They look very different from the ground though. And the most wonderful thing about them is that they are inhabited by people of diverse natures. You pick out any one of them, and each

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-18154982667598398312010-01-14T08:25:00.000-08:002010-01-14T08:50:11.997-08:00

The other day I decided to fish out one of my older bags out of the dark recesses of the cupboard and put it to use again. The reason was?Well nothing really. The bag I was currently using was small and couldn't hold the heap of things that I have to carry with me all the time. Interestingly enough, I found a 50 Dhs. note and a handful of coins in it, along with an old, battered anthology of

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-24266237281968056682010-01-06T23:45:00.001-08:002010-01-08T06:10:55.111-08:00

A View of Old Navy Harbour at Khasab from the dhowEmerald Green Waters of the FjordAnother dhow on its way The "Hello Mr. Dolphin" kid with his father and our Captain Qanaha: A fishermen's villageThe mountains reflected in the still waters of the sea "The Alligator Island" (named by A.) Scenic view (sorry for lack of creativity!) More Scenic beauty Our dhow from top of the Telegraph Island Ruins

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-15999467074899317782010-01-06T23:45:00.000-08:002010-01-07T00:39:23.292-08:00

We stayed in the dolphinarium for about half an hour. Then we had to move forward to our next stop, the Seebi island. Another round of snorkeling and swimming followed. A. had changed from his bathing outfit to his own clothes, and he regretted it now. Because that meant getting locked in the tiny bathroom in the corner of the dhow yet again for changing. At first he even reasoned if it were

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-66378568339345248742010-01-04T00:22:00.002-08:002010-01-05T01:07:27.226-08:00

A. was gone for a good half an hour for snorkeling and swimming. The fat south Indian guy was back and was busy interviewing the (presumably) Central European father, who had two cute little kids with him. "How old is this one?" he asked in a school masterly fashion about the young boy dressed in an orange t-shirt. (I am sure everyone knows what a school masterly or alternately a headmistressy

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-11436488026098617672010-01-04T00:22:00.001-08:002010-01-04T06:46:01.845-08:00

Geographically speaking, Musandam is an exclave of Oman, which is separated from rest of the country by United Arab Emirates. That means that we weren't on the mainland of Oman, where Muscat and all the other major cities of Oman are situated. Four wilayats (districts) form the Musandam governorate:1. Al Bhukha2. Khasab3. Dibba Al Bayah4. MadhaThe dhow cruise we were on started from Khasab,

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-14231909465213360672010-01-04T00:22:00.000-08:002010-01-04T06:47:59.900-08:00

Do you remember the days when we were at school and were always expected to write essays on topics like 'A trip/visit to Jahangir's Fort'. In fact, I don't remember seeing any other topic, for some reason, the examiners and those who designed the 'guide' books seemed to be enamoured by Jahangir's fort, whereas, there are many more exciting places in Lahore!Anyway, this blog entry is not about

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-88265828214683571842009-12-31T08:32:00.000-08:002009-12-31T08:48:54.419-08:00

It's the end of year again. A time when people usually take stock of the last year, make plans and resolutions about the new year and create top ten or top five or top whatever list of the best and the worst. There is something about the last day of the year which makes us all suddenly conscious of all that has been done or should have been done, and then we suddenly resolve to attain it next

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-29689031416604293082009-12-29T00:22:00.000-08:002009-12-29T08:00:00.580-08:00

Recently I have had to go to a lot of baby/kids store, to buy something or other for the babies/kids in the family, of whom there seems to be an infinite variety masha Allah. Anyway, what I noticed, though I was already aware of it was the 'color divide'. How everything for the boys had to be in blue, and every single thing for the girls was in pink. Not only that, it was hard to find anything in

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-60031152431357955182009-12-17T02:32:00.000-08:002009-12-17T02:42:20.748-08:00

I remember the nursery rhyme "rain, rain go away....little Johnny wants to play", and while I understand and totally respect little Johnny's views, I cannot help but chant rain, rain come again!Last weekend it rained in the UAE. It lasted for only 2 days, but on those two days the temperature went down a few degrees and it was nicely cool and pleasant. But by the time the ever optimistic me

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-9077966724547499682009-12-12T11:08:00.000-08:002009-12-12T11:23:34.106-08:00

I have become a bad communicator. I don't always reply to emails/text messages. Cannot remember the last time I wrote a letter. Normally I don't call people that frequently, and occasionally I don't pick up my phone or return calls.There was a time when I would not only remember every one's birthday, but would actually go to the trouble of going to the bookstore and buy nice greeting cards, be

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-37737586744713665442009-11-04T08:18:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:20:35.592-08:00

For years I had been wondering what this word meant. Initially I even suspected it was 'rab da', but somehow couldn't figure out the meaning. Funnily enough, I discovered the meaning looking up vagrant in dictionary. And even funnier is the fact that it's a book about human rights.Rum world we live in. You think you are doing work and learning more about human rights, and then eventually you

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-61225275256707880962009-09-10T10:11:00.000-07:002009-09-10T10:15:49.476-07:00

It was another hot summer day. Don't remember if it were the summer of the same year, or the next, or of the previous summer. (Irrelevant detail: summers are my favourite time of the year, and almost all my fond memories belong to that blessed season!)When it comes to food, I have always been a bit greedy. It's very easy for me to put an average glutton to shame. Hence, whenever I got some free

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-63237195439423854262009-09-08T00:33:00.000-07:002009-09-08T00:35:15.865-07:00

Today out of blue, I thought of those two people again. I often think about them. I do not know them. To me they are nameless, and in one case 'faceless' stranger(s). Yet, there are many times when I am reminded of their thoughtful acts.Memory 1It was one of those hot summer days. We had unfortunately left our class a little too late. And hence missed the 'point'. The points or our university

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-17894683171735865042009-08-30T12:21:00.000-07:002009-08-30T12:23:34.207-07:00

There's a glassful of beer in front of me, but I cannot bring myself to drink it. It's got nothing to do with religious/moral scruples(it's non-alcoholic!) but I just hate the very sight and smell of it. Then why am I contemplating it?I fasted on day 1 of Ramadan but was miserable by the afternoon, thanks to my kidney which couldn't have picked a worst time to 'act up'. So I am not fasting any

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-19266133871107128012009-08-21T05:33:00.000-07:002009-08-21T05:36:47.719-07:00

For the umpteenth time today, I upset the whirling dervishes. It was a pure stroke of luck that they were saved from crashing down to the floor and breaking in a million pieces. This however is neither the first time when I nearly toppled them, nor I suspect the last. Let's see how long will fortune favour them.I wonder if they have a charmed life.

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-18473419473562317422009-07-21T03:09:00.001-07:002009-07-21T09:11:31.111-07:00

6. Trains: Before you exclaim that Pakistani trains have been the same since the beginning of British railways in the sub continent, and how can I possibly complain of any change in that sphere, let me remind you that this list is mostly about not the changes in things themselves but rather how my perception of them has changed. Besides, the Pakistan Railways have changed, for worse. My earliest

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-7506075721767068792009-07-20T09:17:00.000-07:002009-07-21T08:22:22.606-07:00

The problem for people afflicted with nostalgia is that they spend so much time wallowing in the 'golden past' that there is scarcely any time left for present or future endeavours. Anyway, this is a list of 10 things that never will be again in my life. Ten such things which one fondly remembers, but knows that they will never be the same again.1. Our Family: To be quite frank, all of us

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-69269910129889568302009-07-16T00:11:00.000-07:002009-07-16T02:42:51.137-07:00

It's been almost a week since we moved, and our house still looks like a transit area. Things are lying in disorderly heaps, in every available corner. And from the looks of it, it will be still some time before our new apartment takes the semblance of a home. I am sure everyone must be sick of the number of times I have repeated how much I miss the old place. Well, at least one thing can be said

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-68711214807697570162009-07-15T02:25:00.001-07:002009-07-15T02:58:10.481-07:00

This weekend(or would that be last? since the weekend is almost here again) we moved to a new apartment building. Special features of this apartment building are: it's taller, our apartment is larger than the older one, we have an extra bathroom, and a much bigger kitchen etc. etc. But, I miss my old apartment like anything! Also, if you take a closer look, most of the new/special features are

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-43463384573356771532009-07-09T03:28:00.000-07:002009-07-16T03:05:46.817-07:00

Someone in my apartment building is cooking biryani and a tantalizing aroma is wafting in our home. It's driving me crazy! Now I am craving for that biryani like anything.Apart from coveting what doesn't rightfully belong to me(yani my neighbour's biryani) I am also wondering how true is the statement that pulao is like classical music, and biryani is rock.(read it somewhere).Also, someone else

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-12971619355586293972009-07-08T06:32:00.000-07:002009-07-16T03:05:46.817-07:00

In my earlier post, I mistakenly described the ugly coin holder as being a golden and black monstrosity. In fact, it is dark brown, golden and beige. Another misreported fact was that the coin holding stuff is on its head, whereas it is on the elephants back.Other finer points include the fake looking, golden coins of various sizes (with a dollar sign on each one of them) that form a circle on

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-34398780159442384682009-07-08T05:43:00.000-07:002009-07-16T03:05:46.817-07:00

We don't. Especially if it is a hideous elephant shaped coin holder: black elephants that have golden coin 'holes' on their head. Ugh. Also the golden hole-like thingies are so small that you can barely put any coins in them. If by any means you succeed in achieving the feat of putting a metallic piece of money in there. I would love to watch a video of you trying to get it out.The main purpose

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-75418033699069132362009-07-02T02:30:00.000-07:002009-07-02T02:49:06.191-07:00

This is another one of my favourite point to ponder upon. Are we spiritually connected to certain places? And I will tell you why. There are certain places towards which I feel a deep emotional bond: my gaon for instance, my old school, our old home in Fujairah, and some other places too. But the bond with the gaon is the strongest.This leads me to wonder if people have a special bond or

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-9679240304958172672009-07-01T05:53:00.001-07:002009-07-16T03:05:46.818-07:00

Yesterday, I decided to respond to a job posting on web. Considering that the current project is completed and I wasn't over anxious to work with the EPM again, this seemed like a good idea. Then came trouble. (Sort of)First, I sent the resume and an email in which I had tried to convince the potential client that I was the best thing to have happened to them. After sending the email, I realized

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-68157766521339250652009-07-01T05:19:00.000-07:002009-07-16T03:05:46.818-07:00

I casually mentioned imagined pain, because it seemed like a good adjective to add to the list:DHowever, sometimes pain can really be imagined. I think we've discussed this before(off Beebly). This is because our brain relies on 'maps'. Our brain has to perform so many complex tasks and commands every second! Therefore, sometimes in order to save time(sorry for my lousy choice of expression, but

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-65154726537504339402009-06-30T07:05:00.000-07:002009-07-16T03:05:46.818-07:00

Perhaps the title is a bit misleading, this is not a scientific treatise after all. Nor can what I am going to narrate, strictly be called a syndrome. (I will come to the reason of why I am discussing this at the end)However, this topic has constantly intrigued me. Namely, the consciousness of pain.This includes all forms of pain: physical, psychological, imagined, supposed pain etc.etc. This

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-42374284745070864602009-06-30T02:49:00.001-07:002009-06-30T02:51:02.660-07:00

Okay, I had been meaning to share this one for a while. Because I think it's really hilarious.

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-70629691984553291202009-06-30T00:33:00.000-07:002009-07-01T05:49:44.379-07:00

For quite some time, I stuck to what everyone else thought was a garish and gaudy green...because I felt like it! Now I am changing it to blue. The obvious reason is that I am out of the 'green mood' and am in a 'blue mood/mode'.I hope the readers will appreciate the change of colour, I personally would prefer to have a larger font and a little bit more 'brightness' to liven up things.Update on

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-47460048751307485532009-06-26T12:35:00.000-07:002009-07-01T05:49:12.474-07:00

It's been really long since I last wrote anything(seriously) on Beebly. As 'everyone' knows why I was busy, need I go into details? But thank God, finally I am free again. The irksome part is that when I was 'bisy' I had so many things in my mind I had meant to write about, but didn't have the time to even so much as look at my blog. And now somehow all the ideas have leaked right out of my '

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-71271432967698576632009-06-24T12:32:00.000-07:002009-06-24T12:33:39.102-07:00

...that all these so called advice,self-help books, training courses, manuals, guide books....in short everything that I translate is useless! Point in case, I have wasted a lot more time ever since I started doing 'Time Management'!

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-33175654056751081702009-06-24T08:03:00.000-07:002009-06-24T08:08:11.849-07:00

For those who think that that Beebly has been 'abandoned' I only want to say that "It is not! I am freakingly busy"!On top of that, I had to spend a good half hour to try to log into my account. Stupid gmail people. I hates you even more than evil PMs.(PM is evil project manager, not prime minister, although he is not any good either).The ironic part is that right now I am translating "Time

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-16202241063664459812009-06-03T09:15:00.000-07:002009-06-03T09:30:01.057-07:00

Today I discovered a new comic strip, the misadventures of a translator Mox. When I read them, I felt that Mox must be my twin. The one above is my favourite so far. I wonder how relevant will the 'jokes' be to anyone outside the translation industry, but I found them highly amusing. There are so many amusing experiences one has as a freelance translator. Here's the link for those of you who may

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-91122353788174932742009-06-03T09:05:00.000-07:002009-06-03T09:12:44.167-07:00

I just noticed that I had been absent from my blog for over 1 month! The trip to Pakistan was not merely a journey from one geographical location to another. But it was an emotional journey as well, and perhaps at some level spiritual too.Funnily enough, I experienced an 'epiphany' while reading Angels and Demons. Fancy that! I guess my love/hate relationship with Dan Brown continues. By the way,

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-10846600996897157412009-04-29T08:21:00.000-07:002009-04-29T22:03:08.661-07:00

My best friend is getting married next month! I have mixed emotions. I am very happy for her, because insha Allah it will be a positive change in her life, but I also wonder if we will 'move apart'.We have been friends for so many years that I don't even remember the first time I met her. In fact, there wasn't much choice. We are related, and she happens to be a sort of aunt to me. However, since

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-66693408185387549542009-04-29T01:38:00.001-07:002009-04-29T22:06:02.807-07:00

This has always been one of my favourite idiomatic phrases.So I thought I would put it up as a title, despite being aware of how cliched that would sound.Anyway, I am flying home on Sunday! Air travel has always been my least favourite mode of travelling. Because:I hate the fact that some third party (the airline) dictates what time shall I leave my home in order to get to the airport on time.

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-56360283700901748582009-04-15T12:55:00.000-07:002009-04-29T22:06:02.807-07:00

The other day, was talking to one of my favourite nephews and suddenly he popped the question, "Do you like cricket?"I said I used to like it at one time but have gradually lost interest. His very next question was, "Do you know about IPL?"For a while, I was fazed. Then I recollected hazily something about IPL that I had watched on a reality show. It distrubed me that I had reached a point where

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-34228759682934355932009-04-15T12:33:00.001-07:002009-04-29T22:06:02.807-07:00

Have you ever noticed that when the urge to waste the time is stronger when there is some important stuff pending? And the more important the task, greater the temptation is. Multiply this urge-to-do-nothing-or-something-else with four if the task in hand is related to your job. And by 7 if there is a tight deadline. Why do we procrastinate? What is the rationale behind staying in bed another

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-56282849093530799802009-04-09T14:54:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:32:56.398-07:00

While browsing, I momentarily paused to watch an Arabic movie. It was remarkably similar to the lollywood and bollywood movies. The complete package, the dashing, swashbuckling hero; the coy and attractive heroine, with just the right amount of modesty and timidity; the buffoon; the eternal typecast fat lady who is there for being laughed at by everyone, and never seems to mind it because she is

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-47027299781081751922009-04-09T14:45:00.000-07:002009-04-10T02:09:29.772-07:00

Now I don't know whether you can properly view this article here. If not, I suggest just save it on your PC and read it. It's worth a read. Interestingly enough, found this while browsing the web on a blog. Of none other than the illustrious Mr. Bachhan. He was fuming over the article. I found it a bit pathetic that the editors of the paper were so abjectly obsequious. Ironically enough, Mr.

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-44956776574647355202009-04-09T14:07:00.000-07:002009-04-10T02:09:29.032-07:00

Everyone is familiar with the exotic and innovative creations that TV shops(or whatever they are called) try to sell you. They try everything in their power to convince you that their product is the height of sophistication. On seeing such ads, the average viewer is reduced to feeling guilty and is ashamed for not having enough knowledge about the leaps of modern science. Some, the more gullible

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-23263139096182305352009-04-09T09:35:00.000-07:002009-04-10T15:25:53.520-07:00

How many of you remember the essay "Of Guests and Hosts"? I really loved it.I suddenly remembered of it out of nowhere. Or maybe some events triggered the memory, and it surfaced to the top out of the deep, deep sea that is called the subconsious.(Or is that uncoscnious?)Yesterday, I smsed 3 different people asking them to come over for lunch on Friday. Every single one of them refused. Now if

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-45824982142502591582009-04-07T22:34:00.000-07:002009-04-08T02:00:31.929-07:00

I want my name up in the Guiness Book of World Records!Have you ever met anyone who has had a bank account for more than 3 years; who has transacted thousands if not hundreds of thousands through their bank account and have still not been even outside a bank? That person is me!Now don't start and exclaim that it is not possible. How can one have a bank account without ever going to one?How can

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-25871759530417310982009-04-06T06:01:00.000-07:002009-04-06T09:05:14.270-07:00

We watched Slumdog Millionaire last night. I had borrowed a dvd from my brother and we had been meaning to watch it for past two weeks.You must have had enough of Slumdog Millionaire by now. Actually, given the hype and the kind of coverage it is getting all over the media, I didn't expect much from the movie.Of course I had heard of the movie, and had sworn not to watch it ever since I learnt

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-64194967591200957402009-04-04T00:30:00.000-07:002010-07-02T14:06:03.929-07:00

Last night, we decided to walk to the beach. We both have more or less a sedentary lifestyle, thanks to the nature of our 'jobs'. Walking to the beach seemed like a really good idea. Especially because it has been raining here quite frequently in past ten days. The temperature is several degrees down than it is normally at this time of year. The weather is generally pleasant these days. And the

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-29096636262307964242009-04-03T04:21:00.000-07:002009-04-03T04:59:55.267-07:00

Every Friday, A. hurries to buy newspaper for me before he leaves for office.Initially, he used to forget to buy it and I had to remind him several times on Thursday night. Now it's the other way around. I forget that it's Friday but he remembers. So, while I am busy fixing the breakfast he slips out to buy a paper. Or if there isn't enough time for that, he simple goes to the nearby grocery shop

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-10158792254163837362009-04-01T06:37:00.000-07:002009-04-01T07:07:22.670-07:00

The readers of "Notes From Karachi and All Over" will recognize the 'author' .For the rest, I have only one advice....happy reading! By the way, this is the April 2008 issue which was never issued(forgive the pun).The fact that it's incomplete should serve as an explantion as to why it never made its way to your mailboxes."Whoever said good things in the world do not last?Here is another issue of

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6728414923659877539.post-71818441761840476102009-03-31T02:31:00.000-07:002009-03-31T06:15:30.091-07:00

This is what happened the other day. There was a door-to-door salesman, who wanted to sell me books at very great price. But alas, I didn't avail myself of such a golden chance and closed the portal of knowledge quite unceremoniously.Too many salesmen keep invading this building. It surprises me; we never saw such people in Fujairah. So I wonder why this building is so 'special'.And on top of

Arimashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16165208555581010751noreply@blogger.com7