Pakistan in Tees....(continued)

And here are my personal favourites. Photo and caption courtesy www.uth-oye.com.

Dude! Where’s My Country?!
Ashton just lost his car. This poor guy lost a whole country to mediocre half-wits. Imagine his plight.

Man on the Moon:
Our version of history would’ve read something like this: “One small step for man, One giant leap for ……Holy @#$%! What the hell is that?!”

Devolution
Charles Darwin first recorded the appearance of these strange seemingly human creatures in the Galapagos Islands, but they bribed him into leaving them undocumented. They look and feel just like real human beings, but they have no heart. Or a soul. Or a conscience. Or a sense of humor.

My Fair Ladies…

As I was cleaning my fairly messy cupboard the other day, I stumbled upon a piece of evidence which reminded me of my rather special membership to an exclusive woman’s domain. Almost immediately, it also dawned on me that I had been booted out of the exclusive domain by My Fair Ladies – who were anything but fair or fair to begin with.

Not that I chose to be a member. My Fair Ladies invited me to bridge the great “Them” and “Us” divide. I did and hated every minute of it. I know I wasn’t the only one hating it, there were others like me too, but, of course, they were more “Them” than “Us” so they put their plastic-wares to optimum use.

I sat through the ceremonies month after month, almost always reminded of my lessons in the sociological concept of power – as opposed to physical or political power. I marvelled at the way My Fair Ladies maintained the “Them” and “Us” divide and at times shuddered at the muscle of proxy hierarchies.

I was too caught up with life to notice that I hadn’t been with My Fair Ladies the past few months. Now that I have, I am happy that I am done with my lessons in herringbone weaves and semi-precious wares – literally and metaphorically.

Thank you My Fair Ladies for letting me be! 

Pakistan in six Tees....

Say it again, Sam!

Sam

Some people just happen in your life – and Sam is one of them. Even though we’ve never met (unlikely that we ever will) and have spoken on the phone for all of 180 seconds only once, Sam has become my anchor of sorts on this side of the Indus.

I had no clue about Sam’s existence till someone completely unknown to me inboxed me her number with this message: “If you really want your cats adopted -- contact Sam.”

I did.

Within hours Sam was texting numbers of friends who could help. I was touched. I corresponded with the few animal lovers she had lined up. Sadly, almost all, felt love only for the pure breeds.

Sam and I connected on Facebook and I was surprised to see my cat picture as her display picture. From her Facebook profile, Sam seemed like a bubbly girl who packed a lot in this lifetime – sang, wrote, acted, modelled, was a human and animal rights activist and a media person. In between she also made time to cuddle her feline friends -- 17 at last count!

Three weeks later, none of my cats were adopted. The lone woman, who showed up at my house to take a kitten for her son, was chased away by my personal Pakistani bodyguard aka Bond Bhai. I gave up. Not Sam. She decided to take charge and posted about my cats in virtual hangouts I hadn’t heard of and kept the fire burning.

While I would get angry with smart alecs who wanted to know the breed of my cats, (all rescues, like Sam’s, and hence not the favoured Persian, Siamese or Burmese breeds), Sam smartly placed them as Abyssinians – confusing animal lovers who reserve their love only for the right breeds.

Somewhere along the way I learnt Sam’s full name. On request, she posted me a link to her music video and it suddenly dawned on me that Sam was a celeb or sorts. Then came another link to another music video and she also let me access her pictures on Facebook – mostly stills from her modeling assignments. I learnt that she did a lot of live performances, besides acting on stage and TV. I also learnt that she liked John Abraham. Not for his looks, but because he seemed to have a good heart!

When I was off to India to see my ailing father in October, I asked Sam if I could get her anything from there. “Get me an Indian film connection!” she joked. Sam’s ultimate aim is to be “a famous singer and film star”.

Sam has been selflessly networking for the past few months to get my cats adopted even as she has 17 of her own to give away. On top of that when she lines up someone, I shamelessly crib about the prospective adopter's profile (just can’t bring myself to trust any with my feline friends) and threaten to leave all my cats (11 at last count!) with her.

On one occasion, perhaps gauging my depression, she suggested that in the worst case she would take in all my cats. I know that 17 plus 11 adds up to 28, but then what could be a more perfect arrangement for my cats? Of course, I will be in trouble if Bollywood discovers Sam’s talent, but then Sam is Sam and I am certain she will make sure her 28 cats are comfortable before she crosses over.