an itinerant observer

Nine months into relocation from Houston, and I am not racking my head to figure out what comparative essay to write as a next entry for the “Karachi-Houston Diaries”. The reason being, that what I want to write about stares me in the face every time I venture out on to the streets of Karachi. Advanced capitalism is prevalent in both Houston and Karachi. This is evident by the billboards promoting their commercial wares in both cities. But the art and science of advertising using huge attractive hoardings has been taken to another level in Karachi, and Houston is not quite up to mark as yet. All you have to do is drive down Shara-e-Faisal , a major thoroughfare in Karachi, for you to realize what I’m talking about. As summer approaches the majority of the billboards advertise a fabric called ‘lawn’. Lawn is described by Wikipedia, my most trusted online source of information, as a textile that is chiefly made from cotton and it tends to be lightweight, crisp and sheer. It was on

The pursuit of knowledge and information is universal. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that literary and literature festivals the world over have the potential to become agents of change.   When you think about books, book launches, panel discussions on current affairs, child-centric festivities, and so on, then Karachi might not be the first venue that comes to mind. And then those proceedings being catalysts for change might be even less likely.   Needless to say, the popular media loves to hate Pakistan – and it does so by portraying a predominantly negative image of the country. But the recently held literature festivals in Karachi were stark reminders that there is a side to the city and country that often gets overlooked in the media outlets of the world. I recently had the pleasure of attending the 5 th Karachi Literature Festival (KLF). KLF is a phenomenon that took the city by storm five years ago. Since then the organizers, participants and the aficionado

Why am I so attracted to the way of the birds? I have spent much time watching, thinking about, and photographing them. Occasionally I have been caught writing odes to them. But regardless of all that, I just could not fathom the source of this affiliation that might have bordered on obsession. Furthermore, whenever my child asked ‘why do you love birds so?’ being unable to generate a convincing answer was frustrating. The frustration about not knowing why I was so inclined to birds in my travels was addressed recently in the form of two occurrences. First I came across a word - G oǩotta (pronounced ‘Yo-Koh-Tah’) – that in Swedish literally means ‘dawn picnic to hear the first birdsong’ . It refers to the act of rising in the early morning to watch the birds or to go outside to appreciate nature. And then I came across ‘The Year of the Quail’ . In this book, the gifted and acclaimed photographer Ines Roberts takes you through a photographic journey of the first year in the li

Today marks week six of relocation from Houston to Karachi. As you are well aware by now, I have been writing the Karachi-Houston diaries. Through these compilations I try to compare and contrast what is in Karachi with what was in Houston. I’m like that. Writing analogically helps me make sense of my present and past life.   Today, my routine muse (in my head and heart) was missing in action. Normally she would assist in helping me focus on something intriguing to write about from both the Karachi and Houston perspectives.   So I asked the child instead. “Today, what should I write about?” I expected either no comment or something noncommittal from the child, since she would seldom take me seriously. But this time the reply came promptly and without hesitation. “Today write about Saffron and Abigail!” Saffron and Abigail are not exotic condiments. Nor are they administrative staff at my workplace in Karachi.    They are two fairy friends of Tinker Bell, living happily