an itinerant observer

Illustration/Photo-credit: Saniya Kamal It was a late Thursday morning. An unusually quiet day in the Pediatric Emergency Room. Only two out of the 10 beds were occupied by children – and these are children famous for wailing in agony; uncomfortable because of their ailment, scared because of the hospital environment, and the terrifying individuals in white coats and white uniforms who poke needles into them. Today, however, both the children admitted into the ER for observation (for gastroenteritis and croup, respectively) were calm, feeling much better, and comforted by their mother’s presence next to them. I smiled at the thought – it’s a great feeling to know you’ve helped a child come out of the pain they were in. I checked my watch – I had at least an hour before their next follow-up. So I did what every medical student does – or rather, is expected to do – in his/her free time: I grabbed an empty chair, took out my book and started studying. I barely got through th

“It’s time to put the kids in private school”, used to be Ayesha’s mantra, a few years ago. My companion and much better half of over a decade would have me believe that private schooling was exactly what the doctor ordered for our young kids. I, being somewhat twisted in logic, had a hard time coming to terms with that. I understand, thus believe, that the private versus the public school dilemma is not new and that it is faced by many people across a wide spectrum of our nation’s populace. I also feel that it is of particular interest to the über-competitive desi (South Asian) Diaspora in Houston, and elsewhere. In fact, it is of such significance that it makes for much conversation whenever there is a meet and greet, typically at a birthday party, baby shower, bridal shower, or even the fashionable  GNO  (Girls’ Night Out). The argument for private school goes somewhat like this: better teachers, better curriculum, more motivation, and more inspiration. If infected with

[Photo Credit Riaz Khan] It is not surprising that Karachi and Houston, two cities that I have considered home for almost the last four decades, are “sister cities”.   Just last year, I was introduced to the Sister Cities of Houston program. At times I wonder why the program doesn’t refer to the cities as ‘brother’ cities or ‘cousin’ cities? Could it be that sisters are more pleasantly inclined towards each other in comparison to other relatives, and hence the sisterly link even for cities is more enduring?  The questions take away from the real thrust of this essay. What earthly comparison can even exist between the presumably volatile and anarchic city of Karachi, Pakistan, and the oil and gas hunger-driven megapolis of Houston, Texas? At face value not much of an analogous situation exists. Digging deeper into this juxtaposition, however, you might realize that both urban locales are burgeoning in similar fashion! Here are a few similarities: ·