an itinerant observer

Dear Karachi, Ptooey ! Did you know that’s an onomatopoeia? A written sound, in other words. Or more precisely, per the Merriam-Webster dictionary :   Definition of  onomatopoeia T he naming of a thing or action by a vocal  imitation  of the sound associated with it (as  buzz, hiss ). Ptooey! That’s the commonest written version of the sound that is presumably made when you spit. Why presumably, you ask. Well because the esteemed composers of the dictionary obviously did not travel to our city prior to drafting that onomatopoeia.      Paan -splattered flowerbed outside the ER where author works Why do I say that? Simple. Have you ever spat on a wall here? You don’t have to. You don’t need to. Simply look around and you will observe several fellow Karachi- wallas spitting away as if participating in a well-orchestrated symphony. And not just on walls, but also on footpaths, roads, grounds, gardens, flowerbeds, schools, colleges, public and private spaces, and s

That the protagonist of today’s narrative happens to be dad doesn't really surprise me. You see he’s been quite unwell recently. He’s elderly - almost eighty, I believe, if you go by the date of birth on his passport. “My date of birth is inaccurate on that passport”, dad told me several years ago, which basically meant he didn’t know his exact birth year. Neither did others around him. “In those times, exact dates of birth were imprecisely documented”, the others said. Regardless of his actual age, and semantics aside, dad is whom you would call ‘geriatric’ - very elderly, in simple English.  “But he’s been unwell before, so what’s different now”, you ask. Well, dad is losing his grip on reality faster than I had anticipated. Several years of slowly progressive dementia most likely has created an individual unable to recall day-to-day routine. Long-term memory seems to be intact as I’ve gauged that periodically. But it’s short term memory that is questionabl

I heard about the second floor (T2F) in Karachi before hearing about the person behind it. Prior to relocation to Karachi, my birthplace and the city where I came of age, T2F was described to me as the reason why Karachi was still cooler than Lahore. I recalled the 80s and 90s during my school and medical college years, when there weren’t any spaces like the T2F, where one could go and immerse oneself in thinking, for oneself and for those around you.  After resettling in Karachi, I had the opportunity to visit a few sessions at T2F. It was delightful. The talks and discussions were scintillating, photographic or other exhibits impressive, and the café an oasis. But none of that even came close to the person who ran the show, Sabeen Mahmud. Every time I would see her there, I found her exuding vitality and uber enthusiasm for any cause célèbre that she hosted. She was witty and introspective, an intriguing combination - a real charmer, as they say.   Interestingly I was in