an itinerant observer

[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:...

When I hear the word ‘Pakistan’ on CNN, BBC, or even FOX news for that matter, there’s that sinking feeling of, “Oh no, what now?” Reflexively I expect another story of doom and gloom to unfold. I might rush to Pakistani newspapers and TV channels hoping that they might provide a somewhat objective viewpoint. Alas, they too, at times, tend to obfuscate reality and create an alternative one that is a better fit for conspiracy theorists.    It is time to move past political punditry and journalistic jingoism. Perhaps it is time for the Diaspora to talk and write about good things in Pakistan.       Before reaching this semi-conclusion, I felt I had arrived at a crossroads - I could either delve in apathy and antipathy for Pakistan, or write about a potential way out of my dilemma. I choose to write since that is my comfort zone. I will try to describe the problem first. What's happening in Pakistan is complex. ‘ Corruption’ , a common buzzword, i...

The economy class of the domestic flight from New York was stifling, cramped and nauseating. Luckily I was in the aisle seat. On boarding I made myself as comfortable as I could and had resumed reading the mystery that Adelia was trying to solve. Adelia happened to be a ‘doctor of the dead’ (likely a pathologist) in twelfth century Cambridge, hot in pursuit of a psychopath killing children in that rustic part of England. The gruesome manner in which the kids were being massacred is a story for another day. “Aha!” that was Adelia about to make a crucial discovery.   “Arrrghhh”…hmmm, that sounded a bit off. That was not in the book. I looked up and saw an elderly white man approaching my seat. “Arrrghhh”, that was him clearing his throat. “Great!” I thought to myself, quite unkindly, “I’ll have to share the space next to me with this sick man”. I didn’t want to catch the flu, swine or otherwise, on a domestic flight. Not that catching it on an international flight would...

Mr. Teddy Graham came home for the weekend. This had been much anticipated and discussed ad nauseum since the beginning of the school year. Noori was really excited. Mr. Graham’s heavy ‘suitcase’(a bag pack really) stuffed with odds and ends, was a treasure trove for my little one. Mr. Graham is likely the most essential, most peripatetic, and most photographed (think paparazzi), kindergartner that has ever existed. He gets to travel to each kid’s home for the weekend. He gets dressed in different outfits and then enjoys different places (parks, restaurants, movie theaters, malls, to name just a few) and gets his  photos taken in those settings. A letter is written by the student about that weekend spent with Mr. Graham and along with photographs, the ‘compilation’ is filed away and thus a legacy is created. Upon first introduction, what struck me as a bit odd was that Mr. Graham was very comfortable in a dress. Unlike his name, he appeared to be a hot pink ballerina. ...