an itinerant observer

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...

Prior to leaving Houston ‘for good’ and relocating to Karachi, perhaps 'for good', I was asked by several well wishers to keep up with my blog. They specifically wanted me to write from and about Karachi. Knowing well that I would neither delve into politics nor religion, some still asked, “Why don’t you write about politics in Karachi”, while others persisted, “Asad, why don’t you write about the religion of Karachi, especially during the month of fasting?”   If the number of Facebook likes and comments on anything related to politics or religion is a fair gauge then one might conclude that those are the only two scintillating topics worthy of expression in words. “If I take away both religion and politics prevalent in Karachi, then what am I left with to ramble about?” I asked myself. Normally I call upon the muses to assist me in finding something interesting to write about. This time around was no different.   Today marked week two of relocation to Karachi from ...

“Baba, my friends were saying that little kids died in ‘Conticut’ !” Noori, the 1 st grader, was quite charged when she related that to me. I, as usual, was oblivious to that factoid although I work in mainstream America. I mostly work night shifts so when I picked Noori up from school it was technically bedtime for me. Some blame could be laid on the 3 rd flu-like illness I was suffering through in a 5 week period. Being an ER doc in a busy children’s hospital, the frequent colds were the necessary evil I was exposed to. I had loaded myself up on multiple medications to control my symptoms partly in an attempt to survive that night‘s shift in the ER. The 1 st query that arose in the dazed and drugged mind of mine was: “Noori, what or where is Conticut?” The massacre of the children took a back seat for the moment. “I don’t know! But there were lots of guns and blood – Ella said so”. Ella was Noori’s equally excitable and worldly friend. It was then that my mind gained s...

Have you ever wondered why hospital lobbies, unlike hotels, do not routinely house pianos? I don’t know but they should. I think it would be a great service to the patients and staff to hear music wafting from the lobby to the nether regions of any dingy and dreary hospital.  As lady luck would have it, my hospital not only has a piano parked in the middle of its lobby, it also works! It is an old, black, chic grand piano that beckons to me in the wee hours of the night as I pass it by. “Come play! Caress us or strike us, if needed, but play you must!”, invited the piano keys, last night. I am a closet pianist and I don’t have the courage to come out to all as yet. The graveyard shift ensured lack of an audience, and that boosted my confidence to play. Although tentative to begin with, I threw caution to the wind as I got to the few pieces that I thoroughly enjoy. I paid homage to the dear departed Beethoven, by playing ‘ode to joy’. That was followed by, in quick succes...

My relocation to Karachi around half a year back took an interesting turn when all kinds of festivals came into awareness.  In a short span of a few weeks over the past month alone I was regaled by invitations to events to ‘experience’ food (for a food festival), books (for a literature festival), clothes (for a clothes festival), and culture (for a provincial language suffused ethnic cultural festival). Now Karachi, as you are well aware, is a very interesting city.  Among the volatility and religio-political grandstanding, all sorts of festivities and festivals are being rolled out as alluded to above. I am interested in food, books, clothes, culture, and so on, but not necessarily in that order. At the festival the thrust tends to be not only the said item per the title of the festival, but also other things listed there. Therefore, the non-specificity of said event makes me happy. And yet the events do create attendee confusion in me, along with attendee fatigue. ...