Hello, Yellow!

Sunny Yellow- Warm Yellow- Perfect Yellow- Lemon Yellow- Bright Yellow- Mango Yellow-

Getting your room to look perfect is like finding the right guy your parents will approve of.

I am tryyyying my levelest best.

  • Bedroom’s Wall Painted Yellow: check!
  • Almaari kicked out for extra space: check!
  • Natural wood flooring (inspired by meyum!): to-do!
  • Rice Paper Playboy Lantern: check!
  • MacBook :): birthday-gift perhaps?
  • Classic Chest of Drawer: check!
  • Sexy ass bookshelf (painted red): to-do!
  • Beanbags: also birthday gift perhaps? :p
  • An old chair from kabariya: to-do!
  • Storage Trunk (50 year old? Handed over by Abbu): check!
  • Priceless rare & original vinyls: check!
  • Turntable (Fix Abbu’s or new one…): to-do!
  • Old Radio (that you just have to see!!): check!
  • Auto-Rickshaw Meter! (no idea why it’s lying in the store room to begin with, its brand new and prolly a few decades old!!): check!
  • Kick sister out: in-between to-do and check! :)

Will come back and add to the list. 

 

 

Hello, Yellow!

Allah Mian, the most busy Dude.

Sometimes I really do wonder how it will feel to be a non-thinking typa person. The one’s who don’t bother at all, et al. The wise ones (?) who turn around and look you in the eyes while driving and confide how they’re “just not concerned with the gossip yaar or interested in making new friends” cause they’re blessed to have those that they already have. Wah, bara wisdom hai bhai.

I almost feel like a Pakistani motorcyclist on the road these past couple of weeks (months?). I know my final destination (death?) but not only do I not remember the way too well, I am also not the most popular person on the road right now as my driving skills as well as my directions might have my own vote but not of those beside/behind/in-front of me. I have more passengers sitting on the fuel tank and the seat itself than I could handle. The ride is going wibbly wobbly on me. The folks around us are honking honking honking. The price of the roti is rising rising rising. Kiya ho raha hai in my dimaagh ki dunya is beyond my own comprehension.

Got the album in my email this morning and the height of the irony: just like there was an year’s difference in the first-round, there’s a day’s difference in the second and with You willing, the end will be drastically happy for all four. 

Allah Mian, I understand that You’re a busy Dude but I need You to be with me for a few minutes so please take my call. The traffic’s heavy so bear with the noise I am surrounded with.    

Allah Mian, the most busy Dude.

Gulf is actually short for, gutter.

So much has happened that hasn’t been blogged. It’s okay though. Koi murr nahi raha tha mairay blog karnay… ya na karnai sai. Hi, I am a bitch. They call me Insi, with love.

Now, let me get to the point straight away. How the hell do people manage to visit, spend hours and hours, eat, sit, waste time, bargain, run-over-people, spend more hours, walk, shop, yada yada in a shopping mall that literally smells like the deep insides of a gutter! I swear it seems like the cute green-eyed and other sick-dukaan walaas that call you baby actually take a dump in and around their shops. Gulf sucks. It smells of sweat and vomit. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

On top of it all- I am forced to get this really gorgeous kaam (not my opinion!) done on my kapra. Ammi and my sister had refused to get up from this one particular shop till I made up my mind. After deciding, rejecting my own idea and deciding again and repeating the cycle ten times, I finally decide on what I wanted kaam wise and where i wanted the kaam and how much kaam and what type of kaam and blah blah and basically so much of such useless information just screwed my mind and so I just wanted to get this done and over with.

After 30 or so- most smelly and stinky minutes of my life, I had finally come to a conclusion. I was freaking proud of myself. 30 seconds later, Ammi takes-over and asks him for the final price using important words such as “beta” and my sister calling him “bhai” with more love then she’s ever called our own bhai- all in the name for a good bargain baby! I just sit and try and not pass out by that bullshit/humanshit perfume that I can smell and 20 thousand other women/pathan around me can’t. La la la la… 2 seconds later, Ammi and my sister get up to leave and ask me to follow. Another 2 seconds later it hits me that just because the guy didn’t give them a bargain, they’re willing to go to another shop and make me go through the stinky-mind-numbing-drill all over again. FUCK NO.

I was pissed. We go to Shop No. 2. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I make it obvious. I tell the ‘designer/darzi/pathan’ to not fuck with my time. Not make me give him details and decide on what I want- only to get a ridiculous price by mom-standards, even if you’re willing to pay for it yourself! That I sweat to earn money too. Well, maybe not but you know… so by this time I also realized that I was really, very- pissed. Asked Ammi and the sister to order what they think looks good and wear it too and that I am getting up and leaving in 5 minutes so they better hurry up.

But really… the point it… How the hell do people manage to visit, spend hours and hours, eat, sit, waste time, bargain, run-over-people, spend more hours, walk, shop, yada yada in a shopping mall that literally smells like the deep insides of a gutter! I swear it seems like the cute green-eyed and other sick-dukaan walaas that call you baby actually take a dump in and around their shops. Gulf sucks. It smells of sweat and vomit. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

Gulf is actually short for, gutter.