The language barrier

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Wouldn't it be nice if everybody spoke the same language. I mean, set aside the 'language is the essence of culture' attitude and think for a moment if everybody spoke the same language, how easy would it be to communicate wherever you are. Am not advocating abandoning one's own language but everybody should at least also speak one common language, whichever can be agreed upon. In this context, the following incident that happened to me was a hilarious experience. This narration is not intended to pass any judgements.

So I am in a small town in Saudi Arabia somewhere near Al-Sulaiyl, about a 1000 km south west of Riyadh. It's been a few days since I have been here and I have quite a bit of free time, so I need something to read, something to study. I don't have a copy of Quran with me and I have been using the ones at the mosque after prayers. I want to get one so that I can study at home. A couple of days later I decide to ask someone at the mosque and bring one home from there. After I finish my Isha prayer, I notice that there is only one person left in the mosque other than me and my subordinate. We wait for this man to finish his prayer. As he settled down after prayer for dua and tasbeehat, we approach him and ask him in plain Urdu and he has this expression on his face that means 'What?' and he says something in Arabic that I couldn't understand even in my imagination.

Source: bookhaven.stanford.edu

I look at my colleague and we agree that we need to do better, so we accumulate all the vocabulary of Arabic that we have and mix it up with the Urdu words that we think might be similar in both languages, couple this with gestures which later seemed particularly funny. The response from this Arabic guy is again equally incomprehensible for me and my colleague. As a final attempt, I use more of gestures and less of words to convey what I wanted to say. I gesture towards a copy of the Quran and pull my hands to my chest as if saying that I want to take it, and then gesture with my two fingers as if signalling walking, and at this point I utter the word kamra. I don't know what the hell he understood from it, he sort of angrily exclaimed 'Haraaam, Haraam' a couple of times and we understood that there was no point trying again, we better ask someone else who understands Urdu. 

Now that I think about it, I feel clumsy for not trying to explain it to him in English. I probably thought that Arabic is more similar to Urdu than English, and honestly maybe I also considered unconsciously that why the hell would a Saudi living in a small town far away from any big city know English.

Saving Face?

No, I haven't watched  (not due to lack of interest but merely because I was short of time) 'Saving Face' the documentary that was recently awarded the Academy Award for Best Documentary-Short Subject. However, I've come across enough praise and criticism to push me to pen down my thoughts on the matter.

First of all, many congrats to Ms. Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy and Mr. Daniel Junge for a job well done. As someone rightly pointed out on one of the too many social media networks, I would much rather tag it as Ms. Chinoys achievement than Pakistans achievement.

Secondly, the criticism that it has received is primarily based on the notion that it damages Pakistans reputation or damages Pakistans face. My answer to that is that you guys have been throwing acid at womens faces hence it was shown in the film, had you been showering these faces with flowers, your face would have been saved. In other words, if you were so concerned about your reputation, you should not have allowed this nuisance of acid attacks be a part of your society.  Ms. Chinoy is not to blame for 'your' image being destroyed, 'you' are.

Another thing that I haven't seen pointed out yet is a fatwa on Ms. Chinoys outfit at the awards ceremony. Oh no no, don't label me as a stereotype or a Mumtaz Qadri, I am not judging. Its just that I would have liked and appreciated her more had she worn a better outfit, as she has done at the dinner party later and everywhere else. In any case, since its a personal matter and her choice all I have for her is respect.

This time back home: photographic account of trip to Pakistan

Every year around Christmas, I go home. Here is a glimpse of what I came across this time around.

Starting my trip at Changi Airport, Singapore. I'm there early and its prayer time so I inquire my way to the prayer room. Just next to the ablution area is a board that reads 'Passengers of any religion may use this room for prayer and meditation. Please remove your shoes before entering the prayer and wash area. Please observe silence while in the prayer room'. Apologies for the bad image quality!

 And we are in Islamabad, the beautiful, as the Capital Development Authority calls it.

Spent a lot of time on the road, just to say hi to almost everybody I knew. Fuel availability was a BIG problem for people (besides of course all the other problems such as power outages etc. Pakistan Khappey!). The 'No Naked Lights' part of this sign at a gas station made me LOL which now for some reason doesn't sound very funny though.

On my visit to Faisalabad I am welcomed by a transport strike and road blockages for protest against fuel related crisis.

And then there is this guy who just relieved himself beside the Chenab Club. I wasn't prepared for this (how could anyone be prepared to take such a snap) so couldn't capture the exact moment :P

Okay, so I am at my village and the next morning when I wake up, my car (covered in a plethora of dust, villages are dusty places) that has been parked outside since last night has been serving as somebody's scribbling pad. It says a number of things including 'karaye ke liye khali he' which translates into 'Available for rent' and 'ki Muhammad se wafa tu ne to hum tere hein...'

And then the nightmare experience of passport renewal. I cannot even begin to describe the horror I witnessed there. Abundant corruption is perhaps the first thought that comes to mind. I was so busy going through the process that I could only photograph the business card of a 'senior passport advisor'. Maybe will give a full account of the horrible experience  in a separate post later, of course only if someone wants to hear about it.

Back in Islamabad, this is whats happening. Construction workers transport pipes to a higher floor of an under construction building brilliantly.

And this relatively newly constructed road has power transmission towers right in the middle of the road.

And how could I not share this Urdu Punjabi advertisement painted on a wall.