Friday, April 29, 2005
You are Wonderful
You are WonderfulThe following true story captured our heart. It happened several years ago in the Paris opera house. A famous singer had been contracted to sing, and ticket sales were booming. In fact, the night of the concert found the house packed and every ticket sold. The feeling of anticipation and excitement was in the air as the house manager took the stage and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your enthusiastic support. I am afraid that due to illness, the man whom you've all come to hear will not be performing tonight. However, we have found a suitable substitute we hope will provide you with comparable entertainment." The crowd groaned in disappointment and failed to hear the announcer mention the stand-in's name. The environment turned from excitement to frustration.
The stand-in performer gave the performance everything he had. When he had finished, there was nothing but an uncomfortable silence. No one applauded. Suddenly, from the balcony, a little boy stood up and shouted, "Daddy, I think you are wonderful!" The crowd broke into thunderous applause.
We all need people in our Lives who are willing to stand up once in a while and say, "I think you are wonderful”.
Collé by Zee'Ay at 5:00 PM
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Watan
Bloom
A random piece of art. Tried to come up with county's flag with a new eye.
Isnpired by a devian. I'm just learning.
Tool: Photoshp 7.
Collé by Zee'Ay at 9:13 PM
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Console...
console
The Mourning Flower
Ocean landscape
Kissed with sunlight
Breakers white wash
Time passes on......
The only thing the mind can't handle
is denial of feelings new-formed
Like a well-spring
Rising into the sky
Tears all dried
Like mourning flowers
Petals fall
The tears fall too
The end of another chapter
Love in ruins
Walking down that lonesome road
Wind at my back
Knowing full well
I can't turn back
Freedom is a two-edged sword
Gilded by new found love's call
In the moonlight
I lay myself down
Touched by the Earth
And whole once more.......
........
Collé by Zee'Ay at 4:47 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2005
-Kitchensink Revolution-
ChecK the AnimatioN ANd EnjoY the Music!-Click Here-Kitchensink Revolution-
Carry on now over, into and under the phrase
Just like the yellow light that discolors an empty wall
With lucid images and intertwined snakes of forgetful dissonance
The forests of empty concrete and molten tar
The incoming marching flagged purple trysts
And the revisionist pages stolen from history
Doubled up behind empty falling shells
They line the lines as the powder cut from plastic
The kegs full of anarchist agony resting in palms
They march to the tune of the promised last call
Angels descend to greet the cross overline
Marked are the mystic butchers of molten desire
They turn the vented air and bid it to flee
While the surrounded husks fall in glorious harmony
A promised reprieve, a willed respite
From the most golden of dire flowers, and the last of its ashes
They birth the burning sun in the midst of their palms
While they stand behind the lines and act as our pawns
A handshake mounted upon an oaken frame of utopia
Thus endeth the fate of the forever reclusive oceans bend
And now that the tale has been taken for granted
Lets dance to the tune of the farthest discord
Lets sing the tale of the foremost shroud
And name the final nail on the last falling ambergris ember.
Words & Animation: Omair Faizullah
Music & Sound Design: Arafat Mazhar
Collé by Zee'Ay at 1:49 PM
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Gloomy Sunday
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless. Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless. Little white flowers will never awaken you, not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you. Angels have no thought of ever returning you. Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday.
Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all. My heart and I have decided to end it all. Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know. But let them not weep, let them know that I'm glad to go. Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you. With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you.
Gloomy Sunday.
Dreaming, I was only dreaming. I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, dear. Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you. My heart is telling you how much I wanted you.
Gloomy Sunday.
...........
Collé by Zee'Ay at 5:07 PM
Monday, April 18, 2005
.....
Collé by Zee'Ay at 10:12 PM
Umm Kiss it well?.....
...mEi
Collé by Zee'Ay at 11:09 AM
Sunday, April 17, 2005
If you..
If you love someone....ORIGINAL QUOTE
If you love someone,
Set her free...
If she comes back, she's yours,
If she doesn't, she never was....
THE NEW VERSIONS.....
Pessimist:
If you love someone,
Set her free ...
If she ever comes back, she's yours,
If she doesn't, as expected, she never was
Optimist:
If you love someone,
Set her free ...
Don't worry, she will come back.
Suspicious:
If you love someone,
Set her free ...
If she ever comes back, ask her why.
Impatient:
If you love someone,
Set her free ...
If she doesn't come back within some time
forget her.
Patient:
If you love someone,
Set her free ...
If she doesn't come back, continue to wait
until she comes back ...
Playful:
If you love someone,
Set her free ...
* If she comes back,
and if you love her still,
set her free again, repeat *
C++ Programmer:
if(you-love(m_she))
m_she.free()
if(m_she == NULL)
m_she= new CShe;
Animal-Rights Activist:
If you love someone,
Set her free,
In fact, all living creatures deserve to be free!!
Lawyers:
If you love someone,
Set her free,
Clause 1a of Paragraph 13a-1 in the Second
Amendment of the Matrimonial Freedom Act
clearly states that...
Bill Gates:
If you love someone,
Set her free,
If she comes back,
I think we can charge her for re-installation fees
but tell her that she's also going to get an upgrade.
Biologist :
If you love someone,
Set her free,
She'll evolve.
Statisticians : (Apte)
If you love someone,
Set her free,
If she loves you,
the probability of her coming back is high
If she doesn't, your relation was improbable anyway.
Over possessive person:
If you love someone
don't set her free.
HR specialist:
If you love someone
set her free by
Offering her VRS and other benefits
Then outsource her.
Psychologist
If you love someone set her free
If she comes back her super ego is dominant
If she doesn't come back her id is supreme
If she doesn't go, she must be crazy.
Somnabulist
If you love someone set her free
If she comes back it's a nightmare
If she doesn't, you must be dreaming.
ERP functional expert :
If you love someone set her free
If she comes back, map her into your system
If she doesn't, carry out a gap-fit analysis
Finance expert:
If you love someone set her free
If she comes back, its time to look for fresh loans
If she doesn't, write her off as an asset gone bad.
MBA:
If you love someone
set her free instantaneously
and look for others simultaneously
................
Collé by Zee'Ay at 8:22 PM
"There have been times when I think
we donot desire heaven;
but more often I find
myself wondering whether,
in our heart of hearts,
we have ever desired anything else."
~ C.S.Lewis
we donot desire heaven;
but more often I find
myself wondering whether,
in our heart of hearts,
we have ever desired anything else."
~ C.S.Lewis
Collé by Zee'Ay at 5:30 PM
Superstition Me
Superstition Me!
by: Hamzah Moin
As I ended my Maghrib prayer in congregation with a few family friends, I knew right away what kind of Muslims I just prayed with.
“Abbu! Make sure you fold the corner of the prayer mat!”
“Oh right you are little Sameer. We don’t want Shaitaan racking up Hasanah now do we?”
I sat there in disbelief. For a devil that could manipulate any human being on earth, it seemed a bit odd that folding the top left corner of a prayer mat could defeat him. I figured if folding a prayer mat makes Shaitaan go away, perhaps folding my clothes a certain way would thwart evil as well? Alas, the evil thoughts still came, and I kicked the folding habit, as my mom hated ironing out the creases all the time.
It was time for dinner and things didn’t get any rosier from these superstitious people. In fact, things just got a whole lot weirder. They had an elegant and delicious dinner served and I dove right in, scarfing down a baby carrot. This act, unfortunately, freaked out the hosts.
“STOP!” shouted the cook, “did you say Bismillah before you ate that carrot?”
“No… I forgot. Sorry” I muttered.
“Now Shaitaan will spit on your food!” said the cook’s husband.
“What? That’s pretty nasty.”
“No abbu when someone doesn’t say Bismillah then Shaitaan pees in your right ear!” chimed the littlest son of them all.
“He pees in my ear? Why would he do that?”
“That’s how you get earwax!” piped the little one.
That’s a bit extreme. I’m all for saying Bismillah before meals and I encourage everyone to start their meals with God’s name, but to use scare tactics like Shaitaan peeing in your ear or spitting on your food is a bit much. I mean I hate Shaitaan as much as the next guy but we don’t need to make stories about him. I’m sure he wouldn’t pee in my ear. There are many other places to pee.
Regrettably, this visit hasn’t even reached the climax of their weirdness. Things only got worse. My friend’s mother had a knack of just saying bizarre stuff about me.
“Hamzah you are so sweet and adorable. You will find a nice wife someday. You look nice.”
“Umm thanks Auntie… I guess…"
I was interrupted by her husband… whose face was struck with panic. “Bibi! You forgot to say mashAllah!”
His wife twisted her face in fright as well. “OH NO!”
In the blink of an eye, my friend’s dad took me aside while his wife started waving eggs around my head and cracking them open on top of me. At first, I thought that by forgetting to say mashAllah means you have to cook the guest and eat him but luckily I was wrong.
“What is this? I swear I don’t taste good. Isn’t this illegal?”
“Hamzah please be quiet while we get the nazr off of you. I didn’t mean to give you nazr. It was an accident.”
Nazr is the evil eye, something that occurs when people crave something from someone else. I’m not a nazr expert, but I think cracking eggs on top of people isn’t the way to defeat it. Although I don’t mind switching shampoos from time to time, egg yolk isn’t really my cup of tea.
I couldn’t take anymore of this. As I proceeded to run towards the exit, I accidentally slipped on somebody’s pair of shoes and the left shoe flipped over. I’m not entirely sure why, but from the sounds of the family shrieking, I knew right away that a flipped over shoe probably meant that my taste-buds would turn flat and I wouldn’t be able to eat spice or Shaitaan would pee somewhere else on me.
My friend’s parents tried running after me saying I shouldn’t scream in the night otherwise my I’d get possessed by a jinn or my second daughter would turn out to be a nuisance or be a serial killer when they grow up or something.
I took my chances.
by: Hamzah Moin
As I ended my Maghrib prayer in congregation with a few family friends, I knew right away what kind of Muslims I just prayed with.
“Abbu! Make sure you fold the corner of the prayer mat!”
“Oh right you are little Sameer. We don’t want Shaitaan racking up Hasanah now do we?”
I sat there in disbelief. For a devil that could manipulate any human being on earth, it seemed a bit odd that folding the top left corner of a prayer mat could defeat him. I figured if folding a prayer mat makes Shaitaan go away, perhaps folding my clothes a certain way would thwart evil as well? Alas, the evil thoughts still came, and I kicked the folding habit, as my mom hated ironing out the creases all the time.
It was time for dinner and things didn’t get any rosier from these superstitious people. In fact, things just got a whole lot weirder. They had an elegant and delicious dinner served and I dove right in, scarfing down a baby carrot. This act, unfortunately, freaked out the hosts.
“STOP!” shouted the cook, “did you say Bismillah before you ate that carrot?”
“No… I forgot. Sorry” I muttered.
“Now Shaitaan will spit on your food!” said the cook’s husband.
“What? That’s pretty nasty.”
“No abbu when someone doesn’t say Bismillah then Shaitaan pees in your right ear!” chimed the littlest son of them all.
“He pees in my ear? Why would he do that?”
“That’s how you get earwax!” piped the little one.
That’s a bit extreme. I’m all for saying Bismillah before meals and I encourage everyone to start their meals with God’s name, but to use scare tactics like Shaitaan peeing in your ear or spitting on your food is a bit much. I mean I hate Shaitaan as much as the next guy but we don’t need to make stories about him. I’m sure he wouldn’t pee in my ear. There are many other places to pee.
Regrettably, this visit hasn’t even reached the climax of their weirdness. Things only got worse. My friend’s mother had a knack of just saying bizarre stuff about me.
“Hamzah you are so sweet and adorable. You will find a nice wife someday. You look nice.”
“Umm thanks Auntie… I guess…"
I was interrupted by her husband… whose face was struck with panic. “Bibi! You forgot to say mashAllah!”
His wife twisted her face in fright as well. “OH NO!”
In the blink of an eye, my friend’s dad took me aside while his wife started waving eggs around my head and cracking them open on top of me. At first, I thought that by forgetting to say mashAllah means you have to cook the guest and eat him but luckily I was wrong.
“What is this? I swear I don’t taste good. Isn’t this illegal?”
“Hamzah please be quiet while we get the nazr off of you. I didn’t mean to give you nazr. It was an accident.”
Nazr is the evil eye, something that occurs when people crave something from someone else. I’m not a nazr expert, but I think cracking eggs on top of people isn’t the way to defeat it. Although I don’t mind switching shampoos from time to time, egg yolk isn’t really my cup of tea.
I couldn’t take anymore of this. As I proceeded to run towards the exit, I accidentally slipped on somebody’s pair of shoes and the left shoe flipped over. I’m not entirely sure why, but from the sounds of the family shrieking, I knew right away that a flipped over shoe probably meant that my taste-buds would turn flat and I wouldn’t be able to eat spice or Shaitaan would pee somewhere else on me.
My friend’s parents tried running after me saying I shouldn’t scream in the night otherwise my I’d get possessed by a jinn or my second daughter would turn out to be a nuisance or be a serial killer when they grow up or something.
I took my chances.
Collé by Zee'Ay at 1:36 PM
Monday, April 11, 2005
Ear
Ears
"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.
When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy ... called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favourite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided.
Then the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, Son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret," said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" He urged his father, "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him." "I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know, not yet."
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come ... one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother -- had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?" Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen; but what, that cannot be seen.
Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.
"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.
When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.
He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy ... called me a freak."
He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favourite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "But you might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a kindness in her heart.
The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided.
Then the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man. Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, Son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret," said the father.
The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" He urged his father, "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him." "I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know, not yet."
The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come ... one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother -- had no outer ears.
"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they?" Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what that can be seen; but what, that cannot be seen.
Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what that is done but not known.
Collé by Zee'Ay at 11:26 AM
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Tere Bin
tere bin
Lovely song!
im surprised how com i never come acrossed it while scanning through Rabbi Shergill.
Well im glad my Dj D sent me, its one of his favourites tooo.
I'm simply rockin!...hehe
Collé by Zee'Ay at 10:32 PM
Grrrrrr, spoiled my game!
perverts!
Confess
Aha!
think think...*processing*....
who else they could play Cricket in Tennis court?...
yeap,u've gt the $ millon qs!
our Desi Heros!
Perverts!
Footnote: Went to play tennis, while on my visit to my uncle's place, as usual same guys i saw from last year playing cricket in the court and all other( i mean ppl who were there for tennis) looking at them, n waiting for the mah-rajas to get off. HUf!
I still rem, last time i came up wid an argument with them, but what m i expecting? !
A sneak picture, nobody knows..shshh!
And yes! i know not everyone but some of u (u know who u r) are looking at me with Killer Eyez!
No hard feelings boys :P
Collé by Zee'Ay at 11:12 AM
Friday, April 08, 2005
Attitude and Perception
Attitude and Perception
This is a real story that happened between the customer of General Motors and its Customer-Care Executive. A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors:
"This is the second time I have written to you, and I don't blame you for not answering me, because I sounded crazy, but it Is a fact that we have a tradition in our family we have Ice-Cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see,every time I buy a vanilla ice-cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds"
"What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?"
The Pontiac President was understandably sceptical about the letter, but sent an Engineer to check it out anyway. The latter was surprised to be greeted by a successful, obviously well educated man in a fine neighbourhood. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinnertime, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the ice cream store. It was vanilla ice-cream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car, it wouldn't start.
The Engineer returned for three more nights.
The first night, they got chocolate. The car started. The second night, he got strawberry. The car started. The third night he ordered vanilla. The car failed to start. Now the Engineer, being a logical man, refused to believe that this man's car was allergic to vanilla ice cream. He arranged, therefore, to continue his visits for as long as it took to solve the problem. And toward this end he began to take notes: he jotted down all sorts of data: time of day, type of gas uses, time to drive back and forth etc.
In a short time, he had a clue: the man took less time to buy vanilla than any other flavour.
Why? The answer was in the layout of the store. Vanilla, being the most popular flavour, was in a separate case at the front of the store for quick pickup. All the other flavours were kept in the back of the store at a different counter where it took considerably longer to check out the flavour.
Now, the question for the Engineer was why the car wouldn't start when it took less time. Eureka - Time was now the problem - not the vanilla ice cream!
The engineer quickly came up with the answer: "vapour lock". It was happening every night; but the extra time taken to get the other flavours allowed the engine to cool down sufficiently to start. When the man got vanilla, the engine was still too hot for the vapour lock to dissipate.
Remember: Even crazy looking problems are sometimes real and all problems seem to be simple only when we find the solution with cool thinking. Don't just say its "IMPOSSIBLE" without putting a sincere effort... Observe the word "IMPOSSIBLE" carefully... Looking closer you will see, "I'M POSSIBLE"...What really matters is your attitude and your perception. The Race for Perfection has no Finish Line......
This is a real story that happened between the customer of General Motors and its Customer-Care Executive. A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors:
"This is the second time I have written to you, and I don't blame you for not answering me, because I sounded crazy, but it Is a fact that we have a tradition in our family we have Ice-Cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see,every time I buy a vanilla ice-cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds"
"What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?"
The Pontiac President was understandably sceptical about the letter, but sent an Engineer to check it out anyway. The latter was surprised to be greeted by a successful, obviously well educated man in a fine neighbourhood. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinnertime, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the ice cream store. It was vanilla ice-cream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car, it wouldn't start.
The Engineer returned for three more nights.
The first night, they got chocolate. The car started. The second night, he got strawberry. The car started. The third night he ordered vanilla. The car failed to start. Now the Engineer, being a logical man, refused to believe that this man's car was allergic to vanilla ice cream. He arranged, therefore, to continue his visits for as long as it took to solve the problem. And toward this end he began to take notes: he jotted down all sorts of data: time of day, type of gas uses, time to drive back and forth etc.
In a short time, he had a clue: the man took less time to buy vanilla than any other flavour.
Why? The answer was in the layout of the store. Vanilla, being the most popular flavour, was in a separate case at the front of the store for quick pickup. All the other flavours were kept in the back of the store at a different counter where it took considerably longer to check out the flavour.
Now, the question for the Engineer was why the car wouldn't start when it took less time. Eureka - Time was now the problem - not the vanilla ice cream!
The engineer quickly came up with the answer: "vapour lock". It was happening every night; but the extra time taken to get the other flavours allowed the engine to cool down sufficiently to start. When the man got vanilla, the engine was still too hot for the vapour lock to dissipate.
Remember: Even crazy looking problems are sometimes real and all problems seem to be simple only when we find the solution with cool thinking. Don't just say its "IMPOSSIBLE" without putting a sincere effort... Observe the word "IMPOSSIBLE" carefully... Looking closer you will see, "I'M POSSIBLE"...What really matters is your attitude and your perception. The Race for Perfection has no Finish Line......
Collé by Zee'Ay at 10:59 PM
KaasH...!
KaasH
Collé by Zee'Ay at 10:57 PM
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
At the Inauguration of Hard Rock Café: Kabul
At the Inauguration of Hard Rock Café: Kabul
by
Nadeem F. Paracha
Welcome gentlemen & gentlemen and a few cows and goats of the terrible Taliban era, who after five horrible years of torture and repression have now been turned into what they were before they were turned into tortured cows & goats and that is, WOMEN! (Loud applause … and a few rape attempts). So welcome to this explosive inauguration ceremony of Hard Rock Café: Kabul! I am your host for the evening, John Rambo (More applause, whistles, cheers and loads of aerial firing).
Tonight’s show is being sponsored by General Dostum’s private army which only last night signed a lucrative contract with Pepsi Co. along with President Hamid Karzai who signed an endorsement contract with Cocacola. So let’s give these brave former Northern Alliance Colas … I mean, soldiers a great round of applause for planting the first seeds of free enterprise and democracy in Afghanistan (Applause and popping sounds of hundreds of Pepsi and Coke bottles).
Yes, yes folks, that’s the spirit (BOOM!!) … and those were our gallant B-52 bombers pounding and routing the last remaining Taliban dogs in the suburbs and mountains around Kabul (Loud applause, cheers, cola popping and a few summery executions!).
Ah yes, the spirit of democracy. Anyways, our first guests of the evening are few crossover former Taliban fighters who shall perform the famous Bollywood song, “Chuma, Chuma” with a few liberated cows and goats, who by the way, were helped by a McDonald’s contract to become women again, albeit fat and sweaty (Jeering).
So everybody, please welcome Afghanistan’s first ever pop band, The Northen Colas & The Rocking B-52s (loud applause, cheers, rape attempts and summery executions).
“Chuma, chuma dey-dey, dey-dey chuma! Jumay koh deeya tha surrender ka wada, Afghanistan hooa ab humara aadah … (applause, cheering, etc.)”
Brilliant! That was awesome! (BOOM!) And that was even better. Okay, settle down y’all. Today’s surprise headlining act will be none other than Mulla Omar! (Lots of booing, jeering, fist fights, looting, arson and the backstage summery execution of the Northern Colas & The Rocking B-52s!). Oops! Democracy, brothers, democracy! (More booing, jeering, rape attempts, arson and executions). Colas, brothers, colas (Cheering, applause). Ah yes, that’s the spirit!
Someone from the audience: “Vat:69! Chivas! THAT’S the spirit!” (Loud laughter).
Those shall come too, brothers. But only if you let democracy thrive. Do you know what democracy is?
The audience: “Cola, McDonald’s, Starbucks and spirit, spirit!!” (Cheering).
Well done, well done, people. You’re on your way. So, on with the show. Our next performers are your brothers from Pakistan, Junoon! (Pin drop silence).
Salman Ahmed: "Hey, guys, how you doing? (Pin drop silence). Ahem, right. So, then, on we go. This song we wrote specially for you all. And here it is … 1,2,3,4 …"
Ali Azmat: “ Neend atti nahi, sari saari raat, bumbari hoti rahey from Kabul to Heerat, Cola muj sey kahey kya thu merey saath, main cola sey kahoon pehley ker Dollar ki bath …” (Applause, cheering, sniper firing. Junoon’s bassist Brain gets hit).
Salman: "Oh, well, never mind. Even though he was a Christian, to us he is now a shaheed, right?” ((Pin drop silence). Errm … a crusading, rabid Catholic Christian fundamentalist?! (Cheers, applause, firing, rape attempts, etc.). Right, now that’s the sufi spirit! And remember, brothers, Johnny Walker tastes better with Coke than Pepsi!" (Open firing at Junoon by Dostum’s men. Karzai’s men return fire. Junoon vanish. Dostum and Karzai get on the stage).
Dostum: "Pepsi!"
Karzai: "Coke!"
Dostum: "Pepsi!"
Karzai: "Coke!"
Dostum: "Pepsi!"
Karzai: "Coke!"
"Moooooooooooo …" ( A burqua-clad woman jumps in between the two squabbling men).
Rambo: "Well done cow … I mean, sister lady. Three cheers for Islam and democracy!" (Pin-drop silence). Right. That’s the spirit. By the way, that was Osama bin Laden’s 27th fourth wife! And she tells me she is here to announce her divorce and tell the members of the CIA, ISI and RAW in the audience exactly where Osama is hiding! (Lots of applause, cheers, and a afiery exchange of Molotov cocktails made with Pepsi and Coke bottles between Dostam’s men and Karzai’s men). Peace, brothers, peace. Let the cow …err..lady speak."
"Moooooooo!"
Rambo: Right. Can anyone translate that for us?"
(An ISI man in the audience stands up): "I can! She said, moooooooooooooo!"
Rambo: Of course she did! But what does it mean in English?"
ISI man: "Nothing. Just moooooooo. This is all women were allowed to say under the Taliban."
Rambo: "Then how will she tell us where Osama is?"
ISI man: "She wont."
Rambo: "Why not?"
ISI man: "Because … (BANG! The ISI man shoots the woman)."
Rambo: "What did you do that for?!"
ISI man: "Raw did it!"
A RAW man: "Lies! We only shoot women in Kashmir!"
"Moooooooooo…"
Rambo (hysteric): "She’s still alive, she’s still alive! Tell us, tell is, where is Osama hiding?"
Woman: "ooooooooooo ..ountains"
(Cheering, applause, cola popping, firing, looting, bomb blasts, mine explosions, legs, arms brains and limbs flying!).
Rambo: "hat mooooooountians …I mean mountains? Where? Where?"
ISI man: "he same mountains on which you shot down two dozen Soviet planes and tanks in Rambo:III!"
RAW man: " say, why not make the next Rambo flick in Kashmir?"
Rambo: "Gentlemen gentlemen, we’re here to enjoy ourselves (Applause, cheering, rocket launchers go off. One hits a nearby UN Mission building. Kofi Anan comes stumbling out with his hair looking like a ‘70s afro on fire. The CIA men take out their wireless sets and run out. BOOM! A B-52 bomber bombs Hard Rock Café: Kabul to kingdom come!).
Rambo (all up in smoke): Sorry guys (Cough! Cough!). A misguided bomb. Y’know, friendly fire. (Plop! Fall down on his face).
A wireless set besides him: “Bleep! Come in Rambo, come in Rambo! Are you okay? Sir, no response. Only a faint sound, major.”
Major’s voice: "What sound,Sargent?"
Sergeant’s voice: "I’m not sure, sir. Here, listen to cafefully…"
“Moooooooooooooooooo”
Published on: www.chowk.com
......................................
Oh god! how much i was missing!
its been ages ive read any piece on chowk, though its awesom to be back on chowki terms.Among all gr8 chowkis , i conclude Parcha's Cafe BlacK as samosas-to-go!. It really serves u as chatni..mmmmm.
by
Nadeem F. Paracha
Welcome gentlemen & gentlemen and a few cows and goats of the terrible Taliban era, who after five horrible years of torture and repression have now been turned into what they were before they were turned into tortured cows & goats and that is, WOMEN! (Loud applause … and a few rape attempts). So welcome to this explosive inauguration ceremony of Hard Rock Café: Kabul! I am your host for the evening, John Rambo (More applause, whistles, cheers and loads of aerial firing).
Tonight’s show is being sponsored by General Dostum’s private army which only last night signed a lucrative contract with Pepsi Co. along with President Hamid Karzai who signed an endorsement contract with Cocacola. So let’s give these brave former Northern Alliance Colas … I mean, soldiers a great round of applause for planting the first seeds of free enterprise and democracy in Afghanistan (Applause and popping sounds of hundreds of Pepsi and Coke bottles).
Yes, yes folks, that’s the spirit (BOOM!!) … and those were our gallant B-52 bombers pounding and routing the last remaining Taliban dogs in the suburbs and mountains around Kabul (Loud applause, cheers, cola popping and a few summery executions!).
Ah yes, the spirit of democracy. Anyways, our first guests of the evening are few crossover former Taliban fighters who shall perform the famous Bollywood song, “Chuma, Chuma” with a few liberated cows and goats, who by the way, were helped by a McDonald’s contract to become women again, albeit fat and sweaty (Jeering).
So everybody, please welcome Afghanistan’s first ever pop band, The Northen Colas & The Rocking B-52s (loud applause, cheers, rape attempts and summery executions).
“Chuma, chuma dey-dey, dey-dey chuma! Jumay koh deeya tha surrender ka wada, Afghanistan hooa ab humara aadah … (applause, cheering, etc.)”
Brilliant! That was awesome! (BOOM!) And that was even better. Okay, settle down y’all. Today’s surprise headlining act will be none other than Mulla Omar! (Lots of booing, jeering, fist fights, looting, arson and the backstage summery execution of the Northern Colas & The Rocking B-52s!). Oops! Democracy, brothers, democracy! (More booing, jeering, rape attempts, arson and executions). Colas, brothers, colas (Cheering, applause). Ah yes, that’s the spirit!
Someone from the audience: “Vat:69! Chivas! THAT’S the spirit!” (Loud laughter).
Those shall come too, brothers. But only if you let democracy thrive. Do you know what democracy is?
The audience: “Cola, McDonald’s, Starbucks and spirit, spirit!!” (Cheering).
Well done, well done, people. You’re on your way. So, on with the show. Our next performers are your brothers from Pakistan, Junoon! (Pin drop silence).
Salman Ahmed: "Hey, guys, how you doing? (Pin drop silence). Ahem, right. So, then, on we go. This song we wrote specially for you all. And here it is … 1,2,3,4 …"
Ali Azmat: “ Neend atti nahi, sari saari raat, bumbari hoti rahey from Kabul to Heerat, Cola muj sey kahey kya thu merey saath, main cola sey kahoon pehley ker Dollar ki bath …” (Applause, cheering, sniper firing. Junoon’s bassist Brain gets hit).
Salman: "Oh, well, never mind. Even though he was a Christian, to us he is now a shaheed, right?” ((Pin drop silence). Errm … a crusading, rabid Catholic Christian fundamentalist?! (Cheers, applause, firing, rape attempts, etc.). Right, now that’s the sufi spirit! And remember, brothers, Johnny Walker tastes better with Coke than Pepsi!" (Open firing at Junoon by Dostum’s men. Karzai’s men return fire. Junoon vanish. Dostum and Karzai get on the stage).
Dostum: "Pepsi!"
Karzai: "Coke!"
Dostum: "Pepsi!"
Karzai: "Coke!"
Dostum: "Pepsi!"
Karzai: "Coke!"
"Moooooooooooo …" ( A burqua-clad woman jumps in between the two squabbling men).
Rambo: "Well done cow … I mean, sister lady. Three cheers for Islam and democracy!" (Pin-drop silence). Right. That’s the spirit. By the way, that was Osama bin Laden’s 27th fourth wife! And she tells me she is here to announce her divorce and tell the members of the CIA, ISI and RAW in the audience exactly where Osama is hiding! (Lots of applause, cheers, and a afiery exchange of Molotov cocktails made with Pepsi and Coke bottles between Dostam’s men and Karzai’s men). Peace, brothers, peace. Let the cow …err..lady speak."
"Moooooooo!"
Rambo: Right. Can anyone translate that for us?"
(An ISI man in the audience stands up): "I can! She said, moooooooooooooo!"
Rambo: Of course she did! But what does it mean in English?"
ISI man: "Nothing. Just moooooooo. This is all women were allowed to say under the Taliban."
Rambo: "Then how will she tell us where Osama is?"
ISI man: "She wont."
Rambo: "Why not?"
ISI man: "Because … (BANG! The ISI man shoots the woman)."
Rambo: "What did you do that for?!"
ISI man: "Raw did it!"
A RAW man: "Lies! We only shoot women in Kashmir!"
"Moooooooooo…"
Rambo (hysteric): "She’s still alive, she’s still alive! Tell us, tell is, where is Osama hiding?"
Woman: "ooooooooooo ..ountains"
(Cheering, applause, cola popping, firing, looting, bomb blasts, mine explosions, legs, arms brains and limbs flying!).
Rambo: "hat mooooooountians …I mean mountains? Where? Where?"
ISI man: "he same mountains on which you shot down two dozen Soviet planes and tanks in Rambo:III!"
RAW man: " say, why not make the next Rambo flick in Kashmir?"
Rambo: "Gentlemen gentlemen, we’re here to enjoy ourselves (Applause, cheering, rocket launchers go off. One hits a nearby UN Mission building. Kofi Anan comes stumbling out with his hair looking like a ‘70s afro on fire. The CIA men take out their wireless sets and run out. BOOM! A B-52 bomber bombs Hard Rock Café: Kabul to kingdom come!).
Rambo (all up in smoke): Sorry guys (Cough! Cough!). A misguided bomb. Y’know, friendly fire. (Plop! Fall down on his face).
A wireless set besides him: “Bleep! Come in Rambo, come in Rambo! Are you okay? Sir, no response. Only a faint sound, major.”
Major’s voice: "What sound,Sargent?"
Sergeant’s voice: "I’m not sure, sir. Here, listen to cafefully…"
“Moooooooooooooooooo”
Published on: www.chowk.com
......................................
Oh god! how much i was missing!
its been ages ive read any piece on chowk, though its awesom to be back on chowki terms.Among all gr8 chowkis , i conclude Parcha's Cafe BlacK as samosas-to-go!. It really serves u as chatni..mmmmm.
Collé by Zee'Ay at 6:09 PM
