Do you have an iPhone?

Now, I can bet five bucks you (Yes, you!) have been, once, asked this while making acquaintance with somebody you've just met at the bar five minutes ago (Or is it just me?). 

Oh boy. You, then, with a downhearted grimace, muster the courage, man-up (Sorry, ladies), look at the person in the eye and before the words fall out, look away and what are the chances your initial respond sounds something like, "Umm, naah, man..I'm aah not really an Apple person..y'know.."?

Before I get ahead of myself, I would like to add that I'm a foreign exchange student currently in New York and as much sense the title makes right now, it won't once you know what really happened.

I don't really know where to begin so I'll jump right in. This kid (A freshman, I believe) walked up to me in the hallway, leaned against the locker next to mine, and asked me something. Now, just so you know, I'm not hating on anybody, but the absurdness of that question made me wince. In fact, time actually froze for a second and my facial expression went from that of a jolly teenager to...

His speech sounded something like this.

"Hey, man, so I was wondering, umm, how do you guys travel in your country, I mean, like umm, you don't have cars, so, umm, do you ride camels?"

Needless to say, I was like..

Matter of fact, yes, we do.

Moving on. 

Back to the iPhone I never had.

A couple of months ago, I gave this presentation about Pakistan in one of the Global Studies classes in my high school. Everything went great. In fact, judging from the vibrant atmosphere and the shimmering eyes of the kid in the first row, I was positive they were having a good time. Their enthusiasm manifested itself, later on, in the questions they asked after the session.

The questions varied from racism in Pakistan to me being rich and were diverse as New York City's population. But curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?

They started getting out of hand. Funny, actually. These are some of the questions I encountered. 

1) Do you have iPhone(s) where you come from? Is Apple really a thing there, or just a fruit? (Hence, the title)

2) Do you have slaves there? Do you own a slave? 

3) Do you have internet there? (No, sweetie. I'll ignore the fact that you're following me on Twitter)

4) Do you know someone who is a terrorist? (LOLWUT)

5) Do you live in a house or a tent?

6) Do you have a lot of sand there? Have you ever seen snow?

7) Have you ever shot a gun at someone? (Kid was a huge fan of The Lone Survivor)

8) Have you ever seen grass? Do you have trees there?

I can go on and on with these questions and each question will surpass the former in terms of hilarity and my amusement. 

Nevertheless, it was a great experience. I had a great time. It felt amazing. Magical (Kinda). I made a difference. We all did. Isn't that what really matters?

Unquote.

Who am I?

Long time no see. Or blog. Or whatever floats this blog. (I suck at this)

Aah, yes! So, who am I? 

I am a boy. (Wow. No crap, Sherlock)

Alrighty.

Let's do this, shall we?

Yes?

En garde.

 I looks at the world by the eyes of a child/genius/procrastinator and other adjectives I have no letters to shape all dependent on what I feel like. I also possess an inevitable habit of inheriting character traits from the latest movie I've seen. Sometimes, when life comes knocking at my door to enlighten me with some good news, I'm not home.

Now, before I say more, I would also like you to know my taste buds despise lemons more than a cat fears water (Well, technically, a Tiger doesn't..) and I never really understood the meaning of  “When life gives you lemon..” (Simply because it sounded so ‘citric’) so I once confronted an acquaintance and confessed the matter to him who, though shocked, with a tone of sarcasm advised me to seek someone whose life gave the person Grape Soda and enjoy.

I also have a sloppy habit of waking up late, with respect to my designated alarm time and often or maybe all of the time, so, my dad functions as an alternative alarm. He often hollers my name from the dining table which is actually an euphemism for, “Get up, you sleepy head!”. He, keeping up with a teenage-me, also developed a senseless habit of screaming my name from the top of his lungs and giving out an idiotic chuckle under his breath just to hear a frail bag of bones falling of a bed and symmetrical thudding as if someone’s hammering the bathroom door.

Ah! That reminds me, I also have an innate habit of spending long intervals of time in the bathroom. I often go to answer the call of nature, but apparently, am put on hold.
Also, you might find this silly goose blogging more often from now on.
Brace yourself.

 Unquote.

When teenagers rebel.

An issue in my country which I find too crucial to be left untouched is racism. Pakistan constitutes of four major provinces, the natives of each having different ethnic background and hence, are bound to have different complexions, accents and way of life. Though a difference, or diversity, is good, it, over the past few years has lead to inevitable violence. Why? Racism. 

Majority in most of the cases, regardless of the race, oppress the minority which nowadays is apparent in educational institutions where the minority is often bullied. Other than that, people also tend  to live by stereotypes and find sheer pleasure in degrading the ridiculed race. This is something which makes me sad and is not what the the founder of Pakistan, Mohammad Ali Jinnah fought for day and night. 

Over the past few years, racism has been on its peak and there have been numerous occasions which has lead to the death of many innocents. The Pathans, who are said to be the descendants of the army of Alexander the Great and indigenous to the north, often indulge in war with the Baloch, who inhabit the south west and are the descendants of the Arabs and Africans who migrated to the Subcontinent, over petty issues of just 'hate'.  

If racism doesn't stop, it is inevitable that it be adapted by the new generation which is likely to have a reverse effect on the economy of Pakistan.  If that happens, then after sixty years when I sit in the balcony next to my grandson and when he asks me about how our country, OUR Pakistan was back in my days , would I just reply with, "Not as much racist as it is today"?

 I often contemplate over the matter and devise literal plans on how to work for the betterment of my country, and to raise it to the likes of Great nations like Japan and USA but often end up dumbfounded on this question, "How shall a country compete with other nations in the world if it's busy fighting off with those who inhabit it?

I, as and individual and with my group of YES candidates, want to bring this predicament to an end. Racism on the basis of accents, complexion and sometimes even religion won't get us anywhere, we preach. We aim to invigorate a sense of brotherhood in my people, my fellow Pakistanis, bearing in mind the teaching of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and Gandhi, that whatever God we believe in, we come from the same one. That an eye for an eye would end up making the world blind. That the person next to you, regardless of his race, bleeds no less than you. That the person next to you feels no less pain than you. That treat the person next to you, regardless of his/her social status not as an inferior/superior race, but as a human being. Treat him as you want to be treated. 

Jojo

2011, I recall, December (Not quite sure about the date but I was a bit excited for new year's eve) there was a lot of fuss in school what everyone else would be doing for their vacations. I, with nothing to brag about, sat in the corner, alone, romanticizing with my own isolation. The last school day before the winter vacations, I, being the lazy guy that I am, put a strap of my bag on, and as the bell rang, set off to my home. The bus driver usually dropped me off at a distance of 500 meters from my place and I would head back at such a pace which made it quite apparent I would take pride in coming third in the rabbit-tortoise race. I, finally somehow, got home, went in, exhausted and took my shirt off. Laying on the bed half-naked and shaking my body symmetrically in accordance with the beats of the music I had on, I was held back to find a kitten sniffing about my foot. I was freaked out but over time, I ended up falling in love with her. I, for some incoherent reason, ended up labeling her as 'Jojo'.

Ah, yes. I was going through this magazine the other day and saw this poster of this young girl, sadly older than me, who went by the same name.

Jojo was an enthusiastic and cuddle-craving cat who enjoyed having processed food and loathed live meat giving a bad name to her cousins in the wild. Physically, she grew up to be quite big. Black, with orange patches on her back and white fur underneath her chin, she stood unparallel to my neighbor's Persian cat. As for her specie, I was always quite uncertain. The previous owner told me that her mom were Persian and her dad were Himalayan. A cross breed. A beautiful one, nevertheless. 

Jojo was always a playful cat. Since the day she arrived to the day we had to, for the sake of my grandma's allergy, give her away, other than sleeping and eating she was always messing around with the other pets. She often ran by the water pond and just stared at the fish and would often get lucky as for the turtles curiosity when it used to pop its head out of the water and she would give it a pat. Other than that, on numerous occasions, I've seen her trying to chase her shadow, but not in the carnivore stance, but in a Hey-I-can-watch-you way.

Jojo, I noticed over time seldom fought with any of the stray cat be it an issue over food or territory. She just used to purr but never attack. Being an epitome of a cat's health weighing out at five kilograms, she never fought back (Lucky stray cats). She just used to sit back, watch the other cat get done with whatever they were doing, and move on with her life. Her peaceful nature I often categorize as a miracle for a carnivore of such caliber. 

Jojo's nature has been one which everyone praised. Those who feared cats often ended up patting her. Though she's been gone for a while, the name 'Jojo' still depicts in me a picture of a black cat sitting next to a pond not for the sake of catching it, but just for the God-knows what enjoyment she got off of it. 

Football..wait,no, I mean, soccer.

                                                         

Yup. Pretty much sums up with what I had to adjust to when I got here. Ironic how it's called 'Football' in the rest of the world yet still I'm developing a habit of calling it 'soccer' because, well, I'm here.(I'm just kidding)

Now bare in mind that I'm not complaining and keep up with me. Things are different here. It's not what it's like 'back there' in Pakistan (Back at ma' crib). You can't expect others to change themselves for you. It's you who's changing here. Ever seen a majority fall down to the minority, eh? What's that, no? Aha you got that right. 

You don't know how embarrassing it is when you ask someone what time's training, just like back in Pakistan, and they're like, 'What?....Practice?". Yes. Practice. You don't have words to describe on how bad you feel for yourself, regardless of the fact that you went last night to bed memorizing different euphemisms and terms which substitute the exact equivalent in Pakistan.

"I play Football and yeah, I think I'm pretty good at it" - "Well, then why did you join the soccer team?." Well, crap. You did it again. It's soccer, NOT football. In other words, it's what you would call 'Rugby' back in Pakistan.

Over the past week, I (think) might have realized what it feels like to be a High School Student (Not like what it's in the TV. Take my word for it. Please). You know that feeling you get when you fascinate yourself being the protagonist, or maybe sometime's just trying to fathom the vibrant atmosphere around him, in a teen movie and when he get's all the attention? Well, it's not like that. Nobody cares who you are (Unless you're 6 feet tall. Then everyone's gonna come up to you and ask basketball related stuff). 

Being an exchange student from "Pauuykistaan", I find High School quite fun, though (Ignore what I mentioned above). Everything is so...clean (Don't be surprised hearing that from a Pakistani). Plus, everything is just so scheduled as if all of it is coming off a movie script (And I'm the hero. Lol.)

Nevertheless, forget the gibberish leprechaun chants I mentioned above. My exchange year, so far, has been great. I'm loving it here. Plus, subjects like photography and studio Art are something I'm so going to brag about once I get back to Pakistan.

Just so you know (Not bragging), I'm in the varsity soccer team and just won my first tournament with Hornell High. 

  (Great people, I tell you.) (And, oh, I'm the one in the black sweatshirt)

Well, pretty much what I felt like saying, or typing, or maybe blogging. Yeah, that's it (I'm kidding, I have way too much to say but this schedule won't let me sit in front of a laptop for more than 15 minutes)

For now, adios.

A walk in my backyard.

Within a radius of five miles, there is no sign of human life, except for I. But that's where it gets fun..

You see, I live in a trailer neighboring the woods. And thanks to the deserted perimeter of this region I can live in harmony with what nature has to offer best and what I like to call, "My backyard".

Day and night, nature speaks to me in many different languages. The tranquilizing whisper of the swaying leaves as the wind whistles by greeting the canopies. The birds in a distance chirping different melodies which's deafening but pleasant orchestra corroborates "Size doesn't matter". The humming of the humming birds as they feast on which nectar nature offers them best in an abundant amount, all in mid-air.

I step out from the trailer and go for a stroll in my 'backyard' and as usual come up with one conclusion. God Himself emblazoned a glimpse of His beauty into his creatures. I step out of the door in which I've killed my days in seclusion. As I do, sun rays strike upon my frail silhouette as if penetrating into my skin, creating and bringing forth a invigorating sensation within me.

What lies before me, is something that leaves oneself contemplating over the heaven-like grandeur spread over the horizon which triggers an exhilarating hormone in oneself if kept staring for long.

I admire mother nature and its ineffable ways.

In every direction, I see trees ascending towards the heavens at a such magnificent height (Or maybe I'm just short). One could barely conclude if it were more of a vertical marathon for the primates that live up in the canopy layer. I proceed into the woods. My eyes land on an austere piece of land in the distance illuminated by sun rays struggling their way from the dense forest cover to the ground. All of a sudden, a male deer, with antlers longer than a bat, came out of nowhere and parades in the scenario just like in the movies, head-up, stride with pride. You might wonder, "How come he gets to see the dear?". Well, as I said, people don't come here very often and luckily, the flora and fauna of the vicinity has made itself familiar to my presence.

I proceed more deep into the woods in the direction of a lake. Robust branches with diameters exceeding that of a virtual hug by myself surround me. I go on. An aura of satisfaction and serenity prevail over me as I advance and throw random glimpses at a plethora of wild flowers whom's diversity of colors reflect life itself.

Then, I hear it. 

Just ahead, I raise my head to find birds circling ahead. I was almost there. The aroma of fresh water invigorate a sense of nature's purity and reminded me of my days in Navy.

Moving on, I make my way through an old path made for tourist but none has ever come but I. I struggle my way through the thorns and bushes that have grown by the time functioning as a mini-barricade. I manage to lacerate my ankle as well but that is redeemable for the beauty that lies ahead. I make way and then pause.

There it is..

Before me lies a shimmering body of water which hosts more species of dinner (I mean fish) than I could fathom. I take a deep breath and literally feel the fresh scent of water going up my nostrils into my lungs. Never in my life have I felt this way, this good, this full of energy, jovial, genial (I say this every time I come here). I look into what nature has offered me best in the blink of an eye and let out a sigh of gratitude. I close my eyes and embrace my surrounding mentally and whisper under my breath with a smile, 

"Life is beautiful" 

I was buried alive..

Death was always said to be a spiritual occurrence. For me, it was exception. I was buried alive..

I forced open my eyelids to realize they were already open and it was my conscious that had flickered to life. An unsettling aroma of Gardenia filled the air. I used to adore the scent of it. Now, I can't think of anything more dreading as I lay here motionless, other than this very flower. I hear everyone, overwhelmed with grief. I watch, as people come and scrutinize my austere visage. Everyone passing right by my side exchanging deep sympathetic looks at my still silhouette and passed on, except those who were the dearest, to whom the whole event seemed incredulous  As Grandma made her way through the bunch, she couldn't hold it in any longer. She fell on the still body and hugged it in desperation shouting chants and cursing Mother Nature for Her cruel ways. In the distance, a young brother unable to fathom what was happening before his eyes, eyed the dead body of his Older Brother as he laid still on the bed, on which they used to build pillow castles together. On the other corner of the bed, a mother who had lost her child, sat weeping in her husband's arms while the man tried his utmost not to break into tears and that he was strong enough. 

An aura of foreboding prevailed the room as the deafening noise of my family crying slowly vanished and everyone came up with the conclusion that the body was to be buried. 

 But I was alive. 

Dad strolled off towards the balcony , slowly getting a hold of the bitter truth that his son was no more and clutched his phone tight in his left hand and started dialing a number, one digit at a time. 

The next thing I wake up to is an awkward silence in the distance which I'm unfamiliar with. I was still motionless and surrounded by faces I've grown up with. Just then, I find a lanky man with four acquaintances, striding their way into the room I was in. I winced as my eyes landed on what they were carrying on their backs.
A coffin.
I faintly recall it being of light wood with a flower carved onto its lid, which depicted in me a sense that nature had sent me, and I was returning back to it.

Everything blackened.

I sensed movement and just then, I realized I was in the coffin, which a moment back reminded me of my mortality. For it wasn't the insecurity of being a mortal, I wouldn't have achieved what I have till now. 

The rhythm of the steps wasn't at all symmetrical and reminded me of the humpy camel rides over at the beach. Good times..

Next thing I know, my Dad was staring into my soul. The isolated aura of the vicinity aroused my deepest fear. I was in a graveyard. A tear rolled down his cheek as he covered my head with a piece of cloth for the very last time. At the distance, Little Brother could still not grip the fact that Big Brother would no longer be there to play football with him anymore.

All of a sudden, the coffin lid closed with a thud and everything darkened except for a small ray of light that struggled its way through a small hole and clearly showed that the termites have been having quite a munch lately. 

The very next moment, I'm yelling. I'm alive.
I was being lowered into the grave where my sins manifested themselves into earthly vermins waiting to feast on my flesh. I feel nauseated, which convinced me I was still alive  And then I'm yelling again out of desperation.

I start hearing footsteps, which sadly, were fading away. I wasn't totally convinced that I was alone in a grave. I was being welcomed by vermins, my flesh a delicacy. 

What I feared all my life, now dominated me. Insects with more than 3 pair of legs. They scared the daylights out of me back when I was a toddler and they still do now to this day. They were crawling all over me and one even managed to penetrate into my flesh and find its way into my interior muscular wall. An all-you-can-eat buffet. I scream with all my might but to no avail. Suddenly, I feel something in my throat. I feel excruciating pain all over my body, especially my trachea, as if somebody's choking me with a barbed wire. Then a thought occurred. The vermins were now feeding on my throat and considering the fact that I won't be able to yell or scream anymore left me in an eerie state of enigma. 

I keep on yelling
but still to no avail..