Don't dream, when you can't make it real. They're only fictions anyway - Moddi, A Sense of Grey

Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance, in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance, when you're perfectly free - Rumi

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Apr 15, 2012

Pak Sar Zameen Ka Nizam, Quwat-e-Akhuwat-e-Awam

I thought up the following verses one night when Karachi was going through a series of ethnic violence and attacks. I am not at all an expert in Urdu poetry so whatever mistakes are found, please forgive. 






I want to acknowledge Maryam Reza, Ali Ahmed and Bilal Sheikh for being awesome and helping me out with it. 


Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee

Fridays in school are usually really chaotic. The anticipation of a weekend leaves the students restless and the teachers absolutely thrilled. Two whole days of peace and quiet. Except, I have college; but that is my own doing. I probably ate too much chocolate and in a moment of an absolute sugar high I decided to shoot myself in the foot and get all qualified and shit. 
But this post is not about my idiotic 3 am decisions. This post is about my terrible fear of ...THE HONEYBEE!
Yes, laugh all you want, but I tell you, this tiny creature is God's way of wreaking havoc in people's lives. STOP ROLLING YOUR EYES AT ME! 
So anyway, this Friday, a honeybee decided to grace us with its presence while we were busy revising text for the upcoming finals. The students just quietly moved to corners and some ducked under the table (I teach second graders). 
What did I do, you ask?
I grabbed a student and ducked behind him. Stop with the judgement people, even in an aeroplane you are required to first put the oxygen mask on yourself before attending to the children. 
And then I ran out of the room.
What instigates this fear of the honeybee you ask? I'll tell you. 
When I was around 13 my dad bought me roller blades. With a helmet and knee and elbow pads; everything I needed to make myself look like the coolest (read moronic) kid on the block. The day that I got them, I decided to test them out (read make the neighbourhood kids jealous). However, God had other plans.
I thought I looked real sleek when I stepped out of the house. The neighbourhood was too quiet though; "Where are all these morons when I need to show off?" I wondered. Not a single kid was in sight. 
When I turned around the street corner, I got my answer. I skated right over a beehive that had fallen on the road, straight into a hundred or so very pissed off honeybees. And they were not only pissed, they were out for some cold blooded revenge. And I was the jackass they found. 
Myth

Reality

So I skated all over the neighbourhood screaming bloody murder as a swarm of bees flew after me faster than the speed of light. A few of them got to me. 
However, let's put aside the tragedy of my shattered reputation among the neighbourhood kids after my very graceful escape from the honeybees. Forget the pain of their stings. Forget that in my attempt to escape I skated over a rock, tripped and broke my glasses. 
Let's just focus on what happened an hour after I got home. My beautiful face swollen from the stings...only from the right side. That's right. Those bitches had only stung half my face. And I was in school at the time, so you can imagine the humiliation I had to face and the jokes I had to bear when I looked like a Pakistani from the right and a very disfigured Chinese from the left. I was a 13 year old in middle school and I was the butt of every joke cracked by every ass who thought they were the funniest shit on the face of this earth. I am telling you, that incident left me damaged and I don't just mean physically. 
And there was no way I was going to look like that again! So what if I had to go all Lord of the Flies on my student? What are you going to do? Sue me for not wanting to look ugly?