Yesterday, us girls –my usual crowd, na, Mulloo, Sunny, Baby, Flopsy – we had our monthly kitty party at Sunny’s. Abhi we hadn’t even sat down properly – my Mew Mew sunglasses were still on my head – when Mulloo did an announcement. She said, ‘I’m telling you all from now only, I don’t want to hear a single word about Germany and Japan’. ‘Hai, another terrorist attack? You mean, no more Schengen visas?’ I asked. ‘I told you I don’t want to talk about it!’ Mulloo snapped. ‘But Mulloo, I was thinking of maaroing a trip …’
‘She’s referring to Imran’s statement about Germany and Japan sharing a border and fighting each other in Second World War and now being besties’, Flopsy explained. Mulloo is a dye hard Insaafian, na. When Imran became PM, she was in seventh haven. ‘Now that all the looters are gone,’ she’d boast, ‘you’ll see how looted billions will pore in from Swizzerland and how rich ex-pad Pakistanis from America, Dubai vaghera will set up big businesses. With a genius like Asad Umar at the hem, economy is going to fly. Like he made End Grow fly.’
‘It was a slip of the tongue,’ Mulloo burst out. ‘Okay? We all have them.’
‘Bilkull,’ I said, ‘You should see Aunty Pussy! Constantly forgetting and making snips of tongue. Happens a lot with elderly people.’
‘Imran’s not elderly!’ she shouted. ‘It’s all that tension. He can’t rest for one minute even’. ‘Oopar say,’ added Flopsy, ‘also having to remember Class 7 ki Geography, kay bhai who is whose neighbour…’ ‘And Class 10 ki history,’ said Baby, ‘kay who fought who in which war. Honestly yaar, it’s enough to confuse anyone.’ ‘You all,’ said Mulloo, ‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your faces when Imran turns us into Singapore’. ‘But sweetie, he’s already made us sing and poor,’ said Sunny. ‘You want corruption? Haan?’ Mulloo yelled. ‘And looting and plundering?’ And then she grabbed her (fake) Prada bag and marched out.
‘Haw?’ I said. ‘What did we say?’ ‘Nothing, really’ said Baby. ‘Maybe it was our lehja that she didn’t like…’
‘She’s referring to Imran’s statement about Germany and Japan sharing a border and fighting each other in Second World War and now being besties’, Flopsy explained. Mulloo is a dye hard Insaafian, na. When Imran became PM, she was in seventh haven. ‘Now that all the looters are gone,’ she’d boast, ‘you’ll see how looted billions will pore in from Swizzerland and how rich ex-pad Pakistanis from America, Dubai vaghera will set up big businesses. With a genius like Asad Umar at the hem, economy is going to fly. Like he made End Grow fly.’
‘It was a slip of the tongue,’ Mulloo burst out. ‘Okay? We all have them.’
‘Bilkull,’ I said, ‘You should see Aunty Pussy! Constantly forgetting and making snips of tongue. Happens a lot with elderly people.’
‘Imran’s not elderly!’ she shouted. ‘It’s all that tension. He can’t rest for one minute even’. ‘Oopar say,’ added Flopsy, ‘also having to remember Class 7 ki Geography, kay bhai who is whose neighbour…’ ‘And Class 10 ki history,’ said Baby, ‘kay who fought who in which war. Honestly yaar, it’s enough to confuse anyone.’ ‘You all,’ said Mulloo, ‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your faces when Imran turns us into Singapore’. ‘But sweetie, he’s already made us sing and poor,’ said Sunny. ‘You want corruption? Haan?’ Mulloo yelled. ‘And looting and plundering?’ And then she grabbed her (fake) Prada bag and marched out.
‘Haw?’ I said. ‘What did we say?’ ‘Nothing, really’ said Baby. ‘Maybe it was our lehja that she didn’t like…’