Diary of a Social Butterfly

Diary of a Social Butterfly
Thanks God, I am married to a jailer. You know na that Janoo put me under house arrest all of Ramzan and didn’t let me take part in any Eid ki shopping including the jaloos outside Khaadi? It was like being inside a sell in Kot Lakhpat Jail while everyone outside was enjoying and having a wail of a time. I almost sarrhoed to death, thinking of all the iftaaris and shopping I was missing, but at least I didn’t die of Corona.

And all those people who said the virus will die in the heat – like it was a polar bear in Karachi Zoo or an icebug floating down the Lahore Canal – they were all telling lies. Far from dying over here, Corona is not only roaming around khulum khula but it’s stalking us like a psycho from a horror movie. And all those people retwitting messages from each other last month saying kay bhai I have fifteen hundred people on my phone and not one even has had Corona, and if you rich aunties you want lockdown like London and all, go to London and all – ub they’ve all disappeared. And those bongas saying it’s a flu only, and ghabrana nahin hai, now they’re also mukroing. Cracks.

Hai I’m so worried about Mummy who has sugar and Aunty Pussy who is 78 even though she pretends she’s 69 and even Janoo’s mother, the Old Bag who is a 128 years old. What if they get it? Where will we take them? Hospitals are already full to busting. And anyways, doctors poor things they themselves have it. And bloody guvmunt is sitting there squatting flies. First it was pretending Corona was flu only and now that the bat is out of the bag they’re saying okay, baba, it’s bad, please take care karein. Meaning manage it yourselves only. Don’t bother us. But listen, keep doing tourism, no matter how many germs you take to the poors in hilly stations, and also please keep doing big kharcha on shaadis. You can lose your lives but shaadi hall owners mustn’t lose any business okay? What cheeks, vaisay!