Diary of a Social Butterfly

Diary of a Social Butterfly
I never imagined that two whole years would pass without me doing summers in London. I’m missing so much, so much kay don’t even ask. I’m even missing the badtameez cabbies and the sarrhial officers at immigration. The halki halki rain. The raunak on Oxford Street. The sheesha and kebabs on Edgware Road.

God knows when Pakistan will come off the red list. So unfair vaisay. Only silver lining is that Indians are banned also.

So today I called my jadoo vali to ask how we can make Boris Johnson take us off the red list. She said first I had to find out his mother’s name because kala jadoo only works through the mother. We had to write their names on a chapaati like Boris bin someone and feed it to his dog outside his home. ‘In Drowning Street?’ I asked. ‘But we are on red list. How we will get chapaati to Drowning Street?’ She said we could send it to British High Commission in Isloo also. It would cost 10 thousand more because she would have to focus extra hard to make jadoo travel to Boris. So I looked up Boris ka shajra and found his mother is called Charlotte. Like Kate and William’s daughter. I told her but she said name was hard so that would be another ten thou. And she’d have to send her man to Isloo to deposit rotis outside the High Commission so that would be extra thirty thou in travel. Why so much I asked her. ‘If you send chapaati on Daewoo it will get cold on the way and jadoo will loose its power. Remember we are feeding gora dog. It will only eat hot chapaati.’ So I’ve paid seventy thou in all to her and now I’m waiting for her to write on chapaati, for chapaati to reach Isloo, for dog to eat hot chapaati, for dog to affect High Commissioner, for High Commissioner to affect Boris, for Boris to lift ban and for me to go to London. Honestly, what Mother Andrews used to say in Convent was true. Where there’s will there’s way.