I swear knives are walking on my heart, and ask why. I’d been telling Janoo that forget about the Elections and let’s just get away to London for the whole boring show. But did he listen to me? No, na!
After doing his bit, supporting the “better candidate” according to his own weird logic, he insisted on taking a break in Doonga Gali. He said he loved the piece of the hills. I’d also love a piece of the hills, I told him, if we had a seven bedroom bungalow and servants’ quarters and a separate guest sweet. Instead of renting a friend’s cottage!
So anyways, Janoo dragged Kulchoo and me to the mountains where he went for long walks, watched documentaries, and read by a log fire in the evenings. Loser.
Aik to Kulchoo even I don’t understand. He didn’t seem to mind it one bit. Haw, I thought, iss mein mera to khoon hi naheen hai! “What about my jeans”, I asked Kulchoo one day. “The last time you wore jeans was when we went to Disneyland, six years ago. You’ve been in these cigarette pants ever since I can remember.”
Uff! He’s totally gone on his father. Worst, Mulloo and Tony came up to see us from Islamabad. “Enjoying?” Mulloo chirped irritatingly. “Baba, it’s too bore for me. Take away the mountains, the forests, the waterfalls and the views and what’s it got? Nothing!”
Tony, who’s so competitive na, started on about all the nature he saw on his last trip, and how it was so much nicer than Janoo’s nature. “But didn’t you go to Bangkok?” Janoo asked. Before Tony could reply, I pitched in, “Uff Janoo! Allah ki shaan is everywhere!”
Mullo should’ve chup karoed after that. But not at all. “We tau have travelled so much, so much that all places are bore. Last year Venice gaye. Itna suna tha but it was so disappointing. For one, flood aya hua tha. Couldn’t step out of the hotel without falling into a river. From there we went to Rome, which was all broken-broken. Worst than even Mohenjodaro. Bhai, nahee, I told Tony. Mujhe to London rehnay do!”
After doing his bit, supporting the “better candidate” according to his own weird logic, he insisted on taking a break in Doonga Gali. He said he loved the piece of the hills. I’d also love a piece of the hills, I told him, if we had a seven bedroom bungalow and servants’ quarters and a separate guest sweet. Instead of renting a friend’s cottage!
So anyways, Janoo dragged Kulchoo and me to the mountains where he went for long walks, watched documentaries, and read by a log fire in the evenings. Loser.
Aik to Kulchoo even I don’t understand. He didn’t seem to mind it one bit. Haw, I thought, iss mein mera to khoon hi naheen hai! “What about my jeans”, I asked Kulchoo one day. “The last time you wore jeans was when we went to Disneyland, six years ago. You’ve been in these cigarette pants ever since I can remember.”
Uff! He’s totally gone on his father. Worst, Mulloo and Tony came up to see us from Islamabad. “Enjoying?” Mulloo chirped irritatingly. “Baba, it’s too bore for me. Take away the mountains, the forests, the waterfalls and the views and what’s it got? Nothing!”
Tony, who’s so competitive na, started on about all the nature he saw on his last trip, and how it was so much nicer than Janoo’s nature. “But didn’t you go to Bangkok?” Janoo asked. Before Tony could reply, I pitched in, “Uff Janoo! Allah ki shaan is everywhere!”
Mullo should’ve chup karoed after that. But not at all. “We tau have travelled so much, so much that all places are bore. Last year Venice gaye. Itna suna tha but it was so disappointing. For one, flood aya hua tha. Couldn’t step out of the hotel without falling into a river. From there we went to Rome, which was all broken-broken. Worst than even Mohenjodaro. Bhai, nahee, I told Tony. Mujhe to London rehnay do!”