Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Smile ;)

Once again I am at the Diplomatic Enclave. Sitting on the corner on an unhealthy patch of grass which resonates how my health is at the moment. I sit contemplating the metal erected monument of the planet we reside upon. I can't help but wonder what we have done to our Mother, Ma. The damage we've done, the endless selfishness of taking, taking and taking. Reminds me of the story of gold that I recently heard.
Do you know the story of gold? Gold itself told me this story: 'I was resting peacefully in the womb of my mother, Earth, when men came and dug into Her and dragged me from my home. Then they tortured me by burning and melting me and forming me into new shapes. But I have altered their minds so that they do not keep me outside working for them; instead they keep me hidden in dark, cool vaults, very much like my mother's womb. I have cursed them for tormenting me, and now they torment each other over possessing me.'
Aghora III: The Law of Karma (Robert E. Svoboda)
I am sitting with an egressed mood that is unsettling. At one point in time I was rushed but the course which I am circumambulating has other plans. I have left the Enclave with passport in hand. Attached crudely to the back side of the leather bound representation of the country that I call home is a blue thin slip of paper. It reads on the appropriate check box: Application under progress. Applicant will be informed in due course. Great! (with the most sarcastic, yet accepting tone possible ;) Who is going to inform me? When is due course? And most importantly how are they going to inform me? I received no definite answers from the lackadaisical employed person of the High Commission to my queries except for yes, yes to all. I could have taken advantage of this opportunity and treated this man like the fortune teller at the amusement park... Will I be happy? Yes. Can I have my visa? Yes. Are you and idiot? Yes. I did however ascertain that the stench of marijuana permeating through the thick air has created some of the laziest workforce in bureaucracy, oh wait, I guess that has nothing to do with it ;) So I am left with seven days on my Pakistani visa, a motorbike in India that might not be there when I get back now which I would like to sell to fuel the remainder of my due course. Time I don't have a lot of yet there is always time. I could courier my passport back to Canada and spend over $150 more to get my visa (which I don't even know if I can do since I applied for it in Pakistan initially). I need to apply for my NICOP card (allows me visa-free entry into Pakistan for ten years) here which requires NADRA to have my passport for a duration of at least two weeks. I need an extension now for my Pakistani visa I've realized, or I could just fly to another country and make use of the time, but still I'd have to wait my two weeks before getting my NICOP card. Ok, scrap that rant.

Oh the perils and conundrums of being Pakistani or better yet, me ;) Truly the (mis)adventures of Khayyam Wakil.

So I will investigate my possibilities this evening and see what I create. The most interesting thing just happened as I wrote that last statement down. I have to rewind a little bit to describe my surroundings. I went with my cousin-brother's work place with him, the National Bank of Pakistan. Pickup time for passports was between the hours of three and five. A four bells we departed from his office and he dropped me off at the Enclave and I just told him I would ring him when I was done, should be only half and hour to forty five minutes. It was in that window that I reappeared from the Enclave, repossessed my mobile and dialed him up. He instructed me to walk down Constitution Avenue until I saw the NBP sign on the left. I told him I would ring him when I came across it. So I called and he wasn't even there. He had arranged for the manager of this branch to give me a lift. So I endured and continued writing my tales. As I made my last point of what I intended to create, I looked up. Before me was a sign on the wall that must have been printed off by an employee that read, "SMILE AND MAKE OTHERS SMILE". That completely reinforces who I am, how I deal with situations and instructions how to live.

So in retrospect, I have time on my hands and under my feet. I have some more family to get to know, familiarize myself with the internal politics that comes with having such a large and nosy family and an opportunity to see the majestic side of Pakistan. I am now setting my intentions to head to the northern most extremes to seek refuge in the mountains. The Karakoram Highway will be my guide and solace my companion. I have begun to lose the feelings that I have embraced and that little voice keeps on getting louder. Time to press mute...

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