Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Chugging along


It was a journey to be remembered at a time less fraught with tension — a journey up north that was meant to bring joy, but it was not to be.

When we boarded the train, we found ourselves seated right next to a stinky and unsightly toilet (we had to swap our paid-for abode with a family who wanted to sit together), and also found an admirer who’d last the entire 24-hour journey. Our unwanted male companion sat so close to us that whenever he uttered something we could feel his breath on our faces. And as the train progressed at a snail’s pace, with frequent breakdowns and signal failures, the toilet door decided to act stubborn, refused to hold still and provided us with the omnipresent reek to add to our impatience without fail.

As the train entered Lahore a good seven hours behind schedule, it wasn’t just our notoriously inefficient railway system that endured the brunt of our ruthless verbal thrashing. The evening and the following day was spent travelling around on the bike-rickshaws that Lahore is strewn with as well as rolling the tongue while speaking to natives in an effort to blend in.

To move further up north, we hopped on a coach that should have dropped us off at Rawalpindi in a matter of four-and-a-half hours. The thought of sitting amongst wailing infants, loud-mouth budget travellers and the sounds of Hindi film songs, we were pleasantly surprised to see none of that as yet another journey got underway. Although we did have a passenger forcing us to stop 30 minutes into the drive to meet someone and emerge with a bag of vegetables from the darkness outside.

The second non-scheduled stop was when an eccentric woman got up and marched towards the exit wanting to get off. Citing reasons of her getting an SOS call from home, she was let off, leaving us imagining the worst: bombs going off in her left behind luggage. Her seat was duly searched by the on-board security guard but nothing was discovered. However, the third stop, un-scheduled yet again, was forced when five or six chador-clad men appeared from the back of the bus, overpowered the guard and waved pistols of their own. As I had preferred to catch up on some beauty sleep amongst the jostles brought forth by G.T. Road, I caught a glimpse of the commotion and slipped back into oblivion.

It was only when an unwarranted hand reached for my pocket in search of my mobile phone that I realised we were in the middle of a highway robbery. As I parted with my phone with a smile on my face, at finally becoming part of the community that had their mobile phones stolen, I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket as it was thrown on the floor since the robber failed to find any cash in there (over-looking the credit cards I had neatly lined in there for reasons unknown).

Perhaps the passengers had realised their potential for a loot or perhaps the gang had much time on their hands, the bus was forced onto a side road and orders given to everyone to step out.

As I shivered in cold in an apt reproduction of how my maid mercilessly wriggles my precious collection of T-shirts in the name of thorough washing, it was the unbelievably clear sky that caught my eye. And as the robbers sifted through belongings on-board and while cars whizzed past without noticing the bunch of not-so-merry men banished, we counted stars. Literally! And as we laughed at the situation and what the six-month planning for this trip had resulted in, we continued sky gazing and invented our own constellation.

As the gang left with much of our belongings stuffed into makeshift bags (including my laptop that had all my work and photographs I had taken), I looked around for food. Finding that my bag had been taken as well, I dug into my pockets. Emptied, I remembered as police sirens and flashing reds and blues were witnessed on the road. And while a majority of victims hurried towards them to share their tales knowing fully well that sympathy is all they will get, smiling wryly at their “prompt” arrival, I walked towards one of their patrol cars asking an officer if I could sit in the car and listen to radio. An innocent inquiry, under the circumstances, that it was cold, and I was without music, but met with a surprised and unfriendly glare. The glare was followed by a chuckle and a shake of the head prompting me to glare back and walk back to my friends.

And as we waited for passing buses to stop on police orders and drop us at our intended destinations, we acted like most Karachiites and let other people get on while we stood and waited. The generosity and kindness paid off big time and we got the slowest and oldest of buses that took three times longer. Great.

And while our stay in Rawalpindi was spent trying to call home and making up stories about lost phones and early returns, it was, again, a road trip that brought us most joy (and fear). Being wary of what had happened the previous night on public transport, we were apprehensive at all sightings of dodgy chador-clad personnel on any bus or van and were reluctant to spend much time on-board. That is probably why when one van driver assured us the journey from Rawalpindi to Murree will not exceed the hour mark, we quickly got on. Poor as we were after the robbery, we ended up paying extra for the leftover luggage! Perhaps the bandits should have taken all.

We hadn’t thought a great deal about the driver’s choice of words before getting on. However, as the packed van raced up on the slippery inclines towards Murree, we clutched onto whatever we could. And while the driver forgot everything he knew about the brake pedal available (doing bends, which there were plenty of, at 80 and overtaking at will without considering the on-coming traffic), my palm felt wet even in sub-zero conditions. Preparing ourselves for another disaster, worse than the robbery, we kept smiling at each other while being surprised at one of my friend’s ability to sleep in the rollercoaster.

The final straw in our eventful sojourn using Pakistan’s railway was our return journey from Lahore to Karachi. Without phones and much cash, the earliest available option home was our renowned stiff seats on the train. Spending 24 hours sitting upright did not do our backs or minds any good but the thought of home getting closer by the minute (barring yet more breakdowns and signal failures) just about kept us sane.

And as I walked through my door, I had this unpretentious smile on my face which exists to date, made visible every time I tell people our tale; an eventful tale full of fun and tragedy in small parts.

© Faras Ghani 2007

Published in Dawn Magazine 24th June 2007


Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Six sixes and a Bollywood invasion


I'll have a maximum for breakfast: Herschelle Gibbs did it at 33 whereas James Wilby did it at less than half that age; pillorying a hapless youngster for six sixes in an over. The schoolboy Wilby, 16 and playing for Diss U-17s in the Carter Cup, utilised short leg-side boundaries and some half-trackers to make his way into the record books before apologising to the unfortunate U-13 star he had professionally ridiculed. "I've never hit two consecutive sixes, never mind six. I felt a little bit of pressure because there were people I know standing at the boundary saying to go for it. When it happened I was over the moon." Lucky for the bowler, it wasn't a World Cup match being shown live on TV.

And a maximum for lunch please: Staying with perfection, Paul Grennan became only the fourth bowler in the history of the Sussex Invitation League to take every wicket in an innings. With a return of 10 for 64 at Scaynes Hill, the 25-year-old swept the club-record of 9 for 12 set seven years ago. Tired from his remarkable achievement in the hot conditions, Grennan was first carried off the field by his team-mates and then had to swap ball for the bat in order to save the game for Southwick by blocking out the last 12 overs.

Bollywood invasion: Imagine Saif Ali Khan with Jay Sean, Mohammad Azharuddin and Devon Malcolm on a Bollywood set. Disaster, right? It probably will be. But when the combo appears on a cricket pitch accompanied by other actors, cricketers and even MPs, and that too in Leeds, it could provide humour, fun and vital cash for a charity. There were national flags, screaming fans, Mexican waves being formed to Asian tunes and a certain individual called Dickie Bird over-looking the 'set' as Bolly XI defeated a star-studded Yorkshire XI in the recreational Twenty20. Oh and birthday girl Shilpa Shetty availed another opportunity to be in the news.

Continue reading this on Cricinfo


© Faras Ghani 2007
Published on Cricinfo 11th Jun 2007