Friday night at bridal shower number one: I don't know ANY wedding songs. At Tehni's wedding it was still hokay, the bride was our friend hence equally inept but Friday bride-to-be was what we call "Nasreen"-you know when you go to weddings, there is the one flish-flash-shiny-happy-best-friend-of-bride looking girl who sings the loudest and dances the most. So the bride was that.It was refreshing.Laughed and danced the night away.It's only when the Lahori gang gets together that I can't help but laugh helplessly at the collective accent production.I know Bia does it deliberately to entetain me.I wonder about the rest.Bia had never heard of Black Eyed Peas and the song "My Humps" so we told her they were Black Eye-Piece and the song was "My House, my lovely little house" and carried on from there on the dance floor.
Saturday afternoon: Pakistan Television offices, I missed the ice breaking session before the recording, was shoved into a make up room and sweated in fear of being made to look like PTV newscasters with white faces and black necks, but thank the lord, they thought Poput's make up was good enough. I like the idea of me going with Egyptian crafted bedroom eyes on PTV version of Hard Talk. The discussion was not as bad as I expected but again, it's only when I have to communicate in Urdu that I realize that all the ideas that make so much sense in English and convincingly flow together, I just cannot express in Urdu. At one point the Minister and I were arguing completely in English. It's horribly elitist and I had thought my Urdu was better than most of my contemporaries because at least I grew up reading Urdu fiction as much as I read books in English. My second diary was entirely scripted in Urdu. Anyway, I wonder what I will look like on national television.
I watched Basic Instinct. Uncut version. Was scared. Also liked the legs bit. Will practice. Although if she had been in a Pakistani police station doing that during interrogation, she would have probably been gang raped by the bastards by then.
Munch and I also had discussion on little moves. The little moves that don't count as foreplay but still thrill you all the same. I have a whole repertoire of tried and tested ones. It's sometimes strange how your flame will have perfect recall for the way you hold his hand and move your fingers over his hair more than he will anything else. Surprisingly the four married friends we put our inquiries to had no idea what we were talking about.Depressing state of affairs I must say. It has also been established that while practically I may be the queen, theoretically Munch rules the roost and we should start our own Cosmpolitans for Muslim girls who don't want to have sex but want to do everything in between that and holding hands.
Sunday: Sunday went into the bones, I had a three course breakfast. Weather was bubbling with scented wind of spring flowers and eye-pricking green glint of Cantt trees in the pre-rain pastel sun.I love how spring comes to Lahore-especially Cantt and LUMS every year. Slept in the afternoon, went for long drive, all along the airport singingm hanging heads, hands out of car, watched sex and the city, then steaming sauna at Gymkhana (burnt my bottom on the seat, I love the taste of salted sauna steam), shower stalls and walk outside on the roads post dinner. Saw the new baby hearing Azan in each ear as well. Papa gave the Azan in all of our ears.
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