We begin. Each day, with memories of yesterday. Good memories. Bad too. That's our school bag, as we leave for work. Heavy if we have a big memory system in our head, light if we are the forgetful type.

I begin each day light, and I know I am right. I spent the last four months or so, in a cave. Not officially, but in spirit. I took a leave from whatever I had to do. Took a leave from all the pressing problems. To take a step back, to regroup. To understand what I have done to date, and to organize, for what I am to be tomorrow.

Deserve respect.

The break worked wonders, or at least that’s how I am going to sell it for the moment. Today, was the second consecutive working day, when yours truly, was on-time for office. For the record, never before had I been on-time for office.

I truly deserve a timely pat on my back. Well done bro!

Ear rings.

This has been like week three. My right ear has been down. My fault. I wanted it all clean. So, I pushed that small finger right till the end of the ear-hole. So here, we are today, I can hear only 20% of the sound dB (decibels) you generate.

So, the moment I enter the room of my office today, my colleague, Ms.Tahira asks, “How’s that ear now?”, and I respond after trying hard to hear with that 1/5th of an ear, “Bad, very bad. There’s pain today.” She’s like, “Oh.”

Ear crackles. Rings. There’s fluid moving from left to right ear. Law of continuity:

Flow in = Flow out

Oh God, help!

Ring

The whole day of office work is traumatized by all sorts of phones ringing. Landlines, 19th century Nokias, Iphones, Skypes, and what not. Buzz, buzz, buzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZ.

My colleague on the right, is the biggest culprit. Say twenty calls a day, 15 missed calls. And hundreds of text messages. All this I presume, and exaggerate, as I recall, and write. Its pure, ringing pain.

So, I try to flip her iPhone the next time it rings. And voila! It keeps ringing. Hey, no fair. All iPhones go mum once flipped, what’s wrong with this one.

As she arrives back on her table, I tell her that her iPhone is a fake, since it keeps ringing even on flip.

The deal

I had this car wash deal with the office clerk last week. He would clean my car, twice a week, and I shall pay him PKR 250 per month ($2.75/month). A good deal for me, since this would keep my car shiny white all week long.

All great men have nice, clean cars, right?

So, I request today this clerk to begin, and he responds, “I don’t have time today (Urdu: میرے پاس ٹائم نہیں ہے). Wow, what a service. Truly reliable.

Killing the heat

We are having a heat wave in Karachi. The city is oven hot. And here’s how you kill the heat: Confuse it!

So, I think up of new ways to cover myself up. I tried the dupatta at a wedding in my village. It nearly burned my neck. But, I felt spectacular photographically.

Next, I want to wear ties. Plain shirt, and bright ties. That would surely beat the dupatta look, fair and square.

Reminder: the air conditioner in our office does not work, and there are 8 people in our small office room.

Reminder 2: The second reminder is that I presently do not have a plain shirt to go with a tie. Hence, there’s some shopping to do first.

Green things back home

Once home, I tend my garden. Its like juggling twenty balls all at the same time. I make a sad clown juggling them. Little success, tonnes of failure.

A lot of the plants are drooping the wrong way. The grass, its receding fast. What comes in plenty are plants with thorny stems, creating more threat, and less beauty.

And then I look around, there are places where grass is not required, and yet it somehow, magically springs up. Concrete. How can it possibly do that? So not fair.

Fresh Prince of Bell Air

Nostalgia: Remember the good ol’ days when we were young. Remember that comedy drama with that song. I used to sing it as it aired. Always.

Yet, there were only four words I understood: ‘Fresh Prince of Bell Air’, for all else, I made the ‘whoosh, wish’ sound.

Another tiring day. We work so hard, and yet, our pay masters, they let out laughs in the air, and pay us with scorns, and taunts.

The day begins at 8am.

Early morning by weekend standards. The plan was to reach the university at half past nine. A good breakfast, an amazing shower with that menthol shampoo, and some compulsive room tidying. Ten fifteen, that’s when I reach my university.

When it is as late as this, the whole traffic scene changes, as if another play, directed by some foreign director has started. The school kids are now much younger, kindergarten, or maybe nursery. They are crying to get back home, but their parents see the ‘doctor’ coming soon, so they push the tender hearts into their schools, sobbing, and looking weak carrying their tiny bags.

The beggars change. A more active looking one works at the intersection. She has a suspicious walk, and does not have this inner drive to beg. She is just going through the motions. There is no real begging.

My group mate at the University, Azeem is present. He looks at his watch, (which by the way, has dead dials, a feature which makes the watch look more like a magnetic compass, and less a time machine). In a bored down tone, he educates me, “You are one hour and fifteen minutes late.”

I apologise. Like always.

Ubaid is sitting beside him. He asks me to fill his autograph book, since we all shall be parting ways come December. I had a lot to write about him, his childish self in the first year, to the more persuasive, and more successful guy of today. He has had his bad days with us, but today, we are, in a passive friendship. Not too close, but still, friends.

Work begins in the computer lab

Azeem and I run up to the computer lab to start our Project work: Hydraulic design of Khairpur-Larkana bridge. Its our final year project. Its plagued with one too many illnesses. As bad as HIV-AIDS. There’s illness. Then there are solutions, and then there are many baby problems, which later grow up to become the epic monster problems.

The first three months of our project were spent understanding what we were doing. Another three months at getting our University people understanding this project, and then the last three doing some work. Hence we are here, at the nine month, with little or no work to show. Its like we have been banging our heads at the wall with only our heads bleeding but the wall not moving an inch.

Mission impossible. Interruptions.

Nevertheless, we can’t lose hope. We spent an hour writing up what we had done. Then there was an interruption. I had to leave for a meeting with my class fellows, which would then culminate into a meeting with the chairman of the department. We had to discuss the Finances of the Farewell party for our last year at NED university. I was a part of the team, because of my writing skills, plus my excellent repertoire at the Chairman office.

An hours meeting. I sketched down the finances, neatly, on a piece of paper, and off we went to the Chairman’s office. It usually takes a few tries, until we get a chance to meet our Chairman. He is usually busy in meetings.

From 2011 09 15 Presentations meeting et al

Three tries, and finally, we were into the Chairman’s office. Just the two of us: myself, and the impeccable, Usama Fareed. The Chairman scrolled through our balance sheet. He said that we were spending an astounding amount on just the dinner (PKR 90 000). Instead, he said, if we went with the “Refreshments” only, then the financial situation could come under control. I told him that the farewell party was called Annual Dinner, and hence, a good dinner was an integral part of the event.

He let out a laugh, “Hah, a name. It can be changed.” (Annual Refreshment, anyone).

So what we needed was some PKR 80 000, which, after considering the amount we will be getting from juniors, and colleagues, will make the financial situation net positive.

Our Chairman looked at our Sponsorship letter, and tariff sheet for the event. He said that the tariff plan was trashy, “No wonder you have got no company sponsoring you.”

Usama added in, “Its also because we belong to Urban & Infrastructure Engineering, and not some old, recognized field of engineering.” Our Chairman disagreed. He said that this should not be the case, because instead ours is the more attractive field. The one toward which people should be attracted naturally.

Finally, he said, that the Urban Forum team may help us in the sponsorship of the event. Something around PKR 15,000.

The math

Consider that, and the amount the department gives for the event each year, PKR 15,000, and we only need to get PKR 50 000 from the outside world.

Earlier, during the calculation, Arsalan was suggesting, “Increase the overhead cost to PKR 20000. Who knows, we might run short of cash in the end.” I told him we would be behind bars, serving embezzlement convictions, and shame. We had a good laugh.

Finally, I returned to the work. Our final year Project. Ali had also arrived earlier. We typed out the procedures we had conducted on Global Mapper, and then it was time to leave.

A very tricky situation

I asked Ali to wait in for me, as I visited the washroom. As I squatted, just as I had done the day before, some thing fell into the water closet. Yesterday, it was my mp3 player, where I thanked God that it was not my phone. Today, it was my smart phone in there, in the filth.

Its tricky situation. The first reaction on hearing the sound of something dropping is to jump up and stare in shock, and a second later, the hand is in the worst imaginable place. No words to define the disgust, the loss.

Now here comes the confusion: What do I with the phone? The first step was obvious; to remove the battery. I did that.

And now, the urge to wash clean the phone, and then the resistance. And finally coming out with shame. Looking for a piece of cloth to clean the mess all over the phone. Finding none.

The phone is currently drying at the roof top. Just twenty four more hours of drying and we shall see if the thing still works. If I was a phone that dropped so low, I would have died by now. Any ways, lets keep our fingers crossed.

Ali and I reached home. My father, who was to help us with our Final year project was busy in another meeting. Hence, we kept typing, and then, finally, we returned to the university to get our pay cheques.

From 2011 09 15 Presentations meeting et al

No finish line to celebrate

Not so fast buddy, said our teacher. “Just one page of typing! That’s it.” Our master was not impressed, but he should have realised that it takes around three to four hours of hard thinking to type that just one page. He said that he shall go through our report only when there was substantial progress.

Azeem (left), and Ali (right) celebrating the finish of the analysis part of the project. From 2011 09 27 Cricket fever

Installation error!

He then inquired as to how we installed ArcGIS on our computers. I said that we had it installed from my father’s office, where some computer guy spent hours installing it. Apparently, my teacher, was not listening.

He opened up his netbook, and said, “Here, see, mine is not working.” I said, that there were two issues, one with his computer, which was a netbook, a slow atom processor, and second, the software was to be installed with much care, and this was not an easy thing to do.

I thought I was going to help him on this one, but our relationship just went from bad to worse.

“The problem with you is that you don’t listen. You have your own yap to make, always.” I agreed to some extent; I do prejudge situations. It helps me analyze things in a more efficient way. Although, the chances of error are ten percent.

The problem was that my teacher called a cracked software, a Registered software. He said that he had a registered version of ArcGIS, which was not. The second problem was his tiny computer. I hate netbooks, and my hatred shone through my tone, as I told him that his computer was not adequate to run ArcGIS.

He was furious. We left.

17th day of fasting. From friday onwards, the fifteen day vacations will begin.

I slept a good sleep after Sehri (breakfast). Somehow, I manage to get up by half past seven. Actually, its always, like that. No matter how much sleep is still left. No matter how late I have been working, and then hitting bed. I wake up, seven thirty, on the dot.

The problem of course is, that I am left with very little time to get to my first class at university. I could easily add those classes lost, and end up with a terrible grade, and short attendance. An issue.

A quick, bare bones shower, and a bit of deodorant. I am up and running on my way to the university. Its 8:00am. I can imagine: My class full of students. My teacher talking about real important, life changing, or exam related stuff. I drive.

It’s a boring 10 minutes drive.

The first three minutes are nervous. My car’s radiator, is icy cool. At least that’s what the indicator claims. At any moment, the battery may give in, and I would be left standing on the road. Missing my second lecture of the day at university.

More often than not, the car does not give in. So after three minutes, which are full of sweating, and panic, I can safely turn on the Air conditioner. The first monument, is the row of schools, just outside my house. Eager, bag laden school kids, being guided in by their aspiring parents. I have noticed that the boys often have very light bags to carry, while the girls have massive, book laden bags on their shoulders. They walk a tilted walk, and most often, they also have some interesting drawing in their hand. Class decoration.

Next comes the roundabout, Johar Chowrangi. On days, when I am late, there’s a red light, and a beggar waiting for me. I wait for the green light, while the begging lady comes in for a few alms. I have never given her a penny. I always smile, saying, “Sorry.” She replies something back, but since I gave the windows rolled up, I can see her, but not hear her. Plus, the radio is on max volume, with some good tune on.

There was a day, when that window of my car wasn’t rolled up. That beggar came in. I smiled, and said “Sorry”. She replied back.

This time, I could see her, as well as hear what she had to say, “Young man, you can give alms at least once in a while”. (Urdu: Beta kabhi to kuch de dia karo). I lost my smile. That was what she used to say, as I continued to smile, and listen to my radio.

The light turns green. Two more turns, and I am in the university.

I am in the university

First period’s for Law and Regulatory Control Studies. Meet Sir Ravinder Kumar. Ali, and I simply call him RVK, which in turn brings us both to our nostalgic young days, when we used to watch WWF, me in Malaysia, Ali at Mirpurkhas. The trigger is Mr. Rob Van Dam. RVD. He used to start every match with this “RVD” chant, his fingers pointing towards his shoulders at every letter of the acronym.

This was odd, and so was WWF as a whole. It was so awkward. Imagine Undertaker, coming in with the lights out, or Shaun Michaels dancing-in into the ring.

Memories. More often than not, RVD used to get a lot of beating. He was fat, and useless, except for his flying kick to the face. Till that came, he was beaten from his original yellow, to pale, and finally bright red; and yet he never gave up, and that’s why we loved him, waiting for him to give that final kick.

A kick back to reality.

I am in class. RVK, is at the helm of affairs, teaching Law & Regulatory control studies. This whole class, in my view is a farce. For the last two months, we have been studying, the definition of Law, and the last three periods, including the one I was sitting for today, was wasted on deciding which kid was going to take what topic for his Law assignment.

He also talks about how vulnerable a teacher is at NED, but, he says that he has a passion for teaching, and socio-economic hurdles don’t bother him.

A few minutes later, its time for attendance. I was sitting at the back, so I couldn’t hear my turn for the roll call. My friends in front informed me. I shouted out, “Roll number six, sir”, and there came that smile, along with the question: “Dreaming, were you?”

Up next comes the exact opposite. Its education in High definition. Welcome Sir Adnan. Again, Ali and I have a name for him. We call him Adnan Fowkes Model. Since that was the topic of his PhD, and at times when the mood is high, its simply: Addu.

Urban Mass Transit

Urban Mass Transit. That’s the subject. Today we learnt how to schedule buses according to the specified headway, say we wanted a bus to arrive every 30 minutes, then how many buses would be required in the entire fleet? How will they be timed?

Easy stuff. Or may be, that’s because Adnan Fowkes Model, makes it out so simple. Whenever we ask deep, abstract questions, his hand blinks the red-light, where he exclaims, “This is PhD (or Masters) level question. You don’t want me to teach that stuff here (at Bachelors).”

We decided on our 2 week assignment for Urban Mass Transit, “Feasibility of Parking Plaza in Sadr (Karachi). Ali was working on an Intelligent Transport System project. Finally Ubaid came into the mix. His usual rhetoric: So and so assignment to do. So and so task weighs so many/so few marks. He’s never satisfied with the situation at hand.

Today’s news was that the UMT assignment weighed a measly five marks. So Ubaid’s advice to everyone was, “Don’t fret over it, its worth five marks only!”. I gave him my counter-argument, and said that we should do our Projects as they come, and should give our best, irrespective of their scheduled weightage in our Mark sheets, at the end of the semester. I told him, with eyes shining bright wide (I presume), that we could show off our best projects while applying for Engineering vacancies.

Ubaid was disinterested. He gave out a bored yawn. Asra entered the scene. She had that blank face today. Her project title Safety study of Public Transport, was not approved. The teacher said that it was too broad a topic. I told her, that this was exactly what happened to our Final year project: Bridge Hydraulics. It took us a good 6 months to solve the deadlock.

So I knew how to get out of this literary black hole. I advised her to make her project title more specific, say confine it to a geographical area, plus, give it a definite objective, such that at the end of the project, there is a definite output to be realised.

It was a good discussion.

Asra has her own way of disagreeing. More subtle, very unlike Ubaid. She says yes, and then adds the conditional if-statement, or the futuristic, “I will look into it”. Its more digestible.

The day at the university is over. I head home, tell my mother, that we have a Fast breaking ceremony at five, and hit bed.

(The best part of the day yet to come. Just tired of typing for now.)

Spring festival. 17 departments, one celebration. Today was a party day. Only thing we missed this time was 'a good sound system'. The singing competition was so lame, we could hardly hear them. Except, Sheila's appearance was really funny (not in photos).

And then, the vJ competition was pretty cool; Ali Safina, and us (NEDians). As always, I was without cash today. Luckily, Ali, Faraz and Rizwan sponsored me drinks, and games.

(Will be updating with more insight on this day once I finish my pending schoolwork. Till then, catch the snapshot, and the story within.)

Snapshots

NED university's students prototype car has been on display outside the auditorium. Had a close look at it. I would say, that its pretty basic.

We also learned that our department-wide T-shirt is under construction.  (Wasn't I suppose to design this one?).

And a meeting with our chairman . .

(Will be updating with more insight on this day once I finish my pending schoolwork. Till then, catch the snapshot, and the story within.)

Snapshots

Geographically challenged son. Born in that part of the planet, whose weather does not suit him. Flu is ever green; the sneezes keep coming all year round. Winters mean difficulty in breathing. Asthma. Early morning, and late night, the lungs keep wheezing.

Things have actually changed for the better over the last two days. I have seized my one month vacation in favour of a course in Geographical Information System. It appears that I don’t need that ‘much needed’ rest; the one advised for, after extended periods of work.

Extended period of work. Sixty days of rigorous examinations. Two months of high intensity, selfish work. Its interesting how the otherwise chatterboxes, the sport-freak, and the book-haters, are left with no choice but to study intensely for two long months. And these are those people who would swear that, “Studies. I hate them.”, or the more apt, “Engineering sucks.”, and for some, even, “I am more interested in photography.”

Plot. A grand heinous plot to push unwilling students to the wall. Make them study.

Three, two. one, zero.

Back to me. Yes, the exams have been unending, but they have not been tiring. My friends (although I prefer the more accurate: classmates), have been bombarding me with texts, mails and calls, trying to instil fear and anxiety within me, for the exam season. They are burning with anxiety, while I take a chill pill; watch ‘The Social Network', three times over; create, design and popularise a blog for my sister; help Ma in the kitchen; play a few cricket matches. Sleep, wake up, and then sleep some more.

Create a javascript calculator; a forum for urban engineers; and keep reading. Keep reading all the technology blogs, and the book: The Black Swan. And did I miss telling you that I edited a video based on the exams, during the exams: Post Examination Ceremony, with vivas still lurking around my neck.

The only thing I didn’t do, or should I say, that I wasn’t successful in doing was the creation of a logo. Under normal circumstances, the creative me is able to create an appealing, yet effective logo every month. I drew a few sketches whenever the numericals, the equations, or the test topics got boring. Yet, all I got in the end were some embarrassing scribblings of old ideas trying to look new.

The good news is that the draught has just ended, and I managed to milk something out of that artist living in one corner of the old, heartless, and predictable mind.

Geographical information system. That is where we started from. Life’s taken a positive turn ever since I joined the GIS workshop. The asthma, the flus, or those xyz pains cropping up after that abc ache, have all ended. At times, it feels like AIDS: acquired immuno-deficiency. One illness after the other. Or maybe, I am just listening too much into my body; a slight twitch in one part of the body should not be diagnosed as an illness. Billions of cells in the body. At any given instant, all of them can’t be in perfect condition; probability. Physiological probability.

And then I have coined a theory: the more frequently sick you get, the prettier you become. (I am fond of pushing in new theories into the media, then double checking them; taking my words back, or putting down new laws.)

Geographical information system. Ever since the course, the Arificial vitality has returned.

So what have I got, for a change. I wake up early in the morning. Sleep’s over at seven, and I am out of bed by eight. My mother is usually sipping tea at this time, and has to reluctantly rise, and make breakfast for me. She’s a perfectionist. Her breakfast is the best in the world, but we only get them on the occasional, lucky days.

Its a cold morning, but I am brave, as I look for ward to the steaming hot bath. I usually overdo this shower, and hence arrive late for the GIS session. Just 20 minutes late. I am thinking of placing a watch in the bathroom. Timed shower. That’s more like it.

We are a team of three in the GIS workshop; the three idiots, actually two idiots. Usama’s good at mapping, while Rizwan and I suck at finding places on the map; the map of Karachi.

The task.

Accident data for Karachi, (and for us, specifically Sadr Town), is given in Address form. Say, Fatal accident at Avari Hotel, Sadr Town. We have to find that location on Google earth, and note down the exact coordinates of the accident, into an excel sheet.

Simple, but boring.

Everybody else was typing in the Geographical coordinates manually. I created a a program that did the work, automatically. That is what computers are meant to do. Everybody was so envious. They were in awe. Just press a button, and voila. Rizwan was proud of me.

Every time we had to note down the coordinates, Rizwan would begin with, “In the name of God,  . .. . . “, and then hit the magic button. It felt like such an Al-Qaeda project.

But we suck at maps. So, Rizwan and I only managed to note down sixty accidents, working all day. Usama was absent today. He was receiving his brother; returning from Germany, completing a his Bachelor’s degree in Mechatronics. Whatever that is?

A strange friend?

On facebook, have befriended this stranger, Ali Sheikh. He had reqeusted to be friends. The online world is such a paradoxical, fishy place. Now, this person is peculiar. The name clearly makes him a male, but he says that he is a female. Ooops, she says that, she is a male. And then this stranger friend drops funny comments under my statuses, and today, sends me a message: “Are you online .”

Probably, its a boy, trying to be funny on facebook. I don’t mind that, since I take facebook to be a fun place. Pranksters don’t annoy me.

Happy dreams.

Early bird today. Tweet, tweet. Or may be, “Kaw, kaw.” Okay, not that early. It was nine in the morning. So I am not there yet, but at least am moving in the right direction.

Satoshi Kanazawa has some other ideas about early birds.

Grand breakfast. Lots of ‘good wishes’ from Mama and Papa, and I left for NED university, for my exam. I got myself some new pens, and yes, a brand new plastic scale. It is so breakable. How about this: on the last day of my exams, I will break this thing into two. The girls will shriek, the boys shall hush in admiration. Good drama!

It was a really hot afternoon today. My oesophagus went sticky dry today. Three hours remained in the exam. Along with Ali and Azeem, today, we prepared outside the Petroleum department. That is where Usama and company prepare before each test.

We studied hard.

There was peace here; no classmates disturbing us over this numerical or that chart. Just Usama and company studying on their own.

Tanvir was sitting at the far end bench. He wore white shalwar kameez, and looked like a charmed saint. Behind the tree was Rizwan on one side, and Shahbaz on the other. The setup looked hilarious.

The Usama group was boiling with preparation. I was my cheery self. I don’t like to fume my tiny being over each and every test. There are just one too many, and certainly not worth it.

An hour left. Ali advised that we should perform the prayers first. He said, “These prayers shall help us in the test.” I told him that there is no relationship between our success in exams and our religious obligations.

Ah! Nobody gets me.

The test begins.

Soil Mechanics it is. Flashback: I have been studying this subject since last year. Studied from Braja and Das. Got a few concepts, but never learned verbatim. Not even a single line. Doing the parrot bores me.

I can’t sing a song that is French to me, nor can I sing one that doesn’t have a meaning to me.

Derivations. Derivations are absurd lyrics. I can’t, learn them. Therefore, I won’t try.

Problems. I shall solve them sure, but sorry its absurd to learn a complete solution.

Yet this was what this exam was all about. The same problems that we did in class, the exact same, arrive in the exam. And then there are those derivations, and short notes; they give me the killing blow.

I was so dead.

So was Ali. We studied this subject, but never bothered to learn it by heart.

Everybody had a winning smile on their face. They had a grand exam. Kick the books; just learn the problems done in class, and voila!

I am predicting 40 marks for myself; although thirty would not be a shocker as well. As for everybody else, a lot of rote learning, some cheating, and then a little help from the invigilator, they shall be getting sixty and above marks out of the 75 mark test.

How about being at the bottom of the class for not memorising selected problems and derivations.

Section 144

Jail on pillion riding. On the way back home, almost got held at Jauhar intersection, but Ali stopped his bike just in time, so that the Police didn’t see us.

How about being in jail after a bad Soil mechanics test?

Tonight: Loads of music + fun.

A good, hard day of work. We packed the donations for the relief victims of the flood. Not easy stuff for the tender hands of the calculator/pen handling student. There was no canteen, no food. Just wheat, sugar, clothes and medicine; all needing some packing. We returned home at three in the morning.

Today was the first day of my life, doing volunteer work. Also, today, I created my first podcast. Yes, like all firsts, it is terrible. Its a difficult hearing. I recorded it using my budget digital camera, so their is no noise cancellation, that is, you can hear the fan spinning on my back.

	Arificial Audios
	downlaod mp3

In pictures

Victory. Number one. I think I have officially lost my head. For the first time in years, I have turned proud. It was so spontaneous, just couldn't help it.

After scoring the highest marks in the Traffic test, I have become more confident. This pride thing has to go. I have got to replace it with hard work.

Ubaid got only eight marks in Environmental engineering, whereas others, including myself, got 17 to 20 marks. It was a hilarious scene. I told Ubaid that justice has finally arrived, he has to face the reality. He has to feel the way we feel on getting poor grades.

Ubaid is irritated with only 08 marks. Azeem adds, "Just the right thing. (Acha hua.)"

Azeem also called Aisha a beneficiary of favoritism/ nepotism. Aisha's sister is a lecturer at our University. She goes all red.

I think calling names is wrong. We should apologize. Period.

From university, Azeem and I left for Relief Camp at PAF museum. They needed volunteers for the packing of stuff to be sent to the flood areas. So we came in to say,"can we help."

We were told that work shall begin in full flow after the fast completes, somewhere around 9pm till dawn. Phew.

Okay, so this was not the right time for the right work. Azeem, anyways, wasn't energetic enough about this work. So we left for our homes.

Photos of the flood (The big picture)

Currently, I am working on this online form, which when filled, would show the latest timetable. Anybody,at anytime, could edit this timetable by filling in the form. Cool, isn't it?

What a morning, what a day. It started with the cute, white kitten. Then a great Traffic engineering test, and good marks in RCD Practicals. Happy is me.

Here’s today in pictures.

A calm day, although I had sketched it out to be a terrifying one. It was one of the only few days of this year when I was in the class, on time. It helps to be on time. I understood whatever the teacher was explaining: Design of Pile Caps.

Azeem was sad today, he got only 14 marks in Soil mechanics. Others had got within the 17 to 20 range. He was dejected.

At the end of the day, I gave my teacher the RCD wor kbook. Again, I was late. Again, it was incomplete. But, I didn't dare to tell him that I was handing in incomplete work. To submit work late was a huge crime itself.

Back home, I worked on Etabs. Although it is useless now, from the sessional marks point of view. I will submit the eTabs model to the RCD teacher by Monday. The model which was supposed to be checked way back in March. He would certainly turn red, but that's about it. He has this quality of no-trash talk; the quality of a truly educated person.

Tomorrow: Take photos of the ending session.

It was hilarious to see Ayesha giving us a “C-grade”, (that is what I gave her, on their groups presentation). Tit for tat. No. Actually, she was right. By my own standards, the presentation wasn’t that good. I didn’t blow the audience away. I stuttered like 5 times in the presentation. I must have measured 40 degrees at that time.

A shaky start

After the first few slides, I gained in confidence, and then, the ‘flow’ arrived. It was easy stuff from then onwards. Erstwhile, my other group members: Ali and Azeem, were both confident, and sounded great as well.

Due to off-timings, not many people were present for the presentation. Its always easier to present a smaller group, than the whole class. Always.

Ice breaker

Sir Sadaqat was amused at our ‘please wait’ and ‘installing silence’ slides. They broke the ice.

The question answer session was good as well, but who is a match for Sir Sadaqat. We had to give in to his arguments.

Update: At the end of the session we received our grades: 5/5 for all three: Azeem, Ali and Arif. Psst: We didn’t even submit our project file.

The whole nation is in a state of shock. Take my word, the entire 18 million people of Pakistan are baffled. We have  reached the semi-finals of the T20 Cricket world cup.

Pakistan had to beat the South Africans by a big margin, and boy, did we beat the Africans like champions. Then England had to beat New Zealand. So we all prayed for England, Paul Collingwood, and the Queen.

And the morning paper read:

“Pakistan sneak into the semi-finals”.

Long live the Queen. Well played Collingwood. Go England! Go!

As we reached our classrooms, we hugged each other, and bragged over how near the World title was for Pakistan. Just two more good matches, that’s all we need.

All day, we kept smiling, kept discussing the miracle.

In the structural analysis design class, I solved a numerical on the blackboard. When writing on the board, the mind simply shuts down. I feel like a stupid girl. Luckily, the requirement was only to transfer what I had done in my notebook; just nervous copy/pasting, that’s all.

Ali and I go all nervous on the internship issue. So many average (and or lousy) guys of the class have secured internship at prestigious organizations. And look at us, we are still hanging in the air.

Dad, if you are reading this, tell me if there is any internship that you can put me into?

Enjoyed the economics class today. Sir Raza is a genius. One of the few people at NED who do not rely on books/notes during lectures. Today he told us why the city government was busy constructing flyovers for the last 10 years: to make the multi-dollar Karachi Circular Railway project economically feasible. Unbelievable!

In the soil mechanics practical, today we worked on the determining the particle size distribution of fine sand. It was a fun practical; playing with water, a buoying hydrometer,  and a stop watch. Our instructor, Ma’a m Abid’s having her Masters exams in few days. She asked us to pray for her. She’s intelligent. She will certainly pass. She says that one should either pursue a Masters degree, or do a job, doing both simultaneously is a tiring exercise.

My sister’s got me an appointment with the ophthalmologist. An appointment with the consultant 3 months later, its not even funny. By that time, I would be half blind.

G.L.A.U.C.O.M.A.

Till then, I have an eye checkup. Docs, my eyesight is 6/6. The letters above read,” G.L.A.U.C.O.M.A”

Laughed like anything today: the boy, the lousy kid with his sleepy, plump face, lost his girl friend today. He was roaming around alone like a complete idiot today.

Boy meeting girl, is this what the university is meant for?

Before I close, one last bit of information. The million dollar (just guessing), rut testing machine, which had been idle for the last two years, has started working. It was started off by an Englishman, Anthony, from Derbyshire. Its a funny machine, a transparent cupboard, with a moving arm. (Figure to the right taken from internet. Original machine image coming soon).

People are attracted to a white man in Pakistan, like a kid to a clown. We hive around him, hypnotized by his accent, his appearance.

Again guessing: they say this machine was brought for Madiha Zaidi. People are discussing with skepticism, whether she deserves it or not. I think she does.

The next time we meet, we might be the World Champions.