Place: a small room with three chicks frenetically putting on makeup, speeding to a night club... sigh...
Read this article on post-modern Judaism in Guardian Unlimited today. I remember once Wendy and I talked about favorite resources for news and commentaries, I put Guardian on my list, and she was like "What? You even read the Guardian?" I told her it's on my Top 3. I love Guardian for its witty and natural style, and for the reader comments. "I love it but it takes too long to read it..." was her reply.
On my way back from my last History of Western Civilization class tonight, I thought about what Sinha said once: "You are obsessed with the Lahore guys!" That was a followup comment when I asked about how the Pakistani team did in their debater right after I recover from fainting. Sinha accompanied me to where the Pakistani team was, telling them: "This girl, she fainted after a debate, but the first thing she asked is how did the Lahore guys do..." I wasn't exactly in a conscious state at that time, but I would never forget these words.
Anthea and I were just discussing what to get for Farhan's 22nd birthday, which would be in ten days. Why do you like those Pakistani guys so much? Why are you "obsessed" with them other than the fact that they are the first Muslims you ever acquainted with. Yet I know it has nothing to do with religion, the myth from unfamiliarity. My friends asked me those questions for a number of times, I say they are good people.
I can never forget when the breaking teams were announced at the break-night party, I cheered and jumped and applauded at hearing their names, even more excited than they appeared to be, but they remained calm, silent, waiting for the announcement of our team, it was not until then (our team name was last on the list, so we waited anxiously for quite a while), they all cheered and congratulated us. Khadija gave me a big hug, so did Ahmad. The excitement, the tension leading to this climax put all of us in a sort of high state. They waited... their celebration waited.
And I can never forget the morning when I was on the bus, leaving for the airport, Ahmad and Farhan standing on the sidewalk. His tall figure is like a street lamp. Vivian and the other girls got off the bus to say Goodbye, I didn't, fearing I would cry in front of them. Ahmad walked close to my window. He waved a finger - "Don't", wiped his eyes with bended fingers - "Cry". I laughed.
Ahmad doesn't talk to us much, maybe he's just too tall to even see us (no irony here), but when he does, he's usually sweet. He would say "Ella, no drinking, you are a minor... I'll look after you tonight." or when I put out my hands, pointing at his bracelet, he gave it to me without I even asking, "You just give it to me like that?" "Sure." or "Ahmad, can you be my brother?" "Sure." - again, without the slightest hesitation, as if he has decided to take me as a sister long ago. "Ali is my brother, Farhan is my brother, Omer is my brother, so they are all your brothers now." he said afterwards. He would also leave a message on my facebook saying "ahmad bhai is sad because his sister has forgotten him...:(" (which is like the sweetest and most childlike words I could ever imagine him saying), but then of course, there is no way I could forget him, or any of the Lahore guys for that matter.
To end, Ali, Farhan, Omer, Sinha, I miss you guys. Ahmad, I miss you most.
Monday, June 11, 2007