'Karachi is burning, darlings.' Powder puff and then a dab of lipstick. Fiery red dress and I smile at the irony. Karachi burnt for a while before you noticed. You were shocked out of your bed at one am just a few days ago. Early.
Unreal City. Funny how much Karachi reminds me of Eliot. Maybe because bits and pieces are literally a wasteland. Desert. Who goes there?
'You're here because of dengue, she can't go out like that, I never know where he is. Never. What is going on?' My mother is worried. My mother never worries. It just doesn't happen. But now she says a prayer every morning before she drops my sister off to school. She says a prayer knowing what is meant to happen will happen. She sends another kid, perpetually rebelling, to school not knowing if he even goes to school half the time, not knowing where he'll end up.
They tell us, apparently, there are mosquitoes mentioned in the Book. I don't know what that means. Is the end near? Should I have capitalized that 'e'? Is this how we're meant to go? How undramatic.
Eleven houses destroyed and I knew one of them well. Twice a week a woman taught us Hamlet soullessly. And she would tell us, rich kids with foreign passports, to get out while we could. Now now now. And then her house exploded and I wonder whether she'll leave.
And somewhere there are floods. I'm not sure where. Were they mentioned too? Should we check?
Should we leave? Karachi is burning, darlings. My parents are getting old. But where would we go? Back there? It's too cold there. Too different. Karachi is burning but at least we'll stay and try to salvage the pieces we loved the most. And maybe soon, sooner than soon, we can try again.
Unreal City. Funny how much Karachi reminds me of Eliot. Maybe because bits and pieces are literally a wasteland. Desert. Who goes there?
'You're here because of dengue, she can't go out like that, I never know where he is. Never. What is going on?' My mother is worried. My mother never worries. It just doesn't happen. But now she says a prayer every morning before she drops my sister off to school. She says a prayer knowing what is meant to happen will happen. She sends another kid, perpetually rebelling, to school not knowing if he even goes to school half the time, not knowing where he'll end up.
They tell us, apparently, there are mosquitoes mentioned in the Book. I don't know what that means. Is the end near? Should I have capitalized that 'e'? Is this how we're meant to go? How undramatic.
Eleven houses destroyed and I knew one of them well. Twice a week a woman taught us Hamlet soullessly. And she would tell us, rich kids with foreign passports, to get out while we could. Now now now. And then her house exploded and I wonder whether she'll leave.
And somewhere there are floods. I'm not sure where. Were they mentioned too? Should we check?
Should we leave? Karachi is burning, darlings. My parents are getting old. But where would we go? Back there? It's too cold there. Too different. Karachi is burning but at least we'll stay and try to salvage the pieces we loved the most. And maybe soon, sooner than soon, we can try again.
