So I admit it, I don't like going to M. A. Jinnah Road anymore. I hate thinking this way and even more annoying is that I'm giving in to this feeling. I spent eleven years of my life travelling by this road: the hustle bustle in the roadside automobile spare parts shops, the dust that taught me to cope with my throat allergies by giving me the gift of immunity, the noise created by the quite unharmonic interference of blaring horns from buses. Spending a good half an hour stuck in the afternoon traffic jam in the heat and sunshine gave me my first few heat strokes, sunburns and then took them away by giving me immunity to that too. That was the academic life I knew, with everything that street in Saddar had to offer - but somehow it's now gone. Till about four months ago, I loved M. A. Jinnah Road just as I always had: my heart would swell up with love for my school as I passed by, the sense of history associated with all the pre-partition mansions would fascinate me just as it did every day I passed by them to get to school, I would feel a rush of excitement with the knowledge that DMC and Civil Hospital are just ahead but it all vanished about two months ago. I went to my school to get some documents attested for the Dow application, loved my school just the same way but not the journey there. I thought it was because of nervousness and stress of the whole application process and the utter necessity to do everything right but I visited my school again, the next day and the feeling was overwhelming. I didn't want to set foot out of my house just because I knew where I was supposed to go! Well, life is good at making you forget about little, seemingly minor problems like these so I remembered this only yesterday when I went to finalize my admission to DMC. M. A Jinnah Road did not make me feel good inspite of all the history emanating from the walls of Dow itself!
I thought being tired was the reason for the bitter aftertaste of the ordeal but now that I have to go there tomorrow for the submission of a few documents and I'm not tired or anything at all, I can't quite comprehend the lack of positivity. I do have one theory, though.
I spent the last two years amidst the glitz and shine of Nixor lights - among the many things that most A level institutions of Karachi offer. Away from almost all kinds of sounds that can be regarded as noise, in fact all kinds of sounds possible - except that of the wind, free from dust but laced with salt, I lost perception of hustle bustle associated with my academic journey. Please don't get me wrong, I didn't wind up in a deserted island but in DHA - a LOT of people live there. In the beginning of my nixor experience, I found the streets too quiet and I can't stress enough on 'too'. They had an almost deserted feel but by the end of the second year I suppose I began to find them peaceful. I was neutral to the non-existence of dust but loved the salty breeze. It was a good change, overall.
So my theory is: I got lost in the high life Defaaaance.
I began to enjoy the quiet, salt and quiet and air conditioning everywhere and lack of exposure to sun, even though that had horrible results. Just two years of not spending as much time in the sun as I did on M. A. Jinnah Road, I started getting sunburnt again, very severely actually. I loved how I could stop by at Zamazama whenever I wanted to and not have to come from home especially for the ultimately rewarding obligation of shopping. Yes, I'm lazy about going shopping. I know there is no "height" in the tale I've related but the phrase sounded great with Dubai in it so I wanted to use it anyway.
I don't mind liking that change because there is a lot more that is associated with the past two years that make them so special, particularly the people I've met. What I do not like however, is my ability to not like the feel of the things I knew for so long as the only elements of my academic journey. I know we discover more as life moves ahead but that doesn't mean we forget the things we loved or stop valuing them as much as we did before. That is what I feel is happening to me. I loved Saddar because that's where everything I knew about the fun of travelling to school and back home began. That is where I discovered the the joy of playing hide ans seek with childhood friends in the churchyard; feeling the happiness that my Christian teachers felt while showing me the lovely Christmas tree even when they had no children of their own to share it with; discovering the interior of the cathedral, appreciating it for its coloured glass in all essence of innocence. That's where I began appreciating people for the good in them; learnt to share the joy of 'tili' before seeing the Navroze table even when I didn't believe in it. That's where I learnt to grow up. It was literally the road to my knowledge of life, travelling by which I discovered the greater part of who I am. What irks me is the fear of forgetting all this because that is the only way I could stop loving it the way I did for everything it has led me to.
It seems like I'm being ungrateful, I don't want to feel this way because it makes me feel like the last two years could have more weightage over the eleven before them and that's not true. The importance of last two years is of its present magnitude because of what they have added to the ones before them, not for masking the past! Moreover, this is also the road to my future, one I have wanted very much and the gratitude I feel for being close to it is inexpressible. That gives me more reason to want to rediscover the pleasantry of good old M. A. Jinnah Road. I hope it will come with tomorrow.
Thanks a lot for reading, means a lot to me :)
I thought being tired was the reason for the bitter aftertaste of the ordeal but now that I have to go there tomorrow for the submission of a few documents and I'm not tired or anything at all, I can't quite comprehend the lack of positivity. I do have one theory, though.
I spent the last two years amidst the glitz and shine of Nixor lights - among the many things that most A level institutions of Karachi offer. Away from almost all kinds of sounds that can be regarded as noise, in fact all kinds of sounds possible - except that of the wind, free from dust but laced with salt, I lost perception of hustle bustle associated with my academic journey. Please don't get me wrong, I didn't wind up in a deserted island but in DHA - a LOT of people live there. In the beginning of my nixor experience, I found the streets too quiet and I can't stress enough on 'too'. They had an almost deserted feel but by the end of the second year I suppose I began to find them peaceful. I was neutral to the non-existence of dust but loved the salty breeze. It was a good change, overall.
So my theory is: I got lost in the high life Defaaaance.
I began to enjoy the quiet, salt and quiet and air conditioning everywhere and lack of exposure to sun, even though that had horrible results. Just two years of not spending as much time in the sun as I did on M. A. Jinnah Road, I started getting sunburnt again, very severely actually. I loved how I could stop by at Zamazama whenever I wanted to and not have to come from home especially for the ultimately rewarding obligation of shopping. Yes, I'm lazy about going shopping. I know there is no "height" in the tale I've related but the phrase sounded great with Dubai in it so I wanted to use it anyway.
I don't mind liking that change because there is a lot more that is associated with the past two years that make them so special, particularly the people I've met. What I do not like however, is my ability to not like the feel of the things I knew for so long as the only elements of my academic journey. I know we discover more as life moves ahead but that doesn't mean we forget the things we loved or stop valuing them as much as we did before. That is what I feel is happening to me. I loved Saddar because that's where everything I knew about the fun of travelling to school and back home began. That is where I discovered the the joy of playing hide ans seek with childhood friends in the churchyard; feeling the happiness that my Christian teachers felt while showing me the lovely Christmas tree even when they had no children of their own to share it with; discovering the interior of the cathedral, appreciating it for its coloured glass in all essence of innocence. That's where I began appreciating people for the good in them; learnt to share the joy of 'tili' before seeing the Navroze table even when I didn't believe in it. That's where I learnt to grow up. It was literally the road to my knowledge of life, travelling by which I discovered the greater part of who I am. What irks me is the fear of forgetting all this because that is the only way I could stop loving it the way I did for everything it has led me to.
It seems like I'm being ungrateful, I don't want to feel this way because it makes me feel like the last two years could have more weightage over the eleven before them and that's not true. The importance of last two years is of its present magnitude because of what they have added to the ones before them, not for masking the past! Moreover, this is also the road to my future, one I have wanted very much and the gratitude I feel for being close to it is inexpressible. That gives me more reason to want to rediscover the pleasantry of good old M. A. Jinnah Road. I hope it will come with tomorrow.
Thanks a lot for reading, means a lot to me :)
