Miscellaneous

QATAR


Joined April 12th 2010

Number of Posts:
10

Number of Comments:
13

Karma:
1



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Recent Posts

The Ideal Flaunting

May 10th 2010 06:31
By Maimoona Rahman

Courtesy of http://most-expensive.net


Contrary to popular belief, I don’t exactly own a limited edition pen from Montblanc; after all I’m not Marie Antoinette incarnate. Neither am I Carlos Slim Helu’s heiress. Besides, why would somebody waste a fortune on a pen made of expensive metals and studded with stones? You can’t even wear it on your ears or around your neck like a devotee of Lady Gaga. And you do get pens from Montblanc in Qatar, custom-made for the Qatari millionaires.

A fortune of blessings squandered on a pen – an object in gross disuse today – symbolises the rich buyer’s lack of foresight and infinite stupidity. No wonder they say that a fool and their money are soon parted. Besides, when investment is an option, what good is pointless squandering on something that is hardly used?

Ladies and Gentlemen of wealth, we are having an economic recession, in case you were too self-absorbed to know that. I agree that if you have wealth then you must, by default, have comforts as well, but a pen hardly categorises as material comfort. Buy a nice mansion with mirrored halls like Versailles (when you go bankrupt, you can auction it), or jewellery, or a little village off the coast. You could, better still, donate to the countless people without medical insurance, million starving children in godforsaken countries, institutions for the disabled. Just don’t buy a pen with glistening stones and a platinum nib when the rest of the world is clamouring for sunlight. Be practical and buy something of practical use, like a mansion with mirrored walls. Last night, while I stayed up reading Living, I came across an article on the remarkable beauty mirrors add to interior architecture. The pictures were amazing, and ever since, I have been day dreaming of rooms where beams of light dance through multiple reflections. Besides, living in a beautiful house is a luxury that comes handy unlike a pen.

Fact is, as my mother likes to believe, rich people are so inundated with wealth, they don’t have a clue on what to do with their booming fortunes, while students struggle to pay for college and little Indian children delight over a single pair of flip-flops for footwear. A nice palatial home, three brand new, off-the-showroom cars, exquisite jewellery, crystal ware, and mirrored halls are quite a lot of luxury. So why not let the remaining excesses flow into welfare of the less fortunate? Because at the end of the day, you wouldn’t even use the pen since you don’t write journals, you have a secretary who does all your writing work, and the pen weighs too much like a baby hippo to be used for writing. You can’t even wear the pen like a bangle!
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E-Sorrow

May 9th 2010 08:33
By Maimoona Rahman

Courtesy, techfodder.com


This may sound terribly old school that I can’t shake off my love for books on paper bound by thicker paper, or better still, hard cover. They make up amazing mural decorations, fill up shelves, and are inarguably easy to carry around from room to room before they finally snuggle beneath the pillow at night. Unless, of course, we are talking about the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The gentle tingle on the olfactory lobes by the odour of crisp papers of a brand new book is more of my delight than the words printed inside.

Ah, the delight! Until the e-book revolution sprung out of nowhere and hijacked my little bubble of joy with cheaper, unpalpable, unsmellable books hidden behind transparent screens. Before kindle and other e-book readers made their landmark appearance sometime last year, I was convinced something as dignified as palpable books wouldn’t become redundant. After all, the computer isn’t portable, the laptop can get tedious to carry around, and the iPhone’s screen is pitiably tiny. But, e-book readers, as you all know, are so cool – even newspapers will lose its papers in a couple of more years. Plus, your books are less demanding in e-version; all you need is a storage device like a flash drive to hold all your books. Something that can be stashed in the pocket, aye? And if you’re moving, you wouldn’t have to bother about boxing up your myriad collection of books and carting them with the furniture. Oh, and the e-book readers are very, very portable.

The e-book generation may also wipe out traditional publishing from the face of earth. Any Tom, Dick, and Harry will be able to self-publish for cheap and sell out on amazon, or any other e-bookstore. The disappointment of this possibility is that marketing books will become exponentially harder and publicising will cost so much more because it’ll be close to impossible to emerge through the web of websites. Also, publishing houses and book stores will lay off. Unemployment will be on the rise. Lots of terrible things will take form as the delightful generation in which I grew up will wash away into some history book or a dusty museum.

I still rummage through the shelves of book stores looking for bargains, best sellers, and little known authors. I still feel for the cash in my wallet and sigh over its lack or delight over its presence. Except, now that even I have endorsed the e-life, I have more e-books than I can count. Paperbacks and hard covers are rarely in my receipts. And I can only peruse through books at book stores, withstanding the fragrance of brand new books, resisting the temptation to make them mine for a heavy price. Because even I have started carrying books in my pocket against my whims.
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Unshared Remembrance

May 8th 2010 06:06
By Maimoona Rahman



The old teak chair creaked
With his feather weight.
An old grey sculpture
Manifested bearded old Grandpa.
His stare locked at the North Star
In the pitch-black summer sky.
A cloud, a cow, a bat,
A hat, a saucer, and dreams,
And smoke so hazy, so dense
Rose from his pipe
As though carrying with them
A missive mammoth
To deliver to the North Star.
But somewhere between was
Tryst with fatal tragedy-
The missive got rendered lost.
So Grandpa looked on;
Lost, hurt, and inconsolable.

Indoors was gleeful, noisy-
Post-dinner chaos before the black plasma screen
Maybe a family comedy-
Laughter the dominant noise.
Spoons clicked with melamine,
Desert slurped up.
This was the family moment,
Afar from monotonous, mundane ruckus
Ruling everyone, everyday.

None of everyday labour,
None of family gaiety,
None of anything, anywhere
Now penetrated pensive Grandpa.
Slowly, rhythmically, his chest heaved;
A barely audible muffle of breath issued.
His visual interaction was on.
Maybe North Star paid attention.
Maybe in North Star he saw her-
Long lost, long forgotten Grandma.
Within he silently celebrated
His first rendezvous with her.
Churning out a melancholic melody,
His heart bled with loss,
With cherished memories.
Even a word was beyond his utterance.
Anyway, did anyone care?
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Goody! Garlic!

May 8th 2010 05:53
By Maimoona Rahman


[ Click here to read more ]
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One for Those Animals

May 6th 2010 22:01
By Maimoona Rahman


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Some Far Away Star is My Dream

May 4th 2010 06:36
Dear Old Maggi


Maggi dropped by last evening to say hello. He looked marvellous, as always, with his big round glassy eyes, and well-built physique. The drizzle irritated him a tad too much, nonetheless, he seemed delighted to meet me, and I him. And no, Maggi is no dude I fancy, he’s a big four-year old tomcat who took off from his family’s home last winter in hopes of settling down. All our male cats leave home at some point in their adult lives, and surprisingly, every two weeks or so they come by and say hi. Mum considers it motherly love that keeps drawing them back home, because clearly, they don’t come for the raw chicken or fish


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The Folly of the Digital Era

May 3rd 2010 06:17
A handwritten page from my journal.


There was a time, even in the late twentieth century, when we wrote with pens and pencils without our faces turning red with embarrassment. It was such a task to join the alphabets in kindergarten, but we mastered the art of it anyway because we were obsessed with our handwriting and the impression it created on our teachers. Some of the little boys in my class even had their butts whipped on a regular basis for their illegible handwritings (which was rather hilarious, though it should have been depressing). Who'd have known that one of these days, writing with pens and pencils would become so obsolete that the art of it seemed Amish. And you bet, those little victimised boys are desperate to meet their teachers from kindergarten one last time, this time with iPod touches and notebook computers that create all but the illegible


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Every other day, I pride in my competence in and around the kitchen, and yes, I most certainly know the difference between corn flour and self-raising flour. Well, maybe my sixteen year old cousin (Do I have one?) is a closer pal of the cooking range despite being a guy, but I still pride in myself because most of the girls I know are shameless gluttons who can’t cook for themselves and have to depend on either their mothers or some chef in some rodent-infested fast food outlet. Pity them! At least I can cook, which is fundamentally an added bonus for devoted foodies. I don’t have to thrash anybody’s front door every time a pang of hunger snags at my bile juices. Biologically, I’m not sure that happens.

Today, I discovered a marvel for all those incompetent devils who can’t master the art of cooking or baking, and ergo, have to call on expensive professional chefs for bites every now and then. This one is for the bachelors and bachelor-girls who have cravings at two in the morning, and there’s a conspicuous pile of homework languishing on the table adding to the woes of a flagrantly impoverished refrigerator. Here is a five-minute recipe that you can enjoy at any time of the day without having to forego the brilliant taste of chocolate cakes. Neither is this a cheap, bland substitute. This is bloody brilliant


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Tedious Twilight

April 28th 2010 08:28


If my Prince Charming even considers slipping a Twilight’ Engagement Ring on my finger, I swear upon my late great, great grandpa that I’ll whip the daylights out of him before figuratively flicking him out of the planet. I hate Twilight that much


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So Not a Journalist Am I

April 27th 2010 19:49


Once upon a time, I dreamt of carrying my writer’s dreams to the realms of journalism – creative, constructive, and unconventional journalism. I wanted to be the living nightmare of every conniving, monstrous Member of Parliament, who never had the scruples while embezzling from money set aside for welfare, or while setting their henchmen to do away with the innocent coroner. Somewhere in my head I had conjured up the possibility of employing journalism to humble away the awful politicians of Bangladesh who have sired and mothered only corruption and poverty. Success, I thought, meant to tread all the paths forking from journalism which no journalist had ever dared to tread


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Recent Comments

Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 11th 2010 11:52
OMG! You find your own medicine bitter? Relax. You'll get used to the taste.

Delete ] [ Ignore ]

Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 11th 2010 11:00
While you expect the world is interested in lending a pair of eyes to your infinite insults. Oh, I'm sorry, you're human alone. The rest of us are sub-humans with no sensitivity to insults. Your hate speeches are what exactly in your opinion? You are the one who started the whole 'hate-all-except-Christians-o f-my-Church-movement'.

As I said, my blog is uber-cool because it's insult-free; insults not even humans like you. And as I said, I pick on only the demons who you consider humans with feelings. I respect well-behaved, social people

Well, you still seem to be wasting your time; I never called for it.

Oh look - holy spirit has come to punish me. Nah! That's just Satan

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 11th 2010 01:49
And everything you put up on public forum is open to debate. Stop cowering and asking me to leave. You're trying to suppress my orble rights. Naughty, naughty.

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 11th 2010 01:41
Awww...this is what people who have lost the argument say I'm so sorry, darling. Better luck next time.

Try finding my uber-cool blog in the neighbourhood. Perfect exhibition of brilliance, unlike yours.

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 10th 2010 20:56
Oh and it does seem funny that I get pity when I attempt to disclose the truth about Holy Daddy, Dead-waiting-to-be-reborn holy son, and wandering holy ghost

Lets see how far you can stretch this in the name of Holy Daddy, Dead-waiting-to-be-reborn holy son, and wandering holy ghost, who is more popularly known as holy spirit these days. It's always entertaining to read lunacy, idiocy, and blind, unquestioned faith.

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 10th 2010 20:48
Pitied people pity others. It's a chain reaction. Anonymous is the default option here, and since I'm rude with only the rude narrow minded racists, why defame myself? S.L, you probably pray nobody finds out your identity too. You use initials which is as good as anonymous.

S.L, you cared for a long time until Lester came along. You even decided to pray for me when you figured that I am smarter than you.

I have really met idiots who think they know everything about everything. Like truth about Obama, who by the way, as a masonist is as bad as Bush. But, of course, you have no clue! You say Obama is bad based on his religious principles. Very smart. Which age are you from? Stone age? With your holier-than-thou attitude, trust me, even Holy Dad will doom you to hell, that is if he exists.

And hello Lester. Planning to join us in hell, aye?

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 10th 2010 19:01
Oh spare me stupidity and evils that come with your religion, please!

Thanks for enlightening me on the extent of hilarity an imbecile can exhibit.

See you in hell

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 10th 2010 18:41
Holy spirit left you a revelation? That you're the best.

Hey, by the way, what does your religion say about pride and excessive self-satisfaction and hatred?

It's okay. Every time you get mad just shut your eyes and imagine Jesus being crucified for YOUR SINS and God weeping. Just never make the mistake of opening up your mind.

Of course, it'd be a sin if you accepted that Christianity makes you sad, right? It probably doesn't because you have hathos to take refuge in.

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 10th 2010 18:31
Your life is racist and no wonder you expect people to tell you that. Well you sure take pleasure in hatred; it's called hathos

I wonder what makes you believe that you're a better Christian than Westborough Baptists.

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Comment by Anonymous
on Good Friday, 2010

May 10th 2010 08:25
I can never accept the fact that divine GOD would need to condescend to the point of having a son with a human mother. I can never accept the fact that divine GOD would need to kill the unacceptable son he had to forgive people because as GOD he can forgive without bloodshed, because he's GOD. What else? God wept when his son was dying? How pagan!

How can you worship somebody who needs to have a son, which by the way is a human attribute? And that too have a son with a human? And who do you worship? The perverted father or the unfortunate son?

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