Diary of a Social Butterfly

Diary of a Social Butterfly
“Thank you, Raheel Sharif”, said Janoo yesterday, “for going quietly. Unlike Kayani who hung on grimly like ivy to a ruin. Or Zia, who as we all know, had to be shown the door, you went punctually.”

As Aunty Pussy says few people are classy enough to know when to leave a party. I think so Raheel Sharif knows because he went chup chaap say when his time was up. Even though so many cheapster TV anchors were singing Aaj Janay Ki Zidd Na Karo. Musharraf definitely didn’t know when to leave. As Janoo says, he outstayed his welcome by ten years. And then he tried to come back also! How pathetic is that, yaar?

One crisis over, ready for the next one.  Thanks God we don’t have the crisis that bechara Indians have these days. (You know, it’s a relieve that we have such a big variety of crisisis – kabhi smock, kabhi dengue, kabhi bijli, kabhi terrorisms — at least we don’t have same boring crisis, over and over again.) So that Moody of theirs, he’s decided that Indians can put their money into banks but they can’t take it out. Apparently, he’s trying to catch black money wallahs – smugglers, tax dodgers vaghera. But instead its hit the poors hardest – vaisay, have you noticed how the poors always hog all the headlines?

Janoo says Moody’s action is tantamountain to using a hammer to squash an ant. All I know is that ever since this happened in India, I tau immediately went to my bank, took out twenty thaddis of five thou kay notes and put them into my safety deposit. Never know, baba, when an emergency may strike and you might have to buy some new designer clothes.

Now that we can’t go to India to order them (Indian visas have become almost extinct like Dodo) we have to rely on local designers who’ve got so many nakhras they won’t even look at you unless you arrive wearing a noton ka haar. Aur oopar say no Indian films in our cinemas either. And no avocadoes in Metro yetserday. I mean yay koi life hai??