Everybody is so excited, so excited kay don’t even ask. Oho, bhai, because cricket has come after Siri Lanka’s disastrous tour all those years ago. It’s first time anyone has come to us to play. Makes such a nice change from having to play with ourselves only. Vaisay tau it’s a kaalay logon ki team that’s come but chalo koi baat nahin. Actually, in a way accha hi hua because after the suicide bomb outside Gaddafi Stadium that those brave police wallahs foiled and the rest of us pretended was a transformer ka dhamaka, bhai dar lagta hai to host anyone else. Khaas taur pay goras. Because we all know na that their lives are so much more mehnga than ours.
So I was saying this to Janoo and he said, ‘Actually for the West there’s no difference between the Zimbabweans and us. For them we are both black. As are the Sri Lankans, Indians, Bangladeshis and West Indians. We are all black.’
‘Haw, Janoo,’ I said, ‘we are not black. We tau are wheatish.’
‘Politically speaking, we are black. We are not white, right? So we must be black.’
‘Okay chalo, I except that Siri Lankans are not wheatish and West Indians are also on darkish side but what about the Afghan cricket team, haan?’ I asked. ‘They with their green, green eyes and brown, brown hairs and fear si skins, they are also black?’
‘Politically, yes.’
Vaisay Janoo kay saath tau argue karna total time waist hai. Next he’ll be saying my cousin Topsy is also black. Topsy you know, her skin is like snow, so white she is. And not the dirty snow you find on the streets of Murree but pure white snow like in Swizzerland. Like that only. And ever since she’s started wearing green contacts and has had blond highlights put into her hair, she looks cent per cent a foreigner.
Anyways, I won’t argue with Janoo. I’ll just let him enjoy his cricket. After all, it’s come after so many years. Just like Hayley’s Comic.
So I was saying this to Janoo and he said, ‘Actually for the West there’s no difference between the Zimbabweans and us. For them we are both black. As are the Sri Lankans, Indians, Bangladeshis and West Indians. We are all black.’
‘Haw, Janoo,’ I said, ‘we are not black. We tau are wheatish.’
‘Politically speaking, we are black. We are not white, right? So we must be black.’
‘Okay chalo, I except that Siri Lankans are not wheatish and West Indians are also on darkish side but what about the Afghan cricket team, haan?’ I asked. ‘They with their green, green eyes and brown, brown hairs and fear si skins, they are also black?’
‘Politically, yes.’
Vaisay Janoo kay saath tau argue karna total time waist hai. Next he’ll be saying my cousin Topsy is also black. Topsy you know, her skin is like snow, so white she is. And not the dirty snow you find on the streets of Murree but pure white snow like in Swizzerland. Like that only. And ever since she’s started wearing green contacts and has had blond highlights put into her hair, she looks cent per cent a foreigner.
Anyways, I won’t argue with Janoo. I’ll just let him enjoy his cricket. After all, it’s come after so many years. Just like Hayley’s Comic.