While catching up with your favorite bloggers, you’ve probably seen an invitation to “follow me on bloglovin’!” in more than one sidebar.
What is bloglovin’? Don’t you already follow the blog in your Reader? Do you really have to sign up for another online account? Let’s take a look at why lots of bloggers are signing on.
What is it?
Bloglovin‘ is a tool for keeping up with blogs — a way to manage feeds. Lots of bloggers turned to it after the demise of Google Reader. When you create an account there, you can follow any blogger on any platform, whether or not they’re also signed up. Then, you can log in and see the latest posts from all the blogs you follow in…
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In April 1946, Theodore Lustig was discharged after serving three years in the army in World War II. Heading home on a train to New Jersey, he had grand plans for his new life. First, he bought a white shirt: a symbol of his return to a normal routine. The next step? Finding the girl of his dreams: his high school crush.
In his very short piece — “What If?” — he writes:
We got on the same bus — hers — and sat together reminiscing about the past and talking about the future. I told her of my plans and showed her the shirt I had bought — my first step toward making my dream come true. I didn’t tell her that she was supposed to be step two.
“What If?” is just one story among the 180 true stories in I Thought My Father Was God: And Other True Tales From…
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There is an educational institution on the Walton Road, Lahore, called Civil Services Academy. The building, the lawns, the pool, the auditorium, the courts blah, blah are not even half as interesting as the fact that the train you take from Karachi to Lahore passes right by the Academy exactly 2 and a 1/2 hours before it reaches the Lahore Train Station, thereby giving you the opportunity to jump off it since it stops for a good five minutes or so. If not for the luggage, the opportunity can be had without repercussions! However since the bags filled with goodies from home is pretty heavy, I am glad that I and my friends never actually attempted it :).
Also if you take the “pattri” straight ahead, that passes under an overhead bridge and THEN take a left and keep on going, you will, surprise, surprise, reach the famed M.M.Alam Road! Our route to coffee, meds and one odd lunch.
We explored something on the CSTs too. Atop the mountain that oversees the border to Afghanistan is the Army HQs of something or the other (Khyber Agency). Sitting there, and looking out the full-walled glass window, I was mesmerized beyond words. For below, was a small racketty steel door that let through immigrants (?), nationals on both the sides. A free pass for both the nationalities. How near the people from an entirely another world, however beyond our grasp, ARE to our world!!!
And then there was beautiful PTDC camp-out in the Kailash, where all around the building, gushed a naturally-running stream of sweet and clear water. Oh! The beauty of clean and pure, not to mention dreadfully cold (it was winters) air. Simple breathing became an exercise in beholding wonder and awe. And the amazing mountain goats that hung around just outside your door, that is, if you dared to step out. It was after all a jungle, in which they carved a small shelter – the camp-out!
The early summer and winter mornings, both, at the second Academy on the Mall were interesting. If you were in the first riding group, you were condemned to wake up at 4.30 a.m. and running on auto-pilot, eyes half-closed, put on your riding gears. It was not until you had reached the riding ground and the bus come to a screeching halt, were you fully awake. Winters made it all the more difficult but summers were not too bad.
The DMG experience is not the same for everyone but the time spent there is fun, for most and nostalgic or interesting for others. Cheers!
Zeb looked across the room. Her ladies were sitting at the far end. She took a few short leaps and joined the huddle.
Various groups of women – some couples – lined the walls too. The seating was leatherite and smacked of cigarette smoke because they had been bought at an auction of articles from a club. There wasn’t a central dance floor and no loud music played in the background. The ladies loved the Buddha Bars and the Yannis on the big t.v screens that hung from the ceiling. The room was densely dotted with these monitors and one could not miss out on what was showing.
Dress code was “intellectual gain”. Most wore the best clothes or most trendy ones and rarely paid any attention to the plaque outside the bar, stating the code in Greek. One reason, of course, was the language. It was different from the lingua franca. Women who thronged to the bar, spoke various shades of Bhindi. Some spoke broken English. All however were enroute to the high life.
The city was Ombay. Lately changed to name “Umbai”. The inhabitants were tired of the crippling infrastructure and the continued influx of migrants from the rural areas. As the livelihood of its inhabitants was tied with the city, they could not leave. In order to escape the damage that they saw everyday, they flocked to bars and clubs. One such bar was “Ladies Bar”.
Children of all ages played with their playmates who were children of their parents’ friends. Single women discussed work loudly – with a passion and energy only recently found. Women hit their children every once a while if they disrupted their “out” time. Gritting their teeth and complaining along about their little devils, ladies continued with the chatter on one hand and eating mouthfuls of exotic food from other.
Zeb opened her bag and took out a pouch. Her huddle gasped and inched closer. A large pair of diamond earrings appeared out of the pouch. They were dazzling. Everyone started to bid when it would be their turn to use the earrings. A beautiful piece always turned a woman’s heart and this one here was stunning!
The waiter came closer to their table to serve the drinks. The lights suddenly went out. He tripped and landed squarely on the floor. Everyone gasped. It was a power outage at the ladies’ bar. All fun was ruined!