Red Light, Red Light
September 23 I think the first and last time I have heard my father curse (and by curse I mean a whopper of an expletive) was in our car. I remember being more stunned by the fact that he cursed out loud than the mad bus driver who had almost run us over like we were in a cartoon movie (in which when you’re run over you simply stretch thin and then shake yourself back to normal size). Driving in Pakistan is an incredible phenomenon. It defies all rationality and once again, if we were cartoons, just a couple of minutes out on the road would make our heads explode in a burst of disbelief. But of course, since our heads stay intact – physically, usually, - the disbelief gives way to frustration, anger, temporary insanity. Especially in Karachi, a mad city bursting with machismo that erupts out on the roads. In Karachi, we don’t believe in traffic rules. We like to think of them as suggestions, something to follow occasionally, almost acciden...