The details of my life are quite inconsequential. Very well…where do I begin?
My father was a relentlessly chain smoking businessman from Rangoon with high-grade
nicotine addiction and a penchant for Cheese Curls. My mother is a homemaker from Karachi with arthritic feet.
My father would joke, he would smoke. He would make outrageous claims like he discovered Mehdi Hasan.
Sometimes he would accuse babaghanouj of being evil. The sort of general malaise that only the
Pakistanis possess and the Indians lament.
My childhood was typical. Summers in Karachi. Camel rides.
In the spring, we would eat mixed grill with genitalia of horny farm animals.
When I was insolent, I was forced to sit in front of the test signal of Pakistan State Television
and eat medium-rare diced liver – pretty standard, really.
At the age of four, I discovered the concept of infinity.
At the age of seven, a male nurse named Aashik gave me my first enema.
There really is nothing quite like a squeaky clean colon… it’s exhilarating.
I suggest you try it.
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