spartcus aur Kim baker ki halt us old tawaif jaisi hay,jab us k stah gunah na kiya jaye,taur usya paisay na deay jain,tu wo badnam karnay k liay shoor daal detya hain,k ye mray sath bura karna chahta tha,kal ko agar rema ya mera ye keh de k Luqmaan aur altaf husain khusra hain,tu kiya MQM walay is baat ko maan jain ge?baghair kisi saboot k?[QUOTE=Spartacus;376138]
I found some very interesting things in The Taliban Shuffel , written by Kim Barker
This time, in a large banquet hall filled with folding chairs and a long
table, Sharif told his aides that he would talk to me alone. At the time, I
barely noticed. We talked about Zardari, but he spoke carefully and
said little of interest, constantly glancing at my tape recorder like it was
radioactive. Eventually, he nodded toward it.
“Can you turn that off?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, figuring he wanted to tell me something off the record.
“So. Do you have a friend, Kim?” Sharif asked.
I was unsure what he meant.
“I have a lot of friends,” I replied.
“No. Do you have a friend?”
I figured it out.
“You mean a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sharif. I had two options—lie, or tell the truth. And
because I wanted to see where this line of questioning was going, I told
the truth.
“I had a boyfriend. We recently broke up.” I nodded my head
stupidly, as if to punctuate this thought.
“Why?” Sharif asked. “Was he too boring for you? Not fun enough?”
“Um. No. It just didn’t work out.”
“Oh. I cannot believe you do not have a friend,” Sharif countered.
“No. Nope. I don’t. I did.”
“Do you want me to find one for you?” Sharif asked.
To recap: The militants were gaining strength along the border with
Afghanistan and staging increasingly bold attacks in the country’s cities.
The famed Khyber Pass, linking Pakistan and Afghanistan, was now too
dangerous to drive. The country appeared as unmoored and
directionless as a headless chicken. And here was Sharif,offering to find me a friend.
Thank God the leaders of Pakistan had their priorities
straight.
“Sure. Why not?” I said.
The thought of being fixed up on a date by the former prime minister
of Pakistan, one of the most powerful men in the country and, at
certain points, the world, proved irresistible. It had true train-wreck
potential.
“What qualities are you looking for in a friend?” he asked.
“Tall. Funny. Smart.”
I envisioned a blind date at a restaurant in Lahore over kebabs and
watermelon juice with one of Sharif’s sidekicks, some man with a
mustache, Sharif lurking in the background as chaperone.
“Hmmm. Tall may be tough. You are very tall, and most Pakistanis
are not.” Sharif stood, walked past the banquet table toward the
windows, and looked out over the capital. He pondered, before turning
back toward me.
“What do you mean by smart?” he asked.
“You know. Smart. Quick. Clever.”
“Oh, clever.” He nodded, thought for a second. “But you do not want
cunning. You definitely do not want a cunning friend.”
He looked out the window. It seemed to me that he was thinking of
Bhutto’s widower, Zardari, his onetime ally and now rival, a man
universally considered cunning at business who many felt had
outsmarted Sharif in their recent political tango.
“No. Who wants cunning?”
“Anything else?” he asked. “What about his appearance?”
“I don’t really care. Not fat. Athletic.”
We shook hands, and I left. In all my strange interviews with Sharif,
that definitely was the strangest.
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