DIARY OF A SOCIAL BUTTERFLY: BUFFERING BLUES

I'm tau, sick to deaf of these innernet outages. I’ve just bought myself a bland new Sania Maskatiya outfit and I can’t even post a selfie of myself with my new outfit, my new blonde hair and my newly fattened lips on Insta, to saarho all my friends.

Honestly, kya life hai yeh, where you can’t even give went to your small, small joys? Okay bhai, you can switch off X because you think that way you can control PTI’s dharnas and PTI’s peerni, but what I want to know is this: what has the hakoomat got against my new jorra and my new hair, haan?

Faujis are saying kay too much of freedom is dangerous for us. And innernet gives us too much of freedom. I suppose in same way like too much education and too much reading sheading is also dangerous for us. Too much choice also. Who knows, we might even choose something different to what we have now? Then what?

And beardos, who only need an excuse to go rabbit, have gone rabbit, shouting kay innernet and VPNs should be banned because people watch porn on them. Bhai, how do you know? Haan? How do you even know what porn is? And where it is available? Tell? Now, apparently, they’ve changed their tune and saying kay, no, no, innernet and VPNs are halal as long as you promise to watch holy things only.

In the middle of internet outages, the collapse of the government in Syria and Maryam Nawaz’s London glow-ups, Butterfly seeks small joy in the small things

Meanwhiles, guvmunt is shouting itself horse about how it’s going to make all of Pakistan into IT ka hup. Can’t even let me post a selfie without putting hundred, hundred controls on me and they’re going to make Pakistan IT ka hup! Nawaz Sharif IT city. Lo! What cheeks, vaisay.

While guvmunt has been busy banning this and firewalling that, and doing too too main main with PTI about who killed who and who did what, rebels have taken over Syria and Bashar al-Assad and his cute si wife, Asma and their three children have disappeared, like Laapataa Ladies. When Janoo told me Damascus had fallen, I asked, “How? Earthquake has come there?”

He said yes, “a political one.”

Aik tau, Janoo also can’t say anything straight, naa. Then he told me that Bashar al-Assad had run away to Russia. Putting sent him a plane.

“Haw,” I said. “What will he do in cold, bore Moscow?”

“Live as a Russian pawn.”

“Prawn,” I said. “You mean prawn.”

Janoo looked at the ceiling.

“But ab, what will happen to them?” I asked.

He said, “I’m not wasting any breath wondering what will become of those vicious busters. Both father and son were butchers.”

“Then, maybe, they can start a meat business there,” I said. “Bashar and Sons. Best Butchers of Moscow. Mummy’s always said, as long as you have a paisha, no matter where you go, you can maaro your haath paoon and do something.”

Again, Janoo looked at the ceiling. I think so, either he’s cracked or the ceiling is cracked. I also looked at the ceiling. It’s not cracked. Which means…

Maryam Nawaz is saying kay smog can’t be fixed quickly, because it’s an old problem. A bit like Janoo’s older sister, Psycho, who is also an ancient problem. But one thing I will say for Maryam, London’s water really suits her. Every time she goes there, she comes back looking younger and fresher. Skin smooth and glowing, lips smiling fatly, forehead tight, cheeks full and clothes all furry, furry. This has to be Thames Water ka kamaal. Can’t be Nestle water only.

Jonkers came over the other day. He told me kay, the only way to stay happy in times like these is to focus on the small, everyday things that give you joy. So, I made a list of small, everyday things that are giving me joy: