This is not the real hurt, this is only a tribute.
This is a tribute to the current graduating class of TIP, a tribute to my friends. A tribute to the People Who C.A.R.E., a tribute to the Red Devils, a tribute to the A.S Club.
A tribute to “when one window opens…”, a tribute to The Tower, a tribute to the Windmill of TIP, a tribute to Saleem. O Saleem! Kidhar ho yaar?!
This is not the real thing, because, for me the real thing is over. The real thing is the real times we had; the time when we climbed the Windmill of TIP, the time when we went offroading and got totally covered with sand and came back looking like ghosts. The numerous times when we went out for doodh patti chai to Abdullah Khan’s Namkeen Hotel. The times that we imagined the Schallim Meetha Hotel — we imagined it just across the road from TIP, and we imagined it being constructed in front of our eyes.
We imagined our lives after TIP, and today, I imagine that your lives too will become as you have been imagining these past four years.
We went for numerous swims, and to the gym and to the bar. We went for long drives at night and in the day, we went for drives to the city and to the Russian Beach. Each time we went, we returned back to our dreams, our memories and our imaginations at the TIP hostel.
This is a tribute to the music we shared and to the music you played, a tribute to the music that became a part of our lives. Music that always brings us back to the memories of TIP, for I do want to ride my bicycle. And we did ride, uncertain and unsteady, we did steal the juice-walla’s bicycle and the guard’s motorbike. We rode to our dreams.
In the cafetaria we shared trays and trays of heavenly channa dahl, and oily salans, and specially ordered karahi’s. And we had Pagal Baraf’s, AO Specials, and Ziyda Baraf Cum Panis. How was the food today? How was the food everyday? “Absolutly smashing, my dear!”
We had Saleem. O Saleem! Kidhar ho yaar?! And we had waterfights masterminded and orchastrated on a grand scale. We had endless days and endless nights, by the tower, in our rooms, even in the library.
And the best times of these we had were, unequvocally, spent by The Tower, don’t you agree?
This is only a tribute.
brings a smile to my face : )
hmmmm…….thats nice,may ur rest of da life be filled wid da same happiness and memories….gud luck 2 all graduates!!!!
nostalgia, nostalgia
Ooooooooo saleeeeeeeeem
Yeah I was among the witnesses of all the memoirs mentioned above.
we used to be together like seeds ina pod And now we are dispersed.
But lets just hope n pray that each seed turns up into flowering plant where ever is stops n grows.
Godbless you all
okay… so is this the part.. where we’re supposed to cry….?
charsi, you cold-blooded, heartless…thing!
Drug addicts are dead from the Inside
quiet both of you…!
…and so pale from the outside.
Awww Poor Widdle Publications Guy is Sad
i wanted to write sumthing like this, but it ended up being one stupid line long “OHMIGOD I’M GOING TO MISS YOU GUYS!”
Yes thank you for that emotional outburst… Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Hira Saiyed!
)
(Ab Kuch Jala Kata Bolo!
What’s wrong with emotional outbursts? Emotions make the world spin!
i think emotional outbursts are sooo cool and dramatic… lotsa yelling, screaming, blaming and hitting… yet no positive end… except for the watchers’ fun…
that was very elegant….!
yes indeed