Reflections Of A Teeming Mind

Summer As We Know It: Yards Unravelled

The use of the pronoun-we-refers to the female populace of Pakistan in general. Summer lawn exhibits are a phenomenon. There is no shred of reason or light of logic to enlighten the female mind when it comes to the annual lawn fever. Perhaps they disappear, all reason and logic making a sly exit, inconspicuous and subtle when the early summer sun begins to rise in all its golden glory, illuminating the innovative human mind and bringing into limelight, the endless yards and yards of dazzling, enrapturing finery. One would never know. Reason and logic probably take their leave to vacation elsewhere, sage move indeed. For the world is in all of a tumult with everything topsy-turvy, nerves on critical edges and tempers dangerously hanging on hinges.

March only needs to shine its maiden rays to cause that small tremor of the earth.That small tremor of the earth and there is a race to the stores and exhibitions. One fears a stampede. One fears the very trivial issue of having ones feet trampled upon. But oh, the display! That magnificent, enthralling display! It is enough to instill an alarmingly reinvigorating spirit within the weakened elderly and does not even fail to leave its mark on the dullest of females. And so swim the fishes along the tide, off to battle and off to booty. Like bees to honey, like a crowd of zealous supporters charging towards their mentor, they hasten. Suffice to say, the masses are galvanized into racing for the display, a race to the unraveling of yards. A deadly race it becomes when you choose to go along with the tide, for like every other person around you,the most sought after Glory must be yours. There is absolutely no question of'I might buy it', or 'maybe', it will be and must be yours-Come What May.

Ah,those intricate floral patterns, the myriads of paisleys and the amalgams of the modern and arabesque have never more appealed to the feminine heart. The resplendent packages beseech to be owned, to be bought and to be valued in monetary terms. There is a rush, a race, a blink of an eyelid and the riches begin to disappear in the midst of flaying arms and exclamations. At a particular moment, the exclamations begin to die and a hush falls. There is it, 'That Dress' of the page 'x', the luxury few could afford and the trophy which alluringly glitters, tempting even the most thrifty of dispositions. Meet one of the most sought after brands in the country where one elaborately packed suit reaches the sky limit in terms of its monetary value.

To Buy or Not to Buy?

Anyone smitten with afore mentioned product falls into an unconscious reverie, picturing themselves clad in that mantle of luxury, of elegance. A sight to behold, indeed. Meanwhile, the tide had not waited and had reduced the number of the trophy to an alarmingly scant one. Hot cakes would not have been sold within such speed if one thinks about it but then rational thinking is the last action anyone wants to perform then for it is a moment of critical decision making. But some thoughts are ruthless in their ability to torture and that's when it hits,

Cash oh cash, where art thou?

Oh the lamentable lack thereof! Time is running out and for all the evidence of earlier shopping for which agonizingly large figures of money were negotiated,there is no conscientious thought but of course, there is a much demanding object present which warrants immediate attention.

One of the remaining ones is hers-or someone else's. Someone else's? Perish the thought, she thinks. Savings can be sacrificed for this purpose for in that very moment there is one thought blaring constantly in her mind, 'I must buy it.' A warrior she is and thus she will prove by blindingly moving forward, eliminating all distracting doubts and compunctions and recklessly paying for the wanted booty. And the trophy is hers.

Oh my. The amalgam of the Persian and the Orient, the aesthetic beauty is all hers to own and flaunt, at least for a year. The earlier reverie becomes increasingly palpable and within a few days' time, becomes a living dream. Attired in the most sought after dress of the season, she is the highlight of a party. More vivid would be the image of the preening peacock, conscious of all the admiration, blissfully ignorant (or not) of the green undercurrents of envy and the occasional hiss of jealousy. It struts and saunters, showing off its finery worth every penny, for indeed was it not?

In every other place out there, the same action is played and re-played. There are times when in an inconspicuous corner on a reclining couch, lies a writer amused by the proceedings. She observes with an eerie seemingly omniscient view of a writer, watching the drama unfold. Suave and indolent, she looks supremely bored as she flicks an invisible speck of dust from her dress. Yet, behind this façade her recipient mind is responsively alert. At times she feels the inevitable influence of the atmosphere and slips away unobtrusively while occasionally she subtly removes her persona and merges, wearing a resigned look-with the preening peacocks.

Absence of reason and logic is all very well reflects the writer, as she fumbles to take her place, but it would take sheer will power to reconcile the Brand Frenzied populace with the ideas of mediocrity and modesty. It has become a ubiquitous affliction only to instigate the most increasingly negative inter-personal emotions within a society. Once an affirmative relationship is actuated with not only just the moral, but religious qualities of mediocrity and modesty, a more balanced civilization could be ensured which would thrive not on material possession for the sake of display but rather on a muted rationale integrating lawful pursuits within the religious boundaries.