IBA Diaries 4: Unprofessionally Yours

DISCLAIMER The thoughts and opinions in this article belong to just one individual and do not represent the consensus of a larger group of people. Also, these diaries are purely meant for comic relief and entertainment, and do not in any way intend to defame the institution, people and events mentioned in them.

Apart from the previous installments of this rantful journey full of sarcasm, exaggeration and bitchyness, this is probably the first time when I’m feeling that the few lines of disclaimer text that I have added at the top to save my ass from potential extermination have absolutely no meaning whatsoever. I thought I would always be politically correct with this escapade, but there are times when things don’t go according to plan (pun intended), and my bitch-streak goes off the hook. And this just happens to be one of those occasions. Shameless!

So like, I spent most of yesterday studying this shit that apparently helps business managers in running their business more intelligently. In reality, it was nothing more than horrendously long gibberish full of nothing but boredom, and merely three words – manipulating, measuring, and comparing – that were placed in different sequences to define just two definitions… both of which started with the same letters – D A T A! Wow, I’m so intelligent now… … I feel like I’ve learnt so much… my intellect has increased by ten folds! Oh yes, most important bit of wisdom… IT’S ALL ABOUT A STRATEGY!

Anyway, after pressing the snooze button twice, I woke up today morning to cold winds and cold water… going to one’s personal fortress of solitude on a wintery morning is by far one of the most difficult things to do. Got ready, reached campus, bought by usual bottle of water, and then went to the examination room.

What happened next was something that normally every student looks forward to, but boy was I annoyed!

Apparently, our instructor forgot the date for the final exam allotted to the course he was teaching (apparently teaching I mean), and hadn’t prepared our question paper. Not to mention, the sloppy administration never even bothered to check in with him a day earlier to see if he was still alive and kicking… of course, whether the question paper was ready or not comes after that bit of traditional formality.



Matlab ke, itni subha subha utha diya, all for nothing! Koi sharam hoti hai… koi haya hoti hai… koi ethics hotay hain! Oh how I love using this line over and over again… full of drama! 😀

Who even does something like this? Talk about the height of unprofessionalism from what is touted as one of the best educational institutions in the country. Utter disappointment. And now don’t give me that look and say “Oh, this happens everywhere.” This aint everywhere FFS… it’s IBA! if only I could subject this instructor to an uncensored session of public humiliation owing to his incompetence and negligence like never before.

Hmmm… let’s see…

Dear Dark Star of Inferences, I hope that your morning went well, BECAUSE MINE SURELY DIDN’T. Anyway, I hope that you find good time to rectify the academic blasphemy that you have committed as after today, I surely will not give you and your procrastination a second chance! And I hope neither does IBA… though I wouldn’t be surprised if it still does; have lost my faith in this hellhole of an institution! Kkthnxbbye!

Unprofessionally Yours



IBA Diaries 3: Salty Water And Biryani Without Potatoes

DISCLAIMER The thoughts and opinions in this article belong to just one individual and do not represent the consensus of a larger group of people. Also, these diaries are purely meant for comic relief and entertainment, and do not in any way intend to defame the institution, people and events mentioned in them.

Gosh….. how do people even figure out how to go about an intro – worst part about starting a blogpost! Oh and my apologies for being slightly late… but apparently the MBA Club had some ‘serious issues’ with my brutal honesty and I had to wait for their official disapproval before I could put this up on my own space. So here it goes.

After a rigorous two and a half months of tiresome classes, brain-draining assignments, and disastrous midterms, the MBA Club finally decided to give us the much needed break that we needed – a Beach Bash. And what a bash it was! Being an absolute beach-hater and somewhat photophobic, who would’ve thought that even I would’ve had so much fun let alone the rest! Got myself sunburnt and survived three drowning experiences with salty water pouring out of every hole in my body. Though of course, there were the usual bits of mismanagement; and those I shall use to spice up this unpaid endorsement from time to time – what good is a piece of reading if it isn’t pointlessly bitchy!

Let’s begin! I reached one of the collecting points – the shitty campus as I like to call it – at exactly 8 am in the morning thinking that I was horribly late. But as expected, be it weddings or business meetings, we Pakistanis are almost always fashionably late. And this was just a college trip… and that too on a Sunday! Nevertheless, after waiting for one and a half hour for everybody to convene, and another forty five minutes of travel time, we were finally greeted by an oh-so-well-made hut, lots of sand, crashing waves and babes in bikinis… ooh la la! Urrr wait… aap shayed ek Islami mulk mein hain… damnit! What beach was it btw? Meh… who cares, it was shitty and dirty!

Anyway, once there, everyone did what they normally do best at the beach – take their clothes off and run into the water like they’ve never seen the sea before… yay!!!  Khawateen ka bas na chaley to samundar par bhi surkhi powd’r ke liye parlor ki dukaan khol lein. So much make-up and so much sunblock! What was surprising though was how some of the boys too craved for a tube of SPF.

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To make the picnic more exciting, the MBA Club decided to host a volleyball competition as well. Seriously??? Who plays with balls on the beach when there’s so much water around?!

The first match was a pretty one-sided affair in which the amazingly awesome and energetic MBA 1 morning peeps delivered a hard thrashing and humiliating defeat to the MBA 2 losers. The second match was a dud between an MBA 3 and 4 cocktail team, and the outcast MBA evening boys; who even invited them in the first place? The cocktail team won.

The final was played between the MBA 3 and 4 team, and MBA 1 morning. Much to my disappointment, MBA 1‘s glory came tumbling down as they lost miserably to the MBA 3 and 4 cocktail. The overconfident MBA 1 showed a clear lack of coordination in their second innings, and there was also quite a bit of ahem ahem… dramalama amongst the team as well. Pehli jeet kuch zyada hi sar parh charhha li thi in bewakoofon ne… saari izzat mitti mein mila di… kamzarf!

Moving on, as expected, lunch too was served fashionably late; aadhay nangay to they hi, bhookay bhi aisay niklay jaisay khaana kabhi naseeb hi na hua ho! The menu comprised of pieces of BBQ chicken and potatoless biryani… WTF… WHO MAKES POTATOLESS BIRYANI??? Not to mention, it was spicy, so I passed. But I guess everyone got a lot more than a plateful. Though the fizzies ran out, and the tea… tea was never served. Or maybe the ‘tea will be served’ bit was my delusion… right!

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After lunch, there was a silly sand castle building competition – growing old is not an option, but growing up definitely is… one which we usually fail to consider! In the background ran a rather horrendous singing session by a few of the host members including the oh-so-untalented Ms Shumayla who crooned like a crow trying desperately hard to sound like a pigeon, and some fat guy with sunglasses who looked like a cross between Ahmed Ali Butt and Alan from The Hangover who sounded like he suffered from perpetual constipation; goodness, whoever told them that they could sing really well! And that was the point when the party was being unnecessarily dragged into boredom… and this is the point where I have officially made enemies out of friends! 😀

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Not the perfect ‘rishta’ picture to be sending out… EVER!

On the whole, the Beach Bash wasn’t all that bad … yea sure … a few hiccups here and there and the mandatory laundon ka mujra, but that’s all good I guess. I won’t really go into what happened on the way back nahi to is MBA Club ki bachi kuchi izzat bhi uttar jaye gi! 😀

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Because it always has to end like this!

Oh and just before I leave,  a special thanks to Zee Kay Potography from whom I have stolen the pictures and adulterated them with my toilet humor. Speaking of which, what’s the one thing you’ll never be able to find in the sea? Your pee!

IBA Diaries 2: Eid Ki Chuttiyan? What Chuttiyan?

DISCLAIMER The thoughts and opinions in this article belong to just one individual and do not represent the consensus of a larger group of people. Also, these diaries are purely meant for comic relief and entertainment, and do not in any way intend to defame the institution, people and events mentioned in them.

After strategic rescheduling, saas-bahu drama and even more birthday cakes, we finally managed to get an entire week off for Eid. Aaah… the joys of getting a much needed break to detach oneself from a mind-juggling routne at IBA.

Or not! Beta… who’s going to cover up all the course work you haven’t been reading up all this while? Kya yaar… itni saari parrhai… bus naam ki hi chuttiyan hain yeh…

Well, I did set out some goals for this break… I honestly did, but I’ve hardly managed to accomplish anything. 6 chapters of managerial economics, brushing up on core accounting and finance concepts, and trying to comprehend this thing they call statistics. And so far all I’ve managed to do is watch one really stupid Bollywood movie, one interestingly dark Lollywood movie, sleep like an ass, eat like a pig, and hit a temporary break on my fitness regime… fackkk… next Monday is going to hurt at the gym!

Oh and of course… there was work in the middle as well… writing shitty articles on women’s fashion and paranoid survivalists under my new asshole of a boss! Mahraaj, you have no idea how much you are being missed! Yea… I know… this is the second time Mharaaj has come up in my IBA Diaries, yet not many know the identity of this… this… thing!

Anyway, that’s besides the point. I’m glad that I’m not writing content for some local client, otherwise all I’d be writing on at this time of the year would be nothing but bloody bakras and cows. 5 ways to make your bakra taste delicious after you’ve murdered it, 11 ways to finance the overly-over-priced cow this Eid, 3 ways to tell a bakra is actually aandoo, the list can practically go on and on. So irritating and disgusting! As if the smell and the filth, the bleating, the moo-ing and the chun chun of metallic animal ornamentation weren’t…


What group? Which group? Hey… no one in my group even sat through that session. And that’s not even a 24 hour deadline… damint! Matlab ke class nahi hui to assignment zaroor deni hai! Lo, karlo classes reschedule! Barha shauk charh raha tha naa poora din off lene ka? Ab bhugto!

This sucks… holidays suck… and life sucks too! It’s not fair! Abhi abhi to chuttiyan shuru hui theen, aur ek assignment bhi mil gaya. Samajhte kya hain yeh log humne… homework charne waalay gaye bakray?

Ok… relax… breath in… breathe out… I’m normal now… sigh!!! Who cares? It’s just one silly assignment, and my English is awesome!


Yaaaaaaaaaarrr………. Economics shuru nahi ki, aur doosri musseebat sar pe sawaar!

Array bhai, deadline itni door ki hai to phir abhi se tension kyun de rahe ho? Kam se kam bar-b-que to sakoon se enjoy karne do!

I don’t like bakrras and their meat btw. And let’s not even get started on beef – only sophisticated forms please! I have a very strong preference for chicken… and that too boneless. Now how awesome would life be if chicken were actually born without bones?

But seriously… whatever happened to the concept of a vacation? I guess here at IBA they like to celebrate Eid in a different manner – laatay to hain mandi se bakray zibah karne ke liye… magar assignemnets ki talwaar ke neechay ho jate hain students halaal! Waah Waah… #CheapUrduPoetry!

Btw,if anyone knows what we’re supposed to do for this particular assignment, please let e know… totally clueless here.

Anyway… kaash… kaash inn teacheron ko koi samjhaye ke chuttiyan dene ka maqsaad relaxation hota hai fuckxation nahi. Agar homework hi dena tha, to chuttiyan kyun dete ho! (Humaima Malick style)

Ok fuck it… jo bhi hoga Eid ke baad dekha jaye ga… (opens box of Pringles, and drinks Pepsi)


Long pause…………………………

Kuttay… kuttay ullu ke patthay… you bastard………… and you know the rest!

Hope you have a blast of a vacation, and a pleasant Eid

Eid Mubarak!

End of rant.

Katti Tatti

Take a couple of pages out of Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway’s Love & Other Drugs, some days from 500 Days of Summer, mix in the Bollywood trend of endorsing live-in relationships and you’ve got yourself one of the most shittiest movies ever… but unlike Piku… this one is literally shitty! Katti Batti is indeed Katti Tatti all the way. Ermmm… I can already sense my five weeks of non-stop diarrhea taking over my brain to trash this one out. Be warned… if you’re grossed by poop jokes, don’t blame me I didn’t warn you.

Firstly… who’s Katti… and who’s Batti? Or was this just one really stupid title? Didn’t even make any sense!

Anyway, the movie starts off with Maddy’s (Imran Khan) rather accidental suicide attempt as he drinks a bottle of toiletries instead of wine while s(h)itting depressed in the toilet, and unfolds into a trip down memory lane as he remembers moments from his and Payal’s (Kangana Ranaut) glory days. They met, fell in love, moved in, started fucking and fighting and then broke up!

Katti Batti 3But like most Bollywood matches that are made in heaven, they both somehow still knew that they were in love with one another. Maddy learns that Payal is getting married to an ex and he hunts her down in an attempt to stop the saath pherey. After a tight slap across his face by none other than Payal herself, he learns that his lady love broke up with him on purpose because she was dying – yea, that random trip to see the doctor. Turns out that her late periods were because of cancer, and not all the crazy things she and Maddy had been doing! Awe… epic tatti moment!

An airport, kangans, crabs and of course some tears as well, the lovers reunite to live happily ever after… until Payal dies! Shittt… becharay Maddy ka ab kya ho ga? Kam se kam doosri heroine ki entry to karwa dete… at least there would’ve been something to look forward to in this dump of a movie!

And now let the trashing and thrashing begin!

Katti Batti has a storyline that is predictable, clichéd and obviously poorly written. If only someone could tell Anshul Singhal that the toilet isn’t normally the best place to write a script. And neither are the best scripts aren’t always written on the toilet. I don’t write my blog on the toilet btw. And can someone also tell him that there is a big difference between a sharab ki bottle and a phenyl ki bottle because apparently Nikhil Advani was shitting elsewhere while wearing the director’s hat.

The second half is a complete drag with that frustrated one-sided lover’s association band thing that feels like really bad product placement forced down your throat. For a band comprising of heartbroken lovers, FOSLA’s song completely lacked the fire that generally burns within the wounds of a broken heart. In fact, when that Aditi dude offered to take Maddy to ‘some place,’ I was really hoping it would be a brothel where Madhuri would be performing a hot item number to uplift the mood in this fiasco that dangled just like ‘that’ piece of shit that would just refuse to drop down!  Jahan ‘M’ se mourning in aashiqui 3, wahan ‘M se Madhuri ka mujra bhi hota hai…

But the biggest disappointment in this katti patangg (sorry, ran out of a poop joke) is Kangana Ranaut. In fact, it’s not even a disappointment as far as my opinion is concerned; I always thought that she was over-rated. To all those who think that Kangana is the new Queen of Indian cinema, well, Katti Batti is a hard slap across your face and a reality check of where her capabilities actually stand. Payal reeks of almost all of Kangana’s earlier characters leaving her with little to no room to show off her deteriorating acting abilities. I say deteriorating because she’s just become very repetitive with the kind of roles she picks. Bibi shayed waqt aa gaya hai ke aap hi phenyl ko botal gatak lein!

Yea... fuck you too!

Yea… fuck you too!

Not to mention, the nephew Khan who’s desperately trying to make his presence felt in Bollywood too doesn’t add much to the drowning pellet of brown that Katti Batti is. Dear Imran… if only you could realize that whatever you do, you’ll always look like the heroine’s younger brother. Also, how many more flops is it going to take you to understand that your career is over? Oh wait… your career never existed! Awe… puppy dog face!

Katti Batti 7And like the sound of fart that usually accompanies a pooping session, Shankar, Ehsan and Loy’s music too was something I wish I hadn’t heard. Nothing special, and simply forgettable!

I’m finally going to pull the flush on this – Katti Batti is just another piece of Bollywood Tatti that you can, may and should avoid! If you wish to hold on to your fake perceptions about Kanagan Ranaut’s epicness, AVOID AT ALL COSTS!

2/5 stars

IBA Diaries 1: Welcome To MBA – Mass Brain-cell Annihilation

DISCLAIMER The thoughts and opinions in this article belong to just one individual and do not represent the consensus of a larger group of people. Also, these diaries are purely meant for comic relief and entertainment, and do not in any way intend to defame the institution, people and events mentioned in them.

So Mummy said… “Baita… shaadi karo, ya phir MBA karo…”

And I conveniently picked the second and landed in IBA. But little did I know that instead of garlands, sister-in-laws and a 3 page nikahnaama that could potentially grant me eternal bliss, I had opted for with bundles of Harvard case studies, countless photocopies of lecture slides, and books as heavy as bricks for me to drown my nights and days in for the next two years!

Iss say achi to shaadi hi thi… kam se kam chain ki neend aur gol rootiyaan to miltin…

I had planned on starting this diary a lot earlier – during those ridiculous two months of remedial classes, but my routine was completely messed up and I just couldn’t get around to doing this. Wake up early in the morning despite having hardly slept, work, lectures of concepts that went over the top of my head, back home and sometimes Tariq Road in between, the gym and then homework till late in the night – wow, no time to poop in the middle! No more Pakistani dramas and tissue boxes to wipe my tears as the damsels suffer the wrath of mistrusting husbands, no more movies, latkas, jhatkas and popcorn; it’s just the damn readings and assignments now. Itna kaam to koi saas bhi nahi karwati apni phuar bahoo se!

And after being stuck in this rut for a couple of weeks, I’m finally here on my laptop venting out my frustration as I take a breather from some managerial finance and economics only to be reminded that I still have a seven page review on a random book waiting in queue. Oh wait… just got that email with four pieces of reading material accumulating to approximately 50 pages that I need to cram into my tiny brain for tomorrow morning’s class… FACKKK! #ThatMomentWhen you realize that you may have made the biggest mistake of your life.

So yes IBA… Aur IBA ki to baat hi kuch aur hai… Woh haseen shaamein, thandi thandi hawayein, lehraate huye patay, shokh aur chanchal titliyaan, nayi naveli chamakti hui imaaratein… AUR BOHT SAARI DHOOL AUR MATTI!

It’s a great campus, but I’ve seen better. But more than that, I’m beginning to realize that this place is more about the discipline than the academics. No slippers, no round necks, no V-necks… let’s see… that’s more than 70 percent of the clothes I own. Alright, need to get a new wardrobe… damnit… I’ve technically quit my job… double FACKKk!

Moving on, I always thought that BBA and MBA students did nothing but study stuff that is apparently bullshit and common sense. Clearly, I was wrong as I have realized that shit has indeed gotten real! Well maybe BBA is still for a bunch of no-brainers who failed to get into med or engineering school. But an MBA can pretty much brainfuck one with a jam-packed schedule and demanding pre-class reading; come prepared for interactive group discussions in each session – also translatable as reading, reading and more reading until all grey matter is depleted and no further benefit can be acquired from the human brain.

And it just keeps getting better!

For some strange reason, the people over here keep telling you “Hum kuch nahi parhhaynge aapko, aap jo bhi parhhenge, khud hi parhhenge!” And if you’re really lucky, some of them might just tell you to look up Google and Wikipedia to search for all that you need to know. Wait… I can do that at home as well…

It’s not that I’m complaining for the sake of being whiny, but some things about this place I just don’t get. Why would you want to have a two month summer orientation program to bring the BBA students at par with the non-BBA students only for the exact same things to be re-taught once regular school is in session? Why would you want to toss students between two separate campuses in the same day? Why do we have to sit according to a fixed seating plan? Why are there so many cafeterias selling the same stuff? Why can’t there be just one big fat cafeteria of an acceptable standard? And why do the toilets have really big windows especially the ones at the city campus? Full length? Really? Well that new building already looks like a giant toilet to begin with!

Anyway… now I’m here and that’s that. IBA main aayen hain… ab to parhna hi parhe ga!

I’m glad that I’m amongst a few fortunate ones who managed to get into this place that is currently driving me nuts, but in the long run will make me a better individual and entrepreneur and stand out like a shining diamond in a sea of MBAs from here and there. I’m also glad that I’m finding some friends who at least laugh at my poop, lame and sex jokes otherwise I would’ve died of boredom already – still have to test my misogynist, racist and sectarian ones btw. I’m also looking forward to meeting quite a lot of people and build on a stronger social network… so that I can sell more clothes to women!

I hope I find the time to carry on with this diary, and I also hope that I manage to preserve at least some bit of my brain as my writing and my random thoughts are my only saving grace to survive this annihilation of my sanity. So once again… welcome to IBA!

And yes my Mahraaj, you were right about how much I would begin to hate the place once the BBA students infested the campus like a plague of tiny,, skinny, black, fashion-deprived morons!

Jab Sikki Aur Annie Met

Dekh li maine pyaar se… ek bahot hi not-so-pyaari movie!

Oh wait… kahin aunty aur un ki 3 betiyan yeh parh to nahi rahin?

Ok, so I promised myself that I wouldn’t let personal relations and acquaintances come in between my not so polite opinions while writing when I set out on the road to Bloggerhood. But I guess when you’re in the spot, it’s a completely different picture… especially when the people in question are regular clients. Yes… #thatawkwardmoment when you know people associated with the makers of a film on a personal level and can’t really go all out with your negative criticism.

So I guess I’m going to try to keep this as politically correct while still being an asshole about it… and I can already see myself failing miserably with that!

Random thought: is it possible to be diplomatic and critical at the same time? Probably not.

Anyway, Dekh Magar Pyaar Se… or simply DMPS is officially Lollywood’s equivalent of Bombay Velvet – all style, no substance; a glamorous ride that carelessly wanders off into the distance like a blind man trying to cross the road without his walking stick – the blind man obviously gets hit and eventually dies… awe! DMPS is so unappetizing a film that I could actually smell vomit in the hall while trying to survive through most of this disgrace of the so called #RevivalOfPakistaniCinema… or maybe someone finally puked over the disgusting nachos they’ve been serving at Atrium since god knows when. Still, DPMS wasn’t any less!

To begin with, DMPS starts off with some very obvious references to Kareena and Shahid’s much loved Jab We Met particularly that ‘koi doubt mat rakhna’ dialogue, and turns out to be a Bunty Aur Babli after the interval. Annie (Humaima Malick) meets Sikki (Sikander Rizvi), cons him and his uncle who’s apparently on Viagra and waiting for a bride cum blind date – (talk about burhhaapay mein jawani), and then disappears. Later Sikki finds her; they play along like fools blinded in love before it’s his turn to con her. And then somehow she returns in the end… wait… what… yeh kameeni wapis kahan se agayi?

Among some curiosities that I observed while watching DMPS… how is a rickshaw driver as clean and good looking as Sikki? Please someone locate one and bring him to me….. to prove me wrong, nothing else! Next up, what woman would want to ruin an HSY lehnga that’s probably worth a lot more than her second hand jawani by allowing the trail to wander off cluelessly on the road? Who is this annoying prick called Pappu, and what is the purpose of his existence? Could Sikki’s uncle be any uglier? More importantly, in the age of smartphones, could he also be that dumb? Also, why is the police officer in the second half wearing a badge that reads ‘Akhtar Begum’? And probably not lastly, why is Amna Ilyas trying to be Sunny Leone when she’s CLEARLY not even half as hot?

DekhMagarPyaarSe1Also, HSY, Humayun Saeed and Meera… really? Ek kaam karo… pooray Lahore shehar ko kyun nahi bula lete testimony dene ke liye…?! Actually… Meera I don’t mind, I’ve already expressed my discontent on Humayun Saeed, and as far as HSY goes… someone really needs to tell the dude that he’s not Karan Johar!

With practically no story, remixed songs pictured like an old Hollywood movie in slow motion and then forced down the throat, the most – and I mean MOST – cliched of one-liners, a screenplay that has scenes longer than a power nap, and terrible brand placement, DMPS is downright boredom to the core. The first half was still bearable, but after the interval, I couldn’t wait to jump out of my seat and leave.

But amidst the fiasco that DMPSS is, there’s still no denying the fact that the DoP and cinematography is just unbelievably gorgeous – a bit too much green though. There’s also no denying the fact that Asad ul Haq leaves no stone unturned in showing off his directorial skills, he is a competent ad film maker after all. But I guess there’s a difference between shooting 30 seconds and over 7200. And I guess that’s why at times DMPS feels like watching an assortment of really long commercials mashed up together to make an incoherent movie. What obviously plays a spoilt sport to his excellences is the terrible screenplay and story writing that seem to have been written while being high on some more green stuff!

The acting… looks around… oh dear…

DekhMagarPyaarSe2Well let’s just say I didn’t see any of that.

Humaima has definitely come a long way ever since Bol, and I’m not saying that because of her lip-locks with Bollywood’s Serial Kisser. In fact, she did pretty well for herself in Raja Natwarlal – at least she wasn’t as dumbfounded and useless as Imran Abbas in her Bollywood debut. But this time around, her attempt to pull of Geet fell flat on the ground; immature, over the top, and definitely not praiseworthy. As for Sikander Rizvi goes, let’s just say that he was better off doing a couple of HUM TV dramas before jumping into movies to polish his as of the moment non-existing acting abilities. Also, this is the part where I jump in excitement and say “Sikki mere saath school mein parhta tha!” 😀 – well, a year senior actually. Whatever… who cares… aaj kal he’s running a shitty restaurant and trying to act… and I’m designing bridals!

Anyway… have I left anything that I could destroy in DPMS? Ayesha Rehan & daughters… I hope you’re still going to come to me for your wedding and red carpet emergencies, yes? Oh btw… the clothes Humaima wore in the movie were absolutely fabulous. HSY truly is gifted with his sense of fashion, and he should stick to that… and that only!

To sum it up, DMPS is a plate of dessert that just looks sinfully decadent, but tastes like crap; dekh magar apne risk pe!

2/5 stars

The Eid Marathon

After a flight to Lahore, a bit of rain, stomach-upsetting desi cuisine, Hardees, shits, giggles and a flight back to Karachi, I made it just in time to collect the perfect Eidi – a marathon of filminess at Atrium; my third home. And boy was it crowded; got the worst seats… and lots of smelly neighbours!

Anyway, many expectations and many shattered, none of the three movies I watched are actually worth a dedicated blog post (except maybe Bin Roye), so here’s the crux of it all.

Bin Roye Would’ve Made A Fantastic Drama Serial

The moment I saw Momina Duraid, Farhat Ishtiaq and Hum Network’s names together, I was so like… “OMG OMG OMG… Pakistani cinema is going to be so AWESOME!” But the moment I walked out of the hall, I was like… “Leh, ho gaya awesome Pakistani cinema!” Bin Roye just made me want to cry – not because it was a bag of friend-zoned tears and all emotional, which it wasn’t actually, but because it was such a disappointment after all the high expectations that the team’s earlier collaboration Humsafar had set – which is obviously one of my favorites.

The movie is a great novel compressed into an incoherent 2 hour screenplay. The editing post the interval was so choppy that I felt as if I was watching a couple of random scenes just joined together for no apparent reason. If only Bin Roye had been a drama, it would have actually been so much more worth it.

What’s worse is that despite being such a beauty on the small screen, Mahira Khan is completely lackluster on the big screen. She seems to have absolutely no screen presence when things are completely and literally larger than life. And Humayun Saeed… please, where are all the younger heroes? Oh wait… they’re on the other side of the border, right! I guess we’re stuck with him and Faisal Qureshi urf dady-with-a-baby-face for ever.

Highlights: brilliant art and DoP, Saman’s hit, run, mera shohar tumhara hai, death moment, Adeel Hussain’s item song, Mahira’s temporary loss of sanity after her sister steals the love of her life and of course… the costumes.

Shortcomings: terrible screenplay and editing, average performances, forgetful music and even worse choreography. Also, the fact that people started leaving before the interval, and the guy sitting beside me kept snoring!

To cry it out loud, Bin Roye is well decorated with brilliant art and color, yet still a boring flick that should have been longer… a lot longer.

3/5 stars


Bitch Please!

Bajrangi Bhaijaan And Chaand Nawab Are Gay

Ok maybe not… but still!

Whenever I see a Salman Khan movie, I come back home and watch Hum Aapke Hain Kaun to erase the mental trauma that watching him on screen is these days – which is usually almost always. From Bodyguard to Dabang 2, Jai Ho, Kick and what not shirt ripping mindless action dramas, he’s become really cliched over the years… and really needs to get married and have babies of his own. But after watching BB (no that’s not Benazir Bhutto), I didn’t feel the need to retreat to my normal practice, because BB was actually quite nice – a good Sallu Bhai film after a long time… a very long time. And one that shows how amazing a father he’ll be.

Unfortunately – or fortunately, Sallu’s acting and dancing abilities were largely overshadowed by Nawazuddin Siddiqui reprising our very own Chaand Nawab from Eid fame. Ooh… that was so much win! Nawazuddin truly is emerging as quite an actor.

Anyway, BB wasn’t like totallo OHHH WAOWWW… but it was still good enough. In fact, while both the Pakistani releases tried to capitalize on the #RevivalOfPakistaniCinema hashtag without really having much to offer, BB just goes to show how and why Bollywood is the king of mass commercial entertainment. The right content, the right way dished out at the right time. BB was in every way the perfect Eid gift – or should I say the best Eidi.

Highlights: the right blend of emotion, action and comedy, a very touchy ending, and Nawazuddin as Chaand Nawab.

Shortcomings: a rather dull soundtrack, and just for the sake of being habitually critical, Salman Khan’s still lousy acting and dancing.

Along with cameraman Kamil Yousuf, Bajrangi Bhaijaan is a simple, fun and absolutely unbiased movie you wouldn’t want to miss… and it trumps both of the Pakistani releases.

3.5/5 stars


AAkhir asli Chaand Nawab ki train nikal hi gayi

Wrong No Is A Call Not To Be Answered

Oh my god! My eyes! I’m blind!

Lots of overacting + chichchora music of the most ultimate level + wannabe heroines + pages ripped out of countless Bollywood movies + tacky art direction = fazooltareen movie of the decade! Wrong No. is just wrong on so many levels!

Much like the catastrophe that Jalaibee was, Wrong No had way too much going on at the same time that it failed to make absolutely any sense. Not to mention, Yasir Nawaz’s direction didn’t help much in pulling everything together either. Just like how his earlier attempt to glorify muteness dragged into utter boredom as the episodes went on, sitting in the comfort of my seat became a butt-aching escapade as the minutes went by while watching Wrong No.

And to top it off, the music was downright appalling; if only the songs had been edited out of the film as brutally as Bin Roye had been massacred on the cutting table. Girls locking themselves with a guy in a room and begging him to ‘do’ them is so 90’s Bollywood – the tacky wala 90’s Bollywood. And can someone please tell me, who the FUCK celebrates a five year old’s circumcision with a late night dance party and an item song that too on selfiyaan? I must say though, that kid and his birdie totally stole the show!

Highlights: some really funny one-liners here and there.

Shortcomings: everything other than some really funny one-liners here and there.

Aap ki itelaat ke liye arz hai, matloooba number drust nahi, baraye meherbaani Wrong No ke ilawa koi doosri picture dekh lein, shukriya!

2/5 stars

Aur parday bhi gira do!

Aur parday bhi gira do!

I was also planning on adding Ant Man to this, but maybe some other time. Till then, a very belated Eid Mubarak!