archi...torture?

The associate dean of my school was at my work the other day and after he had embarrassed me much in front everyone by saying one of his "wonderful students" was in the room (I love him to bits!), there were questions from everyone asking me if studio really was as bad as he made it sound. "There's a different world out there in Marvin Hall," he said. There is no doubt that we are a cult. We do things or say stuff that makes no sense to others but is absolutely normal within the architecture circle. For all the times my oddities have made people around me roll their eyes, I put together this list of "You know you're an architecture student when..." :

• ... you go to an art museum and take pictures of the building.

• ... you have more photos of buildings and models than people. Thus, you have a folder like this on your computer:

• ... you find yourself waking up on the wrong side of your drafting table.

• ... you know what FLW stands for.

• ... you know, off the top of your head, the dimensions of letter, ledger, and tabloid sheets. 

• ... you are changing and there are drafting dots stuck to your shirt and jeans. 

• ... people ask your plans for a holiday and you tell them holidays just mean more time to sleep.

• ... people talk about the Guggenheim and you ask "which one?"

• ... you can't think in studio; studio is for work-work. Epiphanies happen at the randomest of times, thus, the ubiquitous napkin sketch.

• ... you know what campus looks like at 4 in the morning.

• ... it is perfectly normal to possess more than 5 rulers.

• ... you are most productive under adrenaline-fueled-panic mode. 

• ... you have thought about how you could have survived better in architecture school if you were a vampire at some point of time: they don't sleep, don't eat, and don't bleed. 

• ... you talk about fenestration.

• ... you know you are not likely to be earning a lot when you graduate, yet find yourself spending mindlessly on studio supplies.

• ... you think it is perfectly normal to take notes with a drafting pen at lectures.

•  ... sleep deprivation torture doesn't work on you.

• ... your professor thinks Frank Gehry had a little too much to drink.

• ... you see the word "bass", you immediately think wood. Not music, not fish. 

• ... you've seen movies in studio, you've laughed your ass off about something not funny, you've sprayed your drawings with hair spray, you've lost stuff in the mess that is your desk. When you've gotten 3 hours of sleep, everything is funny.

• ... you want to toss your model in the trash as soon as review is over. You can't stand the sight of it after working on it for weeks. 

• ... score isn't to get a girl. Or to do well on a test. 

• ... you're tired of hearing things like: "missed opportunity", "has potential", "feels unresolved", and everything cliched the reviewers like to say.

• ... you know that Murphy's Law applies not only to butter on toast, but glue on chipboard/wood too.

• ... coffee runs in your veins.

• ... you have a playlist for studio.

• ... model = project. Not Adriana Lima.

• ... you've had the architect-engineer argument more than once. Your professors have dissed engineers more than once. 

• ... you ask for studio supplies as birthday presents.

• ... regardless of how much torture, you go back every day because it's what you love and there's nothing else you would rather do! :)

After Osama

     U.S. agents killed Osama bin Laden in Pakistan. The al-Qaeda leader was responsible for great suffering; I do not mourn his death. But I do not celebrate it, either. I am worried about my country's security now, more than ever. Dread lingers over me: Pakistan may have to pay the price for this.

    Crowds justifiably celebrated bin Laden's death in downtown Manhattan, where a decade ago al-Qaida terrorists massacred nearly 3,000 Americans. The statistic that many people do not know is that since the subsequent US invasion of Afghanistan, terrorists have killed nearly five times that number of people in Pakistan. Five times. Before 2002, suicide bombing was a word unknown to Pakistanis. Now, suicide attacks by Taliban/al-Qaeda, have slaughtered over 34,000 Pakistani civilians, policemen and army personnel. The annual number of Pakistani fatalities from terrorism has surged from less than 200 in 2003 to more than 3,000 in 2009. Every day, Pakistanis are targets for bombs, bullets, cannons, and drones. Bin Laden declared war on Pakistan, too.

    Despite all of that, CNN was having a field day yesterday (I didn't even bother watching FOX). Their target: Pakistan. The crux of every conversation was Pakistan's supposed support for al-Qaeda and the likes. All of this may make for great rhetoric but makes no sense when one asks why Pakistan would care about the group that has killed thousands of Pakistanis and destroyed all kinds of infrastructure and investment? We were the world's second fastest growing economy in 2005 (China was first). Now, our economy is in the dumps. Are we really going to bring this upon ourselves? And yes, Osama was found in Abbotabad, but who is to say he stayed in one location. For ten years? Please. We also know that this operation wouldn't have been possible without the support of Pakistani forces. We are not the perpetrator, we are the ally and the victim.

     Pakistan is not a country that accommodates and hides mass murderers. Pakistanis just want to be left alone and go back to the time when their lives were plain regular: tranquil. If Osama bin Laden's death means that America can begin to withdraw its forces from Pakistan and Afghanistan and that we can somehow rediscover peace, then one day Pakistanis are going to celebrate, too. But till the continued al-Qaeda/Taliban operations all around the world, mass murder of innocent civilians in my country and elsewhere, the norm of racial profiling of American-Muslims, human right injustices in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay and all such heinous acts are not put to end, I do not have a reason to celebrate.

Born Identity

     So Donald Trump, after tending to his comb over, emerged from his helicopter in New Hampshire yesterday to pronounce that he was "proud" and "honored" to "have been able to get" the president to release his birth certificate. No surprises there. Trump is ever so proud of himself: he is rich, arrogant, has a hot wife half his age, "You're fired!" is his catchphrase. As for the honored part, he's already made sure of that. His name adorns - or defaces - hotels, golf courses and condos across the nation. The one place we can be sure it will never be is where he aspires to show it off - on the door of the Oval Office: 64% Americans in a Gallup poll say they just wouldn't vote for The Donald, period. Despite his dollars, this makes sense: why would Americans entrust the future of the economy to a person whose branded properties have had a history of corporate bankruptcy?

     Last month, Trump declared, "I have a great relationship with the blacks. I've always had a great relationship with the blacks." But his new baseless accusation that Obama should not have been admitted to the Ivy Leagues sounded nothing but racist. You weren't president of the Harvard Law Review, were you now, Trump? In fact, what needs to be questioned is that who admitted this dumb ass to Wharton? Daddy's connections came in handy, I suppose. He continues to bash China and Chinese products (calling them "crap") when some of the garments in the Donald J. Trump Signature Collection are, according to their labels, "Made in China." Full of ironies, this man.
 
     Even though the birth certificate being released does not mean an end to the whole birther conspiracy, it for sure has allowed the media to entertain us in the form of the Trump freak show. The royal wedding hoopla was starting to get a little boring now. Prince William needs a comb over, too. 

Brewing up controversy, literally.

I am a fan of Greg Mortenson's and that is why my inbox and my Facebook wall were flooded with emails and posts last week about the fall of my hero. Three words: I don't care.

The journalists I know won't be happy when I say that you don't believe everything that these journalists say. You use your head. Similarly, you don't believe everything you read. When you read any non-fiction book, say a biography, you know not all of it is going to be true. It has been written so that it makes for a nice story, makes you cry, or laugh. So that it inspires you. You use your head. On the same note, you treat people like people. The minute you want to worship a man like a god is the minute you are going to be disappointed. We are not infallible, that is exactly why we are humans.

The 60 Minutes piece about Greg Mortenson is a powerful example of how cleaver editing and storytelling with a bias can damage the reputation and the work of a good man. And although it may have theatrical and visual impact, it does little where truth is concerned. 

Anyone who reads and researches knows that Greg Mortenson has denied all of these accusations. He and his board have answered all of the questions with reasonable and plausible answers. At least $20 million is in a trust fund to carry on his work. The CAI board asked its lawyer to review its financial practices before 60 Minutes began work on their story. The review found nothing to be illegal or unethical. In fact, it discovered benefits to the Central Asia Institute that far exceeded the benefits to Greg Mortenson. His fundraising supports school construction and educational campaigns. Concerning his speaking engagements, he is doing what any writer would do: he is making good use of the limited window any author has to engage audiences, sell his book, create awareness of his mission and raise funds for the work he is doing.

This unfortunate story masquerading as objective journalism will make Greg Mortenson’s work much more difficult, but I believe he will prevail. He will continue to build schools, and those of us who believe in his important work will continue to support him.

On a lighter note, here is a song that is stuck in my head these days. Coincidentally, it is about the place Mortenson fell in love with. I mean, who wouldn't? "He who comes here once, leaves his heart behind."

One School at a Time

I was having the longest and the crappiest day of my life when one man brought a smile to my face. This man was Greg Mortenson.

I had the honor of meeting this man whose fan I had become after reading his book, Three Cups of Tea. He received the Sitara-e-Pakistan ("Star of Pakistan"), Pakistan's highest civil award in 2009. He looks older now. He has started to lose some hair. There's somewhat of a tummy. He greeted me with an assalam alaikum and said khuda hafiz when I was leaving. He told me the book was ready to be published in Urdu and Pushto very soon. He said higher education was becoming more important in Pakistan. He asked me what I was studying (after he asked me if I was a teacher and I had to tell him I was actually a student!). He's soft spoken, funny, listens to you with utmost humility, and is passionate about what he does - everything I had imagined of him when I read the book.

Time and again I have bashed American and Pakistani governments for being insensitive and selfish. And here comes a man who shows me that there are still good people left in the world who would go out of their way to do something for others, in the most selfless manner. He is the American who is working day and night for a better tomorrow of children half the world across from home for him. He goes to places where few foreigners dare to go - places often considered to be the front lines of the War on Terror. And he works with the most basic ideas: let your children go out and play, sit with your elders and listen to their stories, educate the women (because "when you educate a boy, you educate an individual but when you educate a girl, you educate the community"), instead of bombing people, get to know them, understand them, build their trust. He says that hatred in the world comes from ignorance, that education needs to be America's top national and international priority - especially education for girls. "Ignorance is the enemy," he says.

Not only does Mortenson speak from the heart, he makes me look at my country in a way I had never seen it before. Parts of Pakistan I've never visited are heaven on earth, he says. I am in awe of the poor and illiterate men of Pakistan's most impoverished areas that are the champions of girls' education in their villages. When the men from Mullah Omar's village come to him, asking him to build a girls' school in their village, Mortenson finds them playing on the swings of a playground. I finally think of these bearded men in turbans as humans, people who never saw a childhood in a country ridden in war. Mortenson learns that everything is discussed over chai in Pakistan, that relationships are build over a steaming hot cup of this special tea, that family is crucial in my culture. In the words of Korphe's nurmadhar Haji Ali (who was also Mortenson's mentor),

"The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea, you are honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything, even die."

Thus, Mortenson's lecture was enlightening, invigorating to say the least. The reality he presents is gruesome but he shares hope, nonetheless, that something can be done and is being done. Pakistanis and Americans have a lot to learn from him. He is a reminder of the power of one man's determination in the face of gigantic obstacles. This is one man's mission to promote peace - one school at a time. This man clearly deserves to be called a hero.

Mortenson lectures at the Lied Center on KU Campus. Photo by Artem Bagiev.

He signed my copy of Three Cups of Tea!

To the Men in Green - with Love.

I made the mistake of posting a couple of Facebook statuses about the match and people went into a tirade about the failures of the team. It felt like it wasn't 11 men playing a sport but our soldiers going into war with India. Give me a freakin' break, guys.

I've often mentioned on my blog how Pakistanis get all worked up when it comes to religion - well, there's one more thing that makes them that emotional - cricket. Cricket is religion in Pakistan. Cricket is also what brings all Pakistanis together. Support for a certain player has nothing to do with what part of the country he's from, but how well he plays his sport. I started waiting for 2011 years ago because that was the year we were going to host the World Cup.

So yes, 180 million hearts were broken when we were denied hosting rights, when two of our top bowlers were banned, when we lost the semi-final. Yes, it would have been easy to console ourselves had our team played like it was actually playing a big game, just the way it had performed all through the tournament. The heartache could've been a little more bearable had we seen our team strategize, field better, not given Umar Gul those overs, taken the powerplay earlier. But in retrospect, there's more reasons to celebrate than to be sad about. It's true I didn't watch the group matches because I wasn't expecting much from this team. But look where we got? We ended Australia's unbeaten run to reach the semis. The young team played some great cricket. Afridi became the highest wicket taker of the tournament. It was after a long time we saw Pakistan playing positive - there was no politics and the team was united under one captain. The stark reality is that lady luck was smiling upon Tendulkar that day and ignoring poor Gul. The stark reality also is that the match gave us many sleepless nights and got us excited and gave us something to look forward to. It is heartening to see that people are praising the team even after the loss. This shows that we are not that fickle after all. This shows our love for this game and our patriotism for this country. This shows we are one nation, after all.

Like I've said before, Afridi need not apologize. We love this team and we are so proud.

Green for life.

The Vitruvian Pathan by Komail Naqvi

Reasons to Celebrate

What better way to celebrate the Lahore Resolution of 1940 than our team reaching the semis of the Cricket World Cup. It was a great match and the team did us so proud. Other than that, the love of my life isn't giving me many reasons to celebrate these days. Pardon my pessimism but I can't really be happy when my country's civilians and soldiers die everyday fighting America's war at our northwestern border or when dozens are gunned down as political parties battle it out in my city.

The Pakistan I grew up in celebrated Pakistan Day with an impressive military parade at Constitution Avenue. And those of us who didn't live in the capital would wake up early morning to watch it on t.v. Thanks to the volatile law and order situation, we’ve been skipping the display of our military might for the past few years. Cricket meant walking to National Stadium in our green and white shalwar kameezes to watch our heroes in front of our eyes. And although it's great that the country can come together to celebrate the team's awesome performances on foreign soils, it's been years since Pakistan's cricket stadiums echoed with screams of "Jeetayga bhayee jeetayga, Pakistan jeetayga!" I grew up playing badminton on the streets with the boys, riding my bike in shorts. The scars on my knees are proof of the bruises that Karachi's roads gave me. Getting front seats to a Junoon concert was the biggest achievement. Sonu Nigam and Bryan Adams would perform to a sold-out crowd. Eight people would cram in one car to go have ice-cream in Bahadurabad. There was no moral brigade issuing fatwas every other day.

I wonder when, on March 23rd 1940, the Muslims of India proclaimed to the world their determination to make the Muslim Statehood the goal of their struggle, they had this Pakistan in mind. Needless to say, the present circumstances do not lessen my love for this amazing country. Where, when I visit after two years, the aunty on my street is going to cook me my favorite food and send it over. Where the neighborhood fruit vendor will say salam and ask about everyone. Where the press is free and vibrant - a very rare occurrence for an Islamic State. Where we can end Australia's unbeaten 34-match World Cup run.

I have no doubt the days of a packed National Stadium, concerts, and the parade on March 23rd will return. Happy Pakistan Day everyone!