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But for many, many of us, the panic never did subside last night. For many, life changed forever the moment that truck exploded. And although this is a waking nightmare for us all, we can’t even begin to imagine the horrific magnitude of this nightmare for those who lost their loved ones last night. They are from among us, people just like you and me, and could easily have been you or me. In grieving for them, we grieve for ourselves, because it is the same.

That all this death and destruction happened in one of the liveliest and most radiant locations in the city, a place we associated with special family dinners and weddings and exhibitions and festivity and warmth, makes it even more unpalatable in our minds. The sheer scale of this tragedy is still sinking in. And so is the extent of our vulnerability.

Image from www.nytimes.com

Children’s Resources International is conducting its annual teacher-training workshop on interactive teaching and learning methodologies, which kicked off on July 14. The first week of training was for kindergarten teachers, and I happened to be at the Islamabad Model School G-9/3 session, recording minutes. And what a colourful week indeed. The participants of the workshop were introduced to innovative ways to improve the quality of elementary education and to make learning fun for kindergarten children in a friendly and inclusive classroom environment. This involved getting the teachers to actually do all sorts of activities designed for kindergarteners. So throughout the workshop, the participants were ‘kacchi jamaat kay bacchay’ and the workshop instructors were their ‘madams.’ As you might imagine, the teachers had a blast. Elderly gentlemen fingerpainting, matronly principals playing with brightly-coloured blocks, young ladies trying to better one another in the art of making popup storybooks out of A4 paper. For one week, these teachers all became kids. What was really interesting was that whenever the instructors had trouble getting the participants to hear them out, they would end up saying: “See how hard it is to sit still and be quiet? Can you blame the kids?” This was a running theme throughout the workshop: teachers putting themselves in their students’ little shoes. They experienced firsthand the creative learning materials provided by CRI and the many fun ways they could be used to learn math or languages. They felt the satisfaction of having their work appreciated by the instructors and displayed on the walls. All in all, I felt it was a promising way to improve teaching skills. Next week, the workshop will train Class 1 teachers.

Click on the thumbnails to see more photos from kindergarten week.

Osman Khalid Butt has promised to redefine the term ’summer blockbuster’ with his latest theatre production, Superstar Avatār, ‘a tale of passion, obsession, dance, drama…and a little bit of insanity.’ So far, we know at least two really exciting things about this new play. One, it’s not an adaptation – the script is a completely original work, written by Osman himself. In the past four years, Islamabad’s theatre scene has been built around wonderful adaptations of films, novels or other plays. We are now seeing our first major original theatre production in Islamabad, and I think this is a giant progressive leap in this new, modern wave of Pakistani theatre - it could just be to Islamabad theatre what The Lion King and Toy Story were to Disney after its long line of animated adaptations. The theatre community ought to be proud that their field has come so far.

The second really exciting thing is that this new play is bilingual! The characters will speak in the same everyday mix of Urdu and English that we are all familiar with, and that is probably going to make this play so much more relatable for a lot of people – especially those who have been worried in recent years about the place of Urdu and other Pakistani languages in our theatre plays.

So that’s two giant progressive leaps for Osman and his company, The Living Picture Productions (which by the way is used to making progressive leaps – to name one, its first play, the wildly successful Some Like It Hot, was staged entirely without corporate sponsorship.) But what is this revolutionary new play going to be about? The synopsis hasn’t been revealed thus far - but at the CDA’s Theatre Awards at the Islamabad Club on June 24,  the Living Picture did unveil its first teaser trailer for Superstar Avatār, making a massive impact. This was soon followed by a second teaser trailer. Both can be viewed on YouTube as well:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Js0iqTdRDI&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXrB9_7FwhM&feature=user

Osman also revealed in a recent press conference that over a hundred costumes would be showcased within a span of two and a half hours – the first time such lavish and detailed attention will be focused on costumes in a theatre play in Islamabad.

These glimpses into the mystical, glamorous, mad world of Superstar Avatār are enough to convince theatregoers that this is a show not to be missed. So book your tickets now! Official dates for the show are July 10 to July 26, 2008, at the Islamabad Club Auditiorium.

Behold: the first teaser poster for the Living Picture’s latest theatrical production, coming to the Islamabad Club this July!

The Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences (PIMS) is holding a Volunteer Blood Donors Week from June 7 to June 14. The head of the hospital’s Department of Pathology Prof. (Dr.) Anwar Ul Haque is requesting everyone to actively support this week. “This will Insha Allah go a long way to promote healthy blood donation and discourage selling and buying of blood which in turn results in spread of hepatitis B &C as well as transfusion of substandard blood e.g.of low hemoglobin.”

So go on and get yourself registered as a donor - you could be helping someone who really needs it. PIMS will also hold a seminar on the subject on June 14, which you can check out if you’re interested.

This plaque on the wall of the lobby at the Islamabad Club is always good for refreshing one’s memory of the list of heads of state Pakistan has had from Ayub Khan onwards. And a useful illustration of the fact that half of them have been military men.

Hopefully, Gen. Zia-ul-Haq will remain the record-holder for longest-standing patron – even though Gen. Musharraf seems to be trying his utmost to surpass him.

When I went to the Marriott recently with my family, I felt like we were making a trip to a foreign country. I am alluding not to the stark and opulent contrast of the hotel to the rest of the country, but to the gauntlet of security checks we had to permeate in order to get inside and finally reach the Nadia - where we only really intended to have an innocent little high tea. Now, while I am getting used to seeing all the metal detectors and airport-style x-ray things at hotels and shopping areas alike, the obstacle course at the Marriott was still rather overwhelming. I realized just how overwhelming when I entered the lobby and the very first thing I thought to myself was upon seeing the aquarium: “These fish probably have more peace of mind than anyone else in the city, living in a fortress like this.”

I shook the thought away and resumed making my way to my tension-free high tea.

The whole thing reminded me of another similar experience a couple of months ago at the Serena. My friend and I had taken the wrong bus from Quaid-e-Azam University, and after being taken through all sorts of irrelevant sectors, were alarmed to see that we were heading back to university. Wanting nothing more than to avoid completing a full circle and ending up back where we had started, we told the bus driver to let us off there and then. There and then, incidentally, happened to be right in front of the Serena in the early afternoon.

“Want to go inside and explore?” suggested my friend.

“Sure!” I said, always game. So we walked up to the main gate.

Now, my friend wears a nikaab. Not only that: in her arms she was carrying one of our textbooks. And of all the textbooks in the world, it just happened to be the one with the words “International Politics of TERRORISM” written in big letters on the front.

So there we were, two strange pedestrians walking up to the main gate of Serena, one of us carrying a huge suspicious-looking backpack, and the other dressed in a black nikaab and abaaya, brandishing a book about terrorism.

 Naturally, we were stopped in our tracks by a couple of guards and an alarmed-looking man with a walkie-talkie.

 ”Asalamoalaikum,” we said, good-naturedly.

“Walaikumasalam,” replied the walkie-talkie man, warily. ”Aap kahaan say aa rahi hain?”

“Quaid-e-Azam University.”

He scrutinized us more closely, still uncertain.

We grinned back, at our most charming. My friend is used to being regarded suspiciously because of her appearance.

“Aap nay kidher jaana hai?” he asked.

“Er. Lunch karnay?”

He gave us another appraising look and I could almost see the wheels turning frantically in his head. Then he just stood aside and directed us in.

When we were inside, we laughed so much our stomachs ached. We hadn’t brought enough money to be able to afford even a breadstick at Serena, so we just explored the hotel, admiring the architecture and decor and taking joy-rides on the elevator. We even did the old knocking on someone’s door and running away bit on the third floor. Then we got bored and decided to leave. On the way out, my friend whipped out her phone and started making a video of the hotel – with no other intention, I assure you, than of immortalizing a memorable afternoon.

From their posts at the gate, the security people stared uneasily. But what could the poor dears do, after all? My friend and I laughed all the way home.

Disclaimer: Some readers have made the error of not reading attentively and assuming that the author merely played a cruel prank on the good security people at Serena. She would like to reassure all such readers that the situation at the Serena was by no means intentional or staged, but purely coincidental. The author has intended no disrespect to any security guards, terrorists, or fish, and is very grateful for all the measures being taken to keep the citizens of Islamabad safe. She does, however, believe in finding humour in (almost) all things.

It was a little funny – and a little sad – how excited I got the other day upon visiting the Fish section at Metro. Wide-eyed, tugging at the sleeves of family members, going on and on: “They have sharks here! SHARKS!” While other people had their noses pinched and were picking out what they’d like for dinner, I stood there with a gleeful expression on my face and took pictures. I was so excited that I think my blood cells have multiplied tenfold. The only time I’d seen sharks in real life before was at an underwater aquarium in Singapore.

I didn’t photograph all the fish of course, but there were many, many kinds. I kept thinking, if we can have sharks and eels and crabs in a store, we should so have live ones in an aquarium as well. Sharks.. real, whole SHARKS, right here in Islamabad!

Later it also occurred to me that not many people in Islamabad would actually buy these marine creatures, or even dream of eating them. It made me sad to think of them having been rendered lifeless for nothing.

I am seriously considering going back and buying one of the crabs to keep as a pet. I’ll keep him with me for as long as I must, and the next time I visit a seaside town, I’ll set him free.

I wonder how my cat would react to this plan though.