The letter was written by my son Moody on 18 March 2005. This part of process and my endeavour to Blog almost every letter and poem Nasir wrote to me. My part of sharing process continues.
Photo: Moody (Nasir Mahmood) with his younger brother Muhammad Ali in QUETTA 1980.
Dearest Agha Jan, AOA
My class time for GRE is kerbing around the corner. I will expedite the highlights of my interview today. It went very well for about 35 to 40 approximate minutes. Our Landrover Rickshaw again wobbling on the white and yellow lines took 40 minutes to reach British Council. After all security checks went to a cafeteria escorted by a gentleman who had a dangling id around his neck. No FBI just our very Localite. By a quick lapse of mono minutes then to the adjacent colossal building. Entered. A narrow vestibule with rooms on the sides. Huge paintings peering reflections to make the council of Brits colourful. Went upstairs and awaited for 25 minutes gazing the Return of the Jedi poster. No, that did not have that small statured monkey but only lazer lighted sword with Grandy Bawa. I was as usual harassing with haunting looks to all office visitors and passers. As if my pictures on the IELTS form are not enough of constipation. Not to mention BAPU Plato book in hand with a red blinking flag of Economist sticking out. Was called inside. An aged lady with microscopic lens and with blurry steel grey hair welcomed this lean baldy benevolent foolish fellow. Myself as we speak. She unravelled the passport pages and tossed my id in and out. Whoop. My old id number on the new id card does not match the passport. For a second held my fingers crossed for miraculous healing through divine powers. The dogma did heal eventually. The unknown approval accorded to her after my passport along id came from someone. The interview started and being recorded on a tape recorder. She asked about my name and its meaning and if names are bound to limitations in our culture. Am I satisfied with my name? As if I can change it. Then inquired about my nature of work why I have chosen it and then was handed a paper to write down points after contemplating for a minute about my neighbour and expound on it. Then came my ambition plans and my extra activity scenes. I was also asked on the naked prevailing conditions of neighbours these days what activities do they organise. It went well. I left no hope for failure but still hoping to get that extra decimal 5 on the right of 8. Let´s see. Too premature to say anything right now. But that matured lady came from an ex-airforce background. So we confided in each other on the pearls of our imperial hearts. So by the end of it I waved her with GODSPEED like ancient antiquity out of some heroic biography. She just nodded ha! She was miserable with her life. Perhaps I should have said Oh CAPITAL! Wouldn´t that be some thing. Anyways she was all smiling and chirping wanting the conversation to continue. Bouncing off her chair. But like all movies that which is matrix has also an end. So doz this letter my dear Agha. Off 2 class.
Your loving Son,