‘Funny,’ she said eyeing me up and down, the double lines of lipstick around her nose and chin wobbling in sync with the corn cob that she chewed, ‘You don’t look like one’. The line of children standing beside her nodded in unison. The identical clothes of the girls and boys acting as a camouflage of sorts, hiding the productivity of their parents who had, apparently been celebrating Pakistan’s success every year. There was the famous miracle victory of ’92 Cricket World Cup. She was the oldest, the most in the mould of her sceptical mother. Hockey World Champion ’94 was tired from standing so long and couldn’t wait to go home.  Atomic Bomb ’98 was hissing, not at me but at the world in […]