Unless you were living under a rock, marooned on a deserted island, or trapped inside a psycho’s basement, there was no way you wouldn’t have heard of Rocky Balboa. Although growing up in the ’80s in Pakistan felt like a version of all three of the above at different points, I wasn’t immune from the ‘Italian Stallion’ bug. If there was a vaccine to ward off the allure of those adrenaline-pumping muscles and fight scenes, it hadn’t yet breached through the martial law government’s iron curtain. Bullying was an Epidemic The point is, the day I skipped school with a fake fever  — a word to the wise, don’t believe the hype; the onion under the armpit trick doesn’t work. But there are other, more […]