I was on a flight once where a woman who was hundred times my age (and had immaculate skin) was seated next to me. Instead of killing time staring at the cabin crew jog down the aisle, I engaged myself in a conversation with her. She was called Almaas and gave me complicated recipes of Libyan food notwithstanding my endless implications that I couldn’t even cook daal and she owed her glowing face to the magic of washing it with mineral water twice a day. Since I have a history of meeting Martians when I travel, I bore her special appearance in life as part of my hopeless fate.
Upon landing, she asked for my contact. I gave her my e-mail address and she gave me her cell phone number. The next day, she called. I immediately recognized her number. Afraid she might invite me to a culinary exhibition in Peru or Kazakhstan, I ignored the call. For future reference, I saved her number by the name of `Freaky Auntie`.
She never called again but three days later, I received an e-mail from her in which she told me she was still recovering from the jet lag. "Jet lag?", I asked myself in bewilderment. She had traveled from Karachi to Abu Dhabi. GMT had decreased by one teensy weensy hour for crying out loud! You would only jet lag if you were a clock. Maybe she was the Big Ben in her previous life. I didn`t bother replying. Who would?
Anyway, I deleted her e-mail and moved on to the next. It was from my sweetest cousin. His message requested me to record my birthday on his calendar so he could receive an electronic reminder on that date every year in case he forgot it. Wow! Who was he kidding? We were great friends and had clung to each other through thick(est) and thin(nest). He had been to every single birthday party of mine or paid a casual visit when I didn`t celebrate the day. Now all of a sudden, to remember one exclusive date out of the three hundred and sixty five (or six) useless days a year, he required artificial intelligence? Nevertheless, I had to...