Hailing from a family that is notoriously famous for its excellent home made cooking (I am sure my foreign friends will testify to that) I was, is the first person to drift away from the home made delicacies to experiment on the food at the fancy restaurants, cafes and the desi restaurants. In my journey I discovered some excellent places to eat and on occasions paid a jaw dropping amount of bills pursuing my endeavors.
However, today I’d like to write about a restaurant which offers a lot of quantity and qua… well let’s just stick to quantity at a very reasonable price. Savour Foods Pulao Kebab has literally just one thing on the menu as every other thing they introduce fails miserably.
What started out as a humble place on college road offering cheap pulao for students and working people turned out to be the biggest revenue generator in the food and beverages industry of the twin cities. Now operating through four branches Savour by par is the most famous place for a quick meal among students. I bet there is very little number of people who have never been there or have never eaten pulao of Savour.
So what makes the very simple dish like a pulao so successful on a commercial scale? Well it’s a sum of number of factors. One the price, two the quantity, three the provision to get extra rice and curd at no extra cost. What more does an empty belly want.
Yet there are cons to this establishment. The biggest of them is that you have to share tables with random people. Sometimes you end up sitting next to a tableghi dude who starts his lecture at the spot. Once I sat next to this old timmer who was telling everyone his love story.
Yet no matter what time you go to Savour the place is crowded. On occasions I have waited for as long as 15 minutes to get a table.
So if you’re short of cash and want to eat out. Savour is the place to be.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
The damage is yet to follow
After ditching the dinner at home today, I went to a night out with a good friend. “1969”, Jinnah and KC proved to be the places that were blessed with royalty. After reaching home at about 2300 hrs I found out that the guests have left and my dad was waiting for a friend who works for some organization that I cannot disclose here. So as always I asked Ammi for some food. Fortunately she had saved some malai chicken for me.
While I was helping myself to a huge serving I heard the door bell ring. As expected it was my dad’s friend. I ushered him to the drawing room and left to finish my food. I was done in a couple of minutes and started to watch the highlights of the cricket match that we lost today. My ammi called me to take the coffee for the guest. I entered the room with the coffee mugs and the home made cookies which smelled great (I smuggled one into my mouth before entering the room).
Upon entering the room I heard the guest saying that at the unfortunate moharam incident in karachi the biggest illegal money market in Pakistan was robbed. My jaw dropped straight away. The Bolton money market was known for entertaining every customer. Once in a sting operation a fake customer exchanged $100,000 for Pakistani rupees. That’s a jaw dropping 8.3 million PKR. No wonder no claim has been filled by the owners of those shops for compensation as that would expose them to the tax authorities.
Since it is proved that the whole incident was well organized, does this mean that robbing the market was also part of there plan? A place which can generate 8 million rupees in 5 minutes must be holding at least 80 million worth cash in both local and foreign currencies. Just imagine the kind of destruction can be done from that money. People say that the total damage was 5 trillion rupees but I say the damage has yet to start because I am sure that this money will be used for funding the terrorist activities.
Beware my country mates the damage is yet to follow.
While I was helping myself to a huge serving I heard the door bell ring. As expected it was my dad’s friend. I ushered him to the drawing room and left to finish my food. I was done in a couple of minutes and started to watch the highlights of the cricket match that we lost today. My ammi called me to take the coffee for the guest. I entered the room with the coffee mugs and the home made cookies which smelled great (I smuggled one into my mouth before entering the room).
Upon entering the room I heard the guest saying that at the unfortunate moharam incident in karachi the biggest illegal money market in Pakistan was robbed. My jaw dropped straight away. The Bolton money market was known for entertaining every customer. Once in a sting operation a fake customer exchanged $100,000 for Pakistani rupees. That’s a jaw dropping 8.3 million PKR. No wonder no claim has been filled by the owners of those shops for compensation as that would expose them to the tax authorities.
Since it is proved that the whole incident was well organized, does this mean that robbing the market was also part of there plan? A place which can generate 8 million rupees in 5 minutes must be holding at least 80 million worth cash in both local and foreign currencies. Just imagine the kind of destruction can be done from that money. People say that the total damage was 5 trillion rupees but I say the damage has yet to start because I am sure that this money will be used for funding the terrorist activities.
Beware my country mates the damage is yet to follow.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Islamabad
How’s Islamabad?
If you ask this question from a person who grew up or lived some years here the most obvious answers would be “Aaaallaaa”, “Awesome”, “Cool town”.
Islamabad was the brain child of General Ayub Khan who wanted to shift the capital of Pakistan from Karachi to a strategically safer place. So the work was started in 1960’s (the foundation stone can be found at shakerparian). The city is par excellence when compared to any other city in the region.
For me growing up in Islamabad a.k.a Isloo was a privilege. Back then the city was less populated. Sectors G-11 and F-11 were not developed. The roads used to be empty and by maximum 2100hrs it was rare to find traffic on the roads. It used to be so quiet. No noise of the traffic. On Eid’s Isloo was almost deserted as most of the population used to travel to there ancestral homes. Thus Isloo got titled as “the city of living dead” by the Karachi walla’s and the Lahori’s.
Now I just laugh at the people who say that Isloo is a dead city. They are just misinformed and living in an illusion that they have created. I mean calling a city dead where a 7 star hotel is under construction is just so lame. That’s not all, it’s the city which is the hub of the political activities of the nation and still they call it dead. Amazing! I ask these people to please come and visit this place for a change and then make up there minds.
Islamabad as I recall it has always been like a dream place to live in. Sometimes I imagine as if it’s a place described in a romantic novel and we are just mere characters of that epic saga. the stunning margalla hills and the lovely Faisal mosque on one side, the mist that overtakes in winters, the sunsets in summers, the blooming flowers across the town in spring, ground covered by fallen leaves due to autumn and finally the thunderous rains in monsoon. Which place on earth will have weather like this?
To conclude the article a sad note, the dove monument at zero point which was the original monument of Islamabad has been removed due to the on going flyover construction over there has been removed.P.S
As it was the symbol of peace I wonder if they’ll put it back when it peace will be restored in the country.
If you ask this question from a person who grew up or lived some years here the most obvious answers would be “Aaaallaaa”, “Awesome”, “Cool town”.
Islamabad was the brain child of General Ayub Khan who wanted to shift the capital of Pakistan from Karachi to a strategically safer place. So the work was started in 1960’s (the foundation stone can be found at shakerparian). The city is par excellence when compared to any other city in the region.
For me growing up in Islamabad a.k.a Isloo was a privilege. Back then the city was less populated. Sectors G-11 and F-11 were not developed. The roads used to be empty and by maximum 2100hrs it was rare to find traffic on the roads. It used to be so quiet. No noise of the traffic. On Eid’s Isloo was almost deserted as most of the population used to travel to there ancestral homes. Thus Isloo got titled as “the city of living dead” by the Karachi walla’s and the Lahori’s.
Now I just laugh at the people who say that Isloo is a dead city. They are just misinformed and living in an illusion that they have created. I mean calling a city dead where a 7 star hotel is under construction is just so lame. That’s not all, it’s the city which is the hub of the political activities of the nation and still they call it dead. Amazing! I ask these people to please come and visit this place for a change and then make up there minds.
Islamabad as I recall it has always been like a dream place to live in. Sometimes I imagine as if it’s a place described in a romantic novel and we are just mere characters of that epic saga. the stunning margalla hills and the lovely Faisal mosque on one side, the mist that overtakes in winters, the sunsets in summers, the blooming flowers across the town in spring, ground covered by fallen leaves due to autumn and finally the thunderous rains in monsoon. Which place on earth will have weather like this?
To conclude the article a sad note, the dove monument at zero point which was the original monument of Islamabad has been removed due to the on going flyover construction over there has been removed.P.S
As it was the symbol of peace I wonder if they’ll put it back when it peace will be restored in the country.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Style Icon
Over the past few days there has been a great debate going on in my friends circle that who’s the biggest style icon in the history of this region. Most of the people just acted orthodox and ended up naming the film actors from the bollywood or some models. The justifications they gave were also not just lame but were very pathetic as well.
I still stick to my first choice and that is the founder of our nation Mr. Muhammad Ali Jinnah a.k.a Quaid-e-Azam.
He was known for his exquisite taste of branded Italian suits and leather shoes at the time when Mr. Gandhi used to roam around semi naked. His portraits at the national library are a showman of style. The tree piece suit, leather hat and shinny black leather shoes would even fit perfect in the modern age.
One of the most successful lawyers in the history of the Indian sub continent didn’t restrict his taste to just clothes. His mansion in Mumbai which was constructed under his watchful eye has been declared a national heritage by the Indian government and these days is valued at an estimated value on $300 million housed a wardrobe that would give a run for the money to the biggest designer stores of this era. A very close source once revealed that Mr. Jinnah had about 500 stitched suits in his wardrobe and approx 300 leather suits.
In his last days he developed a liking for sherwani and a cap which became so famous that people actually started to call it a Jinnah cap.
So here’s a person who was respected in whole of sub continent and was influencing the british and at the same was maintaining an exquisite sense of style.
For me Mr. Muhammad Ali Jinnah a.k.a Quaid-e-Azam is and will always remain the biggest style icon of Indian sub continent. No Khan or Bachan can come close to him when it comes to style.
I still stick to my first choice and that is the founder of our nation Mr. Muhammad Ali Jinnah a.k.a Quaid-e-Azam.
He was known for his exquisite taste of branded Italian suits and leather shoes at the time when Mr. Gandhi used to roam around semi naked. His portraits at the national library are a showman of style. The tree piece suit, leather hat and shinny black leather shoes would even fit perfect in the modern age.
One of the most successful lawyers in the history of the Indian sub continent didn’t restrict his taste to just clothes. His mansion in Mumbai which was constructed under his watchful eye has been declared a national heritage by the Indian government and these days is valued at an estimated value on $300 million housed a wardrobe that would give a run for the money to the biggest designer stores of this era. A very close source once revealed that Mr. Jinnah had about 500 stitched suits in his wardrobe and approx 300 leather suits.
In his last days he developed a liking for sherwani and a cap which became so famous that people actually started to call it a Jinnah cap.
So here’s a person who was respected in whole of sub continent and was influencing the british and at the same was maintaining an exquisite sense of style.
For me Mr. Muhammad Ali Jinnah a.k.a Quaid-e-Azam is and will always remain the biggest style icon of Indian sub continent. No Khan or Bachan can come close to him when it comes to style.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
when it comes to sex
If nations were to be tagged with mental disorders, Pakistan would be within a second, diagnosed as a “split personality” when it comes to sex.
Lurking in the shadows are things like hudood laws, gruesome honour killings of people (almost always women) who were “allegedly involved in illicit behaviours” and students threatening to expose other students for holding hands or being a little chummy. We constantly want to be the upholders of modesty and chastity.
On the flipside, Pakistan tops the charts as the country that searches for the word “sex” and is always somewhere in the top ten nations that enjoys watching porn. Our favourite’s jokes are about sex. Our modesty flies out of the window, while a thousand eyes stare at a female that walks on the road.
The obsession with sex maybe worldwide but here the thought of sex for most people (read men) in Pakistan triggers dogmatic feelings of control, disgust, evil and degradation. The truth is that sexuality is just the opposite.
P.S
The above piece was printed in TNS on 3rd January 2010.i thought of sharing it with u people
Lurking in the shadows are things like hudood laws, gruesome honour killings of people (almost always women) who were “allegedly involved in illicit behaviours” and students threatening to expose other students for holding hands or being a little chummy. We constantly want to be the upholders of modesty and chastity.
On the flipside, Pakistan tops the charts as the country that searches for the word “sex” and is always somewhere in the top ten nations that enjoys watching porn. Our favourite’s jokes are about sex. Our modesty flies out of the window, while a thousand eyes stare at a female that walks on the road.
The obsession with sex maybe worldwide but here the thought of sex for most people (read men) in Pakistan triggers dogmatic feelings of control, disgust, evil and degradation. The truth is that sexuality is just the opposite.
P.S
The above piece was printed in TNS on 3rd January 2010.i thought of sharing it with u people
Thursday, December 31, 2009
New Years Eve
As I start writing this, a partial lunar eclipse is taking place and my cell phone is constantly vibrating thanks to all those New Year wishes. Okay I get the point its 2010. We have only two more years to live thanks to the Hollywood flick 2012.
I can’t believe ten years have passed since all of my cousins from Dads side stayed over for a sleep over just to watch the millennium celebrations on telly and it was so kind of my parents to let us watch it in there master bed while they slept in my room. Ah! Sweet memories.
So another year has passed by and 31st December 2009 marked my Dada’s (Paternal Granddad’s) 39th death anniversary. The only reason that stops me from going outside to party. 2010 has started and how lucky we are that it’s a Friday and our country’s major population will attend the mosque for Friday prayers. I hope our molvi’s ask dua for our country’s brighter future, peace and prosperity other than the cliché dua for the destruction of US of A.
Back when I was a little kid my Dad once called me into his bedroom at exactly this time and told me that “what lies in the future is unseen but it can be foreseen and predicted by one’s hard work and commitment”( i am sure we all have heard that). At that time I didn’t understood what my dad meant by that but some how the words just got saved in the thing that some times we refer to as brain. Over the years the true meaning started to unfold in front of me and now that 2010 has started I believe that it’s been fully unfolded and I make a commitment to myself that Inshallah this year will not be wasted like all those past years.
Oh @#$^! Power cut. I wish we hadn’t gone all against the governments’ rental power plants scheme, it was a good project to over come the deficit of electricity but then it’s our nature. We judge to conclusions before going into details.
In the end I wish all of u a very happy 2010 and may all your dreams come true. While I typed this out of the blue I thought about the people who used to print greeting cards.
I can’t believe ten years have passed since all of my cousins from Dads side stayed over for a sleep over just to watch the millennium celebrations on telly and it was so kind of my parents to let us watch it in there master bed while they slept in my room. Ah! Sweet memories.
So another year has passed by and 31st December 2009 marked my Dada’s (Paternal Granddad’s) 39th death anniversary. The only reason that stops me from going outside to party. 2010 has started and how lucky we are that it’s a Friday and our country’s major population will attend the mosque for Friday prayers. I hope our molvi’s ask dua for our country’s brighter future, peace and prosperity other than the cliché dua for the destruction of US of A.
Back when I was a little kid my Dad once called me into his bedroom at exactly this time and told me that “what lies in the future is unseen but it can be foreseen and predicted by one’s hard work and commitment”( i am sure we all have heard that). At that time I didn’t understood what my dad meant by that but some how the words just got saved in the thing that some times we refer to as brain. Over the years the true meaning started to unfold in front of me and now that 2010 has started I believe that it’s been fully unfolded and I make a commitment to myself that Inshallah this year will not be wasted like all those past years.
Oh @#$^! Power cut. I wish we hadn’t gone all against the governments’ rental power plants scheme, it was a good project to over come the deficit of electricity but then it’s our nature. We judge to conclusions before going into details.
In the end I wish all of u a very happy 2010 and may all your dreams come true. While I typed this out of the blue I thought about the people who used to print greeting cards.
Monday, December 28, 2009
waves of nostalgia
As I roll in my bed I look at my cell phones display and find out that its 4.10 AM. As the warm hug of the sleep goddess moves ever so far from me I decide to open up my laptop. By now its 4.15 AM and unintentionally I open up word. Basically having no idea of what I intend to do at this hour my mind drift into wilderness and waves and waves of nostalgia just start to pour in.
Taking a pause, lost in the old memories not knowing why on earth I am remembering or still remember these memories. The first thing that hits my mind is my dad taking me to Islamabad’s zoo on his bike. Unable to type in this posture I change position. Much better, so where was I, ah! Yes the bike. Asking my dad to ride it fast and my dad obliging to my insane request. Sweet days, I used to get what ever I wanted, its stil the same but now it takes time. Anyway all of a sudden my mind flips and I remember long forgotten friends. Friends from F-8/4, the guys I haven’t meet in approx 9 years. Playing a lot of basketball with them, un able to dribble properly but still being able to shoot a perfect 3 pointer and practicing the half court throw.
My memories change again and I remember the wedding I attended at some place in F-7 markaz a.k.a Jinnah Super when I was 7 or 8. The nans were finished and the waiters started to serve milky bread. On our way back my chacha blaming the organizers for doing a lousy job. Still on weddings my chacha’s wedding was amazing. The fireworks. the mehndi. The food. Every thing was perfect.
Ahhh my mind is going nuts. All of a sudden I start humming the tune of the song I once adored. Music the food of soul. Always wanted to be a famous singer like Michael Jackson but my dreams were crushed way back in grade 4 when my teacher told me ay a music audition that I have a horrible singing voice, never lost hope and about 4 years back I pulled off my first and last solo. It never made it on air but I made sure that my friends over the globe lend an ear to it.
Speaking of friends from across the globe I find myself sitting in Mr. Shan’s physics class swearing out loud at asela bond 009. Mr. Shan the best physics teacher that I ever came across. Playing football at gateways basketball court with the un official joke society of our class and by total fluke kicking a banana kick and wowing every one by my skills. Playing snooker at shooters, potluck and a couple of other places that I cant remember.
My first traffic accident at bajra mandi when I goy hit by a Suzuki bolan. Don’t remember much about it but what I remember is that I was not knocked out cold. Watching my younger cousin got hit by a car and seeing him falling after a small flight. The car driver running away and my dad and uncles following him, what I heard was that they beat the #$@% out of that driver. Maybe he deserved it. The first ethnic clash I saw in G7, the christians shooting down 2 guys from our street and one christian trying to injure one with a sword.
My buddy Fahad who recently passed away. Still can’t believe that he’s no longer between Us. May Allah rest his soul in eternal peace.
The memories that always bring a tear in my eyes are the times I spent with my NANA JAN and NANI JAN. May Allah rest there souls in eternal peace as well.
Still remembering stuff from the past. TPS! It will remain an urban myth. The best script ever written, that I co wrote with a good friend.
I look at the time and its 5 AM. Still can type for hours but my machine is not charged and I think I should try to hug the sleep goddess.
Taking a pause, lost in the old memories not knowing why on earth I am remembering or still remember these memories. The first thing that hits my mind is my dad taking me to Islamabad’s zoo on his bike. Unable to type in this posture I change position. Much better, so where was I, ah! Yes the bike. Asking my dad to ride it fast and my dad obliging to my insane request. Sweet days, I used to get what ever I wanted, its stil the same but now it takes time. Anyway all of a sudden my mind flips and I remember long forgotten friends. Friends from F-8/4, the guys I haven’t meet in approx 9 years. Playing a lot of basketball with them, un able to dribble properly but still being able to shoot a perfect 3 pointer and practicing the half court throw.
My memories change again and I remember the wedding I attended at some place in F-7 markaz a.k.a Jinnah Super when I was 7 or 8. The nans were finished and the waiters started to serve milky bread. On our way back my chacha blaming the organizers for doing a lousy job. Still on weddings my chacha’s wedding was amazing. The fireworks. the mehndi. The food. Every thing was perfect.
Ahhh my mind is going nuts. All of a sudden I start humming the tune of the song I once adored. Music the food of soul. Always wanted to be a famous singer like Michael Jackson but my dreams were crushed way back in grade 4 when my teacher told me ay a music audition that I have a horrible singing voice, never lost hope and about 4 years back I pulled off my first and last solo. It never made it on air but I made sure that my friends over the globe lend an ear to it.
Speaking of friends from across the globe I find myself sitting in Mr. Shan’s physics class swearing out loud at asela bond 009. Mr. Shan the best physics teacher that I ever came across. Playing football at gateways basketball court with the un official joke society of our class and by total fluke kicking a banana kick and wowing every one by my skills. Playing snooker at shooters, potluck and a couple of other places that I cant remember.
My first traffic accident at bajra mandi when I goy hit by a Suzuki bolan. Don’t remember much about it but what I remember is that I was not knocked out cold. Watching my younger cousin got hit by a car and seeing him falling after a small flight. The car driver running away and my dad and uncles following him, what I heard was that they beat the #$@% out of that driver. Maybe he deserved it. The first ethnic clash I saw in G7, the christians shooting down 2 guys from our street and one christian trying to injure one with a sword.
My buddy Fahad who recently passed away. Still can’t believe that he’s no longer between Us. May Allah rest his soul in eternal peace.
The memories that always bring a tear in my eyes are the times I spent with my NANA JAN and NANI JAN. May Allah rest there souls in eternal peace as well.
Still remembering stuff from the past. TPS! It will remain an urban myth. The best script ever written, that I co wrote with a good friend.
I look at the time and its 5 AM. Still can type for hours but my machine is not charged and I think I should try to hug the sleep goddess.
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