Golden words of wisdom from swami blacksun

Irony of ironies! Having just written an article for the papers (don't bother asking for the link: it's as crap as this blog) on the importance of trust for development ('social capital' and all that) I get a lecture from an estate agent on the importance of trust! Bizarre!

So, there I was, in this dusty little square, a little corner of the dust-bowl that is Lahore, carcasses hanging outside the butcher's, flies, the works. His office: cheap wooden paneling (like you might expect in a 1970's second-hand car dealer's office). On the wall, next to a huge grey filing cabinet, a picture of his father...Sufi something, something. A lovely railway-green table. Qur'anic verses on the wall. Fading mustard sofas, bits of the covers peeling off. Two fans, both gold plated. A huge wall clock, something one might expect in a railway station. A rich, ornate pattern of flowers on the ceiling. You almost imagined that behind some closed door they were making B-grade films. Or God knows what.

As I wait for the estate agent an old bearded man tells me, in response to my question whether X still lives around here: who knows. He may be alive, he may be dead. After all, we all have to die, we all have to go back to God.

Yeah, er..okay, uncle.

First lesson in life: never talk to anyone unless you have to.

The lecture:

Do you see this? he said, holding the flimsy contract in his hand.

"It's all meaningless". What matters is trust, whether someone's given their word. In the end of the day, this piece of paper is only as good as the character of the people behind it. I've done lots of deals with people and it's been about honour.

Lesson number 2: when someone puts their hand up to stop you from interjecting, just so they can continue on their cheap Sunday school sermon, you know they're majorly screwed in the head. Ride the tiger, grasshopper.

I could see this wasn't going to be a pleasant next 20 minutes. When Paks go on a rant the best response is to just let them have their say (hope you're taking notes, Roxana and anton!) or, if you're like little r, the 'chaabi master', just egg them on a bit!

Lesson number 3, little ones: always imagine the end of a conversation; the handshake, you getting back into the safety of your car. When the other person talks think of something pleasant like cinnamon rolls or Monica Bellucci...it helps pass the time. Now and then raise your head so as to indicate you haven't died of boredom and nod your head as you say: "Really?".

So he continues...are you telling me there's no corruption in England, America! There's more, much more! "There are people living in cardboard boxes in the Bronx chipped in his friend, the "engineer."

Of course, I'd been making the point in my article about the importance of trust. But that has to go hand in hand with contracts, a good and transparent legal system. Part of me wanted to ask him: why do you think Pakistan's so fucked up then? But if I've learnt anything over the years it's that it's best not to engage with other human beings. Especially if they're not very pretty. A harsh lesson, I know. But it's the way of the future, I tells ya! Sod all that stuff about community. Give me my money and let me go home....

On the way back: stopped over at the Last Word, as a drunk might find refuge in a pub in the mid -afternoon, sinking into oblivion. Didn't want or need anything, but at least here there was a moment of respite. Anyway, my Burnisde books haven't come in. Doesn't matter. Khair...

~~~

Pharmakon: the poison and the remedy are the same; time is the great healer, time is the wound. Your absence is real. Is reality anything else?