Archive for July, 2011

Nawab Nafees is the only living closest link I have to Z.A Bokhari. And I had the chance to meet him and film him talking about Z.A Bokhari, his mentor and teacher. Old school teacher. Ustaad. Where you would spend an entire day with them, learning about life, philosophy, morals etc.

What started out as a interview to be filmed is now morphing into a documentary. Still pending a green light, but if it does.


Wicked cool.


Center of Nowhere - Zardo

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Z.A Bukhari, originally uploaded by kamil[rextin].

Photograph from the BBC Archives. Z.A Bukhari, at the BBC Urdu Service.

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Z.A Bukhari, originally uploaded by kamil[rextin].

Old historical photographs of ZA Bokhari, younger brother of Pirtas Bokhari.

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The opinion expressed here expressly belongs to Kamil Ali Rextin and does not reflect on Kuch Khaas in any way.

An usual name for a band from Lahore, that performed at Kuch Khaas a couple of days ago. A packed house nonetheless.

Islamabad is a small place. Awfully small. While the crowd gathered at the band did sound checks, everyone flocked to the Lime Tree (KK Cafe) for some drinks, smoke and a lot of small talk. I ran into at least 3 people I know as the numbers swelled. Other couple of people I avoided eye contact with to avoid saying hello, followed by what would seem an eternity of awkward silence.

Sound testing done with. The band is ready to kick off the gig. The crowd wait in anticipation. I on the other hand, having a gut feeling what I am about to hear will be a lot of noise with some words mashed up together; head on up stairs.

One of my friend sitting through the gig, or rather being forced to by his wife sends me a desperate text message:

‘Dude, I have total respect for ‘musicians’ and ‘artists’ now. They work hard to create ‘music’, which is not something I can say for this lot here.’

Ha. That’s a laugh. I head on downstairs to check what in Gods good name he is talking about..

What I hear is the following:

*Drums bashing, heavy electric and bass guitar*

‘Who farted, did you fart? Did you fart?’

*Drums bashing, heavy electric and bass guitar*

This goes on and on and on. Eventually I have an urge to go to the mike, hush everyone, apologize and say ‘No reason for alarm people, it was I, I farted’.


They start to belt out another song. It’s hard to make up the lyrics if there are any, apart of the occasional ‘woof woof’ and ‘meow meow’.

My friend whispers to me:

“I think my ears are bleeding’.

Admittedly, this sort of music isn’t everyone’s taste. Or maybe you just have to be stoned to appreciate it.
They churn out some more music, and some more vaguely obscure lyrics. The most interesting sight however was a bearded bassist in shalwar kameez. That is not something you see very often.

As the gig wraps up and I head on outside, I hear a girl say to another:

‘Oh My Gaawd, his voice is just so awesome’

Really? You actually heard something through all that noise?


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There are around 50 checkpoints around the city according to Dawn: on various roads across the city manned by 150 policemen. I probably pass through half of those while driving across town to Kuch Khaas.


At the end of the road for civilians, (beyond that you need to be someone or know someone, or be white to be allowed to enter) right at the foot of the hills, is a nondescript house with white gates. Passing it by on a casual drive – if you do venture this far on a casual drive without being harassed by the police – you’d be surprised to know this is Kuch Khaas.


I start today as a ‘Guest Blogger’. Yes, it was my idea. Cross my heart and hope to die. The idea is to lurk around KK (Kuch Khaas) and write about the ‘behind the scenes happenings’. The ultimate truth of this exercise is to jump-start Kuch Khaas-ians into blogging about themselves. A community, crowd sourced blog of the Kuch Khaas community.


Relegated to the corner table in the Text Teen room; the in-house publication for the budding teenage OC/ Gossip Girl inspired generation of Pakiland, I catch a few names. Shahbaz, Sana, and Osman.


The one they call Osman types as he speaks to himself:


‘The Story of Kuch Khaas’


‘Questions for Poppy’


‘Why is KK so close to your house?’


Yes Poppy, why is it so close? This is something even I have thought about asking. Her house is literally 2 steps from KK. Unfair to the rest of us, who have to drive all the way across town.


There’s live music in the background. The perks of working across the hall from the music room is the background music doesn’t have to be the heavy breathing of people you’re sitting in the same room with.



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Sitting is Killing You
Via: Medical Billing And Coding

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