You know you’ve lived the ultimate Army life if…
..Life of Army Brat
Your Father’s PA number was currency at Services Club, CMH and Officers Mess…
You knew all aunties by their husband’s names or positions – Aunty Bashir, CO Aunty, G2 Aunty, Aunty Parvaiz!
The question ‘Where are you from’ sends you in an existential crisis – Where am I from?!?!
Teelo Express, Barf Paani, Dodge the Ball, Oonch Neech, Chupan Chupai, Kho Kho and Pithu garam were all serious sports
‘Passing Out’ didn’t mean fainting but ‘Graduating’ from the Military Academy.
You had no concept of boundary walls and a hedge was good enough to keep strangers out.
The corner shop chacha knew who you were, where you lived and who your father was.
The ultimate Summer Holiday was an army mess in Kaghan, Naran, Gharial, LowerTopa or somewhere else up North…
Riding in the staff car was pretty scandalous and could get you seriously grounded.
The waiter brought the ‘Tea Break’ when you visited your fathers office once in a blue moon
Chaand Raat Bazaar and Eid Milan Party were right up there with the coolest events on the calendar
You made castles with the blocky cushions from the MES furniture issued with the house
You walked to the library every weekend to borrow books
At least one of your teachers in APS was your mother’s friend and responsible for telling her anything you did in school faster than a speeding bullet
CSD, the biggest mall around, was no bigger than the corner store…
You cycled next to rows and rows of sweatpeas planted on criss cross canes
You raced your friends to the video store to rent the one of the very few new cantt censor approved VHS tapes they got every month.
When ‘Sahib Out Hein’ didn’t mean the gentleman had lost his marbles but simply that he was not at home
Loadshedding was looked forward to because it meant all kids could come and play in the street outside
Walking on walls or climbing trees earned you respect of your clan
Watching a movie on the auditorium projector was serious cinema experience.
Your dad went away for ‘exercise’ for three months sometimes.
The smell of ‘Kalaf’ on your dad’s uniform, and the musty fragrance of his beret were familiar and recognizable
Bara Khaana remained an elusive event that you never really ever were allowed to attend
You know you would be undisputedly ‘cool’ if you got to participate in the ‘Ride Out’
You could walk into any house and ask for help if hurt, water if thirsty or just feeling social
Your chacha cycled back from the dhobi with your fathers uniform on a hanger over his shoulder
Not having money didn’t mean not having fun
Mango Party was a perfectly acceptable social event
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