The Yamaha YBR 125 is a new entrant in Pakistani Motorbike market. Its an entry level street bike, reminiscent of the once Kawasaki GTO 125 that reigned supreme in the minds of us Pakistanis, some three decades ago. There used to be once only Honda CG 125 that could be declared as the champion of the roads with its high phantom like sound, but then when you don’t change shape for more than three decades, people are wont to loose interest. And off course Yamaha 100, but with time people need change, in looks, performance, convenience and economy. The YBR 125 fills up this empty void in a much better way. There’s the Suzuki GD 150 that could be declared as a good competitor to the YBR 125 but it lacks in looks and off course disc brakes and not to mention the Aluminum Alloy wheels against the age old spokes wheels.
My earliest memory of Burn Hall is of an afternoon somewhere in March of 1981, when the bursar told my mother she could leave as all paper formalities were now complete. That being my day at school I was shown my dorm and my luggage placed in a metal cupboard. It was a new building that smelled of fresh paint and I still haven’t forgotten the smell, somehow :-). It was mid March and the weather was still cold, by evening I had gotten to come to know a few of my dorm mates. It was an uneasy start for a first time boarder, the old boys chatted casually while we new comers stayed quite. The first night I wept silently in my bed and I could hear a few of muffled sounds of my dorm mates sharing my predicament. Next morning I remember being woken up by someone knocking at the window with loud calls, “Shaba Shaba Shaba, hurry up!” Strange as it is after almost four decades I can still hear the sound in my mind. And I remember myself shaking badly from cold in the community bath room, the very first day. Someone remarked jokingly about my state, and I just couldn’t help it despite wearing a gown. So started life that day in March 1981 when I became a boarder in Army Junior Burn Hall, Abbottabad.
National Highways and Motorway Police is operating a facility called as the Drivers Licensing Authority, in H-8/2 Islamabad (for issuing licenses to new would be drivers or those like me whose licenses have long expired and they have no option but to get a new one). Its a good facility where the authorities test you according to their specified criteria and ONLY after you make it through that they consider you eligible for a license. One gets the the feeling that after all there are standards being followed (quite stringently) in our country, and in fact that’s the right thing to do. IMHO gone are the days when you used to hire an agent, pay him exorbitantly to get a license delivered to your door in a weeks time. More power to the guys doing this…
We Pakistanis are a strange lot when it comes to marriages. We work all our lives, saving money for a house, and more importantly for our kids marriages. Not that there’s something wrong with this, but comparing ourselves with animals and birds we’re kind of complicated being the better beings. The other beings for instance take care of their young ones only to let them go their own ways on achieving adulthood, in that they train and equip them with the necessary survival skills. In our case its a little more than that, we feed, train, educate, equip them with the necessary skills and finally marry them off, to lead their lives. But then speaking specifically of our Eastern values, where we are held by strong family bonds its logical to be connected with our kin for life or death. But when comparing ourselves to western nations we fall short of many things and yet gain on many.
Life, is full of surprises. There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t learned something new about life. Life, is amazing, its depressing at times, its good news and bad news at other times, its tough and easy, its uphill and downhill, its dark and bright, its mysterious yet so obvious, sometimes cheating, dishonest, adulterous, dirty, deceitful and what not, yet its simple and straight at other times. Whatever the case maybe there’s no escaping it. Its there to be lived. One can either choose to live it or let life choose the way.