Things aren’t good up here…
Posted by Haris Gulzar on April 9, 2009
The intensity with which I felt the pain is just not possible for me to describe. I literally sat there for at least 30 seconds, holding my head tight with both of my hands, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I hadn’t even woken up completely when my eyes were forced wide open for a couple of seconds, and then forced back closed for those 30 seconds that I sat there. This was how I was welcomed at the IBA hostel. They say, hostel life teaches you a lot, and I can’t agree more. It sure does teach you a lot. The most important lesson it teaches you is to adapt yourself to the environment.
Well, basically, the washroom entrances here at IBA hostel, if measured from the entrance step to the top of the door, are a maximum of 6 feet tall. That’s the maximum high they are. And fortunately or otherwise, my height is 6 feet and a couple of inches. You can very well imagine what went wrong, especially when someone is new to the place. Sometimes we learn things the hard way.
The story doesn’t end here. It wasn’t only once that this incident happened with me. What’s worse is, the washroom entrances aren’t of a constant height, and some washroom entrances are even less than 6 feet high. I was very well aware of bowing to an extent before entering or leaving the washrooms, but luck had it once more for me :(. This time I was hurrying to catch up Maghrib’s congregation and was leaving the bathroom area after performing ablution that I got hit again. It was even worse this time. This time it was another of the bathroom areas to greet me. I was fumed up to such an extent with this incident that I went straight to the office of the hostel incharge the very next morning to complain about the bathroom entrances being shorter than the height I reach even after I bow :(.
Another incident of the same nature occurred when I was walking in the nearby Rangers colony while reading some message on my mobile and hit straight into a window of a room. Im not sure if I was lucky or not, because that window wasn’t of glass, but of iron. This blow wasn’t that bad as those mentioned above. The window I struck into was quiet high, but I stood even higher, and this also happened in Karachi (yeah my experience here at Karachi hasn’t been so pleasant).
These are only some of the recent happenings with me, the story of my height and the associated luck is quite old. I remember when people would accuse me of concealing my age back when I was in school. I have always had to stand in the last row of all the important group pictures. Recently we had a PTC Battle of Minds competition (details here) at IBA, and my team was one of those shortlisted for the competition. Though we couldn’t make it to the next round, but for the group photo at the end of the day, I was standing with my team, the photographer was just about to hit the button when he came up to me and asked me to move a bit towards the rear end of the group because I was tall and there were people who weren’t properly visible because of me.
Whenever there has to be a row of people for a group photo, I have to stand at the back. Why don’t I deserve to stand right at the front and pose :). I even had to stand in the last row of the batch photo at FAST-NU. That was the most memorable picture of my life so far, the picture for which I waited four years, the picture that has all of my friends in it, and yet I have to struggle finding myself in that picture, only because I’m tall, that’s cruel.
There definitely are some positive aspects of being tall, especially when I don’t have to struggle too much to lift children high enough so that they can touch the fan, which children like the most, but there are more negative aspects as I have experienced, as there are positive aspects to it. It specially gets bad when my height becomes my own enemy and makes me suffer, and sometimes suffer too much…