PAKISTAN’S ART AS ITS CHRONICLER
Just as we get in the car, Aisha’s phone goes off. We all know what it means. I tell Adnan to floor it. He reminds me I’m no longer in Pakistan, so we inch through Doha’s nighttime traffic in an orderly manner — an alien concept for a thoroughbred Karachiite like me. The truth is, I hadn’t even initially realised that Adnan was Pakistani.
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