"The Little Things..."

I got an email from a classmate today. She's a grad student from Pakistan. Thanks, Hena! I really liked it. =) So nice of you to think of me.

Not to obsess too much about your head or anything, but yesterday's interaction reminded me of this article I'm sending you. The guy who wrote it is the grandson of one of the most prominent poets in Pakistan and the subcontinent within the last 50 years or so. He also teaches psychology at the school I received my undergrad degree from. He's one of the funniest, quirkiest and most learned people I've ever met...and he's only 38 or so. His parents are both actors in Pakistan, as is his sister. In his free time, he enjoys reading, his drinks and occasionally writes for one of Pakistan's best English language papers, from which I'm forwarding you this article. He's also a good friend of mine.

Obscure references:

'Class': (school) grade

Haj: Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca (requires men to shave their heads. It is believed in Islam that this pilgrimage purges one of all one's prior sins. Of course, there are other factors involved too.)

Shoaib Hashmi : Yasser's dad

Arshad Mahmood: A local vocalist and composer and a close family friend of Yasser's parents

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Intense pleasures of life
By Yasser Hashmi

At eight, in class three, I first became aware of one of the smaller, but intense and undeniable pleasures of life: Rubbing my hand on the stubble of a freshly shaved head.

The occasion was the return of one of my class fellows from Haj. It was, I suspect, a mixed blessing for him. He was too young to have enjoyed the spiritual dimension of Haj, nor did he have any chance to wash away youthful excesses.

Instead, the entire class took turns sitting behind him in class and every time the teacher turned to write something on the blackboard, little grubby hands would wander onto his scalp followed by gasps of delight and satisfaction.

I was reminded of this scene because one of Pakistan's foremost composers Arshad Mehmood, has just returned from Haj, and I returned home recently to find him on his knees in front of Shoaib Hashmi who was rubbing his scalp and issuing the same gasps of delight. This proves, as I have always suspected, that it is not possible to outgrow Lahore.

I further appreciated this scene because as one grows older a lot of one's pleasures become borrowed or derived. One does or enjoys things because one has heard that they are good or enjoyable or suitable for one's age or position, to the point where one loses track of fun.

Call me a skeptic, but I insist that no more of 20 per cent of people who play golf can actually enjoy it. One of the reasons that Marketing has a bad reputation is that it is thought that it consists merely of fooling people of what they should be doing without any concern for their real pleasures. In other words, it consists of 'bullshit'.

I recently had the pleasure of reading a philosophical essay on this very topic, which as I discovered, also goes by the names of humbug, balderdash and hokum or tommyrot.

The article stated that both the truth teller and the liar are similar in that they have some knowledge of truth. The bullshit artist, on the other hand, uses a different standard i.e., whether something is or isn't convincing. As this standard becomes more widespread, fewer and fewer things retain any meaning and society 'melts into thin air'.

Since I am convinced that rubbing a shaved head is a universal pleasure and test of the genuine, let me propose a new standard of consumer judgment: The scalp test. The next time someone tells you Coke is better than Pepsi, or that one washing soap is better than the other.

Immediately rub you hand on your own head, and also the head of a recently returned Haji. Note the difference in sensations. If the two articles you are comparing cause no such change in pleasure, they have failed the bullshit test.

I am confident that as long as Lahoris have a freshly shaved scalp handy, out city will never turn into a huge pile of humbug. However, for this plan to succeed, we will have to be especially wary of those who have had hair transplants.

Incidentally, confusing bullshit and marketing is a mistake because very few people are insensitive enough to buy what they are indifferent to for any length of time. I, for example, own only one pair of 'close fitting' jeans.

Good marketing is tempting people into trying a new genuine pleasure. And the danger of marketing is that people become entirely dependent on pleasures that are purchased. Homo sapiens becomes homo consumerati.

To return to my class fellow in school. After enduring several hours of grubby head fondling, and after he noticed that people were coming back for second helpings, he complained to the teacher.

At which point his scalp was immediately declared off limits and the most recent fondlers got smacked with a foot ruler. To ensure compliance with the fondling ban, the teacher also moved the most polite and well behaved citizens of the class to the chairs behind the young Haji. This included me. Unfortunately, as I said at the beginning, at the age of eight, in class three I first became aware of one of the smaller, but intense and undeniable pleasures of life.

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Hope you enjoyed it.

H