One of the most wonderful things about Karachi is that I fit here. I fit here like a square peg in a round hole. As all Karachiites do. The city is one big mass of absolute psychosis. Delectable yet Intriguing.
Adding to the complete madness of horrifying traffic, every major road being under construction, one week old rain water standing on the roads, terrible amounts of dust and people who believe that horns are meant to be checked every five seconds is the wonderfully quaint little concept of potholes. As I have said I fit in Karachi. So does my exteremely decrepit Khyber fit in all of these potholes.
Though I could never understand why people swerved right and left to avoid them. Then I sat in my mothers car. One pot hole. All hell broke loose. And then it dawned upon me that the buses careening across the road arent trying to kill me, they are trying to avoid the potholes.
In case I havent been clear. I hate potholed roads!