The oddest things happen on buses in Karachi. Today, when I got on, there was a little girl sitting across from me who was obviously not from this side of town. Her hair was matted and in clumps. There were obvious signs of not having been brushed for a while, maybe never when you keep her young age in mind. What was odd about this kid was that she was openly staring at me throughout the trip. At first, I assumed (as I normally would in such a situation) that I had chewed on the end of one pen too many and had blue ink on my face. A quick glance in the window's reflection ruled that possibility out. It was then that I realized the kid was staring at me the same way I stare at every passing Mazda RX7 on the road. That stare that you can't tear your eyes away from, where envy, spite and hate all collide and are balanced out by this sense of awe.

It struck as me as both mildly amusing and sad. I was someone's sports car. This kid didn't care about anything about me except that I looked comfortable, well-fed and clean, and this could have been her just as easily, but it wasn't. She looked away for a minute, eyes meeting her mother's. Something passed between them that I was obviously not a part of. The mother adjusted the sleeping baby against her left shoulder. The girl's eyes strayed to the baby and then returned to me. I pretended not to have noticed. Soon, the bus was at Abdullah Shah Ghazi's mazaar and the mother ushered the girl out the door and I rode on.