(GRAPHIC PICZ) Housewives Bathe Themselves With Hot Water Over Lover

Two housewives, identified only as Muyibat and Biliki, have suffered severe burns after a fight over a man.
Biliki, who was living with her husband in the Surulere area of the state, relocated to her parents’ house in Abule Oja, Yaba, in 2015, after separating from the husband. Muyibat lives with her husband and three children in the house.
According to PUNCH Metro,the two women emptied a kettle of hot water on each other during the brawl which occurred at their residence in the Yaba area of Lagos State.
It was learnt that, 32-year-old Biliki accused Muyibat, 29, of marrying her former boyfriend, which caused bad blood between them.

Matters, however, came to a head after a disagreement on Saturday when the duo poured hot water on each other.They were both admitted to a general hospital in the state.

Muyibat told PUNCH Metro that their problem started after Biliki accused her of marrying her (Biliki’s) boyfriend.
She said,
“Biliki told neighbours that she once dated my husband and that she aborted for him during their relationship.She calls me Iyawo Sara (free wife). I have never known peace in that house. She fights me over every minor issue.On Saturday, I went to the market with my husband and when we got home, my child started crying.Biliki’s younger brother, Ahmed, came out and shouted at him and I cautioned him.His sister then picked up a quarrel with me and started raining curses on me. I did not talk because I was observing a fast. While she was abusing me, I sneezed and said, ‘Ausubillahi minashaitani rojeem’ (God, deliver me from the devil).”
Muyibat said Biliki, who is also a Muslim, thought she was referring to her and queried her for calling her a devil.
She alleged that Biliki attacked her in the process.
“I removed the water I was boiling for my vegetables and put it on the table. She (Biliki) held my head from behind and poured the hot water on me.
“Her younger brother slammed a plastic paint on my head, while she drew my hair. Both of them assaulted me,” Muyibat added.
The Kwara State indigene said she was rushed to a private hospital where she was rejected, adding that she later went to the Sabo Police Station to report the case.
Muyibat, who claimed to have passed out on the way to the general hospital, said Biliki had earlier in May threatened to pour acid on her.
However, Biliki, who suffered burns on her breasts, chest and hand, denied the allegations, saying her neighbour was the first to attack her.
She denied ever dating Muyibat’s husband, saying Muyibat was fond of making trouble with her and efforts to reconcile them had always been rebuffed by her.
She said,
“I went back to my parents’ house when I had issues with my husband. Because of that, many of the tenants started ridiculing me.
“I was ill that Saturday and was sleeping beside my baby. Her child had come to play with my baby when she called him back. When the child didn’t heed her call, she hit him and the child started crying.
“Another child passing through the passageway was also crying that partcular time. My younger brother asked the other boy to stop crying and Muyibat abused my brother.
“My brother reported her to me and I told him not to reply her. She then started insulting me. We fought and our neighbours came to separate us.
“I was backing her when somebody suddenly shouted, ‘hot water!’ As I turned back with my hands raised, she emptied a kettle of hot water on me. Because my hand was raised when she attacked me, a little of the water splashed on her.”
Biliki said Muyibat also bit her brother while the latter came to separate them, adding that her two phones were smashed by Muyibat.
The Director of the Lagos State Office of the Public Defender, Mrs. Olubukola Salami, described the incident as horrific.
The Lagos State Police Public Relations Officer, SP Dolapo Badmos, confirmed the incident.
She added that the victims were both given medical papers for treatment, but they had yet to report back to the station.

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 16

“Her name was…..”
He repeated slowly, his eyes closed, his face showing an unpredictable expression.
“I suppose…..” He murmured, his voice low. “There will be no use of telling her name now as I can’t give her a sole, single name. I’d tell you the whole story anyway.”
She didn’t interrupt at this stage; just sat othere stunned and curious about what to come.
“But it’s a long story.” He told her. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to hear all in just one sitting.”
“Don’t worry.” Deeba tried to smile. “I’d come tomorrow too, if you don’t mind.”
Her statement made him chane his gesture, he looked suprised, somewhat disturbed too.
“Don’t you have any other thing to do?”
“First things first,” She didn’t break her smile. “I’m on vacation these days.”
Aariz was a constant suprise for her; just when she expected him to be furious, he was quiet. Or was this just the calm before the storm.
He uncurled himself, stood and reached near his room window. Extending his hand, he openeed the glass shield. Sea-scented salty breeze began to flow inside the room quickly, and so did those memories, which were not less salty anyway.
“Yes. It…..it still feels like yesterday. It still seem like today.” He whispered, like he was talking to himself.
***************
I’m so bad at tying knots.” He said helplessly.
“Especially of these satin ties.” He added.
“Hurry up buddy, we’re about to leave.” Shaheryaar’s voice was urgent, as he glanced at the wall clock.
“But this damn thing will not let me leave early.” He replied, frustrated, his hands doing their best to set the knot around his shirt collar.
“And only now you realized this, huh?” Shaheryaar said, turning his friend toward himself so that he could help him.
“Wait, let me help you with that.” Shaheryaar reached out, and with great skill in a minute he had fixed his friend’s tie up. He then stepped a feet behind a have a look at him.
“My goodness, very handsome, you look wonderful!” Shaheryaar’s eyes were sparkling with a real glimpse of praise for his closest friend’s smartness.
He had smooth, whitish complexion and the cloths he wore made him more attractive than ever. He was wearing dark black pants and an expensive crisp, royal blue shirt with a finely tailored black jacket and pure red tie. In his mid-twenties, he was a prime specimen of manhood, decent in the typical way of a man of the East. He was not very tall, but his height was definitely above average.
“I only hope that they’re carrying some ambulances with Baaraat!” Shaheryaar smiled and winked.
“Ambulance?” His hands suddenly left his jet black, shiny hairs, as he kept the hairbrush on the mirrored table. “What for?”
“You’re going to hurt so many girls out there. So much beauty really hurts sometimes.” Shaheryaar smiled and winked.
“So do you think twenty six is too early to get married?” He asked casually, ignoring Shaheryaar’s remark.
“Umm, I don’t think so.” He told him. “I actually believe Daniyal has taken the right step. I mean he is established, shaped and ready. Why wait then?”
“So funny,” Shaheryaar laughed. “Actually you’re not getting me, friend.”
“Not getting what?”
“I meant if he’s taken the right step by following his parents’ suggestion blindly. I mean it would be purely an arranged kind of marriage. They didn’t even meet before.” He threw a critical glance at himself in the mirror.
“So what? That happens everyday in our society.” Shaheryaar commented.
“But happening everyday doesn’t justify it.” He grinned sarcastically, and turned toward the mirror once again to spray the rich ‘eterny’ on his expensive, well-cut suit.
“I think that’s the best way of preserving your roots and family values and to keep everyone happy.” Shaheryaar placed his hands behind his nap and looked at him.
“Other’s happiness….?” One of his eyebrows rose up. “Even if you have to kill your own happiness for that?”
“That’s my motto.” Shaheryaar smiled. “Live for others. One should not be so selfish that, in the end, he might find himself all alone and lonely.”
“I don’t agree.” He picked up the keys from his table amd motioned him to stand up.
“Do others live for us?” He asked harshly. “I can’t even imagine myself.spending life with someone who won’t match my mind and heart.”
“That certainly needs understanding.” Shaheryaar said, as he followed him toward the main gate of his big house.
“Yeah, and understanding comes with meetings and gatherings. You have to pass time with each other to develop some understanding.”
He had never met a woman he couldn’t live without, and he wasn’t going to settle for less. One day he would probably marry, but she had to be tight; he was looking for a special woman, a very special woman, and he hadn’t found her yet.
As they climed into their car, Aariz put it into fast speed. They didn’t have much time.
Once on the main road, he took a long breath and put a quick glance on the passenger seat which Shaheryaar sat, smiling continuously.
“Anything funny?” He raised his brows.
“Not really.” Shaheryaar sighed, I was just remembering some marriage jokes. Those funny things always come to myind automatically whenever I attend some wedding.”
“Mind telling me some of those?” He asked with pure interest.
“Sure, why not.” Shaheryaar chuckled.
“They say, marriage is a three-ring circle: Engagement ring, wedding ring and ‘suffering’.”
He smiled wonderfully as Shaheryaar finished his sentence.
“Very well.” He appreciated.
“And like.” Shaheryaar continued. “When a man opens the door of his car of his wife, you can sure of one thing. Either the car is new or the wife is new….”
This time he couldn’t stop the natural laughter.
“Do you know what does it take to be happy with your wife?”
“You tell me.” He gazed at him, grinning.
“Well,” Shaheryaar smiled back. “To be happy with a husband, you must understand him a lot and love him a little, but to be happy with a wife, you must love her a lot and try not to understand her at all.”
“Haha.” He was truly enjoying what Shaheryaar was saying.
I’d never understand one thing.” Shaheryaar said, now a little more serious.
“And what’s that?” He inquired, turning the steering wheel to right.
“Why the married men live longer than single men?”
In answer he laughed softly and said. “But didn’t you realize that married men are a lot more willing to die?”
“Well.said.” Shaheryaar smiled and then asked.
“By the way, what do you think, what are the qualities of a good husband?”
“Umm,” He thought for a second then replied, “I think he should be an archeologist.”
“An archeologist?”
“Yeah, an archeologist is the best husband a woman can have; the older she gets, the more interested.he is in her.”
This time, Shaheryaar’s laughter was louder than ever.
For the next few moments, they both remained silent, perhaps gathering their nerves again.
“Does marriage change one’s life?” His question was sudden and spontaneous.
Shaheryaar turned his face toward him, wondering what had made him ask this question, totally out of the topic.
“Well yes. It does.” Shaheryaar told him.
“How much?” He asked again.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Om circumstances, natures, characters and…… on your fate.” Shaheryaar said soberly.
Suprisingly, he didn’t ask another question then. There was a silence of few moments then.
“Sometimes I really wonder,” He said, breaking the silence. “That who would be my life partner? How would ahe look like and how would she behave and all that…..”
“That’s natural.” Shaheryaar said philosophically. “Every one of us does that. Ofcourse it’s the question of your whole life.”
“But it’s not just that.” He argued. “I think even more.”
“Like what?”
“Like I am twenty six now, amd how long will it take for me to get married finally.”
“I think I’d have to talk to your mother about that now.” Shaheryaar suggested naughtily.
“Come on, Shaheryaar. You know very well that I don’t believe in arranged marriages. It’s a watse of your life, a big gamble.”
“So you’re waiting for the moment when you fall in love with someone, righr?” Shaheryaar asked.
“From the present scenario, it looks like that it will never happen.” He sighed. “Never meet the princess of my dreams, didn’t even see her anywhere.”
“Okay, what about a bet then?” Shaheryaar challenged, smiling.
“Bet for what?”
“You’re going to fall in love tonight.”
“Aha. Funny, isn’t it?” He laughed.
“Trust me, you will.”
“Right, and with whom?” He smiled sarcastically.
“With the girl who won’t smile at you.”
“Just what the heck does that mean?” He cut in sharply, having no idea of what his friend was talking about.
“I’ve seen many girls giving you a typical ‘take-me’ smile. But this girl will be different. She will be proud, not rude though.” Shaheryaar told him dreamily.
“Know what?” You can write some goos romance poems.” He criticized his imagination. “It doesn’t happen even in movies now.”
“Yes but it does happen in real life sometimees.” Shaheryaar was very much determined.
From his serious expression, even he couldn’t guess whether his friend was really serious or was just having fun.
*******************
Dr. Shahper’s house was in Gulshan, a few miles away from his own in Clifton. He was Shaheryaar’s favorite uncle, youngest brother of his father. It was suprising even for himself that, at times, he felt more close to sixty-year-old Shahper uncle than he did with his son, his cousin, Daniyal who was twenty-six.
He slowed the car as they approached their destination. Swinging off the main road, the black Honda accord rolles past the long row of pine trees to stop in front of the huge building, which was completely drowned in sparkling lights and bulbs at the moment.
With the gear shifted to park, he switched off the ignition key and opened the door for Shaheryaar. The house itself was large, a duplex, was tastefully decorated with all the necessary wedding items.
Big colorful bulbs hung from the walls, setting off gallaries and room with shades and glows of bright color.
Moments later he and Shaheryaar entered the spacious two-storied house. It was a beautiful place with polished oak floors and beamed ceilings. They notices that the interior of the house was equally sparkling. Everything was arranged in a neat and well-styled manner supported by heavy beautiful, colored bulbs and glamarous electric fancy lights. The furniture was modern and elegant and was organized on the grass lawn in an elegant way to accomodate all the guests. The whole place was crowded with people.
There were girls already present on the reception, lining up together to welcome the guests with beautiful flower vases and bouquet in their hands.
As they neared the reception are, the tantalizing aroma of different fragrances of male and female perfumes greeted them, mixed with delicious smells emmitting from several wedding dishes.
While passing thorugh the main reception gate, they stopped for a while for introduction and exchange of greetings. As he paused in front of young girls and bent his head to take the large rose chaplet in his neck, he heard a musical feminine laughter nearby. He lifted his gaze to inspect her as his glance touched the person who was offerung him the chaplet.
His eyes blazed into hers as her forearms circled his neck to set the chaplet properly.
Shaheryaar gave her a warm smile and paused in front of her to introduce.
“Meet my best friend,” Smiling, Shaheryaar introduced him to her. “Aariz Ali from Karachi.”
“And Aariz……this is Komal from London.” Shaheryaar introduced. “She is Daniyal’s cousin.” To Be Continued…

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 15

She clearly noticed that he’d stopped himself from saying something reallu important. But she didn’t insist.
“Do you cry?” She asked, observing him very closely.
“What do you do when the only person who can make you stop crying is the person who made you cry?’ As usual, he asked bavk, instead of giving her proper answer. “Of course you won’t prefer crying in such circumtances. Will you?”
“What does it take to make you happy?”
“Are you writing my biography, Deeba?” He asked evenly. He looked somewhat impressed by the way she was asking questions today, very fluently and confidently. She didn’t look like the girl who had met him before.
She smiled in answer. “No,” She said decently. “The purpose of asking all these questions is different.”
“Why do you give a damn anyway?” He asked as his lips twisted into a parody of smile.
She swallowed, shaking her head. “You’d know the purpose later.”
“So,” She carried on, ” You became so popular in such a short time. How does it feel to be famous?”
“I never wanted popularity. I got it without my will.” He said firmly, sliding his glasses slightly up on his nose with a delicate touch of his index finger.
“You look like you’re in pain Sir. Like someone has really hurt you, wounded you, more than you can bear.” She said with sympathetic honesty.
No one has hurt me.” He told her. ” I hurt myself.”
“How?”
He turned his gaze to the ceiling.
“Hatred is like acid. It destroys the vassel that holds it.”
“I’m sure that’s very deep, but I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” She leaned toward him. “That’s one of the things that drive me crazy about you. You can never simply say yes or no. Why do you always answer a question with a cryptic remark or, worse, another question?”
“Do I do that?” Turning to face her, he shot her a crooked smile, but his eyes gleamed like cool metal.
Her eyes couldn’t rise up.
“I sometimes wonder how calm you sound!” Deeba said, amazed.
“It’s one thing I learned from her……” He wanted to stop himself, but it was too late. He regretted this very moment. It occured to him that, today; someone wanted him to break all of his rules and principles.
He then slid a knowing glance at Deeba.
“Probably you’re now thinking what happened to me, right?” He said quietly. “Perhaps, you’re thinking that I was a failure in love or something like that.” He laughed emptily.
She praised his fine, telepathic mind.
He released a long weary breath, “I guess there isn’t anything else I can say, is there?”
“Tell me about her.”
She said anxiously.
He met her gaze squarely, though the lamplight glinting on his lenses made it impossible to see his eyes. But then, she thought she could almost see a tear trickling down his cheek.
He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking more tired and hurt than ever, his eyes were half lidded, hiding the waters underneath, shading them.
Pulling her lips between her teeth, she scanned the persian carpet at her feet, nodding jerkily. “I…..I’m sorry,” She whispered after a taut minute.
Although she had guessed it, but suddenly it made her more uncomfortable than ever.
And then, she was hit by a horrible truth. She wanted very badly to have this man to tell his story to her. There was something about him that touched her deep inside, something unnamable, risky, considering the fact that he’d recently admitted there was some woman who had……
He looked up at her, his expression serious but not angry. “What else do you want to know now?”
“Each and every thing sir.” She whispered, her voicr full of curiosity. “Right from the beginning.”
“Who was she?” She asked automatically. But seeing his reaction, she hated herself for asking such a stupid question. It was all very much obvious.
He groaned. His eyes grew cold and he cast her a heavy-lidded glance.
“I…I can’t.” He said huskily, his throat tear clotted.
“Just try to relax.” She said. “I think you need to talk about that sir.”
“Something’s been eating at you for a long time.” She added softly.
He darted a mutinous look her way, and in it, Deeba witnessed the shadow of his sadness and its vile complexity, raw and very close on the surface. Somehow she knew that, today, he was going to tell her things he’d kept bottled for years. Nothing to help him on his difficult journey.
His eyes blazed into hers.
“That’s true,” He agreed straightly, unexpectedly.
Her breathing became rapid, short and fast, and her heart began to beat so loudly that she immediately began to fear that perhaps Aariz would hear it.
“Talk to me, Sir!” She heard herself again and again.
He leaned forward, propping his chin on his other hand. His eyes were closed, his lips drawn in a fierce line. After nerve-racking moment, he faced her.
Deeba forced herself not to ask question this time. He had to tell the story in his own way.
Aariz dropped his gaze and seemed to go inward.
Let him say it! Her mind warmed. Let him get it out. The pain of doing that will cauterize the wound.
He paused for a moment before he said,
“Her name was……..”
To Be Continued

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 14

The next day, when she entered his luxurious house at the arranged time, she could hardly believe that it was actually happening. Aariz Ali, who had his popularity as someone who doesn’t care about others, never gives any interview, never appears on media, had agreed to talk to her about his personal life.
“Miss Deeba?” He had come forward to greet her as she looked at him.
His personal life, she thougjt, as she made her way towards his dinning room. A mysterious book, which no one had dared to open until now.
With the faintest of smiles, he leaded her up the wide carpeted stairs.
Once she took her place on the big, blue sofa, he lowered his frame into the armchair that matched the blue-flowered sofa.
Once sat comfortably, she took a detailed look of him.
He looked tired. Wearing plain, black shilwar suit, he looked uniquely stylish. Through moderb black-rimmed glasses, his eyes look sleepy, like he’d not slept for days. He had some book in his hands and from it’s thickness, Deeba could juge that it was very lengthy.
“Do you know Deeba?” He said calmly, setting down the book he was reading.
Her own name on his tongue for the very first time brought all of her senses to full alert.
“It seems like there’s some invisible power that pushes me, orders me to tell.you things which I’ve always kept limited to myself.” He said softly, his eyes not on her face as usual.
“Anyway,” He tipped his heas back to the headrest of his easy chair. “I’m prepared now. You may proceed.”
She decided to ask right away, instead of wasting her time in preliminaries. As she was not sure of he’d keep on telling all these things she wanted to inquire about or he would change his mind at any instant.
“What was the biggest mistake of your life?”
“Mistake?” He laughed huskily. “I personally believe that I’m one of the biggest sinners of the world.” He gave her a wounded smile.
“Infact, my whole life has been a mistake.”
Without going into depth of his comment, she asked her next question.
“Do you live here alone? No family?”
“Next question please.” His lips tightened together.
Her mouth tightened but she did not argue.
“Do you believe in relations and family values?” She asked.
“Relations like what?” He asked back.
“Umm, like mother, father, siblings, wife.”
He smiled absently. “No, I have no one. I live here, all alone. I have no family, no relatives now.”. He murmured expressionlessly.
As usual, this time too, she didn’t miss the chance to see the wetness in his eyes, which was a hallmark of his smiles. Deeba noted he was not looking like the Aariz she had met the other day. This Aariz looked too tired, tensed and broken.
“Don’t you have any friends?” She tried to change the tensed atmosphere.
“Yes, I have, few ones.” He said uniformly. “Friends, like books, should be few and well-chosen.”
“People say there’s a hand of some woman behind every successful man. Whose hand was involved in your case?” She inquired, staring at him deeply.
“Who said I’m a successful man?” He replied, peering at her over his spectacles.
“People think so.”
“I don’t care about people.” He replied instantly. “But yes, I do believe in relations like mother’s….” His voice became husky and thick, his throat heavy.
“What is mother?” Can you define this word?”
On her question, he gave her a long look, very long, for the first time. From his expression,.she thought she had asked something really terrible. At some instant, she thought he was about to cry. His gaze shifted to some distant point, and then he closed his eyes painfully.
His voice hollow, he said, ” Mother is a person, who on seeing, that there are only four pieces of bread for four people out of five, announces that she never did care for bread!” He smiled sadly.
At first,.she couldn’t understand what he’d said but as soon she did, she was lost in the beauty of his words.
“Hey you there?” He swayed his hands in front of her eyes……and she came back from the trance, which his talking had produced.
He said no more, which did not suprise her, for he never spoke of his family or background.
“Don’t you ever lose your temper?” She asked petulantly.
“Not sincr I was…..” He caught his tongue before he could say further. “Sonce the time I have become mature…”
To Be Continued

10 Ways To Identify A Fake Girlfriend

Do you want to know if that woman is actually a fake or real girlfriend? Don’t go anywhere. Here are 10 easy ways to identify a fake girlfriend every man must avoid.
Every man needs to read this piece to free himself from that fake girlfriend trying to ruin his life. If possible, tell your friends. Here are simple ways to identify a fake girlfriend.
1. A fake girlfriend will never call her guy for a minute, but continuous flashing is her hobby.
Yes, most Nigerian girls are guilty of this. A man will buy airtime for you, yet she will not call but only flashes him.
2. A fake girlfriend will never appreciate what her guy does for her.
If your girlfriend never appreciates you for the sacrifices or things you do out of love, my brother, you are very much on your own. A fake girlfriend will milk you dry and unconsciously not care.
3. A fake girlfriend will always complain on unnecessary things that has no meaning.
Yes, you read right. Fake girlfriends always nag you to hell. She will complain all the time even on flimsy things. She will want to make life miserable for you. Avoid her.
4. A fake girlfriend always requests for money, she will turn her guy to ATM machine.
That’s right. She doesn’t want to know where you get it. All she wants is your money.
5. A fake girlfriend won’t listen to her guy’s advice.
Never! She’s always argumentative and will never listen to you. A true girlfriend listens and wants to hear from you all the time.
6. A fake girlfriend won’t respect/honor her guy, All she does is to always look down on him.
She is sometime too proud or bossy and orders you around like a baby.
7. A fake girlfriend wont sit down with her guy and talk to him how the relationship will lead to marriage.
Yes! She’s always busy on the phone chatting with other guys or receiving calls and will not care where the relationship is heading. At every little quarrel, she will threaten to end the relationship.
8. A fake girlfriend won’t ask her guy the challenges he is facing at his work.
9. A Fake girlfriend always lie to her guy.
10. A Fake Girlfriend will cheat on her guy in the end.

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 13

“So, how was your meeting today?” Sheeba asked, putting a cream biscuit into her mouth.
“Well, as I’ve told you, the plan didn’t work like the way we expected; still I got more than what I wanted.” Deeba told her happily.
“Yeah.” Sheeba said thoughtfully. “I didn’t think he could guess about your dummy journalist role so easily.”
“How was his behavior?” Sheeba asked, curious as ever.
“His manners were flawless the entire evening, courteous, respectful, and ever the gentleman.” Said Deeba.
“Even apparently too.” She told Sheeba. “He looks so wonderful in glasses. Nothing like an Indian or English movie star, he is a unique star in his own self. He has his own district personality.”
“I see,” Sheeba gave her knowing glance. “It seems to me that you like him more than I thought.” Sheeba stated with a meaningful expression on her peace.
“Yes I like him.” Deeba said soberly. “More than that, I adore him, I respect him, but not like the way you think.”
“Meaning?” Sheeba raised her brows quizzically.
“What’s wrong with you Sheeba?” She asked her sister, giving her an amgry look. “Okay, I admit, he’s very close to my ideal and he is my favorite poet. But don’t think I have lost my mind for him. And even if I had, he is too far from my reach.”
“Your ideal?” Sheeba turned to face her now. “You never told me about thay. How’s your ideal?”
“Very much like him.” Deeba said dreamily. “Calm, yet dominating.”
“Dominating?”
“Come one dear, don’t you know I don’t like “dubboo” type or “buddhoo” kind of men?” Deeba stared at her sister, confused. “I’ve always like dominating men. A man who could guard his woman like a shield, instead of following her, walking behind her.”
“Oh yes, that I know.” Sheeba smiled in answer. “Your wierd philosophy that Pakistani girls are mainly of two kinds.”
“Aha, and what are those?”
“First kind of girls want an all-time friendly husband, who always walks side-by-side with them, free and intimate as ever.”
“Hmm, and second?” Deeba smiled. She was suprised by the fact that her sister had not forgetten their once-held discussion about which kind of husbands they would prefer themselves.
“Second variety of girls wants a dominating husband. A man who could guide then through different twists and turns of life, holding their finger in his hand, right?” Sheeba wanted her confirmation.
“Yes, but it’s not just that.” Deeba added. “A husband who can be a strict teacher, guiding you about what to do and what not, a wonderful, gentle lover and a caring friend, all at the same time.”
“Well sister.” Sheeba sighed. “I can only pray for you that you find such kind of guy some time. Though the chances are very rare.”
Deeba didn’t reply this time.
“So, he was good with you, right?” Sensing her elder sister’s reaction, Sheeba changed the topic.
“Yes, very much. He didn’t talk anything rude or bad. His expressions, his gestures were very decent.” Deeba could never get tired of this topic.
“I still feel that he doesn’t belong to this world. I mean he looks so isolated.” Sheeba stated.
“That’s what he says too.” Deeba breathed coldly. “That he doesn’t belong to this world. He has his own world”.
“But I had an impression that he is rude and proud, specially his behavior with women……..” Sheeba remarked.
“Not at al.” Deeba cut in. “Go, and read all of his poems. He cares about women, respects them.
“Well.” Sheeba got up from her place. “I am not sure that he will tell you anything about his personal life. People like him feel weird pleasure in keeping themselves hidden and mysterious. They actually know that this is the secret of their popularity.”“Wait and see.” Deeba smiled as she put her forearm on her eyes and closed them. “Let’s see what happens.”
********************
He was sitting back in his chair, his hands cupped behind his head, when the telephone rang.
He rose to answer it.
“Yes?”
“Assalaam O alaikum sir.” From the other side, came a familiar feminine voice.
“Walaikum salaam.”
“Sir, it’s me Deeba. Deeba Rizvi.” From her voice, she sounded very excited and refeshing.
“Oh” A long breath escaped out of his lungs. Surely he had not forgotten this very interesting girl.
“Sir,.you promised to tell me more about yourself.” She asked hopefully.
“Listen.” He replied spotlessly. “First, I didn’t promise that I’d tell you more about myself, and second it’s not next week if I’m not forgetting, I told you to call me next week but you’ve called earlier.”
“Oh, sorry. I couldn’t wait.” Said Deeba, now she sounded disappointed.
“Anyway. What do you want to ask?”
“Sir, I want to know more about you. I mean I’d be really glad if you could tell me more about your personal life.”
“Whoever you are.” He said a little harder than ever, and for the first time Deeba thought he was about to lose his temper finally.
But suprisingly, his voice and tone became normal again within a second, as calm and soft as ever.
“I just don’t understand why you have this much interest in my personal life.”
She kept herself silent this time.
“Do you have any convincing reason why I should let you open the private book of my life?” He asked firmly.
“Yes sir.” She said courageously this time. ‘I can convince you.”
There was a long silence on his side. Perhaps, he was thinking.
“Alright.” He finally answered. “You have five minutes to convince me why I should tell you about my personal matters.”
“It would be something better for the newer generation like me, to follow upon.” She gave her first reason.
“We can learn a lot from your mistakes if you did any. People want to know, as your fan, someone has right to know about you as much as he or she could.”
“I just don’t understand why and how you see it as something beneficial for you.” He argued.
“Then let’s talk about it and we shall see.” She was determined to try until her last effort.
Again, he took several moments to give his answer, but when he spoke, it rang wedding bells in her ears.
“Alright Miss. Deeba, I’ll see you at my home tomorrow, 5 p.m sharp.”
And he hung up the reciever.
To Be Continued…

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 12

“What is poetry?”
“Poetry?” He closed his eyes for a brief interval, opening them again after few seconds. “It’s the job of jobless people. One who has nothing to do can try poetry.”
As he spoke, she saw that there was a brief, faint smile on his lips. His faint smile held a trace of sadness.
He crossed fingers of both hands together to straigthen them. He had long, artistic fingers she noted, as he pulled out a golden case and took a cigarette out. He placed it between his lips.
She couldn’t resist stealing another glance at him; he was certainly attractive.
“Miss Deeba!”
He called her, straigthening his fine glasses as he peered at his gold watch.
“Yeah, oh.” She rapidly moved her eyes from his handa and straightened herself up.
“I am waiting for your next question.”
“Sure, I was infact, thinking about it.” She made her mind.
“So, how do you see your life as a poet?”
His tortured gaze slid back to her, only for a second, then he moved his eyes away.
“My life?” He repeated her question. “It has become like a wet paper now!”
“Wet paper?”
He brought the lighter and with a fine ‘click’ he showed the long flame to the fore-end of his cigarette.
“Yes, wet paper.” He said, pulling deeply on the cigarette. “No one can burn it, no one can write on it.”
“But I deserved this.” He added in a low murmur.
Deeba watched for a second. He seemed so calm and so uncaring but his response clearly showed her that he didn’t want to explain what he had just said.
“Any recent change in your life or has it been uniform all over?”
“What do you mean?” He asked soberly.
“I….I mean things do change. Life can not be like a wet paper through all of its courses.” She explained.
Aariz ran a hand through his dark hair and worked up a grin. “Things don’t change.” He said philisophically.
“Time moves on.”
Changing her sitting position, she asked her next question.
“Your poetry mostly revolves around love, romance and pain. Why?”
He rose from his chair. Going near the big glass window, he opened it to let the the sea air come inside. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark black hair and the sound of incoming tide, far below, was a soothing song.
Deeba held her breath.
“Love is the most persistant and undeniable reality of life.” He said, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, then exhaling the whole smoke through his nose. There was a wealth of patience in his voice.
Flicking Deeba a meaningful glance, he shook his head.
Against her will, Deeba scanned his profile, and then hurriedly glanced away again. His mouth was tight and grim, yet it was still the most handsome mouth she could recall seeing on any man.
“Why was he not staring at her at all?  Thinking, Deeba couldn’t help herself asking this question.
“Why do you talk like this?” She asked absently. “I mean, always keeping your eyes away, not looking at me.”
“I often wonder,” He paused, clearly ignoring her question “That, what has happened to our so called ‘Muslim society’?”
“I could only see you only if you were in proper covering and Hijaab. I don’t like to put a second glance on those women who don’t cover themselves properly.”
Deeba felt like her cheeks were throbbing with embarrassment.
“Muslims girls now try to attract and impress others through their bodies.” He returned to sit on his easy chair, still keeping his eyes away. “Don’t they feel any shame or disgust while showing their curves?”
On his remarks, she felt so ashamed that she wished she could die right there with shyness. She felt like someone had suddenly made herself bare in front of thousands of eyes.
A servant came quietly with a trolley full of snacks, biscuits, cold drinks and coffee.
“Please” He offered her to take something.
With shaking fingers, she raised the steaming mug of coffee.
“You were talking of something about love?” He asked, perhaps he’d sensed her condition.
“Can you define what love is?” She questioned.
“Love……” A cold sigh escaped from his lungs and intermingled with an equally cold air of December evening.
“Love is ……. Perhaps, the most meaningful word of all languages of the world. Just see in Urdu language, how manyh words people use for this feeling; Mohabbat, Pyaar, Chaahat, Ulfat, Dil ki Lagi, Lagaao, Ishq!” He brought the coffee mug to his lips, while keeping the cigarette in this other hand.
“But I wanted to ask its definition, and how does it happen?” Propping her chin on her hands, she stared at him with deep interest.
He turned to face her, his features hardening.
“Well, love is a house made up of glass, where stones strike everyday in the form of rain, got it?”
He laughed softly.
But even in this little laughter, she didn’t miss the chance to see wetness in his eyes.
“Some people say it happens automatically” He added, gazing at the ceiling above. “And some say it is done voluntarily and some say……..” His voicd became husky.
“Yes?” She looked into the eyes of the most weird and mysterious man she had ever met.
“Some people say it’s an inborn matter, a grip and bond between souls, who have met even before they come to earth. Once they’re in the world, they just have to search and find each other. As soon as eyes meet, it seems that both were familiar to each other for thousands of centuries.” He said gracefully.
“Well…..now I want to ask a very typical and popular question…..can I?” She smiled.
“Go on” He closed his eyes.“What’s the difference between love and lust?”
“Hmmm. Lust is like trying on clothes and love is finding an outfit to keep.” His shiny black eyes twinkled brightly from behind the gleam of his spectacles.
“Wow….. And when does love end?”
“Yes…good question….. To love and be loved is like ocean tide…. They keep going out and coming in but yes sometimes it does end in front of the world…..it does end in the world with the last breaths…..but speaking of age factor…. Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.”
“Why do people consider first love as the most romantic one?” she asked with sheer curiosity.
“Because they’re very pure when they love for the first time, don’t know the bad part of it.” He laughed wonderfully. The action gave her a good view to see his neat, uniform white teeth.
“Why is love supposed to be a hurting experience?” She asked, now looking deeply into his watery depths.
“One aspect of love is…..is to feel pain.” He told her seriously. “You always feel pain in love. Whether it is failure or success in love, you feel pain in your heart…..right from the beginning…….sometimes this pain is pleasurable but many times…..it hurts.” He paused briefly, only to take a fine sip of his coffee and then continued his discussion.
“People have expectations, dreams, wishes, fantasies and when one does not get fulfillment of all these things, obviously it hurts. As they say ‘love is like a knife, it can stab the heart or it can carve wonderful images into the soul that will last a lifetime.”
Observing his interest and knowledge in the topic, she extended the discussion on the same topic.
“Is love something constructive too? I mean, can we get something positive out of it?”
“Love can make you bear any kind of pain and any kind of sacrifice. It can also make you feel stupid and act stupidly. Sometimes when you love and end up giving so much of yourself, subconsciously you only discover how much you’ve given when the person you love hurts you or has to say goodbye.” He kept the mug of his coffee back to the table but did not stop talking.
“Then you realize, an important part of yourself is already with that part person. It goes away when he leaves and you are left with a sickening, empty feeling inside. Tears are bound to shed from your eyes, no matter how you force yourself to keep them in. Well, that’s what you get for caring so much about someone. But how can you regret it? To give yourself freely and lovingly is the most beautiful thing you can do.”
She nodded, speechless at his vast knowledge and unique philosophy about the subject.
“What’s the difference between knowledge and wisdom?” She managed to ask.
“To acquire knowledge, one has to study but to acquire wisdom, one must observe.” His answer was short and spontaneous and yet it satisfied her.
“But still, you didn’t tell me your definition of love.” She stared at his face, confused.
“All the problem is about definition of love.” He said thickly. “It’s a mystery…….no one can define it satisfactorily. Everyone defines, percieves and experiences it from different perspective.”
“But atleast you can say just few words?” She begged.
“Alright.” He released a long, shattering breath. “Then lsiten……..
“Love is the reflection of his joy in her eyes. Love is an eruption of feelings buried within a heart longing to break free. True love is like life, a gift of God to Man, which he finds only once…..so when you find true love, hold on to it and never let go for a good love is hard to find and it comes only once.”
“But where do we find it?” She asked.
“You can’t find it. Love finds you, or you can say that love is like wild flowers. It’s often found in the most unlikely places.” He grinned adequately. ” Actually, you do not fall in love, you grow to love, and then love grows in your beloved.”
“But what’s the basis and foundation of love?” She was taking full interest in the topic.
“Respect.” His answer was quick and short this time.
Behind his thin-rimmed spectacles, his eyes glittered cold as the winter sky.
“Could I ask a different question?” Deeba asked.
“Sure.”
“I’ll understand if I’m going over the line here,” She went on, “but there’s something that I used to wonder about.”
“I’ve never been offended by any question.” Aariz said, “but I always reserve the right not to answer them.”
“That’s fair,” Deeba said and paused, thinking about how best to phrase her question.
“Seems like you had some really bad personal experience of it.” Deeba couldn’t help herself saying. She wanted to explore this man, search this man, who has been lost in his own world.
“Have you ever been in love?” Before she couls stop herself, words left her mouth. She held her breath.
She watched with interest and fear as his eyes narrowed at some distant point.
Some thoughts are better left unsaid, some feelings are better left kept to you, but love has its way of expressing itseld despite the silence.
Deeba didn’t know how to fill the silence that followed her question.
After what seemed like an hour of strained silence, he shook his head, conceding flatly.
“I told you there would be no personal questions.”
She nodded in understanding. Yes, he had made it quite clear that there will be no personal questions.
He glanced at his wristwatch and said,
“You may go now.”
“But sir…..still I need to ask you much.” She said in a rush, getting on her feet.
On her remark, he put a detailed look on her for the first time. Her eyes were pleading for something more than what he’d told her.
He couldn’t refuse her then. “Alright, we’ll think about it next time. Call me again next week and I’d see if I could tell you something more about myself.”
“Thank you so much sir.” She was glad that she almost yelled with happiness.
“I told you, you’d be disappointed.” He accompanied her to the main door.
She didn’t reply right then, instead took few steps forward, finally moving out of his house.
And then she turned back.
He was just about to close the main door.
“Yes sir, I am disappointed. Today I really felt disappointed. But not because of you, I’m disappointed because of myself.
He smiled wonderfully this time and said.
“Next time you don’t have to play this interview drama to meet me. If I have the time, I’d definitely give you some of it.”
Stunned and paralyzed, she stood there, watching him go inside the house.
To Be Continued…