(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…

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 11

With trembling fingers, she dialed his number.
On third ring, someone picked the reciever on the other side.
“Yes?” It was a deep, inspiring masculine sound.
“Hello, this is Deeva Rizvi. Can I please talk to Mr. Aariz Ali?”
There was a breif pause on the other side, and then the same voice spoke again.
“I’m Aariz. What can I do for you?”
“Oh hi sir. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“We met last week in All-Pakistan poetry function. Do you remember?”
Silence.
“I’m sorry miss. I don’t really remember, there were thousands of poeple there.”
His expression tone bathed her in the rain of disappointment.
“Oh, well, I’m from an all-women magazine ‘FeMag’. I wanted to contact you for an interview.”
“Oh, I see.” He sighed deeply. “Then I hope you have not forgotten what I’ve explained to everyone earlier. I don’t really give interviews to anyone.”
“Can I ask why?” Deeba asked back.
There was a brief silence on the other side, then he stated.
“I don’t do poetry for media or to get famous. I do it for myself.”
“Sir, this interview won’t make you more famous than you already are.”
“Then?” His voice felt expressionless. “What’s the purpose of this interview then?”
She wanted to say ‘just to know more about you’ but caught her lip just in time.
“Just to ask your comments about other poets and to know your views for advancement of modern poetry in Pakistan. It will help us alot sir.”
“Help for what?”
” As you sure know, the ground where the young Pakistani generation stands right now, only crazy about music, movies and stuff. Most of them have no interest for literature and poetry. However, you do represent young generation and your opinions and views might invoke some good interest in young people.” Deeba tried her best to convince him.
“I avoid people from media like plague.”
“Still sir, I would say don’t say ‘no’.” She pleaded.
“Where’re you from?” He asked.
“Sir please, I request, I beg you. This would be the first and last time. I came from Dubai only for this interview……
“Listen lady, whoever you’re, I just don’t……..
“Please, don’t disappoint me. I am sincere, I am honest, and it’s not something for commercial purposes. And believe me, it would be something totally confidential. We do care about people’s rights.”
Deeba didn’t know what gave her so much confidence and courage to argue with him so strongly.
“And if you’d want, I will keep most things ‘off the record’. What else do you need?” She tried her last weapon.
“Then I’d like to know why a young lady journalist from a new magazine is so much interested in this ‘off the record’ interview?” His voice was very sensational.
“I’ve told you the reason sir. But I won’t insist again mow. I’m sorry if I took your precious time.” Deeba said disappointedly.
He took a long, tired breath then agreed.
“Alright. We’ll meet today, six p.m. sharp. My address is……” He told her his address.
“Thank you so much sir. You don’t know how happy I am.”
“But lady, you’d be disappointed.”
“Worry not sir.” Deeba smiled and added.
“I’ll be privileged.”
Deeba put down the reciever and breathed a sigh of relief. Aariz Ali had agreed to see her at six today, and if she was lucky, it was now time for her dream to come true.
At first she had rejected Sheeba’s idea about meeting him. But after long careful.thinking, she concluded that this was the only possible option available. After all, what else could she do?
She knew she was lying for the first time and it was not a very ethical thing to do, but she thought this was her first and last chance to meet him.
She looked at her watch. It was too early to leave. With a cursory glancr at a mirror, she left her room for lunch.
An hour later she was back in her room, looking through her cloths and trying to decide what to wear for her meeting with Aariz.
What sort of man was Aariz Ali?
Ofcourse he’s supposed to like modern kind of girls, who are brave, out-going and capable of moving in the society. Her hand stopped at a mauve silk shilwar suit and taking it out, she held it against herself and looked in the mirror. Smiling at her own choice, she left to take a quick shower.
Once she was ready and prepared to leave, thoughts of him emerged again like an unwanted rain.
How would he behave and reacg? Would he allow her to ask some personal questions?
Stop thinking of it, she once again admired her reflection in the mirror. Armed with every weapon of female beauty, it was just an appropriate time for her ‘attack’.
Giving final touches to her lipstick, she took her purse and moved forward.
But she was not prepared for the sight she came across when she finally reached near his house. Ofcourse from the address he’d given her, she knew unlike other pakistani poets, he belonged to financially well off class but she’d not thought that he’d be a super rich man.
His house was a sprawling mansion perched on a cliff overlooking the Arabian sea, and it was too damned big for one single, solitary man, as she’d heard of him.
Upon introducing herself, the guard let her go inside and a servant guided her toward the dinning room.
Nervous as a school girl being summoned to the head, Deeba walked into a beautiful and luxurious dinning room.
Two minutes later, she was waiting for him. A smile on her beautifully curved mouth couldn’t hide the nervousness in her.
With dark make-up and lipstick, she had tried her best to appear elder and mature, but her features seemed to reveal the secret.
She was nervous, really nervous. To relax herself, she threw a glance around to see her surroundings.
The dinning room was formal, lit by two shimmering crystal chandeliers, and there were french doors opening into a garden filled with pink, white scarlet and lavender rhododendrons and English roses. The walls of the massive library were lines with handcrafted shelves and the fireplaces on the first floor were all large and traditional. Thick wall-to-wall persian carpets covered all floors.
Yes, the place was too big and fancy.
The sound of door opening brought her back to her senses, and she looked up as he emerged.
She rose like an automatic robot to greet him.
“Oh, hi…..hi sir.” Her nervousness increased.
“Please.” He waved her to a sofa and sat down at his easy chair.
He first raised his eyes and then turned his face to see a tall, willowy girl with long, black hair and a Miss World body. He had not actually thrown a “detailed” look at her, but the way she was exposing herself told the whole story at first sight.
“So?” He asked.
She tried to say something but her voice completely failed. Clearing her throat, she tried again.
“I….I called you this afternoon for an interview.” Gaining her courage, she looked at him finally.
He looked more attractive and impressive than before. Wearing simple, plain white shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark grey pants, he didn’t look formal but yet so different. He was wearing those glasses which gave him that brainy intellectual look. He reminded her of those mature librarians that look absolutely beautiful when they have their glasses on.
She never really liked men with glasses but this man. Well, he truly was an exception in every department. Glasses suited him and matched his personlity, giving him a genuine intellectual look and sophisticated, noble touch.
With a mind-shattering fragrance emitting from his body, he was capable of attracting females thriugh their nostrils.
She instantly liked him with all her might.
No doubt, he was a man to inspire poetry.
“So, you have started this magazine or what!” He said, contrary amusement glimmering his eyes.
She noted, he had eyes with hypotinizing powers.
“Not me” She replied as her breaths turned to normal. “I just work there as a journalist. I am not the owner.”
“I see.” He folded his arms across his chest. While sitting, he did not look very tall, but he sure had an above-average height. His jaw was square and his face looked clean and neat with nicely cut black hair.
“May I ask your magazine’s name?”
“Oh sure, why not. Actually, I came from the monthly female magazine ‘FeMag’!”
“Interesting!” He sighed. His facial features relaxed some more. “Never heard of it though.”
“Actually, we publish it from Dubai, and it’s been only a couple of months since we started it.”
“Aha. Sounds good!” Mild amusement flickered in his eyes.
“So what do you want to ask?”
Oh yes. That is why she was here. What did she want to ask? Had she thought about it? She was supposed to take his ‘detailed’ interview here and yet her mind seemed totally blank at the moment.
She thought and thought but unfortunately, no appropriate question came to her mind.
“Well?” He asked abruptly, his deep-set dark eyes narrowing as he regarded her.
“Okay, for the starters, let me ask you something while you think about your ‘interview’ questions.” He said.
“S….sure.” She stammered.
“Who’s your favorite English or American movie star?”
She thought she didn’t hear him correctly.
It was her, who had to take his intervies, but the first question came from his side.
“Well…..Mel Gibson, Brad Pitt and Kevin Costner. Why?”
“Good.” He said without much expression and asked his next question. “And your favorite Indian actors?”
“Oh yes, Shahrukh is cool, and Salman Khan too. He is quite a hunk I think.”
“Sorry I have this bad memory.” He continued. “Would you mind telling me the name of Shahrukh’s last movie?”
“Yes why not, it was Great.” She answered evenly.
“And the last war in which our Holy Prophet fought himself?” He inquired again.
“What?”
She couldn’t believe if she’d heard him correctly.
“Tough one? Ok. Leave it. Tell me any four essential principles of islam.”
And then it occured to her that, perhaps all the rumors she heard about him being mentally abnormal were true.
She opened her purse, and with trembling fingers, she brought a tissue out and wiped off the sweat from her forehead.
“Which are the longest and shortest soorah of Quran?” Perhaps, he was determined to make her feel ashamed of herself.
On his last question she felt like she was going to be buried alive at any second.
He gave her few minutes to gather her mind and waited for her response.
But when no answer came from her, he shrugged his shoulders.
“Disappointed, I am.”
He said, and gave a long sigh before going on.
“Now it’s your turn to ask questions.”
“Sir……I…..I was not prepared for all this.” Words took great effort to come out of her mouth finally.
“Are these question some kind of examination questions so you’d need preparatiin for them?” He said, looking at her with some hint of grief in his eyes.
“Do you pray?” Perhaps he was determined to go to the final extent today.
‘No….no. I mean not regularly.” She .replied thickly.
“But you do eat regularly, right? You do sleep regularly; you do watch TV regualarly.” He smiled slowly but sarcastically.
“Anyway. It’s your personal matter, I’m not supposed to ask such questions.” He breath then said. “So have you made your mind to ask some questions now?”
Deeba nearly sighed aloud with relief.
She looked at him with pure shame in her eyes and brought out a small tape-recorder out of her purse and kept it on the nearby table.
After pressing its ‘record’ button, she turned to face him once again.
“Before you begin…..” He raised his hand, although he kept his voice low.
“I want to make it clear that I won’t answer any questions related to my personal, private life.”
“I’d start from poetry. If you don’t mind?” She asked as if she wanted his permission to proceed.
He was silent. Taking his silence as his permission, she asked her first question.
To Be Continued…

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 10

“Did you see his smile?” Deeba asked, as they prepared for the sleep that night.
“Many times he didn’t smile at all. But when he did, it was….so wonderful, so mysterious.”
“He’s frigid like ice.”Sheeba said, teasing, as she turned the light off and climbed into her bed.
“Well, he’s frozen fire.” Deeba smiled confidently, pulling her blanketbup to her chin.
“He’s very stubborn.” Sheeba said, yawning.
“Umm, I believe he is very determined.” Deeba said, smiling.
“I really love the way he smokes, keeping a long and regular interval between smokes. I just adore the way he keeps the cigarette between his long, slender fingers.”
“How do you know that he smokes?” Sheeba inquired.
“I saw him somking in the end.”
“So? What’s so different about him?” Sheeba turned towards her sister to face her. Their beds were placed side by side so that they could easily talk to each other.
“I suppose there’s nothing typucal in him…..I…I just loves the way he talks,” Deeba told her. “So slowly, in a deep, low voice. His voice feels abosolutely wonderful, smooth as silk. He’s so calm, so patient, and nothing flirtatious about him. He’s not like sexually frustrated guys of today.” Deeba left her sentence unfinished only to release a long breath and added.
“Sober, decent, and mature guys like him have always been my ideal. Such men who never lose their temper and are miles away from vulgar and cheap jokes, nothing ‘teenage’ about them.”
“Is he really your ideal?” Sheeba asked sleepily.
“Yes, no doubt I like mature guys like Aariz who have nothing ‘teenage’ about them, you know. So sober, so calm, so man. I wonder if he ever gets angry or impatient. I’m sure he never loses his temper. I love the way he talks, admire the style he walks and adore the way he breathes, even the way he sleeps.”
“Deeba?” Sheeba glared at her sister, doubting her present mental condition. “I’m sure you’ve gone completely crazy.”
“Why?” Deeba smiled dreamily. “What makes you think so?”
“Have you ever seen him sleeping?” Have you ever felt him breathing?” Sherba asked angrily.
“Yes, in dreams.” She closed her eyes, like she was talking in sleep.
At first Sheeba didn’t know what to say.
“Do you really like him that much?” Sheeba asked, completely suprised.
“Even more than that.”
Sheeba threw one last look at her sister’s face then closed her eyes. “I had no idea you like him so much.”
“What’s wrong with that Sheeba?”
Sheeba took a long sigh then said, “I’m sorry to inform you sister but you’re just having your first crush. That’s all.”
In her remark, Deeba burst out laughing.
“Well sister, no comments.” Deeba said, smiling.
“Yeah, you don’t have to comment about what I already know.” Sheeba turned her head away.
“And now please let me get some sleep. Will you? It’s been a really tired day for me. For God’s sake don’t spoil my sleep like the way you have your own. Ok?”
Deeba didn’t answer. She just continued to think about what was really bothering her since time she’d returned from the poetry fuction. It was something she wanted to neglect, wished to ignore but couldn’t.
For minutes she tried to put her feet into the beautiful valley of sleep but it would not come so easily.
Frustrated and worried for some unknown reason, she shook the shoulder of her sleeping sister.
“Sheeba?”
“Sheeba”
“Uh….uh…”Sheeba looked at her with half-closed eyes. “Yeah? What’s the problem?”
“I am going to meet him. I just have to meet him.”
“What the…..” Anger gripped Sheeba with it’s full strength.
“Are you crazy or what Deeba?” Sheeba put in, giving her a hard look. “It’s quater past two a.m. and you wake me up only to talk about ‘him’ again?
Deeba said nothing but just chewed her lower lip. Sheeba saw there were tears in her eyes. Her expression softened as she saw her beloved sister’s helpless face. It was true that she really loved her elder sister and she could do anything to make her happy but at the same time Deeba’s emotional and somewhat ‘childish’ attitude was something she did not like much.
“Look Deeba,” She began. “I know you really want to meet him and want to know more about him. But it’s not that simple and easy. He’s not an ordinary person. Plus, we really don’t know him as a person.
“But he gave us his phone number.” Deeba said eagerly.
“Okay, with which reference you’d want to meet him?”
“I’d say; I’m your greatest fan.” Deeba suggested.
Sheeba laughed. “That would be the cheapest excuse to meet him. I’m sure he must be getting such calls day and night, and surely, he’s not going to meet every fan of his.”
“Then?”
“Let me think,” Sheeba said thoughtfully, sleep miles away from her eyes now. “The question is that how will you meet him? I mean he’s so busy. You don’t find him here and there every day.”
“That’s why I disturbed your sleep and I’m sorry for that but I think you’re the only one who can give me some solution for this problem.” Deeba said with pure hope in her eyes.
Sheeba just stared at her face then lowered her head, combing her fingers through her shoulder-lenght hair.
“Well, I’ve got an idea.” She said meaningfully.
“Really? What’s that?” Deeba yelled in excitement.
“Please, keep your voice down. Don’t disturb mom and dad’s sleep now.”
“Tell me about your idea.” Deeba’s voice became a mere whisper now.
“Just wait and see.” Sheeba told her mysteriously, her eyes twinkling with naughty luster. I’d tell you in the morning. Now don’t worry and let’s see if all the things go in our favour.”
“Are you sure it will work?”
“Not sure, but it’s a pretty good one. I hope it should, and pray that it will.” Smiling one last time, Sheeba went back to her bed.
Deeba breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
“You know Sheeba, you’re mother of all “ideals” Deeba giggled weakly, but unexpectly she heard Sheeba’s voice from the other side of the dark room.
“And after all, you’re mother of all ‘ideals’.”
To Be Continued…

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 9

As his name was announced Sheeba released her breath, which she had held for so long but at the same time her sister forgot to respire. With ten thousand poeple and twenty thousand clapping hands, he emerged from somwhere. To many it all looked like a dream, as at first, no one was able to see from where he was rising or where he really was but suddenly, he was on stage in a flash, in seconds, swiftly and quickly.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s him.” Deeba could just say two words.
“He doesn’t look like a poet at all, although he is someone we can become poets for.” A middle-aged woman said, totally stunned.
“He looks like some model or some movie star.” Another girl gasped.
“So, how’s my suprise?” Sheeba asked proudly. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”
Deeba had formed picture of him in her mind: a dry looking, over-mature, bookworm kind of guy. But ahead of her was no such man.
Not very tall, but above-average in height, this strongly built man in his late twenties, with his dark black hair and piercing jet eyes, was far above the image she had formed of him earlier. She had seen many good-looking men, but never one quite so handsome and charismatic.
His built was impressive, his white Pakistani shilwar suit looked perfect on him. His styled, shiny black hair fit nicely into his boyish charm……smooth, acne free face. His eyes were mesmerizing, his mouth tempting. He wore thin, fine, neatly framed glasses, which looked very suitable in his face giving him a sober, intellectual touch.
“What a sweet guy.” A mature lady in her early thirties exclaimed with interest.
“He is revolutionary.” A middle-aged man said, stunned.
In a hushed voice, one woman said “How handsome.”
In an equally hushed voice, the other agreed, adding, “And how graceful.”
Getting into the middle of the huge stage, he took the mic in his hand and took a few breaths before the first few words came out of his mouth.
Finally, after few seconds, which seemed like hours, his lips trembled and so dis many of the hearts there. “Thanks so much for your applause, and your appreciation.” His voice was manly and masculine, his accent traditional and his tone smooth.
“I want to let you know that I don’t deserve all this attention and love. I’m very much sinner and lost-in-my-own-self kind of man.” He said in a deep, heavy voice.
“What’s he saying?” A girl asked, confused.
“That’s how he is.” Her companion replied.
“I’m sorry if you are not much pleased with what I’d say but it’s true that I live in my own world. A world I never want to climb out of. I have my own laws, rules and principles for myself and I don’t care what others would say or think of me.” His voice was even, very impressuve and effective at the same time.
“You may call me proud, you can say I’m rude, arrogant or whatever but it’s true that, that’s how I want to live and that’s what I am. I won’t take much of your expensive tine. So here is something, which I wrote recently. My promise, which I’m very much, obliged to fulfill. My latest poem….. The title is “My Ideal woman.”
He stopped for what seemed like an endless moment. He put a detailed stare at the massive audience all around him. There was a complete pin drop silence everywhere. Eyes were fully open; mouths completely closed, hearts beating in suspense, minds racing with anticipation.
Down to earth but is like sky
With a powerfuk sound system and echo equipment, his voice felt miraculous to everyone sitting there.
Down to eart but is like sky
He repeated the first sentence of his poem, creating a delicate yet intense effect of thrill and suspense.
That wax-soft girl is rock-like
His voice becamd a mere whisper as he completed he first stanza. With that, it felt like the place and event reached its climax. The ear-bursting and heart-shattering sounds of clapping, whistles and admiration didn’t give much chance to Deeba to exclaim the big ‘wow’ she wanted to convey to him.
Countless camera flashes and sparkling lights were on him as he read. No doubg, at the moment, he was the center of all the attention and every attraction.
Hidden within my heart for so long
She is like a host in my heart
As he read in his wonderful voice, it seemed like everyone there had turned to stone, frozeb at the place.
For many, nothing existed in this world but his impressuve, attractive voice. For them, nothing else mattered at the moment but this man who was reading his poem so sensationally.
In the journey, step by step along with me
She is like a milestone towards the destinations
In the hot, thorny journey of my life
She is like shelter beneath the sunny sky
My hope is weak as a drowning boat in the sea
The presence of her being is like sail
Whenever hardships make me frustrated
Just one glance of hers make me content
Though she’s in front of me, breathing and alive
Still it feels like she’s a mirage
Throwing one last glance at the audiences, he finished his poem and slowly, left his place.
It took some moments for thousands of audiences to realize that he had finished reading, as they were still lost in trance of his voice and mesmerizing beauty of his words.
And then, they clapped their greetings and admiration in the most powerful way.
As expected, his most recent poem had become a ‘block buster.’
As soon as he got off the stage, press photographers and journalists raced behind him, each trying his best to catch him before anyone else could.
“Mr. Aariz Ali, no doubt you’re the most favorite poet of young generation at present. How do you feel about it?” A lady reporter asked quickly and desperately.
“A bilingual poet, we never saw anyone who can create such wonderful poetry both in Urdu and English. Where did you learn it from?” Another press reporter pushed the other to ask his question.
Ignoring all the lights and voices, he left them behind, never paying attention to anyone.
He was almost about to open the door of his car when something happened.
“Mr. Aariz, just a minute.” Came a distant feminine call.
There was something particular in this sound that made him stop his feet.
He turned and saw two young girls walking towards him with quick steps.
When they reached him, he saw that one of them was panting heavily.
“I am Deeba. Deeba Rizvi. This is my sister, Sheeba” One of them introduced, she looked older of the two.
Aariz looked from one to the other.
This teenage girl had a round face, black eyes and straight braid that hung over her shoulder, almost to her waist.
He just raised his head a little. She saw the corners of his lips spread slightly, like not giving permission to his lips to open in a complete smile.
His large, black eyes peered at the sisters through neat and well-finished wire-rimmed glasses perched on the middle of what could be called as a perfect male nose.
They couldn’t say a word, mouth agape; Deeba stared at him with fascination.
“Ummm?” He moved his head questioningly.
“It’s been so nice meeting you and listening to you.” She said with a tiny, wistful sigh, like she was still in a trance.
“Precious ladies,” He said with a sober smile, adding kindly, “the pleasure is all mine. Is there anything I can do for you girls?”
“So much!” Deeba said. Words left her mouth automatically. “Well….I mean, I have to ask so much!”
“I’m afraid, I don’t have much time right now.”
“Sir please, can’t you give us few minutes? We really need to talk to you.” Deeba asked with hopeful anticipation.
“Mr. Aariz, the thing is that my sister is really crazy about you, and believe me she thinks of nothing but you, day and night.
Shocked, pale, confused and annoyed at the embarrassing position Sheeba had put her in, Deeba glared at her just long enough to let her know that she’d deal with her once they are alone.
He wanted to refuse, he wished to ignore, but therr was something in the eyes of this innocent-looking girl, which made him think twice before answering her.
“Alright, you may have my contact number. I’d see if I can talk to you on the phone.” He brought a fountain pen out of his pocket and wrote his phone number on a small piece of paper. “Call me between nine and ten a.m. weekdays.
“Thank you so much sir, we’re really thankful for that.” Deeba said with sheer joy and thankfulness. “And do remember us in your prayers,” She said formally.
“I’m sorry, that I cannot do.” He said without any expression, his words suprised both sisters.
“As my prayers are never answered.” He smiled one last time and turned back to have his way.
To Be Continued…

How To Maintain And Control A Woman

I used to be like many of the whiners here on Nairaland, “Oh I’m so in love with this babe but she’s treating me badly, what do I do? what do I do?”. That was a long time ago and now I am wise and believe me I learnt from the school of hard knocks, this women dealt with me mercilessly until I actually sat down to analyze them and their ways and figured out the language they speak. If you think maintaining a woman is about excess love, showing affection, kindness, forgiveness, religion and all that bullsh*t, you’re dead wrong, treat a woman too good, she will find an excuse to leave ( “I was once dumped by a chick who later told her friend, I was ‘too nice’.”). But they will stay with an “omo rapala” that mistreats them day after day after day.
Even fellowship girls are still tempted by young men of the world and leave their fellow fellowship brothers to look for bad boys to convert. They are never satisfied with a squeaky clean good man. To them every guy that is too good is a nuisance. Even the ones that are married have only calmed down and become good in order to trap a husband that offers them security or at least a husband that has managed to figure out their buttons. Be wise, young men, be wise.
Maintaining women of all shapes ages and sizes is all about control and remaining in control. The moment you lose control, you lose yourself and a woman will ride you till the very end. Some people say all sorts of rubbish, “Oh my woman is not like that, she’s different”, all that one na story, Eve betrayed Adam, Delilah betrayed Samson, so who on earth is your woman that she won’t act like those that came before her?
There are different levels of control, there is no control, artificial control and true control. No control is the default situation most guys fall into. They love a woman and believe everything she says in the heat of passion ”I’ll never ever leave you”, “I can’t wait to marry you” etc etc, and deceive themselves into overconfidence and over love. A no control guy does not know how to tell his babe no and is always apologizing even when it is not his fault. When they start exhibiting too much attention and love, the chick gets bored and starts looking for “rude boys” somewhere. Then her mind starts wavering and she starts telling you “I need space”, “I’m confused”. When you hear these words you’re in trouble.
Unfortunately most young guy today no dey hear word and they will start reminiscing about the sweet nothings the babe told them when the going was good and continue to misbehave and show over love and over affection. Meanwhile one bad guy fit dey comb the babe for corner somewhere. In the end the chick leaves and the guy is in a wreck, crying, complaining to his friends begging etc and at that point the girl no go wan hear again, anything you’re saying is a waste of time. A chick will bring up some of the dumbest excuses when she wants to dump you. She might regret leaving you later but all that one na Tales By Moonlight what matters is the wrecked condition she will leave you in at that moment.
The next level of control is artificial control. Artificial control works a lot in Nigeria today, and people exercise this level of control primarily by having money. This is what the so called big boys and sugar daddies use to maintain their babes. Some poor guys starving on their pocket money and University allowances even try to maintain this level of control to their own downfall. With artificial control a girl might screw around but will not really leave you until she finds another guy with better control than you. The best way to use artificial control is ruthlessly, if you have money and control them with money make sure you take no crap from them or else they will turn you to a MUGU and you fall into the no control category even though you have money.
Remember money is relative. Some guy has more than you somewhere. Some guys exercise artificial control through other means as well, such as being older, being in a bigger office, better school, living in a bigger house etc. Until the chick meets someone with better control she will not leave but always remember you are in control and use it to your advantage. Don’t boast about it though as they really hate it when you point out that the reason they are with you is because of artificial control ( even though we know its true). All those threads written by sacked bankers on Nairaland who have lost their babes are a result of the artificial control category. Control go, babe go.
Guys without money should remember this ( University boys open your eyes) the moment you start spending to maintain control, you will never stop and this is a problem when you do not have money so students, graduate trainees and people without money should avoid money artificial control as much as possible. You will only wreck yourself financially, because they will only get greedier and you will find out you cannot keep up and she will use the money you have used to better her looks, wardrobe and her life to find a replacement for you. They always want to upgrade. If you have money to spend it is okay to use artificial control just make sure you do it in a responsible way, not in a way chicks will use “MUGU” to replace your name on their phones.
The last control category is true control. Maintain this level of control and you are the true guru. You are the Don Juan, the guy women trip and fall down for regardless of whether or whether not. The true control man is in control of EVERYTHING. He will not chase a babe he cannot control or who he knows will want to lord over him. Before he spends his money on a woman he makes sure that she knows who is in control and spends his money sparingly, in fact she might spend more than him. If she tells him she is in her male corpers friends house sleeping because she does not have light he laughs and tells her “I hope he knows how to screw well, I know you’re probably lonely”. It might pain him inside but you will never see it, because he knows that if she finds out he is jealous he is finished, if she feels he is not jealous, she will correct herself and find call him 20 times a day to make sure he truly loves her.
The guy who shouts at his babe and tells her what sort of nonsense is that ( why should she sleep in Mr Corper-With-Generator’s house) is maintaining artificial control, she will tell him she won’t do it again and do it the next day and for the next 10 months, and get combed mercilessly by Mr. Corper-With-Generator and his colleagues. It takes 10 minutes for a quickie and that place does not have a gauge you will use to measure who did and did not do when she comes back. Artificial control men and no control men should take note.
In fact most of the accomplished true control guys have barricaded their hearts a long time ago. They show affection strategically and when a chick leasts expects it. They are not always complete bast@rds, they will send flowers and call a babe to check on how she is doing but they do it strategically and sparingly. Too much of ice cream and chocolate is not good. Too much visiting of woman is not good. Calling her more than she calls you is an equally stupid idea. If she calls twice call once. What bothers other guys does not bother men of true control. Even if they love a chick they will never show it more than the chick shows it. They say I love you three times a year. This sort of guy might love a chick but still screw one or two around to ensure that he remains in control of his senses.
s*x is s*x, love is a different kettle of fish. s*x helps you keep things in perspective. Screw one woman too much, you might become stupid and lose control. Fidelity is over rated my brothers, you can love a woman but don’t confuse it with being faithful. If she suspects you are screwing outside, thats okay for them, just make sure you’re never caught and she only suspects, suspicion is good, it keeps her on her feet, she knows she can be replaced. When she sees that text message on your phone, tell her “you are the only one for me “ and buy enough “ chocolate and flowers” and then leave her to think. But NEVER keep two chicks, you should have one chick and the occasional ones you are chopping outside to maintain perspective and self-control, that way you won’t create unnecessary problems for yourself. If you are not on the financial capability of Atiku Abubakar, polygamy is a bad idea. If you can retain control without screwing outside, fine for you. But the day your woman is caught screwing outside, you will feel seriously cuckolded and feel like a fool.
A true control guy will NEVER date a woman he cannot control. A woman who does not respect you is one you have no control over, these women do not understand equality, look at the divorce rate in America ! A true control guy has ALL control but he never uses money to control too much. He never makes it about money or how much he has. Most true control guys have more money than the women they control, other much more skilled true control guys may have less money but always make sure that she knows who is boss. Because once you let a women who’s money is longer than yours gain control, you are finished. A true control guy also has koboko control ( meaning he knows how to give it to her in bed, if you do not know better learn by hiring a skilled Pay As You Go or else she will leave you for the first Mr. Magic Stick). In fact koboko control is way better than money control. Look at Kimora Lee Simmons and Djimon Honsou, you go no say na koboko dey at work, no be by fine face or too much money. ( No offense to Russel Simmons but he had artificial control).
A true control guy also has fashion control, he knows how to dress and be neat ( it might not be the most expensive stuff he wears but he looks smart and neat always, he has fashion sense). A true control guy also knows how to tell his babe no and stick to his no. They rarely say “I’m sorry” and always make a chick laugh or some other tactic to avoid using those words. A chicks friends will beef this sort of guy in public and on forums like Nairaland and berate their friends for dating him but will secretly dream of screwing him. It even helps when the guy acts nice to the chicks friends, but not too nice (as in we are all age-mates level, respect must be maintained at all costs, chicks know how to disrespect a guy who plays with them too much). All men should strive to attain true control. True control will give you peace of mind and undying attention.
Be wise, my brothers be wise, enough of these tears on Nairaland. These days more men come here to complain than women. This is a war we have to win at all costs. For the sake of the male reputation. For more advice, I am here all week. Remember I have been beaten before but I am now wise, I exercise true control now and take no nonsense from them. If you let them bring you down they will finish you and your village people will say it is the work of juju and your uncles and aunties.

Jokes for the day.......

1) When a guy open a car door for a girl,
is either the girl is new or the car is new.
(2) A guy asked u for s*x and u asked,
“Do u Love me?”. What do u expect him
to say, or Are U a LEARNER ?
(3) Half Unclad girls are hot,while well
dressed girls are beautiful. Hell is hot,
while heaven is beautiful. the choice is
yours.
(4)You have been engaged to him for 4
years and no wedding is forth coming.
Please kindly remove the ring. Is your
finger a key holder?
(5)You have slept with over 10 girls
without protection yet you go to the
barbers shop with your personal clipper.
What are you preventing?
(6) Guys always know who their heart
belongs to, so if you like cook chicken in
diamond sauce or do monkey style in
bed, if it’s not you, it can’t b u.
(7) In America wen a couple go to bed
dey say “Good nights my love” In Britain
“Sweet dreams darling” In Nigeria “Did u
lock d Gate, doors & windows?
(8) You cannot say “I can’t date you, I
have a boyfriend” and be asking for
money from him. Gt-bank staff cannot
receive salary from UBA bank!
(9) My name is A’square, I used my friend
to set up my girlfriend to see if she’ll
cheat on me. Now they’ve sent me
weeding Invitation. What AM I?
(A) Learner
(B)God sent
(C) Fool
(10) No Guy will ever tell a Lady “i ve a
Girlfriend” when asking her out. Their
National Anthem is “we had issues &
we’ve broken up”.
(11) Welcome to Nigeria where the
government is responsible and blamed for
every damn things. if mosquito bite you,
you will blame the government.
(12) No guy is single,you either snatch
him from someone or share him with
someone, the most important thing is to
be the highest Shareholder.
(13) I woke up today,someone
somewhere just took their last breath.
Thank You God for blessing me more than
I deserve
(14) 35yr old first class graduate without
job and u dey follow Lil’Wayne sing ‘I
Ain’t Got no worries, your life is on SOS
(15) Idiot girl said: “I dated him for
GOOD 10 years and he broke my heart”
fool, what’s GOOD in the years?
(16)(a)
s*x won’t make him love u
(b) A baby won’t make him stay. If you’re
doubting me, kindly ask TUFACE
(17) No matter how nice you are to a
goat, it will still eat your yam.
18) You make his ‘Joystick’ hard, u carry him
enter room, he don off shirt, then u shout
April Fool… My sister, he will Molest ur
Destiny!
(19)What shall it profit a girl to have all
the Brazilian hair in the whole world and
still lose her boyfriend to a girl on low a
cut?
(20) Kill an American citizen and 1 million
policemen will be deployed to search for
u but kill 1 million Nigerians U will be
invited for amnesty
(21)Don’t act like you have it all, even
rich men beg for pen in the bank.
(22) No matter how big ur house is,How
recent your car is,or how huge ur bank
account is, Our grave is still gonna be the
same size, stay humble.
(23)No Matter How Pretty Or Cute your
Face Might Be,you Will Still Be the Food
For Worms. Set your Arrogance Aside and
Remember 6 Feet. No one lives for Ever….it useless of u reading this post and feeling reluctant to send to another group….keep d fun moving.

7 Common Reasons Why Ladies Say No To Marriage Proposals

The thought of a lady saying no to a marriage proposal to many is unrealistic. Many a time ladies are characterized by their attitude towards trapping a man into marriage rather than refusing a proposal but as uncommon as it may seem to many, guys still get their rings thrown back in their faces.
7 common reasons why ladies reject marriage proposals include:
1. Financial independence 
When financial independence is mentioned, a lot of people are quick to say ladies are only after the money, want a well to do man but this isn’t about the man. Not that the “independent state” of a man doesn’t count but some ladies reject marriage proposals because they (the lady) want to be financially stable before starting a family. Not every girl likes the idea of a man taking care of all her needs. Some ladies want to also be able to contribute and support their husbands financially before their answer is yes.
2. Family attachment 
A man who loves his family can be said to be a good man. He can also be said to be one who would make a good husband and father but when a man is too attached to family it can be a reason not to be taken seriously when he pops the question. A man who can’t make decisions until he gets approval from his family still has an invisible umbilical cord round his neck.
A guy who has to meet all the needs of his family before considering the needs of his “to be” wife may not change after marriage. No woman wants a man whose decisions can only be final after the parents have certified
3. Age factor 
Many ladies have lost great men because they have allowed themselves to be consumed by the feeling of “still young”.
A lady who feels she is too young to get married shouldn’t be in a relationship. Some ladies claim to be ready but when the proposal comes they say they are too young. This has more to do with their inability to deal with commitment.
4. Mending fences strategy 
Relationships are never perfect and a good surprise is always welcomed but proposing during a misunderstanding or a fight usually backfires. It is good to want to work through issues easily and have them sorted out quickly but proposing when she’s mad at you is risky. A no may just be what you get.
5. Proposal method and ring choice 
Ladies usually have things they fantasize about. One of which is their wedding and also the way you propose. Ladies have been known to turn down marriage proposal because they felt it wasn’t romantic enough, others because it was too extravagant. Choice of ring too has not been left out. Ladies love to show off among their peers, no wonder a lady would say no to a guy simply because she feels the ring used in proposing is not befitting.
6. S#xual satisfaction. 
The importance given to s*x in relationships these days cannot be over emphasized. A lady could reject a proposal upon considering if the guy satisfies her in bed or not. In a relationship, a lady can still try to get her S#xual satisfaction from someone else but in marriage she may not. Knowing that a guy can’t sexually satisfy her is a good enough reason to say no for some ladies.
7. Lack of trust (too many female friends) 
Lack of trust is one of the most common issues faced by relationships today. A lot of people are in relationships where trust is only a mirage. A major cause of lack of trust for ladies is encompassed in the fact that the guy has too many female friends. In such situations, the lady is likely to feel insecure and unsure. Even when the guy proposes, she tends to take it as a joke and the reply is usually no.

Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 7

In answer, he lowered his eyes to the thickly carpeted floor but said nothing.
When he looked up after a silence of few minutes, he saw that doctor was still staring at him.
“What are you looking at doctor? Anything wrong?”
“I was thinking how things could go so right” Doctir said, his tone filled with suprise and amazement. “Impossible and unbelievable.” Dr. Waris was plainly astonished.
“What’s so impossible doctor?”
“I mean, we all expected your problem to get resolved in atleast four or five years and yet you’re completely alright within two years.” Doctor told him. “And to be honest with you, we didn’t expect this problem to get subsided completely. Its prognosis is bad, and in almost all cases, the patient is never able to achieve his pre-disease state back. I mean he never gets completely normal.” He told him in detail. “But your case is one of its own kind, you are as mentally and physically active now like you were before.”
Dr Waris paused for a second then added.
“Apart from all that, I now see a strange calmness in the way you talk, and your style of expression has become so mute and yet so inspiring. You look very much satisfied and content now.”
“So do you suggest anything for the future?” He asked, not commenting on what his doctor had just said. “Do I need to take some precautionary measures?”
“Well, I’d say that just try to be more social. Attend parties, functions, and gatherings, make new friends, visit refreshing places. That’s all.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all. But yes, if you feel any mental problem or depression episode again, you may take these medicines.” Doctor slid a letterhead in front of him and was about to prescribe some medicines on it when his voice stopped him.
“I think you should leave these medicines, doctor. It will be useless.” He said flatly. “Would it surprise you if I tell you that I never took any of the medicines you prescribed for me in the last one year?”
“What? Really?” Doctor was truly shocked and suprised today.
“Are you sure you didn’t take any of the medicines I prescribed?”
“Not a single one.” He smiled slightly.
“Then what took cure of your problem?”
“My religion.” As he spoke, Dr. Waris noted that there was some strange, specific contentment in his voice.
“Oh, you mean spiritually or something?” Dr. Waris raised his brows.
“Not really.” He said simply. “Spirituality is just a part of religion. My religion has a lot more than that.”
“Then?”
“Fortunately, someone guided me to the right place and the book I consulted was a perfect one for me. It has remedy for every disease and cure for every pain.” He explained.
“That’s truly interesting.” Doctor’s shock had not yet subsided yet.
” It heals wounds, and soothes bruises, even if they are on your heart.” His smile was very weird this time.
“Is it some sort of a medical book?”
“Not solely.” He answered. “It has economics, physics, chemistry, biology, every science and every art.”
“Could you please tell me which book you are talking about?” Doctor’s curiosity reached its climax. “And, where I can find the book”
“Ofcourse Doctor, why not, it’s called…
“Yes?”
“Doctor, would you mind if I give my answer rather poetically?” He smiled gracefully.
“Really? That would be very interesting.” Doctor’s eyes and facial expression changed even more.
“You sure?” He wanted to confirm one more time.
“Positive. Why do you doubt?”
“I don’t doubt.” His eyes smiled at him. “I was just thinking do you have much time or interest for a ‘dry’ thing like poetry?”
“Never. It’s one of the things I prefer to do in my leisure hours. It woukd actually be a pleasure to listen. Please….” Dr. Waris couldn’t wait to know what it was all about.
He bent slightly forward, and with full confidence, he began to read. His voice was soothing, his accent was firm and his language fluent.
I am a book in elegant prints
To know my name, here are some hints
“Wow!” Doctor said, his eyes spreading wide.
He seemed not hearing him or anyone. He was lost in himself, hidden in what he was reading.
Rich in cover and nicely bound
In hearts of muslim, I am rarely found
High on shelf, I am kept
Forgotten there, I am left
With respect, I do get lots of ‘kiss’
My main point is what they always ‘miss’
In a melodious voice, they recite me
Neglecting the message inside me
At times, I am used for phony swear
My true use is very, very rare
A miracle, I am, that can change the world
All one has to do is understand my word
I have wisdom, I have treasure
So much, that there is no measure
In your savior, I’m your guide
But who’s there to follow my bide
Right from wring is my fame
Leaving his sentence unfinished, he smiled, left his chair to shake hand with the open-mouthed doctor. But before leaving, he didn’t forget to finish his poem.
“Holy quran is my name”
To Be Continued…