“So, excited?” Sheeba shifted her car into reverse gear.
“Obviously, and not just me, I guess there will be thousands of other
poeple out there who must be as excited as I’m.” Deeba saw her own
image in the small mirror present in her makup kit, giving a final shade
of maroon lipstick to her already pink lips.
“I know that girls must be calling him day and night.” Sheeba said
with disinterest. “But know what…..I think he’s nothing. He just poses
and that’s all.”
But Deeba didn’t pay much attention to her last comment; perhaps she was too busy in giving final touches to her makeup.
“There’re rumors about him. Some say he’s a play boy. Some say he has
a dark part. Many think he’s a womanizer.” Sheeba commented with much
interest.
“I don’t agree.”
Sheeba grinned, and looked at her sister sitting on the passenger seat beside her but said nothing.
“As far as I have observed him, he looks like a dry lost-in-himself
man.” Turning the steering wheel to the left, Sheeba made a big bubble
of the chewing gum she was continously chewing for the last half an
hour.
“For God sake Sheeba. Would you stop babbling?” Deeba joined her
hands in front of her sister in an ancient gesture of asking for
forgiveness.
“Nobody has actually explored him. No body knows him.” Deeba added
thickly. ” What he really is, only I can tell”. She closed her eyes.
“I think you’re just euphoric about him and that’s all.” Sheeba made a
bad mouth. “I have heard a lot about him, especially from the female
gender.” She winked naughtily.
“Oh really? Like what?” Deeba gave her a challenging look.
“He’s psycho” She smiled.
He’s weird.” She giggled.
“He’s ice. Solid and cold.” She laughed.
“Aha. What else have you heard about him?” Deeba turned her face away
to look at the row of palm trees that grew along the narrow service
road.
“A lot.” Sheeba increased the speed of her car. “You’ll find out soon.”
Deeba took a short breath and took her hairbrush out of her purse.
“When did you last attend a poetry gathering?” Sheeba inquired.
“Umm, I guess it’s been more than two years.” Deeba combed finely through her black hair.
“I see.” Sheeba put the car on the ling, smooth road. “By the way,
don’t you think these poetry gatherings are getting fairly common
nowadays in Pakistan?”
“Yes, and some of these poetry functions are fairly big and thousands
of poeple gather to attend such meetings from all around Pakistan to
enjoy and have appropriate fun. But that’s something positive and
healthy.” Deeba told her thoughtfully. “Atleast I’d personally prefer
going to such poetry contests instead of attending some musical concert”
She added.
“I love concerts. I love music. It’s my soul, my life.” Sheeba said aloud, smiling.
“Come on Sheeba! What else is there expect some cheap hooting, vulgar
comments, out of control dance and stuff?” Deeba questioned.
It’s our age and time to enjoy Deeba. Don’t you see how much
frustrated, materialistic and mechanical our lives have become? And yet
you don’t want to give us some right to enjoy and have fun?” Sheeba
asked emotionally, glancing over to the passenger side where Deeba sat.
“I feel sorry for those who think that ‘this’ is the way to have fun and enjoy.” Deeba shook her head in disbelief.
“Everyone has his own views and preferences.” Sheeba said in a way like she didn’t want to continue her talk on the topic.
Getting her message, Deeba didn’t say anything then. They finished the rest of their journey in complete silence.
As they reached the main event area, Sheeba slowed the car to search
for a parking space. There were literally hundred of cara. Easing the
car into a suitable place, she brought the vehicle to stop.
The place had already been filled with a lot of public; majority of
them was, ofcourse, female. Families, married ladies, young teenage
girls, everyone was there.
The place presented an excellent view of some huge, big festival.
Colorful cloths, royal curtains, thick printed red carpets on the floor,
all presented an ideal, fantastic look for such a traditional
gathering.
Even the cutlery and the sittings were purely eastern. Big
traditional Indian pillows were neatly placed on the floor for the
poeple to tap their backs. Fine crystal chandeliers, shiny lamps and
colorful bulbs were throwing light on every part of the place.
By the time both sisters entered the main event, the function was
about to start. The surroundings around the big, high stage were fully
loaded with thousands of poeple, including students of various
universities and colleges, press photographers, and important government
officials were also there, waiting anxiously for this awaited and
interesting poetry function to begin. Every seat was occupied, and even
the galleries and concrete boders were jammed with chattering youths,
their spirits lifted by the thought of upcoming, thrilling event.
And then, the function began. Poets and poetesses began to come on
stage one by one. Some were getting more than they expected and some
were facing intense hooting from the massive audience. In between the
loud noise of whistles, clapping, hooting and applause, everyone was
enjoying the gathering to its fullest. And then, after a couple of
hours, the final moment came, one for which everyone had waited so long.
The anchor came on the stage for one last time, holding the wireless mic in his right hand.
“And now” His voice echoed loudly through the surroundings. “The
moment for which all of us have been waiting so anxiously. I’d now like
to invite a young poet, who has been unique in all aspects. Whether it’s
poetry, or personality or nature or manners, he has been different.
Within a short period of just two years, he has given us some real
poetry masterpieces to enjoy. Poeple say he rules on the heart of
Pakistani youth but I’d say that he’s not limited. Too bad he doesn’t
come in front too much but the wonderful thing is that each of us know
him. We’ve read him, we’ve heard him but not many of us have seen him.
Well, here’s the chance for those who wanted to see and meet him.” At
this sentence, he paused to take a short breath and to look at the
curious, thrilled poeple all around him.
“And last but not the least, your favorite poet has promised to read
his latest poem to you.” Anchor announced excitedly, his own voice
shaking with anticipation and emotion.
“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome, the one and only, AARIZ ALI.”
To Be Continued…
Monday, 8 August 2016
Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 6
Karachi Hospital for Psychiatric Diseases”
He first looked at the big sparkling signboard and then at his wristwatch. He was there in time. Locking the door as he climbed out of his car and taking short steps, walked inside the huge premises.
“Hello sir, how are you?” The lady receptionist gave him a lovely smile, looking clearly impressed.
“How are you? Hope fine!” He said without even stopping properly near her. “I believe I am not late?”
“Not at all sir, Dr. Waris is in his room.” He heard the receptionist voice on his back.
Walking straight, he reached near the door which had a name plate of ‘Dr. Waris Ahmad’. He knocked on the door and on hearing the response, turned the door knob and stepped inside.
“Welcome dear, so very nice to see you.” A man in his late fifties left his chair to greet him. “Please be seated.”
“Thank you doctor.” He took his chair opposite his.
“So……” Doctor set a formal smile on his lips, taking his glasses off. “How’re you feeling now?”
“Better.” He said plainly. “Much better”.
“That’s good. Oh yes I have to show you the reports of your last tests.”
Finishing his sentence, doctor left his chair to open one of his cupboards, took a grey file out and then returned to his seat.
Taking his glasses back to his eyes, he slowly flipped through the pages of that file.
“Well” Closing the file, doctor took a long breath and peered at him through his glasses.
For several minutes, doctor just sat there, staring at him like he would never see him again.
“No sign of any personality disorder.” He finally began to say. “Not a single hint of dementia or schizophrenia, no mark or trace of any manic-depressive illness.”
He didn’t reply, just looked back at the doctor in silence.
“Congratulations. You’re completely normal and healthy now.” He shook his hand with him excitedly.
“Thank you, you all really worked hard.” His response was short.
“No,” Doctor refused to agree. “It was ‘you’ who worked hard, who fought with all of his might and will power. You defeated the disease and won this stressful war.” His doctor said with a sheer admiration in his eyes.
To Be Continued…
He first looked at the big sparkling signboard and then at his wristwatch. He was there in time. Locking the door as he climbed out of his car and taking short steps, walked inside the huge premises.
“Hello sir, how are you?” The lady receptionist gave him a lovely smile, looking clearly impressed.
“How are you? Hope fine!” He said without even stopping properly near her. “I believe I am not late?”
“Not at all sir, Dr. Waris is in his room.” He heard the receptionist voice on his back.
Walking straight, he reached near the door which had a name plate of ‘Dr. Waris Ahmad’. He knocked on the door and on hearing the response, turned the door knob and stepped inside.
“Welcome dear, so very nice to see you.” A man in his late fifties left his chair to greet him. “Please be seated.”
“Thank you doctor.” He took his chair opposite his.
“So……” Doctor set a formal smile on his lips, taking his glasses off. “How’re you feeling now?”
“Better.” He said plainly. “Much better”.
“That’s good. Oh yes I have to show you the reports of your last tests.”
Finishing his sentence, doctor left his chair to open one of his cupboards, took a grey file out and then returned to his seat.
Taking his glasses back to his eyes, he slowly flipped through the pages of that file.
“Well” Closing the file, doctor took a long breath and peered at him through his glasses.
For several minutes, doctor just sat there, staring at him like he would never see him again.
“No sign of any personality disorder.” He finally began to say. “Not a single hint of dementia or schizophrenia, no mark or trace of any manic-depressive illness.”
He didn’t reply, just looked back at the doctor in silence.
“Congratulations. You’re completely normal and healthy now.” He shook his hand with him excitedly.
“Thank you, you all really worked hard.” His response was short.
“No,” Doctor refused to agree. “It was ‘you’ who worked hard, who fought with all of his might and will power. You defeated the disease and won this stressful war.” His doctor said with a sheer admiration in his eyes.
To Be Continued…
Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 5
Deeba said nothing; perharps she’d been lost in the trance of what her sister was telling her.
“And although until now I’ve been arguing with you about him, I must admit that he is different and has a very impressive personality.” Sheeba nodded, smiling.
Deeba smiled proudly like it was not him but herself whom her sister is praising.
“He came only in the end, and read just one poem, but it was enough to steal everyone out there.”
” Oh Sheeba, I’m so jealous of you right now. I wish I were there…..” Deeba clutched the pillow to her bosom, her face showing clear disappointment. ” Tell me how does he look like?”
“Umm, now that will charge another treat, what about an ice cream too?” Sheeba winked naughtily.
“Noooh.” Deeba clenched her teeth and threw the pillow on Sheeba, who bent her body perfectly to save herself from the expected attack.
“Well sister, that’s a suprise, you’ll find out soon.” she said satisfactorily.
“Meaning?”
“I mean how you will find how he looks like is another suprise”. Sheeba laughed with continous momentum.
“Perhaps, today is the day full of suprises and shocks for me.” Deeba said helplessly.
“You got my point.” Sheeba twisted her lips to make a bug bubble out of her chewing gum. “Actually I want to get rich soon, and soon for all these services of mine, you’d have to pay me heavily.”
“Hmm, yeah I was thinkung the same. You should probably apply for a job in some secret service.”
“That will be a watse of me, I guess.” She told Sheeba proudly, a lazy grib dancing on her face.
“So, how am I going to find out how he looks like?”
“Deeba, are you just making it or are you really ‘this’ serious about him?” Sheeba’s question was sudden and more than that, her unexpected serious tone suprised Deeba.
“Sorry, I didn’t get you.” Deeba was confused.
“I mean, are you having some crush on him or what?” Sheeba looked deeply into her sister’s eyes.
Deeba laughed loudly on her question.
“Come on Sheeba, don’t talk stupid.” She said finally, as her laughter dissolved in the air. “I just like him as a poet, and that’s all. I’ve never even met or saw him. It’s just curiosity and suspense.”
“Hmm. I hope this is the case.” Sheeba said thoughtfully, her eyes searching something ‘particular’ in her elder sister’s face.
“But I wonder sometimes…….” Sheeba threw her head back on the bed and lay still. “That he never gave an interview, no news paper ever published his pictures……and yet within a short time he has become so famous and popular, especially among the youth of Pakistan.”
“You can say so because you’ve never read his work.” Deeba said. “But he sure sounds like some mysterious or hidden person.”
“Thats why like other mysterious personality, there’re rumors about him.” Sheeba closed her eyes, yawning.
“Yeah I have heard some of those.” Deeba placed her hands behind her head and lowered herself on the bed in a half-sitting posture.
“Some say he’s playboy. Some say he has a dark past. Many think he’s a womanizer.”
Sheeba didn’t say anything in reply now. She was sleepy.
“Sheeba, you can’t sleep unless you tell me.”
“Tell you what? Don’t you ever get tired of ‘him’ Deeba?” Sheeba said angrily. “Please let me take some rest. It’s one a.m now, and I have not slept a wink this whole day.”
“You told me about seeing him soon.”
“Oh! My goodness.” Sheeba gazed at her sister who looked like she was about to cry at any time. “He’s been invited to an all Pakistan young poets’ function and he’s agreed to participate. Happy now?” She said finally, her voice louder than before.
“REALLY? When?” Deeba couldn’t believe her ears.
“This weekend. Ten p.m. Sharp!”
To Be Continued…
“And although until now I’ve been arguing with you about him, I must admit that he is different and has a very impressive personality.” Sheeba nodded, smiling.
Deeba smiled proudly like it was not him but herself whom her sister is praising.
“He came only in the end, and read just one poem, but it was enough to steal everyone out there.”
” Oh Sheeba, I’m so jealous of you right now. I wish I were there…..” Deeba clutched the pillow to her bosom, her face showing clear disappointment. ” Tell me how does he look like?”
“Umm, now that will charge another treat, what about an ice cream too?” Sheeba winked naughtily.
“Noooh.” Deeba clenched her teeth and threw the pillow on Sheeba, who bent her body perfectly to save herself from the expected attack.
“Well sister, that’s a suprise, you’ll find out soon.” she said satisfactorily.
“Meaning?”
“I mean how you will find how he looks like is another suprise”. Sheeba laughed with continous momentum.
“Perhaps, today is the day full of suprises and shocks for me.” Deeba said helplessly.
“You got my point.” Sheeba twisted her lips to make a bug bubble out of her chewing gum. “Actually I want to get rich soon, and soon for all these services of mine, you’d have to pay me heavily.”
“Hmm, yeah I was thinkung the same. You should probably apply for a job in some secret service.”
“That will be a watse of me, I guess.” She told Sheeba proudly, a lazy grib dancing on her face.
“So, how am I going to find out how he looks like?”
“Deeba, are you just making it or are you really ‘this’ serious about him?” Sheeba’s question was sudden and more than that, her unexpected serious tone suprised Deeba.
“Sorry, I didn’t get you.” Deeba was confused.
“I mean, are you having some crush on him or what?” Sheeba looked deeply into her sister’s eyes.
Deeba laughed loudly on her question.
“Come on Sheeba, don’t talk stupid.” She said finally, as her laughter dissolved in the air. “I just like him as a poet, and that’s all. I’ve never even met or saw him. It’s just curiosity and suspense.”
“Hmm. I hope this is the case.” Sheeba said thoughtfully, her eyes searching something ‘particular’ in her elder sister’s face.
“But I wonder sometimes…….” Sheeba threw her head back on the bed and lay still. “That he never gave an interview, no news paper ever published his pictures……and yet within a short time he has become so famous and popular, especially among the youth of Pakistan.”
“You can say so because you’ve never read his work.” Deeba said. “But he sure sounds like some mysterious or hidden person.”
“Thats why like other mysterious personality, there’re rumors about him.” Sheeba closed her eyes, yawning.
“Yeah I have heard some of those.” Deeba placed her hands behind her head and lowered herself on the bed in a half-sitting posture.
“Some say he’s playboy. Some say he has a dark past. Many think he’s a womanizer.”
Sheeba didn’t say anything in reply now. She was sleepy.
“Sheeba, you can’t sleep unless you tell me.”
“Tell you what? Don’t you ever get tired of ‘him’ Deeba?” Sheeba said angrily. “Please let me take some rest. It’s one a.m now, and I have not slept a wink this whole day.”
“You told me about seeing him soon.”
“Oh! My goodness.” Sheeba gazed at her sister who looked like she was about to cry at any time. “He’s been invited to an all Pakistan young poets’ function and he’s agreed to participate. Happy now?” She said finally, her voice louder than before.
“REALLY? When?” Deeba couldn’t believe her ears.
“This weekend. Ten p.m. Sharp!”
To Be Continued…
Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 4
“Frality thy name is woman.”
“An eye-opening statement for those who think that our east has disgraced or degraded women.” She banged her fist on the palm of her other hand. “The greatest litterateur of the West is saying that woman is weakness.”
“Williams shakespeare was a honest man I guess.” The other girl who looked a little younger smiled naughtily.
“Even now,” The first girl continued, apparently ignoring the other girl’s remark. “Their literature has not attained what Urdu literature had achieved in eigtheenth or nineteenth century.”
“Ofcourse we have Ghalib, Meer, Iqbal and so many…..The list just never ends…”
“I would never understand one thing sister.” The younger girl raised the tea mug to her mouth.
“No Suprise Sheeba. Infact you don’t understand anything.” The older girl shrugged her shoulders.
“Deeba….. I will kill you.” She threw a heavy pillow toward her sister, which Deeba caught expertly.
“But I must admit……” Sheeba smiled. “That you’re a good catcher. Atleast you could teach our Pakistan cricket team how to take some good catches.”
“Yuck, I hate cricket.” Deeba made her mouth like she had swallowed something really bitter.
“Now, I won’t doubt that. A nerdy, book-worm kind of all like you should only go for poetry and prose.” Sheeba took another fine sip.
“Why? Okay. Tell me honestly; didn’t you feel any interest in poetry ever?” Deeba’s voice had a slight tone of disappointment in it.
“I just couldn’t get it, the failures in love, crying and all that painful stuff. This is an internet age my dear.” Sheeba said fluently. “You have to look forward instead of wasting your tears, time and energy for your past. And that’s what all poets do. I just don’t understand why don’t they get some life and begin to work on something constructive.”
“Really, you think that way?” Deeba said sadly.
“Yes, and it’s ‘my’ way of thinking.” Sheeba said proudly.
“But shall we risk our ideals, our interests and our dreams for such ‘modern’ age?” Deeba looked deep into her sister’s eyes. Her style challenging.
“Oh my gosh. You’re really stupid Deeba. You’re twenty now, yet it seems like you have made a dream world of your own, a world you never want to climb out of.” Sheeba said.
On Deeba’s silence, she went on.
“Be practical my sister. This is the new millennium. Poetry, idealism, fantasies, dreams………you’ve got a lot more to do than thinking about such primal things, move on.”
“I wonder if this new millennium has anything to do with human feelings and emotuons. Does this ‘mechanization’ and ‘industrialism’ govern our tender feelings and soft sentiments too? Sorry, if it will, I refuse to acceot such so-called ‘modern’ life style which is devoid of our natural feelings.”
“My own philosophy is, if you like something, just go and get it or otherwise don’t love what you can’t get!” Sheeba said rigidly.
Deeba laughed at her statement.
“Why are you laughing? Did I say something funny?” Sheeba raised her brows.
“Your materialistic thinking is funny, sort of a selfish one. Life is not a business my dear. Sometimes you just have to live for others, have to care about others more than you do for yourself and have to give sacrifice…..”
“Okay, Okay. That’s enough…..” Sheeba cut in thickly. “I don’t want to argue with you. We can never convince each other.” Sheeba raised her hand in a gesture of final word.
“I never wanted to convince you, I was just presenting my own opinion.” Deeba said plainly. “I’m sorry but I just can’t agree with your ‘just do it’ style.
“Well, so what’re we talking about?” Sheeba said quickly changing the topic.
“Frality thy name is woman.” Deeba smiled slowly.
“You mean, back to shakespeare again?” Sheeba asked.
“No enough of him now. I just wanted to say that our east has always been very fertile for language, culture and customs you know.”Deeba said swiftly. “Even today, we’ve got fabulous poets like…….
“Oh God. Don’t tell me you’re talking about ‘him’ again. Are you?”
“Ofcourse, it’s him.” Deeba smiled in answer.
“My God Deeba, don’t you have any other topic to talk about?”
“No, and you know the reason that why…….
“Oh I forgot to tell you.” Sheeba said quickly, before her elder sister could finished her sentence. “And now I’m thinking how I can forget such a thing which is purely of your interest. But first tell me what can you do for me if I tell you something about ‘him’?”
“WHAT? Don’t tell me that!” Her sister’s voice and style totally changed suddenly. No one could believe that this desperate and excited girl was the same one who was talking so calmly just a few moments ago.
“Yes, it’s about him and you’re such and admirer and fan of him, I fear if the news I’m about to tell you would cause you to have a heart attack or something.” Sheeba smiled devilishly.
“Oh, you can’t tell me more than what I already know about him. Can you?” Deeba gave her a challenging smile.
“And what if I tell you he’s finally appearing in some poetry-show?”
“What?” You’re kidding right?” Deeba couldn’t believe if she’d heard her correctly.
“I really have confirmed news thats he’s finally coming to some ‘Mushaa’era’ in front of the public for the very first time.” Sheeba smiled satisfactorily. “And guess what, it’s going to be in our very own city, our sweet dear Karachi.”
“Sheeba really?” Deeba was really excited, her breathing fast. “Please…..please…..tell me how and when?”
“No, not like this” Sheeba rose and put her hands on her waist.
“Blackmailing?”
“Whatever,”
“Okay, what do you want? Ice-cream, money, dinner or what?” Deeba asked helplessly, rising from her place.
“Umm I guess dinner will be fine, but I’d choose the meny right?”
“Oh Sheeba please. Now for God sake tell me everything in detail.”
“Okay Baba, but first sit down please.” Sheeb held her sisters hands in her own and made her sit in front of her.
“Well, do you remember I told you about Inter-colleges poetry contest?” Sheeba began after taking a long breath.
“Yes, what about that?”
“Today, classes were off early and we had nothing to do in college, so we decided to check that out. The contest was today and they had invited him as a chief guest.
“But he never goes…….” Deeba interrupted quickly.
“Yes, I know until now he’s never been to any function or contest or has not even given an interview ever. But someone told me that our college administration used a ‘big’ source to invite him there.”
“What do you mean?” Deeba asked, her eyes showing frustration and desperation
“They contacted him through his teacher, someone he really respects and calls as his ‘spiritual teacher’, his ‘Maulana uncle’.” Sheeba told her all in one breath.
“Oh, and who told you all this?”
“One of my class fellows is a daughter of our college principal.” Sheeba smiled, opening a chewing gum from it’s wrapper.
“And that’s where we met him.” She added.
“You mean, you alone?” Deeba’s eyes widened with astonishment.
“No. We were five girls in total, my class fellows.” She put the bubble gum into her mouth. “We all went to the contest, and it was just amazing. I don’t have words to explain what I felt out there. It was all so fabulous and fantastic. The aroma, the atmosphere, the guys, umm well….”
To Be Continued…
“An eye-opening statement for those who think that our east has disgraced or degraded women.” She banged her fist on the palm of her other hand. “The greatest litterateur of the West is saying that woman is weakness.”
“Williams shakespeare was a honest man I guess.” The other girl who looked a little younger smiled naughtily.
“Even now,” The first girl continued, apparently ignoring the other girl’s remark. “Their literature has not attained what Urdu literature had achieved in eigtheenth or nineteenth century.”
“Ofcourse we have Ghalib, Meer, Iqbal and so many…..The list just never ends…”
“I would never understand one thing sister.” The younger girl raised the tea mug to her mouth.
“No Suprise Sheeba. Infact you don’t understand anything.” The older girl shrugged her shoulders.
“Deeba….. I will kill you.” She threw a heavy pillow toward her sister, which Deeba caught expertly.
“But I must admit……” Sheeba smiled. “That you’re a good catcher. Atleast you could teach our Pakistan cricket team how to take some good catches.”
“Yuck, I hate cricket.” Deeba made her mouth like she had swallowed something really bitter.
“Now, I won’t doubt that. A nerdy, book-worm kind of all like you should only go for poetry and prose.” Sheeba took another fine sip.
“Why? Okay. Tell me honestly; didn’t you feel any interest in poetry ever?” Deeba’s voice had a slight tone of disappointment in it.
“I just couldn’t get it, the failures in love, crying and all that painful stuff. This is an internet age my dear.” Sheeba said fluently. “You have to look forward instead of wasting your tears, time and energy for your past. And that’s what all poets do. I just don’t understand why don’t they get some life and begin to work on something constructive.”
“Really, you think that way?” Deeba said sadly.
“Yes, and it’s ‘my’ way of thinking.” Sheeba said proudly.
“But shall we risk our ideals, our interests and our dreams for such ‘modern’ age?” Deeba looked deep into her sister’s eyes. Her style challenging.
“Oh my gosh. You’re really stupid Deeba. You’re twenty now, yet it seems like you have made a dream world of your own, a world you never want to climb out of.” Sheeba said.
On Deeba’s silence, she went on.
“Be practical my sister. This is the new millennium. Poetry, idealism, fantasies, dreams………you’ve got a lot more to do than thinking about such primal things, move on.”
“I wonder if this new millennium has anything to do with human feelings and emotuons. Does this ‘mechanization’ and ‘industrialism’ govern our tender feelings and soft sentiments too? Sorry, if it will, I refuse to acceot such so-called ‘modern’ life style which is devoid of our natural feelings.”
“My own philosophy is, if you like something, just go and get it or otherwise don’t love what you can’t get!” Sheeba said rigidly.
Deeba laughed at her statement.
“Why are you laughing? Did I say something funny?” Sheeba raised her brows.
“Your materialistic thinking is funny, sort of a selfish one. Life is not a business my dear. Sometimes you just have to live for others, have to care about others more than you do for yourself and have to give sacrifice…..”
“Okay, Okay. That’s enough…..” Sheeba cut in thickly. “I don’t want to argue with you. We can never convince each other.” Sheeba raised her hand in a gesture of final word.
“I never wanted to convince you, I was just presenting my own opinion.” Deeba said plainly. “I’m sorry but I just can’t agree with your ‘just do it’ style.
“Well, so what’re we talking about?” Sheeba said quickly changing the topic.
“Frality thy name is woman.” Deeba smiled slowly.
“You mean, back to shakespeare again?” Sheeba asked.
“No enough of him now. I just wanted to say that our east has always been very fertile for language, culture and customs you know.”Deeba said swiftly. “Even today, we’ve got fabulous poets like…….
“Oh God. Don’t tell me you’re talking about ‘him’ again. Are you?”
“Ofcourse, it’s him.” Deeba smiled in answer.
“My God Deeba, don’t you have any other topic to talk about?”
“No, and you know the reason that why…….
“Oh I forgot to tell you.” Sheeba said quickly, before her elder sister could finished her sentence. “And now I’m thinking how I can forget such a thing which is purely of your interest. But first tell me what can you do for me if I tell you something about ‘him’?”
“WHAT? Don’t tell me that!” Her sister’s voice and style totally changed suddenly. No one could believe that this desperate and excited girl was the same one who was talking so calmly just a few moments ago.
“Yes, it’s about him and you’re such and admirer and fan of him, I fear if the news I’m about to tell you would cause you to have a heart attack or something.” Sheeba smiled devilishly.
“Oh, you can’t tell me more than what I already know about him. Can you?” Deeba gave her a challenging smile.
“And what if I tell you he’s finally appearing in some poetry-show?”
“What?” You’re kidding right?” Deeba couldn’t believe if she’d heard her correctly.
“I really have confirmed news thats he’s finally coming to some ‘Mushaa’era’ in front of the public for the very first time.” Sheeba smiled satisfactorily. “And guess what, it’s going to be in our very own city, our sweet dear Karachi.”
“Sheeba really?” Deeba was really excited, her breathing fast. “Please…..please…..tell me how and when?”
“No, not like this” Sheeba rose and put her hands on her waist.
“Blackmailing?”
“Whatever,”
“Okay, what do you want? Ice-cream, money, dinner or what?” Deeba asked helplessly, rising from her place.
“Umm I guess dinner will be fine, but I’d choose the meny right?”
“Oh Sheeba please. Now for God sake tell me everything in detail.”
“Okay Baba, but first sit down please.” Sheeb held her sisters hands in her own and made her sit in front of her.
“Well, do you remember I told you about Inter-colleges poetry contest?” Sheeba began after taking a long breath.
“Yes, what about that?”
“Today, classes were off early and we had nothing to do in college, so we decided to check that out. The contest was today and they had invited him as a chief guest.
“But he never goes…….” Deeba interrupted quickly.
“Yes, I know until now he’s never been to any function or contest or has not even given an interview ever. But someone told me that our college administration used a ‘big’ source to invite him there.”
“What do you mean?” Deeba asked, her eyes showing frustration and desperation
“They contacted him through his teacher, someone he really respects and calls as his ‘spiritual teacher’, his ‘Maulana uncle’.” Sheeba told her all in one breath.
“Oh, and who told you all this?”
“One of my class fellows is a daughter of our college principal.” Sheeba smiled, opening a chewing gum from it’s wrapper.
“And that’s where we met him.” She added.
“You mean, you alone?” Deeba’s eyes widened with astonishment.
“No. We were five girls in total, my class fellows.” She put the bubble gum into her mouth. “We all went to the contest, and it was just amazing. I don’t have words to explain what I felt out there. It was all so fabulous and fantastic. The aroma, the atmosphere, the guys, umm well….”
To Be Continued…
Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 3
He couldn’t think more. Such a shiny, bright ‘glow’ she had on her face.
Her hair was the first cloudiness which appears before rain. Her long, shiny locks were the source of comfort for the desperate and tired traveler.
The musical ringing of the phone in his room dispersed his thoughts. With slow, tired steps, he reached and picked up the reciever.
“Yes?” While holding the cordless reciever in one hand, he used the other to take his remainig cigarette to his dark lips.
“How’s my good boy today?” A soft, caring male voice came from the other side.
“Assalaam O Alaikum Maulana uncle.” He sighed with relief as he heard his teacher’s voice and then said, “I was actually going to call you in few minutes. I have some good news for you.” Not just his face, even his voice was smiling. “Thankfully, your prayers got colors.”
“You made my day son. I have waited so long for this very day.” Maulana uncle’s voice became shaky with emotion.
“Dr Waris has called me tomorrow for my final check up. He said that hopefully they would issue the mental health clearance certificate for me this time.” He said, leaning against the railing of the upstairs terrace. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark black hair.
“And what about police matters?”
“One of my friends talked to the D.I.G. Crimes, he has assured us that there are no more charges remaining on me now. My file has been closed. The police do accept the fact that whatever happened was something I did when I was not mentally normal.” He finished his long sentence. “I’d never forgive myself ever though.”
“Yes. Why not, thanks to Allah, you’re normal now, physically as well as mentally.” Maulana uncle was as supportive as ever. “It’s been a long way though.”
“Uncle, I don’t believe that it’s been more than two years now.” He took a long breath. “The loss is unbearable however.”
Maulana uncle remained silent this time.
“Uncle, tell me. Tell me, why does it hurt to love someone?”
From the other side, he heard a soft, sober laughter.
“People don’t offer thanks when they’re happy. Yet they object when they’re hurt.”
“I…I will be thankful this time.” He sobbed. “Sometimes, I just want my love back uncle. Although I know it’s impossible. Those who have gone forever, never come back.” He murmured painfully. “And please, not this time. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Your love was meant to be…….
“If it was meant to be, why did I lose her?” His voice became loud, as he cut in.
“You didn’t lose her…….I’d say you let her go!” Maulana uncke replied. “And that was your mistake.”
He did not reply. He had nothing to say.
“How’s your poetry going?”
“My only hobby these days.” He laughed emptily. “Yes I wrote something new.”
“And what it could be?”
“My new poem, want to hear?” He aksed, resting against the railing again and gazing far out to sea.
“Why not.”
Hearing his response, he set his neatly framed glasses back on his nose and opened his diary again.
“Alright, here it is…. I have dedicated this to her, the same person for whom I wrote it. By the way the title is ‘Thank you’.
“Hmm, sounds interesting. Lets begin now.”
He closed his eyes, tipped his head back again and began to read the poem in a soft, low voice but with an impressive accent and perfection.
My love…..
I am a different person,
a better person,
since we first met,
your honesty helped me
to see my weaknesses,
and your support helped me
to turn them into strengths.
Thank you,
for being my real, true friend
for not saying the things
you thought I wanted to hear,
but for saying the things
I needed to know.
Thank you for being my teacher!
I was helpless, you supported me
I was restless, you comforted me
I was ignorant, you acknowledged me
Thank you……
And now, I know, you’re not with me,
but know what? You’re still inme
Thank you for being my ‘everything’
“You there uncle?” Finishing his poem, he asked.
“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful my son.” Maulana uncle’s voice was laden with joy and appreciation.
“While thanking Allah for making us better and the best, we should not forget the channel which is the source between Allah and us. Your “thank you” is just fantastic.”
In answer, he smiled soberly and said, “Well, what can I say in answer except another “Thank you!”
Maulana uncle laughed again.
“Son, I’d like to suggest something for you and you really need that!”
“And what’s that uncle?”
“Change. You need change.”
“Change or ‘escape’ from my worries?”
“No, I mean change of atmospher. Go to some good picnic point of your city. It will provide you a chance to gather your thoughts again or….” Maulana uncle left his sentence unfinished.
“Or?”
“If you know what I mean, you can change your place too, I mean your home…….
“Uncle please…” He cut in sharply with pain.
“You know it’s one of the last memories of her. I can still fell her fragrance here. I can’t even think of leaving this place…
“But my child, don’t you think these three thousand yards are too big for a single,solitary you?”
“Uncle I suppose we shall leave this discussion for later times, if you don’t mind.” His voice became spotless, his face expressionless. “But I’d definitely think about what you said about change of atmosphere!” He assured him seriously,blowing off another puff of cigarette smoke.
“May this change bring many other pleasant changes to you son. I’ll visit you soon.”
“Thank you uncle. I’ll be looking forward to welcome you here.”
“Alright, and do inform me about your medical report as soon as you get it. Okay?”
“Sure uncle! Take care. Allah hafiz.”
Hanging up the phone, he finished off his remaining cigarette. Now, it was time to sleep.
“It won’t come so easily though.” His own smile was sarcastic for himself.
To Be Continued…
Her hair was the first cloudiness which appears before rain. Her long, shiny locks were the source of comfort for the desperate and tired traveler.
The musical ringing of the phone in his room dispersed his thoughts. With slow, tired steps, he reached and picked up the reciever.
“Yes?” While holding the cordless reciever in one hand, he used the other to take his remainig cigarette to his dark lips.
“How’s my good boy today?” A soft, caring male voice came from the other side.
“Assalaam O Alaikum Maulana uncle.” He sighed with relief as he heard his teacher’s voice and then said, “I was actually going to call you in few minutes. I have some good news for you.” Not just his face, even his voice was smiling. “Thankfully, your prayers got colors.”
“You made my day son. I have waited so long for this very day.” Maulana uncle’s voice became shaky with emotion.
“Dr Waris has called me tomorrow for my final check up. He said that hopefully they would issue the mental health clearance certificate for me this time.” He said, leaning against the railing of the upstairs terrace. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark black hair.
“And what about police matters?”
“One of my friends talked to the D.I.G. Crimes, he has assured us that there are no more charges remaining on me now. My file has been closed. The police do accept the fact that whatever happened was something I did when I was not mentally normal.” He finished his long sentence. “I’d never forgive myself ever though.”
“Yes. Why not, thanks to Allah, you’re normal now, physically as well as mentally.” Maulana uncle was as supportive as ever. “It’s been a long way though.”
“Uncle, I don’t believe that it’s been more than two years now.” He took a long breath. “The loss is unbearable however.”
Maulana uncle remained silent this time.
“Uncle, tell me. Tell me, why does it hurt to love someone?”
From the other side, he heard a soft, sober laughter.
“People don’t offer thanks when they’re happy. Yet they object when they’re hurt.”
“I…I will be thankful this time.” He sobbed. “Sometimes, I just want my love back uncle. Although I know it’s impossible. Those who have gone forever, never come back.” He murmured painfully. “And please, not this time. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“Your love was meant to be…….
“If it was meant to be, why did I lose her?” His voice became loud, as he cut in.
“You didn’t lose her…….I’d say you let her go!” Maulana uncke replied. “And that was your mistake.”
He did not reply. He had nothing to say.
“How’s your poetry going?”
“My only hobby these days.” He laughed emptily. “Yes I wrote something new.”
“And what it could be?”
“My new poem, want to hear?” He aksed, resting against the railing again and gazing far out to sea.
“Why not.”
Hearing his response, he set his neatly framed glasses back on his nose and opened his diary again.
“Alright, here it is…. I have dedicated this to her, the same person for whom I wrote it. By the way the title is ‘Thank you’.
“Hmm, sounds interesting. Lets begin now.”
He closed his eyes, tipped his head back again and began to read the poem in a soft, low voice but with an impressive accent and perfection.
My love…..
I am a different person,
a better person,
since we first met,
your honesty helped me
to see my weaknesses,
and your support helped me
to turn them into strengths.
Thank you,
for being my real, true friend
for not saying the things
you thought I wanted to hear,
but for saying the things
I needed to know.
Thank you for being my teacher!
I was helpless, you supported me
I was restless, you comforted me
I was ignorant, you acknowledged me
Thank you……
And now, I know, you’re not with me,
but know what? You’re still inme
Thank you for being my ‘everything’
“You there uncle?” Finishing his poem, he asked.
“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful my son.” Maulana uncle’s voice was laden with joy and appreciation.
“While thanking Allah for making us better and the best, we should not forget the channel which is the source between Allah and us. Your “thank you” is just fantastic.”
In answer, he smiled soberly and said, “Well, what can I say in answer except another “Thank you!”
Maulana uncle laughed again.
“Son, I’d like to suggest something for you and you really need that!”
“And what’s that uncle?”
“Change. You need change.”
“Change or ‘escape’ from my worries?”
“No, I mean change of atmospher. Go to some good picnic point of your city. It will provide you a chance to gather your thoughts again or….” Maulana uncle left his sentence unfinished.
“Or?”
“If you know what I mean, you can change your place too, I mean your home…….
“Uncle please…” He cut in sharply with pain.
“You know it’s one of the last memories of her. I can still fell her fragrance here. I can’t even think of leaving this place…
“But my child, don’t you think these three thousand yards are too big for a single,solitary you?”
“Uncle I suppose we shall leave this discussion for later times, if you don’t mind.” His voice became spotless, his face expressionless. “But I’d definitely think about what you said about change of atmosphere!” He assured him seriously,blowing off another puff of cigarette smoke.
“May this change bring many other pleasant changes to you son. I’ll visit you soon.”
“Thank you uncle. I’ll be looking forward to welcome you here.”
“Alright, and do inform me about your medical report as soon as you get it. Okay?”
“Sure uncle! Take care. Allah hafiz.”
Hanging up the phone, he finished off his remaining cigarette. Now, it was time to sleep.
“It won’t come so easily though.” His own smile was sarcastic for himself.
To Be Continued…
Friday, 5 August 2016
Must Read: The Silent Lover… Part 2
He closed his eyes to minimize the intense expression of pain. Then,
after taking few deep breaths, he began to write once again.
I will not talk about my dark, ill past. But for sure, at present, her love is the greatest present for me.
I love her not only for what she had made of herself but also for what she was making of me.
I love her for the part of me that she brought out.
“Did ‘she’ love me?”
Yes certainly. No other woman will ever love me like the way she did. Noone else will ever stand by me like her.
Finishing his last word, he stopped writing, took off his fine, neat, half-framed spectacles and blew off a long, cold, lonely sigh. Tipping his head back on the headrest of the easy chair, he finally closed his eyes.
“You look good in glasses”. Her wispher was very near.
“Huh?” He turned quickly to locate the source. Not here and there, she was nowhere. He was alone in his room. Memories were like endless rain for him. Once began, they would never stop. As her voice faded with his consciousness, he thought he felt a tear strike his cheek.
The wind was particularly cold and wet, even for December in Karachi. Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he stood up from his place and opened the side window. Sharp and cold wave of wind hit him full in the face, a stream of air with strong noise of sea waves nearby.
Thank God for the wind! It broke
the silence.
Through the huge plain glass window, he stared at the beach of white sand that seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Long white breakers came out of the night and broke on the shore. Far out at sea, mysterious offshore lights winked and moved steadily along.
With a long breath, he smelled the sea-scented air and closed his lashes. As soon as his anatomical eyes closed, his imaginative eyes opened and from the fantastic window of imagination, she came in front of him, like always. Smiling! Everything about her was absolutely beautiful. Even her appearance, he thought.
What to say about her external beauty and looks…….
If beauty is limited, then she has its final limit.
Smiles were not very usual feature of her personality.
“Because of myself.” He thought painfully. “Yes I didn’t give her much chance to smile. Rude, brutal, animal-like, I was like a sharp knife for her.”
“You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know what you’re really like! You’re a……a……bad-mannered, ill-tempered….savage!” His own conscience showed him the mirror.
Although he had not seen her smiling alot still he thought that flowers used to bloom when she smiled. Yes, her smile was as innocent as a young flower bud, as fresh as a sweet and scented morning breeze.
Apart from her smiles, he always wondered what was so “different” in her appearance. She sure had something unique and powerful in her face that always differentiated her from the other women. Only now he found out what made her face and her personality so different and impressive. Yes, it was that particular glory, that specific charisma, which comes only on the faces of those women who have strong character and firm principles. Who never comprimise on their beliefs and who observe…….
To Be Continued…
I will not talk about my dark, ill past. But for sure, at present, her love is the greatest present for me.
I love her not only for what she had made of herself but also for what she was making of me.
I love her for the part of me that she brought out.
“Did ‘she’ love me?”
Yes certainly. No other woman will ever love me like the way she did. Noone else will ever stand by me like her.
Finishing his last word, he stopped writing, took off his fine, neat, half-framed spectacles and blew off a long, cold, lonely sigh. Tipping his head back on the headrest of the easy chair, he finally closed his eyes.
“You look good in glasses”. Her wispher was very near.
“Huh?” He turned quickly to locate the source. Not here and there, she was nowhere. He was alone in his room. Memories were like endless rain for him. Once began, they would never stop. As her voice faded with his consciousness, he thought he felt a tear strike his cheek.
The wind was particularly cold and wet, even for December in Karachi. Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he stood up from his place and opened the side window. Sharp and cold wave of wind hit him full in the face, a stream of air with strong noise of sea waves nearby.
Thank God for the wind! It broke
the silence.
Through the huge plain glass window, he stared at the beach of white sand that seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Long white breakers came out of the night and broke on the shore. Far out at sea, mysterious offshore lights winked and moved steadily along.
With a long breath, he smelled the sea-scented air and closed his lashes. As soon as his anatomical eyes closed, his imaginative eyes opened and from the fantastic window of imagination, she came in front of him, like always. Smiling! Everything about her was absolutely beautiful. Even her appearance, he thought.
What to say about her external beauty and looks…….
If beauty is limited, then she has its final limit.
Smiles were not very usual feature of her personality.
“Because of myself.” He thought painfully. “Yes I didn’t give her much chance to smile. Rude, brutal, animal-like, I was like a sharp knife for her.”
“You act as if you were God Almighty, but I know what you’re really like! You’re a……a……bad-mannered, ill-tempered….savage!” His own conscience showed him the mirror.
Although he had not seen her smiling alot still he thought that flowers used to bloom when she smiled. Yes, her smile was as innocent as a young flower bud, as fresh as a sweet and scented morning breeze.
Apart from her smiles, he always wondered what was so “different” in her appearance. She sure had something unique and powerful in her face that always differentiated her from the other women. Only now he found out what made her face and her personality so different and impressive. Yes, it was that particular glory, that specific charisma, which comes only on the faces of those women who have strong character and firm principles. Who never comprimise on their beliefs and who observe…….
To Be Continued…
Must Read: The Silent Lover…
7th December, 2010
Karachi, Pakistan
5:00pm
I still don’t believe that I’ve lost her forever.
Perhaps I didn’t deserve her. She was such a nice lady, such a wonderful female. I know that I can find many girls in this world, even more beautiful and more attractive than she was. But no girl can fit into that specific portion of my heart that has been reserved only for her now.
[i]What shall I call her?[/i] Agressive? Absolutely not. She was so patient, so calm.
Hard and strict? Never. She was so flexible, so adaptable, very comprimising too.
Rude and proud? No way. She was modest, friendly, and sympathetic.
Extremist? Impossible. She sure knew her boundaries and limits.
No, there’s nothing I can call her. I can’t give her a single, sole name.
She was truly wonderful, capable of doing miraculous wonders.
She understood me. I don’t think that anyone could ever understand me like the way she did. She made me realize myself, arranging my life’s books neatly into this world’s shelf. It’s only because of her that I am who I am.
I will not say that she was perfect but she was the best one I ever could have hoped for, not only because she had a tremendous amount of unconditional love, but because she shaped who I am today, my qualities and characteristics. She was the one who made me beautiful in every sense. The kind you don’t see much anymore. She was simple but yet so mysterious. She was so familiar but ah, at the same time, so strange too.
In the paths of life, you find faces you can’t forget ever, no matter how much you try. Then how can I forget that fairy-face which made me accustomed to the reality of life? Those lake-deep eyes which, when low, used to bring night and when high, were the source of daylight.
She was the poetry of a born poet. Flowers needed her to grow; autumn required her to become spring.
She was definitely a dream girl, a beautiful scene of my sleep. But she was a reality too. A reality, which creates history. A reality, you can’t imagine your life without. She was so alive. One, who could give you life in one glance. There was just nothing else like her at all. It was her attitude toward life that made her uniquely captivating. She had a quick intelligence and a lively curiosity about anything she happened to encounter.
And then………she was gone when I needed her the most. She came and left. But she didn’t leave alone; she had my life too.
I’ll never understand one thing. Why those times pass so quickly when you’re happy? And why those times seem to stay forever when you’re sad?
Did I love her?
To Be Continued…
Karachi, Pakistan
5:00pm
I still don’t believe that I’ve lost her forever.
Perhaps I didn’t deserve her. She was such a nice lady, such a wonderful female. I know that I can find many girls in this world, even more beautiful and more attractive than she was. But no girl can fit into that specific portion of my heart that has been reserved only for her now.
[i]What shall I call her?[/i] Agressive? Absolutely not. She was so patient, so calm.
Hard and strict? Never. She was so flexible, so adaptable, very comprimising too.
Rude and proud? No way. She was modest, friendly, and sympathetic.
Extremist? Impossible. She sure knew her boundaries and limits.
No, there’s nothing I can call her. I can’t give her a single, sole name.
She was truly wonderful, capable of doing miraculous wonders.
She understood me. I don’t think that anyone could ever understand me like the way she did. She made me realize myself, arranging my life’s books neatly into this world’s shelf. It’s only because of her that I am who I am.
I will not say that she was perfect but she was the best one I ever could have hoped for, not only because she had a tremendous amount of unconditional love, but because she shaped who I am today, my qualities and characteristics. She was the one who made me beautiful in every sense. The kind you don’t see much anymore. She was simple but yet so mysterious. She was so familiar but ah, at the same time, so strange too.
In the paths of life, you find faces you can’t forget ever, no matter how much you try. Then how can I forget that fairy-face which made me accustomed to the reality of life? Those lake-deep eyes which, when low, used to bring night and when high, were the source of daylight.
She was the poetry of a born poet. Flowers needed her to grow; autumn required her to become spring.
She was definitely a dream girl, a beautiful scene of my sleep. But she was a reality too. A reality, which creates history. A reality, you can’t imagine your life without. She was so alive. One, who could give you life in one glance. There was just nothing else like her at all. It was her attitude toward life that made her uniquely captivating. She had a quick intelligence and a lively curiosity about anything she happened to encounter.
And then………she was gone when I needed her the most. She came and left. But she didn’t leave alone; she had my life too.
I’ll never understand one thing. Why those times pass so quickly when you’re happy? And why those times seem to stay forever when you’re sad?
Did I love her?
To Be Continued…
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