If I could

It was always there

and I realised

conscious.

Consciousness is bad

many other things

comparison.

Comparisons are worse

that one situation

judgement.

Judgments are the worst

and that multitude

discrimination.

Human.

ShoeString

Oh ! Hello Mister ! Do I know you? Ah,I see I know you too well. Please do not mind the mistake on my part. The darkness did me in, and you are so diminutive.

You have known me since day one, you say. How could have I not noticed you, if that was the way things stood? I refuse to believe in you. Yes, I agree I have been keeping busy and preoccupied since a long time. Probably that was why I was surprised when I saw you last week.

As you might have noticed from down there, I tend to be meticulous. And when I first saw you, I overreacted. I understand you are a tiny bit of fibre precariously attached to the stitches on my shoe and prima facie, are harmless. But you are such a disturbance.

You say you appear to be a disturbance only when I visually mutilate you and not otherwise. Well, I will agree here too. Otherwise, I am not too bothered about you. Though I understand I can clip you off, I don't. Too much of a bother, I realise.

You say I like you being where you are. You are probably right. And I hate you for that. You make me feel I am being dishonest with myself. But yes, you are right.

As I walk down the barely deserted morning roads of the city, I try to bring in that step which I was so proud of. Of course, no one knew of it. Sounds so girlish, doesn't it? And you are not going to give me that smile again. I like my music you see. I try to walk to the beats and I sometimes wonder what onlookers think of me. Oh ! You enjoy the steps you say? I will take a bow here.

I know I walk fast one too many times. How else do I vent all the wrath filled inside of me. If you are going to give me the "vent it on the person who deserves it" explanation you better refrain. I have got a credibility to protect and I would go through anything to guard that. People count me amongst the nicest persons, you see.

You say I start trembling when someone points my flaws out to me. Yes, I do. Does that make you feel less comfortable? I will try and be honest here. All my life I have tried to be too perfect. What? Perfect is superlative in itself and I need not add "too"? I will, nonetheless, only to signify my exaggerated attempts at attaining perfection. Blame it on my mother. All through my life I have tried to do justice to her expectations of me being a superhuman. I have always second guessed every decision I have taken. I am never satisfied with whatever I do, you say? How do you come up with such perfect inferences? Whatever, yes. I do live with the fear of "did I go wrong again?". So the insecurity I develop when someone questions me is only human.

How long will I take to get done with it? I do not know mister. I do not know. So you have to bear with me for some more time.

Yes, I know I smile at you every morning, when I sit cross legged. Of course, it is the only time we sit face to face. You will not like it if I reveal the real reason behind my smile. I smile at myself and not at you. And that because I forget clipping you off every evening.  You will not mind, you say? I take you so much for granted, don't I? Ha Ha Ha.

I do everything but whatever I am supposed to do? Maybe I am getting too old. You do not agree with me? And why am I not surprised? You warn me of honesty, I see, and I will try my level best. I have never ever wanted to be the person that I am now. The maxim "follow your heart" has always ended up being an oxymoron in my case. I am not this science loving, logical geek the world thinks I am. I have wept to music and reflected upon pictures. I have imagined myself in scenes from books and reveled in colours. I have dreamed of being a photographer, a writer, and once upon a time, a painter.

Why do I sing when no one is around? Is that any of your business? Oh, you are a part of my life, you insist and you are confident of me agreeing with you as well. Well, yes I do sing in solitude. And believe me, it works like magic. Lets me live the dream of a wannabe singer. I am very predictable you say? Do you know me too well?

I know I shake my legs to often. You insist I feel out of place at times. And are you not being so rude now. You got me, again. And it is not at times that I feel out of place. I feel out of place almost every time. I think too much? You are right, probably.

You complain against me chucking you into the shelf and bolting the door behind me. Do you not need your space and I mine? And am I not so right this time? I like that concurring smile.

Impatient, you say? And I have been culturing this thought that I have been a patient man ever since that trip back home. I am always in a hurry to finish things up and that has worked well with you, I see. But you must understand that I am only human. But how would you, eh? You are just another abiotic piece of human indulgence. Now let me have my time of the day.

Good morning mister. You smile at me and ain't that sarcastic? Oh! You are pointing at the "abiotic" crap I gave you yesterday. Alright, I agree, you were right. I notice you everyday, but just don't react. But I realise you have indeed become a part of my life and I will think twice before finally clipping you off. You smile again, eh?

Ain't that the same one you had smiled a while back? I know you too well.

That One Moment

It was late in the evening when I returned from my practice match.

"If only I had a Sunny Tonny !!! Would have nailed Nadeem right to the pavilion."

"Nah.. Nadeem is master class. Come on. His father was the most amazing medium pacer I ever played against. Got me eight times in seven games, you see."

"Abba, you never graduated from university level cricket. Zonals are different."

"Dude, the same university had the likes of Mushtaq Mohammad, Zaheer Abbas and Javed Miandad playing alongside us. Can the current crop ever match the greatness of these stalwarts. Moreover, look at the sad state of the team. Filled with fixers and bookmakers."

"Abba, we just whitewashed the top test team, England. The same team that had steamrolled the world champions last summer. Misbah is bringing in a revolutionary change and all the youngsters are up to it. Why should the whole team take the blame of what some numskull did for a few extra rupees? You will never credit the younger generation with what they deserve, will you?"

"You win buddy. Dinner?"

"What's for it?"

"Daal roti"

"Not again. We had some eggs right. How about egg curry?"

This was among the many similar evenings that we father-son duo shared. Shahid, my father, was a banker and used to be an aspiring cricketer in his university days at Peshawar. A tough Pathan, he had to give up only because a freak accident resulted in the amputation of one of his legs. Abba never complained, and this was not the sole incident which was the recipient of such privilege. Abba, amongst the most patient persons ever to have graced Planet Earth never complained. This led to people taking him for granted one too many times. But Abba never complained.

"Abba?"

"Yes Mr. Soon-to-be-Sachin Tendulkar"

"I have a match this week."

"And aren't you going to nail Nadeem this time. You have worked hard."

"Abba, Nadeem is master class. He has played under-19."

"You must remember one thing son. Never look at the bowler. It's the cherry you must focus on. You are destined for the big league. Just follow your instincts."

"Did you have to leave today Abba? Can you not stay for till the weekend?"

"I need to go Nadir. Lahore has better doctors you see."

"Abba, you just need to quit smoking. You do not need doctors."

"Your bhaijaan will have my head if I do not get to Lahore this time."

"You should have been with me Abba. You always listen to Bhaijaan."

"I wish I could son. But I really think I should be paying the doctor a visit now."

And Abba left for Lahore.

"Hello. Abba?"

"Its Qadir dude."

"Adaab Bhaijaan. Abba reached?"

"Yes, Abba just reached. He's gone to freshen up."

"I hate you Bhaijaan. You could have scheduled the appointment for next week. I could have joined in"

"Lahore is a busy city kiddo. And getting an appointment with Dr. Jehangir is almost rocket science. Chalo, I will give you a call later. Have a wonderful match and all the best with Nadeem."

"Shukriya Bhaijaan."

I was upset with Bhaijaan. How could Abba not be with me for a match? My performance in this match could get me into the zonal side and I was nervous. I somehow managed to hold myself for the weekend match. And I played fairly well. I scored 45, and managed to score three boundaries off the reverse swinging yorkers of Nadeem. I was confident.

"Hello. Bhaijaan?"

"Hey Kiddo, how was your match?"

"It was good. I scored 45."

"You won?"

"It ended in a draw Bhaijaan. But we went through to the quarter-finals by the virtue of an earlier win."

"God bless you kiddo."

"I want to talk to Abba. Please pass the phone to him."

"Abba has gone out for a walk kiddo. I will get him to talk to you later tonight."

The next day was a Monday, and college was to reopen that day. We were hailed in the assembly by the principal and I was singled out as a shining young prospect. I was happy.

Come Thursday.

"Hello. Abba?"

"Hey Kiddo !!! Good Evening. Abba has gone out for a walk brother. What's up?"

"Bhaijaan, I got selected for the Zonal Team. And guess who is the skipper. Misbah-ul-Haq. Yes, the national captain. Am I not the luckiest fellow in the entire universe?"

"Wow !!!! Well done kiddo. And many many congratulations. We will have a party for sure"

"How is Abba, Bhaijaan? When is he getting back? He was supposed to return today tomorrow?"

"Abba is doing good. He will take another week brother. Some tests to get done."

"Arrrrgh. I will die of boredom. I miss those dinner time quarrels with Abba. He just needs to quit smoking."

"Oh did I tell you he has?"

"Really? Thats some good news."

Abba did not return home after a week and I was getting increasingly pissed at Bhaijaan. Why did Abba had to go at all if he was quitting smoking?

"Hello, Nadir?"

"Bhaijaan !!! Either you send Abba home or I am reaching Lahore tomorrow."

"Abba is no more"

...

"Hello. Bhaijaan?"

"Yes kiddo. Are you ready for the debut? And you have no Nadeem here. You must be all gung-ho"

"Bhaijaan, I wish Abba was here"

"Kiddo, remember the old trunk in our attic"

"Yes, what about it?'

"Abba wanted you to have a look into it before your first Zonal match"

...

I opened the old trunk. A cricket bat with a letter attached.

"Nadir, for all the hours you put into cricket and for all the complaints you had against your bat. You are your own hero, son.

And thanks again, for living my dream."

I went into the match with my brand new Sunny Tonny.

The Long Night

25th June 1994.

Intikhab was visibly tired. It had been a very long day and he had no place to spend the night. All the hotels were occupied and Intikhab had no contact whatsoever in the city. Peshawar was never very crowded but it was the annual trade fair and Intikhab was late.

Intikhab sold gloves, especially so since he hailed from Sialkot. He took pride in the fact that gloves from Sialkot were considered the best in entire Pakistan. There was no trade fair which he had ever spared. he had sold gloves in Gujranwala, in Peshawar, and even in Karachi, which he considered to be his tour de force. 

This time around, he was late, and that was because of the unfortunate death of his Ammi. A joyful lady, she was his only strength. But Intikhab was not shattered. Friends called it his strength. Others found it strange. 

"Ya Allah !!", he stretched and started walking towards the railway station because that was the only place where he could get to rest his aching legs. 

"Some hot milk would help...", he muttered to himself as he spotted a small tea shop around the corner. As he was about to reach the shop, he felt someone tap his back.

"Excuse me?"

The voice did not alarm Intikhab. But that had nothing to do with the place. Peshawar was no New York and Sigdi Chowk was no Times Square. It always lost all its hustle after ten in the evening, and after that it was just the occasional tea shop or the railway station where you could spot a person or two. 

The voice did not alarm Intikhab because it was that of a woman.

"Yes ?"

"Intikhab Ali ?"

"Yes..", responded a surprised Intikhab. The woman was clad in a burqa and he clearly could not recognise the voice. "How do you know me?"

"Lahore Government College, Economics, remember anything? "

It had been fourteen years since Intikhab's graduation but then Intikhab had an elephant's memory. He seldom forgot things. He still remembered his first day at school, the day his father passed away when he was 3, the day he left Sialkot for Lahore when he was 4. So, obviously he remembered almost everything. But what had that got to do with this woman.

She lifted her veil.

"Firdaus...", and he paused.

His thoughts took him back to that night at Lahore. He had strictly followed this as a principle, that he would not think of that night ever in his life. But today, all principles had decided to go for a toss. 

...

25th June, 1980.

It was a windy night at Lahore, and everyone thought that a storm was brewing.

"What happened?"

"They loved the content. Have sent it for proofreading. Would you believe it? Firdaus Hussain will be an author soon"

"Congratulations !!!"

"Firdaus ! Firdaus !"

"One second Intikhab, its Abbu. I will be back in a moment"

... 

"Intikhab, please understand."

"What do you want me to do? Marry you when I have just started my business? Do you not understand that I need to pay off Ammi's loans first. What?"

"They are coming to see me tomorrow, and Abbu is very sure this time. You can at least talk to him."

"That even you can do right? And you are getting scared unnecessarily. You won't get married in a jiffy right."

"Do you not understand the gravity of the situation ? Abbu is sure this time. This has been his dream. I will be gone in two months."

"Then go and get married. Don't waste your valuable two months waiting for a pauper to turn into a prince."

"I just wanted you to talk."

"I won't, until I have paid off Ammi's loans."

"To hell with you and to hell with your Ammi."

The storm never arrived, and the next morning was as sunny as ever. 

And Firdaus never got to see him after that.

...

25th June 1994.

"How have you been Intikhab?"

"I have been doing good."

"How is Ammi?"

"She passed away last month."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. She had lived her life. Milk?"

"No thank you."

...

"Why did you go Intikhab?"

"I was angry, and you never stopped me."

"I searched for you Intikhab. But could not find you."

"Ammi needed me."

...

"I loved you Intikhab. You hurt me then."

"I am sorry Firdaus, but things cannot be undone, right? I loved you then and I love you now, but what is the purpose of such love?"

...

"Train Number 23477 Lahore Express will shortly arrive on Platform Number 1"

"So I guess this is it."

"Where are you heading for?"

"Lahore. Home."

"Have a good time ahead Firdaus. I am sorry for everything."

"Take care Intikhab. You are a good man. By the way, here is a copy of my book. You will like it."

As the train pulled out of the station, Intikhab looked at the cover. "Social Economics" was printed in bold letters.

"So you have become an author", smiled Intikhab.

He turned the book to have a look at the back cover. "Know your author", was written in italics followed by a paragraph;

" Firdaus Hussain (1955-1980): A dynamic socialist, Hussain started writing this book even before she had completed her post-graduation. 

...

Hussain met an untimely death just before the publication of the first edition of this book."

The Minute Minute

Foster decided to call it a day.

It was 10 PM and very cold. "It was never this cold last year. What's wrong man ??", he muttered as he unbuttoned his overcoat. For the part of the world where Foster lived in winter was never a big deal. But things were different this year and that was enough reason for Foster to crib.

He carelessly dropped the overcoat on the sofa and proceeded towards the kitchen, turning the radio on as he picked up a tumbler. "Sarah !!! Wake up !!!", he shouted.

"You're back",yawned Sarah as she lazily walked to the kitchen. Dinner was ready. Sarah returned from work early everyday, at 7. Foster always had this clear that he had to return home to his wife. That was one thing about his life that he loved the most. He had to step in and inhale the most wonderful air in all of the world. The air that had the scent of his wife's hair.

"Sweetheart, make me some coffee please."

"No coffee before dinner. You won't sleep then."

"Oh come on Sarah, one small cup"

"No way. We shall have dinner, and then I shall make you a mug of hot chocolate, and then we go to sleep. It's 11 already, you realise? You have a flight at 9 in the morning. You will miss it if you have coffee now."

"I shall miss you."

"Oh come on ! You are coming back in a couple of days"

"You never know sweetheart, the world is a weird weird place"

"Alright. Shut up now, and eat."

They laughed. And it was a gut busting laughter, cute in its own way.

Sarah was doing the dishes when Foster walked in, held her by her shoulders.

"You are one amazing woman"

"Yeah I have heard that before. What do you want?"

"One cup. Just one small cup..."

"You are having much more than that."

"Coffee."

"Oh come on now, did I not make it amply clear. No coffee for today"

" :( "

"Come on now. Go to bed. I will get the chocolate. You are such a kid."

Foster liked the chocolate better, for Sarah kissed him goodnight after that.




The phone rang as Foster was getting his glass filled with water. He was taken aback and this was evident since he dropped the glass as he realised the call.

"Hello"

"Hello Sir. This is Andrew from McMinister Life Insurance. May I talk to Mr. Fredrick Foster?"

"Yes, this is Fredrick Foster speaking"

"Alright Sir. This is regarding the maturity of a life insurance which was in your wife's name. You will have to answer a few basic questions, sir."

....

"Thank you for the information sir. And we at McMinisters are very sorry for your loss"


As Foster found it difficult to gulp down the water he had just got himself, a small drop of tear rolled down his cheek.

"I miss you Sarah. I wish I had coffee that night." 

Long Gone

Long gone is he who picked me up every time I stumbled across the doorstep. His arms were strong enough for me, and the falls were never in the back of my mind when they happened anytime later. My fulcrum, I was never afraid of any stone that crossed my way. I was never wary of any stone either. It was like a smooth sail, as smooth as it can get. My sea was calm. My sea was blue. My air carried the smell of rain and my rain brought with it renewed freshness.

Long gone is he who was by me through all evenings. The dark evenings were not dark enough when he used to light me my candle. The evening tea never tasted better than when I had it with him. He was my partner in solitude. Solitude? I always knew loneliness. He made me understand solitude. To him, solitude was music. It became my favourite piece of music too. The breeze brought with it the notes and with it followed a knock at the door by somebody called "bliss".

Long gone is he who put me to sleep every time I toiled hard to close my eyes. His caress was my biggest stress buster and the world's most potent sedative. We used to chat away to sleep as he sat by me, looking into my eyes as they gradually went deep into the corners of slumber. His words were music, and it never mattered if the radio was blurting out some weird metal track. He could outdo any interference, could outwit any trick. He was my superhero, too strong for anybody to affect my sleep.

Long gone is he who woke me up to sunny mornings. Waking up to his call was never a pain, and days never went berserk as long as he had wished me luck. Tiredness was my antithesis and zeal was my best friend. Work worked wonders and I was happy. Looking forward to the evening was something I had developed into a habit. My days were not long as long as I got his calls. I knew he would be waiting at home, for me to come back.

It had been a wonderful day at work when I returned home that evening. I thought I would open the door and surprise him. But I stumbled as I tried opening the door. The evening tea was bitter and the air was calm. There was no music as I pushed the windows open, the notes absent. I tried sleeping early but I could not. I could not feel the caress as I desperately tried to sleep. I did not realise when I closed my eyes.

Now that the sun has a blanket of clouds on and the morning is not sunny, I try to wake up.

But I can't.

Won't Let Go

Autumn comes and you decide to
Come to me as I continue to flow;
The chill and the air befriend you,
As I unsuccessfully try to wait, try to go slow.

I envy the tree which bears you all the time
The tree is there to stay;
I wish time went static, once if at all
Then I could have you, for once have my way.

But as I contemplate, I mock the tree
It only sees you smile;
I share your sorrow as I lose myself
When we go together, go that extra mile.

I lose myself, I merge into
The greedy ocean does have no complaint;
You don't care, neither seem to
Thousand miles !!! Things really do get faint.

The spring sun shines as you smile back
From the tree I used to know
You are back with the tree, in all glory
As I wish I had not let you go....