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;
"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."
