Khuda Aur Mohaabat: English Novel!!.

CHAPTER 1

THE FIRST RAIN

It was perhaps, the rumbling of the wheels of the aeroplane on the runway that awakened me from my half-asleep condition. The aeroplane had landed at London's Heathrow Airport and was now slowly moving on the runway towards the parking area. According to the announcement of the air hostess, it was six O' clock in the morning in London.

The city of London was engulfed in the darkness resembling the twilight. It appeared as if it had been raining throughout the previous night and the small drops of the light spray of rain could be seen quivering on the wind screen of my seat. Rains are indeed a strange phenomenon of nature. Sometimes, heavy rains continue to fall throughout the life, but still, the inside of man remains dry as ever, while at other times, only a few drops are quite sufficient to make us thoroughly wet although those who are around us, remain utterly unaware of our condition. This first rain of London was also of a similar nature. It made me wet from outside but my inside aridity was still piercing into my throat like sharp thorns.

The aeroplane had now been joined to its scheduled tube on the parking stand and one after the other, the yawning passengers were descending on the terminal by means of the tube. By the time I reached the lounge, the dim whiteness of the morning had become slightly visible on the horizon. But on account of the dark thick clouds and continuous drizzling, pale yellowish darkness, similar to that of a sad evening, could still be seen outside the glass wall of the lounge.

I am Hammad Amjad, the offspring of an illustrious traders' family of Pakistan. My ancestors have always held highly important government posts before and after the creation of Pakistan . Since long, trade has been the favourite occupation of my family and top ranking government officials of the country have always regarded it as an honour to be invited by us to evening tea. The same Hammad Amjad stood alone and dejected in the Arrival Lounge of London's Heathrow Airport on that cold and wet morning. Apparently, I had come to London with the intention of getting a two-year degree from the Economics Department of Kingston University but I knew very well that it was only a pretext and a means of seeking escape from myself. I had made up my mind to get involved in the hustle and bustle of London to such an extent that I might not be able to find even a single moment to spend in my own company. I had a strange state of mind at that time. I was ready to cope with the unpleasant existence of others but was quite unwilling to face myself even for a single moment. By all means and standards, man is a helpless creature. He may shatter into bits all the mirrors that he finds in the outside world around him, but he will have to face his inside mirror all the time whether he likes it or not.

By the time I went out of the terminal after getting clearance from the Customs officials and passing through other routine procedures, a few star-like flakes of snow have got mixed up in the cold air blowing outside. As I took the first step into the open atmosphere, a severe cold wave had a shivering and chilling impact on my whole body and quite spontaneously my hands rushed towards my overcoat collars and I properly covered my whole body. However severe and intense the cold may be, its first wave always creates a sense of freshness in you. This gust of cold wind also awakened all of my inner sensations. I began looking around in search of Kamran who had been my bosom friend since childhood but as I was already expecting, as far as I could see, I could find no sign of him anywhere.

At first, I thought of taking a taxi and going to his flat myself. I had already visited London several times and it was by no means an unknown or new city for me. But later on, thinking something else, I picked up my single suitcase from the airport terminal and began dragging it towards a distant piece of land having some dried grass on it. There was a row of beautiful wooden benches placed at some distance from one another. I decided to sit there and wait for Kamran.

The mixture of snow flakes in the air had increased steadily and by the time I reached my selected bench, snowfall had started. I can still remember those childhood days when in the evening, Kamran and I used to see the typical white milky snow clouds in the sky and spent the whole night lying in our beds, praying for the snow to fall. The next morning, we used to be overwhelmed with joy on seeing the star-like snow flakes falling on the ground and the whole city covered with the white blanket of snow. We would immediately rush outside and become busy throwing snowballs at strangers and passersby in a secretive manner, while the members of our family were searching for us everywhere. I wonder why those blissful winter months of childhood fly away in the twinkling of an eye while the scorching heat of youth continues to overshadow us for centuries without the slightest respite.

The piece of land where I was sitting was somewhat elevated from the ground and I could, therefore, quite easily catch the glimpses of tall old buildings of London in the distance. Within a short time, the whole city was completely covered with snow and some distant on-looker might have considered me as well to be a statue made of snow. There was no news of Kamran as yet, but he had been the same type of careless chap right from his childhood. In our childhood, both of us had been extremely reluctant to get up early in the morning and as I still remember, even during annual examinations, we hardly managed to reach the examination hall after the distribution of question papers. Childhood was spent in the same delightful and take-it-easy manner but then, all of a sudden, the family circumstances of Kamran took a tragic turn when his parents passed away in a traffic accident. Kamran was left alone in the house because her only elder sister had already got married and gone to her in-laws. After his father's death, it was revealed to Kamran that he had inherited a huge burden of unpaid debts from his father. As the demands of the creditors increased, Kamran was left with no option but to sell his native home and remaining property and shift to London. He opened a small restaurant in London with the little bit of money he had after the payment of all the dents. With the passage of time, life became easier for him and he fully adapted himself to the life of London. In fact, he had always been very fond of London and same was the case with me. Perhaps, both of us had a conservative spirit and conservativism and melancholy are the typical characteristics of London. Every city has its own peculiar temperament and characteristics. I had never like to live in howling, screaming and noisy cities, which are hot, humid and suffocating and where one is always haunted by the fear of losing something. I have always been impressed by people and cities having calm and cool temperament. Cities like London are capable of absorbing the pains and sorrows of people eager to lead a calm and quiet life.

As I looked around, I saw a smiling young couple passing from in front of me. The girl had a closer look at me. Her cheeks were becoming fiery red due to cold and her eyes had a constant smile. As she saw me, she smiled and after wishing me good morning, they went to a bench placed at some distance, sat there and became busy in their amorous exchanges. It was quite evident from their dress that they had come out in this biting cold for the sake of jogging. I smiled while thinking about the severity of weather and the romantic activities of such young romantic lovers. Weather has different impacts on different people. I can still recall those snowy winters which I spent in my native city of Quetta. I used to observe that when snow fell throughout the night, the poor labourers and workers would come out early next morning along with the members of their families and got busy in removing snow from in front of their doors and from their rooftops with the help of shovels and large wooden boards. The reason was that if this snow was allowed to stay on the roofs of their unpaved houses for a long time, it could create damaging holes in the roofs. All through the winter, they kept on praying to the Almighty God to protect them from such severe snowfall. But here in London, the scene was quite the opposite. Undaunted by the heavy snowfall, these two young lovers had come out of their homes in the hope of enjoying the weather. Weather is the same but its impacts are not the same for all the people. Suddenly, the chain of my thoughts was abruptly disrupted when I found someone violently shaking my shoulders and saying, "Wake up sir, Narowal Junction has come."

In astonishment, as I looked up, I saw Kamran's face because the rest of his body was completely wrapped in warm clothes. With all his evils, he was smiling and looking towards me. Both of us were locked in a warm embrace.

"Excuse me my dear Medi, I'm a bit late. But what are you doing here, sitting in this snow? I've ransacked the whole terminal in search of you while you are sitting here?"

It was my first meeting with Kamran after two years. Two years ago, he had come to the same Heathrow Airport to bid farewell to me. Till that time, life was full of beauty and charm; and I had come to London only for the purpose of roaming about and for listening to the futile fuss of Kamran. True friends of childhood are just like tall shady trees which provide immense calm, comfort and relief to those who sit under their shade. For a moment, while I was embracing Kamran, I too had forgotten my burning wounds.

Suddenly, he detached me from himself, had a closer look at me and remarked, "Medi dear, why are you looking so weak?"

Giving him the handle of my suitcase I replied, "I wish I could give a similar opinion about you."

Kamran laughed and boldly remarked, "Well my dear friend, you know very well that right from my childhood, whatever I eat, has a rapid and positive impact on my health. Now, do you plant to stand here and freeze to death, or do you wish to accompany me to my home?"

As Kamran stepped forward, I noticed that on the nearby bench, the English couple was still engrossed in each other under the cover of snow, quite indifferent to the whole world. Seeing the boy, Kamran heaved a long sigh and mumbled to himself, "I wonder why the standards of London blonds have gone so low these days."

Taking long strides, Kamran was moving forward on the carpet of snow spread on the earth and was leaving behind his foot marks on the snow. Like an enchanted soul, I was simply walking behind him and following his footsteps. Kamran's Morris Car was parked at a nearby place. My luggage was packed into the dickie and we left for Kamran's flat.

CHAPTER 2

THE SAME EVENING AGAIN

In about an hour's time, we reached Kamran's flat situated in South London. By the time I took shower, Kamran had prepared breakfast. I was not feeling so hungry, but as usual, Kamran was busy displaying his traditional enthusiastic hospitality. After taking breakfast, I went to sleep while Kamran left for his restaurant.

Perhaps at four in the evening, I was awakened by some noise. Kamran's flat was situated in a posh area of London. It was in fact a long row of double-storey apartments built with red bricks. These apartments had been built in about eight or ten rows between very wide roads. Each row had eight double-storey apartments joined together in such a way that the orchards in front of all the houses could be seen together in a straight line. However, in order to create a separation between the houses, there was a beautiful red fence in the middle, which had been cut in a balanced form. Outside each house there was a beautiful post box, bearing the name of the owner of the house. I remembered my childhood days when during the drawing period, all the students in the class had to draw in their drawing copybooks a small house similar to this wooden postbox. With its balcony, the window of my room opened towards the back road. The slight noise that I could hear was also coming from the apartment of the second row built on the same back road. I opened the glass door that opened into the balcony and came out on the terrace. The snow fall had stopped but as far as I could look around, everything had been covered with snow. Across the road into a street, some children were busy making a snowman. The noise that I have just mentioned was being produced by their innocent laughters and loud argumentation. One group of children wished to fix a carrot in place of the man's nose while the other group wanted to use a wooden nail to improve the form of the nose. At last, both the groups unanimously agreed to use the carrot for this purpose and the snowman was given a hat, a muffler and a coat as well. The passersby stopped for a while, looked at what the children had made, smiled and went away. Now, it was getting dark; and like other winter evenings, that evening was also quickly merging into the night. The mothers of the children who were peeping at them through the doors and windows, began calling them and one after the other, the children begged leave from their playmates and went home. Perhaps, from their inside, all the mothers of the world are of the same type. They forbid their children to play in the darkness, urge them to return home before the setting of the sun and if they are late in returning, they (mothers) stand in the doors, windows and courtyards and call them loudly.

With the advancing evening, the intensity of cold was also increasing. The roadside coffee seller was presenting hot mugs of espresso coffee to the people who were passing by. The shivering couples stopped on their way for a while, gulped down hot coffee and then resumed their onward journey. Even at that moment, a beautiful young couple had stopped in front of the coffee stall for drinking coffee. With her large eyes, the girl was mischievously looking towards the boy from behind the steam that was rising out of the large mug of simmering coffee. While talking, she was continuously smiling. We the human beings have a very superficial approach and are quite incapable of looking beneath the surface of things. The steam that rises out from the coffee mug is visible to everyone but the smoke rising from the hearts of the people around us remains hidden from our eyes. There was now complete darkness all around and the roadside lamp posts had started emitting light. It was the same evening again and the same dark ominous shadows of old memories had once again surrounded me. It is said that evening is the time of the setting sun but the setting sun is not the only idea associated with the evening time. Evenings had always pressed heavily upon my nerves. During the whole of my life, I have never felt so much loneliness in any other part of the day or the night, as I have felt in the evening.

All of a sudden, the telephone placed in the lounge of the flat began ringing. From the other side, Kamran was speaking in his lively and cheerful voice, "O my prince of the fairyland of sadness, what about the supper? If you wish to go outside, get ready. I'll be back in half an hour's time. In case you like to eat something at home, let me know; and I'll tell the driver to buy something on the way back."

"So now you've got a driver as well?" I asked in some surprise.

Kamran laughed in his typical style and replied, "The fact is that while driving back home from my caf, I act as my own driver. When I tell others that I've got a driver, I only wish to impress them with my personality."

I uttered a few words in his condemnation and remarked while hanging up, "Kamran, you are simply incorrigible. I'm in no mood to go out. Let's have our dinner together here at home."

Within a short time, Kamran arrived home with all the essentials of the night meal. While driving back home, he had bought from the market some ready made food items. Soon, like a prudent housewife, he heated them and placed them on the table. After the meal, we had a course of coffee during which, Kamran finally said something which I had unconsciously been attempting to avoid since morning.

Taking a long sip of hot coffee, Kamran looked towards me quite attentively and said, "Medi dear, I never expected you to surrender so easily."

"When the enemy himself appears in the rival's camp and implores that this victory is the only asset of his life, people like me have to give in," I replied, while deliberately attempting not to look towards him.

My reply further increased Kamran's curiosity and restlessness instead of decreasing it. With a sense of frustration, he began to speak rather loudly, "I've never been able to understand your logic. For the sake of that girl, you revolted against the whole world and then, despite stiff opposition from your whole family, you remained firmed and resolute and gallantly faced the storm. You were disowned by your father, your mother broke off her relationship with you and you were deprived of your home. What happened then all of a sudden which forced you to take a u-turn and give up so easily?"

A weak smile appeared on my lips. "Perhaps, the hardships and ordeals of time had made me realize that love is a folly and that those who abandon the ease and comfort of their homes and wander about in deserts and jungles for the sake of love are fools and nothing else."

Kamran stood up from the sofa, came close to me, placed his hand on my shoulder, bent and looked straight into my eyes. "Mr. Hammad Amjad Raza," he began to speak. "I know you since you were six years old. We've been together for the last twenty years. Our childhood and youth are evident to each other like a mirror. You are also included among those people who renounce the soft and warm beds of home and are driven from pillar to post. At the moment, you are tired. Go to bed now and we'll talk about the matter at some other time."

Kamran patted me on my back and went towards his room while I remained seated there in the easy chair in front of the window and continued to hear the typical sound of the falling snow on the branches of the trees which were bending down under the weight of snow. Outside, the sky had turned fiery red and inside the room, there was the sound of the snapping of wood in the fireplace and the shadows of rising flames on the wall. At this hour of the night, my mind traveled back to that evening two years ago, when I had my first meeting with Iman.

CHAPTER 3

THE BLUE SEASON OF LOVE

Our family was included among the most influential and most affluent families of the city. After retiring as Commissioner, my father began taking care of the vast agricultural lands that had once belonged to our forefathers. It is another thing that he could never become a landlord in the true sense of the word, because, the strict bureaucrat that lay hidden in him, always figured prominently in him and dominated his personality. My mother was the daughter of an eminent landlord and thus possessed all the characteristics of educated women belonging to the feudal class. Even her Master's degree in English Literature had failed to bring about any change in her personality. We were a happy and prosperous family of three brothers and a sister and were passing our life in our own typical fashion. My father had always been in close contact with the most important political figures of the country and every evening, our drawing room was filled with the incumbent ministers and members of the ruling class. Since childhood, it had been a matter of great astonishment for me that despite the frequent change of governments in the country, the same political faces could be seen in different forms in my father's drawing room. Perhaps, my father enjoyed friendly ties only with those politicians who were capable of always rocking in the cradle of power, whatever the circumstances might be. It was perhaps, due to this very reason that he had arranged the marriage of his eldest son Sajjad and his daughter Madiha into such ruling families. My sister Madiha was married to a boy belonging to a highly influential family of Sindh. Apparently, they belonged to Sindh, but their new generation had seen no other city of Pakistan except its capital Islamabad. Madiha had also started living in Islamabad after her marriage. My elder brother Sajjad was also married to a girl belonging to an aristocratic family of Punjab. My Brother's wife Abrina was always keen and anxious to prove that her high class family was in no way inferior to ours. My brother Sajjad was always so busy in his business affairs and foreign tours that he could hardly ever spare some time for his wife. Consequently, she and my mother kept themselves busy in making arrangements for all the family parties and functions. As far as I (Hammad Amjad) and my younger brother Ibad (who was the darling of the whole family) were concerned, we did not have the least interest in the noisy activities and festivities of our home. I had recently got Master's degree and Ibad had also completed his graduation. Right from the beginning, I had never been interested in leading my life according to some particular plan or discipline and, therefore, despite the repeated insistence of my father, I had not yet agreed to assist him in his business affairs. For this very reason, he was somewhat annoyed with me in those days. On the other hand, Ibad had never wanted to do anything in Pakistan. He had always been obsessed with the desire of settling abroad but he was too shy to talk to Father on this matter in a decisive manner. Parties and get togethers were held most frequently in our house, under one pretext or the other. At times, I thought that we the rich people have got very few excuses for enjoyment and celebration. I have read somewhere that the rich are wrong to believe that the poor are happier than they and in the same way, the poor are wrong in their opinion that the rich are leading a happier life than theirs. Perhaps, someone has said it very rightly.

Another party had been arranged at our house on that day on the pretext that the only son of my brother Sajjad had completed the first Para (Part) of the Holy Quran. In imitation of one another, it is becoming a common fashion in the rich families to employ some Maulvi in order to teach the Quran to the children in the evening. Or, it might have been the outcome of the strict training and upbringing which my father had received from his father in his childhood. Whatever the reason was, he ordered Brother Sajjad to arrange some Maulvi who could come in the evening and teach the Holy Quran to his little son Sunny. It is another thing that on most days of the month, the Maulvi had to return home from the gate of our bungalow without teaching anything because of some party or ceremony being held inside. How could be a simple minded poor Maulvi and his old-fashioned bicycle could be fitted into the clamour and glamour of the highly sophisticated parties? Abrina (My brother's wife) herself strongly disapproved the coming of this type of Maulvi to teach her son but who could speak out against the dictates of our father? Thus, quite unwillingly, this formality was being observed. I wonder why we the rich are so far away from such formalities while the poor are so near to them. While we treat religion as a mere formality, the poor observe every formality as a part of religion.

On a couple of occasions, I myself had an informal exchange of greetings with this Maulvi outside the home on the way as well as in that part of the lounge where he used to sit and teach Sunny. Maulvi Alimuddin was a simple man, having a thin and lean body, and an impressive looking bright face. He used to wear spectacles and was always dressed in white clothes consisting of Kurta Pajama (Shirt and trousers). He was a quiet sort of person having a dignified appearance and always liked to lower his head and eyes while talking. Daily at four in the evening, he arrived on his old-fashioned Rally Bicycle and silently sat wherever he was told to sit by the servants, and waited for Sunny to come down. I always wondered how he was able to control a naughty little child like Sunny. I had personally seen the way in which Sunny had always been giving a very tough time to the rest of his home tutors. But quite unexpectedly, he always sat in a respectful and decent manner in front of the Maulvi. On one or two occasions, I secretly attempted to incite Sunny to make some mischief with the Maulvi, but Sunny remained unaffected.

Sunny had successfully finished the first Para (Part) of the Holy Quran and to mark this occasion, a party was being held in the house that evening. As Sunny was the cause of the party, he had requested the organizers of the party to invite his teacher the Maulvi along with other guests. He had threatened that if his request was not granted, he would stay away from the party and would not wear the dress of his mama's choice. Initially, this request of Sunny was bitterly criticized by my mother and Abrina. How could a poor old man having a long white beard be accommodated in a modern party being attended by all the prominent ladies of the city, who were expected to arrive wearing dazzling dresses and sophisticated jewellery, accompanied by their domesticated and henpecked husbands, in their long majestic cars of the latest model? It was like a patch of coarse rug in a velvet sheet, or like a fly in the ointment.

But no one had ever been able to stand against the obstinacy of Sunny and the same thing happened that evening. At last, it were the ladies of the house who had to yield. However, another problem arose which brought fresh tears into the eyes of Sunny. During the previous evening, the domestic servants had already informed the Maulvi about the party and told him not to come the next evening. Thus, there was no chance of his coming and attending the party. As Sunny wept and cried, it was revealed that my father's special driver Shakir knew the Maulvi's address, because, once he too lived in that old locality of the city where Maulvi Alimuddin was still living. It was decided that Shakir would go and formally invite the Maulvi and his family to attend the party. Sunny was still somewhat doubtful about the matter and, therefore, he also accompanied Shakir in his car to the Maulvi's house. The time fixed for the start of the party had almost come. There was already some delay while we were all waiting for the Maulvi's arrival. At that time, I was indolently lying on the bed in my room and changing the channels of the TV placed in front of me. All of a sudden, my younger brother Ibad opened the door and burst into the room. Addressing me he said, "Hi Big B! Are you in no mood of coming downstairs? The party has already started.?

As usual, Ibad was dressed in a suit and matching bow for the evening party. Seeing him, I laughed quite spontaneously.

"Well Ibad, the way you've got ready for the party suggests that the issue of your marriage is finally going to be decided this evening."

"Come on Big B. You know I always love to remain smart and well-dressed," replied Ibad with an unpleasant expression on his face.

I switched off the television with its remote and threw the pillow towards Ibad

"I know all about your elegant dresses and your smartness. In this spick and span condition, you must be going to the party in order to welcome some new love. I wonder if all the girls of the city are suffering from the inflammation of eyes. Otherwise, how could they ever look towards you?"

"You must have heard the old proverb, a prophet is never honoured in his own country. Same is the case with me. You people are not aware of my real worth," replied Ibad with a big laugh and added, "Anyhow, get ready as soon as you can. The Commissioner has issued strict orders that all the people should be present downstairs."

While we were alone, Ibad and I used to refer to our father as "Commissioner". I was somewhat annoyed and disgusted and said, "O my God! What the hell is this all about! Why is an innocent and trivial formality relating to a child being so much exaggerated into an ostentatious public affair? Daily, all over the world, thousands of children finish the whole Quran and learn it by heart, but nowhere is it so much publicized. I'm simply fed up with the parties on such occasions."

"Come on Big B! Don't get upset, be a support," remarked Ibad in a way as if he were trying to make me understand the situation. "I also know that it's only a pretentious affair. But if not for the sake of someone else, do come downstairs at least for the innocent delight of Sunny. He is so much attached to you."

Ibad shut the door and went downstairs. He knew very well that I would surely attend the party for Sunny's pleasure, though with an unwilling heart.

Perhaps, pleasing some of our dear ones serves as the basic motive in ninety per cent decisions of our life. We lead only a small fraction of our life for ourselves. Most of our life is consumed in pleasing others.

CHAPTER 4

THE SAME LOVE AGAIN

In the cantonment area of the city, eminent members of aristocracy have got magnificent houses, each of which is spread over several acres of land. In the same vicinity, there is a road having trees on both sides. At the end of the road, there is a grand mansion belonging to the retired Commissioner Amjad Raza. Once again that evening, it was glittering with the light of electric bulbs. The heat of the sun had gone but the evening had not yet spread its wings. The Commissioner's old Mercedes Car which was now mostly used for domestic purposes, soon appeared from some distance. It was being driven by our oldest driver Shakir. With an expression of immense delight, Mr. Sunny was sitting in the car as if he had returned from a highly successful adventure. Seated on the back seat were two extremely shy girls clad in white shawls clinging together. However, there was no sign of Maulvi Alimuddin. Before reaching near the large fenced gate, the driver blew the horn twice in his peculiar fashion to announce his arrival. Receiving this signal, two servants rushed out of a wooden cabin, that had been built along the huge gate having iron fences. They opened the gate before the car could reach there. The blue Mercedes of the Commissioner swiftly entered the house.

By the time I got ready and reached the party hall downstairs, almost all the guests had arrived. As soon as he saw me from a distance, Sunny waved his hand as if he had got something very important to tell me. But at that moment, he was completely surrounded by his friends and cousins and, therefore, it was impossible for him to come closer to me. As usual, Ibad was making best possible attempts to impress the ladies, their daughters and other girls. In another corner of the room, Father and Brother Sajjad were busy in striking business deals with some eminent figures of the business community. Father was always keen to grasp such opportunities for promoting his business. There was a considerable hustle and bustle in the hall which seemed to be flooded with lights and colours. In this festive atmosphere, Mother and Abrina were busy using all possible ways and means of impressing the invited ladies. They were talking about the latest jewellery, upcoming fashions and plans of spending the summer vacation in France or Switzerland. Such colourful discussions and glamorous dresses were giving the impression that the grand show had been arranged to celebrate Sunny's marriage instead of his completion of the first Para of the Holy Quran. While coming downstairs, I had received salutations and greetings from several dreamful eyes, but as Kamran had once said, I had been extremely ungrateful in such matters. For some unknown reasons, the idea of love and romance always made me laugh. I had not even formally liked women the way in which they are generally described in our common romantic stories. Perhaps, one of its major reasons was that throughout my academic career I had received co-education and eversince my childhood, girls had been my best friends with whom I had spent a sufficient amount of time in their toy rooms (in childhood), study rooms (in adolescence) and bedrooms (in youth). Thus for me, all the girls attending the party were mere girls and nothing else. They were just like a large number of class fellows living together in a hostel. I knew all of them very well and same was the case with them. I had acted as a trustworthy confidant for many of them. But I wonder why I could never realize the fact that all these girls had now crossed the boundaries of childhood and adolescence and reached their youth, where each of them required only one man who could become their husband and serve as their only confidant. All of them were the daughters of the members of gentry and those bureaucrats who had retired with my father. To have a glimpse of the youthful and modern beauty of these girls, ordinary college boys spent the whole day wandering through the streets of the cantonment area. But I had been so close to this beauty that its observation had become a routine matter for me. To be more truthful and honest, I had never liked to be restless for the sake of a person who is almost similar to me. The fact is that most of the girls who came into my life were foolish, having the same type of styles and manners. In the presence of boys, they tried to look very serious and sober, but while they were in the company of other girls, they talked about the boys exactly as we boys talked about them when we were alone.

As I was coming down stairs, the first girl who seized me was Lubna the daughter of Mrs. Ishrat. "O Medi! Where do you live these days? What an indifference! What an insensitivity!"

"I've heard that one must keep oneself at an arm's length from the beautiful maidens," I replied rather teasingly.

"O You naughty boy!" she remarked with a smile and added, "Are you coming to our home on Thursday to attend Salma's engagement party?"

Lubna's sister Salma was younger than her by one year. I looked towards her in utter astonishment and asked, "Is Salma going to be engaged?"

"Yes, she's going to be engaged," replied Lubna quite frankly.

"But what about those promises which Salma had made with me?" I asked her.

Lubna turned around, looked towards me and began to speak in a romantic tone, "As far as those promises are concerned, she has transferred those promises to me and I'm prepared to wait for their fulfillment, till I become an old woman. Do tell me now, will you come to us on Thursday?"

In the meantime, Maria and Humera arrived there from different directions. They strongly disapproved my standing there all alone with Lubna. Humera was aware of the fact that I was very fond of black dress. For this reason, just to attract my attention on that occasion, she was wearing a black Sari; and to be honest, her white colour matched well with the black Sari.

As usual, Maria was wearing flippers and a tight shirt of the latest fashion. "Medi," she began to speak in a rather proud tone. "You seem to have locked yourself indoors after the completion of your university studies. You are meeting me tomorrow evening. I've got several things to tell you. No excuses."

Standing at some distance, Naila and Pinky were angrily glaring at me while I was talking to Maria. The threatening gestures which they were making to me suggested that they were determined to take me to task, whenever they got the opportunity to see me alone.

It is surprising to note that whenever all those girls were alone, they had the same type of secrets to reveal, the same complaints to make and the same words to say. Perhaps, all the girls of the world were created at the same place and with the same material. Whenever they got a chance of meeting me alone, all of them complained that after the completion of my studies, I had stopped paying attention towards them. Under one pretext or the other, they repeatedly held my hand, showed the signs of annoyance and finally, they themselves changed their mood and became friendly again. All of them had the same type of romanticism to show. They vigorously complained that I had never attempted to know what I actually meant for them. They all protested that while I was indifferent towards them, with utmost love and care, they had preserved in their hearts the blissful memories of the time that I had spent with them in their childhood and adolescence.

At times, I was amazed to think about the deep rooted impacts of the childhood memories and childhood romances in the minds of these girls. It appears that during their childhood, girls make innocent friendships with the boys only in the hope of making them the prince of their dreams in their youth.

Anyhow, till that time, I was totally unaware of the true meanings of this romanticism. I did not know what an honour it is to be the beloved of someone. People spend their whole life in making love but only the chosen few are fortunate enough to be blessed with the prestigious honour of being the beloved of someone. Most of us spend most of our lives struggling to make others our own beloved, because, we do not have the power to become the beloved of someone else. It is a unique honour which descends from the heavens on a few fortunate souls, but quite ironically, those who are blessed with this honour, are themselves unaware of its true value and sanctity.

In a cheerful mood, I continued to march forward among the guests, meeting all of them, flirting with the beautiful girls and exchanging jokes with them. Till that moment, I was quite unaware that very soon, I was going to be caught up in the blue season of love, which seemed to be hovering around me for centuries, waiting for a suitable opportunity to overwhelm me. Then, all of a sudden, I felt as if my feet had been glued to the wooden floor of the hall. All the noise and clamour and the enchanting music of the silvery laughters were suddenly brought to a halt. Everything stood still and it appeared as if with the help of a magical remote, someone had cast a spell on the whole gathering, making it motionless. She was sitting in front of me in a confused, frightened and petrified condition, under the cover of her long white Dupatta (head covering or stole). She was attempting to protect herself from the eyes of the men who were passing by. In this process, with the mixture of pink colour, her gold like colour was further warming up. For a moment, she lifted her thick black eyebrows and forever, I was drowned into the ocean of those eyes. What a drastic change occurred in the twinkling of an eye. If people describe such events as sudden attacks of cupid, it was indeed the most merciless and most relentless attack that I had ever experienced in my life. I knew not, who that girl was, clad in white dress. When compared to her exquisitely delicate appearance, the whole gathering appeared to be a coarse rug while she herself looked like a patch of velvet in that rug. It does not mean that she was the only beautiful girl present on the occasion. The party was in fact, a grand panorama of stunning beauties who were capable of attracting and detracting anyone at any time. But there was something unique and rare in this girl who was sitting silently and shyly in one corner of the room, beside another girl who looked a bit younger having a somewhat similar appearance. From her long dark hair to her dainty little shoes, she seemed to be a whole world in herself. In utter amazement, the men and women who were passing by, looked towards these two girls, who were apparently, a big misfit for the party.

All at once, I realized that the sleeve of my coat was being pulled by a tiny little hand, which abruptly brought me out of the current of my thoughts. Perhaps, for a long time, Sunny had been calling me. "Uncle, Medi Uncle, please listen to me."

I looked towards him but in reality, I was still completely absorbed in that girl. Sunny seemed somewhat annoyed with me. "Go away uncle, I won't talk to you," he said rather angrily and continued, "Everyone else has given me gifts today. But you haven't yet---."

Before he could complete his sentence, I picked him up in my both hands and made him sit on a nearby table.

"Sunny dear, how is it possible for your Medi Uncle not to give you some gift today? Tell me what you want from me."

An innocent joy appeared on Sunny's face and he began to think quite seriously.

"I want a new play station along with two jockeys," he said after a pause.

"It's O.K. It will be in your room by tomorrow," I said in an assuring manner. "Are you happy now?" I asked.

"O Uncle, you are really great!" Shouted Sunny, with a great deal of excitement.

After this, I came to the real point which I wished to discuss with him. "But Sunny dear, I can see some new faces in your party today. You haven't yet introduced me to them."

While saying this, I pointed towards the two girls sitting at some distance.

"Well, they are Iman and Haya, the daughters of my Maulvi. They have specially come here this evening only for my sake."

While Sunny was explaining the matter, I was constantly looking towards that girl who possessed killing beauty. It was revealed to me that when Shakir and Sunny went to the Maulvi's house, they were told that the Maulvi had been suffering from fever since the previous night and, therefore, it was impossible for him to attend the party. However, the obstinate Sunny insisted that if no member of the Maulvi's family attended the party, he would have the party postponed. In fact, on a number of occasions in the past, when the weather was not good or when there was something wrong with the Maulvi's only bicycle, Sunny had accompanied the driver Shakir to drop the Maulvi at his house. Moreover, whenever the Maulvi went back home accompanied by Sunny in the Commissioner's car, he never let Sunny go back without drinking the home made lemon juice, which was Sunny's favourite drink. This drink was made by the Maulvi's elder daughter Iman. Thus, the Maulvi's wife and his daughters had become quite intimate with Sunny and Sunny also had the same feelings of intimacy for them. Perhaps, due to this very reason, the Maulvi had to succumb to the obstinacy of Sunny that evening. The Maulvi's wife was always horrified by the idea of attending such parties and, therefore, she suggested that Haya should be sent with Sunny to attend the party. Generally, the Maulvi strongly disliked such things but after thinking something, he allowed Haya to go with Sunny for some time. But Haya refused to go alone to the party. At last, the old driver Shakir who had been standing outside for a long time, waiting for Sunny to come, himself came to the door and assured the sick Maulvi that he had no cause to worry, because, both Haya and Iman were just like his own daughters, who had been brought up in his own hands. He requested the Maulvi to allow his daughters to go with Sunny and attend the party, though for a short time. Shakir promised to bring them back home immediately after the party. As far as Haya was concerned, the Maulvi had already agreed to send her with Sunny, but Iman's case was different. She had never stepped out of her home alone eversince she had entered her youth. At last, for some unknown reason, he agreed to Shakir's proposal. Perhaps, he wanted to show some regard for Shakir who had been his old neighbour in the same locality. Or perhaps, he did not like to break the heart of the little Sunny. But quite restlessly, he continued to walk in the courtyard and in the street near the car, till at last, both the girls were seated comfortably inside the car. Even at the time when Shakir set the car into motion, the Maulvi again repeated the instructions which he had already given him several times.

We do not have the least notion of the sudden, unexpected events and accidents, which may lie in store for us, anywhere and at any moment. I personally believe that love is the greatest accident which may occur in our life at any moment, while we the human beings are so innocent and helpless that we always blame the words "if only" for all such accidents. If only I had not been at home that evening. If only the Maulvi had not been ill that day. If only Sunny himself had not gone to the Maulvi's house to invite him to the party. If only the Maulvi had not allowed Iman to accompany her sister Haya to the party. If only, if only.

I have forgotten everything that happened at the party afterwards. Perhaps, I was no longer in my senses. When for the second time, I looked towards the place where Iman and Haya had been sitting clinging together, the place was vacant and there was no sign of either of them in the whole gathering. I was told that both of them had gone. As Shakir had promised with the Maulvi to bring back the girls before the Maghrib Prayer, they had sent a message to him, urging him to take them back even before the party had ended. They had departed from the scene while I could do nothing except scolding my fate.

It appeared as if while going back to her home, Iman had taken along with her a large chunk of my existence. Till a short while ago, the party seemed to be flooded with colours and lights, sparkling with smiles and echoing with laughters. But all of a sudden, it seemed desolate, deserted and devastated as if someone had squeezed out of it, all of its colours. Strange indeed is the alchemy of love, because at times, with the presence of some loved one, a huge crowd of strangers seems to be intimate, while at the very next moment with the departure of the beloved, it becomes dull, drab and alien. Mine was totally a one-sided affair because all the storms were raging only in my heart whereas Iman was totally unaware of them. If people describe such feelings as love, then exactly the same feelings of love were circulating with my blood. Could this love be so powerful as to change all of my feelings, passions, styles and sensibilities so dramatically and drastically, in spite of being a purely one-sided affair?

CHAPTER 5

LONDON IS SAD

It is said that sleep is the worst of all the thieves because, it steals away half of man's life. But it appeared to me as if even this thief of mine was annoyed with me.

Perhaps, at some late hour in the night, Kamran looked into the lounge, found me lying in the easy chair with closed eyes near the fireplace and put a blanket on me. The whole night was spent in the same condition while I remained lost into the shadowy memories of the past. The darkness of the night was finally replaced by the light of the morning. After the continuous snowfall of the night, the sky had become clear. During the breakfast, Kamran offered that he would drop me at the Kingston University, on his way to the restaurant. But I told him that at about eleven or eleven thirty, I would myself leave home for the university. Kamran went to his restaurant because, he had to reach there quite early in order to start the day's business. I, however, was in no mood of going out so early in the morning. Moreover, London was by no means a new or unknown city for me. I felt a strange type of familiarity and intimacy with this city. One of its reasons might be the resemblance of its weather with that of my native city Quetta. Another point of similarity between the two cities is the style of their old buildings. The old city of London has several old buildings which were constructed before the partition of India. Some of them have a striking resemblance with the buildings which had been built in Quetta before the earthquake of 1935. Perhaps, it is mainly due to the fact that before the partition of India, Quetta was a major cantonment of the British Empire, and while constructing the city, the English architects and builders might have in their minds the city of London, especially with reference to the direction of bricks, the outer structure of the buildings and its long vast roads. This phenomenon was not merely confined to my native city of Quetta. While observing the style of buildings in all the cities, especially those in the colder regions, which remained under British occupation, we notice the same type of tradition in their construction. The same red tin roofs, the same typical balconies and grates and the same type of fireplaces and the cornices built over them. In the same way, we find in them, the same type of large wooden doors with large boards carved on them in the form of the English digit 7. Furthermore, in most such buildings, we find the same high roofs having large ventilators in them along which ropes were hung for opening and closing them. For this very reason, even today, while walking through the streets of old London, you will feel as if you are passing through some cantonment area of the pre-partition Sub-Continent.

By the time I left the house, the sun had started shining brightly. The snow removing machines had removed all the snow from the roads and put it on the edges. The sun that comes out after the snowfall always shines very brightly. Same was the case with that morning. It appeared as if the invisible hand of Nature had whitewashed all the nearby things. The road built with the paved bricks of a peculiar colour appeared to be shining. A particular kind of brightness could be observed on the faces of the people. Strange indeed are the various ways in which the weather affects the people. At times, without any reason, it makes the man happy or sad all of a sudden. But for me, every type of weather seemed to be full of sadness and London too, appeared dull and sad to me. I was surrounded by an ominous sadness, in spite of the bright sunshine and the cheerful faces of the people all around me.

After coming out of the flat, I began walking towards the subway of the third street. The brightness of the sun had compelled me to wear dark black sunglasses. I wish man could invent such dark coloured spectacles as could protect our eyes from the blazing and blinding glares of pains and sorrows.

At the end of the street, there was a Spanish girl playing some tune on her guitar. In front of her there lay a large black case of the same guitar. Those who were passing by, stopped there for a while, listened to the melodious tune, put some coins into the case and resumed their onward journey. What an honourable way of begging it was. Some people beg in such a way that people give them something thinking it to be their due right. But there are some others who demand their due rights in such a way that those who give them, believe that they are giving something in charity to a beggar. The girl looked towards me with a smile and greeted me with the bowing of her head. At that time, she was playing on her guitar the tune of a popular Spanish romantic song which meant "O my beloved, eversince your departure, every scene is dull, dreary and drab, and every city seems deserted."

In astonishment I looked towards that girl and wondered how she had come to know about the feelings of my heart. Perhaps, all those who pass through the experience of failing in their love, have the same type of impressions on their faces which can be read by the keen observers. I plunged my hand into the pocket, brought out as many coins as I could hold and put them into the girl's guitar box and walked forward.

There was not so much rush in the subway. The underground railway station was shining with different lights and only a small number of people were standing there, waiting for the train. The absence of rush on the railway station was due to the fact that it was eleven thirty at that time and it was not a rush hour. At its fixed time, the train entered the subway, with its peculiar roar. As its automatic doors opened, I and the rest of the passengers boarded the train. Sometimes, I think that man has really made wonderful inventions for the convenience of man. Perhaps, 99 per cent of our life is indebted to or dependent on such useful inventions ranging from a tiny needle to a huge aeroplane. All these things which we use so frequently in our daily life have been made for us by someone else. By spending only a few coins, we can benefit from the peace and comfort of all these inventions. Perhaps, this IS why, the getting of coins has become so difficult.

However, the getting of this peace is not just conditional to the coins. Peace of the heart is a rare feeling of this universe, which can be realized only by those who themselves have lost the peace of their heart. How foolish we the human beings are. As long as we are in control of the peace of our heart, we wander through the streets to lose it. Every eye has got only one aim, objective and destination, that is, some sweetheart or beloved. But when the same beloved or sweetheart snatches away our peace of heart. We keep on remembering him and calling upon him all the time.

While I was still completely engrossed in all such jumbled thoughts, without my being aware of it, the tube train entered my desired subway station and stopped. Quite fortunately, during the last few moments, I was able to see the brilliantly shining neon sign on which the sparkling sign of the digit 17 Downing Street could be seen. I suddenly sprang back into my senses and rushed out of the train and came down before the shutting of its doors again. I climbed up the stairs and reached the upper road from where I was supposed to take one of the famous number 9 red Double Decker buses of London, which would take me to the university gate.

London was exactly the same as I had left it two years ago. In front of the bus stop, the same old banyan tree was still standing majestically and smiling as if to welcome me again. The English people are very much careful about such things. A few years ago, only to save this old banyan tree, they changed London's Master Plan and altered the direction of the road which passed through this way. The reason was that if the road had been built in accordance with the original London Master Plan, this tree would surely have to be cut down. The English are a deeply conservative and traditionalist nation and are not ready to give up their old memories and traditions so easily. Instead, they even put their lives in danger to preserve their past heritage. This is one of the reasons which enabled them to rule over the world for so many years. It is absolutely true that nations do not become great overnight. For achieving this greatness, they have to cover a journey of centuries full of tough training and practical experiences.

Within a few moments, my required red double Decker bus slowly arrived at the bus stop and halted. I boarded the bus which began its journey towards the university. On the way to the university, there lay my old friend, confidant and benefactor River Thames. Several evenings of my adolescence and numerous nights of my youth were spent on the beautiful wooden benches along the bank of this river. As the memories of all those pleasant moments crowded back into my mind, the whole thing seemed to be a dream. I could still vividly remember the picnics with my friends, the countless flirtations and immature love affairs. It appeared to me that on seeing me back in London, River Thames had been immensely pleased, and its water seemed to be flowing ecstatically. The bus was traveling on the wide road built along the river while the river was running along with us, exactly like those poor little children who like to run along a brilliant new car or any other huge vehicle that enters their old street. Trees, buildings, Weathers Rivers and other such things around us get the opportunity of observing us in different forms and conditions. They see us while we are smiling or weeping, enjoying or suffering. In fact no aspect of our life is hidden from the eyes of our surrounding environment. Perhaps, due to this very reason we have the feeling that these things also become happy and sad along with us. Perhaps, every outside weather is linked to our inside weather.

The bus stopped at the gate of the university and I entered the university through its huge iron fenced gate and began to walk on the red road made with bricks. This building consisted of large grassy plots which were irrigated by a small branch of river Thames. Big tall trees could be seen all around, as far as one could see. On account of the overnight snow, these trees seemed to be clad in white dresses, just like some old saints. There was a slab like layer of transparent snow on the surface of the water. Beneath it, the flowing river water was clearly visible.

The central building of the university was built with white marble. In this snowy atmosphere, its long high pillars and the rest of the building also seemed to be made of snow. I got the forms from the admin department and filled them up. I was told that my classes were to start after two days. I came to know that the head of the department was a Jew Mr. Isaac who was also the vice chancellor of the university. I wanted to meet him but I was told that after the eleven o clock class, he had gone to attend an educational conference in the city where he had been invited as the chief guest. There was no justification for my further stay at the university. I, therefore, took the return bus from the same way and reached the subway. It was two-thirty at noon, and according to the office schedule it was the lunch hour for the office workers. As a result, there was a greater rush in the subway, as compared to the morning. I was not feeling so hungry at that time. Even then, I went to a nearby restaurant to have my lunch consisting of coffee and sandwiches. Nature has made elaborate arrangements to make man realize his insignificance and worthlessness on several occasions in his life. One such occasion is hunger which makes everyone so helpless and miserable. Even the most powerful among men are utterly helpless against it.

Even the dearest of our relationships cannot remove the feeling of hunger. Almost daily in our life, we see our near and dear ones dying and leaving us forever. On such occasions, we ourselves feel almost half dead and our feelings of hunger and thirst also vanish. For the time being we wish to be buried in the grave along with the dead person and we have the feeling that even if we remain alive, we shall never be able to lead a normal life. At this moment, every feeling of the heart seems to have turned into dust. However, only after a short period of one or two days, our stomach resumes its normal functioning to make us realize our utter insignificance and our helplessness in the face of hunger and thirst. When the pangs of hunger begin to tease us, we start hating ourselves and feeling ashamed of ourselves, because, only a short while ago, we were making tall claims of becoming dust with dust and of our desire to renounce the whole world and whatever belongs to it. But then we realize that no other creature is more helpless than man. However, on such occasions, we are able to benefit from the self-made rules of other people like us and thus, some of our honour and self-respect remains intact. Someone states that no food would be cooked for three days in the house of the bereaved family. Someone else promises to provide meals to the members of the bereaved family on the first day. Some others promise to do the same on the second and third days, because, they are fully aware of the fact that one day or the other, the same mournful tragedy might take place in their house and on such occasion, all these people would be present there to solace and comfort them in this hour of agony and would thus, assist them in preserving some of their honour and self-respect. Someone has rightly said that man is a social animal.

By the time I reached home, it was evening and the sun was setting. The naughty little children who had made a snowman during the previous evening had once again gathered in the street to collect the remnants of the snowman. Like some cruel beloved, the sunshine of the winter evenings also turns away its face all of a sudden. The amount of coldness was increasing in the air and people had turned up the collars of their overcoats to protect themselves from the biting cold. Steam could be seen coming out of their lips while they were breathing and talking. The Spanish girl had put her guitar into the box and was now ready for departure. As I saw her, a glitter of familiarity was seen in her eyes. A faint smile appeared on her lips. I greeted her with the bowing of my head and continued my onward journey. Kamran returned home quite early in the evening and we decided to have our dinner at a roadside restaurant in the other block. The restaurant was small but peaceful. While we were having the sips of soup, sitting around a table in one corner of the restaurant, Kamran had a close and careful observation of the girls and women sitting around us in the restaurant and gave his final judgment about them. "Men marry women hoping that they would always remain the same as they are at the time of marriage. Women on the other hand marry men in the hope that they would change after marriage. But alas! Both of them have to be disappointed afterwards," he concluded.

I looked attentively towards him and remarked, "Perhaps, that's why you haven't got married yet."

"don't worry about me," said Kamran with a smile and added ,"tell me how was your day spent at the university?"

I picked up a napkin from the table, dried my lips and said, "There was nothing special. I only managed to fill up my farms, but could not meet the head of the department, because he was not present at the University."

"I think you are talking about Mr. Isaac," said Kamran and continued, "Nowadays, he is often mentioned in the press. I wonder how a diehard Jew like him allowed the admission of a Pakistani Muslim in his university. Beware of him."

"Why, is he a cannibal who would eat me up?" I asked with a laugh.

Kamran was quite serious. "Perhaps, you are not yet aware of the true nature of these Jews. They can never be the real well-wishers of the Muslims. This fact can be best realized and understood by the Muslims like us who are living abroad and who have to face the hatred and competition from the Jews, at every step in all our business affairs. As a matter of fact, at the moment, Jews are completely dominating us in business."

"But have you or other business communities ever contemplated on the reasons and factors which have contributed to the great success of Jews in the financial world?" I asked.

Kamran took a long deep breath and said, "The matter is quite clear. A Jew never speaks harshly, bitterly or angrily; and you know very well that courtesy and politeness are the basic principles of success in business. Even in the most difficult circumstances, a Jewish businessman always retains his typical smile on his lips. Another important secret of their success is that every Jewish businessman and trader always takes care of the interests of other members of his community. Suppose two Jewish traders are deadly opposed to each other. But even in these circumstances, if a customer comes to the first Jew and demands something which he (The first Jew) does not have, he (the first Jew) does not feel the least hesitation in taking the customer to the second Jew although he is his bitter enemy. He readily takes the customer to his enemy and tells him (the customer) that he can get his required thing from him. One Jew can never introduce a client to a non-Jew. This is the main secret of the rapid growth of Jewish trade in the world."

To a certain extent, I agreed to the views expressed by Kamran but in my opinion, he had not yet mentioned the most important quality of Jews.

"You have forgotten to mention their most important quality, that is, their honesty. It is true that our traders are not so polite and cool-minded. It is also true that we are always busy pulling one another's legs. We staunchly adhere to the principle that we may get some benefit or not in a deal, but we must spare no effort in harming others. Dishonesty is the main cause of our lagging behind in trade. Jews are not dishonest in their business and trade and I believe that this is the most important secret of their marvelous success in this field."

After having our dinner, both of us started walking towards our apartment. The festival of Christmas was drawing near and quite naturally, the rush of shoppers in the market was also increasing. Christmas trees with their peculiar flickering lights could be seen at numerous places. Quite indifferent to the severe cold weather, people clad in warm clothes, were buying the things of their choice from the sparkling shops around them. Perhaps, all festivals of the world are of the same type. All festivals are related to the joy of the heart and all festivals are most eagerly awaited by the children. Perhaps, due to this very reason, children formed the bulk of the crowd of people in the markets at that time of the night. I can still remember that while we were children, it was hard for us to sleep during several nights before the moon night and the Eid night and we could not sleep even for a single moment during the Eid night. We used to spend the whole moon night imagining and anticipating the joy of receiving Eid Money from our elders. The joy of spending that money was much more than that. But the whole Eid day used to slip out of our hands as sand slips out of a closed fist. Perhaps, the shortness of the festivals is a major cause of their success and preciousness for those who anticipate and celebrate them so cherishingly. Joy was writ large on the faces of all the people who were walking around. Faces are no doubt, wonderful mirrors and index of the mind.

As soon as we arrived back home, Kamran went to bed because he had to leave for his restaurant quite early the next morning. That day, he had not spoken even a single word on the topic of Iman. He had been my close intimate friend since childhood and knew very well that I myself would reveal everything to him, as soon as I could fully recover. He knew that it would be useless to ask me anything before that time. Before switching off the light, I made an unsuccessful attempt to read some of the magazines placed on the side table of my bed. At last, I switched off the light. But as soon as I did so it appeared as if the lights of my mind were turned on and I once again found myself completely overwhelmed with old memories. Memories may be bitter or pleasant, but in both the cases they are surely a big torment.

CHAPTER 6

IMAN

The ceremony accompanied by prayers, marking Sunny's completion of the first Para of the Holy Quran was over, but it brought about a dramatic and drastic change in my whole life. I was at a loss to understand the exact nature of this uneasiness. Despite the availability of everything, I was feeling utterly distressed, depressed, empty handed and helpless. My heart had been deprived of all its peace and calm. Whenever I was in a crowd, I rushed away in search of loneliness and while I was alone, I would go to the lounge and sit there, disturbed and confused. The Maulvi's illness prolonged, because, on account of that day's restlessness, his fever had become worse. As a result, for the next full week, he could not come to teach Sunny and during this period, I was gripped by the feeling that something very important and very precious was being taken away from me.

It was a hot evening in the same week; and I was lying with my eyes shut, in an easy chair, placed under the trees in the lawn of our house. How long the summer afternoons are. It appears as if the sun has become stationary at a single point, or perhaps, some foolish headed persons like me are unduly agitated at their apparent longevity. But those who are fortunate enough to be able to meet their beloveds, must always be eagerly anticipating and praying for the coming of such long summer afternoons. While I was still lost in my reverie, Sunny arrived there in a very cheerful mood, accompanied by Shakir the driver. Shakir was carrying two thermoses, while Sunny was holding a basket full of fruit. Seeing me in the lawn, he came to me running

"Uncle, look, what a huge quantity of ice cream I have collected."

Saying this, he pointed towards the huge sized thermoses in Shakir's hands.

I pulled Sunny's ears and said, "So that's it, you seem to be celebrating picnic quite secretly without the knowledge of your mother."

"No Uncle, Mama and grandma went for shopping a long time ago. "We're taking all these things for the Maulvi."

Hearing the Maulvi's name, I at once became alert.

"What do you mean? Has the doctor advised the Maulvi to eat a lot of ice cream, while he is suffering from high fever?"

Sunny laughed and said, "O Uncle! What a funny thing you have said. As far as the Maulvi is concerned, we're taking this basket of fruit for him; and this ice cream is for Iman and Haya. Is it clear now, Uncle?"

At this point, Shakir interrupted our conversation and said to me, "Please make Sunny understand something. If his father comes to know of it, he'll be extremely angry. But Sunny is continuously insisting and at this time, no other older member of the family is at home to give us the permission to go to the Maulvi's house."

Sunny made a rather unhappy face and began to speak. "The Maulvi has taught us that if someone is ill, we should go to ask about his health. If we do so, Allah will give us a huge reward. Why to seek someone's permission in the matter of getting reward from Allah? What do you think Medi Uncle?"

"Then with some joy, Sunny's eyes began to sparkle and he held my hand. "You should also come with us Medi Uncle. We'll return soon."

I felt my heart into my throat. Sunny seemed to have read the thoughts of my heart. Shakir also agreed and said, "Yes Mr. Hammad, if you accompany us, it will also be helpful to me. Otherwise, you are well aware of the anger of Sunny's father."

Now, Sunny held my hand tightly and began pulling it. Soon, all three of us got into the car. While we were on our way, Shakir told the gatekeeper that Sunny was going somewhere with his Medi Uncle and would be back in an hour's time. Perhaps, he intentionally did not mention the Maulvi's house, because, he knew well that the members of my family strongly dislike such things and firmly believe that the rich and the poor must live at some distance from each other. But Sunny's innocent mind was still far away from such hypocritical class differences and divisions. As far as I was concerned, Shakir had known me since the time when I was a little child like Sunny. During my childhood, while returning from school, I used to make the same type of unreasonable demands from Shakir. Sometimes, I demanded cold ice balls from a stall outside the school, or an ice bar having salt and milk, kept in a box on a wheel barrow. At other times, I insisted on buying Falsa (a purple coloured fruit) from an old hawker who carried a basket of Falsa on his head. On all such occasions, Shakir had to yield to my demands, without the knowledge of the members of my family. But whenever I had a sore throat, my mother used to say in surprise, "He has never eaten anything from outside."

Hearing this, Shakir and I used to smile in a way that Mother and our family doctor could not see our smiles. Moreover, it was I to whom Shakir could open his heart quite freely.

As our car came closer to the Maulvi's house, I was feeling as if my heart did not know how to beat. It was indeed a strange and wonderful experience. All of a sudden, for the first time in my life, I began to recall all the poems and lyrics which all the poets of the world have ever written in praise of their beloveds. To be more truthful, with a little bit of effort, I myself could also have easily composed a few verses at that time. Perhaps, everyone of us has got a poet hidden somewhere in our personality and this poet only needs some spur or motivation. When this motivation is there, quite unconsciously and spontaneously, poetic words start coming to our mind. These words are soon woven into verses having rhyme and rhythm.

The car entered a street situated in an old quarter of the city. Out into the street, some local children had brought bat and ball and were playing a cricket match without the knowledge of the members of their families. No sooner did the car arrive there, than all of them became attentive towards it. Some of them who seemed to be reserved players, ran along the car for some time. On both sides, there were rows of houses. The car passed from in front of them, then turned to the left and finally stopped in front of a house situated in one corner of the other street. For some unknown reason, my whole blood seemed to have frozen. Just across the wall, that sweetheart of mine must be present, doing something. I thought that the old wooden door that I could see in front of me, must have been touched by her with her soft hands several times. In the same way, on numerous occasions, she must have walked with her delicate feet on the way and into the street that lay ahead. Her melodious voice and her musical laughters must have echoed in this atmosphere many times. I wondered why all of a sudden, this small neighbourhood and this paved street had become the most beautiful place on earth for me. How is it possible for an unknown person to fill a dull and dreary atmosphere with delightful colours with is presence?

While I was still absorbed in such thoughts, Sunny and Shakir had got down from the car and gone inside the Maulvi's house. They had requested me to come along them but it appeared as if I had become motionless in the car. My condition was similar to that of a beggar who stands before a door for centuries in the hope of getting something, but the door never opens for him. Suddenly, the wooden door opened and out came the Maulvi in a worried and confused condition. He was followed by Shakir who too looked perturbed. I myself was somewhat bewildered. As soon as the Maulvi saw me he started saying in an intensely apologetic tone that he had been extremely ashamed of himself. "This Shakir is to blame for the whole trouble," he remarked. If he had informed me of your presence in the car, as soon as he came into my house, I would never have put you in so much trouble of sitting inside the car for such a long time."

"Had I really been sitting in the car for a long time?" I asked myself, because, I had a feeling that I had arrived there only a few moments ago.

At last, I had to succumb to the insistence of the Maulvi, who took me inside his house. It was a small but extremely neat and clean house, whose courtyard had been built with unpaved bricks. In the centre of the courtyard, a large banyan tree stood with its extended branches along which a cradle was hanging. A sort of paved platform had been built around the tree. Along the walls, there were small flower beds in which flowers had been elegantly arranged. In front of the courtyard, there was a veranda covered with wooden grills. Perhaps, behind the veranda there were the living rooms for the inmates of the house and the women's portion of the house. At the end of the veranda, a door opened into the partition of the wooden grill. The Maulvi took me towards this side. Perhaps, it was the guest room or drawing room of this small house. The part of the veranda having drawing room had been separated by means of grill like partition. I was spellbound and with a bowed head, was silently walking behind the Maulvi. From inside the house, I could hear the loud talking and laughing of Sunny. Occasionally, it was accompanied by melodious feminine voices and I was almost breathless. The small parlour or drawing room of the small house bore an ample testimony to the refined taste and elegance of this family. It had only a few pieces of old furniture which had beautifully embroidered covers. The collection of Ghalib's poetry, a few books written by some well-known writers and some editions of the magazine "Nuqoosh" were placed on the cornice in an orderly manner. It was evident that this family had a special taste for Urdu Literature. My mind was again flooded with fanciful thoughts. She must have turned over the pages of these books several times with her conical fingers. Daily, she must have been visiting this room many times and perhaps, spending many hours sitting here and going through these books. The Maulvi was still apologetic in his tone.

"Sir, you have been rather unjust with us. You came to our humble house for the first time and stood outside the door for so long. This house is not worthy of you but"

"Please don't talk like that," I interrupted him and added, "I had only thought"

Before I could say something else, Shakir completed the sentence. "Hammad had thought of giving you the things and returning from your door, without going inside."

"You'd better stop talking to us," said the Maulvi, looking somewhat angrily towards Shakir. "How is it possible that Mr. Hammad should come to us for the first time and we tell him to return from our door? What type of tradition is it?"

The Maulvi was showing as much hospitality, courtesy and generosity as he could. I wonder why such old courteous manners are vanishing so rapidly from the large mansions and villas of rich people like us.

We tried our best to stop him, but he went inside and whispered something to the rest of the members of his family. Within no time, we could smell the appetizing odour of various things being cooked in the kitchen. They were accompanied by the clattering of dishes and light jingling of bangles.

I tried to prevent the Maulvi from such formalities. "Please don't stand on ceremony. We've come here without telling anyone at home. Sunny's mama must be worried."

But the Maulvi remained unaffected. "Sir, how can a poor man show hospitality and become ceremonious?"

It was revealed that the Maulvi had only two daughters and no son. However, he had brought up under his supervision the son of his late elder brother. The name of that boy was Abdullah and he had proved himself worthy of his name and real successor of Maulvi Alimuddin. The impacts of his training were clearly visible on Abdullah's personality. He used to say the "Takbeer" in the mosque where Maulvi Alimuddin was acting as the Imam (Prayer leader). Now, due to the frequent illness of the Maulvi, Abdullah had started giving the "Azan" (Call to prayer). But at that time, he was not seen anywhere in the house. After some time, there was a slight noise at the door. It appeared as if someone had come there and wanted to say something to the Maulvi. The Maulvi immediately went inside. The jingling of bangles along with some low whispers was heard from inside. One after the other, the Maulvi brought from inside three or four dishes, and all our protests remained unheeded. Within a few minutes they had prepared all the food items which are considered essential for the evening tea. They included home made cheese cake, Samosas along with tamarind sauce, cream with saffron coating, a sweet dish made of carrots, a sweetmeat made of walnuts and a number of other items.

Right from my childhood, I had been facing a strange problem. I always felt extremely shy while eating something in the presence of someone else. It became almost impossible for me to take even a single bite if a stranger was sitting with me. For some unknown reason, since my childhood, I had a feeling that a person does not look so respectable while eating something in the presence of others. Sitting in the Maulvi's drawing room, I was confronted with the same problem. However, the sincere insistence of the Maulvi had made my innate weakness quite insignificant and I was left with no option but to taste a small quantity of everything placed on the table. The fact is that whoever had prepared these things, had done marvelously well. Never shall I be able to forget their rare and unique taste. Obviously, all these things had been prepared at home, because, it was not possible to bring all these things from the market and arrange them in such a short time. But who could have done this wonderful cooking? There were three women at the Maulvi's house: his wife and two daughters. Her magical hands must also have contributed to the preparation of all these things. With this idea in mind, I picked up everything and tasted it. Then, Shakir said something and I felt that he had given words to my thoughts. "How's your wife now, has her back pain decreased to some extent?"

"No Shakir, there is no improvement in her condition," replied the Maulvi with a worried look and continued, "Old age itself is the worst disease. To make the matters worse new and previously unknown diseases are appearing now. Now, she takes rest most of the time and my daughters have to do all the household work."

It means that I was correct in my assessment. Everything had been prepared by my sweetheart, with her delicate hands and her excellent supervision.

After taking tea, Shakir begged permission to leave. He was thinking that as usual, I must have been bored by this hospitality. It was surprising for him as to how I had remained there for such a long time, without saying anything. I on the other hand had the impression that I had arrived there only a few moments ago. I had not yet openly breathed in the atmosphere of this house. Why was Shakir in such a hurry? If only he could have stayed there for some more time. However, the shot had now been fired and Shakir had stood up to leave. I also had to do the same. The Maulvi was highly grateful to us for our visit to his home. Some tears appeared in his eyes while expressing his gratitude to us again and again. I placed my hand on his shoulder to comfort him and assured him that he was extremely honourable and respectable for all of us.

We all came out of the room into the courtyard. It seemed as if someone were holding my heart into his fist and pressing it. I was going back, without knowing whether I shall ever be able to come here again or not. If only I could see a glimpse of hers, if only, if only.

All of a sudden, while walking in the courtyard, Shakir called Sunny, who was still in the women's portion of the house. Quite unconsciously, the Maulvi and I began looking in that direction from which we could hear the loud laughters of Sunny. For a while, we all stopped in the courtyard and then suddenly, Sunny came running out of the veranda. For a few moments, across the wooden grill, a curtain placed on the door was removed and I felt as if I had achieved the goal of my life. It was she who, from behind the door was waving good-bye to Sunny with a smile on her face. Beside her stood her younger sister Haya who was clinging to her elder sister and also waving her hand to say good-bye to Sunny. Strange indeed is the relationship existing between two sisters having only a small difference of age. It seems that only their bodies are different, otherwise, their minds and hearts are the same. Their thoughts, talks and dresses are alike. I have seen even such two sisters who had been in love with the same boy at the same time.

This splendid view of my beloved lasted only for a few seconds and as soon as she realized that we were all waiting for Sunny in the courtyard, she immediately turned back. But at that blessed moment, Nature was most generous to me and while going back, her eyes came into direct contact with my eager and restless eyes. A few sparks arose and completely consumed my already shattered body. Her one single glance conveyed several meanings: unfamiliarity, fear, modesty and the frustration of her indifference, etc.

Poets and writers of the world have always described different types of relations but I alone knew the intensity with which I could describe the meanings of the eye to eye contact at that moment. The whole pain, restlessness and helplessness of the world seemed to have been imprisoned in that single moment during which my eyes had a contact with hers.

We came out of her house but I still had the feeling that I had left my soul behind that curtain. Throughout the way, Sunny went on telling us various stories but in reply, I could utter only a few incoherent words. When we arrived back home, we did not tell anyone about our visit to the Maulvi's house and life began to pass as usual once again. But as far as I was concerned, that visit completely changed the course of my life.

For hours, I used to sit at the same place without saying anything to anyone and without having the least notion of the passing of long periods of time. I no longer had any interest in attending the gatherings of my friends. Everything seemed quite meaningless to me. This obvious change in my behaviour had been noticed by all the members of my family. On all such occasions, my mother always resorted to allopathic treatment, followed by homeopathic and then spiritual treatment. As usual, Father heaved a long sigh, advised me to go somewhere else for some time for the change of climate, and then became busy smoking his pipe. Abrina advised my mother to arrange my marriage with her younger sister in order to remove my loneliness. She had given the same advice several times in the past. Since childhood, I had been suffering from a strange and rather enigmatic problem. I used to become seriously ill on the first Thursday of every month. I was examined by all the eminent doctors of the time but no one could understand the exact nature of my mysterious disease. At last, my auntie who was my mother's younger sister, and who lived in another city, advised her to take me to a practitioner of spiritual treatment. How could such backward and conservative ideas be accommodated in the ultra modern family of ours? Father was infuriated by the suggestion and my mother had to hear a long lecture from him. But then, Auntie herself came to our home and without the knowledge of Father, took me and Mother to some saintly person, who examined me and told Mother that I was spiritually very weak and, therefore, throughout my life I would be in danger of facing the harmful effects of the evil eye. He recited something, blew on me and gave me a black thread to wear around my neck. He strongly advised my mother that from then onwards, she herself or someone on her behalf, must give something in charity on the first Thursday of every month. He himself did not accept any offering from us. For a month or two, mother remembered the saint's advice but then, due to her social activities, she assigned to Shakir the duty of distributing something as charity on the first Thursday of every month. Since then, Shakir had been faithfully performing this duty, although, perhaps, Mother had forgotten that disease of my childhood. However, my condition after returning from the Maulvi's house once again reminded her of my old disease. She contacted her younger sister who at once, suggested three or four to the point remedies. But no one could have the least idea of what was actually going on in my heart. It appeared that "Iman" was gradually becoming the focal point of all the joys and ambitions of my life.

CHAPTER 7

THE JEW

An old proverb suggests that true friendship always demands remaining awake throughout the night. The same thing happened with me, and my second night in London was also spent in a sleepless condition. The next morning, Kamran was free because of some strike and, therefore, he dropped me at the University gate. I came to know from the notice board that the head of the department Mr. Isaac was scheduled to address the new students in Hall 3 that day. Thus, all the fresh students were going towards Hall 3.

While we were children, we were very fond of watching a popular historical TV drama serial "Aakhri Chatan" (The Last Rock). It had a Jewish character named David and since my childhood, I had the image of the same Jew in my mind and believed that all the Jews of the world were of the same type. Thus, whenever someone talked about a Jew, the image of David at once came back to my mind and before my eyes. Eversince I had come to know that our head of the department was a Jew, whenever I talked about him, I at once visualized a Jew having a typical appearance. I could imagine a thin and lean man, with a typical Jewish beard on his face, a small white cap on his head, clad in a long cloak, , moving his eyes very rapidly, talking in a careful and calculated manner and having a rosary in his hand.

But the sight of Sir Isaac slightly jolted my firmly rooted views about Jews. He was a robust man with a bearish appearance, more than fifty years of age, clad in a fine precious dress, wearing thin spectacles and talking in a very soft tone. As soon as I saw and heard him, the childhood image of David the Jew no longer remained in my mind and it was replaced by a new image. But there was one resemblance between the two. Sir Isaac too had a small rosary in his hand. Perhaps, according to his habit, he sometimes rolled it in his hands or put it into his pocket.

This new class of Economics consisted of 35 students in which the number of girls was more than that of boys. At last sir Isaac started his highly impressive introductory lecture. First of all, he gave his own introduction and then briefly mentioned some important principles of Economics. Afterwards, he talked about the discipline of the University, and finally, invited us to introduce ourselves. I had been allotted roll # 17 and on the very first day, I came to know that I was the only Muslim student in the class. When it was my turn of introduction, I stood up, told my name and religion. The moment I told that my religion was Islam, I felt that a strange sort of silence prevailed in the whole class for a few moments. Perhaps, it was only a whimsical idea on my part, because, the very next moment, Sir Isaac asked about my previous academic career and degrees and invited the next student to give his introduction. When the introduction of all the students was over, Sir Isaac ended his preliminary lecture with these concluding remarks: "My dear students, from the beginning of the world till the present moment and perhaps, till the end of the time, the world's finest ideas have always been bitterly opposed by the people having average minds. Remember, he who has never made a mistake, must never have attempted to do something new. I, therefore, advise you never to be hesitant in formulating and presenting new ideas. We must rise above the fear of mistake and opposition from average minds. I once again, welcome you all to this institution. From tomorrow, we shall start our regular classes. Good day."

Sir Isaac came down from the stage and all the students banged their desks to welcome the views expressed by him in his first lecture. The fact is that I was also considerably impressed by his views and a smile appeared on my lips when I remembered Kamran who had cautioned me to beware of Mr. Isaac. Kamran had promised to pick me up at noon but there were still two hours left before his coming. As I came out of the hall, I looked around to see where to go. Then, I saw a number of benches placed at some distance from one another on the bank of a canal that passed from the centre of the University. This canal was a branch of River Thames. At the same place, I could also see flocks of birds. Time and again, they came there flying, picked up the grains of food that had been thrown for them by the staff members and students sitting on the banks of the canal; and then flew away. I decided to spend those two hours in the same isolated corner of the University. I went there and sat on one of the wooden benches and became busy watching the playful activities of the birds and the water in front of me.

After some time, I saw an old man coming towards that side. He had a hat on his head and was wearing a long overcoat and a muffler and was carrying a big paper bag full of grains to be thrown for the birds to eat. As soon as he arrived there, he started throwing the grains of food towards the birds and within no time, his paper bag was empty. Having thrown the empty bag into the nearby dustbin, he turned around to go. But then, he saw me and came to me. With his hand held out he said, "I'm Joseph. Are you one of the new students?"

I caught his held out hand and replied, ""I'm Hammad, a new student in the first semester at the Economics Department."

He shook hands with me with a smile and remarked, "O I see. But Youngman, why are you sitting here alone? Are you afraid of the ragging of the senior students?"

"No," I said with a smile and added, "I'm only afraid of myself. But at this time, I just wanted to talk to myself and this desire brought me here."

With some interest, Joseph looked towards me and said, "Well gentleman, you want to talk to yourself? I've never thought of such meetings, the meeting of a person with himself."

I moved a bit and vacated some place for him to sit on the wooden bench. As Joseph sat down beside me on the bench, I began to speak, "Such meetings never require any particular attention. In his whole life, a person never talks to anyone else, as much as he talks to himself. He bears himself more than others. Perhaps, no one else has the power and capacity to do so. Man is his own best friend and worst enemy. All the external friendships and hostilities are temporary and short lived."

Joseph was keenly observing me. "You seem to be very much annoyed with yourself; but there must be some genuine reason behind it. It appears as if some furnace is burning inside you."

I decided to change the topic of the discussion. "Besides your name, you haven't told me anything about yourself as your introduction."

"I've already told you my name," said Joseph, after taking a long breath and continued, "I'm Associate Professor at the Fine Arts Department of the same University."

I immediately apologized to him and said, "I'm sorry sir. Perhaps, I've talked to much. But your style doesn't seem to be that of a teacher. Otherwise, I would never have talked so frankly."

"No need for any apology," he said with a big laugh. In fact, I myself intentionally avoid from giving my full introduction to the youngsters, otherwise, they become careful and respectful and I lose the opportunity of mixing with them. I wish that we should always meet and talk to each other with the same frankness and familiarity. You are a different young man and meeting you has really been a unique experience for me."

Joseph stood up to leave and shook hands with me. "Hammad, I believe that we'll soon have another meeting which would lead to several other meetings."

After a warm hand shake with me, Joseph went away. In the meantime, it was time for Kamran to come. I also bade farewell to the transparent water and the cluster of birds and went to the outside gate, passing through the long corridors of the University. Kamran's car was already there. I looked around in search of him. At last, I found him standing near a pop corn machine, observing the hands of two English girls, like a palmist. He was assuring them that very soon, a handsome Asian young man would come into their life; and his advent would bring about revolutionary changes in their life. I had always been envious of this quality of Kamran. Not to speak of an unknown girl, I was always reluctant to talk even to an unknown boy in the first meeting, till at last, that stranger himself would take the initiative in talking. In contrast, Kamran was capable of stopping and talking to anyone, anywhere and at any time for hours. Perhaps, I had always been afraid of being rejected, while Kamran had never known any such fear. On seeing me, Kamran at once waved his hand to me, gave his card to the English girls, got their phone numbers and walked towards me with a smile.

As we got into the car, I glared at him and said, "You will never mend your ways."

Kamran laughed and remarked, "My dear, "standing outside the University for the last fifteen minutes, I began to feel boredom and thought of killing the time by having a look at the hands of these girls."

"Kamran, as far as my knowledge is concerned, I've never heard of any palmist in the last seven generations of your family."

Kamran still had the same mischievous smile on his face. "Let it go my dear. Tell me what's your programme for the lunch? I'm feeling terribly hungry."

I loosened my seat belt a little bit. "I'm also feeling hungry. Take me wherever you like."

Kamran accelerated the speed of his car. "Let's go to Piccadilly. I've heard a lot of praise of a newly opened restaurant there."

Travelling on the wide transparent two way and four way roads of London, our car turned to the right from in front of the Big Bang. Then, we drove past London's famous bridge of towers and turned towards Piccadilly. I have always liked these wide roads of London. I have read somewhere that at the end of the 18^th century and at the start of the 19^th century, in an attempt to deal with the frequent popular uprisings and riotings, European officials widened all these roads, so that the government and armed forces could easily keep the violent mobs under control at one place.

As we turned to the left from the Piccadilly Circus, we saw a silent and desolate road covered with rows of trees on both sides. In a wide roadside drain, the water of melting snow was flowing in a rhythmic manner. As soon as Kamran and I turned towards this road, we at once became silent, as if the immense beauty of Nature had deprived us of our speaking power. As the wind blew, the leaves on the wet road were waving and fluttering and it appeared as if a Pathan cloth seller from Kabul, had been sitting there with a sheet of silk spread in front of him, bringing out new and colourful rolls of cloth and waving them in the air.

At times it seems as if we pass our whole life again within a few moments. Our journey on the road bordered by trees and covered with yellow autumnal leaves was also one of these few moments. For a while, we completely forgot that we had come here to have our lunch at a newly opened restaurant at the end of this road.

At last, like every good thing in the world, this road also came to an end. We had the lunch of our choice at the small beautiful wooden restaurant. When Kamran asked me about the University, I told him about Sir Isaac's lecture and about the silence of the whole class during my introduction when I revealed that I was a Muslim. On such occasions, Kamran always behaved like an illiterate villager and had no control over his anger. He banged the glass on the table. "These damned Whites! They are all---."

With a great deal of difficulty, I brought him under control but he was still in a very bad mood. In order to change his mood, I told him a joke. "A White woman was once attacked by a biting dog. A passerby risked his own life but saved the woman from the dog. The next day's newspapers carried pictures of the man saving the White woman from the dog, with the headline "An English hero saves a woman from a dog." The man telephoned the newspaper office and reported that he was not English. Another headline appeared in the next day's newspaper. "A foreign hero saves a woman from a dog" The man again telephoned the newspaper office and revealed that he was a Pakistani Muslim and not a foreigner. A different headline appeared in the next day's newspaper under the same picture. "A dangerous terrorist attacks a pet dog."

For a moment, Kamran looked towards me in astonishment and then, both of us laughed spontaneously. The small restaurant was echoing with our laughters and the people sitting all around were looking towards us with surprise.

CHAPTER 8

WOUNDED IN LOVE

During my childhood, whenever I received some injury while playing, I never wept before anyone. Even in case of the severest pain, I always attempted to hold back my tears in the presence of others. In all such situations, I would at once rush towards some lonely and isolated corner of the house, where I wept to the full satisfaction of my heart. In fact, since childhood, I had never liked to weep before others, because I had a notion that by weeping in the presence of others, we lose our honour and esteem in their eyes.

After returning from the Maulvi's house, I found myself in a somewhat similar situation. I wished to weep but could not find a suitable place for it. It was a strange sort of helplessness.

After his recovery, the Maulvi again started coming to our home for teaching Sunny. In those days, whenever he came, somehow or the other, I continued to hover around him, in the hope that Sunny might say something to him about Iman, or the Maulvi himself might tell something about his family including Iman. But all such hopes ended up in smoke. Then, my infatuation assumed another form. I used to wait for the Maulvi's arrival. As soon as he entered our house, I would take out my car and park it in front of his locality's gate, and at times, quite near his street. Having parked my car there, I used to remain inside the car, waiting for the Maulvi's return, hoping that one day or the other, she might come out to open the door for her father. But such things never happened. I had never seen any member of the Maulvi's family coming out of the house, although almost all the people living in the nearby houses had become quite familiar with my car. However, none of them ever objected to my frequent visits to that place. They had often seen Shakir coming to the Maulvi's house in such big cars and they might have got a similar impression about me. The positive aspect of their attitude was that none of them ever talked to the Maulvi about me, otherwise, it would have been quite difficult for me to give a satisfactory explanation of my behaviour to him. With every passing day, my crazy love was increasing. At last, it appeared as if Nature had decided to show some mercy to me. It was a hot summer afternoon and as usual, the Maulvi was giving his lesson to Sunny. I too was sitting in the same room, without any reason, reading the same page of a magazine for a long time. Shakir also arrived there with a happy news for the Maulvi. "My daughter is going to be engaged on next Friday. You and your family are invited to attend the engagement ceremony due to be held in the afternoon of Friday next."

The Maulvi congratulated Shakir on his daughter's engagement and expressed his immense joy at the news. But he apologized to Shakir and told him that he would not be able to attend the ceremony, because, he had already promised to go on a preaching mission with a preaching party on the coming Friday and he could not break that promise. He, however, promised with Shakir to send the rest of the members of his family with his nephew Abdullah to the engagement ceremony. The moment I heard these words, I felt as if I had suddenly seen an oasis after wandering for years in a trackless, waterless, barren and desolate desert. I knew that Shakir would surely invite all of us to attend the engagement ceremony of his daughter, despite knowing that no member of our aristocratic family would go to share his joy on that occasion. Perhaps, the whole show had been arranged by Nature to show me a glimpse of hers and exactly the same thing happened. When Shakir requested my father to come, he as usual, brought out some big currency notes from his purse and gave them to Shakir. "Buy something for your daughter with this money on my behalf."

Mother told her maid servant to ransack old boxes and cupboards. The old clothes and ornaments which were found as a result of this search were given to Shakir in an old bag. When everyone else disappointed him, Shakir looked towards me and I consoled him.

"I'll surely come. I promise."

Signs of disapproval appeared on Father's face but they were lost behind the smoke of his pipe. Mother and my brother's wife Abrina also showed signs of displeasure, but nobody said anything to me. No doubt, I had my own selfish interest in accepting Shakir's invitation but it is also a fact that I would surely have gone to his house, even if there had been no chance of seeing a glimpse of Iman. My relationship with Shakir was not that of a servant and master. It had risen above such things and the members of my family had been fully aware of it since my childhood.

A long time ago, Shakir lived in the same neighbourhood in which the Maulvi was now living. At a very young age, he had been employed by my grandfather as his driver. He had also been present at the marriage ceremony of my father. A few years later, when Shakir himself was married, my grandfather allowed him and his wife to stay in the servant quarters at the back of his bungalow. These servant quarters were pretty large houses, which had been built at the back of our old Haveli (large house). During those days, my grandfather's relatives who lived in the village used to visit him quite frequently and for this reason, he had got built three or four quarters in the rear of the Haveli.

After my grandfather's death, my father got built another large mansion in accordance with the modern requirements. However, our old Haveli (large house) was still present in the outskirts of the city. Now, Shakir and his family lived in that Haveli and looked after it. Shakir had two sons and a daughter. Both the sons often remained out of the city in connection with their work. Some special parties and meetings were still held by Father in the same Haveli. In fact, Father was now thinking of turning this Haveli into his camp office. Shakir returned after inviting us to the engagement ceremony of his daughter, but now, I alone knew how difficult it was to pass the time. Minutes, hours and days had never seemed so long to me as they did in those four days. Friday came at last, after a long and weary waiting. I still remember that before the rising of the sun on that day, I had an intense desire to go to the garden adjacent to the gate of the old Haveli and sit there till the afternoon, because, all the guests had to enter the house from the same way. She would also pass from the same way. What a moment it would be, I thought. I wondered whether I would be able to see her or not. The ceremony was to start at four in the evening, while now, it was still very early in the morning. Like a lost traveler I continued to roam about in the corridors of my own house like a stray kite. It was the day when I realized for the first time, how moments pass like hours. At last, when the clock struck two, I took out my car and rushed towards the old Haveli like a child who fasts for the first time in his life and goes to the dining table and sits there long before the scheduled time for the breaking of the fast.

Seeing me there so early, Shakir was pleased and also a bit upset. Till that time, Shakir and his sons were busy in making arrangements. With a great deal of difficulty, I convinced Shakir that he should not worry about me and should continue his work, while I would take a round of the Haveli. As long as I remained in his sight, I walked about here and there in the Haveli, but the moment, his attention was diverted to some other matters, I slipped away from there, went straight to the garden near the gate and sat down on one of the chairs placed there. All the guests had to enter through the same central gate, because, the Haveli did not have any other passage leading to Shakir's quarter. Guests started arriving at about three-thirty and with them, my heart beat also quickened. I became almost breathless whenever I saw a veiled woman coming towards the gate. But there was no sign of her for whom I had been sitting there and waiting as if for centuries. I felt that she might not come. The Maulvi might have forbidden her or there might have been some other problem. Thousands of apprehensions and suspicions were perturbing my heart all the time and adding to my agony and despair. Then, all of a sudden, a tonga producing its typical sound, appeared at the turn of the cold road on which the Haveli was situated. Like the last glow of a flickering lamp, my eyes were fixed on the tonga with a last desperate hope. The tonga halted in front of the large wooden gate of the Haveli. On the front seat beside the tonga driver, there was a young man with a small beard and a bright face, clad in white Shalwar kurta. The young man came down from the tonga and paid the fare to the driver. From the back seat came down two girls wearing black Burkas. Everything stood still and motionless, the wind ceased to blow and all the birds sitting in the trees forgot their songs. It was she. How could I ever forget her delicate steps? She was surely accompanied by her younger sister. Only their eyes were visible from the veil. Oh, the same eyes again! The young man had a look at the grand Haveli in astonishment, because, he could never imagine such a residence belonging to an old driver. Then, he looked towards the two girls as if to seek some confirmation from them. The younger of the two girls attempted to make him understand something. But still, in a state of confusion, he reluctantly opened the gate and came in. Perhaps, all of them had come to Shakir's house for the first time.

Suddenly, the Young man saw me and then, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw all of them coming towards me. I stood up in nervousness. There was a glimmer of familiarity in the eyes of the younger sister and she whispered something to Iman. Perhaps, Haya had recognized me. Iman lifted her eyes and looked towards me. There was a flash of lightning. It was for the second time that her eyes had a direct encounter with mine. I was overpowered by a feeling of ecstasy and it appeared to me that all the anguish, agony, pain and restlessness that I had felt between her first and second look, had now become calm and tranquil.

As the young man came near, he greeted me and said, "Sir, is it the house of Shakir, whose daughter is going to be engaged today?"

"Yes, you've come at the right place. The ceremony is taking place in the same house."

As I showed him the way, he thanked me, shook hands with me and moved forward along with the two girls. With a great deal of difficulty, I prevented myself from looking directly towards Iman, although, she was quite close to me. Even then, I continued to relish a strange and subtle sense of joy because of her nearness. The younger one seemed somewhat mischievous and while she was on her way to the venue of the ceremony, she continued to look attentively towards me. It appeared as if life had sprung back into action. Once again, the wind started blowing and the birds started chirping. With a feeling of exhaustion, I almost fell on the chair. There are some blessed moments of our life which we wish to enjoy again and again and it was of course, one of those rare moments of my life. But unfortunately, whenever something is over, whether good or bad, it eventually turns into a memory. I sat there for a long time, trying to assure and reassure myself that whatever had happened was not a dream and that only a short while ago, she had been present there quite in front of me and so close to me.

Soon, from the inside of the house I could hear the sounds of talking, laughing and singing of women and then, Shakir who was in search of me, also came there. "O Mr. Hammad, you are sitting here, while all the people are waiting for you in the ceremony. Please come now."

Shakir forcefully held my hand and took me to the men's portion of the house. As soon as they saw me, all of them at once became somewhat reserved and respectful. Their laughing and talking changed into whispers. For this very reason, I did not want to join this crowd. At times, your own introduction becomes a nuisance for you. All the people attending the engagement ceremony, were recognizing me not as one of Shakir's guests but as the son of Retired Commissioner Amjad Raza. I soon became bored with this gathering. Moreover, my heart was pre-occupied with some other thoughts and had no interest in whatever else was going on around me. After some time, someone from the women's portion of the house called Shakir and it gave me the opportunity to rush out from there. I had particularly urged Shakir that he should arrange some open place in the house where his guests could comfortably sit and eat. For this purpose, I had insisted that the main hall of the Haveli should be used. He was afraid of my father's possible annoyance but as usual, he had to yield to my stubbornness. The main hall was now being used for the male guests. In front of its back door, there was the small garden of Shakir's quarter. Behind it, there was Shakir's house. As I came out of the hall, I saw the same young man who had come with Iman and Haya. Standing at the door, he seemed a bit worried. On seeing me, he at once came to me.

"I'm sorry sir, I couldn't recognize you at that time. My name is Abdullah. I'm the nephew of Maulvi Alimuddin. Uncle often talks about you."

A wave of pleasant joy swept across my whole body. At least, there was someone who talked about me in that house. At times, my darling might also have mentioned my name. At that moment, for the first time in my life, my own name began to look so charming to me and I again shook hands with Abdullah.

"I'm glad to see you. I came to your house a few days ago, but perhaps, you were not there at that time. But why are you standing outside the hall? Go inside, because, tea is going to be served very soon."

In some confusion he replied, "The fact is that very soon, it will be time for the Maghrib Prayer and you are well aware of my uncle's mind. We should go back now. I'm standing here waiting for someone to go inside and tell my sisters to come out and go back with me."

In the meantime, Shakir also came out from the women's portion and seeing us standing outside, he at once came to us. "Mr. Hammad, are you all right? Why're you standing here?"

"I'm all right," I replied with a smile and drew his attention towards Abdullah. "He's in a hurry to go back and says that he's getting late."

Shakir was surprised and then he forcefully shook his head. "You want to leave so soon? How's it possible? Even the ring wearing ceremony has not yet been held. I won't allow anyone to go without having the dinner, which would be served soon after the Maghrib Prayer. It's simply impossible."

In a humble and submissive tone, Abdullah began to speak. No no, Shakir Uncle, it would be too late after the Maghrib Prayer. It would be quite difficult for me to find a conveyance for my area and you know my uncle very well."

"As far as the Maulvi is concerned, I myself will deal with him. He knows quite well that it's a joyous moment for my only daughter and getting late on such occasions is a routine matter. As far as conveyance is concerned, I myself will take you back in the car. It's decided now."

When Shakir had given his final judgment, Abdullah could no longer argue with him. He begged leave from Shakir to go to the nearby mosque for offering the Maghrib Prayer. Shakir urged him to return soon and he began walking towards the mosque. Then, it seemed as if Shakir had suddenly remembered something and he struck his hand on his head.

"O Mr. Hammad, you see I'm getting old. I forgot to tell you that Nighat's mother wants you inside."

Nighat was Shakir's daughter and when I was a child, at the end of every academic year, I used to give all my books to her because, Shakir was always worried about his daughter's education. Sometimes she used to come to our home with his father while she was only a child. I could still remember her as a quiet little child. I always addressed Shakir's wife as Auntie which greatly irritated my real Aunties. In fact, I had become quite familiar with all the members of Shakir's family. Without the knowledge of his parents, Sunny often took different things with him to the Maulvi's house. Same had been the case with me when I was a child. Quite secretly, I used to give my school bags, chocolates, books and other things to Shakir and his family. While returning from school, I used to stop for a while at the Haveli in order to give my small gifts to Shakir's family. In spite of the fact that such activities of mine were not liked by Shakir's wife, whom I addressed as Auntie, I did not give up this routine throughout my school life. Later on, when I was sent to a hostel, I always regularly visited this family whenever I returned home during the holidays.

I was sure that Auntie would ask Shakir about me and call me inside. But I was intentionally trying to avoid and evade such occasion. At that time, I did not like to go in because, I knew that all the women must be present there. Even if there had been nobody else, at least, Iman must be there and I feared that in her presence, I might not be able to talk confidently and properly to Auntie and Nighat. Iman must already have noticed my nervousness while she was entering through the gate. However, at that moment, I had no chance or excuse for refusing Shakir. He was standing near me and was determined to take me to the inside room, because, he knew very well that if I was left alone, I would never go in. I had a strange relationship with Shakir and I never felt the need for calling him Uncle or Baba. Whenever I had to call him, I simply called him by his name Shakir and it had been my routine since childhood. I never used some traditional method for expressing the respect which I had for him in my heart. Perhaps, the relationship existing between us, did not require any traditional name or respect.

As I went along Shakir towards the women's portion of the house, I could hear the talking and laughing of women, who were singing delightful marriage songs. There were women all around, in the courtyard, veranda and the inside rooms. On seeing me, all of them became attentive towards me. Some of them laughed while others whispered something to one another. For this reason, I had always been reluctant to go to such feminine gatherings. Whenever there is a large social gathering of women, they become very bold and audacious and when they get together on the occasion of some marriage, they even surpass men.

As soon as Auntie saw me, she came to me and showed her motherly affection and love to me. Her daughter Nighat was sitting in veil with bent head. Hearing about my coming, she lifted her head and signalled me to come near. With some difficulty, Shakir paved the way for me. I gently patted on Nighat's head. "I knew it must have been one of your mischiefs. You should have sat silently at least on your engagement day."

Nighat smiled under her veil. "Brother Hammad, Mother has prohibited me from going to college after my engagement. She says my in-laws don't like it. Please talk to my father about this matter, at least for my sake."

"What a strange thing it is!" I said with a big laugh. I've heard that on the eve of their engagement, girls are overflowing with romantic and fanciful thoughts, about their future bridegroom and his activities. But look at this girl, she is only worried about her studies even on her engagement day."

After some pause, I whispered into her ears, "Nighat, you need not worry at all. To hell with your in-laws. Nobody can stop you from continuing your studies, neither your mother, nor your father and not even the man who is going to be your husband in six months time. I'll myself talk to him. Are you happy now?"

She was happy indeed and tears of happiness could be seen in her eyes. Why do the girls have such a small heart? Even the most trivial things are sufficient to bring tears into their eyes or fill their hearts with pleasure. But their joys as well as sorrows are short lived. And momentary. How is it possible for all these girls to keep the mirror of their hearts so clean?

Suddenly, I saw the little Haya who was present in the same room, where Nighat had been seated. She was talking in a low tone to some other woman, but there was no sign of Iman anywhere in the room. I wanted to rush out of the room but Shakir was not seen anywhere in this whole crowd of women. Since childhood, I had been fully aware of every nook and corner of Shakir's house. I thought of passing through the adjoining room and going out from the back door, because a large number of women were sitting on a rug on the floor of the veranda. The adjoining room was used as a living room by the inmates of the house and, therefore, there was no chance of the presence of outside guests in that room. One of the doors of this other room opened into the backyard, where the dinner was being prepared in big cauldrons.

I signaled to Nighat that I would meet her later. There was a door that joined both the rooms. Through that door, I went into the other room which was filled with the evening twilight and apparently, there was nobody there. I walked towards the door that opened into the backyard. But then, all of a sudden, I saw someone quickly coming out from behind a large wooden cabinet along the wall. This cabinet was mainly used for keeping the crockery and glass dishes of the house. That shadow collided with me and a few glass plates slipped out of its hands and fell down on the floor. A low suppressed feminine scream echoed in the atmosphere. To be honest, I myself had been completely unnerved. After colliding with me, that shadow staggered and stumbled for a while but then immediately regained control over itself. However, in this process of recovery, the head covering slipped down from its place and came to the shoulders. It was Iman. Everyone must have heard about the Day of Judgment but perhaps, no one besides me might have ever had a better idea of the exact nature of that dreadful day. Her beauty had been fully exposed and was so near to me that I could feel the fragrance of her confused breaths on my bosom. In this state of confusion and chaos, a strand of her hair had fallen down on her face and her pink, milky, charming, heavenly face was becoming fiery red with the feelings of fear, modesty and bashfulness.

Have the prayers of somebody ever been rewarded by Nature in such a quick and excellent manner? Perhaps, never.

"Excuse me," she spoke in utter nervousness. "I---I had come here to get some utensils."

In reply, I could not say even a single word. Perhaps, I had permanently been deprived of my ability to speak. Hearing the sound of falling dishes, Shakir's wife and Iman's younger sister hastily rushed there from the other room. They seemed to have understood the whole situation as soon as they saw Iman and me standing there along with broken pieces of glass dishes scattered on the floor. As Iman hurriedly advanced towards Auntie she laughed and said, "Were you afraid of Him? He's our own child Hammad. You may consider him to be Nighat's third brother."

Haya put a corner of her head scarf into her mouth to control her laughter. By that time, Iman had also recovered from the shock. She placed her hand on her forehead as if to greet me. In a laughing mood, Auntie told her to go and assured her, "Haya and I will pick up the broken bits of glass. Nighat is alone there, go to her." Auntie once again urged me not to go home without having dinner. I don't remember how and when I came out of the room. What an eventful evening it had been! Had Nature decided to reward me in a single day, for the few good deeds that I had done in the short span of my life? How close she had been to me! She was closer to me than my jugular vein. The fact is that throughout my life, I had never felt so much love for God as I felt on that day. How ungrateful we the human beings are. We spend the whole day expressing our deep love for the things around us, for our dear and near ones and for the various blessings bestowed upon us by God but we hardly ever show our love for that God who gives us all such wonderful gifts in one way or the other.

On that day, I was full of the feelings of love and gratitude for God who had rewarded me much more than my expectations. Like an intoxicated person, oblivious of his surroundings, I remained seated in some isolated corner of the house, quite indifferent to what had been going on around me. The dinner had been served and Shakir brought something to eat for me, at the same place where I was sitting. After some time, the ceremony was over and one after the other, the guests began to leave.

I was roused from my reverie when I saw the last group of women going away in their shawls and Burkas. I was rather irritated at my prolonged state of forgetfulness, because, by now, she must have gone. I went towards the gate and heaved a sigh of relief on seeing Shakir standing there with Abdullah. With hurried steps, I went near them. On seeing me, Shakir said, "Mr. Hammad has come, and now, the problem will be solved."

The car that had been taken on rent for taking back the guests, was being driven by Shakir's elder son but he had not yet returned and signs of worry were clearly visible on Abdullah's face. I suggested to Shakir that if Abdullah thought it appropriate, I would drop him and the girls at the Maulvi's house, on my way back home.

"This is exactly what I'm saying to Abdullah, but he's standing on ceremony."

"There's no need for any such thing," I said. "I'm also leaving for my home and I'll drop you people at your house on my way."

Abdullah was left with no alternative but to accept my proposal, because, it was already getting dark and it was not possible to find any other conveyance for going to that part of the city. By the time I reached the Haveli's central gate in my car, Shakir had brought both the girls from inside. Shall I be able to see so many miracles in a single day? I had never thought about it. After bidding farewell to Shakir, Abdullah and the girls got into the car. Abdullah was seated with me on the front seat, while Haya and Iman were sitting on the back seat. As I started the car, I wondered if the whole scene was a dream. I tried to assure myself that it was not a dream. But the very next moment, I thought that it must have been a dream, as she was present in my car, sitting on the back seat. In the backview mirror, my eyes continued to circumambulate her. Both she and her sister were in full veil and only her eyes were visible. But the very idea of her being so near, was a source of rapturous joy for me. I was driving the car as if in a dream world. Abdullah was a reticent sort of person and I too was lost in my own dreams, and we remained silent throughout the way. For the first time in my life, during that journey, I was angry at the absence of the rush of traffic on the roads; and the whole distance was being covered very rapidly. Both the girls were also sitting silently on the back seat. Iman was continuously watching the scenes outside the window, and she did not try to look forward even for a single time, intentionally or unintentionally. For my part, quite secretly, I was continuously watching her in the mirror. This unknown girl had cast a strange spell on me as I was gradually losing all control over myself.

Within no time, we reached the locality in which lived Maulvi Alimuddin and his family. The area looked quiet and uninhabited because of the night time. As I parked the car in the Maulvi's street, Abdullah earnestly expressed gratitude to me and formally asked me to come in. But I thanked him and said, "It's already very late at night. I'll come some other day."

Iman and Haya had also got down from the car. Iman remained silent while Haya said "thank you" while getting down. In reply, I could do nothing except nodding my head. I shook hands with Abdullah, turned back the car and moved forward. While going out of the street, I saw in the backview mirror. The door of the house had opened and they had gone inside. Then, somehow or the other, I arrived back home and with a great deal of effort, managed to go to bed. But I still clearly remember that I could not sleep even for a single moment throughout that night. During that night, I realized that the serpent of love had bitten me and its poison was slowly piercing into the whole of my body.