"Ghar pohanch kr inform kr dena mujhay." That's the last thing he says before she gets into her cab and he stands there until the driver turns the ignition. The retort dies on Umeed's lips, she wants to tell him she won't; she won't call or text him whether she reaches home or not. Instead, she stomps her foot, pressing her lips together in annoyance because she can't say that to him. Even her angels sitting on both shoulders know that she'd never put this man through the distress of unnecessarily worrying about her. So what if they fought today, so what if their dinner plans were canceled because of his stubbornness, so what if she left her chai on his desk because he decided to argue, she'd still text him that she reached home? But this time. It'd be just three words, "I am home," that's it. No heart or kiss emojis she'd sent him regularly or an I miss you already followed by a call if he wasn't busy.
It's a loud sputtering sound followed by a thud that makes Umeed jump from her seat and she hits her head with the window, her train of thoughts breaking right at the moment, and she realizes those vulnerable ten seconds when she missed Farjaad and wanted to call him instantly were gone and she was again mad at him.
"Ooo bhai, dekh kr chalao. Zakhmi kr diya hai mujhay. Kya huwa gaadi ko? She enquires, rubbing her head, her facial muscles tensed and annoyed simultaneously. The cab driver excuses himself, uttering an apology, and opens his car door to check what went wrong.
Impatiently, she leaves the car wondering what else could go wrong on this already awful day. Not that she expected something great when early morning she tripped from the stairs while running late for work. What followed at the office was another nightmare that she didn't wish to ponder on.
The driver informs Umeed of what she dreaded the moment her head hit the window. Not surprised, Umeed plasters a smile on her face nibbling her cheek.
"Baaji ab beshukk paisay na dein" It's when Umeed's about to give him the fare, he utters apologetically seeing her flared nostrils.
"Kyun? Tum meri phuphi ki bete ho ya chachi ke? Rakho apne paisay apne paas aur gaadi theek krao apni." Umeed shoved the money on the car bonnet muttering "Allah jee, ab aur kya bura hone wala hai mere saath."
She looks back at her phone, it's 7:30 pm and ideally finding another cab shouldn't be so hard. But it turns out hard when despite waiting for 10 minutes, all drivers canceled her request and she ends up settling for finding a rickshaw.
"Tumhare sitaray to waqai aj gardish mein hain Umeed Pasha. Ye sb uss adam khor bhediye ki wajah se huwa hai, pehle mujhse itni ladai ki aur phr aik baar bh ghr chorhne ki hami nhi bhari. Ab aye zra mujhse baat krne, poochti hoon isko mein"
How hard it could be to find a rickshaw at this time that too on a busy road. If this khawari was written in her fate, so let it be. Rickshaw was a safer option in her head anyways, "kuch huwa to rickshaw se kood jaon gi." She tells herself and starts walking on the side of the road hopeful to find a rickshaw that'd be willing to take her all the way to Bahadurabad.
She doesn't realize how long she has been walking. In the list of bad lucks, another addition was that among the five rickshaws that stopped for her three weren't ready to go far, while the other two asked Umeed for a fare that was half her salary (not really).
