Milte Rahen Ba-dastoor

But when things begin to happen, they're apt to keep on going

Maliha

"Milena, if a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, if no one loved you then know that I am dead"

Never have I ever related to something Franz Kafka said this much, but with a few alterations. Replace love with loathe and Milena with Rayyan.

December.. I waited for this month the entire year, Only for him to hijack it too.

I made sure to glance at the television after every three minutes to see if he was losing, I didn't understand gaming, but everytime Maya and Azmair cheered and clapped their hands together, I knew no. That moron was winning.

And finally the cheers got more louder and Maya started to practically jump in front of the television, but I did see his smug smile as he stood up and swaggered his way to the audience and made a victory sign and finally knelt down for prostration, like he did every year.

That part made me seethe in rage more, the show of being pious as if he wasn't a deceitful, snivelling ignorant toad.

The tartness of his face, sours ripe grapes

I thought I was done here but Maya, ever the bearer of bad news, turned to us and announced

"Wo Pakistan arahe hain, unhon ne apni family se waada kiya tha kay ye championship jeetne kay foran baad wo ayenge"

She turned her attention back to the television, and the voices around me sounded muffled suddenly.
What. Did. She. Just. Say.

Rayyan

Being a professional gamer in Pakistan is a very, very humbling experience.

The crowded food street of Lahore made me realize this. Had it been Babar Azam, or Fawad Khan, there wouldn't be a single spot to put my feet on. But alas, I stood there with my kebab skewer like any other Lahori. No protocol. No recognition.

A part of me couldn't help but be relieved at this, the past two days had been a blur of dawats, of fathers thinking I could miraculously send their sons abroad somehow, and aunties convincing my mother to get me married as soon as possible, as female cousins my age broke into a fit of giggles and I awkwardly looked at the carpet as if it got suddenly interesting.

Just as I was about to open my mouth to eat, someone prodded my shoulder. I turned to see a boy of about eighteen jumping from one feet to another.

"Rayyan bhai", he breathed slowly and stilled, as if I'd vanish into thin air if he got too loud.

A sheepish smile spread across my face, so I wasn't THAT unknown after all.

Ami, I did it.

But a star had to keep their demeanor cool, so I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"You don't know I am such a big fan Rayyan bhai, I don't miss a single stream of yours, I can't believe you are here", his jumping got intensified.

He found the right words to describe his love for me for a whole minute, then seemed to give up and request for a selfie instead and by now a few people turned to look at me.

"who's he?" A man of about fifty with graying hair asked, raising his eyebrows curiously.

God. The last thing I woke up expecting today was this.

What description do I give?

I knew better than to tell Pakistani uncles that I am a gamer.

They made sure to ask me what my profession was besides that. All of my awards back in Australia laughed at me, the titles in Korea shook their heads in disappointment and the crowd of Japan chuckled as the uncles awaited my answer.

Thankfully someone muttered "a star"

Great, now the uncle wanted a picture with me too and asked my name,

"kya naam bataya tha beta? Facebook pay dalna hai, har roz thori na kisi star se mulaqaat hoti hai"

He got the selfie, the crowd went back and I stood there with my kebab skewer watching the boy with the backpack pass a sly smile and turn back, as he made his way back to wherever he came from.

There was something about him that made me nostalgic. Maybe there was something about Lahore that made me feel this way, but I saw myself in that boy, the Rayyan who was also eighteen once, the Rayyan whose passion no one understood. The Rayyan who couldn't have become what he was today, If it wasn't for one person.

Maliha Javaid.