A Midsummer Weekend (The Extended Version)

2. Six Months After that Weekend

Having said that, our own expertise in the kitchen was not something to be proud of either. And that night was a prime example of it. 

The apartment had finally cleared of the stench, after we sprayed an entire can of air freshener. And Javed had gotten a carpenter to fix his door again, so was holed up in his room as usual. I pulled out an old copy of Dalda Ka Dastarkhwan (a Pakistani cookbook) that my mom had insisted I take with me. While, Safdar watched a YouTube video on how to wash raw chicken. 

We both had a craving for Chicken curry, so first we put the oil into the pot and then I handed Safdar the washed onion and tomato. But instead of cutting them up the way I had seen my mother do, he halved both the tomato and the onion and threw it into the pot along with the chicken.

"Wait, the recipe says slice the onion and chop the tomato...", I reminded him. 

"Into how many pieces?"

"How am I supposed to know?", I shrugged, there were no further instructions about that in the recipe book. 

"Ok, then I sliced the onion into two and chopped the tomato into two as well. Don't worry, the juices will flow out of both of them, and that is all we need", he reassured me. 

"I still don't think this is how chicken curry is made..."

"Yaar, if you're going to so be nitpicky about your food, get yourself a wife", he punched my arm playfully. 

"I am pretty sure Farah doesn't know how to cook either", I blurted out without thinking.

Oops

Of course I turned all sorts of pink then, and Safdar stared at me while pausing the cyclone he was creating in the cooking pot due to his vigorous stirring.

"And who exactly is Farah?", he smirked.

That's a good question.

On the face of it she was just a girl I had spent 2 days with many months ago. But the truth was that she could either be an enigma, one that I would chase for the rest of my life. Or she could be the woman who I would take in my arms every night before going to sleep.

Only time would tell. Time, that was passing by excruciatingly slowly.

To explain all that to Safdar would have been awkward,  so I simply said, "She's no one. Just focus on your lack of cooking skills"

"Such such bataa warna tera door bhi hinges se uttaar dun ga", he laughed loudly and grabbed the screwdriver, taking slow deliberate steps towards my bedroom. (Tell me the truth, otherwise I'm taking off your door by its hinges as well)

I wasn't much of a carpenter either, and had no intention of spending money on calling one to fix my door. So that's how Safdar, who was fast becoming a really good friend, found out my secret. One that only my sister had known before. And I hoped Farah at least had an inkling of.

"Chal beta, open up YouTube and let's make this chicken curry the proper way. Sounds like a bhabi won't be coming to our rescue anytime soon", he chuckled and started his computer. (Come on son)

The chicken actually turned out quite well, after we followed the video precisely. Prompting me to add another entry to my list of reasons why Farah should marry me...in case me being in love with her wasn't enough for her.

Reason no. 10: Can make chicken curry, so you won't starve no matter how busy you are in the hospital

Farah

In the life of a medical student 6 months is the difference between being a doe-eyed, bubbling newbie roaring to save the world, and an exhausted, dull creature who has lost all contact with the outside world.