Don't Remind Me

Chapter 30: The Dragon's Tales

"Career fairs are an interesting phenomenon at IBSA. They're like a Dog Show, basically. A lot of fancy dog owners showing off their pooches. You can take pictures, Paw-tographs, and souvenirs, but at the end of the day, you ain't going home with a playful Golden Retriever named 'Happy'.

Every year, Junior and Senior year students enter the fancy marquee setting, lined with stalls of prospective employers, eager to give you a thousand and one reasons, why 'Their' soulless company, is the answer to your corporate slave prayers. Instead of going home with internships, and job offers, you usually return with empty promises, broken dreams, 3 logo printed coffee mugs, a baseball cap that makes you look like a gas-station attendant, and about 50 ball-point pens that don't work.

And if you're feeling giddy over that colored-printed, brand-spanking new, updated CV you dropped inside the "Drop Resume/CV Here" boxes, lemme just pop that bubble of happiness right here. This author witnessed a tired, sweaty Career fair volunteer, use a CV Copy as a make-shift face-wipe. Another unoriginal volunteer was using it to hold his oily samosas!

 Oh no, by all means, use the entire summary of my academic and professional life, as an oil-absorbent, maybe that's exactly the kind of 'Polish' and 'Slickness' that my resume needs....(Nitty Gritty, Issue Number 4367, May, 2017)

"What's your name?"

"Azaan."

"What's your full name?"

"Azaan Malik."

"What's your Mom's name?"

"Ma."

"Do you remember the first kalima?"

"La Ilaha Illalah, Muhammadur Rasoolullah."

"What is your favorite coding language?"

"Python."

"What day is today?"

"...Friday."

"Did you say that because you're wearing a Kurta?"

"....Maybe..."

"What's your friend's name?"

"They're my brothers."

"Fine then. Your brother's name?"

"The angry one, or the ugly one?"

"Anyone."

"The angry one is Faris, and the ugly one is Asad."

"Did you say that because you heard them say it on the way here?"

"....Maybe..."

"Do you remember who drove you over here?"

"We took the train here. The train driver was driving."

"...We don't have trains within Karachi..."

"WHAT? NO TRAINS?"

"Do you remember getting hit by the football?"

"Dude. I don't even remember my fighter's name."

"Your fighter?"

"The one who is married to my Ma."

"You mean your father?"

"That's what I said...."

"Did you say fighter because your Dad was in the army?"

"MY DAD WAS IN THE ARMY?"

"Alright, no more questions."

The irritable medical resident asking Azaan questions like a lawyer in a courtroom, was only a few years older than us. He was reed thin, with Due to a communal Doctors' protest going on around the city, there was a dearth of more experienced Doctors in the ER we had rushed Azaan to. They were marching in a rally, to demand a pay-raise of Govt. Doctors in the country. Their demands may be legitimate, but the agony, and uncertainty it caused in the ER, was a nightmare for patients. This particular Doctor was a fresh graduate, hired a couple of days ago, as a resident intern. After checking Azaan's vitals, and hearing our own observations, he brusquely started firing him with questions, like a Rapid-Fire Speed round in Game-shows.