[tere husn se, zindagi haseen
tere husn ke, aage koyi haseena
kuchh bhi nahin...]
— Z A I R A —
I held my head, "Allah miyaan! Abhi tou soyi thi main, yeh kaun cheekh rahaa hai?"
"Yeh lafz bhi kaise nikaala tum ne zubaan se?" Janaab Waada-e-faramosh? I rushed out of bed when the yelling got loud.
"Hamza!" Taayi ammi shouted while I ran out of the room to a few steps in front of me.
"Kyaa kar rahe ho! Maar do ge usse?" I tried to push him off Uzair yet he remained stiff with his body and loose with his punches.
"Zain!" I screamed, "Zain! Hamza bas!" I looked at Uzair's bloodied face.
It took no seconds for the whole family to gather.
"Hamza yeh kyaa kar rahe ho tum?" Sahil came and held him away.
Uzair did give a hit or two back, but had Sahil been a second late, Uzair would have fallen unconscious.
I don't even remember the words Janaab Waada-e-faramosh was uttering while he hit Uzair.
I felt at a total loss of consciousness after seeing the lake of Uzair's blood.
Ya Allah, heal him. Bechaara! How can anyone beat someone so brutally? A family member?
"Ghattiya baatein kar raha hai yaar? Main sunta rahoon?" I rolled my eyes at Mr. Brawler.
Everyone's looks came on me while he was being taken to the living room and Uzair was being helped up.
I pushed myself back, "Main bataati hoon, main bataati hoon."
Mama ke mood se tou yehi lag rahaa hai abhi meri bhi Uzair waali halat hone waali hai.
Ya Allah, reham.
I ran to Alina and Haroon.
"Tum kab aayi?" Alina asked.
"Kal raat ko." I whispered.
"Tumhain tou main chhoroon ga nahin, tumhaari tou iss se bhi buri pittaayi hone waali hai mere haathon. Aise kaise chali gayi tum baggeir bataae?"
I whined, "Mujh se nahin poochho mujhe abhi waise hi mama ke sawaalon ke jawaab dene hain, oopar se neend aadhi bhi nahin poori huyi."
"Maine kal raat Hamza aur Zaira ko saath mein dekha." Uzair told taaya abbu.
What?
I felt everyone's eyes on me for a second, and mine went to my ring to hide the suddenly crept embarrassment on my face.
"Kyaa kehna chaahte ho tum?" Papa asked strictly.
"Kuch nahin, maine tou kuchh nahin kahaa, Hamza ko pata nahin kyun gussa aa gaya."
"Bare chaachu, iss ne joh baat ki woh aap sunte..."
Janaab Waada-e-faramosh looked in my direction and went silent.
Everyone looked away. I saw a rage in mama's eyes, along with a skeptical look. She believed more in Uzair than her own upbringing.
For a second I shattered just by that look. I wanted to scream and yell and break everything that existed on the planet but I swept my entire mind away. I refused to process the meaning of that look in her eyes.
Uzair added, "Maine aisa kuch nahin kaha, lekin Hamza ki adaat se aap sab waaqif tou hain hi. Agar maine isse raat mein Zaira se milne pe thora ttauk diya tou iss mein kyaa bura kiya?"
"Uzair! Yeh tou baat bhi nahin thi. Yeh baat ko bilkul badal raha hai. Abbu, yeh iss ghar mein rehne laayak insaan nahin. Joh alfaaz iss ne iss ghar ki larki ke liye nikaale hain—
"Hamza puttar, aik do gaali nikaal bhi di hai tou ghalat nahin kiya mere bache ne. Usse joh mehsoos huaa uss ne kahaa. Iss umr ki ho jaae larki aur ab bhi apne hudood naa maaloom haun tou dekhne waale ka kyaa kusoor? Yeh tou tumhaare achhe ke liye hi keh raha hai. Agar woh dour nahin rehti tou tum samajhdar ho jaao beta. Yeh larki sahi nahin hai."
My heart churned and squeezed itself.
Papa started defending me and rebuking her for her words towards me, Janaab Waada-e-faramosh stopped them, still agonized by Uzair's cleverness.
"Yeh beghairat insaan chalaki se baat ko badal raha hai. Joh baat iss ne ki thi woh yeh ab khud bhi dohra nahin sakta."
"Iss se bura keh bhi kyaa sakta hai?" I asked. "Aur kuchh bachaa hai? Keh lein. Phuppo? Kapre, tameez, baat karne ka tareeqa, sab pe tou tanqeed kar chuki thi aap, aaj kirdaar kushi bhi kar di. Kuchh reh gayaa ho tou bataa dein."
I sniffed before the tears.
To hell with it, I can't bear this anymore.
I stomped my feet towards the kitchen and sat on the table to eat the leftover pancakes I found there.
Phuppo ka hi ghar hai yeh, un hi ko mubaarak. Ab jab tak woh yahaan hain, mujhe nahin rehna.
I wiped my tears and tried to ignore the situation but my lips wobbled and sobs burst out of my stuffed mouth.
Gulping the food down my throat, I took my plate upstairs to the room, not peeking at the living room at all.
I locked my room and instantly laughed at the hair I saw in the mirror.
Then ran a hand through it, and the massive soreness that awakened in my arm made me whimper at how exhausted I was.
Iss gussay mein neend kahaan aane waali hai ab?
I searched for my phone, for Aadee.
𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪
I opened the door of my room and saw the family having breakfast. Kitne khush hain yeh mere baggeir?
"Hamza!" Taayi ammi yelled as she saw him going down the stairs and out towards the lounge.
He stopped and looked at her, I walked towards the stairs and his peripheral vision caught me but he ignored me after one glance.
I rolled my eyes.
"Nashta tou karte jaao, beta."
He looked towards Uzair, who was shamelessly busy eating a paratha, and shook his head.
"Suno!" I stopped him again and witnessed his body stiffen up before he turned around.
I walked to him, "Aik minute yaheen ruko."
Jab phuppo mere dil ke das ttukre karne ka mauqa nahin chhorti tou main phuppo ka dil jalaane ka mauqa kaise chhor doon?
I ran to the kitchen and got the first aid box.
I walked to him and he stared at me, warning me with his eyes. I gestured him to sit down, "baitho na?"
Unwillingly, he sat on the charpai.
I took the ointment out of the box and put it over the cut on the edge of his lips.
Everyone's eyes were on us, but the ones filled with the most disgust were the ones above me.
Before I reached the blow below his cheekbone, he took the tube from my hand and got up with the box. I raised my eyes from his lips to meet the eyes filled with repugnance.
"I'll do it myself."
I moved my eyes towards the table and shrugged at him, "kay."
He walked outside.
Allah miyaan, only you know if it was to further annoy the family that gets back on the table despite such distasteful events, or because seeing disgust for me in those pretty eyes disturbed me.
But my heart felt like going behind him.
"Kahaan jaa rahe ho?" He pretended to not have heard me and put the box on the coffee table before leaving the house.
I picked up my hands to stare at the ring on my finger, shining like my smile should have. But it was shining more like the tears ready to spill through my eyes.
Why would he leave without talking to me?
I lifted my head up and blinked it all away.
Dafaa ho.
As I turned, mama's tight hold dragged me to her room, and once the door was closed, the eagerly anticipated slap came straight to my cheek.
"Kahan ghayab thi aik mahina? Aisi harkatein karo gi tou aise ilzam tou lagein ge! Kaise munh band karwaein phir hum? Aik larki joh raat ko ghar se bhaag sakti hai woh kyaa nahin kar sakti? Bilkul sahi keh rahi thi Zahida."
My heart ached, "Kya sahi keh rahi thi phuppo? Ke main aik bad-kirdar larki hoon?"
"Abhi yeh kyun kiya tum ne? Uss ki ammi, uss ki behan hai uss ka khayal karne ke liye. Tumhain iss sab ke baad—"
"Kis sab ke baad? Kya kiya kal raat ko maine? Bataaein aap? Aap bhi aisa sochein gi mujhe tassawur bhi nahin tha. Phuppo, taaya abbu, taayi ammi, agar sab ghalat sochein tou main samajh sakti hoon. Aap tou mujhe jaanti hain? Aap hi se tou garz hai mujhe? Aap yeh kaise keh sakti hain mujh se?"
"In sab ilzaamon ke baad, Zaira. Achha nahin lagta aise, tum sahi bhi ho tab bhi—"
"Sahi bhi ho nahin, main sahi hoon. Mama aap ko aaj tak mera kehna samajh hi nahin aaya. Mujhe farq nahin parrta sab kyaa sochte hain. In sab ilzaamon se dil dukh sakta hai kuchh waqt ke liye lekin ab kyaa main sharmindagi se sar jhukaa ke phiroon apne hi ghar mein?"
Mama stared at me, unable to understand a single word. It was as if the anxiety of people's opinions blocked her from seeing anything beyond. Not even recognizing the way her daughter was being subjected to character assassination.
There was no point in arguing further.
I opened the door and silently left upstairs.
𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪
I turned my head away from him, resting it over the knees I was hugging.
After a few minutes of staring at the flowing canal, I felt better.
"Main bhi tum se bohot naraaz hoon." His urdu slightly melted me and I raised my head.
"Kyun?"
"Tum ghar se kyun bhaagi? Yeh koyi tareeqa nahin hai." He got angry and looked at the water.
I looked at the water too, arrogantly. "Nahin hai sahi tareeqa. Lekin mujhe koyi jaane deta? Nahin naa? Aap ko bhi tou mere New York jaane pe aitraaz tha naa?" I asked him.
"Hm, bilkul tha." He answered.
"Aap ka beta jaa sakta hai toh main kyun nahin?" I asked him.
"Zaira, tumhain pata hai tumhari iss harkat se humare naam pe kitna buraa asar par sakta hai? Tum iss ghar ki larki ho—
"—Tou?"
I immediately realized how terribly rude that was.
I softened my complaining, "Tou kyaa agar main larki hoon? Kahaan likha hai larkiyon ki khwaahishat nahin ho sakti? Khwaab nahin ho sakte? Main tou camera ke saamne bhi nahin jaa rahi."
"Zaira. Tum bohot samjhdar ho, tumhain samajh aa raha hai main kya keh raha hoon. Har ghar ke kuch usool hote hain aur humaare ghar mein larkiyan kaam nahin karti. Humaare mwashre mein yeh sahi nahin samjhaa jaata." He tried explaining.
His son can be intimate with anyone, his affairs can be all over the internet, but turning a blind eye to that is easy.
I was with him watching a simple movie and everyone looked at me for an answer when Uzair accused us. All because of this patriarchy.
Perfect principles.
"Taaya abbu, aap ko meri khushi se farq parta hai ya iss mwashre ki khushi se? Main kyaa koyi galat kaam kar rahi hoon?" I asked him.
This is so not fair.
"Auraton ka kaam sirf ghar mein hota hai, kamaane waale kaam izzatdaar auratein nahin karti. Tum ghar mein joh chaho sab karti ho. Koyi kuch nahin kehta tum se, lekin baaher kaam karna ghalat hai. Hum ne joh azadi tumhain di hai uss ka ghalat faaeda mat uthaao. Humaari bohot izzat hai iss mwashre mein, bohot saal laggte hain izzat kamaane main, tum aise aik jhapki mein sab kuch tabaah nahin kar sakti."
"Kyaa tabaah kiya hai maine? Aap ka beta apne dil ki kare tou kuch nahin, main karoon tou izzat jaa rahi hai? Azadi ka ghalat faeda uthane ho raha hai? Sirf iss liye ke main larki ho ke apna khwaab poora kar rahi hoon!? Meri bhi kuch khwaahishaat hain, mera bhi dil hai, mere bhi khwaab hain, aur agar mere paas unhain poora karne ke liye waqt, paisa aur taaqat hai tou kyun naa karoon main? Sirf iss liye ke logg baatein banaae ge? Tou banaaein. Mujhe farq nahin parta aur aap ko bhi nahin parrna chaahiye. Agar poori dunya ki baatein dil pe lagaa ke baitth gaye hum tou phir udaasi ke ilaawa aur kuch nahin milna. Loggon ke paas bohot faarigh waqt hai baatein banaane ke liye, taaya abbu. Hum kyun apni khwaahishaat sirf un ke liye maarein? Koyi tou wajaah hogi joh Allah ne sab ko apni alag alag zindagi di hai aur sab ko sochne ka ikhtiyaar diya hai.
Ttheek hai aap ka haq banta hai mujhe samjhana, lekin mera bhi haq banta hai apne faisle khud lene ka. Agar aap ka sahi ghalat logon ki sochon se naa jura hota tou main aap ki baat maan leti, lekin bas log log log, mera kyaa? Meri koyi fiqr nahin hai? Bas log, un ki soch aur un ki baatein zaroori hain aap sab ke liye. Main, mera dil, meri marzi, mere khwaab, kuch maaine nahin rakhta.
Aap se zyaada main mama se khafaa hoon. Unhon ne aik lafz nahin kahaa phuppo se. Un ke liye mujh se zyaada zaroori un ki nand hai. Mujhe aap sab se farq parta hai lekin jab aap ki soch ki bunyad hi logon ka kaha hua sahi ghalat ho, apne zameer se nikla sahi ghalat nahin, tou main kaise aap ki baat maan loon? Yeh tou aap ka dil hai hi nahin joh bol raha hai."
I looked around, slowly losing hold on my anger.
"Taaya abbu, sab mein se aap ko tou yeh baat behtar samajhni chaahiye. Aap ke bhi tou khwab in hi logon ne tore hain?"
I turned my head away from him and kept lazing in my thoughts. I really needed to vent, and venting to taaya abbu lightened my heart entirely.
I felt greatly relieved.
"Ghar chalo." He said. I looked at him. ALLAH!
What did I say?
Oh, I spoke to him so impolitely.
OH I used his secret to put my point across.
"Taaya abbu sorr—"
"—Ghar chalo, aur ghar chalne tak aik lafz nahin sunn'na chaahta main." He ordered.
Allah! He confided in me, I shouldn't have used that.
Ab tou yeh mujhe ghar se nikaal rahe hain. Very well done Zaira, describing the house in your diary was an excellent decision. It's soon going to become the only way to remember that house.
He walked away and I followed him.
Allah miyaan, I was so lost in my emotions, I don't even properly remember what I said to him.
Sitting in the car, I plugged in my earphones. Ready to enjoy the last of my peaceful moments.
Everyone was already gathered in the living room when taaya abbu's horn alerted them.
I silently walked behind him, feeling dizzy.
I raised my head silently and the daggers thrown on me made me whip my head to taaya abbu to whisper with a trembling voice, "Taaya abbu, I'm sorry. Main aayenda aise baat nahin karoon gi."
I tried to sneak inside without getting noticed but taaya abbu stopped me.
"Ruko."
"Ke hoya ae?" Papa asked, looking just as scared as me.
I lowered my head, there's only a count to 10 left and I'll fall down now.
10
9
8
"Rahila, Zahida."
5
4
"Maine ab kisi ki bhi zubaan se Zaira yaa uss ke kaam ke khilaf koyi ghalat lafz sunaa toh mujh se bura koyi nahin hoga."
I held the single sofa chair in front of me, but the shock woke me up.
"Ji?" I turned my wide eyes towards him.
My lips subtly seperated and I moved my eyes down. He wouldn't know how much that meant to me.
I bit my lip.
I AM a crybaby. I cry, cry and cry. I cry when I'm sad. I cry when I'm happy. I cry all the time. I wanted to go out and cry but I hoarded my emotions.
I looked at mama, whose eyes blamed me even more.
There, I lost it completely. My teeth clenched as I looked at mama. My hands curling into fists, my trimmed nails piercing the palm of my hand. I looked away out of disgust.
I couldn't bear the sight of mama anymore.
My heart had had enough. In order to not go insane, I needed a big break from this situation.
While taaya abbu talked to the house, I breathed in, went to my room, used the washroom, took my necessities and came back downstairs.
"Papa, main mamu ke ghar jaa rahi hoon," I announced out loud, "un ki behen bilkul paagal ho chuki hai apni paagal nand ke saath reh reh ke." I whispered once near him. "Waise bhi Islamabad jaane ka dil tha."
I moved back and looked at everyone.
"Allah Haafiz." This time, from the main gate.
"Zaira ruk jaao." I heard taaya abbu.
I turned around, hesitant, "taaya abbu please, main nahin ruk sakti."
"Aur agar main waada karoon ke koyi tumhain kuch nahin kare ga?" He offered with a small smile and I was ready to split in half to let on the waterfall of gratitude that started drowning my soul.
One look towards mama and, forget this house, I don't want to live in this world.
"Tou bhi nahin." My voice broke,
"Aur agar main kahoon ke I'm sorry?"
My eyes glistened with love as I looked at him and traced his beard's outline. A glance at mama and I shook my head.
My steps hurried out of the house after grabbing Zain's car keys from the key holder.
Breathe, breathe. Don't cry, abhi bhi koyi bhi aa sakta hai. I avoid my emotions and rush to get my bag from the corner I hid it in yesterday, then put it into the car.
Why is taaya abbu so kind? How do I decline his words?
I sat in the front seat and bit my lip. Unable to decide.
Taaya abbu should never change.
"Rona-dhona band ho jaae tou main aa jaaun?" I saw Mr. Fighter opening the door to the passenger seat.
What is he doing here? My heart fluttered at his playful tone. "Yeh kahaan aa rahe ho tum?"
He looked at me and shrugged, "Jahaan tum le chalo?"
It made me laugh, "Kya ho gaya hai tumhain? Subhah tou bohot gussey mein the? Tumhari aankhein tak mujh se naapassandidgi ka izhar kar rahi thi. Ab tum mere saath chalo ge?"
Something about remembering that made me rush at igniting the car and getting it out of the house.
I suspect it was the fear of him changing his mind and getting out of the car, but I refute that suspicion. Why would I not want that?
Mujhey tou akele jaana tha, raaste mein ruk ke thora rona tha. Kya kar rahi hoon main?
"Pata nahin, I'm sure tum hi ne kal pancakes mein kuchh milaaya."
I rolled my eyes and played along, stopping behind the traffic and staring at the edge of his lips, "Mujhe tou lagta hai tumhari iss chott ka asar tumhare dimagh tak pohonch raha hai."
He turned to me, "Kyun kiya subhah tum ne woh bekhuda act?"
I moved my face back to the road, staring at the traffic, "Kya?"
"You know kya."
"I was tending to your wounds. Can't be nice to anyone these days."
"Nice," he mocked.
"What's this tone?" I asked annoyed but immediately laughed at the deja vu.
He didn't. "You shouldn't have done that. God knows how you've hypnotized abbu. I can't believe abbu— yeh kya hai?"
— H A M Z A —
She hits the break and grins with a devilish spark in her eyes.
I look around the shady garage she has stopped at. While I close the door, she walks towards the man cleaning a convertible. "Saaf shafaaf ho gaya madam. Yeh lein." He hands her the keys and I glare at her.
??
She hands me the keys, "Apni hi samjhein, driver sahab."
I laugh, "Kis khushi mein? Lahore se Islamabad jaane ke liye?"
She mutters inconceivable words while plopping to the passenger seat.
𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪
We've been on the road for an hour and her earphones have not left her ears.
Somehow, silence too feels better. Not just the fragrance, but because of the comfort of her presence. Of knowing that there is entertainment right next to me and I can nudge it whenever I feel bored.
So I do, turning to her to snatch her earphones. But the exact same moment, she sits up over the headrest and opens her arms to welcome the fresh air.
"Yehi chaahiye zindagi se!" despite the strong wind trying to muffle them, her sweet chirps are loud enough to reach the sky, "raftaar! Main urrna chaahti hoon! dorrna chaahti hoon, girna bhi chaahti hoon. Lekin kabhi rukna nahin chaahti."
She looks at me with glinting eyes and I'm about to open my mouth but she squeals so loud, the overwhelmingness evident.
"Aasmaan milaa! Zameen ko meri! Aadhe aadhe poore hain hum! Tere naam pe! Meri ZINDAGI likh di mere humdum! Haan seekha maine jeena jeena—! AAAAADHSHSHSHSHADHSJSSJ"
She plops down turning to me, "Tumhain pata hai main zyaada dair zinda nahin rehne waali. Zyaada se zyaada kuchh saal. Yeh beintehaa khushi hi meri maut ki wajaah bane gi InShaAllah!"
I avert my gaze to her. The glance makes me suddenly wish that time freezes and I'm allowed to keep my eyes on her for as long as possible.
It's been so long since I last watched her.
The dark blue orbs sparkling with the luminosity of a thousand stars. The happiness within them as they capture the universe with their gaze. The pale peachy lips curved in a smile...
What's wrong with me?
"Don't say that."
"Don't say WHAT?" She moves back to the headrest and gushes over the surroundings from that high place, "That I love highways? I love open places, this earth, this beauty, this night, this car, this view and this life! I cannot NOT say it Janaab Waada-e-Faramosh, I'm in love with this road trip!"
I laugh in mirth when she's about to cry tears of joy and she sits next to me, pulling on my arm,
"Listen, I have an idea—"
"No."
She glares, waiting for more.
I yawn.
"No what! Badtameez insaan. Okay I won't tell you."
I look at the map to see how long it's going to take while her impatience makes her fidget on her seat, upset.
"Listen to me!"
I control the curving of my lips at the way she gives up, gaining the joy and excitement back,
"You know where Hunza is!"
"Where what is?"
She rolls her eyes and drops her head on her hand, "I was told you were fun."
"Sorry? You have doubts? Find me a more fun person than me— I said fun, not lunatic." My voice jumps when she points to herself.
She clenches her teeth, "you are terrible! Go back, what will you do at my nano's?"
As if she had sent a telepathic letter to her best friend, Zain calls on my phone immediately.
I roll my eyes and she picks it up without my permission. I shoot a furious look at her, Zain's complaining voice coming into the background.
As we talk, she stands up, happier than ever, and busies herself in taking pictures with her DSLR.
"Zain, I have my laptop with me, can you shift your thoughts to how responsibly I've spent my time in this stupid land before accusing me of anything? I have no contacts in Islamabad, so don't worry I won't find any female to flirt with. You are more interested in my intimate life than—"
"How dare you call it a stupid land? Who are you?" She sits down, "You are not needed here Janaab Waada-e-Faramosh. You can leave right now, jump off this car." Without warning, those pretty eyes immediately hold an enormous amount of hatred.
I want to fight her on it and let her know how impossible it is to live here but I admit defeat, accepting that nothing can change her opinion on this.
Try to live a month here.
I cut her long patriotic speech with "I'm sorry."
"Have you seen how beautiful this land is? Abhi dekho! Iss andhere mein bhi dekho kitna khubsoorat lag rahaa hai. Kitni mushqilon se mila hai yeh mulq humain, aise kaise keh sakte ho tum? Tumhain khubsoorti ki qadr hi nahin karni aati."
"For God's sake, maaf kar do mujhe. Ghalti se nikal gaya."
"Yeh ghalti bhi kaise hui? Tumhare dil mein tha naa yeh? Mujhe samajh nahin aa raha itna kyaa naa-passand hai tumhain yahaan? Aur itna masla hai hi tou naa aate naa—"
"Bas kar do! Bohot pyaara hai tumhaara Pakistan. Tumhain mubaarak. Yahaan aa ke bhi ghalti kar di maine. Jaa raha hoon agle hafte, ghalti se bhi yeh ghalti ab dobaara nahin karoon ga."
She rolls her eyes and I cut the call to stop the aggravating laughter of Zain.
While I'm left with my thoughts, her hesitant glances disturb me every once in a while.
"Keh do. Ab kyaa masla hai? Koyi point reh gaya ho speech mein tou ab bol do."
She remains mum, reluctant for a while,
"Tum sach mein jaa rahe ho agle hafte?"
I nod, "9th of November."
She taps on my screen and reads out today's date, "30th of October 2019. By the 9th of this November, Pakistan will be your favorite country in the world. I promise—..." unsure, but she completes her words, "that. And I don't break promises."
I pause for a second to think of it.
The deal is amusingly beneficial.
There is no way she can make me like Pakistan. But the promise makes it remarkably advantageous for me. She has lived half her life taunting me for breaking a stupid promise. Only failing in this can annul those taunts and have us start from zero.
I shake my head and cackle at her stupidity, "Perfect. If you fail, you'll stop bringing up the past and will call me by my name instead of that thing."
"Janaab Waada-e-Faramosh?"
"Yes, future Mohtarma Waada-e-Faramosh." As I look into her eyes to tease her, I witness a sense of sudden insecurity and fear.
Her phone rings her out of her inner monologue.
"Haaye Allah," she facepalms before biting on her lip and thinking what to do.
"Who's it?"
"My best fr... Anza, I told her I'd call her last week and then I forgot."
She picks it up after the several rings and the instantaneous sweet outpouring is loud enough to reach my ears.
She pushes the phone away from her ear, squeezing her eyes and grimacing as she repeatedly apologizes.
"You deserve this," I chuckle.
Angry eyes fixate on mine.
"Pehle hi Anza ke male version lagte ho tum mujhe," she confesses after muting the call, "ab uss ko justify bhi karne lage ho?"
"Don't tell me! Phir tou baat karna banti hai," I reach for the phone.
"Ji nahin! Driving pe concentrate karein, nahin tou chalaan katte ga."
"Ab tou tolls se bhi guzar aaye hain, ab kaun dekh raha hai humain?" The words slip my mouth in a way I don't mean to utter them.
I meet her eyes to fix the words when I notice the crimson that has appeared on her cheeks, "Main dekh rahi hoon aap ko! Aap aage dekhein!"
A smile plays on my lips as I witness her delightful nervousness. I look the other way when it transforms into a laughter.
[yeh umr, waqt, raasta guzarta raha...
safar ka hi tha main safar ka raha]