In the night the khalaai makhlooq visit me in my dreams. They circle around me and make funny faces in the dark. Who are they trying to scare, hain ji? I am also like wizened old Peerni now.
Maryam is having better understanding each passing day of struggle. I am not in the same cell but my warden told it me she has taken to embroidery just like her beloved zabardast-zabardast dadi. Great-great dadi. What Maryam is making, I asked warden. He said she is embroidering small blue bird of Tweeter.
"Abuji," she said to me few days ago. "Did you ever meet Faiz Sahab?" I tried to fight with my brains. Dimaagh laraaya. One scene came back of old man with few-few white hairs. Old man was shotting on Mall Road with some womens. Police was laathi-charging all off them. They were saying, "To falling-falling walls, one more push give!" Then I remembered I was also in this picture, but on other side of road, saying bad-bad things about womens. This was in time of Mard-e-Momin General Zia when Your Humble Servant was also his Humble Servant.
"Yes," I told Maryam, "I have met Faiz Ahmed Faiz. He was shotting on streets with womens."
Maryam went back to embroidery. "Abuji I think you met Jalib, not Faiz."
These days everything is happening opposite. Sab ulta horaha hai. Your Humble Servant has become favourite of liberals and womens, while Shbazsaab has become crusader for supremacy of ballot box. Imran Khan is happy he is becoming PM but let me tell you, Chair is looking golden-golden when you are out of it, but sitting on Chair is not any easy talk. Your Bhabhi, may God grant her health, had started saying to me, "Nwaazsaab there was no need to return from Jeddah."
In Jeddah Your Humble Servant was always having dreams. I was falling from skies and landing on a patch of grass that was exactly size and shape of me. I would stand up and everything would be fine.
Nowadays gas is coming, and there is no good bathroom in Adiala.
Hum Dekhenge, hainji?
Maryam is having better understanding each passing day of struggle. I am not in the same cell but my warden told it me she has taken to embroidery just like her beloved zabardast-zabardast dadi. Great-great dadi. What Maryam is making, I asked warden. He said she is embroidering small blue bird of Tweeter.
"Abuji," she said to me few days ago. "Did you ever meet Faiz Sahab?" I tried to fight with my brains. Dimaagh laraaya. One scene came back of old man with few-few white hairs. Old man was shotting on Mall Road with some womens. Police was laathi-charging all off them. They were saying, "To falling-falling walls, one more push give!" Then I remembered I was also in this picture, but on other side of road, saying bad-bad things about womens. This was in time of Mard-e-Momin General Zia when Your Humble Servant was also his Humble Servant.
"Yes," I told Maryam, "I have met Faiz Ahmed Faiz. He was shotting on streets with womens."
Maryam went back to embroidery. "Abuji I think you met Jalib, not Faiz."
These days everything is happening opposite. Sab ulta horaha hai. Your Humble Servant has become favourite of liberals and womens, while Shbazsaab has become crusader for supremacy of ballot box. Imran Khan is happy he is becoming PM but let me tell you, Chair is looking golden-golden when you are out of it, but sitting on Chair is not any easy talk. Your Bhabhi, may God grant her health, had started saying to me, "Nwaazsaab there was no need to return from Jeddah."
In Jeddah Your Humble Servant was always having dreams. I was falling from skies and landing on a patch of grass that was exactly size and shape of me. I would stand up and everything would be fine.
Nowadays gas is coming, and there is no good bathroom in Adiala.
Hum Dekhenge, hainji?
NS