CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1

“Meri zindagi ki sabse pyari khwahish?” Woh gehri soch mein doob gayi, pen uske honton ke beech tha. Phir ek gehri saans lete hue usne halki si muskurahat di, “Kehna mushkil hai…”

(‘My life’s dearest desire?’ She fell into deep thought, the pen between her lips. Then drawing a deep breath, she gave a wan smile, ‘Hard to say…’)

“Mushkil kyun hai?” Javeria ne usse poocha.

(‘Why is it hard?’ Javeria asked her.)

“Kyunki main bahut si cheezein chahti hoon, aur unmein se har ek mere liye bahut zaroori hai,” usne sar hilate hue jawab diya.

(‘Because I desire so many things, and each one of them is so important for me,’ she replied, shaking her head.)

Dono auditorium ke sabse aakhri hisse mein, deewar se peeth laga kar baithi hui thi. F.Sc. ki classes ka unka aathvaan din tha aur woh apna free period wahin bita rahi thi. Ek-ek karke namkeen moongfali khate hue Javeria ne apna sawaal dobara dohraya, “Tumhari zindagi ki sabse pyari khwahish kya hai, Imama?”

(They were both sitting at the farther end of the auditorium, their backs to the wall. It was their eighth day at the F.Sc. classes and they spent their free period there. Nibbling salted peanuts one by one, Javeria repeated her question. ‘What’s your life’s dearest wish, Imama?’)

Imama ne hairani se uski taraf dekha aur sawaal par gaur kiya. Phir sawaal ka jawab dene ke bajaye usne ulta kaha, “Pehle tum mujhe batao ki tum sabse zyada kya chahti ho.”

(Imama looked at her with some surprise and pondered over the question. Then parrying the question with a demand, she said, ‘You tell me first what you desire most.’)

“Maine tumse pehle poocha tha, isliye tumhe pehle jawab dena chahiye,” Javeria ne jawab diya.

(‘I asked you first, so you should reply first,’ retorted Javeria.)

“Achha theek hai… mujhe sochne do,” Imama ne haar maan li. “Meri zindagi ki sabse pyari khwahish…” woh khud se budbudayi.

(‘Very well…let me think,’ Imama conceded defeat. ‘My life’s dearest desire…’ she mumbled to herself.)

“Achha, ek khwahish hai ki main bahut lambi zindagi jeeyun… bahut lambi,” usne kaha.

(‘Well, one wish is to live long…very long,’ she said.)

“Kyun?” Javeria hans padi.

(‘Why?’ laughed Javeria.)

“Pachaas ya saath saal mere liye bahut kam hain. Insaan ko kam se kam sau saal tak jeena chahiye. Aur phir aisa bahut kuch hai jo main karna chahti hoon. Agar main jaldi mar gayi, toh meri saari khwahishein adhoori reh jayengi.” Usne ek moongfali apne munh mein daal li.

(‘Fifty or sixty years are too short for me. One should live to be at least a hundred. And then there is so much I wish to do. Should I die early, all my wishes would remain unfulfilled.’ She popped a peanut into her mouth.)

“Aur kya?” Javeria ne poocha.

(‘What else?’ said Javeria.)

“Main mulk ki sabse mashhoor doctor banna chahti hoon—sabse behtareen eye specialist, taaki jab Pakistan mein eye surgery ki history likhi jaye, toh mera naam list mein sabse upar ho.” Woh muskurate hue upar dekhne lagi.

(‘I want to be the most outstanding doctor in the country—the best eye specialist, so that when the history of eye surgery in Pakistan is compiled, my name will be at the very top of the list.’ She looked up with a smile.)

“Aur agar tum doctor nahi ban paayi toh? Aakhir yeh merit aur luck dono par depend karta hai,” Javeria ne kaha.

(‘And what if you cannot become a doctor? After all, that depends both on merit and luck,’ Javeria stated.)

“Yeh sawaal hi paida nahi hota. Main merit list mein aane ke liye itni mehnat kar rahi hoon. Aur mere parents afford kar sakte hain ki agar mujhe yahan medical college mein admission na mila toh woh mujhe bahar bhej dein.”

(‘That is out of the question. I am working so hard to make it to the merit list. Besides my parents can afford to send me abroad if I don’t get into a medical college here.’)

“Lekin phir bhi, agar tum doctor nahi ban paayi toh?”

(‘But still, what if you cannot be a doctor?’)

“Yeh namumkin hai. Doctor banna meri zindagi ki sabse pyari khwahish hai. Main iske liye sab kuch qurbaan kar sakti hoon. Yeh mera zindagi bhar ka khwab raha hai, aur koi apne khwab ko yun hi kaise nazarandaz ya bhool sakta hai? Namumkin!” Imama ne faisle ke andaaz mein sar hilaya aur apni hatheli se ek aur moongfali uthakar khane lagi.

(‘That’s impossible. It’s my life’s dearest desire: I can sacrifice everything for it. This has been my lifelong dream, and how can one just ignore or forget one’s dreams? Impossible!’ Imama shook her head decisively as she picked another peanut off her palm and nibbled on it.)

“Zindagi mein kuch bhi namumkin nahi hota—kisi bhi waqt kuch bhi ho sakta hai. Agar tumhari khwahish poori na hui toh tumhara reaction kya hoga?”

(‘Nothing is impossible in life—anything can happen at any time. Suppose your wish does not come true, how would you react?’)

Imama dobara soch mein pad gayi. “Sabse pehle main bahut roungi… bahut zyada… kai din tak—aur phir main mar jaungi.”

(Imama fell into thought again. ‘To begin with, I’ll weep a lot…a great deal…for many days—and then I’ll die.’)

Javeria zor se hans padi. “Tumne abhi kaha tha ki tum bahut lambi zindagi jeena chahti ho aur ab tum marna chahti ho.”

(Javeria burst out laughing. ‘You just said you wanted a very long life, and now you want to die.’)

“Bilkul. Phir zindagi jeene ka faayda hi kya hai? Mere saare plans medicine mein mere career ke aas-paas bane hue hain aur agar woh meri zindagi ka hissa hi nahi hai, toh phir bachta kya hai?”

(‘Obviously. What’s the point of living then? All my plans are built around my career in medicine and if that is not to be a part of my life, then what remains?’)

“Toh tum keh rahi ho ki tumhari zindagi ka yeh ek khwab tumhare baaki saare khwabon ko mita dega?”

(‘So you mean this one dream of your life will wipe out all other dreams?’)

“Haan, tum ise isi tarah samajh lo.”

(‘Yes, think of it that way.’)

“Tumhari sabse important khwahish doctor banna hai, lambi zindagi jeena nahi?”

(‘Your most important desire is to be a doctor, not to live long?’)

“Tum aisa keh sakti ho.”

(‘You could say so.’)

“Achha, toh agar tum doctor nahi ban paayi, toh tum kaise marna pasand karogi? Kya tum suicide choose karogi ya natural death?”

(‘Very well—so, if you can’t become a doctor, then how would you choose to die? Would you choose: suicide or a natural death?’)

“Natural death, obviously. Main khud ko nahi maar sakti,” Imama ne bilkul casually jawab diya.

(‘A natural death of course. I can’t kill myself,’ Imama replied casually.)

“Aur agar tum naturally nahi mari toh? Mera matlab hai, agar tum doctor na banne ke bawajood jaldi nahi mari, toh tum zinda rehogi.”

(‘And if you do not die naturally, then what? I mean, if you do not die soon, despite not being a doctor, you would go on living.’)

“Nahi. Mujhe pata hai ki agar main doctor nahi ban paayi toh main bahut jaldi mar jaungi. Main itni heart-broken ho jaungi ki zinda nahi reh paungi,” usne faisle ke andaaz mein kaha.

(‘No. I know that I’ll die very soon if I can’t be a doctor. I will be so heart-broken that I will not survive,’ she replied decisively.)

“Yeh maanna mushkil hai ki tumhare jaise khushmizaaj insaan mein itni mayoosi ho sakti hai ki tum khud ko ro-ro kar maut ke hawale kar do. Aur woh bhi sirf isliye kyunki tum medical career pursue nahi kar paayi. Yeh toh ajeeb lagta hai,” Javeria ne mazaak udate hue kaha.

(‘It is difficult to believe that a cheerful person like you can be so despairing as to cry yourself to death. And that too just because you were unable to pursue a medical career. Sounds funny,’ mocked Javeria.)

“Mere baare mein baat karna band karo. Apne baare mein batao. Tumhari dil ki sabse badi khwahish kya hai?” Imama ne baat badal di.

(‘Stop talking about me. Tell me about yourself. What is your heart’s greatest desire?’ Imama changed the subject.)

“Jaane do…”

(‘Let it go…’)

“Jaane kyun doon? Chalo, mujhe batao…”

(‘Why let it go? Come on tell me…’)

“Agar maine bataya toh tum naraz ho jaogi.” Javeria ne hichkichate hue kaha.

(‘You will be offended if I say it.’ Javeria spoke hesitatingly.)

“Main kyun naraz houngi?” Imama ne hairani se palat kar uski taraf dekha.

(Imama turned around in surprise to look at her. ‘Why would I be offended?’)

Javeria chup rahi.

(Javeria was quiet.)

“Aisi kya baat hai jo mujhe buri lagegi?” Imama ne apna sawaal dobara kiya.

(‘What is it that I will mind?’ Imama repeated her question.)

“Tum…” Javeria dheere se boli.

(‘You will…’ Javeria murmured.)

“Tumhari zindagi ki sabse badi khwahish meri zindagi ko itna kyun affect karegi ki main pareshan ho jaun?” Imama kaafi chirchira gayi. “Kya tumhari khwahish hai ki main doctor na banun?” Imama ko achanak kuch yaad aaya.

(‘Why should your life’s greatest wish so affect my life that I would get upset?’ Imama was quite irritated. ‘Is it your wish that I not become a doctor?’ Imama seemed to suddenly remember.)

“Oh, nahi!” Javeria hans padi. “Zindagi mein doctor banne ke ilawa bhi bahut kuch hai,” usne falsafiyana andaaz mein kaha.

(‘Oh, no!’ laughed Javeria. ‘There is more to life than being a doctor,’ she stated philosophically.)

“Paheliyan bujhna band karo aur mujhe jawab do,” Imama ne mazbooti se kaha. “Main wada karti hoon ki tum jo bhi kahogi, mujhe bura nahi lagega.” Usne sulah ke andaaz mein apna haath aage badhaya.

(‘Stop talking in riddles and answer me,’ Imama said firmly. ‘I promise I will not mind anything you say.’ She held out her hand in a gesture of peace.)

“Tumhare waade ke bawajood, jab tum meri baat sunogi toh tum bahut gussa karogi. Chalo kisi aur baat ke baare mein baat karte hain,” Javeria ne jawab diya.

(‘Regardless of your promise you are going to be very angry when you hear what I have to say. Let’s talk of something else,’ Javeria replied.)

“Theek hai—mujhe andaaza lagane do. Tumhara faisla kisi aisi cheez se juda hai jo mere liye bahut keemti hai, hai na?” Imama ne kuch der sochne ke baad poocha.

(‘All right—let me guess. Your decision is linked to something of great value to me, right?’ queried Imama after a thoughtful pause.)

Javeria ne sar hila diya.

(Javeria nodded her head.)

“Sawaal yeh hai ki mere liye aisi kya cheez itni important hai ki mujhe…” woh beech jumle mein ruk gayi. “Lekin jab tak mujhe tumhari khwahish ki haqeeqat nahi pata chalegi, main kisi nateeje par nahi pahunch sakti. Javeria, please mujhe batao. Yeh suspense mujhse bardasht nahi ho raha,” usne iltija ki.

(‘The question is: what is so important to me that I should…’ she stopped in mid-sentence. ‘But unless I know the nature of your wish, I cannot come to a conclusion. Javeria, tell me please. The suspense is too much for me,’ she pleaded.)

Javeria soch mein gum thi. Imama uske chehre ko gaur se dekh rahi thi. Kuch der baad Javeria ne upar dekha.

(Javeria was lost in thought. Imama studied her face. Javeria looked up at her after a while.)

“Apne career ke ilawa meri zindagi mein sirf ek hi cheez hai jise main sabse zyada ahmiyat deti hoon,” Imama ne usse kaha, “aur agar tum usi hawale se kuch kehna chahti ho, toh keh do. Mujhe bura nahi lagega.” Imama serious thi.

(‘Other than my career, there is only one thing I value most in my life,’ Imama addressed her, ‘and if you want to say something in that context, then say so. I won’t mind.’ Imama was serious.)

Javeria hairan reh gayi. Imama uske haath mein pehni hui ring ko dekh rahi thi. Javeria ke chehre par ek muskurahat aa gayi.

(Javeria was taken aback. Imama was looking at the ring on her hand. A smile crossed Javeria’s face.)

“Meri zindagi ki sabse pyari khwahish yeh hai ki tum…” Javeria ne apne dil ki baat bata di.

(‘My life’s dearest wish is that you….’ Javeria revealed her thoughts.)

Imama ka chehra sadme se bilkul safed pad gaya. Javeria andaaza nahi laga paayi ki uski baaton ka Imama par kitna gehra asar hua tha, lekin Imama ke chehre ke expressions se saaf tha ki uska reaction Javeria ki umeed se kahin zyada intense tha.

(Imama’s face went white with shock. Javeria could not guess the impact her words had on Imama, but the expression on her face showed that the reaction was much more intense than she had expected.)

“Maine tumhe pehle hi bataya tha ki tum naraz ho jaogi,” Javeria ne situation ko sambhalne ki koshish ki, lekin Imama bina ek lafz kahe use dekhti rahi.

(‘I did tell you that you would be offended,’ Javeria tried to redeem the situation, but Imama stared back without a word.)

(‘I did tell you that you would be offended,’ Javeria tried to redeem the situation, but Imama stared back without a word.)

. . . .

Moiz dard se cheekh raha tha, dohra hokar apna pet pakde hue tha. Uske saamne khade baarah saal ke ladke ne apni naak se nikla khoon apni phati hui shirt ki aasteen se saaf kiya aur haath mein pakde tennis racket ko Moiz ki taang par maarne ke liye ghuma diya.

(Moiz was howling with pain, doubled up and holding on to his stomach. The twelve-year-old boy facing him wiped the blood off his nose on the sleeve of his torn shirt, and swung the tennis racquet in his hand to hit Moiz on the leg.)

Moiz ne ek aur cheekh maari aur seedha khada ho gaya. Hairani aur be-yaqeeni se usne apne bhai ki taraf dekha—jo usse do saal chhota tha—aur wahi racket us par maar raha tha jo Moiz wahan lekar aaya tha.

(Moiz let out another scream and straightened up. With disbelief he looked at his brother—younger by two years—who was hitting him with the same racquet that Moiz had brought there.)

Is hafte mein yeh teesri baar tha jab un dono ki ladai hui thi, aur har baar chhota bhai hi ladai shuru karta tha. Moiz aur uske bhai ke beech kabhi achhe sambandh nahi rahe the aur bachpan se hi dono ladte aaye the. Lekin unki ladai zyada tar zubaani hoti thi aur usmein dhamkiyan shamil hoti thi, magar kuch waqt se unke jhagde maar-peet mein badal gaye the.

(This was the third time they had fought this week, and every time it was his younger brother who started the fight. He and Moiz had never had a good relationship and had fought since childhood. But their quarrels had been mostly verbal and included threats, but of late they had become physical.)

Aaj bhi yahi hua tha. Woh dono school se saath wapas aaye the. Jab woh car se utare, chhote bhai ne apna bag boot se zor se kheench liya jabki Moiz apna school bag utha raha tha. Is dauran uske haath par chot lag gayi aur dard se woh sikud gaya.

(This is what happened today. They had come back from school together. When they got down from the car, the younger brother roughly dragged his bag out of the boot as Moiz was picking up his school bag. In the process, he bruised Moiz’s hand, making him wince with pain.)

“Kya tum andhe ho gaye ho?” Moiz chillaya jab uska bhai beparwah andaaz mein chala gaya. Usne Moiz ki awaaz suni, palat kar uski taraf dekha, phir saamne ka darwaza khola aur lounge mein chala gaya. Gusse mein Moiz bhi uske peeche chala gaya.

(‘Have you gone blind?’ Moiz cried out as his brother walked off nonchalantly. He heard Moiz, turned round, looked at him, then opened the front door, and walked into the lounge. Incensed, Moiz followed on his heels.)

“Agli baar agar tumne aisa kuch kiya toh main tumhara haath tod dunga!” Moiz chillaya.

(‘The next time you do anything like that I’ll break your hand!’ Moiz shouted.)

Chhote ladke ne apna bag kandhe se utara, neeche rakha aur kamar par haath rakhkar be-dhadhak Moiz ka saamna kiya.

(The younger boy took his bag off his shoulder, put it down, and with hands on his hips, defiantly faced Moiz.)

“Main karunga—toh tum kya kar loge? Mera haath tod doge? Tum mein himmat hai?”

(‘I will—so what will you do? Break my hand? Have you the guts?’)

“Agar tumne aaj jo kiya woh dobara kiya toh tumhe pata chal jayega.” Moiz apne kamre ki taraf badha.

(‘You’ll find out if you repeat what you did today.’ Moiz headed toward his room.)

Lekin uske bhai ne usse rok liya aur poori taqat se uska bag pakad liya.

(But his brother stopped him, grabbing his bag with all his strength.)

“Nahi—abhi batao.” Usne Moiz ka bag neeche phenk diya. Gusse se laal Moiz ne apne bhai ka bag uthaya aur door phenk diya. Bina ruke uske bhai ne Moiz ki taang par zor se vaar kiya. Moiz us par jhapta aur uske chehre par mukka maara, jisse uski naak se khoon nikalne laga. Iske bawajood chhote ladke ki taraf se koi awaaz nahi nikli. Usne Moiz ki tie pakad li aur uska gala ghontne ki koshish ki. Moiz ne uska collar pakadkar jawab diya—shirt phatne ki awaaz aayi. Puri taqat se Moiz ne uske pet par maara taaki woh uski pakad chhod de.

(‘No—tell me now.’ He flung Moiz’s bag down. Flushed with anger, Moiz picked up his brother’s bag and hurled it away. Without a pause, his brother landed a sharp blow on Moiz’s leg. Moiz lunged at him, punching his face, and his nose began to bleed. Despite that, there was no sound from the younger boy. He grabbed Moiz’s tie and tried to choke him. Moiz retaliated by grabbing his collar—there was a tearing sound as the shirt ripped. With all his force, Moiz hit his brother on his midriff so as to make him lose his grip on him.)

“Ab main tumhe dikhaunga! Main tumhara haath tod dunga!” Chillate aur gaaliyan dete hue Moiz ne lounge ke kone mein pada tennis racket utha liya. Agle hi pal racket uske bhai ke haath mein tha aur usne itni taqat se use ghumaya ki Moiz khud ko bacha nahi saka. Racket ke vaar uski peeth aur taangon par barasne lage.

(‘Now I’ll show you! I’ll break your hand!’ Shouting and abusing, Moiz picked up the tennis racquet that was lying in corner of the lounge. The next thing he knew was that the racquet was in his brother’s hand and was swung with such force that Moiz could not save himself. Blows rained down on him, on his back and legs.)

Unka bada bhai gusse mein lounge mein aa gaya.

(Their older brother came into the lounge in a fit of rage.)

“Tumhari problem kya hai? Ghar aate hi tum log hungama khada kar dete ho!” Uski awaaz sunte hi chhote bhai ne pehle racket neeche kiya aur phir dobara utha liya.

(‘What is your problem? You create an upheaval as soon as you get home!’ At the sound of his voice, the younger brother first lowered and then raised the racquet again.)

“Aur tum—kya tumhe apne bade bhai par haath uthate hue sharm nahi aati?” Sabse bade bhai ne us haath ki taraf dekha jisme racket tha.

(‘And you—aren’t you ashamed of yourself for raising your hand at your older brother?’ The eldest brother looked at the hand holding the racquet.)

“Nahi,” usne bina kisi pachtave ke jawab diya. Usne racket neeche phenka, apna bag uthaya aur chala gaya.

(‘No,’ he retorted without any remorse. He threw the racquet down, picked up his bag and walked away.)

“Tumhe iska hisaab dena padega,” Moiz ne uske peeche chillate hue kaha aur apni dard karti taang ko sehlaaya.

(‘You will have to pay for this,’ Moiz called out after him, rubbing his sore leg.)

“Zaroor, kyun nahi!” Usne Moiz ko ajeeb si muskurahat di. “Agli baar bat le aana. Tennis racket se tumhe maarne mein koi maza nahi aaya—tumhari koi haddi bhi nahi tooti.”

(‘Sure, why not!’ He gave Moiz a weird smile. ‘Get a bat the next time. It was no fun hitting you with a tennis racquet—no bones are broken.’)

“Apni naak dekho—pakka toot gayi hai.” Gusse mein Moiz ne seedhiyon ki taraf dekha jahan uska bhai abhi kuch der pehle khada tha.

(‘Check out your nose—it’s broken for sure.’ Furious, Moiz looked towards the staircase where his brother had been standing just while ago.)

Chauthi baar Mrs. Samantha Richards ne doosri row mein khidki ke paas pehli kursi par baithe ladke ko dekha. Class ki bilkul parwah na karte hue woh khidki ke bahar dekhne mein mashgool tha. Kabhi-kabhi woh Mrs. Richards ki taraf dekhta aur phir dobara khidki ke bahar ke manzar ki taraf mud jaata.

(For the fourth time, Mrs. Samantha Richards stared at the boy sitting on the first chair in the second row by the window. With complete disregard for the class, he was busy staring out of the window. From time to time he would look at Mrs. Richards, and then turn back to the view from the window.)

Yeh Islamabad ke ek international school mein biology teacher ke taur par unka pehla din tha. Woh ek diplomat ki wife aur profession se teacher thi. Woh haal hi mein Islamabad aaye the. Unke husband ki har posting ke dauran woh embassy se jude schools mein teaching assignments le leti thi.

(This was her first day as biology teacher at one of the international schools in Islamabad. She was a diplomat’s wife and a teacher by profession. They had recently arrived in Islamabad. At all her husband’s postings, she had taken up teaching assignments in the schools attached to the embassy.)

Apni predecessor Ms. Mariam ke syllabus aur teaching schedule ko jaari rakhte hue, class se chhota sa introduction dene ke baad Mrs. Richards ne heart ke function aur blood circulation system ko samjhana shuru kiya aur board par ek diagram banaya.

(Continuing the syllabus and teaching schedule of her predecessor Ms. Mariam, after a brief introduction to the class Mrs Richards began explaining the function of the heart and the circulation system and drew a diagram on the board.)

Usne us student ki taraf dekha jo laparwahi se khidki ke bahar dekh raha tha aur ek purane teaching tareeqe ka istemal karte hue us par apni nazar jama di aur bolna band kar diya. Puri class mein khamoshi chha gayi. Ladka dobara class ki taraf mud gaya. Uski nazar se nazar milte hi Mrs. Richards muskurayi aur apna lecture jaari rakha.

(She looked at the student who was looking distractedly out of the window and, using a time-worn technique, she fixed her gaze on him and stopped speaking. A hush fell over the class. The boy turned back to the class. Meeting his gaze, Mrs. Richards smiled and resumed her lecture.)

Kuch der tak woh ladke ko dekhti rahi, jo ab apni notebook mein likhne mein busy tha. Phir usne dobara class ki taraf tawajjoh di.

(For a while she continued to keep her gaze on the boy who was now busy writing in his notebook. Then she turned her attention to the class.)

Use laga ki ladka kaafi sharminda ho chuka hai aur ab uski tawajjoh nahi bhatkegi, lekin sirf kuch minute baad usne use dobara khidki ke bahar dekhte hue paaya. Ek baar phir usne lecture rok diya aur ladka uski taraf dekhne laga. Is baar woh nahi muskurayi. Usne class ko address karna jaari rakha. Jaise hi woh writing board ki taraf mudi, student phir khidki ki taraf mud gaya.

(She believed the boy was embarrassed enough not to let his attention wander, but just a couple of minutes later she found him looking out of the window again. Once more, she stopped her lecture, and he turned to look at her. This time she did not smile. She continued addressing the class. As she turned to the writing board, the student again turned to the window.)

Uske chehre par narazgi ka asar aaya aur jaise hi woh phir khamosh hui, ladke ne use ghoor kar dekha aur phir nazar hata kar khidki ke bahar dekhne laga.

(A look of annoyance crossed her face and as she fell silent again, the boy looked at her with a frown, and looked away—beyond the window.)

Uska rawayya itna be-adab tha ki Mrs. Samantha Richards ka chehra gusse se laal pad gaya. “Salar, tum kya dekh rahe ho?” usne sakhti se poocha.

(His attitude was so insulting that Mrs. Samantha Richards’s face flushed. ‘Salar, what are you looking at?’ she asked sternly.)

“Kuch nahi,” ek lafz ka jawab aaya. Usne use teekhi nazar se dekha.

(‘Nothing,’ came the one word reply. He gave her a piercing look.)

“Kya tumhe pata hai main kya padha rahi hoon?”

(‘Do you know what I am teaching?’)

“Umeed hai.” Uska lehja itna badtameez tha ki Samantha Richards ne apne haath mein pakde marker ka cap lagaya aur use table par zor se rakh diya.

(‘Hope so.’ His tone was so rude that Samantha Richards capped the marker she had in her hand and slapped it down on the table.)

“Agar aisa hai, toh yahan aao aur is diagram ko banao aur label karo.”

(‘If that is so, then come up here and draw and label this diagram.’)

Usne board par bana hua figure mita diya. Ladke ke chehre ka rang badalne laga. Usne dekha ki class ke students ek-doosre ki taraf dekh rahe the. Ladka Samantha Richards ko thandi nazar se dekhta raha.

(She erased the figure on the board. The boy’s face changed a myriad colors. She saw the students in the class exchange glances. The boy stared coldly at Samantha Richards.)

Jaise hi usne board se apne diagram ka aakhri nishaan bhi mita diya, ladka apni seat se uth gaya. Tezi se aage badhkar usne table se marker uthaya aur bijli ki raftaar se—bilkul do minute aur sattavan seconds mein—diagram banakar label kar diya.

(As she cleaned the last trace of her diagram from the board, he left his seat. Moving swiftly, he picked up the marker from the table and with lightning speed—in exactly two minutes and fifty-seven seconds—he had drawn and labeled the diagram.)

Marker ka cap dobara lagakar usne use bhi bilkul Mrs. Richards ki tarah table par patak diya aur bina uski taraf dekhe apni seat par wapas chala gaya.

(Replacing the cap on the marker, he slapped it down on the table just as Mrs. Richards had done, and, without looking at her, returned to his seat.)

Mrs. Richards ne use marker patakte ya apni seat par wapas jaate hue nahi dekha. Woh hairani se diagram ko dekh rahi thi—jise banane mein use das minute lage the aur jise us ladke ne teen minute se bhi kam waqt mein bana diya tha. Woh uske kaam se kahin behtar tha; usmein ek bhi chhoti si galti nahi thi. Kuch sharminda hokar usne ladke ki taraf dekha. Ek baar phir woh khidki ke bahar dekh raha tha.

(Mrs. Richards did not see him tossing down the marker or walking back to his seat. She was looking in disbelief at the diagram—which had taken her ten minutes to make—and which he had completed in less than three minutes. It was far better than her work: she could not find even a minor flaw in it. Somewhat embarrassed, she turned to look at the boy. Once again he was looking out of the window.)

Waseem ne teesri baar darwaze par dastak di; is baar use andar se Imama ki awaaz sunai di.

(Waseem knocked on the door for the third time; this time he could hear Imama inside.)

“Kaun hai?”

(‘Who is it?’)

“Imama, main hoon. Darwaza kholo,” Waseem ne peeche hatkar kaha. Doosri taraf khamoshi chha gayi.

(‘Imama it’s me. Open the door,’ said Waseem standing back. There was silence on the other side.)

Thodi der baad lock khulne ki awaaz aayi aur Waseem ne darwaza kholkar andar kadam rakha. Imama apni peeth Waseem ki taraf kiye bed ki taraf badh gayi.

(A little later, the lock clicked and Waseem turned the door knob to enter. Imama moved towards her bed, with her back to Waseem.)

“Tum is waqt yahan kyun aaye ho?”

(‘What brings you here at this time?’)

“Tum itni jaldi kyun so gayi? Abhi toh sirf das baje hain,” Waseem ne andar aate hue kaha.

(‘Why did you turn in so early? It’s only ten now,’ replied Waseem as he walked in.)

“Mujhe neend aa rahi thi.” Woh bed par baith gayi. Waseem use dekh kar pareshan ho gaya.

(‘I was sleepy.’ She sat down on the bed. Waseem was alarmed to see her.)

“Kya tum ro rahi thi?” Yeh sawaal Waseem ke munh se achanak nikal gaya. Imama ki aankhen laal aur soji hui thi aur woh nazrein churane ki koshish kar rahi thi.

(‘Have you been crying?’ It was a spontaneous remark. Imama’s eyes were red and swollen and she was trying to look away.)

“Nahi—nahi, main nahi ro rahi thi. Bas sar mein dard hai.” Usne muskurane ki koshish ki.

(‘No—no, I wasn’t crying. Just a bad headache.’ She tried to smile.)

Waseem uske paas bed par baith gaya aur uska temperature check karne ke liye uska haath pakda. “Bukhar hai?” usne fikrmandi se poocha. Phir usne uska haath chhod diya. “Tumhe bukhar nahi hai. Shayad tumhe apne headache ki tablet le leni chahiye.”

(Waseem, sitting down beside her, held her hand, trying to check her temperature. ‘Any fever?’ he asked with some concern. Then he let go of her hand. ‘You don’t have fever. Perhaps you should take a tablet for your headache.’)

“Le li hai.”

(‘I have.’)

“Achha. Ab so jao. Main tumse baat karne aaya tha, lekin tumhari haalat theek nahi hai…” Waseem kamre se bahar jaane ke liye muda. Imama ne use rokne ki koi koshish nahi ki. Woh uske peeche darwaze tak gayi aur darwaza band kar diya.

(‘Good. Go to sleep then. I had come to talk to you but you’re in no state…’ Waseem turned to leave the room. Imama made no effort to stop him. She followed him to the door and shut it behind him.)

Bed par girte hi usne apna chehra takiye mein chhupa liya—woh dobara sisak-sisak kar ro rahi thi.

(Flinging herself on the bed, she buried her face in the pillow—she was sobbing again.)

Teraah saal ka ladka TV par ek music show dekhne mein mashgool tha jab Tyyaba ne andar jhaanka. Usne apne bete ki taraf kuch pareshani se dekha aur chirchiraate hue kamre mein dakhil hui.

(The thirteen-year-old boy was engrossed in a music show on TV when Tyyaba peeped in. She looked at her son somewhat uncertainly, and entered the room, irritated.)

“Kya ho raha hai?”

(‘What’s going on?’)

“Main TV dekh raha hoon,” usne uski taraf dekhe bina jawab diya.

(‘I’m watching TV,’ he replied without looking at her.)

“TV dekh rahe ho. Khuda ke liye! Kya tumhe pata hai tumhare exams shuru ho gaye hain?” Tyyaba ne uske saamne khade hokar poocha.

(‘Watching TV. For God’s sake! Are you aware that your exams have started?’ Tyyaba asked, standing in front of him.)

“Toh kya?” usne chirchira kar kaha.

(‘So what?’ he said, annoyed.)

“Toh kya? Tumhe apne kamre mein kitaabon ke saath hona chahiye, na ki yahan baithkar yeh vulgar show dekhna chahiye,” Tyyaba ne use daanta.

(‘So what? You should be in your room with your books, not sitting here watching this vulgar show,’ Tyyaba scolded him.)

“Maine jitna padhna zaroori tha, utna padh liya hai. Ab please mere raaste se hat jao.” Uske lehje mein chirchiraahat saaf thi.

(‘I have studied as much as I need to. Now please move out of my way.’ His tone reflected his irritation.)

“Phir bhi jao aur padhai karo.” Tyyaba apni baat par qayam rahi.

(‘All the same go in and study.’ Tyyaba stood her ground.)

“Nahi. Main nahi uthunga aur na hi jaakar padhunga. Meri padhai aur mere papers meri zimmedari hain, tumhari nahi.”

(‘No. I will not get up, nor will I go in and study. My studies and my papers are my concern, not yours.’)

“Agar tumhe apni padhai ki fikr hoti toh kya tum yahan baithe hote?”

(‘If you were concerned about your studies, would you be sitting here?’)

“Side ho jao.” Usne Tyyaba ki baat ko nazarandaz karte hue use badtameezi se hata diya.

(‘Step aside.’ He ignored Tyyaba’s comment and rudely shooed her away.)

“Main aaj tumhare father se baat karungi.” Tyyaba ne dhamki dene ki koshish ki.

(‘I’m going to talk to your father today.’ Tyyaba tried a threat.)

“Tum unse baat kar sakti ho, mujhe koi farq nahi padta. Kya hoga? Woh kya karenge? Maine tumhe bataya hai ki main apne exams ke liye pehle hi tayyar hoon, toh phir tumhari problem kya hai?”

(‘You can talk to him for all I care. What will happen? What is he going to do? I’ve told you that I’ve already prepared for my exams, so then what’s your problem?’)

“Yeh tumhara final examination hai. Tumhe iski fikr honi chahiye,” Tyyaba ne apna lehja naram karte hue kaha.

(‘This is your final examination. You should be concerned about it.’ Tyyaba softened her tone.)

“Main koi chaar saal ka bachcha nahi hoon jise tumhe baar-baar tokna pade. Mujhe apni zimmedariyon ki tumse zyada samajh hai, isliye apni bewakoofana advice se mujhe pareshaan mat karo.”

(‘I am not a four-year-old who you need to nag. I have a better understanding of my responsibilities than you so don’t pester me with your silly advice.’)

“Tumhare exams chal rahe hain. Apni padhai par dhyaan do. Tumhe apne kamre mein hona chahiye. Main tumhare father se baat karungi!”

(‘Your exams are on. Pay attention to your studies. You should be in your room. I will have a word with your father!’)

“Kya bakwaas hai!” Khade hokar usne remote control deewar par de maara aur pair patakte hue kamre se bahar chala gaya. Tyyaba be-bas aur zaleel si use jaate hue dekhti rahi.

(‘What rubbish!’ Standing up, he flung the remote control at the wall and stomping his feet, left the room. Tyyaba, helpless and humiliated, watched him go.)

New Year’s Eve thi—naye saal ke shuru hone mein sirf tees minute baaki the. Das ya uske aas-paas teenagers motorbikes par shehar ki sadkon par shor machate hue ghoom rahe the aur har tarah ke stunts kar rahe the. Unmein se kuch ne naye saal ka jashn manane ke liye chamakdar headbands pehne hue the. Ek ghanta pehle woh uptown ke ek supermarket mein ladkiyon ko seetiyaan bajakar tang kar rahe the. Unke paas firecrackers bhi the jinhe woh celebration ke liye chala rahe the.

(It was New Year’s Eve: thirty minutes to go before the New Year began. A group of ten or so teenagers were roaring around the city streets on their motorbikes, doing all kinds of stunts. Some of them wore shiny headbands to celebrate the coming year. An hour ago they were in one of the uptown supermarkets, teasing girls with whistles. They had firecrackers too which they let off to celebrate.)

Pau­ne baarah baje woh Gymkhana Club ki parking mein pahunche jahan New Year’s party poore josh mein chal rahi thi. Ladkon ke paas bhi party ke invitations the aur unke parents pehle se wahin maujood the.

(At a quarter to twelve they reached the parking lot of the Gymkhana Club where a New Year’s party was in full swing. The boys also had invitations to the party and their parents were already there.)

Jab woh andar gaye toh aadhi raat hone mein sirf paanch minute baaki the. Kuch hi palon mein hall aur dance floor ki lights band hone wali thi aur phir lawns mein fireworks ke display ke saath naye saal ka swagat kiya jaata. Party poori raat chalni thi—dancing, drinking aur mauke ke liye Gymkhana management ki taraf se arrange ki gayi saari festivities.

(When they got in, it was five to midnight. In a few moments, the lights in the hall and the dance floor would be switched off and then with a display of fireworks on the lawns, the New Year would be heralded in. The partying would be on all night—dancing, drinking—all the festivities especially organized for the occasion by the Gymkhana management.)

“Lights off” ka matlab tha poori tarah se be-lagaam ho jaana—aur bheed isi ke liye aayi thi.

(‘Lights off’ meant a display of complete abandon—that was what the crowds came for.)

Party mein shamil teenagers mein se ek dance floor par tha, music ki beat par jhoom raha tha aur apni performance se sabko impress kar raha tha. Baarah bajne mein das seconds baaki the ki lights band ho gayi. Log naye saal ke aane ke seconds gin rahe the aur hall mein awaazein aur hansna goonj raha tha. Jaise hi clock ne midnight bajaya, shor apni inteha par pahunch gaya aur hall dobara roshan ho gaya.

(One of the teenagers who had joined the party was on the dance floor, rocking to the beat and impressing all with his performance. At ten seconds to twelve the lights went off. Voices and laughter filled the hall as people counted the seconds to the New Year, and this rose to a pitch as the clock struck midnight and the hall lit up again.)

Ab teenagers parking lot mein the aur unki car horns zor-zor se baj rahi thi. Haath mein beer can liye dance floor wala ladka ek car ki chhat par chadh gaya. Usne apni jacket se beer ka ek aur can nikala aur use ek parked car ki windscreen par de maara. Pura can lagte hi windscreen dhamake ke saath toot gayi. Woh car par khada raha aur apne haath mein maujood beer can se aaraam se peeta raha.

(The teenagers were now out in the parking lot, their car horns blaring away. Beer can in hand, the youth who was on the dance floor got on the roof of a car. He pulled out another beer can from his jacket and pitched it at the windscreen of a parked car, which shattered with an explosion as the full can hit it. He stood on the car, calmly drinking from the can of beer in his hand.)

Pichhle aadhe ghante se Salar Kamran ko video game mein master banne ki koshish karte hue dekh raha tha. Score wahi ka wahi tha, shayad isliye kyunki Kamran ek mushkil track ko cross karne ki koshish kar raha tha. Salar bhi lounge mein tha aur notes likhne mein busy tha. Kabhi-kabhi woh TV screen ki taraf dekhta jab Kamran zyada points jeetne ki koshish karta.

(For the last half hour Salar had been watching Kamran trying to master the video game: the score remained the same, probably because Kamran was trying to maneuver a difficult track. Salar was also in the lounge, busy writing notes. From time to time, he would look at the TV screen as Kamran struggled to win more points.)

Aadhe ghante baad Salar ne apni notebook side mein rakh di, jamhai ko roka, table par apni taangein phaila kar aur haath sar ke peeche rakhkar TV screen ki taraf dekha. Kamran ne pichhla round haarne ke baad naya game shuru kiya tha.

(Half an hour later, Salar put his notebook away, stifled a yawn, stretched his legs out on the table and crossing his hands behind his head, looked at the TV screen as Kamran started a new game, having lost the previous round.)

“Kya problem hai, Kamran?”

(‘What’s the problem, Kamran?’)

“Kuch nahi… mujhe yeh naya game mila hai, lekin ismein score karna bahut mushkil hai,” Kamran ne thake hue lehje mein kaha.

(‘Nothing…I got this new game but it is really tough to score,’ Kamran said in a tired tone.)

“Mujhe dekhne do.” Salar sofa se utha aur remote control le liya.

(‘Let me see.’ Salar got up from the sofa and took the remote control.)

Kamran khamoshi se dekhta raha. Shuru ke kuch seconds mein hi Salar itni speed se car chala raha tha jitni speed Kamran ne kabhi achieve nahi ki thi. Jo track Kamran ke liye mushkil tha, Salar ke liye bachchon ka khel tha. Kamran ke liye pehle minute mein itni tez raftaar se daudti car par nazar rakhna bhi mushkil tha, phir bhi Salar us par poora control rakhta tha.

(Kamran watched silently: in the opening seconds Salar was racing at a speed that Kamran had never reached. The track that had challenged Kamran was like child’s play for Salar—it was hard for Kamran to keep his eyes on the car that was racing at a fantastic speed in the first minute, and yet Salar had complete control over it.)

Teen minute baad Kamran ne dekha ki car achanak mud gayi, track se bahar nikal gayi aur tukdon mein phat gayi. Kamran muskurate hue Salar ki taraf muda—use samajh aa gaya ki car kyun destroy hui thi. Salar ne remote control table par rakha aur apni notebook utha li.

“Yeh bahut boring game hai,” usne kaha aur Kamran ki taangon ke upar se koodkar bahar chala gaya.

(Three minutes later, Kamran saw the car swerve, go off the track and explode into smithereens. Kamran turned to Salar with a smile—he realized why the car had been destroyed: Laying the remote control down on the table Salar picked up his notebook. ‘It’s a very boring game,’ he remarked as he jumped over Kamran’s legs and went out.)

Kamran ne daant bheench liye jab usne screen par seven-digit score dekha. Salar ke jaane ke baad usne darwaze ki taraf dekha.

(Kamran clenched his teeth as he saw the seven digit score on the screen. He looked at the door as Salar left.)