Waseem saw Imama sitting out in the lawn. She had the earphones on
and was listening to something on her Walkman. He slipped up very
quietly behind her and grabbed the earphones off her, but she swiftly
turned off the Walkman.
‗What are you listening to, sitting here all by yourself?' he said in a loud
voice as he stuck the earphones into his ears.
Imama had already switched off the cassette. She got up and pulled at
the earphones.
‗This is the height of bad manners—Waseem, behave yourself!' She was
furious. Waseem did not let go of the earphones: Imama's anger had no
effect on him.
‗I want to hear what you were listening to—what's rude about that?
Switch on the cassette.'
‗I wasn't sitting here with this for your listening pleasure.' Annoyed,
she detached the headphones. ‗Here, take these and get lost.'She sat down again, firmly gripping the Walkman. Waseem felt that she
seemed somewhat disturbed…worried. But why should she be worried?
He shrugged off the thought. Pulling another chair, he sat down and put
the earphones on the table before her.
‗Here take these and don't be so angry. Carry on with whatever you
were listening to,' he said, trying to placate her.
‗No—I don't want to listen to anything now. You can keep them.'
Imama did not reach for the earphones.
‗By the way, what was it?'
‗What could it be?' she replied in the same tone.
‗Ghazals, perhaps?' wondered Waseem.
‗You know, Waseem, you share many traits with old women.'
‗For example?'
‗For example, nit-picking.'
‗And…?'
‗And spying on others without the least embarrassment.'
‗And do you know how selfish you are gradually becoming?' Waseem
replied likewise.
Imama did not mind it. ‗So now you know how selfish I am?' she
replied with a smile this time. ‗You are so silly that I couldn't believe
you'd come to this conclusion.'
‗If you're trying to embarrass me, then don't bother—I'm not going to
be ashamed.' He was being bull-headed.
‗But still, it is one's duty to try.'
‗Aren't you being too smart today?' Waseem looked at her closely.
‗Possibly.'
‗Not possibly—certainly. Anyway, it's better than that monastic silence
you adopt on your return to Islamabad.'
‗What monastic silence?' Imama responded.
‗You've changed a fair bit since you went to Lahore.'
‗I'm under the pressure of studies.'
‗Everybody feels that pressure, Imama, but you seem obsessed.'
Waseem said, interrupting her.
‗Let's not fall into this silly argument…tell me, what are you doing
these days?'
‗Having a ball!' He was rocking his chair.
‗That's what you do all year long. I'm asking you about any special
interest now.'
‗Just hanging out with friends. You should know what I do once the
papers are over—you're forgetting everything, Imama.' Waseem lookedat her somewhat sadly.
‗I asked you this in the hope that you may have improved—but
obviously my question was redundant,' replied Imama.
‗You should know that I am a year older than you, so please wind up
your allegations.' He was trying to rub in his being older.
‗How are things with this boy next door?' Imama suddenly remembered
something.
‗Chu-Chu? Somewhat strange, I'd say,' shrugged Waseem. ‗He's a
weird chap. If he's in a good mood, he'll exalt you to the seventh
heaven; if he's in a bad mood, he'll dump you into the gutter.'
‗Most of your friends are like that,' she said with a smile. ‗Birds of a
feather flock together.'
‗No—that's not the case. At least, I do not behave the way Chu-Chu
does.'
‗Wasn't he going abroad?' Imama asked Waseem.
‗Yes, he was supposed to, but I'm not sure. I think his parents don't
plan to send him.'
‗His appearance is very odd—looks like he's from some hippy tribe or
will be.'
‗Have you seen him lately?'
‗I saw him yesterday, when I was coming home. He was going out
then—there was a girl with him.'
‗A girl? Was she wearing jeans?' Waseem was suddenly interested.
‗Yes.'
‗And she had mushroom-cut hair? She was fair?' Waseem snapped his
fingers with a smile. ‗Ursa—his girlfriend.'
‗The last time you named someone else,' said Imama, staring at him.
‗The last time? When was that?' Waseem wondered.
Seven or eight months ago, when you spoke to his girlfriend.'
‗Oh, that was Sheba. Wonder where she's now?'
‗Then he had a mobile number painted on the rear screen of his car,'
laughed Imama as she repeated the number.
‗You mean you remember the number?' laughed Waseem.
‗How could I forget? I've never seen a mobile number written so boldly
and that too on a car!' she laughed again.
‗I think I'll put my mobile number on my car too,' he said, running his
fingers through his hair.
‗Which mobile? The one you haven't bought yet?' she scoffed.
‗I'm buying one this month.'
‗Then be prepared for Baba's wrath…if you have the number paintedon the car, he'll be the first one to call you.'
‗That is what holds me back,' Waseem said with resignation.
‗It's best for you that rather than have your bones broken you should
keep your emotions under control. Besides, there are other issues…
what if Samiya gets to know about your mobile connections?'
Waseem cut her short. ‗What will she do? I'm not scared of her.'
‗I know you're not scared of her but she's the only sister of six brothers,
if you please. While you plan to get engaged to her, do consider the pros
and cons of consequences that may arise from any untoward action on
your part.' Imama was bent on teasing him.
‗Alas, what can I do now? My fate is sealed,' Waseem replied with a
mock sigh. ‗I should never buy a cell-phone as it will be of no use to
me—at least, not for finding a girlfriend.' He began to rock on his chair
again.
‗Better late than never, but you have seen sense,' Imama said, as she
reached for earphones on the table.
‗What was it that you were listening to?' Waseem remembered s he saw
her pick up the earphones.
‗Nothing special,' she replied, putting off the question.
......…
‗If you're going to Lahore then stop by Imama's hostel on your way
back. I've got her clothes from the tailor—you could drop them off,'
said Salma to Hashim Mubeen.
‗I'm going to be very busy—I can't possibly go around to Imama's
hostel.' Hashim wasn't too happy with the idea.
‗The driver's going with you; if you can't go then he can deliver the
parcel. The season's coming to an end—if she doesn't get the clothes
now, they'll just lie unused, and I don't know when she'll come next.'
Salma launched into a long explanation.
‗Right—I'll take them. If I don't find time, then I'll send them over with
the driver,' agreed Hashim.
He spent a fairly busy day in Lahore and it was past five by the time he
was free. He decided to take the parcel himself to Imama and went to
the hostel. It was the first time he had come here since her admission.
He sent her a message through the gatekeeper and waited for her. Ten
minutes passed…then fifteen, then twenty: he was getting impatient.
Before he could send another message, he saw the gatekeeper coming
back, accompanied by a girl. When they came closer, he saw it wasImama's childhood friend from Islamabad.
‗Assalaam Alaikum, Uncle!' said Javeria.
‗W'alaikum Assalaam, child—how are you?'
‗Very well, thank you.'
‗I've got some clothes for Imama—her mother sent these as I was
coming to Lahore. I've been waiting here for nearly an hour, but she
hasn't come.' Hashim sounded plaintive.
‗Uncle, Imama's out shopping with her friends. You can give me the
parcel, I'll hand it over to her.'
He held out the parcel for Javeria and saying goodbye, he left. Javeria
went back to the hostel. The smile had disappeared off her face and her
anxiety was only too apparent. As she turned in towards her room, she
came across the warden and her smile reappeared.
‗Did you talk to her father?' the warden enquired.
‗Oh yes. There's nothing to worry about—she's at home in Islamabad.
Actually, he brought me some clothes sent by my family; as he was
coming to Lahore, Imama suggested he take them along. But he asked
for Imama instead when he got here.' In one breath, Javeria rattled off
many lies.
The warden breathed a sigh of relief. ‗Thank God! I was worried
sick…she'd told me about going home for the weekend…where could
she be?'
As Javeria stepped into the room, Rabia jumped up. ‗What's the news?
She is in Islamabad, isn't she?'
‗No,' Javeria said despondently.
‗My God!' Rabia put her hands on Javeria's shoulders. ‗Where could
she have gone?'
‗How should I know? All she told me was that she was going home—but
she didn't. then where is she? Imama is not that kind of a girl,' said
Javeria, as she tossed the parcel on her bed.
‗What did you tell the warden?' asked Rabia, worried.
‗What did I tell the warden? I lied; what else could I do? If I'd told her
that she wasn't in Islamabad, all hell would've broken loose—she'd
have called the police.'
‗And what did you tell Uncle?' asked Rabia.
‗I lied to him too that she had gone shopping.'
‗But what happens now?' Rabia was very worried.
‗I am concerned that if she doesn't get back, I'll be in real trouble.
Everyone will think that I'm hand in glove with her—that I knew her
programme and I lied to her father and to the warden.' Javeria'sanxiety was mounting.
‗Could Imama have met with an accident? She's not the sort who…' A
new fear struck Rabia.
‗What can we do now? We can't even discuss this with anyone,' said
Javeria, biting her nails with worry.
‗Let's talk to Zainab,' suggested Rabia.
‗For God's sake, Rabia, be sensible for once! What are we going to
achieve by talking to her?' Javeria was really annoyed.
‗Then let's wait. Perhaps she'll be back by tonight or tomorrow
morning—then there's no problem. And if she doesn't, then we have to
tell the warden the truth.' Rabia spoke seriously as she considered the
situation. Javeria said nothing but worry was written large across her
face.
----------------------------------------------------