Pauthri Khaana ...

Sania - I knew her for about two months now. We met each other in Lahore at my cousins wedding. She was somehow my far-far relative, though I heard and met her for the first time. Just what everyone else says; in those two months, I got to know her so well that I thought I knew her forever. Yeah, and that is exactly how I felt about Sania. I have to admit that I started to like her. Naturally, she was a very likeable person, with an elegant personality and alluring qualities.

Everything should have been the way it was, until, we traveled together from Lahore to Rawalpindi. Yeah, and it all started from: Rawalpindi Railway Station.

Danish: Aapse kuch kahna tha!
Sania: Jee kahiye!
Danish: Woh … shaadi mai bahut maza aya, nai?
Sania: Haan woh toh hai. – Bas yahi?
Danish: Nahi … I mean, aapke saath bahut maza aya, you get along with people very well. Very few people are like that.
Sania: Thanks. - Toh aapney bas yahi kahna tha?
Danish: Nahi … I … I mean Haan … Bas yahi.

By this time, even the audience knew what I wanted to say, even she knew; but somehow I didn’t have the guts. We just stood there, waiting for our ride, until, her ride arrived. I knew this was my last chance, but I didn’t feel like saying it in front of her family. So I took the easy-way-out, which usually works; I wrote it on a scrap piece of paper, saying: “I kinda like you”. Just when she was putting her luggage in the trunk, I took my chance and gave her the note. She just took it and held it in her hand. Without even reading it she just looked straight back at me; staring me eye to eye. I felt kind of embarrassed and thought I should say something.

Danish: I wanted to say this as well, but I couldn’t. So … iss liye likh diya. I hope to hear something from you though … uh some-time.

I felt stupid, wretched and a lot more. I didn’t know if I wanted to hear her answer right then, or later, or ever and I seriously didn’t know what I was talking about; but I had to do it. She sat in the car and left. I stood there watching the car go further and further till it faded away in the traffic. Then, I did my usual act; looked straight up towards the sky, lifted my arms straight up in the air for a second, took a deep breath and looked down to kick anything kickable – and the grand finale, a headshake in disappointment. Yeah, as if I just missed a goal by an inch. Just when I thought the film ends here, I noticed, it was just intermission.

Girl: Nice.
Danish: Ji?
Girl: Yeh jo abhi appnay kiya, I heard it.
Danish: O, toh aap … sunn rahi thi. Waisay … doosaroon ki baatain sunna achi baat nahi hoti.

Girl: I know, but I could just hear it.

I was not in a mood to have a conversation. So I stood there, leaning against the wall, just ignoring everything around me, and thinking. But maybe, you don’t always get what you want.

Girl: So you like her?
Danish: Yeah, sorta! But if I keep bumping into girls like you, I may have to change my mind.

She was pretty, no doubt; and after hearing me, she laughed hysterically and went on saying:

Girl: I understand.
Danish: You do?
Girl: Ji … I do.
Danish: Nice … and smart, I like that.
Girl: Really?

Danish: Yeah, I mean, I’m a difficult person to understand. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m talking about. For someone to understand all this has to be a smart person. Don’t you think so?

This time she smiled, and said:

Girl: I know what you mean. I understand.
Danish: No you don’t ... It’s easy to say, but hard to understand.
Girl: Alright, aapki marzi!

It seemed like we were both fooling around with one another; maybe she liked it, and maybe … I did too.

Girl: So, you’re waiting for your ride?
Danish: No, I’m actually waiting for your ride!
Girl: Really, and why is that?
Danish: Well, yeh Pakistan hai madam, and for a girl like you, here, alone! Not a very good idea.
Girl: Aur appka khayal hai ke I’m safe with you?
Danish: Of course, look at me, top to bottom, Ab mujhse zayda sahreef larka aapko aur kahan milay ga?
Girl: Right!
Danish: Abhi khudi toh kah rahi thi ke ‘I know what you mean’. Aapko toh yeh bhi pata hona chahiye ke mein ab kya karnay wala hoon.
Girl: Haan, woh toh hai. Ab aap mujhe thunday ka poochain gey – it’s very hot.
Danish: O haan! Aapko kuch chahiye, thunda garam, chai coffee, anything?
Girl: Bas coke!
Danish: Anything to eat?
Girl: Nahi, shukriya!

It wouldn’t hurt to be a ladies man for once; So I looked for the closes refreshment-stand to get the necessary snacks. I thought she was being a bit formal so I bought chips for her as well. She was waiting where she had her luggage placed and when I looked in her direction I noticed her ride arrived and she was nighly leaving.

Thereupon I witted as if I’m letting something of sublime worth slip away from me; not thinking furthermore I ran back to catch up to her, to maybe just say ‘farewell’. Right when I was hustling back, at that very instant I felt as if I could just cease time for scarcely any minute. Time was running out, and I was still baffled in my thoughts of sanguineness hopes to procure a way to buy time. So I went with my first instinct and yelled out to the guy who was about to sit in the drivers seat.

Danish: Sir … ek second.
Man: Ji?
Danish: Woh actually mein yahan naya hoon Pakistan mai toh aap mujhe yahan se Westridge ka rasta bata dayn gey?
Man: Sure, go straight from the entrance of the station and then you’ll join a big road, which is Peshawar Road, right from the Peshawar Road go straight 10 minutes – like around 4 kms then on the right side, you’ll see Westridge. It’s right after crossing the racecourse.

Right then when he was explaining the directions, which I already knew, I took the time to write a short note to the girl, on which I wrote:

“thought why don’t we keep in touch
names Danish
Contact# 3007283620”

Danish: Thanks, woh actually meney soocha, yeh na ho mein Taxi mey bethoon aur Taxiwala meter barhanay ke chakkar mai mujhe sara Rawalpindi hee ghooma dey. So, I just wanted to be sure. Thanks a lot.

Man: No problem.
Danish: Oh, ek second excuse me, woh … she asked for a coke, aur yeh … chips bhi.

I gave her the coke and slipped the note along with the chips. She noticed and smiled; and I waved good-bye to everyone as if I knew them all. I had a smile that time around, and I felt alleviated. And then, it ended there; so I slapped-on my backpack and called for a taxi ... to Westridge.

Aashiya – my wife; I know her for fifty four years now. We met in Rawalpindi – at the station. All these years though, she was right about one thing; she did understand me.

‘Sometimes you just don’t realize that the first train you missed, was never intent to be yours’