It's not all Roses

Hiding

Talha

The first thought that comes to my mind when I wake up is this.
I stink.  And I don't mean just metaphorically or literally. I mean both. I am dripping buckets worth of sweat. It's easily above forty. I walk towards the wuzu area. My feet burn and I tiptoe trying to protect my feet, a desperate fail. I notice the masjid staff looking at me like I am deranged. At this point, I am leaning towards their opinion too.

I remember last night, and not in bits and cracks. There is no memory break, it comes to me in vivid and embarrassing details.
I remember having a mild panic attack about Zaynab walking towards my  car. I nearly lost my senses trying to get out of there as fast as possible. Now at the wake of dawn I realise that she wasn't wearing any glasses and she is blind as a bat without them, her lenses are no good either.

But Ya Allah, if she had seen me...

'Beta, are you lost?'

I squint at the watchman and mentally thank him for breaking my pitiful, horrible chain of thoughts. He is sitting beside me on the wash basin, looking worried. I notice he has kind eyes and snowy hair. I tell him that I am not lost. He observes me and I can tell he knows something is up. He is pitying me. I hate that.

Well go on Talha, I think, tell him how you abandoned the semi-unconscious uber driver last night. Right in the middle of a deserted street. And now you are hiding out here.

Well that might get him to stop pitying me but then I am definitely going to jail, before even that uber guy files a complaint against me.
I don't say anything and to my relief he doesn't ask anything else. He walks back to his tawny bench under the humungus neem tree, right next to a pedestal fan whirring noisily. The scorching heat is turning this morning into the kind of afternoon that makes you sad without giving any reason, the kind where every moment seems paused. There seems to be descending a hazy stillness into the day. I am nostalgic without even realising it.

I am inside the mosque when suddenly I realise I have been here before, why has it taken so long  to remember? Everything in here looks indistinctively  familiar. The memory is a foggy one but as I walk barefoot on the cool marble floor, the fog begins to clear. 

I was here last year. It was so cold that day, Zaynab and Asad were smoking cigarettes after cigarettes. And laughing. It was a Saturday evening. The original plan was to pick up Ayzah on our way to Old Lahore, Asad needed some books and Zaynab just wanted an excuse to get away and smoke. She hates doing it at home, she had said, it's like I am committing a crime.

Asad had borrowed his brother's car, one of the rare occasions where we didn't waste away all our money on transport, and  drove to Ayzah's house.

'Ding Ding Ding, AYZAAAAH.'
 
We were making quite a racket outside, making heads turn. The neighbours' dog sat up straight, alert and watchful.

'Zaynab, shut the fuck up her parents are home,' Asad said. He looked like he was about to hit her.

'So?'

I admired Zaynab's non chalance to Asad's irritation. I could never do that.

'So behave,' he said.

She waved her hand like it wasn't a big deal.

'Talha, stop her. She does this deliberately you know. Auntie will never let Ayzah come with us.'

Yeah right, like Talha could stop her. Or anyone, as a matter of fact.

'Calm down, she doesn't let her come cause of you two,' she pointed accusingly at both us. She was oddly giddy that day. Weekend perks.

'What did we do?'

'Be born males,' she said.

Before Asad could open his mouth and they started another one of their debates on reverse sexism, Ayzah opened the door.

'I thought I was pretty clear on phone, I am not coming.'

She was talking to Zaynab but looking at me. I pretended to be busy on my phone, a classic life saving trick. So simple, so useful.

We ended up going without her anyway which made Asad grumpy and Zaynab relieved and that was making Asad more mad. I took part in their coversations (catfights was a more accurate word), but I couldn't stop thinking I had hurt Ayzah again. Around her, I tried to be inivisible those days.
We ended up in a less crowded and somewhat dark alley behind foodstreet. Asad was well fed by then, his mood considerably improved. I had earphones plugged in and  was listening to a Qawali.

Zaynab nudged me, 'Wanna go back home? You are so quiet,man.'

I said no, and that I was having fun.

'Miles from truth, little toad,' she said to me and  clapped Asad on his back, 'Let's get going, Talha is listening to Abida Parveen again.'

Thinking back, it seems like a dead silent memory even though everything was so loud that day, Lahore was celebrating weekend. And I was mourning my existence.

I had excused myself after Adhaan. This was the mosque I prayed in that night.

If there is any sign here, I can't seem to make the connection.

Do these things even exist? If they do, every time I come near them, they slip away. Like everything else lately.

***

Translations :
 
Masjid : Mosque

Wuzu : Ablution

Ya Allah : Oh God

***

A/N

Btw, I  am a HUGE fan of Abida Parveen as well (Anyone else besides Talha and me?)

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And thank you so much for reading this little story.
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