Caged Nightingale

part 3- Saara

Its a balmy night.
This is a nice part of Lahore. Sky rise buildings, chrome, glass and shiny. In this tree lined street there is still a hive of activity. Small chic restaurants are nestled in amongst the sky scrapers in this district. There are a fair few people, even at this late hour. As i walk towards the limo waiting to take me back to my hotel, i think about the good luck of having seen Ali by surprise after all these years. What were the chances? My darling cousin. How I've missed him. His laughter, his wit and often his understanding silence. We were the best of friends at one time
I feel suddenly optimistic, seeing him reminds me of better times. Times which haven't been tainted with tragedy. I've missed his easy company. He always was the joker and I had marvelled at his charisma. Of course all the girls loved him, when we were younger. I suspect a small part of me had loved him too. But then Asim happened.
I was glad to hear he had settled and had a child on the way- i was pleased for him. Owning his own business didnt surprise me, he was sharp, smart and reliable. Like duck to water. Ali had settled well and it made me happy to see it.
I turn to see if Ali had gone back inside, he was standing just inside the glass entrance watching me leave. I waved and gesture for him to go in. He smiled and turned away. I wonder if he sees me and feels sad. Even with all the money in the world, nothing has filled this emptiness. You could work a 60 hour week, dine with friends every night, travel the world, but it never quite fills the space left by an intimate loss. Its been 5 years since Asim died. 5 years of slow, painful healing. Returning to Lahore, seeing the places where we had created memories,
Revisiting some of these places-have undoubtedly evoked a sadness, but are no longer unbearable as they once were. Time hasn't healed me completely, but it has helped. Everything passes-inevitably and life continues, it is the only real certainty in life. I was moving forward too, on my own.

Last week my mother had called, wanted to speak to me about a prospective proposal. I had listened, without irritation for once and acquiesed to meet her suitor on my return to London. I could find no real excuse to refuse. A pediatric consultant from a respectable family: Independent, educated and sweet. Perhaps it was time to get back out there. Sounded almost too good to be true. But then my parents had always been careful, taken every caution to protect me from the world. Asim had been an absolute joy for them. "Perfect in every way" mother had said. He worshiped the ground i walked on, what more could my parents ask for?

As im turning back to the road, i feel someone bang into me, catching my shoulder. I stumble backwards in what feels like slow motion, before tripping over some paving. The man in a baseball cap gives me a sideways glance as i automatically reach out for him to catch me. But all i catch is a look at his pock marked face and what looks like a cleft palate lip. Then he's gone, stumbling haphazardly away as I struggle to keep my balance.
I feel a sharp pain in my ankle where i have twisted it and then an earth shattering boom from across the road, as the building opposite explodes in a blaze of fire. I feel the heat on my face and scratches of glass as they splinter and explode in the air. The ringing in my ears is disorientating. Then black smoke rolls out into the street in huge waves around me, choking the life out of the air. Eyes stinging from the fumes, On all fours, I try to crawl unsteadily away, my hands are ribbons of blood under the broken glass on the floor. Burning rubber, sindged flesh and screams of agony ring in the air. Chaos. Each breath burns a path down my throat into my chest. Drowning.

Then darkness.