The cold wind was welcome as it matched the coldness inside him. It made him feel more alive than the sunny evenings of spring filled with the sweet fragrance of roses and lilies. He was more comfortable in the smells of sweat and cheap perfume that surrounded him in the dimly lit alley with terraces so close together that it was hard to see the thousands of bright stars in the clear blue sky which would have made some hopeful man retrace his footsteps and go back home instead of choosing his passion for the night. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of deep depression disguising itself in the bright hopes of the young. And felt the power that came from knowing that he could conquer this world without any qualms. But the victory was turned bitter when a smiling face forced its way in his vision, smiling face of a girl as she sipped tea and gazing at him when he had sat with her. He closed his eyes tightly, dropped on his knees in the narrow street, heart beating fast and irregularly as he thought about what she might think of him if he told her that he visited here at least twice a week, that he had beaten up people here, that he was a known customer here. He was too tired to fight it anymore, he needed to be here, needed to be away from her. He was unaware of people looking at him out of the corner of their eyes as they cautiously went about their business without looking at him. It was the unspoken rule of this realm, don't look and you won't be looked at either'essential for people who came here to forget each and everything that connected them to their everyday life. To forget or feed the darkness that resided in the heart of every human. And he was here both to forget and to feed, but that image had been distorting this reality of his life for the past two months, he didn't want it, he didn't want her, and he certainly didn't want to involve her in his problems. But he was helpless, the heart desires what it does, and we are all its slaves. He thought bitterly as he forced himself to rise and walked slowly towards "The Palace" to lose himself for a minute in one of the best that Heera Mandi'the wh**e market of Lahore, had to offer.
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"Where were you last night? I tried to call you at least three times" Sara inquired as she and Adal walked towards the cafeteria. Her class would start in twenty minutes and she wanted to talk to him.
"I was with friends," he said nonchalantly, as they sat down at the empty table at the very end of the cafeteria.
No offer of getting me tea today, she silently observed. It had become a ritual now, the short time they had before their respective classes they spent together in the caf, and Adal always asked her if she wanted tea. Sidra joined them occasionally. She was astute enough to realize that they needed alone time to get to know each other. But no tea today, he was still angry with her, she realized.
"Are you still mad because I care about what happens to my students?" she asked bluntly.
"I don't want to talk about it. It would end with me getting angry again for you not listening to me."
She looked at him, at his hard unyielding eyes, and knew that she would be fighting a lost battle if she tried to make him understand her point of view. "What do you want me to do?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her intently, eyebrows raised in a question. He hadn't expected her to give up quiet so easily.
She shrugged, and looked at him, waiting for an answer. She wasn't about to admit that he was more important, that she had realized and accepted in that moment of his importance. She had realized that she would maybe give up a part of herself to make him happy, or at least she would try.
"Stop caring about the boys so much. I am not saying that they are bad or evil, just that every guy's libido runs quickly in this age, and you are their fantasy."
"Stop caring or stop being open with them." She said and his eyes narrowed slightly, he was not used to a girl being so straight forward.
"Yes, stop being so open and friendly with them" he said, biting out the word open as if it was an abuse.
She stayed quiet and thought it over as he looked at her. Is this why love is so difficult? Because we have to give up part of ourselves to forge something new? Can I stop caring about them? The only question that I need to answer is, are they'90 young boys more important or a single person who is asking me give up what I have cherished? Without promising anything in return, without even admitting that I am important to him. She looked at him, at his deep eyes and slightly curved mouth, and her heart was filled with terror when the answer came immediately.
Him, he is more important.
Cricket
CID
55