Hey guys! I'm finally back. Had an awesome time in India…Here's Chapter 9. I'll post Chapter 10, along with some sidenotes soon. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think.
Chapter 9
It was lunchtime on Friday, and Samira was stuck in her U.S. History teacher's classroom. Apparently, Mrs. Miller was surprised by some of the controversial issues that she had discussed in her latest essay and wanted to question her about her sources. Samira knew that Mrs. Miller was a fair teacher and would not penalize her for her views as long as they were well-supported. Still, she now wished that she had chosen a less contentious essay topic. It wasn't that she didn't like talking to Mrs. Miller, but the last thing she wanted was to miss the Desi Club meeting.
Fortunately, Mrs. Miller assumed that Samira's restlessness was due to hunger and let her leave in five minutes. Samira grabbed her lunch from her locker and ran down the hall to room 211. Rehan and Sabah were seated near the door and had saved a seat for her. The meeting began just as Samira sank into her chair.
Most of the club officers were members of Samira's group of friends. Rahul was Vice President, Imraan was Treasurer, and Nisha was Secretary. The only one that Samira could not see eye to eye with was the President, Jyoti Sinha. There was no actual conflict between the two of them. Samira just believed Jyoti to be arrogant and bossy, so she stayed away from her as much as possible.
That afternoon, the first item on the agenda (written on the chalkboard in Nisha's perfect handwriting) was the third annual Asian Culture Show, which would occur in January.
Jyoti: We've been given a 15 minute timeslot at the end of the show. Since we'll be performing last, I want it to be memorable. If we get started now, I'm sure we can put on our best performance yet.
Whispers erupted throughout the room as everyone became excited about the show.
Rahul: Hold on guys! Let Jyoti finish telling you the details.
The room became silent.
Jyoti: As I was saying, we have just over three months to prepare, so I think we should begin immediately. We'll have just enough time for two dances. I've already started the choreography. By next week, we'll have sign-up sheets ready for dancers who would like—
Jyoti noticed Sabah raising her hand.
Jyoti: Yes?
Sabah: Don't you think it would be more reasonable to hold auditions to select the choreographer?
Jyoti: Well, we have done that in the past, but I was the only person interested. I guess I can just ask everyone right now. Is anyone else interested in choreographing the dances?
No hands came up. Sabah looked at Rehan.
Sabah: Don't miss this chance, Rehan.
Rehan slowly raised his hand.
Rehan: I am.
Jyoti seemed disgruntled.
Jyoti: In that case…you can choreograph one of the dances and I'll do the other.
Everyone seemed satisfied. The club officers discussed a couple more of the agenda items, and soon the bell rang to end lunch.
Samira didn't think about the show again until after dinner that night. Lying on her bed, she wondered if she should take part in Rehan's dance. It would be nice to spend more time with Rehan, but she certainly didn't want to embarrass herself in front of him. Samira wasn't a bad dancer but she wasn't sure what Rehan had in mind. Sabah had told her that he liked to come up with moves that were both original and challenging.
The sound of her cell phone startled Samira. The caller ID told her that Carissa was calling, and she quickly answered it.
Samira: Hey Carissa.
Carissa (sounding upset): Samira, I need your help.
Samira: What's wrong?
Carissa: I think…David just broke up with me.
Her voice cracked, and Samira could tell that she was fighting back tears.
Samira: What?! Why? What happened?
Carissa: Last weekend, Jen and Mike were going to San Francisco, and I wanted to tag along with them. You know how David feels about Mike, so he told me not to go. But…I ended up going anyway.
Samira: Carissa! Why did you do that? You and I both know that David's intuition about Mike is true.
Carissa: But Samira, I can't always let him tell me what to do. Why doesn't he trust me?
Samira: I think he does trust you. He just doesn't trust Mike. Well, anyway, what happened after that?
Carissa: He found out about it on Monday, but didn't say anything all week. Maybe because he knew I was having a stressful week anyway. He just called me an hour ago and asked me about it. We argued for a few minutes, then he told me that if I don't care about him, we shouldn't be together.
Samira: Wow.
Carissa: Samira, I want to work things out between us, but he won't answer his phone now. Can you help me out? Maybe if you talk to him, he'll listen.
Samira: I'll do what I can, but I think I should talk to him face to face on Monday. And remember, Carissa, he's my friend too, so I'll have to listen to his side of the story.
Carissa: That's fine. I know what I did was wrong and I'll admit it, but I honestly don't believe that I'm the only one to blame.
Samira: Okay, I'll keep that in mind.
Carissa: Oh, by the way, I think David takes Rehan's advice seriously, so…if you can get Rehan to talk to him too, maybe it will help.
Samira: I can ask him.
Carissa: Thanks Samira. I don't know what I'd do without you.
Samira: Don't get too hopeful. I can only try.
Carissa: That's more than I deserve. Thanks so much.
Samira: No problem. See you on Monday.
Carissa: Bye.
Samira: Bye.
This was unbelievable! Carissa and David had been together for almost three years, and Samira could not imagine them without each other. Judging from what Carissa had said, however, they were not the perfect couple that Samira had imagined them to be.
As she wondered how to solve this problem, her eyes went to a blank space on the wall above her desk. This was her poetry wall. Every month, Samira put up a new poem on her wall, usually in Urdu, sometimes in English and occasionally in a foreign language with the translation underneath. Being a poet herself, she loved finding interesting rhyming patterns, hidden meanings and unique metaphors. That morning, she had taken down "Miles to Go Before I Sleep" by Robert Frost, but had not had time to replace it. She knew exactly which one she wanted for October: Ghalib's "Dil-e-Nadaan Tujhe Hua Kya Hai."
She decided to delay coming up with a plan for Carissa until later in the night. Stretching, she rose from her bed and sat at her computer to find the ghazal online. She found it within minutes but when she tried to print it, her printer wouldn't turn on.
Determined not to leave her poetry wall blank for too long, Samira walked next door to Imraan's room.
Samira: Bhaiyya, main aapke computer se kuch print kar loon? Mere printer mein koyi problem hai. Bhaiyya, can I print something from your computer? My printer's not working.
Imraan was sitting on his bed watching TV.
Imraan: Sure, yaar. No need to ask.
Samira sat in front of Imraan's laptop and moved the mouse to clear the screensaver. In the center of the screen was an instant message conversation. Before she could open an internet browser, the last two lines of the conversation caught her eye.
Samira: Yeh aap kis se baat kar rahe the? Who were you talking to?
Imraan looked at the computer screen in confusion, but within seconds his expression was replaced by one of panic.
Imraan: Woh to kuch bhi nahin hai…band kardo use. That's nothing…just close it.
Samira looked at the instant message again.
Imraan89: I love you
zindagi2011: love you too
Where had she seen that screenname before? Someone had given it to Samira on a slip of paper last week but she had forgotten to add it to her buddy list. The person who gave it to her was…
Samira (spinning around): Sabah! Aap unhi se baat kar rahe the na? Is ka matlab aap aur Sabah… Sabah! You were talking to her, right? That means, you and Sabah…
Samira couldn't believe it took her that long to figure it out. Of course it was Sabah! Who else was Imraan completely infatuated with?
Imraan: Samira! Zara dheeme bolo. Koyi sun lega. Samira! Don't talk so loud. Someone will hear you.
Samira walked to Imraan's bed and sat next to him. He turned off the TV.
Samira: Mujhse bhi chhupaaya? You never told me.
Imraan: Kya karta? Sabah ne hi mujhse kaha tha ke kuch din tak kisi to na bataaoon. What could I do? Sabah told me not to tell anyone for now.
Samira: Aisa kyoon? Why is that?
Imraan: Mujhe kya pata? Lekin koyi to baat hogi. Is liye, please kisi se kuch mat kehna. No clue. But there must be a good reason, so please don't say anything to anyone.
Samira: Theek hai, nahin kahoongi. Lekin mujhe yeh to bataaiye ke yeh sab shuru kaise hua? Fine, I won't. But at least tell me how all this started.
Imraan told her how Sabah had talked him into confessing his love for her. Since then, they were a couple.
Samira was glad that everything had worked out well for Imraan. She was still smiling and thinking about it as she left Imraan's room with the ghazal in her hand.
In the hall, she saw Maryam walking upstairs looking exhausted. Ever since she had been selected as the point guard in the starting lineup, Maryam was playing for at least 30 minutes per basketball game.
Samira: Did you win?
Maryam nodded but her expression remained solemn.
Samira: To phir itni udaas kyoon ho? Tumhen to khush hona chaahiye. Then why are you so down? You should be happy.
Maryam: Bas aise hi. It's nothing.
Samira: Kya baat hai? Tell me what's wrong.
Maryam hesitated for a moment.
Maryam: Woh, bas…Apa, main to ek saal se basketball khel rahi hoon, lekin Papa ne abhi tak mera ek game bhi nahin dekha. It's just…Apa, I've been playing basketball for a whole year, but Papa hasn't even been to one of my games.
Samira: Bas itni si baat? Is that all?
Maryam: Yeh koyi chhoti baat nahin hai. Main jaanti hoon ke mere har game mein aap, Bhaiyya ya Mummy humesha aate hain, aur mujhe is baat ki khushi hai. Lekin kya Papa ek baar bhi nahin aa sakte? I'm serious. I realize that at every one of my games, I always have the support of you, Bhaiyya or Mummy, and I'm really grateful for that. But can't Papa come just once?
Samira: Maryam, he's a brain surgeon! Unke paas itna time hi nahin hai. Maryam, he's a brain surgeon! He doesn't have that much time.
Maryam: Main kuch nahin jaanti. Aur sab ke papa aate hain. I don't care. All the other dads come.
Samira sighed. Why did Maryam have to act so immature sometimes?
Samira: Aisa karte hain. Agle hafte tumhaara season ka sabse important game hai na? Main kal Papa se baat karoongi. Mujhe yaqin hai woh us game mein zaroor aayenge. Theek hai? How about this? Next week is your most important game of the season, right? I'll talk to Papa tomorrow. I'm sure he'll definitely come to that game. Okay?
Maryam nodded and smiled faintly.
Once Samira was back in her room, she began to worry. There was a good chance that her father might have a surgery to perform next Friday. And if he did, Maryam would be very upset.
Edited by .:.Suhana.:. - 17 years ago
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
