By Aima Khalid
Young , energetic – A girl with a glimmering smile, Aima Khalid, 22, Pakistani Writer knitted beautifully the feeling of that one perfect zing …
Waited for the whole long weekend, for that one meeting, that was going to bring piles and piles of joy to the family, was finally there. The perfect timing, the heady perfume mingling in the air, and his mind, reeling on from one possibility to another, weighing the ups and downs of all the upcoming consequences, but he still found himself running around one single question, “What would I do, if….”
The soft creamy painted room helped him brighten his moods. The friends and family accompanying him were somewhere in the house, that he was quite sure about, because he could hear a giggle or a clap once in a while through the open door, while he waited, getting impatient with every passing minute, and cursing his brothers, who had suggested he stay behind, and get to know what he came to seek. “To Hell with them!” he thought.
He was still groaning with frustration. ‘Waiting’, he thought, was what people did when they were utterly ridiculous at utilizing their time themselves. “What a pathetic time waste…,” when the interviewer entered the room. That brightly dressed human being wore a soft smile, giving the impact of a very happy and content life. “Hells Bells…,” he thought, while he gawked at the face staring into his eyes, feeling himself surrender to those soft depths of hazel.
“Be seated”, said the interviewer, and his heart beat accelerated. He felt as if he was going to fall, his knees started to buckle. “Oh Lord”, he thought, as he started to pray that on this occasion, he would not be disgraced by his lack of control, “but what could I do!”, he thought, for such innocence and simplicity, he had never witnessed before.
The interviewer was confused, for the man sitting on the other side of the sofa was frowning, and his stare had gotten dark by the minute, and his nostrils almost flared when he breathed, and that did not sit well with her mind at all.
Someone knocked at the half open door, and then came in, without waiting for an answer, giving the impression that he only wanted to alert the occupants of the study that he was there, to serve them tea. When the servant left the room, closing the door behind him, the person sitting in front of him got busy in setting the dishes on the table and he was quite impressed. Then occurred the moment he believed only happened in dreams. His fingers touched with hers. He knew the answer now, and it was confirmed, when, in a voice soft as the spring winds, she asked, “Sugar?”
He smiled, because he knew, if he spoke in answer to that, it would be in only one word, “You.”