All of My Heart

by Sara Naveed

  After our first encounter, the boys from her group never troubled me again. I wondered if she had asked them to stop. Strangely, we never spoke—the only interaction being the occasional exchange of smiles. I wanted to speak to her. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted to tell her how I felt. But at the same time, I was scared. I did not know how she felt about me, and I didn’t want to come across as too forward.

  The first two years of school passed by in a flash. It had become a routine for me to sit on the bench outside the gate and wait for her to arrive in her white Mercedes-Benz. Initially, my presence would startle her and she would shoot nervous glances in my direction. But eventually she became used to me. The glances gave way to quick, shy smiles. I always wondered when we would get past these formalities and form a real friendship. To my misfortune, that never really happened. Not until we finished our O-level.

  How My Luck Changed

  I think I still haven’t mentioned how hard-working Shaidi Mamu was. He had quit his job at a major telecom company to start his own transport business, which provided services such as cars on rent and driving lessons apart from the usual sale and purchase of second-hand automobiles. Since childhood, I was obsessed with two things—photography and cars. So, Mamu’s office became my sanctuary. Every day, after school and tuition, I would go to his office to understand the operations of his business. He loved the fact that I took such keen interest in his work. He was very attached to me because he did not have a son. He always told my mother that if he had a son, he would be just like me. He was the only person who fussed over me and spoilt me.

  One day, I came to his office with my report card in hand, my heart swelling with happiness. I had scored two As and three Bs in my O-level exams which was quite an achievement in my family. Shaidi Mamu was ecstatic and as a gesture of appreciation, he surprised me with a second-hand car—a 1995 Honda Civic. He knew this wasn’t the model I wanted and promised to get me a brand-new car after I completed my A-level. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly, tears rolling down my cheeks. I could now go to school in my own car.

  A few weeks later, I walked into his office and found him slumped in his chair, looking glum. When I inquired about the problem, he told me that a client had called to request for driving classes.

  ‘Haan so, what’s the problem?’ I asked him, putting my bag on the chair.

  ‘Puttar, our driver is on leave today. So, we have to turn down the client for now.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Mamu jaan, should I go and give the driving classes?’

  ‘What, are you serious?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. See, I am free after my tuition classes today. I can easily give driving classes to your client until your driver comes back.’

  ‘But you don’t even have a driving license yet. I can’t put you in trouble for a client.’

  ‘Shaidi Mamu, it’s just one day. I don’t want you to lose a client.’

  ‘Hmm. I still think it’s risky.’

  ‘But why? I won’t venture to the outskirts. It should be all right.’

  ‘Okay, but I will have to ask your mother.’

  ‘Shaidi Mamu, there’s no need to ask Amma. She will get unnecessarily worried. You just have to trust me.’

  ‘Theek hai. You can take the Alto for the driving class. Are you sure you can handle it?’

  ‘Don’t you trust my driving skills?’ I asked him.

  ‘Of course, I do. I was the one who taught you.’ He winked at me.

  ‘Then don’t worry. I’ll handle it.’ I smiled reassuringly.

  ‘Okay, so here’s the address. You need to pick the trainee up at 3 p.m. from here. Done?’

  ‘Done!’

  After my tuition class, I took the car from Mamu’s showroom and headed straight to the trainee’s house. It was located in the Cantonment area, so it took me almost twenty minutes to reach. I turned off the engine as soon as I reached the address and got out of the car to get some air. I waited outside the house for a couple of minutes but nobody came out. The slip of paper that Mamu had given me also had a contact number. I dialled it but nobody answered. I wondered if this was the right address. Disappointed, I was about to sit back in the car and leave when I heard the click of the gate. I saw Zynah come out, lost in thought, chewing gum in her mouth. She suddenly looked up and stopped in her tracks.

  ‘You? What are you doing here?’ she asked me.

  ‘I . . . uh . . .’ I didn’t know how to respond.

  ‘Yes?’ She crossed her arms and examined me suspiciously.

  ‘I came here for the driving lessons,’ I told her.

  ‘Driving lessons? You?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Are you the driver?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said resolutely.

  ‘Oh,’ she said and smiled. ‘I didn’t know the driving school hired such young drivers,’ she said and burst out laughing.

  I looked down in embarrassment.

  ‘So, Captain, will you teach me driving, then?’ She gave me a mischievous smile, biting her lower lip.

  ‘Wait, are you the one who wants to learn?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, who else!’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ I said and smiled, looking down again. I couldn’t believe my luck.

  ‘Shall we go?’ she asked.

  Favourite Days

  After the first driving session with Zynah, I realized this was the perfect way to spend more time with her. I requested Shaidi Mamu to let me continue with the classes. He did show some reluctance in the beginning, but I was able to convince him. However, I had only ten days to befriend her. Every afternoon, after my tuition class, I picked Zynah up from her house. It was supposed to be a thirty-minute class, but I usually stretched it to an hour. Soon, all our classmates got to know that I was teaching Zynah how to drive. She had proudly told them after our first session. Her friends dissed the idea in the beginning but later started to accept me. However, they still did not include me in their group. I hardly interacted with Zynah at school. She never spoke to me except for exchanging knowing glances and smiles. Surprisingly, her demeanour was completely different during our driving lessons. She rambled on about various things—her family, friends, vacations, movies and the places she desired to see. I mostly kept quiet during these ‘conversations’—gentle nods and monosyllables my only contribution. But I was fascinated by her stories; by her facial expressions; by her hand gestures. She did ask me about my life—my childhood, my family members—but I usually turned the conversation back to her because I did not like talking about myself. There was nothing extraordinary about my ordinary story.

  ‘So, tell me about your family. How many people live in your house?’ I asked her one day.

  ‘There’s me, my mother, father and elder brother. That’s it. My brother doesn’t live with us.’

  ‘Where is he?’ I asked, my eyes on the road ahead.

  ‘Australia. He’s settled there.’

  ‘Oh, nice. You can take a right turn here,’ I directed her.

  ‘Oh. Sure.’

  After the class, we would often stop at her favourite coffee shop where she would order a latte for herself. I, on the other hand, never ordered anything.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything? I mean, I can pay for you if you don’t have money,’ she said one day, her face serious.

  ‘No. No,’ I responded instantly. ‘It’s not about money. I just don’t want it,’ I told her, my expression guarded.

  ‘All right,’ she said with a shrug.

  I looked down in embarrassment. I did not want her to think that I did not come from a well-off family, but I kept quiet.

  ‘C’mon, let’s go back,’ she said as she stood up to leave.

  We stepped outside and walked towards the car.

  ‘Where do we go now?’ she asked, her delicate hands on the steering wheel.

  ‘Nowhere. We should head back now,’ I told her. />
  ‘All right.’ She hit the accelerator and revved the engine.

  ‘Zynah, can I ask you something?’ I said, looking at her sideways.

  ‘Sure,’ she said nonchalantly.

  ‘You probably have a couple of drivers at home. Why didn’t they teach you how to drive?’

  ‘My dad, you know . . .’

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ I interrupted her.

  She looked at me with an incredulous expression and then we both burst out laughing.

  ‘You’re funny,’ she said.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ I whispered and then almost instantly regretted it.

  Shit! I thought.

  She looked at me in wide-eyed surprise.

  ‘Sorry,’ I muttered, biting my lower lip.

  ‘Never mind,’ she said and added, ‘Yeah, so I was saying, my father wanted me to learn driving from a professional driver.’

  ‘And you think I am professional enough?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, so far so good,’ she said and smiled.

  I nodded, not able to look away from her beautiful face.

  I sleepily looked at my watch—10.30 a.m. I tucked it back under my pillow and shut my eyes. It was Saturday and I could sleep till late. The door to my room was ajar and I could hear my father yelling at my mother. I pulled the blanket over my face, hoping to go back to sleep when I saw Azaan near the bookshelf, shuffling through my things.

  ‘Hey, what are you up to?’ I asked him, sitting up in my bed.

  ‘Bhai, I’m looking for your English dictionary. Can’t find it outside. Is it here?’

  ‘Azaan, don’t disturb me. Don’t you see I’m sleeping? I’ll get up later and find it for you. Now go outside and shut the door!’ I said, and covered my face with the blanket once more.

  As I was drifting off to sleep, my cell phone beeped. It was a text message from Zynah:

  Hey, can you come and pick me up earlier today? Around 12?

  We had exchanged numbers right at the beginning but had never sent each other messages before this. I hurriedly got up and ran towards the washroom. Azaan looked at me with a puzzled face.

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked but I slammed the door shut.

  After a quick bath, I wore my favourite pair of denims and a dark-blue turtleneck sweater. I quickly dried my hair and ran down the stairs.

  ‘Rehaan?’ Amma called out just as I was about to step outside.

  ‘Jee, Amma?’ I turned around to look at her, the car keys dangling from my fingers.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, looking at the keys. ‘You’ve not even had breakfast.’

  ‘Amma, remember the client who is taking driving lessons? Well, she has asked me to come earlier today,’ I told her the truth. There was nothing to hide. It was not like I was going to meet my girlfriend. It was pure business.

  ‘But first have your breakfast, na.’

  ‘I’ll pick something up on the way. Okay? Bye!’ I hopped into the car and drove it out of the garage.

  I was eager to see her, to meet her.

  I picked her up at around 11.45 a.m., and then she drove us to the outskirts, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

  We picked up pita bread sandwiches on our way as I had not eaten anything since morning. She parked the car on the side of the road and stepped out. She was wearing black stockings with an oversized maroon cardigan and knee-length boots. She walked up to the bonnet of the car and sat cross-legged on it even as she unwrapped her sandwich. I stood beside her, eating slowly, looking at the view in front of me.

  ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ she suddenly asked, licking a speck of sauce off her lips.

  I turned to look at her.

  ‘Grow up? Are we still toddlers?’ I laughed at my own joke.

  ‘Ugh. C’mon. Everyone has dreams. You know. Something you’d like to achieve.’

  I want you. That’s my dream. For now, I thought, smiling to myself. I wished I could say that to her but kept my thoughts to myself.

  ‘Well, if that’s what you’re asking . . . I want to be a photographer, a professional photographer. I have always been fond of taking pictures. In fact, I want to go abroad and study photography but I can’t,’ I said, sighing heavily.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My family wants me to become a banker or a financial analyst.’

  ‘How boring!’ she said, her face twisting into a grimace.

  I nodded, looking away.

  ‘So, photography, huh? Wow. That sounds great. Do you have a camera?’ she asked.

  I laughed.

  ‘Yeah but I don’t have a DSLR,’ I told her.

  ‘Any other then?’

  ‘Yeah, I have a digital camera in my bag,’ I said, waving my hand in the air.

  ‘Oh, great. Will you take a picture of me? Basking in the sunlight and smoking a cigarette?’ she laughed.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I looked at her in wide-eyed surprise.

  ‘Of course, I am.’ She quickly opened her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes.

  I walked towards the boot of my car to get my backpack. After rummaging through the books, I finally found my camera and walked back to Zynah.

  ‘Is this pose good enough?’ she asked, looking directly at me. There was a cigarette between her lips and she turned her head to look ahead—her eyes distant and faraway.

  ‘Perfect,’ I said and smiled.

  ‘Make sure I don’t look fat in it.’

  I smiled to myself as I clicked the picture.

  ‘Show me, show me!’ She tried to take the camera.

  ‘Wait, wait.’ I sat down next to her and showed her the picture.

  ‘Wow. Ah-ma-zing! You indeed know how to take a good shot!’

  ‘Really?’ I turned to look at her.

  ‘Yes, dude.’ She gave me a light pat on my back.

  Her touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I almost blushed.

  ‘In fact, you should apply to a college somewhere abroad to study photography.’

  ‘I wish it was that easy,’ I sighed.

  ‘Listen, it’s easy. Nothing is impossible or complicated. Only people make it complicated.’

  I looked away, my eyes downcast.

  ‘I want to see you as a professional photographer. You get it? Now that’s my dream!’

  I laughed at her.

  ‘I’m serious!’

  ‘Okay, okay. Now, tell me. What’s your dream?’

  ‘I just told you!’

  ‘The real one.’

  ‘I’m not that ambitious. I guess I just want to live freely, happily.’

  ‘Aren’t you living a free life now? Aren’t you already happy?’ I asked her.

  ‘I am but I want to live on my own. Independently, you know. I want to earn my own money. As far as taking up a profession is concerned, I think I’d go for interior designing.’

  ‘Hmm. Sounds cool,’ I nodded.

  She turned to look at me and smiled.

  The Invitation

  Rumours about our growing friendship soon spread like wildfire. One day, Ahmed, my only good friend in school, asked me about the whole situation.

  ‘What did you do, man? I thought Zynah never gave you any attention,’ he asked.

  ‘Well, to be honest, I thought the same. I guess luck got us together. Neither of us made an effort to be friends. Everything happened on its own. I volunteered to take driving lessons for Mamu’s company and then later found out that the client was none other than Zynah,’ I told him.

  ‘Awesome! Are you friends?’

  ‘Um, I don’t know. We have never discussed it.’

  ‘The way she’s been telling everyone about her new driving instructor, it seems she already considers you her friend. Otherwise she would have never mentioned it to anyone.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ I said.

  ‘Or . . .’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or maybe she’s trying to embarrass you by telling everyone that
you’re nothing to her but a driving instructor.’

  His words hit me hard.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, man. I’m just telling you to be careful. These rich people can be really mean sometimes.’

  I considered what he had said. Why had I never given any thought to this before? What if she had never considered me her friend but only an ordinary driving instructor?

  I strolled down the corridor with these thoughts crowding my mind. I stopped in front of my locker to collect a few books.

  ‘Rehaan!’ a sweet, melodious voice called me from behind.

  I turned around to find Zynah standing across the corridor.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked even as she walked in my direction.

  ‘Nothing much. I have a class to catch. I’ll see you later,’ I said, not looking her in the eye.

  I hurriedly locked the locker, my fingers shivering. I knew I was upset with her, but I was not sure if I could confront her. Before I could walk away, she grabbed my arm.

  I was surprised at her behaviour.

  ‘What?’ I snapped at her.

  ‘You can’t walk away from me like that,’ she replied, her face solemn.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s my birthday tomorrow. I wanted to invite you,’ she said, as she let go of my hand.

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Why do you want to invite me?’ I asked her, crossing my arms.

  ‘I’m inviting all of my friends. C’mon.’

  I was stunned to hear her reply.

  ‘Am I your . . . friend?’ I asked, narrowing my brows.