by Sara Naveed
‘What happened, Ahmar?’ Muraad asked, breaking his gaze from the TV screen.
‘Nothing, Dad. I am just a little tired,’ he said as he rested his head on a cushion.
‘How was your meeting with Faris?’ Muraad inquired.
Bashir Chacha brought two cups of tea on a tray and put it on the table near them.
‘It went well, fortunately,’ Ahmar replied, picking up a cup of tea.
‘So, all set to join the campus?’ Muraad asked.
‘I guess,’ he murmured.
‘Terrific. Make your father proud.’
Ahmar had just returned from the US after completing his MPhil degree from a renowned university. Muraad wanted his son to come back and work in his own country. Ahmar’s mother had died right after giving birth to his sister, Samira. Muraad had brought up the two kids all by himself. His friends and relatives, including his children, had tried hard to convince him to remarry but he never agreed.
The next day, Zarish and Haroon were sitting in the university cafe with the rest of the gang.
‘Why are your eyes baggy?’ Zarish asked, concerned.
‘I am overworked,’ Haroon said as he leaned back in his chair.
‘Why don’t you quit work for a while? I mean, you can complete your degree first and then think about the business.’
‘No, Zarish. That’s not so easy. I have to look after the business. Dad can’t handle it any more. Plus, I’m the only heir.’
‘Fine. I don’t want to get into an argument,’ Zarish said and looked away.
‘Because you always lose,’ he teased her.
‘Whatever,’ she said and rolled her eyes.
Wahab started the class on how to invest in the stock market. Zarish yawned after hearing the topic. This was the only subject she wasn’t interested in.
Saleha, seated right next to her, was also not enjoying the lecture. In fact, she seemed upset. Zarish wanted to ask her the reason but she felt a bit hesitant as they rarely talked to each other.
‘Is everything okay?’ Zarish finally asked in a low voice.
‘Yes. No. Not really,’ Saleha said dejectedly.
‘Why, what happened?’
‘I’ll tell you after the class.’
After the class, Zarish confronted Saleha again.
‘Will you tell me now what’s bothering you?’
Saleha hesitated a bit at first, but then blurted it out.
‘How would you feel if the one you like rejects you?’
Zarish turned to look at her and burst out laughing.
Saleha narrowed her eyes in confusion.
‘I don’t know that feeling. No one has rejected me yet,’ she said proudly.
Saleha seemed surprised.
‘Yes. Really. Nobody has ever refused me. In fact, I’m the one who rejects!’ she added.
‘That’s so cool, Zarish.’
‘Hey. Now tell me what is the matter. Who rejected you?’ Zarish asked.
‘I don’t know if rejection is the right word, but I feel dejected.’
‘Who is he?’
‘He seems happy in his own world. He never notices me.’
‘Is he from our batch?’
‘I’m talking about Sherry, Zarish,’ Saleha finally admitted.
‘Oh. Okay. Right,’ Zarish said.
‘Yeah,’ Saleha said in a feeble voice.
‘What if he starts liking you?’ Zarish said.
‘How on earth is that possible?’ Saleha asked.
‘Everything is possible. It just needs some time and patience, honey.’
‘Oh, Zarish,’ Saleha said as she hugged her tightly.
Suddenly Zarish felt that she had a female friend in the university; a friend with whom she could hang out and share her secrets.
Later, in class, Jamal announced that he had planned a surprise quiz. Though Zarish had revised the previous lectures, she found the quiz quite difficult.
‘What’s the answer for question number three?’ Danish asked Zarish.
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.
‘I can’t believe you haven’t studied for this quiz,’ Danish said with a frown.
‘If I find someone cheating . . .’ Jamal declared when he noticed Danish moving his head. ‘I will not cancel his or her quiz.’
Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.
‘All right, now stop it. Carry on with your quiz,’ Jamal said.
Right then Faris Ahmed knocked on the door.
‘Good morning, everyone!’ he said.
‘I wonder what bad news he’s got today,’ Haroon told Sherry.
‘I want you to meet your new professor. Please come in, Ahmar Muraad.’
Just then, a man wearing a black suit walked in.
Zarish froze.
‘No. No. No. Damn it! It’s the same person I had met at the restaurant,’ she mumbled under her breath.
‘What’s wrong, Zarish?’ Saleha asked.
‘Err. Nothing. I’m feeling dizzy.’
‘Gosh . . . he is so handsome. Doesn’t he resemble Fawad Khan, the actor?’ Maha asked excitedly.
‘Yeah, a bit,’ Saleha replied, staring at the new teacher.
‘So, Jamal, when is Ahmar’s first lecture?’ Faris asked.
‘Sir, it’s right after mine,’ Jamal said with a smile.
‘I think I need to go to the washroom,’ Zarish whispered.
She splashed cold water on her face. ‘I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he has come to teach us! He looks so young. What if he knows I study here? What if he wants revenge?’ she said out loud to herself.
She knew it was time to apologize. She couldn’t keep running from him forever. He was here to teach them and that incident could really spoil her reputation. It could affect her grades. With these thoughts, she walked out of the washroom.
Ahmar sat in his office, lost in thought. He knew it would be difficult to adjust here. He didn’t even know if he really wanted to be here in the first place. What other options did he have? He was doing exceptionally well in the US. He had the life he had always dreamed of. But his father wanted him to come back. He was only twenty-nine and his whole life was ahead of him, but now he had no other option but to teach in a private institute in Pakistan. Someone knocked on the door, breaking his reverie.
‘Come in,’ he said.
It was the peon.
‘Sir, it’s time for your class.’
‘All right, where is it?’ Ahmar asked.
‘Room No. 202. Second floor.’
He picked up his files and laptop and walked out of his office.
Zarish calmed herself down and tied her hair into a loose bun. Right then her phone buzzed inside her purse. It was Haroon.
‘Hey,’ she answered.
‘Where are you, Zarish?’ he asked.
‘Hey, I’m all right. I had gone to the washroom. Didn’t Saleha tell you?’
‘No. I can’t find her either.’
‘It’s okay. I’m coming back. Wait for me at the cafe,’ she said and hung up.
Her phone beeped again. It was a message from Haroon; he was going to the class directly and would meet her there. She was busy typing a reply when someone bumped into her.
Her cell phone fell from her hands. The other person was holding a bundle of files and a laptop, which also came crashing down.
‘Damn! My MacBook!’ Ahmar cried out.
Zarish was shocked to see him. He picked it up without noticing her.
‘It hasn’t broken. Don’t worry,’ Zarish said. He looked up.
‘You?’ he said, pointing at her in utter confusion.
‘Yes. Me,’ she said.
‘I’ve seen you somewhere.’ He narrowed his eyes.
‘I guess you have,’ she mumbled, handing him his files. She was too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
Right then, Saleha came out of the classroom.
‘Hey, Zarish. Let’s go inside,’ she said and then turned to loo
k at the professor. ‘Excuse me, Sir. The entire class is waiting for you.’
‘Yeah. I am coming,’ he said in a low, husky voice.
Ahmar stood there for a while, perplexed.
‘Oh yes, I think she’s the one, the rich spoilt brat,’ he mumbled as he remembered the incident.
She quietly went and sat down next to Haroon in the class.
‘Hey, you look nervous. What happened?’ he inquired.
‘I have to tell you something.’
‘What?’
‘Sir Ahmar is the same . . .’ She could not complete her sentence as Ahmar entered the class.
‘Good afternoon, everyone!’ Ahmar announced, standing close to the lectern. He cleared his throat before speaking again, ‘I am Ahmar Muraad, as you already know. I’ve done my MBA and MPhil in strategic management. I have a bachelor’s degree in structural engineering from a university in the US.’
Maha and Saleha were whispering into each other’s ears. Obviously, they were gushing about the new teacher.
‘I wanted to complete my PhD, but my father called me here,’ Ahmar said slowly, his eyes pensive and distant. ‘Anyway,’ he said, coming back to the present. ‘Do you have any questions for me?’ he asked the students.
‘Let’s play with him,’ Haroon whispered.
‘What? No!’ Zarish said inaudibly.
‘Sir, I have a question,’ Haroon raised his hand.
‘Yes sure. Go ahead.’
‘What subject will you be teaching us?’
‘Didn’t Faris Ahmed tell you?’ He cocked a questioning eyebrow.
‘Yes Sir, he did,’ Saleha interjected.
Haroon glared at her, but she ignored him.
‘I suppose this young guy doesn’t know about it then,’ Ahmar said with a smirk.
‘The name is Haroon, Sir.’
‘All right, Haroon, I will be teaching you the financial statement analysis course.’
‘If you have a major in strategic management, then how can you teach us FSA?’ Haroon pointed out.
The class broke into excited murmurs.
‘Hold on, class,’ Ahmar said and tapped lightly on the lectern. ‘Let me clear his doubts.’
A frown creased Haroon’s face.
‘FSA is part of the MBA degree. I was quite good at the subject but I didn’t take it as a major. I have an in-depth understanding of the subject, that’s why I opted for it.’
Haroon nodded in agreement, embarrassed for asking a stupid question.
‘Anything else you guys want to know?’ he asked again, but this time no one answered.
‘All right. Good. Now please introduce yourselves. Let’s start from the left.’
‘Shit . . . what am I going to say to him now?’ Zarish shuddered at the thought.
One by one, the students introduced themselves, telling him their names, education, hobbies, etc. Finally, it was Zarish’s turn. She could not bring herself to stand up and talk. She felt terrible about what had happened the other night and regretted her actions. Ahmar leaned against the lectern and looked straight at her. She hesitated, words stuck in her throat.
Haroon and Sherry chuckled.
‘There is no need to laugh,’ Ahmar said. ‘Give her some time.’
Zarish took a deep breath and said in a thick voice, ‘My name is Zarish Munawwar, and I have a bachelor’s degree in economics. I don’t have any hobbies or interests. Thank you.’ She quickly sat down after finishing her sentence.
Ahmar raised his eyebrows in astonishment. He clearly remembered her now. She was the same girl who had sprayed him with mud. He had been furious that day and wanted to call her out for her incivility and idiocy. But today, her behaviour amused him.
‘Well, no hobbies or interests . . . hmm . . . are you sure about that?’ he asked with a raised brow.
‘Is he going to narrate the whole incident in front of the class? Shit!’ she thought.
‘That can’t be possible. I’m sure you do have some. Maybe you don’t want to share it with the class or me,’ he said, emphasizing the last word. Ahmar knew that she knew what he was hinting at. He wanted to tell her that probably her hobbies included insulting people at restaurants. But instead he moved on to the next student.
‘What is wrong, Zarish? You look worried,’ Saleha asked.
They were both sitting in the library.
‘Nothing,’ Zarish mumbled.
‘Oh c’mon. Look, I’m not blind. I could see the stress on your face. What’s wrong? You can tell me.’
Zarish’s face reddened with embarrassment yet again and it became impossible to hide the truth from her friend.
‘Oh Saleha!’ Zarish cried out. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Will you tell me what happened?’
Zarish narrated the whole episode.
‘I think you should apologize to him, Zarish,’ Saleha suggested.
‘Do you think he will listen to me?’ Zarish asked.
‘Of course, he has to. He doesn’t look mean. He seems to be a decent person. He is just a little arrogant. Just talk to him.’
‘Yeah, I should,’ Zarish muttered.
Just then, Haroon came in and sat down beside them.
‘What’s up, girls?’ he asked.
‘Zarish has to apologize to Sir Ahmar,’ Saleha said.
‘What for?’ Haroon asked, looking puzzled.
‘Haroon, please calm down,’ Zarish pleaded. ‘Sir Ahmar is the guy from the restaurant.’
Haroon’s jaw dropped.
‘Yeah, it’s him,’ Zarish said with a sigh. ‘And now I have to apologize. Otherwise . . .’
‘He can’t do anything,’ Haroon interrupted her. ‘Trust me. I won’t let him hurt you.’
‘That’s not the damn point!’ she snapped back.
‘Then what’s the point?’ he asked.
The librarian gave them a cold stare and she had to lower her voice.
‘It might affect my grades,’ Zarish whispered agitatedly.
‘He won’t do that,’ Haroon assured her. ‘We won’t let him.’
‘Haroon, why don’t you understand?’ Zarish raised her voice again and got another stern look from the librarian.
‘We’d better get going. I don’t want the librarian to kick us out.’
After his first lecture, Ahmar sat in his office, sipping tea; somewhat relieved. But his mind kept going back to Zarish Munawwar. He snapped back to reality as Jamal and Wahab entered the room.
‘So how was your first day, Ahmar?’ Jamal asked.
‘It went well.’
‘I hope the students are not bratty.’
He again thought of Zarish.
‘No,’ Ahmar lied. ‘Not at all. Everyone seems nice.’
‘That’s good,’ Wahab joined in. ‘I think the students don’t enjoy my subject.’
‘That’s because it’s a bit dry,’ Jamal joked.
‘That’s not true. I think it is the teacher’s responsibility to make the subject interesting. So, we shouldn’t blame the subject,’ Ahmar said.
‘I agree with you,’ Jamal said but Wahab remained silent.
Zarish walked purposefully towards Ahmar’s office. She didn’t know what she was going to tell him; she just wanted to come clean.
‘Don’t lose your confidence; don’t break down; stay strong,’ she told herself. Before she could knock on the door, it flew open, and she found herself face to face with Jamal.
‘Miss Zarish, are you all right?’ he asked.
Zarish realized that she was covered in sweat. ‘Uh . . . yes. I’m fine, Sir,’ she stammered. ‘I . . . uh . . . just wanted to talk to Sir . . . Ahmar . . .’
‘Oh, okay, sure. Come in,’ he said and stepped aside. Ahmar was busy on the laptop, totally unaware of the visitor.
‘Let’s go, Wahab,’ Jamal said and they both left the room. Zarish stood near the door, feeling uncomfortable. She couldn’t decide what to do. Should she go in? Should she wait outside? Should sh
e just leave? Just then someone patted her on the shoulder.
‘Gosh . . . Danish! It’s you. I got scared,’ she said looking relieved.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ she said.
‘I wanted to ask Sir Ahmar a few questions regarding the course.’
‘Oh. I am here for the same reason,’ she lied.
‘Great. Let’s go inside then.’
‘Sure,’ she agreed.
‘Good afternoon, Sir,’ Danish greeted him.
‘Please sit,’ Ahmar said, pointing at the chairs.
Zarish sat down gingerly.
‘Any queries regarding the course?’ he asked politely.
While Danish and Ahmar discussed the upcoming project, Zarish stared blankly at the wall; still battling her inner turmoil and uncertainties. Ahmar shifted his gaze to her.
‘Do you have any questions, Miss Zarish?’ he asked.
Zarish snapped back into reality.
‘What does he want? Why does he always look at me so intensely?’ she wondered.
Ahmar cocked a questioning brow.
‘Uh. No. I don’t have any questions,’ she muttered.
They thanked him and got up to leave.
‘Miss Zarish Munawwar?’ Ahmar called out. Her heart skipped a million beats when she heard her name again. She felt weak in her knees, devoid of all energy.
‘Yes, Sir?’ is all she managed.
‘I think this belongs to you?’ he said.
She turned around to see that he was pointing at her notebook on the table.
‘Oh. That’s mine,’ she murmured. He pushed the notebook in her direction with a lopsided smile on his face. She could not understand why he was in such a good mood. In fact, she’d never seen him smile before. She picked up her notebook and almost ran towards the door.
Ahmar found her behaviour rather peculiar. ‘I guess she is still embarrassed because of that incident. She thinks I’m still mad at her,’ he thought as he packed his stuff and exited the office.
Zarish ran down the corridor and made her way to the parking lot. She called her driver so that he could come and pick her up.
As Ahmar walked towards his car in the parking lot, he spotted Zarish’s car exiting the university gate.