by Sara Naveed
‘I would really like to taste them,’ he said in a low voice.
Zarish blushed.
‘Okay then. See you tomorrow at the carnival. May the best group win. Uh, Miss Zarish Munawwar,’ he turned towards her.
‘Yes, Sir?’ she stammered.
‘I want you to lead this group. I hope that’s okay with you.’
She nodded slowly.
The university grounds were beautifully decorated for the carnival. The food stalls were draped in fairy lights of different colours.
Zarish’s cheese balls were much appreciated, and they earned good money. The proceeds of the sale would go to charity.
‘Hey, I need two cheese balls,’ one of the students called out.
‘Yeah, sure! Zoya, will you please help him out?’ Zarish asked.
Zoya nodded, placed two cheese balls on a plate and gave it to him.
‘How much?’ he asked.
‘Rs 200, please,’ Zarish said politely.
‘What? That’s too much for two cheese balls,’ he yelled.
‘No, it’s not,’ Zarish said, frowning.
‘Yes, it is. They shouldn’t be more than Rs 50 each.’
‘I think you should just get the hell out of here,’ Zarish said furiously.
‘This is no way to talk to someone, Miss Zarish,’ Ahmar interrupted.
Zarish looked at Ahmar hysterically.
‘You can leave if you don’t want to eat them,’ Ahmar told the boy.
‘Sir, these cheese balls are really not worth Rs 200,’ the boy said persuasively.
‘I said leave,’ Ahmar hissed.
‘But Sir . . .’
Ahmar shot him an annoyed look.
‘May I taste one, please?’ Ahmar asked Zarish after the boy left.
‘Sure Sir,’ she said and handed him a plate.
‘They’re delicious. Really worth the price,’ he said, taking a bite.
Zarish smiled back nervously.
Haroon and the rest of the gang seemed to be having the time of their lives. He was not bothered about his stall. He just drank energy drinks and goofed around with girls. Zarish chose to ignore him.
Soon it was time to declare the results. Zarish’s stall earned the maximum money and was declared the winner. The entire team was called on stage and Faris Ahmed presented them with the prize. Hussain Muraad came up to congratulate them.
‘I’m really proud of all of you,’ Muraad said and patted them on their backs.
‘They are all my dear students,’ Ahmar said proudly.
Zarish’s face fell. She did not like being called his student.
Later that night, Ahmar walked into his bedroom and switched on the lights. He changed his clothes and settled on his bed with his laptop. There were eight new messages in his inbox. He clicked on the one from Zarish Munawwar.
Thank you for supporting my team. We did it.
P.S. Your dad is adorable. Take good care of him.
Goodnight.
He hit the reply button and typed a message:
It’s my duty to help you. Don’t thank me.
You also take care of yourself.
He promptly checked his other messages and then got back to his project. But Zarish could not sleep as she was waiting for his reply. She switched on her laptop again and checked her inbox.
After reading his message, she sent him a reply:
Are you still awake?
She waited for his message anxiously. Ahmar was stunned to see her message. ‘Why is she still up?’ he wondered.
Yes. What are you doing up so late?
Zarish smiled at his reply and typed her message:
I can’t sleep.
Ahmar: Are you an insomniac?
Zarish: Well, maybe. Can we chat for a while?
Ahmar: I am busy right now. Have to work. You go to sleep.
Zarish: Fine. Goodnight.
She felt disappointed and switched off her laptop.
‘Why is he up so late? What could be more important than me?’ she wondered. ‘I am sure he has more important things to do than talk to me. I am just his student. Nothing more. Nothing less,’ she told herself bitterly.
‘Wake up, Dad!’ Ahmar said as he knocked on his father’s bedroom door at 6 a.m.
‘Get ready in fifteen minutes. I’m waiting for you at the dining table,’ he ordered.
It took Muraad half an hour to come to the dining table. Bashir Chacha had made cheese omelettes for them.
‘The carnival went really well yesterday. I am proud of the students,’ Muraad said, taking a bite of the omelette.
Ahmar smiled at him.
‘The cheese balls were delicious,’ Muraad said.
‘Indeed,’ Ahmar nodded.
‘By the way, what’s the name of the girl who made them?’ Muraad asked.
‘Zarish,’ Ahmar told him. ‘Zarish Munawwar.’
‘Hmm. She seems to be a nice person. I really liked her.’
Ahmar sipped his tea pensively.
‘What do you think?’ Muraad asked.
‘Hmm?’ Ahmar remained indifferent.
‘Do you like Zarish?’
‘Dad, I’m going to be late for my class. I have to go,’ Ahmar said, ignoring his father’s question.
Muraad looked at his son intently.
He gave his father a quick hug and started collecting his laptop and files.
‘Son . . .’ Muraad said.
‘Hmm?’
‘I really meant what I said about Zarish. I like her,’ Muraad said sincerely.
‘Good for you, Dad. See you.’
While driving to the university, his father’s words echoed in his ears. Ahmar tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
‘Why does he like Zarish? Doesn’t he understand that she is just my student?’ he murmured under his breath.
Zarish wanted to meet Ahmar before going to class. She knocked on his office door but there was no answer. With a lunchbox in hand, she stood there for a minute. Finally, she put the box on the floor, next to the door, and turned to walk away, but accidentally bumped into Ahmar.
‘Woah!’ Ahmar exclaimed.
‘Sorry, Sir,’ she gulped.
‘Why do you always bump into me? Huh? And, what are you doing outside my office?’ he asked, sounding a bit irritated.
‘I . . . uh . . . I came here to give you this,’ she said as she picked up the lunchbox from the floor.
‘What’s this?’ he asked and cocked his brow.
‘I made cookies for uncle . . . I mean Sir Muraad,’ she said embarrassedly.
‘Miss Zarish, I think I forgot to tell you. My father is diabetic.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. They are sugar free,’ she replied.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, not sure if he could trust her.
She nodded.
‘Well, then you can give them to him yourself. He will be in his office in an hour or so,’ he said casually and then turned to unlock his cabin.
‘You don’t want to taste them?’ she asked promptly.
‘Later,’ he said as he entered his office.
Zarish looked glum.
It was late afternoon when Zarish decided to give the cookies to Muraad. She had been carrying the lunchbox in her bag the whole day. Why was she being so nice to Muraad? Because he was Ahmar’s father? Or because she liked him as a person? She knocked on the door before entering his office. It was classier than Ahmar’s office. The walls, painted in dark hues, gave the room a royal look.
‘Pleased to see you,’ Muraad said.
Zarish smiled at him but then realized that he seemed rather tired and unwell.
‘Are you feeling okay, Sir?’ Zarish asked in a concerned voice.
‘Yes, just a bit worn out, I guess,’ he said as he picked up a glass of water. Zarish nodded. The lunchbox was still in her hands.
‘Can you please pass me those spectacles? They are kept on that shelf,’ he said, pointing at the wooden shelf.
/> ‘Sure, Sir,’ Zarish said obediently.
All of a sudden, Muraad felt a severe pain in his chest. He fell from his chair, breaking the glass in his hands.
Zarish quickly turned around after hearing the sound. She was stunned to see him on the floor, writhing in pain.
‘Sir!’ she cried.
Zarish quickly called an ambulance. The news spread across the campus and more students and teachers gathered around the scene. Zarish wanted to call Ahmar but she did not have his cell number. She asked one of the students to tell him about his father’s critical condition.
At the hospital, Muraad was rushed to the ICU. Zarish waited outside the emergency room in the corridor, worried.
‘I hope you come here soon, Ahmar,’ she prayed in despair.
After about fifteen minutes, Ahmar walked in in a huff.
‘Where is Dad?’ he asked the nurse impatiently, sweat dripping down his brow.
‘He’s in the ICU,’ she told him.
‘Can I see him, please?’
‘No, not without the doctor’s permission. You can wait here. They are still examining him.’
‘Who brought him here?’
‘The young lady standing over there,’ the nurse said, pointing at Zarish.
Ahmar took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair and walked towards her.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about my father?’ he yelled.
Zarish could see that he was very upset. The veins on his forehead were visible and it seemed they would burst any minute. She’d never seen him this angry before.
‘Sir, please try to understand . . .’ she stammered.
‘No! You try to understand. That man lying inside the ICU is my father. Do you get that?’
‘I know, but there was no time to inform you,’ she said calmly, unfazed by his temper.
‘You could have called me right then! How could you get my father here without telling me?’ he shouted.
The nurse warned him to lower his pitch.
‘You have no idea what you’ve done,’ he hissed.
Zarish could not believe that he was accusing her. Instead of thanking her, he was getting angry for nothing.
‘Listen to me! I helped your father. I was there in his office when this happened,’ she snapped.
He looked at her furiously.
‘Instead of thanking me, you are blaming me? Do you think that’s right?’ she said as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Ahmar took a long, deep breath. Zarish sniffed. Just then a doctor escorted by a nurse stepped out of the ICU.
‘What’s the matter, doctor?’ Ahmar asked. His voice was heavy, almost on the verge of breaking down.
‘Are you his son?’ the doctor inquired.
‘Yes. How is he doing now? Is he going to be okay?’ he asked worriedly.
‘It was a minor heart attack. We have conducted all our tests. He is unconscious but will recover soon. Don’t worry.’ The doctor patted him on his shoulder.
‘How long are you going to keep him here?’ Ahmar asked.
‘Just a day or two,’ the doctor affirmed.
‘Thank you.’ He shook hands with him.
‘Don’t thank me. Thank this young lady who brought your father here just in time. Otherwise, his condition would have deteriorated.’
Ahmar nodded, feeling guilty for yelling at her.
‘Here is the prescription for the medicines. You should get them right away,’ the doctor said.
Ahmar turned around to apologize to Zarish, but she had disappeared.
The next morning, Zarish came in early to check on Muraad. She found both of them asleep. Ahmar lay sprawled on the couch, snoring. She could not help but smile. She put the lunch bag on the table and sat beside him.
‘He looks so innocent while sleeping, so young,’ she thought. She observed his thick, black lashes, the upturned nose and pink lips . . .
He suddenly woke up, surprised to find Zarish sitting beside him. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and looked at her groggily. She noticed that his shirt was completely crumpled.
‘Good morning,’ she said, smiling.
He just nodded, a little uncomfortable in her presence. He was looking for the right moment to apologize to her.
‘What did the doctor say? How is he doing now?’ she asked.
‘The doctor said he will be fine. No need to worry,’ he whispered.
‘Phew. That’s a relief.’
‘I’ll go and call the nurse,’ he said. ‘Will you stay here for a while, please?’ he asked.
‘I’m here for as long as you want me. Don’t worry,’ she said.
Later, when he went back to the room, he could not find Zarish. Maybe she had left or maybe she was still angry with him. He came and sat beside his father on the bed. Muraad was still unconscious, wrapped up in needles, tubes and an oxygen mask. The machines in the room beeped continuously. Ahmar held Muraad’s hand and pressed it firmly.
‘You will be fine, Dad. I love you,’ he whispered and cried quietly.
After a while, Ahmar stepped out of the room and found Zarish sitting on a bench in the corridor. He was surprised to see her, but also relieved. She looked up at him and smiled.
He sat down beside her. It made Zarish uncomfortable and she look down at her hands nervously.
‘I’m sorry about what I said yesterday,’ he said.
Zarish turned to look at him.
‘You saved my father’s life, and I blamed you. I’m sorry,’ he murmured.
‘You were upset.’
‘I should have thanked you but instead I yelled at you,’ he said and sighed regretfully.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I understand. Don’t think about it.’
Both of them sat silently for a while.
‘I am really close to my father,’ Ahmar broke the silence. ‘Ever since my mother died, he has taken care of my sister and me. I am what I am because of him.’
‘How did your mother die?’
He winced after hearing the question and she noticed it.
‘I was only four when she passed away. She was suffering from anaemia. She lost a lot of blood during my younger sister’s delivery,’ he whispered.
Zarish listened to him intently.
‘My father had to raise two children all alone. It was the hardest task ever . . .’ his voice trailed off.
‘Why didn’t he remarry?’
‘I wish I knew. Maybe he did not want to share his love with any other woman. Or maybe he knew that no other woman would love his kids the way my mother did.’
‘So, you have lived with your father since your mother’s death?’ she asked.
‘Not always. I shifted to the US after finishing my high school. It was a tough decision, leaving him, alone, but he wanted me to go. He wanted me to achieve something big in life.’
‘And what about your . . .’ she continued.
‘Aren’t you supposed to go home now?’ he interrupted. ‘It’s quite late,’ he said looking at his watch.
‘No, I don’t want to go back. I want to sit here all night and talk to you,’ she thought.
‘Yeah,’ she said with a sigh.
‘I’ll drop you home. Come,’ he offered.
‘I will call my driver. You should stay with your dad.’
‘I owe you. Let me drop you home. Please,’ he insisted.
The thought of sitting beside him in his car made her heart jump. She thought about their first meeting; how she had hated him that night. The memory brought a smile to her face. All this seemed like a dream to her. A never-ending, pleasant dream.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
‘I am thinking that you need to slow down. You’re driving like a maniac,’ she lied.
‘Are you lying?’ he asked with a wicked smile.
‘What? No. Why?’ she lied again. ‘You can read minds or what?’
‘No, I can’t. Your words didn’t match your
eyes,’ he said as he looked at her intently.
Zarish looked outside the window and smiled.
The next day Zarish was busy preparing boiled chicken and corn soup, and vegetable sandwiches for Muraad.
The maid, Nusrat, was amazed to see her working in the kitchen.
‘Nusrat, pass me the cabbage,’ Zarish ordered.
‘Yes, Baaji,’ Nusrat said and did as she was told.
Zarina stepped into the kitchen and was stunned to see her daughter busy at work, covered in sweat.
‘What’s going on here? What are you doing here, Zarru?’ her mother asked.
‘Mom, I’m cooking some food for Sir Muraad,’ she said, wiping the sweat.
‘But why are you doing it? Doesn’t he have his own children to look after him?’
‘He has a son. Do you remember my FSA professor I told you about?’
‘Yeah. I think so.’
‘Anyway, I wanted to cook something for him because he’s a nice person,’ Zarish tried to reason it out.
‘Really? Have you ever thought of cooking something for your own father?’ Zarina said, folding her arms.
‘Mom! Please don’t start now. I’m running late so please let me finish what I am doing,’ Zarish said irritably. Her mother left the kitchen shaking her head. She made a mental note to tell her husband about this.
Ahmar was busy talking to the doctor when Zarish reached the hospital. She sat down on one of the benches and decided to wait for him. After a while, he joined her.
‘Good morning, Sir,’ she greeted him with a coy smile.
‘Good morning. What are you doing here?’ he asked, looking amused.
‘Well, I brought home-made lunch for Sir Muraad and you,’ she replied. ‘I prepared it myself,’ she added.
Ahmar felt a bit odd.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Miss Zarish. You should be at the university, attending classes.’
‘I know what I’m doing. Now will you please let me meet your father?’ she insisted.
‘You are so stubborn.’
She ignored his comment and followed him into Muraad’s room.
‘Good morning, Sir! How are you feeling now?’ she asked.
Muraad was resting on his bed. He looked better and happier than yesterday.
‘Doing great, Zarish. How about you?’ He was glad to see her.