Sinking a
loser would’ve been such a welcome event. As would’ve hooking a rich miss be.
All that
empty space should help you get your head around the yakety-yak I just threw at
you. Life is getting weirder by the day. I have told you I have tried to kill
myself on facebook and have failed so far. I am, like, in a coma, on artificial
support there.
This brings
me to T squarely. Because T’s is the first name that comes to mind as
soon as I think about facebook. Her image is like hovering in the background as
the facebook blue appears on my mind’s stage. Who is T, you ask? In a
nutshell, she is an old friend and someone I seem to have unwavering faith
in. This faith is not because of any
fault of hers however. Outside the nutshell, she is the most ill-tempered woman
I have ever come across. Some of us friends often wonder if she was secretly
brought up by wolves in order to have a temper like that. To be fair, it is me
every time who plays with fire. And this happens because each time she loses
temper on me, I vow to dissociate with her totally and do just that. In a few
months or even years, I completely forget about what happened the last time and
we meet somehow. And these bouts of selective amnesia make me forget why I
distanced myself from her the last time, every blinking time. This has been
happening on a loop for several years now, almost with a sense of cosmic
purposefulness about it. I will tell you a story to illustrate this point.
Once upon a time, I had inactivated my facebook
account to detox from social media. Soon I realized I do not have any other
contact of this cousin in Australia who has just had a child. So in order to
dispense with that important social responsibility of congratulating her on her
fourth success, I reactivated my account to retrieve her phone number from her
profile. The day I chose to do this inauspicious task, was the day that three
of my friends who have migrated to North America, chose to open a group chat. They
added me as soon as they spotted my name as addable. I suspect there was a
split second in which the two probabilities became a possibility. May be I will
reactivate my account, may be my friends will add me in the group. It took some
simultaneous clicking in two continents and the gravitational waves generated
by the subsequent coming together of two black holes: T’s foul tongue and
my patience; are still travelling through my universe.
First of
all, T had migrated to Canada during the six weeks that my account had
been inactive. Secondly, she claimed that she had sent me a message on facebook
to which, she emphasised, I didn’t bother replying. Now my mind exclaimed that
she couldn’t have sent me a message as my name couldn’t have appeared in the
drop down list. But I decided to forgive that little white lie and proceed.
Also because the phone wasn’t accepting all my taps owing to the index finger
being wrapped in a band-aid. Tapping with the middle finger would have suited
each party perfectly: me, T, and the phone; but I found it impolite to do
it in the company of my mum in law, we were supposed to be watching TV together.
Fatefully
ignoring the hint of this white lie, I told T she could’ve attempted to
call me on phone. That is when the first black hole spotted the other and put
on the moves. “We weren’t meeting frequently when you were in town, but I
suddenly feel like crying at this news,” I was courting disaster, not courting T, I
should’ve known. “But there is such a thing as a cell phone you know. We still
use it in Pakistan.” I pressed. The other black hole was slithering closer but
I hardly knew and so the dance continued, as courtships often begin. “Amazing,
even Roofi didn’t mention it even though I had met him only last week,” Unbeknownst
to me, my musings were frightfully upping the attraction between the two darklings.
“Yes, that
is the point. (It begins, the black holes have made eye contact!) We were not
meeting even though we were living in the same area just a few minutes away
from each other. You have been to my house a couple of times and also to my
daughters’ birthday celebration at a nearby hall. BUT… (This ‘But’ marks the
exact moment of the arrival of the one black hole in the arms of the other.) I
didn’t even know the lane or house number in which you live. My fault? (This is
a shudder as the two black holes embrace and immerse and… I suppose, try to find
the spot!) Even my maid knows which house you live in because you had picked
her up from her shanty hut once. Interestingly, Shehla, Uzma, Adnan and I
have all been meeting quite regularly. We know each others’ spouses and houses
well. And since arriving here in Toronto, I have already met Rahema, Dina and
their families and have had a great time. (This is when the climax is reached
simultaneously.) It’s ok Asfiya, yaar. It must be my fault that I never tried
to barge into your house uninvited. (A blessed release. Gravitational waves of
course. One of the black holes rolls over and lights a cigarette. The other one
known as my patience lies flat staring at the roof, thinking ‘not again’.)
This happens again and again. And again. I suppose it will continue until we reach the Big Bang.
No comments:
Post a Comment