10 Third blow: Abduction
On the streets we stopped on a tea stall and ordered three cups.
“Now what man? That scrooge didn’t give us a single penny,” said Duple sipping his tea.
“I had told you already that’s a bad idea. But you didn’t listen” I said to them shouting at them angrily.
“Yeah man, maybe you were right but we had to give it a try. We had no other options left,” said Zeeshan.
“Yeah yeah yeah I have understood. But what next?” asked Duple fixing his heavy specs on his fat spongy face.
“Maybe it’s all over. We already have lost all our time and Faizan has his last bus to Shailpur in just an hour,” said Zeeshan and all our faces turned yellow in disappointment. After a small dinner we went to the bus stand. Though the work was incomplete but I was still thankful to my two friends for their selfless support they had given. I did not wanted to say them bye on a sad note so I tried to change the topic.
“Leave all that man. Ah! Duple, you say what’s going in your life. I forgot to ask you in the morning rush. You know all that tension and worry. But now I don’t want to waste any more time. So what’s up?” I asked Duple while we grabbed seats on the bus station café.
“Nothing important man, just searching jobs and studying, you know, nothing else” replied Duple as I ordered three cups of tea.
“Hey! He is lying. Stop lying man,” interfered Zeeshan in between.
“What lying? Shut up!” asked Duple silently pointing Zeeshan to shut up.
“Hey Faiz, do you know he is flirting the young daughter of his landlord,” said Zeeshan.
“Rascal!” I said to Duple.
“And also his maid, hah” said Zeeshan.
“Shut up man or I will leave. Faizan do not listen to him. He is just kidding” said Duple as we stared at him sharply.
“Okay only to the daughter of the landlord” said Duple giving up his excuses and we both couldn’t help each other laughing. Duple kicked his ass hard and blocked his mouth with his hand. But we were laughing like drinkers and had caught attention of some people in the cafe.
“Three more cups please,” I ordered to the waiter.
“O.K what’s her name?” I asked to Zeeshan.
“Whose? The maid or the landlord’s daughter?” asked Zeeshan and we started to laugh again. This time I fell off the chair. Oh! My stomach had started to pain so badly out of laughter.
“The daughter of the landlord of course,” I said taking long breaths.
“Mia,” replied Zeeshan.
“What?” I asked.
“Miiiiaaaaa. Mia,” replied Zeeshan again.
We started to laugh again. “Mia? Is she beautiful?” I said.
Zeeshan looked at Duple and then then looked at me and said, “No she is not” and a moment after we started laughing again.
Hah! What an evening we had that day. I think I was laughing after a thousand of years. Duple was always a laughingstock between us but the good thing was he never took it seriously, never.
But I don’t know when, but, soon the jokes turned into same old topic- riots.
“When I go to office I see those people, you know those victims of the riot. When I see them, you know… huh (tears covered his eyes and suddenly our smiles turned smaller and smaller into grief). I don’t know what to say?” said Zeeshan.
“What do you mean you see them daily? Are they still there?” I asked in surprise.
Zeeshan’s tittered embarrassingly, sipped his tea and said, “Yeah man, they are still there. No actual rehab is being provided to them. They are all alone you know. Striving for food, clothes, everything huh especially the small children. Many of them are ill, many are dead and no one is there to help them. That is simply shameful.”
“And the corpses and all that waste products are dumped quite near to their habitat. That stinks and who knows that may lead to any severe epidemic, you know,” said Duple expressing his concerns.
“These scums (politicians), I don’t understand what soil they are made up of. How can someone be so inhuman?” I said expressing my anger over the whole political community.
“You know I strongly believe that the country needs a strong and honest leader who has himself witnessed a hard time in his life because only he would understand the feelings of common people,” said Duple.
“All rubbish! I know lot of leaders who had a tough time in childhood. They were poor. They were starved. But what happened? Today they are listed the top most corrupt leaders of the country and are impoverishing the economy of the nation. Bullshit!” said Zeeshan.
“Maybe you are right,” I said to Zeeshan agreeing his view.
“But I swear, only if I get a single chance to help these people, you know even a single day I will…” Duple was speaking as Zeeshan spoke in between, “Shut up! Duple. We always have that chance don’t we Faizan?”
“Yes but very limited. I just don’t understand what happens to the honest people after entering into politics. Why do they turn so corrupt?” I asked in embarrassment.
“I think politics is, you know, it is a virtual machine that converts a good man into a corrupt man,” said Duple. We laughed a little on that note and simultaneously an hour had passed. The bus was ready to go. I thanked them for their support and a wonderful evening.
“When will you come back?” asked Zeeshan.
“I don’t know but I think soon,” I replied to him.
“Take care man,” said Duple.
“You too. You both. Bye!” I replied.
That’s how I departed from Saharabad. On the way many images were floating in my dream. Images of Aarti waiting for the money and that I had arranged only 1.2 lakhs of rupees and what would I say to her or to that man who was waiting for me to return with the money. And also the images of those poor victims of the riots. Poor people. Along the way I peeped outside of the window and could see some light coming from the jungle area. It was an extreme black dark moonless night. And I thought that probably it must be same those people Zeeshan was talking about. The poor victims of the riot. I peeped out and tried to see them till I could afford to. I felt bad for them and kept thinking about them and in the midway didn’t know when got asleep. In the dreams I watched flashes of my childhood memories with Zeeshan, Duple and many other friends; and those neighbors who watched me growing. But they were just memories now. And it was so tough to accept the reality.
Suddenly the driver pulled the brakes and he did it so tightly that most of the people including me got hurt. Before I could understand anything few masked men along with the gun loomed into the bus and shot the driver dead.
“Take out everything including money, ornaments and warm clothes you have. Hurry!” shouted one of the gunmen and fired his gun in air.
Damn! Now what? I suddenly realized that I had a bag full of money. A sudden terror haunted me. What should I do with the money? Should I give it to them or should I hide it? What? I did not even have a place where I could think of hiding the money. My face sweated and hands trembled with fear. I was felt a bit cold, nervous, body shaking with fear as if I have committed any crime and now I would be punished for that. My mind was pressurized in asking same questions million times- Should I give the money or should I protest. But before I could decide anything one of the gunmen had already approached me and he pointed his gun towards me.
“Hey you! Can’t you hear? Take out your money, your watch and your coat, everything. Didn’t you hear me?” he shouted at me pointing his gun.
I did not reply. I caught the bag as tight as I could and ignored any eye contact with him. Allah! I was breathing so fast out of fear huh! Nevertheless, I kept ignoring him.
“What is in the bag you dumb?” he asked and tried snatching it from me. I pulled the bag back refusing to give it. In the process, he punched twice on my face but I still did not give up. Another gunman hit my head from behind and I fell down losing my consciousness.