Hijaab Waali PART 5/1

PART 5/1 Hijaab Waali


"Have you ever seen his smiles?" Deeba asked, as they prepared for sleep that night.

"Many times he didn't smile at all. But when he did, it was…it's so wonderful, so mysterious."

"He's frigid like ice." Sheeba said, teasing, as she turned the light off and climbed into her bed.

"Well, he's frozen fire." Deeba smiled confidently, pulling her blanket up to her chin.

"He's very stubborn." Sheeba said, yawning.

"Umm, I believe he is very determined." Deeba smiled in silence.

"I really love the way he smokes, keeping a long and regular interval between smokes. I just adore the way he keeps the cigarette between his long, slender fingers."

"How do you know that he smokes?" Sheeba inquired.

"I saw him smoking in the end."

"So? What's so different about him?" Sheeba turned towards her sister to face her. Their beds were placed side by side so that they could easily talk to each other.

"I suppose there's nothing typical in him. I…I just love the way he talks," Deeba told her. "So slowly, in a deep, low voice. His voice feels absolutely wonderful, smooth as silk. He's so calm, so patient, nothing flirtatious about him. He's not like ***ually frustrated guys of today." Deeba left her sentence unfinished only to release a long breath and then added.

"Sober, decent, and mature guys like him have always been my ideal. Such men who never lose there temper and are miles away from vulgar and cheap jokes, nothing 'teenage' about them."

"Is he really your ideal?" Sheeba asked sleepily.

"Yes, no doubt I like mature guys like Aariz who have nothing "teenage" about them, you know. So sober, so calm, so man. I wonder if he ever gets angry or impatient. I'm sure he never saw him loses his temper. I love the way he talks, admire the style he walks and adore the way he breaths, even the way he sleeps."

"Deeba?" Sheeba glared at her sister, doubting her present mental condition. "I'm sure you've gone completely crazy."

"Why?" Deeba smiled dreamily. "What makes you think so?"

"Have you ever seen him sleeping? Have you ever felt him breathing?" Sheeba asked angrily.

"Yes, in dreams." She closed her eyes, like she was talking in sleep.

At first Sheeba didn't know what to say.

"Do you really like him that much?" Sheeba asked, completely surprised.

"Even more than that."

Sheeba threw one last look at her sister's face then closed her eyes. "I had no idea you like him so much."

"What's wrong with that Sheeba?"

Sheeba took a long sigh then said, "I'm sorry to inform you sister but you're just having your first crush. That's all."

On her remark, Deeba burst out laughing.

"Well sister, 'no comments." She said, smiling.

"Yeah, you don't have to comment about what I already know." Sheeba turned her head away." And now please let me get some sleep. Will you? It's been a really tired day for me. For God's sake don't spoil my sleep like the way you have your own. OK?"

Deeba didn't answer. She just continued to think about what was really bothering her since the time she'd returned from the poetry function. It was something she wanted to neglect, wished to ignore but couldn't.

For minutes she tried to put her feet into the beautiful valley of sleep but it would not come so easily.

Frustrated and worried for some unknown reason, she shook the shoulder of her sleeping sister.

"Sheeba?"

"Sheeba"

"Uh, uh…" Sheeba looked at her with half-closed eyes. "Yeah? What's the problem?"

"I am going to meet him. I just have to meet him."

"What the…" Anger gripped Sheeba with its full strength.

"Are you crazy or something Deeba?" Sheeba put in, giving her a hard look. "It's quarter past two at night and you wake me up only to talk about 'him' again?"

Deeba said nothing but just chewed her lower lip. Sheeba saw there were tears in her eyes. Her expression softened as she saw her beloved sister's helpless face. It was truth that she really loved her elder sister and she could do anything to make her happy but at the same time Deeba's emotional and somewhat 'childish' attitude was something she did not like much.

"Look Deeba," She began. "I know you really want to meet him and want to know more about him. But it's not that simple and easy. He's not an ordinary person. Plus, we really don't know him as a person."

"But he gave us his phone number." Deeba said eagerly.

"Okay. With which reference you'd want to meet him?"

"I'd say I'm your greatest fan." Deeba suggested.

Sheeba laughed. "That would be the cheapest excuse to meet him. I'm sure he must be getting such calls day and night, and surely, he's not going to meet every fan of his."

"Then?"

"Let me think." Sheeba said thoughtfully, sleep miles away from her eyes now. "The question is that how will you meet him? I mean he's so busy man. You don't find him here and there every day."

"That's why I disturbed your sleep and I'm sorry for that but I think you're the only one who can give me some solution for this problem." Deeba said with pure hope in her eyes.

Sheeba just stared at her face then lowered her head, combing her fingers through her shoulder-length hair.

"Well, I've got an idea." She smiled meaningfully.

"Really? What's that?" Deeba yelled with excitement.

"Please, keep your voice low. Don't disturb mom and dad's sleep now."

"Tell me about your idea." Deeba's voice became a mere whisper now.

"Just wait and see." Sheeba told her mysteriously, her eyes twinkling with naughty luster. "I'd tell you in the morning. Now don't worry and let's see if all the things go in our favor."

"Are sure it will work?"

"Not sure, but it's a pretty good one. I hope it should, and pray that it will." Smiling one last time, Sheeba went back to her bed.

Deeba breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes.

"Ultimately, you're mother of all "ideas" Deeba giggled weakly, but unexpectedly she heard Sheeba's voice from the other side of the dark room.

"And after all, you're mother of all 'ideals'."

With trembling fingers, she dialed his number.

On third ring, someone picked the receiver on the other side.

"Yes?" It was a deep, inspiring masculine sound.

"Hello, this is Deeba Rizvi. Can I please talk to Mr.Aariz Ali?"

There was a brief pause on the other side, and then the same voice spoke again.

"I'm Aariz. What can I do for you?"

"Oh hi sir. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"We met last week in All-Pakistan poetry function. Do you remember?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry Miss. I don't really remember, there were thousands of people there."

His expressionless tone bathed her in the rain of disappointment.

"Oh, well, I'm from an all-women magazine 'FeMag'. I wanted to contact you for an interview."

"Oh, I see." He sighed deeply. "Then I hope you have not forgotten what I've explained to everyone earlier. I don't really give interviews to anyone."

"Can I ask 'why'?" Deeba asked back.

There was a brief silence on the other side, then he stated.

"I don't do poetry for media or to get famous. I do it for myself."

"Sir, this interview won't make you more famous than you already are."

"Then?" His voice felt expressionless. "What's the purpose of this interview then?"

She wanted to say 'Just to know more about you' but caught her lip just in time.

"Just to ask your comments about other poets and to know your views for advancement of modern poetry in Pakistan. It will help us a lot sir."

"Help for what?"

"As you sure know, on which ground the young Pakistani generation stands right now, only crazy about music, movies and stuff. Most of them have no interest for literature and poetry. However, you do represent young generation and your opinions and views might invoke some good interest in young people." Deeba tried her best to convince him.

"I avoid the people from media like plague."

"Still sir, I would say don't say 'no'." She pleaded.

"Where're you from?" He asked.

"Sir please, I request, I beg you. This would be the first and last time. I came from Dubai only for this interview…

"Listen lady, whoever you're, I just don't….

"Please, don't disappoint me. I am sincere, I am honest, and it's not something for commercial purposes. And believe me, it would be something totally confidential. We do care about people's rights."

Deeba didn't know what gave her so much confidence and courage to argue with him so strongly.

"And if you'd want, I will keep most things 'off the record'. What else do you need?" She tried her last weapon.

"Then I'd like to know that why a young lady journalist from a new magazine is so much interested in this 'off the record' interview?" His voice was very sensational.

"I've told you the reason sir. But I won't insist again now. I'm sorry if I took your precious time." Deeba said disappointedly.

He took a long, tired breath then agreed.

"Alright. We'll meet today six p.m. sharp. My address is…" He told her his address.

"Thank you so much sir. You don't know how much happy I am."

"But lady, you'd be disappointed."

"Worry not sir." Deeba smiled and added.

" I'd be privileged."

To be continued..........