“Oh, my heart, wait for a minute,

Take a look at the blue sky and sea,

Fix your gaze upon it for a moment,

Stare at these mighty mountains,

Stop thinking of anything else,

Give yourself fully to this minute,

And this moment will be yours.”

“It's been three days, and all we hear is that Professor Sher Shah will be taking over our classes. It feels like today might be another half-day” Ayesha complained to Zara, sitting in class.

“I'm actually glad about that” Zara replied, showing little interest in Ayesha's frustration. Ayesha began packing her books and belongings into her bag.

Just at that moment an old man in his fifties, in his tuxedo, entered the class, “Good afternoon, class. How is everyone?” greeted Professor Sher Shah as he entered. “I'm your new professor, Sher Shah Awan. I would have liked to hear your introductions, but since it’s already late, let's start the lecture.”

By the end of the lecture, Professor Sher Shah had made it clear he wouldn't be an easy instructor and hinted at bringing innovation to their studies. Before dismissing the class, saying he wanted to break the ice between him and the students, he asked a question to which many answered, he really wanted to engage Abdul Hadi too but he didn’t attempt, refraining from showing any special treatment due to a promise made. Abdul Hadi had strictly asked to not to show anything that will reflect that they know each other already.

The question was, “What's the best advice you would give your younger self?” he posed, prompting Zara to respond first, “Sometimes, I marvel at my own capabilities when I observe myself as a third person. For instance, I am amazed by my patience and acceptance of things I shouldn't tolerate. People feel comfortable around me, and that makes me happy. I am usually very self-aware, so I make decisions confidently, knowing how to make them work in my favor. Despite being wrong many times and realizing I could have done things differently; I am at peace with my choices even if it didn't go my way. Allowing no room for regrets feels empowering. I know I have that kind of ability and as for advice to my younger self, I'm content with where I am now. Ten years ago, my younger self knew what it was doing, and ten years from now, it will be proud of me. I have always been my own good friend in the present. No more advice for my younger self; I won't complicate things.”

Despite other students' responses, the class didn't meet Professor Sher Shah's expectations, as Zara has in a way, contradicted the question, leading him to inquire specifically about Zara's name before dismissing them, because her answer had really caught his attention, and though he remained verbally unresponsive, yet internally, he found himself unable to refrain from extolling her extraordinary capability.

“Abu, if you're not coming, can I go by myself?” Ayesha asked later at home.

“Yes, but stay in safe areas. You never know about safety in Karachi. The keys are in the drawer. Take Zara with you” her father replied.

“I asked her, but she said her cousin is visiting and can't come” Ayesha explained while taking the keys.

As soon as she left room her mother asked her father, “Why did you let her go alone?”

“She's an adult, and we've always given her freedom” her father defended.

“With the situation worsening in Karachi, it's risky. Dacoits are targeting those who are alone or vulnerable” her mother expressed concern.

“She's intelligent and has taken self-defense classes. She knows how to protect herself”

“But practical skills won't always be enough, how are you so sure? after all she is a girl, those defense classes won’t be of any help when she will be on gunpoint. And it will be very foolish to act upon as her defense classes that time, those with weapons don’t see gender or the certificates of being a taekwondo black belt.” her mother persisted.

“You are just overthinking, pray and hope that she is safe. She is adult; I don’t want to be like parents who put restrictions on their children. We have always given her space for things that she wants to do.”

Unknowing to them Ayesha was near their room, she came back to be hydrated from kitchen, and heard all this conversation. Ignoring the argument, Ayesha smiled and tried to leave but paused when her mother asked her father, “Did you tell Zia bhai?”

“Yes, I informed him” he confirmed, making Ayesha's heart skip a beat. “What did he say?” her mother pressed. At that moment Abdul Qadeer's phone rang, diverting his attention, while Ayesha quietly headed towards the door.

“Why do I feel this strange anxiety? I never imagined feeling this way. Is it because of worries about my future life? Will he understand me and be compatible?” Ayesha pondered deeply as she drove. No matter how much she denied it, in the end, she too had her own anxieties. Lost in thought, she accidentally swerved, narrowly missing a pedestrian who stopped abruptly. Ayesha braked and got out of her car to apologize.

“I'm so sorry” she blurted out, her voice tinged with concern. The sight of Abdul Hadi standing calmly before her made her pause. He seemed composed, almost detached from the chaos of the moment.

“Abdul Hadi?” Ayesha's voice wavered slightly, a mix of surprise and relief evident in her tone.

“Yes, it's me” he replied with his expression unreadable. Unknown to Ayesha that his thoughts wandered briefly to the unexpected encounter.

“What are you doing here? Are you okay? I didn't see you” she apologized again. Ayesha's concern spilled out in rapid succession, her eyes started scanning him for any signs of injury.

“I'm fine” he replied curtly, creating an awkward silence. His gaze was steady yet distant. Ayesha noticed his calm aura, contrasting sharply with her own inner conflicts of the moment. Unsure how to respond, she wrestled whether she should stay there or what she should do next. Maybe retreat back into the safety of her car, quite the dilemma.

“What are you doing here alone at this time?” Abdul Hadi finally asked in his seriousness.

“I came for a drive”, with another silence stretched, the sounds of the street filling the void between them. Ayesha felt a pang of embarrassment, wishing she could rewind the last few moments and avoid this encounter.

“Is your home nearby?” he inquired with his tone neutral yet polite.

“About twenty minutes away”, another moment of silence followed, but this time it felt less uncomfortable.

“And yours?” Ayesha asked to break the silence, another strike against it.

“It's only five minutes from here” he answered shortly, his gaze flickering towards the direction of his home.

“Oh” feeling the weight of their unfamiliarity pressing down on her shoulders and another awkward pause.

“Well, I should get going. Can I drop you somewhere?” Ayesha offered, to which he said, “No, thank you. I'll jog back” Abdul Hadi declined politely. His lips were twitching almost imperceptibly into a brief smile.

“Okay, Allah Hafiz” she said bidding a farewell.

“Allah Hafiz” he responded, and they parted ways, each lost in their own thoughts.

As Ayesha turned around, her expression revealed the shock of their unexpected meeting.

“You should be more careful while driving and avoid going out alone, it’s not safe.” Abdul Hadi advised, it felt that he was concerned yet composed.

“I'll be more cautious, thank you.” Ayesha assured him.

Abdul Hadi nodded silently and resumed his jog, pulling his hoodie cap back over his head that he had momentarily removed after the incident. Ayesha watched him pass by as she got back into her car and turned it around. Before she drove off, she glanced once more at Abdul Hadi jogging along the road through her side mirror.

“If I had known you'd run into him out of the blue, I would've come with you instead of watching those three episodes” Zara teased.

“Episodes? You were watching Netflix? I knew it! liar!” Ayesha exclaimed with frustration, brandishing her register as if to strike Zara on the head.

“I didn't lie” Zara defended herself.

“What about your 'I have a guest today' excuse?”

“A guest who visits every weekend and happens to be four years old?” Zara smirked. “It’s not me, its people who are gullible.” She added more.

“You're just impossible. Fine, I won't tell you anything next time.”

“Please, Ayesha, aren't we best friends? Let it be for next time, tell me what happened this time.” Zara pleaded.

“No darling, you lost it.” Ayesha feigned annoyance, turning away just as she saw Abdul Hadi exited the cafeteria.

“Oh, come on.”

Ayesha sighed, “Why do we judge people based on appearances without even knowing them? Label them, for example as ‘rude’.”

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“Aha, and?” Zara wanted more to understand where she going.

“I mean, look at us, we always thought he was arrogant, but last night I saw a very decent side of him.”

Zara tried to made this easy for Ayesha, “We judge when we don’t see any expressiveness, I mean, appearances do matter initially, of ‘course they're our first impression, but we expect more, and when we are not given that, we judge. On the other side, being judgmental isn't always bad. And that is in human nature too, we have been given a mind, that thinks all the time, and for times it demands us to be judgmental for decision taking. We can’t just pull this trait out of us, we need it too. And from where you are coming, I would say, it would be very ideal that some of those times, when we know we are being judgmental that weights more over being not a good person, that’s when one should keep their negative judgments to themselves; while we know they can harm others, basically. Vice versa, if our positive judgment can uplift someone, share it. But if it's negative, it's best kept to yourself.”

“We did judge him, in a bad way.” Ayesha acknowledged.

“That is the twist my friend; we can read each other's minds just by looking. We would judge it together even if we don’t say a word. Human connections are just so weird.”

“You're so good at justifying.” Zara teased.

“Because we're human, and we can't deny our instincts to judge, well, this is the end of the sociology lecture, let's just get back to him. So, he's not rude after all?”

“As decent as you'd never imagine. I sensed only good vibes”

“So, finally my friend has fallen into love.” Out of nowhere the mischievous mode of Zara was activated which Ayesha could sense it from afar, like always.

“What?”

“Do you see any butterflies, when you see him?”

“Yes, and I see rose petals softly raining from above too, yes, definitely in slow motion.” Ayesha started being sarcastic too.

“What about the background romantic music, the love melody, so you hear in it your mind?”

“Stop it, Zara. There's no love story here” Ayesha protested, though Zara could only laugh at her friend's discomfort.

“Okay, okay. Jokes aside, what exactly happened?” her curiosity piqued, again.

Ayesha shot her a quick glance before relenting, sharing the details with her best friend. No matter how mature they were, their gossip sessions were an inseparable part of their bond, whether over coffee in the cafeteria or during cozy visits to each other's homes, discussing everything from moments of joy to temporary bouts of their undiagnosed depression.

“What if we set up a Meena Bazaar for the Urdu Literary Festival? I want everyone to participate in managing the stalls, and I've decided to award extra marks to those who incorporate an Urdu theme into their stalls.”

This announcement hit the students like a bombshell, but none more so than Ayesha and Zara. They had been planning to sell Chana Chaat and Alu Samosas this year, just as they had intended every year since the start of the semester. However, it had never come to fruition. This being their final year, they were determined and had mustered all their confidence. It was Zara who had persuaded Ayesha each year. Although Ayesha had less interest in it, she would always go along with Zara's ideas. It was their thing, to say yes to each other’s at time like these, not because they were friends (Occasionally), but most of those times they had a similar interest in that.

“Only the dead Mughals will be happy to see their name, our Mughal emperor, the very alive, professor Sher shah will never like it.”

“Shall we stick with our idea but call it ‘Mughliyai Chana Chaat’?” Zara suggested, pretending to be serious, though she was laughing inside at the thought.

“Wow, what a change you've brought. What a solution,” Ayesha replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“Mughal emperors always gave importance to Urdu, like Bahadur Shah Zafar. What else can we do? What does it even mean to give an Urdu touch? How can we sell Urdu? Even if we teach Urdu or arrange a lecture at our stall, it would look so odd, and no one would come. So please, agree to my brilliant manipulation and let's name it ‘Mughliyai Chaat’.”

Zara said all this trying to be serious, but it was in vain. Her façade crumbled, and she burst out laughing. The truth was, her tension was driving her to act this way. Zara's nervousness was evident. The prospect of the Meena bazaar had her on because of the added pressure of giving it an Urdu twist. It was driving her to the brink. Her nervous laughter was her way of coping. More to it, she imagined themselves in Mughal-era outfits, trying to sell chaat with grandiose names, and the absurdity of it all made her giggle uncontrollably, leaving Ayesha still trying to figure out ‘what to do with this girl’ was now also contemplating ‘what to do about the stall.’

“I’m going for groceries. Do you need anything?” Abdul Hadi asked.

“Just the usual, nothing special,” Professor Sher Shah replied, keeping his eyes on the newspaper.

As Abdul Hadi moved towards the door, the professor, still focused on the newspaper, asked, “Have you thought about what you'll be doing for the Urdu literary festival?”

“No, not yet. I need to go now; there will be a crowd on the road. If I don’t leave now, it will be a hassle to go out in the evening. See you later.” Abdul Hadi said, using the grocery trip as an excuse to avoid the question. It was nothing unusual for Professor Sher Shah, who had known Abdul Hadi since he was four years old.

As soon as Abdul hadi left, Sher shah folded newspaper looking at Abdul Hadi’s back, His mind wandered back to days gone by.

“You can't avoid these things forever; you’ll have to marry the girl I’ve found for you.” Ruqaiya said in her tone firmed.

“Don't tell me you've already said yes.” Sher shah replied with exasperation in his voice.

“Almost. You can consider it as good as done. I’ve given my word to her family.”

“How could you do this without discussing it with me first?”

“You said you would marry the girl I chose for you.”

“That was a long time ago, before I realized our Abdul Hadi would end up all alone” Sher shah retorted, frustration creeping into his voice.

“He won’t be alone. You'll be able to legally adopt him as your son.” Ruqaiya tried to reassure him.

“And you think this woman will take care of him like a mother would, despite everything he’s been through?” Sher Shah questioned, doubt evident in his tone.

“It was Allah’s will. We cannot control others' lives. I’ve explained everything to her about Abdul Hadi, and she said she would look after him as her own child.”

“I don’t believe this. What will happen when she has her own children? She’ll always prefer them over Abdul Hadi. I don’t want things to get out of control, especially now when I have the power to manage them.”

Sher Shah couldn’t bear to hear another word from his sister, Ruqaiya. He stormed out of the hall, slamming the door behind him with all his might. In his room, Abdul Hadi overheard their heated conversation.

Little Abdul Hadi always yearned for his beloved Sher Chachu’s undivided attention. He never wanted to share him with anyone else. Despite Sher Shah's initial refusal, Ruqaiya had managed to persuade him to consider marrying Shaheena, the woman she had chosen for him. Sher Shah had begun exchanging texts with Shaheena. Abdul Hadi noticed how his uncle would sometimes smile and even laugh at his phone. Whenever Abdul Hadi asked what was amusing him, Sher Chachu would simply say, “I’ve found an angel.”

“Can I have one?”

“Wait until you’re as old as me and find one for yourself.” He laughed.

Then came the day when Abdul Hadi saw a tear roll down Sher Chachu’s cheek as he read a text from Shaheena. It said, “I’ve thought about it a lot, but I don’t think I can be a mother to that child. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t think I can love and care for him, or accept him as my family. Please forgive me, but if you can’t let him go, then we shouldn’t get married.”

“What’s wrong?” Abdul Hadi asked, noticing Sher Chachu’s distress. Sher Shah smiled sadly at him through tear-filled eyes but couldn’t find the words to explain the situation to a child.

“Why are you crying? Are you crying?” Abdul Hadi asked again, his own eyes welling up in sympathy.

“Yes, I am” Sher Shah admitted, pulling Abdul Hadi into his lap and setting aside his phone. “But you shouldn’t. I promise you won’t see me cry again. The angel was asking for my life, and I couldn’t give it to her because life…”

“…is precious” Abdul Hadi finished the sentence, remembering the wisdom his uncle had imparted to him.

Sher Shah laughed at his forwardness and repeated the same.

“Because life is precious.” it was mantra they often shared. It was a phrase Sher Shah had taught Abdul Hadi long ago, adapting its meaning as Abdul Hadi grew older and encountered life's challenges.

Ruqaiya's departure to Canada, without meeting them before leaving, became her silent expression of anger. Since then, their encounters were limited to family weddings over the years, where they deliberately avoided each other, strangers in those spaces.

So who do you think was in the wrong in this situation? Was it Ruqaiya, the sister who sought what she believed was best for her brother? Or was it Shaheena, who declined the proposal? Perhaps Shaheena's decision was the wisest course of action. She recognized her limitations and chose not to pursue a relationship where she couldn't fully commit. It was a prudent decision, avoiding the risk of a situation she knew she couldn't manage effectively. Or was it Sher Shah himself who refrained from pursuing Shaheena due to Abdul Hadi's presence? He demonstrated wisdom by empathizing with Shaheena's perspective and gracefully accepting her decision to step away. Letting go of someone you love requires immense courage, and Sher Shah showed great strength in his actions.

Zara wore her glasses as advised by the doctor for computer use.

“Why is your mouth full of sweets? Who gave them to you?” Abrar asked.

Zara attempted to reply, but having just eaten two Rasgullas, she struggled to speak. Abrar sat beside her and asked, “What series are you watching?”

Zara couldn’t answer for her mouth was still full, her mother, Gulalai, entered the room.

“La hawla wala quwwata illa billah!” Gulalai, Zara's mother, exclaimed dramatically, pointing at Zara's mismatched outfit. “What have you done to yourself? Your shirt and pants look like they had a fight, and your hair seems to have wrestled with a tornado!”

Zara finally swallowed her mouthful. “What did I do wrong now?”

“Look at yourself, and that is not how you do your assignment.”

“Assignment? Through netflix?” Abrar asked and Zara shot him a look at him.

Gulalai shook her head in disbelief, “Never seen that.”

Abrar, now thoroughly entertained, chimed in, “Maybe she's onto something. Practical assignments in movie form!”

Zara rolled her eyes playfully. “Exactly, Abrar. This is cutting-edge educational strategy!”

“And these?” Abrar pointed towards the sweet box.

“For inspiration!”

“I have never seen anyone doing like this in my whole life.”

“I am not just anyone, I am Zara.”

“When will you grow up, Zara?” her mother sighed, eyeing her disheveled appearance before exiting the room muttering to herself.

“Why can't I just be a mess at home?” Zara mused aloud.

“What?” Abrar looked genuinely puzzled, though thoroughly entertained by Zara's antics.

“I mean; home should be where I feel free to be myself.”

“You've always claimed your freedom wherever you go. Why choose to be messy when you can look presentable with just a few minutes' effort?”

“No, this is how I like myself. If the world didn't care about appearances, I'd stay like this forever.”

“Your philosophy reeks” Abrar teased.

“Being ‘ugly’ doesn't mean being unhygienic. I've already showered.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Abrar retorted, edging away from Zara, who mock-threatened to chase him down.

“Hey, by the way, I forgot to mention—I couldn't talk to Ayesha. I don't think it's the right time now.” Zara suddenly remembered the favor her brother had asked of her. Unaware to Zara that he was waiting for her to share details, he hesitated to bring it up first, not wanting to appear too eager, even if it was for her sister.

“Why is that so?”

“She already has a proposal from a doctor in the USA.”

“What's the issue then? I don't think she'd be materialistic.”

“It's not about her; it's about her parents.”

Abrar raised his eyebrows in confusion, wondering what it was about her parents. His initial thought was that her parents might be pressuring her, but Ayesha dispelled all such notions.

“Actually, she said she'll marry whoever her parents choose for her.”

“Interesting!” Abrar didn't expect this and surprising smirk appeared on his face.

“What do you think her parents would agree to that proposal”

“I'm not sure. Last time Ayesha updated me, she mentioned overhearing her parents discussing and leaning towards a positive response, but it's just speculation on her part.”

“I see.”

“But if we do consider sending a proposal, I think we should inform Ayesha beforehand.”

“So, are you going to talk to her about it?”

“Let's wait for a bit. She'll let me know without giving them a final answer, and then I'll bring it up.”

“What do you mean, you'll try? How long are you going to keep trying?” he couldn’t hide his desperation this time.

“Let me handle this. You won't be disappointed in me. But I have no idea what Ayesha will say. I'm the one connected to both of you, and I'm the most stressed about this. I have a brother and a friend, so if anyone's going to have a headache, it'll probably be me.” Little did she know, that her prediction was about to unfold as true before her and probably not in a way that she would ever expect.