hang on a tick...

Profusely perspiring in some god forsaken printing agency, sipping on housefly accommodating, not even remotely original/genuine pepsi in Pakistan’s illustrious district Sargodha , I receive a phone call from a dear close associate of mine…
‘oi azam… when you getting back… there’s a plan in the offing’ the cheerful exclamation from the other end of the connection.
*dead air*
‘… hello… azam, you there?’
‘…hello…’
*dear air continues*
finally…
‘its good to hear your voice’ is what my ‘vast’ grammatical and verbal reserves offered as a reply…
click…. Tooon…
sheesh… who was I talking to, Florence Nightingale? May as well have said… ‘charmed by the exuberance of your verbosity’ as it were… But a week in the testing, tenacious sun can make the best of us slip up on the odd occasion. Therefore, forgive my lack of tact.

Be as it may, enough said, what’s done is done but more importantly, im back!!! and it feels goood!! This is true exhilaration, not that pretentious happiness that abroad returnees have at returning to their beloved cities after a long and ‘love inducing’ vacation… I was on no vacation!! This was hard core, son of a gun, missin meals, makin deals, shooting the cuffs, stubble keepin, man stuff!!! YEAH!! But before I get ahead of my myself, although inclined to acquiesce to my mentors/fathers every request, I must regrettably confess, that I may not be cut out for this life… yes… those momentary instances of self discovery, before I slept at nights, on the creaking, termite stricken, ‘infinitely comforting’ charpai… I confided in those multi colored walls, and hoped beyond hope that life lead me down a path different to the one that my elders had taken... and in spite of all the happenings that happen to happen every now and then, I wished I was in the company of my happy-go-lucky friends and was, once again singing along to Tina turner’s ‘I will survive…’

*first I was afraid, I was petrified….*