TITLE: The Silent Lover EPISODE: 5 AUtHOR: Underage With trembling fingers, she dialed his number. On third ring, someone picked the reciever on the other side. Yes? It was a deep, inspiring masculine sound. Hello, this is Deeva Rizvi. Can I please talk to Mr. Aariz Ali? There was a breif pause on the other side, and then the same voice spoke again. Im Aariz. What can I do for you? Oh hi sir. How are you? Im fine, thank you. We met last week in All-Pakistan poetry function. Do you remember? Silence. Im sorry miss. I dont really remember, there were thousands of poeple there. His expression tone bathed her in the rain of disappointment. Oh, well, Im 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 Ive explained to everyone earlier. I dont 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 dont do poetry for media or to get famous. I do it for myself. Sir, this interview wont make you more famous than you already are. Then? His voice felt expressionless. Whats 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 alot sir. Help for what? As you sure know, the ground where 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 people from media like plague. Still sir, I would say dont say no. She pleaded. Wherere 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 youre, I just dont........ Please, dont disappoint me. I am sincere, I am honest, and its not something for commercial purposes. And believe me, it would be something totally confidential. We do care about peoples rights. Deeba didnt know what gave her so much confidence and courage to argue with him so strongly. And if youd want, I will keep most things off the record. What else do you need? She tried her last weapon. Then Id like to know why a young lady journalist from a new magazine is so much interested in this off the record interview? His voice was very sensational. Ive told you the reason sir. But I wont insist again mow. Im sorry if I took your precious time. Deeba said disappointedly. He took a long, tired breath then agreed. Alright. Well meet today, six p.m. sharp. My address is...... He told her his address. Thank you so much sir. You dont know how happy I am. But lady, youd be disappointed. Worry not sir. Deeba smiled and added. Ill be privileged. Deeba put down the reciever and breathed a sigh of relief. Aariz Ali had agreed to see her at six today, and if she was lucky, it was now time for her dream to come true. At first she had rejected Sheebas idea about meeting him. But after long careful.thinking, she concluded that this was the only possible option available. After all, what else could she do? She knew she was lying for the first time and it was not a very ethical thing to do, but she thought this was her first and last chance to meet him. She looked at her watch. It was too early to leave. With a cursory glancr at a mirror, she left her room for lunch. An hour later she was back in her room, looking through her cloths and trying to decide what to wear for her meeting with Aariz. What sort of man was Aariz Ali? Ofcourse hes supposed to like modern kind of girls, who are brave, out-going and capable of moving in the society. Her hand stopped at a mauve silk shilwar suit and taking it out, she held it against herself and looked in the mirror. Smiling at her own choice, she left to take a quick shower. Once she was ready and prepared to leave, thoughts of him emerged again like an unwanted rain. How would he behave and reacg? Would he allow her to ask some personal questions? Stop thinking of it, she once again admired her reflection in the mirror. Armed with every weapon of female beauty, it was just an appropriate time for her attack. Giving final touches to her lipstick, she took her purse and moved forward. But she was not prepared for the sight she came across when she finally reached near his house. Ofcourse from the address hed given her, she knew unlike other pakistani poets, he belonged to financially well off class but shed not thought that hed be a super rich man. His house was a sprawling mansion perched on a cliff overlooking the Arabian sea, and it was too damned big for one single, solitary man, as shed heard of him. Upon introducing herself, the guard let her go inside and a servant guided her toward the dinning room. Nervous as a school girl being summoned to the head, Deeba walked into a beautiful and luxurious dinning room. Two minutes later, she was waiting for him. A smile on her beautifully curved mouth couldnt hide the nervousness in her. With dark make-up and lipstick, she had tried her best to appear elder and mature, but her features seemed to reveal the secret. She was nervous, really nervous. To relax herself, she threw a glance around to see her surroundings. The dinning room was formal, lit by two shimmering crystal chandeliers, and there were french doors opening into a garden filled with pink, white scarlet and lavender rhododendrons and English roses. The walls of the massive library were lines with handcrafted shelves and the fireplaces on the first floor were all large and traditional. Thick wall-to-wall persian carpets covered all floors. Yes, the place was too big and fancy. The sound of door opening brought her back to her senses, and she looked up as he emerged. She rose like an automatic robot to greet him. Oh, hi.....hi sir. Her nervousness increased. Please. He waved her to a sofa and sat down at his easy chair. He first raised his eyes and then turned his face to see a tall, willowy girl with long, black hair and a Miss World body. He had not actually thrown a detailed look at her, but the way she was exposing herself told the whole story at first sight. So? He asked. She tried to say something but her voice completely failed. Clearing her throat, she tried again. I....I called you this afternoon for an interview. Gaining her courage, she looked at him finally. He looked more attractive and impressive than before. Wearing simple, plain white shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark grey pants, he didnt look formal but yet so different. He was wearing those glasses which gave him that brainy intellectual look. He reminded her of those mature librarians that look absolutely beautiful when they have their glasses on. She never really liked men with glasses but this man. Well, he truly was an exception in every department. Glasses suited him and matched his personlity, giving him a genuine intellectual look and sophisticated, noble touch. With a mind-shattering fragrance emitting from his body, he was capable of attracting females thriugh their nostrils. She instantly liked him with all her might. No doubt, he was a man to inspire poetry. So, you have started this magazine or what! He said, contrary amusement glimmering his eyes. She noted, he had eyes with hypotinizing powers. Not me She replied as her breaths turned to normal. I just work there as a journalist. I am not the owner. I see. He folded his arms across his chest. While sitting, he did not look very tall, but he sure had an above-average height. His jaw was square and his face looked clean and neat with nicely cut black hair. May I ask your magazines name? Oh sure, why not. Actually, I came from the monthly female magazine FeMag! Interesting! He sighed. His facial features relaxed some more. Never heard of it though. Actually, we publish it from Dubai, and its been only a couple of months since we started it. Aha. Sounds good! Mild amusement flickered in his eyes. So what do you want to ask? Oh yes. That is why she was here. What did she want to ask? Had she thought about it? She was supposed to take his detailed interview here and yet her mind seemed totally blank at the moment. She thought and thought but unfortunately, no appropriate question came to her mind. Well? He asked abruptly, his deep-set dark eyes narrowing as he regarded her. Okay, for the starters, let me ask you something while you think about your interview questions. He said. S....sure. She stammered. Whos your favorite English or American movie star? She thought she didnt hear him correctly. It was her, who had to take his intervies, but the first question came from his side. Well.....Mel Gibson, Brad Pitt and Kevin Costner. Why? Good. He said without much expression and asked his next question. And your favorite Indian actors? Oh yes, Shahrukh is cool, and Salman Khan too. He is quite a hunk I think. Sorry I have this bad memory. He continued. Would you mind telling me the name of Shahrukhs last movie? Yes why not, it was Great. She answered evenly. And the last war in which our Holy Prophet fought himself? He inquired again. What? She couldnt believe if shed heard him correctly. Tough one? Ok. Leave it. Tell me any four essential principles of islam. And then it occured to her that, perhaps all the rumors she heard about him being mentally abnormal were true. She opened her purse, and with trembling fingers, she brought a tissue out and wiped off the sweat from her forehead. Which are the longest and shortest soorah of Quran? Perhaps, he was determined to make her feel ashamed of herself. On his last question she felt like she was going to be buried alive at any second. He gave her few minutes to gather her mind and waited for her response. But when no answer came from her, he shrugged his shoulders. Disappointed, I am. He said, and gave a long sigh before going on. Now its your turn to ask questions. Sir......I.....I was not prepared for all this. Words took great effort to come out of her mouth finally. Are these question some kind of examination questions so youd need preparatiin for them? He said, looking at her with some hint of grief in his eyes. Do you pray? Perhaps he was determined to go to the final extent today. No....no. I mean not regularly. She .replied thickly. But you do eat regularly, right? You do sleep regularly; you do watch TV regualarly. He smiled slowly but sarcastically. Anyway. Its your personal matter, Im not supposed to ask such questions. He breath then said. So have you made your mind to ask some questions now? Deeba nearly sighed aloud with relief. She looked at him with pure shame in her eyes and brought out a small tape-recorder out of her purse and kept it on the nearby table. After pressing its record button, she turned to face him once again. Before you begin..... He raised his hand, although he kept his voice low. I want to make it clear that I wont answer any questions related to my personal, private life. Id start from poetry. If you dont mind? She asked as if she wanted his permission to proceed. He was silent. Taking his silence as his permission, she asked her first question. What is poetry? Poetry? He closed his eyes for a brief interval, opening them again after few seconds. Its the job of jobless people. One who has nothing to do can try poetry. As he spoke, she saw that there was a brief, faint smile on his lips. His faint smile held a trace of sadness. He crossed fingers of both hands together to straigthen them. He had long, artistic fingers she noted, as he pulled out a golden case and took a cigarette out. He placed it between his lips. She couldnt resist stealing another glance at him; he was certainly attractive. Miss Deeba! He called her, straigthening his fine glasses as he peered at his gold watch. Yeah, oh. She rapidly moved her eyes from his handa and straightened herself up. I am waiting for your next question. Sure, I was infact, thinking about it. She made her mind. So, how do you see your life as a poet? His tortured gaze slid back to her, only for a second, then he moved his eyes away. My life? He repeated her question. It has become like a wet paper now! Wet paper? He brought the lighter and with a fine click he showed the long flame to the fore-end of his cigarette. Yes, wet paper. He said, pulling deeply on the cigarette. No one can burn it, no one can write on it. But I deserved this. He added in a low murmur. Deeba watched for a second. He seemed so calm and so uncaring but his response clearly showed her that he didnt want to explain what he had just said. Any recent change in your life or has it been uniform all over? What do you mean? He asked soberly. I....I mean things do change. Life can not be like a wet paper through all of its courses. She explained. Aariz ran a hand through his dark hair and worked up a grin. Things dont change. He said philisophically. Time moves on. Changing her sitting position, she asked her next question. Your poetry mostly revolves around love, romance and pain. Why? He rose from his chair. Going near the big glass window, he opened it to let the the sea air come inside. The salt breeze rippled gently through his dark black hair and the sound of incoming tide, far below, was a soothing song. Deeba held her breath. Love is the most persistant and undeniable reality of life. He said, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, then exhaling the whole smoke through his nose. There was a wealth of patience in his voice. Flicking Deeba a meaningful glance, he shook his head. Against her will, Deeba scanned his profile, and then hurriedly glanced away again. His mouth was tight and grim, yet it was still the most handsome mouth she could recall seeing on any man. Why was he not staring at her at all? Thinking, Deeba couldnt help herself asking this question. Why do you talk like this? She asked absently. I mean, always keeping your eyes away, not looking at me. I often wonder, He paused, clearly ignoring her question That, what has happened to our so called Muslim society? I could only see you only if you were in proper covering and Hijaab. I dont like to put a second glance on those women who dont cover themselves properly. Deeba felt like her cheeks were throbbing with embarrassment. Muslims girls now try to attract and impress others through their bodies. He returned to sit on his easy chair, still keeping his eyes away. Dont they feel any shame or disgust while showing their curves? On his remarks, she felt so ashamed that she wished she could die right there with shyness. She felt like someone had suddenly made herself bare in front of thousands of eyes. A servant came quietly with a trolley full of snacks, biscuits, cold drinks and coffee. Please He offered her to take something. With shaking fingers, she raised the steaming mug of coffee. You were talking of something about love? He asked, perhaps hed sensed her condition. Can you define what love is? She questioned. Love...... A cold sigh escaped from his lungs and intermingled with an equally cold air of December evening. Love is ....... Perhaps, the most meaningful word of all languages of the world. Just see in Urdu language, how manyh words people use for this feeling; Mohabbat, Pyaar, Chaahat, Ulfat, Dil ki Lagi, Lagaao, Ishq! He brought the coffee mug to his lips, while keeping the cigarette in this other hand. But I wanted to ask its definition, and how does it happen? Propping her chin on her hands, she stared at him with deep interest. He turned to face her, his features hardening. Well, love is a house made up of glass, where stones strike everyday in the form of rain, got it? He laughed softly. But even in this little laughter, she didnt miss the chance to see wetness in his eyes. Some people say it happens automatically He added, gazing at the ceiling above. And some say it is done voluntarily and some say........ His voicd became husky. Yes? She looked into the eyes of the most weird and mysterious man she had ever met. Some people say its an inborn matter, a grip and bond between souls, who have met even before they come to earth. Once theyre in the world, they just have to search and find each other. As soon as eyes meet, it seems that both were familiar to each other for thousands of centuries. He said gracefully. Well.....now I want to ask a very typical and popular question.....can I? She smiled. Go on He closed his eyes. Whats the difference between love and lust? Hmmm. Lust is like trying on clothes and love is finding an outfit to keep. His shiny black eyes twinkled brightly from behind the gleam of his spectacles. Wow..... And when does love end? Yes...good question..... To love and be loved is like ocean tide.... They keep going out and coming in but yes sometimes it does end in front of the world.....it does end in the world with the last breaths.....but speaking of age factor.... Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age. Why do people consider first love as the most romantic one? she asked with sheer curiosity. Because theyre very pure when they love for the first time, dont know the bad part of it. He laughed wonderfully. The action gave her a good view to see his neat, uniform white teeth. Why is love supposed to be a hurting experience? She asked, now looking deeply into his watery depths. One aspect of love is.....is to feel pain. He told her seriously. You always feel pain in love. Whether it is failure or success in love, you feel pain in your heart.....right from the beginning.......sometimes this pain is pleasurable but many times.....it hurts. He paused briefly, only to take a fine sip of his coffee and then continued his discussion. People have expectations, dreams, wishes, fantasies and when one does not get fulfillment of all these things, obviously it hurts. As they say love is like a knife, it can stab the heart or it can carve wonderful images into the soul that will last a lifetime. Observing his interest and knowledge in the topic, she extended the discussion on the same topic. Is love something constructive too? I mean, can we get something positive out of it? Love can make you bear any kind of pain and any kind of sacrifice. It can also make you feel silly and act stupidly. Sometimes when you love and end up giving so much of yourself, subconsciously you only discover how much youve given when the person you love hurts you or has to say goodbye. He kept the mug of his coffee back to the table but did not stop talking. Then you realize, an important part of yourself is already with that part person. It goes away when he leaves and you are left with a sickening, empty feeling inside. Tears are bound to shed from your eyes, no matter how you force yourself to keep them in. Well, thats what you get for caring so much about someone. But how can you regret it? To give yourself freely and lovingly is the most beautiful thing you can do. She nodded, speechless at his vast knowledge and unique philosophy about the subject. Whats the difference between knowledge and wisdom? She managed to ask. To acquire knowledge, one has to study but to acquire wisdom, one must observe. His answer was short and spontaneous and yet it satisfied her. But still, you didnt tell me your definition of love. She stared at his face, confused. All the problem is about definition of love. He said thickly. Its a mystery.......no one can define it satisfactorily. Everyone defines, percieves and experiences it from different perspective. But atleast you can say just few words? She begged. Alright. He released a long, shattering breath. Then lsiten........ Love is the reflection of his joy in her eyes. Love is an eruption of feelings buried within a heart longing to break free. True love is like life, a gift of God to Man, which he finds only once.....so when you find true love, hold on to it and never let go for a good love is hard to find and it comes only once. But where do we find it? She asked. You cant find it. Love finds you, or you can say that love is like wild flowers. Its often found in the most unlikely places. He grinned adequately. Actually, you do not fall in love, you grow to love, and then love grows in your beloved. But whats the basis and foundation of love? She was taking full interest in the topic. Respect. His answer was quick and short this time. Behind his thin-rimmed spectacles, his eyes glittered cold as the winter sky. Could I ask a different question? Deeba asked. Sure. Ill understand if Im going over the line here, She went on, but theres something that I used to wonder about. Ive never been offended by any question. Aariz said, but I always reserve the right not to answer them. Thats fair, Deeba said and paused, thinking about how best to phrase her question. Seems like you had some really bad personal experience of it. Deeba couldnt help herself saying. She wanted to explore this man, search this man, who has been lost in his own world. Have you ever been in love? Before she couls stop herself, words left her mouth. She held her breath. She watched with interest and fear as his eyes narrowed at some distant point. Some thoughts are better left unsaid, some feelings are better left kept to you, but love has its way of expressing itseld despite the silence. Deeba didnt know how to fill the silence that followed her question. After what seemed like an hour of strained silence, he shook his head, conceding flatly. I told you there would be no personal questions. She nodded in understanding. Yes, he had made it quite clear that there will be no personal questions. He glanced at his wristwatch and said, You may go now. But sir.....still I need to ask you much. She said in a rush, getting on her feet. On her remark, he put a detailed look on her for the first time. Her eyes were pleading for something more than what hed told her. He couldnt refuse her then. Alright, well think about it next time. Call me again next week and Id see if I could tell you something more about myself. Thank you so much sir. She was glad that she almost yelled with happiness. I told you, youd be disappointed. He accompanied her to the main door. She didnt reply right then, instead took few steps forward, finally moving out of his house. And then she turned back. He was just about to close the main door. Yes sir, I am disappointed. Today I really felt disappointed. But not because of you, Im disappointed because of myself. He smiled wonderfully this time and said. Next time you dont have to play this interview drama to meet me. If I have the time, Id definitely give you some of it. Stunned and paralyzed, she stood there, watching him go inside the house. Watchout for episode 6 Target: 5 likes
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 20:30:10 +0000
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