Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Diary of A Karachi Vagabond (Part 2)

Sajjawal had disowned his past self. He began with trying the name change, which he couldn't possibly do, so he settled with a non-Paposhi sobriquet. Everybody who met this American Eagle's polo-wearing choot, now called him Saj. He had instructed me to do so too. I even tried, but 'Saj' always came out of my mouth with an inkling of a call-center agent's accent, who sits in an office near Jawed Nehari and fools gooras in Manhattan.

I didn't give a fuck about him, and he followed suit with great vehemence. I would only accompany him to Lighthouse at the end of every month to treasure hunt for used but branded clothes, that only he had developed the eye for. That I attributed to his affluent associations from the better side of Kaala Pull.

Asfand Yar was one of his revered, fresh associations whom he met at Bahadur Shah's dera while scoring charas. I wouldnt lie here. There was certainly an ethereal air about him. Something mysteriously mesmeric. He was then, what every woman wishes her man could be, every Sajjawal would want his wealthy friend to be, and at that point, decidedly, all I ever wanted to be.

Asfand Yar was conditioned to be this way. He was brought up in a feudal household, in a small town near Charshadda. Alone amongst his siblings, he went to a co-educational school system. The experience that Sajjwal chuttu badly yearned and felt strongly about. Dropping out of two colleges in one year, he felt that lazing at home wasn't a good enough leakage for his exponentially accumulating, feudal wealth. He needed better avenues to be wasteful. That when he decided to come down to Karachi in search of Sharaab, Shahbaab and Kabaab.

"Yo listen Ali, ask your brother to send me a few polos too dude" Asfand had finally asked me.

Even after spending two years in this dark city of lights, he wasn't able to discover the branded treasure land of Lighthouse. Honestly, we didn't want him too. It was our only glory. Saying what he just did, he seemed like the biggest chutiya on the planet.

'Let's go to Boat Basin and eat something. This shit makes me really hungry bhenchood' he said, while he neatly wrapped the charas and put it in his pocket.

All three of us walked till the end of the gali and sat in the car silently. I noticed, it wasn't just because we were really stoned. Atleast I was sober enough to talk and had barely smoked. I had just exhaled the smoke without inhaling it properly. It was more because every word that used to come out of Asfand's mouth was taken as a command by Sajjawal. Myself included. I didn't know why though. I hadn't given enough though to it. (To be continued)