I’m sure soon, VERY SOON, we’ll be on our last walk across the campus... Circumambulating The Business School.. Sitting on OUR stairs like beggars outside a mosque.. The watches ‘ll be crying TWENTY minutes past FIVE…With no signs of life in the campus and Insha refusing to get down the stairs, Gullu, Insha’s driver, ‘ll be vying for his last possible chance to revenge. Someone please tell him that unleashing his car won’t be a good idea!
Another ten steps into the “now-infrastructurally-sound” school (lol! Why do I still hate him!?), and there you are.. The classrooms aren’t open anymore.. Khursheed would’ve closed even the loo by then..! We’ll move to the first floor. With sunset around and breeze across the Hazratbal Mosque smelling of Pakistan and barbecues being roasted in Khayam, we would hopelessly wish the time to stop, needless to say, in vain...*sigh*.. With the First Semester lecture hall and the one opposite to it (Yeah, Yeah where Amir was once caught copy pasting the whole paper from his internet enabled cell phone!) locked, we would walk through the corridor leading us to our Final Semester room.. Yes, the usually unlocked lecture room.. We would open the door one last time..
‘ll wish I could ask the professor (Yeah, professor! Finally! Give it to them now!), "Allowed Sir?” But alas! There would be no Akram to say, " Bayta kya time aaya?? Ab kal aana, Inshaallah!” There’ll be no one in, except the few of us.. Just the empty desks engraved with quotes that our seniors wrote on them and our own Gazi Thhhhaufeeq’s names! Just the four or five of us.. Staring the weird empty walls. (Throughout the course I used to wonder how Jahanzaib once stared them for half an hour during Accounting internals forcing Darzi to ask him “Hey CR, aap deewar ki aur kya dekhrahe hain?” “Sir kuch nahi, mein sochraha tha kab koi paper deke nikle taaki mein bhi nikal saku!”, pat came the reply.) ..And the desks all empty. And the raised platform where the torture classes were held, and the last benches where we had fun , laughed, cried, hiding our cell phones from the professors, pleading for attendance…(Insha even broke one during her First Semester!)..*sigh*.. A million memories rooted like a hard disk in our heads. Everything as clear as the word clear itself. And there’ll be complete silence for a moment. We’ll smile, laugh and may be even cry..
Used to walk like war lords once, jumped over these very benches, ruckus, chaos, pandemonium! ‘ll certainly look for the benches where I used to sit ..Won’t really feel like the last day... Don’t really remember how we met... How we came to such a stage... How we bonded together.. How we screwed up together.. How even the girls of our group came to be known as GUNDAYS of the batch… It still feels like I know my friends since ages.. ‘ll feel as if we were born in this Uni.. ‘ll feel as if we were always there... Always there to protest killings by the Indian army.. Always there to confront the Chief Proctor.. Always there to paint the air GREEN..
..Won’t really feel like the last day... Don’t really remember how we met... How we came to such a stage... How we bonded together.. How we screwed up together.. The last benchers (Read Iflah Khan!)) asleep doesn’t matter who the professor is.. Saniya and Sunila chatting.. Nazima 123 fiddling with her flashy E60!.. Waseem trying to sleep on the bench.. Jim writing poetry.. Jahanzaib checking out BBC sport on his cell phone.. Amir online on Gtalk.. Deeba, Sameer, Ramiz attentive.. Qurat finding new ways to flatter! Aasima setting her scarf right! Sheen crying out PAANI MILEGA! Insha passing on chits to Irtif! Zubair checking out how much he lost in stocks since morning! Saba busy clicking my pics and making mirror cracking faces when I protest! Faizan seated like a king! Irfana using all colors in the crayon box to write notes! Wajahat doing don’t know what.. Owais engrossed in his inbox! Tabish asking for the furniture to be changed for he has a bad back! Yawar too uneasy! Mehmood Khan on tenterhooks to ‘safeguard’ the crease! Zahoor and Shafat discussing Tom Peters! Makhmoora busy reading something very academic! Shaista eager to leave the class..! Samoon looking for just ANYTHING that can be insured! Mubashir speaking Airtel! Mudasir lost! Parray, Shahid, Shabir all absent! Nazima doing what Qurat does best- Flattery! Rooful idle! Khalid least bothered! The professor teaching don’t know whom! Jim sitting beside me, cribbing about something, stocks may be.. Giggling over something or the other, Girls over Orkut this time! Me occasionally making random shapes on someone else’s notebook! Ahh… Irtif asking me to look outside, for some babes from English I guess!
Everything the same… And I, without even a word, look outside. It’s something unusual. Irtif nudges me and I look through the window with the same urge..But today there isn’t anyone there…Just the deserted lawn.. The bench under the Chinar which stands witness to our countless birthday parties and so much fun… I can see the fountain in front of the English department where I clicked Insha, Asima, Deeba together for the last time I guess.. I look back but there’re no Irtifs and Inshas passing chits this time.. Not laughing this time…Not speaking anything this time... Just sitting there speechless… and there’s Amir and there’s Sheen. And there’s Me.
Beenish searching her locker downstairs.. Akhtar and Khateeb dowloading VIRUS at the Iqbal Library.
No attendance.. The class has ended... So have the trips to Nunkun, Sheereen, Samsi, KD, Jan, Alka’s, Grand, Unicafe, and did I miss any? And yeah, our own Naseembagh; Chai, Bun Samosa, Juice, Chips, Paratha, AND GIRLS.. Everything, Just everything.
We sit there ... Sit there, oblivious of the funeral across... Our eyes shut, yet wide open.. The world beyond the two gates is calling us. I smell a conspiracy.. We were LIONS in. The world might just turn us into LAMBS outside..
Want to be in the class for real.. One more time.. Ask all those weird questions again.. But where’s Sahaf to answer or avoid them for that matter...? Want to lie about Hamels Innovation Lab again, but where’s Shabir to take that? Want to shout NAARA-e-TAKBEER again but in what faculty would the echo reverberate?
The door is open but who’s going to bunk? ...And this time around it won’t be the same.....Once again.. Just ONCE.. We’ll attend the class....With no one around but our souls.
Fvxan’s PS: Copyright NOT protected. This is an ‘influenced’ piece.. While browsing, I just happened to read something similar.. The way I designed the plot later might contain some TRACES from the subconscious. Moreover, it’s written in a sudden rush of blood, so STOP DOUBTING MY WRITING SKILLS.
My P.S: This is not my piece, this is Fvxan. The precious moments trapped inside are part of my life as they are his. We have shared and felt them together. Better and worse –can’t be penned down. We wanted this to be in my blog, a souvenir to remember. Its more than just a read, these are our two years. I had been provided with the rights of editing and adding, but emotions know no grammar.I just gave it the name. I will miss all you people. Love ya forever.
