The prize distribution ceremony was underway at the Golf Club. Salar
Sikandar was to receive the first prize in the Under-Sixteen competition
for his seven under par score.
Applauding when Salar's name was called out, Sikandar Usman
thought he would have to do something about the cabinet where the
trophies were displayed. The trophies and shields Salar would bring
home this year would be as many as he had in the past year. All of
Sikandar's children excelled in their studies, but Salar was different
from the rest. In winning awards, he was far ahead of them. It was not
just difficult to beat this boy who had an IQ score of 150, it was
impossible.
Clapping proudly, Sikandar turned to his wife and whispered, ̳This is
Salar's thirteenth trophy and the fourth one this year.'
̳You keep a record of everything, don't you?' she replied, smiling at her
husband whose gaze was fixed on Salar as he received the trophy from
the chief guest.
̳Only for golf and you know the reason very well. I bet that even if
Salar had been playing this tournament with professional players, he
would have still won the trophy,' he claimed proudly.
Salar was shaking hands with the other winners seated around him.
Sikandar's wife was not surprised by his claim about Salar. She knew
that it was not an expression of paternal sentiment: it was the truth—
Salar was indeed extraordinary.
She recalled when he had played 18 holes at this golf course with her
brother Zubair for the first time. The way he had brought a ball that
had accidentally fallen into the rough, out onto the green, was a display
of expertise. Zubair was amazed. ̳I can't believe it!' He had repeated
this statement endlessly till the end of the game.
If the shot from the rough had amazed Zubair, then Salar's putters had
floored him. As the ball rolled towards the hole, he leaned against his
club and turned around to gauge the distance between Salar and his
target. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked at Salar. Salar Sahib is not playing well today,' muttered the caddie standing bythe golf cart behind Zubair, who turned around in surprise.
̳So he's not playing well?' He looked at the caddie. Was this a joke?
̳Yes, sir, otherwise the ball would not have gone into the rough,' the
caddie said. ̳You have played here today for the first time, but Salar
Sahib has been playing here for the last three years. That's why I say
he's not playing well,' he added. Zubair looked at his sister who was
smiling benignly.
̳Next time, I will be fully prepared when I come here, and I will also
select the site for the game.' Zubair was somewhat miffed as they
walked across towards Salar.
̳Any time, any place,' she confidently challenged her brother on her
son's behalf.
̳I want to invite you to Karachi this weekend, with all expenses paid,'
Zubair said casually as he approached Salar.
̳Why?'
̳To play on my behalf against the president of the Karachi Chamber of
Commerce. I lost the election to him, but if he loses a golf match, and
that too to a child, he'll have a heart attack. So let's settle the score.'
Salar's mother laughed at her brother's words, but a frown creased
Salar's brow.
̳Child?' He repeated with emphasis the only objectionable word in
Zubair's comment. ̳Uncle, I think I'll have to play another 18 holes
against you tomorrow.'
----------------------
YOU ARE READING
PEER E KAMIL
Romansashe fell first but he fell harder she waited 9 years for him she is innocent converted to islam he is far from islam he is bad boy converted to a good boy for him salar x imama
