The Secrets We Keep Hidden

2 | Desire On A Throne

"Desire makes slaves out of kings, and patience makes kings out of slaves." ~Shams Tabrizi

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Oxford University  

Monday, 18th January 1988 

Dr. Jilani's heavy monotonous voice had set a sublime edge in the dimly lit auditorium as all the students eagerly listened to him vocalize about the human body and what he'd come across in the past 20 years of being an orthopedic surgeon at the top teaching hospital in the country. Even though I had tried to write down the things that stood out to me from his riveting lecture, my mind wandered with the wind and to the long length of windows outside, depicting the light snowfall covering the campus in its ivory galore. 

"Ms. Qadeer, it seems the weather interests you more than my lecture," Dr. Jilani denoted with a clipped tone. 

I quickly shut my eyes from embarrassment as the whole class turned in there squeaky seats to look at where I sat with Salma and Hajra, my only close friends who were equally ludicrous and driven as I was. 

"Uh, no sir," I slowly opened my eyes one by one and frowned at him, moving my long dark chestnut brown hair to create a silky curtain around my face as my cheeks tinged rosy with embarrassment. 

"Hmm, eyes straight ahead Ms. Qadeer," his gray eyebrows crinkled with disappointment. 

I briskly nodded and sighed as Salma shook her head at me and Hajra raised an eyebrow in question. "Marwaye gi aaj (She'll get us killed today)," Salma whispered and pushed her thick framed glasses up her slender and long nose. 

I winked at Hajra, and Salma shook her head at us. She was the most serious out of the three, but it was Hajra and I that never let a moment slide to pull her leg. 

I had found myself staring at the slides of the human body projected against the simple white wall in a derogative reflection when the door to the room opened with a gush of cool air. The hinges at the double doors creaked and silently protested as they were opened against their will. All of our heads had moved to the left in synchrony, awaiting what was to come. 

A cricket's chirp. 

A rustle of a single leaf in the wind. 

And little did I know that the person that would walk through the doors was none other than the single most creation that would make my whole world come tumbling down with one simple gaze. 

His stature was undeniably tall and lean, an almost arrogant like gait in his broad shoulders as he walked up to Dr. Jilani, raving his long and lissome fingers through his light dusky butterscotch hair. His face was hidden in the shadows as if he were an unsolved mystery. The professor had accepted the yellow slip he handed to him and nodded with a smile as he turned him around to face the rest of the class. 

His eyes were a blinding combination of jade green and emerald, flecks of golden twinkling with the light from the projector shining on his face. The filaments of dust swam in his periphery, a nearly half smile that didn't quite meet his eyes set pleasingly on his soft full lips. 

"OH. MERE. KHUDA. (OH. MY. GOD.) Hello, handsome," Hajra whispered under her voice as she leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table, her hands cupping her face as she shamelessly swooned at the new boy in our class with wide dilated eyes.