Maham | ✓

5

It was sunday. I was making myself a cup of tea. I had recently began to work on losing weight, and the easiest way I found was to skip the breakfast. I was stirring in tea absentmindly, while I wandered in thoughts of Maham. I felt a strong emptiness in my heart on days I couldn't see her face. I felt blind. And, you know, blind people don't see black but nothing. I felt such genuinely blind. My mother asked me to get a hair cut and to shave my beard. According to her, the beard made me look older than my age, and the older I looked; the older she looked too. I could never understand this paradoxical age equation of her. Coincidentally, the moment I sat on barber chair, Maham called me.

"What's going on?" she asked, after the formal greeting.

"Nothing much. About to get a haircut" I told her. "Might shave my beard too" I added, instantly.

Without any doubt, I said it on purpose. I said it, because I wanted to know if she liked me with beard or without it. I wanted to know, if she even cared. Moreover, I believed, that it was just a hearsay that girls love boys with beard. I wanted to confirm if it was true.

"Don't you dare shave your beard" she said "It suits on you"

I had spin the chair in delight upon hearing that, impulsively. I remember, everybody in shop looked at me with suspicious eyes. I didn't care to give much attention to them in reply. Because, I found myself in seventh sky at that moment. That's what I wanted to hear from her. Because, you know, I too am human. I liked being praised.

Next day, when Maham and I met at our usual spot; stairs, only thing I was concerned about was if she is going to say something about my beard today too. I remember, I was so desperate that I had even decided to ask her in case she didn't comment. On same time, I also felt cheap. This wasn't me. I wasn't someone who craved compliments. I was recluse. A hermit who liked to live in his own world. I was like an old retired government employee living his last breaths on pension who didn't want anything more from life. I didn’t want anything either. However, out of sudden, I wanted to live. I started dreaming, you know. Maham had become my dream.

"See" she said "Beard looks cool on you. It attracts"

Luckily, the first thing she talked about was my beard, as if she was able to read my thoughts. I thanked in reply, pretending to appear normal when I wanted to jump out of joy.

"I had a dream about you last night" she told me with excitement in her voice.

What? It was hard to believe that anyone could dream about me, that SHE could dream about me. The only woman who had dreamt about me before was my mother. And, even her dreams were always the ones in which I died.

"Good or bad?" I inquired.

"It was about you, Sohaib. How could it be bad?" she said, and winked at me.

Now, if you would have been there, my reader. You would have witnessed my face shrink into an exclamation mark as she said that. You would have witnessed it go red. If I would have been a girl, I would have covered my face with veil.

"Did we have sex?" I asked, and laughed to cover up my shyness.

"Shut up" she yelled in protest "I saw both of us sitting under this tree at beach, and we were staring at waves"

I really cared about her dream. It was close to my heart. But, you know, I felt naughty too in such situations. I loved teasing her.

"What were you wearing?" I asked.

"Why?"

"Because if you were wearing something girls wear at beach, then I must have not been staring at waves" I said, and passed an evil smile.

She laughed back in reply. And then we both laughed. And then we went silent. Our conversations always consisted of such silent pauses, where we just starred at eachother and smiled. And then one of us would blink, and then the other person would blink in reply. It felt like we used to mirror each other, as if somehow we had become one spirit.

"Do you think dreams are real, Sohaib?" she asked.

"Ofcourse, they are, Maham" I told her "I have witnessed one myself"