Winter was settling in. I am visitng my family after a 2.5 hour drive from Lahore to Sargodha. The peaceful, silent (not even humming) air of Sargodha's night embraces me, and I feel one with the city. My elder brother (8+) is here to pick me up. We stop at a BBQ joint - a classic example of Pakistani management: sweaty place, with malnourished, disgruntled employees, acting as informally as they can, but with a clarity in voice, a voice distilled by the hardships of a common poor Pakistani. We wait for the order. We sit down; he lights his cigeratte with quick, effortless bodily movements which I envy. I cannot sit down on a chair without compulsively looking around for gravity's or chair's conspiracy against me. As coherent, crisp, effortless, short and eloquent his bodily movements, he has a substantial advice, an omen for me.
You need to jump into the real world, he began. Get yourself tired by your efforts. Hid the road. Discover the world, travel. Deal with people. Do not go through it, and you will slip off the edge. You will never make it. You will lose all the confidence of meeting people, dealing with things. [That's a bad paraphrasing]
There was no effort in his beginning nor in his end. No word was extra, no word left things undesired. A clear vision of two possibilities conveyed, which I could feel. It made the evening more chilling. Night appeared to be long. I lost all obsessive compulsive interests at that time
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