I had been standing in front of that old stand at Maulana
Azad Road and I pulled out my ringing phone out of my pocket. I panicked when I
saw that it was not my phone; it was rather my long discarded ancient Sony
Ericsson handset from pre-smart phone era and apparently still
functional.Another wave of confusion had me wondering me about fate of my
current phone. Had I lost it? While dealing with and coming terms with those
confusions, I realized that I still needed to answer the thing that was
incessantly ringing. It was in the midst of that mental turmoil I pressed the
button on that forsaken handset and no sooner had brought it close to my ear I
heard Yasmin yelling at the other end. “Where the hell are you, rascal”. That
was how she usually would start her conversation and that time couldn’t have
been an exception. While I was trying to conjure a plausible answer that would
render further yelling futile or I wish propitiously it might even subdue. I
tried to give her my location at that time but I confusingly found that I am no
longer at the place where I was. I was now standing almost opposite to the
Palladium cinema with my back towards that hip stationary shop a couple of
shops away from the corner of the junction leading to Court road. I had not
used any of the lanes connecting Maulana Azad Road to reach my current spot; I
would have remembered of that big textbook shop in one of those lanes, where I
would stop at the slightest excuse during my days at the University. With phone
still held close to my ear and trying to mumble an answer I felt that only
probable explanation for my being at the new location would be a star trek
transporter. Perhaps I was not enough bewildered that while still answering the
phone I felt a soft endearing arm slid from behind encircling my neck; I felt a
soft female form pressing against my back and then there were lips close to my
other ear whispering amorous words. I couldn’t understand the words in my state
of utter confusion but I figured out that words were in Dutch. Her blonde hair
was hanging up to her and now my shoulders. And before I could gather myself
and contemplate a response I felt dragged towards an alley in the Court road
and now I was facing Jameel, who had instantly launched a sermon on morality
and started berating my deviousness. I had more than I could manage already I
was not ready for an attempted proselytism from a person whose vision of the
world had most often had me asphyxiating. Probably it was that suffocation that
woke me from my sleep and it was 5.30 in the morning. I knew even if I went to
sleep again I would encounter incorrigible Jameel again who ruined my
happenstance with an unknown Dutch woman forever.
