Read Online The Scatter Here Is Too Great by Bilal Tanweer - Free Book Online Page A

lit-up eyes, lifting the coconut slice caught in between his thumb and finger. “Yes!” He lifted his other hand for a high five. He broke the slice in two and I took the half he offered me. The taste of the scrubby-sweet-watery texture filled my mouth.
    â€œIt’s just two rupees,” I said, trying to make my point casually. “Why take the risk?”
    â€œ Abay , it is not about two rupees or five rupees,” he said looking at me, his face still red with the triumph. “It’s about practicing.” He smiled.
    â€œPractice?” I was puzzled.
    â€œYes, if you’re going to get anywhere in this place, you must protect yourself from getting fucked, and the moment you get a chance, you must fuck the other person. You understand? That takes practice. Learn the lesson early,” he said exultantly, chucking the last bite of coconut in his mouth.
    The bus started moving. I looked out the window and caught a glimpse of the coconut seller rearranging the slices on the tray. I felt a sting: he seemed to be counting for the missing.
    Right then, I realized Sadeq was conversing with an odd-shaped head wiggling in front of him. “My knee, you know, I cannot sit in that seat,” it was saying to him. “Can I sit here, please hunh? You can take my seat, it’s right here, just behind this one, hunh?”
    Sadeq made a face and moved to the seat behind ours. A short, crooked man in a light crumpled red-checked shirt appeared beside me. His head was sparsely haired and defined like an overgrown lightbulb which was screwed with a tiny mouth. He had no teeth on the upper level, and the ones below, which he used for smiling continuously, jutted out in a constant display. I noticed the top buttons of his shirt were loose and revealed the crinkly skin of his chest.
    He smiled looking at me as I ate the last bit of my coconut. I nodded and turned to look out of the window. He tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the red checks on my bag. “Your bag matches my shirt—huee huee!” he said, looking amused.
    I smiled and looked away again.
    He paused and then leaned closer to whisper in my ear, “Run from school, eh?”
    Before I could reply, I heard his sniggering laughter. “Huee huee huee! I used to do the same . . . run from school. In fact, I ran away from college then from work. And now I am retired, I run away from my home!”
    I was unsure about how to react to this information. He continued, “You know, I don’t go home for days because I like it here in the city—around all the noise and people.”
    â€œHmm . . .” I nodded.
    â€œYou know what I do around here?” he said somewhat triumphantly, after a thoughtful pause. “Guess?”
    I looked at him completely puzzled. “I don’t know?”
    â€œHuee huee . . . I look for others who have run away and I write their stories. I am a writer ,” he said with emphasis and looked at me with a delighted expression. His abundant glee disturbed me and I think he detected my discomfort. He immediately added, “All of it completely imaginary, of course.”
    â€œHmm . . .” I said.
    â€œHere, shake my hand,” he said. “You are my friend now.” He pushed his hand forward. I looked at it, and reluctantly gave him mine. He snapped it. His jaw jutted out, and from his open mouth, I saw the broken architecture of his teeth. He had a surprisingly powerful grip. “You see the power in this hand?” he said, his face glowing. “You know how old I am?”
    My hand was hurting. I looked around to see Sadeq. He had dozed off on his seat. “No,” I said, trying to pull away my hand. It struck me how large his hands actually were.
    â€œGuess?”
    â€œEighty-three!” I blurted out of sheer pain.
    â€œYes! Eighty-three! I turned eighty-three yesterday! See I told you people who run away are