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

friends!” He released my hand. I felt the crushing pain in my hand but I didn’t look at it. “I will write your story now,” he said. “Where are you going?”
    â€œTo the sea?” I said reluctantly.
    â€œHa-ha! That’s where they all go when they run away at first! But then they all come back. The sea, you see, feels good for only a few days, but then it starts suffocating you. You first escape to the sea to escape yourself, but after a while that’s all you find there. City is better that way. There are too many lanes and alleys. You never run into yourself there.” Then he leaned closer and said again in a whisper, “I spend my day in a café at Cantt Station. It has delicious fruitcake: cheap. Chai, so strong. Omelet, very reasonable rate. That’s where you should come as well after you’re tired of the sea. Okay? Look for me. I am there. Writer .”
    â€œAnd yes, don’t let them confuse you—” he said, still smiling, as if reassuring me of something he thought I was afraid of. “They will tell you all kinds of things, philosophies —huee huee—like I am doing now—huee huee! But that is all bogus stuff. All this philosophy business is bogus—even mine, huee huee huee. . . . It’s all meant to trap. Don’t listen to anyone. Just keep running away. . . .”
    He went on for some time, but I stopped paying attention to what he was saying. Something about him disturbed me, something about the way he spoke about the city. He got off with us at the Cantt Station and pointed me to the café he was talking about. He made the handshaking joke with Sadeq too; he was unable to guess his age.
    While we were waiting for the next bus to the sea, we watched the old man hobble along the sidewalk. He was cripplingly old and permanently bent. He waved to a select few faces as he went along the sidewalk—the cobbler, the paan seller, the little boy carrying tea, all of them stopped their work to exchange a word with him. He balanced himself by holding their shoulders. A little boy jumped when he pressed his hand. I heard his “Huee huee huee!” in my head.
    â€œWhat a jerk! The bugger has totally lost it with age, eh?” Sadeq said, smiling. I didn’t like that but I kept quiet.
    We got on the bus. I felt my father’s presence once again. It seemed to me he was there even when the old man was around, listening to him talk about his city.
    â€œWhat was the bugger saying to you?” Sadeq asked as we seated ourselves in the bus again.
    â€œNothing, he was just proving to me how retarded he was. Telling me his adventures with whores.”
    â€œWhat! Whores! Are you serious?” He jumped.
    â€œYeah. He even told me about a whorehouse near here, just behind some café. He said he was going there. He offered to fix us with some for cheap rates if we wanted. He said he was a pimp.”
    â€œOh yeah? Then why didn’t he tell me that? Old bastard! But we should go! We should be careful. That’s how they lure boys and then fuck them, ya? He looked like a bastard to me. I could tell by the way he pressed my hand. Bhen ka . It still hurts.”
    â€œYeah, but we should visit him sometime. He said he hangs out in that café.”
    â€œHa-ha, yes, yes. But I didn’t know you were into this stuff.”
    â€œI’m not. But I think it’s about time I should start getting into this stuff, no?”
    â€œHa-ha, yes yes. Why not. We could start together. I have a couple of reliable links. You know, whores are shady people. You have to be careful. They have contacts with the police and ministers. They cut your dick if you mess with them. Be careful. That’s what I’ve heard from friends.”
    There was a pause. “Oh, so I was thinking”—he smiled—“about that joke you told me a few days back—the lion one, what was it? Tell it to me