"The annual Karaoke night slash Bake-Sale, was an eye-opener by all accounts. Who knew that certain Tall, Dark, and Menacing football players could carry a decent tune? and of course, in case any of you were wondering what an auto-tuned cat in labor would sound like...wonder no more. Tania Hussayn gave us an earful of that. This author overheard listeners rate the pitch of her voice as somewhere on the spectrum of 'Nails On A chalkboard' and 'Chipmunks Being Attacked By Angry Geese'..." --Nitty Gritty (Issue no: 901, April '15)

"Well?" Shay inquired desperately over the phone-call.

I deliberately misunderstood.

"Well, what?"

"Don't play coy with me babe. How did the spying go? Did you see her up close?" She tries covering up her interest, too late. "Not that I care of course...."

I rubbed my face tensed. Remembering the promise I'd made to Faris.

....................

Faris was brilliant. Even though I wasn't enthused about acting in front of a proper audience, I couldn't deny that the plot and the entire script idea was nothing short of genius. This wasn't just a theatrical rendition of Lailee-Majnun as I had initially believed; it was much more complex than that.

"See, I wrote the script, inspired by translations of Nizami's Poetry. He is the one who first wrote the folktales in Persian verses. Absolutely enchanting imagery..." His eyes sparkled with awe, and I got a glimpse of the man Shay fell so hard for. "But, I didn't want to do an original adaptation because then everyone knows how it ends. So I'm doing a crossover instead. With a few tweaks here and there..."

I nodded in understanding. I'm quite familiar with the Lailee-Majnun folk-tale. I'd gotten curious when I was often teased by people regarding my famous name-sake. For the record, asking a six year-old where her "Majnun" is, isn't cute. Ever.

"Who're you crossing it over with?"

"Shireen-Farhad." He smirked.

I grinned in response. Shirin-Farhad is another Folk-tragedy. But on a different scale. Shirin's sadistic betrothed, Ameer Khusro supposedly made a deal with poor, besotted Farhad. "You can have Shirin, if you just move this mountain blocking my castle's view..."

And he actually complied. With his bare hands. For Princess Shirin; who didn't even know that he existed...

"I know what you're thinking, but Nizami's version actually portrayed Shirin as less of a bitch. She eventually was sorrowful, but still ended up marrying Khusrow." He goes on to vindicate the crossover choice. "Nizami called it the sweetest story ever. Though I disagree..."

Meanwhile, Juwariya the director, who's been setting up the rehearsal room, comes over to listen to our conversation.

"Did you tell her about the setting? Tell her about the setting! Go on. DO IT!" She poked Faris repeatedly, causing him to scowl, and curse under his breath.

"I was coming to that. Geez. Well in my version, the story plot will follow the theme of Shakespeare's A Midsummer's Night Dream. So, this is in fact, a Tragedy within a Comedy..."

"Oh, don't be so modest! It's a blend of the East and West. Mashriq-o-Maghrib. It's "The Sage (Nizami) Meets The Bard (Shakespeare)". I can't get enough of it! Just read the lines." Juwariya presses a neatly stapled paper bundle into my hands.

I skim through the narration which seems to be more dominant than actual dialogue.

"Mark, this school, where instruction pours upon the mind

The light of knowledge, simple or refined;

The wealthy of each tribe have children there, and each

studies, whatever the bearded sage may teach.

And here we find Qais, a student, carefully drawing,

Upon the glow that is everywhere, flowing.

And there, of different tribe, and gentle mien,

A lovely maid of tender years was seen:

Her mental powers an early bloom displayed;"

I was so engrossed in the words, that I jumped when Juwariya pointed out the words, Mental Powers. "See. You're smart too. I like that. More well rounded. More empowered."

"Her peaceful form in simple garb arrayed.

Bright as the morning sun, her cypress shape, and eyes

Dark as a stag! They exclaimed in awed surprise.

Her richly flowing locks were black as night,

And Layla she was called-the heart's delight."

"Your 'Locks' aren't black as night...but I guess we can deal with that when the time comes." She patted my jaw-clip-secured messy bun. I grimaced in response. I'm still not sure about my role in this.

"And when Qais' blushing affections rose;

It diffused its sweetness, and from him, fled all repose.

Pretty soon, mutual pleasure warmed each of their heart,

Love conquered both, and they vowed, never to part.

While other classmates, for distinction, strove

They never thought of fame, they only thought of love.

While others, various subjects in books explored;

They sat entranced by each other; adorer and adored...."

I traced the words reverently, Adorer and Adored. This sounded almost spiritual.

"Yes, it does sound spiritual. I often imagine, this is how I'd explain the love for God, if I were Nizami. You know, how mystics, lose their sense of the world, in their passion for Him. Seeking nothing, except an outlet for their all consuming Ishq-e-Haqiqi (Divine Love)..." Faris' deep voice replied, and I realized, that I had spoken out loud.

"Listen, I'm not sure about doing the role...but may I please have this copy of the script? I love it!" I plead with him. "You're so talented Faris! This is absolutely gorgeous!"

"This is the largely untouched, traditional beginning. Later on, I go on to sully the sanctity of this tragic story I'm afraid." He chuckles, taking my copy of the script back. "Basically, our four central characters will eventually end up in a forest. Laila and Qais (Majnun), will be eloping together, (Hermia-Lysander style). Naturally, Laila's parents plead to their King -Ameer Khusro- to stop them from marrying. Khusro is involved in a love triangle of his own. His betrothed, the lovely Armenian Princess Shirin, is being pursued quite ardently by a sculptor by the name of Farhad. Now, my idea of Khusro is that of an eccentric, rich, Fairy Godmother. And by Fairy, I mean kind of literally. He is actually...not into ladies. Unfortunately, Shirin doesn't know that, and she is in love with him. Farhad is an annoying pest for her. Just for funsies, Khusro orders Farhad to count all the trees in the forest, and in reward, he'd be given Shirin's hand. Poor bastard actually attempts to do that. An enraged Shirin, follows Farhad, to urge him to stop the madness, and let her wed Khusro in peace. The foursome's paths cross when Ameer Khusro, decides to have some fun with them. He sends into the forest, a Jadoogar (Magician) named Barbad, and instructs him to play a magic trick on these lovesick fools by making them fall in love with the other's soulmate...except it goes wrong..."

Faris took a break from the recounting to sip from a water bottle, and I secretly urged him to continue. I was literally hanging off the edge of my seat, even though I kind of knew what was coming.

"Farhad and Qais, both end up in love with Laila, the lovely lady with hair as dark as her name. Then eventually of course, in my version, Khusro will bid the magician to fix the mix-up, and they'll all end up with the one who's meant for them. And I will give them the soppy, cliched happy ending that Nizami denied them....All's well that ends well, and all that."

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" I laughed, contemplating the mess these characters will get into. How absolutely, breathtakingly chaotic!

Faris grinned at my Shakespearean quote. First time, I've seen him with a facial expression that didn't suggest that he was contemplating homicide. It transformed his face. Those deeply tanned, sculpted features softened, and crinkled, good humoredly. I get it now Peeshay. I get it...

"Oh. My God." I breathed. "I don't believe this! this is just...I LOVE IT! and haha! you made Khusro gay! Dude!" The plot seemed even funnier when I compared it to the original, borderline-psychotic Shirin-Farhad-Khusro Folktale.

"Except in his version, we can't really call Majnun, "Majnun", because he isn't mad yet. So he'll still be Qais!" Juwariya pipes in. "I can't wait to see you all work together!"

That brought me down to earth. Really fast.

"Uhh, listen, I'm sorry that you lost that original Laila, but I'm not fit for the role. Maybe you should find someone else, who is more comfortable in their skin. I'm sure you can find someone..."

"NO! DON'T SAY THAT!" She shrieks at me, wild eyes flitting between me, and a now-ferociously-scowling Faris. "We were supposed to finalize cast-members two weeks ago! We've changed Lailas three times since we started. All of them quit at some point or the other, I have no clue why..."

"YOU didn't like any of them Juju! You just made them miserable until they ran off!" Faris argues hotly.

I stared at them, alarmed.

"It's because they weren't Layla! She is perfect! look at her! We needed someone delicate, innocent-looking, not too-over-the-top-beautiful...with that perpetually scared face. I'm telling you; she is Lailee! The real deal!"

Now it was my turn to scowl, "I'm not perpetually scared! I can be menacing! people need to start taking me seriously!"

"Of course you are dear." She smirks indulgently at me, like an all-knowing mother placating a tantrum. "How can you prove it though? Certainly not through doing something brave? eh? like joining a theater production, maybe?"

Oh God. Don't challenge me, please! I'll cut my nose off to spite my face!

"Yeah, Layla. If you're so brave and bad-ass, why don't you rehearse with us? Try something new? Hmm? Or are you too chicken for that?" Faris goaded me, picking up on Juju's cue.

I was being cornered like a goat on Eid-ul-Azha.

"Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it." Juwariya chanted in my ear, like an annoying version of my very own Jiminy Cricket.

When Faris made a stunningly on-point chicken sound, I finally caved in.

"Argh. Fine. I'll do it." I muttered. "But don't expect anything brilliant from me. I'm not an actor."

"No shit? seriously? Because I'm a professional script-writer here. And Juju can totally give Steven Spielberg a run for his money..." Faris' tone dripped with sarcasm.

"I think I liked you better when you didn't talk much..." I glared back.

"So what is your role?" I ask Faris.

"I'm Ameer Khusro, although I've had to fill in for almost everyone else whenever we're having rehearsals...someone is always late! Anyways, I-Ameer Khusro- will be the narrator of the story. I think that brings an interesting twist to it. Two other guys from the drama club are playing Farhad and Qais. One of them was part of NAPA's production of Grease last year, so he's pretty good. And of course, you've met Fatima, our Shirin." He gestures at the girl I'd overheard him earlier with, she waved back.

Now it kind of made sense. He must have been delivering someone else's dialogues both times when I overheard the practice! It was actually quite embarrassing, now that I thought about it.

"We'll start rough rehearsals soon, so you'll get a little comfortable without memorizing your lines. None of you have a lot of dialogue, so rest easy over it. Most of the story will develop through my narration, and our live music..."

"...The first, and foremost rule that you have follow, Layla, is secrecy. You're not going to tell a soul about this." He ordered, after my assent. "This is top secret information. Until the marketing team is ready to properly launch it, I don't want to release any details about the play. And especially my involvement in it."

This ruined all of my plans to placate Shay.

"Faris, can't I just tell our friends? Azaan and Shay at least? This is the biggest thing I've ever been a part of. For real..."

And I've been a part of a gazillion Fashion Weeks, so that's saying something.

He actually turns pale, running his hand through his slightly curling dark hair.

"No. Just no. Okay? they've no idea I'm into theater, and I have no plans to change that anytime soon. Do you realize how much they're going to tease me? Me. Football playing, Foul-mouthed, Faris, parading around in costumes on a stage..."

My heart squeezed in pity. How many dreams have been crushed by similar thoughts? Just revolting at the idea of shattering a prevailing status quo.

Around our friends and family, we've defined comfortable, old, familiar personalities for ourselves. We're the Quiet Ones. Or the Clowns. Or the Bubbly ones. But when we want to be more...we're afraid. Afraid to step out of that little box of typical behavior that we've somehow locked ourselves in.

What will people say? has effectively killed more dreams than the Boogeyman.

Or more accurately; what will my family say? what will my friends say?

Because ultimately, we cherish their opinions a lot.

We eventually come to disregard our own opinions...which should have mattered the most to us.

I realized that I really need to do this. I need to come out of this "Perpetually Scared" personality that I've carved out for myself. This docile, blend-in-the-background kind of person, who's reluctant to be a part of something beautiful, because it actually scares her.

Shakespeare says; all the world's a stage, and we're all actors.

He better be right, dammit. Because I'm doing this thing.

............

This brings us back to the awkward phone-call.

"Peeshay. I misunderstood. He-uh, he isn't actually involved with anyone. Like, seriously, he was reading out loud from some book that day or something--" There. That's not completely a lie!

"--and he is absolutely single, and ready to mingle--" WHAT!? Faris will kill me if he heard my thoughts.

"--so, the coast is clear and all--" I want to High-Five my face with a chappal (slipper) right now.

"Are you kidding me?" Shay whispers tremulously.

"Nope. Not kidding. It's true. No lady pals for Faris. Not one."

"ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME!? YOU TOTAL DUNCE! YOU CUSTARD-BRAINED IDIOT!--YOU--YOU GAVE ME ANXIETY FOR TWO WEEKS LAYLA! WHAT THE HELL?!" She started counting backwards from ten, to calm herself, and I winced, as the calming technique failed. "WHAT SORT OF A BOOK WAS HE READING OUT LOUD? ARRGH!! I WANT TO BURN IT! AND HIM! I WANT TO BURN HIM TOO! AARRGHHHHH...."

It took awhile for her to calm down, and formulate her game-plans. Let's just say, Shay is one determined future CEO, and her approach to everything is precise, and deadly.

Needless to say; plenty of stalking and anonymous confessions will be involved.

She's just waiting for her moment...

.............

"What're you reading?" Azaan tries to peek into my copy of the script. I quickly whip it shut, and stow it in my hand-bag, before he can snatch it from me. We're at the annual Bake-Sale/Karaoke Night arranged by the students of IBSA. Our football field was once again decorated with festive lights, and dotted by various funny games, and activities to entertain the guests.

I could see Shay and Asadomer engaged in a competitive balloon-shooting competition. Faris was skulking behind them, headphones in his ears, scowling at anyone who stopped to chat with him. Back in his comfortable box.

"Just a stupid Economics paper. Super boring. Lots of statistical figures." I lied, feeling guilty about hiding this from him, when I know that he'd be the happiest for me, if he knew about it.

for the past few weeks, we've been practicing our lines individually with Faris until now, so that we can mesh in with the narrator's timing. Afterwards we'll get to act together...which is making me kind of nervous. Some of the plot involves a lot of physical intimacy with Qais, and I'm trying not to think too much about it.

He shrugs at me, snatching my half-eaten coconut donut from my hand. He wrinkles his nose at my choice of topping.

"I've told you a million times, that I hate coconut." He grumbled before biting into it anyways. I rolled my eyes.

"Stop stealing my food if you hate it so much."

"Yeah. That's not happening..." He snorted derisively, swallowing the remaining dessert without remorse. "Hmm. So listen. One of my old social internship contacts wanted some University Volunteers to conduct health and safety sessions at a local government school. The conditions there are so poor, and the the lack of a proper counselling system really deprives kids of basic health and abuse knowledge....so I was thinking, we could do it together? I mean you were literally the first person I thought of when I heard about it..." He wipes off stray crumbs that were clinging to his chin.

I melted a little bit.

"Really? Why'd you think of me? I'm sure Shay would be better at it..."

He looked me squarely in the eyes, "Because you know what it's like Layla. Being at the receiving end of sexual abuse, and surviving through it...you're the strongest girl I know. If I can trust anyone to reach out to those kids; it's you."

My eyes misted at the praise. He had no idea how big my heart just got, simply from hearing his words.

"Of course I'll do it with you." I smiled back at his sudden responding, dimpled grin. It is criminal, how much he can accomplish with that school-boy smile of his.

"Well, well, well....look who has a girlfriend now! Mr. I Don't Date Anyone. HAHAHAHAHA!" Tania's nasal voice pierced through my brain, inducing an early migraine, and wiping away traces of my smile.

"I'm not his girlfriend." I snapped back.

"Suuuure you're not." She clucked back, giving me a derogatory once-over, flipping back her fake hair, to reveal a typically low-cut Beige top. "So what? I wasn't good enough for you? yet you choose her? Ohmigaah! like, are you retarded or something?"

"She is just a friend Tania. Lay off!" Azaan frowned at her. I raised my eye-brows at him. He was no longer politely humoring her, as he usually does.

"We'll see about that." She hissed evilly, flouncing off towards the game-stalls.

Faris appeared in place of her, glaring daggers at her back.

"Did I miss an opportunity to humiliate The Bitch?"

"Yep. Her broomstick just took off." Azaan muttered. "I have no idea what I ever did to deserve her presence in my life."

"You were too soft on her. Too damned polite. When she first started harassing you, you should have nipped that evil in the bud. Like I did." Faris grunted, sounding pleased with himself.

I was reminded of all the times I couldn't explain Faris' hostile response to the girl. Hard to believe that both these idiots had been pursued by her...

"Yeah. But at least I don't have scratch-marks on my car." Azaan smirked, causing Faris to scowl further.

"Can we just enjoy ourselves? Talking about her creeps me out." I nodded towards a Giant Trampoline set up by the sidelines. "Want me to kick you collective athletic asses on that?"

Azaan let out a war-like howl, as we raced towards the trampoline...

A/N:

I'm really happy with this chapter for some reason. I hope you enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. The whole script idea (Layla/Majnun meets Shirin/Farhad in Shakespearean world) is something I've always secretly dreamt about. If I could script-write; I'd write this whole play! I love cross-overs of fictional stories...they make something, old and traditional, into something new and energetic! And of course, Midsummer's Night Dream is my absolute favorite comedy! so it had to fit in too somehow...What did you think about it?

You can expect some really quick updates now! ;) I'm in my happy place, now that Fall semester is done and dusted. #DobbyIsATemporarilyFreeElf

The verses from Faris' play is actually my tweaked up version of an English translation of Nizami's "Laili and Majnun". He originally wrote it in Persian, and the beautiful translation was done by James Atkinson.

I would love to know your thoughts about everything! Seriously! gimme feedback! And if you have any questions regarding all the literary references, do ask me. :)

Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT! <3

Happy Reading.

-E.