"What is the single most convenient way to deal with less than impressive, end-of-semester CGPAs?

Amnesia.

Certain software majors have been bumping into footballs and losing their memory cards.

Dude. I know SAP ABP Programming is a suicide-inducing elective; but damn! you don't just blink and lose all recollection of it....Or maybe, it is the way to go.

Hmm.

'Why do you have a C- in Advanced Calculus?'

'I don't remember Dad.'

'Why did you kill Qandeel Baloch?'

'Qandeel who?'

'You owe me twenty thousand bucks.'

'No I don't. I'm willing to take a Polygraph...'

*Strokes goatee* Hmm. This could work out for me. Somebody push me into a basketball please.

On a serious note; has anyone tried turning him on and off?(Mind Out of gutter).

Or tried hitting him in the same spot again? It works in films, jussayin...

--(Nitty Gritty, Issue Number 4556, May 2015)

"Can you come over soon? Ma is going home to shower and stuff, and we can't leave Kulsoom Dadi alone with him, her health isn't the best you know..."

My groggy brain processed the information sluggishly. It took a while to formulate a coherent answer that Abeer would interpret.

"I'll be there in an hour. You should go home too. Take a nap and then come back." I rasped out as I rubbed the sleep-crud from my eyes. My body ached all over, and my head spun a little bit with remnants of exhausted slumber.

Hospital visits are often harder on the attendants than the actual patients. Today is the third day of Azaan's amnesia. Each day his family and us friends take shifts staying with him. I usually wake up at the crack of dawn to help out his mother and sister, and stay till way past my bed-time, which explains the accumulation of sleeplessness. Maria and Ruby offered to help out, but I can't bear not being around him when he needs me.

The un-yielding wooden chairs of the hospital ward are terrible for napping on, as I've discovered, courtesy of a numb butt, and frozen neck joints.

It hasn't been easy; seeing his pain and frustration. The agony his family is going through is something I can feel in every cell of my body, because I am experiencing the same pain.

At first Aliya Auntie couldn't even bring herself to tell Azaan's father about his memory loss.

"He had a heart attack, a few days after Amaan passed away. I don't...I can't bear it if something happened to him after hearing about Azaan." She sobbed into her dupatta, outside his room. "My beautiful baby boy. He couldn't recall Abeer, Asma and Amna's names when they went in to meet him. Why Allah? Why us? I don't understand why! It must be a nazar (evil eye) on him! He's just won his internship, and we were so proud of him..."

"I think he would want to see his dad." I whispered quietly, patting her back helplessly. "I think you should tell him."

"The girl is right. You should tell Azeem now. Can't hide this forever." Kulsoom Nani's subdued voice cut across the waiting area. "Allah tests His closest men and women Aliya. He never burdens you with more than that which you can bear."

"I don't think I can bear it anymore. Amaan broke me, Amma (Mother)." Aliya Auntie gasped, swiping away at her wet face, to look pleadingly at her mother-in-law. "I would rather die, than see my child lose himself. He...he couldn't remember Amaan when I showed him his old photograph. I can't..."

My heart froze over when I heard that. What if Azaan doesn't remember that his brother died? Does he have to go through the pain of loss again? Oh Allah, please make this easy on him...

By agreement, none of us mentioned Amaan to Azaan after this incident. If he...No. When he gets better, he will surely remember everything, and we won't have to make him go through needless agony right now. As per the doctor's instructions, we're all doing our best to jog his memory. We talk about old stories. We show him videos and photographs. Most of the photographs I have of us are the ones that he took himself, so it is heartbreaking to see his eyes light up at a particular shot, and ask about it, only to dim when he realizes that as the photographer, he ought to remember the events himself.

Faris, Asadomer and Daniyal try to keep it light with their typical sarcastic banter, though I can see that this hard on all of them.

"Dude. The college gossip magazine knows about your little...bump," Faris gestured at Azaan's head. "they think we should kick another football at your head with the same angle. Maybe that will bring you back."

Azaan's face twitched with humor. "You haven't told me who kicked the ball at my head? The Dragon keeps asking me, but I don't remember it."

"Omer kicked the ball. You should tell The Dragon about him. He is out of control man." Asad quipped in hurriedly, before nervously moving towards the exit door.

"Coward!" Omer yelled back much to our hilarity. Later, It took a while for us to convince Kulsoom Dadi to not whack Asad with her weapon of mass destruction (AKA her cane) once she learned about the football.

"Seriously though. Our Farewell party is in a week, and we need you up and running by then. We've waited four years for this party dude, not gonna fly without your Attan dance." Faris reminded Azaan about the annual Farewell bash given by Junior year students to the graduating batch of seniors. The boys have been fantasizing about raiding the reportedly 'Epic' Free Buffet.

"He'll be good by then of course." I smiled encouragingly at him. He peeked at me sideways before turning towards Faris for conversation.

I'm trying really hard not to get hurt, but this is killing me. This Azaan is not my Azaan.

He doesn't joke, or tease me like he usually does. Twice I saw him stare hungrily at the snacks I usually sneak in with me, but he never tried to steal it as he typically would have. He barely even makes eye-contact. Whenever I catch him looking at me, he turns away really fast, and proceeds to ignore my attempts at reminding him about what we share.

And he doesn't remember me. That much is obvious.

I have been Shahnaz for the past 48 hours.

Flubbing Shahnaz. Hope she breaks her head, whoever she is. Bloody beachball.

Today when I reached the hospital, I had one goal in my mind; make him remember me. Remember us. I don't care if he doesn't remember what he had for lunch last week, he has to remember me. I think I will die inside if he doesn't.

These selfish thoughts took a backseat when I heard raised voices coming from Azaan's ward.

"PORRIDGE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?" His pissed off voice was followed by a softer feminine one, consoling.

"I HATE IT. I HATE YOU ALL!" he snarled.

I heard the ominous crash of what seemed like a broken glass, and steel. That spurred me to run into the ward-room, panting.

The scene that met my eyes scared me.

Azaan was staring angrily at the opposite wall, while a harried looking nurse was busy picking up pieces of white hospital issued crockery from the floor around the foot of his bed. A steel spoon was abandoned near my feet, and I wordlessly picked it up with trembling hands.

It was nearly 7:30 in the morning, which explained Kulsoom Dadi's absence. She usually takes a waddle around the hospital garden before 8.

I politely offered salaam to the nurse. She looked relieved to see me there.

"Miss. Your brother isn't eating his breakfast. He hasn't eaten anything since yesterday morning. That must be why he can't sleep. I will have to put him on an IV soon if he doesn't take oral nutrition."

I didn't even get to correct her assumption about my being his sister. Before Azaan actually growled at that.

"She's trying to poison me." Azaan gritted, pointing accusingly at her, "I am allergic to porridge!"

"You're not allergic to porridge. Nothing in your medical history indicates any allergies..." the poor nurse seemed close to tears, and I couldn't blame her.

"Then why do I feel like throwing up, whenever you shove this tasteless food at me? I lost my memory, not my taste-buds. I am not sick, or ailing, or dying. Damn you!" his sullen accusation made me snort with nervous laughter.

"I'll make sure he eats something." I reassure the nurse as she huffs red-faced out of the room, carrying a tray full of broken crockery, and soiled paper napkins soggy with remnants of porridge.

"I am not an asshole, Shahnaz. You have no idea how bad this food is." He turned his head away from me, glaring at the wet blob of porridge that the nurse had missed during her careless clean-up. I yanked a couple of paper-towels from a metal dispenser on the wall, and calmly wiped the spill-up away.

He looked exhausted. His eyes red-rimmed, and shadowed with purple. His scruff was darker, as it usually is before his morning shave. He was wearing a worn-out Metallica T-shirt with dark track-pants. He hated hospital clothes.

He would have been discharged earlier, but the doctors at CMH (Combined Military Hospital) Karachi, had insisted on keeping him under observation until his recovery because they were documenting his case for medical studies purposes. Apparently, PTA cases like his aren't very common around here.

"I never said you're an asshole." I chirped cheerfully, subtly eyeing the bags under his eyes.

"But you were thinking it." He said softly, watching me clean up his mess. He looked embarrassed.

"So your head-bump made you psychic now? Edward Cullen much?" I joked, dumping the paper towels in a trash-can inside the room, and dragging the attendant's chair to sit next to him.

His brow wrinkled with confusion, "Who's Edward Cullen?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know..." I spoke about random stuff for a while, before honing in on his lack of appetite.

"You once ate a whole bowl of raw cake-batter without getting sick. I don't understand why you can't stomach a little tasteless porridge now and then." I grinned wide at that. I have become so good at faking smiles in front of this boy.

He is quiet at that.

"Azaan. You need to eat something."

"I can't sleep." He replied to that, giving me pause.

"Sure you can. Just eat something, lay back, try to rest and you'll nod off in a second." I said firmly, "Tell you what. I'll order something from McDonald's. You love the beef Big Mac-"

"You don't understand, Shahnaz. I actually can't sleep. I haven't slept a blink since as far back as I can remember anything." his confession stunned me.

"That's not true. I called your Mom a night ago, and she told me that you were sleeping."

"I was pretending to sleep, so they'd leave me alone. I was tired of people telling me things I just don't remember. Every time I try to nod off, it's like my brain refuses to shut down. I keep thinking about unfamiliar things. About cricket. About people I don't really know. About food. So much freaking food.... I think and I think, and I think. It's like trying to catch a slippery soap, you know? Whenever I try to remember anything, it keeps slipping away from my hands." He clarified, rubbing his eyes, and finally turning to look at me. "I. Can't. Sleep."

My mouth was hanging open in shock.

"You haven't slept in three days?" I croaked.

"Nope."

"Have you told Major Sadiq about it?" I asked about the army doctor leading Azaan's case.

"Nope."

"Well, I'm going to do it just now." I snapped at him, angry at his childish behavior.

We were all losing our minds over his recovery, and he was being purposely evasive about his condition. The doctors had repeatedly insisted on complete honesty from Azaan. He knew how important it was for him to be clear about whatever his mind was going through. Unlike other organs of the body, our minds aren't accessible from the inside, no matter how much technology progresses, I doubt any doctor, any quack, any psychic in the world will be able to tell exactly what is going inside someone's head.

"I'm sorry, Shahnaz. I just...I don't want him to tell Baba about it. He was so upset when he came yesterday. It hurts me, but I can deal with my Ma crying for me...I don't think I can see my Baba cry. I don't have it in me."

My throat clenched at that, ever-ready tears threatening to flood my eyes.

I made a mental note to speak discreetly with Major Sadiq. No need to upset Azaan's dad over something that might be fixed. I know that the most a person can go without sleep is 11 days.

"My name isn't Shahnaz." I sniffed. "Why do you call me that? I know your short term memory is just fine."

"Because you're Shahnaz. It doesn't matter what your name is. You're Shahnaz for me." He smiled tiredly at that, cryptically. I was puzzling over his words when he gestured at my handbag, "What memories do you have for me today?"

I withdrew my sleek silver iPad from the depths of the tote bag.

"Well. Do you remember the IR class we took together?"

"We wouldn't be in this hellhole if I could remember it, sweetheart." He chuckled darkly, leaning back on his muscled forearms. I reddened at his casual use of the endearment.

"Well. This is a video of us that Peeshay made. We kind of had a major fight during the parliamentary debate. We were arguing about the use of drones by US army in the military operations against Taliban in northern Pakistan." I passed the tablet towards him.

"...How could you even THINK about supporting drone strikes? You know better than I, the number of innocents being killed alongside the terrorists. It is unjustified, inhumane manslaughter." I stated passionately in the video.

The camera swiveled to show his face, a frown lingering on his lips as he countered back.

"This isn't a peace project, Layla. This is war. We must lose the smaller ones, to win bigger ones. I regret the loss of lives, but this is collateral damage. Something which can't be helped. These terrorists are like vermin. They're like bugs who must be squashed before they lay eggs. If we ever want a safe, extremist-free Pakistan, we must sacrifice. A few must die, for the grea--"

"Don't you dare say the words 'Greater Good'. I swear to God I will maim you for this cliched, bullshit argument!" I snapped.

He stared shocked at me for a second before laughing at my annoyed face.

"Okay. I'll bite. How would you solve it? By inviting them over for some tea and samosas at your place? hmm? 'Oh Mr. Suicide vest, how much sugar do you take with your Chai? Oh! do have some cookies with the spring rolls, we made them especially for you, before you 'pop' in front of a girls school'"

My face turned red with fury, and I could see the onslaught of tears, courtesy my angry-tears syndrome.

"I certainly wouldn't bomb an entire city, hoping that out of the thousands of casualties, a few dozen MIGHT just be terrorists. Don't you realize that these attacks are giving the surviving victims a chance to sympathize with extremist groups? Who would you support? Someone who accidentally-on-purpose blew up your house and three children, or someone who's claiming to fight the drones who destroyed your lives? The ones who're claiming to fight in the name of a religion you both share? A land that you both claim to belong to, a revenge that you ache to take..."

"You're smart. I had a feeling you were." He smiled at me as the video concluded with him admitting that perhaps drone strikes weren't the only option available for extremist termination. "Did I apologize to you after this argument? I think I made an unreasonable personal attack with that jibe at your Dad's political affiliation..."

I grinned shyly at him. "Yeah you did apologize." You sweetly gave me half of your Turkey pizza slice, even though you NEVER share your food. Then you took Shay and me to a 'Girls At Dhaabas' meetup, even though you think it's a revoltingly feminist initiative that scares you.

He kept swiping at the photos, his hands pausing at one of us from the Bake Sale. He was kneeling in front of me, holding an aluminium coke ring in his hands. His smile in the photo was cheeky, his eyes laughing at my obvious distress. I held my breath when I saw that one. It seemed as if this was from another lifetime. Another person.

"I knew it." He breathed. His eyes lifting up to meet mine. My stomach dropped at the intensity in those dark depths. I felt like he could see down to my soul right then. "I knew you were hiding something from me."

"Hiding what?" I whispered, my heart pounding at his words.

"That we love each other." He stated simply, unaware of the havoc he had just wreaked on my nerves. His tired face broke into a happy, contented smile. One I am intimately familiar with.

It's because I live for that smile. Those cheerful crinkles around his dark eyes. The adorable dimple that is deeper in his left cheek than his right. I could draw the tilt of his mouth, and the jut of his proud jaw in my sleep (If I knew how to draw).

"Is it because we're keeping it a secret? Because my Ma wouldn't approve of a relationship like this? Is that why you were quiet about it in front of my family?"

I tried shaking my head, and saying NO. But my muscles seemed frozen. I should be the one in the hospital bed, after receiving this mental shock.

"Please say something, Shahnaz." His voice deepened as he pleaded, his hand coming up hesitantly to brush away a stray lock from my forehead. I shivered at the brief contact.

"We're...we're not..."

"I know I am in love with you. I don't have to remember it, to feel it. I know you're very important for me. I can't explain it, but I have a feeling that we're more than friends." He kept saying words that destroyed me.

Destroyed my resolve. My poise. My very foundation. This very ground that supported my shaky existence. It was all destroyed.

And it was hesitantly being reconstructed. He was becoming my ground, my foundation, my resolve.

I was terrified. In the best of ways.

"We're not in a relationship." I finally muster up the courage to tell him.

"Why the hell not?" He frowned.

"Because you never told me that you're in love with me." and I never told you that I am too.

"That's dumb of you, Shahnaz. Very out of character for someone so smart. You ought to have known either way. I don't think I could have been that secretive about it. You're adorable, and I love you. How on earth could you not figure that out? Did you not see me in that video, being a complete lovesick puppy? I totally have a thing for you!" He was actually annoyed at me, in his irrational, old-Azaan way, and it made me so happy, I could barely see through the tears that were now streaming out of my eyes.

"You're a lovesick puppy around most attractive females, you ass." I sobbed. "How am I supposed to know what is real, and what is you being you?"

He vocally swore at his old self. Before hiding his face away from me. I could feel the truth in his words when he artlessly continued to bare himself.

"I promise you, Shahnaz. I don't feel the same way about every girl. Dr. Sadiq's junior assistant is totally hot. But she doesn't make me want to snatch her away, and selfishly keep her safe somewhere, because I don't want to share her goodness with anyone else. None of the Attractive female classmates visiting me yesterday made me feel like I ought to be a better person, just so I would be worthy of her..."

"Layla. Damn you. If you're confessing your feelings for me, the least you could do is say my name right." I laugh-cried at his words.

I couldn't grasp the multitudes of emotions running through me.

Happiness; because I was finally hearing what I have always dreamt of hearing.

Anger; because it took an actual Brain-traumatic injury for him to say these words.

Helplessness; because I wanted to hug him so much at that moment.

I wanted to grab his tired face, and kiss him. I wanted to hold onto him, and never ever let him go.

But I couldn't. We couldn't.

Maybe he wasn't the old Azaan. But he was still mine. And I still loved him, flaws and all.

"Do you know who Shahnaz is?" He asked sheepishly. I could see his hands clench in his lap, as he controlled the urge to wipe away my tears.

"I don't know who Shahnaz is, but I hope to God she doesn't cross my path. I might just wring her neck. I hate her so much." I giggled tearfully.

"Okay. So do you know who Kashif, and Gul Sher, and Faraz are? Because I feel like I know them all..."

My eyes popped wide open at that.

I knew who these people were...I knew them very well indeed.

"Azaan. Do you seriously remember them?" I asked cautiously, hiding my glee.

"I want to say they're my friends, but I haven't seen any photos of them in your, or Ma's collections so far."

I quickly googled up a few words in my tablet.

"Who is this?" I asked trembling.

"THAT'S SHAHNAZ! holy shit Layla!" he yelled out in unrestrained joy. I yelped when he actually got off the bed to snatch me up in a bear hug. "I REMEMBER HER! I REMEMBER!"

"WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON HERE?" An ominous booming voice from the door of the ward made him drop me to my feet. I squeaked with horror and embarrassment when I saw Kulsoom Dadi waddling into the room, a ferocious scowl on her face.

"You BOY, were sleeping when I left for my power walk. Who told you to wake up and start hugging strange girls like that? You seem to have lost your mind, so I am going to give you a piece of mine! FIVE FEET DISTANCE FROM ALL UNRELATED FEMALES. Bayhooda (Shameless) child!"

She proceeded to wave him away from me, with the help of her evil wooden cane.

"Kulsoom Dadi. He just got a little excited, because he remembered someone!" I explained joyfully, unable to contain my own excitement at this progress. This was the first time Azaan had recognized anyone correctly with their name and face.

"Hmmph. And who does he remember?"

"The girl from Alpha, Bravo Charlie." I showed the tablet to her, which was open into the Google Images tab showing the characters from the award-winning Pakistani Military drama from the 90's. "He remembers the other main characters too."

Kulsoom Dadi's bespectacled, wrinkled face broke into a smile, before she suppressed it.

"Shame on you, boy. Hmmph. So, you don't remember your own sister's name, but you remember the heroine from an excellent drama serial?"

"Pretty much." Azaan grinned back at her. "I had a huge crush on her ever since I watched it for the first time as a kid. I have always wanted to have a Shahnaz in my life. A real girl. The no-nonsense, hipster-glasses wearing type. The one who's pretty without being vain about it. The one who's smart without being arrogant about it. The one who'd choose poor, mediocre Charlie over rich, handsome Alpha, because she's not scared of loving the right man. Hard to forget someone like her, you know..."

My face was heating up at his pointed words. I was burning, miraculously, even with the air-conditioner chilled ward.

He knew what the words meant to me. And now he wanted me to know what they meant to him.

Kulsoom Dadi snorted good-naturedly at that, telling him that his depraved shamelessness ought to have been thrashed out of him as a kid.

"You were saying something about ordering a Beef Big Mac?" He whispered to me, once Kulsoom Dadi was occupied in a yelling-match with her secretary 'Sofia' over the phone.

Old people have no sense of appropriate call-volume, I have realized.

"Promise me you'll actually eat it?" I insisted.

"You couldn't keep me away from it, if you tried." He replied bluntly, his eyes saying more than his words.

Not sure how I feel about being figuratively identified with a beef burger...Guess it comes with the territory of loving Azaan Malik.

...........

"We're going to try our usual sleep therapy methods on him." Major Sadiq explained to a worried Aliya Auntie that night after I informed him about Azaan's insomnia. "If that doesn't work, we'll resort to Melatonin or Valerian. They are mild sleep-inducing drugs, and ought to help him zonk out. His insomnia seems to stem from his anxiety over his memory loss. Once he gets a proper amount of sleep, I have faith that it will help him in memory recovery too. I had a PTA patient once who lost his memory for a day. He got it back once he woke up in the morning. Who's to say it won't work on Azaan too? Perhaps lack of sleep is the reason for his slow recovery." He smiled kindly at an exhausted looking Azaan.

"I want you to give me the drug now. I have tried falling asleep for the past three days now. I have tried counting so many sheep, I could freaking hear them bleat." Azaan griped irritably. "I want to rest my brain! And it just won't stop running. I also have a headache. My eyes hurt, and I want to kill the person who invented these fluorescent lightbulbs."

The Doctor pondered over these complaints for a while before nodding to his assisting junior Physician, "Let's start with 5mg of Melatonin then. Allah Shafi (Allah is the healer)."

We watched with pounding hearts as he swallowed the pills. Dr. Sadiq and his Mom kept speaking to him in an undertone, until he actually nodded off into oblivion. The worried arch of his dark eyebrows relaxed, as he slipped farther into sleep.

We shut off every light in the room, and quietly exited.

"Will he remember when he wakes up?" Aliya Auntie pleaded desperately with the Major.

"Only one way to find out." Came his firm reply.

So we wait.

Author's Note:

Salaam y'all. :D
You liked this one?? Lemme know about it please!

A quick note here: Memory loss after a minor head bump isn't unrealistic or uncommon. A friend of mine actually lost his memory for a few days after literally tripping over his feet and bumping his head against the ground.

I interviewed him a few times to fully get what he went through. He couldn't understand my fascination with the most terrifying experience of his life...lol.

Hope you're well, and happy.
I adore each and every one of you. :*

Don't forget to Vote and Comment!!

-E.