After A Month.

"Today we will be discussing the poems in our syllabus but before that I want you all to understand the reason behind writing poems or novels. Keep one thing in mind that writing is an art, and art is a form of communication, so we need to understand the reason behind every art. Today we're about to start the poem The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. His poems always show the connection between humans and nature. His other works like Fire and Ice, The Mending Wall and..." Her lecture was disturbed by a ringing sound and everyone looked at the teacher table. A mobile phone was ringing on it.

"Excuse me boys," She moved towards the table and glanced at the mobile phone. Letting a harsh sigh out she grimaced but received the  call.

"Amaan, I'm in the school, please don't call me at this time, call me at night." She was about to cut the call when his voice stopped her.

"It's urgent, Urooj." She sighed again and noticed the increasing commotion in the class.

"Silence." A roar with a bang of the wooden duster on the table and the commotion converted into pin drop silence. "Turn to page number 59, copy down the 'About the poet' part in your notebooks, I'm going to check it right in five minutes."

"Woh... Who can say that The Polite looking Urooj is so... Umm... khadoos Masterji (strict teacher.)"

"Cut the crap Amaan, come to the point. What's urgent?" She was strict again.

"Haven't you seen the newspaper? That section?" He stressed on that and Urooj furrowed "No,"

"Check your WhatsApp, I've already sent you the pic, read it right away."

She opened the latest chat and her eyes widened, a smile crawled to her lips while going through the paragraph that read Another bestseller by Talia Zia. Her new novel UNTITLED will not only manage to make its place on the bookshelf but in the reader's heart too.  Urooj kept reading the article with a big smile but at the end she made a defeated face and put the mobile phone on the ear again.

"Hmm... Done." She muttered.

"Told you na... But you never listen to me." He scolded her but she ignored, "will you tell me what's urgent?" She asked and looked at the students.

"Silence in the class." Again a bang of wooden duster and Amaan huffed.

"At least move your mobile away before shouting... You literally burst my eardrum."

"Great. You deserve it." She couldn't help but laugh.

"Shut up and listen... I need to meet you." He demanded.

"Come home at the evening tea."

"Yaar main nhi aa rha tumhare ghar Yasir Bhai se dar lagta hai mujhe. Tum aa jao mere ghar."

(Dude, I am not coming to your home. I am scared of Yasir bhai. Why don't you come to my home?)

"Main nhi aa rhi, tumhari mummy ke irade naik nhi lagte mujhe." She rolled her eyes and Amaan burst into a guffaw.

(I am not coming. I don't think your mother's intentions are good.)

"Meri Mummy ke bhi wo hi irade hain jo mere hain..."

(My mother has the same intentions as I do...)

"I know." She rolled her eyes.

"Achha chalo wo hi college time wale cafe me milte hain, lunch from my side, school se direct wahi aa jao" he demanded.

(Okay let's meet at the same college time cafe. Come directly from school, lunch from my side.)

"Main tumhare sath kahi nhi jaa rhi, ghar aa jao tum, bas it's final." She announced her decision, she hated the feeling when people looked at her and Amaan together and passed the most unwanted compliment 'Nice couple', every time Amaan felt over the moon and she felt the urge to bury an alive Amaan in the earth.

(I am not going anywhere with you, you come home, it's final.)

"Tumhare ghar aaya to Mummy ke sath aunga, rishta le kar." He was mischievous this time

(If I come to your house, I will come with my mother, with a marriage proposal.)

"Amaan, tum mar jaao."

(Amaan, why don't you just die?)

"Aap par mar chuke hain writer saheba." she could imagine him smiling dreamily but she grimaced and hung up the call after hearing this.

(I'm already dying for you, dear writer.)

"You people can't keep your mouth shut just for a few minutes." Urooj shouted. Pin drop silence in the class. She grimaced and cleared her throat while pushing the mobile in her bag and fishing out a ginger candy from that small junkyard. Tearing the wrapper she popped the golden brown candy in her mouth and looked here there... no dustbin in the class.

Ughhhh ... She groaned in her thoughts and pushed the wrapper in the purse to let it join the group of its long lost siblings who had to end up in the dustbins but never got a chance.

"Tum log itna chikhwate ho ki mera gala dard karne lagta hai." She yelled again but this time without any reason and picked the book up to continue the lecture but before she could read the first word the room turned darker than usual. A loud cry which was a mixture of exhaustion and annoy echoed in the room, as well as corridor. The already hot and suffocating rooms of this school became more hot after the electricity was cut out. Urooj looked at the fan which stopped making that creepy sound and realise that she was always being ungrateful with what she has. She understood the value of everything only after losing it, either her childhood, her peaceful sleep or her parents, and now this little fan that she always hated to move above her head with a turtle speed.

(You all make me shout so much that my throat hurts.)

"Come on... Focus on the books. There is enough light to read and write." She yelled again but the boys weren't in the condition of studying anymore.

"Ma'am nooooooo... Pleaseeeee..." Urooj looked at the class, grimaced and thought to scold them but then remembered her childhood when she was also one from those faces.

Schooling is essential to educate people but is it fair to call it education when books become burden? Education is important to gain knowledge but no one can make a person 'learned' forcefully.

And... She knew it.

"Fine. Close your books. Let's talk today.  Tell me about yourself one by one, But in English only." She sat down listening to the falsely implicated descriptions of boys with patience and correcting their sentences one by one until a round plate of brass was hammered in a rhythm to form a long bell which indicated that the school is over for today.

"Bye Ma'am." A boy yelled while waving his hand when Urooj was about to walk out of the classroom and she smiled while slowly waving her hand and mumbling, "bye-bye".

"Ye khadoos hasti bhi hai?"
(Does this Hitler also smile?)

"Mene bhi pehli baar dekha."
(Never knew before.)

She heard two boys talking about her but she ignored and walked ahead. Today she was in a better mood after hearing about the success of Untitled.

Holding her tote bag on the left shoulder she was walking on the road, her right hand was holding another jute bag that contained an empty lunchbox, half filled bottle of water and some test papers.

The bright yellow ball in the sky was all set to burn away anyone who dared to come in its radar, and Today Urooj was again its target. Wiping the fresh sweat drops from her forehead and face she walked ahead until she was on the edge of the main road. The traffic signal was not working, it was either green or blank all the time. Cars, bikes and buses had no patience to stop if a flock to people was already standing at one end of the faded Zebra crossing.

She felt her feet burning due to sunlight, unintentionally she looked downward, her sandal stared back at her and demanded a farewell with almost ripped straps, before she could think that it was time to change it, she looked up because a car showed some humanity by stopping before the road crossing, followed by a few more cars and bikes but before Urooj could take the first careless step ahead she took an unintentional glance of a sparkling SUV and her foot stopped to walk ahead. This time she intentionally looked at the same SUV... Moreover the one on the driving seat and one besides him.

Her tongue rolled to savour his name and eyes filled with tears to see him laughing with the girl beside him. The girl leaned forward and planted a kiss on his clean shaved face. He smiled and turned his head to kiss her back but instead of that girl his eyes fell on a girl standing on the road holding a bag in her hand and tears in her eyes.

'Why don't you let me even kiss you? I love you yaar, we are in love, don't you trust me, Urooj?'

'It's not about love or trust... It's all about what is lawful and what is forbidden.'

'Then marry me Urooj, it will become lawful." She remembered the back of the park, their secret meeting and never-ending chattering with him. She was over the moon at that time. A dream was becoming true. 'At least give me a reply?'

'Are you serious?' she heard herself asking him and he nodded while opening his arms to signal his wish but she shook her head however she ended up in a forceful hug.

Right now she forgot the road crossing, heatwave and the need to go back home, all what she had in her mind was her past, this man and nothing else. She could hear the echoes of the past as if it happened only one day ago. But blows of horns force the handsome hunk to look away from the face of his first love to the girl beside him who was now looking confused as well as hurt to see her soon-to-be husband gazing a girl on the road. Another blow of horn pushed him SUV ahead and Urooj wiped her eyes as well as cheeks with the back of her palm without knowing that she was being watched one more time through the rare view mirror of someone's SUV.

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Sunlight streamed through the large glass window, illuminating the room with a warm, inviting glow. Shelves lined with jars of paint in every imaginable shade stood against one wall, while easels and canvases filled the center of the space, ready for the next masterpiece. Brushes of various sizes sat in water-filled jars, their bristles fanning out like flowers in bloom. The air carried the faint, comforting scent of acrylics and oils, mingling with the soft sound of a gazal playing in the background.

The artist closed his eyes, the brush filled with red color in his hand stopped before the next stroke. A smile crawled to his lips when he paid attention to the lyrics of the gazal playing in the background.

Kuche ko tere chhod kar jogi hi ban jaun magar...
Jangal tere parbat tere basti teri sehra Tera...

(Leaving your city I would become a hermit but...
Forest, mountains, cities and desert— all belongs to you... You're everywhere.)
He felt a pang in his heart... He would also become a hermit in her love but he didn't have any place where he could get rid of her thoughts.

"It's going to be your best portrait till date. A masterpiece." A voice followed the swinging sound of the and he smiled without looking at the figure standing a few steps away from him.

"Masterpiece? No? It's imperfect." He narrowed his eyes and looked in the hazel eyes of the one who was staring at her from the canvas. "Something missing." He mumbled for himself and picked 20/0 rounded tip, the thinnest brush available. Dipping it into the thick black oil paint he made a gentle stroke from the forehead to the middle of the cheek which was half covered with red dupatta.

"For how long will you paint her?" He closed his eyes for a while and looked around.

"Can you please leave me alone, mummy?" He asked and his mother shrugged while rolling her eyes but before going back she adjusted the AC temperature to 23° from 16° and mumbled... "You're a human not a polar bear so behave like one."

He laughed at the instruction and noticed that now the recording was playing one of his favourite songs.

Aankho ko ek ishaare ki zehmat, to dijiye
Kadmo me dil bichha doon ijaazat to dijiye
Gam ko, gale laga loon jo gam aap ka mile
Dil ki, ye aarzu thi koi, dilruba mile

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Next update is coming soon
I know I'm very late but... Kya kru yaar kuch ajeeb hi ho rha hai mere sath, I forget to write what I plan and I write what I never plan. 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️