IFFI

10:30/ I-8

Today, like most our days, we set off on an adventure. An unplanned, unorganized but undoubtedly venturesome day awaits us. Our automobile for this fine day will be movee, a car that falls within a home’s category because it feels so. All we know is each other and that once Zainy develops his trust which comes along approximately 15 minutes after we sit in the car, he will hand me the reins of movee. Thus we begin our trip along the roads of Islamabad as we puff pleasure.

Our first stop is a lost destination that which Rimmal and Zainy came across once, never to be found again. So we venture through the streets of the sector in search of it that I may experience the beauty they uncovered on the founding day of the spot. This is not the first time we have searched and certainly will not be the last. Unfortunately though, today can be categorized as a failed attempt. We are accompanied by another confidante, Daniyal, who blasts his insufferable rap music in our ears but one must accept one’s friends with disregard to their flaws however provoking they may be. We discover for ourselves another peaceful station where we sit admiring the beauty surrounding us.

Trust has been built hence I am permitted to drive.

11:00/ F-7

We cruise to another port of call. The location of this spot is unrecalled too but I am adamant on not returning home leaving these places so dear to me, for all means unfound. So we navigate every street that falls within our path in hopes that we may come across it at some point. Finally I recognize a track that had led us to the park the first time around. We had found what we had been wandering around the city for.

It’s a narrow street with unflattering architecture that people deem as their homes on one side being complimented by a track and a thick coat of greenery across from it. The aesthetic of that area is defined by the uniformly growing green trees that are so dense that only a few rays of sunlight seep through to reach the ground. I have only been as far as the trees; maybe there is more if I venture ahead. I park the car parallel to the steep ground and we sit with the windows down taking in the cool air.

11:45/ Movie

Zainy refuses to step out of the car because apparently it can wait. I adhere to his demand because I am aware of his dramatic nature and this is a mere attempt to build the anticipation. Thus we remain seated turning the air in our lungs to ash as we reveal ourselves to each other, unfiltered. We spend this time telling our first impressions of one another, psycho analyzing a long list of people and at the end of the conversation declaring it all confidential. If only I could mention that detailed account here, you all would certainly be entertained.

12:30/ The Park

We walk up to the track reminiscing the last time we had been there. I moved up across the trees and well it was never a park. After the line of trees was a plain green ground, that stooped down leading to the main road and clear view of Faisal Masjid. Zainy and I let out a huge laugh at this sight. How maddening and poetic, it is the fact that you can go to one place at two instances, in different states of mind and what you view and register both of those times is completely inconsistent with one another.

After spending a while there and allowing Zainy to indulge in his passion that is taking pictures we decided to let Daniyal treat us because Zainy and I are categorically broke.

 12:45/ Race Back

Now that I have failed to summarize my thought and intend to finish this story this will be as rushed as we were on our call to return. Our very dear friend, Mustafa had informed us that he would be gracing us with his presence away from the place we were presently looking forward to eat. Naturally, because our love for him exceeds our temptation to eat, we rushed back to where our journey had initiated because he had told us that he had arrived and would not wait for more 10 minutes. He had not reached by the time we got there, usual of him. Well, after that we met, hung out, ate and then pissed off to our own homes.

Note/ for all those who don’t know me personally:

This is a random piece I wrote and this is not my usual writing style. I made it unnecessarily formal and dramatic because I found humor in it and I hope you do as well. It is primarily a very simple story written in a rather pretentious manner. Also, if Zain was a writing he would sound something like this. Danke.