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A computer engineer who likes to surround herself with fantasy stories and a cup of coffee. when i am not writing computer codes and punching in binary numbers, I like to write stories and poems and imagine myself as a writer.
The silver and the gray
Jul 30, 2020 3 years agoThe first wave of a warm smell touched my nostrils as our car pulled over in the pavement square. I rolled the window and inhaled deeply, letting every bit of air greet my nostrils. I hadn't smelled this in ages. Though it had only been a month, it seemed ages ago since I had last eaten a shawarma; a popular street food that had taken a place in the heart of every wanderer of Saddar Bazaar. Usually the place had Families huddled around tables to enjoy a feast after hours of shopping, tired laborers rushed to get their lunch without spending half their wage while students created a rapport of laughter and chit chat after an exhausting day at college. Now the square seemed a lifeless patch of concrete that had been silenced by force. Saddar Bazaar; a pulsing, noisy and furious heart of Rawalpindi, radiating with neon lights, scorching heat and suffocating petrol fumes from motorbikes and rickshaws that contribute to half of the commotion, while gawking vendors and chattering pedestrians made the rest. But that too had been long ago, now the road stood spacious for a few vehicles while three or four people queued outside the stores Like us, many other shawarma lovers too had rushed to the place to get their hands on the famous shawarma of Rawalpindi, before the ban was imposed once again. The government had released the lock down to let people have a few days of celebration and a normal life till Eid; the much-awaited festival. Two more cars entered the square, while a dozen more lined the roadside, stretching to the end of the bazaar, offering the rare sight of a road devoid of throngs of people who normally filled every inch of stone. Who could blame them? The people had to make a difficult choice of getting a quick lunch or catching a virus that could put them on a ventilator, or worse, take their lives. The pandemic had changed everything. Never had I imagined that I would be waiting in a sluggish traffic for a $1 shawarma. The pandemic had definitely made me a patient person. Of all the shawarmas, this was the one I wanted; nothing out of the ordinary only the overwhelming nostalgia that made me come here and the yearning of old times. Maybe I was being over dramatic, after all its only been a month since the lock down. Not too long to feel so emotional about a sandwich, but I was craving for a glimpse of a life before pandemic, the things taken for granted. It wasn't the first time I had gone a month without a shawarma, but it was the first time I had noticed it, making me crave it even more. I clasped the warm rolled up shawarma as the waiter pushed it through the window, my hands already unwrapping the paper. With the first bite, I'm immediately transported to the memories of having this sandwich with my friends after a rough day at college. How I missed them and those tiring days at college, I would give anything to be back there. Even Math class didn't seem a torture now. Did everyone feel the same about this odd situation? Or was it just me; I thought as I stared outside the window trying to look into the pedestrian's emotions. I was just staring outside, pondering over how these people were feeling when I saw a familiar face on the roadside. There was no mistake on who the lady was. It was the same face, the same hooped nose pin and the same place where she had sat for the past 13 months, perhaps even longer. She had become a notorious beggar of Saddar Bazaar who didn't even have to beg; people took one glance at her and pity would fill the eyes of even the proudest men. Today however, her face had a different feel. It seemed cleaner, plumper as if she had been eating two meals a day for the past month rather than scrapes. On her side was a makeshift hook board that seemed to attract a lot of attention from commuters. I peeped closer. The board was covered in hand stitched face masks that dangled from every hook and people eagerly grabbed two or three of these, handing a crumpled note in the beggar's hand. I was in awe at the sight. Truly much had changed in this month. It wasn't just the Bazaar, the people or the colleges. Lives had changed. Suddenly I felt a pang of guilt. Here I was thinking life couldn't be worse, yet there were people like this beggar lady who perhaps were experiencing the delight of a full belly for the first time in their lives. Perhaps clouds weren't the grayest for everyone, or perhaps some people really know how to find a silver lining in the grayest of clouds.
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