The Princess Of Gora KabrisTaan

It is one of those days. Hot and steamy and I was caught
in the morning traffic at the Gora KabrisTan. They have
been building the FTC flyover across Shahrai-e-Faisal for
a year and that’s how long the traffic bottle-neck has
been there. You can see cars backed all the way to the
Kaala pull. Its gonna be atleast 20 minutes before I am
let out of this sauna.

I spot her, like you spot a fly in your butter. She is
different from all who surround her, on foot and in cars.
She has a beige chaddar, through which you could only
see her face and hands. She has on hyderabadi chappals,
which seem all wrong, until you see her face. It begins
with a rounded forehead, big brown eyes and a perfect
oval face. And don’t forget the nose-stud, on the proud
lil nose. Her face is devoid of make-up and the ganDami
rang combined with her sharp features makes it look like
it has been carved out of sandstone. (Imagine a petite
Rekha from Umrao Jaan ADa).

But what drew me to her, was her poise. The confidence
that shone in her eyes. She kept her head up, eyes straight
ahead. She seemed to be totally out of place, among the
ordinary people. The GuDDo raniyaN, dolled-up and sitting
pretty in their hondas couldn’t hold a candle to her.
She glided across the asphalt, like a fairy among them.

I was mesmerized. I didn’t care about the time. I didn’t
care about the honking horns, the diesel exhausts, the
sweltering heat. She made it all go away, by magic. Just
watching her, made you feel light and content. On Cloud 9.
Everything was gonna be alright now. This wasn’t sexual.
It was majestic. The euphoria of a fan in the presence
of greatness. I noticed she was making her way towards
me. Her subject. She would soon be upon me. Should I
say something ?. What ?. I rolled down my window and waited.

She glided atlast to my window. In her hands was a stack
of cleaning rags. She unfurled one and held it to my
gaze. Her eyes betraying nothing. She wasn’t going to ask
me, let alone beg me to buy one -like the others. I felt
if I bought one from her, it would be the greatest gusTakhi
one could commit. I shook my head and she glided past my
window, without as much as a hint of dissapointment. As
if it didn’t matter to her at all. It only made sense if
she was really a princess, who had been punished by a
wicked witch to put on these clothes and sell rags on
the street --as a test of her faith.

I saw her again, same time and same place. She had not
changed at all. It was still the same. It even felt the same.
Walking under the scorching heat all this time didn’t
seem to have broken her. She commanded the same respect
and showed the same resolve.

She remains, the princess of Gora KabrisTan. One day I
might build up the courage to ask her, her name.