How’s It Gonna Be

Good story Sobi.

My question is, did she have `tava chicken` for dinner?

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Nice build up but the ending was rather abrupt, was it intentional? Or is there a point to it?

On a lighter note, not all accomplished men are tall, there are a few, more that few good men who were not exactly six feet tall :)-

Nice work, but comapred to earlier writings this one needs a little more thought.

cheers

THIS is what i wrote..not what you printed. And you`d better not edit this!

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She saw his reflection in the mirror as he entered the restaurant. She had her back to him so he did not see her. It was very cold that night. Cold and foggy. He was wearing a big, black shawl over his black kameez shalwar. She didn’t recognize him for half a second.

Female appreciation for a good looking man was the first signal that was sent to her brain. Then recognition hit her like a bucket of ice cold water; his reflection in the mirror made her freeze for a second. She hoped he wouldn’t look her way and tried to avert her eyes away from his tall frame entering the restaurant. But she could not stop looking at him. He stopped near her .table for a minute, while the rest of his family gathered around.

For her, it seemed as if time had stopped. She knew it was a cliché! Stop being dramatic!
Time doesn’t stop background voices don’t fade away. But they did. They did fade away and those 15 seconds stretched forever. He moved away, went to the upper level of the cafe, not once looking her way. The spell was broken by her mother calling her name, telling her to order the food. The waiter had been standing for a few minutes now, writing pad in hand. She felt her cheeks flush and forced herself to concentrate.

Dinner was ordered. Her brothers and a guest who was staying at their place for a few days insisted that they wanted to go upstairs and look at the view from the roof, for which the restaurant was famous. She hesitated, knowing he would be upstairs. But how long can you avoid someone? A lyric came in mind and almost made her smile:
“How’s it gonna be when you don’t know me anymore?”

Well, now’s the time to find out, she said silently to herself. She got up with everyone else and made her way up the steep staircase.

The rooftop view of the restaurant is breath catching. It overlooks Lahore’s Badshahi Mosque, which is all lit up with glowing lights. She had come to the same café two years ago for the first time, ironically with him. She was still trying to cope with the memories of that night when she saw him again, same place, even the same date; the difference was that two years had elapsed. Laughable. The coincidence was ironic and even funny at some level.

But right then, nothing seemed amusing. From the corner of her eye she saw him, sitting on a table with his family. His back was towards her so she knew he still hadn’t spotted her. She joined her own family at the front of the rooftop, which was full of people dining out. The air was freezing cold but the hot coals that were provided for every table were doing a good job of keeping everyone warm and happy. The atmosphere was charged. The night was young, the stars were out, and the chill in the air was intoxicating. Piping hot naans were being eaten, accompanied by cold Coca Cola.

She knew the exact moment he saw her, even though she did not meet his eyes. She had been laughing at something her brother had said, when, from the corner of her eye, she saw him turn, saw him look her way. He kept looking. She turned her head, their eyes might have met for half a second, but it was too dark to tell for sure. He saw her, recognized her – and turned away. She held back sudden tears that had unexpectedly welled in her eyes. “How’s it gonna be when you don’t know me anymore?”

She spent a few minutes on the roof, trying not to stare at him, trying to pretend to be happy and in a cheerful mood, oohing and aahing over the view which was mysteriously swimming before her eyes. She took one last look at him. He looked her way again. They both looked away. So, how is it going to be when you don’t know me anymore? It’s going to be heart clenching and painful. It’s going to be difficult to look at you, see recognition in your eyes but no effort to acknowledge the past. It’s going to be sad not to hear a greeting pass your lips, when I had become so used to the sound of your voice. But most of all, it’s going to be a relief, because once and for all, I have got closure, for now we are officially complete strangers.

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chowk staff,

This is not what the original article i wrote. By editing, you have diminished the entire impact of the story. Please take this off the site because these are NOT my words. I don`t want to see this article on chowk. And kindly, in the future, do not change a story so much that it loses it`s impact.

Sobia

hellbound, it was not intentional..the chowk staff short-changed me..i did not write this...

on a lighter note, I know that very well and I would never suggest otherwise :)

Sobes:

…let me focus on the last part…this is from your post and i understand you would like the story to remain unchanged and appear like this:

She spent a few minutes on the roof, trying not to stare at him, trying to pretend to be happy and in a cheerful mood, oohing and aahing over the view which was mysteriously swimming before her eyes. She took one last look at him. He looked her way again. They both looked away. So, how is it going to be when you don’t know me anymore? It’s going to be heart clenching and painful. It’s going to be difficult to look at you, see recognition in your eyes but no effort to acknowledge the past. It’s going to be sad not to hear a greeting pass your lips, when I had become so used to the sound of your voice. But most of all, it’s going to be a relief, because once and for all, I have got closure, for now we are officially complete strangers.

…i would tend to agree with the changes made by the faceless editors…the story until this last paragraph is written in the third person…the editors changed the first person narration back to third person…

…we can debate the ‘pained and relieved’ vs. ‘strangers and official closure’ perhaps later?

lve,

t

That`s where i beg to differ, t. It`s not about first person/third person. I think you can flow easily from one to the other when u get involved in the story...and besides, what`s wrong with involving yourself in the story? Why not step in? Why remain removed and pretend you`re watching and not actually a part of the whole process?

Chowk staff usually edit for grammar mistakes, and sometimes big mistakes slip through despite that. Anyhow, if they wanted to make such huge changes, I would rather this article had not been printed. Even now, I would, as a protest, prefer it if it`s taken off.

I liked to original ending better too....It is like deleting the line, ``chalo ik baar phir say ajnabi bun jaeN hun dono`` from Sahir Ludhianvi`s famous poem, which was sung by Mahender Kapoor. Good story about age-old desire of being liked by a selected person from opposite gender. removing the backdrop of eating out in Lahore would have cut the story from the bound of time and place, making the feeling less painful and impersonal by readers. That is what really makes us. We are nothing without the background of time and space....

The theme is excellent, however, I liked the chowk edited version better. Still, however, I would appreciate if Chowk staff first asked the writer for her consent to the proposed ammendments. The feedback that writers receive for their own unadulterated effort is priceless.

temp:
kya baat hai yaar? changing of POV/vocie/persona is a literay device as old as literature itself. Some big names employ it quite a bit, though I can`t come up with any particular instances/names off the top my my little head. No doubt Samina will do the needful :)

Sobs... paRha nahiN hai abhi tak.. paRh ke meiN apna dO aanae dedouNga!

sobia...
i do not read front page coz i am not educated enough to understand the nuances....forced myself to read your original and the edited version and recollected a verse by some poet who said the same thing in two lines that took you over seven hundred...

Meray paas se voh guzre mera haal tukk na poocha
MaiN ye kaise maan jaaooN ke voh door ja ke roay

...and how do you know his eyes were not wet when he left with his family...appearances are mostly deceptive...and the poet spoke about such a person..voh jaa raha hai koi shab-e-ghum guzaar kay...

...vaise bhi the central point remained unchanged inspite of the changes....no big deal...next time send your stories to Harper`s Bazar...that would teach chowk wallas not to mess with you again...;)

Chowk staff, pls remove this article or reprint it in its original form.

Chowk reserves the right to make changes to submitted articles. Here, the article in its original form has been added above on author``s explicit request.

Chowk Staff

There is an urdu proverb for that: Doodh meiN maingniaN dalna.

I wish you do all the editing in consultation with authors off the record. Anyway aap jungle ke baadshah haiN chahe ande daiN ya bachchay daiN.

thank you.