Trespassing Read Online Free PDF Page B

back to his seat just as the Fasten Your Seat Belt sign lit up. The water acquired from a pleasant stewardess for himself and Khurram spilled over them both. But as usual, his companion was delighted. His eyes danced, ‘Now we are having fun.’ Though water had fallen on her too, in the aisle seat Khurram’s mother stayed rolled up in a deep sleep.
    Khurram said, ‘You don’t talk very much. You are like my mother, but not my father. I got his tongue. And when he jabbered on, she did just that.’ He pointed to the blanketed bundle. Only a shriveled nose and closed eyelids poked out. He slapped his chubby, Levi’d thighs and laughed heartily. ‘Now I am insisting you tell me what is going on in your brilliant mind. I know you are like my brother in Amreeka. Always thinking. Never enjoying life. One day you will be so successful, and by the grace of Allah, support your jolly younger brother!’
    Daanish laughed. ‘I have no brothers.’
    ‘Ah! That is first thing you are telling me.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It is taking fourteen hours.’
    ‘I’m glad I’m not the only one keeping meticulous track of the time.’
    Khurram rubbed his hands. ‘No brothers? Your poor parents. Sisters?’
    ‘No. Only cousins. And too many.’
    He swiveled around to better face Daanish, and his stomach torqued under the seatbelt. ‘How can you say that? There can never be too many.’
    Daanish didn’t have the heart to tell him that as of three days ago, he didn’t even have a father.
    The ride was markedly smoother now, and the seatbelt sign switched off. Khurram returned to Nintendo. After a while he said, ‘We’ll be in Lahore soon. Then Karachi, at last. Who is to picking you up?’
    My father, thought Daanish, his absence hitting him.
    They touched Karachi four hours later.
    ‘We’re here!’ Khurram unfastened his seatbelt. There was a bustle of activity: bangles ringing, babies screaming, the overhead storage compartments snapping open and banging shut, briefcases and shopping bags bludgeoning bottoms. Passengers were preparing to dismount before the plane had even halted. The withered voice of a stewardess asked them not to, but then she and the crackling radio together gave up.
    Finally the door opened and Daanish followed the others down to the runway. The sky was a light gray haze and the leaden heat immediately stifling. Not a star shone through. He adjusted his watch to local time: 3.30 a.m.
    ‘The car is waiting,’ said Khurram, when they’d made it through the tangle of immigration, baggage and customs.
    ‘Which car? I haven’t seen my family yet.’
    ‘Oh ho, don’t you remember? You are the forgetful type! How did you manage alone in Amreeka for three years?’
    ‘Khurram, it’s been great, but I should stay where my chacha can see me.’
    ‘You really don’t remember calling from my mobile when we landed in Lahore? Are you sick?’ They were wheeling two carts each, though only one suitcase was Daanish’s.
    Daanish frowned, ‘Remember what?’
    ‘Arre
paagal,’
Khurram’s cart tipped. He wrestled with a suitcase bursting at the seams. The lights were too dim to know if anything was lost, so he pawed around the gravel. ‘I told you your house is so close to mine, and since we have a driver, what is the point of disturbing your poor chacha? The flight is delaying already. We called him, and even talking to your mother. Everyone finally agreed. Nobody likes driving alone in the middle of the night these days.
Kooch to yaad ho ga?’
Khurram’s old mother zipped ahead with purpose. All those leg curls on the plane seemed to have rejuvenated her thoroughly.
    Daanish was speechless. He had absolutely no recollection of the phone call. He wanted to know if he’d spoken to Anu or if Khurram had, and how she’d sounded. But he couldn’t shock Khurram any further. He followed him, feeling suddenly that
he
was the bumbling child and Khurram the adult.
    The parking lot was strewn with men idly