Losing My Soulmate – 5

This memoir starts from  The Flight From Casablanca.  Thank you.

A wicked inmate had a book named al-Faraj (The Salvation). It told a story of a vizier in a royal court who was thrown in the prison on false charges.

His friend was afraid to help that innocent vizier so he opened Koran and landed on a verse that gave him the good news of his efforts’ fruitful results.

He was encouraged and fought with confidence in defense of that luck-struck vizier and his efforts indeed bore fruit and both friends benefited from those efforts.

Let me first tell you that Muslims do not understand the meaning of Salvation. They usually take it as “relief” and that book was no different. It tried to give hope to innocent prisoners, that’s all.

But that vizier’s story gave me an idea. Instead of the long way of asking God questions taught to us in schools, one could use Koran to ask God questions!

That was awesome.

I first asked God about myself. “It must be sinful for a criminal like me to ask God questions. God must be terribly angry with me,” I thought.

So I first asked God to judge me.

The verse I landed upon said “Those who are trustworthy and who keep their words.”

God had not judged me!

I was surprised. I expected some thunderous promises of eternal torment.

Now that God had talked contrary to my good brothers who had assured me my ordeal was a divine punishment of my fornication plans, I then decided to ask God THE real question.

We men do not love God. We love women.

So this was my real interest: I asked God why He had taken Monia from me.

The verse said God doesn’t take anything from the faithful except to give them something better.

I took that to mean that God was promising me a great girl and I called her Wada (Promise) because she was my Promised Girl.

I then asked God about my deportation prospects because the inmates told me foreign prisoners were also deported back to their countries of origin unless their Saudi sponsor provided them with a special arrangement.

The verse told me my evil boss was not going to help me.

I used to fear Pakistan because it’s a poor country full of cunning people. I was going to die of hunger.

The next day was a Tuesday, when the inmates were released into a sunlit yard.

I decided to grab that chance and use the bedsheets to hang myself from the fan as one inmate had also done some time before my arrival.

That night, the angel of God visited me and I saw a vision.

I saw the silhouette of Jesus Christ sitting in the lotus position like Buddha and there was the halo of holiness behind His head, descending from heavens.

As He touched the ground, a thunderous voice said “Jesus Christ was a great messenger of God”.

I woke up with a scream because the voice of God had freaked me out.

I don’t like scary dreams.

I looked around but thankfully, no one had awoke because of my shout. I then looked at the clock. It was 6am sharp.

A voice said in my heart “Remember that you were born on the 6th”. I thought it meant I was born for this purpose because it was also January 6th, 1998.

After a while, it added “You have been saved through Camp al-Ruwais”. I thought He meant from my wicked brothers.

After another while He said “Jesus Christ was actually crucified and died on that Good Friday”. The schools taught us He had run to the heavens and Judas Iscariot was crucified in His stead.

I felt sorry for Jesus and decided to postpone my suicide plans because the sad news of Jesus’ Crucifixion had paradoxically encouraged me and made me feel good.

The Voice came to me again on next Friday and said “God wants something from you. Look in the Koran.”

I went to the prayer place and picked a Koran and looked. The verse said “And put your hand in your side, it will come out white without leprosy — another sign. Go to Pharaoh as he had crossed his limits.”

I thought it meant God wanted me to fight the Wahabis and the terrorists.

In 1996, I was driving my car, going back home from work when I was told about a truck full of explosives, headed into Riyadh.

I immediately jumped on the truck and forced it outside the city.

After one exact week of that “fantasy”, I heard the news of al-Khobar attack by al-Qaeda in which 19 American servicemen were killed.

The news caster said the truck had failed to reach its planned destination, thereby, saving hundreds of lives.

That was weird.

My fantasy had come true!

Instead of 4 months, I was released after 36 days and one serving of 70 lashes due to onset of Eid.

Continues…

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Losing My Soulmate – 5

My Strange Divorce – 3

This memoir starts from  My Cinderella.  Thank you.

“I’m pennyless. How can I come?” I asked Abid.

“Take a rikshaw and I’ll pay him Rs150” was his answer.

I couldn’t believe this sudden change of heart.

I took a rickshaw.

Then I received a text from my wife asking me how was my birthday gift (it was February 6th) so Hamid had been working hard against me and she was mocking my birthday.

I told her I was riding a rikshaw like a king, going back to Abid’s on his invitation, at his cost.

She immediately tried to find me a place in an Islamic religious seminary in that neighborhood but she failed.

She wanted me to become a pious Muslim so that her accusations and her plans would materialize but my God is a jealous Lord and she fell prey to her own plans.

When I arrived back at Abid’s, I found him arguing with his wife for calling him while he was driving his car.

She said she had no way to know where he was and if he was driving, he shouldn’t have picked the phone or used hands-free but Abid was terrified by her call and he picked up the phone, putting his life in danger and he behaved like a fool.

He wanted his poor wife to take responsibility of his folly and apologize but his wife won’t apologize for something wrong Abid did.

Let me tell you what happened.

When Abid evicted me out of his house in 2001, he had resigned from NRL to escape charges of corruption and lost face in the neighborhood where he used to enjoy good reputation.

Only one neighbor was left who respected him. That neighbor’s wife, Atia, knew of my arrival back in great misery on February 2, 2014.

She called Shehnaz and asked her about my whereabouts. When Shehnaz told her about Abid’s decision to evict me again, she rebuked them very harshly for their evil.

Shehnaz didn’t want Abid to lose their last friendly neighbor so she called Abid immediately to avert losing their only friendly neighbor.

Abid decided to ignore that call as he was on the road.

God then sent Michael (God’s Power), His mighty angel, to kill Abid for his cruelty.

A great fear fell upon Abid and he immediately picked up the phone and did exactly as Michael told him to do.

But now he wanted his wife to take the blame and apologize on God’s behalf.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t, could she?

This frustrated Abid because he had already told everyone about his stupid act of answering a phone while on the road and almost getting himself killed.

It’s interesting to see the devils fall in their own traps and then getting frustrated, isn’t it?

Now it was very tempting for Abid to place the blame of his corruption in NRL on me. Hamid was keeping close contact with him to help him out.

Their plan was perfect.

In lieu of providing me with shelter, I’d take the blame of Abid’s corruption and subsequent misfortunes.

He first blamed my joblessness for my wife’s crimes. Out of 12 years of marriage, I had worked for only a year.

Since my advent to Pakistan 16 years ago, I had only worked for some 16 months.

He advised me to find a job because my wife “had not committed a crime by withholding food for 30 days or stealing my legal documents & certificates but had just tried to discipline me”, he argued.

That was very evil but I let him lay his traps on me and see who gets trapped.

He asked me to immediately start a job search. He told me jobs were to be found in Dawn Classified.

He then called my wife and invited her to his house next day and she promised to think it over.

I know my cousins. When they “promise to consider”, they mean “we’re not interested”. It’s a very gentle way but it really pisses people off.

So Abid had an important funeral to attend but waited whole Sunday for my wife to show up.

She didn’t show up.

This pissed him off.

It’s interesting to see the devils gettin their “perfect” plans frustrated.

He felt great humiliation because she showed no respect of him.

I was anticipating that humiliation but I wasn’t in a position to illuminate him of the ways of my wife because I had already been accused of not understanding anything. He assured me of her arrival so it was no use arguing with him.

Now that his accusations had failed, I started my job search.

I found a lucrative job as head of a marketing team that was a night shift job.

Since Karachi was weathering a gang war with frequent public transport shut downs, the employer suggested borrowing my brother’s car that lied idle during the night.

Abid fell prey to his own craftiness. He had two cars but they were too new and expensive.

He fell prey to his own craftiness.

Continues  here.

My Strange Divorce – 3

My Promised Girl – Part I

In case you have not done already, kindly read the 2-part post My Cinderella first. Thanks.

If you tell the world that you broke glass using a stone because you had the power of the Holy Spirit, then how will they know that you’re telling the truth?

They’ll not disbelieve because they’re evil but they’ll not believe simply because anyone can break glass using a stone.

There’s nothing strange about that. There’s no need to have Godly powers to do usual stuff, is there?

But if you can break a solid rock using a fragile glass, then people will be shocked and believe because only God can do such a thing.

Now I was a Muslim and had little knowledge of God when God promised me a girl when I went to jail in late 1997.

I didn’t know God was going to first make it impossible for me to marry her so that when I’ll marry her, regardless, people will know my God is a Lord.

Hence, when God’s angel came to me in December 2000, asking me to visit my elder uncle, Irshad, in Rawalpindi because there was a good chance that he was going to help me marry a Pashtu-like girl, He had first made it impossible.

Uncle’s eldest daughter, Safia, hated evil, patriarchal Pakistan and was in a hurry to immigrate to some advanced country who show more respect of women.

She was in a hurry and she was desperate.

She made several dangerous attempts, risking herself but failed.

She even attempted suicide but was rescued.

On one beautiful day, she told her father that he needed a second honey-moon and he liked her idea and went shopping with his wife!

She then went upstairs, scaled the 6-feet wall and jumped some 12 feet below on neighbor’s roof.

Her parents had locked the front door from outside and had asked all her 4 siblings to keep watch over her lest she makes another attempt at suicide.

But she knew a loophole and had carefully planned to manipulate it to run away to an immigration agent or a human trafficker — we don’t know.

She sustained a fracture in her right ankle but that was hardly a problem.

But the damn door… the neighbor’s door of the stairs was locked.

It was never locked but someone really stupid had locked it on that day.

She double checked the damn door in total disbelief.

It was not stuck, it was locked.

With fractured ankle, she didn’t quite feel in mood to jump another 12 feet to the street.

After careful assessment of the situation, she gave up and knocked on the damn door.

The neighbors were shocked to meet a guest from skies but they knew enough of her stories.

They gave her some first aid while discreetly calling her father’s cellular.

Hence, at my arrival, Safia, her father’s firstborn had taken her father’s “anxiety & worries” to a whole new level.

Understandably, he received the news of my arrival with a great sigh of relief.

He had known me from childhood as an extremely obedient nephew.

Nothing could go wrong anymore. I was God-sent, he was sure.

That’s why he aggressively wanted me to marry Safia.

But his wife and his second daughter, Saima, disagreed.

Man, will we ever understand women?

God was with women, not men, as usual.

That’s what the Terminator T-800 learned the hard way. But learn he did.

But even if you obey God, it’s still impossible to understand His ways.

Therefore, on the third day of my arrival, I had an evil dream.

I saw my stern boss, Sheridah, had locked me in a room with two cute boys. He wanted me to Sodomize them.

I was unable to control myself and almost kissed one of them when I remembered God and asked Him for help and He woke me up.

Phew, that was some nightmare!

I thanked God for saving me from morally-depraved dream but I still had ejaculated out of divine pornography & masturbation.

It was damn cold in Rawalpindi for me and I was wearing dark pajamas so I went back to sleep and changed in the morning.

My wife told me after marriage how everyone had known my little secret that night!

Damn, it’s hard to keep secrets in Pakistan and I’m a careless guy who doesn’t feel ashamed.

My uncle decided to put that weakpoint to good use.

He went to Karachi while his wife offered me a few nights with the other two damsels in nearby Murree — something very unusual in conservative Pakistan.

Since I and Saima were trying to develop our love story, this f*ck trip was our nightmare come true!

This post continues here. . Thanks.

My Promised Girl – Part I

My Cinderella – 1/2

In late December, 2000, God sent an angel who told me “If you agree to visit Rawalpindi, then there’s a good chance that Uncle Irshad will help you marry a Pashtu-like girl.”

My ex-father knows that I got a taste for fair girls of mountainside.

My younger maternal uncle, Izhar, had suggested to me visiting his older brother with his children on the occasion of holy Eid Festival but I knew he was trying to marry me to his daughter, Khadija, 16, born in USA to get funding for his future plans to immigrate to USA.

My unintelligible ex-father had rejected his lucrative business deal.

When I went to jail on December 6, 1997, He had given me a tool to ask Him questions. I first used that tool to ask what He thought of me. He said “You’re a trustworthy guy who keeps his words.”

Now that He had not condemned me for my crime, I next asked Him THE question. “Why did You take my girl from me?”

To be honest, men don’t love God. We love women!

He said “We don’t take anything except to replace it with something better”. He promised me a Magnificent Girl.

I called her Wada (promise) because she was my promised girl.

Since I had promised my maternal Aunt Qudsia to take her on a tour of Islamabad and Murree, I asked her to join us but that freaked Uncle Izhar and he didn’t send his daughter with me.

He could have cared for his younger sister but he used to despise her for being a widow & poor.

At Station Rawalpindi, I found Uncle Irshad waiting for me with his youngest daughter, Memona.

But he never introduce us to each other.

After I had shower and some rest, he introduced his oldest daughter, Safia, to me.

Even a fool like me could understand he was offering to marry Safia to me.

Well, Safia looked good enough to me but she was not particularly interested in me.

I wicked used my tool to ask my ex-father about marrying her.

He said “She’s the best sister but she’s got a problem.”

What an ambiguous answer!

Didn’t I tell you my ex-father was unintelligible?

Saima, the middle daughter, had been following me everywhere without saying a word, confusing me.

I asked God “And what about Saima? Why does she keep following me?”

He shocked me when He said “Yes, marry her. She is The Promised Girl.”

But what about me? I thought she was a scary girl who beat children??

On the eve of Eid, we all went for shopping. I bought Eid Greeting cards for everyone but I got stuck when I found a “Greetings, Aunt” card.

I looked around and found scary, silent Saima right behind me.

I asked her whether to buy an Aunt-Greeting card or a Happy Eid card for our aunt.

She picked a card, handed it to me and ran away. Strange girl!

I looked at the card.

It said “I Love You”!

But I was wise enough not to trust a child-beating girl. It could have been a trap.

I bought that card and a simple “Eid Greeting” card for my aunt.

Better safe than sorry!

The women & girls were buying bangles. I stepped aside lest a woman bumps into me in that narrow, crowded alley and serves me a free, undeserved slap.

I was standing beside a stall in which I saw a beautiful ring and my ex-father asked me to buy it.

It was a cheap, Rs10 thing.

I cursed the shopkeeper in my heart and slipped that cheap thing in my pocket.

I knew the child-beating Saima wasn’t going to accept that ring.

When I returned home, I put that dangerously cheap ring on the refrigerator. Saima used to cook all meals so she was going to see it and pick it up — if she accepted it.

She didn’t pick it up.

Aunt Qudsia did.

She tried it on all her fingers but it fit none. She gave it to my Uncle’s wife but it fit none of her fingers, either.

Nusrat, landlord’s daughter was there. She also tried but failed. That intrigued her.

She was witty and realized it was a special ring.

She took it upstairs and showed it to her visiting sister, Nuzhat. It was too small for her fingers so she gave it to her 13-year old daughter but it didn’t fit any of her fingers, either.

This story continues .here.. Thanks.

My Cinderella – 1/2