The Giant Screen: Love in a Glimpse

The Giant Screen: Love in a Glimpse

Ace cameraman for PTV Mohammad Gulbadan changed the destiny of two human beings when he tantalisingly showed a glimpse of the ladies' stand during the telecast of the third One-Day International Match between India and Pakistan at exactly 3:33 p.m. on 19th March 2004.

I know that sounds a bit weird, but to understand how his action set into motion a chain of events, I must take you to the scene of action at the Arbab Niaz stadium in Peshawar.

But first, let me give you a little background about my city. Peshawar ('Pe-kha-war' in Pushto) is called the "city of the Story Tellers". It has a rich cultural past. Situated at the gateway to the famous Khyber Pass in the North-West Frontier Province(NWFP) of Pakistan, it has been the melting pot of civilizations. The Mongol invaders, the Chinese pilgrims and the Tajik traders have all come, stayed and then gone on their ways. It is the land where Buddhism was nurtured, where Sikhs once ruled and the British Raj battled the brave Pathani tribes. Peshawar has the best climate in all of Pakistan, and the big Pathans of Peshawar with their robust physique prove this point! With a population of a quarter of a million, Peshawar is a bustling town, with its famous food items being "green tea" and the "Chappli Kabab", the last being a beef and Naan delicacy enjoyed by non-vegetarians from all over the world.

Well then, the post-lunch play was on, when Mohammad Gulbadan, in a moment of ennui, turned the camera on to the ladies' section. His lens focussed on a young woman, who was talking animatedly to her companion, another woman. The woman was beautiful, and the camera (and the cameraman) fell in love with her image instantly. She had long, flowing orange red hair. She wore a Pathani suit, much like the other women around her, and a hijaab or veil that had fallen away from her head and face and lay on her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled mischievously while her lips moved untiringly, saying Allah knows what, to the interested woman next to her. Her complexion was lighter than that of roasted almonds, while her doe-like hazel brown eyes moved with the conversation. Every few seconds, her lips parted to sound the O's, and there one saw a perfect set of feminine, crystal-white teeth.

Now, as was his wont, Mohammad Gulbadan transmitted the lovely image on to the Giant Screen on the west side of the stadium. People saw the woman, and most looked away. There were some, whose eyes lingered on the woman's image for a while before moving on. There was one man whose heart lurched in his rib-cage. He gasped with audible surprise and got up in his seat with his hands around his chest. "Ooohh ... !" he uttered and sat down back in his seat.

This man, as you might have guessed, was yours truly, Mohammed Iftekhar. The image of that woman was burning a hole in my heart as I looked around frantically to see if I could get up, leave my seat and try to reach the Ladies' enclosure successfully. You must realise that in Peshawar, as in other traditional cities and villages of Islamic Pakistan, men and women are not allowed to intermingle as they are in other parts of this world. It would require considerable ingenuity and bravado to do what an average man won't contemplate doing openly. I had to gain access to the woman I had viewed on the Giant screen. I just had to see her in the flesh. Right then.

I got up from my seat as the action on the pitch became very exciting in the last hour of this Limited Overs game in which the Indians were clearly going to emerge victorious. The moment I stood up, an angry bearded Pathani who was sitting just behind me nudged my leg and when I looked at him, said, "What are you up to, Oye pathan? Sit down, I can't see anything as long as you remain standing!"

I mumbled an apology and he seemed satisfied for his attention had gone back to the game. I slipped out of my enclosure and made my way to the Ladies' Stand which was located on the westward side of the stadium -- a foolish escapade, considering that the guards would anyway block me from entering there! And yet, my heart was on fire, and I raced past the North stand and the Club Room and arrived panting outside the entrance to the Ladies' stand.

"Excuse me, mohtarama," I said to the female guard who stood menacingly at the entrance. She was almost 5'10" - if not an inch more - as she turned her head in my direction with a scowl on her face.

"Yes?" she mouthed, and to me, it sounded as though she were Evil Incarnate, out to vanquish all the worlds' lovers together to Hell and Beyond.

"I ... er ... may I go into the Ladies' ..." I began with a hesitant, almost sheepish voice.

"Of course not!" Her eyebrows seemed to come together of their own volition as she replied to me.

"Er ... let me explain ..." I continued as if she hadn't interrupted me at all. I knew the trick was to sound confident. Although I was feeling far from it, I decided to seize the cow by her horns as it were.

She remained defiant, but I think my humble face (or the way I had arranged my face to look humble) must have pricked her conscience, for she moved her head up and down and allowed me to speak.

"My sister just called me; she is inside there, mohtarama ..." I began, and went on with my smooth lie, "and she asked me to come and take her away as she was not feeling well." I had whipped out my cellular phone and was showing its screen to her as if to say, If you don't believe me, check out my "Received Calls!"

She looked at my cell phone and back at me. I was now trying to look my worried best. My hands were fidgeting, sweat was trickling down my brows and I had managed, with great effort, to put some eight to ten new horizontal furrows on my forehead. It must have been a convincing act, for she said, "Okay, go in and just show her to me and bring her out immediately."

I couldn't believe my ears. I ran past her and looked up and down the aisles till I located the diva I had just seen on the giant screen. Now, I had to be a little more careful.

I went past many rows till I was next to the two women. I cleared my throat and raised my hand in a "Salaam-wa-Alekum". The women around the pair that held my attention had sensed the presence of a male among them, and while some of them got themselves busy hiding their modesty (and their faces too), others looked flustered and annoyed by my "arrogance". Gradually, though, I could see that their consternation was giving way to abject curiosity as they started watching the drama unfolding before their eyes. I had no time to waste.

I began, "Er, begum sahiba, I have brought a very urgent message from your father ..."

The woman I desired looked quizzically at me and then at her companion. She asked me what the message was. I made a straight face and looked down.

"He told me to tell you that he is ... er ... in a bad shape, and has asked me to fetch you immediately."

She seemed astonished to receive this bit of news and the import of the last part of my sentence.

"Who are you?" she asked me.

"I ... why, I am no one to him or to ... er ... you. He was involved in an accident just 15 minutes ago on the _____ road, and just before he was taken by ambulance to the General Hospital, he asked me, a by-stander, to do a favour to him. He brought out a picture of you from his waist-coat pocket, told me I would find you here, and asked me to come here and fetch you to the hospital. I don't even know your name, er, begum ...?"

Her features softened as she digested the information I had fed her. Her anger was replaced by anxiety.

"I am Noorjehan," she said, and added, "I am sorry I shouted at you. Please let us go ..." She got up, said something to her companion, who offered to go with her, and then said to her, "No, it's all right. I'll call you as soon as I have all the details." Her friend relented and wished her good luck.

Noorjehan straightened her hijaab, covered her hair, and asked me to lead her out of the stadium. However, and mind you, I am not sure of this as the eye can play tricks on you in the heat, I could have sworn I saw her blink her left eye and smile at her friend just as she got up and joined me. How could that be? It must have been my over-worked imagination, I thought to myself, as I disregarded the thought and proceeded to lead her out of the stadium.

What was I going to do? The lies I had told her were such bad ones, I had no idea how I was going to explain them away to her. I walked a few steps ahead of her. She had put on a sandalwood perfume, and the heady aroma, coupled with the swish of her clothes and the gentle tinkle of her payal, had mesmerised me for the time being as I dazedly walked past the women, muttered my thanks to the lady-police and led Noorjehan out of the stadium. It was now 3.58 p.m.

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Having just exitted the stadium, I started talking to her as she continued to walk a few steps behind me.

"You understand, begum ... er ... Noorjehan ... I had no choice but to come and get you ..." I said, and realised that she was no longer behind me: I mean, I could not hear the sound of her anklets anymore. I turned around and saw, to my surprise, that she had stopped under a shop's roof and was talking into her cellular phone. Her face was animated; she was gesturing wildly, punctuating her talk with stabs at the air around her. I could not make out her mood. Was she laughing, or was that again my imagination? I called out to her. She heard me and her stance changed perceptibly, from that of a relaxed, easy-going young woman to a tense, nervous individual about to face a catastrophe. I was getting more and more confused. I waited for her to end the call and join me. However, she immediately pressed some more numbers on the mobile handset and taking the phone back to the ear, she began a new conversation.

I shrugged my shoulders and walked up to her.

"What do you think you are doing?" I asked her with as much sternness as I could muster in my otherwise averagely bold voice.

"Oh ... I am just calling my relatives and asking them to come to the General Hospital ... just a second ..."

I clammed up with embarrassment. How stupid of me to think anything else could be the matter! I beat myself on my forehead and waited patiently for her to finish her call.

Presently, she joined me as I hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take us to the General Hospital. As the taxi took a turn, Noorjehan fell on to me, her body brushing against mine as she righted herself.

"I ... I am sorry," she muttered as she broke out into a smile that took my breath away.

"I ... it's okay," I mumbled, as I tried to come to grips with the confusion in my mind. I decided to ask her.

"I ... I mean I don't understand ... why are you smiling?"

"We have arrived, Bhaijaan!" said the taxi driver as he turned off the ignition and stretched out his hand to turn off the meter.

I looked out of the window and saw the imposing hospital edifice before me. The fear of being caught red-handed cut my heart into two as I turned the door handle, opened the door and stepped out.

Imagine my utter horror at being immediately surrounded by a group of young boys and girls who were clearly from India. I know because they all were Hindus, with tilaks on their foreheads; some of the girls were in sarees, and a few of the boys wore a dhoti, a trademark clothing of Hindu Indians. They were all looking at me and laughing.

Noorjehan stepped out of the cab and walked up to her stadium companion, who now stood just next to my heart-throb. She laughed openly at me and gesturing me with her hand, led me into the centre of the group.

"What ... ? Who are these? ... What ... I mean what's happening?" I sputtered out the words.

Noorjehan said, "Okay, now see here: My name is NOT Noorjehan, but Aparna. I am Aparna Deshmukh from Mumbai, India, and this here is my friend Srilata, and these," she pointed to the rest of the motley group and added, "are my companions from India!"

"What?" I could hardly believe my ears. If these were all Indians, what about the drama that I had witnessed at the match?

"I know what you are thinking, whatever your name is, Mister!" she said, thus pre-empting me. She came closer to me and said, "I decided to turn the tables on you and played along with you, but at the same time I took Srilata into confidence and asked her to support my charade! And she readily agreed. So here we are, and ... WE'VE HAD A LOT OF FUN AT YOUR EXPENSE, SIR, and now I seek forgivance."

Finally, I realised what had happened. I broke out into a laugh that is still echoing in my mind. The Indians had really duped me the whole way!

Suddenly, I looked at Noorjehan, alias Aparna. She was still smiling at me. Now she beckoned me to her. She offered her outstretched hand for me to shake it with my own. I grasped it and shook it too. A friendship was born at that instant.

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