Short Story - Dream Gurl

Nearly four years had drifted by since our graduation, and in that time, our paths had never crossed. One day, a mysterious call broke the silence, and its number was unknown to me. She was a girl with a voice that was familiar to me. Without wasting a moment, she said, “Hello, Akbar, you didn’t change your phone number yet. Thank God.” I cleared my throat and asked, “Do I know you?”. Her laughter intensified while she said, “I don’t know if you still remember me, but I still commemorate you. Leave all this aside, I am getting married next week.” She took a pause, saying this, and I didn’t say anything either. Her voice lowered when she came up with the invitation of her wedding. She spoke, her voice was soft and humble, like a gentle whisper in the wind, “It would bring me profound joy if you attend my wedding. Without you, my wedding would not be less than a funeral….” She cut off the line with a deep sigh which was clearly audible.

I called back instantly as she hung up the phone. I tried three or four times, but the line was busy elsewhere. First, I took it as a prank, and then I made a great effort to recall her voice, but I couldn’t make it. Inside my head, the inner monologue prolonged, attempting to figure out the voice relating to a specific person from my university time, but all efforts went in vain. After some time, a WhatsApp notification popped up, and it was the same number. I opened the chat where the texts were separately enlisted informally, “20 April”, “Sunday”, “Gilgit Astore”, and “Sana”. I stood up from the couch, and a series of past moments filmed in front of my eyes as if I were watching a movie through VR goggles. I mumbled repeatedly her name, ‘Sana….’

I tried to convince myself that it couldn't possibly be Sana on the other end. After all, I had never mustered the courage to speak my heart to her, nor had our paths ever truly crossed. This fleeting conversation might well be our first and final exchange. Meanwhile, memories flooded back of how I once trailed her footsteps across the campus, captivated by an overwhelming affection. She still remained my first and only love; I never loved anyone after her. I used to sneak a peek when she chattered within her clique. No, she wasn't Sana. Why would she beckon me to her wedding? What place do I hold in her story, especially when she never knew my name in our university days? But the voice and the laughter hinted at her being Sana. Perhaps a friend had whispered my name to her, but why did she invite me to her wedding, and where did she find my number?

In this tug-of-war between assurance and doubt, I responded to her message, “Thank you so much for your warm invitation; however, I cannot attend the wedding due to some office work, but can you please tell me who shared my number with you?” The message was delivered to her, the double ticks appeared, and after a while, the blue ticks appeared beneath the text. For a brief moment, there was nothing on the top corner of WhatsApp, which implied that she ignored the message, but then she started recording a voice message. My heartbeats shot up while she was recording something, my eyes were stuck on the sign of recording, and with two tingling sounds, her voice and a picture appeared in the chat. I don’t remember the exact words, but she told me that one of my close classmates, Sahar, who used to come to university in the same van with Sana, conveyed my feelings and shared my contact details with her. Her cracking voice expressed more than an utterance when she added, “From that day to this I waited for you, you will text me, but you…..” The image attached to the voice was the picture of her hennaed hands, scribbled my name that was hardly recognizable. Another message thundered into my notifications: "I wish you'd be my escape from this wedding. Please, come and whisk me away from this abyss.” Something heavier possessed my body that I couldn’t budge an inch, I felt drowned, my heart skipped a beat, and the whispers of my breath seemed to echo her name - every single breath.

Is it a coincidence or is it destined by God? I was really happy about whatever it was, but afraid as well. I really wanted someone to console me, guide me, and tell me to go and embrace my lost love. Meanwhile, Masood and Naseem, my university chums, called me on our WhatsApp group to fill me in about the wedding of Zahoor, one of our best friends from university, to which we were invited. This was the sign that I needed from the universe. Likewise, Sana, Zahoor were also from Astore. For me, this was an interval of my life where I was embarking on a voyage of love.

The next day, I took out my Black Vigo and set off for Gilgit with the company of Masood and Naseem. I was filled with mixed emotions of anxiety and excitement. When they noticed my silence and distant gaze, they repeatedly asked what was wrong. I couldn’t hide it and told them everything when they insisted on knowing what had happened to me. At first, they didn’t believe me and mocked me for almost an hour, but they became serious when I gave their jokes the cold shoulder. After a thorough examination of all this matter, they arrived at the conclusion that it would be prudent for me to whisk away Sana. They offered a hand in Sana’s elopement with me. In that moment, Masood’s mood swung, and he began naming heroes who procured their love under deadly circumstances. On the other side, Naseem was reciting poems in Sindhi and translating them into Urdu; the lines were all about the effort and courage a lover should display in love. Masood and Naseem’s chivalrous words were making me audacious. Now I was certain and bold enough to elope with Sana. We made a robust roadmap and gave it a name, “Operation Wedding Escape”.

We reached Astor on the next day, the 19th of April. Zahoor welcomed us at the gateway of his house. My eyes caught a glance of the marriage plaque on the side of the gate where the marriage title was carved: “Zahoor weds Sana”. The earth seemed to crumble beneath my feet when I beheld this sight. I took clumsy steps while getting inside. I showed the marriage plaque to Masood and Naseem, and we stared at each other in amazement. Zahoor led us into a room inside and went outside to receive other guests himself. We remained silent for a moment, and then Masood, gazing at the floor, broke the silence, “We cannot betray our friend. We should either tell him everything or attend the wedding and return to Karachi afterward.” Smirking at Masood, Naseem cleared his throat and unfurled a duet of poetic lines: “Indeed, friendship is a profound bond, but in the face of love, it pales into insignificance.” I wanted to shout loud intensely, but I couldn't. I looked intently into Naseem's eyes while Masood's eyes were fixed on the floor, and we spoke nothing more.

That night, I didn't sleep even for a moment; my eyes were glued to the ceiling of the room without blinking. I traveled through many universes that night. The next day was the wedding day. Standing on the elevated viewpoint of the mezzanine, my eyes were desperately looking for Sana to appear. My heart raced as I caught sight of her, a vision being carried by the girls toward the sacred embrace of the wedding canopy. My eyes were stuck on the bride-girl who was taking steps toward the wedding stage, wearing a charming golden gown. I wanted this fairy to have a momentary glance at me. In the silence, I closed my eyes and softly breathed her name, holding onto the belief that somehow, she could hear the whispers of my heart. As the haunting melody of Christina Perri's 'A Thousand Years' filled the room, the poignant lyrics echoed through the air: 'Heart beats fast, colors, and promises. How to be brave? How can I love when I am afraid to fall?' An atmosphere of introspection and emotion enveloped the scene. She lifted her head towards the gallery where I stood and met my gaze. Taking a deep breath, I let out a sigh. I lost my balance and fell from the mezzanine. Masood's cry pierced the air as I tumbled from the mezzanine.

I blinked awake to find Masood by my side, playing 'A Thousand Years' by Perri, his voice rising in a shout and a shriek, urging me to rise for the day ahead at the university. I got up, had my breakfast, got ready for university, and headed to the university in Masood's 70. I seized his phone, plugged in the earbuds, and let the notes of 'Night Changes' sung by Zayn Malik fill the air with melancholy. In silence, Masood and I reached the university. Soon after, the university's van pulled up, and like a fleeting dream, Sana emerged, disappearing into her classroom. I stole a brief glance, and then our mundane lecture began.

 

About the Writer

From Chitral, Pakistan, Aziz Karim invests deeply as a student of English literature and linguistics. He is passionate about history, classic literature, loves tradition, and is committed to learning to make a positive impact.

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