The unknown story of Mehboob
CHAPTER1: PING PONG
Mehboob 18 years old under nourished and over shaved comes out of the bathroom. His organ seems dead after the vigorous masturbation it has received. Mehboob undermining his own constant struggle with sleeping pills and mineral water feels nothing and plows ahead getting ready for a day in the rat infested hell hole known only as the university. “Its time to boogie”, Mehboob thinks as he sits in his car and masturbates yet again spurting his white liquid on the dashboard and thinking of women lost and dreams shattered in the black hole of despair.
As Mehboob is 5 minutes away from the place only known as the university some things happened. Now why they happened nobody really knows but they did, changing how Mehboob looked at life and the way he wore his shoes.
Maryam sits in the cafeteria of the place known only as the university. Her eyes are swollen from all night booze and a constant crying session. She is not crying over Mehboob no that’s not the case. Her long lost boyfriend Ahmed Sarfaraaz, three time ping-pong champion and all round stud dumped her last night claiming she has become too thin for his sumptuous pushto appetite and that she was a money grabbling slut… She sips her tea and takes out a cigarette, the shitty slim ones called pine slims. She lights one up and takes a long drag waiting for somebody to show up in this god-forsaken place known only as the university. “I’ll get over this I’ll fuckin get over” this, she repeats to herself between puffing and sipping.
Enter Mehboob; he waves at Maryam through the cafeteria door. She doesn’t notice him and continues puffing on her slim cigarette, a weird pushto song is playing in the background and it reminds her of all the good times with Ahmed Sarfaraaz. She starts sobbing again. Mehboob gently puts his books on the table and sits near Maryam. “What’s the matter Maryam?” he asks out of genuine interest. “Oh! Mehboob…” Maryam wipes her face, smudging it with mascara. Mehboob pulls his chair a little closer and puts his hand on her back, he peeks and finds that she is wearing a black bra, now for general knowledge’s sake a reminder about black brassieres. Boys, sorry Men think black brassieres are extremely sexy. The question of course must be asked by female readers (if any) that what in holy Jesus’ name is the problem with Men concerning black brassieres, well to be honest it does not really concern the story, in plain English this question at this moment at this precise second does not matter, in plainer English its irrelevant. Besides the above explanation Maryam had nothing else from the cleaners yet so fuck off and lets get back to the narrative. Mehboob feels something moving in his pants, he feels extremely hot and knowing something is better than knowing shit, He quickly recalls page-447 chapter 4 entitled “what to do when in a comprising position and other stories” contemplates; wracks his cerebrum at extremely high speeds 3.5 milliseconds to be exact and quickly retrieves his hand to the current position. “Come on Maryam, tell me what’s wrong? You can tell me everything; I promise I wont tell anyone! Promise!” saying this Mehboob goes into a wild childlike fervor, he starts yapping his tongue out like a little puppy he knows Maryam likes this routine. “Stop you stupid idiot!” she cries out “Ill tell you everything stop acting like a fool!” Mehboob takes his seat and she tells him everything.
After the 3-hour marathon session Mehboob is exhausted. Maryam seems relaxed now after telling him about the only man in her life who is now gone. Mehboob eyes the cafeteria man and asks Maryam if she would like something, she smiles and says nothing. “Please bring us two cups of tea with sugar” Mehboob tells the man, and looks at Maryam with loving eyes and at that moment a twist of fate a calling from the heavens a plain coincidence, a connection is made, Maryam’s cell phone rings, she takes her bag and looks for it. The man brings them their tea. Mehboob takes a sip while she takes her mobile out and talks “Hello, yeah mom… Yeah we have a few classes left” she smiles at Mehboob and takes a sip of her tea and continues, “ Yeah send the car around 7:00 p.m uh… Ill check mom, I think I put that on the dressing table” her expression turns to horror. “ Ok mom see you soon goodbye” Mehboob does not like what he sees “what happened? What was your mother saying?” he asks, Maryam looks dazed and confused “Oh my god! I just told you about last night right about me and safoo having our last intimate uhum conversation ” Mehboob looks confused “ Yeah I thought you telling me that once was graphic enough, but what does that have to do with your mothers call?” Maryam takes her bag and drops all the contents on the table what ever she is searching for she obviously cant find. Mehboob looks at her with perplexion “What are you looking for? And what was your mother asking you” Maryam does not look up she is still searching for whatever she is looking for. “For god’s sake Maryam! Tell me what are you looking for?” Maryam looks up with fear in her eyes, “I left my gold necklace on Safoos bed!”
CHAPTER2: MEHBOOB’S CONVERSATION WITH THE PRINCIPAL
The receptionist is sitting in Mr.Sharif’s office. She talks on a mobile phone while he buttons up his pants and then attends to his hair with her pink brush that has flowers on it. ”That was good” he exclaims in a fatherly tone, the receptionist smiles and goes back to her conversation. Don’t get any strange ideas here because there aren’t any, he just came out of the toilet. What he actually was doing in that toilet is pure speculation and because the receptionist was not peeking as she usually does we really don’t know, will never know and perhaps are not meant to know.
Mr.Sharif is alone. He is listening to an old battered tape on the new stereo system he got installed in his office. Just then the intercom on his table comes alive and starts vomiting its ominous booming beep, which hurts the ear and saddens the heart. Mr.Sharif answers it; he puts it down, unzips his pant and calls the receptionist.
The receptionist comes out exhausted but content. Mr.Sharif is really getting good at making compositions using his pant zipper as a musical instrument. She helps him out with the lyrics to several of the compositions, which include some zappy numbers such as “No.1 Marriage Bureau” and the harmonically complex “Which way is Mehboob’s left breast today?” its hard work but they manage. She slowly reaches her desk humming one of the newer compositions and dials the extension to the cafeteria.
It’s been exactly five minutes. Mehboob is sitting in the reception hall. He has been told that the principal is waiting for him and will see him in 5 minutes. There is no one around, the receptionist is gazing at Mehboob, Mehboob is gazing at the receptionist. The atmosphere is dense and sticky. The receptionist clears the desk of any unnecessary material and they have a go at it. A go at what you may ask? Well considering somebody has a clean and lateral thinking mind around here, they have a go at some official documents Mehboob had to fill out which were required by her queen wackoness Rufqa Ijaz for some far out so called “intellectually” simulating field trip.
-Ali Sultan
Neha says:
Im sorry, the point that u were trying to make is…?
May 18th, 2006 at 02:44 pm
Baba says:
actually none:) I wrote this vignette, bunking english lit class who was run by the crazy rufqa Ijaz. Mariam and Mehboob are college people who a that time were like best buddies and when iam bored iam extremely cynical and therefore this pointless story:)
enjoy
May 18th, 2006 at 10:09 pm
hmm says:
the story is good…generated a strong interest…but u shud’ve completed it..otherwise it’s disappointing to read somethin with so much anticipation and then reachin nowhere….not even a hope of a “to be continued”..plz do complete it …
May 19th, 2006 at 03:49 pm