For them, the dog-eat-dog world idiom seems like an insult to the fittest survivor and overly Darwenian gali ka kutta, who first munches over the uncovered gutter and then snatches sooki hadiyaanfrom the hands of half-naked children, whilst they play post-dinner kancha-kancha in the corner. And later barks them off.
“Jis thaali mein khaaya, ussi mein chaid kiya”
Spending years around these hedonistic dicks, I have come to realize how adept they’ve become in the arduous art of constant baatein chodna about their seemingly puritan and righteous ethos. While they’re smooth like that, it makes me wonder if actuality really matters. But lets discuss what matters and what doesnt later. Right now whats important is how they all exhibit chutyapa brilliantly, in their own, exclusive ways.
Of them, S**** is truly a despicable and abhorrent little creature. Well, to be honest he isnt really that little. He’s 6’2 but at the same time pretty inept and hopeless lund. Although I know him for quiet some time now, to be able to pick up his grandeur delusions in the uber bullshit, he never forgets to add sublimation of him being in the direct lineage of Alexander the great, whenever he talks.
Sala, chutiya.
As much as I want to hide my jealousy and deny his mojo with women, there is nothing that beguile ladies as much as the feeling that they are with S**** himself. Or so he likes to think. What a choot.
He completed his Matriculation and advanced to College later from where he was promptly expelled when he put used sanitary pads in a professors bag. Though, I always knew he belonged somewhere else. He always fondly spoke of, and narrated bachi stories of his not-so-distant cousin who went to some American School. I think he too belonged there. Yes, Karachi American School it was.
Gushti kaheen ka…
S**** Â had disowned his past self. He began with trying the name change, which he couldn’t possibly do, so he settled with a new name. Everybody who met this American Eagle’s polo-wearing choot, now called him Sunny. He had instructed me to do so too. I even tried, but ‘Sunny’ always came out of my mouth with an inkling of a call-center agent’s accent, who sits in an office near Jawed Nehari and fools gooras in Manhattan.
I didn’t give a fuck about him, and he followed suit with great vehemence. I would only accompany him to Lighthouse at the end of every month to treasure hunt for used but branded clothes, that only he had developed the eye for. That I attributed to his affluent associations from the better side of Kaala Pull.
Asfand  was one of his revered, fresh associations whom he met at a dera while scoring charas. I wouldnt lie here. There was certainly an ethereal air about him. Something mysteriously mesmeric. He was then, what every woman wishes her man could be, every S**** would want his wealthy friend to be, and at that point, decidedly, all I ever wanted to be.
Asfand was conditioned to be this way. He was brought up in a feudal household, in a small town near Charshadda. Alone amongst his siblings, he went to a co-educational school system. The experience that S**** chuttu badly yearned and felt strongly about. Dropping out of two colleges in one year, he felt that lazing at home wasn’t a good enough leakage for his exponentially accumulating, feudal wealth. He needed better avenues to be wasteful. That when he decided to come down to Karachi in search of Sharaab, Shahbaab and Kabaab.
“Yo listen Ali, ask your brother to send me a few polos too dude” Asfand had finally asked me.
Even after spending two years in this dark city of lights, he wasn’t able to discover the branded treasure land of Lighthouse. Honestly, we didn’t want him too. It was our only glory. Saying what he just did, he seemed like the biggest chutiya on the planet.
‘Let’s go to Boat Basin and eat something. This shit makes me really hungry bhenchood‘ he said, while he neatly wrapped the charas and put it in his pocket.
All three of us walked till the end of the gali and sat in the car silently. I noticed, it wasn’t just because we were really stoned. Atleast I was sober enough to talk and had barely smoked. I had just exhaled the smoke without inhaling it properly. It was more because every word that used to come out of Asfand’s mouth was taken as a command by S****. Myself included. I didn’t know why though. I hadn’t given enough though to it.