It s a fine sunny morning in Karachi. A pulp woman is laying her head on the lap of man sitting on a sofa with laptop placed at her own abdomen. Whether the man has the certified nikah-nama-or-not is not inside the scope of this story. Two bottles of cold Murree Brewery are placed on the table nearby. Laptop screen is showing a New York times article highlighting recent controversy of “Vigil-aunties” which recently took Pakistan media, social sites and bloggers by storm.
“I have dreamt this day my whole life”, says a faintly smiling Maya Khan in a satisfying whisper.
A child Maya Khan was always picked up last for every thing. Her mother would put food in her plate after every one else has taken a handful, she would only be the last choice by her friends to be called to play ludo when no other was present to fill the fourth spot. She would often go to drastic measures like running with namehrams in parks, gossiping on phone on late nights (even when there was no one at the other end of the line), act emo, just to get the attention of her mother but it never paid off.
This predicament continued when she grew up. Samaa was the last channel anyone would want to be associated with. Even aunties would tune in to her morning show as a last resort just out of boredom of watching same shows on other channels.
“But all that changed now, didn’t it?”, thinks Maya, getting up and picking her Murree Brewery. One show and every thing changed. Now every one is talking about her. She is every where, all over the internet. No publicity is bad publicity. And every one knows the virtual world has effectively overshadowed the real one. As Maya peers towards the city from the window, she thinks of all the things she had to do to achieve what she has done now. Did eating policemen brains while they were on duty for finding a missing child from a hospital work? No. Did doing weddings for all the poor people work? No. Did causing earthquakes in wedding halls work? No. Hell even planting hidden cameras in the bedrooms of daughters of skeptical mothers did not work. She still found it difficult to even attract the attention of her own mother. Something had to be done out in the open. Something that would effect general public. And BAM! There it was. So obvious. Easiest way to get every one’s attention was to do something that will come right away as a shock. And if bulky women in mid 30s/40s, having fast breathing issues, with camera running around the park chasing couples does not give you a shock than you are either one of the aunties in that park yourself or you are somehow related to Misbah ul Haq and nothing can cause to change your nerve. She hit the bulls eye this time. Which other Pakistani morning show host has gotten her name in the New York times (Suck it Shahista!)? Whose pictures are being circulated on social media every where?
‘Me ,me, me, its all me. All Maya!’, Maya answers her own thoughts.
Meanwhile a door bell rings. Maya welcomes the guest in the house.
‘You are late’, says Maya.
‘Better late than never’, says the guest with a smile. He hands her the bundle of unknown amount of cash. The meeting ends with mutual respect and greetings for each other. Before leaving, owner of number of cheap clubs and party houses of Karachi once again says thanks to Maya for the great service she had provided to him and the resulting increase in his sales.
“Poor guy thinks I did him a favor”, Maya says to herself while putting the money in her safe. Life is good.
Disclaimer: This is a total fictional story. Even the references to real people are fictional. If any content matches with real life events, it is either coincidence or purely intentional.