I'll tell you how I've been there too, and that none of it matters ~ Albatross. Jalal looked up the list of merit posted on the website and found that he had the option to choose between Agra and Delhi. Agra seemed more convenient to him, but he did not want to decide anything unless he spoke to Rukaiya about it. He wanted to include her in the decision-making so that she could talk to his father if needed. He knew his mother would not be very enthusiastic about him leaving home. Jalal entered his father’s headquarters well after lunch to be awkwardly greeted by the employees at the cubicles as he asked his father’s secretary to see Rukaiya. He did not know that she had a personal office. The last time she was an intern and working from the cubicle was when he had visited. The secretary informed him to wait in the lounge because she was in a meeting with the managers. Jalal, instead of sitting in the lounge area, roamed about the corridors, checking the boring posters on the wa...
“'Cause we are young and we’re reckless, we’ll take this way too far.” Blank Space The work days were busy and mundane. Most of the day was spent at the office, where Pratap’s job assignments were separate from those of Ajabdeh’s, and they barely shared a conversation. Usually, when they came back to the Haveli, being greeted by the house help and cook Mr Chundawat had appointed, Pratap decided to have his dinner in his room while Ajabdeh had it while working in the study. They had developed the perfect way to coexist without bumping into each other. Sleep was not to come easily in the unfamiliar surroundings, and while Ajabdeh preferred to work till her brain was tired, Pratap often tiptoed down to the library room, dusted off the dirt on the few books on the shelves and read them to sleep. The silence of the house was only interrupted by the whistle of a cooker, the ticking clocks or the ringing of the restored grandfather clock. The other rooms were locked too. They thought the ...
Give me a photograph to hang on my wall - Superstar. “So entry there is very tough in the Institute of Photography; they get thousands of applications and choose only a few for the course,” Jalal spoke as he cleaned the lens of his camera. Rukaiya nodded as she progressed to help him with the scattered papers on his desk. “So what is the process to get in?” Rukaiya asked, observing a notepad with scribbled ideas. “There is a topic of assignment for which we have to submit ten pictures each.” Jalal narrowed his brows a little. “But if mine is not unique, they won’t even consider my application.” “What is the topic then?” Rukaiya enquired. “Beauty.” Jalal shrugged halfway “And most people were already discussing nature pictures, babies, weddings… What will stand out?” He eyed Rukaiya, lost in her thoughts as she stared at one of the portraits he had taken of a child selling balloons on the street. It was a greyscale-toned picture taken in one of the busy intersections of the city. ...
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