It’s 2AM and Ali’s sitting on his window sill staring at the dead body in the middle of his street. Earlier in the day, the sound of children’s shoes scraping against gravel as they ran from wicket to wicket, desperate to score a run, bothered the elderly in the neighborhood who’d tut whilst reading their newspaper. They were unaware that it would be long before they would hear them play once more.

Across the region a few hours away sat Maira, watching her mother race from room to room packing up closets they had used for decades, a frantic look painted across her face. They had received notice for an illicit evacuation of their residence, commanding a shift to a place far away. Their actual home, the one that was quickly being emptied out, watched as hands that had drawn on its walls trembled whilst folding clothes.

While everyone was boasting their summer internship achievement, Aimal sat in front of a laptop he’d taken on loan from his neighbor. The flickering light bulb over his head wavered with the internet signals, and sweat trickled down his forehead as he watched the clock tick by. Unstable connections rendered the device useless for most part of the day, and his scholarship application was due within the hour. He sat and pondered how to convince a stranger to fund his education while his classmate changed the font on his Instagram story of Baku.

Sara was on the phone for the fourth time that day. Her father had taken a loan from a local business man who threatened to put him in jail if the money was not returned. She used her phone to look up banks that provided money on an urgent basis. Disappointed at yet another failed try, she opened her university portal and applied for a semester-off. The money will go to a better place.

Near the sea sat Mariam, who was at yet another protest. Electricity bills, unfair pay, congested traffic, robberies, murders… she had forgotten which one it was. She looked at the people........

© Pakistan Observer