The Bluestocking

Wajahat found his teacher’s house in the outskirts of city after nearly half an hour’s search street after street.

Wajahat Jamal was a twenty-eight years old man of his choices, of calm composure. He ran away at the age of fourteen from his house, also from his small city, nearly eighty kilometers away from this big city. He was then a student of class eight, fifth in nine brothers and sisters. He started his life as paperboy from early in the morning until 8 AM. After it he had to help the proprietor of a big grocery store from 8AM to 9 PM, but from 12:15 PM to 4:45 PM he had to leave the shop for his school. He did it for more than five years. After his intermediate, he enrolled for B.A., as a regular candidate in a degree college and started working as a computer operator for full time then as an insurance agent part time, mostly from November to early January.

Now, after years of hardship he was working as a supervisor in HR department of a fine private bank, situated in the business hub of the city. He was eager to learn more and rapidly progress in his career. He had done masters in English four years ago and then just focused on his career. And now he was thinking it deeply that he was not progressing at his desired speed. Last week he talked to one of his teacher at his university, Amjad Kaif, and asked him about the further studies.

“So, what you want to do now, Wajahat?”

“Sir, I just want to change my field.”

“Listen kid, you’ve changed it for twice. First you’re a paperboy, as you told me when you joined the university. After working as a computer operator, you joined this bank four years ago. So now what?”

His teacher seemed straightforward to tell him what he was thinking about him.

“Yes sir, you’re right but I am just twenty eight. I’ve still few chances to change my field.”

“No, no boy. You’re not right this time. Yes, you’re young but you’ve to think about your future and also your field. No one accept you when you cross thirty-something. Really, believe in me, it’s like you’re that woman who have crossed the age of marriage.”

“Sir, you know I don’t agree with it, both.”

“I know you’re a warm blood youth. You don’t know about the age and its problems but fine, say. I am listening.”

“Sir, I want this attention. I want to do masters in English. This time in linguistic and then MPhil.”

“Dear boy, you cannot achieve what you fancy. Doing master second time in a language dealing the language is not easy. You’ve to work hard. What about your work?”

“I am earning a handsome salary. You know also that I am single. Fifty thousands are enough for me. I am at home nearly six PM. Weekends are off.”

“But how can you reach the university at five PM? This is the timing of evening classes. There’s no other timing in the evening. Just five to eight.”

“Sir, I’ll manage it.”

“Ok, young and enthusiastic man. We’ll talk about the matter when you’ll visit me this Saturday evening at five PM.”

“Fine sir, bye!”

“Bye!!”

And now he had reached at the house he never visited before.

He rang the doorbell. After a moment a middle aged woman appeared in front of him. He never thought that this meeting would turn that soothing, and also stunning to his senses and to his Eros.

She had a most beautiful yet cunning looking mature face with green penetrating eyes and a suspicious steady look upon him, scanning him like he was a thief who was going to rob her. Even he had been robbed by her mature charms. He seemed lost his heart in the first sight. He was just looking her and could see her above medium stature with stout features and revealing feminine charms at best in her mature age. He guessed her age wrong, considering her an unmarried sister of his teacher.

“How can I help you, young peeping Tom?”

She asked with an ironic tone while examining the motive of him with her steady penetrating eyes and erected nose. She was much suspicious because his drooling like pause was suggesting even more.

“What happened to you, young man? What are you doing here?”

He realized it now that he was standing in front of someone’s door.

“Oh yes! I forgot to tell you. I am here to meet Sir Amjad Kaif. I am Wajahat Jamal.”

She was still looking suspicious about him and seemed not satisfied by his answer. He could not overcome his throbbing heart and his low voice.

“You can call him, and ask. I think I should call him first.”

He said like trying to convince her.

“Fine, then just do it.”

He dialed his teacher’s number.

“Hello sir! I am at your doorstep.”

He paused and asked her: “Just talk to him.”

“Fine,” she took his phone quickly, “Amajd, who’s this guy?”

“He’s one of my former pupil. Let him in.”

“Fine, I’ll. Bye!”

She handed him his phone with less steady eyes and then let him in as well.

“This is his study and also the drawing room. Even, the dining room. You can sit here and can take any book to read until Amjad arrives.”

“Thank you, madam.”

“I am not madam, I am Mrs. Amjad.”

She said with her much clear tone and sober look.

“Oh yes, but you’re the wife of my teacher. I should call you this.”

“It’s fine. Feel easy and sit first.”

He sat on a chair near the bookshelf, now with a shy looking smile on his face.

She left the room quickly. He looked at the bookshelves around which had many classic novels and the literary fine works. He picked one and started reading it, at least to avoid what was running in his brain since he saw her. He never anticipated this and now was only thinking about her. Even he had forgotten about his recent aims in his life.

‘What a killing and ripe beauty for a view.’

He just murmured while she was away. After a moment she arrived with the tea.

“I think you’re interested in this women-loving literature?”

“Women-loving, I cannot understand?”

He looked at the novel that was one of the classic Victorian era novels written by a famous female writer.

“I meant that these novels written by female authors of Victorian era. You know, they are abundant in our country. Even those were much better than those, our female writers are writing now-a-days.”

“Yes, I can understand now. You’re right. Victorian era novels were more polished ones but most of our female writers don’t polish their work.”

“It’s mean you know about it very well. I appreciate this.”

“Yes, I tried few times to read such things but then quickly left the idea. You must know why this happened?”

She nodded with a smile on her face now. He felt it rare while her eyes were still looking much steady examining his every facial expression.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said then quickly changed the topic. “O, I’ve to do few necessary works. Still I’d like to discuss about such merits and demerits of the literature but at any other time.”

After concluding the debate for now, she left the room quickly.

He started sipping tea while thinking all about her. He could see that she had fine taste of clothing which was revealed by her casual fine dress that seemed much expensive. He was also thinking about the inmate of the house because he had not heard any voice since he came in the house. He was thinking that she might be alone in the house.

He remained on his chair trying to read the book until his teacher arrived.

“Surprisingly you came much early.”

“Yes sir! Even I wandered for your house nearly half an hour.”

“It means that I am little late, young fellow! Just wait, I am coming in no time.”

His teacher said rhetorically. Wajahat knew that when his teacher was in good mood he talked in such way, as a result of inspired by old English speaking style and also, because he was teaching English for more than twenty years now. He just nodded in the similar style like lowering his hat in respect and put the book in the book shelve. He then looked around the room even beyond, still thinking about her. He could see that on the writing table of Amjad Kaif, there were many books and papers, still in a refine manner. He praised the woman who had maintained the room for his husband in a much refine manner, which showed her etiquette as well. He was even praising her manner of wearing fine clothing, and also saturated with expensive perfume.

“So young man, what’s running in your brain?”

His teacher said with his usual rhetoric style and seated against him on a chair. All he could see on his enthusiastic pupil was the absence of mind.

“O, nothing special! I was just thinking about the books, you’ve.”

“Really, these are older classics? I know you’ve read most of them.”

“But still, your study, your research is far more than me.”

“Just leave it boy. I am even growing older. You can say, doting.”

He paused, leaned a bit towards him with a smile on his face and continued his talk:

“I usually come before six but sometimes the traffic jam really upsets you.”

“Yes, you’re right, sir. That’s why I left the bank early and hired a rickshaw to reach early at your house.”

“What about the personal life? Dear rebellious youth.”

“Same, single, unmarried, enjoying life.”

“Can you say enjoying without a woman?”

His teacher seemed in happy mood too. A burst of laughter came out from their mouths.

“Don’t utter any joke like that in the presence of my wife. You know all the wives are same.”

“Yes sir, you’re right. Sir, what about your children?”

Even he was feeling his teacher the most fortunate man because he must had enjoyed many ears with the woman who stunned him in the first sight. Still he could share his true feelings with his frank teacher.

“We’ve only one child, our daughter. Thirteen years old Naama. She comes from her tuition at seven. She’ll come within an hour.”

“What about your parents?”

“I think you’ve forgotten about them. My father died nearly twenty-five years ago and my mother is living with my older brother. She visits me time to time. Even scolds me whenever she visits me.”

“No other inmate?”

“Yes, we’ve a house-maid but she usually leave before five.”

“Sir, I was thinking that…”

“Yes, say young man. Today you’re behaving much shy and less confident. What happened? I can remember that in university you’re the most energetic and confident young man. Hero of the university!”

“Yes sir, you’re right. I am still famous in the similar manner in the bank but you’re like an older brother for me.”

“Because I look too older, even I am just fifty. What they say that man and horse always remain young.”

“Maybe right!”

“And what you’re saying?”

“Yes, I was thinking that why not I should take tuition for a month from you and then get admission in the university?”

“Good idea! But I don’t think you need any tuition. You’re the finest student of the class.”

“But sir, in the last four years I am not that fine now. Working in an HR department of a bank really exhausted my love for literature and for reading.”

“Fine, if you think like that then I’ll prepare you for your upcoming ventures.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“You’re welcomed, my boy!”

Soon he left the house where he spent nearly an hour but it was all thinking about her. When he reached at his flat his brain was still thinking about her.

“Oh my, from the fairyland a ripe fairy came and conquered my heart!”

He murmured and took a deep sigh, then walked into the bathroom.