It all began with a boy named Daud, which means David in English. I clearly remember it was almost five years ago, I was travelling to the Bishop house located on Mall Road, Lahore. I stopped at the traffic light to be greeted by the usual herd of beggars, windscreen cleaners and newspaper sellers. One of the newspaper sellers, Daud, four feet in height, asked me for a lift to the next signal.
Irritated by the commotion around me, I chose to ignore him. Rather than moving on, he boldly walked in front of my car, locked eyes with me, stuck his teeth out like President Asif Zardari would. He stared at the sun and performed a break dance in defiance. His army of four footers was in hysterics. The traffic light turned green and I drove on only to see high fives being exchanged in the rear view mirror.
About a week later, I was going to pick up a colleague from the General Bus Stand and once again stopped at the same traffic light. Daud appeared, but this time he was alone. He politely informed me "Sir, I have to go to the next signal.” I asked him to come around and sit in the passenger seat. As he sat inside the air-conditioned car, he took a huge sigh of relief. He looked tired, worn out and a bit disoriented. More...
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