“Azeem, Azeem Bhai, it’s me, wait up please, you made me run”, Zaem was panting. “It’s late, I have been waiting for you to finish your meeting with Baba all this time, but you took ages, was it the discussion of the new aeroplane”, he said in a jovial mood.
“No, we were just discussing the overall statistics and the cola business, and some other things related to some transportation stuff”, Azeem tried to reconstruct the meeting but he was lost.
Hakim had cast the spell that had broken the resolve that Azeem had built for years. This is how easy it is for people of wealth and power; dismember your prey while it’s still alive and savour the sweetness of slow death. Azeem would now become a part of history thrown in the garbage bin of memories and someone else would join the caravan of misery, one leaves and a hundred wait in line to be exploited, the cruel reality of today’s corporate world, more so in countries like Pakistan where the futures of thousands revolve around the mood of a single decision maker.
“Can we talk for a bit if you are not in hurry”, Zaem could sense the cracks.
“Yes, why not, you don’t have to ask me about this Zaem, would you like to talk here or shall we go inside”, Azeem was trying to put together the words.
