Azeem parked the car on the roadside and gasped for air, he took out his mobile and connected it to his banking application; checked his balance and then made a mental calculation of the value of his properties. He could comfortably live for about two years on his liquid savings and then another two if he disposes of his fixed assets. He will have to purchase a new car and that is the only exposure he will have. A new car? He has driven new cars now for years but now he can manage with a used one, it’s okay.
What would people say? What is his family going to say about all this? Why did this schism develop with Hakim in the first place, he was like a son to him, wasn’t he? His stomach again took a churn, if someone would be termed as “plumbing the shallowest of human depths”, then it would be no other than Amjad. How about this loser Zaem, I had hand fed him, what does he think of himself, LSE MBA, let him eat that MBA and then the rest of the crowd including the rascal, the fake Pir.
The movie of his entire career kept screeching past him at warp speed.
And then the phone started to ring, nonstop, these were his customers, one by one, they were calling, all of them; followed by my messages of compassion, of the debasement he had just experienced and how can they be of any help to him. That…
