The house of fear

Ibn-e Safi

Imran was standing in front of the mirror trying to knot his tie.

'Oho...' he said in a frustrated voice. 'The same problem again! Too small or too large. They are making ties all wrong these days! Damn this.' As he fidgeted, the silk tie knot slid up and tightened around his neck. His face turned red as he choked, his eyes popping out.


'Akkhh...Akhh...Khhhh,' he shouted, using the full force of his lungs, 'I am going to die! Help! Oye, Suleinman!'

A servant ran into the room. At first he did not understand what was going on because all he saw was Imran beating his thighs with his fists. 'What's happened, sahib?' he asked, perplexed.

'Oh, you son of a sahib! I am dying here!'

'Aray! But...but...'

'Don't array but-if-then with me!' Imran said, grinding his teeth. 'Loosen this!'

'But loosen what?'

'Abay, the knot on your father's shroud, you rascal! Come here! Now!'

'Why didn't you tell me properly?' the servant said, annoyed.

'How am I telling you improperly, mister? You mean to say that I, meaning Ali Imran, MSc, PhD, am telling you improperly? You donkey, this is called a metaphor in English and isti'ara in Urdu, understand?'

Translated from Urdu by Bilal Tanweer