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Written by: Cool Breeze

"BS? But, bhaiyya, I thought you'd go for Literature," Khola widened her eyes in surprise. 
"Come on, behna, I do love to read Dr. Allama Iqbal, Islamic books by Abdullah Farani and detective novels of Ishtiaq Ahmad sahib but that doesn't mean I want to study literature. I'll do BS in Defence and Strategic Studies InshaAllah." Mus'ab replied determinedly. 
"Sounds cool." 
"It definitely IS cool," he paused for a moment and then said in a naughty voice, "But not as much cool as getting married."
"Bhaiyya, if you tease me again, I'll tell Mummy," Khola warned in a threatening tone. 
"Really? You'll report me to Mummy? Impossible!"
"Mummy ..." she called out. 
"Uh oh! She's serious," Mus'ab said mischievously and sprinted out of the room.


"Dad, I have cleared both the written and psychological tests and I've been called for the interview and medical tests now."
"Great news, son. Congrats. I pray you pass both."
"Aameen." He turned to leave but then stopped. "Dad?"

"Dad, I wanted to say that can I stay at Zammad's for three or four days because his house is near my office?"
"Sure, if it’s okay with his dad."
"Yeah, he's perfectly happy. Said he could keep me in his house as a second son for a lifetime." Mus'ab said, grinning. 
"He wants to snatch my talented son? No way."
"His son's also as talented as me."
"No doubt about that. After all, these army people don't let fools to join them. By the way, what's Shabbir sahib doing now-a-days after retiring from the army?" 
"He's started his own travel agency, Zammad told me. Used to get bored in the house." 
"Nice way to keep oneself busy."
"In addition, it suits his mood well. He served as an army pilot for most of his lifetime. He loves planes and flying in the air." 
"Have you visited his agency?"
"Never. He invited me many times but I couldn't go due to my busy schedule. Now, I'm thinking of going there when Zammad returns."
"Where's he?"
"He's off on training. Maybe he'll come after a few months on holidays."
"Mus'ab, can't you stay here till evening?" his mother asked. 
"Something special?" 
"Yes, your sister's coming."
"That's great. It's been months since her last visit. I guess, she came on Eid ul Azha, didn’t she?" 
"So, you're staying?"
"Sorry, Mom. I've got to prepare for the interview. Don't worry, I'll be back as soon as my interview's finished. Then, I'll give the good news of my new job to my behna."
"Al right, son. Go ahead."
"Thanks, dad. That's why you are not my dad but my best-est friend." Mus'ab embraced his dad. 
"Hey, that's unfair. I thought I was your dad only. Have been for the last 22 years."  
"Oh dad, I love your sense of humour." 
"And I love you." 
"Beta, have you packed your luggage?"
"Yeah, dad. I've taken all the necessary documents and my lap top." 
"Great. Say my salam to Shabbir sahib." 
"Allah Hafiz, dad. See you soon." 
"Allah Hafiz." 
He lifted his bag from the sofa and went out.


"Dad... Dad... I got the job." Mus'ab shouted with joy. 
"Alhamdulillah, beta, I knew you would. So, when are you going to join?" 
"Tomorrow, InshaAllah."
"I'm so glad. Now, my young one has two new responsibilities on his shoulders." 
"Yes, the first as your new job in Ministry of Defence and the second as..."
"A Mamoo," Kulsoom Begum chimed in, lifting a baby. 
"Whaaat? " Mus'ab said with an unbelieving look on his face. 
"Not one dad, he’s become a mamoo of two," his brother-in-law came in carrying another baby.
"Twins?" Mus'ab inquired with a joy-filled surprise. 
"Baby boys," Jubair nodded. 
"Awesome! Where's Khola?" 
"In her room. She's dying to congratulate you on your new job." 
"How did she come to know? I told dad just now."
"She was quite positive that you would get it." 
Mus'ab rushed towards her room and opened the door. 
"CONGRATS," both wished each other simultaneously. 
Khola was sitting on her bed with a box of sweetmeats in her hand. She quickly stuffed a gulab jaman in his mouth as soon as he sat on the bed beside her. 
"Now, my turn," she extended her hand. 
"Why not, you greedy girl." He took out a large chocolate bar from his pocket and handed it to her. "Remember, it was our favourite in your childhood? Dadi used to give us one daily." 
"I remember. Hey, where's my gift?"
"What gift? I didn't know about your kids until I came here."
"But what about a gift of your job?"
"Sorry, behna," Mus'ab held his ears. 
"Apology accepted. Here's your gift and you can give me mine later." 
"Sure. But what is this?"
"Guess? Your favourite gift."
"Perfume. Oh, I love scents." He unwrapped the packing. It was his all time favourite perfume. 
Meanwhile, the rest of the family members had come in. He got up to let his mother sit down. 
"Jubair Bhai, can I take my nephew? I got to take a closer look at him." 
"Sure, here you go." 
"Their names?"
"We decided to leave that task to the kids' maternal uncle." 
"Happily accepted. I think the older one should be ‘Saifullah’ and the younger one, ‘Hussamullah’. How about it?" 
"Nice names," Khola said. 
"Really nice," his parents commented. 
Thanks. Now, I'll give du'as to my cute nephews. I wish your brains be just like your maternal uncle, that's me, because your mother is a complete blunder at maths," Mus'ab addressed Hussamullah, tickling his stomach. Jubair stifled a laugh. 
"Hey, that’s not fair. I wasn't that bad at maths." 
"Rightly said. Only a Red Indian could have been more pathetic than you." Jubair burst out laughing.  
Mus'ab continued, "Now then what was I saying? Oh yes. I wish your Chemistry would be as good as your Chemical Engineer dad. Your discipline as good as your granddad's and may you have a nice and loving nature as your sweet grandmum. Anyone left?" He surveyed the room, turning a blind eye to his sister who was looking cross. "OK! All done. Best wishes for the rest of your life from your Mamoo." 
"I'll never talk to you again," Khola said at last. 
"Oh! So you're left. Why didn't you tell me before? Hmm... let's see. You can have a smile like your mum because she's got the most charming smile of us all." 
Khola’s smile was radiant.