Who was that?

We were not who he thought we were.

At first, the thought crossed our minds to tell him the truth plainly, but then we felt that it might break the poor fellow’s heart. So we decided to talk to him for a while and not reveal who we really were.

“Hey, you fool! At least listen to me!” a boy said casually and placed his hand on my shoulder.

I was instantly irritated by his familiarity because, as far as I could remember, I had never seen him before in my life. I tried hard to recognize his face.

He shook my shoulder again and said, “Why are you staring like an idiot? You’re still as dull as ever.”

I was astonished by his boldness. Never before had I seen someone become so friendly within just two minutes. “Say something, or should I give you a karate chop?” he threatened jokingly.

I realized that this poor man was suffering from a serious misunderstanding. I thought about correcting him immediately, but then decided it would be kinder not to. Pretending to panic, I said, “For God’s sake, don’t actually hit me.”

He laughed loudly. “See? You’re still the same coward. This trick always works to make you talk.”

Annoyed by my new title, I replied sarcastically, “Will you speak properly, or keep shouting?”

“First tell me, is everything fine at home?” he asked.

“Yes, by God’s grace,” I replied.

“And how is Bablu? He must be quite grown up by now. He used to be very naughty. Has he improved?”

I assumed Bablu was my younger brother, though in reality I was the only child. Still, I answered, “He has grown up a lot. His mischief has reduced since he joined school.”

“School?” he shouted. “Have you admitted a baby goat to school?”

That was when the truth dawned upon me. Bablu was not my brother but a goat. I also discovered that, according to him, my name was Babban—a name no one in my family had ever had.

“Oh, that Bablu,” I said smoothly. “I thought you meant my brother. The goat is fine too. He has stopped jumping around, but now he headbutts everything. Anyway, his turn will come this Eid.”

He nodded and continued, “I heard your uncle had a heart attack. How is he now?”

This was another shock, as my father was also an only son, meaning I had no uncle at all. I laughed and said, “He’s perfectly fine. The doctor misunderstood gas trouble as a heart attack.”

“Hm,” he grunted. Then suddenly asked, “Most important question—have you passed matric yet or not?

I was stunned. I had passed matric two years ago with first division. But before I could respond, he continued, “You failed four times in front of me because of pigeon flying. I warned you so many times. If you had passed, you’d be working in an office by now.”

This was too much. According to him, I was a serial failure and a pigeon racer. I felt angry but controlled myself. After all, I had already let him believe I was Babban instead of Masroor. Why hurt him now?

With fake carelessness, I said, “Pigeon flying is my favorite hobby. How can I leave t? As for matric, it will happen someday.”

He sighed. “Fine, your choice. Now give me some advice. I used to take advice from you in school.”

“Go on,” I said generously.

“My brother keeps three or four cats. I want to get rid of them, but he locks all the doors. Tell me a trick.”

“That’s easy,” I said. “Open the windows. The cats will run away themselves.”

“I can’t,” he said helplessly. “If I open the windows, my two hundred pigeons will fly away.”

I stared at him. “You criticize my pigeon flying, yet you keep pigeons yourself?”

“I stopped you because you hadn’t passed matric,” he explained calmly. “I had nothing to do in Rawalpindi, so I kept pigeons.”

Then he suddenly smiled. “Do you remember Lalu’s chaat and pakoras outside the school?”

I nodded enthusiastically, keeping up the act. “How could anyone forget that taste?”

“Good,” he said innocently. “Then you must also remember the seventy-five rupees you borrowed from me to eat that chaat. Please return them.”

I was trapped. I couldn’t deny knowing him, nor could I magically produce seventy-five rupees. After thinking for a moment, I said, “You waited so long. Wait a few more days. I’ll pay you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright. We’ll meet here again in four days.”

He shook my hand and left happily.

He believed he had met his old classmate Babban.

And I stood there wondering—who exactly was that boy?