Beyond the horizon

In a booming voice, Kartar Singh began a different song. He had been the same Mahiya Alap for a long time. After seeing Hamida Kartar Singh's handsome beard and Pankaj-like features, the entire universe was disgusted with him to the point where he was afraid he might be the truth. , even though comrade Kartar is such a sweet person and he does not publicly express his dislike of Mukhwa, he will be immediately regarded as a bad person. Hamida would have needed to take his own life if he hadn't joined today because the rest of his coworkers were in such a bad mood. Even a gramophone was brought along by Kartar Singh Guddu. In the camp itself, Queen Topaz broke a record, but that was okay.

Hamida sat a little higher as if she were paying close attention to Comrade Kartar's Mahia as she carefully wrapped the hem of her red fringed saree around her shoulders. However, I am unaware of the bizarre, twisted, and perplexing thoughts that were going through his head at the time. "Jag Sooz-i Ishq Jaag" was a poor record that Shakuntala broke.

"Oops." The jolts of the bullock cart and the number of things he had to do made his head start to hurt. The cholera vaccine had to be given to the entire village. Repentance! It's bitter and repugnant. A shabby, unusable, and redundant record from which the same dull, trembling strings rose at the touch of the needle because they were getting tired of being stuck in the song's waves. If the record, which had been buried for a long time beneath the most recent album on the bottom shelf of Radiogram, had been slammed into the ground, Hamida would have danced in delight.

She wanted so many things that it wouldn't be fun if they didn't exist in the world. As he bent down to pick up the crumbs, it appeared as though he had smashed the worn record of "I dream I dwell in marble halls" to pieces on the floor. Foxtrot once believed that only life existed on the summit's bright surface on this floor of purple mosaic, with its romantic yellow curtains and dim electric lights peeking through the slits and walls. The new polka and rumba will always be on the radiogram, and the inky green fern fronds held in the dark rays will sway in the gentle breeze as this sultry jazz will continue to play. There will be new records added. The things he dislikes may just vanish. Records enter and exit.

But what exactly is the recording philosophy? Hamida guffawed. She glanced at Kartar Singh quickly. so that he does not misinterpret her laughter at his singing.

"Was vas way dholna," Comrade Kartar would sing. How stupid are some Punjabi words? The gusting wind was blowing his red coat. She was aware that a champagne-colored saree would look great on her. She would have been the epitome of Asian beauty if her lips were thinner and her eyes were a little darker, according to the boys who used to be around her. How enamored these boys are with the beauty of women. The addresses were given to the girls every year at the university after a thorough review of the details, the list of New Year's honors was posted on the notice board, and the girls expressed their indifference and surprise. In the past, she would pass through the redoubt without doing it. "It's the love I'm after," "Nakosh-e Chaghatai," "Umar Khayyam's Rabai," "Dehra Dun Express," "Ball of Fire," and "How Kim Bakht used to invent appropriate names for thought" Bloodbank."

"The car was moving quickly. Comrade, kya baja hoga? Even though she was too late trying to just keep looking at the stars, Shakuntala was probably also going to sleep. Even though she didn't move her legs any further, Comrade Kartar surrounded the pass location. Shakuntala was constantly reminding herself that she shouldn't let any sleep into her eyes. While the stars were beginning to fade, there was a significant chill in the air over the paddy fields and dense orchards. Transport Busway Dholana."

Now, Kartar Singh's pocket wanted to remove his handkerchief, place it aside, spread his hand in the air, and take a so-severe bite that all of his fatigue, weakness, and helplessness would vanish for good or for a few times. For a brief moment, revert to the person who used to watch the moon rise over the golden waters of Jhelum and play Pankaj with Amarjit. This very instant, as the bullock cart moves along the dirt road under the strings' glistening shadows. was moving forward, despite everyone's sickly suspicion that the ferocious enthusiasm for party work had waned.

Sabihuddin and Jitinder's hair started to flutter in the air as a strong wind gust passed over the car, but Kartar Singh wouldn't be able to take off his scarf in front of the ladies. He exhaled deeply, rested his head on the medicine cabinet, and gazed up at the night sky. Once, Shakuntala had told him that despite having a beard, comrade, you look quite dashing and that if you join the Air Force, you will look even more menacing.

Oh, these women!

"Comrade, light up," I said. Manzoor was thrown a box of cigarettes by Sabihuddin. After lighting their cigarettes and bending over the match, Jitinder and Manzoor lost themselves in their thoughts. Sabihuddin was always fond of Creon and Abdullah. Abdullah is no longer even found. Sabihuddin, on the other hand, had very noble ideas. His father had a lot of money. His name was so intelligent and attractive: Ahmed Sabihuddin. Raja Sabihuddin Ahmed Khan, Makhdoomzada! Oops! It had two enormous, shiny motors. A morris and a day's worth of the W. However, she arrived right after she left King George's. M. S. became an active party worker rather than leaving. Such men were very popular with Hamida. the best kind. However, if Sabihuddin had leaned over and said to Hameeda, "Hameeda, I like your dark eyes very much, very much," he would have placed one arm on the steering wheel of his Maurice. Therefore, she would undoubtedly smack him hard. Bubbles of color in the water!

Kartar Singh did not speak. Manzoor was relieved of his exhaustion and depression by the cigarette's heat. It was very cold outside. Jitendra tucked his legs into the old portal and draped his charkha over his shoulders. "Comrade, you shouldn't smoke so much," Manzoor began to cough. Shakintala said with understanding. Manzoor used his method to remove the tobacco leaf from his tongue, shook the ash off of his cigarette, and began to look at the black horizon line above the millet's wagging hair. These women! "Approve!," Talat used to say with such concern. In the winter, tonic should be used: Ostomalt, Scots Emulsion, or Radio Malt Talat, the cat from Iran! When the boat was discovered at the club's regatta, it said, "Oh gosh!" for the first time. You're a journalist, then. Furthermore, communists from above. Oops!” was said in a way that would have made Heidi Lemar envious. She then approached Manzoor for the final time as the villages of her dreams were just deserted. She had seen him sitting far away under the palm leaves by the marble pillar. She was so kind to everyone. Indeed. Hello, child, he had asked. Hawzlaf?

Ask me again. Manzoor stated.

Allah! However, what have all of you experienced? are indeed dying; your faces are beginning to drip. Where is the application? Do you frequent Missouri? This season is going to be enjoyable. Bengal? Bengal, yes. That is correct. Will the images be included? "Gosh!" Jane Eyre is so enraged. She then departs. Manzoor heard her saying to Asghar, "Huh.." the day before she arrived in Calcutta, as the visitors' shadows danced on the walls green, oily surface and the coffee machine behind continued to make a faint noise. Agreed?

Subihuddin was lightly humming! It's simply too late to comment. Hamida's lips parted in a bitter grin. A river bridge was being used by a distant train. Silver candlesticks on a crystal table lit up while the lights' reflections danced in the water. Ice cream bowls clattering, electric fans whirring, silver candlesticks, and balconies covered in vines. She was forced to imagine herself as a Tarbiya heroine as she sat at the piano. Sir Echo, how are you doing? "Hamida, I like your dark eyes," Rafe would say with one arm on the steering wheel, imitating Robert Taylor, "Hello, hello, will you come over and dance with me." Many thanks."

For Hamida, wasn't this "too much"? And how happy Hamida would be to think and feel a little proud that Rafe's mother was Mozart's compatriot when he would leave the car on the straight road at forty-five mph and start singing the same I dream I dwell in marble halls. Austrian. Her orange hair and sparkling blue eyes Allah, O! Hamida would open the jam jar and imagine that I would continue to spread jam on the biscuits when the car came to a stop under a thick pear tree. Rafi will continue to slice them. This poplar-lined road will never end, and his Buick will be driven at 45.

You, on the other hand, blew out the stars' candles. The bullock cart's lantern flickered in the pitch-blackness as darkness fell.

Ho la la la A weak farmer honks with all his might at the edge of a faraway field to scare away sparrows. Manzoor's cough continued unabated as the driver continued to curse the bullocks' tails. Hamida went up. A faint whiteness had begun to appear on the horizon, concealed by the dewy mist. The prayer call could be heard somewhere in the faraway mosque. Hamida sat up and jerked her head involuntarily.

Possibly imagining Leyton Quarter and So Ho in his dreams, Jitendra fashioned his charkha coat into a pillow. Donna Myra, Myra Hamida's eyes were half-awake as she watched the red stripes on the sari's hem. Myra, her shrill chuckle, her guitar, the shattered rails and poles, and the railroad tracks. The beautiful Paris suburban train station where she had purchased red and yellow roses on Sunday. The subtle and vibrant reassurance she used to receive from observing those red specks in Myra's illustrious head of hair. She would put the bulky guitar on the green aside and imagine that the entire universe consisted of red roses and starry dawn. A lot of buds are piled high.

However, as the shutters flung open in this vineyard-encircled railway station, the rumble of aircraft and the roar of anti-aircraft guns gave way to the distant waves and lush guitar tones of Schubert's Rose monde. In addition, Hameedah's forehead continued to flutter in the chilly morning air, signaling that he was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with his struggle to keep up. He went to sleep.

Manzoor heard Sabihuddin calling out, "Cigarette love bhai."

Now, what must have transpired? Shakuntala sang "Go Mohan Pyare" aloud for a considerable amount of time.

Kartar Singh considered resuming the "wis wis way dhol ana" while Hamida was counting the road's lines.

Still, a long way away was the village.