By Naveed Irfani

I was chatting with my friend Jaani Mathuum the other day over a cup of green tea and vodka. As he was puffing away from a Spicy Apple Mango sheesha, he seemed troubled as his crows feet around his eyes were curling with what seemed to be attacks of angst in his troubled soul.

So I asked in a Zen kinda way "What is wrong Grass Hopper?" He sighed with aching lament, his downcast dark eyes gazing towards the floor. As his first tear splashed to the in an ominous slow motion, he shared the following story:

After a night of partying one Thursday night at Basement Bhangra, Jaani and his girlfriend (who has a half-open closet Victorian disposition) on the subway down to work. SB, a half-Syed, half-Brahim hybrid, was a top-of-the-food chain kind of gal. Being extremely proud of her background, she arrogantly referred to herself as "SB", short for Syed-Brahmin. But our inside joke was him calling her B.S.

After picking up Starbucks, they headed down to the hot bowels of the subway. The 6 train was jam-packed during the rush hour where strangers were involuntarily intimate with the sharing of cologne, perfumes, hairspray, body odor which he referred to as Eu de Toilet.

A few days later, they again shared a subway ride. A woman rushed onto the train, barely squeezing past the closing doors and nearly spilling a cup of hot coffee she carried onto a nearby passenger. Jaani muttered to SB how asinine it was for someone to bring a cup of hot coffee onto the subway during rush hour. SB was quick to point out that they had done the same thing just days before.

Reflexively defensive, Jaani replied that he had not been thinking straight that morning due to being sleep deprived after their late night partying at Basement Bhangra. SB said she had felt queasy that morning too. He began to chuckle in a subtle patronizing manner told her "That's because you were hung over from doing five shots of lemon drops the night before!" B.S. in a high-brow demeanor became embarrassed. She told Jaani to hush as others were eavesdropping. Knowing Jaani, this only encouraged him and he smiled and repeated a bit louder about her 5 lemon shot decadent evening. She then squirmed and looked around with a nervous smile and threatened him. "Mein thum ko thappar maroon gee! Chup ho!" [In Urdu/Hindi: I'll slap you if you don't shut up!]

After Jaani's momentary fantasy of being slapped by B.S., the hot 'n bothered thoughts subsided (along with the erection). Who could blame Jaani who blessedly appreciated B.S. who was in a black leather jacket, slit skirt, black suede boots up to her knees and garters flirting to be noticed. Jaani now sunk into a melancholy black hole and began to ponder that if the thappar (slap) event did occur.

How would the passengers react? Who would they empathize with?

Would people think?:

a) Poor chica, that guy must be a jerk. Just look at black shirt, hair gelled up the ying-yang and gold medallion necklace getting caught in his chest hairs?
b) Poor guy, the biatch must be having a flashback from a previously dysfunctional affair and unfairly saw her ex-lover in front of her?
c) Just another lover's spat which will be settled after 'I'm sowy' flowers and make-up sex that evening?
d) Wow, that guy must be a 'bad boy' and I wanna suck face with him?

Mathuum was clearly distraught after sharing his story with me and questions that arose from it. As he wiped away his tears and abruptly headed for the door, I exclaimed that I will seek answers to his questions. What do you think?

Image Courtesy Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna