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Whatever happened to Clinton

So there I was sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels when, the presence of a certain person in a certain live talk show jogged my memory and reminded me of Clinton. But then again how could I ever forget him? I mean those absolutely clueless eyes, that snotty nose, the foul body odor, the scuffed up fur missing in places, those weird noises he made when poked will forever be vivid in my memory. For those of you still in the dark, Clinton was the name of our local school dog. Our school being a residential institution also had its fair share of canine inhabitants. Clinton was one of those stray dogs. But he wasn't just any dog. He wasn't very agile or fast, didn't oblige to any commands (except sit and that's because he was usually always sitting), didn't have any talents either and his sniffing prowess was nearly non-existent. Still there was something about him which separated him from the rest of the bunch.

Now, in order to clear out any possible misconceptions I would like to say if the name of the dog resembles that of any international public figure, then it's a matter of mere coincidence...What the heck, ok I admit it, we named him after the 42nd American president. Why? Well, because it is a democratic country and there is no law against naming pets after former presidents of rich and prominent countries. Plus if George W. Bush can find reasons behind naming his cat “India” then we had more than enough reasons to name Clinton after Clinton.

The funny part is, ever since we named him Clinton, he would almost always enthusiastically respond every time someone called him. Though some claimed that he would have responded in the same manner had he been called Roosevelt, Nixon or any other name as long as the person calling had some food to offer. You see, we always let Clinton eat our leftovers and sometimes the whole thing. Maybe that's why unlike the other dogs he always stuck close to the school building during recess. Subsequently he wasn't unnourished and skinny like the street dogs. In fact he was quite chubby.

His hefty exterior coupled with usual lazy personality made him quite immobile. For him taking a nap under the goalpost was more fun than sniffing the backside of a fellow dog. Even the literally breathtaking game of “running around in circles trying to catch your tail” apparently didn't appeal to him.

He was also a very gentle and polite dog. Come to think of it, I can't really remember seeing Clinton bark let alone bite someone. However there was this one instance when he mercilessly chased a 5th grader halfway around the school until the kid wet his pants and we had to lure Clinton away using food as baite. But we all agreed that the kid had it coming. I mean you can poke him with a stick, throw pointed and not so pointed objects at him and even kick him when frustrated, but when you throw water at him you are really pushing the limits.

We had some great times with that mangy mutt. I still remember how we used him in our very own version of “myth busting”. Once we fed him “khati Gawa Ghee” and much to our amazement he had no trouble digesting it. Then there was that time when we tried everything (including L'Oreal's strong gel) to straighten his naturally curly tail and prove the old saying wrong, but unfortunately we failed.

Good times never last very long and one day suddenly Clinton just disappeared. Well.....actually it took us about a week to realize that he was missing. Anyhow after that, months and years passed but we never saw him again. We are still not sure about what happened to him. Some say he died of old age. Some say the 5th grader finally got his revenge and killed him. Some say he made his way out of the school only to be killed, cooked and served in one of the local restaurants and some say he is still where he used to be but we never notice him anymore.

Whatever might have happened to him we really do miss him. So once we tried to replace him with this other dog, we named Bush. But unfortunately it didn't work out. That dog was too aggressive and would bite anyone trying to approach him.

Note: - No animals were hurt or wounded in any of the events described above.

By Sadman Alvi

I'm not crazy!

I helped Nafisa out of the car. Gently slipping my hand into hers, I led her to one of the most posh restaurants in town. Man, I felt lucky to be taking such a beautiful girl out on a date. The stars were out, nice and bright. As we entered the restaurant, I winked to the stars, asking for some luck. Than I noticed Nafisa looking at me strangely.

Once seated, we ordered some appetizers and talked about the weather and some other boring stuff. It took us a while to realize how much we had in common and that is when the conversation took off!

My good luck seemed unbelievable. Here I was sitting across such an amazing girl, eating great food, having an awesome conversation. The waiter appeared with the main course. As Nafisa was busily selecting a knife and a fork, I stole a glance at her. In the soft candle light, her big eyes and round shaped face looked so angelic. I realized that I was getting too much into her and excused myself to go to the washroom.

I pulled the flush handle. It would not budge. I decided to pull again, but with some extra force. Oh, the flush worked all right. However, the extra force had pushed me backward, with the flush handle in my hand. Cursing under my breath, I feverishly tried to fix the thing. “Whoosh!” came the sound of water. I stared at the fountain of water that rose to the ceiling. I had broken a pipe.

“You ok?” Nafisa's concerned voice asked from behind the closed door. Beads of perspiration formed on my forehead, as I looked at the mess around me. The whole bathroom was in shambles, a complete disaster. I looked down at myself. My new Armani shirt and trousers were completely soaked. What should I do now? I thought in panic.

The expression on Nafisa's face was worth a million dollars. She looked at me, open-mouthed, studying me from top to bottom. Her eyes seemed to bulge out. When she looked at the scene behind me, her face went pale. For a second I thought that she was going to faint. I was just about to explain everything to her when the situation got worse.

“Ahem” the manager cleared his throat. He tried to give me a sympathetic look, but the look that came out was a combination of pity and disgust. He shook his head at the sight and I immediately relieved him by saying that I would pay for the damage. The people in the restaurant were staring at me, as if I was walking around with an extra head. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. That is when I spotted Nafisa picking up her handbag and heading for the exit.

“Wait!” I yelled running up to her. She turned. I took her arm and instantly regretted it for she stared at my hand as if it were filthy. I let go. “Uhhh…listen its getting late. I need to go. Bye!” she waved her hand with a reluctant smile. “No! I mean let me get you into a cab since you won't go with me,” I said politely.

After seeing her off, I idly kicked a can lying on the street. A sudden burst of wind made me shiver and I realized that I was still wet. I stared up at the sky and the stars, wondering what I had done to deserve this. I do not know whether it was imagination or not, but I could almost swear that a star winked at me. Suddenly, the whole situation struck me as comical and I began laughing. I was rolling on the ground, with tears in my eyes, when the manager came out of the restaurant. Seeing me on the ground, he looked at me as if I had completely lost it. “Sir, your credit card. We thought you had left without taking it,” he said knitting his eyebrows. As I watched his retreating back, I noticed he was scratching his head. I erupted into yet another fit of laughter!

By Nayeema Reza

Fire pool

Sorrow of separation
you are still for me,
From my tears sore
you come out to be free;
Without you my life still lives
Pain and yet more, is what my fate
To live in separation
is not one of your creations
you are with me, eternally;
In the mirk of the night
All these memories,
Are just but tragedies;
Away with such pain,
I wish for the sun in the advent of

Written by Azmi Syed


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