Nasty Karma

Ah… here’s the lucky brat! I mused as Meesam strode towards me with a drink in hand and a grin so wide it stretched all the way to his earlobes. Lava gushed through my veins as I looked around at the party he had thrown to celebrate his job promotion. Everybody from the office had come; chatting, chirping and flaunting fake smiles. A day before, Meesam was a colleague – now, my immediate boss! The very thought of it stabbed my heart. I had always envied the guy; he had money, cars, girls and all other present-day measures of success. I, on the other hand, was a mere window-shopper outside the superstore of accomplishment.

I shook his hand and congratulated him. However, the feelings that surged within me, if put into words, would not have made it through most censorship filters. I had always wondered why he was relentlessly at the top. What was so special about him? I just had to know; so I asked him a question I wish I never had: “What makes you so successful, man? Looks like you own the Pandora’s box. What’s the secret?”

He smiled, took a sip of his drink and said, “I follow my horoscopes.”

Thinking it was his idea of a joke, I laughed embarrassingly loud. As I noticed his expression, however, I realized he was serious. The laughter faded away followed by an odd while of silence.

“What… you don’t believe me?” Meesam asked with a mild frown.

“You’re kidding me, aren’t you? This horoscope stuff … you know its applesauce, right?”

“Quite the contrary. I believe fate is a calculated roadmap and horoscopes reveal those calculations. I’ve been following them all my life; and look where I am,” he said as his chest heaved with pride. I was stunned. The secret to all life’s luxuries, the ladder to the top … was horoscope? I inspected his glass in a bid to make sure he was drinking the right stuff! He explained how his beliefs had made a difference to his life, how he started each day reading his horoscopes by one Nancy Gray and so on and so forth.

“The key here is to believe and stick to your horoscope,” he went on. “No matter what … do not give up! Because that’s where most people fall flat!” The conviction in his voice coupled with the glint in his eyes confirmed, at least, that he was not playing me. I have no idea what came over me later that night; whether it was the bad stomach I had that fizzed out my mind or my desperately frustrating life, but the more I contemplated what he had said, the more convinced I was to give it a try. Finally, in some rotten moment of fate, I decided to follow Nancy Gray’s horoscopes!

The next morning, I browsed Nancy Gray’s website just before leaving for office. I entered my date of birth and my horoscope for the day loomed before me in no time:

You exude positive energy. However, circumstances can turn fatal. Avoid traveling for the day. Stay indoors. If you absolutely must travel, avoid boarding four-wheeled vehicles.

“What the …!!!” I blurted out unwittingly. Apparently, the monitor was glowing with an utter pile of junk; I had read horoscopes before but never that fanatical! I almost decided it was all idiocy, but Meesam’s words crept into my mind, reminding me of believing and sticking to the predictions: No matter what … do not give up! Because that’s where most people fall flat! I somehow convinced myself to take the chance.

I knew I had to travel. I had a presentation to make and was already getting a little late. I also knew I would not be able to take my car, as it certainly operated on four wheels. To my horror, I then realized that I could neither make use of Karachi’s daredevil buses nor its sensational taxis. Outside the window, I noticed Fiqa, my cook, trudging towards his darling bicycle he called ‘Shabbo’, apparently in order to go and buy the day’s consumables. A light bulb materialized over my head; I bolted outside with my briefcase, beat Fiqa to the race, grabbed a hold of Shabbo and boarded it.

“What are you doing janab?” Fiqa squawked, both auditing me for signs of lunacy and petrified as to what would become of his beloved.

“Relax,” I shouted back while kicking away at the pedals. “Shabbo will remain forever yours. This is an emergency!”

With each moment spent on the bicycle, the morning seemed to get hotter; I started sweating all over and the wind greeted me with gusts of dust and smoke. Lance Armstrong would have been jealous of my prowess though. Everybody on the roads certainly seemed to take notice, point at me and occasionally ridicule. After a while, bathed in sweat, I was drained. The toil ended twenty minutes later when I reached the destination.

I entered the building drenched, my shirt clinging to my body. I had hardly stopped panting when I heard the bad news: the audience was already in the conference room, waiting! I was late for my presentation. Damn those horoscopes, I thought. No… this is a test, I corrected myself. No matter what … do not give up!

I knew I did not have time to look pretty; so I ran straight into the conference room. The first thing I noticed on entrance was the cool gush of air, courtesy the air conditioner. The real chills I felt, however, came from the piercing glares I received from a dozen men, including Meesam, seated around a table. For a moment, my legs felt too feeble beneath me. I gathered myself, set up the presentation and carried on, trying fruitlessly not to take notice of the eyes fixed on me instead of the presentation, and expressions that made me feel like a slimy, greasy, ghastly Martian!

The chilling air dried the sweat pretty rapidly; thereby working up a rather putrid aroma around me that soon perforated the entire room. As I ended my presentation, I noticed uncomfortable people struggling for particles of stench-less oxygen in the air. I am not sure if a word has yet been developed to describe what I felt, but let’s just say I was embarrassed!

On his way out, one of the attendees opened his bag, took out a celebrated deodorant, placed it on the table before me and said, “This might drill some holes into the O-zone, but is darn good for body odor!”

To say that I brought disgust to everyone in my office that day would be an understatement. When I was summoned by the higher ups, I knew I would be fired. They humiliated and battered me; but blinded by a strange desperation, all that was conquered by one sentence uttered probably mistakenly: “They liked your presentation though.” I was praised, for the first time ever in my pathetic career! A dozen of the most powerful businessmen in the city actually liked me. The horoscopes were working. Bless Nancy Gray!

When I brought Shabbo home with me that evening, I was too tired to observe the emotional reunion between Fiqa and her. I took a shower, had a snack and collapsed onto the bed, immediately lost in deep slumber.

My horoscope the next morning brought a smile to my face:

Set high targets, the wheels of fortune are on your side. A grand achievement is round the corner. Today: the truth shall set you free!

Things were definitely improving! Taking my car to work that day was endearing to say the least; salvation for my backside. Later, as I was consumed in counting my chickens before the eggs had even been laid, slumped on a chair inside my cabin, I was summoned by the higher ups again! I jumped to my feet in utter exhilaration. Chickens turned into roosters with a poof! Big fat roosters! I could picture myself on top of the world, flocked by beautiful women, standing beside a Ferrari and stuck knee deep in dollar bills as more of them continued to rain down on me! A grand achievement is round the corner! Oh yes!

Five minutes later, I sat opposite one Mr. K, the boss of all, in his office. With the bushiest eyebrows in the world, a bald head and one big filthy mole under his nose, Mr. K was not a particularly charming sight. He was engrossed in a file while I inspected the abhorrent mole on his face. It was not completely round but rather resembled the map of Sri Lanka. It was incorrigibly black though. I wondered what chances the mole had at making it to the ‘Top 10 Most Nauseating Things in the World’ and inadvertently let out a giggle at the answer. Mr. K took notice and looked up immediately.

“Amused by something, Mr. Sheikh?” He asked and my eyes instantly shifted from the mole to his grim, deadly eyes.

“Err…,” I almost blurted out a lie but the horoscope echoed in my mind; the truth shall set you free! It sounded absurd under those circumstances to tell the truth, but I had to stick to the horoscope! Concurrently, I rationalized myself with some examples of childhood stories about how telling the truth had saved many great men from lots of trouble. So, I cleared my throat and said, “Actually … sir! It’s the … ahh … mole … right there … on your face … I was studying!”

The expression on his face did not change; a good sign! He was momentarily taken aback, though. He put the file away and looked straight at me. “I don’t particularly see my mole as a piece of literature, Mr. Sheikh. But tell me what you think of it,” he suggested.

“Oh … I don’t mean any offence but … err … it is pretty disgusting sir.” I went on, less scared now. I trusted Nancy Gray. “In fact, the whole office thinks you should get rid of it. You know … get it peeled off or something!” I giggled again.

To my surprise Mr. K smiled! “What other things do you find amusing in me?” he asked.

“You really want to know that?” I asked, the first alarm bells ringing.

“Oh, I can hardly wait,” he said. “Go on, Mr. Sheikh. Don’t be shy!”

“Well … err … the fact that you are devoid of any hair … err … on your head is pretty amusing!” I gulped. I no longer knew how, but my deepest feelings about the man seemed to come out genuinely. A door had opened up and my emotions rushed through it. I no longer had control! “I always find it funny when your head shines under lights. And … your eyebrows … well … they are very … very rich with hair. I do believe if you … tweeze half the hair out of your eyebrows and get them grafted on your head … err … your baldness will be cured while the majesty above your eyes would remain unharmed. And … err … then there is …!”

I was caught off guard by a loud explosion as Mr. K slammed his fists onto the table. He was angry … oh boy … and was he angry! Apparently, the smiles he waved at me earlier were a trap! The words he uttered need not be mentioned, but they were pretty obscene! Every blood cell in his fat body rushed to his face and steam blew from his ears. I know I had offended the guy but I did not appreciate the extent of his violence as a fist landed right between my eyes followed by more such occurrences!

An hour later, I sat in my cabin, beaten, battered … and fired! Dressing a sour cheek and convinced beyond doubt that those horoscopes were pure garbage, I recognized the true horror of what I had been through in the last forty-eight hours. Infuriated to the point of crying, I marched straight into Meesam’s cabin and yelled my lungs out: “You are such a piece of junk, Meesam! You tricked me! Horoscopes? Those senseless lines have ruined my life! And you told me they mended yours? Why did you do this to me? Why …?”

Meesam was silent for a while, and then said, “Hey … I was just kidding you, man! I didn’t know you’d be stupid enough to actually believe me! Wait a minute … the stench in the conference room yesterday … and now this … is all because you followed your horoscopes?” He seemed stunned.

I stood there, speechless. I knew I had only one person to blame!