Burning Ends
The car gleamed under the dim lights as it pulled up by the sidewalk. There were others idling, in direct violation of the rules, but nobody cared about the rules here anyways. There were people crying, and hugging one another, as they parted, for most of them, for god knows how long they would be separated. Dressed in shalwaar kameez, off to seek opportunity. There were a select few, looking uninterested, used to the newfangled experience, it was not new to them, it was not fangled for them, there was a family of four, the father striding along, belly slightly grazing his large white shirt, mother looking harried as she hurried her children, herding them to the door, daughter uninterested, headphones in ears, white, thick wires the only thing different from her long black locks of hair was the color, a boy, a head shorter than his sister, eyes glued to his phone screen. They were not dressed in shalwaar kameez. The ends of cigarettes floating under the dim light, glowering red stars, disembodied, held up by chain smokers. A dim murmur, soft sobbing, humming, running engines punctured the silence of the sky. The air tasted of garlands of roses, and felt of dust, which was here always.
The car gleamed under the dim lights as it pulled up by the sidewalk. There were others idling, but nobody cared anyways. A man jumped out, dressed in shalwaar kameez, and opened the door to the passenger seat close to the sidewalk. A dainty foot stepped out in fashionable chappals, followed by the body of a lady, the door in front of her had opened too, and a man stepped out, much younger than her. He hurried to the back, opened the back door of the car sideways, and looked inside. A little yelping came from within the darkness.
He shushed and made soothing sounds, the driver had come to the back, and proceeded to help him lift the cage, “slowly, slowly. Gently” out. The men smoking cigarettes nearby kept smoking, but turned their gaze towards the cage that was now out, grey on the top, black on the bottom half, an agitated rustling coming from inside. A yelp every now and then, that attracted more eyes like bees to honey. Teeth poking out from the darkness, grabbing hold of the holes in the cage, trying to tear them apart.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the young man murmured as he put his hand in, trying to stroke and give comfort to the three month old who was clearly upset. She calmed down, licking the hand excessively.
He looked around, gleering at the men with the leery glares. He shuddered, he was glad he was leaving this country, they were always looking, it always looked like they had evil intent. Everyone was looking. No one had anything fucking else to do but glare and leer. He shuddered again, it was enough of feeling like he was always being stalked by hunters. He was glad to be done. He just had to make it through this one last ordeal. He looked up at the grand airport, Allama Iqbal International, and sighed. This would be rough. And the flight to come would be so bad for her. She was only three months old. She was still a baby.