Oh Gosh!, I had lost my way. Too bemused in reminiscing. It was almost nine o' clock and the roads were already deserted by then, Not a single life to be seen anywhere. Nobody to ask for direction.
On my right I heard dance music playing inside a huge building. Than this must be that dance hall described by Abdur Rahman. The servants or butlers in this house might be able to give me direction to get to my hotel. I thought I should go to the servant's entrance at the back of the house.
So I went.
Before I could knock on the door, rushed out through it a young lady.
The first thing I noticed was her forehead. Just like the moon on it's third day of rising. Only, moon has this pale yellowish sickly color, but her forehead was as white as the snow on top of the Pagman mountain. Oh! You haven't seen that, right? Ok! then I'll say it looks like pure milk, without any mix of water. You haven't seen such purity either? Well then, the only only thing left to compare it with would be the petals of wild jasmine. That, my friend still exists in its purest from in nature, even in these days.
Her nose was like a tiny flute. God knows how he managed to put two holes in such a tiny flute. If you would take notice, you could see the faintest hint of shiver on the tip of her nose. Her cheek was as red as the apples of Kabul, but there was such a shade there, that you can tell its her natural color and not makeup. I couldn't tell if her eyes were green or blue. The gown she was wearing must have been made by an excellent tailor and she was wearing high heels. She ordered like a princess, "You! Call Sarder Aorangjeb Khan's car over here!"
I was startled. Was she ordering me? I tried to say something, but thought better of it and kept quiet.
In the meantime, she had taken a better look at me and had realized that I was not one of the valets at the hotel. Then she realized that I was a foreigner. First she apologized in french, " Je vous demande pardon, monsieur." Then she said it again in Persian.
I tried my best in my broken Persian to say, "Let me see what I can do for you."
She readily said, " Alright! Let's go."
Quiet a smart young lady! How old she would be- eighteen or nineteen? I thought while walking toward the parking lot. Before we could reach the lot she spoke out, " Nope! Our car isn't here."
I tried being a gentleman, saying, " Let me see if I can manage any other car for you."
At this, she seemed to burst out in rage, sticking up her tiny nose in the air, making a face and speaking in a very uncouth Persian, " All the losers are trying to get a sneak peak of the naughty stuff going inside there. Where do you think you can find a driver?"
Before I could swallow it in, it blurted out my mouth, "What naughty stuff?"
The girl turned around, faced me and measured me inch by inch from head to toe in one quick glance as if to verify it was a man she was looking at. Then said, " If you are not in a hurry, then you can escort me home."
I quickly responded, " Sure, sure!" and cheerfully stepped forward to prove what a gentleman I was.
The girl was really very bold. She lightly asked, " How long have you been in this country? Pardon- my french professor had said - not to ask questions to strangers."
I replied, " So did my professor, But I don't care."
On my right I heard dance music playing inside a huge building. Than this must be that dance hall described by Abdur Rahman. The servants or butlers in this house might be able to give me direction to get to my hotel. I thought I should go to the servant's entrance at the back of the house.
So I went.
Before I could knock on the door, rushed out through it a young lady.
The first thing I noticed was her forehead. Just like the moon on it's third day of rising. Only, moon has this pale yellowish sickly color, but her forehead was as white as the snow on top of the Pagman mountain. Oh! You haven't seen that, right? Ok! then I'll say it looks like pure milk, without any mix of water. You haven't seen such purity either? Well then, the only only thing left to compare it with would be the petals of wild jasmine. That, my friend still exists in its purest from in nature, even in these days.
Her nose was like a tiny flute. God knows how he managed to put two holes in such a tiny flute. If you would take notice, you could see the faintest hint of shiver on the tip of her nose. Her cheek was as red as the apples of Kabul, but there was such a shade there, that you can tell its her natural color and not makeup. I couldn't tell if her eyes were green or blue. The gown she was wearing must have been made by an excellent tailor and she was wearing high heels. She ordered like a princess, "You! Call Sarder Aorangjeb Khan's car over here!"
I was startled. Was she ordering me? I tried to say something, but thought better of it and kept quiet.
In the meantime, she had taken a better look at me and had realized that I was not one of the valets at the hotel. Then she realized that I was a foreigner. First she apologized in french, " Je vous demande pardon, monsieur." Then she said it again in Persian.
I tried my best in my broken Persian to say, "Let me see what I can do for you."
She readily said, " Alright! Let's go."
Quiet a smart young lady! How old she would be- eighteen or nineteen? I thought while walking toward the parking lot. Before we could reach the lot she spoke out, " Nope! Our car isn't here."
I tried being a gentleman, saying, " Let me see if I can manage any other car for you."
At this, she seemed to burst out in rage, sticking up her tiny nose in the air, making a face and speaking in a very uncouth Persian, " All the losers are trying to get a sneak peak of the naughty stuff going inside there. Where do you think you can find a driver?"
Before I could swallow it in, it blurted out my mouth, "What naughty stuff?"
The girl turned around, faced me and measured me inch by inch from head to toe in one quick glance as if to verify it was a man she was looking at. Then said, " If you are not in a hurry, then you can escort me home."
I quickly responded, " Sure, sure!" and cheerfully stepped forward to prove what a gentleman I was.
The girl was really very bold. She lightly asked, " How long have you been in this country? Pardon- my french professor had said - not to ask questions to strangers."
I replied, " So did my professor, But I don't care."
