Free The Scatter Here Is Too Great by Bilal Tanweer Page B

You look below and think the world is a lovely thing playing many games. Cars are small, buildings have shapes, and everything moves in regular clumps within the straight lines of the roads.
    â€œYou see, my son, a city is all about how you look at it,” he says, looking at me. “We must learn to see it in many ways, so that when one of the ways of looking hurts us, we can take refuge in another way of looking. You must always love the city.”
    I sit with him and imagine myself going up even higher, on some even taller building, as high as the sky itself. I imagine everything becoming so small that the world becomes a dot. A dot full of games. I see that little dot in my head and feel elated because it has all the cars, roads, buildings, Baba, I and Amma, and my school. Everything.
    That is how I first desire the city.
    â€œSo should we go and eat something? Do you see a bun-kebab stall here?” he said, flicking the last chickpea in his mouth. But it missed its mark as he abruptly turned around. Two policemen stood behind us, open collars; the one with the baton had tapped Sadeq’s shoulder.
    â€œWhat are you two doing here oye?” one of them asked, who looked like the senior officer.
    â€œNothing. Talking. What’s wrong?” Sadeq replied.
    â€œTalking? Ha!” He turned to the other and winked. “We know what that means. What are you two really doing?”
    â€œO why don’t you speak oye?” He paused to examine us, and then his belligerent tone turned malicious. “Have we caught you doing something, eh?”
    I felt my tongue disappear.
    â€œWhat do you mean, sir?” Sadeq replied firmly, his face flushed.
    â€œWhat do I mean? Hmm.” His baton began tracing Sadeq’s arm. It jumped to his waist and curved around his pelvis and hovered there for a few seconds and then started touching up his testicles. Sadeq twitched.
    â€œSkipping school to have some one-to-one fun, eh?” he sneered. “Let’s take them to the station. We can teach them about some real one-to-one fun there,” he indicated to the other fellow.
    â€œSir, sir, we are just students, sir,” I blurted. “We are not skipping school, sir. It’s the last day of our exams and we got off early and thought we should come here. . . .”
    He wasn’t listening. He asked for our IDs and told the other policeman, who was the junior officer, to take down our names and school names. Then he walked ahead and we followed behind him with the junior officer. After we had walked a little, the senior policeman stopped outside a paan stall to get a pack of cigarettes. When he was gone, Sadeq said to the junior guy, who was standing with us, “Can something be done? You know with some fees we can pay here?”
    The second fellow looked at us sympathetically. “Hmmm . . . I can try. Do you have something?”
    â€œYes, yes,” I said, and started pulling out the money from my pocket. Seeing the one-rupee bills, he was irritated and said, “Are you kids messing with me? See the sir’s shoulder—he has two stars!” He turned to Sadeq. “What do you have?”
    Sadeq turned his pockets and took out one ten-rupee note. He grabbed it. “Okay, go. I will speak to Sir. No, no keep those.” He pointed to my handful of one-rupee notes I was pushing toward him.
    Both of us walked in the other direction as fast as we could, almost running. It was strange, because we were next to the open sea, always in sight, no place to hide, and they were right behind us. For all I knew, they could arrest us again for running away while in custody.
    â€œShould we throw a rock at him? Smash the bastard’s head?” Sadeq said in a vengeful tone.
    â€œWhat?! At who?”
    â€œIt’s easy, they won’t be able to catch us. Look at the bellies of those fuckers. They won’t come after us. We can just run away. What do you