Ahmad’s talent made him confident and he knew Dewan would never fire him.
“The Minister of Information liked my article,” Devan said. “Oh, pardon me, I meant your
article.” Devan said. The compliment died with the condescending tone and sly smirk.
“Excellent work, Ahmad. Successful journalism pleases those in power and provides the public
with what it wants.”
“And what does the public want?” Ahmad asked.
“Scandals, Ahmad, gossip!” Devan's lips twisted into a crooked grin. “Provocation, titillation,
stimulation! Pretty starlets caught doing the things we all imagine them doing. We are sexually
deprived people, eh?”
Speak for yourself. Ahmad wished he could wipe the smirk off Devan’s face.
To avoid Devan’s irritating presence, he looked out of the wall of glass to see the hooker who
had recently begun to doing business in the public garden outside his office. A couple of days
earlier, he had caught Devan slacking off, watching her. Ahmad wondered if Devan was one of
her clients. Some of his colleagues thought so. But those who snickered about it were ‘Johns’
themselves.
“Now you will write another article.” Devan’s next words shook Ahmad from his reverie.
Ahmad instinctively shook his head. He already felt guilty for writing that fabricated story about
government success and wished Devan would assign the next one to someone else.
Some of the others looked up, drawn to Devan’s posturing, so he quickly changed the topic.
“Gabriel Garcia Marquise died today,” he said. "What a wonderful writer he was.” Devan had
boasted many times he and Gaberiel Garcia Marquise” had a cup of tea together at a writers’
conference, something no one believed.
“You know I read One Hundred Years of Loneliness five times!” Devan boasted again.
Ahmad pasted on a smile, sensing the mocking sneers from the adjacent desks. Devan read the
title of the novel in Urdu, his poor translation changed “solitude” to “loneliness.”
“You should read Garcia Marquise if you want to understand the complexity of human
relationships.” Devan added.
More showing off. Devan is the last person who'd understand Gaberiel Garcia. Ahmad turned to
face his computer. “Sir, I’d...”
“Of course”, Ahmad. “I’m keeping you from your work. We’ll discuss the assignment later.”
Devan strode back to his office. Ahmad eyed the abandoned cup as if it were the source of all his
troubles.
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