Green-Eyed Cab Ride

Arsalan Ali Faheem in 77 Long Drives:

Taxi My neck stiffened.

There were gasps at the back.

You could smell fuel in the air.

Someone lit a cigarette.

I dug my shoes into the car’s frame. toes pressing down on the sole.

I dared a glance to the right. The d-man stared back. His right eye was green, left one was grey.


As dread overwhelmed me, my heart sank! The Karachiite version of Mad-eye Moody could only see half the road!

He then began shouting in Pashto, and we continued our race to the after life. My Pashto is not very good, so I glanced back towards Jameel, whose expression was priceless. As Mad-eye continued to spit abuse (there was plenty of spitting here) at the other drivers, Jameel, in English, explained that it was regarding their sisters. I told him, that the driver had a glass eye. “What?!” ” Oh God were doomed!” they all shouted back.

Whatever it was, it worked, and through just the right amount of space between a colourful bus and a donkey cart, we speed through. Collective exhaling at the back and front.

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