Arsalan Ali Faheem in 77 Long Drives:
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.
HIS RIGHT EYE WAS MADE OF GLASS!
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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