The Perfect Girl / by Aamir Bilal

In school days, I had a rich friend. But we met in childhood and that is why money was not the cause of our friendship. Neither of us knew the power of the word rich so our bond of being friends strengthened. We went to the same school. His money pushed him to that school and i earned that after I cleared the test somehow. As we grew up the differences in our lives become prominent. We stood at the opposite ends of a spectrum. I used to come to school by bus while his driver used to drive him to school. Even the car was really a good machine. I never accepted his generous offers of dropping me home and he never stopped offering them. Before anything could get polluted by greed or some other emotion of the mortals, I got into another school. His family moved to a more posh city and he moved to a new school. It happened just an year before the school life was about to end. When we got promoted to the sixth standard, his dad gifted him a computer. In those days he was the only boy in the entire school who owned a computer. He invited his friends to his house which was in an upscale locality of the city. I went to his place to see what a computer looked like in person. It was a branded machine. I can still remember that brand. Yes, it was cool! Comparing it to today's modern computers, it was shit but everyone in school wanted that shit. I was included in that everybody too. That night before sleep could take me into a valley of dreams and nightmares, I I decided to save money and get my own computer. As I was on the other end of the spectrum, I knew the saving would take some time. After many months, that day came when my pool could be changed into a computer. Boy that excitement was so pure and innocent. Back then gadgets and computer stuff was really expensive. A good screen used to cost an arm. It would have taken me years instead of months to get a branded computer like the one my rich friend was having. So I took the bitter path of compromise majority of middleclassyas take when it comes to desires and dreams. Compromise. Such a bad, ugly and bitter word it is. You feel the trap you are in more clearly when you compromise. I bought the individual parts for the computer to assemble them into a machine. It took one week of bus trips to gadgets shops and bargaining to find the parts at the cheapest possible rates.

Finally I had built my own computer.

It had a white mouse, a beige keyboard and a black case which housed all the parts like the motherboard, the processor and the power supply etc. In no way it was like the computer of my friend. That had everything in one color and one branding. Mine looked like it was made from leftover parts. A part of me which liked art didn't like it. I did not tell anyone about it. So showing it to anyone was out of question. It remained a dream from that day to have a PC that looked like it came from one factory. This dream kept stinging for many years.

I remained in a relationship more than once. Each time it had something positive and something negative. In other words, every relationship bore something I cherished and something I feared. Upon being asked a very innocent question


Who is the best girl you came across


It was not an easy question. I have asked this question to myself too. The answer reminded me of that first computer I built. The perfect girl is a fiction. A pure fiction that lives in the head. And I assembled her from real girls. She has those penetrating eyes, those feet whose thumps echo heart, locks that have trapped peace of men. Her words work like magic. She never lies. She has no ego crisis. She has no dark matter with her. She would never betray. She would always understand. She would be obedient. She knows flying, driving, diving, archery and can be playful with kids. And she can cook too!

The bitter reality that she is a fiction. An unreal beauty of the mind that stays in the mind. But hey, these are her qualities. These are real qualities of real people I have seen, met, heard, loved and wished. So she is some real at least. In fact she is real only if the parts and qualities were available. However, she is nameless. I have not thought of her name yet. That would encase her in one flaw rendering her no more the perfect girl.


Aamir Bilal