Peer-e-Kamil (S.A.W) By Umera Ahmad In English Page 13

Peer-e-Kamil(S.A.w)

Peer-e-Kamil(S.A.W) First Chapter.

The boys stood behind the rostrums on the stage, facing each other.

They were both canvassing for the post of head boy and this was part of

the election programme. One rostrum had a poster saying =Vote for

Salar‘ pasted on it, while the other had a poster of the other contender,

Faizan. At this point, Faizan was telling his audience what he would do

for them if elected. Salar watched him intently. Faizan was the best

orator in the school and was impressing the boys with his performance

in a clipped British accent which was so popular. The excellent sound

system carried his voice very clearly and there was pin-drop silence in

the hall which was sporadically broken by the thunderous applause of

his supporters. When Faizan finished half an hour later, the clapping

and whistling carried on for several minutes. Salar Sikandar also joined

the applause. Faizan looked around triumphantly, and seeing Salar

clapping, he nodded in appreciation. As Faizan knew well, Salar was not

an easy opponent,

The compere called Salar to begin his speech. To a roar of applause

Salar began. =Good morning friends…‘ He paused, and then continued.

=Faizan Akbar is certainly an asset to our school as an orator. Neither I

nor anyone else can compete with him ...‘ He stopped again and looked

at Faizan, who looked around with a proud smile. But the rest of Salar‘s

sentence wiped the smile off his face. =…If it were only a matter of

spinning yarns.‘

Sounds of giggling filled the hall. Salar maintained a serious attitude.

=But there‘s a great difference between an orator and a head boy: an

orator has to speak while a head boy has to work.‘ The hall echoed with

the applause of Salar‘s supporters.

  

=I do not have the eloquence of Faizan Akbar,‘ he continued. =I have my

name and my record to speak for me. I do not need a stream of words

where just a few would do.‘ He stopped again.

=Trust me and vote for me.‘ He thanked the audience and switched off

the mike. Thunderous applause filled the air. Salar had spoken for one

minute and forty seconds, in his typical measured style and calculated

words, and in that brief time he had overturned Faizan‘s ambitions.

After this preliminary introduction, there was a question and answer

session. Salar responded in his customary brief manner; his longest

response was not more than four sentences. On the other hand, Faizan‘s

shortest response was not less than four sentences. Faizan‘s eloquence

and way with words, which were his strength, now appeared bombastic

compared to Salar‘s short and sharp responses on stage, and Faizan was

all too aware of this. If Salar gave a one-line reply to a question, Faizan,

out of sheer habit, went on with a monologue. Whatever Salar had said

about Faizan seemed to be proving true to the audience—that an orator

can only speak, not act.

=Why should Salar Sikandar be the head boy?‘ came a question.

=Because you should elect the best person for the job,‘ he replied.

=Wouldn‘t you call this arrogance?‘ came the objection.

=No, it is confidence and awareness.‘ The objection was refuted.

=What is the difference between arrogance and confidence?‘ another

pointed query arose.

=The same as the difference between Faizan Akbar and Salar Sikandar,‘

he replied in a serious tone.

=What difference will it make if you are not appointed head boy?‘

=It will make a difference to you, not to me.‘

=How?‘

=If the best person is not appointed as the leader, it affects the

community, not the best person.‘

=Again, you are referring to yourself as the best person.‘ Once again,

there was an objection.

=Is there anyone in this hall who‘d equate himself with someone bad?‘

=Perhaps there is…‘

=Then I‘d like to meet him.‘ Sounds of amusement rose from the

audience.

=Tell us about the changes Salar Sikandar will bring about as head boy.‘

=Changes are not talked about, they are demonstrated and I cannot do

this before I become head boy.‘

A few more questions were asked and answered and then the compere  

called for the last question. A Sri Lankan boy stood up with a naughty

smile.

=If you answer this question of mine, then I and my entire group will

vote for you.‘

Salar smiled, =Before I reply, I‘d like to know how many people there

are in your group.‘

=Six,‘ the boy replied.

Salar nodded in assent and asked, =Okay, what‘s your question?‘

=You have to calculate and tell me that if 952852 is added to 267895 and

then 399999 is subtracted from the total and 929292 is added to the

sum,‘ he read slowly from a paper, =then the figure is multiplied by six

and divided by two and 492359 is added to the final figure, what would

be one-fourth of it?‘

The boy could barely complete his words when Salar‘s response to this

=silly‘ question came with lightning speed. =2035618.2.‘

The boy glanced at the paper in his hand and, shaking his head in

disbelief, began clapping. Faizan Akbar at that point felt that he was

merely an actor; the hall was filled with applause—Faizan saw this

entire programme as nothing more that a joke. An hour later, coming

down the stage ahead of Salar, Faizan knew that he had lost the

competition to him even before it had begun. He had never felt as

envious of this 150 IQ scorer as he did now.