This silent man, in his starched white shalwar kamiz suit, and white namaz ke topi (skull cap) was held in respect by all who knew him.Today, he stood...behind the counter of his shop and examined the prescription the lady in front of him had just handed him. He knew the woman casually. She had become a regular in the market and was often in his shop buying cosmetics or other items. He had watched her enter the shop, in a tight shinny blue suit with a black dupatta around her head. Her face. “No. That is my name,” I replied. “What the fuck?” he mumbled as he slammed his fist on the desk. He picked up his pen and wrote my name on a form. “So, what is your date of birth?” he asked. “Which birth? Physical or spiritual? Do you want to know the day I was born into your world or the day I entered mine?” I replied speaking in a daze, reaching my inner voice. “I want to know the day you physically came into this world,” he said sternly. “Why does it matter?” I asked. He grimaced at. More

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