April 1^st, 2003. Pakistan College, my high school in Muscat, Oman. The same dreaded place I used to study at 10 years ago. But it didn’t frighten me today. Today, I am over this place. I am better than what this place wanted to mold me into. I remember the oppressors. Its pay back time.

As I step out of my 1995 Classic Corvette with my adorable wife Sadaf, I can smell the excitement in the air. As usual, I am late, but coming on time wouldn’t have guaranteed a grad entrance. And I want to make one! I take a look at my Sadaf, she smiles and her eyes twinkle as I lead the way. When the usher opens the doors, I think its more than a coincidence that the music stopped at that exact moment. We step in and capture the moment.

Everyone is looking at the DJ who stopped the music. As they follow his eyes, they notice us. They are startled, every one of them. I see familiar, friends and foes alike. They are simply amazed. I see the look in their eyes. It has envy, enthusiasm, jealousy, excitement, desire and resentment, all woven into a single moment of passion. I would have given the world for that look and that moment. Now the world is mine. The DJ breaks the silence by yelling out my name "CHUGHTAI!!!". Its me old shipmate, Owais.

I’ve captured the moment, now its time to seize the day. My friends come to greet me, as I introduce my wife. The party swings back into the groove and thus, the drama begins. Some are buzzing around me, firing questions, others don’t seem to care. "They’ll care when I’m finished with them," I say to myself as I approach them, one at a time. I hear their sorry stories, which attempt to glorify their miserable lives but bitterly fail. I on the hand, am well prepared. I tell them about my beautiful wife, my great family of two, my estate, my care-free job, and my growing popularity as the head of my political party. My true friends smile, while others cannot help it. So I see their wicked smile and it makes me feel…. Sorry about them. But today is not the day to be sorry, its for celebration by getting even. And I intend to collect all my debts.

During the break, they are attracted to my strong personality. I tell them tales, tales about Cinderella and the Prince, and what really happened following "and they lived happily ever after". I tell about my anguish and hardship while studying in the US. I tell them how I fell in love with Sadaf, about my son Khalid and daughter Fatima. I tell them about my political career as well as successful business of a simple Chartered Accountant. At times, my friends, it feels good to brag a lot. You just don’t care what they think as long as you are in control. And then I heard the DJ announcing, "Lets welcome the most successful colleague of the class of ’93, Faisal Mahboob CHUGHTAI!!"

The words ring in my ear as I try to walk to the stage. Instead, I am on the floor. Its 6 o’clock, I’m in bed and its Sadaf asking me to wake up. Its good to know she is there but she is not exactly the first face you’d want to see every morning. I have seen it for the last ten years; I’ve got used to it. Its another day, another pathetic attempt at what we call life. "Gotta get up and be at the office, 9 sharp, or the boss will go nuts!" I say to myself as I drag my body out of the bed, leaving the brain behind. The in-laws are coming in tomorrow, then there is the PTA meeting, Khalid’s game, Fatima’s painting class, OH GOD, when will the suffering end? Well, the dream won’t come true if I stay in bed all day. So I have to get up. It will come true one day. And that day is within my grasp, if I can just reach out a bit more…… Gotcha!