All Luck Needs is a Prayer

20/05/2012. Sunday this weekend was a boring one, but only until the evening, when Hania, Teyni and r.a.k. returned to Faisalabad and broke an exciting news. They blabbed and chattered about a short-film competition that was going to be held soon in Lahore. The Snipers had explained everything concerning the event last Saturday. So the three pests had thought the story out on their way home that weekend.

With every little detailed conveyed to the rest of us, it was at last decided that the video was going to be made.

For the main role, we needed someone who was both a good singer and had an aptitude to give a star performance. We also needed a child with the same qualities. Then a person fit to act as a typical father was to be looked for. After a lot of thinking, overlooking and rejection, we at last came to choose the perfect people for these characters.

21/05/2012. Monday. A hundred eyes looked for a fat guy…and a skinny one. Where were the two? We had only five days for making the video before Saturday, the dead-line for submission of our creation. Now, due to their unfortunate absence, we were left with four. However, the next day, both the fat guy and the skinny guy were talked into the concept of the video.

That night, as I pulled a shirt out to wear the next day, I realized it was all too black. A scarf. I need a good scarf, I thought to myself. But where do I get it? I scanned my wardrobe. I pictured in my mind a black and white checkered scarf that would go perfectly with the shirt. Nobody had it. I asked all accessible seniors, but no one owned a checkered scarf. Disappointed, I tried to accept the dress as incomplete as it was. As I got in bed to sleep, a thought suddenly woke me up. I knew who had a black and white checkered scarf.

23/05/2012. Wednesday morning. Warrior got me the scarf. The camera was focused and the cast was in action. We pleaded the worker in charge of the auditorium to unlock it for the shooting.  He succumbed to our stubbornness at long last.

The stage lights were perfectly positioned for shooting the “concert” (it sounds funny because all we had was ten people to act as the audience to wave their hands about in the air wildly as Faiq, the skinny guy, performed without any instruments, music and microphone arrangements  :P ).

As we saw Faiq arrive for the first scene of the video, his casual clothes spoiled the enthusiasm for a moment. We tried to convince him to borrow a more “superstar”-like shirt from a hostilite friend.

“Like what exactly?” Faiq asked us, confused.

“Dark.” said Hania, just as I said “bright”. This confused him even more.  :D

“What do you guys really want, dark or bright?”

“Dark.” said Hania, again as I suggested “bright”.  =D

“Dark and bright.” Hania suddenly summarized. Faiq blinked helplessly.

Avoiding a time-taking task, he at last bluntly asked for Warrior’s scarf that rested on my shoulders like a beautiful, patterned snake. I made a face. I had struggled to get a matching scarf for my shirt and giving it away as soon as I had worn it was no justice. Understanding the situation, I reluctantly handed it to him for his role. As the camera rolled, I realized that a mere Arabian scarf had changed his whole get-up,  accessorizing and adding to his otherwise informal dressing. I was pleased with myself. :D Had I not forced Warrior to find the scarf, what would have become of the main character of our video?

We were on our toes for the next couple of days, struggling to complete the five-minute video. It was a tough time for everyone. A little disappointment followed our decision of expecting perfect acting from a boy who worked in our hostel: his face was frozen in a permanent grin. He kept laughing in the scene where his father died, and in the short time that we had, seven takes of the same scene irritated Warrior so much that at last he begged for mercy.

“How many times are y’all giving me a heart attack?” he asked.

“Just one more time!” would be our answer. :D

24/05/2012. Thursday evening. The uncle in charge of Aazam did not allow us to take him away for the video again, and only when we made a hundred promises to bring him back to hostel in time, did he finally agree. Again, all he did was smile…

The major problem we were to face was the editing. Video-making was a first experience for all of us. We tried downloading a couple of editing programs, but the load shedding was forcing us to surrender. The sun set with such misery, that we found no hope in the night that followed. Warrior had talked to an experienced senior, but concluded without any luck. It was midnight and the editing program was downloading at snail’s speed. We were all freaking out. We had just one day for shooting a couple of more scenes and editing. Was it possible for first-timers like us? We begged for mercy as the power was lost for the millionth time in the day. Fate seemed to be against us. The download stopped. The heat was frustrating. I tried calling friends, who could help, but suddenly there occurred a network problem and the call would not connect. So many “catastrophes” in one night ruined all the enthusiasm we had started the project with. We looked at our anatomy book with remorse, thinking: struggle for nothing. Hania broke the silence with another sad remark.

“Just think what we would’ve been doing right now if we hadn’t taken this impossible responsibility on our shoulders.”

“We would’ve been studying anatomy for our sub-stage, munching on snacks and chatting.” R.a.k. commented. We hadn’t studied a single word.

It was three in the morning and still no sign of power. I gave up. R.a.k. fell asleep. I lay down beside her.

25/05/2012. Friday. I was so hopeless, that I refused to shoot any more scenes. However, when r.a.k. told me Gohar had downloaded an editor successfully, I realized the value of hope. When we’d all gone to sleep last night, Gohar and Aymi had taken another chance. And that chance had worked. I relaxed in the afternoon as r.a.k., Teyni and Hania struggled with shooting the last scenes in college. I was preparing myself for the editing that was coming my way like a spinning cricket-ball. In the evening, Gohar told me some basics of the editing program. The rest was easy to work out. Gohar’s mind was full of ideas like always. She showed me an impressive sample of some editing she’d done to test the program, and that motivation pushed me through the whole night. Teyni sat beside me for a pretty long time, choosing a variety of modifications, r.a.k. and Hania were there to give suggestions to improve the edited piece. Everyone was all eyes and all ears till their stamina could support them. After everyone was sleeping soundly, Ayesha I. came and sat beside me. Though she had brought her B.D. along, she helped me through the rest of the video. When I shut the p.c. down, it was six in the morning. My mind was saturated. I updated Warrior with necessary information and collapsed in bed like an eighty years old Einstein.

26/05/2012. Saturday noon. I woke up to screen my eyes against the unexpectedly bright sunlight pouring in through the window. I looked at the clock. Oh my… SUB-STAGE! I had made up my mind last night that I won’t be giving this viva because I didn’t know the anterior mediastinum from the middle mediastinum, and dyspnea from dysphonea. My sketch book wasn’t complete either, but that guilty feeling of leaving a test was hammering in my head. I got up, got dressed, and ran to college. I asked about for a sketch book. Teyni gave me hers. In fifteen minutes, she put short facts in my head. With the confidence of a winner, I sat down in the chair the teacher offered me. He asked me for my anatomy card, but I had no idea I was supposed to bring it. He then told me to show him my sketch book.

“There you go…my sketchbook.” I smiled and put the diagrams in front of him. He, instead of Going through the diagrams, flipped the book back to the first page. My confidence shattered and my heart sank in my mediastinal cavity. It seemed as if he freaked out to see some other roll number on the book instead of my own. However, I wasn’t wrong, and he really did freak out. He called another girl who would tell him my right name and roll number. He (like any typical teacher) shared the situation with another teacher who was also taking viva in the same office. I happened to be his student. Luckily, he took my side. That luck also owes me gratitude for bunking dissection and getting to prepare a presentation as detention, which had impressed my teacher such a great deal, that now he was forced to say kind words in my favor even when I was wrong.

My viva started. None of my answers were incorrect. In the end, he threw at me a ball that was hard to play. I surrendered. Hence he found a chance to say “you haven’t studied at all, I’m still going to pass you, but you haven’t studied.”

After college, I sat down again with the editing program, showing everyone the work and asking for the flaws. R.a.k. and I struggled hard for five whole hours, staring at the screen with tired eyes. At long last, our video was completed. It was almost eight on the clock, and I realized I hadn’t even changed out of my uniform since I’d come back from college.

We had completed Mission Impossible in a mere week, and if there’s nothing more I learned, I at least realized that all luck needs is a prayer.