Perspective Shift by an ex-Nightclub Owner

The man was stocky, his belly making a bump under his shalwaar kameez. His mustache perfectly coiffed in true gunda fashion. It seemed he would pull out an old rusty gun any minute now. His hair was sparse but shiny. His eyes were sparkling with glee. He was talking to my colleague and I. I was a little hesitant, my training in this profession, in the world of business encompassing one all-important truth: everybody lies. Default-to-lies. I defaulted, or am trying to, in the interest of making my boss proud to a default-to-lies worldview. He mocks me incessantly for asking him why he didn’t trust people. It hurts. For my boss is also my father. He is not here. Anyways, I am a little hesitant about the man. For one thing, he already looks like a gunda. For another, what does he want? He’s talking about his dog. He has a beautiful big dog, that is covered with scabs. The dog looks happy though. Behind us, the barks and yelps and whines of dogs, and an MC speaking over the sounds, announcing the classes, categories, and winners.

The air is breezy, it carries the smell of fur, and fur itself all around. It is a nice sunny day. Two girls, and a boy keep looking this way. The girls are really pretty. The boy leaves his group and makes his way to the jolly man. The man wraps an arm around his shoulders, and says, “This is my son. To keep him interested in his studies, I bought him a dog. When he needs a break, he plays with the dog. I don't want him going out and smoking and doing other things.” Yeah who knows what other drugs and gangs could be in Sheikhupura. This man looks like he might be the boss of a gang. Default-to-lies. What does he want from us? As organizers of this show, maybe he wants to try to bribe us? I laughed a little at the thought. My colleague wandered off, finding no use to this conversation. I’m sure he was put off by him too. Now how do I extract myself. His daughters are really pretty though. Maybe he’ll introduce me to them. I stayed.

“The building was run down. I got it really cheap. Had to grease some fingers, it was a government building.” Even if it wasn’t you’d have to grease some fingers. This is after all, Pakistan. Everything is government property. “It took a year, I built a bakery on it. Now I’m leasing out out.” Wait, that’s fairly smart. I looked at the man in a new light. “Even this dog,” he pet the dog’s head. The huge dog - must have weighed over a 100lbs - wagged his tail slowly, “When I got him, it was from the servant of a German family who’d left Pakistan, and they gave the dog to this guy, who didn’t know what it was. When i got him, he had infections all over, thus the scabs, he was miserable, being treated poorly, maybe twenty pounds lighter than this. You could see his bones.” I looked at the man with a newfound respect. “Two things I buy: a fallen business, and a fallen dog.”