...with a Q

My friend, Arun, sent me a book all the way from India. I had to go down to the post office to get it.

The woman there took my little orange card and disappeared for a long, long time. She came out, somewhat later, and said, “I can’t read the name on this card. What’s your name, dear?”

“My name is Iqbal,” I said.

“Ick Ball? Your name is Ick Ball?” she said, jotting something down on the card.

“Close enough,” I said, truly believing it was close enough. “That’s with a Q.”

The post office woman took a few notice cards from other people who were there trying to pick up packages, too, and then she disappeared again. It was a long wait. Soon everyone had their packages but me.

After forever, she reemerged and called out, “Quickball! Package for Quickball!”

Quickball.

Ick Ball with a Q.

I closed my eyes and shook my head but at least I had my book!

It was wonderful of you to send me that, Arun. I thank you and I pray your birthday was an exciting start to an exciting year. (Jazak Allahu Khair…)