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Another Memon died suddenly yesterday. He was Bashir No. 2, the first Bashir having kicked the bucket about four months back. I had met both of them eating like it was their last meal and had told them to be careful. "You're both diabetics," I said, "Go to a cardiologist and get your hearts checked." Bashir no. 1 had laughed loudly. "Of all people, you're saying this, you have never smoked in your life, yet you had to have angioplasty a year ago." He was right, but the reason I survived that first attack was because I was not a smoker and had my weight under control. Bashir No. 2 said, "Brother, don't worry about such things, you live in Karachi, here you can be killed on your way home any day." Fifteen days later, they buried Bashir No. 1 after he suffered that first "silent" heart attack. Yesterday, Bashir No. 2 returned at four in the morning after a night of playing snooker in a smoke-filled room and feasting until he could eat no more. He went into the bathroom and collapsed. Another silent heart attack, another Memon who thought he was immune from heart attacks is gone.

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