Sunday, May 26, 2013

DisparaƮtre

The ground was still wet. It had rained all night but that didn't stop the kids from coming out of their dens and chase the ball. They would run from one side to the other screaming, "Ball. Ball. Get the ball. Throw. Throw. Throw."  If standing at the centre, one could see an endless playground with few grassy patches all around. The ground did not have a definite shape. A chinar tree stood on one side. It was a restplace for kids, audience and other people. The tree was big enough to cast its shadow over a large area. 

My cricket kit lay next to me. I sat there and listened to the shouts. Alongwith the screeches there was a sound the chinar leaves were making. It seemed like the air and the tree were conversing. Arguments used to be the most interesting part of the games. With no umpires there to decide and no cameras to give a better view, every fall of a wicket or a boundary led to arguments. The captains of the two teams then talked and decided the fate of the game.

One small part of the ground was reserved for small kids. These kids were not allowed to play in big boys' area. They came to play everyday, each with a plastic ball, a small bat and snacks. Played for a while and spent most of their time snacking.

The big boys on the other hand took the game very seriously. They would all meet at the fixed time, make teams and play. Those who joined late were made to do the commentry.

The games usually started in the evening but that day being a holiday, everybody was out early. I came with my stuff too but I didn't join. I sat there and watched them play for two hours.

I looked at their muddy shoes and then at my clean ones. My heart started pounding heavily. I looked around. I grabbed my bag and left.
On my way back, many greetings were sent my way but I didn't reply to any of them. I just wanted to reach home as fast as I could. Walking through those crowded streets felt strange. I had never been alone there.

As I reached home and opened the gate, I dropped the kit near the stairs and went in. "Abid is home. Come, son. You must be tired. Had a good game?", Abbu said when he saw. Abbu looked at me and got it that I had not played. He then called for Ammi, "Get him something to eat." Ammi came running out of the kitchen with a tray in her hand. "Here, son. Eat something and go rest in your room.", she put the tray down. There was a glass of milk, a fried egg and tandoori roti (lavassa).

I took a sip of milk and put the glass down. I was not hungry at all. "Abid. I bought your new books. They are in my desk. Master sahab said that your classes will start next week.", Abbu said. He was getting ready to leave for work. He put on his grey sherwani and a black cap- the Jinnah cap and left.

I finished the milk, took out the books from Abbu's desk and went to my room. The books were inside a polythene bag. There was a notebook and a pen too.

Abbu always bought two sets of books- one for me and other for Javed. Javed was my best friend in the class. We were always together. We studied and played together. His father was a poor man. "Abbu ji can't even buy me a new uniform, shoes and books. He is not rich like your Abbu. He says that your Abbu is a kind man.", he used to say. Abbu often helped them financially and bought books for Javed. But this time he bought only one set of books.

I closed the books and went to the window. It had started to rain again. I looked at the picturesque the clouds made and thought about Javed. He used to tell everybody that he saw people and animals in the clouds. "I saw my grandma one day. I even talked to her. She asked me to be a good kid and help Abbu.", he told me.

Javed was very ambitious. He always said that he would study hard and be a rich man one day. "When I am big, I will buy new clothes for Abbu ji. He never buys new dresses for himself.", he said.
Javed was a very funny man. Everything he said and the way he talked made everybody laugh. He used to come to school with a new story everyday. During the recess time, everybody gathered around him to listen to things he had to say and laughter followed.

Javed used to tell us about his Abbu ji. "You know men in uniforms come to our houses with guns. They drag all men out and beat them.", he said. "They took Abbu ji with them last night and when he came back he looked so ugly. His eyes and lips were swollen. He couldn't even call my name properly.", he used to laugh and make fun.

This story was not funny anymore, as we grew older. He got angrier day by day. "Abbu ji is an old man now. How can they treat him like that?", his eyes turned red whenever he told me about it. "Abbu ji says that I am a big boy now. I must take care of myself or else they will take me too.", he even cried many times.

I used to ask Abbu about it. Abbu is a lawyer. He told me that I shouldn't get involved in these things. "We are helping Javed and his family in every possible way we can. There is nothing more we can do for them.", he said.

I was still thinking about Javed when Ammi called me, "Come out for lunch, beta." Abbu was back. I joined Ammi and Abbu at the dining mat (Dastarkhwan). Plates were set and Abbu had already started eating but Ammi was waiting for me. "I saw Javed's mother in the market today. You should go visit them sometime. After all, he was your best friend.", Abbu said to me.

I had never been to Javed's house. He had, however, been to mine many times. "You won't like it. Our house is very small and too dark inside.", he said. Javed had a dream house project added to the list of 'things to do once I am rich' too.

Ammi knew that I wouldn't go to see Javed's parents. "I can come along if you want.", she said. "No. I will go by myself.", I replied.

I finished eating and went back to my room. The rain had stopped. There was lightning and thunders. Those sounded like a loud roar. First there was lightning and then the sound would follow. Javed was scared of these sounds. He used to hide under a tree or something and close his ears. And I would laugh at him whenever he did that.
"You know? The door and windows of my house start shaking when the thunder is on.", he said.

There was one more thing he was scared of- being away from home. He always said that however small his home be, he loved it anyway for there is Abbuji and Ammi ji there.

Javed's house was only half an hour walk away from mine. Ammi asked me to take an umbrella along. She also said that I shouldn't go emptyhanded. She asked me to buy some fruits on my way to Javed's.

When I reached the place, Javed's Ammi was cleaning the yard. I got in and introduced myself as Javed's friend. I hadn't met his family ever. So, his Ammi didn't recognise me but I knew her. Javed had shown me his family photo.

"Come in.", she said and led me inside the house. It was dark inside. There was a single room with three beds in three corners of the room and a small kitchen in the fourth. The rain water got inside the house. Floor and walls were made from mud. She asked me to sit on Javed's bed. "I will get you some sharbat.", she said and left.

She came back with the drink- a glass of lime water- right when Javed's Abbu entered. "Abid ji. You are here.", he said and turned towards his wife, "He is sahab ji's son. Javed and Abid ji were in same class. Make some nice tea for him."

While Javed's mother was busy making tea, Javed's Abbu and I sat there quiet for a while. Then he sighed and said, "You met him a day before, didn't you?" I nodded. He continued, "We never wanted to give up. But now we know he is never coming back." His eyes filled with tears and he looked at his wife. "I have to be strong for her.", he said and wiped off his eyes.

I couldn't stay. I wanted to cry out loud. I got up and said, "I have to go now. Ammi must be waiting." I rushed out of the house without uttering another word. 

I walked through the water and the mud. I had no idea about what was going on around me. It felt like a heavy boulder was placed on my chest that was not letting me breathe properly. My chappals were all covered with mud and the mud had climbed upto to my knees.

I reached the playground. The kids were playing, calling each other and shouting in excitement. Amidst every shout I could  hear Javed's voice, "Run, Abid. Go. Go. Go." And then within a minute every other voice around me disappeared and all I  heard around me was Javed calling my name.

I remembered the last time I had seen him. "They came back last night. They tried to drag Abbuji out but I didn't let them. They just went away.", he had said. He was very uneasy. "They do this all the time. He is my father. I had to stop them.", he cried.

We spent three hours together. He told me how these things made him so angry that he felt like killing people. "These things make me mad.", he said.

"People say that they won't let it go. They never do. They would come back for me. Shall I be scared? I am worried about Abbu ji and Ammi. What if something happens to me?", he just kept talking to himself.

That was the last time I had seen Javed. I had never known that his fears will come true. The next day we heard that Javed was taken away and was nowhere to be found.

Javed had disappeared. Nobody knew about his whereabouts. No one could tell what happened to him. "This was known. This is what they do to our boys. Take them away.", people would say. They were angry but helpless. "These things happen and we don't see anything we can do to change it.", they said.

I didn't leave my house for few weeks. I didn't have Javed with me anymore. But then the memories of Javed started to fade away over time. Javed became just another name in the list.

Like other people I also moved on. But I knew that the burden of loss my heart felt would be there always.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Helping hands

Those hands, visibly veined with a tree like pattern, trembled while the watery eyes, bushed up in between the dense, dark eyelashes and surrounded by crinkled stretch of skin, watched the thread struggle to get inside the eye of the needle. Fatima cursed her glasses. The scene blurred further before her eyes. "Oh, old age.", she muttered. Was it really the age causing troubles? Did the glasses cause the fogginess? Was it really the strain that caused the tears drain out of her eyes? Only Fatima could tell.

Long grey hair, fair wrinkled skin, crooked back, weak legs- Fatima was a perfect combination of beauty and caducity. With her legs crossed, she sat in a wooden sofa, fighting the needle and the thread, her useless glasses, her age and, apparently, the tears.

"Fatima Bi, he is here.", a young lady came in to inform her. "Already? I got so busy making this that I completely lost the track of time. What time is it, Aasiya?", she asked as she used her teeth to cut the thread off a piece of cloth she was working on and held it up for display. "This is beautiful, Bi. It is quarter to one. Shall I ask him to wait?", Aasiya asked. She was looking at the piece of cloth Fatima had been decorating. It was a blue handkerchief with a beautiful rose drawn on it, with the thread. The rose had big petals and a dark green stem and leaves. "Yes, please do that.", she said and got up. She continued as Aasiya started to leave "And offer him something to drink. I will be there soon."

Fatima folded the handkerchief and poured some scent on it. She took it close to her nose to make sure that it smelled good. "Perfect.", she said and smiled to herself.

Fatima closed the almirah and was about to leave the room when the bell rang. "Oh, it is one already. I must rush.", she bolted the door and walked towards her cabin. On her way, she saw another young girl holding an old lady by her hand. "All well?", Fatima replied to the smile with a smile and asked. "Yes, Bibi. Just found her wandering in the garden.", the girl replied pointing towards the old lady. Fatima kept her hand on the shoulder of the woman and said, "Savi, it is lunch time. The bell rang. You should be in the dining hall now. Asma will take you.", she said and asked the girl to take her.

Fatima entered the cabin. Her cabin was a small room with a square table in the right corner and an almirah in the left corner. The table was surrounded by three chairs- Fatima's chair facing the door and other two on the other side of the table.

Fatima could see the back of the person sitting on one of the chairs. She went in to face a boy, who seemed to be in his teens, and her face flushed with joy. "Did they offer you anything? I hope they did else they are in a big trouble.", she said. The boy got up to greet the lady. "Salaam, Badi pufo. How are you?", he asked. "Old and ugly.", she replied and they both laughed.

"Lunch time. What would you like to eat? We don't cook varieties but we cook good.", Fatima asked. Arsalan put hand in his bag and took out a packet. "I have eaten. I got your favorite chana puri.", he handed over the packet to Fatima. "Ah, well. It has been a while. You must taste some too.", she opened the pack.

After they were done eating, they went to the garden. "This place is very nice and peaceful. I will show you around later but let me talk to you well first.", Fatima said to Arsalan. Arsalan held her hand and helped her sit on the bench. "You look weak, Badi Pufo. Weaker than the last time.", he said as he sat down on the grass near her. "Age, son. I am old. But I must tell that I am strong here.", she pointed towards her heart and laughed.

Time passed and they talked about things. "It has been a year, Badi Pufo. Don't you miss home?", Arsalan asked. "They say home is where heart is.", she replied. She looked around and then turned back to ask, " Do your parents know that you came to visit me? Do they ever talk about wanting to see me?"

The bond between Fatima and Arsalan was old and strong. Fatima had been there since his birth. Fatima was Arsalan's grandaunt. They all lived in the same house- Arsalan, Arsalan's father, Arsalan's mother and Fatima- untill Arsalan's mother Zohra started to have problems with taking care of an old person. "Who takes care of an aunt? She doesn't have her own kids to take care of her, why should I suffer? I have got my own life, Wahid. I can't do it. You have to get a maid to look after her or send her to your cousin's.", Zohra would tell her husband. The fights and arguments forced Fatima to leave the house for good. Wahid never tried to stop her or even reach her.

Arsalan, however, loved and missed his Badi Pufo a lot. Being a kid, he didn't have much say in this matter.

"Too early, Badi Pufo. They will miss you but now is not the time.", Arsalan replied. "Sometimes I think that would the thing have been different if it was your grandmother? Your mother was right. Who takes care of an aunt?", Fatima sighed and continued, "Nevermind. How is school?"

Arsalan told Fatima about his friends and teachers. He also told her about his grades and that he was a favorite of everyone in the school.

"Badi Pufo, I will take you home one day, when I am big enough to take care of you.", Arsalan told Fatima. "Oh, my sweet child. Your Badi Pufo won't live that long. I am happy here. I am helping people. God bless your grandfather. I am so thankful that he left this little money for his sister and I could start this project. It brings me pride and peace.", she said.

Then Fatima took Arsalan around the house. "This is our kitchen. And that is Haleema, our cook.", she said as they entered the kitchen. "Haleema, you know my grandson, don't you?", she asked the cook. Haleema smiled and replied, "Yes.", turned towards Arsalan and said, "Fatima Bi talks about you a lot. I am glad that I got a chance to meet you."

Fatima took Arsalan in a room where all the housemates were present. "Ladies, this is my grandson Arsalan." Arsalan greeted them all. Fatima held his hand and took him to the broad who was standing at the window. "Savi?", she called. It was the same woman Fatima had seen with Asma at lunch time. "My grandson.", she pointed towards Arsalan. Savi smiled, ran her hand over Arsalan's head and kissed the boy on his forehead. "That was Savi, Arsalan. The first lady I met after I left home. She was alone too. She is a very good friend but we could never be real friends. She forgets things. Some disease of brain.", Fatima told Arsalan as they left the room.

It was time for Arsalan to leave. Fatima walked him to the gate. "Arsalan, this year has been tough. I do not feel very well now. Do not wait too long to come back. Come again soon.", she said.

They reached the gate and Fatima hugged him. "You know? You are a big boy now.", she said. Fatima realised that Arsalan was growing up and she believed that he would grow up into a decent and caring man. "Son, visit them after I am dead. They need a helping hand here.", she said.

Arsalan was upset. He had something to say. He wished Fatima would look up in his eyes and know the problem. "Badi Pufo, I am going away. They are sending me abroad for higher studies. This  might be the last time you are seeing me.", he wanted to tell Fatima but couldn't.

Fatima on the other hand wished his son would come to see her every day. She knew that she didn't have much life left. But deep in her heart she had a feeling that those strong hands would not be there to hold her weak ones anymore. Little did she know that her fear was going to come true. She gathered courage to look up and when she saw Arsalan's eyes she sighed. She had seen something. She couldn't look for long. The fogginess was back. "I wish, son, to see you again.", she said and pushed him away as if asking him to leave. And as he started walking away, she whispered, "And not all wishes come true. Not all wishes come true.

Fatima sat on the nearest bench as the old wet eyes watched Arsalan disappear. In her worst state of health, Fatima only lived to see her grandson again.