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We were not too close. Our acquaintance of each other was limited to ‘Hello, hi’ and ‘Everything’s fine.’ If we accidentally met in the broad street of the marketplace or in some narrow lane, it was our routine to exchange smiles or wave to each other as a gesture of good will.

One day when dark clouds were ready to burst in rain, I met her while I was carrying a heavy basket full of groceries towards my house. True to our custom, I spread a faint smile on my lips and tried to walk away because seventy-five items of clothing that were spread out on the long clothesline in the courtyard to dry, were dancing in front of my eyes. It had taken my two hours in the morning to wash them and I had complained of this my husband at least ten times. If it would have started raining, drying up those clothes would become a problem. That’s why I quickly tried to be on my way but I felt that wanted me to stop so that she could say something to me. ‘You know where my house is, do come over please!’ I pleaded.

Heavy drops of rain were just waiting for the moment when I would carry the bundle of clothes inside and they could quench the thirst of the soil. There was a heavy downpour. The drains turned into streams and streams into rivulets.

The water had not even drained yet when leaping over the water puddles in the streets, she entered my house. Moss colored shalwar has raised the width of a palm above her ankles, it seemed as if she had come swimming in the muddy water.

She washed her feet in the bathroom and standing in the corridor pulled down the cuffs of her shalwar and came and sat on the sofa in the drawing room.

The blowing of the breeze at that time was akin to the swaying gait of a damsel. Before sitting down I offered,

‘The weather is pleasantly cool. Let’s have tea.’

Putting the kettle on the hob, I involuntarily thought, ‘What in the world does she want from me?’

When I returned carrying two mugs of tea, it seemed as if somebody had placed the needle on a gramophone record.

‘Jimmy is so dignified and handsome that even Caesar Augustus cannot hold a candle to him. Besides he is so upright that he can be called Omar bin Abdul Aziz of this era. He is smarter and more intelligent than Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan.’

I choked on my drink. It was natural in the presence of such strong oratory with such abundance of metaphors and references. I had to admire her sharpness and knowledge for combining the personalities of the far past, near past and present with those of Jimmy.

‘Who is this Jimmy?’ Her brother, nephew or cousin, I didn’t have a clue while she was speeding off like a Pajero drove on the broad avenue of conversation.

I placed the empty mug on the side table and waited for an opportunity to put my foot on the brake of her speediness in order to find out the reason for her eulogy. Luckily she herself got on track.

She needed to find a suitable girl for Jimmy. The girl had to be beautiful and should have studied from Convent or some other high-standard institution. She should be able to converse fluently in English. Her family should be educated and cultured especially it was important for the girl’s mother to be well-educated. Jimmy belonged to the elite society and his friends belonged to the same class too.

I was patiently imbibing this conceited conversation. When I could not tolerate it anymore, I interrupted her to say,

‘You must introduce this Jimmy first.’

‘Jimmy is my younger brother.’ Saying this she proudly raised her head and looked at me as if she were sitting on top of Mount Mashabrum, while I was sunk in a ditch.

“He is the youngest among us and is a doctor. He is a gold medalist from the Punjab University and went to the US on a Fulbright scholarship. He was returned after gaining the specialization in heart surgery. He is very smart and is extremely interested in doing further research work so that he can be instrumental in reducing deaths due to heart failure in our country. Jimmy wishes to devote himself to his country and people.”

She added on.

Now it was my turn to be impressed and I was awed. I reflected that it can be tolerated if such a young man places such stringent conditions for his future wife.

Truly there is a drought of suitable young men. It’s the case of one post and many candidates.

A lot of my acquaintances have asked me to find suitors for their daughters and sisters. What could be better if somebody benefits from my intervention?’

‘Samina had told me to approach you. She had told me about your large circle of friends. Please do help me.’ She pleaded hopefully.

Laughingly I said, “I can’t say about a large circle of friends, but I have the habit of being chatty.”

She took a deep breath and said, “Jimmy has to return to England in April and he wants to take his bride with him. I have to look for a bride for him in an emergency.”

I was incapable of fulfilling her need immediately but I promised that I would help her out in this good deed in every possible way. It’s another matter that after she left, I kept on thinking about what the times had come to that if the young man was in a strong position, the expectations of mothers and sisters for the bride went sky high. They were not ready to tolerate ordinary people.

Placing the girls of my acquaintances on the touchstone of her conditions, suddenly I realized that I did not actually know anything about these people except for this that they lived on a street in my mother’s neighborhood which was distinguished because of its tall and beautiful houses. I was unaware of what were the people living inside like and what was their standard of living. If I talk to anybody about them, they would ask me their details and showing a lack of knowledge would not seem right. So, first of all, I need to rectify this.

The best way of interrogation is from the neighbors who are aware of their neighbors from the nappy stage onwards especially in the downtown area. Samina is my younger sister’s friends so from her I came to know the exact location of the house.

One evening I went to the house of their left-hand neighbor. The old lady of the house was sitting wrapped in a comforter enjoying pine nuts. Seeing that a stranger had walked inside, raised waves of surprise and curiosity in her eyes. I sat nearby and quietly told her the reason for my visit.

“Look here dear, the whole family is a quarrelsome lot but Jameel, whom everyone calls Jimmy is the diamond of the first water. A very good-looking, straight and upright person, whom you can praise as much as you want to and it won’t be enough. Truly he deserves to be married in the best possible family, but the thing is that his sister does not consent to anyone.”

I was satisfied with his credentials and promising to keep this conversation confidential walked out.

Soon I was standing in the courtyard of his house. The two-storied house that looked so magnificent from outside had a dismal interior. Near the front wall was the kitchen of the house where his almost blind mother was busy cooking something. When I went forward and greeted her, she quickly placed a low stool in the threshold for me to sit on and said,

“Do come and sit down. Musarrat had been to your house yesterday, hadn’t she? She was telling me about it.”

“Where is she?” I looked around the courtyard.

“She’s gone to the market and will be back soon.”

“My critical eyes were observing the floor and walls of the kitchen. The wooden shelves on the walls were filled with cheap Gujrati clay utensils. In the meantime, her mother had put the water to boil. While the water was coming to a boil, she sat with the tea leaves held in her hand. When the water had boiled enough, she added a pinch of tea leaves and again put it to boil. Then she added milk and a fistful of sugar and raised the flame under the aluminum pan.

This was how tea was being made!

I took a deep breath.

So she was the one who wanted a girl from a high-class family who could fluently converse in English. The tea that Musharraf's mother handed me over in a chipped cup was the type that can neither be swallowed nor spat out. I on the other hand considered tea-making an act of worship like the Japanese. I celebrate it in such a way that on drinking, the enjoyment is multiplied.

Following the saying, ‘If you can’t beat’ em, join’ em,’ I gulped down the whole cupful and getting up placed the cup among the utensils that were lying under the tap waiting to be washed while providing a feast for the flies.

The present conditions are such that looking for a girl is no problem. The parents just demand a fine young man. The idea of looking for a populous family that once used to be an important tradition of society is echoed only in an old song:

 

Father, wed me in a family

Where my father-in-law has numerous sons

So that I may get one married and the other engaged

My hands busy in getting trousseaus made

Where mother-in-law has authority and father-in-law reigns supreme

 

The new society wants all authority for the bride, a delicate bride whose frail shoulders can just bear the burden of the bridegroom and none else.

I talked to Mrs. Shamim Ehsan the next day who remained worried about the marriages of her five daughters. Her first question on meeting me was always, ‘For the love of God, after talking to her I contacted Musarrat and told her the time and dat

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e. The day, on which we had to go to the girl’s house, I was amazed to see how both mother and daughter were decked up. Musarrat’s small-eyed mother could put the Queen of Jaipur to shame, while Musarrat herself looked like the advertisement of Medora, the cosmetics company.

Mrs. Shamim Ehsan was flatteringly welcome. The dinner table was laden with food. All three girls were presented. They were quite above-average in looks but Musarrat looked at them disdainfully. On questioning her on the way back, she said, ‘I had told you that I wanted a beautiful girl.’

‘I can hardly show you houris from heaven!’

‘Please,’ she pleaded in a tone which inflamed me instead of placating me. I wanted to make a cutting remark but she immediately took hold of my hand and said,

‘Please come to my house with me right away. Jimmy is here from Islamabad. Just take a look at him.’

She forced me to her house. Meeting Jimmy made me aware that he was a diamond hidden in rags. He was a cultured, handsome young man who truly deserved the best possible girl. Probably that is why I ignored the behavior that Musarrat had adopted towards Mrs. Shamim Ehsan.

I again targeted all the four corners. This time the house at which I aimed was hundred percent according to the criteria set by Musarrat.

Mrs. Rabbani was my dear friend. It was a business cum feudal family. Dignity was their hallmark. The house was magnificent. Right from the gate, the servants ushered us in with great respect. Mrs. Rababni was an elegant, cultured and religious lady. Her young daughter was in her final year of graduation. She was extremely pretty; delicate like the fragile stem of a rose and fresh like a jasmine bud opening up in the morning. When Muarrat saw her she said,

‘I am really grateful to you for bringing me here. This girl is unique among millions.’

I thanked God for this good deed of the day. Uniformed footmen served us with tea. We talked after disposing of it and after two hours when we were about to get up, Mrs. Rabbani stopped us for dinner. I told her that there was no need for this formality but she lovingly said,

‘The angels of benevolence and providence depart from the house from which guests leave at meal-time.’

Both the girl and the household were liked by mother and daughter. After two days, Musarrat’s whole family descended on Mrs. Rabbani laden in two cars. Musarrat wanted her sisters-in-law to meet this rare diamond on whom her eyes had fallen. Mrs. Rabbani welcomed all of them while the whole family took to the girl.

Next was the stage of meeting the suitor at his house. Mrs. Rabbani was worried at the state of the house. She said to her husband,

‘Used to such posh living, our daughter would not be able to adjust to those surroundings. The difference is too stark.’

Mr. Rabbani advised his wife,

‘Don’t be silly! I like the boy, he is intelligent and wise. He has a bright future in front and the wealth of strong education at the back. People are constantly on the look-out for such boys. We are not deficient in money. We’ll have a clinic built for him and buy him a new house. It is not difficult for us to give him a boost in life.

He was right and his wife got the message.

Both the families started each other. Musarrat used to go regularly and received a warm welcome every time. She also showed a loving attitude towards her would-be sister-in-law.

I had one out of Lahore when they had the engagement ceremony. I heard that both the sides had it with great pomp and show.

One evening Musarrat came to meet me. I was not at home and she left a note.

‘I’ll come again tomorrow at nine, so please remain at home.’

I read it and thought that she might be looking for my advice for wedding preparations. This thought also flashed through my mind that why would she need my advice when she did not think herself less wise or philosophical than Lao-Tse.

One day I was buying onions and garlic when I saw an old friend. Abandoning my basket on the vegetable cart I leaped towards her. We embraced each other on the roadside. This old friend used to live previously at Faisalabad and had moved here six months back due to her husband’s posting. Now she was residing at Officers’ Colony.

During the conversation, she suddenly said,

‘I met Musarrat a few days back and I was amazed to see her. What a dignified personality she has developed now! She was never like this in school.’

‘Where did you meet her?’ I involuntarily asked.

‘She had come to see my landlord’s daughter for her brother. By chance, I came downstairs and met her there. ‘Lady Hamilton’ could not have held a candle to the way she was dressed and made up. To tell you the truth I was really impressed.’

‘Isn’t she a rotten egg?’ I exclaimed flaring up.

She had given her word to my acquaintance and leaving them in the lurch had veered off in another direction.

I was so angry and disturbed that I felt like going to her house there and then, but it was 00:00 and time for the children to come from school. After giving lunch to the kids and getting over with the afternoon prayers, I went to her house. No one was at home.

Vindictively somebody whispered within my heart, ‘She must have gone to cheat somebody else.’ Still, I called out loudly. Fortunately, she was lost in thought in some room and came out in the courtyard on my calling out.

I immediately asked her what she was up to.

And instead of displaying any shame or embarrassment over her behavior she said adamantly,

‘You introduced us to strange people. They wanted to share my brother and that’s why we said no to them. Thank God the marriage was not solemnized.’

I stared at her in silence struck dumb with this facet of her personality.

After a while, I said in a sunken voice,

‘Do you consider the matter of girls so simple that you get them engaged and then break off. Don’t you have any fear of God?’

Her attitude and words were so sharp that it was useless to say anything further.

Touching my ears, seeking God’s forgiveness, I walked away. I thought that in my effort to perform a good deed, I had just disgraced myself. What was the use of it?

The same evening Mrs. Rabbani dropped in looking grief-stricken with dry lips and ashen face.

‘What sort of people did you bring to our house? They saw Zoobia and liked her. The whole family came in droves and we always welcomed them warmly. They insisted on an engagement and I agreed only because of the boy who looked respectable. Fifteen people came for the ceremony and we gave them gifts of clothes while the boy was given a diamond ring. We presented gold bracelets to the mother and gave gold bangles to that fraudulent Musarrat.

Now listen what happened yesterday. Zoobia went to a friend’s house where some guests were coming for tea. Noticing that some special arrangements were being made, Zoobia jokingly asked her friend,

‘What web are you spinning all by yourself?’

She answered,

‘I am in the process but you have already done it.’

On Zoobia’s insistence, she told her about Jimmy and said that the boy’s sister hand already shown her preference for her and now the mother was coming to see her.’

Zoobia’s breath stuck in her throat and she immediately came home. When she told me about it, I quickly went to her friend’s house and told them everything. We decided that we would walk in when those people arrive but they didn’t turn up. Mr. Rabbani immediately got in touch with Jimmy. He showed his concern and apologized by saying sorry.

“Saying sorry is of no use, you have to take some action as well.”

Mr. Rabbani said. ‘The problem was such that he remained adamant.

Apologetically he said that he could not do anything without his sister’s consent. You may call it cowardice or dishonorable behavior but the truth was that after their father’s death, Musarrat had put a lot of effort into educating her brother. Now the situation was that if he tried to do anything against her wishes, the spinster sister who was stepping into old age would rip him up in a moment and make his life miserable through venomous words. He was not in a position to take on the step without her permission.

Mr. Rabbani beat his forehead in anguish,

“How painful it is that we were honorable people cannot take help from the police even as it would give everyone a chance to point at us.

Except for being sorrowful and regretting whatever happened, I could not do anything.

After some days, I met Musarrat’s sister-in-law in the market. I stopped her and asked why things had happened so in the case of Mrs. Rabbani. She laughed satirically and looking at me closely said,

‘In fact, through the process of selecting girls and being made welcome, Musarrat’s dismal, colorless and dull life was introduced to a glamor which made her evenings interesting and enjoyable. Jimmy’s marriage would end this process for her. Biddable Jimmy is a big card in her pocket through whom she can not only knock at the door of any magnificent house but enter with impunity.

‘Oh God,’

I said to myself painfully. ‘With what poisonous methods, the people of this world sacrifice the high moral values of humanity.’

 

 

Shalwar: Loose, baggy pants worn with a shirt.