SHORT STORIES · Web viewery little has been written about the ancient coastal people of Lyari –...

SHORT STORIES

FOR

ADULTS

BY

ZEENAT IQBAL HAKIMJEE

1

To my father Ahmed Jivanjee, mother, sisters, husband and children.

Copyright® 2004

All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced, stored in a Retrieval System, or transmitted, in any

form by any means, without prior written Permission of the author.

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Table Of Contents

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1 Rescue On The Sea 4

2 The Honest Taxi Driver 16

3 Why Should I Be Hungry 24

4 The Hands Deserve The

Books

32

5 The Hidden Favour 42

6 The Parting Gift 52

Short Stories For Adults

RESCUE ON

THE SEA

Very little has been written about the

ancient coastal people of Lyari – the

irrepressible Makranis – who take their

name from the Makran coast of Sindh and, Balochistan, which also indicates a common

4

Rescue On The Seahistory of the two provinces; the Makran coast constitutes the South-East of Iran and the

South-West of Pakistan; a 1,000 km stretch along the Gulf of Oman from RA’s (cape) Al-

Kuh, Iran (West of Jask), to the Lasbela District of Pakistan (near Karachi). The Makran

coast is on the Arabian Sea, to the North-West of Quetta in Balochistan.

The following is a story of one such coastal village:

Children on bare - back camels, watch the sea, its vastness spanning even beyond the

grasp of their eyes. Fishermen on the beach watch the sky, like the city dwellers read their

newspapers first thing in the morning. Through the knots of their nets hanging on the line,

they seem to predict the weather. This exercise determines whether they should take a

boat out or not on the deep sea, for their daily expedition to catch fish. The air is filled with

the smell of rancid water that is due to the deposits of oil, resulting in decayed and dead

sea-life. Music, which is a part of their lives, plays in the background. The sounds are a

fusion of musical cultures from the Middle East, Indo-Pakistan and Africa.

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Short Stories For AdultsThe shells on the beach look like the abandoned toenails of the old fishermen, and

they are more beautiful there, than on the foot. The broken wings, the sand-logged crabs, a

woman’s lonely shoe, a rusty toy damaged beyond recognition, the plank or sail from a

doomed boat, all lay sprawled on the beach, each with a story behind it, cleansed and

sterilized by the salt and iodine in the great hospital of the sea. In the night, the light from

the tower was but a spot against the background of the sky and spectacular cliffs.

The weather beaten villager’s munched dates from the interior while watching

holidaymakers trying to teach their children to swim, like fish to water, amidst the shouts

and screams of the children who are already submerged in the waters. The steps of the

ladies faltered as they approached the sea, clad in shalwar kameezes filled with the wind,

the Shalwar Kameez itself a deterrent for swimming.

The story told here is that of a villager who because of his sharp sense of hearing

helped in the rescue of a drowning man. The villager was alone and as he had no family to

fend for, hence he had no responsibilities to drain his energy. Somehow he had also

6

Rescue On The Seapreserved his youth, which he owed to mother nature. Religion that usually comes into the

house with the presence of a woman was lacking in his and he was quite oblivious of it.

One evening when it was well after ten and the moon was full with black clouds

scudding in ordered masses across the sky, he was still sitting on his wall, all alone. A cool

wind suddenly sighed from an unexpected quarter and in its wake was a noise like that from

a distant cavalry charge. His razor sharp ears picked up the sound. His brow creased up as

his eyes searched the distance. He hobbled to his neighbours house and banged on the

door of his traditional mud-hut – the two men, though natural life-guards, knew thoroughly

all that was written in the books about rescue on the seas. The coastal blacks were

descendants of imported slaves – the fishermen being known as the Meds and the seamen

as the Koras – when there was no response; he banged on the door again. A groggy fellow

soon appeared. He pointed towards the horizon and mumbled something in the Makranic

dialect. The man’s eyes tried to see beyond the direction of the location being pointed at. A

boat in trouble, he thought aloud. Without wasting any time they woke the other men.

7

Short Stories For AdultsA rule of the sea states, that half the purchase price of the vessel of the sea is given

to the rescue party. This prize money was quite a temptation, but since it was always

dangerous the case required to be argued, all hands knew that the proposed journey was

perilous.

The village women all having gathered on the beach, saw their men disappear,

reappear, disappear, reappear and finally disappear into the darkness. They were now a

tiny speck in the vast vista of the sea – the ocean that is open to all and merciful to none,

that which threatens even when it seems to yield, pitiless always to weakness.

Many of the Makrani women now worked as domestic servants in Karachi; they

were also experts in the art of massaging any mother and child after birth. Their

traditional long dresses with hand-woven

Embroidery gave them a distinct ‘folk’ touch, separating them from the typical Karachiites.

The skirt-like look, with its wide circumference, and the loose shalwar could be compared to

the costumes of the pathan and Kabuli women.

8

Rescue On The Sea The men in the rescue boat changed sides, so as not to tip the balance of the boat

as the surf sprayed them from head to toe. The taste of salt lingered in their mouths during

the voyage. They were not bothered by their appearance. On the contrary, they felt no

different from when they started out dry.

Suddenly, a dark object was thrown at them on the crest of a wave. It was a man.

They held on to the poor fellow and eventually succeeded in dragging him aboard. Nobody

felt sorry that this time, there was no prize. They rowed back to their village.

Couples fought with each other to offer hospitality to this half dead man; and they

almost came to blows in their struggle for this visa to heaven.

They fetched a doctor from a nearby village, while the women sat all around him

wearing their beads. The doctor was a Karachiite who had been sent to the village to serve

them. The doctor prompted the man to speak. The man said, “Mahganj” very faintly.

Repeated attempts, received the same response. The diagnosis stated that he was a victim

9

Short Stories For Adultsof a traumatic shock and was suffering from amnesia, which meant a loss of memory, if

only temporarily.

The Priest, who was also a member of the village council, was also summoned, as

was the case in other similar incidents. “What’s going on here?” he asked one of the ladies.

“A miracle” said all the ladies together. The Makrani women are predominantly Muslim.

The Priest was briefed about the rescue and what followed. Being

an elderly fellow, he recalled that a girl by the name of ‘Mahganj’ had been registered in

the mosque some eighteen years ago.

Now, it was easy to put two and two together. The man they found was associated

with Mahganj and was discovered as belonging to the same village as her’s. He was also

supposed to marry her.

10

Rescue On The SeaMahganj was the granddaughter of the village tailor. Thus it was decided that the

man be taken back to the same village that he originated from. Similar surroundings would

help to revive his memory, it was hoped.

A therapist was hired from the city and surely, slowly though, his memory came

back in bits and pieces. Mahganj’s presence always evoked a response in the man, so

strong was the bond of love. His memory did eventually return, which in turn led to their

marriage. They led a happy married life.

11


12

The Honest Taxi Driver

13


14



What all is involved in a taxi drivers life; physical labour and not much exercise for the

grey matter. One such driver was Anwar. He got his driving license from the back door. He

did not learn how to drive a car, neither was he aware of the traffic rules and regulations.

He was however, a man with a generous heart, known for his hospitality.

Overheard conversation, as he sat with his mates at a tea stall. “Tea keeps me on

my feet”, have another, everything should be done in moderation”. “Tea is a milder

addiction”. The conversation drifted to the price of petrol and passengers. “Things have

become so expensive. I bought a kilo of meat for Rs. 150/-. It seems that if the price does

not come down, it will be difficult for us to make ends meet”.

One of the reasons why Anwar stood out amongst his mates was his wife. She

never harassed him for extra money. The hard work that he put in was evident from his

15

Short Stories For Adultsbronze rugged skin tone. Tanned from the hours, days, years that he had spent driving his

cab, exposed to the

merciless sun. He was so vigilant that he pierced the distance with the sight of an eagle

soaring in the skies and nose-diving to pick up the prey from ground. Proof of his vigilance,

“stop the thief, “ cried the lady, whose purse had been snatched. Nobody moved from

amongst the onlookers. Anwar from a distance approached the scene of the theft; “move

aside” he roared “corner the thief”. The thief was a smart cookie. Dodging Anwar he

entered the alley and hid behind a rubbish can. To the thief’s misfortune a cat inside the

can scared of the noise the thief made, leapt out of it. Anwar pounced on the thief and

recovered the money from him.

Like the lady above, his work led him to interact with persons from various stratas of

society. Sometimes there were persons from affluent families also. One bright sunny day

when fate was to take a turn for Anwar, Mr. and Mrs. Ahmed sat in his cab. “We want to go

to Nazimabad. Will you take us?” “Hope in.” said Anwer. ”We are going to this place for the

first time. I hope you will be able to follow our instructions,” said Mr.Ahmed. After clearing a

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The Honest Taxi Driverfew traffic jams, they finally arrived at the destination. They got off on the main road and

said they would manage on foot the rest of the way.

To his utter surprise Anwar found a parcel on the back seat of his cab. This was

when he stopped for a meal after dropping Mr and Mrs. Ahmed. The parcel had jewellery

inside. He was somewhat anxious regarding how to locate them so that he could give them

their parcel back. He searched for some form of identification, but to no avail. His friends

tried to persuade him to keep the parcel. But he took pride in being honest and there was

no way he would compromise over it.

Little did he know that this parcel was to seal the fate of a couple about to be

married? The couple was Ammar and Shagufta. Ammar and Shagufta had been engaged

for a year. It was customary to give dowry to the daughter. Not to display wealth, but to

support her in her new home, till she was self-sufficient.

He reached home and asked his wife to keep the parcel in safe custody. Weeks

passed, and lo and behold, he spotted Mrs. Ahmed. She was shopping in a market where

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Short Stories For Adultshe had just dropped a passenger. He hurriedly approached her and told her that she had

forgotten a parcel in his taxi. She told him, she had searched for this parcel. She could not

hold back her happiness and gratitude. “I was so worried. The parcel had jewellery, which

was my daughter’s dowry. I had fallen sick due to the loss.”

This jewellery was an heirloom. It had been handed down from Shagufta’s

grandmother to Shagufta’s mother and then to her. The grandmother was married to one of

Ammar’s father’s uncles. Shagufta’s grandmother had grey eyes and brown hair and so had

Shagufta. These qualities endeared Shagufta to Ammar.

Anwar arranged for the jewels to be returned to Mrs. Ahmed. “We will expect you

and your family at the wedding”. Mrs. Ahmed’s happiness knew no bounds. The return of

the jewellery meant a big load off her delicate shoulders. Mrs. Ahmed just could not stop

praising Anwar. She told everyone she met, about how honest he was and how difficult, it

was to find people like him. She thanked God, five times a day, when she prayed.

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The Honest Taxi Driver“Welcome Anwar”. Anwar was welcomed in a big way at the wedding. All the family

were eager to know him, although he was not a rich man and the other guests were all,

well, rich people. But who could deny, that Anwar was ‘rich at heart’. The richest in the

gathering at the wedding. He walked, in with his head held high. He felt so good, after

returning the jewels. Although he was in a gathering of rich people, he did not feel lost as

he was bestowed with ‘wealth’ of honesty.

And as Shagufta wore the wedding band, she looked at Anwar and smiled, a smile

of gratitude, before she was whisked off to her new home. Her wedding was memorable

right from the beginning to the end. A new life, lay ahead of her, and as she entered the

threshold of her new home and prepared to remove the heavy necklace, she heaved a sigh

of relief, recalling all that had happened.

19


Why Should I

Be Hungry

Salman come and have your lunch”

shouted his mom from the door of their

hut in the Katchi abadi. He was playing

marbles with his friends of adversary.

His mother was thin, a widow who lived

in a slum of Karachi. Her husband died

when Salman was 6 years of age. He was 10 now in the adolescent phase. She worked

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Why Should I Be Hungryhard as a domestic servant in the city. Their slum was outside the city. Salman knew that

she always kept the meat for him. If Salman asked her to have it she would say she had

eaten at Begum Saheba’s. But Salman, although not so old, knew in his heart of hearts that

his mom was laying. He knew that she saved as

much food as she could for him, of the little that they had. He entered his hut with his

friend, his mom looked up as if to say, there is not enough for the both of us. But she told

Rahman to come in. So Rahman and Salman sat together and ate the dried bread with

curry.

One day Rahman told Salman that a guest to the slum whom he called, Ustadji, had

given him 5 rupees, which was a lot of money for Rahman. He asked Salman to come with

him to meet Ustadji. Ustadji seemed to be a nice person. He gave Salman Rs. 5; only nice

persons gave money, just like that, thought Salman.

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Short Stories For AdultsUpon enquiring Salman found out that Ustadji lived in the city. He told Salman that

he had a big house and he, Salman could come and stay with him. He would receive Rs.

500 per month.

Salman convinced his mom to let him go. He wanted to help his mom by earning

some money to give her.

They sat in a taxi, which wound through roads that Salman had not seen in a

lifetime. After an hour or so, the taxi stopped outside a building. Ustadji stepped outside and

asked Salman to follow. A boy about 14 years of age came to Ustadji. He enquired about

who Salman was. Ustadji asked him to take Salman to his room.

There Salman saw a quilted robe and Kashkoll A pair of crutches were propped up

against the wall.

22

Why Should I Be HungryMany cases of children being deliberately mutilated and disabled by their inhuman

Ustadji’s for the purpose of beggary have been reported. A substantial amount of takings

from these poor and innocent child-beggars fill the purses of their cruel tormentors.

After a couple of days, Salman found himself on the streets with the boy who shared

his room, begging for money. He had to report to Ustadji in the evening, declaring the

amount of money he had collected to him.

It is facts that a vast majority of beggars are able bodied and have taken to this

lucrative profession as a means of making some easy money. Well, meaning people give

alms to them on Fridays in particular and during Ramazan. But they don’t realize that by

doing so, they are not really implementing the spirit behind the concept of charity. No doubt,

some of the destitute need our help, but by giving alms to them we are really encouraging

them to become lazy and to harass people.

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Short Stories For AdultsSalman hated this job, but what could he do. He missed his mom and Rahman very

much. But what could he do. Ustadji kept giving excuses for not sending him home. Salman

did not know how to find his way home. At night he cried himself to sleep. Take this money.

Ustadji gave him Rs. 10 as a bonus whenever he was in a good mood.

One day, Salman set out early. In the midst of the crowd, he thought he saw Begum

Saheba. She lived in the city. He ran like a bullet towards her. With wet eyes he told her his

story. She said she would take him to his mom. She gave him some clothes to wear and

made sure he had a bath.

He hugged his mom and would not leave her. He hugged Rahman and thanked

Begum Saheba, profoundly. He would skip a meal, even three and live on an empty

stomach as long as he could be with his mom and Rahman.

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Why Should I Be HungryOne wonders where the crores of rupees which the government annually collects as

zakat goes. Of course the bulk of the amount should be given as annual aid to the poor

whether they live in slums or are beggars.

25


26

The Hands Deserve The Books

The Hands

Deserve The

Books

Child Labour is a crime against

humanity. At this juncture I am

reminded of a very moving story about one of the world’s greatest humanitarians Abraham

27

Short Stories For AdultsLincoln. The time, at which this episode took place, Lincoln was a candidate for a congress

seat. And on that day, he had an important election speech to deliver. But he also had a far

greater task to perform. A noble cause to fight for.

He cancelled his election speech and entered the jam-packed court, which was

already in session. Unnoticed, he sat down in the last row. The case being ended, the

District Attorney rose and moved the trial of John Wilson for murder. There was a stir

through the courtroom. In the doorway appeared the Sheriff, leading a childish figure, a boy

of ten, dressed in poor homemade clothes. He was pale and desperately frightened. The

judge faced the criminal, paused pityingly and steadied himself. “Have you a lawyer?” He

asked. The lad shook his unkempt yellow head. “No, I dunno anybody. I ain’t got- Money- to

pay”.

The boy was in tears, his widowed mother was sobbing near him. “Do you wish the

court to assign you a counsel?” In the stillness a boot scraped the floor. The man in the

back seat rose, “May it please your honour” he said. “I am a lawyer. I should be glad to act

28

The Hands Deserve The Booksas a Counsel for the Defense”. The Judge looked for a moment at the loose-hung, towering

figure. “What is your name?” He asked. The man answered quietly “Abraham Lincoln”.

Lincoln, who gave his life to abolish slavery, had come that day to re-pay a debt.

Years back, when he was a struggling non-entity, the family of the then well to do

little boy, then a baby, had given Lincoln solace and succor. Subsequently, the boy’s father

died and the family was in a miserable state of abject poverty. The boy, John had to work

due to force of circumstances, in a farm of one heartless man who was Shaughnessy by

name. He was a cruel tormentor. One day, he started beating the boy so mercilessly that

the desperate defenseless boy struck his tormentor’s head with a pitchfork. The man died

after some time. The boy was charged for murder. This was the story. It was commonly

said that the boy was doomed; No lawyer, even a smart one could get him off after some

seemingly convincing evidence. But in the courtroom that day was

no ordinary man. It was the great Lincoln, the unique humanist, who had come,

jeopardizing his future career by canceling his election speech, for a great cause- even

greater than his own magnificence.

29


“Gentlemen of the jury,” began Abraham Lincoln. I am going to try this case in a

manner not customary in courts. I shall not call witnesses; the little prisoner over there is all

the witness I want. I shall not argue. You know that at an age when this boy’s hands should

have held schoolbooks or a fishing rod, they held the man’s tool that was his undoing; you

know how a grown man goaded the child till in desperation he used the tool at hand. All I

ask is that you deal with the little fellow, as you would have other men deal in such a case

with little fellow’s of your own at home. Before the verdict, for a second, perhaps, no one

breathed in that packed mass. ‘Not guilty’ was the verdict.

It was a momentous Victory for a great cause. The cause of tormented and

exploited ‘Johns’ of America.

My story is an inspiration from the former. It is about the ‘Asims’ of Pakistan. A

familiar figure in the homes of Pakistan. The not so lucky ones in the houses. I differentiate

because cold callous concrete houses consist of ruthlessness.

30

The Hands Deserve The Books

For one such house Asim worked. His mother was a widow and she washed dishes

and clothes for her ‘Begum Sahiba’ who had suggested this couple for Asim’s employment.

Asim had formerly tried his hand as a motor mechanic, but as circumstances would have it

his boss had closed his workshop because of lack of funds.

After getting the job, Asim worked for Amina and Aslam where he was required to

do all the dirty and hard jobs. To clean the bathrooms, to sweep outdoors in the harsh

summer sun of Karachi. On the face of it everything seemed fine. His masters bullied him

sometimes. They would

feed him with leftovers and not give him new clothes to wear, although he tore his own

clothes doing the dirty work. Maybe, it was because poor Asim had not experienced the

luxury of life. He could not tell that he was being dealt with severely.

Amina was a frustrated woman. Aslam had two wives and she hated sharing him

with his other wife. Maybe this was the reason for her being so cruel.

31


One ill-fated day, Amina entered the house and heard a noise in the kitchen. A glass

had slipped from Asim’s hands and was in splinters.

In a rage, she ignited a matchstick and placed it on Asim’s hands. Singed he ran

out, followed by Amina who seemed in a frenzy. Luckily, for him, she was heavy and could

not move as fast as he.

In his mother’s embrace he told his story, to his mother’s mistress who listened

patiently. She could not even think that Amina could do this to Asim. She was determined to

amend the wrong done to him.

She went to Amina’s house, but Amina completely denied that she had been cruel.

She knew Amina was scared of being blamed publicly. So Asim’s mother’s mistress

threatened Amina to compensate Asim for her ill-doings or she would go to the Police.

32

The Hands Deserve The BooksAmina was asked to pay a handsome amount to Asim for a life-time in lieu of her

attempt to burn Asim’s hand, which escaped several burns because of him not loosing his

senses and wrapping up his hand tightly so that no air was left to blow the flame.

Asim’s mother’s won the money and with that money Asim joined school with zeal to

become something, and look after his mother.

33


34

The Hidden Favour

The Hidden

Favour

Khatija was a robust, healthy, 19

year old girl. She had just finished her studies and had found a good job. Because of her

35

Short Stories For Adultsgood health she managed to work long hours, both in the office and at home. The envy of

her peers who could not even do half the amount of work, she did. The secret behind this

was that a lot of effort had gone behind raising her. Her mother had spent so many

sleepless nights at her bedside, sometimes reading bedtime stories. Her father too had

contributed a lot, towards his daughter’s up bringing. They both doted on her. Her life

passed just like the brook meandering on its way. Seldom was she unhappy like the ripples

on the surface of the brook. But what does it take for the unexpected to be. But as luck has

it, all good times are met with an unhappy event. One-day disaster struck. Khatija fell ill, not

knowing what fate had in store for her. After a prolonged spell of illness and numerous

tests, it was detected that she had to have a kidney transplant. Her parents tried to find a

compatible donor but that is something which is not very easy as it is understood that a

member of the family stands more chance of being compatible, then an outsider. Many

family members volunteered, as it is common knowledge that living with one kidney is

possible.

36

The Hidden Favour“She stands a one in ten chance”, said the doctors. “She is young and has the ability

to recover very fast, after her transplant”. But to everyone’s dismay his or her kidneys were

not compatible. Kidney transplants were not child’s play, and yet people with one kidney or

recipients led very healthy lives. Medical technology was so advanced that events such as

the above that seemed impossible years ago were conducted nowadays, and successfully

at that, too. Medical research had opened up so many vistas and miracles were performed

on the operation table. Khatija was aware of all this and it was this hope that kept Khatija

going. The hope that some-where, someone would be a right donor. Although they seemed

few and far between the search was on.

Who would have dreamt that the donor would be overseas? There, lived a young

man who decided to take a trip to his home country. He saw this appeal in the newspaper,

for a kidney donor. Maybe it was his instinct, or a simple act out of human sympathy that he

thought he should respond. Maybe it was telepathy, as indeed he believed such things did

exist. Yes it was telepathy with Khatija. He longed to return to his home country and there

could not have been a better opportunity.

37


“I have not been home in ages, have even forgotten what it looks like”, he told a

friend. “Better late than never”. He had also heard that a racket of selling kidneys existed in

his home country and he wanted to do something about it.

The hospital that had made the appeal had a good reputation and as he sat in the

waiting room of the hospital, waiting for the doctor to see him, his thoughts travelled to the

past. He recognized the hospital where his father spent his last days. Tears blurred his

vision for a while, but they dried up quickly as he was consoled by the thought that his

father had led a good life and had died peacefully at a ripe old age. But then, a father is a

father, and nobody can be compared to him. The young man recalled his childhood days,

when he had been taken ill. His father sat in a chair, beside him, until the danger subsided.

“Do not let me down, young one. I can’t take any bad news, especially where you

are concerned”.

38

The Hidden Favour“Cheer up, Dad. I’ve almost recovered. I’ve had a hearty meal, and a stroll down the

road”.

Many such incidents, showed the love his father had for him. He felt satisfied.

Nobody could love his own son more. Abid (the young man) was an adopted child. He

owed all he had to his father. His position in life, the respect he commanded and a never-

ending list of favours.

The Doctor nudged him to gain his attention. He had been so lost in his thoughts.

He took him to a room and interviewed him, before conducting tests. Then Khatija’s

particulars were given to him. His mouth opened wide in amazement. Khatija was the

daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Moiz Khan. Seemed like his dream had been realized. His cherished

dream of maintaining relations with his sister and now there was an opportunity to do so.

Mrs. Moiz Khan was his sister; she had left a doting father, whose life became empty, until

he adopted Abid. He had opposed his daughter’s choice of husband; he had banned her

39

Short Stories For Adultsfrom returning to his home. You’ll regret, he told himself but he was not going to

compromise on matters of principle.

His sister’s daughter needed his kidney. The only kidney that was compatible. There

was no going back, he assured himself. Even his father would have softened, had he seen

his grand daughter’s difficulty. Difficult times had made friends out of enemies, and this was

his niece. It seemed like all those long years when they were cut off, now seemed to have

shrunk, because a chance for their reunion existed. But how could he hide his identity. He

requested the Doctor to tell Khatija’s parents that the kidney donor was a dead man.

The operation was successful. Mr. and Mrs. Moiz Khan’s jubilation knew no bounds.

Their only child had a second life. The doctor fabricated the truth, as Abid wanted it to be.

He was too scared to confess his identity. Scared, because he felt it might ruin everything

and the matter was delicate – a matter of life and death, the kidney donation. “I feel a

confession just might make matters worse. Let her recover fully. Then wait for an

opportune, moment, “he told the doctors.

40

The Hidden FavourAbid was at home recovering after his donation. He was a health conscious man.

He ate well and exercised and hence recovered soon. He was grateful to God for the

opportunity to return the favour his father had given him.

At the airport he waited in a queue for his turn to get his passport stamped. The

passport, before him belonged to Khatija Moiz Khan. Again it was instinct that saw them

together, this time hers and nobody knew where it would lead. It was telepathy indeed.

There was a bond between them. A bond that needed to be restored and

further strengthened. And this time he would take the initiative. He smiled at her and she

smiled back. It seemed like his father blessed them. Heaven had this affect on the hardest

of them. He awaited the outcome, eagerly.

41


42

The Parting Gift

43


THE PARTING GIFT (1950)

Mark was born in London during the post war period, in the east end of London, which

has been largely rebuilt since World War II when it suffered much damage from bombing.

London at that time was crippled because of the depression which was an after math of the

war. The birth of Mark brought relief to his parents – relief from a devastated world. You

had to struggle to survive, as London was economically shattered also. It was hard to make

ends meet. Even in those days Mark’s house was full of guests. Their family was known for

its hospitality. One instance Mark remembered of his childhood was of his Mom’s spending

the last of her saving’s to feed a less fortunate family. ‘Give and you receive’, she used to

say. This image of his mother remained with Mark in his adult years.

44

The Parting GiftShe worked in a garments factory, which was a part of the textile industry that was

established by France, an ally from the war. She brought home samples of dresses that

fitted Mark’s sister, Elizabeth. ‘She’s such a Doll’, remarked a friend of Mom’s and she’d go

pink in the cheek.

His father accepted building contracts, which were part of a rebuild London project.

This is how they slowly became rich. He, as a building contractor, before putting up a

building, used to first look at the site, choose the people who were going to work for him

and plan a schedule of work so that he knew which people should be on the site at the right

time. The bricklayers and the plasterer’s would often get in each other’s way. I’ll finish with

the bricks in another couple of hours. ‘Oh! So you will, the last time you said a couple, you

took eight’. He went off, leaving the bricklayer to finish, who was envious of his long break.

He complained, ‘Boss, we both should get equal pay for the hours of work we put in. Mark’s

father would tackle the situation, and he planned shifts, so that no body would have any

objection.

45

Short Stories For AdultsThen there was the time when Elizabeth contracted an infection after swimming in

the pool. They gave her a Penicillin shot (which she was allergic to), but it was too late

before they found out that she was allergic. She developed a rash, as if the infection were

not enough. But they were a close knit family and that saw them out of such situations.

Mark held her hand and teased, ‘your face looks like its full of Polka Dots’. ‘You’d know

what it feels like if you had them’. Elizabeth, on the verge of tears, told him.

About the same time, in Stalin’s Russia, Susan was born – in a communist setting.

Later, she would question Mark about the gap between the haves and the have-nots.

‘Because they deserve to be so’. He’d reply. Many other questions came to her mind,

especially about religion, but her differences were not confirmed. Originally she remained a

Christian. A product of the west, although she cherished faint memories of the large farms

set up as collective units which were usually worked by 100 to 500 families, who reaped

what they sowed. She was impressed and affected by the equal opportunity. And this would

reflect, in her life, later on as would the prosperity of Hampstead heath, which is a large

46

The Parting Gifttract of countryside of London. (The latter as told by Mark to her). Her childhood memories

would reflect in her adult life.

Once during a shortage of wheat (in London – where they were to stay after

marriage), she observed that those collective farmers never went hungry whereas England

imported wheat every year – and it was expensive. Mark would tease her, ‘the average

income of a Londoner affords him the necessities as well as the luxuries’. ‘Capitalist

thinking, that’, she retorted. With her there would remain a distinction between a necessity

and luxury. ‘If it’s not necessary, why do it’, was an opinion of hers on many matters.

During his school days Mark enjoyed playing Cricket, and kept himself up to date

with the score board of County Cricket. ‘The night watchman just might level the score’. ‘Not

if the weather does not permit’. His friends enjoyed the game too. In 1882 Australia beat

England at the Oval in London and after the match the ‘Sporting Times’ invented the term

‘The Ashes’. The paper told its readers of the ‘Death of English Cricket.’ The Ashes (from a

47

Short Stories For Adultsstump burnt during the England tour of Australia in 1883) are kept in an urn at the Museum

at Lord’s. Mark took pride in showing his guests this urn.

A fortune teller once told Mark that after his marriage he would be blissfully happy,

but then he somehow did not want to reveal something to Mark – something terribly sad. He

further added that Mark would have to part from someone he deeply loved. He said that an

evil spirit would be the cause of his parting from someone he deeply loved. He further

asked Mark to practice religion. Mark was not religious.

Who could tell that after so many years, life would be different.

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The Parting Gift

THE PARTING GIFT (1970)

CONTINUED…

They were madly in love. Happiness glowed on their cheeks when they faced the

colourful world. Mark and Susan were the children of prosperous parents. Life had been

kind to them but God’s blessings were only bestowed on a few as would be proved later on.

Kind as in material possessions. Mark’s house was full of guests. It was there that in fact he

met Susan. The first meeting was followed by a series of them. They decided to seal their

relationship and with the consent of their parents they got engaged. Mark was a handsome

boy. Girls did vie with each other for his attention. One such girl was his parents’ choice for

his partner. Obviously she was his mother’s friend’s daughter. Very compatible, because

49

Short Stories For Adultsshe was in and out of their house very often and was almost a family member. Mark liked

her – but the liking was never to turn into love.

Mark was a businessman; and his commitments kept him busy for the day. ‘The

stocks of the company are experiencing a low’. He told a colleague. ‘The clients are not

satisfied and are not ready to invest’. ‘We’ll have to work the nights’. But he spared some

time every day for his beloved. Sometimes with flowers, sometimes over a meal,

sometimes just to remind her that he loved the colour of her eyes, he always had time for

such sentiments.

After a brief engagement they married. They went off on their honeymoon to

Switzerland. Switzerland was an ideal place. A place without an army. A peaceful setting,

detached from the morbid states engaged in war. Amongst so many people, from all around

the world, the two of them saw only each other. Walking in the shadows of the Alps, hand in

hand, they made a commitment never to let this end. ‘Wear your skis. I’ll race you’. ‘I’m too

scared’. ‘Take the plunge’. ‘oo---oop---oops’. She was out of sight. Discovered in a pile of

50

The Parting Giftsnow. ‘I thought I told you to watch it at the curve’. Seeing her red nose poke through the

snow he stifled a giggle. Having made a special trip to separate them, guess who else was

there. The same girl. She had not accepted defeat. She tried to blackmail him, by using his

mother. Her befitting attitude towards his mother was a result of her long association with

him. She was a good cook, unlike his mother and as they say, the way to a man’s heart is

through his stomach. She once cooked a meal that was so tasty that they licked their

fingers clean. Susan’s ego was offended.

But there was always Mark’s shoulder to lean on. He assured and reassured her.

There was no need to worry. The ‘uninvited guest’ would never change his love for her.

Other couples saw them as ideals for a perfect married life. His mother would tell him that

marriage was not a bed of roses and not to be disappointed if anything went against his

wishes. She went on, saying that Mark’s father had been short tempered at the start of their

marriage and many times she kept quiet when he had an anger fit. Mark’s retort, ‘I know

mom, I think I can handle it. You make it sound so difficult, when it is actually not’. ‘The

51

Short Stories For Adultssituation would get out of control, otherwise’. She advised him, as any mother would her

son.

Susan conceived a child in their first year of marriage. Their first child was not going

to be planned. The gynaecologist examined her every month. A girl was a great help for the

mother and they desired a girl as their first born. Frills, bows all in pink with linen to match,

Susan visualised her daughter’s frocks and her room. Susan’s mother had good taste,

which showed in Susan’s attire. She was nominated for the best dressed person at a party

once.

It was the eight month of pregnancy. An ultra sound showed that it was a girl. Yet

their elders were reluctant to make any baby clothes or other things for the baby before

hand. They felt that others would be envious, and that was not a good sign.

52

The Parting Gift‘I can’t wait to see her’. As he felt the baby turn in Susan’s belly. ‘Then you’ll say

you’re pressed for time, because she is a handful’. ‘That will never happen’. ‘We’ll see’. She

got the last word.

The name, what should the name be. Natasha was selected. Natasha was a

Russian name. Susan’s parents had spent some years in Russia. Her father had held a

good post in the Pakistan Embassy there. Her mother liked the name and had wanted to

name her grandchild Natasha.

The delivery time was near. She experienced contractions. The doctor and nurses

were by her side. But God’s blessing escaped them. Susan’s life was in danger. On their

knees they prayed – the parents. ‘Oh! God, save her – if they are our sins you hold against

us, do not make her pay, please God, please’. Some complications developed. Could it be

that the evil spirit had entered Susan’s body? The evil spirit that the fortune teller had

warned Mark against. Could it be that the profound effort of giving birth and the effort of

fighting the evil spirit broke down a weary and tired Susan and finally killed her? Mark

53

Short Stories For Adultsawoke to religion as he had been advised by the fortune teller – better late than never. The

doctor tried his utmost best to save both mother and child. It was touch and go. They all

huddled together outside the operation theatre, looking at each other for strength. The

doctor arrived, his face sullen. The message he was about to convey to them was obvious.

Susan breathed her last on a shocked Mark’s lap. The parting gift, Natasha, lay in

the nurse’s hands. Caught between sorrow and happiness, he had to decide, to get over

his sorrow for Natasha, Susan’s and his Natasha.

Even to this day holding Natasha’s finger he visits the grave, talks to her and gets

her response. It seems like she tells him, do not give up, for Natasha. And little Natasha

clasps her hands in prayer, taught to her by her father. In a whisper, she recites ----- in the

name of the father, the son and the Holy Ghost. Amen. He walks away with the child, a

smile on his face, ready to take on the world. And still in the race is the girl, who however

much she tries will not change matters or should she try through Natasha. She would not

give up. Mark was worth it. They do not make them quite like him nowadays.

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The Parting Gift

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