“I want to write my story”
…hmmm, “when…?”
Life is too short. Look at this voracious time; It is in a hurry all the time taking more and more with himself.
What is your fascination by the way…?
…“Death”
Death is introspective to me. It explores to me my relationship with time. Death resides on oscillating time waves and ultimately, it conquers the time.
We poor human are helpless before time and look-death is time-eater.
Invincibility!!! Does make it fascinating, really …
No, my “believability on death”- that one day, I will meet death. It makes me amazed that in what state I will be at that time. I might be rich or poor; I might be a father or a son; I might be a famous or an unknown, and I might be a traveller or a destined soul. The imagination of this makes death fascinating before me. What would be my story when I get a chance to meet my death and what would it change after death took me with herself?
This all makes the idea of meeting with my death fascinating before me.
Are you living your story?
“Everybody is …”
It’s everybody’s story?
No, it’s mine.
-Nobody is living for nobody; everybody is living his fascination; his perfect fascination.
And…, it is a fable of fascination.
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They say the earth is elliptical; they say sun revolves around the earth; they say everything that goes comes back. This is true to the extent that life at Hajipuraa village revolves around the sun. This is a shepherd village, seventy kilometres away from the national highway in rural lands of the country. The village is dotted with dense and isolated dwellings surrounded with fields and trees. There are the vast tracts of grazing land at the periphery of the village where shepherd remained busy with their herds the whole day. Village does not have any fixed proportion in itself. The only centrality, if one assumes the village a rectangle, is the Bethak Mewa Khan near the water tank. There are mud and brick houses on all sides of this central point where people hailing from different tribes of Baloch race have been living for two centuries.
The village did not enjoy permanent connectivity with nearby towns. The only road that connects Hajipura to the town was once the arbitrary pathway created by school-going kids when they had to make their way to school through fields. With time, that pathway turned into a functional road. Village’s gossip club called this katchi sarak. During full moon nights, this katchi sarak transformed itself into a fascination road where grown-ups met each other and established their own Kuth, different from their elders there at Bethak of Miwa Khan, and shared stories of their fantasies and wander under the twilights of the moon. However, not all that is attractive about katchi sarak. During the rainy season, when it rains, katchi sarak turned into a slippery mud road, a different kind of fascination, making the travel of people difficult.
The periphery of Hajipura is sparsely populated where shepherds spent their days listening to the music created by the bells around the necks of their sheep and playing the flute together when they sit for rest during noon. Shepherds love to entertain themselves with fresh milk and fresh rumour during dinnertime when they sit under the shady tree and form their own Kuth.
People rise with the sun and sleep when the sun makes a dip in the western horizon. They do not use a time calendar other than this. Every senior shepherd in the village keeps two concerns with himself all the time- sheep and his daughters. A married shepherd with children is supposed to be the caretaker of both. He needs to be careful; lest the wolf might take a chance at his precious treasure-his sheep and his daughters, and he found no time for remorse and grief.
Being a shepherd and being a father is one and same thing for Dewan Muhammad who owns twenty-nine sheep and four daughters. He inherited five sheep from his father but he and his wife Karima Bibi worked diligently to raise their herd to twenty-nine. Their daughters grew with their sheep. His wife remembered that when Shabana, their first child, was born they had had only seven sheep. Karima used to let Shabana play with the little baby sheep who had had smooth fur on their surface while she remained busy in household chores.
“There is a strange bond between both-sheep and her daughters”, she pondered sometimes while reciting the Holy Quran. Allah never makes anything fazool, He definitely had had some scheme before Him when he had given us four daughters and no son. He is our Lord and He knows everything. In most of the time, she remained busy wrestling with a chain of thoughts about her daughter. They are growing and it makes her worried about their future. “Why daughters do not remain like these baby sheep, – so innocent, so smooth and so beautiful”, she thinks sometimes when she saw her daughters playing with the little baby sheep, feeding them and adoring them. They are so harmless and beautiful. They do not put fear in anybody around; just live and play their own lives. Then she herself rejects her thought by saying, “even these little and harmless sheep will turn into a grown-up one day and will be put into wari, an enclosure”.
“Everything grows Dewan Muhammad, everything…. Time takes everything with itself” She used to remind her husband often when he came back home in the evening with his herd. Dewan took her wife’s gibe at a distance and made himself busy in milking his sheep. Two elder daughters helped him to feed the sheep and filled a large bucket of water for sheep in wari, a special enclosure for sheep in the house. Then sunset in the west and everything turned off in Hajipura village except the Men’s laughers at Bethak Miwa Khan.
-Shepherd never sleeps when he has had a herd of sheep to protect; one part of his always remains awake
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Groundwater at Hajipura was not of good quality. Most of the village houses take water from the water tank near the Bethak Mewa Khan. In the evening, a Kuth i.e. gathering, has been the norm of the village people when people from all nearby houses gather, do gossips, crack jokes and talk about town and women. A good number of people from village Hajipura were regular visitors of Kuth. Most of them were the middle-aged shepherds who had switched their professions; went to big cities like Karachi; some even visited gulf countries into Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA) and United Arab Emirates (UAE). They spent a good time there, earned money, settled their kids in labour force over there or established some sort of business for them in the village and nearby town. They are the village’s retired community. They have had stories of distant lands, unheard for many audiences of the Bethak, of far-off lands where people do not face electricity shortage and where everything is fancy, beautiful and perfect both in house and in the market. They had been in the place where women went to schools, drive their cars and shop in the market. Their accounts of distant lands topped with fascinating details mesmerized the audience. This created an unending wave of fascination among the audience that the world was so perfect and so elegant. Sometimes, they entertained their audience with their funny rather attractive encounters with women in big cities. In most of the time, these women used to be nice, caring and beautiful. They called them Bibi Ji in respect when they got a chance to interact with them and Bibi paid them well on doing a trivial work of labour. Sometimes newcomer from gulf told his story about his woman Kafil, The handler, in KSA. She was very nice to him and allowed him to use everything he wanted from her house. In return, he only did some household chore and drove children to their schools. Every night, these supposed outlanders entertained their awed local audience with untold stories of far-off unseen land that looked strange and fascinating to many of the members in the audience. Every night this fascination saga continues and everybody fills his lungs with the air of fascination as much as he can endure.
Children and teenagers were normally not allowed to sit in the Kuth. However, they have innovated a way to entertain themselves with the accounts of their elders. Normally, they sit on roofs of nearby mud houses and listen to the stories of their adult brethren. Many grown-ups from the village’s gossip club used to stay at the water tank and quenched their fascination thirst by listening carefully to accounts and chatters told at Kuth.
Like many other girls and boys at the village, Shabana with her younger sisters came to fetch water from the water tank every evening for dinner use. She had heard a lot about that men’s den,-Bethak Mewa Khan, which was a famous men’s point in the whole of the Hajipura. She got strict instruction from the mother not to stay there longer because it is not good for girls to stay longer outside in the evening and to nearby the company of boys and men. However, with time, Shabana started developing an interest in knowing the details of Kuth in the Bethak Mewa Khan. She had heard that they told about stories of the women of the town who were educated and drove their cars. Those women wore fancy dresses and boosted costly sets of jewellery. One night, she tried to stay longer than usual at the tank and tried to listen to the stories but boys from gossip club gathered around the water tank and ruined her plan.
One evening she remained busy in milking the sheep and helping her father to feed baby sheep. She got late and her mother was reluctant to send her to fetch water from the tank. Dewan Muhammad was so tired and Kareema did not muster up the courage to ask him to fetch water from the tank. She asked Shabana to take her two younger sisters with her and fetch water from the tank. In sending three of her daughters, she thought that in the company of three they were safer than in the company of two. It got late and no one was there at the water tank. Shabana looked at nearby roofs and saw a few boys there listening to the gossips that were going on at Kuth. Shabana tried to listen to the gossip. One person was narrating the story of his travel to Saudi Arabia. He was telling about some woman whom he met in-plane who used to serve them during his travel to Saudi Arabia. It looked all strange to Shabana how one woman could serve to strangers in the plane. Even then, it all thrilled her to know more about the plane and plane women. She was thinking whether there was actually a woman who drove the plane. The night was getting darker and she had two younger sisters at her disposal. So, she did not consider it safe to stay there longer. When coming back from the tank, she was pondering why her father did not come to sit at Kuth regularly and enjoy himself the nice company of these people.
“My father is a hardworking man. He loves his sheep”, she answered herself.
“So does every other shepherd in the Hajipura village”
“It might be my father do gossip with his sheep and do not like sharing gossip with villagers”
Absorbed in thought she entered his house and found her mother worried about them. Mother never remains ignorant when she has had four daughters to care for.
At that night, Shabana finds it hard to sleep. She kept thinking about what she had heard at Kuth. She was amazed that women were serving the men and enjoying their lives outside and here her mother always advised her to be shy in demeanour. Her thoughts were becoming exorable on her and sleep was far away from her eyes. She tried to read the faces of her sleeping younger sisters to spend the time but thoughts were getting more nasty and messier in her.
Shabana was not good with words as all sensible girls were supposed to be less talkative as per the code for girls in Hajipura. But, she was sensible enough who could feel the pain of sonless mother and feeling of the father with four daughters and no son to share his burden. She felt a similar pain inside herself many times. Life seemed so perfect to her in houses where sisters had their brothers to play with; mothers had their sons to pride in and fathers had their waris, inheritors.
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Spring was around the corner when villagers prepared themselves for harvesting their crops. One season was about to end and new was about to sprout. In celebration of spring and harvesting culture in the village life, there was going to be a Baisakhi festival in a nearby town in the coming month. This festival has been the oldest tradition the people of Hajipura celebrate each year. Different people were planning to celebrate the festival in many different ways. Children stitched their new suites and elders were ordering special khussas and colourful lachaas to look elegant and graceful. Kids were excited about the festivities associated with the Baisakhi and they started saving money to buy their favourite remote control cars and tractors from the shops at the festival. Girls were planning to buy new sets of jewellery and new brands fashion doll.
Dewan Muhammad was a great festival-lover. He prepared for Baisakhi almost for the whole winter. It has been his practice to grow three sheep, especially for Baisakhi. One week before, he traded the sheep and saved money in the inner pocket of his special leather jacket, which he wore beneath his shirt. He prepared a list of festivities and hangout plans with his friends during nights at Baisakhi and ascertained cost related to those in mind. He portioned money in the multi-portion pocket of his jacket according to its use. Of portions in his pocket, one was designated about the wife; one was about his daughters and one was about his sheep.
This time he was thinking different.
Since his boyhood, during every Baisakhi, he stitched new shirt, bought laachaa and khussa, and managed a special turban. He remained busy with mirror for many days setting his haircut, proportioning his beard and adjusting his turban on his head. He took out his special perfume, which was a gift from his friend’s son in Saudi Arabia from his special trunk and wore its fragrance daily. One day before Baisakhi, Dewan Muhammad did full-dress rehearsal by wearing a newly stitched shirt with laachaa and khussa. He showered himself from his gift perfume over his shirt and turban and felt the joy inside her body. For his daughters, this rehearsal day was more elegant than actual Baisakhi day. Because on this day they could saw their baba in full bloom for the whole day much like a young boy who was full of energy and blood. All four sisters shared the same pain. If they had their waris, their brother, he would have dressed like their father.
His wife prepared special sweet dishes for him to take with himself at the festival and enjoy eating with his friends those came from far-flung villages and towns. This is the best of time of year for Dewan Muhammad when he enjoyed his time with his friends and listened to the gossips people bring together from nearby towns and villages. He spent two full nights at Baisakhi with friends –all the time making fun, doing gossip, cracking jokes and eating their favourite dishes. The time spent with his friends at festivals filled enough energy in him to live the remaining time of the year thinking and fascinating about all the fun and enjoyment they all had had at Baisakhi. He spent all the money, he portioned for those two nights at different festivities with his friends. They visited jokers ‘corner and amused themselves with new jokes and met with different people every time. They went to the circus and enjoyed their time with gymnastics of artists there. During the night, they attended the qawali session at a nearby shrine. They dined at their favourite hotels at a bazaar and spent the whole night wandering around the festival enjoying the extravaganza of the shops and game centres. Just before dawn, they took the nap in Bethak of a friend who lived nearby town. During the daytime, Dewan Muhammad did shopping for his wife, his daughters and his sheep. He bought some special bells and fancy necklaces made of ropes for his sheep.
At the end of the festival, they enjoyed the kushti and camel race. He bought gifts for his wife, daughters, and came back home loaded with memories to live the remaining part of the year.
This was a tradition with the family and it had been since his boyhood when he first went to Baisakhi with his father. He never missed a single festival since then. Every year, when the organizer announced the date for Baisakhi in Hajipura village, it belled a start of the different short phase in the life of Dewan Muhammad. He started talking more with his wife and daughters. He asked her daughters what gift they liked to have this time. He gave instruction to his wife about his new dress and khussa. He went to bazar in a nearby town and brought special items required for sweet dishes her wife made for himself. For one night or two before Baisakhi, he went to attend Kuth at Bethak Miwa Khan to listen to news about festivals and amuse himself with the Baisakhi plans of other villagers.
It looked all different and good to Shabana when it came the time of the festival. It brought their baba back to them. It was the time when they got more attention from her baba than the sheep did get round the year. Before leaving for the Baisakhi, Dewan Muhammad played the flute for his daughters and helped Shabana to play the flute.
“Baba is all different now. He looks so sweet when he plays the flute”, Shabana often spoke to herself many times in her thought during those days.
When Dewan Muhammad went to Bethak Mewa Khan two days before the start of Baisakhi, people at Kuth put a farmaish on Dewan Muhammad to play flute for themselves. Dewan Muhammad played the flute during that time of year so charmingly that whole village gathered around the water tank to listen to that sweet and unforgettable flute melody. All the people at Kuth praised his talent and asked him to visit Kuth often. Every time he promised to come regularly at Kuth. But, when the festival is over, he remained busy in his sheep and became aloof from the village. This has been his routine and everybody knew about it and never missed the chance to enjoy when he played his flute to people once in a year.
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The day came and Dewan Muhammad was ready to have a share of the fun of that year. He received messages from his friends that they all were coming and expecting a great time in this Baisakhi. One of his friend who had been in Saudia for ten years was also coming to Baisakhi. Dewan Muhammad was excited to meet him. It had been ten years and they had spent a lot of time together in shepherding in Hajipur village in past. He had been a nice little man with a thinking mind. Dewan Muhammad was curious to listen to his story.
He asked his wife to put his luggage into a special leather bag he had with him for such festivals. Karima Bibi put all the sweet dishes and some other necessary stuff in the bag. She prayed for the safety of her husband because he was the only waris of her and her four daughters.
The place of Baisakhi was a large ground one kilometre away from the town in the north of the Hajipura. He went to his friend’s Bethak and put his leather bag there. Other friends also gathered there and they started hall, – enquiring about one’s life, family and job, from friends. Everyone was excited to meet and welcome Ali Muhammad who was going to join them after ten long years. They got a message from Ali Muhammad that he would join them during the night at Baisakhi.
They all went to see the bazaars different vendors had established in Baisakhi. Everything looked dazzling and fancy. This time, the main bazar for the festival was much bigger than it was in the previous year. They heard that this time, the cinema was also there and they were playing some old movies on the late-night show. After having a trip across the festival place, they all friend decided to meet at dinner at their favourite place. To give a feast to his friend, they planned to cook mutton karahi with desi ghee by themselves at friend’s Bethak. All gathered there and started preparing things for the feast. A friend brought meet from bazar. Spices and other things were taken from a friend’s house. Soon, everyone was busy doing something except Dewan Muhammad who was entertaining his friends with his flute. At the mid of this mehfil, came Ali Muhammad. He was so mesmerized by listening to the flute of Dewan Muhammad after so long that he went straight to him and embraced him for a full ten minutes. Dewan Muhammad felt that Ali Muhammad had put some weight on him and he was no more handsome and energetic like he had been ten years ago.
While other friends busied themselves in preparing food, Dewan Muhammad started gossip with Ali Muhammad. He was curious and excited to know about his life over far-off land and want to listen to his stories of wealth and prosperity. He asked Ali to start hall. Ali told him about his journey to the gulf when he met his death so closely during his sea voyage. He told him about his prison in Saudia and his ordeals in that prison when a Kafil suspected him some wrongdoing and put him into jail. Ali told him all about the money he earned during his ten years stay at Saudia and how his brothers and sons squandered that money in petty interests here in the village. He told him how he missed Dewan, his company and his flute when he was living far away and missing all those hangouts, kuths and Bethaks with him when they were shepherds together. He told him that not all the money he had earned during those ten years brought in his peace and satisfaction. He wished he would have been more in peace and luckier if he had been blessed with real waris out of his six sons he had, who squandered the money in wrongdoings and brought only shame to the family. Ali Muhammad told him that he had remained so close to death many times during his labour work. Death made him realized that nothing is perfect in this world.
“Our only satisfaction in this world that keeps us going is that if we have had true waris behind, Dewan Muhammad”
And I had learnt that without education, we foreigners did not have respect in those countries. If we did not train our children and give them a nice education, how could we make capable waris out of them?
“I am repenting my part, Dewan Muhammad; my sons are not in my control now. They had their own life under the fascination fueled by all the money I brought into their lives. They do not understand my story Dewan Muhammad, I am repenting.”
Dewan Muhammad came back home not so tired this time. Kareema was so surprised about the new state in which her husband was. He did not bring dolls and jewellery for his daughters this time. But, he brought Jaleebis and laddu for them. He brought different items for his sheep. Kareema was exploring the bag. There might be something for girls in the bag. She went into the room behind her husband to ask about why he did not bring anything for his daughters from Baisakhi.
When she asked about his changed behaviour, Dewan Muhammad smiled.
“They will not play with dolls anymore; they will go to school now. They are my waris,…..waris of you,….waris of me,…waris of my twenty-six sheep”