It was a long drive back home, eclipsed by tall buildings on both sides his smart car wove its way through heavy traffic. Every time he slowed down or stopped at a red light his mind drifted towards the crisis he was facing at home. The rays of the sun shone on glass windows of buildings occasionally and he found these bits of light comforting.
He had lived in a massive red brick house back home where he spent a lot of time in the open, playing football with friends in the many green fields surrounding his home. In his new life all he did was move from one indoor area to another. His heavy work schedule left no time to drive to the country side or even have an afternoon out in the park with his kids. He found the seven day a week, twelve hours work schedule quite difficult in the beginning. Now he had just given up, realising he could either make a living for himself and his family or dream about travelling hills and forests and make no money at all. He had just become the owner of a 24 hour super store in the big apple and establishing himself against the local competition was taking up all his time and energy. He was wondering if he was neglecting his family and that was contributing towards the trouble at home.
Still it made no sense at all, why was his wife showing signs of such latent hostility against the children. Was she angry with him for coming home late? She knew perfectly this was just a passing phase and would soon be over once the business was established. All his personal savings and borrowed money was tied up in there, he had to make it work. As the car came to a halt at another red light he could feel a tension headache creeping in the middle of his eyes and his forehead. He remembered the first time he had seen his wife all that time ago back home when he was a young man and she was a shy attractive girl. She was his sister’s friend and would come along everyday when he picked his sister up from school. They had first exchanged glances through the rear view mirror and he had liked her shy inward smile.
He was wondering where that shy attractive girl had disappeared. Why had she become so angry, why was she hurting the children. His headache was getting worse as he got closer to home.
The trees growing in concrete boxes in the middle of the road were full and green and offered a welcome respite from staring at the traffic or concrete and glass jungle on both sides. He couldn’t keep up his reverie of happy thoughts from back home as his mind kept going back to the events of last week trying to process every detail to find a rational answer.
Neighbours opposite his flat had reported that they had heard the children screaming and crying in distress on a number of occasions and in the end someone had reported it to the police. The police had sent in the social services who had asked the children’s doctor to get involved and do a complete check up to see if the children were being harmed or in any immediate physical danger from the mother, the only adult present with them during the day.
He remembered the moments his children were born and how little and vulnerable they looked. How he had fallen in love with his older son the moment he set eyes on him. The younger one a chubby rosy bright eyed child that even strangers fell for his charm. How could anyone think of harming such beautiful loving children specially the mother. Fresh worry lines were appearing across his forehead. Was there a hidden side to Nazish, he hadn’t noticed so far or had this country changed her.
He felt overwhelmed with the situation. Alone in a new country, friendless and confused he didn’t know how to cope with his crisis. The few relatives he had dotted around the city were not close to him.
He parked the car a few blocks away from his flat and called his mother back home. A strong sadness gripped him as he heard a familiar and loving voice and couldn’t speak for a while ‘’ are you OK son’’? the mother was asking from the other end. ‘’No mum’’ he said in a sad voice ‘’ I made a big mistake bringing Nazish and the boys to NY.’’ The mother sounded really worried, ‘’What has happened now ?’’He moved out of the car and leaned on the side for better reception ‘’ The boys have been put on the social services register as vulnerable children , I don’t think Nazish is coping too well looking after them’’
The mother gasped ‘’Oh my Allah’’ my poor son she seemed to be thinking. ‘’But what exactly is wrong ‘’ she kept insisting. The young man sounded flustered. ‘’the children have burn marks on their legs, seem to have been made by a hot knife and a lot of other unexplained bruises on the body ‘’ He sighed heavily.
‘’Oh my Allah’’ the mother started crying, ‘’what are you going to do? ‘’
‘’Can you come over to NY’’ the son asked in a desperate voice’’ even if the children get taken away, they will allow you to look after them as the closest blood relative’’
The young man switched his mobile to the other ear and moved from side to side ’’ seeming uncomfortable whatever way he stood. The mother sounded apologetic ‘’ son your dad is really ill , he can’t travel, and no one to look after him here.’’ The young man looked frustrated ‘’is it because you haven’t forgiven me for marrying Nazish? Mum this isn’t about her, this is about your grandkids, their whole future is at stake.’’
The mother was still crying at the other end which wasn’t a big help to the young man, ‘’I am really sorry son but I don’t know what to do’’ the mother persisted. ‘’so it is a no from you, don’t help me , no one ever helps me’’ the young man sounded bitter as he got off the mobile in anger not waiting to hear the mother’s answer.
Everything seemed quiet as Junaid made his way towards his flat. He stopped at the door to hear for any crying noises but didn’t hear any. He felt guilty for being so paranoid but the last few days had shaken him up badly.
The boys were sitting on the bedroom floor watching a cartoon on TV. Junaid sat down with them and all three had the mock tiger play fighting the children loved so much. He asked his wife to bring his dinner on the patio so he could have a quite word with her without disturbing the boys. The patio with it’s dark green potted flower plants was his little island of serenity and peace where he could forget about the tensions of work and business. He loved putting his feet up and watching Manhattan lights flickering all around. The lights had a life of their own and always managed to calm him. In those moments the sacrifice of giving up open spaces and living from one box to another all seemed worth it.
She had cooked him a Pakistani dinner rice with some aubergines and chicken. He was a bit surprised as his dinner for the last six months had consisted of a variety of take away food. Nazish loved the take away’s and insisted she had no time to cook as the children took up all her time.
Junaid was struggling for words and didn’t know where to start. Nazish was sitting uncomfortably at the edge of the luxury garden chair, sensing what Junaid wanted to talk about she started crying loudly. Junaid got up uneasily staring at the lights in the distance his dinner going cold on the carved metal table ,with his back towards her ‘’ Just tell me what’s been going on’’ Junaid said quietly ‘’ I am just trying to find a solution’’ Nazish didn’t respond to him but continued crying and talking about her personal problems, everything except what she actually needed to clarify. Aware that some of the other neighbours were on their patio’s and could hear her crying and complaining. She raised the pitch of complaints several degrees. The conversation was no longer about the children or the social services , Nazish herself was the victim suffering abuse from Junaid. ‘’Why did you bring me to NY’’, she screamed ‘’ you told me I would live like a princess up here, instead I am cooking, cleaning, washing like a servant all day long and looking after your children like an Ayah’’ neighbours who had been avoiding her for the past few weeks were listening keenly. Junaid didn’t know what to say. ‘’Do you want to go back home then’’ he asked quietly ‘’ Why should I go back home, so that you can find some other bitch here? ’’ She was still screaming in a hysterical manner. Junaid tried to pacify her and moved back towards her ‘’ I don’t want us to lose the children’’ he tried putting his arm around her ‘’We can get some hired help, if too much house work is the issue’’Nazish pushed Junaid away and stood against the patio rail. ‘’Everyone is living a better life than me, everyone has more money than me ’’she still seemed hysterical ‘’ why do you need more money I am already giving you over and above your needs‘’ Junaid seemed genuinely confused ‘’ I want more make up clothes and jewellery and I want to buy a new car , all my friends have better cars’’ she said in a whiny voice ‘’So is that a reason to hurt your own children, you don’t have enough jewellery and a posh car ? Junaid asked in an angry voice his temper rising slightly. Nazish banged the patio door and stormed back into the flat ‘’ I didn’t hurt my children, stop lying all of you ‘’ she screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘’ Fine get ready to go to jail then ‘’ Junaid said in exasperation ‘’ I am not going to defend you anymore’’ he made his way back into his bedroom and shut the door. He realised the argument was going nowhere. In her angry mood her accusations became targeted at him as if he was the enemy and had caused all this and she had done nothing wrong. She had turned into a stranger he didn’t know anymore. He felt tired and exhausted as his head touched the pillow. How was he going to break through her wall of denial ……. or her belief that if she shouted long enough the blame from her would disappear and be shifted somehow to Junaid. He drifted into a disturbed sleep still no closer to an answer.
As the house fell silent Nazish paced up and down the flat in anger trying to figure a way out of her quagmire. Just a couple days left before the social worker’s next visit and her appearance before a judge. Nazish was determined not to accept blame for anything, she was not going to lose the children or go to jail. At the moment she just didn’t know how.
The first light of morning came to find her still sitting up on the sofa bleary eyed and exhausted texting her sister in Karachi asking for advice.
Nazish avoided Junaid until he left for work. Her sister had given her a clever plan of attack and she had to get the children out of the way to fulfil it. She asked a neighbour to look after the children for a while. Once alone she went into the kitchen slashed a part of her arm with a knife. She gasped as the wound started weeping and blood seeped out of the wound, she threw some china cups and plates on the kitchen floor , moved the kitchen furniture around to indicate a physical scuffle, let her hair loose for a look of desperation and then called the police. Reported an assault on herself by her husband and also reported that the husband was consistently beating up the children which she had not reported so far as she was afraid of being assaulted, which he already done. Now she needed protection from the husband as the children’s and her life may be in danger.
In the evening all of Junaid’s cousin’s came around to the flat in their shiny new cars and sat around the sitting room making clucking noises and listening to Nazish’s story over and over again. The sitting room was artistic and chic , it had some expensive paintings on the walls and some delicate china pieces and exotic plants around the hall. ‘’So how much does Junaid make in a month , bhabi ‘’ the cousins seemed jealous of the luxury flat and this seemed as good a time as any to make Junaid and his family feel small. Nazish was sunk in one of the sofa’s tired from repeating her fictional story. ‘’So go on tell us what happened from the beginning’’ said one of the overweight cousins tucking away into the expensive take away Nazish had ordered.
The other two cousins were moving around the flat, examining the expensive furniture in the bedrooms and entering the lavish bathrooms taking note of everything that their own bathrooms didn’t have. Nazish realised her present audience was sympathetic to her version of events and was playing the victim card to the full. ‘’I never went into the kitchen when I was in my mother’s house ‘’ she said tears flowing . ‘’ I have to go out shopping in freezing weather, I do cooking cleaning washing, waiting on him and his children like a servant. ‘’She would pause for effect pulling fresh tissues out of the hand carved tissue box on the side table. The cousins continued the sympathetic noises and tucking into the lavish meal on the table.
‘’ But every wife does this ‘’ she continued with sobs ‘’ I would also have done all this happily if he wasn’t …….. she sighed heavily and picked up her bandaged arm ‘’causing the children and myself harm physically and emotionally’’
The cousins had amused smiles on their faces, they didn’t seem overly concerned about the violence story. It was clear they were secretly happy the way things were going in Junaid’s home. Finally here was their chance to get even with him and his dad who they thought had always looked down upon them back home as they were poor. Nazish could feel the cousin’s hostility building up against Junaid but wasn’t sure how to turn it into something practical.
So she continued complaining ‘’ I didn’t come to NY to become his slave or be injured and attacked by him and have no money at all to spend on myself‘’ still making sobbing noises though no tears could be seen in in her eyes. ‘’ Bhabi ji I can help you to get a stay order to keep Junaid away from the flat and you and the kids. ‘’ said the fat cousin finally getting up from the sofa where he had consumed several plates of the Chinese take away. Some strands of noodles fell off his trousers as he stood up and clicked his fingers and moved towards the patio ‘’ file for a divorce , you can get most of his stuff, the store, the flat and most of the money in the bank ‘’ the cousin said poking his teeth with a toothpick and making sucking sounds. Nazish seemed a bit taken aback, her plan had been to scare Junaid into accepting the child abuse allegations so she didn’t have to face them or go to jail , she wasn’t sure she wanted to go this far. ‘’How can I do that’’ she asked in a shaky voice ‘’Easy’’ said the other fat cousin ‘’file for compensation for bodily and emotional harm to you and the children and child support for the future.’’ Nazish seemed a bit confused and wanted to speak to her sister, the cousins noted her hesitation and didn’t want to give her time to change her mind. They got a solicitor on the phone and soon Nazish realised it was too late to get out of the trap she had sprung for herself. Either way she would be in trouble. She fell silent, sank into the sofa and let the fat cousin’s take control of her and Junaid’s life.
Junaid was at the store when he got the call from the solicitor. He was thunderstruck, his world had fallen apart from just one call. He went into his small office at the back of the store. He didn’t want his employees to know he had nowhere to sleep that night. He shut down the store telling the employees there was an emergency. He lay on the black sofa in his office staring at the ceiling for a long time, drifting in and out of a disturbed sleep. Not see his children ever again, his chest was hurting at the thought. The doorman had to call in an ambulance in the middle of the night as Junaid was having chest constrictions and looked deathly pale. He recovered somewhat in the hospital emergency, it seemed he had suffered a minor heart attack. The next few days seemed hazy, he was in a hospital on all kinds of strange medications he had never heard of before.
Part two
The flight back home to his father’s house seemed to take for ever. When he finally put foot on his soil, everything seemed different
The big red brick house with its winding staircases, long verandas, vines of jasmine hugging the pillars and doorways was still the same. The birds still made a chirping sonata at the first light of dawn, the vendors still came trying to sell their goods with loud calls to the buyers. The soft sound of the Azan at dawn sometimes found him still awake, not having slept a wink all night.
Junaid’s mother and father spent long hours talking to him. But he himself said very little. His illness from NY was persisting, the doctor’s at an expensive private hospital in Islamabad had done several tests and were not clear why he was still getting chest pains or why he felt down most of the time. His blood sugar seemed slightly above normal , but all other tests were normal.
He himself knew what was causing illness and frequent fevers and headaches. He had left NY without so much as a glimpse of his boys and missed their little arms going around his neck, their toddler talk when he gave them a bath in the evening and their laughter when he had the time to play with them. But most of all, the betrayal and personality change of the woman he had fallen in love with and tried so hard to please was eating him up inside.
It was a warm and humid afternoon when the doctor ended his check up and took Junaid’s mum aside ‘’ Ama ji, I would strongly recommend that you send him back to NY, his treatment up there will be much better’’ The mother sighed ‘’ His wife wants a divorce, he doesn’t want to go’’. The doctor shuffled about a bit. ‘’there isn’t anything wrong with him physically , the pain in his chest and fever and headaches are more related to depression’’ then the doctor paused as if trying to weigh his words ‘’ I don’t want to recommend anti depressants. They are addictive and if his family situation improves I am sure he won’t need them’’
The mother frantically tried contacting Nazish through the cousins and left several messages. Nazish had brought over two of her sisters and their families since Junaid left. There was panic in the flat at the thought that the home owner was trying to return. The sister’s didn’t want to leave ,so far Nazish had been paying for all their expenses. They all sat down to come up with a plan that would satisfy Junaid’s family but prevent Junaid from ever returning to NY.
It was a warm afternoon when Nazish landed at her father in laws home. The children came in shyly and stood by Junaid’s side as they hadn’t seen the father for a while. Junaid’s mother ran to the kitchen to prepare lunch for everyone. She rang her daughter ‘’ Come quickly Beti, Allah has answered our prayers, your Bhabi and nephews are back’’. Junaid’s father hugged his grandson’s with tears in his eyes.
After lunch Junaid’s parents and sister left the newly united family alone to give them some privacy and in the hope they could patch up differences from the past.
After a while the two boys came out and started playing with their aunt. Everyone seemed really happy that all was going well when suddenly Nazish stormed out of Junaid’s room , dragged the children by the arms , left the house banging the front door as hard as she could. The parents and sister were horrified and ran to Junaid’s room to find out what had gone wrong. Only to find him clutching his chest and gasping for air. There were some papers in his lap which the sister looked at on their way to the hospital. It was a divorce decree and some papers from a solicitor according to which most of Junaid’s assets in NY now belonged to Nazish as Junaid was an absentee father and the court had given this decision in the best interests of the children.
Part three
it was a cold and foggy evening in Islamabad. Most of the trees were bare. A cold wind was blowing through the streets rustling the dead leaves around. People were walking about in big coats and some had a Chadar around their shoulders. Vendors selling peanuts were trying to keep them warm with small stoves on their vending carts. Junaid’s two son’s got out of their uncle’s car and slowly made their way towards the old house, the uncle walking in front. The streets were full of the sound of birds coming home and making an enormous racket before making their way to their nesting places for the night. Occasionally a crow flew past them with loud cawing. A few dogs were slinking around corners avoiding people, trying to find places to sleep.
The boys hadn’t been back home for a long time and were now teenagers. They looked tall and overweight. The father and sons had difficulty recognising each other as all stood in the dim light of the veranda in uncomfortable silence.
The grandparents had passed away, the aunt lived in her own house. The house seemed sad and not at all like the boys remembered from their childhood. The only place that looked vaguely the same was the big living room with dark carpets curtains and dark leather sofa’s.
The servants were rushing around pushing food trolleys in and out of the living room. ‘’What took you so long to come back ‘’ at last Junaid ventured, a tone of sadness entering his voice. The two boys hesitated and looked at each other for re assurance ‘’ Aboo ji we were not living with mum’’ ….. the social services placed us in foster homes soon after you left ‘’ they were mumbling in broken Urdu, choosing their words carefully. Tears rolled down Junaid’s face ‘’Why’’ ?
He said as he got up to hug both his boys close to his chest. ‘’ We had to go in for counselling and therapy and special school’’ the boys seemed uncomfortable giving him this news but also seemed determined to face up to their problems, that is what they had learned during several years of counselling and therapy. The father was lost for words. ‘’ But what was wrong with you ‘’ he said looking them up and down again. ‘’ We needed counselling for eating disorders and anger management issues’’ Junaid seemed crestfallen ‘’Why didn’t you contact me’’ he said in a broken voice. ‘’ We couldn’t, there was a court order against you, remember’’ Junaid sighed heavily ‘’ Then how are you here now? ‘’ The older boy put his arm around his father ‘’ We can travel wherever we want now , he is over eighteen ‘’ he said pointing to the younger brother……..’’sorry Aboo ji we couldn’t protect you then , we were very little but we will now’’
The servants were coming in and out of the sitting room silently not making a sound trying not to disturb the father and sons in their emotional state. The birds in the courtyard were also silent except the occasional flapping of wings, some bird trying to find a better perch. ‘’Why did the social services put you in foster homes’’ the father asked with great difficulty, the pain in his chest coming back, but he had to know.
The boys coughed a little ‘’ Mum used to lock us up in the bathroom after you went to work and beat us up with a stick if we cried.’’
Junaid closed his eyes as if trying to make all of it go away. ‘’ Why didn’t you tell me’’ he asked eyes still closed ‘’ We tried to, Aboo Ji, next morning she burnt us with the hot knife and told us she had Jinns in her cupboard who will eat us if we told anyone.’’ Junaid couldn’t recall any of this or how he could have been so blind to all this abuse going on under his nose. ‘’ She also threatened to throw us out of the window onto the street if we told anyone else about anything because she said we were bad boys and gave her a headache whenever she saw us ’’ the younger boy said. ‘’ That is why we had to watch TV and be in our room on the computer all the time when you were not home or we were not at school’’ The father’s eyes were glassy with pain looking into the past trying to pick up pieces. ‘’ She never cooked for us and ordered us a big tray of McDonalds or KFC, that is what we ate everyday.’’ Junaid got up to close the sitting room door, the cold air was making him shiver. He went around and stood near the gas heater. ‘’ Is that why’’ he pointed towards their overweight bodies , finding it hard even to say the words ‘’ We are overweight? yeah we did a lot of comfort eating to compensate loss of love from our mother.. but we are coping’’ The father stretched his hands out towards the heater ‘’How are you coping?’’ The younger boy moved up to his father ‘’ We have actually lost a lot of weight and both of us are back at normal school, good thing you didn’t see us a few years ago.’’ He laughed making it all sound light hearted.
‘’How long will you stay’’ the father asked with years of emptiness and loneliness burning in his soul . ‘’ Forever and ever Aboo ji we are not going back‘’ both boys stood up and hugged the frail form of the father.
It seemed all the rose bushes jasmine vines and chinar trees in the courtyard and garden that had dried up in the frost of winter and lost their fragrance burst into bloom and the sad lonely house was full of the fragrance of love again.
Gharib ul watan 