Myan Putro and the Imposter wife

The night outside was dark and cold, the wind howling and rattling windows, every now and then an angry gust would shake the doors as if trying to break them. The whole family was gathered around the warm stove. Dad was telling them the story of ‘Myan Putro’ an old woman who lived in the valley long ago. Her sons had been picked up by the authorities and she had become very upset and mentally disturbed. On cold frozen nights such as this one when everyone was fast asleep or resting before a warm fire she would wander the cold streets of Srinagar looking for her sons, looking through every window and door to see if they were there. Calling out Myan Putro (my children where are you).Zeena had heard the story of Myan Putro  many times but every time it felt new and would send a shiver down her spine. She buttoned up her warm cardigan all the way to her neck and pulled her socks up. She never wanted to ask her dad what the end of the story was, did Myan Putro find her children? Did her soul become peaceful as a result? Somewhere in her heart Zeena knew that stories such as these never have a good ending. Most of the time people without resources become living tragedies that no one cares about or the people who care don’t have the power to undo such injustices. She was thinking all this and much more about the suffering of the people around her as she walked slowly with two of her friends towards her University, all three were in the last year of their honours degree in IT. The young women were was shocked to see several armed soldiers standing near the University iron  gate that was locked and students were being told to go back home.

As the young women started running home there was confusion and chaos all around several boys were being rounded up tied  and blind folded and hurled into vans. A few children came around the corner and tried to hurl stones at the soldiers. Immediately the rat tat tat of machine guns filled the air. Several sprays of pellets came towards the children who ran into side streets, a little boy about seven fell to the ground in all the commotion and cried loudly. Zeena ran and picked him up, running back towards her home all the while. The blood from the whimpering child’s face went all over her white  shirt. When she got home the door was wide open, her mother was screaming loudly and her brothers and dad’s hands were tied up , soldiers were beating them up and pushing them towards a truck waiting on the side street. She ran to the back of the house and hid in the empty hen coop dragging the little boy with her ,both huddled in a corner like two scared and shivering animals. They were  in the stinky hen coop for a long time their eyes wide with fear  their ears picking up every sound not part of normal life. Eventually the screaming and shouting  died down. The heavy engines of the trucks came to life and roared as they drove off up hill. Only the sound of her mother’s wailing remained. Zeena came out of the hen coop still holding on to the child who had either fainted or gone to sleep. She put the child on the floor gently and ran to her mother, who started crying as loudly as ever when she saw her’’ Everything is finished child, everything is gone’’  she hugged her mother as hard as she could , her own tears blinding her and the sobs shaking her body uncontrollably. She couldn’t calm her mother no matter how hard she tried. The mother wouldn’t drink water or put on the warm shawl she was trying to wrap around her. Is my mother going to become Myan Putro she thought, what if she does. How will I live in this house alone. She looked at the still form of the little boy lying on the floor not sure if he was alive or not. More soldiers were marching up the street, she ran and closed the door and made sure the house looked dead.

The next morning before light she led her mother and the child who had recovered during the night through the fields to her uncle’s house on the other side of the hill. The house was dark and the door locked. She knocked at the side window, after a long while a scared voice was heard ..’’ Who is it ?’’ she put her head through the window ‘’ Its me Zeena, please open the door’’ The Aunt was sobbing as she came to the door. She hugged Zeena’s mother who was walking and moving around like a robot, not crying or wailing anymore. The little boy Bilal was looking around for food. ‘’ Are you hungry’’ the Aunt asked Zeena, ‘’ She shook her head ‘’ give something to my mother, she hasn’t even sipped water since yesterday’’ She looked around at the empty house ‘’ Did they take my uncle and cousin’’ she asked already knowing the answer. The cousin’s wife came out of the next room carrying a baby  swollen eyed and still whimpering from shock. Zeena  turned on the stove to make some food, the warmth reminded her of her home two days ago when they were all huddled around it listening to her  dad telling them the story of Myan Putro.In the coming days  her mother got worse and worse, not eating not sleeping ,constantly looking at the pictures of her sons and husband on the mobile and crying. Finally Zeena couldn’t take it any more, she crept back to her own home and got all the money and jewellery hidden around the house and declared to her mother that she was going to creep out of SriNagar somehow and go to Delhi where they had taken her brothers and dad and go find them. Everyone thought she had gone mad and would be caught by the soldiers and killed before she crossed over to the bus station. ‘’ I will not go to the bus or train station mother, you know I am trained to trek these mountains’’. The Aunt was shaking her head .. ‘’ You are a girl my dear, who will protect you in the big city’’ Zeena sighed and shrugged her shoulders ‘’ I will take Bilal with me’’ she looked at Bilal who perked up at the mention of his name ‘’ A seven year old boy?, he will protect you’’  Zeena looked at her mother ‘’ Aunt do you want her to die like this’’ she asked ‘’at least give her some hope so she will get out of her present state..’’  the Aunt was still shaking her head ‘’I don’t know this is still a very dangerous thing for a girl to do’’ Zeena smiled she knew the Aunt had given in.

It took Zeena and Bilal several days to trek across the mountains and get into the first rickety bus going towards the city. Once in the dust and smoke of Delhi Zeena checked the address of the Human Rights Charity organisation someone in the village had given her.

The women at the desk seemed a bit amused when Zeena told her story and showed a picture of her brothers and father. ‘’ Bibi this is a big city, they may or may not be here’’ she said in a matter of fact tone ‘’ Have you contacted a lawyer’’ she said going back to the paper work on her desk. Zeena looked dismayed ‘’ I can’t afford a lawyer and everyone said you would help me’’ the woman took her glasses off ‘’would you be interested in doing some ads for us’’ she said eyeing the fresh rose complexion and dark big doe eyes of the young women in front of her ‘’ Sorry, I don’t understand ‘’ Zeena looked perplexed. ‘’Then you can afford a lawyer, here go to this women – she is a very influential Muslim celebrity, she will help you’’ and with that  the charity worker dismissed Zeena and went back to her phone call.

Zeena looked sad as they made their way to the home of some far off relative who lived in a congested part of the city. The relative looked sympathetic but kept pointing subtly that they had their own eight children to feed and an old mother and father to look after. The distant relative was not too well off, he was part owner of a small pan khoka (beetle leaf shop) , some days business was good and sometimes it was not. He was hoping their guests would leave soon. Zeena uncomfortable with this situation decided to contact the influential celebrity. She had no intention of doing any ads but was hoping the celebrity might help them on human sympathy grounds. The distant relative seemed a bit concerned when he heard where Zeena and Bilal were going ‘’ We have heard many strange stories about that women’’ he said , ‘’she is not very sympathetic to Kashmir or Muslim Indians and has close connections with Indian Army generals and anti -Muslim show biz people’’ Zeena had also heard all those stories but decided to try her luck any way. She didn’t want to go home empty handed. She remembered the spark of life on her mother’s face when she  told her ‘’  I will find my brothers and father and bring good news for you’’

Zeena and Bilal had to sit in the back veranda of Maheen’s house waiting for her. Some of the servants eyed Zeena curiously up and down as they went about their chores. Then they would see Bilal and think she probably has a husband and just some poor women looking for a job she doesn’t look like any of madam Sahiba’s models.

When they finally got an audience with Maheen, a smart looking women in her late forty’s, or early fifties ,she was having her make up done in what looked like a make shift fashion studio. ‘’ Have you come for an audition’’ Maheen asked without turning to look at the girl and the young child ‘’ No Aunty , someone told me that you help Muslim girls if they have a problem’’ Maheen swirled around on the stool  looking really annoyed ‘’ My name is Maheen, ‘’ she said pouting childishly ‘’don’t call me Aunty’’ Zeena felt embarrassed, she thought that is how you show respect ‘’ yes yes …….madam I will remember that’’ Maheen looked at herself in the giant mirror on the other side. ‘’Perfect ‘’ she said out loud ‘’what do you want ‘’ she asked Zeena still with her back towards her. Zeena felt like she was telling the same story ten times over and her brothers and father didn’t seem like the victims anymore but the bad guys in the story. She herself felt like she was doing something wrong intruding into the lives of these important people.  She wasn’t sure if anyone was actually even listening  ……At last Maheen turned around to face Zeena  ‘’I can’t help you with your brothers and father ‘’she  said putting her high heels on and towering over Zeena as if to intimidate her. ‘’But I have another job for you to do, it will earn you a lot of money and a lawyer’’ Zeena was about to say something when Maheen dismissed her with a wave of her hand ‘’ Give them something to eat’’ Maheen said with a superior air ‘’ I will talk to you when I come back from my function tonight’’ Maheen said as she got into the lavish company car sent to pick her up. Maheen was not comfortable in her extra tight top and jeans but she had to look hot and sexy. In her line of work that was merchandise and would bring her more work and contracts in the future. She had learned very early in life the benefits of being slutty and hot opened doors that took much longer any other way. Sometimes her insecurity would surface when she realised she was getting old but she would push the  down just as quickly , act half her age , put on  a big act whenever she had to be host to a celebrity event or a big party. People would lap it up, they liked her to be coy and vamp like. She prided herself on being a bad girl, ruthlessly ambitious a go getter ,trampling everything in her path.

The popularity of her present life was exhilarating. She was in massive demand and very few days went when she wasn’t present at top celeb parties or wasn’t hosting a top event. There was no lack of men who would take her back to their lavish homes and hotels or sometimes accompany her back to her own place. Life looked like a never ending party but there was also a nagging  feeling of bitterness in the pit of her soul when she realised none of these men actually ever proposed to her or thought she was anything more than a glamor model that looked good standing next to them in pics and social media videos.

She remembered the other home she had in Peshawar and a famous man who had married her for this same beauty and good looks that now felt dirt cheap. Why did she hate her ex so much , why did she want to tear him to shreds, why did the news of his love affair and marriage to another woman drive her crazy. She remembered the hazy afternoons running around in his massive back yard feeding the pigeons that would fly down from the dargah at the foot of the hill. She loved the publicity that came with being Iman’s wife. It was as if she had landed in seventh heaven in a world she never knew existed. All doors would open for her automatically, people would give her way and stand aside respectfully every time she appeared in public. It was as if she had become the queen of some unknown realm and could control the whole world if she wanted to.

Iman would drive out to the countryside with a whole cavalcade of servants and assistants.  They would spend days roaming around the country side staying in the lavish mansions of one rich land owner or the other. Iman and his friends hunting for quail and Maheen huddled up with other rich wives gossiping their hearts out. She never had to cook clean or live another humdrum moment in her life ever again. It was like being in fairyland only better, the world was her oyster and she was in love with this feeling of being in total control and superior to all the other woman around her.  Her life in a small flat in Paris that her first husband had given to her as alimony payment, was a story she had long forgotten. In Paris she had gone through her alimony payments very quickly, her fetish for modern clothes and modern living was mostly to blame. She had tried to send her two teenage daughters back to her first husband to resume her acting and modelling career. But he didn’t want to know, himself busy with his own career and his new wife. Finding work in Maheen’s field with an aging body and two young children was hard. She remembered the sad dark evenings in Paris, driving through the rain and slush, coming home to find both girls slumped in front of the TV with bags of chips and empty pizza boxes all over the floor. A shouting match would begin with her daughters always slamming the door in her face telling her she was a bad mother and a bad influence and they would have learned to cook if she had taught them. From that miserable life to have found Iman the rich husband from Peshawar was like finding a gold mine. That he had chosen her over and above the dozens of other women who ran after him was even luckier than she could believe. Her fairy tale was going perfectly, Iman had even agreed to pay boarding fees in an expensive Paris school for her daughters. Their trips to European capitals were covered by international media and became the talk of the town. She was always the prettiest the new fashion icon, to keep this up her appetite for new clothes  jewellery   beauty shops and hair do’s became insatiable until one day Iman just took out his credit card and  handed it to her ‘’ here my dear, not better than you’’ From her small lower middle class background being handed a credit card with a limit less amount was like being put on the first step of heaven. She felt like a queen every time the media came to interview her and she made sure camera’s followed her in functions and not Iman. She wanted to make sure Iman knew who wore the pants in that marriage – what better way than to use the media for limitless exposure.

Maheen had stopped seeing most of her friends and relatives  as they were not quite her level and made her feel cheap. She was going to set up her own boutique chain very soon, and needed chic and posh friends for that. However getting money out of  Iman  was going to be a problem – he was already complaining of her over spending and credit card bills. So she went behind Iman’s back and got his rich friend to finance her boutique chain,  And just when she was inviting the media for that opening and was sure her boutiques would become the hottest commodity on the market , it all started coming apart. She came home one day to find the rich friend who had financed the boutique chain sitting with Iman who was looking very serious. And  Iman’s cashier standing with a stack  of Maheen’s unpaid bills  running into crores.  Iman wanted his credit card back – Maheen felt humiliated for being apprehended rudely while others were present. She did what she knew how to do best. Put on a tantrum, scream and shout loudly – that scared most men but Iman wasn’t budging and stood his ground.  This felt like stand off and a punishment. She lashed out at the rich friend .the cashier and all other staff for being liars ‘ You are the liar not them ‘’ Iman said calmly that made her so angry all her blood rushed to her head, she ran at Iman and  slapped him smack on the face. No one was calling her a liar. Iman stalked off and talked of divorce the same day . When Maheen realised the danger she was in she called all her powerful friends and asked them to  intervene and ask Iman to give her another chance , ‘’she was emotional and had made a mistake.’’ Iman relented as he didn’t want  another media scandal at his doorstep. Maheen was on her best behaviour for a while being extra loving and kind to Iman but something in him had changed and she was constantly on edge and watchful of his behaviour. They were watching TV in their bedroom sitting arm in arm, when Iman went out of the room to take a phone call. Normally Iman took his business phone calls out and Maheen thought nothing of it. That day she heard Iman laughing and talking very softly. She got up to listen and within a few moments was convinced he was talking to another women.he said nothing and waited for him to go to sleep and went through all his mobile messages, pictures on Instagram and twitter. She woke Iman up middle of the night and demanded an explanation of who the woman in the pics was, why was she sending him pics and what was the messaging about. There was a shouting match – Iman threw the mobile at the wall and it smashed  into pieces. He kept telling Maheen the woman was a business colleague and the pics were  fabric designs from a modelling company. But Maheen wouldn’t have it. She went to the other bedroom and locked the door. She was so angry , she would make Iman suffer, beg and plead before she forgave him. The bitch in her had woken up, he was not going to treat a modern smart woman from Paris like any of his illiterate cowardly women from Pakistan who would take all kinds of bad behaviour from a man just to stay in his home.

She went off to Paris next morning waiting for Iman begging her to return. He was too well known rich and famous to afford this kind of scandal. Maheen knew exactly what buttons to push. Days went  bye with no phone call at all. She called the servants in her home in Peshawar but they didn’t know much. Then she started calling his business partners and one of them told her what to do to get even with Iman. Maheen was back home on the next flight and pretended as if nothing had happened. She was trying to be all loving doting wife  but Iman seemed distant and cold. Maheen tried her best to thaw the ice but something wasn’t right between them anymore. Maheen didn’t want to go back to her miserable life in a Paris flat and realised that she hadn’t gained any major material benefit from being in Iman’s life. The credit card she had wasted on her fancy new life style  and the money for the boutique chain had to be returned . Apart from that her fall from grace would leave her with nothing. At first her outings with Iman’s business partner seemed like an accident, they had met at a party when Iman was on a foreign trip. The next evening the business partner just dropped by for a curtesy call. Maheen was lonely and sad and liked the flirtatious attention the business partner was giving her. Soon it was one curtesy call after another or business lunches  to which the business partner invited her  until they ended up in a hotel room alone.

Maheen sighed heavily in her tight clothes sitting in the luxury car, this seemed like a sad dream from not so long ago but she had to come back to the present  , she was almost at the grand hotel where she was hosting a program for the evening. She went through the program with her best acting skills – the gorgeous glamourous host with beautiful smiles without an ounce of sincerity in them. She had forgotten all about the beautiful sad looking Kashmiri young woman and boy who were still waiting for her in the veranda as she came home ‘’ I am too tired ‘’ Maheen said ‘’ Can you come back tomorrow’’ she went in and was cleaning off the make up and putting on her moisturiser  when she heard the news on TV. She had a habit of turning the TV off if Iman or his new wife ever appeared on some program, but this time she listened carefully , Iman was championing the Kashmir cause and uttering his usual rhetoric about saving the world’s poor until something evil clicked in her mind and she smiled. She called her secretary ‘’ Has that Kashmiri girl left yet’’she asked the secretary ‘’ No madam, they are still standing near the main door waiting for a rickshaw’’  the secretary said politely ‘’ Call them back ‘’ Maheen said ‘’and give them a room in the servant quarters for tonight.’’ Maheen was ready for her final revenge on Iman and shut his mouth with all the BS about saving the world’s poor for all times to come.

Maheen was on the phone late at night with Iman’s now ex business partner, they both laughed and joked about the old days. How the business partner had saved Maheen from going back to her miserable life in a Paris flat and provided her with the opportunity of another glamorous career in India’s posh capital Delhi. They were both ready for the next phase of revenge against Iman, who must be sleeping like a baby after saving the world’s poor, Maheen thought with an evil bitter smirk on her face.

The next few days turned into a nightmare for Iman. His statements on Kashmir had angered the Indian establishment and Maheen used all her contacts to show them how to punish Iman and bring him down. Soon money was pouring to all the workers in Iman’s constituency and within days they were all out on the streets burning tires protesting against low wages, rising prices and doing a forced shutter down of all shopping areas. Food was free for all protesting workers and no one knew who was footing the bill. Everyday the fire of revenge burning in Maheen was soaring to new heights as she tasted success of an unprecedented nature. ‘’ Do you still want to call me a liar, you mean measly pathetic bastard’’ she thought with satisfaction. I destroyed him and his reputation all by myself and destroyed his career with the help of my favourite Indian tycoons and generals. How good am I she thought to herself strutting around doing her morning walk on the well watered lawn of her lavish Delhi Bungalow also a present from one of her doting admirers. There was just one last thing left to do. She had to push Iman’s doting wife of his out of his life. All her tricks in the past towards that goal hadn’t worked but this Kashmiri girl and the child would be the perfect recipe.

Zeena was restless all night and didn’t sleep at all. She was a strong young woman and normally took whatever life threw at her with a lot of courage and resilience. But all that was failing her now. She was uncomfortable and scared in Maheen’s servant quarters. She could see that no one in Delhi cared about her woeful story. It was as if they blocked their ears when it came to how hurt her community was or what they were actually going through. She had a weird feeling they thought she was making all this up and they didn’t want to know. Her pillow was wet with tears she was not accustomed to. She was wondering what to do next if Maheen was just after her own agenda and just wasting her time. She missed hearing the clear sound of the Azan while the stars were still out. But here she could not see the stars through the small window, only dust smog and smoke and the incessant noise of traffic going on and on. She missed the home of her far off relative that smelled of pan and iliachi most of the time and felt a lot safer than where she was now. She got up to say her Fajr prayer and wondered if even Allah was listening to her prayers and was He even aware of the pain in her heart. She had never felt so small and powerless in a world where only money seemed to matter and no one seemed to care about people’s suffering. She woke up Bilal and helped him to change into the last clean clothes he had left. Zeena was amazed at the bravery and resilience of this tiny little boy. All through their difficult journey never had he cried once or complained or remembered his mother and father – who they both knew were not in this world anymore. She tried to give him the bigger share of whatever food was available but he would shake his head and only eat half of it. They both went back to their place of waiting in the veranda hoping for an early audience with Maheen. But today Zeena and Bilal were surprised to find a grand breakfast waiting for them on the kitchen dining table. Then the secretary took them to Maheen’s bedroom where she was sprawled on her bed in a black see through nighty. Her influential visitor for the night was smoking a cigar and sitting on the Diwan talking to someone on the mobile tying up his shoe laces getting ready to leave. Zeena pulled her chaddar over her head and around her tightly as if to protect herself from the uncomfortable scene of Maheen’s bedroom. She held Bilal’s hand tightly as Maheen’s night guest eyed her up and down lustily and asked Maheen ‘’ Who is this rose, where have you been hiding her, wont I get a taste’’ Maheen threw a pillow at him play fully ‘’ Go away you lecherous man ‘’ she said laughing loudly. Bilal stood in front of Zeena puffing out all of his 4 foot body as if he would knock down anyone who came close to Zeena. But the man left without noticing Bilal’s cute little face snarling at him. Maheen closed the door as soon as they were alone and told Zeena to come sit on the sofa with her. ‘’ I have a very important job for you that will make you very rich’’ she said in a hushed conspirator tone. Most of Maheen’s body was showing through her see through nighty making Zeena uncomfortable who was staring at the floor avoiding  eye contact. ‘’ you will become enormously rich if you do this correctly ‘’ Maheen said sipping her morning coffee ‘’ then you can hire any lawyer you want to and they will find your father and brothers.’’  Zeena didn’t want to do any modelling and thought that was what the woman was offering her ‘’But that will take a long time madam’’ she said – ‘’what if my father and brothers are moved or executed during that time’’ she said softly trying not to sound agitated. Maheen gave a chirpy little laugh  ‘’ it won’t be long at all . Just half an hour of your time.’’ Bilal held Zeena’s hand tightly ‘’ What will I have to do’’ Zeena asked with apprehension. ‘’ We are going to arrange a Pakistani passport for you and this boy – and a press conference’’ Maheen looked at Zeena carefully to gauge her reaction before she spit out the rest of the plan. She was satisfied to see Zeena’s face was blank‘’You will just have to give a statement before the media , pretend to be a Pakistani who was raped by Iman my ex and this child was the product.’’ Maheen stood up and started pacing the room excited and nervous at the ingenuity of the last revenge she would have on Iman and his new wife. She would like to see her face when the news would go viral and the new wife would be packing her bags to leave Iman.

Zeena’s face went pale , she had a sinking feeling in her chest but life had taught her not be over awed by strange circumstances. She stayed calm and said ‘’madam can you give me tonight to think about it – this is a very big decision to make’’ Maheen kept pacing the floor gone a bit hyper with the excitement of the kill she was about to make. Zeena and Bilal left the room quietly and went back to their place in the veranda. Both didn’t say a word  as  they both knew what they had to do – they waited until Maheen had left for the day in her luxurious company car – crept back to the servant quarters and packed their few belongings as quickly as they could. A guard stopped them as they were making their way out of the main gate and told them ‘’ Madam has asked you to stay here’’ Bilal bent down and bit the guard on his leg as hard as he could. The man yelped in pain and let go of the main gate. Zeena and Bilal rushed out of it and ran down the street as top speed rushing through the smog and smoke.

 Tears were rolling down Zeena’s face as they traveled back home empty handed and with no news of the brothers or father. As they neared home the smell of pine and Chinar trees touched the pain in her soul and she looked at the clear blue sky and the beautiful morning light. How could so much beauty cover up so much pain and darkness. She cleaned her face of tears as Bilal started waking up on the rickety bus seat next to her. She didn’t want him to see her getting weak – she was not going to waste a university education on doing nothing. As the first streaks of sunshine  bathed her face she smiled at Bilal and hugged him close ‘’ We will find another way little brother ‘’ she said with a sparkle in her eye ‘’ we are the survivors little one – the cruel Maheen’s and their friends  are the one’s coming apart’’ Bilal smiled at her and took out the last rusk biscuit he had been saving to share with her.