Tunnel Vision (15 page)

‘
Yes sir.
'

‘
Now let
'
s see you take some blood samples, and I want you to pretend she
'
s awake and looking at it. It
'
s disgusting how badly the most routine procedures are performed.
'

‘
Is it true that neurosurgery is the most lucrative specialization sir?
'

‘
No.
'

The intern looked disappointed.

‘
It
'
s one of the most lucrative.
'

The intern cheered up.

‘
I want to be a neurosurgeon very badly,
'
he blurted.

‘
Because you think you
'
ll make lots of money?
'

‘
Well that too, but also because women find it interesting.
'

‘
Which women?
'

‘
The nurses.
'

‘
Ah, the nurses. Have you been eyeing the nursing school classes again?
'

‘
No sir, no, and that was all a mistake.
'

‘
I
'
m sure it was, nevertheless, I want you to stop what you
'
re doing and listen to me very carefully for a minute.
'

‘
Yes, sir,
'
the man straightened and turned to face him.

‘
Go tell the family that one of them can come in for a minute, but that there are other patients in this ward and they need to be considerate of peace and quiet when moving in and out. Then, and this is the most important bit …
'

The intern cocked his head alertly,
‘
Go to Dr Rukhsana, and tell her I
'
ve sent you and that Dr Shafiq says he
'
ll quit if you aren
'
t reassigned to someone with a higher tolerance for idiots.
'

Dr Shafiq turned back to me.

‘
Go now,
'
he commanded over his shoulder.

The door opened and closed.

‘
There there Ayesha Bibi,
'
he patted my arm comfortingly,
‘
all offensive people have been removed from your presence. Now you just focus on coming back to us.
'

Astral me began to develop a crush on the nice doctor. Like Princess Di did. Men with authority, they got me every time.

GOD LOVES YOU, EVERYONE ELSE THINKS YOU
'
RE AN ASSHOLE

SLOGAN ON T-SHIRT IN KARACHI
'
S ZAINAB MARKET

~

D
id I seem a little jaded? There really hadn
'
t been that many men in my life. Not men I cared for anyway. Then again, what made one jaded, love or the absence of it? Apart from platonic loves like Abbu, Adil, my uncles, the Baba at the KU canteen who called me daughter and reheated my tea for me, I hadn
'
t really cared for many men. Not deeply, not the way I felt for Saad. What I
'
d had with Omar paled in comparison.

What had I had with Omar exactly? Others felt we were
‘
serious
'
about each other, but then sometimes others felt accidentally standing next to each other in a line meant a couple was serious about each other. I didn
'
t really think we were. In a place like KU, it was believed you had to really feel strongly about someone or something to
‘
make an exhibition
'
of it and invite the ire of KU
'
s many (self-appointed) moral guardians. These geysers of negativity roamed the campus at will, annoying faculty, students and outsiders with equal cheek. And well they might, no one ever stopped them, not even the Rangers. A security force falling somewhere between the police and the army, brought into Karachi during the 90s to quell ethnic disturbances, the Rangers had never left but had since occupied a lot of public property and were pretty much detested by all. But in their defence, the Rangers must have been terribly busy occupying sports centres, community clubs and other public spaces.

While people often wondered who or what let politics and academics mix with such volatility on local campuses most of them never wondered that aloud. Omar did though. That was why I was initially drawn to him.

A group of us had been lounging in a vacant classroom between lectures. The common room had long before been appropriated as the
‘
head office
'
of a student political group. We wanted to play charades but didn
'
t because the last time, a fundo group had barged in as Kulsoom was miming Dances With Wolves, and accused us of obscenity. We couldn
'
t play cards because that would be
‘
unIslamic,
'
so we were chatting idly, debating whether our playing antakshari would be deemed unIslamic, anti-Pakistan or just vulgar. There were twelve of us.

A man with a ripped sleeve and blood seeping from a head wound lurched in and collapsed. Shouts echoed in the distance and the tinkle of breaking glass was recognizable in the gaps.

‘
Another fight,
'
Kulsoom sighed.

‘
We should leave now,
'
the other girls began gathering their things.

‘
What about him?
'
I bent to examine the unconscious man. He looked familiar, even through the blood on his face.
‘
He
'
s hurt quite badly.
'

‘
Leave him,
'
snapped one of the girls,
‘
let
'
s move out.
'

‘
We can
'
t just let him bleed on the floor.
'

‘
He probably brought it upon himself. Only a fool tackles the Jamaatis.
'

‘
What makes you think he
'
s not a Jamaati himself? Maybe he tackled the APMSO?
'

‘
Is his shalwar two inches above his ankles?
'

‘
No.
'

‘
Then he
'
s not a Jamaati. Come on,
'
Kulsoom barked. The sound of running feet seemed closer.

‘
I think I know him,
'
I didn
'
t want to move,
‘
he
'
s in my psychology class. He lent me his notes once.
'

‘
That doesn
'
t mean you owe him anything.
'

‘
It does.
'

‘
Fine. It
'
s your decision. We
'
re leaving,
'
the other girls swept out of the room, three boys in their wake. Omar remained behind. We looked at each other.

‘
I
'
m in your psychology class, you know,
'
he said.

‘
Have you ever offered me your notes?
'

‘
No.
'

‘
Well, then you don
'
t count.
'

‘
You
'
ve never looked like you needed them. What do you want me to do?
'

‘
I don
'
t just want to leave him here. We don
'
t have time to take him to the infirmary or even another part of the campus, and we can
'
t carry him between the two of us.
'

‘
I know,
'
Omar said.

We heard the sound of running feet and knew it was too late to call anyone, or go anywhere. We dragged the supine body behind the last row of desks and darted back to the front. Suddenly we both were afraid. It was evident on his face, and I could feel it pouring from my sweat glands. Pond
'
s perfumed talc, I hoped, had better keep its promise.

KU couples (the technical definition of a couple in more extreme circles being boy and girl past puberty not related to each other inhabiting same ten feet of space) were often roughed up by the resident Thought Police, which expressed its concern for the decline in our youth
'
s moral values through physical (for the man) and verbal (for the woman) abuse.Their masters regularly let these pit bulls off the leash, an ingenious way of nurturing and dissipating their aggression so that it could be summoned at will when required. They hadn
'
t gained admission to this highly competitive academic environment for their grey matter, but because of informal quotas, meekly accepted by successive administrations. They didn
'
t have the brains to put two and two together, one plus one was well within their reach; it added up to
‘
inappropriate western-influenced obscenity
'
. Of course, they couldn
'
t spell most of that.

When the holier than thou political activists charged into the classroom, they found Omar and me sitting rigidly at adjacent desks.

‘
Look at this,
'
said a man with a beard and a prayer cap topping his stick-like frame,
‘
these two are all alone in here.
'

‘
You! Get up!
'
One of the others barked at Omar.

‘
Why?
'
Omar replied lazily, his casual tone belying his knees knocking together under the desk.

‘
Why? Because I say so.
'

‘
And who are you exactly?
'

‘
I
'
m the person who
'
ll smash your skull if you don
'
t get up right now!
'

‘
In that case,
'
Omar rose,
‘
I
'
ll get up. I shall probably need my skull and its contents at some point in the near future, this being an institute of higher learning, though of course one wouldn
'
t realize that from conversing with you.
'

‘
A smart one huh? We
'
ll get to that in a minute. Who is this girl?
'

‘
Why don
'
t you ask me?
'
I piped up. My voice didn
'
t shake at all.

‘
Tell your girlfriend there
'
s only one kind of woman other than your mother or your sister you can address directly. If she
'
s admitting she
'
s that kind of woman, she
'
ll be treated that way.
'

‘
Who she is is no concern of yours. We
'
re not bothering anyone, so why don
'
t you leave us alone.
'

‘
Leave you alone to do what?
'
A new voice.
‘
You haven
'
t told us why you two are sitting together all alone.
'

‘
In an empty classroom with no one around.
'

‘
Her with no dupatta on her head.
'

‘
At desks that are right next to each other though the others are all empty.
'

‘
Are you on a date?
'

‘
On a date? This is a Muslim country. We don
'
t date in Pakistan.
'

‘
The right answer. So you must have been caught doing this before.
'

‘
If you
'
re saying we
'
re guilty of sitting in a classroom and waiting for a professor to come and educate us, then yes, we
'
re guilty,
'
I spoke again despite Omar
'
s slight shake of the head,
‘
I
'
m sure that
'
s a crime that you
'
ve never committed.
'

‘
Another one with a quick tongue. Is the rest of you as fast?
'

This time I took Omar
'
s advice and kept my mouth shut. This mob was still undecided about what to do with us, thrown off a little by our refusal to be easily cowed.We didn
'
t want them thinking about anything else in that room but us; student group turf wars often claimed fatalities and the man hidden behind the desks was already badly injured.

‘
What is your relationship with her?
'

‘
She
'
s like my sister,
'
Omar replied.

‘
Like your sister? Do you have the same mother?
'