Tunnel Vision (35 page)

She grinned, as if my mother had said something funny.

‘
What
'
s the nearest big city?
'

‘
Faisalabad.
'

‘
Ah. When did you get to Karachi?
'

‘
Two, maybe three years.
'

‘
Have you worked before?
'

‘
Yes. In a big house.
'

‘
What did you do there?
'

‘
Swept. Mopped. Dusted.
'

‘
Why did you leave that job?
'

Again, Nasreen
'
s feet began a little jig,
‘
They weren
'
t paying enough.
'

‘
Can you cook?
'

‘
Yes.
'

‘
What can you cook?
'
‘
Normal food. Like people eat at home.
'

‘
Iron?
'

She nodded, but again her feet got unusually agitated. Ammi smiled gently.

‘
We
'
ll have to teach you then.
'

‘
I can iron.
'

‘
We
'
ll see. Go sit outside the door till Sahib comes to show you where you
'
ll sleep. On the floor. Don
'
t touch anything! And close the door behind you.
'

When she was gone, Ammi burst into tears. I didn
'
t know why. She wouldn
'
t be consoled. I could only wipe her tears and shush, shush like she used to do for me. A minute later, she stopped crying and smiled gamely at me.

‘
Well Ayesha, it
'
s no longer just the three of us at home alone. Now you
'
ll have someone to play with, huh?
'

I nodded, but I was doubtful. She seemed to me to be a little too big to play. Plus there was the problem of the breasts. Whatever she did, I couldn
'
t conceive of them not getting in the way.

‘
Ayesha, you know I can
'
t move around much, at least not yet, so I need you to keep an eye on her for me. Watch her.
'

‘
All the time?
'

‘
When you can. If you see her stealing or burning clothes,
'
she cleared her throat,
‘
anything that
'
s wrong, you come straight and tell me. Now go make sure your father hasn
'
t locked himself in that old closet.The lock is tricky.
'

He had locked himself in. And he hadn
'
t even banged on the door or called for help. When I let him out and he glanced in the direction of monster mammeries I understood why; he didn
'
t want to look stupid in front of her.

DON
'
T JEALOUS!

BACK OF PICK UP

~

T
hat first night, Nasreen and I didn
'
t get much sleep. She spread her bedding on the floor next to my table as I clambered into my single bed and pulled the coverlet up to my chin. Did she lie on the floor because there was no room in my bed or because she was our servant and that was her place? I didn
'
t know. I knew only that the thought of those two watermelons pressing into my back, my front, anywhere on my person, scared me. Ammi
'
s chest was home, warmth, comfort. Nasreen
'
s was alien, uncharted, dangerous, like a (large) bit of the outside world had invaded our house.

Nasreen was beginning to toss and turn, adjust her thin pillow, when Abba came in. He sometimes came in to wish me goodnight, but I had expected him to give it a miss since I wasn
'
t alone. Our goodnights were a private ritual, not even shared with Ammi, and certainly not to be shared by an alien with globular antennae on her chest. Come in he did, though, and settled onto the side of my bed as always, only one glance sideways betraying he was aware of the girl on the floor.

‘
Your mother says you
'
re being a big help to her.
'

‘
I wish I was older.
'

If I were old enough to cook and clean and not have to go to school, I could have made life easier for Ammi.

‘
You will be soon. And you already do more than we could hope for. In fact, I hope you haven
'
t been wasting time pottering around the kitchen when you
'
re supposed to be doing your homework.
'

Affronted, I sputtered out a reluctant no. How could he even ask me that? Sure I used to do my homework at the table with my mother, like a baby, but everyone knew I was handling it on my own now, like a big girl. Didn
'
t they? I had certainly pointed it out often enough. I said as much, and Abba beat a hasty retreat, leaning over for a perfunctory kiss before backing out of the door. He didn
'
t even observe the most important part of our bedtime ritual, the singing of the baldie song.

‘
Ganju Patel?
'
I whispered hopefully towards the light, but the door had already closed behind him, leaving me in the dark. The silence was broken by muffled sobbing. Nasreen was crying. I thought of whether I should try to comfort her but decided against it. It was her fault my father hadn
'
t been himself. When the sobs didn
'
t stop and I realized the sniffing might keep me up all night I wanted to yell
‘
can
'
t you at least cry into your pillow?
'
but didn
'
t. She would have to roll onto her stomach for that, and the watermelons of doom probably wouldn
'
t let her.

Besides, I didn
'
t like her.

DHOTI MEIN DO MOTI

BACK OF RICKSHAW

~

D
ays passed and we settled back into an almost pre-Adil routine. I left for school after the breakfast Nasreen had prepared for me and brushed my hair. I wouldn
'
t let her braid it though, that was Ammi
'
s ritual. I would be back by lunchtime and Nasreen would have food ready for me, kept warm on the stove, served directly onto my plate. It wasn
'
t very good food, certainly nothing like Ammi used to make, but it was palatable enough. And she was actually quite good at daal chawal, my favourite, and what with that and the end of the night crying, I was beginning to warm up to her. The next time she did burst into tears, after getting curt instructions from my mother on how to make suji ka halwa the way I liked it, I actually asked her what was wrong.

‘
I miss my mother,
'
she said simply, lifting her kameez to wipe her eyes and exposing a patch of taut, earth-brown stomach,
‘
that
'
s all.
'

If Ammi with the avowed wisdom of adulthood understood why Nasreen was sometimes red-eyed and sullen, she certainly gave no indication of it. I would have expected my mother to be warmer, kinder, more nurturing towards any child in the house, but maybe she just didn
'
t see Nasreen as a child. She was, after all, doing adult work. And if adulthood meant all the responsibility of an old person plus the insecurities of the young, I was half-glad I was still a child. I began to feel sorry for Nasreen, and when her workload increased by her having to work at night I was tempted to offer to help. Whatever Abba was getting her to help him with in the middle of the night, I was sure I could handle too.

It might have been a routine for them for days or even weeks, I had begun sleeping soundly again once Nasreen stopped crying after dark, but I wasn
'
t aware of it till an engine backfiring in the road outside jolted me awake one night.

‘
Nasreen?
'
I said into the dark, wondering if she had heard it too. Had it really been an engine, or was it a thief? The hathora monster?

It was winter, the stone floor collected the chill and when there was no reply to my whispers of
‘
Nasreen
'
, at first I thought Nasreen had gone to get another blanket. I got up and went to the door, calling into the dark lounge.

‘
Here, I am coming, don
'
t yell like that,
'
came the reply, and I saw movement by the deep shadow that indicated the kitchen door. She loomed towards me in the dark.

‘
What are you doing?
'
I asked.

‘
What are you doing?
'
she fired back,
‘
Why aren
'
t you asleep?
'

‘
I heard a loud noise. Did you hear it too?
'

‘
A loud noise?
'
she was next to me now, and putting a hand on my shoulder guided me back into the room,
‘
yes, I heard it too, that
'
s what I went to check.
'

‘
How did you move so quickly? I thought you must have gone for another blanket because it
'
s so cold.
'

‘
I had gone for another blanket, then I heard the noise so I went to the kitchen to check.
'

There was a thud from outside the door, followed by a muffled curse.

‘
Who
'
s that?
'
I cried.

‘
No one, no one, don
'
t worry,
'
Nasreen said soothingly.

‘
No, I heard it clearly, there
'
s someone outside. We have to tell my father,
'
I was agitated, playground stories of home invasion circling my head like cautious vultures.

‘
Don
'
t worry,
'
she tried again,
‘
it
'
s nothing.
'

There was another thud. Fainter this time, but definitely there. I shot for the door but Nasreen grabbed me in the dark. Her grip was strong.

‘
Let me go,
'
I hissed.

‘
Be quiet you silly girl. It
'
s nothing.
'

‘
There
'
s someone out there and we have to tell Abba.
'

‘
It is your father, Ayesha, you don
'
t have to worry about burglars.
'

‘
What would my father be doing up at night?
'

‘
He was working on something.
'

‘
Did you see him when you went for the blanket?
'

‘
Yes. That
'
s why I went to the kitchen, to make him some tea to help him.
'

‘
I thought you went to check on the noise?
'

‘
It all happened together.
'

‘
Oh,
'
this was getting very confusing,
‘
what was he working on?
'

‘
I don
'
t know. Papers.
'

‘
Ah, office work,
'
I nodded sagely. Office work I understood. Numbers. Papers. Staring. Irritation.

‘
Yes, office work. He wasn
'
t finished so I made him some tea.
'

‘
Yes, sometimes he feels sleepy but he has to work so he drinks lots of tea to keep him awake.
'

‘
Exactly. But you mustn
'
t tell your mother.
'

‘
Why not?
'

‘
Because she would worry about him staying up so late. She
'
d be scared he
'
s working so hard.
'

She would be, too.

‘
Okay,
'
the agreement was made,
‘
just promise me you
'
ll take care of him if he needs anything.
'

‘
I will,
'
she smiled. Her teeth glowed in the moonlight from the open window.

LARAKA TAYYARA

BACK OF RICKSHAW

~

T
he next night I woke up again, conscious only that something was amiss.

‘
Nasreen?
'
but there was no answer. I called into the corridor again and she appeared after a minute, pulling me into the room again.

‘
What?
'

‘
What are you doing?
'

‘
I
'
m helping your father.
'