My Aunt And The Amateur Burglar

A couple of weeks before the Eid celebrations, I had this Yahoo Messenger conversation with my aunt, who lives in Karachi.

Me: Assalam o Alaikum, Phupo.  How are you?

Aunt: Walaikum Assalam, beta.  I’m doing good, Alhumdulillah.  How is everyone there?  How’s Masood?

Me: We’re all fine.  How’s the Eid preparations coming along?

Aunt: I’m going to the tailor today to get the dresses.  I was supposed to get them yesterday, but because of the burglar, all the plans were ruined.

Me: Burglar?!

Aunt:  You know, guys breaking into the homes.  What are you wearing on Eid?

Me: When did this happen?!  What time?

Aunt: Just as we finished suhoor and prayers, around 5:30 am.  That reminds me, prices of all the food commodities are sky rocketing.

Me: But how?  Was he able to take anything with him?  Is everyone safe?

Aunt: Your uncle was in the living room when I went in to sleep.  He had to go somewhere, so I just told him to close the gate.

*2-minute silence*

Me (impatiently): Then?

Aunt: Well, a few minutes later, I heard footsteps.  I ignored them, thinking it could still be your uncle.  I just took my medications and was feeling very sleepy.  Can’t you guys come here for Eid?

Me: Did he enter your room?

Aunt: No.  Your uncle forgot his wallet, so he returned home after driving for just a couple of blocks.  He came in and saw this young man looking around in our living room.

Me: And you were sleeping?

Aunt: I was half-asleep, until I heard voices and sound of something breaking.  When I went out to the living room, your uncle was beating this poor boy.

Me: You’re feeling sorry for this burglar?!

Aunt: Of course, he was so thin.  I’m sure he’s suffering so much and this prompted him to steal.

Me: You’re lucky that he was just an amateur.  He didn’t know how to get away, or did he?

Aunt: No, your uncle dragged him all the way to the police station.  Bechara, the police must have beaten him too.  He kept apologizing though.  I feel sorry for our younger generation growing up in poverty.

Me: Thank goodness, at least you’re safe!

Aunt: Well, he didn’t seem strong enough to cause us any harm.

Me: *speechless*

Aunt: Ok, beta, I have to go prepare iftaari.  You take good care of yourself and Masood.

Is theft and burglary so common already that people have started taking it so casually?

August 14: An Independence Story

“We used to live in a huge haveli, with several rooms and a huge court yard, where I used to ran and play with all the other children in the family,” Dadi Ma tells us with so much love, her eyes glistening as she recalls her childhood days. “We all lived together, several families, and had so much fun. The house was always filled with laughter, jokes, and tinkling of the bangles as women and children moved about with their daily routines, while the men left for work.”

When the news of partition came about, the entire Indian subcontinent was in a turmoil, including Delhi, where my grandparents resided. Their families had been living in the same city for centuries, and could have never imagined living anywhere else. To them, this was home.

But everything was going to change in 1947. Together with her husband, two little infants, and some jewellery and clothes, Dadi Ma left the home, where she was born and raised, to a country where everything would be new. Delhi was no longer safe for the Muslims. Law and order had broken down, and there was just too much bloodshed. There was a massive civil war.

They took the train to cross the border, where they hope to have a new, peaceful start. A place where the children would get good education without being discriminated for being Muslims. They were heading towards a new country that was built on the fundamentals of Islam, where the majority of its citizens would be Muslims.

The train ride was long and exhausting. It was overcrowded; in fact people were even hanging on to its doors just to get to the other side of the border. It was terribly hot and noisy. People were tired, angry, confused, crying, complaining, hungry, sick, and frightened. Dadi Ma held both her children closer to her as she saw the people around her in the train: some were stealing food, others were fighting, there were heated arguments over seats, others got sick, a few even died. As the train made its long journey, there were small stations, where it had to slow down. This frightened everyone in the train. Slowing down meant that stones will be thrown at them by the people outside, as an outrage. A few times, it wasn’t just stones, but bullets.

Once in karachi, they were given a small piece of land, where the family started life anew. Having left a luxurious life in exchange of a humble little house and starting from scratch, my grandparents were somehow happy and content. There were times when they would think about their old home and miss it terribly. But my grandmother would often say that they had made the right decision.

What had ensued then was one of the largest population movements in the recorded history. According to Richard Symonds:

“At the lowest estimate, half a million perished and twelve million became homeless.”

Here are some photos from that day, taken from Wikipedia.

“I realise that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone.” [Edith Cavell]

So by just saying “I love Pakistan” doesn’t prove that you do love this country. Putting up the largest flag on your balcony today won’t prove your loyalty. You must love Pakistan’s people, and most importantly, you must not have hatred or bitterness towards ANYONE. Don’t indulge into an endless rant of destructive criticism. Play your part as a Pakistani. Be a responsible citizen.

AZAADI MUBARAK!

Ordinary Girl has also written a very vivid and moving independence story about her grandparents and the hardships they had endured during the partition. You can read about it here.

Across The Borders

My Indian Husband In Pakistan

His anxiety started at the immigration.

His late father was a Pakistani, so he had an entire clan to come home to in Karachi. He stayed with his father’s younger brother, where he found peace and quiet.

He had to report his arrival in the country, where he had been asked for chai-paani. The officer demanded Rs 500.

At my place, relatives of all ages surrounded him all the time. My cousins were particularly curious, and had asked him to write his name, as well as mine, in both Hindi and Urdu. And when he did, they wanted to know where he learned to write in Urdu.

He was constantly asked to tell stories about India.

They asked him if Hindus and Muslims quarreled all the time. They wondered if there are mosques in India. They wanted to know if the lifestyle depicted in Star Plus soaps are true. They asked him if he had met any Bollywood actor.

And then he was coerced to have at least one serving from all of the five or six main dishes served on the table. Refusing the dessert afterwards was not an option.

He bought kurta from Dolmen Mall.

They thought he looked Pakistani.

They all loved him.

My Pakistani Self In India

His anxiety started at the immigration. The officer asked him whether we were married.

My grandmother’s younger sister lives in New Delhi, but since my in-laws are from Hyderabad, that’s where we stayed. We went on a school break; peace and quiet was out of the question.

I didn’t have to officially report my arrival in the country.

I noticed that local women stared at me a lot. It was perhaps my shalwar kameez, which was inches higher than the usual Indian version. Or perhaps the headscarf. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I smiled at a group of women, who had been staring at me for quite sometime already.

One of the girls came closer, and asked,”Where are you from, Madam?”

When she learns that I’m Pakistani, she called all the ladies from her group. They surrounded me, while I wait for my husband to complete his prayers in a nearby mosque, and continued to stare some more.

“What’s it like in Pakistan?” Another lady asked.

They wanted to know if all Pakistani women wore the same shalwar kameez as I was wearing. They asked if we watched Bollywood movies. They asked if we were taught Hindi in schools. They wondered if there are temples in Pakistan. Later, they insisted on a group photo with me.

My cousin-in-laws from Mumbai don’t understand some of the Urdu phrases, so I felt so cool explaining the language to them. The kids and women in Hyderabad surrounded me all the time. When we visited a family friend, a woman asked me why I wasn’t wearing a sari.

I was constantly asked to tell stories of Pakistan.

And then I was coerced to have at least one serving from all of the five or six main dishes served on the table. Refusing the dessert after wards was not an option.

I bought saris from Char Minar.

They all loved me.

Songs That Shouldn’t Be In Your Shaadi Ke Videos

We love to have the perfect video coverage of our wedding day. Who wouldn’t? We shell out thousands of rupees to find a good, experienced video waala, and expect him to freeze our most special day in film forever.

I remember watching shaadi ke videos of my aunts and chachas, which had the most romantic songs in the background, while the video waala zoomed in and out of the bride or groom’s face. After the editing, it was very common to see the bride’s blushing face and lowered gaze surrounded by digitally-enhanced flowers, mostly roses, which fancily rotates clock wise or counter clock wise around the bride’s face.

And just when you’re about to put the niwaala in your mouth, the experienced video waala finds you and zooms in his lens.

Back to the topic, the choice of songs to be played in the background is of paramount importance. These songs, when ever and where ever they are played, will remind you of your wedding day. So either you give them your selections, or the video waaley will do the picking themselves. Sometimes they, unintentionally (or intentionally perhaps) chose the wrong song. It happened with the shaadi ki video of one of Hubby’s relative. They played “Nayak Nahi Khalnayak Hu Main” just when the bara’at entered! Now every time that music plays, the poor man gets teased. It will forever be his wedding song.

So I’m thinking, what other songs would make a “tragic” background for a shaadi ki video? Here’s my list:

1. Abhi zinda houn tho ji lene do (Barsaat ke mausam main, from the movie Naajayaz)

I’m still alive, let me live.

2. Yeh kya jagah hai doston (Umraao Jaan)

What place is this, my friends?

3. Dost dost na raha (Sangam)

A friend is no longer a friend? (?)

4. Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi (Khamoshi)

The evening was somewhat strange.

5. Yeh kya hua, kaisey hua (Amar prem)

What has happened? How did it happen?

6. Jaane kahan gaye woh din (Mera naam joker)

Wonder where those days went?

7. Waqt ne kiya, kiya haseen sitam (Kagaz ke phool)

Time has caused such a beautiful tyranny (?)

8. Manziloun pe aake lut-te hain (Sharaabi)

help?

9. Phirta rahoun darbadar (Murder)

I’ll be roaming aimlessly (?)

10. Chann se jo toote koi sapna (Jag soona soona lage, from Om Shanti Om)

help?

Okay, I’m somewhat exaggerating here; but who knows? Do you have any other songs in mind that we should be totally avoiding for shaadi ke videos?

Oh, and if someone could possibly translate those song titles, I’d be very grateful. Obviously, I’m terribly bad at it, and have absolutely done no justice whatsoever.

And if you’re getting married soon, good luck!

Glimpse Of Karachi

Karachi is the largest city of Pakistan. It was the original capital of Pakistan and remains the cultural and economic hub, as well as the largest seaport of the country. It is also the birth and burial place of the country’s founder, Mohammed Ali Jinnah.

Teen Talwaar, Clifton

Sunset at Clifton

The Founder’s Mausoleum.

The Airport