Share on Tumblr

Wednesday 15 October 2014

' It's called Patriarchy '

Safine looks out of the car window. There's nothing new she sees but it's very rare they get invited for a lunch Dawwat . Her Husband's eyes are focused on the road , beside him is his cousin Azmal who has joined them for the long Eid holidays. Safine looks at Nooraan , her youthful daughter , who has now plugged in her earphones and has completely zoned out.

 Nooraan pulls one her left earphone out ' Ammi , Najma aunty's Kofta curry was so good! I loved it more than the Daalcha.'

'Yes! I was quite surprised myself! It was a different style of preparation. Delicious nonetheless.' says Safine.

' Ammi , I didn't know Saleem Uncle does sewing too? He even alters his children's school uniforms when needed'

'He does ,' says Safine ' He and even Amjad helps his wife do the house work. Both men  cook , get their kids ready for school and finish up on other necessities. If they notice that their wives are away or busy or overwhelmed they don't turn a blind eye. They immediately get up and handle the cooking and cooperatively tend to their kids.'

' What great men they must be. Understanding and comprehending the true essence of marriage. That's how it should be'

'You can't really compare' says Azmal after overhearing the mother-daughter's conversation ' Men go out and work hours and deal with all sorts of stress. Their wives are working women so it is difficult to do all work. But If she's a housewife Isn't 8 hours enough to finish up all the house chores? your cleaning and cooking?'

'But Azmal a mother's work never ends. If only 8 hours were enough. Parenting is a life long job. You get two days in a week off. ' Safine calmly explains.

' Then you should raise your child well enough to help you in your responsibilities. If women cannot handle both work and professional life then stay at home. And If you are a stay-at-home mother then you should manage all the work. You can't have your cake and eat it too!' says Azmal.

' But bhaijaan we can say that too , right? Men also cannot have it all.' says Nooraan defensively.

'You can't match home stress to work stress, ' says Safine's husband  ' there is so much pressure on us , all sorts of tensions , children's education , work stress , financial stress. It's all very different. '

' Just because she is not an earning member does not mean her job is of any less value!' says an outraged Nooraan.

' None of our points are actually valid' says Azmal ' For a man to do housework is not Sunnat. '

And with that he ends it.

A defeated Safine looks out of the car window. Nooraan sits grumpily in her corner knowing well that there is no point arguing with elders. She looks at her mother who smiles meekly at her.
 She reaches out for her mother's hand ' Ammi , It's not Islam. Will a man be punished at Akhirah for helping his wife?! No. It's called Patriarchy. It's so deep rooted that it has blinded countless people.'

Safine looks away with hope draining from her eyes.

Photo Courtesy: Majid Saeedi

خُدا حافِظ


Torment



She lies in her bed wide awake. 2:58 am. Tormented by his thoughts. He's 3 hours behind . What would he be doing right now? Out may be , or just getting back home from a night out, tipsy and ready for thoughtless sleep.

She turns to her side , picks her phone from her bedside table and looks at the only picture she has of them together. Her auburn hair looks almost black, his blond hair seems almost platinum. The two evidence of their night starkly visible on his neck.

 That night still vivid in her mind like it happened just yesterday. Every moment stuck to her skin like oil and the undying  tender determination of the candle flame that lasted the night. It would be 8 months since she first met him , 8 months since she was broken. Now she was fixed but still not whole.

From the first glimpse they knew there was no turning back. They just couldn't. The anxious excitement to see each other refused to leave their nerves , the butterflies in their stomachs wouldn't stop fluttering for a moment and in those moments weeks passed by.

Now these memories wipe the smile off her face and inflict heartache. A sweet pain pulsates in her as though a shard of glass is stuck under her skin. Her mind goes back to what he might be doing. May be he is with someone new. Tall , slender , graceful , poised. The kind whose presence exudes radiance. Tangled in her arms , she'd drink up the deep pools of ocean of his eyes and he would let her as though he's at the mercy of a goddess. And here , half a world away , she's still where she was, the very thought of a stranger's touch reaching out to her makes her skin crawl.

She kicks her blanket away and walks to her mirror. She had lost a lot of weight in the past few weeks. Her skin looks dull and grey. Her eyes enveloped in darkness. Her once metallic red hair now lack luster.
 She closes her eyes and prays in her heart ' Ya Allah , What next? How much longer?'
                                                                   
                                                                            *

The day's work is over. He hangs around by the ocean aimlessly , letting his feet control him and take him wherever they wished. He's a wanderer , a nomad. In 8 months, he's gone about 4 or more places. You mustn't get attached. You keep moving. But what happens you lose your heart and mind so quickly it's like sanding slipping from your fingers. You just can't control it , it slips faster. 
The sun is soon to set. The soft breeze whispers ' Kashmiri apple' in his ears. He could almost hear it smile. He looks on , trying to escape the face that haunts his memories. A  sweet lingering aftertaste he's still reeling from. 

He never would have imagined her to be this fragile the first time he saw her, tiny , like a bird with a broken wing. How much he missed her nimble fingers. Even when she casually touched him , it was enough to make him wiggle. When she slipped her hands in his shirt , he'd try his best to stay still. When he kissed her , he caught her fingers and guided them to feel his racing pulse. That morning , when he pulled her palm to his cheek and slept soundly.

He couldn't forget how she would stand on her toes to kiss him and still be unable to reach him, how she snuggled closer to him in the middle of the night and sleepily murmured ' baby , I'm getting bad dreams' , how she would close her eyes and nod her head whenever he asked her something.

The memories overwhelm him , he shakes his head but his ears are still ringing. The sun is setting filling him with gloom. 'I will find my way to you and we will be together I promise you this' he makes a silent vow to no one. 

*

خُدا حافِظ