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Crouching in her bed, Pushkula is looking at the photographs that are scattered all over the place. While flipping through the pictures, one of them catches her eye. She was perhaps eight years old then, wearing that pink frock that she looked really pretty in, but she didn’t want to wear it because it was made of silk and she was allergic to it. Why was I crying? Was that because I didn’t like that pink frock? or…I think Amman didn’t buy me that lovely doll which spoke in French when you kiss it on the cheeks. Feeling nostalgic, she closes her grey eyes and lets her memory wander in that huge 40/B Nikalson road, near Board Walla Chauk. There were twelve kids in total, after effects of joint family system, I suppose, she smiled.

“Nay nay nay nay, if you think you can catch me, ever, (rolling her tongue to emphasize on the letter R, she teased Abdal while making faces at him) you are ho…rrun..disly mistaken (one of the words Shamsa baji had taught her) accept it, I’m cool, you’re not. I’m smart, you’re…”

“You’re what…?” Abdal who was running behind her, paused. (Pushkula had tricked him into taking his candy and now was not giving it back to him). Pretending to get bored, she repeated “horundisly”. Munching the candy, “well, you wouldn’t know and it means a witch by the way, you are witchly mistaken…

Pushkula coughs and changes her posture from crouching to lying in the bed…

Allah mian pani dey ya sao baras ki nani dey

…Hey, why are singing this? Is it going to rain today?

…Ammi Jaan says so, come and join us in the song. She says when all the kids sing this, Allah Mian sends down the water for them “especially” and its my birthday anyways. He’ll be sending me rain as my birthday present directly from the sky.

…Okay, Allah mian pani dey ya so baras ki nani dey. Allah mian pani dey ya so baras ki nani dey

“Please Allah Mian, we want to play ‘rain-rain’ in the rain ( Push Kula was looking at the sky)

…Hurray, go Abdal, tell Amna, Asma baji every one, we’re going to have fun…
And they all played in the rain. Splashing water here and there, those eleven half naked kids (Muchi had flu so Auntie didn???t allow him to play with us) kept running, shouting and rowing the small paper boats in the rain till late…

Tears trickling down her face, she opens her watered eyes and hums to the tune and recollects the song her Abba used to listen when he got old.

Yeh dolat bhi ley lo, yeh shohrat bhi ley lo
Bhaley cheen lo mugh sey meri jawani
Magar mugh ko lota do bachpan ka sawan
Wo kaghaz ki kashti wo barish ka pani…
She could give anything, anything at all to have her childhood back.

After playing in the rain, she came in to dress up for her birthday party. She had turned eight that day and she was wearing a white banana frock. She hiccupped, “I want that doll, and if you don’t give it to me, I won’t go to school tomorrow. I refuse to go in front of the guests. I’m not talking of you, Amman. I love that dolly. It starts singing twinkle twinkle when I switch her on and”…

Mera beta, Abba will buy you one tom???

Nay, I want it today, will he not bring it today, Amman? I’ll call him…

…Abba enters, holding a small rectangular box. Snatching it from him, she cried, “Abba, can I open it? Can I? Can I?” It was the very doll she wanted. “You’re the best Abba ever, muah” She would play with the doll all day long and would take it to school as well, hiding it in her bag… It’s strange I always called it Pushkula…

…Hey Push, how are you? Did you do the homework? Can you show it to me? Wow!

Look, what a nice doll. Isn’t she the most beautiful creature ever? Can you bring it to school tomorrow so that I can play with it too? (Getting sad) I asked dad to buy me one but he says it’s too expensive.

I know. You can take it if you like. It’s not that pretty anyway. Did you complete that exercise on seven types of mammals? Do you have that right now; I’m afraid I don’t know a word about it and I am sure Miss Elephant will tell me to read out the answers. They both mimicked her voice, “Beta pushkula, zara read your answers please.”

They sang, Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. Hahahahahaahahah, they choked with laughter.

*
“Khala jee, have your soup.” 65 year old Karam Din places the bowl of soup on the side table and starts to leave when Pushkula calls out, “Karmoo sahib”. He turns around and stands behind the sofa. Pushkula studies him for a while; the satisfied look, the serenity of mind and soul that is so strange to her. Why have I never felt that way? “Nothing, you may go”.

“Bibi jee, if you need something, just ring the bell. I’ll be getting up for Tahajjud and I am fasting tomorrow. It’s the 12th Rabiual Awwal ——- Hazoor Ji ki viladat ka din, mein to phoola na samaoon” Really? Happy? Are you? I am not.

She sips some soup. It feels hot against her cold tongue. “Good lord” she utters and looks back at the snaps. Pulling the one that is half hidden under her blanket, she takes a deep breath…

She was sitting in the playground. It was sports day and she seemed really happy. Pushkula Asif of class 8th has won the first prize, Miss Khan, will you be kind enough to come forward and? … There was some misunderstanding I guess, I remember it was the girl with black curly hair that stood 1stfor she was running faster then me … Pushkula was smiling at the camera.

“God I need to get A plus this time. I am always working hard at Art of Story telling and yet I never get an A. Hey listen to this; the banshee was shouting on the top of her lungs…nay, the banshee went on laughing loudly, that wicked and unbearable laugh of hers, which one’s better, haan?

… The latter I guess, and the point about the kid, make it a girl…umm…a girl…ummm.. who is going to get married in a day. That will make the reader feel compassionate towards the protagonist.

No matter what I do, she never gives me that goddamn A, what’s wrong with her. Forget it. I don’t give a shit (messaging on the mobile) I guess I should message Amna and tell her that I am the unluckiest person ever. Allah can???t even give me an A…

…hey Push your mobile is beeping.

It???s ok Push, it doesn???t matter, does it? Think about those who have a lot more problems then you have. You know what, my khaloo Jann, the doctor has been diagnosed to have a brain tumour and he has three girls. The youngest is in 6th grade. Think about them, Yaar. He died after a week, I never called him uncle, always Khaloo Jaan…Enough of your whining. Stop living in your small little cocoon, baby. Have you heard the song that talks about those who are lot more distressed than you are?
‘Dunya mein kitna gham hey, mera gham kitna kam hey
Logon ka gham dekha to, mein apna gham bhool gia, tc, love ya…’

…Hey, did you see Sir Aslam Butt today? He’s so hot, man. Is he married?

…Na! He’s just engaged and…

…I think he was forced to do it. Actually she was his cousin, na, and she is not even pretty…

…As compared to you? Ahan?

Pushkula sat there, wondering, the song echoing in her head:
Logon ka gham dekha…

…Uth Push, lets go to the cafe, it’s TT’s happy wali birthday today. Let’s lootofy her.

“Sidra’s birthday? Yummy”

…Are you coming to Atif Aslam’s concert today, he’s my love, he’s my life.

…You mean to say love is life, love is wife, euuuuuu, that’s cheap.

“That bloody A, I’ll get it some day.” And in her heart she prayed for Khaloo Jaan who was suffering from…

The telephone rings. She gets out of bed. While putting the blanket away, some snaps fall on the carpet. She picks them all up with her trembling hands and holding the stick she rushes towards the phone.

Hello Amman, how’re you?

O my baby, is that really you?

Happy belated birthday, Amman. I am so sorry, I couldn’t call you last week. It’s Saffoo, last whole week I was busy making him practice the king. He’s participating in a play. A very bright child, I must say. Here Saffoo, talk to your Nano and say salam…

Hey grandma, I … err plz urdu nahin, can I talk to you ermm o grandy…

Give me it. Batamiz. I’m sorry Amman. You should teach him Urdu when he comes to Pakistan this time, olu ka patha…

Kab? When are you coming to Pakistan?

Err. I don’t know, Smith says he is busiest at this time of the year, tomorrow he’s going to New York and I have my job here in Chicago, yes I was busy once too but that was years ago, pata nahin, but I’ll talk to him about it. I’ll hang up Amman, Saffoo stop it beta…

She moves the curtains away. It’s dark outside, half past 12 I suppose.

She looks out of the glass pane window and notices the tiny drops of rain moistening the green leaves of a pot resting against the pane. She slides the window and feels the cool breeze coming in, caressing her short grey hair, throwing them hither and thither…

She was in the parking area. It was raining, TT and STM had refused to come out and enjoy the rain…

What’s the use, Push? It’s so cold out there and I’m intending to bunk Anthro anyway and if the teacher sees me wandering in the parking, she’ll catch me and I don’t want to listen to another Anthro lecture of hers.

…Leave her TT, Boti cool ban rahi hey. Let her go and we will go to the caf??.

…Wha?… Are you bunking too? Why?

…Uzair wants to see me.

…Ahan? My My…

It was lovely. I was wearing red that day (sluts wear red, Ms Ahmed said once). The tiny drops of water were kissing me all over, soft tender, cold kisses. Thank god there’s no one around, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the rain otherwise. Who’s that? I turned around and saw him standing behind the pillar gazing at me. I had so wanted him to come, my first crush. I looked at him and smiled, he smiled back and waved. I waved too and this was how I fell in love with the guy I could not get married to…

Did you ring the bell, Bibi jee? Im sorry, I was praying.

Pushkula opens her eyes and puts the blanket away. Sit down Karmoo. Karmoo, errmm do you regret anything… as in…?

…Regret? No regret, jee, but you know what, a person will regret each and every moment of his life on the day of judgment which he didn’t spend in zikr; remembering Allah; the same sense of contentment.

What? What is he talking about? Is he saying that we spend each and every moment remembering God? Is He so greedy that he wants us to remember him 24/7, I’m sure Karmoo is an extremist. He’s an uneducated old man. How would he know what a becholer or a master degree is? but doesn’t he know that there is so much to it besides Din…err…Islam or whatever?…And yet his words ring bells in my mind.

What do you mean Karam Din, isn’t that enough that we offer salat, though I don’t, give zakat and…

Bibi jee, I’m an illiterate, uneducated man but our elders say that life is like a boat, row it in the river, enjoy the ride but don’t let water get in, the boat will sink otherwise. Similarly enjoy your life, do whatever you wish to but never forget your lord. Merey malik, its time for the Asar prayer.

Prayer…prayer?

…I love this prayer room man. Its so cozy in here.

…Hey, what’s up, babies? You know what happened? I was just going to the caf?? and Ali Hassan stopped me and asked, where is your gulabo, and I was like, man, what the hell? Can you ever stop it? You are such a loser, I said. We don’t even find these stupid jokes of yours funny anymore, I rolled my eyes at him and came here.

…He is an asshole, trust me, Push you dont need to worry…

…Can you please knock the door before you come in?

Knocking the door, I was looking for you, Push, my first crush…

We spent all the time we were in the college together and sometimes out of the college too, when we had to do some “research work”. He was the first person I have ever loved and the last I had any chance of getting married to. He belongs to “a leechar family”, Amman had explained very calmly.

But ma! He is the sweetest person I have ever seen. Besides, he doesn’t have that typical patriarchal thinking. He respects women, unlike all the other guys, and Ashfaq Ahmed believes that love…

One thing is for sure, Push, you are not going to marry that man. Did you see his parents, his father looks like Charlie Chaplin aur ammi key to kia kehney…

…I can’t live without you, Push, please persuade them somehow. …and I stood there in the rain, yes it rained that day too, not only cats and dogs but frogs and ants and chicks and rats and I don’t know what…

She stopped going to the university and kept herself to her room. After a week or so, she got engaged. She didn’t lift her eyes, though, during the whole ceremony.

She called him that night, but they didn’t talk. Pushkula tried to attempt suicide the next day but in vain. Her parents took her to Islamabad. She stayed there for a month and got married on her return…

…Hey, I am talking to you, sweety? Why are you lost, haan?

Hmm? I was thinking about my boy friend, you idiot.

…Lets go to some restaurant, shall we?

I don’t feel like going. I have a headache.

…Okay but we are going to Switzerland next week (holding her in his arms) and we’re gonna have the time of our life there.

Bored, she switches on the television. “You are the best mommy ever”, a five-year-old kid was hugging her mom. “Thanks for the Chucky”…

Have your toast, first. No you can’t go like that, Ali, take your lunch beta…

Butter wala…euuuuu. (covering his mouth and laughing hahhahahaha )
(Pushkula sighs) Hmm and jee aap, have your tea please, I’m bringing your tie, going to polish your shoes in a minute. When are coming today? Uhhm, for the shopping and please don’t get late, (smiling, waving…bye.) She comes back to the kitchen, eyes on the porch, and while picking up the dishes hums,
Teray naam sey hi saji hoi meri zindagi ki kitaab hey…

Bibi Jee, I am going to the bazaar to see those paharian, mountains that children build on this mubarik day. Karam Din, who is apparently very excited, is wearing a white shalwar kameez and holding sweets in his hands to distribute among the kids.

Why is he getting so hyper? He resembles a five year old kid who, when gets up in the morning one day, finds lots of candies under his pillow… Its okay old man, it doesn’t matter.

Acha Bibi Jee, salamalaikam, that satisfied look, the same sense of serenity of mind and soul…Why do we live? To serve what purpose? Which goal to achieve? After spending 18 years Studying, do I feel I have achieved anything? Am I happy, satisfied? I have lead a happy life with my family, my kids and yet nothing seems to matter now, not the rain that we loved when we were kids, not that useless A plus or the concert guy that we used to dote on, not even the man I always loved in my heart but couldn’t get married to, not even my kids who left me alone in this old age. What is it that matters then? What the hell have I been doing all my life? Waiting for Godott? Tell me one act that I can cherish at this time of my life that can be useful? She questions herself silently. Life is like the game “rain rain” we played when we were young. We enjoy each ad every moment while we are playing, splashing water here and there, running, shouting and rowing the small paper boats and when we are through, all the fun is gone. Similarly when we get old, the only rain left for us is the rain of memory which showers on our pillow every night.

Pulling the blanket on her face she pretends that she has gone to sleep.