Revolt

by Shahraz, Qaisra

  The car wound out of the village lanes and into the open space of the communal mosque square flanked by sugarcane fields, and headed towards the city of Attock.

  *

  That evening, returning from his sweet shop, Jennat Bibi’s husband came to an abrupt stop outside their wooden door and pulled out his reading glasses from his jacket pocket. A paper was stuck to it and he read aloud the words ‘Don’t enter! Beware of perchanvah in this house. Keep away from Faiza’s evil shadow,’ streaked across the middle of the door.

  Blood rushed to Javaid’s face. It could only be the quiltmaker. He went to check and was greeted by a padlock hanging outside Zeinab’s door. Smiling and whistling to himself, he entered his own home.

  The following mornng, he read the notice again and sauntered off to his sweet shop, stealing a look over his shoulders; their milkman was now peering at the notice. Cheeks bulging with laughter, he braced himself for his wife’s reaction, but first he protected himself by switching off his mobile phone.

  Jennat Bibi had no idea that her front door had been defaced. It was much later in the day that her best friend Neelum reported it to her. Many other passers-by had read the notice, including Massi Fiza, who scurried off to tell Rukhsar about it.

  ‘Jennat-ji, I think you should see this,’ Neelum pulled her friend away from the kitchen stove where a pot of milk was simmering for the barfi sweets. Jennat stopped dead outside her door. Flushed red, she was ready to explode.

  Just then the baker’s wife cheekily sauntered back to read the notice for the second time that morning. Smirking and ignoring Jennat Bibi’s venomous look, she went on to cheerily explain, amused at Jennat Bibi’s reaction:

  ‘That notice has been there since yesterday afternoon. I saw Zeinab stick it up.’

  Jennat Bibi tore off the paper, ran inside and returned panting with a wet broom and began her boisterous scrubbing of the wooden surface. Some of the ink from the writing got smudged. The rest stubbornly remained visible. Everyone could still make out the words.

  ‘Neelum, how I hate my Javaid!’ Jennat Bibi raged. Neelum sheepishly looked down. ‘That rotten husband of mine has been through this door so many times, but did not bother telling me. I bet he loves this! Just see what I will do to him when he gets home, Neelum.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Jennat-ji. It’s not his fault,’ her friend mollified her, eager to lower Jennat Bibi’s blood pressure. When the sweet-maker returned home, he saw their village carpenter busy fixing a new door, hammering the nails in.

  He requested of the carpenter, ‘Please pretend to take this old door away when my wife looks out, but leave it standing after she has gone’. The young man was surprised but very happy to oblige. Smiling and winking at the carpenter, Javaid handed him a 50-rupee note as a form of compensation in case his wife took her wrath out on him later.

  That evening, just as Salma and her mother were settling into their third-floor apartment in Dubai, peering at the traffic down below, after a day of sightseeing on the Jumeirah Beach, Jennat Bibi shrieked at her husband: ‘You knew about the door and you did nothing!’ He smiled his way through her verbal abuse. When she finished, exhausted, Javaid quietly sauntered off to take a look. The original door was still there, propped against the wall next to the new door.

  Literate passers-by could still read the message pretty well. Smiling, he went back inside.

  Epilogue

  Shirin was at her second favourite spot, nimbly balancing her small, mule-clad feet on a thick branch of the gnarled old tree in the middle of the two paths with its ropy, thick roots jutting out of the dusty ground.

  Her mother, busy packing to go back to Islamabad had no inkling about Shirin’s tree-climbing adventures. Her uncle and Saher had just left for a holiday in Paris. Begum was making her special breakfast of spinach paratha and her grandmother who kept calling her ‘fairy’ was crying because everyone was leaving at the same time. Hugging her grandmother tightly Shirin had promised her that she would visit them again during the holidays, but was now eager to see the new home that her grandfather had purchased for them in Islamabad. Gulbahar herself was leaving to visit Rani in the hospital accommodation; she had not seen her since the wedding. Saher had already visited her mother twice with Arslan, and had met Rashid. Liking him very much, she insisted with her Aunt Gulbahar that her mother’s nikkah be delayed until they returned from their honeymoon in Paris.

  The sound of horse hooves startled Shirin. Her foot slipping, she gripped the branch to stop herself falling. Twisting her neck, she peered over her shoulder and saw two horses coming up the path. With a beating heart, Shirin recognised the riders; her grandfather and Ali. The horses came to an abrupt stop a few yards from the tree. Paling and with their breath caught, the two men exchanged glances.

  Haider instructed his munshi, ‘Ali, you ride ahead,’ eyes on his granddaughter, fearful for her safety.

  Ali, winking at Shirin, peeping at them from above the branch, obeyed his master.

  Shirin nervously watched her grandfather’s horse’s bared teeth get nearer, now only two feet away.

  Soft mouth parted, Shirin was terribly afraid, hating the man and his beast. Bemused, Haider watched her little face with interest, noting the fear in her eyes and the angry flush spreading fast through her cheeks.

  ‘Hello there!’ he softly greeted, reining to turn the horse’s head the other way. Only a branch separated them.

  Shirin didn’t answer his greeting, her gaze on his collar, willing him to disappear. Body straining and afraid of falling, she gripped the branch harder, bruising her palms on the rough bark. Her mouth remained a mutinous line. This man and his horse had made her fall before; she wouldn’t let him do it to her again!

  Unafraid of him or his long-faced horse, Shirin raised her small chin, a defiant tilt angled at her grandfather, openly glaring at him.

  ‘Would you like to ride this horse?’ Haider gently wooed, taking her by surprise, reaching his hand towards her. Mouth dry, Shirin stared at his hand and then looked away. Haider’s eyelids swept down; hiding the disappointed look, he tugged sharply at the horse’s reins. Ready to turn, he then saw her slide her left hand off the branch and hold it out in front of him. Eyes widening and a smile splitting the harsh planes of his face, Haider’s fingers eagerly grasped the small hand in a tight fist. Inching the horse nearer, he grabbed her around her shoulders and lifted her onto the horse in front of him.

  Gasping for breath, Shirin’s little heart thudded, her body held against her grandfather and secured with the protective band of his arm. She froze, frightened of both the horse and the man holding onto her as they rode out of Gulistan.

  Resting his chin on her soft curls, Haider’s words fanned into her ears, ‘Would you like to ride out into the fields?’ There was an odd appeal in his tone which, as a child, she missed.

  ‘I know you will enjoy the ride.’

  He nervously waited for her answer. At last a small voice squeaked, ‘Yes.’ Then she tentatively added, ‘Please,’ remembering her mother and her manners.

  His heart alight with joy, Haider kicked the animal into action, the little bundle of warmth in front of him grasping his arm tightly.

  ‘Hold on, my chand, my beautiful star,’ he tenderly urged, as the horse sped away.

  Shirin relaxed, nestling against his chest, feeling the thrill of the moving animal under her body, the warm, morning air on her cheeks, her hair flying back and into her eyes.

  ‘Good?’

  ‘Yes,’ she affirmed, giggling, watching his handkerchief flutter away in the wind, and turning to look at him. Haider laughed aloud into her eyes, glimpsing the first smile meant solely for him. Heart soaring, he kissed her soft curls, hugging her even tighter against his chest.

  She let him; strange, but comforting.

  ‘Your mother, too, loved horse riding,’ he confided, his chin resting against her hair.

  THE END

  Glossary

  Acha baba: An ende
arment used to pacify someone. ‘OK dear!’

  Adhan: The call to prayer for Muslims.

  Akros: Vegetables – ladies’ fingers.

  Assalam alaikum: Muslim greeting.

  Athar: Traditional fragrance used as scent by men in the Arab and Muslim world.

  Atta: Flour.

  Badmash: Someone of not good character.

  Baesti: To be shown up and degraded.

  Baesti: To lose one’s honour and social standing.

  Baji jan: An endearing way to address an older sister or relative.

  Baji: A title offered in respect to signify older woman or sister.

  Bakra Eid: A celebration that is held annually after Hajj is performed as part of the Muslim calendar.

  Barfi: An Asian sweet, like a Western fudge sweet.

  Bavarchikhana: Kitchen.

  Bechari: Pitiful.

  Befakuf: Foolish.

  Benarasi: A rich gold threaded fabric, often used for saris.

  Besharm: Shameless.

  Bethak: Lounge.

  Bhaji: An older sister or female relative.

  Bhangra: A dance often performed to the beat of the dhol drums.

  Bholi: Innocent.

  Bismillah: Form of greeting. ‘To begin in the name of Allah’.

  Boker: A broomstick, made out of little thin sticks to sweep away dust and cobwebs.

  Chador: A large shawl-like garment used by women to cover themselves.

  Chaki: A large stone-grinding implement used to mill grain such as wheat.

  Chana halwa puri: A brakfast delicacy made from chickpeas, semolina pudding served with a fried bread.

  Chand: Moon.

  Chappals: Traditional sandals.

  Chappati: Flatbread served with meals.

  Charail: Witch.

  Chardevari: Four walls.

  Charpoy: A bed used in rural areas with wooden legs and woven jute.

  Chillah: A period of 40 days after the birth of a child when women are traditionally resting and being cared for by their family.

  Chirag: Light – a lamp.

  Chooridaar pyjama: The trouser part of the traditional outfit worn by women, like tight leggings which ruffle at the bottom.

  Chothi pari: A small fairy or angel.

  Chumkay: Dangling earrings.

  Daigs: Big pots for cooking large quantities of food.

  Dal: Lentils.

  Dari: Jute woven mat.

  Deira: A farmstead with cattle etc.

  Desi: Traditional.

  Dhai: A birth attendant – a local midwife.

  Dhoban: Woman who washes clothes for a living.

  Dhobi Ghat: Laundry house.

  Dholki: A small drum used by women whilst singing traditional wedding songs.

  Dhols: Drums.

  Divas: Candle-like lights.

  Du’a: Prayers and good wishes.

  Dupatta: A scarf used to complete a tradtional outfit.

  Eid: A celebration held by Muslims to celebrate the end of the month of fasting or the Hajj.

  Engrezi kitab: English book.

  Engrezi: English language.

  Fajr: The first prayer of the day for Muslims – morning prayer.

  Gajar halva: A sweet dish made with carrots and milk.

  Ghair mard: A male relative apart from father, husband and son that a Muslim woman is forbidden to interact with on her own.

  Ghair: Forbidden.

  Ghusl khanah: Bathroom.

  Goorie: A white person – girl or woman.

  Gora: A white person – boy or man.

  Gota kinari lengha: A traditional outfit of a skirt-like garment embellished with gold trimmings.

  Gujjar: Tribe or clan of people who are traditionally involved in the dairy business.

  Gulab jamuns: A sweet – normally round and brown in colour.

  Halal: Allowed according to Islam.

  Haldi: Turmeric powder used in cooking.

  Haleem: A tradtional dish made of mutton and lentils.

  Halvie: A person who makes the traditional Asian sweets and confectionery.

  Halwa: A pudding made with semolina.

  Haqiqa: A function held to celebrate the birth of a child.

  Haram: Forbidden, not ‘Halal’.

  Hevali: Mansion.

  Hijab: A scarf that is used by Muslim women to cover the head.

  Hum loothey ghey: ‘We have been robbed or looted’.

  Izzat: Personal and family honour.

  Jaan: An endearment. ‘You are my life.’

  Jalebis: A sweet shaped like a ringlet served during clelebrations, normally orange or yellow in colour, fried and dipped in syrup.

  Jamaat: Class.

  Jamounoo: Purple.

  Jamuni: Purple.

  Juma: Friday.

  Kajal: Black eyeliner used in South Asia.

  Kala kola: Name of black dye used to colour hair in India and Pakistan.

  Kamal hai: ‘How strange or how wonderful!’

  Kameez: Traditional outfit worn in South Asia by men and women.

  Kara: A gold bangle.

  Khabardor: Means ‘Don’t you dare!’

  Kheer: Rice pudding.

  Khuda Hafiz: A common greeting to say goodbye. ‘God be with you’.

  Khussa: Traditional leather shoes with embroidery and embellishments for both men and women.

  Khusroos: Transvestites.

  Kismet: Fate.

  Kofta: Meatballs.

  Kundan: A type of Indian jewellary involving particular stonework.

  Kurtha: A shirt-like garment.

  Ladli: Beloved, special girl i.e. daughter or neice.

  Ladoos: Asian sweet, normally round and yellow.

  Lassi: A drink made with yogurt and milk.

  Lengha: A skirt, part of a formal outfit worn mainly at weddings.

  Machlis: Dangling bits of earrings or necklace sets.

  Mafi: Forgive.

  Maghrib: The East.

  Mahals: Mansions.

  Makhan: Butter.

  Mala: A necklace.

  Malai: Cream.

  Manhous: Cursed.

  Matr malas: A gold necklace made with small pea-like gold balls.

  Maulvi: A religious scholar.

  Mela: A fair.

  Merlas: Unit of measurement of land.

  Minar: Tall tower of a mosque.

  Mithai: Asian sweets and confectionary.

  Mitthi: Soil.

  Mubarak: Congratulations.

  Munshi: Manager of estates and lands.

  Naan: A bread.

  Nakhra: Snooty/displaying airs.

  Nallah: Special string to tie the trousers (shalwar).

  Nastaliq: A form of Arabic script used in the Urdu language.

  Nazak: Delicate.

  Neem: A tree bearing the neem fruit.

  Nethu Pethu’s: Any Tom Dick or Harry.

  Nikkah: The marriage ceremony according to Islam.

  Niqab: face veil – partially covering the face.

  Noor: Light.

  Pagaal: Crazy.

  Paisa: Money.

  Pak: Pure.

  Paratha: A bread that is made with butter, normally eaten at breakfast.

  Patesas: A sweet – normally dry and creamy-white in colour with delicate crumbling layers.

  Peeri: A footstool.

  Perchanvah: Evil shadow.

  Phutley: A puppet – used by puppeteers for entertainment.

  Piari shahzadi: A beautiful princess.

  Pir: A devout man who gives guidance on religious matters.

  Pleat: Unclean (opposite to ‘pak’).

  Puris: A fried bread, like a pancake.

  Qawalis: Musical, spiritual, devotional pieces.

  Rakah: A unit of the prayer offered during the five obligatory prayers.

  Ressmeh: Customs or rituals.

  Rewarian: A sweet.

  Rishta: A proposal of marriage.

  Runak: Celebration – a merry atmosphere.

  Sabz: Gre
en.

  Sahiba-ji: A title given to the lady of the house by subordinates.

  Sak: special wooden/herb stick used for brushing teeth, which leaves an orangey stain on the lips.

  Samoses: A fried savoury pastry filled with meat and potatoes.

  Segan: presents for the newly engaged or wed.

  Shaitan: Devil.

  Shalwar: The baggy trouser part of the traditional outfit worn by men and women in South Asia.

  Shami: Name for round meat kebabs.

  Shan: Social standing and respect.

  Sharm: Shame.

  Shukria: Thank you.

  Siniaran: Wife of a goldsmith.

  Siri pai: A delicacy comprising the trotters and head of goats or sheep.

  Sokan: A second wife, a rival in love.

  Takht paush: A special prayer table used for offering prayers.

  Tamasha: An altercation/dramatic incident for other people to watch and enjoy. Also means entertainment in a theatre.

  Tandoor: A clay oven.

  Tangas: A horse and cart used as transport in mainly rural areas.

  Tava: A flat iron pan used to make chappati and other breads.

  Thalie: A plate or tray.

  Thola gulaband: A gold necklace of certain ‘thola’ weight.

  Thola: A weight measurement for gold.

  Tikka: A piece of jewellary that adorns the forehead worn by Indian or Hindu women.

  Tofa: A present.

  Tweez: A religious amulet worn around the neck by some people.

  Vakil: Lawyer.

  Velat: Abroad.

  Velati: Foreign people or things – from overseas.

  Wudu: To wash before offering the prayers according to Islam.

  Zemindar: Landlord.

  Zuhr nafl: An extra prayer that is said apart from the five obligatory prayers.

  Zuhr: The afternoon prayer.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the following people for all their hard work, support and sheer interest and guidance relating to Revolt and my other works of fiction:

  John Shaw, Margaret Morris, Gary Pulsifer, Karen Sullivan, Angeline Rothermundt, James Nunn, Rosemarie Hudson, Sabiya Khan, Kate Lyall, Shaheeda Sabir, Dr Afshan Khawaja, Anora McGaha, Prof. Akbar Ahmed, Prof. Abdur Rahim Kidwai, Dr Salim Ayduz, Amanda Challis, Barbra Bos, Jen Thomas, Sameena Choudry, Asad Zaman, Nikki Bi, Jonathan Davidson, Aditi Maheshwari, Sobiya Gondal, Mohammed Anwar, Rahila Bano, Shashi Pandey, Manorama Venkatraman, Tahira & Mohammed Amin, June Rosen, Heather Fletcher Jackie Harrison, Jackie Lewis, Sarah Kemp, Bob Day, Jonny Wineberg, Warren Elf, Angharad Reed, Prof. Lynne Pearce, Dr Robert Crawshaw, Dr Graham Mort, Dr Corine Fowler, Dr Claire Chambers, Prof. Liesel Hermes, Prof. Karin Vogt, Rudi & Roswitha Rau, Ingrid Stritzelberger, Angelika Hoff, Felicitas Freisenhaus and Winfried Rohr.