there is nothing more beautiful than a sky after it has shed its last tear on the parched land.
monsoons in lahore held her dreams and losses; fragile and tenacious at the same time. she saved rain water in earthen pots and wondered, sometimes not often, why this was not done on a larger scale since everyone was shouting climate change all the time. smiling at her motiya , she made her way around the garden. it was small in comparison to the lavish ones that were being planted around the city. she had heard of full grown trees being planted , which fascinated and scared her , both at the same time.. walking around the patch of green her mother had planted years ago. she was a woman of character and so was everything she did in and around the house. the grass had to be perfect like the saris and Shankar kameez she wore. no weeds and no wrinkles…. she smiles as she walked over weeds… she lived overgrown vegetation but till ammu was alive she followed perfection like the gods depended on it. she was this progressive woman in the 1960’s in Karachi. married to her cousin in the army she stormed the cantonement with her sleeveless blouses and short curly hair. women hated her and men admired her as she drove the Volkswagen to the sabzi wala. to top that she had her first born three years later than was expected and I came 7 years after my brother did. she was the avant – garde housewife of every cantonement. sewing clothes over night so we would wear the stuff that was not even made in those days. she would take a magazine from the second had book store, copy the design of a romper or a frock onto newspaper, cut the cloth and sew while we napped in the sweltering afternoons of Punjab summers. the next morning I’d be wearing it while she pampered her friend or two over sandwiches and tea.
she lived furiously. she loved furiously. she was hunted down by her own pack. annihilation is sweet in its madness. never doubt the one allowing life to leave his or her body bit by bit, pore by pore. it’s an act of defiance. it’s not despondency at all but a gradual taking over of the rights you had given to everyone else. the rights that were yours and only yours.
july 2019