Iron Pipe Charpoy

I regained consciousness, and stayed still with my eyes closed. The pain was slowly ebbing back into my senses. Voices streamed in, voices that seemed to be coming from very near. A buzz too loud. As if there was an entire group crowded somewhere, even though I remembered there were just two. It reminded me of the exciting nights of The Wedding Week, when all us cousins had stayed up and practiced our dances, had gone for shopping, wandered the streets of Karachi, crashed in dhabas for a cup of tea and had enjoyed horror films that had been more funny than terrifying to be honest. Sarim's wedding was the only function all the cousins of the family had been able to attend. But ever since then, all of them had been counting on me to provide them a second chance, even though I was still a long way to go. Two of them were older than me, but they'd taken an anti-marriage road because of their parents' dysfunctional marital lives. Although it had been only a year, it felt like a decade old story.

"Yes, Ma?"

His voice came clearer than I'd thought, making me realise he was sitting somewhere really close. For a fleeting moment I wondered if his mother was here and involved in this felony. But when he spoke again after a pause, I knew he was talking over the phone. 

Trying not to let my eyelids flicker, I stayed as still and relaxed as I could bring myself to, hoping he wouldn't notice I was awake, for I could sense his gaze on me.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I know I should've informed you before leaving like that, but trust me I'm fine. I'm not hurt. I'll be okay, and I'll be back in a few days."

He listened to the other side, and then said, "I don't know. I don't know how long it'll take. I can't tell, I'm sorry, Ma . . . No, I'm not doing anything wrong. Why would I be doing anything wrong?"

Freaking humbug. Lying to his own mother! 

"Come on, you've got to trust me. I'm getting us back something that was ours to own, okay? So don't worry . . . Yeah, I've got to hang up, Ma. I have a guest here, and I think she's awake."

Oh, fuck.

"You should eat." He stated.

I didn't open my eyes. "Did he call?"

"You're burning. Shareef got you Panadol. Eat something and then-"

"Did he call?" My heart welled up. I already knew the answer. 

"No." The reply came. 

A lump formed in my throat, forcing me to choke back a sob. Turning my back at him, I turned sides and took my hand to cover my mouth. I gasped a sob, and tears streamed down my eyes. 

"You should eat-"

It fueled me up. With a start, I jerked up and snapped around to face him as I yelled. "I DONT WANT TO FUCKING EAT!! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" I didn't know I had this much energy left in me, I knew I looked wild and hysteric. "You fucking kidnap me and my father does not give a shit becuase he cares about saving his wealth more than he does about me! And you think food will make things better?!"

"No, it won't." He spoke calmly as if I hadn't just shouted at him, not moving a muscle. "I am asking you to eat because I don't want you to die. I'm not up to dealing with that mess."

I stared at him wide eyed and incredulous. I felt the urge to claw his face with my nails, because I had hated no one as much as I hated him at that moment. Breathily heavily, I tried to calm my nerves, but the more I thought about the whole situation, the more it broke me. Giving up, I averted my gaze and scooted back on the charpoy, pulling my knees up to my chest. 

"Shareef got biryani. It's still warm. There's water and the tablet." Gesturing towards the tall stool beside the bed, he got up from the blue plastic chair. "I'm going out. Make yourself comfortable while you eat."

I looked at the styrofoam box at my right. The aroma wafting from it was truly inviting. I couldn't resist. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he knew biryani would get me eating. 

Maybe.

---

Later that night, when he was back in the room, I couldn't stop myself from voicing out my thoughts to him. It had been driving me crazy, that fact that I was pulled into this drama, in spite of my zero involvement. It had nothing whatsoever to do with me. What do I care what my father does with his employees or his business colleagues?

"Whoever you are," I began, his back was at me, and he was staring out the window space, "and whatever my father did to you, why did you drag me into this? I have nothing to do with it. There must be a billion other ways you could have had your revenge."

He arched his body to look at me. "I wanted you to know who your father really is."

"But I didn't." I fired back. It was outrageous. "Who do you think you are to decide for me? My father is a good man and that's all I was supposed to know! I didn't want to go through this, I didn't want him at a point where he'd have to choose between me and all that he had worked for his entire life, especially if it meant I'd be the one who'd end up hurt. I was better oblivious."

I had gotten used to his flat, expressionless stony face, so it was no surprise that not a trace of any emotion settled on his sharp features. "Well then, you're the most ignorant and the stupidest person I've ever come across."

"I don't care what you think." I pronounced in quiet fury and pursed my lips, meeting his cold gaze.

"I doubt you wouldn't want to know what he did to my family." 

The strange, sad glitter in his eyes forced me to keep the words of dissent in my mouth instead of blurting them out. I caught myself before I could have said anything I'd later regret. "Why would I want to know? I don't even know who you are?"

A corner of his lips had barely curled up when he looked away, setting his eyes on the cloudless night sky instead. Due to pollution, stars could never be seen glittering across the vast expanse, nor do the clouds ever float about. It had been ten years since the people of Karachi saw the magical sight of entire constellations playing at night. I'd even forgotten what it looked like. 

"What did he do?" I finally asked after a pause. I should be honest, I was curious. 

"Ask your father."

I felt like banging his head against the wall. I hated people who first left a hint about something seemingly important, and then trailed off, having decided it would be better if they didn't tell anyone. If they did not wish to let the secret out, why did they have to dangle a hook in front of us like that and keep us on hold, leaving us squirming in curiosity? Stupid bastards. 

---

The next morning, Shareef let me in on the news that my father had signed the papers and a guy was on his way here to hand the file to the boss. I didn't know what to feel. I might be relieved, but I also knew I'd be taking home with me a burden I might not be able to push off my heart for the rest of my life. With my legs jumpy and nerves crackling, I was restless, eager to be out of this place. I thought I might shout and yell and scream at my father until I'd tire myself or sore my throat.

Finally when the sun was bursting from the top, at peak afternoon of early September somebody I'd never seen before entered the building. I did wonder why the authorities had left a project midway in the heart of the residential area, but then if you're in Karachi you don't need the answers to the questions of the like. Because here a lot of things happen for no apparent reason. And the people are used to it. 

It was a lanky man, with a messy beard and an equally messy shock of black hair sticking in all the directions, as if he had just woken up. Poor people apparently didn't know how to keep themselves clean, they reek of all sorts of filth, that's why I steer clear of them. I couldn't, for the life of me, understand what keeps them from taking a bath everyday. Surely they would have a bucket of water and a soap, because nobody could be that poor, that much I knew. 

"We were being followed, you were right sir." I heard an unfamiliar voice coming from the lounge area, and rightfully assumed it was the newcomer. I was still in the room with the charpoy, waiting patiently as seconds dragged on at sloth speed.

"I knew he'd try."

"We did what you told us, sir. I dropped Majid off at his own house and came right here. Until they lost me, I don't think they realised we played a game with them."

Silence descended. Curious as to what was happening, I climbed off the charpoy and walked to the door of the room. The boss had his head bent over a manilla file, turning over the pages as he observed the signed documents. 

"Okay, both of you," he spoke when he finally looked up and flicked his gaze between his two men. "I'll message you the address of a meeting point, meet me there in two days, 6pm sharp, got it? I'll give you your shares."

"Okay boss." Shareef said with an energetic nod, a grin splitting his mouth, showing his red stained teeth.

"Now you can leave. I'll take care of the girl." 

Shaking their heads in affirmation, the two men turned and started towards the stairs.

I stood there by the door, analyzing his next move, now that we were alone. Maybe I needed to start worrying about losing my virtue. Men with a heightened sense of masculinity cannot be trusted around a lone woman.

His next move though, took me completely by surprise. He called his mother.

"I'll be home in a couple of hours. Do you think you can cook my favorite dish?" After listening to the other side, he laughed. I ogled him nonplussed, as if he had suddenly sprouted a set of wings on his back. That was the first proper reaction I'd seen coming from him. I didn't think somebody could be that indifferent. "Come on, Ma . . . okay, fine. I promise. Yeah, okay. By the way, I'm bringing you good news, so brace yourself for it. I know you wouldn't have expected it for a million years. But please, for heaven's sake, just do not freak out, okay. . . Promise? … Good . . . Yeah, love you too, Ma. Allah Aman." He hung up, bringing his phone down from his ear.

If it was possible, my eyes had widened even more at his last sentence. 

I saw him stand and then turn around, and as his eyes found me, he paused. Maybe he hadn't sensed I had come out to the door. 

He cocked his head a little to the side, and gazed at me with mirth sparkling off his eyes. "This has been fun."

I curled my fingers into fists, and my jaw clenched. 

He was coming nearer, and I stood there rooted to the spot, wondering how much I loathed his entire being. The moments I squirmed in torment were fun for him. If I hadn't been the person I was that day, I might have vowed myself that I'd make him pay. But the thing is, I didn't believe in revenge. It's a waste of time and energy. You could be doing a lot of other things in the time you wasted in shaping the perfect plan. 

"You have a mother but you have no conscience."

"Having a mother has nothing to do with having a conscience." He said as he approached me and stopped a respectable distance away. "There is no conscience in vengeance anyway."

"Oh." I nodded stiffly, just one move of my head, taking in his philosophy. "Okay, so you're going to rape me now and then drop me at some sewerage tunnel, since you have no conscience?"

His lips curled slightly. I thought he looked amused. "As much as I would love seeing Sahir Niazi suffer, Mashal, no I won't rape you, or drop you at some sewerage tunnel. I am not a monster."

I let out an incredulous laugh. "Right."

His expression immediately changed and turned stony. "Leave."

"How? Where is my car, where is all my stuff?" I demanded with the same ferocity he'd been directing at me.

"It would be at the hospital, I don't know. And I don't care how you will leave. Just get the hell out of here in five minutes or I swear I'm going to tie you here, and until someone comes and finds you, you wouldn't be able to go back home." 

My breath hitched, my face burned and I thought if it was possible, smoke would be emitting from my ears. "Listen you useless, snivelling little toerag, you're lucky I don't believe in revenge, or I would have made you go through the same pain I did. You're nothing but a piece of scum, a worthless pile of shit, rubbing your nose in the trash you eat." His face was taut, as if he was holding back emotions, his eyes a burning ember.  "Rot. In. Hell." I enunciated every word with force at his face, and pushing him away, walked past him.