The Writers Voice
The World's
Favourite Literary Website
Haani Comes To Explain It
by
Ehsan Elahi Ehsan
At ten p.m. last night when I reached my room, there was perfect silence. My
family members were sleeping in the other room. When my day’s work is over in
the Iqra Quaid Academy in the evening, I daily visit my son and daughter-in-law,
the grand daughter Noor-ul-Huda and grandson Mohummad Ali Abdullah aged three
and a half and two years respectively. In my room, I have an ever present
companion, my computer which is lying to the left side of my bed. I immediately
open it and connect it to my favourite web site "Writers Voice.com’ where I find
a world of writers, poets, novelists, dramatists, short story writers and many
more. My choiced field is poetry and short story and the favourite page ‘Most
Recently Posted’ and ‘Feed Back Forum." I open the one and the other
alternatively. There are the devoted person like Clive, Harry and Linda who are
providing a great service to literature and humanity. I enjoy there company by
every means I can find at that time. I really feel their presence with me.
After this mental and spiritual excursion, I take my clay pipe and enjoy its gur,
gur (the sound of the clay pipe). Last nigh I was a bit tired and wanted to go
to bed after smoking my clay pipe. When I was smoking it, I felt sleepy and
began to doze.
There is another great personality which frequently visits me and provides me
company at this time and speaks to me on different topics of life and
literature. This is Haani. The strange thing with Haani is that he comes to me
when I am detached with the wakeful world. When I come out of trance and
remember Haani and his discussions, I feel fresh, sit on my computer to visit
different litrary Websites or begin to write some thing for which I have an urge
to write at that time.
I remember before dozing, that Harry’s and dkkneip comments on my short story "A
Sojourn to Another Marriage’ were in my mind. I was thinking on my story and on
their comments, when Haani broke the silence. He asked me what was the matter. I
told him what I could. I place the proposition of the absence of emotions in my
story as Harry and kdneip had pointed out. He smiled and made me a bit annoyed.
But he is a generous man and does not mind my awkward reactions. He said to me
that as a reader, he could understand and even explain the significant points in
the story but he would not do so because it would make a narrative. He asked my
permission for sometime as he wanted to go for some urgent mission. I looked to
him curiously and nodded. All of a sudden he disappeared from there leaving me
alone to wait for his return. When he came back, he told me that he had gone to
see Ramazan’s mother who was the basic cause of what happened to Ramazan and the
other members of the family. When he approached her she was all alone in the
room sitting in the dim light. " Now you have come to disturb me further’ she
immediately spoke to me. " I knew why have you come here. I tell you each and
every thing you want to know", she said. " I don’t know exactly whether it is a
physical or mental disease or just a lust. but when I am in hot passions, I
become bewildered. This is what have been happening to me for many years. I was
not physically satisfied with my husband. It as just a chance or the writing of
my fate, I don’t know exactly, she said, ‘but it happened so that Bakhsh and
Noor, the two truck drivers driving the same truck alternatively, one day
visited us. They were the acquaintances of my husband . Both were near about
thirty years but very healthy and strong. When they visited us, I was attracted
to them, not for any love, but only for their bodily charm and attraction. Both
of them seemed to take interest in me." She was bursting with tears. " I was
inwardly very happy to come across them. We all, including my husband took
supper and chatted for some time. My son Ramazan, was not at home. He had gone
to visit some friend. My daughters whom I have left now, God knows in what
condition they would be, were not yet born. Bakhsh and Noor, Noor and Bakhsh,
began to occupy my mind. I was drawn to them. They really fascinated me. My
husband had to go out to the shop to bring cigarettes for them. We had some free
moments. Bakhsh winked at me and I responded. Our relation started. They gave me
their address if any need be. I began to visit them frequently when my husband
was not at home and Ramazan was at school. I did not make any difference between
Bakhsh and Noor. I enjoyed the company of both of them who ever was available. I
began to feel boredom of my husband and wished to be with Bakhsh for ever. One
day when I visited Bakhsh, he offered me to marry. I told him how was it
possible because I was already married. "Leave it to me," said Bakhsh.
Inwardly I was happy on this offer. We agreed to marry. Noor did not know all
this because he was concerned mainly with his own bodily pleasures with me.
Bakhsh said to me that I should be ready for marriage. He gave me even the date
of our marriage. I was puzzled but not unhappy.
Then one day, when my husband did not come back home at the usual time, I was
disturbed a little. At ten in the night, some body came to us and told that my
husband had met an accident with a truck. He was taken to the hospital and
succumbed to his injureis. I was asked to take his dead body. The truck driver,
the man told me, had run away from the site of the accident. We took the dead
body and came home in the village.
During the mourning days, Bakhsh and Noor visited me and Bakhsh, in the absence
of Noor, who had gone to toilet, told me that on such a such day be would be
coming and staying outside the village. He wanted me to marry him the next day
of the appointed day". She was now sobbing. ‘So, I arranged, the marriage of
Ramazan because I knew it would not be possible for him to go on his work and to
look after his little sisters at the same time. So, in such circumstances, I had
to leave Ramazan, his wife and the two little daughters. I wavered a while on
the poroposal of Bakhsh because the miserable condition of my children was
before my eyes but when I remembered the experiences with Bakhsh, I decided to
go with him. And now, I am here in Bakhsh house. Bakhsh and Noor still work on
the same truck, in Lahore They belong to the same village and are cousins and
neighbours as I came to know after coming here. They know the secrets of each
other. Even now when I have the opportunity, I do not hesitate to enjoy the
company of Noor. Oh! If I could help myself and prevent myself from this
flirtation." She paused. It seemed she had no words to express herself. Leaving
in her lonely and darkish room, I have come back to you. Haani said. I felt a
jerk at this, and was going to fall down the bed. With this jerk, my eyes
opened. There was no Haani with me. He had already slipped away, where, God
knows. It took me half an hour to differentiate between the reality and the
dream.
I started my computer. Lind was there with her comments on Dr. Riaz Ahmed Raja’s
poem. I tried to forget what I had exprienced feelingly but could not. I moved
to my short story ‘A Sojourn to Another Marriage" I felt that Ramazan or the
readers were now not so curious on the mysterious death of Ramazan’s father.
They also came to know who were the strangers who visited Ramazan’s father’s
mourning and how Rani, Ramazan’s mother left the house.
I tried to continue the work on the computer but sleep prevailed on me. I closed
it and sat on the bed with my clay pipe before me. I ignited the tobacco and
began to smoke. My clay pipe was making a ryhthmic "gur gur" sound.. Soon I was
again dozing. This time Haani had brought Ramazan with him. Ramazan was as
gloomy as ever. Haani, said to me, "Ramazan had come with him to solve the
mystry of his death. "Yes", I said and looked at Ramazan. He was still very sad
having the same sad face as he was at the mourning of his father. It seemed, his
spirit was not finding rest. He still seemed very curious about the human
nature. What a person could do and how many lives could he destroy only for the
sake of his lust. He seemed to say. "Yes Ramazan, how did you meet the accident’
" I…" Ramazan was again silent. It seemed it was not possible for him to
translate his agony in words, "yes" I said to make him speak. " I took the shock
of my father’s death to my heart’, he started yet I tried to adjust because
the burden of earning bread for the family was on my shoulder. However, it
always kept on lurking in my mind that there was some hand of my mother in the
murder of my father. But the relationship of mother and the problems coming out
of my curiosity were so immense that I accepted my father’s death as the writing
of fate. I could not however, come out of the shock given by my mother. My
doubts had been proved right. I had no other logical answer before me except
that my mother had got this done only for her lust. The pointing fingers of the
villagers and their taunting and slighting words were apart. I was disgraced
before my own eyes, before the eyes of my wife and the little sister. I found an
escape of coming back home late at night and going at the earliest hours in the
morning to my work. I was overworked but I wanted to keep my self as busy as I
could to avoid the company of the gazing people. I was going to Chakwal from
Choa Saiden Shah that night when I began to doze. I tried to shake off the
sleep two times and kept on driving. I was all alone in the wagon because there
were no fares that time and I wanted to collect the fares from Chakwal city at
the earliest in the morning. I remember only that for the last time, seeing my
mother celebrating with her new husband, when my eyes were opened, my wagon had
struck against the stem of a big tree. I became senseless after that and I don’t
know what happened next.
O’ my God, I was again dozing. When I opened my eyes, Ramazan or Haani were not
there. But a sadness was prevailing over me. I remembered Harry’s and kdneip’s
remarks that the story "A Sojourn to Another Marriage’ did not have emotions and
that it was very gloomy and bleak. I wanted to come out of this sad mood. It
seemed I had no sleep in my eyes now. I came to my computer again and switched
it on. I opened the site "Writers Voice" and ‘ The Most Recently Posted" page,
there was nothing new. My story stood at the top of the page and with the same
status qua the page was looking at me. I went to the "Feed Back Forum" but did
not find the situation different. Clive was still not there in the respective
column. Nothing had changed since a week. Perhaps the site had also become
gloomy and bleak by the mood of the story. I looked to the watch. It was four in
the morning. The whole night had passed. "It is no use sleeping now. I have to
go to Iqra Quaid Academy at six to teach. So I got up to take a bath and
prepare for the days work.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work
