The Burning women
by Sohail Moughal

Chapter 2
The door closed and the engine started in her mind working on the new situation. In a society where talking to, meeting with or being seen together with a man without a matrimonial bondage is as hard for a woman as it is easy for a man, she could not decide what name should she give to this new encounter. All her life she had seen that men were free to do whatever they feel like doing. The society ignored and accepted men for all their follies. Women on the other hand had to meet all the standards set by a male dominated society. She had to be a virgin before marriage, very religious, a little educated, an amazing cook, an expert seamstress, a devoted mother, a total subordinate and a true symbol of loyalty to be acceptable in the society. With no right to choose what she liked, or participate in personal or worldly matters or even family decisions of the household, she had to accept what was decided for her. Some of her bolder friends had learnt to manipulate their usefulness in the household to achieve what they wanted. She was not quite familiar with those ways.

She considered him a very handsome guy and would have fallen for him as she had a number of times before. She was waiting for the right time to tell him her motives; she just could not gather her nerves to tell him. That night she was ready to sit in anybody’s jeep who was willing to pay the price. The price she did not know herself.

“My name is Qaisar, what’s yours?” He asked.

“Muattar.” She replied and looked towards him as if looking for approval. She had been advised to give out fictitious names always but she could not come out with any other name. He was wearing a blue denim shirt and faded blue jeans. He was clean shaved, had a lean figure and she could see his muscular biceps snug tight in the rolled up sleeve. Most of his front was open and a white vest underneath covered his neck. There was something written on the vest which she tried to read but could not keep her sight locked for a longer time. She could smell his after-shave despite the smell of cigarettes in his jeep. She could have used a cigarette herself at that time but was reluctant to ask for one. He had short straight dark hair combed backwards, cut like a soldier. She found his light brown eyes very attractive. She kept judging his age, looking towards him again and again, for short intervals and was finding it hard to establish a number.

“Very different name you have. It means full of fragrance. Isn’t it? I mean it’s a beautiful name.” It seemed as if he had waited for her thoughts to end.

“Yes.” She looked at him again, wanting to read his thoughts. He seemed quite naïve of the fact that he had picked up a prostitute on her very first day of business. To him she was her new girlfriend. He seemed quite happy being successful in finding a girl to talk to and to brag about to his friends. It was becoming more and more difficult for Muattar to handle the situation, as she herself was on the first day of her new job. She wanted to find an experienced man who could make it easer for her. She wanted her customer to take care of most of the things she did not know about her business. She also wanted to get over with the process as soon as possible. She did not need a full time lover that night and Qaisar was making it more and more difficult for her. The jeep entered the parking lot in front of the hotel lobby. He came out of the jeep and rushed to open the door for her.

“Let’s go.” She had not moved.

“I can not. Please leave me alone.” She got out of the jeep and started walking towards the main gates again.

He stood shocked watching her leave him one more time, as if his whole world had fallen apart. Finally he decided to follow her, looking all around, scared. He could get in trouble for annoying a girl on the street. He came in front of her and blocked her way and was about to say something when she covered her face and started crying. She sat down on the ground with her back with the wall near the front gates.

“What is the problem, I am sorry, have I done something wrong.” He did not know how to handle this new situation. He would have surely run away if someone entered the gates at that moment. The whole situation was beyond his control and expectations.

“Please leave me alone.” She kept on weeping; her silk scarf covered her eyes behind her hands. All her eye makeup had smudged around her eyes. He sat down in front of her wanting to console her, hold her. He kept bringing his hands close to her elbow, never touching. They lived in a society where touching a person from opposite sex is considered a sin and people from same sexes could be seen walking on the streets hands in hand. He finally took out a tissue paper from his pocket and gave it to her.

“Please do not weep. We will not go in the hotel if you don’t want. We will go somewhere else. At least let me drop you home. I don’t know what to do now.” He finally touched her on her right shoulder and then lifted her up, both his hands clutching her arms near her elbows. She hung like a lifeless body from his strong grip even after she could stand on her own feet.

She let him take her back to the jeep. They turned right at the hotel gates and started driving up the bridge again. He kept on driving quietly for about ten minutes, running his fingers in his hair, listening to her fainting sobs and waiting for her to be able to give her directions to her home. They finally reached at the end of the road and could not go any further. The road turned right towards the business area or left towards the residential area from that point. She had not said a word still, and finally he got off the road driving in the sand and turned his engine off a few feet before the wall that divided the city and the beach.

“I am not sure if I should ask or not but I am really confused. Why are you crying? I know there is a lot of crying in relationships, but this must be something from your past”. He tried to add a little humour to the situation.

“I am sorry; it is not your fault. I am a fool. Please take me home, I live in Saddar.” All of a sudden she seemed quite in control of her self. He started the car and turned around. They drove silently on the straight road until they arrived at the Empress Market where she asked to stop the car.

“Khuda Hafiz” (May God be with you). She said and started walking on the road. He could see tears in her eyes still and she left him without looking towards him even once. He came out of the car, wanted to ask her if they could meet again. Empress Market is the busiest part of the city and shops stay open all night. There were people involved in heir businesses, shoppers roaming and browsing everywhere. There were a few people who had seen her get out of the car and walk away. Some of them were continuously staring at him. She had about to turn at the corner of a nearby street. He could not dare to call her from that distance. If he had called and she had chosen not to reply, he knew that people staring at him would not like it and might volunteer to teach him a lesson for annoying a neighbour. Something like this would have become everybody’s business. He kept standing there, looking at the turn of the street and lit a cigarette. After taking a few short puffs, he exhaled a long one looking at the sky and decided to leave. The moment he opened his door, a window at the first floor of the building above the stores opened and he saw her standing waving at him. He could not figure out if she was asking to come near or leave. The light coming out of the window dropped on the street in the shape of a square. He walked towards the building and stopped in the middle of the square formed by the light and looked up. Her shadow from the light behind her fell on him, her hair flowing with the gentle breeze, made the whole scene as mysterious as she had been so far.

“Tomorrow in the hotel”. She whispered and closed the window.

Next - Chapter 3
Some of my other ramblings...