“No, no, no!” I had stormed out yesterday leaving my Mum baffled and Shabbi Auntie angry, when she brought in yet another rishta-seeking brigade. Can you blame me? Who do these women think they are, bringing along all the Maamis, Chachiis, Khalas and Phuphiis to approve of me? Approve of me – they’re not even pushed whether I would approve of them!!!

The chubby, eternally smiling khala said to me: “What glowing complexion she has!” And the thin Phupphi with heavy specs had piped in, “A lovely addition to the house she would be!” What does one say to that? Except…maybe…as I did: “Glowing? So you can keep me in the dark and not be bothered with the hide-and-seek that electricity plays these days? Not on your life! “Oh, what a nice sense of humour she has!” Chachi’s turn. Grrrrrr…

To top it all, the guy asked me but one question I could’ve done without: “Do you cook aloo-paratha?” I was so touched by his highly intellectual concern that I could’ve happily wrung his thick aloo-filled neck that very moment! Did he really not realize he’d be taking on a whole lot more on his plate than just aloo-paratha by consenting to marry me? Poor thing! I smiled and replied reassuringly, “I promise to learn…if you agree to polish my shoes whenever the maid takes the day off. Deal?”

Mum didn’t speak to me for two days after their hasty departure. Not fair, I tell you. She thinks I’m out and about to ruin the remotest chance of my ever getting married, by the way. She’s not all that wrong, I have to admit! I can think of a hundred and one reasons why I don’t want to be making aloo-paratha to please an idiot for the rest of my life! And why is it so hard for everyone to accept that a gal does not have to get married these days? Who’s going to take care of her, you ask? Why, who else but she herself! It might not be entirely ridiculous to assume that she actually has the capacity to take charge of her own life!

This morning, I’m told, another rishta-seeking party is coming…some ‘foreign-settled’ guy. Mummy has already warned me to keep my unruly tongue in check. Sure, I say. Hmm… Oh, do I hear the bell? Goodness… could it be them already? Mummy’s calling…I’d better go.

“Salaam Auntie.” I hug old Shabbi Auntie – she’s so soft and warm that I can’t help liking her despite her irritating favourite past-time! She introduces us all. Hmm…now, why is the dude staring at me like that? After his stay in Walayat, I should think he’d be used to the female of the species! Humph – minus five for rudeness. He looks up as I approach him with the drinks. He winks. Oh my God, he actually winked at me…right in front of my Mum!!! Whatever happened to cultural sensitivity??? As he leans forward to pick up the glass, the tray tilts ever so slightly – entirely of its own volition, of course – and the contents spill neatly onto his lap.

“What the …!” he jumps up. I feign embarrassment. “Oh…I’m so sorry…what have I done…” I stand there wringing my hands, just like I saw the heroine do in a soap recently on TV. She seemed to get away with just about anything twisting her dainty hands and biting her shiny red lips. Alas, I’m not so lucky… he’s not even listening to my sincere apologies! Mum’s all red and blue and every other colour imaginable…and she’s apologizing too! How embarrassing…Mum, stop!!!

“It’s alright Auntie…just an accident…I’m sure she will learn to be a proper wife in no time!” Croaks the Fresh Prince, looking me up and down. I hate him. Utterly, completely, absolutely. Mum takes charge. “My daughter is perfect just the way she is. I think it’s time for you to leave.” My, oh my! I never saw her like that before…icy chill in her voice, fire in her eyes…WOW! They’re stepping out of the door! Good riddance.

Mission accomplished! And now I can go off to work with a relaxed mind. Hopefully, the boss will not have noticed my turning up late today as Mina would’ve covered for me anyway. I can’t wait to relate the whole story to Mina. As expected, she’s doubling up on the sofa giggling like a school girl! Three cheers for your Mum, she says. Hmmm…and for me? I smile, celebrating my small victory. Sabina joins in – not again, puhleez – with her sob stories…yeah, yeah…husband did this, husband did that. Why the heck doesn’t she do something about that awful huzz-band of hers?!! No point in whining about it uselessly, is there?

Ramis walks in. He’s attracted to women-woe-tales like bees to honey. I can’t stand it so I yell at Sabina to shut up, and at Ramis to find something better to do with his time! What’s this? Her eyes are turning into pools of overflowing lava…oh my God…I just have to get out of here! Ramis offers to take me home as my ‘ride’ isn’t free yet…which is my other colleague, Lamia. Why is he doing me a favour after I yelled at him? I wonder. Whatever…I need the ride!

In the car, he says, “Why are you always rude to Sabina?” I bite an angry retort and ask him instead why he encourages her to throw her sad-tales around? “She needs to unburden.” He replies matter-of-factly. Like hell! I mutter under my breath. “You should encourage her to take a stand, if you really want to help her.” I speak through clenched teeth. He turns around and looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “What?’ I glare. “You’re a strong woman…or one without experience to reflect on.” He shrugs. “That’s how I’d feel in any case!” I snort.

Two days later, Ramis is standing at my doorstep – with his Mum. Hi, Auntie!” I beam at her and hug her warmly…and stick my tongue out at him over her shoulder. He laughs. Auntie and Mummy are talking animatedly. Funny how they seem to get along so well given it’s their first meeting!

“So what’s the idea?” I turn to him. “Meaning?” Mr. Innocent raises one eyebrow. “You didn’t bother turning up the last time I practically begged you?” “I suddenly found my manners.” Tongue in cheek. “And the moon is made of green cheese.” I nod, understandingly.

“You have such a lovely daughter…Ramis talks so much about her” Auntie looks at me adoringly. Ramis, you’re so dead! I glare at him, but he conveniently busies himself with staring into space. Such an important activity!” Has Ramis told you about his lady love, Auntie?” I ask sweetly. “Huh?” Auntie turns to stare at Ramis. He looks up with a start. I smile…sweet revenge. “She’s a married woman, but don’t you worry…she’ll soon get a divorce. Ramis is so nice and supportive listening to all her sad tales, you know.” Ramis’s threatening look actually has the opposite effect – like, he doesn’t know me? – and I describe in more detail just how supportive he is!

As expected, Auntie suddenly remembers some urgent errand back home and gets up to leave. Ramis …oh… he’s not too pleased, I can tell – teach him not to pre-suppose me on any issue in future! At this point, however, I can no longer control the burst of laughter that is swelling up in my throat. He turns and mouths silently: I’ll get you for this. I flutter my non-existent eyelashes…and offer my hand. Truce? Mummy is looking at me through narrowed slits… hands on hips… she knows exactly what I’m up to… oh my… I better runnnnnnnnn!!!

Speaking from secret location – er…my closet – addressing all who can hear me: I’m not completely anti-marriage, okay? I just hate it that no one seems interested in me – the person. Not one of the rista-seeking Aunties or their sons asked my opinion on anything even remotely appealing to sense and sensibility! Is that fair? I just know God didn’t give me a head to think with, for nothing! I have the same dreams any man has (well, almost!). I do so want an adoring guy of course – like any gal – but why can’t I aspire to find one who supports my aspirations and won’t feel insecure because I can use my brains? Is that too much to ask?

Surely there’s someone out there for me… I’m still looking!!!!

And so it got me thinking, it really does make much sense, with power does comes responsibility (won’t use the words great because we are just human, not superheroes)

So as I wait to get bitten by a spider so I can have awesome power (Superman is an alien, Wolverine is a mutant, Batman is too dark and Hulk is stupid, ugly and green, making Spider-man highly probable)
As I was saying in my quest to ob

During those six minutes you will have more than enough time to contemplate the horror of what is just about to happen to you and to ask the question ‘why me?’ On the plus side this is the only time in your adult life that you’ll be able to piss your pants without being embarrassed, you’ll never have to join an airport check in queue again and you’ll be in no doubt that this is the right time to ask God to forgive your sins. Even if you don’t believe in the Christian God there’s no harm in having a cost free insurance policy, is there?

Such are my thoughts every time I set off to the airport. On one particular occasion I remember returning from Chicago to Heathrow, London on an Air India flight on the day the terrorist plot to detonate liquid explosives on a flight from the UK to the USA was discovered.

We arrived at about 6pm for the flight at 8pm to discover that our flight was delayed at least 4 hours and that the baggage check-in was being especially thorough. Now instead of just checking our bags and seeing them disappear onto a conveyor belt we had to pile them up in a sort of luggage mountain so the security guards could practice their climbing skills and open a proportion of the bags to trawl through their contents. Contrary to instructions one or two bags had locks on them which were cut off with wire cutters. Don’t security guards know that a locked zip up suitcase, which most of them are these days, can be easily opened by sticking a biro into the zip and waggling it about? The suitcase can then be rezipped and will be as good as new.

Travelling from large airports is never a pleasant experience due to the endless queuing, the restrictions, the fact that we all have to be treated as terrorist suspects, the boredom and our own deep held need to compete with our fellow human beings. To which we now added the fear of being blown up by terrorists. Our response was to laugh bravely making weak jokes about the explosive dangers of eating bean curry.

The endless queuing starts in the carpark where we wait for the bus to airport, then for the check in, then for the security, then for the bus to the aeroplane and finally we queue to take our seat on the plane. If the queuing is not well organised tensions arise as people try to guess which queue will take the shortest time, casually join the queue not at the back but part way down at the side. Sometimes people with knowledge know that the signed route is not the shortest one and can skip ahead of the queue. All people have an acutely tuned sense of fairness so anyone seen to be gaining an advantage generates irritation in fellow passengers.

On this occasion we watched as a particularly pushy family of four, each with an enormous bag bulging at the seams and big enough to contain a baby elephant weaved their way to the front of the queue and tried to claim their bags were hand luggage. The check-in girl was having none of this and firmly but politely advised them that the bags had to go in the hold and they’d have pay for overweight bags. There was a bit of tension before the family accepted the decision. You’ve got to sympathise with the check-in staff its often not a nice job.

Our flight was called and we sat down at the departure gate, where this same family started a queue so as to be first on the plane. It was with some satisfaction that I noticed that they had to stand for nearly an hour before we were allowed to take our seats for the flight.

Eventually we took off, 5 hours late, for the long journey back to London. Back in my car in London the petty squabbles of the airport behind us I ponder the fact that 100 years ago this journey would have cost me several years salary, could well have taken months, most of the time spent in enforced idleness on a ship with a much higher risk of dying at sea that we run now even with terrorists. Perhaps we all need to make sure we’ve thought about what really matters before entering a major airport.

No, not possible.
Not possible to get a ticket for Jhelum or a ticket for Lahore to change?
Not at all possible. Ticketing problem.
But you have a computer ticketing service.
Ah yes, but the system is down today. Saturday, you see.
The system is always down on Saturdays?
…hmmmm…usually.
So where could I get a bus that goes to Jhelum?
At bus station.
Any bus station? Any one in Bahawalpur?
No…only one.
So which one?
I am not sure.
Not sure?
…hmmmm…maybe by Farid Gate there is bus station for Jhelum.
There is no bus station at Farid Gate, only rickshaw stand…
…ahhh…yes you are right. Maybe further up road…
But you think that is where I can get Jhelum bus, maybe?
…hmmm…maybe…maybe not…
Thank you.
No problem Sir.

Sargodha?
No, Jhelum. Jhelum…near ‘Pindi.
You want bus for ‘Pindi?
No Jhelum.
…ahhh! Jhelum! Yes, over there…Niazi travels…they bus go Jhelum.
Thank you.
No problem.

Jhelum? Hmmmm…maybe.
C’mon, you must know if you have a bus to Jhelum.
Yes, Sir, we do.
OK I want to go on Monday, at what time does it leave?
Maybe you don’t want to go to Jhelum, sir.
Yes, I do, I want to go to Jhelum.
There are no tickets, sorry Sir.
You are fully booked for Monday and today is Saturday?
No Sir, not book full but no tickets.
Why?
Problems…many problems.
Like what? All I want is to go to Jhelum, what is the problem with that?
Road is problem, Sir.
Road? Problem? How is road problem?
Very bad Sir. You would not like it.
What sort of bad? Bumpy? Bumpy no problem for me.
No Sir, very bad road. Not bumpy. Very good road to Jhelum.
Not bumpy bad road?
Very bad. Train is better.
Train?
Yes train.
Why is train better?
Because then there is no bad road and you are happy.
I will be very happy if you sell me a ticket to Jhelum…
Very problem Sir…
…ahhh…is problem dacoo? (1)
Sometimes Sir, and very problem for goras. (2)
Always dacoo this road?
…hmmm…sometimes…
…so better get train?
…yes Sir, better train.
Thank you.
No problem sir.

So which train is best to get for Jhelum?
Not possible.
But the Rohi and the Awam expresses go to Jhelum…it says so here.
Yes they do but not possible. Booked.
How do you know they are booked?
Maybe they are booked.
But you don’t know if they are booked?
…maybe…
So tell me the times of trains to Jhelum.
They are in the night.
At what time they leave Bahawalpur? And is there a sleeper coach?
No Sir, no sleeper, only a/c lower.
Any Parlour class?
No.
So only hard?
Yes.
So at what time and how long it takes to Jhelum?
Very very long.
How long?
Many hours. Many.
So how many? And what time it leave Bahawalpur?
Maybe twelve.
Twelve hours travelling or it leaves at twelve?
Yes.
At what time it leaves?
…hmmm…9.30.
At night?
Yes.
So can I have a ticket for Monday?
No.
No?
No. This only enquiry this wallah along he tickets.

Hello. Ticket for Jhelum on Monday, a/c lower please. Awam Express.
Hmmmmm…maybe…hmmm…no. Booked.
What…all booked?
All booked.
There are 68 seats in a/c lower coach and they are all booked on Monday?
Yes, all booked. Maybe you go later?
No I want to go on Monday…or maybe Sunday. Any chance Sunday?
…hmmm…no…all booked.
Any other train go to Jhelum?
No, only Awam. Maybe you go by coach. Try Daewoo.
Thank you, I was there this morning, and they do not stop at Jhelum.
Hmmm…very problem sir. Go to ‘Pindi, then Jhelum bus.
But ‘Pindi is 70 miles on from Jhelum…
Hmmm…
Thank you.
No problem, Sir.

Ticket for ‘Pindi please, Sunday evening.
But we do not stop at Jhelum, this Manager he explain you.
That’s OK, just a ticket for ‘Pindi.
But you want to go to Jhelum…
That’s right.
So why you want ticket for ‘Pindi? Train goes Jhelum. Niazi go Jhelum.
Train booked, Niazi say dacoo…maybe…
…ahhh…yes…dacoo on that road, this why we have armed guards on bus.
So why not go another route with no dacoo?
No Sir, this very good road through Jhelum, very fast.
I see…any chance of a ‘Pindi ticket for Sunday night?
Are you sure Sir, we not go Jhelum…
Just give me a ‘Pindi ticket.
Certainly Sir, that will be 550 rupees seat number sixteen, leave 9 p.m.
Thank you.
No problem, Sir.

——————————————

1. Dacoo = Highway Robbers

2. Goras = Pale Faces

Zareen Auntie? THANK GOD I found you! You’ve just GOT to help me!

Zara? What’s the matter, dear?

It’s a NIGHTMARE…its…its…how could it be HAPPENING? I jus’ can’t…

Sweetheart…calm down, now…

Oh, Zareen Auntie…you’re the ONLY one who can help…

Zara, is everybody alright?

No…everything’s ruined! I don’t know what we’ll do…you’ve got to come!

WHAT’S THE MATTER?

Mum will never make it this time…oh God!

GOOD GOD, girl, has your mother had another…?

She’s gone for sure! I just know it…she won’t survive…you HAVE to help her out!

Honey, listen to me… pull yourself together, now…is your dad home?

No, he’s gone to check on the arrangements…mum’s all blue with shock…

Is she breathing?

Er…what?

CALM DOWN, sweetie…I know you can do this…WE CAN DO THIS TOGETHER…don’t panic…your mother needs you now!

But…but…

Don’t talk, just Listen…every second is important…IS SHE BREATHING?

Of course, she’s BREATHING! Auntie…you…

Good…you remember how I taught you to check the pulse at the neck? Check it now and note it down…stay by her side… I’m on my way…be there in no time…

Pulse? But… what about her VALIMA DRESS?

Huh?

The tailor has RUINED it COMPLETELY…

The tailor?

And it was so lovely…

You mean, she’s NOT going into cardiac arrest?

Cardiac arrest? Why NO!

ARE YOU SAYING… YOU HAD ME RUN OUT OF EMERGENCY, FOR SABIN’S VALIMA DRESS?

Well, er…yes…I mean the big day is TONIGHT, and Mum’s absolutely DEVASTATED! I thought … if you’d lend her yours…I mean, you’re the same size and…er…she’s the groom’s MUM, you know…

ZARA….!!!!!!!!!!!

A light, satirical view of the fairer approach to driving.

“My missus wants to drive here in Pakistan! Barmy, my missus… mad as a bag of snakes!” confided my British friend one fine day, shaking his head. I smiled to myself, and wondered secretly whether he was more concerned about his wife or other road users – for women drivers in my blessed land are truly a breed apart! Why I criticize my own kind? Well…sometimes it is healthy to look within oneself and ponder some less explored mysteries of life!

So let me enlighten you about the impressive road skills of some women drivers out there…er…especially those who defy and baffle all logic and create havoc on the roads! I will speak of but a few who have crossed my path every so often, and perhaps yours too!

You might be surprised to learn about a ‘driver’ who controls everything despite not being in the driver-seat! She’s called the ‘passenger-seat driver’. Most husbands will know what I mean! Ah, yes…I’ve come across her too. She’s my friend Sharmeen who wants to go shopping. “Drive me to the market, will you?” Miss Charm Personified calls me up at 3:30 p.m. “Huh?” I rub my eyes and look at the clock. Sigh. I know better than to argue with her.

As we hit the road, Sharmeen remarks, “Is your door closed properly?” I maintain a dignified silence. Undaunted, she leans over and checks. Then she takes to dictating the way – which I already know, but never mind! “Stay in the middle…why, you almost hit the curb!” “I know where I’m going!” I manage through clenched teeth. She leans over and switches on the left indicator. “What are you doing?” I try not to scream, turning it off. “Aren’t we going to turn left a little up ahead?” Innocently she asks, “Better to let other drivers know well in advance!” ‘A little up ahead’ is actually a kilometer away yet. Humph. “Don’t slow down… don’t let that smug dude in his shiny car overtake us!” She grabs my arm. “Sharmeen, it’s his right of way!” I try to free my arm from her steely grasp! The car swerves and almost hits the side of the Mercedes. The driver glares and makes an obscene gesture. I turn red. Sharmeen smiles contently while admiring her neat French-manicured nails. I’ve just about had it! I pull over and yell: “Get out of my car!’Then I go back home and read a book on anger management. Sharmeen? Oh she has a lovely day shopping and takes a lift home with …guess who? That’s right…how could the Mercedes dude resist Sharmeen’s little-girl-lost charm?

Another type of a woman driver that you must’ve spotted by now – because she’s the commonest type there is – is the ‘sleepy-driver’. No, she’s not actually sleeping at the wheel! She only seems that way because of her persistent refusal to go beyond 40km/hr even on the widest road! She sits there serenely, unruffled even when the cyclists pass her by with wide smiles! She won’t leave the left lane and wouldn’t overtake if her life depended on it! She seems truly impressed with the tortoise’s tenacity, and was quite possibly related to it in a previous life. She really has a problem parking her vehicle as she wants to do it just right. She usually manages to take up the space of two, sometimes three, cars in the end, though!

Then there is the aggressive feminist. Her type is also pretty easy to spot on the road…half leaning on the steering wheel, pursed lips and sharp eyes reduced to narrow slits; she is one to be wary of. My last encounter with her was when my old four-wheeler refused to budge outside my office, and my colleague Maliha offered me a lift. Having no alternative, I reluctantly agreed. As she started the engine I fastened my seat-belt and started praying silently. She drove head-to-tail with any car that happened to be unfortunate enough to drive in front of us, and if the driver slowed down even a little, she honked so hard that she literally hounded the poor thing off the road! All I could do was to shrink further in my seat whenever someone waved a punch in the air menacingly! In response, Maliha would mouth an obscenity that I seriously couldn’t repeat! Once or twice I tried to tell her that driving at breakneck speed might actually break her neck some day (I was more worried about mine though!), but she shrugged it off. “Rubbish … didn’t you know according to figures compiled by …um…responsible agencies, more men than women die in road accidents?”” Uh-huh?” I wondered if it was because of women like her…but didn’t have the gall to tell her so! She continued, “Well, if they wouldn’t turn their heads 180 degrees while driving whenever they spotted a woman, the statistics would be much different!” Ah…that’s a thought.

I was darned glad to be home that day in one piece! She’s one to watch out for, I tell you! She also knows so much about her rights – women’s lib being the order of the day – why it sometimes even confuses the poor traffic sergeant foolish enough to stop her! And you can guess her favourite past time I’m sure! Yes, you’ve got it…it is to hunt down the Casanovas who stand on bus stops and sing the hottest hits to girls waiting for their ride. I once saw Maliha drive right into the boy just when he seemed to have impressed the object-of-his-attention. Had he not by sheer luck – or premonition – jumped aside quickly, Maliha would have had one less target on her list! And of course, as she proclaimed innocently, all she was doing was parking in a hurry…he just happened to be in the way!

By the way, have you ever noticed how these emancipated women on the roads make extremely charming damsels in distress? You see, they’ve mastered the art of impressing fellow drivers with their shock-and-awe driving skills, but when the machine presents a challenge, well, there you have her…totally lost. She hasn’t an inkling about the workings of the thing she drives around so proudly! But then, why should she bother with the technicalities when she only has to extend that slender arm and flick that delicate thumb, and guys will actually fall over each other to help her out of her ordeal! There’s no dearth of those wanting to change the tyre for her, re-start her refusing-to-budge engine, arrange for a mechanic or simply arrange an alternative ride for her – especially in their own car! Ah, whoever said men are mean and repressive and controlling, in my culture, must’ve been mistaken…why they’re the most helpful creatures God made!

In case you’re wondering if there is a ‘sane’ woman driver category or not…well, of course there is! She abides by rules, never runs a signal, lets others get ahead when it’s their right of way, and is a pleasure to ride with as well as drive behind! She’s the truly emancipated woman who has enough road sense, and enough common sense to be mindful of other road-users’ rights. Unfortunately, she’s an endangered species, and it won’t be long now before she becomes extinct. The reason is simply lack of appreciation for her very appreciable conduct by fellow road users – chiefly, men. She gets generally abused so often by road-bullies that she’s reconsidering her approach. So, watch out all you naughty guys out there on the roads who are looking for a little fun at her expense! Be nice to her, will you? Otherwise, you’ll just have to deal with more Maleehas and Sharmeens than you care for!

Think about it…while I rush and get myself a new cell number – Sharmeen’s calling!!!