Tunnel Vision (20 page)

‘
You filthy little runt,
'
he ground his teeth in my face as he stopped the ride and yanked me off, holding me at arm
'
s length like the noxious rag I had become,
‘
look what you
'
ve done to my boat.
'

I couldn
'
t speak, just blubbered. The bile still rose in my throat and I could feel vomit in my nostrils.

‘
I should make you clean it up.
'

‘
No, no,
'
I shook my head mutely and held out a five rupee note, hoping he would take my fee and let me go.

He slid the note into his pocket,
‘
But I
'
ll just keep all your money instead.
'

‘
That
'
s not fair,
'
the brazen boy was already recovering from the ride,
‘
you
'
re cheating her.
'

‘
No I
'
m not. The extra will buy a cloth to clean up this mess with.
'

‘
You already have a cloth over your shoulder.
'

‘
It won
'
t be much use after this gunk is gone, will it? Now keep quiet if you want another ride.
'

‘
I won
'
t.
'

‘
Scared, are you?
'

‘
I
'
m not scared. I just think you
'
re not a nice man.
'

‘
Say what you like. You talk like a lion but behave like a mouse.
'

‘
Your ride doesn
'
t scare me.
'

‘
Then you can go again.
'

‘
I don
'
t have any more money.
'

‘
That
'
s okay. For you it
'
s free, you and everyone else this swine puked on.
'

I turned and ran home. Even if Ammi skinned me for soiling my new silk kurta, it would still be preferable to this public humiliation. The brazen boy and his gang could take all the rides they wanted at my expense, the next time I dreamed of angry pajamas this man would probably be wearing them.

But Ammi didn
'
t skin me alive, not even threaten to, not once she had heard a complete account of what happened.

‘
You poor child,
'
she kissed my nose as she cleaned me up, undoing all the buttons before pulling my kurta over my head carefully so vomit wouldn
'
t touch my hair,
‘
it wasn
'
t your fault. If someone had held me upside down and swung me back and forth I
'
m sure my stomach would disobey me too. I want to know what that man was thinking.
'

‘
It doesn
'
t matter Ammi,
'
I interjected,
‘
I feel fine now. And since you
'
re not angry with me I don
'
t even care about the kurta.
'

‘
Of course you don
'
t. You
'
re not the one who has to wash it. Let
'
s go see this man once you
'
ve put on this blue dress.
'

‘
But I wore that last year.
'

‘
At your age you can get away with it.
'

‘
Let
'
s look for something else,
'
I wanted to give the iron man time to get away. I didn
'
t want him to humiliate my mother like he had humiliated me.

‘
Tell you what, when we get back I
'
ll help you find something. But right now I want to catch him before he moves on.
'

And off we went, my futile bleating providing the perfect soundtrack.

When we got there, the socialization of the brazen boy was almost complete. An appreciative crowd of vacant male adults and restless children had gathered to watch him scream. The boat was once again reeking of vomit, and the boy clung to an iron strut shrieking, his clothes soiled and his eyes red with crying as he begged the iron man to let him off.

‘
He was giving us all the free rides he promised, but Akbar kept saying “is that the best you can do?” and then he stopped and made the rest of us get off and shoved me off before Akbar got down,
'
one of the children from my last cruise whispered animatedly in my ear. His eyes shone with excitement, and he was nervously twisting his fingers through his hair. I had seen that same look in other boys, throwing stones at a passing dog or an injured cat, trying to knock a bird out of a tree. What was wrong with boys?

‘
You!
'
leaving me in the back of the crowd, Ammi elbowed her way through the throng and barked into the iron man
'
s ear,
‘
Stop this right now. Let that boy off!
'

‘
He doesn
'
t want to get off just yet,
'
he replied dismissively.

‘
Yes he does, you can hear him yelling it all the way down the road.
'

The man shot her a glance over his shoulder, chest heaving with exertion but looking comfortable, in form,
‘
Why don
'
t you go back to your house where you belong and listen harder, he likes it very much. Don
'
t you, kid?
'
he waved as the boy flew by.

Not-so-brazen-anymore boy shrieked even louder on the next fly-by. This time we distinctly heard him calling for his mother.

‘
Look, I
'
ve asked you nicely. You
'
re a grown man torturing a small boy, you should be ashamed of yourself. Stop right now or I
'
ll have to find some other way to convince you.
'

‘
I
'
ll stop if you get on in his place. You look like you could use a ride yourself,
'
this comment went right over my pre-pubescent head, but it drew appreciative sniggers from the gallery.

‘
So you don
'
t speak the language of reason? I should have known, considering you are a grown man who earns his livelihood by exploiting little children and insulting women. Should I get you an old man to push around too?
'

The man ignored her and renewed his efforts. Motioning stet me to stay where I was, my mother turned around and disappeared down the street.

Five minutes later it was all over. Or so the crowd thought as they watched two children bending over the limp victim of iron man
'
s torment, prone on the pavement, face down, twitching. Iron man was wiping the boat clean and preparing to move on. A little girl darted up to me and, skipping with anticipation, said,
‘
The mothers are coming!
'

The mothers? The mothers of whom? The mothers of what? Mine wasn
'
t the only head that turned when we heard a strangely familiar clicking sound.

My mother marched at the head of a column of women, holding a heeled shoe (not her own, heels would have elevated her beyond Abba
'
s reach) in one hand. Behind her came an assortment of women from the neighbourhood armed with saucepans, rolling pins and more shoes. The dissipating crowd congealed again. Iron man
'
s pack-up speed seemed to increase, but the women were upon him in no time. Two, a matron and Agnes, a Goan girl from down the road, whose sister had been on the front side with me, went to attend to the boy on the pavement. The others formed a circle around the now visibly nervous ride operator, Ammi being the only one inside with him.

‘
Since you don
'
t speak the language of reason, we have decided to teach you.
'

‘
Leave me alone.
'

‘
So you can go and abuse other people
'
s children? We
'
re all mothers here, we don
'
t think you should go so easily. We don
'
t like anyone picking on our children.
'

‘
He
'
s not your son. What do you care?
'

‘
But you also scared my daughter. You ruined her new Eid clothes, and you stole her money.
'

‘
She gave it to me herself.
'

‘
Ashoo?
'
my mother called back to me over her shoulder,
‘
did you give him your money yourself?
'

‘
Yes, but he was supposed to give me change back and he didn
'
t.
'
Fair was fair.

‘
Give her back her money.
'

‘
Here, take it.
'
He threw some coins on the ground.

‘
Pick it up and hand it to her.
'

‘
She can pick it up herself. Or why don
'
t you? Someone like you should be used to bending over.
'

Iron man had decided to make a stand, cement his masculinity.The now-silent audience had left him with no option.

‘
You also need to apologize to the boy, and give him some Eidi while you
'
re at it. All you
'
ve earned today will be fine,
'
Ammi continued.

‘
I
'
m not going to do anything of the sort.
'

‘
I really think you should.
'

‘
I don
'
t care what you think. You and all these other bitches go get lost I
'
m leaving,
'
he turned away.

Moving quickly, Ammi scooted past him and grabbed the frayed leather satchel he had been about to pick up.

‘
Give it back!
'
he grabbed for it. She dangled it over her head, then swung it around her body when he lunged for it. This cat and mouse game continued, until he snarled his frustration and grabbed her arm, twisting it to bring the satchel back into his reach. Ammi
'
s howl of pain might not have been entirely contrived, and she did have bruises afterwards where his fingers had dug into her skin, but I think she exaggerated for effect. And it worked.

I think it was Ammi
'
s shoe that struck him first, but after that it was pretty much first come first serve. When it was over, the man crawled on his hands and knees to pick up the coins and offer them to me in one trembling hand. I only took exact change. Then he apologized to once-brazen-now-sniffing boy, gave him lots of Eidi and was allowed to leave. Limping, bent, head-bowed as catcalls pursued him, it didn
'
t look like he would get very far before collapsing. The crowd finally dispersed, the women sweeping their children in tow as they headed home. The men were all laughing, grateful for the free holiday entertainment. It didn
'
t matter what had happened to whom or what was right or wrong, what was important was that there had been violence. And women. A man didn
'
t complain in the face of such munificence. The mind boggled.

‘
Don
'
t think about it,
'
Ammi stroked my hair as we walked home.
‘
Men are different from us. Accept them as they are, learn to handle them, and be happy.
'

Of course she never took her own advice.

DEKHTI ANKHON, SUNTAY KANON

STANDARD OPENING OF LONG RUNNING PAKISTANI GAME SHOW NEELAM GHAR

~

I
n the early years, my father loved my mother like the tide loves the shore; always drawn, never settling. That she charmed him was apparent even to the casual onlooker. He would buy her flowers on the street, gajras for her wrists, fresh roses for her hair. He would strut proudly by her side, stomach in, chest out, in a proprietary stride that would have looked funny on any other man but seemed appropriate on him.What he lacked in height he made up for in stature, in sheer intensity per-pound of weight. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, hypnotic eyes and silky moustached, he made a striking escort for Ammi.

The trouble in paradise was that there weren
'
t enough hours in the day for work, child and wife. Things had to be prioritized, the family taken care of, and my mother didn
'
t always seem to understand this.

‘
I had a lot of respect for your late father,
'
Abba remarked to her after another
‘
why can
'
t you come home earlier?
'
exchanges at the dinner table,
‘
but I wish he
'
d never taken you to work with him. It spoilt you.
'