Beneath My Mother's Feet Read online

  “Well, don’t worry about it now. Saira has her own problems.” Maleeha shook her head. “Now, tell me. What are you doing here? Is your father okay?”

  “I haven’t much time. I have a favor to ask of you. Are you willing to help me?”

  “Of course! Just tell me what you need.”

  Nazia handed Maleeha the plastic bag. “There’s money in here. Have your brother buy a one-way ticket to Multan. It’s a long story, but it’s for a little boy who is trying to get home. His mother offers no protection. If he stays with the baji, I am afraid for him. I’d buy the ticket myself, but you know how it is. Your brother is older, and no one will question him.” Remembering that Saira had told her that everyone thought Nazia had gone back to her old village, she continued, “Tell your brother the ticket is for me, that Amma is sending me to live with relatives in Punjab, but she doesn’t have the time to go to the station to buy the ticket because of her work. Tell him Abbu is already there.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll have it done for you.” Maleeha took the bag. “But how will I get the ticket to you?”

  “Remember the address I gave you? We are staying at the same place. But ask Hisham to buy the ticket for next Sunday. I will come back for it.”

  Maleeha nodded. “Okay. But if it’s too hard for you to get away, maybe I can ask Hisham to bring me to you.”

  Nazia shook her head quickly. The thought of Maleeha seeing where she lived gave her goose bumps. She was certain Maleeha would look past the upscale neighborhood and see only the small servant quarters with the weathered charpai. “No. I’ll find a way to come back again.” She squeezed Maleeha’s hands. “You know your mother will stop you, now that she knows I am a masi.”

  “No she wouldn’t!”

  “Hush! I have to go now.” Nazia hugged her friend, then shook the dupatta from her shoulders and wrapped it around her head. When she was sure the hall was clear, she motioned to Maleeha and stepped out of the bathroom. Maleeha followed behind her. They gave each other one last kiss on the cheek and parted.

  Nazia passed the principal’s office, her sandals slapping loudly against the gritty floor. She pushed open the heavy double doors and was momentarily blinded by the intense sunlight. She shaded her eyes as she scanned the busy road for signs of the bus back to Defence. A bus on the other side of the road pulled to a stop in front of the cricket pitch.

  My bus! she thought. I can’t miss it! She ran alongside the road, then dashed across the street when she saw an opening. A horn blared at her. She swerved off the road and scrambled to the berm, where the coarse sand sprayed over her sandals and wedged itself between her toes.

  The bus began to pull away. “Wait!” She raised her arms and waved wildly at the men who hung on to the back of the bus like monkeys hanging from tree limbs. “Wait!” But she was too far. Nazia watched in dismay as the bus moved away and disappeared into the swell of traffic.

  She was sure that Amma must be awake by now. And what if Seema discovered Nazia was not in the house?

  She backed away from the bus stop to the low stone wall that bordered the front of the cricket pitch, and sank to the ground. There was nothing to do but wait.

  Nazia had thirty minutes to wait for the next bus, so even though it wasn’t her usual pick-up time, she decided to stop by at the darzi’s to pick up some sewing so she’d at least have some excuse for her absence. The darzi loaded her up with several kameezes and dupattas that needed repair or embellishing, which Nazia took gratefully. Now she had the excuse she needed for her disappearance, as well as a way to replenish her depleted funds.

  She decided it was best to simply ring the buzzer when she got back. She heard the slap of sandals against the concrete driveway, then the clang of the bolt sliding from the socket. Sherzad peeked out. He squeezed through the narrow opening. “What took so long?”

  “I missed the bus.”

  “The ticket? Did you get it?”

  “Yes, yes. It’s done. Maleeha’s brother will take care of it.”

  Sherzad wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing hard.

  “Oh, stop it. If you want to thank me, take these bags.”

  He took the bulky plastic sacks of clothes, and Nazia shook out her arms to ease the numbness. “Do they know I’m gone?”

  Sherzad balanced one bag on his head and the other on his hip. “No. That’s the best part of all of this. Amma asked about you only a few moments ago when Seema baji wanted tea. I wasn’t sure what to say, since they were both awake, but I remembered that you really only go out to get the sewing, so that’s what I told them, that you went to the darzi.” He grinned. “And you did!”

  Suddenly Seema’s sharp voice interrupted them. “Who’s there?”

  “Coming, baji, coming,” Sherzad called out, carrying the bag of clothes as though it weighed as much as he did.

  Nazia followed Sherzad through the gate and slid the iron bolt into place. Sherzad disappeared toward the back of the house, leaving her alone to face a congregation on the front lawn. Seema baji sat on a bamboo chair sipping her chai. Amma, Isha, and Mateen sat in a half circle on the dried grass not far from Seema’s feet. Nazia was surprised to see that Amma was drinking tea as well, while the little ones were munching on cumin biscuits. And Amma’s friend Shenaz sat on the ground beside Amma, her face streaked with tears. All heads turned when Nazia approached.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the darzi?” Seema demanded. “You could have brought the eggs and bread from the market.”

  “I’m sorry, baji,” Nazia replied, contrite. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Shenaz’s guttural moan interrupted.

  “What happened?” Nazia shook off her slippers and sat down close to Shenaz. “Why are you crying?” Gingerly she took a corner of the swarthy woman’s dupatta and wiped away the tears that dripped down her leathery cheeks.

  “I’m all alone in this world,” Shenaz wailed. “I have no place to go. The world has forsaken me!”

  “Please, Shenaz.” Seema rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. Of course you have a place to go. Surely someone from your previous jobs can take you in.”

  “Everyone has forgotten old Shenaz! Baji, you are the only one who has let me pass through the gate.”

  Puzzled, Nazia looked at her mother.

  “Shenaz’s brother-in-law kicked her out,” Amma explained.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Why?” Shenaz wailed. “Because he is a beast like all other men!”

  “Children are listening, Shenaz. Hold your tongue.” Amma glared at the weeping woman. “Isha, get up! Take Mateen with you and fetch a glass of water.”

  “Her brother-in-law accused her of stealing from him,” Seema said. “So he turned her out.”

  “I did not steal!” Shenaz’s voice was filled with venom. “He only wanted my sister to believe that.”

  “But why would he do that?” Nazia asked.

  Amma scoffed. “Chup! You ask too many questions that are none of your concern. She’s been accused of stealing; she was kicked out from her sister’s house. That is all you need to know.”

  Nazia felt a stab of pity for Shenaz as she remembered how confident the woman had been when they had first met at the meat stall. She had been proud of her independence and her ability to come and go as she pleased. Now, it appeared, she was homeless. “What about your husband? Won’t he take you in?”

  “I’ve already tried. His other wife won’t allow it.”

  Seema swatted at a mosquito on her leg. “Why don’t you just go back to your village?”

  Shenaz opened her palms. “Baji, you know I can’t. They don’t think well of me since my husband took another wife.”

  “I wish I could help you, but you know my house is full. I couldn’t possibly feed another mouth, even if it’s yours.” Seema shook her head.

  With Abbu gone, there was space for Shenaz, but Nazia knew the decision was Seema baji’s to make. She tried to think of
something to help the free-spirited woman who had helped them in their time of need. “What about Fatima baji? Have you gone to her?”

  Shenaz turned to her. “No,” Shenaz said, shaking her head slowly. “I forgot about her.”

  “Well, when we were looking for a place to stay, she offered to take me without the rest of my family. Of course, Amma wouldn’t allow that. I know her chowkidar and his family returned to their village to work in the fields and they haven’t come back yet. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “Maybe. After all, I did bring you to her,” she said, almost to herself. “Are you still cleaning for her?”

  Nazia glanced at Seema and answered in a rush, “Yes, but it’s almost too much with Seema baji’s work, the other house on the street, and the sewing from the darzi. Amma helps, of course, but still, I do most of the work. I wouldn’t mind giving Fatima’s cleaning to you.”

  A nervous chuckle erupted from Amma. “Nazia, you don’t know what you’re saying. Of course we need Fatima’s work. How else will we rebuild your jahez?”

  Nazia swatted the air with an impatient hand. “Amma, please stop worrying about the jahez. The wedding is off. There’s no hurry.”

  “I am the mother of daughters. There is always a need to hurry.”

  The night of the party rushed back and swallowed her whole. Nazia was suddenly back on the charpai lying next to Sherzad gazing out at the stars through the opening in the tin roof of the chowkidar shack. All mothers were alike, Sherzad had said. All wanting to get rid of their daughters. Nazia knew in her heart that couldn’t possibly be true. It didn’t matter to Nazia what all mothers wanted to do with their daughters. Only what Amma wanted to do with her.

  “Why, Amma? Why is there a need to hurry? What is it about daughters that makes mothers want to get rid of us?”

  Amma exchanged glances with Seema and Shenaz and then laughed.

  “Your innocence is your mother’s responsibility,” Seema explained.

  “My innocence?” Nazia almost spat. “You mean the way I innocently used to go to school and learn my subjects without worrying about where we would sleep or where our next meal would come from? What’s to protect? That innocence is gone.”

  “Don’t talk back to the baji,” Amma scolded. “Even if you no longer go to school and you earn money cleaning houses and sewing clothes, that doesn’t mean you know the ways of the world. You’ve a lot yet to learn, beta.”

  Shenaz placed a bony hand on Nazia’s leg. “I can see you are viewing the world differently since the last time we spoke. The contempt for the way I choose to live is no longer in your voice. Listen to your mother. She knows what she speaks of. Look at me. I thought living free would suit me. A lifetime later I am childless, and no one cares. I am husbandless — that is all the world sees. A woman without a husband is a woman less than worthless.”

  Nazia edged away from her. “How can you say that? You said you have loved the way you lived.”

  “Yes, but what does it matter if I end up living my old age out on the streets, a beggar no one can look in the eye?”

  The words of the three women did somersaults in Nazia’s mind. She knew only one thing for certain: Shenaz had helped them even when Nazia was unwilling to believe that it was what they needed at the time. “You may take Fatima’s work or any of the other houses we have. You need it more than we do.” Nazia stood and turned to her mother. “Don’t worry, Amma,” she said stiffly. “I’ll bring more sewing or find another house to clean or something. You will get your jahez.”

  On Thursday the late-afternoon sun cast long shadows across the front lawn, where Nazia sat on the brittle grass trying to finish up the sewing. Using her teeth, she pulled out old thread from a blue kameeze, then proceeded to sew it up again to make the shirt five centimeters roomier.

  As soon as the last of the sewing was complete, Nazia would have the excuse she needed to venture out to the city and retrieve Sherzad’s ticket. Sunday was only three days away, and she prayed that Maleeha had been able to convince her brother to go to the station.

  As the needle dived in and out of the cloth, Nazia thought about Sherzad. From the moment the plan to escape was set in motion, he was a changed boy. He laughed at the slightest hint of amusement and even managed to make the memsahib explode with laughter at his hilarious antics. He zipped from task to task, barreling through the work as though he had the energy of four grown men. He didn’t even complain about the small amount of food he was given or the stiffness of the tandoori bread that was always a day old.

  Nazia couldn’t help but be uplifted by the boy’s crooked smile and the adoring way he looked at her. She only hoped that the plan would work, and that his dadi would welcome him home. She could get him on the train, but what happened when he got to his grandmother’s — that was not in her control.

  As Nazia finished the sewing, the buzzer rang.

  Sherzad hurried out of his quarters. “Who is it?”

  A muffled and high-pitched voice wafted over the iron gate. “Maleeha. I’m here to see Nazia.”

  Sherzad glanced at Nazia and opened the gate before she could stop him.

  What was Maleeha doing here? Nazia stuffed the kameeze into the bag beside her and stood up. Before she could brush off the dust, Maleeha was through the gate, running toward her. Behind her, Hisham had stopped in the driveway to look around.

  “Nazia!”

  “What are you doing here, Maleeha?” Nazia laughed as she tried to keep her balance. “I told you I would come to you.”

  “I know, but I wanted to see where you lived. I don’t often get to come to Defence.” She shot her brother a look and dropped her voice. “I convinced Hisham to bring me. We told Amma we were going to Clifton Beach.”

  “Clifton Beach!” A stab of jealousy cut through Nazia. Clifton was practically within walking distance of Seema’s house, but ever since they had started working here, they’d never managed to go. Before his accident Abbu had often taken the whole family to spend the day by the sea.

  “We’re still going,” Maleeha said. “Amma asked us to bring her some roasted corn. Why don’t you come with us?”

  Nazia glanced at Hisham and suddenly felt awkward. He was one of the cricketers she’d watched year after year on the pitch in Gizri. “I can’t. Did your brother go to the station? Did he buy the ticket?”

  “Yes, yes.” Maleeha pulled out a piece of white paper folded into a small rectangle and pressed it into Nazia’s hands. “The ticket is inside. The Sunday trains were sold out, so he wasn’t sure what you wanted him to do. Hisham said that since Sunday is everyone’s day off, those trains are booked farther in advance. We only had a few days, so he got the last train out on Saturday night. It leaves at half past midnight.”

  “Saturday! But the baji is having another party that night. She’ll expect us all to be there to help.”

  Maleeha shrugged. “You’ll have to work that out with the boy. Who knows? The party might be just the distraction for him to get away.”

  Just then Seema stepped out onto the porch and peered at the newcomers. “Sherzad! Who’s come through the gate?”

  Sherzad stood on the cement planter that bordered the driveway, separating it from the front lawn. He had been eagerly listening in on Nazia and Maleeha as they discussed his fate. “Nobody, baji. Just a friend of Nazia’s.”

  “You know you’re not supposed to let anyone inside without asking me first.”

  “Baji, it’s just — ”

  “Baji, they are harmless.” Nazia moved onto the driveway, where she could see Seema. “They’re neighbors from Gizri. They just stopped by on their way to Clifton Beach.”

  Maleeha smiled. “We stopped to see if Nazia could come with us. We won’t be gone long.”

  Seema studied the girl, taking in her tailored shalwar kameeze, the neatly braided hair, and the heeled sandals. Her eyes slid to Hisham, who was clad in denim jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with Western logos.

  “This is
my brother,” Maleeha said. “He’ll make sure we’re back before Maghrib prayers.”

  With an indifferent wave of her hand, Seema gave her consent. “Be sure to tell your mother where you are going so she doesn’t worry about you again. And don’t be long.”

  Nazia nodded. “Shukriya, baji.” At least now she wouldn’t be forced to entertain Maleeha and her brother in the servant quarters.

  As Seema headed back into the house, Sherzad jumped off the planter wall and called after her. “Baji, can I go?” He clasped his hands together and threw in a flashy smile.

  Seema whirled to glare at him. “Why don’t you all go? I’ll be the chowkidar!”

  Muttering to himself, Sherzad disappeared inside his quarters. Before Seema could change her mind, Nazia went back to the servant quarters.

  “Maleeha is here? Why didn’t you tell me?” Amma struggled to lift herself from the sagging ropes of the charpai.

  “Her brother brought her. They were on their way to the beach and just stopped to see if I can come with them. Seema baji said it was okay.”

  Amma straightened herself, causing her knees to crack. “Hisham?” The creases in her forehead deepened. “Does he have any news about Bilal?”

  “No, Amma.”

  Amma pushed past her and headed to the gate. “You could have at least asked him for news of Bilal. What kind of sister are you?”

  Nazia groaned and stomped after her mother, ignoring Sherzad’s scowl as she passed the chowkidar’s room. Outside the gate Maleeha and Hisham were already seated on their motorbike.

  “Hisham!” Amma waved her arm frantically.

  They exchanged perfunctory greetings before Amma launched into her questions about Bilal.

  Hisham gave an indifferent shrug. “I haven’t seen him.”

  Nazia knew that despite the fact that Hisham and Bilal were the same age, and had shared the same teachers and lived within shouting distance for so many years, they had never really been friends. The only times she could recall ever seeing them together were out on the cricket field.

  “What about your friends? Someone must know what happened to him.” Amma glared at the boy, her disappointment obvious. Nazia wondered how Amma could care about Bilal after all that had happened, but she knew there was no point in questioning her mother. Bilal was her eldest son, and Amma still held a sliver of hope out for him.