The water of ZamZam, once a symbol of purification, that his former crime partner brought him from Makkah, couldn’t cleanse the guilt that clung to him like a shroud. The crime of killing his beloved in the fields always haunted him in the darkness of his cell. He was placed at the far end of the barrack in a wide cell secluded from other prisoners. His mind was always filled with the multiple endings of that tragic event like the multiple endings of epic drama. But in the current situation he could not change those endings. If he were not the son of a Malik sahib, the ending of his life would be like the ending of his last meeting with his beloved. The family status worked in the High Court and he was released only the day before his second birthday celebration in the prison. The first one was celebrated with pomp and show. The barrack was decorated with red roses and a bakra was slaughtered by declaring sadka for the long life of the Shahbaz sahib. Although it was not the Eid eve but for the poor unknown prisoners of the local cell, comparatively, the birthday night was like a burning sun and Eid would be showing a torch to the sun. They ate more than they could and in charge of the barrack filled his pocket as much as he could.
Time flew and one day he went to that very place where he used to meet Bano at midnight in the fields. The entire drama of their life played before his eyes, from episode one to the last. Here she would come with her sister in the cladding of darkness, the veil of silence and the covering of nature. The presence of Nature in the heart of fields scared every creature around her, but her eyes were filled with the vision of love and his with lust. That night he had Kalashnikov, a radio, and a delicate plastic covering. Nature seemed to be in the clutches of culture. She was a desi girl, seeking for her other half through love. Her mind felt peace every time when she was surrounded by her beloved, but this time she felt giddy at the sight of Kalashnikov and the delicate covering. She was startled when he tried to use it. A jerk of nerves with the speed of light rushed through her body when she was asked to remove her cladding of darkness, the veil of silence and the covering of nature and was invited into the lap of culture by pointing Kalashnikov. Her refusal brought disturbance to the peace of nature by a sudden noise and a flame emanated from the Kalashnikov. Within seconds, red blood, like roses, poured from her body. She became one with nature as her body shattered and mixed into the earth.
The sight terrified him so much that he rushed towards his home. His favorite place became a scene of terror but by killing Bano he became a terror for his family and the village. His arrogance and anger grew day by day. Seclusion, like that which turns a dog into a wild beast, had a similar effect on him. Despite this he was still the apple of his parents, the first grandson of the Malik family. His physique grew day by day and two normal size servants would fit in his Shalwar kameez. The two years’ imprisonment did not weaken, instead he grew more than expected because every day in the prison he was provided with desi-ghee and Makhan from haveli before the announcement of prisoners’ food.
The man with Kalashnikov became famous in the whole area for his uncontrolled anger. The grandson of the feudal lords became an authority. He was the leading member of jirga. He himself was the judge and lawyer for his local court. People feared to oppose him. His father and uncles supported him in all his crimes because it was the best way to suppress the common masses. A jerk of Kalashnikov pointing to a peasant’s girl would lower down her shalwar because the right to live or die would suggest her action. If denied then the windows of the soul would shut down forever.
One day his elder cousin refused to marry a man outside the family. Her family status worked as a hindrance in the marriage because the groom belonged to a lower class. It was an insult for her to marry a lower-class man because they were like the Brahman of their village. Her father was not angered, but Shahbaz, considering himself a boss, was. He tried to negotiate with the girl but the talks were not successful. At last, for the one last time he asked for her decision and it wasn’t a positive response. Negotiations failed, and her refusal infuriated him. Suddenly, he clutched his mighty weapon, pointed it towards the girl and shot her in a second, turning laughter into wailing. Her white attire turned red with blood, and her body was smeared with bullets.
The second experience of killing a girl was different from the first one because the second victim was not the daughter of a peasant but was the daughter of his uncle. They grasped his weapon, put it aside, and informed the police.
He lost his family allegiance by murdering his own cousin. Once again, the guilt of murder roused after vanishing the anger.
The fated cousin was buried in her ancestral graveyard and he was imprisoned. He knew that he would soon be released from his cell and his elders would soon negotiate with his uncle. Although, it wasn’t like the previous murder of a peasant girl, but still it was the case of a girl. If he had murdered the male member of the family, he would not expect his release from his cell.
Forty days of mourning passed, and the negotiation took place between his father and uncle. He was released from the jail by his own uncle declaring to the court that it was a family matter. The murder of a male or female was not considered a crime against the state; rather, it was considered a personal issue. The state was helpless when the petitioner dislodged the FIR against the murderer. Justice hung between family and state.
If he had killed a man of a powerful family other than his own tribe, and the negotiations were successful between them, he would provide a vanni, the daughter or the sister of the murderer, to the male member of the deceased family, as an offering. But here the situation was different because the victim was his cousin and it was declared that Shahbaz would marry the youngest sister of the deceased, half his age. By declaring Shazia, youngest daughter of his uncle, his future wife, they cemented the family ties. Shazia had no choice nor voice; she had to comply to live a long life, surrendering to the jirga's will. She wasn’t sure whether she would sleep with her future husband, her cousin or the killer of her sister. She only knew that she had to sacrifice herself like that bakra that was sacrificed in the jail for the long life of Shahbaz, when he was imprisoned for the first time by killing Bano.
After the marriage, the turban of honor was laid on Shabaz’s head by the oldest family member
Bio:
I am Syed Hassan Askari, a graduate of English Language and Literature from Gomal University, Pakistan. I love writing short stories, especially about my Pashtoon culture. Through my stories, i share the beauty and richness of my heritage, by giving readers a glimpse into Pashtoon society.