Typhoon by Qaisra Shahraz Page B

interests to impart the information in a free and natural manner. No spinning it out. No dilly-dallying.
    ‘That wasn’t all. We saw Hajra pull that bad woman from the city by her hair. Her Auntie Fatima slapped her face and Haroon was spat upon by his mother-in-law – and now Hajra has gone to see Baba Siraj Din to get them publicly shamed. We just thought that as you don’t leave your hawaili often, you might not have found out. And we didn’t want you to be left out, especially as there might be a kacheri.’ Kulsoom abruptly stopped, scanning Kaniz’s face. She could see that the woman had lost her haughty composure. ‘How beautiful she is!’ Kulsoom marvelled to herself. ‘Why did Allah pak bless some people with everything – looks, wealth and position. It wasn’t fair!’ She had been denied all three, while craving each one.
    ‘Thank you, Kulsoom Jee,’ Kaniz replied graciously,unaware of the envy rushing through the matchmaker’s body, ‘for thinking of us.’
    ‘If we hear anything more, of course we will let you know,’ Kulsoom added eagerly, and very much bent on ingratiating herself further into Kaniz’s favour. There was no time for envy now. It didn’t get you very far in this life.
    ‘Thank you. Neesa, will you serve Kulsoom Jee and Naimat Jee some tea downstairs.’ Kaniz instructed her housekeeper sweetly, but her eyes had now regained their usual indifference. Bending her head she swung the curtain of her hair to the other side, as if to dry it in the sun. It was a cue for their dismissal.
    The friends reluctantly got up to leave, their faces crestfallen. Sabra felt very sorry for them. They had hoped to enjoy a few more minutes in the company of the two illustrious ladies, whilst they sipped their cool lemon drinks. But it was going to be tea and that downstairs. Probably in Neesa’s kitchen!
    ‘Never mind!’ Kulsoom gave herself a mental shrug as she rose, avoiding Neesa’s sympathetic gaze. They quietly bade goodbye to the sisters and then followed Neesa down the stairs.

    On the rooftop gallery Sabra cast a speculative glance at her sister. ‘Well, well, things do happen in your village, sister Kaniz. How shocking if what those women have told us is true. I’d love to find out more about them.’
    ‘Who? Those women, or that couple? ‘You can be sure we’ll find out everything hour by hour, if Kulsoom, our unique village wireless, has her way.’ Kaniz’s throat rumbled with laughter. ‘I am afraid that until this matter is dealt with, I’ll just have to tolerate the company of those two garrulous women.’
    ‘They are not all that bad, Kaniz. You are being unkind. Let me massage your head for you,’ Sabra offered.
    ‘Oh, please. I thought you would never ask. I love your hands. I suppose I
was
being unkind to them, but sometimes I just can’t help myself – being catty, I mean. Those two women bring out the worst in me. They are always looking for excuses to visit my home.’ Kaniz put her head forward in her dear sister’s hands. These head messages were one of the luxuries and rituals she always looked forward to, when Sabra came to stay.
    ‘What do you think will happen to that woman?’ Sabra enquired as she began rubbing Kaniz’s scalp with her palms and drops of almond oil in long soothing strokes.
    ‘I don’t know. But what a terrible thing to do! What sort of a woman is she, to do this? I think this village will never be the same again – I have this horrible feeling in my very bones. Sabra, are there many women like that in the world, who go around chasing other women’s husbands?’ Inside her head Kaniz voiced, ‘
It is not just women but men also
.’ Then she stopped, tasting gall. There were those whose mere shadow blighted other people’s lives. Hadn’t that ‘washerwoman’ haunted her married life from the day Kaniz first came here as a bride. And Kaniz had bitterly had to accept that the ‘washerwoman’ on the contrary hadn’t