Tunnel Vision (40 page)

‘
It didn
'
t help me, it helped make me pliable so you could deal with me better.
'

‘
And what is so wrong with that? Or are we not supposed to want things to be any easier? Are we supposed to be masochists like you?
'

‘
There is no such thing as mental illness, it
'
s all about willpower.
'

‘
Well you don
'
t have what it takes to control your mood swings.
'

‘
I do!
'

‘
Like you controlled them when you attacked her earlier?
'

‘
I don
'
t want to!
'
now it was her turn to sound like a petulant child.

‘
Okay, okay we can talk about it later.
'

‘
So you
'
ll bring her around to see me?
'

‘
Yes.
'

‘
What
'
s her name?
'

‘
Farah.
'

‘
What does she do?
'

‘
She
'
s a make-up artist.
'

‘
What?
'

‘
She does make-up and hair.
'

‘
How does that make her an artist? Sounds like a cross between a parlour girl and a barber to me.
'

‘
You haven
'
t even met her and already you
'
re criticizing her. I
'
m not bringing her to meet you.
'

‘
You
'
ll leave her just like that?
'

‘
No,
'
there was a pregnant pause, then Ammi
'
s eyes widened as she realized the implication of what Adil had said.

‘
You
'
d do that?
'

‘
If I have to. I won
'
t be happy about it, but I
'
d do it.
'

‘
Does Ayesha like her?
'

‘
Ayesha
'
s never met her.
'

‘
Maybe we can all meet her together then?
'

‘
Maybe.
'

‘
Fine.
'

‘
Right. You know Ayesha will probably be very upset that we
'
re not showing more concern for her.
'

‘
Probably. Your sister always has been hypersensitive as it is. Always wanting the attention on her.
'

‘
I suppose this time you could say she deserves it.
'

I wanted to leap from the bed and give them a medal for their kindness and consideration, using the ribbons to throttle them both in the process. I was picturing their panicked screams, the way their eyes would bulge from their heads, their hands beat helplessly at the air, when the voice returned.

‘
So what is it Ayesha, life or death?
'

‘
For Ammi I don
'
t know, but right now I
'
m definitely leaning towards death for Adil.
'
And my father, was that a third little voice? I had a lot of them, didn
'
t I. There it was again, death to Abba.

‘
Be serious.
'

‘
Why? Where does gravity take you except down?
'
And death to his new family. His fat wife. His ugly son.

‘
You have very little time now.
'

‘
That
'
s all right, I don
'
t really have much to do. My family seems to be getting along fine without me.
'
The bookseller that sold him books that weren
'
t meant for me, he should die too.

‘
They
'
re terrified. They don
'
t want to lose you.
'

‘
And this is evident from what exactly? They
'
re not even talking about me.
'
When had any of them ever talked about me? Abba had looked me in the eye and he had disappeared, disappeared! Fled!

‘
Frightened people do silly things.
'

‘
I
'
ve decided.
'

‘
Have you?
'

‘
I resign.
'

‘
From what?
'

‘
From life. I resign from life.
'

‘
Let it go Ayesha. Just let it all go. Forgive.
'

‘
I don
'
t think I have much to thank you for.
'
How many people was I going to forgive? And if I pretended to, He
'
d know I was lying.

‘
Forget everything else, just concentrate on what
'
s yours, your mind, no one else can control what happens in it.
'

Truth.

‘
Stupid people fighting all the time …
'
I recited my litany of woes for reassurance.Wherever I was going, it could only be better than this.

‘
Your mind is your kingdom, or Queendom …
'

‘
Bickering like children …
'

‘
Caliphate?
'

‘
I
'
m done letting them control my life!
'
Abba had just walked away and left me standing by the roadside.

‘
That
'
s the spirit!
'

‘
All my life I
'
ve wanted to resign from one crappy job after another, and now I
'
m going to do it.
'

There was silence.

‘
Do you hear me?
'
I shrieked,
‘
I quit.
'

‘
I can
'
t hear you I can
'
t hear you I can
'
t hear you,
'
the other Ayesha said.

I was such a baby sometimes.

HASAD NA KAR, MUQABLA KAR

BACK OF BUS

~

T
he singing ended eventually. It went on for a long time though, long enough to make me not want to be such a baby sometimes anymore. If my existence hadn
'
t been terribly dignified, my exit at least should be.

‘
Where did you go?
'
I inquired cautiously, not wanting to be ambushed again.

‘
Sssh…
'

‘
You can
'
t shush me!
'

‘
This is important, I
'
m trying to listen!
'

‘
What to?
'

‘
Your doctor.
'

‘
My doctor isn
'
t here.
'

‘
He is.
'

‘
How come I can
'
t hear him?
'

‘
I don
'
t know. Try.
'

I tried. Dr Shafiq appeared about an inch away. He was purple. And he was wearing a dupatta.

‘
Why is he wearing a dupatta?
'
I whispered sotto voce, not that there was any chance of him hearing me.

‘
Aha! Now who
'
s sexist! See a purple man and you
'
re more concerned with why he
'
s wearing a dupatta …
'

‘
It just seemed the stranger of the two. And how come he
'
s purple anyway?
'

‘
I don
'
t know. If you don
'
t know I don
'
t know.
'

‘
Well. You certainly act like you know it all.
'

‘
Because I
'
m a part of you. And you act like you know it all.
'

‘
If you were a part of me you wouldn
'
t disagree with me, or push me to do things I don
'
t want to.
'

‘
I
'
m not pushing you to go against anything. I just vocalize things you know but are unable to admit to yourself. I don
'
t actually know anything you don
'
t know.
'

‘
If you don
'
t know it all either, why don
'
t we both shut up?
'

‘
Fine.
'

The doctor kept fading in and out as we argued or rather bickered, like little children. Had I been saying that about Adil and Ammi a minute ago? Funny how the silly things we said came back to haunt us. Not that I was admitting to saying anything silly of course. He faded again as I questioned myself, then grew stronger as I tried to empty my mind of everything but him, and his dupatta. It wasn
'
t that I
'
d never seen a man with a dupatta on before; it was just that I
'
d never seen a man with a dupatta on and no make-up. He seemed almost naked.

Oh no, now he was naked.

Back back, I yelled, rewind! No! delete!

Stupid Generals and their goons, we weren
'
t even free of apprehension in the privacy of our heads.

Now the doctor had a beard like a Qazi, but at least he wasn
'
t nude any more.

His voice was tinny too, and sounded very far away, like voices did all the time back in the days when all phones were analog and cross lines were common. He was spouting medico babble in Ammi and Adil
'
s direction. That, or reciting three blind mice. Which was a twisted concept for a nursery rhyme wasn
'
t it? Homicidal farmers
'
wives with carving knives, could be a comment on inequality or discrimination or some such. Or a comment on a woman who had simply had it with the pests in her life. Like I had.

‘
Confused dissonance symbol,
'
my annoying other half said triumphantly.

‘
What?
'

‘
That
'
s what he said!
'

‘
Confused dissonance symbol?
'

‘
Exactly.
'

‘
What does that mean?
'

‘
I guess it
'
s what
'
s wrong with you.
'

‘
It doesn
'
t make any sense.
'

‘
You listen then.
'

‘
That
'
s what I
'
m trying to do and maybe I
'
d succeed if you didn
'
t keep undermining me …
'

‘
Me undermine you? Oh I think you
'
ve got it backwards.
'

I tuned her out. Diffused axonal syndrome, that
'
s what he was saying. Diffused axonal syndrome. It sounded serious.

‘
What
'
s the bottom line then?
'
Adil was asking.

‘
The bottom line is that there is no apparent reason for her coma. There is no permanent damage, no internal head trauma, no spinal cord injury, nothing but the after effects of a knock on the head. Considering she went through a windshield, your sister is very lucky or very blessed.
'

‘
Or has an especially thick skull,
'
I didn
'
t have to strain to hear Ammi
'
s take on it.

‘
I
'
m not sure I understand,
'
Adil sounded confused.

‘
Think of it as a form of concussion.
'

‘
So she can wake up anytime?
'

‘
Nothing physical is stopping her.
'

‘
Did you hear that?
'
Little me sounded quite happy, like she
'
d won millions on a Pakistan-India game.

I heard it.

‘
So why don
'
t you wake up then?
'