Smoke

Haji Habib was driving on in silence with his wife sitting beside him. The
spatter of rain falling on the wind screen was stirring up a calm and cold,
crystal liquid depth of a lake somewhere within him and he felt as if he
was asleep and a child was making a racket which pulled him in a realm
where consciousness and unconsciousness, concern and apathy are divided
by a line with the breadth of a hair-strand. There was a stillness about this
buzz inside him and he had poured out all his anger and irritation at the
little boy who jumped up, trembled and ran out at once and Haji Habib
could not let his slumber overcome him again. Years had passed and today,
he was going to collect his son from the airport after five long years just
as he used to when he was a school-going child. He was always late to pick
him up but not today!

Oh how I wish we could be there in the blink of an eye! his trance was
broken by his wife who was wearing an expression of eagerness, care and
concern marked with impatience. The note of irritation in her voice, the
clenched fists in her lap, the lips that were now moving as if in prayer, had
brought his musings to an end and as a retaliation, he kept silent. The rain
lessened and he drifted back to the frail pages of his memory, furling
through them and stopped at the one that marked a very significant event.
It was the day of his boys first birthday that marked his promotion and the
grant of a large bonus. That day, his mother and father had also come and
celebrated with Zohra and the child but for some reason, Zohra didnt talk
to him for the next week and he, having taken control of his new position
at office, had had very little chance to think about it.

Drizzle Zohra was sitting in the front seat, praying under her breath for
him to reach safely and for them to reach in no time. She wished she could
somehow fly to the airport but she did not have any wings she had never
had any. Her son, her oasis was coming back she badly wanted wings!
Haji Sahab was not very comfortable today but there was nothing new
about it. For thirty years, she had been witnessing these mood swings and
now she dealt with them casually. When she was married to him, he had
given her great love and in return, wanted only one thing a son. When
she did give him one, however, his attitude began to change and he became
more volatile over the next few years. She remembered being severely
scolded at an occasion when she couldnt hand him the newspaper at once
on account of doing up Abdullahs shoe lace. She had been a strong lady all
her life Abdullah was her strength. She had realized it the day he was
born. It was her son who made her overcome the grief of her daughters
brutal murder, carried out even before her birth, at the hands of the man
sitting right beside her. A shudder crossed her body and attracted a
quizzical look from her husband, to which, she simply attempted to smile.
She was and would always be dependent on him, which was why she had
locked the worst memories of that chapter, away in the darkest, deepest
and smallest chamber of her heart. She would see her son today, after a
span of five long years.

The car pulled up in the parking area. Zohra had a sparkle in her eyes and
swiftness in her steps she walked beside the towering figure of Haji Sahab.
If she was anxious, Haji Sahab was only keen, but this keenness meant a lot
to him. He was beginning to visualize what his son would look like. Oh, he
must be the true image of his father. His chest inflated a little as he recalled
his reflection that he saw in the mirror before leaving for the airport. His
graying beard fell on his chest, his kurta in a subtle creamy color and his
ankles were bare under the hem of his shalwar.

As they looked around in the waiting area marked, International

Arrivals, even his wife at his arms seemed to him to be a part of the crowd
that he felt oddly aloof from. And then there was an exclamation, there he
is! Theres my boy! My angel! My love and she let go of his arm,
running towards a tall, handsome boy wearing trendy denims and a
sweatshirt with sleeves pushed back. A hand with a Rolex shining on the
wrist moved up to remove a pair of Ray-Bans before the arms parted and
took her his wife, Haji Habibs wife in a close embrace. He was left
there to digest the attire of his son which sent his beard and ankles in a
complex and he became awkwardly conscious about them.

Zohra was finally carrying her universe in her arms. She could smell her
own blood running in his veins and could sense her own milk in the
strength of his muscles. He was so beautiful. He was like no one else in the
world. The deep blue of his shirt suited him so well! He could have worn
anything and have looked better than everybody else in the world. She
wished for time to stop but Haji Sahab had come forward and she stepped
aside. He was a little annoyed at the goatee his son had grown but he
hugged him and immediately let go his sons cologne was too strong for
him.

Abdullah insisted on driving back home owing to his fathers gout. Haji
Sahab again felt the way he did back in the waiting area oddly aloof
and there was more to it now. He was feeling as if his place had been
conquered by someone else an outsider, an intruder. His son was not his
son after all; he was his mothers or was he?

After a dinner taken in utter unease and with silence prowling like the
shadow of a stealthy cat, Haji Sahab went out to light a cigarette, not
noticing that he had not brought his lighter along. Abdullah picked it up
from the table and went after him; something began to form inside him a
misty haze solidifying or bits of quicksilver merging together. He tried to
look straight into his fathers eyes, mustering up all his love for hi, and
channeling it to his eyes, tried to pour it all in his fathers heart right
through his eyes. Haji Sahab met his gaze for an instant and pulled back as
if he had tried to wink directly at the sun. He looked at the lighter in his
outstretched hand, took it and tried to find words. Im fine dad and I
request you to please let me drive. Youve already had enough of it today.
Spoken back in the parking area, Abdullahs words rang in his mind and
he could not think of anything else to say to him. It would be lame to ask,
How are you? again. But Abdullah stood there expecting. The mist was
intensifying into smoke, gathering strength and speed. He wanted to reach
out for the wrinkled hand that had slapped him at many occasions. He
wanted to hold it close to his chest and cry he wanted to break that
stone-wall that enclosed a soft heart in his fathers chest. He wanted to
make him say he was proud of him but somehow, his body parts could not
co-ordinate.

Its late. We should sleep, was all Haji Sahab said before he went indoors
and that ghost of courage or hope or expectation that had begun to form a
few moments back, was now collapsing. A vial of quicksilver broke a
string of pearls smashed a crystal shattered a mirror cracked and a
heart crushed when a flame turned to smoke