Typhoon by Qaisra Shahraz Read Free Book Online Page B

are scorched in shame. This to happen! In our own village! Allah pak, help us sinners! Protect us from such a sin! Not that any man would want to commit it with
us
,’ Naimat Bibi whispered loudly to her friend, giggling nervously at the same time. She had made sure no one was passing them by in the lane, as if it was a sin to even talk about the matter.
    ‘A man and a woman? A married man at that, with a wonderful wife like Gulshan? Allah pak! Have they no shame?’ Kulsoom Bibi marvelled in return. Her hands had automatically reached to touch her ears in a gesture of asking Allah pak for forgiveness whilst her eyes continued to sparkle with unadulterated pleasure. For no instance of adultery had ever been brought to light in their village before.
    ‘I don’t know what the world is coming to, my friend. All I do know is that when I saw the slut with her open hair, flaunting her shameful body in front of everyone, with just a flimsy rope of a dupatta draped around her neck, and no other covering whatsoever, I knew for sure then that she was the bearer of immorality to our village. A very bad influence indeed for our impressionable young girls,’ Kulsoom confidently elaborated to her best friend, now walking briskly down the cobbled lane.
    ‘Poor, poor Gulshan! It is her I cannot help thinking about. Imagine of all people something like this happening to our poor Gulshan,’ Naimat genuinely commiserated. Their sympathy had to be with their village woman.
    ‘I know, my friend – let’s go and visit our friend Sardara. I still have to get some milk. I can’t wait to tell her about this. Oh, just imagine having to narrate all this. We’ll have to take it in turns.’
    Walking briskly side by side, the two friends headed excitedly to the village dairy. Sardara Jee just didn’t realise her good luck – she would be the first to hear hot news that even now was on its way to her very doorstep.

SEVEN
    I N F ATIMA’S COURTYARD , Naghmana stood shell-shocked, leaning against the verandah pillar, her eyes on her aunt’s face, unable to believe what had happened.
    ‘Get out of my sight, you
charail
!’ Fatima screeched, striding out of the courtyard into the kitchen.
    Unsteadily, her head aching, Naghmana climbed back up to her room. There, she collapsed on her bed in a heap and buried her face in a pillow. Unable to move! Unable to think! Unable to feel! Frozen in space and time. This thing had been so sudden, like a typhoon, catching her in its mighty eye, violently sweeping her along to an unknown destination.
    Downstairs, Fatima stood shuddering. She was unable to accept that her favourite niece had been caught in a heinous act – doing something so terrible with another woman’s husband. It had to be a mistake! It
had
to be! She couldn’t even utter the word to describe the crime she had committed.
    ‘
Adultery
!’ Her body trembled against the kitchen wall. Even to think such a thought was a sin. And her niece had actually committed it.
    ‘Oh, Allah pak, help us all and forgive my niece for the terrible sin she has committed!’ She cried aloud, pressed against the plastered wall of her kitchen. She glanced down at the large dish of puris with disgust. Plucking away the cloth she flung the four oilypancakes across the kitchen. One struck the wall and, smeared with a fatty layer, it clung there. The other three splatted down on the floor.
    ‘I spent all morning preparing a special breakfast for that slut, little guessing that she was going to muddy my face in this fashion in front of everyone. Allah pak, please help us! Listen to me, I beseech You! What is going to happen to her?’
    Hot blood thundering through her veins, Fatima strode angrily out of her kitchen, and marched up the steps to her niece’s room. ‘What have you done?’ she shouted, unable to say her niece’s name. ‘You – you …’ Flinging the door wide open, Fatima stood in the doorway – a forbidding, angry figure.
    Naghmana sat up,