THE BLUE SEASON OF LOVE

Our family was included among the most influential and most affluent families of the city. After retiring as Commissioner, my father began taking care of the vast agricultural lands that had once belonged to our forefathers. It is another thing that he could never become a landlord in the true sense of the word, because, the strict bureaucrat that lay hidden in him, always figured prominently in him and dominated his personality. My mother was the daughter of an eminent landlord and thus possessed all the characteristics of educated women belonging to the feudal class. Even her Master's degree in English Literature had failed to bring about any change in her personality. We were a happy and prosperous family of three brothers and a sister and were passing our life in our own typical fashion. My father had always been in close contact with the most important political figures of the country and every evening, our drawing room was filled with the incumbent ministers and members of the ruling class. Since childhood, it had been a matter of great astonishment for me that despite the frequent change of governments in the country, the same political faces could be seen in different forms in my father's drawing room. Perhaps, my father enjoyed friendly ties only with those politicians who were capable of always rocking in the cradle of power, whatever the circumstances might be. It was perhaps, due to this very reason that he had arranged the marriage of his eldest son Sajjad and his daughter Madiha into such ruling families. My sister Madiha was married to a boy belonging to a highly influential family of Sindh. Apparently, they belonged to Sindh, but their new generation had seen no other city of Pakistan except its capital Islamabad. Madiha had also started living in Islamabad after her marriage. My elder brother Sajjad was also married to a girl belonging to an aristocratic family of Punjab. My Brother's wife Abrina was always keen and anxious to prove that her high class family was in no way inferior to ours. My brother Sajjad was always so busy in his business affairs and foreign tours that he could hardly ever spare some time for his wife. Consequently, she and my mother kept themselves busy in making arrangements for all the family parties and functions. As far as I (Hammad Amjad) and my younger brother Ibad (who was the darling of the whole family) were concerned, we did not have the least interest in the noisy activities and festivities of our home. I had recently got Master's degree and Ibad had also completed his graduation. Right from the beginning, I had never been interested in leading my life according to some particular plan or discipline and, therefore, despite the repeated insistence of my father, I had not yet agreed to assist him in his business affairs. For this very reason, he was somewhat annoyed with me in those days. On the other hand, Ibad had never wanted to do anything in Pakistan. He had always been obsessed with the desire of settling abroad but he was too shy to talk to Father on this matter in a decisive manner. Parties and get togethers were held most frequently in our house, under one pretext or the other. At times, I thought that we the rich people have got very few excuses for enjoyment and celebration. I have read somewhere that the rich are wrong to believe that the poor are happier than they and in the same way, the poor are wrong in their opinion that the rich are leading a happier life than theirs. Perhaps, someone has said it very rightly. Another party had been arranged at our house on that day on the pretext that the only son of my brother Sajjad had completed the first Para (Part) of the Holy Quran. In imitation of one another, it is becoming a common fashion in the rich families to employ some Maulvi in order to teach the Quran to the children in the evening. Or, it might have been the outcome of the strict training and upbringing which my father had received from his father in his childhood. Whatever the reason was, he ordered Brother Sajjad to arrange some Maulvi who could come in the evening and teach the Holy Quran to his little son Sunny. It is another thing that on most days of the month, the Maulvi had to return home from the gate of our bungalow without teaching anything because of some party or ceremony being held inside. How could be a simple minded poor Maulvi and his old-fashioned bicycle could be fitted into the clamour and glamour of the highly sophisticated parties? Abrina (My brother's wife) herself strongly disapproved the coming of this type of Maulvi to teach her son but who could speak out against the dictates of our father? Thus, quite unwillingly, this formality was being observed. I wonder why we the rich are so far away from such formalities while the poor are so near to them. While we treat religion as a mere formality, the poor observe every formality as a part of religion. On a couple of occasions, I myself had an informal exchange of greetings with this Maulvi outside the home on the way as well as in that part of the lounge where he used to sit and teach Sunny. Maulvi Alimuddin was a simple man, having a thin and lean body, and an impressive looking bright face. He used to wear spectacles and was always dressed in white clothes consisting of Kurta Pajama (Shirt and trousers). He was a quiet sort of person having a dignified appearance and always liked to lower his head and eyes while talking. Daily at four in the evening, he arrived on his old-fashioned Rally Bicycle and silently sat wherever he was told to sit by the servants, and waited for Sunny to come down. I always wondered how he was able to control a naughty little child like Sunny. I had personally seen the way in which Sunny had always been giving a very tough time to the rest of his home tutors. But quite unexpectedly, he always sat in a respectful and decent manner in front of the Maulvi. On one or two occasions, I secretly attempted to incite Sunny to make some mischief with the Maulvi, but Sunny remained unaffected. Sunny had successfully finished the first Para (Part) of the Holy Quran and to mark this occasion, a party was being held in the house that evening. As Sunny was the cause of the party, he had requested the organizers of the party to invite his teacher the Maulvi along with other guests. He had threatened that if his request was not granted, he would stay away from the party and would not wear the dress of his mama's choice. Initially, this request of Sunny was bitterly criticized by my mother and Abrina. How could a poor old man having a long white beard be accommodated in a modern party being attended by all the prominent ladies of the city, who were expected to arrive wearing dazzling dresses and sophisticated jewellery, accompanied by their domesticated and henpecked husbands, in their long majestic cars of the latest model? It was like a patch of coarse rug in a velvet sheet, or like a fly in the ointment. But no one had ever been able to stand against the obstinacy of Sunny and the same thing happened that evening. At last, it were the ladies of the house who had to yield. However, another problem arose which brought fresh tears into the eyes of Sunny. During the previous evening, the domestic servants had already informed the Maulvi about the party and told him not to come the next evening. Thus, there was no chance of his coming and attending the party. As Sunny wept and cried, it was revealed that my father's special driver Shakir knew the Maulvi's address, because, once he too lived in that old locality of the city where Maulvi Alimuddin was still living. It was decided that Shakir would go and formally invite the Maulvi and his family to attend the party. Sunny was still somewhat doubtful about the matter and, therefore, he also accompanied Shakir in his car to the Maulvi's house. The time fixed for the start of the party had almost come. There was already some delay while we were all waiting for the Maulvi's arrival. At that time, I was indolently lying on the bed in my room and changing the channels of the TV placed in front of me. All of a sudden, my younger brother Ibad opened the door and burst into the room. Addressing me he said, "Hi Big B! Are you in no mood of coming downstairs? The party has already started.? As usual, Ibad was dressed in a suit and matching bow for the evening party. Seeing him, I laughed quite spontaneously. "Well Ibad, the way you've got ready for the party suggests that the issue of your marriage is finally going to be decided this evening." "Come on Big B. You know I always love to remain smart and well-dressed," replied Ibad with an unpleasant expression on his face. I switched off the television with its remote and threw the pillow towards Ibad "I know all about your elegant dresses and your smartness. In this spick and span condition, you must be going to the party in order to welcome some new love. I wonder if all the girls of the city are suffering from the inflammation of eyes. Otherwise, how could they ever look towards you?"

"You must have heard the old proverb, a prophet is never honoured in his own country. Same is the case with me. You people are not aware of my real worth," replied Ibad with a big laugh and added, "Anyhow, get ready as soon as you can. The Commissioner has issued strict orders that all the people should be present downstairs." While we were alone, Ibad and I used to refer to our father as "Commissioner". I was somewhat annoyed and disgusted and said, "O my God! What the hell is this all about! Why is an innocent and trivial formality relating to a child being so much exaggerated into an ostentatious public affair? Daily, all over the world, thousands of children finish the whole Quran and learn it by heart, but nowhere is it so much publicized. I'm simply fed up with the parties on such occasions." "Come on Big B! Don't get upset, be a support," remarked Ibad in a way as if he were trying to make me understand the situation. "I also know that it's only a pretentious affair. But if not for the sake of someone else, do come downstairs at least for the innocent delight of Sunny. He is so much attached to you." Ibad shut the door and went downstairs. He knew very well that I would surely attend the party for Sunny's pleasure, though with an unwilling heart. Perhaps, pleasing some of our dear ones serves as the basic motive in ninety per cent decisions of our life. We lead only a small fraction of our life for ourselves. Most of our life is consumed in pleasing others.