Into the mud (Part 1)

It was a cold day in a country called Duabo. The smog was so thick that one couldn't acknowledge others. Birds' chirpings were the only sound that was echoing. And in a big home where my parents and I used to live. I was yelling at my pregnant mother (in her fourth month of pregnancy) because she coveted to go and sing at her concert . It might sound strange as its cool for someone to have a mother who is a singer, but it was different in 1992, especially in Duabo. It was deemed a taboo (still considered in many parts of Pakistan) if one adores you by your mother's name. There were two kinds of female singers. One painting make-up doing justice to the name of a coquette. Others were artists who burnt midnight oil to moor words and concocted melodies. Unfortunately, society saw the duo on the same page. Indeed, my father was too lethargic to do any job, thus he counted on my mother's career. And I, ironically, was a fat bottleneck or shackle around my father's neck whenever i sought to convince her not to go to any event. On that cold day when a vintage van (making funny engine noise) was ready to take my parents along with her band, I was bawling too much to check her as we had no other resorts to survive. Sadly, she turned a blind eye . That day would be a new chapter in my life. I asked (why can't I go with you). Thus, she decided to take me with her to this concert, and we were going to the most sacred and mystical place,called "Sehwan." People came there from different parts of the country and get their yens fulfilled. The driver started the engine and it took four hours and beauty and love for scenery.And after a tiring journey,I came within a view of Sehwan. I do not know how it was - but, with my first sight of the people, a sense of madness and mysticism filled my spirit. I looked at the stage before me covered with carpets - at the place itself - at the sandy mountains and mounted drunk people onto - at the people taking moist sniff under their lower lips - at the drunk slobbering audience - at a man who was jerking a child's shalwar-knot at the far corner, laughingly cleaning his snot with his own arm. I looked at this scene, I say, with a sadness in my soul which was no earthly feeling. There was a strange coldness and I could not discover anything to keep my heartbeat normal. One man came abruptly and served tea and some biscuits. Take the boy to the stage "saeen",he said, to ma'am sahab (my mother). When my mother started to sing,people gradually got crazy, tossing wine in the air. Shooting in the air, they ,who couldn't stand nicely,were dancing crazily. They were shouting at each other for joy. Among them there was a man, crying, looking at the vacuum. His face had a deep cut, he had a well-shaped nose, tumid lips and a dark complexion, and suddenly he disappeared in a moment. I thought he had thrown a glance at me. Then I looked at my mother. Her voice was filled with nervousness, looking at the audience who were like wild beasts. Only I could feel that, but she was smiling at the audience,as all singers do , I hope. I was frightened- my soul was shaken with fear - was bawling crazily, taking my hand into my other hand, holding it tightly. A shout came, take this stupid child , my father said,back to the van! He must bring bad luck! Two big hands came from my back. I didn't know who he was, taking me somewhere. His hair was grey, his face was covered altogether. He closed my mouth by placing his big fingers around my mouth and took me away through the mad crowd. Nothing seemed right. I got a lump in my throat so much that my breath was stuck in my chest. My eyes glistened with tears, they slipped, slid, rolled. Sadly, I lost consciousness- lost myself in a nowhere land.When I opened my eyes, I was dizzy, couldn't feel anything, though I saw a man who was groping me. Take his Shalwar off, an old man said. I abruptly bent my legs but two men came and penetrated an injection in my forearm and my eyes got shut. Again, after long when I woke up, my eyes were searching for my mother who must be concerned about me, but I saw my Shalwar cut apart at the cornered. The place was dark even I could not see anything but muddy walls. I was hearing mourning of women and children like someone was beating them. I, feeling great pain in my back, saw blood around my thighs; I thought it was better chance to escape. I tried to stand but I promptly fall down my kneecap was broken. When I looked at it some stitches were obvious. Even I could not feel my leg moving. Shockingly, I started yelling holding my leg when I covered my face with my hands there was a cut on it. Suddenly, a man with long moustache came and kicked on my chest, breath got stuck. He threw me against a wall and said, this is your home! You will live here serve here and die! Taking his dagger out from back of his shalwar, putting onto my lips, he said, accept or die. Understood Shehzo! Who is Shehzo, I asked fearfully. He laughed "Lussii" (Dumpass) it's you. He went out of hut.