Ahmed Faraz poet from Pakistan and Gulzar Poet, fiction writer and film maker of India
                       


 

Asif Farroukhi (Pakistan)

Asif Farroukhi is a young writer and scholar from Pakistan. He has published several collections of fictional writing which have been translated into English, German, Hindi, Punjabi and Sindhi. He is also interested in critical theory and has been researching on areas in fiction and translation studies.

 

 

Distant Star

The board was laid out on the table. The four of us were sat around it and waiting for the game was about to begin. This was our daily routine. We played at night because during the day we each had our own responsibilities to take care of. We sacrificed our days so that at night we could live for a little while as we wished.

     After having taken care of the office work and put the kids to sleep, either they would come to our house or we would go to theirs. It had turned into something of a habit, which was becoming more entrenched every day. Now, when we saw each other, it wasn’t even necessary to say anything; we would start the game immediately. In fact, the only reason the four of us did get together was because of the game. Always the four of us, no one else. Some people found this odd. A neighbour looked at us and muttered: “Games for couples!” Another ridiculed it as a children’s pastime. But we always played seriously. For us, it was like life. Even more so. 

     That day it was the same. The game board was spread out on the table. As soon as we arrived we took the places that were set out for us. We sat according to the cardinal points: Yasmin on the north, Khalid on the south, Najma on the west and I on the east. One thing had been agreed: husband and wife could not be partners. This had been Khalid’s suggestion. Laughing, we had accepted it because it made the game more interesting and serious. This time Yasmin was Khalid’s partner and Najma mine.

     Before the game started, Khalid said to Najma: “Look here, no secret deals with him or signals. We are not playing cards.”

     “Signals? What kind of signals?” I gulped. I was taken aback as though someone had gauged my innermost thoughts and announced them to all.

     Khalid laughed. “Signals among partners. But never mind. At least they aren’t sleeping partners!” He laughed, looking at Yasmin who was partnering him. She was silent. But she had gone red in the face. This was something a peculiarity ofabout Yasmin’s. Whenever she blushed her face turned red – like the buds of the bauhinia. Turning towards her I smiled as though she wasn’t my wife, rather a tree laden with blossoms. Noticing me smile she began to bite her lips. Of course the partners were just for fun. In this game having partners made no difference at all. You couldn’t help any one; on the game board every player was on his own.

     As usual, I threw the die dice first, perhaps because I was sitting on the east. But what difference did a direction make, I never could understand. Until I got the number six I could not move my counter. I began to think of it as almost as a mysterious number and, waiting for this magic number to appear, I began to arrange the notes that I had received as my capital at the beginning of the game. I made bundles of fives, fifties and hundred rupee notes. They were rectangular pieces of paper which had the face of the Father of the Nation. They also contained the inscription: “Lawful livelihood is as good as worship.” If they differed from real notes it was only that where it should have been written  “ Government of Pakistan,” it said “Millionaires’ Inc.”

     There were four symbols for the players: horseman, sailing ship, lighthouse and seated lion. Made out of metal with great skill, these little toys moved according to the numbers that showed up on the dice. From the very first day, the rider was my symbol. I was turning it in my hand and waiting for the number that would launch me on my journey. The symbols of the others had already come out and were leaping across the spaces. I watched restlessly and with a sinking heart as they moved forward. Till then all the spaces were vacant and whoever reached a space and placed his piece on it could acquire it. For me each space was like some uncharted territory, which lay in the path of its explorer, waiting for him to plant his foot there and conquer it in his own name. I was anxious to acquire as many places for myself as possible. But until the 6 appeared on the die dice I could not begin. The others had begun to buy up places and while they were completing sets of different colours and deciding to erect houses and other buildings, I was still twiddling my thumbs, watching the figures numbers change with the turning dice.

     Many figures numbers came and went. They say there is a deep hidden meaning in the order of figures numbers but I don’t know. The six took a long time to come. I counted six squares and placed my horse there. It was Cantt. Station. In my heart of hearts I was pleased. I had always liked this place so I was happy that my horse had landed there and it would become mine. There was a picture of an engine on this square. I used to have a strange habit that whenever I was free I used to go to Cantt. Station and watch the faces of the people. Big railway stations always had this haunting effect on me. Now I was going to get this place even if it was only in a game. I started counting out the currency notes but Najma stopped me. The title deed for the station was in her hand. She had arrived there before me and bought it. I ended up having to pay rent for it to her. It was not an auspicious beginning; I felt as though I had been cheated.

     Prior to this we had also played Scrabble. But words let you down at the wrong moment. I could not make words with the letters I got and for the words I thought of I would not have the right letters. It is difficult to play with words as such. Sometimes we would play Snakes and Ladders. The Whichever player’s whose counter landed on the square with a ladder he could go up to the row above. God knows what there was in my counter that it stayed away from ladders. Whenever it reached a square with a snake (and my counters had a habit of being drawn towards the snake like birds mesmerized by its gaze), it was swallowed up and you had to slide down its tail. It gave you the same hollow feeling at the pit of your stomach that you got when, after having swung up really high up, the swing turned over. I tried to convince myself that this was just an advanced form of Ludo. It was all luck, not intelligence. That was why we didn’t play Snakes and Ladders much, although we played this game regularly.

     Now the game was at its height. We were playing and cracking jokes at the same time. These jokes were being made either about the places that a player had bought or on his moves. Among them mMany of them were stale by now while with the others you knew the punch line even before the person had finished saying it. But he would go ahead and say it nevertheless.

     The playing board, which was made of recycled cardboard, had been manufactured by a local company along the lines of the famous British game Monopoly. However, the place names were all local. That was why it was more fun, because these names were all familiar. Najma used to derive a child-like pleasure from this. She would immediately start exulting: “Look, look, I have bought Tariq Road!” And in her voice there would be the same excitement as though she had acquired all those glittering shops and their contents, the lines of cars and the strolling shoppers… Or: “Keamari has become mine!. Now the port, the sea and all the ships, they are all mine!” At times it seemed silly – this pleasure of hers.

     Every square on the board was one area of the city. Having bought these areas we had to put up houses, hotels, bazaars and factories. (Small green wooden blocks were houses, pink ones were hotels, blue ones bazaars and red were factories). We took rent from those who landed on our properties to increase our own capital and make them bankrupt. This was the whole game. While playing it we came across the same names that we heard every day, the same places that we had seen and visited: Gulshan-I-Iqbal, Manghopir, Bath Island…. Buying and selling them and constructing buildings on them felt good and, in a sense, powerful.

     By that time I had only managed to purchase two areas: Pir Colony and Nazimabad. And these two could not by any means be considered as major investments. Not even in the game. But I had bought them because I wanted to buy those places where I had lived. If another player bought such a place I would feel miserable. But having entered into the game very late, my choices were limited.  Defence Society and Clifton had both been sold. Yasmin had put up a shopping plaza in Bahadurabad. And Federal B Area was with Khalid. The only places left were Kharadar, Empress Market, Malir Bridge and a few others like this. Nor did I have much cash. Time and again my rider would land on the properties belonging to the others and I had to pay them rent. My attention began to drift away from the game.

     The room had become quiet and because of the weak light bulb it was in semi-darkness. There was light on the board in the middle which was being reflected on our faces. It looked as if this was not a playing board but a an Ouija board around which we were all sitting calling spirits. There was a brief flicker in the dim light. I suddenly remembered that I had left the television on. It had been turned on when we had been waiting for the two of them to arrive and begin the game. If the TV is on in an empty house it seems as if there are people laughing and chattering. An empty room fills up with noise. But I had turned off the volume. Silent pictures were flickering on the screen. The sound had been switched off just when the news was coming on. I remembered that the woman news reader had salaamed the viewers and announced the national standard time, but what the headlines were I don’t recall. By that time all the headlines had started looking the same. The game was in full flow and no was payingone had paid any attention to the news.

     God knows when the news had finished. Now even the TV broadcasting time was over. On the white screen a cross-like pattern had appeared, the one that came after all the programmes, even the national anthem was over. Then a time comes when even this pattern disappears. I looked at my watch. The figures on the watch strapped on my wrist flashed, a mysterious greenish flash, then darkness. Irritated and half-asleep, for one brief moment, I felt afraid of these luminous, green numbers. I don’t know why but I remembered the man I had seen dying. He had been coming along the footpath from the opposite direction. Suddenly he had collapsed and died in front of our eyes. Among the crowd that gathered on the street there was no one who had known him. His falling and dying in that anonymous fashion was such a simple matter that I found it hard to believe. But I had witnessed that moment when his pupils had turned over.  They had been looking at me and yet they were far away. There had been the same spark in those eyes. Were those fireflies flashing inside the watch or was it the light of time passing by? Then I remembered that there was radium on the hands  of the watch, an element that glows in the dark. This thought brought me back to the present. I felt I should get up and switch off the TV. But I didn’t get up immediately out of laziness. I kept sitting around that table in front of the board. Then I saw it. I was the first to see it. It became clear that there was something there, something …, it was not just my imagination. So I nudged the other three and they also saw it.

     It was in the sign that ends the broadcasts: just a speck, a bright spot that became a circle. In the circle was a sort of face that was spreading on the screen. It was taking on features, faint, half-drawn. In place of the face there was a pit with eyes and trembling lips. The eyes were white and the face black. It was saying something. We could see it, but not hear it. It was impossible to make out what it was saying, it wasn’t even certain that it was speaking in our language. What was it trying to say – to me, to us? The faint lines of the face were rippling as though it were in water. It was hardly a face; it was the obliterated reflection of a face, in which the features were only apparent because they should have been there, but were not. It was alive. It moved. It spoke. It warned of some impending doom. It was as though it was broadcasting something that words could not bear to utter, trembling as it spoke. Then all of a sudden it vanished. A white line appeared on the screen. It flashed, flickered, then went off. The screen was completely blank.

     The game had stopped. We were all dumbstruck. Najma broke the silence. She said something, something about what we had just seen. Then everyone started speaking about it. What could it be, what could be behind it? I wasn’t saying anything, just watching them. I saw their lips moving. But I didn’t hear what they were saying. They looked like the pictures on a television that had been muted. My mind was working furiously like a TV set whose channels are being flicked very fast. What had I seen?

     I had been hearing that because of the weather in the city sometimes broadcasts from a city across the sea were visible. I also knew that during a revolution, rebels captured such installations and began their own broadcasts. Neither of these could be ruled out. Or was it possible that this TV set had by chance caught a channel that was being used for passing secret messages. What were these messages? : mMafia, international smuggling, military intelligence regarding one of those perpetual wars going on in some corner of the world? Or a trick of some straying air waves? It was of course possible that it was not a human face at all. An evil spirit, perhaps, a ghost, or some such supernatural being that had got ensnared by this sensitive machine. Could it have been a message from outer space? Could it be that creatures from some distant star were trying to establish contact with us? Was it an alien from space? And what if they were trying to assess our capabilities in order to attack our planet? What if no one else had seen this signal? It could be something very important. We should inform the responsible authorities. What if they didn’t believe us? What should we do?

     I didn’t know much about space and stars. I had heard about the black hole and anti-matter, that it was the negative of everything in the universe and anything that touched it would be destroyed. There were some stars I did recognize, the ones I had been seeing from childhood. Aside from this, my concern with these matters was solely that in every Thursday’s newspaper, I would glance at the general horoscope to find out what the week was going to be like. That too I had got fed up with and abandoned because it would invariably say that the anxiety of the past few days would continue. In the beginning I used to read the word “Horoscope” as “Horror Scope”. But these matters of space were beyond my comprehension. To conceive of such a limitless space, which could neither be measured, nor counted, was not possible for me. I could only comprehend those things which could be encompassed with the senses.

     Khalid’s voice startled me: “The antenna on your roof is not  pointing in the right direction, that’s the reason for this.” He picked up the die dice and threw it. On the face of the little cube 6 dots appeared. The game started again. I had become a silent player. I picked up my symbol to play my turn. Touching it startled me again. I stared at it. The symbols of all the other players were distinct with well-formed features. We used them as counters for our game but they had all the signs of being crafted in this world. My symbol was a rider on a horse. I saw that the horse had frozen in mid-stride and the rider’s right-hand finger was raised. Was this also a signal? But I didn’t stop to thinkreflect much about it. I played my turn and the horseman started galloping through the spaces. He stopped halted at Mangho Pir. I could buy this place although it didn’t interest me much any more. Once I had seen the hot springs there and the crocodiles. But they were had been sleeping. That had seemed very odd to me. I bought it and took the paper that stood for its ownership. I was playing the game but wasn’tat the same time not quite in it. The symbols of the other players were moving forward but  no one was stopping at my properties. The numbers they were getting on the dice took them over these places. It was again my turn. I threw the dice and started counting the squares. My symbol stopped at the spot marked “Chance”. Before this, Yasmin’s counter had stopped there and she had got a card that read: “It’s your birthday. Receive a gift of Rs 100 from each player.” God knows what it was but whenever my counter came to this spot I got strange cards. Once I got a card saying: “The house you made in Khuda Dad Colony falls in the schedule of illegal constructions. Pay a fine to the Municipality and demolish it. “ I was getting angry with this game where all such incidents happened to me. This time I closed my eyes and picked out a card from the bundle. It said: “Challan for driving unlicensed vehicle. Pay a fine or go to jail.”

     I didn’t have much cash left. I would have to mortgage one of my properties. Which of themmy properties could I afford to lose? Having to think of something I sold off Lalukhet, explaining to the others that there were frequent troubles in this area; instead of being an asset it had become a liability. I gave a false laugh. The others had cash and properties too. Had they all conspired against me? They must have planned to bankrupt me. I didn’t want to lose in this manner, so I decided to quit and making the excuse of lighting up a cigarette went outside.

     It was pitch black. I stood in the darkness. It was peaceful, cool. I felt a part of the darkness, the darkness of space flowing towards me, trying to seep into my veins. I tried to embrace it with my arms, to drink it in like some bitter poison. Spreading out my arms wide I turned up my face. Up above was the sky, the inky sky, the far-flung curtain of darkness which had enfolded the entire universe. Here and there stars twinkled. When I was small every night I would stand in the courtyard and look towards the sky trying to recognise the stars, wondering if these twinkling stars even knew that in a small corner of a far-off planet called earth, in a courtyard, a small child is was looking up at them and delighting in their twinkling light. I was amazed that these stars could affect us so much from so far away.

     I thought of looking for the star that guidesd lost travellers. I could never remember the position of the North Starpolestar. This time too it escaped me. Instead, I saw the constellation that I had learnt to recognize in my childhood. At that time I had heard that this constellation was in reality seven sisters standing in a circle, sorrowing over a dead body with their hair let down. I used to wonder who they were mourning? Who had died in the sky? Then I spotted the shining star. In addition to the Constellation of the Little Bear this was another one that I recognized: Mars, the planet of death and destruction. I had read somewhere that it was the god of anger and punishment. Sparks came out of its eyes and blood dripped from its sword. Whenever it entered a village it turned it into smouldering dust. I felt as though it was standing behind me, sword raised over my head, hot air from its nostrils blowing on to my neck. I didn’t have the courage to turn around. I stood there rooted to the ground.

 

– Translated by Durdana Soomro

 

 

 

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