Of Smokeless Fire by A.A. Jafri (i wanna iguana read aloud TXT) 📕

some mint chutney, all of it wrapped in an old newspaper that prominently displayed a picture of General Dundda soaked in the oil from the kebabs. He wanted to celebrate in style. At home, he excitedly told his mother about Reza Dabiran as he served the food. Pyaro listened quietly. Once Joseph was done, she got up without finishing dinner, wiped her hands on a dirty towel and sank into her tattered mattress. Joseph felt a tightness in his throat as he swallowed the kebab in his mouth.

‘I thought you would be happy to hear my good news.’

Pulling the blanket over her face, Pyaro turned towards the wall.

‘I have told you a thousand times, I’m not like you or Babuji. I am not going to die in this pit like a dog,’ Joseph said through gritted teeth.

*

The government finally ordered the schools to reopen for the first time after the war. The long, protracted period of political turmoil that followed the war had finally subsided, and people welcomed the news with a sigh of relief. The Education Board announced the dates for the school exams, which made Mehrun anxious. This was her final year in high school, and she was determined to achieve a good first division to get into President’s College, the college of her dreams, her ticket to a good life, or so she thought. Because she needed the money, she kept working at Sadiq’s house, both of them pretending that nothing had happened. Her satchel packed with books, Mehrun went to his house every afternoon after school and used every minute of her break to study for her exams. The professor helped her, polishing her English and making her memorize lines from Shakespeare.

But Mehrun’s attention remained divided. She worried about her father, who was fast regressing towards insanity. Time, instead of healing his wounds, had created deep lesions in his soul. Kaneez’s death made him look gaunt and prematurely grey. His existence atrophied right in front of Mehrun’s eyes. And as his nightmares continued, his interest in life fizzled. No longer did he care about his garden at the Kashana; no longer did he care about going out, and no longer did he care about his own life. With stony eyes and a blank mind, he stared at vacant spaces, weighed down by grief. Mehrun, who had made her peace with Mansoor after her mother’s death, finally convinced Jumman to visit the Kashana with her, for a change of scenery. He would spend some time there at her insistence, sharing his lunches with Chaos, who ate the food guiltily, as if somehow sensing his sorrow. But his attendance there, too, became sporadic, and Farhat, noticing his absence, started docking his salary. But Jumman never complained. Mansoor worried about Jumman as well, but he felt helpless. He tried to convince Mehrun about consulting a doctor, but she had lost faith in all healers—fake and real. At that point in her life, her only goal was to get a first division and a scholarship to President’s College. Like Joseph, she was in a hurry to change her future.

Rain arrived early that year, but it did not drown the city, only sprinkling it gently, trying not to upset the already hard life of its inhabitants. On that misty Monday afternoon in June, Mehrun waited for the university bus outside her school. She was happy; she had done well in her preliminary exams. Nothing could make her sad. Not the wait for the bus, not the drizzle, not the denuding eyes of those odious men at the bus stop who looked at her as if they had never seen a woman in their miserable lives before. With a glow on her face and a romantic rain song on her lips, she waited for the bus.

How should I tell the professor about my preliminary exam results? she thought.

The professor, her mentor, her confidante; that mysterious scholar who had showed her great kindness but had also kissed her. After Mansoor, he was the one person she trusted the most. And Sadiq made her feel special. In those days, she rarely talked with Joseph, who remained lost in his secret fantasy.

At last, she saw the ugly British Leyland bus jolting and trundling towards the bus stop, emitting a toxic cloud of fumes. As it pulled over, a horde of young university students jumped out even before the bus had stopped completely, their angry impatience all too palpable. She got in and found an empty seat near the window.

‘Double hai, double hai,’ shouted the bus conductor, signalling the driver to drive on.

In half an hour, Mehrun was at the professor’s doorstep. She rattled the door knocker. The drizzle had moistened her hair and clothes. After a few seconds, the professor, with his pipe in his mouth, opened the door.

‘Areý, areý. Come, come. Come on in; you are drenched!’ he said in a concerned tone and continued, ‘Go and dry your hair with the bathroom towel.’

Mehrun dropped her satchel in the foyer and went towards the bathroom. After she had dried her hair and combed it with her fingers, she came back and excitedly began telling the professor the good news about her preliminary exams. He was genuinely happy for her. Mehrun reminded him of his promise about President’s College. He nodded, as if without listening, his eyes distracted by her wet clothes that clung seductively to her body. Sadiq began to tremble, as if from the cold rain, and then suddenly overpowered by an uncontrollable urge, he caught her hands, pulled her towards him and kissed her. The warmth of his body melted her and she returned his desire with complete abandon. They kissed long and passionately, and Mehrun let his hands wander over her body of their own accord; the ecstasy, the joy, the rapture utterly mesmerized her. She would have given anything to remain captive to the embraces of this portly middle-aged man, but then a lightning bolt hit her back. It was