Abu's Bag

The street was everything people had said it would be. It was a particularly narrow lane, further stifled by rows of kiosks on either side. Behind the stalls came the string of houses, restaurants and lodges. There was no space between two buildings to tell one from another, and they were all of the same height and colour. From the middle of the street it seemed like you were looking at nothing but a wall, a tall fence of some sort, built to keep out strangers.

If you only used the number of people moving to the mosque at that time, you could choke the street completely. Yet, an equal number of men, women, children, beggars, peddlers and strangers were moving in the other direction at the same time. But nobody else seemed to notice, nobody else seemed to bump into others, nobody else got their feet stamped.

In many ways it was a different world, it smelt different, the food was different, the clothes too, and there were no posters of morning shows, or wandering animals, and nobody was staring at the women, yet, despite all the good manners, the atmosphere was somewhat squalid. Attar was being sold, dry fruits were being bought, every third shop was offering the cheapest flight tickets to the same place, but most of all it was a different world because the people were not the same.

There was a certain tension in the air, made more unbearable by the sun, which was in a particularly foul mood that summer afternoon. But nobody else seemed to be aware of it, they were mostly, well, smiling.

*

Abu’s house was like every other house near it. The steps leading up to it were uneven as if a child had made them, using only his hands. They were narrow and you’d have to bend to avoid the ceiling. Through the window of his room, you could see Abu reading his prayers, but you couldn’t hear him from the street. Momin, his little brother, was running around him in circles. Directly below them a strange old man was selling sweets. Ten rupees for a plate, hundred for ten plates and a thousand rupees for hundred plates, announced a board behind his eccentric head.

Momin moved away from the window. But in an instant he returned to circling his brother, only now he held a brown bag made of leather in his hands. To catch his brother’s attention Momin began to loosely swing the bag around in tiny circles. Immediately, Abu got up and snatched the bag away. You couldn’t say whether he had finished his prayers or not, but Momin knew he had angered his brother immensely and in a moment the little boy ran down the uneven stairs, past the old man selling sweets and escaped into the street.

Abu stretched the bag open from the top, peeped in, and then checked something delicately before pulling the strings tight to secure the contents. He seemed relieved that Momin hadn’t looked inside.

Abu was dressed oddly that day; he rarely ever wore t-shirts and jeans. He preferred traditional clothes, he felt uncomfortable fitted this way and he felt worse because his sisters constantly teased him. They said he looked like Salman Khan’s driver. He’d pull them by their hair across the house till they cried; Ammi would have to save the girls. But then hugging their mother from behind, Shakeela would tease him again. And then Abu would chase her for a second time.

He hung the bag from his shoulder in an odd way. Then Abu stood before the mirror and for a while he continued to say something to himself, again the street completely drowned his voice.

*

Soon he was out of his house, making his way through the crowd. He walked slowly but with definite purpose, with a face that seemed like it was lost in an ocean of thoughts but with eyes that were constantly alert. The bag was now in both his hands, he seemed to be avoiding any contact between the crowd and the leather. But he did it very subtly; so that you could hardly say that Abu was behaving awkwardly unless you were following him closely.

At the end of the street, the other side marked out its boundary with a row of shops selling cigarettes and a fleet of auto rickshaws carefully announcing the faith of their owners with an Om.

Abu spotted Momin there, smoking. The little boy turned blue with fear; the cigarette fell lifelessly from his mouth and after colouring part of his kurta with ash it landed on his toe. This made him jump up and around in circles, so he didn’t notice Abu walking up to him.

And then to Momin’s greatest surprise, his elder brother just ruffled his hair, and pulled his cheeks before buying him some gum. He was stunned; but before Momin could collect himself Abu was already getting inside an auto-rickshaw.

He realised he wasn’t to tell Abba about his brother taking the auto-rickshaw; Abu would have to give a good enough reason for not taking a bus like everybody else in the family. As he bit into the gum Momin wondered where Abu was going, but before he could give it any more thought his friends called out to him.

*

The bag was in Abu’s lap, he had his arms around it, but it was a strange hug, he seemed to avoid touching the bag. Usually he liked to watch the city go by, he would stare into passing cars, at the pretty girls with their lovely hair, at the shops, at old men sitting aimlessly on the streets watching everything with disbelief, at women picking clothes and exchanging gossip, at kids throwing themselves onto the windows of posh cars begging for money, at posh cars brushing aside these kids, but today Abu just stared blankly into space.

He had failed his high school for the third time and this time his Abba didn’t even beat him. No one said anything about whether he should go back to school, but no one said anything even when he didn’t. It had been many months now, and he had done nothing more than obscure jobs which amounted to little experience and even lesser money. And still no one at home said anything. For a while the silence seemed like support but lately Abu had the pathetic feeling of being someone not even worthy of scorn. He felt guilty, he wanted to yell at his father angrily for no clear reason just so that he’d yell back.

Sometimes this would become unbearable, especially when his parents would discuss Khaled Mian’s son. He was an engineer in Dubai and sent money back home every month; secretly everyone on the street wanted a son like Khaled Mian’s. To avoid feeling completely worthless Abu would stay away from home and walk pointlessly around the street.

That is when Abu met Saadat for the first time.

Saadat was about five years older than Abu, a respectable man in these parts. He was scrawny, but there was a certain charm about Saadat. He was fair in a Kashmiri sort of way and had these really intense eyes and a fine nose, and spoke in a way that drew everyone to him. Saadat was easily the most stylish man Abu had ever seen in his life.

In the evening Saadat met with a group of about twenty friends, they’d discuss various things, Urdu, Pakistan, Islam, the state of Muslims in India, Partition, Literature, and Music. He took Abu with him to one such meeting the first time they met. Abu was overwhelmed at first, but Saadat went out of his way to make him comfortable. And soon Abu was having a good time; even though he had never met any of the other men there, they didn’t even live on the street.

For the first time, someone wanted to listen to what Abu had to say, in fact Saadat and the rest encouraged his opinions, for the first time Abu was treated like an adult. There was something especially intriguing about Saadat, beyond his style, beyond his striking face, people wanted to know him, wanted to talk to him, wanted to listen to him. Very soon, Abu felt a growing respect for Saadat. He called him his elder brother, and took his advice on everything. Saadat even helped Abu with money occasionally. Before long Abu was a regular at those meetings.

*

Abu wondered what his Abba would say when he discovered what his son was going to do today. But Saadat had assured him that when the time came, if it was necessary, he’d explain things to Abu’s parents.

*

The bag was still in his lap when the auto-rickshaw screeched to a halt. Abu didn’t realise this till the driver turned around and tapped the bag gently. He awoke from his trance and furiously pulled the bag away, and then muttering something Abu placed a crumpled set of notes into the driver’s hand. The driver let out the choicest set of curses, but Abu had already walked away. He went straight to a phone booth, and pulling out a scrap of paper called the number written on it. Abu whispered some quick sentences but you couldn’t say what they were.

It was a very popular cinema hall. Often the actors would be here at the opening of their films. Only the rich could afford the ticket - more than what Abu spent in an entire week. All around there were cafés, fancy restaurants, pubs, book stores and music shops, and the girls were all unusually pretty and wore the skimpiest outfits Abu had ever seen, you could see boys flirt shamelessly, and he had heard that at night you could even catch people stumbling out of bars and kissing near the fountain. But unlike the other boys who aspired to such a life, Abu found the very idea repulsive.

The place made Abu uncomfortable and so he settled in a corner which was more deserted than the rest. He opened the bag, then holding the top he looked inside for a while, and then he put it on the ground and placed his hand inside the bag. There was no emotion on his face as he tried to rearrange something inside. It didn’t take him long, and after looking inside one last time, Abu secured the bag.

*

Abu got up and left the corner; he now held the bag gently in his hand like a suitcase and walked towards a café. As he opened the door he was overwhelmed by the number of people inside, but he soon recovered, the larger the crowd the better it was for Abu. He took a seat by the front of the café, just next to the glass wall. You could see Abu sitting there, looking like he was waiting for something. He placed the bag so that it rested against the glass wall; you could see it right next to his feet.

From outside Abu seemed impatient.

He wasn’t very comfortable there; his awkward eyes kept drifting to the bare set of legs underneath every table. The conversations in English, the sound of women laughing, the loud music and the heavy smoke, all irritated Abu, like an itch. Above all he was uncomfortable because no one in the café even noticed Abu sitting there all by himself. He sent away the waiter rudely. It wasn’t like Abu to do such a thing; he was too well mannered and too shy in these parts of the city. But as time went by Abu grew visibly annoyed, and then, suddenly, he went down to the bag and fiddled with it. Abu got up and looked around the café, from outside, you couldn’t tell but he seemed to smile dryly. Leaving the bag there Abu walked quickly out of the café.

He was walking very swiftly, away from the café. The waiter was taking another order but was looking at Abu walk away, the bag was still there. Through the glass you could see it, slightly open now.

The glass wall of the café caught a faint reflection of everything around it, the theatre, the music stores, the boys who were still flirting with the girls, the bars with their neon boards, the large movie posters; Abu was walking out of that image, quickly. For a while that reflection drowned everything around it, overwhelming reality. Only Abu’s bag made its presence felt, except nobody seemed to notice it. And even if you wanted to shout, you couldn’t, because that entire moment existed nowhere else but in that reflection and in it time was slowing down collecting below the bag concentrating around it and things were growing quieter as if they were waiting in anticipation.

Soon it felt like nothing existed but Abu’s bag, and as the clock ticked, and Abu moved completely out of the reflection, this feeling grew only stronger and more unbearable.

But then the noises returned, suddenly, and the reflection was broken and people were moving about as if nobody else had felt that tension.

*

Abu had recognised her from far away. You couldn’t really miss Nesti, Abu thought; he hadn’t seen a prettier girl in all his life. She was thin, and tall. Her skin was radiant like the moon and her eyes were large and dreamy. As she walked towards him, Abu was glad Nesti wasn’t dressed like the other girls there, and had her head covered.

She was a friend of Saadat’s and Abu had fallen in love with her when they met for the very first time at Saadat’s home. As he walked towards her, he could see her smile; nothing could have made Abu happier.

His shyness had kept him from telling Nesti he loved her. Thankfully they spent a lot of time together, and Saadat always helped him out with a lot of advice and a bit of money here and there to take her to the movies. It was Nesti’s birthday today, and Abu wanted to impress her by wishing her in English, before telling her how he felt for her. He had practiced in front of the mirror for more than a week but now he found his feet trembling a bit.

“Happy Birthday, Nesti! Many happy returns of today!”

And then all of a sudden he remembered something, “Arre, Nesti, chalo, chalo jaldi!”

Holding her by her wrist he pulled her as he ran back to the café. Nesti followed giggling and once they were inside the café, she shyly hid behind Abu’s shoulder. He sat her down, and then from the bag pulled out a pink Teddy Bear, holding a heart.

Saadat had pushed hard for a larger one wearing a red “I LOVE YOU” t-shirt, but Abu felt it would be inappropriate, also his bag wouldn’t hold the larger toy.

Abu presented it to her, and then taking Nesti completely by surprise, clumsily kissed her on the cheek, colouring them red with embarrassment. He laughed at her, but mostly it was his own nervousness. He’d seen Salman Khan do it a million times in the movies, but Abu still didn’t get the kiss right.

You could see the couple smiling and speaking to each other, Abu called out to the waiter but this time he placed his hand on the waiter’s shoulder and whispered the order into his ear. Nesti had her arms around the bear, in a tight hug; Abu couldn't have asked for more.

Abu's bag was lying by his feet; through the glass you could see that it was empty.

*

Sometimes we put up fences nobody can see, but they are there anyway, all the time, carving out the strangers and keeping them out.