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Ammara · Joined: 31 Oct 2005 Posts: 8 Location: Pakistan

The Disputed Roaster
It’s the story of an unknown village that existed neither too long ago not too faraway, although its hard to believe.
One fine morning, Ustad the school teacher returned from the City with the finest roaster anybody in that village had ever seen. Ustad had in reality discovered the roaster in an ally all by itself and sacked it. It was now ready to be sold.
That evening the Munshi came to him with a respectable offer of 2500 and it was decided that the roaster shall be handed over to its new owner next morning at nine, when the payment was to be done. But just after two hours Shurfu, the dhoodh walla came with another offer of 2700. initially Ustad was puzzled but he quickly resolved. What goes of my mother father if I take the payment twice? he thought.
That night his wife Farkhanda at home was busy taking care of the screaming and whining children. She had resolved- her husband had to die. He brought home little or no pay and consumed everything she earned for her children. Having him in the house him a non- profitable hassle. What goes of my mother father if he dies? She thought.
Next morning he got up and left for School where he taught! The school in reality was the resting place for cows at night. And therefore the stench of cow dung never deserted it, nor did the houseflies who over the years had been recognized as the sole owner of the orphaned building. Calling it a building was difficult, for it was standing on four steel pillars with no walls whatsoever. The sole classroom was too small to accommodate children with there bags so, the bags had to be left outside. Every five minutes a student went out with the pretext of fetching a book and never returned till the next morning.
Ustad had long forgotten what he was there to teach. He started the day with the recitation of ayats and ended it on the ayats . The children would recite “Ek Dunni Dunni” in unison while Ustad took his morning nap, waking every now and then to kill a fly that was attracted to his big round belly. Sometimes he would spank one of them for not reciting loud enough. “Imran!” he called. “ Why don’t you come and fan me.” The shortest boy of the class Imran, who also polished shoes in the morning, obliged.
Not too far away his wife was at the Mizaar, visiting Peer Balla who was said to have magical powers. Her husband was not very old and still might have a few decades more to go. “ …and much damage would be done by then!” The peer promised that she would be a liberated widow soon.
Meanwhile in front of her house a quarrel had broken between the doodh walla and the Munshi. Both of them were baffled and anguished and hurling abuses at each other. Munshi threatened to bring a kill Shurfu , who laughed in his face. Just then a gun shot was heard, the whole village gathered there not noticing that the roaster had flown away. Farkhanda also ran towards the site excitedly to see if her husband had been warded off.
In the class Ustad was woken again by a fly. He was imagining what his beloved Chandni would look like with her lips parted when he heard a creak. Her lips- they creak! He thought. And just then he heard a thud which was too loud to be attributed to her lips. The children in the back lane bent backward, the ones in the first lane bent forward to see what had landed on the rooftop. It was the disputed roaster itself! But before they could understand, the roof tumbled down.
A few miles away at Ustad’s house, Farkhanda was standing in disappointment. The fire shot was not meant for her husband but for Shurfu who had narrowly escaped. The police was there now to arrest Munshi. But in no time a boy had come running to them giving the news that the school building had kissed the ground! New hopes and dreams now rose in Farkhanda’s heart. She went on the site where people had removed some of the rubble already and till now only one person had been found dead, and it was not her husband! It was Imran, the shortest boy of the class. Her husband was pulled out, with a very bad knee injury. Some said his bone had been broken.
Imran ’s death not only brought the Choudry of the village but also the D.C.O of the district who was now wondering how a school could crumble down under his own nose. Ustad was bereaved , not due to Imran’ s death but due the tension of who will polish his shoes from now onwards. Imran ’s mother in turn was screaming and whining without control. First she said “ my only son!” , only then remembering she had four more sons. The she passionately hit herself on the head, the pain of which reminded her that its not a good idea to hit oneself so hard. The news spread like fire and the entire village gathered at Imran ‘s house, not due to grief but due to inquisitiveness. It became the most sensational event of the village, where going in and out of Imran ‘s house was a hobby for everyone! The roaster which had survived the crash had been deprived of its worldly appeal and looked a Martian with its feathers clipped. This marred the end of the dispute.
The same evening, when everyone was busy mourning, somebody shouted, “ What is going on?”. To everyone’s surprise it was Imran. After Imran drank water, he asked the villagers to leave, for whom he was a star and he informed the D.C.O tale of his school and teacher. The Choudry also pretended he didn’t know and the D.C.O promised to send a new teacher, not only with mended bones but also an active brain. The roaster went to live on the Mizaar where he was given more then enough food. Ustad was removed from duty and his wife, rather then wasting her energy on killing him, sent him to Chandni in the city- to live there forever!

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