A ROOF OVERHEAD

A SHORT STORY
BY SHAKILA RAFIQ: Translated by MUHAMMED UMAR MEMON

Now who could have imagined that Shuja, of all people, whom she thought of merely as a friend, and only thai, would have said such a thing. But he did. This evening. Just as he was leaving. And it continued to unsettle her. Although his question tugged at her mind now and then the rest of the evening, household chores and the children's needs didn't allow her much time to think about it. Now in the stillness of the night, there
was no escaping Shuja ... or his question. She could picture him even with her eyes closed, while her mind echoed with the loud.
sharp resonance of his question. Picking up his cup of coffee he'd asked, "Naiyar, can I ask you something?"
His tone was completely unexpected. Startled, she looked at him uncertainly and then said, "Yes, sure."
"Have you ever thought of living for yourself? I mean just for yourself?"
"No," her reply was short, definitive, quick.
Shuja gave her a probing look. "You're lying," he said, but his voice lacked a certain conviction.
"No I am not. Not to you anyway. Why would I?"
"Normally you don't lie, I know. But ... right now . . ." he hesitated, "right now
you are. I'm sure of it."
"Oh! And what makes you so sure?"
"How can you possibly deny thinking about such an important fact-no, such an important need7" He stil sounded a bit unsure.
"Need—what need?"
"All kinds of needs. You eat, don't you? Well, that's one kind of need. You read a book when your mind needs nourishment. And that's another kind of need. Then the needs of your own self ..." He deliberately left it incomplete. A woman of Naiyar's intelligence would have no difficulty catching on to the implication of his words.
"What's the matter with you today? You were talking sense, then all of a sudden, you're raving." She smiled, politely.
"Raving? Not by a long shot. On the contrary, I'm telling you the truth, God's own truth . . . and I'd
really like you to accept it." He sounded very confident.
"What law says I have to agree with you?" she said. casually.
"Look, Naivar. you must accept that one's own self is the most important thing
for an individual." He sounded so adamant it looked as though that was all he
cared to say that evening.
"No, I can't accept that. Sometimes others who depend upon a person become
even more important."
"There goes the mother in you. Why else would you deny the biggest truth in
life. For heavens sake, I'm talking about you—yourself, the woman inside you."
"I told you, everyone has their own opinion. Maybe what you say is right, and
maybe what I say is right too."
"Never!" he gave the judgement. "We can't both be right at the same time.
Anyway, everybody accepts that. How can you reject it? You've got to accept it.
Absolutely! Right this minute!"
"Look at you . . ." she let out a gentle laugh. "You can't push me into accepting
anything. I'm entitled to my opinion."
"Of course you are ... in all other matters, but not in this one though. This time
you've got to go along with me." He sounded distinctly threatening.
"Tell me, have you read a new book lately?"
"Don't change the subject."
"I don't have an answer for this sort of foolishness."
"Foolishness?" he repeated, beginning to feel really irritated.
"At least I think it is."
"All right then," he sprang to his feet. coffee cup in hand, "I'm off, and I won't
come back until you're ready to admit that this foolishness' is actually the truth."
"Er-c-r, don't go away yet. What's the matter with you today?" She was truly
astonished.
"Today? Oh, no. I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time. I only got the
opportunity today. Well. goodbye!"
"At least finish your coffee."
"You finish it ... yours as well as mine. It will help clear your clogged
brains—maybe. Goodbye!"
She tried to stop him but he proved unyielding. He just wouldn't listen to her.
I didn't see this coming!-she thought. After her husband Sajjad's death, Shuja
was the only person she had come to like. She had met him at a poetry
aymposium. Soon rt was obvious to her that they both had a lot in common. They
began to meet more often, mostly at her house in the evening. They exchanged
views on literature, philosophy, politics, and they talked for long hours.
But today . . . Shuja had started her thinking in a completely new direction and
had then left, left in a huff, which only added a sense of urgency to her need to
think seriously about his words.
The next morning, as she was getting her son Munna ready for school and
changing her daughter Gurya's clothes, she felt repeatedly jolted by the remark,
"You are lying."
Each time she shook her head. trying to shrug off the thouaht. Shuja became -.
the more firmly planted in her mind, like a dark, nagging question. Sajjad had be-
dead for a long time. In those ten years she had experienced the raw underside
life, and learnt more than others did in an entire life time. Beautiful and widowed
a young age-she was barely in her early twenties then. the most glorious time in
woman's life-she alone knew what it took to live. what humiliations and difficulties-
she could expect to come her way. Sin and lust burnt so intensely in the male ey
around her sometimes that she instantly broke into a heavy sweat and. in spite
her rather loose-fitting and unattractive clothes, found herself nervously pulling h
dupatta over her breasts. These unsavory experiences had led her to believe tr-
men, indeed all men, lusted after just one thing in life. How she had met quite a
such characters, such brazen, devouring eyes! She had dealt with them. and de-
with them with poise, spunk, and finesse! But all that was as foggy as a dream nc
Shuja, by merely a sentence, dragged her right back into it last evening.
Meeting Shuja had forced her to revise her opinion of men. He was so differed-
So proper! They talked for hours, without the least impropriety or unpleasantness :
his part. Occasionally though, he wouldn't withhold a compliment or two. So what .
it? After all friends did give you a compliment now and then. But it was a differed'
Shuja yesterday evening. She couldn't have missed the change in him. It was
palpable it came crying right out of him. The thought that he could after all o
different had kept her tense and taut throughout the day. Could it be that he re-
tired of merely looking at her?-she wondered. He was a man after all? She soe"-
the night thinking about it too. but couldn-t decide. She gave up and waite
anxiously for the evening, when he would show up and. hopefully, have more 'o s?
on the matter.
But he didn't show up. She was forced to take the matter seriously. Angry?-b'
why?-she thought. . . and felt embarrassed. How can she be so naive? Shp kre''
what he meant. She grabbed her head. Why ... why did I ever forget that he is --
lust a friend but also a man? She was back to square one: ail men wanted ju.i or-
thing.
The following morning after the children had left for school she picked t^--
phone and dialed Shuja's number. She had never once visited him at his houcp'
fearing his wife or other family members might begin to get ideas Besides the--
was no need to. Shuja showed up at her house just about every evening anyway
an important matter came up during the day, she merely phoned him
"Hello!" It was Shuja himself.
"You just took off the other evening. What's the matter? Aren't you cominq '
see me?" Her tone was simple and friendly.
"Tell me, has there been a change in you thinking or are you still parked in t^--
same spot?" he said, rather curtly.
"You answer first," she said, laughing.
"I thought I already did," he sounded even more curt.
"Are you angry?"
" Hid- .omes later, h-irsi. , neea an an^er irom ,.ou. Bui if vuu really .vdnt to
Know. I m noi angry wnh you."
She fell into thoughts, and then said in a solicitous voice, "Shuja you are a
good friend . . . and ..." j 7 e>
He cut her short. "If it's a No, you'll lose both me and my friendship
Come see me. We can talk about it then." That was all she could say
"No point in coming, if that's all I'm going to hear from you there. So unless it's
a Yes. you can forget about my showing up at your place ever again." He sounded
ominously categorical.
"That's really unfair," she complained. "How can you end such a long friend-
ship? Just like that?"
"You're the one who is calling it quits."
"How?"
"Agree with me and everything will be okay. Otherwise, . . . well, you know It's
up to you. Make up your mind." He emphasized every word.
"Come see me—will you?"
"I'm done talking. Now if you'll excuse me, I've work to do. It's my busy time
and you're interrupting. You think about it. Think all you want. I'm in no hurry But
remember one thing, think only as Naiyar. Goodbye now!"
He hung up. She stood dazed, mouth gaping, the receiver still dangling in her
hands.
For the rest of the day she dug up a lot of unnecessary chores just to keep herself busy. Try hard as she might, she still couldn't keep her mind off of any of what Shuia had said, not even for a minute. It kept hammering at her incessantly like a mallet, each strike making her progressively more restless. Evening came Thoughts attacked her and stuck to her like a bunch of leeches She knew a decision was overdue. She had to arrive at it by tonight. She went through the whole of that scene once again in her mind. Carried away as she was then by the heat and passion of her arguments, she had scarcely noticed any of Shuia's expressions. Now as she recollected, each sentence returned to her along with the special expression it had brought to Shuja's face. For instance, when he said that one s own self was the most important need of an individual, he had a strange look t^iinTh'8^ ^P^S eyes were unmistakably those of a man. They were telling her the rest of his .thoughts which his lips were too diffident to spell out Eyes-the truest part of one's being-don't lie. Never. Then today over the
phone he had practically said it all-loud and clear. He wanted a Yes for an answer-didn't he? That was not Shuja; instead, it was a man speaking through him-the man who had only seen her as an object all this time and had most likely r"3'8? ^he opportunity to ^ on with business. That man had so completely orgotten that not only had she been a married woman, she also had to be a father ^l^th Men- How ^"^"^y "^n tend to ignore these matters- to them they scarcely amount to real problems-and if they do, well then, these are essentially a woman's problems, her headache.
She spent the whole night thinking. She asked herself a number of questions:
Could she think of one night since Sajjad's death that she had fallen asleep without
longing for him? Even sleeping pills didn't help much. A night when the memory of
Sajjad's passionate love-making hadn't come to torment her? Hadn't she suffered
enough to just keep herself going She thought about it all, long and hard. and then
concluded that Shuja wasn't wrong after all. The most important thing was really
one's own self. How long, then, would she go on fighting the truth? "I give up ... I
admit defeat!" She began to sweat, although she was all alone. The first light of the
morning had begun to appear. She got up from the bed.
After breakfast, Munna and Gurya exchanged kisses with her as usual and
hopped on the school bus. Today for some reason she kept looking at the receding
bus for the longest time. Then she shut the gate, walked into the room, and plunked
herself down into the chair next to the phone, her head dropping. She had to call
Shu)a and let him know. She lingered for a while, as if looking for the right words to
begin, and then she dialed.
"Hello!" Is that you. Shuja?"
It was Shuja all right. Still, she somehow needed to confirm the fact.
"Yes, it's me. Shuja, dying for an answer." Her voice seemed to have brightened him up.
"I have given it good thought, and . . ."
"Decided to give in-right? Good!" He sounded incredibly confident.
"You said something about needs—didn't you?"
"Yes, yes."
"Well then, there are also ways and means to fulfill them." Suddenly her voice
assumed an undertone of sarcasm.'
"What ways and means, for instance7" he asked, impatiently.
"For instance . . ." she stopped, then said, "You are a man after all. You'll
never be sensitive enough to understand any of it. So what's the use. Anyway, no
matter how I say it, my answer is still-No!"
"But why?" he said, sounding utterly shocked. "You mean what I said was
wrong?"
"Maybe not. Maybe it's as you say. But how can I forget that I'm not a mere
clump of roots sunk into the dirt. That branches, too, have sprouted out above the
ground. If you dig up the roots, don't you also risk killing the branches?"
She said it slowly, stressing every word, feeling all the pain, and hung up. ……………………………