Child Abuse

Kashif's preoccupation with the British and by default with white foreigners was as old as his coming of age. His earliest familiarisation with the ways of the British was through stories narrated by his father who had run a canteen in a British Regiment. After the partition of the sub-continent his father not only lost his business, he was compelled to migrate to a new born country where chaos reigned supreme. He never fully recovered from after effects of transition. He always talked of the even handedness of the foreigners with whom he had worked for better part of his youth. He gave free reins to his nostalgic feelings describing their love for order and being just. Kashif's impressionable mind was most impacted. The picture of Queen Elizebeth displayed prominently in the living room, did the rest. It was a constant reminder of paradise lost. Sitting on British throne holding sceptre at the eve of coronation, an awesome blend of youth, beauty and grandeur was always a welcome relief from witnessing the pain and humiliation his parents had to bear to feed and clothe the family of nine. The picture transported him instantly to the lands still ruled by ethereal queen.

Whenever he saw a foreigner he was transfixed and had difficulty to control the desire to get his attention. He loved to hear what he said and see what he did. It was not very often that he had the thrill of seeing one. Visitors to a missionary school in the town were sometimes found shopping in the market place. His brother had to more than urge to 'disengage' him.

When he was twelve years old he happened to go to city general post office to buy saving stamps the village post office had stopped selling.. He had cycled for one hour to reach the town and the post office. Having newly learnt to ride his father's bicycle even when his legs fell short and his feet lost their connection with pedals for a quarter of their circular movement he needed little excuse to go round on the bike. After only one month he mustered enough confidence to undertake the long journey . Love of cycling and incremental realization of dream of ultimately buying a table lamp made the journey more of a pilgrimage than ordeal.

He rested the bike against the compound wall of the building and ran inside the building to convert his pocket money into stamps.There were not many customers in the hall having a number of counters meant for a variety of services. In front of the stamps counter there stood a white woman. He stopped dead in his tracks. He could not believe his eyes. Was it possible to observe a foreigner at such close quarters? His brother was not around to dampen his spirits. He was entirely on his own and would not let this opportunity go by. His enthusiasm to get stamps evaporated he didn't know when. He silently approached and stood beside the woman to see her finalize her transaction.She remained reserved and aloof while gathering good many stamps and envelops from hassled post office clerk. Short sentences uttered by her were of not much use.Clerk could not understand the English she spoke due to heavy accent but by flashing different stamps through counter top glass he learnt what she wanted and nodded vigorously when she indicated her preference by pointing her finger.

He got fully absorbed in watching her. When she gave him a quick smile he felt very happy and at ease to observe her candidly instead of stealing looks now and then. Her profile and gestures captivated him..She was very smartly dressed. She wore full skirt and a sleeveless blouse with high heeled shoes.Her trussed up golden hair allowed her nape the feel of sporadic cool breeze of Abbotabad to counter June heat. She seemed to have come from a world where everything was in order. Elegance was all pervading. There were parks crowded with children wearing colourful dresses Human race had learned the art of being happy all the time. Very few fell sick and those who fell sick could afford the best doctors to attend to their flimsiest whim. Teachers didn't hate the children.Sight of a teacher didn't send shivers to students' forms. Failing to do home work didn't warrant capital punishment.A student didn't have to suppress the urge to smile if a funny idea dared cross his mind during class sermons. In the school he went to,the teachers were more bent on building the students' character than imparting knowledge. Almost every teacher ostensibly held a stick firmly in his hand to be taken seriously at all times .The thicker the stick the stronger the resolve to root out entrenched evil .

Black speckles on her white arm caught his attention. The urge to feel the smooth skin got never questioned by his 'rational being'. It was just a harmless whim. Moreover,considering his unlimited admiration for the white race, he deserved more than scant attention. He delicately moved his finger on her arm. The woman quickly brought her right arm to brush off the 'insect' without looking at her arm or him. He was happy but since he was determined not to be ignored any more,he grazed his finger again, not as gently. He succeeded in getting immediate attention but not the kind of attention he had craved for. It was coup de grace. She turned and bent down to confront him with raging fires in her eyes and shrieked and shrieked. Hell broke loose. His mind exploded paralysing him for eternity. He reeled with shock and somehow staggered out of the hall.He ran for his life but screams chased him till he was completely out of post office premises.

He jumped on the bicycle and started pedalling furiously. Though he felt immense relief after leaving behind the screams, journey home was nothing like journey from home. He was being eaten by the fear of chase by the police.He kept on increasing distance between the scene of crime and himself. No amount of looking over his shoulders gave him peace of mind.He was perspiring profusely but could not afford to slow down. He avoided being overrun by a heavily loaded truck by the skin of his teeth but hit a vendor's cart in the effort. He fell down on the side of the road little away from where his bicycle collapsed. He knew that he was badly bruised but it was nothing compared to threat to his whole being. Pushing away the helping hands he dashed towards his life- line and was gone in no time, pounding away the pedals of his father's bike.

Having failed to reconcile with the lady's reaction he remained guilt ridden for a long time. Was he growing up with a sinister streak the lady was quick to spot? Why would she otherwise feel so upset.Many years later in college his friend told him boisterously, 'she saw the devil in you and wanted to nip the evil in the bud'.' But I was so innocent',there was pain in his voice.' 'Not innocent enough for both of you', his friend remarked calmly.