Of Smokeless Fire A.A. Jafri (books to read to improve english TXT) 📖

down, up and down, like Sisyphus, but pushing everyone else’s meaningless weight. That is what he usually did during the entire day, but on that particular morning he did more in one hour than he did during the whole day. Everyone wanted him to take something to someone or run some trivial errand for them. If it was not the files, then it was the envelopes; if it was not the envelopes, then it was the forms that needed someone’s signature. And then, as if he were their servant, he had to fetch tea for the clerks. As he pressed the ground floor button on the elevator, he noticed his reflection on the brass door. His new beard almost concealed the scar on his face. His hand instinctively went to that area; the skin felt stretched when he touched it. The elevator stopped on the second floor and the assistant clerk from the Home Loans Department, Javed Anwar, stepped in. As soon as he saw Athanni, he said: ‘Areý, Khaleel, where have you been? Mister Hashem was looking for you!’

‘For me? Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

The elevator had already reached the ground floor. Athanni’s heart raced with excitement. He was sure that Mister Hashem would talk to him about Islamic banking. As soon as Javed stepped out, Athanni whispered, ‘Thank you, Mehrun,’ and pressed the button for the second floor, where Mister Hashem’s office was. Outside Syed Hashem’s office, his secretary sat screening everyone in quest of an audience with her boss. The minute she saw him, she said, ‘Where were you? Mister Hashem was looking for you! Go in quickly.’

Inside, the burly Mister Hashem sat on his leather chair, smoking a cigarette and going through a file, his handlebar moustache covering his upper lip. As soon as he saw Athanni, he gestured him to come in.

‘I want you to take this box to Mister Kirmani at the Tariq Road branch. Tell him I need him to act on all the files right away, and tell him to return these to me by next Wednesday. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Lifting the heavy box, Athanni made his way towards the door. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he stopped, turned around and said, ‘Hashem Sir!’

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘Sir, did Mehrunnissa talk to you about me?’

‘About you? No. What is this about?’

‘Sir, I have heard that you are going to be in charge of Islamic banking here, and I want to work in that department.’

Hashem looked at him from head to toe, as if trying to figure out what exactly he had said. He then returned his stern eyes to Athanni’s face.

‘Areý, Mian Khaleel, growing a beard and having a prayer mark on your forehead doesn’t qualify you to work in Islamic banking. Now, go take care of this business.’Athanni was furious at Hashem’s insults and at Mehrun for not using her influence on his behalf. Carrying the box with heavy steps, he went towards the elevator and pushed the button. In the lobby, he saw Mehrun with Mansoor, laughing about something. As he struggled to hold on to the box, he felt a knot in his stomach. Concealing his face behind the carton, he walked past them without being noticed. Their laughter, like a hazing ritual, intensified his disgrace. ‘You are not better than me, you bastards.’ He took the box to the round tin dumpster at the corner of the parking lot, opened the lid and tossed it into its gaping mouth.

*

An unusually cold spell welcomed the first of April that year, veiling the city in a thick fog. It was as if nature was playing an April Fool’s Day prank on the citizens of this tropical city. Before the muezzin’s call for morning prayers, and before the crack of dawn, Athanni scaled the fenced wall of Kashana-e-Haq and entered its compound, staggering towards the backyard with an old satchel hanging diagonally around his neck. The bag bulged with what looked like a rectangular box with wires hanging out from it. Athanni’s steps displayed a purpose as he hurried towards the doghouse that stood in one corner of the lawn. He saw Chaos, Mansoor’s dog, sleeping. Athanni whistled lightly. Chaos barked. He whispered the dog’s name. Chaos whimpered. Turning around to make sure that the bark had not woken up Changez, the guard, he called Chaos again. The dog came out reluctantly, and recognizing Athanni, began sniffing him. The intruder stroked him with one hand, and with the other hand, he took out a piece of raw meat from the satchel and gave it to the terrier. The dog sniffed at the food and began eating it. Athanni then took out a black box from the bag and went inside the doghouse. After a few minutes, he came out with his satchel hanging loosely from his shoulder. He sat cross-legged on the grass and watched Chaos intently. Ten minutes later, the dog slumped on the grass. Athanni got up, lifted the unconscious canine in his arms and deposited him inside his kennel. He came out, wiped his hands on his clothes, walked hurriedly towards the boundary wall, climbed over it and disappeared into the darkness from which he had emerged.

*

As was his wont, Mansoor woke up precisely at 6.30 a.m. It was darker than usual. And as he pulled the curtains aside, he noticed the thick fog that had gloomed the landscape. He got ready to go to college. By the time he sat down for breakfast, the sun had cleared most of the fog away. Mansoor quietly finished his breakfast and went outside. He always played with Chaos for a few minutes before he left for university, but that day when he whistled, nothing happened. Usually, the dog would be out, sniffing the grass. When Mansoor didn’t see Chaos, he called his name, but nothing happened again. That was unusual. He whistled again, called his name, clapped and whistled a third time, but still nothing. Chaos was getting old, yes, but he was still agile