A person is only compelled by class and quality; otherwise, love is just love, it has nothing to do with money, class, status, or wealth.
By Maria Khushk | Hyderabad, Sindh
“Bangles, bangles, come buy bangles!”
Farha would always sell bangles during off‑times, when people could comfortably buy them. She always used to sell in front of different schools, but that time, right in front of the school where she was selling, there was an office building too. About an hour after school ended, the office’s off‑time began too, and people started coming out. Among them, two men were headed to their bike, and one of them came over to buy bangles.
“Show me some bangles.” The man ordered.
Farha took some bangles out of the basket and showed it to the man.
“How much for these?” The man asked.
“Sahib, 100 rupees.”
“Do you think your wife will wear these bangles?” The man sitting on the bike blurt out, his eyes were sparkling, and he had a small mouth with a slight smile, and his haircut looked freshly done, he was talking as if he were the buyer’s close friend.
“Yes, why wouldn’t she wear it?” the buyer, while looking at the bangles, said, and then he continued speaking, “You’re not married, you wouldn’t understand.”
The bangle seller takes out another set and shows it.
“Sahib, look at these too.”
“Alright, how much for both sets?”
“200 rupees, sahib.”
“I’ll give you 150.”
“Sir, we don’t have much profit in it either.”
“Just give them.” The man on the bike exhales cigarette smoke from his mouth as he speaks.
“Alright, whenever you come again, bring red bangles,” said the buyer as he handed over the money.
When Farha got home, her mind kept drifting back to the man who was sitting on the bike. The next day she went back at exactly the same time, to look for the man and sell bangles again. When she arrived, the workday had ended and people were heading home. Her eyes searched for the person she’d been waiting for, but he was nowhere to be seen. Others were asking about the colors of the bangles, and some even inquired about prices, but Farha’s wait was nearly over. Then the bike man finally appeared in a purple shirt and dress pants. He was busy on his phone, and Farha had already dealt with all the other customers. Now she sat arranging the bangles. She was happy to see him.
“Sahib, the one who asked for the red bangles, is he not here today?”
“No, he left from here,” he replied, then lit a cigarette.
“Sahib, what’s your name?”
“Ahsan.” He absentmindedly told him name, and that’s all he said before starting his bike.
Aisha, Farha’s sister, was observing her from a distance, that she had kept the basket aside and was just staring at one direction, not even offering any bangles to the customer. She made her very worried. Concerned, she walked over to her.
“Kia hwa hai? Why aren’t you selling anything?” Aisha asked in surprise.
“That man sitting on the bike, his name is Ahsan.” Aisha looked at him, admired him for a moment, then turned to Farha and said, “So what? Do you want to give him bangles or something?” she asked.
“No, no. I just really like this man. He’s so kind… it’s like he rules over my soul,” Farha replied.
“Better to sell bangles, so we at least have something to eat tonight,” Aisha said in her usual sad, understanding tone.
“There may or may not be anything at home, but someone has surely taken a place in my soul now,” Farha said, still looking at Ahsan.
“A soul doesn’t fill an empty stomach, my sister. Get up now, let’s go,” Aisha replied.
Aisha, concerned, walked a little and then stopped, glancing back at her sister, she kept staring in the same direction, lost in thought sitting silently.
“We belong to a class where we don’t even get to eat unless we sell some extra bangles,” Aisha said in a slightly raised voice, hoping to snap Farha out of her daze. “And here you are, chasing souls while letting everyone starve!”
Farha and the other girls who sold bangles had gone that far for the first time to sell bangles, because there was nothing to eat at home. But such a beautiful coincidence had never happened in Farha’s life before. Ever since she laid eyes on Ahsan, he became the only thing she talked about at home and in the village. Now, even in Farha’s small village, everyone knew who Ahsan was. But now, she would go there every second or third day, and Ahsan had started recognizing her too. Whenever she planned to see him, she would take a small gift for him. The first time, she saved money and bought a nice shirt for Ahsan.
“Sahib, I brought a gift for you,” she said to him happily.
Ahsan looked surprised; he couldn’t imagine what this poor girl could possibly bring for him. Then she took out a shopping bag from the side of her basket. The quality of the bag alone hinted at something expensive, which made Ahsan even more surprised. He wondered where this poor girl could have gotten the money from. He took the shirt, looked at it, and told her he liked it, he didn’t want her to feel bad, even though he was genuinely surprised by the shirt’s high quality.
“You really didn’t have to buy such an expensive shirt for me,” he said, astonished as he looked at it.
“Things you love don’t come with a price,” she replied, arranging her things and standing up.
“I’ll take your leave now, sahib.”
Ahsan watched her as she walked away.
Ahsan stood there in silence, as if there was no life in him, like a statue frozen in place. And in just two days, he seemed to have forgotten everything that had happened.
On the third day, Farha came again during his office’s off-hours. Ahsan stepped outside, it was Friday, and he was dressed in a white shalwar kameez.
“Oh sahib, I didn’t know you’d look so good in traditional clothes,” Farha placed the basket on the ground and said.
“I haven’t even asked your name yet. What is it?” Ahsan said, turning toward her as he sat on his bike, ready to talk.
“Sahib, this poor girl’s name is Farha,” she replied, while removing the cloth covering the basket, “sahib, I brought something for you,” she said as she started searching inside the basket.
Ahsan looked surprised again. She handed him a shopper bag and said with a smile, “It’s nothing expensive, but it’s for you.”
“Don’t bring me anything. Why do you keep doing this? I’ve never taken purchased anything from you. The person who used to purchase bangles got himself transferred,” Ahsan said, holding the bag and looking at Farha.
“You’re not married yet, are you?” She asked, seeking confirmation.
“No, I’m not. Why?” he replied.
“Because you don’t buy bangles,” She said with a doll’s expression
He laughed and looked at her. “Don’t bring anything again,” he said gently.
“It’s not costly… I just feel like getting something only for you, that’s all,” she replied softly.
“Only for me? What do you mean?” he asked.
“I don’t give gifts to just anyone,” she said, her sentence barely left her lips when a voice called out:
“Farha! Come on, it’s getting late!”
“Alright, sahib. I’m leaving now,” she said.
“When I never even buy bangles, why do you bring different kinds of gifts for me?” He said, breaking his silence and referring indirectly to the gift she gave.
“It’s not necessary for me to give someone something just because I expect something in return. I don’t want anything from you, even if you never purchasing bangles from me,” she said, lifting the basket onto her head and walking away as her sister called her. Ahsan watched her for a moment, she was wearing a dress with a red-colored print, made of very low-quality fabric. Her skin was sunburnt due to the heat; otherwise, she was fair, then he started his bike and left.
It had become Farha’s routine; she would bring something for him, talk for five minutes with Ahsan, and then leave. One day, Farha came beautifully dressed, more than usual. As always, she had brought a gift for Ahsan.
“Stop bringing things… how many times do I have to tell you?” Ahsan said, taking the gift from her.
“I really like you,” Farha said softly, unable to say anything more.
“Thank you. But liking someone doesn’t mean you keep bringing them gifts.”
“Will you marry me?” she suddenly blurted out. Even Farha didn’t know where she got the courage from.
Ahsan stared at her, shocked. Then he said, “I don’t have any feelings for you. You come here on your own, bring gifts on your own… Stop bringing them.”
“I know there’s a difference between your status and mine, but still… your soul lives inside me,” she replied with teary eyes.
“Don’t keep any feelings for me. I don’t have any either. I respect you, but that’s all. I only accept the gifts so you don’t feel like I look down on you.”
Farha stood up silently, lifted her basket onto her head, and left without saying a word.
After that, Farwah didn’t come to sell bangles for a few weeks. Meanwhile, Ahsan used to leave the office during off-time and finish an entire cigarette while waiting for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.
One day, Farha goes there. That day, office off-time had already passed, but Ahsan wasn’t there. She thought, maybe he didn’t come to the office today or perhaps he had left early. Just as she was about to leave, she saw someone approaching wearing the very shirt she had gifted him. Her face lit up with joy, Ahsan was actually using the gift she had given him.
“Where have you been? Haven’t seen you in so long,” Ahsan asked with concern.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” she replied.
“How are you now?”
“I’m better.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing serious. Did you think about it?”
“About what?”
“Marriage.”
“I already told you, I have no feelings for you. Why bring it up again?” His tone was slightly irritated.
“Ahsan, It’s not about being upset,” Farha said. For the first time, she called him “Ahsan” instead of “sahib.” Ahsan liked the sound of it.
Now a whole month had passed and she hadn’t been seen again. Ahsan began to wonder where she had gone, maybe she got married? He hadn’t realized how much he had adapted to seeing her on alternative days. He thought if he ever saw the girl who usually came with Farha, he would ask her, but even she hadn’t shown up. Six months passed without any sign of her. One evening, Ahsan went to visit some friends, and they made plans to visit a shrine far from the city. A few days later, they went. When they arrived, Ahsan got out of the car and was offering a prayer with his palms raised when he noticed a girl in a green dupatta looking at him. It was Farha. She walked straight up to him and hugged him tightly. His friends were shocked and confused, asking who she was.
“She used to come outside my office to sell bangles,” Ahsan explained.
You came all the way here on your own… now come with me to my home, have dinner with us, please. Don’t say no.” Farha requested.
Ahsan was irritated and tried to avoid her, but she kept insisting, her eyes filled with tears.
One of his friends said, “You may not have feelings for her, but at least go with her out of basic humanity.”
The other friend agreed, “Yes, let’s go.”
Farha was overjoyed. Ahsan visited her village for the first time, and it strangely felt like a place he belonged to. Farha had only one goat that she had raised since childhood. That day, she sacrificed it for Ahsan and cooked both fried and curried meat for him. After tea and spending some time, it got dark, and it was time to leave. Farha hugged Ahsan once more and said, “Marry me.”
“I don’t have feelings for you, but I respect you,” he replied again.
He sat in the car and started to drive off, because the road was narrow, she had to walk behind the car for a long way. Ahsan watched her in the rearview mirror until she eventually disappeared from sight as the car sped up.
After that, she never came back outside the office. Ahsan’s eyes kept searching for her. Six more months passed, and she never showed up. He had no attachment to her, no feelings, but he had become used to seeing her every day. One Sunday morning, Ahsan woke up with a strong urge to go see her. He got ready and headed to her village. When he got there and asked about Farha, her sister Aisha started crying heavily. Without waiting for a response, Ahsan walked inside the house searching for her.
“You won’t find her. She’s no more,” Aisha sobbed.
Ahsan felt like he had been struck by lightning.
“What happened?” he asked in disbelief.
“She loved you more than anything. After you left, she barely survived for three days. In the end, she asked me to tell you that she loves you. If you want to visit her final resting place, I can take you,” Aisha said through her tears.
Ahsan said nothing, just nodded silently.
Aisha took him to Farha’s grave.
There, Ahsan broke down in tears and said, “I can’t believe someone could love another person so much. I never imagined you loved me this deeply.” He wept by her grave. From then on, whenever he remembered Farha, he would look at the gifts she had given him in his room. Then he would take flowers and a lit lamp to her grave and sit silently beside her.
A person is only compelled by class and quality; otherwise, love is just love, it has nothing to do with money, class, status, or wealth.
Read: Behind the bushes – A Short Story
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Maria Khushk is a freelance writer based in Hyderabad Sindh. She is author of a book titled ‘‘The Cage of Innocence’. She also contributes articles and stories to Sindh Courier.
