Man on the Bike

Man on the Bike

Mir Mahboob Ali

Two small children almost of the same age are going to school holding hands. They are two brothers; one is a year older than the other is. They generally walk to school with other children of the locality as the school is not very far from their house.

It was a clear sunny day. The light blue sky like a vast canopy was hanging over their heads. The hard sandy pathway they were walking on was of very light brown colour. Even when it rains, the land does not turn soft and muddy making it nonnegotiable. The rough sand grains do not stick together to form paste, like it does in places where the sand is very fine. The hard rocky nature of the land makes it very easy to build roads. It just needs a layer of crushed stones compacted and spreading melted bitumen mixed with sand does the trick.

That particular day as they were late by about ten minutes they were without the group. They were busy debating loudly how to pacify their headmaster, how to explain their delay, should they attend school or bunk etc.

“Let us go back home”, said the younger, Munis. “What would you tell mother?” asked the older, Muhim.

Munis: “Today is a holiday because of some festival of the Christians, we are not sure.”
Muhim: “Mother will not buy that.”

Munis: She can not go to school to check the veracity of our story, and so she would be forced to buy that. And, if later, she finds out, we will deal with that later. In the meantime, we can coach our friends. Last time we corroborated Malik’s story to save him from a similar situation. Have you forgotten?

No, no, I have not.

Then, why are you so uneasy? Cheer up everything will be Ok.

Both brothers laughed heartily, unaware of the impending danger. They saw the Pathan on the bike approaching them. They did not at all feel threatened by the imposing Pathan, as they were familiar with the sight of the man riding the bike dwarfing it beneath him.

Anyway, these two tiny tots have just begun their second year in school. Holding hands talking incessantly, they were walking leisurely to their school. It was the beginning of Ayub Khan’s era in Pakistan. The army changed the office hours for civilians, accustomed to 10 am 5 pm office hours, to 8 am to 2 pm, to their great consternation. It was also the first decade of Pakistan’s life. Karachi was taking shape. Most of the residents of the government colony were refugees from India. Staff and officers resided in the same colony owing to shortage of government accommodations. This was true for West Pakistani refugee officers as East Pakistanis were very few in the services of the central government of which Karachi was still the Capital. In their case, a few of them actually were living in colonies for higher-grade officers.

They were housed in hastily raised residential colonies supposed to be temporary arrangement that continued sheltering government employees long after the expected time of five years or so, passed by.

As it was eight in the morning, almost all grown up males had left for their offices. Those days very few women worked or had the educational qualification to work in government offices. Females being inside attending to household chores the walkways were almost deserted.

Suddenly, this huge Pathan looking ominous on his bicycle dwarfing it by his sheer size appeared from nowhere. He was a familiar character as the brothers have seen him for the last month or so almost everyday riding his bike in front of their house. His huge size on the bike like a toy beneath him made him unforgettable. He looked much bigger than his size as he was wearing loose Pajamas and Kurta toping it with Nehru coat and his head turbaned. With the turban, his bearded head assumed the look of an unbound lion. His eyes intently fixed on the children, like a hyena, he was ready to pounce on his prey.

Meanwhile, the brothers were busy discussing the large aggressive Swans that come running to bite with their long neck threateningly stretched. The intelligent Swans would not run after adults but children of almost their own size. Therefore, the brothers were intently watching for the Swans and were praying that they were not around. When they are in a group it is easier to ward them off but they are without their friends today.

The older got the inkling of the approaching Pathan’s ill intentions just in time. Seeing his eyes shining like that of a hyena in the dark an eerie feeling ran through his spine. Alerted intuitively, his heart began pounding rapidly. He was unaware of the automatic physical activity as his brain was occupied with devising a way out of the impending danger. The lightening thoughts and the poundings were going on without any effort exerted consciously. His body and mind began to work involuntarily almost possessed by some supernatural power hitherto unknown to him.

Muhim said, “Look, there comes, the fat man on his bicycle. I am afraid. How funny does he look on that bike?”

Munis: “There is nothing to be afraid of. He bikes through our locality almost everyday. I know him. He is not a child-lifter as you think.” He says that almost as if reading Muhim’s mind.

What do you mean, you know him?

I mean, I see him almost everyday.

Well, that does not make him a good man. He does not look like one to me, at least now. He looks like a child-lifter to me.

While they were busy evaluating the situation, the Pathan came nearer. The older was apprehensive. They had no time to discuss. Whatever followed happened instinctively.

The wide pathway was not ideal to trap the children. Therefore, the Pathan gradually pushed the children towards the bush that encircled the small turf of the house on one side that acted as a barrier on that side. From in front the Pathan gradually moved the bike towards the children in such a way that they were forced to go towards the bush. Then he parked his bike on the other side of the children and the front was blocked by him. The very fat man with zombie-like strides began to come forward with his hands spread wide like an Eagle with spread wings. Certainly, the children were unable to think straight frozen with fright. Instinctively, they were thinking of escaping the trap. Thank God, they were frightened and therefore, their instinct was working in harmony.

Taking an about turn would involve time. Very precious time could not be lost. Mechanically, working in unison the brothers still holding hands slipped beneath the stretched arms of the child-lifter. The man being very big and fat did not have the agility to lower his hands quickly, and thus was unable to trap the kids. They ran for their lives without looking back and even stopping to catch their breath until they reached the main thoroughfare. It was a busy metalled road dividing different types of government accommodations, buzzing with activities.

Relived, they looked back. The fat man was mounting his bike. He was rather slow like sleuths. The brothers were panting heavily and thus could not talk for a while.

Getting back their breath, the older sibling said, “God was very kind to save us.” “Yes”, said the younger. Oh God, they sighed! They were sweating profusely even in the mild autumn weather. Fear, of which they were unaware of while running, descended on them with excruciating reality. They were shaking like a severed tail of a lizard with which they often played with and enjoyed because it seemed to have a life of its own.

Muhim catching his breath and overcoming his fear said, “Quick, let us go to school because it is not safe here; the Imambara is right on our left. You know, this also came to my mind that if I run forward towards the road I run towards the Imambara, would that be a wise choice, then I decided, come what may, I should first get out of the trap. I am surprised how quick I thought of many, many things! Before today, I was unaware that I can think so fast, Incredible!”

Munis: I was not thinking at all, I was simply responding to your signals that you were giving me through applying and releasing pressure on my hand but never letting it go. Since you were with me, I did not succumb to my fear, not for a moment. However, what is wrong with the Imambara?

Muhim: O, don’t you know? Imambara is a Shiite mosque. The Shiites are after Sunni blood. They kidnap Sunni children and bleed them sprinkling the blood on flour to bake breads to eat.

“Rubbish”, says the younger, Munis. You always listen to this kind of concocted stories. I have Shiite friends. I go to their houses regularly and I am treated very well there. I feel safe near the Imambara. It is so beautiful and big. I wish I could enter the Imambara someday.

Ok, let us move now and let us go to the school since we now have a perfect excuse to be late, said Muhim.

Munis: Yes, let us move. You are very sharp and brave. We are saved today because of you. If you had not run in time we would have been trapped. If you had succumbed to fear, we would have been ... he choked.

Muhim: You are brave too. If fear took hold of you and you could not keep faith in me, I could not have dragged you, and consequently, we would have been caught.

Munis: In that case, would you leave me behind?

Muhim: No, I don’t think so; otherwise, I would have loosened my grip in the first place. I did not do so. Since I did not do so, I am sure I would not have left you behind to save me.

Munis: But how the lifter would have carried us both? I think he would have taken either one of us. Who would be the unlucky one, I wonder?

Muhim: Well forget about that, we are both mighty lucky to have survived. Everything, everything around seem so nice and pleasing, even the school with the harsh headmaster. I love this, I am so happy... I cannot express my feelings in words.

Munis: Me too...!

They took deep breaths of blissful freedom and unblemished happiness.