Kati Patang

When I was ten years old my family moved from Karachi to Rawalpindi. We lived in a big house, the newest one on the block. I had no friends, being new to the neighborhood, so I indulged in my favorite pastime, flying kites. We had a roof which was totally flat so we were explicitly forbidden to ever go there. But in the middle of the afternoon when even the servants would doze off I would find the open spaces of the roof the ideal place to fly my kite.

The wind was in the perfect direction and the other house was far away, so when I saw someone trying to fly a kite from the ground, I would exploit my advantage and soon a battle would ensue. For this battle we had gone through so many preparations, the string was laced with glass and egg, and there was some serious money that had to be spent on the purchase of just the right size of kite and string.

That is how I met Tariq. On any given day my kite would swoop down and engage his kite in an in the aerial dogfight. Most of the time Tariq would end up holding just the end of the string, his kite flying off to meet its new owner.

After a few weeks of this Tariq made his move. He decided that if you can’t beat ‘em might as well join ‘em. He was two or three years older than me, I was lacking in age and experience, but I had access to pocket money. That money was used to rent novels from the local library and to buy the killer kite string.

Tariq introduced me to cricket. We would play almost till sundown, just about the time when my mother had told me that I should be back in the house. He had eight brothers and sisters. There would be card games like black queen and Chakary (With six players). Tariq also taught me how to play Gulli-dunda and Bantay. When my mother caught me one time I was warned, not to play in the streets. The day we were caught flying a kite on the roof, I got grounded. The servants were told to take the ladder down.

So much for kite flying, but who needed kites, Tariq’s parents allowed me to hang out at their home: we would play board games, card games. He also had two sisters who were the same age as my sisters. Coming from Karachi and not knowing anyone I felt welcomed into this house by everyone.

Tariq’s family was very religious; we would stop the games to say our prayers. His father was a Hafiz Quran, and had already performed the Haj with his wife. When my mother learnt that she had no objection to me staying longer at Tariq’s house. The sundown curfew was lifted.

It was the month of Ramazan and after we were done playing cards I was ready to go home, Tariq and his brothers were off to the mosque for Isha prayers. As I stepped out Tariq’s father pulled up on his bicycle, he told me to hop on and come for a ride. I declined but he insisted and said that he had something to show me. So I got on the handle bar.

He drove around for a while and then we talked about what it was like to be my age. He bought me some sweets and then gave me a kiss, which I thought was rather yucky since it involved his lips and my lips. His advances continued but I managed to struggle out of his grip and run home.

It was all so confusing for me so I did not mention this incident to anyone. I also feared that if I told my parents they will not let me visit Tariq’s house or shorten my curfew curtailing my freedom.

There was one problem however, every time I stayed late at Tariq’s house I had to contend with his father grabbing me, he started becoming bolder, and would do so inside the home while everyone else was in the other room. His tactics had also changed, now he would no longer entice me, rather he would threaten me.

When I look back at all this I don’t understand why I was unable to resist him and I blame myself for allowing him to get away with his excesses. My ordeal did not last long, my father was transferred back to Karachi and I was sent to a boarding school.

Flying kites on an open roof may have been risky and dangerous. I could never figure out why my mother thought that she was protecting me from some danger that lurked on the roof. Those were the best of times; it was when I was totally fearless.

In my life, I have come across many religious people, and those professing to be the most pious are usually the ones hiding behind a mask. They are more dangerous then an open roof. I for one would rather have my child on the open roof.