Ranjha

This is the story of Ranjha, a common laboring boy, who emigrated
from Dera Ghazi Khan to Karachi at the end of the Cotton-picking
Season. No, this Ranjha had no romance in life. He worked night and
day for a few rupees that he would hand over to his mother at the end
of the day. His mother would most probably use the money to pay off
family debts, or to pamper her older (and more favorite) son.

Every year, when in Karachi, Ranjha's family lived with us. His sister
worked as my baby sitter, while his mother, Lakkarr Masi (she was as
thin as a twig) freelanced for neighbors. Ranjha's life revolved
around this yearly cycle of migration until he was 25 years old. At
this point in time, Ranjha's family found a bride for him. This could
have been a good opportunity for him to ultimately meet the Heer of
his destiny, but there was a catch.

Ranjha's family practiced Watta-Satta. Watta-Satta is the practice
of bartering bride for bride. In other words, at the time of marriage,
both families trade brides. In order for you to marry off your son,
you must also have a daughter to marry off in return. If there is no
sister to exchange in return for a son's spouse, a cousin, or a
distant relative can also do. If no such exchange exists, there will
be no trading.

Ranjha (or rather, his prospective spouse) was traded off, in order to
get a match for his sister. The sister got a good deal, but Ranjha, at
the age of 25 was stuck with a 5 year old bride. This was the only
girl available in the extended family. He had to take what was
available, or there would be no (second) wedding bells for his sister.

At this point, Ranjha did something unthinkable. He revolted. He was
not interested in marrying a 5 year old. "It would be all right even
if she was 15, but 5 is too young Baji", he confided in me. He was not
interested in bringing up someone's child in the name of marriage. His
family condemned him totally. He was reproached on not caring for his
sister, threatened to be ostracized, and was emotionally blackmailed
in many ways. But Ranjha was tough stuff. He stuck to his guns. He did
not even attend his sister's wedding at Dera Ghazi Khan.

It was about that time that I left Pakistan for the US. I do not know
what happened to Ranjha. I hope he stuck out. I hope he married
someone he would be happy with. I hope someday the people of my county
would stop thinking they are animals. Animals to be traded, sold,
mutilated, and killed at the whim and fancy of those who think they
own them.