The Blackboards

Here is a bit of advice from some body who knows. Never be the middle child in the family if you can help it. Especially if your older sibling is the perfect son/daughter. I know, I know! It is too late now, if you are already the middle child. Not that anybody asks you, for your choice..

I had two older sisters too, but they go married ,before I knew anything in the world and growing up, we were just three brothers. My older brother was my bebe’s[mother’s] pet for he could do nothing wrong, was good at studies and never created any trouble for my parents. The younger one was the baby of the family and bebe carried him around. He could create any mess or get in any trouble, but nobody blamed him because he was just a child. I in the middle got blamed for all trouble some deserved and some not.

When I was six years old, my brother took me to his school one day and master ji registered my name in his book and I became a student of ‘pehli jamat’[first grade]. I went willingly because it seemed like an adventure, but that was before I realized that it was a prison for the whole day, and then day after day. Next day I refused to get up to go to school, but between my brother and bebe, they made me ready and forced me to go. I got some support from my father and he said,

‘Ohe naiN jaNda te na sai. keDa per ke es ne koi afser baN jaNa eh. Zamindar do puter eh, nai paDya teh ki. MaiN nai paDya te keri kami eh.’
[OK if he doesn’t want to go, let be. He is not going to become an officer after studying. He is a farmer’s son and it is ok. I never went to school and what harm did it do.]

However he went to the fields and I had to go to the school. My brother scolded me all the way for making him late. As time went by, I found the school was not too bad. I made some friends and enjoyed playing around, making fun of other students and harassing the masterji, if I could get away with it. Many a times I had to hear him say,

‘Ohe Kahana, tera phra teh kina changa munda weh, tainu ki ho gaya weh, na aap paDna weh no bakiyan nu paraN denda wheN.
[ You, Kahan, your brother is such a nice boy! But what is wrong with you? You don’t study yourself and disrupt others from studying]

His ranting did not bother me a bit, and my mind was always busy finding new ways to torment him, much to the merriment of the other students. Four years went by and my brother graduated from the school and went, looking for work to Peshawar. My father was some what miffed because he expected him to help in the fields. However to tell you the truth, he did not really need any help because, there was really very little land left to work on. Most of the land he owned was mortgaged to the shaukars[moneylenders]. What was left was barely enough to support the family and he was home half the time.

However when I start staying away from the school and the master came over to complain, he did not get much support from my father. My mother tried, but I was too old for her to control and after chasing me, few times in the fields, she gave up. Life was good. My friends and I spent all day doing things we wanted. Every once in a while people complained and my mother scolded me. Some times, it was for raiding old hag ‘Chhatto’s yard and picking berries from her bushes or at other times it was MiaN Rehmat Ali’s mango and jamun trees.

The time went by quite fast and it was the fifth summer since my brother had left the village. He had written occasionally and bebe read his letters to us. He had gone through some hard times, until he found the job at the miliner store. Then he wrote about wanting to open his own business and finally, when he opened his book store. He also started sending regular money orders and bebe was so proud of her prodigal son. Even my father stopped complaining about his wasting his time in the city, when he should be helping his old man in the fields. I also benefited from this largesse, as bebe started doling out an anna here or a duani there, to me too, when she was in a good mood.

One day I returned from my haunts in the evening and there my brother sitting on the manji in the deodi. Bebe couldn’t contain herself with happiness, while she tried the shawls that he had brought for her. My father was already decked in his new salwar kammez and pishori juti. I rushed in and hugged him and he hugged me back and smiled while he looked at me.

‘Ohe kina oocha lamba ho giya waiN, mere toN wi kad kad liya eh’ he said.
[How tall you have grown, you are even taller than me]

I was afraid he would say something about my quitting the school, but he didn’t bring it up then. Instead he reached into his suite case and brought out a salwar kameez and juti just like father’s. Truly I expected nothing less and in no time had my old clothes off and new ones on. He may have expressed surprise at my height but the clothes were the right fit. There was no sign of my younger brother and guessed, he must have gone to show his new goodies to his friends. I wanted to do the same, so as soon as bebe’s attention was elsewhere, I slipped out of the door. All my friends were impressed with my duds except, Harnama, who implied that the suit his uncle had sent for him was better. I naturally had to teach him to appreciate the good things and in no time had him on the ground with my knee on his chest. I let him get up, only after he admitted that my clothes were superior. That was the good part, the bad part was the new clothes, got soiled, after our little tussle. I knew exactly, what bebe was going to say if she sees them like this. I tried to sneak into the house avoiding bebe, but she caught me and like I had expected said.

‘Ohe margania, Phra kine soNeh kapre lihaya, teh tuN pehle din he eh hal kar dita weh. Tenu kadoN akal aye gi?’
[Devil take you, your brother bought such nice clothes for you and you soiled them the very first time. When will you ever learn]

My brother came to my rescue and said,

‘Koi gal nahiN Bey ji. mehle hi te hoi ne, dhul jasan’.
[It is OK, they are just soiled and can be washed]

That night when we were getting ready for the bed, my brother, brought up the subject of my education.

‘Kanheha, Bey ji kehndi eh tu school naiN janda?
[Kahan, mother says you don’t go to school?]

I kept quiet, because I didn’t know what to say.

‘PaDai poori karaN di slah hai ke nai?
[Do you want to continue your education or not?]

‘Nai, menu paDna changa nai lagda wehse wi maiN huN baccha nai haN‘ I replied.
[No, I don’t like to study and I am too old for it any way]

‘Phir age ki karan di slah eh?’, he countered.
[What are you plans?]

Again I did not know, what to say because, I had never thought about it, so I kept quiet. His next question caught me by surprise.

‘Mere naal Pishor chalseN?’
[Do you want to go to Peshawar with me?]

Going to the city sounded interesting. Besides I was getting, some what tired of the pranks that we played. People were getting really upset now and Bebe’s daily lectures on my childishness were becoming tiresome. So after some thought I agreed. Next morning my brother announced that I was going to Peshawar with him. Nobody expressed any surprise, so I suspect he must have talked to them already.

Peshawar was a big city and entirely different from the village. There were people everywhere and they were of a wide variety. There were lots of Pathans with their big turbans and flowing beards, the women covered from head to feet in the burkas. There were also plenty of Goras with their chalk white skin dressed in pants and coats and their equally pale women clad in fancy dresses. There were all kinds of vehicles running around. The tongas, the bicycles, the motorcycles and motor cars. I was glad I was wearing the clothes my brother brought for me, otherwise I would have looked very out of place.

Next morning, we went to the store and my brother introduced me to all the people who came as well as the neighbors too. It seemed most everybody liked my brother and they welcomed me. One thing I must add here. I thought that my brother had changed when he came to the village, but working in the store I realized, he was a different person than the one I had known. He talked very comfortably to the very snooty army officers, who some times came to the store. He also was known to some very high class people and they treated him like family. He had started wearing pants and shirts like the goras and tied his turban in the fashion of the people in the city. In spite of his urging, I did not feel comfortable in pants and preferred to wear the salwar kameej.

In a short time I learnt the routine of the store and became good at it. When ever my brother went to visit some of the customers, he left me in charge of the things. However, there were things that I could not do. Most of the correspondence, was in English and I had no clue of the language. For the first time in my life I realized, what a handicap it was for me and I rued my childish carelessness in not pursuing the education. Even a rudimentary knowledge of the language would have helped. My brother suggested that I pick up one of the English primers that we sold and try to learn the basics. I tried, but beyond recognizing the alphabet I did not get anywhere.

One day a JCO from a unit, that we had done some business with, walked into the store. His regiment was
going to start a school and his company commander had ordered him to procure the supplies. One of the items on the list was a black board on an easel. He had scoured the local market but nobody seemed to stock one of those. He had the specifications and he wanted us to have one built for them. My brother did not appear to be too enthusiastic about this and I was afraid he was going to decline the order. However I was able to catch his eye and he understood enough to tell the JCO that he will look into it and get back to him.

As soon as the gent left the store, I burst out saying I knew the person who could do this for us. Since coming to Peshawar I had become friendly with some of the local youth. One of these was a Pathan boy, whose father owned a woodwork shop right out side the city. So after closing the store we both biked to his place. He knew me well, and he welcomed us enthusiastically. We told him what we wanted and he said it was no big deal and he could handle it easily. I could see that looking at the stuff, that was lying around and being crafted, my brother was impressed by the craftsmanship of the guy. He gave us an estimate of the cost and said that he would require half the money in advance to buy the materials.

My brother added a generous margin of profit and sent the estimate to the unit. It was approved right away and within a week, we delivered the blackboard to them. The company commander was very happy with the craftsmanship and we were advised that more orders could follow from other units. We were anticipating a good return from this new line. I felt very proud because this was my contribution to the venture. A week or two went by and one day, my brother was out visiting the customers. The mailman came and delivered the mail. Lately I had started this habit of opening the mail when it was delivered and my brother was not around. Although I could not read it, it gave me some kind of satisfaction. I would take out the letters and leave them on his desk for my brother to read on his return. This time however one of the letters caught my eye. Right in the middle it had a number six and next to it I could spell the letters
b l a c k. I was so exited I jumped with joy. Six black boards meant a tidy profit. I couldn’t wait for my brother and as soon as he returned I waved the letter at him and said,

‘Bhapa! Chhe boardan da order hor a gaya weh’.
[Brother! we got an order for six black boards]

My brother was equally excited to hear this and immediately started talking about arranging the money to pay the advance to the carpenter. Once the excitement was somewhat abated, he got round to his desk and asked me to give him the letter. He started reading it and his mouth fell open.

’Eh chithi weh black boardaN de order wali? he asked.
[Is this the letter with the order for blackboards?]

’HaN eh he weh, ehh wekh chhe black board’, and I pointed to where I had seen the word black.
[Yes! this is it, see here six blackboard]

’Moorkha! eh chhe dergen kale sikhe wali pencilaN da order weh’, He said indignantly.
[Idiot! this is an order for six doz black lead pencils]

I felt so bad and ashamed of my stupidity and ignorance. Also for all my misadventures he had never before called me an idiot. He saw the look on my face and realized how awful I felt. He bust out laughing and after a while I joined in and we made it into a joke. The incident was over, but I still felt bad at having made such a stupid mistake in my eagerness to become a contributing member in the business. I was quiet for the rest of the day and my brother tried to cheer me up, but my glum mood did not go away. That evening when we closed the store, my brother said he had some business to attend to and would be home later. I also wanted to see my friends and biked over to where we normally hanged around.

Couple of weeks went by and I had put the incident of the blackboards behind me and the things were back to routine. Then, I started feeling that something was in the air, that I was not privy to. First my brother would smile for no reason and on my questioning would laugh it off and say it was nothing. There was something going on with my friends too. We would be chatting away and I would catch a conspiratial look pass between them and on my demanding to know what was going on they would say that it was all in my head and there was nothing. One morning I was ready to leave for the store and my brother was taking his time. This was unusual, because normally he was very particular about opening the store on time. It was three quarters of an later, then the normal time before we left.

As we approached the store I saw it was already open and a bunch of people were walking in and out. Then I saw what it was all about. Right on top of the door was a big sign, where there was nothing before. I might be illiterate but even I could read my name in the middle. It said ‘Attar Singh Kahan Singh PustakaN wale‘ in Urdu on the bottom and I presume that same thing in English on the top. I stood there stupefied, while my friends and neighbors gathered around congratulating me, while my brother stood there with a broad smile on his face enjoying the surprise he had sprung on me. I smiled back and went and hugged him, while everybody clapped. We all then enjoyed the smosas, poori-chhole and aerated soda water bottles he had arranged for. Apparently, the day after the incident with the black boards, he had biked over to the Pathan carpenter and commissioned the signboard. That is why all my friends knew what was happening.