The Cloning of Father Ramzan

Nice, nice. An entertaining read indeed.

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i`ve been dragging my sick self all over chowk. such irony...i complain all through winter and come spring time i`m stuck at home.

anyway started to read your article and popped some neurotransmitters into oblivion. you should put a warning at the top

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those with weak physical and mental contitutions should move on to other, less ...er stimulating articles.

now look what you did to isphahani!

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Dear Storyteller:

Thank you for your note and a thousand apologies if I burst someone`s neurotransmitters and sent him into orbit into the nether regions of the mind.

I am glad even Mr Isphahani came along for the camel ride to Dung Hill and back.

Rashid Mughal

PS: I did not invent the story of Father Ramzan, as you can see from Mr Isphahani`s remarks. Everything is exactly as I have described it. What a coincidence!

Dear Storyteller:

Thank you for your note and a thousand apologies if I burst someone`s neurotransmitters and sent him into orbit into the nether regions of the mind.

I am glad even Mr Isphahani came along for the camel ride to Dung Hill and back.

Rashid Mughal

PS: I did not invent the story of Father Ramzan, as you can see from Mr Isphahani`s remarks. Everything is exactly as I have described it. What a coincidence!

........funny !.............. did they clone four wives for father ramzan ?

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Dear hamidm2:

It is purely coincidental that Amma Hawa and her saukans got left out of the equation during the creation of Father Ramzan. Women somehow suffer that fate, and it is not easy to establish whether that`s due to cultural chauvinism or what. But thanks for the tip. The story can now go a little further, given the traditional four wives and thirteen kids each. That`s a full deck right there. With all the pitter-patter of tiny feet, there`s likely to be a hell of a family life, I tell you.

Best,
Rashid Mughal

Rashid:

This was quite a nice satirical take and worth a few cackles. I only hope one was not supposed to deconstruct anything. I look forward to the addition to the family...and wonder what kind of stockings will be filled... Would the voluminous salwaar hang from a precarious `naada`? Come on, you owe it to the kids:)

Regards,
Farzana

Dear Farzana:

Thank you.

It`s not that we are greedy; we just like a lot. Since you can`t stuff much into a stocking, it may not be a bad idea to use a salwar instead. That`s what our women use to pack it in anyway.

Best,
Rashid Mughal

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Dear Farzana:

It is a big house, no doubt, and the cacophony in Father Ramzan`s house is unmistakable, like the humming of a thousand throats in an Oriental fish market.

Early morning as the birds begin to chirp, the younger children make all kinds of noises.

Their mothers shout after them to shut up and let them get some sleep, then call the maids.

``Haraam whore, where are you?`` says Aminabai One first thing in the morning. ``I want you to get here quickly and change Munna`s diaper?``

Each wife (Aminabai One, 13 kids; Two, 11 kids; Three, 9 kids; & Four, 7 kids) has her own village brand of housegirl in traditional nanny attire that makes synthetic phur-phur sounds and jingle-jangles as she ambles across the cobbled courtyard before entering the dimlit rooms and large common area called a `sen`.

This is a kinder-gym with its own shrill noises from Ali Haha and his 39 younger brothers and sisters, little children, babies and infants.

``Nee gashtiye, come and take this little devil so I can sleep some,`` Aminabai Two says in a shrill voice.

``Koyi is nu chup karao,`` says Aminabai Three as she tosses on her side in the great big bed with four of her nine kids.

``Hai marjani kithe weh tu!`` says Aminabai Four. She`s the youngest, and she emulates the others.

Father Ramzan, meanwhile, makes grunting sounds as his stomach barrel rises and falls in his sleep. He will dream about the ghosts of creation and fart a big one before clamouring for his morning tea -- or he may run to the Chaathouse to meet with Mr Isphahani to discuss the merits of post #12.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Rashid Mughal

Father Ramzan, meanwhile, makes grunting sounds as his stomach barrel rises and falls in his sleep. He will dream about the ghosts of creation and fart a big one before clamouring for his morning tea -- or he may run to the Chaathouse to meet with Mr Isphahani to discuss the merits of post #12.

On his way to the Chaathouse he ran into temporal emerging from the Leafy Glade Inn.

``Hello tempu, you look flustered.``

`` Flustered Father? Heck no! Am frustrated big time.``

``Hu! Hu! Hu! Batao bachcha kya hu`a.``

``I spent a very frustrating afternoon at Chapters looking for Dummy`s Guide for Ispahan ... found nothing there...then headed for Queen St. W...no not the Institute…the used books stores… did not find even a used guide ... all they had was books on Tehran, Qom, even Abadan!``

``Hu! Hu! Hu! Worry mut kar bachcha, is ka koi hul nikalaiNgay.``

To be Continued. Not!

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Dear Mr Isphahani:

The light you`ve been referring to has begun to dawn.

I can say I can see in the dark now without being afraid that a black cat will jump out of nowhere and go miaow in my face.

Or that the rusty door leading out of the realm of ignorance will creak strangely when I make the dash to freedom in the middle of the nightmare.

Just make sure you don`t leave us in the lurch.

Finally, keep smiling. It makes everyone wonder what you`ve been up to.

Rashid Mughal

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I see clearly now, Mr Isphahani.
Thank you.

Rashid Mughal