Reflections

Dost

A Pakistani woman arrives in India for the first time and speaks to an Indian audience.

by | KYLA PASHA

Amos Langdown

There’s this friend of mine, this old friend.

Not a childhood friend, really. Though, it’s odd – I couldn’t tell you how long we’ve known each other. Sometimes it seems like we’ve just met. Sometimes… I don’t know what it seems like sometimes.

She has this round face, you know? Like God made her by shaping her clay in a bowl or something. And her hair is so curly, it’s like someone wound it extra tight around their finger, just to make her cry. She looks just like a ball of dough, actually. But not as white; she’s kind of dark actually. But not really black either, God forbid! Who looks at black people? I don’t know about you folks, but on our side, no one cares for dark skin.

Though everyone looks at her. She’s very pretty, mashallah.

I think we met in nursery school. Or maybe at the cricket ground…? I used to play with the boys back then. And those damn boys used to let me play with them too. And do you know? I hit such amazing sixers! You’d be dumbfounded. Sachin is nothing compared to me! But no one ever really thinks to ask about my sixers. This one time, a boy walked up and wrapped himself around me. He was kind of big, in tenth class. I was little, in fifth or sixth. I was in the garden outside, don’t know what I was doing – must have been skipping rope. It’s sort of a habit, skipping rope.

I was in the garden, behind the hedge. He’s my cousin on my father’s side. Now he’s in the army, did you know that? All the boys in our family have done really well for themselves. I have four other brothers, in the army, just like him. Really gave it to those Indians the last time! [big laugh] Sent them home crying, the bastards!

[Suddenly quiet] I’m so sorry! It’s just… it’s habit! Sometimes, we just talk like this over there. But they must be someone’s brothers too, I guess. Uff, I don’t know why I said that army thing. I’m here for something else.

I was telling you that I skip rope. I’m very good. I’ve never tripped. And oh yes, I remember now. I was skipping rope when I saw him. I said, salaam, but I didn’t stop. He says to me, “Listen.” And I said, “ji?” He said, “Put me in it too.” And I laughed and said, “Boys don’t skip rope.” And can you imagine, he got all upset! Snatched the rope and threw it to one side, and then came and stuck himself on me! I kicked him a few times. Then I saw this big bamboo stick standing nearby. Smacked him with it a few times, ha! And he didn’t ask me about my sixers either – but he figured it out!

My friend was telling me that she has a charming relative like that on her side too. Older than this even! And she didn’t have a bamboo stick with her. What can we do.

But you see, me and my friend, I think we met in the cricket ground. We both loved cricket. I am completely in love with Wasim Akram. That bowling motion…! And that smile…! Hy…

She doesn’t like him. Says his nose is too big, looks like a parrot. She prefers Agarkar. Says he has a sweet face. Can you imagine? And then she objects to Wasim’s nose! If our Ajit went to Calcutta, his nose would arrive three days before him!
If you ask me, it’s an India-Pakistan thing for her. Because who doesn’t love Wasim? Seriously, tell me. Is he a good bowler or not? Well then!

No? He’s not? What planet are you…? Anyway, never mind. Whatever you like. I didn’t come here for cricket, did I? I came to tell you that at the cricket ground, the two of us, we used to skip rope together. Even two ropes sometimes. We were such experts and that if there were a rope-skipping event at the Olympics, we’d win the gold, hands down. They wouldn’t even get anyone else to compete!

But even in the Olympics, you have to go from your own country, don’t you? So what would we have done…?

It’s an old habit with us, skipping rope. The thing is, we’re not either of us very fond of just sitting around. I don’t know about her, but my family used to yell at me all the time: “Why don’t you stay in one place! Are you a boy? Running around all the time!” I ask you, do boys skip rope? Ever? Their feet are always on the ground. And they stand there with their fists on their hips like they’re some sort of double-handled lota, they’re so proud of it!

So I would get beaten up. Four brothers of my own and then uncles’ and aunts’ sons besides. I used to really get it. “Act like a girl! Respect your brothers!”

I don’t know what went on with my friend. She has a father, his brother, aunt’s husband, a grandfather and one mother. And they all seem really nice from far away. God knows what’s on the inside with everybody. My brothers are also really polite and nice with outsiders. But her elders are really affectionate with her. They hug her even. Mine do too, but less. I mean, I have young men for brothers, they’ve got their honour, their image, they can’t go around hugging me all the time! But with her, sometimes, when she was little, they used to keep her in their lap for hours. Sometimes one, sometimes another. They love her a lot. But she never smiles when she sees them.

But what am I talking about? I don’t know her from childhood! We met in college. We used to scale walls in college. The market across the road had this wonderful homemade ice cream. And the man who made it made only a little, so it was gone really fast. In the middle of the school day, we’d scale the wall and go get so much ice cream that we’d almost explode. Only then would we come back. Other girls thought we went out to see boys! What would we want boys for!

Listen, saying a thing straight up is a little hard. I mean, it’s scary. You’re not my own, you know? I mean, you’re like my own, and eat more or less the same things. Actually, if you don’t mind, can I say something? Delhi’s kebabs are really just so-so. If you want kebabs, come to Lahore! They’re so good, so good, you’d think you were in heaven!

My friend really likes kebabs. She really wants to taste Lahori kebabs just once. But when will she ever come to Pakistan? Even for me, this is the first time here.

But what do I keep going on about! All my life I’ve been skipping rope, and I’ve made such a friend that I don’t even realise: this is the first time I’ve skipped such a long rope, you see! Border sized. It’s the first time I’ve come. When she called me and they gave me a visa.

But then… where did we meet, before this? [yells off-stage] Hey! Do you remember? Did we just meet today?
No, no, I just remembered… The Sri Lankans invited all the Southasian rope-skipping women for a contest. I mean, after all, what ropes don’t they skip in Sri Lanka these days? Decimated the place. I mean, you have to scale the walls at some point. But it’s strange that I didn’t remember this before. But the world is an awfully strange place anyway.

So they invited us there. Obviously, I won.

[Off-stage voice] It wasn’t you, bitch, it was me!

[Yelling off-stage] Shut up, you liar! It was me! Anyway, we talked a lot over there. They gave us the same room there, so we made friends quicker.

But tell me honestly. People say that couples are made in heaven. But I say, there are very few couples on earth that look like God was around when they were made. I think that friendships are made by God. Because even if she were in Timbuktu, we’d have met, and been friends.

She’s the one who called me here. She was saying, Come, meet everyone. They’re nice people. Like me. And what could I say? If I’ve made friends with one, then… But listen, I gave Agarkar a long nose, then I said that army thing. God knows what you’re thinking of me. Before you start throwing tomatoes, I should just say what I came to say:

This is the first time I’ve stepped over such a long rope. I’ve done it now out of love. And, I just came to say salaam.

Dost is a one-woman play written for and performed by actress Pooni Arasu. It has been acclaimed by audiences throughout India.