Chapter 11 | Adam’s Rib (with audio)

Portrait in Words | Mumtaz Hussain

The Alphabet of the Image | Mumtaz Hussain’s short stories with paintings

“Ahhh…ah…ah…ahhhhhhhh…”

A hand crept along Aasim’s body. His eyes were closed, and strange voices emerged from his throat. The hand stopped at the junction of his body, where two main roads merged into a broad highway. It was his body’s center.

Under an overcast sky, an earthquake caused tremors throughout his body. Vigorous shaking caused the volcano to erupt, followed by pin-drop silence that took over the bathroom. At once, Aasim shut off the dripping water faucet, and he made sure silence is resumed.

Then another earthquake shook him, but it didn’t come from within this time. It was Aasim’s mother banging on the door, creating waves of vibrations.

Thud.Thud.Thud.

“Aasim! Open the door. Who are you talking to for such a long time? Who’s there? Who’s inside?”

Vigorous beating on the door started up once again. 

Aasim quickly opened the bathroom window to distract attention that someone has jumped and turned on the water faucet at full force. After washing his hands and face, he put on his garments. 

“What’s the matter, Mother?” Aasim asked as he opened the door.

“Who is there inside?” Aasim’s mother exclaimed as she pushed through. 

Nobody was there.

“Why is the window open? Who ran away from here? Who were you talking to about such strange things?

“It’s only me, Mother,” said Aasim. “I’m alone—there’s nobody here.”

Aasim’s mother searched thoroughly everywhere in the small bathroom, including behind the shower curtain, but found nothing. “What kind of noises were those you were making? What exactly where you doing?”

“Nothing, Mother. It’s all your imagination.”

Aasim’s mother had no proof, so she kept quiet. “Aren’t you ashamed? When your father comes, he’ll teach you a lesson.”

Aasim’s mother’s anxiety morphed into perplexity. Worry took over her mind. To supervise Aasim’s every activity, she recruited a complete secret service team. She assigned the functions of James Bond to her younger son—a job that he accepted enthusiastically and immediately. Information about Aasim’s every activity was communicated directly to headquarters through his younger sister, Money Penny. Yet Aasim’s mother’s secret service failed to come up with solid proof of any wrongdoings. 

At night someone touched Aasim’s body again. The touch of this hand filled Aasim’s every pore with pleasure. His face bloomed like a flower. A sweet slumber of peace entombed him. The morning dew tickled his bare feet with a sweet coldness. His fatigue melted away as his temples were massaged. Each night low voices and sobbing came from his room. The entire team invaded, but Aasim always opened his window before his mother, brother, or sister opened the door. Despite the family’s efforts and the employment of a gold finger, not even a silver nail could be found.

Each failure drove Aasim’s mother into a whirlpool of anxiety. She grew more severe and recognized how complex the problem had become. After dismissing the family team, she approached the elders of the neighborhood. But there was still no clear solution. 

Madam, the maid called Aasim’s mother, loved getting her maid’s advice. The maid had gained credibility by telling the story of her husband, who was captured by a ghost-like fairy madly in love with him. After forty long days of chanting by Peer Jhanday Shah, the maid’s husband escaped his captor. 

Aasim’s mother was educated, but fear of losing her son entangled her in a web of strange thoughts. “Yes, Aasim is, indeed, a handsome youth. When he swings his cricket bat, the girls’ hearts intercept the ball before it can hit it. Yes… But I have never seen Aasim take any interest in a girl. He’s very proud, like his father. It would be a fairy ghost whom he would like.”

Aasim’s mother dealt with her fear that a fairy ghost had captured her son by ordering her maid to make arrangements for an offering to Peer Jhanday Shah—without considering the cost. Therefore, on a Thursday, the Peer burned chili spices, onions, and other such things in the courtyard. Smoke infused the house, making everyone cough and sneeze. The more the sneezing increased, the more Peer Sahib became enraged. His eyes turned red, and he shouted, “Get out of this house and spare the life of Aasim!” He recited hocus pocus abracadabra while spraying and sprinkling water onto the garments, body, bed, and every other spot Aasim could reach. 

Aasim’s mother calmed down a bit. She sent sweetmeats in abundance to the mosque and offered them during meals. She vowed to slaughter an animal whose meat would be waved over Aasim’s head as an offering and then thrown into the river. 

It was all in vain. The night voices from Aasim’s room continued. Aasim’s mother cursed Peer Jhanday Shah, but when she told the whole story to her husband, he made fun of her, remarking that in this enlightened era, she still harbored thoughts like those of ignorant people. “I think you are the demon who has haunted him,” he said. “Leave him alone. There’s nothing to all this. Let him take care of himself and live his life. He’s a grown-up. No more a child. So, think about what Adam did when alone. Think why he produced Eve from his rib.”

For a while, this progressive thinking quieted Aasim’s mother. That is until a new thought emerged, and a fear of new and different relationships gripped her. “Maybe Aasim likes boys instead of girls. Nobody knows the angles of relations in this modern age, in which homosexuality is the fashion, and clubs are being created in the city. Could Aasim have floated into this unnatural state?”

This thought vexed her. Aasim’s friend became a suspect. Little things grew into mountains of suspicion. She visited several tombs of saints and prayed with lamentation. “Save him from boys. We cannot live this way. I could accept a sinister influence of a ghost but cannot accept the curse of homosexuality.” 

When Aasim returned from school, she entered his room with her arms folded and stared at him with tears.

“Oh, my son! Please tell me if you like girls.” 

Aasim replied in a fury, “No, No, No!”

Aasim’s mother started to weep bitterly at the thought that her son might like boys.

“Alas, you have badly disgraced our family. I wish you were never born. If you committed fornication with a black toilet cleaner or an ogre, I would have endured it more than this. Oh! What have you done?” 

Aasim couldn’t understand a thing. “Mother, what are you getting at? Please explain what you want to know.”

“Aasim, do you swear you will tell me the truth?” 

“Yes, Mother, I swear that I shall speak truthfully.”

“Dear son, do you like boys?”

Aasim screamed, “Mother! Do you know what you are saying?”

“Yes. Do you like boys?” She put his hand on her head. “Do you swear in my head that you don’t like boys?”

“I swear on my mother’s head. I don’t like them. You have misunderstood. ”Then he asked her to promise to leave him alone.

Aasim’s mother again distributed sweetmeats and gave offerings, and Aasim continued to meet somebody freely, either in his bedroom or in the bathroom. And sometimes on the roof of the house. But his mother was satisfied and stopped having him followed.

After several days, Aasim saw a change in his right hand. He engaged in self-pleasure using his hand. 

A blister ballooned, growing more extensive in the middle of his palm. Aasim kept quiet and never mentioned the pain and swelling. It seemed as if his palm had become pregnant! One night the pain was so intense it made the fingers of his hand writhe. Aasim started to crush his swollen palm with the other hand, which caused the pain to pass the limits of his endurance. He pressed his palm harder. 

Then, a moon-like baby girl was born in the rift between his two middle fingers. At once, Aasim placed his hand on his rib and asked, “Are you Eve?”

 “Yes, Adam,” she replied. “I am your Eve.”

Portrait in Words | Mumtaz Hussain

The Alphabet of the Image |
Mumtaz Hussain’s short stories with paintings

• Chapter 1 | The Barking Crow
• Chapter 2 | When the Rain Shines through the Sunlight
• Chapter 3 | Her Resplendent Face
• Chapter 4 | Enigmatic Mumtaz
• Chapter 5 | Mona Lisa of Bones and Flesh
• Chapter 6 | The Death of Life
• Chapter 7 | His Master’s Voice
• Chapter 8 | Half Shut Eye Wisdom
• Chapter 9 | The Bride of God
• Chapter 10 | The Fragile Mountains and the Flowing Moonlight
• Chapter 11 | Adam’s Rib
• Chapter 12 | Godly Bastard
• Chapter 13 | Poppy cultivated in Heaven
• Chapter 14 | Virus Bomb

See:

• Historic Win for Pakistani-American at International Impact Book Awards (April 13, 2024)
• Pakistani Mumtaz Hussain Bags 2024 International Impact Book Award (April 23, 2024)

Portrait in Words is available on Amazon’s Audible, narrated by Scott LeCote (4 hrs and 36 mins). Order here.