Chapter 2 | When the Rain Shines through the Sunlight (with audio)

Portrait in Words | Mumtaz Hussain

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

The sound of a person sobbing forced Hina to turn and look behind the tree. In the middle of Lawrence Garden, a handsome young man sits on a stone bench under the tree’s shadow. He held a little velvet box while shedding tears of grief.

Hina could not control herself. She walked over and sat down next to Thim. “Please take this box,” he said, pushing it toward her, wiping his tears with a handkerchief. She tried to respond but was not able to move her lips. The young man insisted. “It would be a great favor to me if you kept this ring.” Hina glanced at it. The small velvet box was engraved with “Tiffany & Co.” She knew of rich and famous people who exchanged gifts from this company. Suddenly, Hina was drowning in thought. Could the prince charming of her dreams ornament my finger with this Tiffany ring? The young man opened the box and asked again, “Can you please take this diamond ring? It has no value to me.”

Hina answered, “Why should I take your ring? You should give it to whomever you wish to marry.” She looked at him, paused, and continued, “Sorry. I was trying to be humble. You look well-educated and from a good family. But I’m bashful about talking to you – a stranger. Even if I want to accept this ring, I don’t know you.” She turned to go. 

 “Stop. My name is Rafit!” He said while extending the hand that was previously clutching the handkerchief. “I belong why so many hyphens to a decent family.” Hina took his hand hesitantly. “I am Hina Yousaf,” he said. “My full name is Rafiat Sultan, and I work for Armo Company in the WAPDA House building at a minor post. I just graduated with a master’s degree, and this is my first job.”

Hina was astonished that a man in a minor post could afford a Tiffany ring and asked him about it. “Yes, it’s a long story.” Raffiat sighed deeply. “Please have a seat.” They sat together on a bench, the same court in the opposite direction facing each other. He told her that he was studying at Punjab University. One of his classmates was the daughter of a renowned politician and feudal lord, Shahnawaz Daultana. “We climbed the ladder of attraction and opened the window of our affinity. We were so tied together and couldn’t endure being apart.” As he spoke, he noticed the shrunken lines of her face expanding. The spark of a Tiffany ring shone in Hina’s eyes. He told her that he bought the ring by selling his belongings and spending his life savings, which was the only way to accomplish his dream of marrying her. He borrowed money, asked for help from his American friends, and bowed to her every wish. “Today, she demolished the castle of my dreams. The same thing might happen in a Bollywood film ending with a feudal lord’s father humiliating and removing a poor clerk during a fancy ball. I hate all those feudal lords whose veins flow with golden water rather than blood. They weigh flowers like love and honesty against the heavy weight of a diamond.”

Rafiat observed Hina’s glistening eyes. “Now you tell me. What kind of love can bring me comfort? This lifeless, glittering ring lacks the warmth to melt the ice of grief and sorrow inside me. I wouldn’t say I like this ring. Its shine stings me like a venomous female snake!” He thrust the ring toward her. “Please. You keep this one.” He gasped with tears and covered his face with his hands. “It was my late mother’s wish to see my happy family. She longed for grandchildren.” He began to sob uncontrollably. Hina felt intense sympathy. She felt so sorry for Rafiat and was angry at the rich.

Rafiat continued to cry. “Please forgive me. I don’t know why I felt so comfortable that I revealed everything. As my mother said – someone can build a canopy to provide shade of love and protect against sunbeams of hatred.” Hina moved toward Rafiat’s shadow. Her defenses were lowered. “I work in the Alflah building close to the WAPDA house. My parents live in Sheikhopura. I’m a clerk in a bank and share an apartment in Rivas Garden with a friend from Gujranwala. She is gone for a few days to visit back home. If you’re not busy, I’ve prepared and wrapped a thread around a bitter gourd before cooking. We can have it for dinner. On one condition. That you keep your ring. Rifiat opened the box and showed her the sparkling ring with one dazzling diamond in the center and three small ones surrounding it. There was space for a fourth, which was missing. She wondered if the diamond had fallen out. In the meantime, a sparkling raindrop equal to the size of the missing diamond dropped onto the marble bench with a slight thump. Hina looked at the sky and started to laugh. “Look! See the rain through the sunshine. I heard that when jackals get married, rain falls through sunbeams. “The rain then turned into a hail storm, and they ran to the road, hopped into a rickshaw, and headed towards Hina’s place. Rafiat handed the ring to Hina, who accepted it quietly. Upon arriving at the apartment, she placed the ring box in the middle of the coffee table and started cooking.

While eating dinner, Riffat slowly unwrapped the thread from the bitter gourd and unwrapped the clothes from her body. They both enjoyed the taste of the bitter gourd and amused themselves with desire. They satisfied their bellies and then moved on to fulfill regions below their bellies…

When Hina woke up after a sound sleep, neither Riffat nor the ring was to be found.

******

On Sunday, all the offices were closed. But Lahore Museum, Lahore Zoo, and the department stores were open. Dolly was visiting Pakistan from the US. Her mother always forced her to spend the holidays with her sister in Karachi. If she happened to find a suitable husband, she would love to make her hands yellow with henna despite the blue American passport she possessed. She felt like the majority of young Pakistani Americans who throw away their lives watching fare meters by driving yellow cabs. Some young Pakistanis even marry their relatives to get US citizenship. Or they get married on paper while working day and night to pay the expenses of their white or black girlfriends and boyfriends. While doing Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, Dolly was looking for a Pakistani wearing blue jeans with a Giorgio Armani label on his butt. One who leaves work by calling out, “have a nice day!” She thought she could live a comfortable life if she found a Pakistani husband wrapped in Calvin Klein designer packaging.

As soon as she was bored with Karachi, she left for Lahore. Come what may, Lahore in the monsoon will be filled with mangoes submerged in water buckets. The entire city of Lahore gathered at the dried bank of River Ravi to wish that the moon would soon shed rain and fill the river. She settled in the Pearl Continental dining hall next to the swimming pool. When she purchased in dollars, it gave her the impression that there was a 99-cent sale at a buy one, get one free rate. 

It was Sunday, and the entire city was barren. She decided to visit the Lahore Museum, and as soon as she stepped up the museum’s stairs, she heard a sobbing sound. She turned and saw a young man gazing at a small velvet box on the table next to the museum’s empty canteen chairs. Dolly approached him and spoke to him sympathetically in her American accent. She asked about his crying. Rifiat answered in English, “Please take this.” Her eyes and mouth opened as soon as she glanced at the box. “Wow! You’re giving this expensive thing away to a stranger?” She refused to accept it and scanned the young man quite like the Xray scanners at airport security. The boy was tall, had a Caesar haircut, sizeable and intelligent eyes of jade color, and a shaved beard framing an angular jaw. Thick hair peeped out above his shirt, which covered a broad chest. New, fashionable, and tight-fitting clothes covered his body. Dolly lifted her eyebrow, thought this fellow was striking and spoke English. So, she extended her hand. “My name is Dolly, and I’m here on vacation.”

Rafiat told his story with grief. “I am not rich, but my fiancé belonged to a feudal lord’s family. To fulfill her wishes, I spent all my life’s savings and took loans to buy a ring from Tiffany’s. But today, her feudal lord father humiliated me and threw me out of his house. Even my girlfriend couldn’t stop it.” Rifiat did not have to put on much more salt and pepper to make the story spicier. My love was sincerely offered. But this Tiffany’s ring wasn’t enough to convey my passion. Please take this ring – I hate it. My late mother wanted me to have a family. Still, she is now already buried, and so is her hope.” Dolly imagined him as her husband. He is educated, unlike other Pakistanis. He doesn’t abuse phrases like “over here” and “over there” when he speaks English. He has a lovely British accent and is like a rare, high-priced sculpture piece in a museum from the British Raj era. And he will endow me with this Tiffany ring. Dolly impulsively invited him to go somewhere. Perhaps a diversion will make him feel better.

They both went to the outdoor swimming pool at Pearl Hotel to scrutinize the half-naked foreigners. Dolly asked him where he lived. He told her that he didn’t know how or where he might spend this gloomy night. “Why don’t you sleep here?” She asked. “Only if you accept this ring,” he answered heavily. Dolly blushed as she opened the box to see the large diamond surrounded by three others, but a fourth was missing. Suddenly, raindrops started to fall into the swimming pool. Dolly laughed when she saw the sun wink into the pool with one eye closed. She held Rafiat’s hand. He said, “Somewhere, a jackal is getting married.” They laughed and ran to the hotel room. Dolly placed the ring into the dresser among her fragrance bottles. She pressed a button, causing the window curtains to close. Rafait started to uncover her body, taking her clothes off. In the morning, Dolly woke up to find the ring missing and Rafiat. She smiled intuitively, wondering if he was having breakfast at Tiffany’s.

As usual, everyone in Rafiat’s office was interested in hearing about his ring adventure of the week. Javid asked, “Why don’t you like Dolly? She’s an American citizen!” He replied, “No, my dear. I’ve performed this dramatic piece of love with so many girls, but no single girl has enough room in her bosom to shelter me. All these dolls are made of plastic. They fill up the air. They can’t give you more than a five-second jolt of the body. I’m searching for an apricot tree with dense shade and unripe fruit with a sour taste to amuse me. Well, I have to disappear early today. I am going to see my father in Islamabad. He misses me and is very lonely after my mother’s death.”

Rifiat’s father was waiting for him. As soon as Rifiat arrived, he bombarded him with questions. “Why don’t you call? Why don’t you answer the phone?” He went on to say, “This large mansion haunts me. Why don’t you find a job here in Islamabad? I know many people here.” Rafiat responded, “Dad, this city haunts me too. People live like machines from 9-to-5. Maybe like them, you should learn to live like a machine. Walk with them. Your computer is your best friend. Why don’t you also go crazy on Facebook, looking at all the beautiful faces? And if you’re sick of temporary friendships, there’s a solution in online dating. 

His father replied, “Marriage at my age. Why don’t you get married? Bring happiness back into your home?”

Rafiat went on to say, “Dad, I’m like you. Always with exclusive taste and never liked anyone. Only mother could win your heart.” Rafiat’s father replied, “as soon as I meet an exceptional girl, you will be the first to know.”

When Rafiat returned to Lahore, he became swamped – working days and nights. On weekends, his friends organized a party at Javid’s house. Javid brought imported liquor. Abrar Khaba promised food. As the evening started to spread its color, the party started. A woman introduced herself to the group. “My name is Subuhi,” she said as she shook everyone’s hands. Rafiat didn’t pay any attention, but later, during dinner took notice of her. She displayed honesty, elegance, style, and grace. He began to think of all the girls who would do anything for a diamond ring. They are no better than her. Subuhi was incomparable in her looks, so the other guys vied for her attention, starting with the owner of the house, who was the first to sleep with her. Rafiat became lost in his thoughts and didn’t fight for his turn to sleep with her. He was the last. Eventually, Subuhi stepped away after performing sex with everyone. “I’m exhausted,” she told Rafiat. He readily understood. By that time, everyone was tired and drunk. Some went home to their wives, and others slept there, unconscious. 

Rafiat sat alone and thought of her. There are no differences between us, he thought. She’s even better in some ways. She’s honest. Don’t betray. While I lie to others, making a fool of them. He evaluated himself. If my boss’s ugly wife, fat as a buffalo, promised to give me a promotion or threatened to fire me, I would be willing to sleep with her. It is difficult to sell your body against your desire, bearing the burden of a fat body. And she was smiling while allowing an unfamiliar person to enter her body. He shivered in fear and then stood up in a panic.

Subuhi stepped out onto the balcony from the bedroom. She was smoking with a bed sheet wrapped around her body. As she stood on the patio, cigarette smoke pumped air into her body like air into a bicycle tire. She was building up the energy to get squeezed again. In the moonlight, her bosoms connected the bones of her shoulders. To Rifiat, she was like a lioness who defeated several animals and was ready again for a duel. And like a lioness, she let her husband sleep while she hunted food for her children. Subuhi was brave, beautiful, intelligent, and educated. Rafiat thought that if she were his life partner, she would be ready for anything. She would never say that she is weak or helpless. He decided that this was the woman who would fill his life.

He called her into the bedroom. She was ready for her job and dropped the sheet from her body. She was like a statue of a goddess glittering in the moonlight. Rafiat never saw such a body. He picked up the dropped sheet and wrapped her back up. With one corner, he covered her head. And then he asked her to marry him. Subuhi fell laughing and said, “Don’t worry, Mister. I will give you pleasure more than once. I’m familiar with the chocolate-covered promises men give women before taking them to bed.” Rafiat replied, “I’m telling you the truth.” Subuhi cackled, “Why don’t you visit me and see where I live? And then the intoxication of your kindness will evaporate just like your imported liquor.” Rafiat told her, “I’m telling you the truth. Love is not a free sample at the fragrance counter in a department store.” She stood up and asked, “Do you want to sleep with me, or should I leave?” Rafiat shook his head and said, “Without love, making love is like rowing a boat in an ocean of sand. My whole life, I’ve been rowing a boat going nowhere.”

Rafiat believed that she was the only person to have touched his soul. Love blended with pleasure to make a home in the bottom of his heart. “Please let me take you home,” he asked. Subuhi’s body was tired like a caught animal. She wanted to go home. He got her home address and put her in a rickshaw. After she left, he couldn’t sleep as if poisoned by love. 

He didn’t care if his friends reacted sarcastically. They’ll rebuke him. You are marrying a girl who slept with his friends one after another for sleeping with the girl he’s marrying with a girl so often that she was like a blooming flower in a taunting flame. He talked to Javid, who laughed at him. “You must be joking! I heard that Anarkali’s dancing grace conquered Prince Saleem. But never heard of this. A woman who has slept with all your friends, one by one, and then you fall in love with that grace.” Rafiat told him that love is the fire when you don’t have to ask for a match stick. This is a fire that is lit on its own. After two weeks of deep thinking, he decided to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her, “You are the only girl I can love and want to marry.”

He picked up the Tiffany ring and went to her house. He told her about the ring’s history and left it on her living room table. While speaking the truth, he wept and pushed the ring toward her. “Please accept this. “ He then told her about his father, who had a spacious house and wanted his son to live with him. He left the ring with a promise to return after one week. Subuhi opened the box and viewed the ring with a large diamond in the center and three diamonds surrounding it, with one missing. She smiled and thought, “Your name is not Subuhi, the call girl. You are Dr. Subuhi, the psychologist. Rafiat wants to marry me, but he is mentally sick. His diagnosis was not made by a lab test or a physical exam because his symptom is guilt. When his guilt fever goes down, the fairy of his dreams will again be a hooker. Yes, I’d like to get married and settled. I’d love to get away from that Kotha brothel, but I want to be the Mrs. of a bungalow. Not with a strong, muscular young man, but rather a strong shoulder of support. Instead of someone taking pleasure in my fresh-tight body, I need someone to love the loose pores and wrinkles.”

After two weeks, Rafiat took a short leave from his office and left for Islamabad. He informed his father in advance that he had news. He tried to get home quickly and took a luxury coach followed by a cab. When he paid for the cab, big raindrops began to fall. He smiled as he looked up into the sky filled with sunshine and rain. Happily, he reached for the shower and closed his fist around a raindrop.

As soon as he reached the drawing room and passed through the veranda, he found a small velvet box. He ran to pick it up and felt a thump upon opening it. His father’s voice forced him to turn. Son, I was waiting for you to tell you something. A few days back, when I was feeling blue, I went to Shakarparian Park. When I entered, I heard sobbing and found a girl weeping while sitting on a park bench. She held this box and wanted me to take it. Rafiat inspected it. It was the same Tiffany ring that he had given to Subuhi. He looked up to find Subuhi standing there. His father exclaimed, “I married her!” He then introduced them. Rafiat then looked at the empty fourth hole of the ring. It was filled with a diamond. Then he opened his fist. There was no rain drop.

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:

Pakistani Mumtaz Hussain Bags 2024 International Impact Book Award (April 23, 2024)

Historic Win for Pakistani-American at International Impact Book Awards (April 13, 2024)