PARTING
GIFT by ZEENAT IQBAL HAKIMJEE JR103MH08
Mark was born in London during the post war period, in the east end
of London, which has been largely rebuilt since World War II when it suffered
much damage from bombing. London at that time was crippled because of the
depression which was an after math of the war. The birth of Mark brought relief
to his parents – relief from a devastated world. You had to struggle to
survive, as London was economically shattered also. It was hard to make ends
meet. Even in those days Mark’s house was full of guests. Their family was
known for its hospitality. One instance Mark remembered of his childhood was of
his Mom’s spending the last of her saving’s to feed a less fortunate family.
‘Give and you receive’, she used to say. This image of his mother remained with
Mark in his adult years.
She
worked in a garments factory, which was a part of the textile industry that was
established by France, an ally from the war. She brought home samples of
dresses that fitted Mark’s sister, Elizabeth. ‘She’s such a Doll’, remarked a
friend of Mom’s and she’d go pink in the cheek.
His
father accepted building contracts, which were part of a rebuild London
project. This is how they slowly became rich. He, as a building contractor,
before putting up a building, used to first look at the site, choose the people
who were going to work for him and plan a schedule of work so that he knew
which people should be on the site at the right time. The bricklayers and the
plasterer’s would often get in each other’s way. I’ll finish with the bricks in
another couple of hours. ‘Oh! So you will, the last time you said a couple, you
took eight’. He went off, leaving the bricklayer to finish, who was envious of
his long break. He complained, ‘Boss, we both should get equal pay for the
hours of work we put in. Mark’s father would tackle the situation, and he
planned shifts, so that nobody would have any objection.
Then
there was the time when Elizabeth contracted an infection after swimming in the
pool. They gave her a Penicillin shot (which she was allergic to), but it was
too late before they found out that she was allergic. She developed a rash, as
if the infection were not enough. But they were a close knit family and that
saw them out of such situations. Mark held her hand and teased, ‘your face
looks like its full of Polka Dots’. ‘You’d know what it feels like if you had
them’. Elizabeth, on the verge of tears, told him. Susan was born – in a
communist setting. Later, she would question Mark about the gap between the
haves and the have-nots. ‘Because, they deserve to be so’. He’d reply. Many
other questions came to her mind, especially about religion, but her
differences were not confirmed. Originally she remained a Christian. A product
of the west, although she cherished faint memories of the large farms set up as
collective units which were usually worked by 100 to 500 families, who reaped
what they sowed. She was impressed and affected by the equal opportunity. And
this would reflect, in her life, later on as would the prosperity of Hampstead
heath, which is a large tract of countryside of London. (The latter as told by
Mark to her). Her childhood memories would reflect in her adult life.
Once
during a shortage of wheat (in London – where they were to stay after
marriage), she observed that those collective farmers never went hungry whereas
England imported wheat every year – and it was expensive. Mark would tease her,
‘the average income of a Londoner affords him the necessities as well as the
luxuries’. ‘Capitalist thinking, that’, she retorted. With her there would
remain a distinction between a necessity and luxury. ‘If it’s not necessary,
why do it’, was an opinion of hers on many matters.
During
his school days Mark enjoyed playing Cricket, and kept himself up to date with
the score board of County Cricket. ‘The night watchman just might level the
score’. ‘Not if the weather does not permit’. His friends enjoyed the game too.
In 1882 Australia beat England at the Oval in London and after the match the
‘Sporting Times’ invented the term ‘The Ashes’. The paper told its readers of
the ‘Death of English Cricket.’ The Ashes (from a stump burnt during the
England tour of Australia in 1883) are kept in an urn at the Museum at Lord’s.
Mark took pride in showing his guests this urn.
A
fortune teller once told Mark that after his marriage he would be blissfully
happy, but then he somehow did not want to reveal something to Mark – something
terribly sad. He further added that Mark would have to part from someone he deeply
loved. He said that an evil spirit would be the cause of his parting from
someone he deeply loved. He further asked Mark to practice religion. Mark was
not religious.
Who could tell
that after so many years, life would be different.
They were madly in
love. Happiness glowed on their cheeks when they faced the colourful world.
Mark and Susan were the children of prosperous parents. Life had been kind to
them but God’s blessings were only bestowed on a few as would be proved later
on. Kind as in material posse
Mark was born in London during the post war period, in the east end
of London, which has been largely rebuilt since World War II when it suffered
much damage from bombing. London at that time was crippled because of the
depression which was an after math of the war. The birth of Mark brought relief
to his parents – relief from a devastated world. You had to struggle to
survive, as London was economically shattered also. It was hard to make ends
meet. Even in those days Mark’s house was full of guests. Their family was
known for its hospitality. One instance Mark remembered of his childhood was of
his Mom’s spending the last of her saving’s to feed a less fortunate family.
‘Give and you receive’, she used to say. This image of his mother remained with
Mark in his adult years.
She
worked in a garments factory, which was a part of the textile industry that was
established by France, an ally from the war. She brought home samples of
dresses that fitted Mark’s sister, Elizabeth. ‘She’s such a Doll’, remarked a
friend of Mom’s and she’d go pink in the cheek.
His
father accepted building contracts, which were part of a rebuild London
project. This is how they slowly became rich. He, as a building contractor,
before putting up a building, used to first look at the site, choose the people
who were going to work for him and plan a schedule of work so that he knew
which people should be on the site at the right time. The bricklayers and the
plasterer’s would often get in each other’s way. I’ll finish with the bricks in
another couple of hours. ‘Oh! So you will, the last time you said a couple, you
took eight’. He went off, leaving the bricklayer to finish, who was envious of
his long break. He complained, ‘Boss, we both should get equal pay for the
hours of work we put in. Mark’s father would tackle the situation, and he
planned shifts, so that no body would have any objection.
Then
there was the time when Elizabeth contracted an infection after swimming in the
pool. They gave her a Penicillin shot (which she was allergic to), but it was
too late before they found out that she was allergic. She developed a rash, as
if the infection were not enough. But they were a close knit family and that
saw them out of such situations. Mark held her hand and teased, ‘your face
looks like its full of Polka Dots’. ‘You’d know what it feels like if you had
them’. Elizabeth, on the verge of tears, told him.
About
the same time, in Stalin’s Russia, Susan was born – in a communist setting.
Later, she would question Mark about the gap between the haves and the
have-nots. ‘Because they deserve to be so’. He’d reply. Many other questions
came to her mind, especially about religion, but her differences were not
confirmed. Originally she remained a Christian. A product of the west, although
she cherished faint memories of the large farms set up as collective units
which were usually worked by 100 to 500 families, who reaped what they sowed.
She was impressed and affected by the equal opportunity. And this would
reflect, in her life, later on as would the prosperity of Hampstead heath,
which is a large tract of countryside of London. (The latter as told by Mark to
her). Her childhood memories would reflect in her adult life.
Once
during a shortage of wheat (in London – where they were to stay after
marriage), she observed that those collective farmers never went hungry whereas
England imported wheat every year – and it was expensive. Mark would tease her,
‘the average income of a Londoner affords him the necessities as well as the
luxuries’. ‘Capitalist thinking, that’, she retorted. With her there would
remain a distinction between a necessity and luxury. ‘If it’s not necessary,
why do it’, was an opinion of hers on many matters.
During
his school days Mark enjoyed playing Cricket, and kept himself up to date with
the score board of County Cricket. ‘The night watchman just might level the
score’. ‘Not if the weather does not permit’. His friends enjoyed the game too.
In 1882 Australia beat England at the Oval in London and after the match the
‘Sporting Times’ invented the term ‘The Ashes’. The paper told its readers of
the ‘Death of English Cricket.’ The Ashes (from a stump burnt during the
England tour of Australia in 1883) are kept in an urn at the Museum at Lord’s.
Mark took pride in showing his guests this urn.
A
fortune teller once told Mark that after his marriage he would be blissfully
happy, but then he somehow did not want to reveal something to Mark – something
terribly sad. He further added that Mark would have to part from someone he
deeply loved. He said that an evil spirit would be the cause of his parting
from someone he deeply loved. He further asked Mark to practice religion. Mark
was not religious.
Who could tell
that after so many years, life would be different.
They
were madly in love. Happiness glowed on their cheeks when they faced the
colourful world. Mark and Susan were the children of prosperous parents. Life
had been kind to them but God’s blessings were only bestowed on a few as would
be proved later on. Kind as in material possessions. Mark’s house was full of
guests. It was there that in fact he met Susan. The first meeting was followed
by a series of them. They decided to seal their relationship and with the
consent of their parents they got engaged. Mark was a handsome boy. Girls did
vie with each other for his attention. One such girl was his parents’ choice
for his partner. Obviously she was his mother’s friend’s daughter. Very
compatible, because she was in and out of their house very often and was almost
a family member. Mark liked her – but the liking was never to turn into love.
Mark
was a businessman; and his commitments kept him busy for the day. ‘The stocks
of the company are experiencing a low’. He told a colleague. ‘The clients are
not satisfied and are not ready to invest’. ‘We’ll have to work the nights’.
But he spared some time every day for his beloved. Sometimes with flowers,
sometimes over a meal, sometimes just to remind her that he loved the colour of
her eyes, he always had time for such sentiments.
After
a brief engagement they married. They went off on their honeymoon to
Switzerland. Switzerland was an ideal place. A place without an army. A
peaceful setting, detached from the morbid states engaged in war. Amongst so
many people, from all around the world, the two of them saw only each other.
Walking in the shadows of the Alps, hand in hand, they made a commitment never
to let this end. ‘Wear your skis. I’ll race you’. ‘I’m too scared’. ‘Take the
plunge’. ‘oo---oop---oops’. She was out of sight. Discovered in a pile of snow.
‘I thought I told you to watch it at the curve’. Seeing her red nose poke
through the snow he stifled a giggle. Having made a special trip to separate
them, guess who else was there. The same girl. She had not accepted defeat. She
tried to blackmail him, by using his mother. Her befitting attitude towards his
mother was a result of her long association with him. She was a good cook,
unlike his mother and as they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his
stomach. She once cooked a meal that was so tasty that they licked their
fingers clean. Susan’s ego was offended.
But
there was always Mark’s shoulder to lean on. He assured and reassured her.
There was no need to worry. The ‘uninvited guest’ would never change his love
for her. Other couples saw them as ideals for a perfect married life. His
mother would tell him that marriage was not a bed of roses and not to be
disappointed if anything went against his wishes. She went on, saying that
Mark’s father had been short tempered at the start of their marriage and many
times she kept quiet when he had an anger fit. Mark’s retort, ‘I know mom, I
think I can handle it. You make it sound so difficult, when it is actually
not’. ‘The situation would get out of control, otherwise’. She advised him, as
any mother would her son.
Susan
conceived a child in their first year of marriage. Their first child was not
going to be planned. The gynaecologist examined her every month. A girl was a
great help for the mother and they desired a girl as their first born. Frills,
bows all in pink with linen to match, Susan visualised her daughter’s frocks
and her room. Susan’s mother had good taste, which showed in Susan’s attire.
She was nominated for the best dressed person at a party once.
It
was the eight month of pregnancy. An ultra sound showed that it was a girl. Yet
their elders were reluctant to make any baby clothes or other things for the
baby before hand. They felt that others would be envious, and that was not a
good sign.
‘I
can’t wait to see her’. As he felt the baby turn in Susan’s belly. ‘Then you’ll
say you’re pressed for time, because she is a handful’. ‘That will never
happen’. ‘We’ll see’. She got the last word.
The
name, what should the name be. Natasha was selected. Natasha was a Russian
name. Susan’s parents had spent some years in Russia. Her father had held a
good post in the Pakistan Embassy there. Her mother liked the name and had
wanted to name her grandchild Natasha.
The
delivery time was near. She experienced contractions. The doctor and nurses
were by her side. But God’s blessing escaped them. Susan’s life was in danger.
On their knees they prayed – the parents. ‘Oh! God, save her – if they are our
sins you hold against us, do not make her pay, please God, please’. Some
complications developed. Could it be that the evil spirit had entered Susan’s
body? The evil spirit that the fortune teller had warned Mark against. Could it
be that the profound effort of giving birth and the effort of fighting the evil
spirit broke down a weary and tired Susan and finally killed her? Mark awoke to
religion as he had been advised by the fortune teller – better late than never.
The doctor tried his utmost best to save both mother and child. It was touch
and go. They all huddled together outside the operation theatre, looking at
each other for strength. The doctor arrived, his face sullen. The message he
was about to convey to them was obvious.
Susan
breathed her last on a shocked Mark’s lap. The parting gift, Natasha, lay in
the nurse’s hands. Caught between sorrow and happiness, he had to decide, to
get over his sorrow for Natasha, Susan’s and his Natasha.
Even
to this day holding Natasha’s finger he visits the grave, talks to her and gets
her response. It seems like she tells him, do not give up, for Natasha. And
little Natasha clasps her hands in prayer, taught to her by her father. In a
whisper, she recites ----- in the name of the father, the son and the Holy
Ghost. Amen. He walks away with the child, a smile on his face, ready to take
on the world. And still in the race is the girl, who however much she tries
will not change matters or should she try through Natasha. She would not give
up. Mark was worth it. They do not make them quite like him nowadays.
. Mark’s house was full of guests. It was
there that in fact he met Susan. The first meeting was followed by a series of
them. They decided to seal their relationship and with the consent of their
parents they got engaged. Mark was a handsome boy. Girls did vie with each
other for his attention. One such girl was his parents’ choice for his partner.
Obviously she was his mother’s friend’s daughter. Very compatible, because she
was in and out of their house very often and was almost a family member. Mark
liked her – but the liking was never to turn into love.
Mark
was a businessman; and his commitments kept him busy for the day. ‘The stocks
of the company are experiencing a low’. He told a colleague. ‘The clients are
not satisfied and are not ready to invest’. ‘We’ll have to work the nights’.
But he spared some time every day for his beloved. Sometimes with flowers,
sometimes over a meal, sometimes just to remind her that he loved the colour of
her eyes, he always had time for such sentiments.
After
a brief engagement they married. They went off on their honeymoon to
Switzerland. Switzerland was an ideal place. A place without an army. A
peaceful setting, detached from the morbid states engaged in war. Amongst so
many people, from all around the world, the two of them saw only each other.
Walking in the shadows of the Alps, hand in hand, they made a commitment never
to let this end. ‘Wear your skis. I’ll race you’. ‘I’m too scared’. ‘Take the
plunge’. ‘oo---oop---oops’. She was out of sight. Discovered in a pile of snow.
‘I thought I told you to watch it at the curve’. Seeing her red nose poke
through the snow he stifled a giggle. Having made a special trip to separate
them, guess who else was there. The same girl. She had not accepted defeat. She
tried to blackmail him, by using his mother. Her befitting attitude towards his
mother was a result of her long association with him. She was a good cook,
unlike his mother and as they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his
stomach. She once cooked a meal that was so tasty that they licked their
fingers clean. Susan’s ego was offended.
But
there was always Mark’s shoulder to lean on. He assured and reassured her.
There was no need to worry. The ‘uninvited guest’ would never change his love
for her. Other couples saw them as ideals for a perfect married life. His
mother would tell him that marriage was not a bed of roses and not to be
disappointed if anything went against his wishes. She went on, saying that
Mark’s father had been short tempered at the start of their marriage and many
times she kept quiet when he had an anger fit. Mark’s retort, ‘I know mom, I
think I can handle it. You make it sound so difficult, when it is actually
not’. ‘The situation would get out of control, otherwise’. She advised him, as
any mother would her son.
Susan
conceived a child in their first year of marriage. Their first child was not
going to be planned. The gynaecologist examined her every month. A girl was a
great help for the mother and they desired a girl as their first born. Frills,
bows all in pink with linen to match, Susan visualised her daughter’s frocks
and her room. Susan’s mother had good taste, which showed in Susan’s attire.
She was nominated for the best dressed person at a party once.
It
was the eight month of pregnancy. An ultra sound showed that it was a girl. Yet
their elders were reluctant to make any baby clothes or other things for the
baby before hand. They felt that others would be envious, and that was not a
good sign.
‘I
can’t wait to see her’. As he felt the baby turn in Susan’s belly. ‘Then you’ll
say you’re pressed for time, because she is a handful’. ‘That will never
happen’. ‘We’ll see’. She got the last word.
The
name, what should the name be. Natasha was selected. Natasha was a Russian
name. Susan’s parents had spent some years in Russia. Her father had held a
good post in the Pakistan Embassy there. Her mother liked the name and had
wanted to name her grandchild Natasha.
The
delivery time was near. She experienced contractions. The doctor and nurses
were by her side. But God’s blessing escaped them. Susan’s life was in danger.
On their knees they prayed – the parents. ‘Oh! God, save her – if they are our
sins you hold against us, do not make her pay, please God, please’. Some
complications developed. Could it be that the evil spirit had entered Susan’s
body? The evil spirit that the fortune teller had warned Mark against. Could it
be that the profound effort of giving birth and the effort of fighting the evil
spirit broke down a weary and tired Susan and finally killed her? Mark awoke to
religion as he had been advised by the fortune teller – better late than never.
The doctor tried his utmost best to save both mother and child. It was touch
and go. They all huddled together outside the operation theatre, looking at
each other for strength. The doctor arrived, his face sullen. The message he
was about to convey to them was obvious.
Susan
breathed her last on a shocked Mark’s lap. The parting gift, Natasha, lay in
the nurse’s hands. Caught between sorrow and happiness, he had to decide, to
get over his sorrow for Natasha, Susan’s and his Natasha.
Even
to this day holding Natasha’s finger he visits the grave, talks to her and gets
her response. It seems like she tells him, do not give up, for Natasha. And
little Natasha clasps her hands in prayer, taught to her by her father. In a
whisper, she recites ----- in the name of the father, the son and the Holy
Ghost. Amen. He walks away with the child, a smile on his face, ready to take
on the world. And still in the race is the girl, who however much she tries
will not change matters or should she try through Natasha. She would not give
up. Mark was worth it. They do not make them quite like him nowadays.
