Even as the moonless night overtook the city, his motor bike buzzed through the crowded downtown, his buddy sitting behind him. Irrespective of the overwhelming traffic, he shot through the holes he found.  He tilted and swerved his macho ride as the bystanders let out gasps of awe. “Watch out!” said one. “You Macho dudes, doing wild stunts on the road; you end up in half dug drains more often than not,” shouted another. Yet another, sitting on the threshold of a roadside shop, mumbled in typical Kashmiri, “Pagal gamut! Zindagi hyund chus ne kanh khayaal.” Notwithstanding any of the warnings, the duo whizzed along, only adding to their speed by the second.  Knowing little, however, that their extravagant stunts were only leading them to an inevitable crash.
The two guys riding the motorbike were teenagers. They approached the end of the Ali Jan road, near Sekidafar. As the road took a gentle turn it flagged the start of their eventful evening. In a bid to stay with the curving road, the bloke at the wheel applied brakes. Just then the bike went skidding. They had been going faster than what the road had demanded; much faster. For the first time that evening, the earlier shouts and squeaks of the bystanders started to make sense to them. But now it was too late. The bike rammed against the foot path, the driver himself hit an electric pole while his friend hit a random rock lying on the road. He started bleeding.
Two kind hearted men, driving past the crash site, stopped their car, flung open the windows and made a run for the crash, extremely wary about what they may find. It was the bleeding-guy who they found first, lying on the road, streams of blood gushing from a smashed tooth. While they helped him to his feet, the other guy, apparently not in such bad shape, caught their attention. He did things that one would term abnormal at this stage. Showing very little care about his crash affected body or the bike; he circled around aimlessly on the road, looking for something. He must have done some damage to his brain, the two men concluded. Next it was the bleeding-guy`s turn to get abnormal. “Pineapple. Pineapple!”, he managed to mumble, still grappling with the blood oozing from the smashed tooth,. “Pineapple,” he went again. Both of them must have taken a good knock on their topside, the two kind men became certain. Before they could do anything, the teenagers got together and collectively started doing their pineapple-thing; one dropping down to his knees, groping in the dark for God knows what; the other still murmuring pineapple, desperately trying to stop the bleeding at the same time.
One of the kind men interrupted. “Are you alright?  Did you get hit on the head? Let me have a look,” he asked the driver.  “I am perfectly alright,” replied the driver, stepping back abruptly, feeling insulted at the remark.  “Both of us are. It is just that we are missing the Pineapples!”  The kind men exchanged quizzical looks. ”Pineapples? What Pineapples?” they asked. ”Your friend is bleeding like a waterfall.  You yourself could have suffered internal injuries. And all you are worried about is your fairy tale pineapples! What Pineapples are you looking for anyway?”
Tears welled up in the driver`s eyes as he began narrating his story:  We are in the midst of an important event. Even as we speak, very high profile guests are being kept on wait, only for our return. Our in laws, six of them, were supposed to come; nine turned up. The extras were kids, but then even kids occupy a space on dastarkhan.  We ran short of Pineapple Pastries! We bought them, and were on our way back… We must get back. We must not look bad. It is a matter of our sister`s life. We must get back quickly.
The kind men although not supportive of the fool hardy shopping, helped them look for the pineapples; which finally were traced, lying splattered on another side of the road. Soon the duo were up and buzzing once again.
 And so it goes in our Kashmir. In order to please our in- laws, we can even serve our precious life on a platter. “Here, take my life in lieu of the pineapples. No acid, no belches. It will even help the indigestion go away.”  It is really unfortunate that a beautiful institution like marriage, meant for the salvation of both husband and wife, has been reduced to a custom that only leads to the persecution of the girl and her family.
Some days ago, I visited a person I have known for long. I always knew him as a strong man with a radiant personality; talking with conviction and walking with head held high. That day as I was having a cup of tea at his home, the door bell rang and his son-in-law stepped in. To my utter surprise, all the manliness I associated with the man suddenly vaporized into thin air. The same man who I had known to be a lion throughout my life, turned into a pussy cat; just at the site of his son-in-law! What miseries his other in-laws would bring upon him, I can only imagine.

(Feedback at basim.amin@yahoo.com)

Lastupdate on : Sun, 2 Oct 2011 21:30:00 Mecca time
Lastupdate on : Sun, 2 Oct 2011 18:30:00 GMT
Lastupdate on : Mon, 3 Oct 2011 00:00:00 IST