The Fights that End with Laughter's (Short story )

Writer Fazila Nawaz

Holding a glass of water in his tremor hand Mr. Zakir was watching the results of different polling stations that were appearing on the TV screen. He was so engrossed in the political atmosphere that he even didn’t feel the water, pouring out of the glass and tumbling on his skinny right foot drop by drop. He was using his left hand to count the seats won by his favorite political party and the left to hold the glass. He was stick to the place in front of the TV screen since morning and was commenting and expressing his views as if he has been invited to a talk show and millions of the audience are hearing and cheering him. However, only the news person’s and Mr. Zakir’s voice was audible from the room. He was alone in that dark room but nowadays when we are accompanied by the technology we don’t use the word lonely to describe our lives even when there is no one to talk to. The political weather that was crammed in the room suddenly fluctuated from national to home politics when his wife Mrs. Zakir stepped inside, tired by the daily chores and determined to skirmish with her husband.     

Wife: (glimpsed towards the water dripping from the glass, pressed her lower lips angrily, frowned, headed towards the charpaye nearby, and lay down. This was the silence before the tsunami. She started the argument commenting on the glass that was in his hand) Suri balaat aana balaa masho bai kabur hanaiy oa glassey wai khirtay bujun chakay. Jak se tom tom komi thay khatm thayk tu mus chakitiay aana chakey baiy.

Mr Zakir: Thuh aa ayial thoa ki thomo anzo basho shuru thay chakay. Chup thay miri maasho Imran Khaney takarir pasharok bash hain ash. (He retorted without taking a breath as if was aware that the battle was about to start. Finally, after she commented, he looked at the glass took a sip sheepishly, and landed the glass on the ground)

 When she heard that Imran Khan was going to give a speech she smelled a rat that her old gentleman won't let the TV remote free from his hand and she will miss her favorite Indian drama serial. Though, now it became a matter of honor she thought that it was now her turn to get some relaxation after all she had done the work all alone. Promptly she asked to let the TV remote be in her custody now.

Wife: Day o remote may gopi bahu wayobash hain. Chay minute phath bilian.

Mr. Zakir: (he opened his eyes wider in fury as if she had asked him for his kidney. The anger reached its peak when he heard that even on Election Day she wants to watch Indian drama serials. He then held the TV remote even more firmly and the war of words started) Thuh ashga aya indiyaia chakam thok chaakat nas. Meeri thu shuki mui. Ana Pakistan so mui chaiyo wajaj aki phatu phat bilin. Surio balaat aa ek darak anzo bashojo ki.

Wife: (when heard from him that woman is the most foolish creature of God the feministic spirit evoked in her. She got up from the charpaye. Smugly, started giving a list of sacrifices she had made for the family. Finally, concluded showing her right hand and ordered to hand over the remote) Day o remote. O kom puray mas thay mis, aa aram lukuk thokay haq ga mai haiyn. Anaakay baiy kon tus kamal thain. Paar Imran Khan se ho thok nus tut. Tom ani shuki phathali gin bujay khabarey chakatu ga.

Again his blood became boiled when she started bullying him by for his hoary personality while represented herself as a genius, hardworking, and protecting mother. Over and over Mrs. Zakir was listing her qualities and was asking for the TV remote. Mr. Zakir on the other side was opposing her. He was criticizing her for her ugly, big nose. They were grappling for the remote. Mrs. Zakir finally decided to step forward to snatch the TV remote. Mr. Zakir on the other side took his hand behind his back to hide the remote when the power went off. Silence scattered for a while but then both burst out laughing.