Broken Doll

Shahid finished typing in the last line. He put in the usual salutations for his boss to sign over and then, with a practised hand, he inserted the letter into a Manila envelope and put it in the outbox.

As he was picking up his bag to go home, the ringing of the phone on his table stopped him short.

I wonder who that is. Shahid picked up the receiver and put it to his ear.

"Hello! Hello!" came an agitated voice from the other end.

"Tushar? Is that you?"

"Yes, Sid! Something terrible has happened!"

A hollow pit opened up inside Shahid's stomach as he braced himself to hear the bad news.

"What?" he asked after an uncertain pause.

"Nilofer ..."

"What happened to Niloo? Hey, Tush, what happened, huh?"

"I ..." began the voice, but it faltered. "I ... you will have to come right now, Sid!"

"Come? Where?" questioned Shahid. He gestured to an office assistant to shut down his computer and switch off all the appliances and began moving towards the exit. Since the receiver was a cordless one, there was no threat of the line getting cut off.

"To the hospital. She is ... she is hurt bad, Sid!"

"How? What?"

"Just come right now! Meet me at the Admissions counter at the General Hospital!"

"Okay, okay," said Shahid as he almost threw the receiver at the peon who stood by the door and walked past the elevators till he reached the flight of stairs at the very end.

He ran down the stairs, stumbling a little on one or two occasions. Finally, he was in the car park. He took out his blue Ford sedan and pushed the speed to the maximum legal limit on the long road overbridge.

His heart was thumping in his rib-cage as ominous, cataclysmic thoughts came to the surface.

Had it finally happened? Where was Aasiya? I hope Niloo is all right!

The morbid thoughts just wouldn't go away. For the past year or so, he had begun suspecting his wife Aasiya of some wrongdoing. Nilofer's spontaneity and cheerfulness had declined, as had her curiosity and her ebullience to meet her father when he reached home at night. Previously, she would jump into his arms and ask him to turn her round and round. Willy - nilly, he would always oblige as she was the apple of his eye.

Then something started going wrong. On some of the days, Niloo wouldn't be there at the door when he came home. Aasiya would say something like "She was tired and sleepy, so I sent her to bed." When he went to check, the door would frequently be locked from inside, a very unusual thing to occur in the Sami household. Even when the door was open, he would find Niloo all curled up and asleep; once, he thought he had detected dried tears around her eyes.

On yet another occasion, he thought he could hear her whimpering. He opened the door (fortunately it was not latched) to find her with her blanket over her face. I was sure she had pretended to be asleep recalled Shahid with a knife - twist in his heart.

Over the ensuing months, he had many discussions with Aasi, but she brushed aside his misgivings with a snort or a derisive chuckle. "You are overreacting!" "There's nothing the matter with her, Sid!"

Shahid's first clue to his daughter's "illness" came when he accidentally noticed a bruise on her upper arm. Accidentally, because in the normal circumstances, an eleven - year old Muslim girl is expected to cover her arms with long - sleeved dresses. When he asked her about it, Aasiya answered for her by saying she had hurt herself while playing. He had been tempted to ask Niloo again, but he had let it go as he wasn't sure he was ready to accuse Aasi of hitting his daughter.

Then, about three months ago, he reached home to find the house in a mess; Aasi sat in a corner of the kitchen and was crying into her dupatta; Niloo was sobbing in the other corner of the kitchen. There were angry finger marks on her face, welts on her forearm, and a drop of blood trickled down her nose.

"What happened?" he shouted angrily to Aasi, but she did not reply. At least, not immediately.

"Have you called the doctor?"

Aasi shook her head "No". He became angrier.

"Why not? What happened here? Eh?"

Aasiya slowly lifted her head off her knees, wiped her tears with her dupatta and replied, "I hit her, Sid ... I don't know what came over me ... I ... I am sorry!"

"You HIT her?" Shahid couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes," came the almost inaudible reply from his wife, whom he looked at with a mixture of incredulity, shock and anger.

"I ... please forgive me ... she wasn't listening to me, and I let go of myself and ..."

Shahid grabbed Aasiya by the shoulders and shook her.

"Not listening to you? Whatever do you mean?"

Aasiya broke down. She admitted to having abused their daughter repeatedly.

"It's like I am out of control. She doesn't do her studies, and I hit her. She breaks a flower vase, I hit her. She back-answers me, I hit her. She keeps erring, and I keep ... , "

" ... hitting her? Are you a monster, woman?"

"No, just sick. I promise to see a counsellor. Whatever. Please forgive me. Please!"

Shahid had let it go. She had indeed started visiting a counsellor. She did so religiously for a few months. Then she announced with a lot of fanfare that she was all right and her counsellor had allowed her to stop visiting her every week and to see her just once a month. The abuse declined for a few months. Nilofer began to be her usual self. Her smile and cheerfulness began to return.

Shahid began to believe Aasiya would continue to mend, and he even took his family and himself on a four - day trip to a nearby hill - station. Things were going fine.

Then about a month ago, Aasiya hit Niloo again. This time, she almost split Niloo's upper lip with the force of her slap. He had a big showdown with her. She argued that Niloo had done something really wrong. "I have a right to discipline her, Sid," she had reiterated.

"Yes, you do, but look at her face! It's swollen and there is a small cut on her lip, Aasi!" Shahid's anger was just under boiling point. Aasiya had probably realised this and immediately became contrite and repentant.

The rest of the month passed by peacefully.

Over the past three months, Shahid had confided in Tushar, a school friend, and also met with a family lawyer to discuss possible legal remedies in case the matter got out of hand. The lawyer assured him that he was always available if the need arose.

Shahid's thoughts returned to the present. He swerved the car into the hospital's parking lot. Tushar was waiting for him where he had promised he would.

"What? Where?" said Shahid on the fly.

"The Pediatric ICU, come!"

They went to the ICU. They could see Nilofer through the glass. She was bandaged on the head.

Shahid went wild with fear. He looked at his daughter with tears in his eyes and glanced at Tushar.

"She is bad. They removed a clot in her brain, but I am sorry ..." began Tushar.

"Sorry? What do you mean, sorry?"

"It's best you speak to the doctor, Sid."

They asked to speak to Dr. Ranjit Sirgat. The doctor was kind but frank.

"She's dying, Mr. ... er ... ?"

"Dying? What? Why?"

"I believe your wife banged her head against the wall, Sir, and she has had an intracranial haemorrhage."

"an intra - what?"

"Blood in her brain. We had to do emergency surgery. I do not hold out much hope. She is in deep coma, and we are ventilating her artificially."

Shahid collapsed on the chair. He was devastated.

"Where is my wife?"

"She is being interrogated by the police. In the next room."

Shahid got up and went out of the doctor's room, Tushar almost running behind him to catch up. Shahid opened the swinging door and stood angrily before two policemen and his wife Aasiya. She was red-eyed and crying.

When she saw him, she got up, scared and cowering.

"Who are you, Mister ..." began the senior looking cop.

Shahid barely heard the cop. He ran to Aasiya and grabbed her by her neck. His eyes were bloodshot. Finish her, cried his brain from within. She is a killer! He began squeezing her neck. The cops got up from their seats and rushed to control him. He was screaming "You slut! You murderess! Bloody bitch! I am going to kill you!" His hands continued to strangle her.

The policemen finally overpowered him. Aasiya slumped in a corner, the breath whooshed out of her. She gasped and moaned. Tushar went to give her a glass of water which she accepted between sobs.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to do this, Sid! It was an accident!"

"How many more accidents are you going to stage before actually killing her?" said Sid, as he tried to remove the grip of the policemen who were holding him by the arms. He wanted to kill Aasiya, once his beloved, but now an undesirable mother, a worthless wife and a spiteful human.

They gave him a sedative and put him to sleep in one of the beds in the waiting area. In the night, Aasiya was booked and charged for child abuse and taken to police custody. Nilofer survived the night and was taken off the ventilator after a few days. She lived on, a bruised individual with a dark spot in her heart for a violent, uncaring mother.

Shahid remembered the last moments before he brought Niloo out of the hospital. He had continuously held his daughter's hand to keep reassuring her. It would be a long road to recovery, and he sent up a prayer to Allah to give him the courage to help his daughter recover completely.