I can’t speak to anybody about this fear and anxiety of mine. At exactly nine thirty in the morning Setu appears. Its time to go to school. Setu and I study in the same school. White salwar-kameez, pleated white odna tucked into the broad green belt on the waist. Hurriedly grabbing the tiffin money from mother I go out. Setu and I go to school by cycle-rickshaw. My most favourite class is Rubina Apa’s class. Rubina Apa taught Bengali. Most of the girls felt thirsty during the class. For Rubina Apa was very nice. She didn’t make any girl stand outside the class. As many times as the girls asked questions about the subjects, so many times did she explain.

Not a home, but a bird’s nest, a cataract of torn leaves
Just a little bit of rain and the water drips.
Just a bit of breeze and the shanty quivers
Beneath that live the angels all year long.
Can’t eat to belly’s fill, the few bones sticking out of her chest
Are witness to the days she’s gone without food.
Sweet face, lit bright by her smile
Extinguished by the slap of great deprivation.
Clad in a patchwork of hundreds of torn cloths
That mock the golden hue of her colour.
Not a trace of laughter in your two black eyes
From where a flood of tears flow.

Jasimuddin

She told us stories on the pretext of study. Holding the thread of the tale or poem taught she would wander to a land of many more tales. She spoke of poets. Spoke about writers. The question arose in my mind: so beautiful looking was Rubina Apa, didn’t any djinn take a fancy to her? Rubina Apa didn’t wear a head-scarf. So did Rubina Apa know how to shut her body? I ask Setu. Setu says a djinn’s going to take you away for sure one day!

Every Thursday night Old Mian sees them. Apparently there are four or five of them. Really tall. Moving their immense legs they walk over our house and go towards the hillock behind. My sleep is broken again and again on this night. Even if the curtain moves in the wind of the fan I think someone’s in the room. I recite the Ayatul Kursi and blow on my chest:

Allahu la ilaha illa-aa huyal haiyul quaiyum. La ta’khuju hu sina tu wala naum. Lahu ma fis sama wati wama fil arad …

The night seems terribly long and vast.