Fiction
The Tamgha . . .
Everyone enjoyed her parties. She was known to be a wonderful hostess, a charming company and a pride of her family. She spoke a lot about her husband's image as a life built on principles of justice and courage. Her husband, she often said, was a brave person who gave up a good career in government service for his belief.
She set him up as an example for many young people so that they could learn to sacrifice for their ideals.
She proved this often with the life of her husband who had told her that he had resigned from service when Ayub's martial law was declared in Pakistan. He traveled to East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) to serve in his birthplace.
She not only loved and adored her husband, but was also proud of him. She knew how her husband disliked martial law and would never take any favours from such authorities.
She remembered how people respected and loved him for his principles.
His passing away was a tragedy for the family. The obituaries praised this man as a hero who had withstood temptations of high positions.
She continued her life as a working woman and mothered her children, never tiring of telling them of the heroic deeds of their father
It was raining this afternoon. She decided to clear up the papers in a trunk left by her late husband. It was a leather trunk with a brass lock. Inside the box there were hundreds of letters and papers that he had stored away to write his memoirs.
She had never dared to open the trunk even when he was alive.
Now that he was no more she still felt as if she was treading on forbidden territory when she unlocked the trunk.
It was full of letters from his friends, his articles that he often scribbled and so much more.
The papers were covered with dust and needed cleaning first before she could decipher the writing. Her dusting scattered the papers. The fan from the ceiling blew the papers all over. She stooped here and there to collect them together.
Suddenly her eyes fell on a glossy but somewhat crumpled paper. Looking at it closely, she read it as a certificate. What was it? Another proof of her husband's glorious academic past? Looking at it more closely it read as a Tamgha given for meritorious service. She became more curious with elation. Perhaps another recognition of her husband's courageous deeds!
Indeed it was a recognition of his excellent service records
by President Ayub Khan for his loyalty as an efficient officer of the government of Pakistan.
Shock and confusion alternated in her. Shame shrank deep within her, giving way to the fury of anger. She felt betrayed.
She took a pair of scissors and sliced the certificate of Tamgha into unrecognizable bits and threw them into the air.
The tinsel of the shredded papers circled around her head under the fan. Was the circle a halo for facing the truth or was it a noose of shame she would have to wear in silence forever?
The trunk was closed with a thud.
It was a Pandora's box
She had no wish to explore it any further.
Nor was she heard to sing praises of her husband any more.
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