Overcoat by Ghulam Abbas

Overcoat

Overcoat

By Ghulam Abbas

Translated from Urdu by Zainab Ghulam Abbas

One evening in January, a well-groomed young man having walked up the Davis Road to the Mall turned to Charing Cross. His hair was sleek and shining and he wore sideburns. His thin moustache seemed to have been drawn with a pencil. He had on a brown overcoat with a cream coloured half-opened rose in his button hole and a green felt hat which he wore at a rakish angle. A white silk scarf was knotted at his neck. One of his hands was slipped into a pocket of his overcoat while in the other he held a short polished cane which every now and then he twirled jauntily.

It was a Saturday evening in mid-winter. The sharp icy gusts of wind struck like steel, but the young man seemed to be immune to them. So, while others were walking briskly to keep warm, he was ambling along obviously enjoying his promenade in the bitter cold.

He looked such a dandy that tonga-wallas on catching sight of him, even from a distance, whipped up their horses and raced towards him. With a wave of his stick he turned them away. A taxi also drew near him and the driver looked at him enquiringly. He too was turned off. This time with a 'No thank you.'

As he was approaching the more lively part of the Mall his spirits rose, and whistling up a 'Tango' he stepped it out as he went along. On a sudden impulse he ran a few steps and pretend to deliver a ball as if he were playing cricket.

At the turning which lead to Lawrence Garden, he paused for a moment as if to decide which way to go, but in the chill evening light the gardens look sad and uninviting and so he walked straight on towards Charing Cross.

When he reached statue of the queen he sobered down, pulled a handkerchief out of the sleeve of his overcoat where he kept it, and mopped his face.

On the lawn near the statue some English children were playing with a big rubber ball. He stopped to watch their game. At first the children did not notice him, but as he continued to stare at them they felt embarrassed and picking up their ball, laughing and shouting, chased off to the other side of the lawn. Seeing an empty cement bench by the side of the road, the young man flicked the dust off it and sat down.

As the evening advanced the cold became more intense. It was a cold that induced people to seek comfort in pleasure. At such times it was not only the profligate who ranged abroad, but even those who were usually content to live with their loneliness, emerged from their hide-outs to join in the gaiety of the streets, and to enjoy the warmth of body to body proximity. And so people converged on the Mall where they amused themselves among the variety of hotels, restaurants, cafes and snackbars, each according to his means. Those who could not afford the pleasure inside, were content to gaze at the coloured lights and brilliant advertisements outside. Up and down the main road there was an unending stream of cars, buses, tongas and bicycle while the pavements thronged with pedestrians.

The young man seated on the cement bench was watching with interest the people passing on the pavement before him. It was their clothes, rather than their faces that attracted their attention. These people belonged to all walks of life. There were traders, officials, public men, students, artists, reporters, clerks and others. Most of them were wearing overcoats, which were of every kind from the astrakhan' to the rough military khaki, such as are found in large bundles at the second-hand clothes' shops.

The overcoat the young man himself was wearing was old, but it was well cut and the material was of good quality. The lapels were stiff and the sleeves well creased. The buttons were of horn, big and shiny. The young man seemed to be very happy in it.