Imperious

Prologue

When any of them is given the good tidings of a girl, his face is darkened and he chokes inwardly. With shame does he hide himself from his people, because of the bad news he has had! Shall he retain it on (sufferance and) contempt, or bury it in the dust? Ah! What an evil (choice) they decide on? (Quran 16:58-59).

A plump, fair hand, unwound the metal tap; the resonance of water splashed down into the grilled drain.

A faint rainbow was formed between the white pillars of the courtyard of the Jatoi Manor. Tied pillar to pillar was a washing line, drying several dyed dupattas which blew in synchronization to the sweet, sweaty monsoon wind. The Jatoi maids had hurriedly hung them after seeing the last of the clouds disappear.

With the courtyard now to themselves, the five Jatoi girls pranced in and out of the dupattas, chasing each other fervently whilst their mother set a bucket beneath the tap so that sufficient water for a water fight could be obtained. Her eyes channelled the several doors in the courtyard. All were closed. Safe.

She dried her hands on the towel and then turned down to the pillar in front of her.

A barbie doll and action figure were tied to the marble boulder by a single skipping rope; small pebbles scattered around their plastic feet. A dent marked the doll's jaw, the action figure's face had been blackened with pencil lead; the remnants of the stationery, thrown towards the other end of the courtyard. A metre or two away from the marble boulder, were another group of dolls, some woollen, some plastic. Pebbles had been sellotaped to each of their hands.

Her heart caved inwards.

"Who did this?" she bit down the quiver of her lip, suppressing her shock so that it did not lessen the ferocity of her anger.

"Pari and Nafeesa," replied Sadia, the eldest of the Jatoi girls, fourteen, patting down her cotton dress, settling herself onto the courtyard steps.

Falak, the next after her, ten, patiently balanced her plastic cooking utensils on a swing whilst her younger sisters continuously pushed past her. Despite the rickety movement, she maintained her pretend stove, not uttering a single harsh word to the little girls who unintentionally and persistently destroyed it.

"Pari," their mother breathed calmly.

Parissa, the middle child, seven, skipped over to a charpoy. She turned back to study her mother who was glaring at her sternly. She carefully pushed Sadia's sewing kit aside. After having created sufficient space, she settled her paper money in order of their value and turned to Falak, pretending to discuss the household expenses and what would be required for next week's supply.

Nafeesa and Mehrisa, the youngest were only a year and a half apart in age, but their mother dressed them both so similarly, that at times, they appeared as twins.

Today, Mehrisa's hair was left loose. Her fringe swept most of her forehead whilst the rest of her pallid face was scrunched up in fierce concentration whilst she aimed her water pistol towards her elder sister.

"You will die a dog's death!" she screamed, pointing towards Nafeesa.

Their mother's jaw clenched and then unclenched very slowly.

Stretching back her skinny wrists, Nafeesa adjusted the silk sash holding her dress firmly to her body; her mother watched without blinking.

Parissa raised her head slightly

Taking advantage of her sister's distraction, Mehrisa skipped over to the bucket and plunged her water gun into it for reloading. Her mother seized her hand and raised the water gun into the air, so that when it was triggered, the water flooded onto Mehrisa and not her sister.

"Pari! Nafeesa! What is this?" she bellowed, raising her arm towards the pillar.

Mehrisa began to cry in alarm.

Nafeesa merely shrugged her shoulders and then turned to Parissa who tended to be better in explanations and stories.

On the click of her mother's fingers, Parissa edged away from Falak and began to walk towards her very solemnly. She did not like being yelled at, neither was it something her mother did to her often. When she did, it was justified. But this time, Parissa refused to believe she had strayed.

"What is this, Parissa?"

Parissa raised her chin and glanced airily at the marble pillar.

"Karo-Karri, " Nafeesa intercepted, quite confidently.

Their mother retreated, placing her hand on her chest, "What?" her voice an inaudible whisper.

"They brought shame. They had to be punished," said Parissa, before walking back to resume her play.