In Her Eyes

Chapter III

On the first day of the second month of the year, Yusuf passed away peacefully in his sleep. Morni found him when he didn't come to eat breakfast that morning as he usually did. The funeral possession was attended by all of Keamari's immediate neighbours, some of the regular customers from the butcher shop, among few others. Dost Mohammad had sent Shahmir to the local mosques to announce the sad news as was customary. The last rites were performed by Dost Mohammad with some help from Shahmir who was almost as tall as his father now. The prayer was said in Ali Maqbool Masjid that was ten minutes walk from the Keamari's house and Yusuf was finally laid to rest alongside his dear wife, his father, his brothers, and his grandparents. For the next two weeks, Dost Mohammad hosted all four sisters and their dozen kids at the house. Everyday, Morni with the help of Shahmir would serve plain rice in breakfast, lunch, and dinner in trays larger than life to the family. She would also host the many people that visited their house to pay their respects. Morni would later joke that the two weeks that she hosted all four of Dost Mohammad's sisters added ten years to her face and made all her hair turn grey.

When the sisters finally left, Dost Mohammad made it a custom for him and Shahmir to visit the graveyard every Sunday to spray the graves of his parents, uncles, and grandparents with rose petals and burning incense that they would buy just outside the boundaries of the graveyard. Shahmir also chose a gravestone made of concrete and painted in white against the black engraving that read in beautifully calligraphed Urdu 'Mohammad Yusuf Keamari, loving husband, brother, son, and father' to be placed on Yusuf's grave. A three-month long grieving period was announced at the house by Morni. No one talked louder than necessary, no one laughed or made jokes, no one ate anything other than plain rice, and no one wore anything ceremonial, striking, or flashy. Dost Mohammad didn't go to work for a week, but was later forced to step in when it came to his notice that the hired help had been quietly lining their own pockets in his absence. He immediately threw two of the culprits out and hired two young, ambitious boys from the next neighbourhood to replace them. He also had to issue apologies to many of his old customers who had complained receiving less meat than usual for the week he wasn't present at the shop. The corruption and the sheer irresponsibility convinced Dost Mohammad that he could never rely on the hired help and after that week, he never took another day off voluntarily.

By mid 1920s, it was becoming clearer that one day, the British would leave India and this had given rise to another grave problem: who would rule over India once the white men left. The country had been dangerously divided among religious lines by then and it was a concern for Muslims living in Hindu-majority states and for Hindus living in Muslim-majority states as to what would happensonce the British actually left. For the Keamaris, though, the idea of eventual liberty was a dream far from reality at the moment. "Only when the last gora leaves will I believe that we are finally free," Dost Mohammad would say every time someone tried starting a debate or a discussion on the said subject. "The gora will never leave us. They will not leave until they have taken ever single paisa, every single grain, and every single drop of water on their cursed rails all the way to mother gorapur." With such passion and fiery would Dost Mohammad deliver the many speeches and sermons cursing the British that his friends and customers would often suggest he join the ongoing struggle for independence. "Maybe I will," he would say every time. "Maybe I will."

As time passed, Shahmir became a bigger and taller version of his father Dost Mohammad. He had inherited his mother's thick eyebrows that curved perfectly resting above his brown eyes that now had sparks of hazel in them. Everyone said that he looked more like his mother than his father, but he liked to think otherwise. He still had a shy personality and he was still wary of strangers though Dost Mohammad would often tell Morni that he had become more and more comfortable dealing with customers at the butcher shop than he had previously been. Morni told him that it was simply because he had settled down and now felt more secure working around, but Dost Mohammad insisted that he had observed a change of personality in him. The reality was that Shahmir had found a new boost of confidence ever since meeting Amira. She had made him realise that he was much more than he gave himself credit for. He had told her about his dream of becoming a big meat butcher and she had told him that she believed that he could do anything he put his heart and sweat to. Like clockwork, fixed in all its realities, he would wake up every morning at six, wash himself, put on the same tainted clothes that smelled of small meat and dirt, and start cutting at exactly seven. He would come home at two and then disappear for another five hours until the call to prayer at seven.