FLASH FICTION

FLASH FICTION 𝒃𝒚 Mussarat Kalanchvi

Now, I Won’t Drink Water

Now I Won’t Drink Water

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“Silence…. Camera on…. Start!” The director shouted.

“I won’t drink this water.… It has worms.” Model Ruby cried, looking into the bottle of Coke. She retched and ran out of the studio to inhale fresh air.

“Shit…. How will it be recorded? She would have to be dropped off from this advertisement for her these stupidities.” The director again shouted in rage.

 

Ruby reached her home, driving the car rashly.

Maasi!1 Bring me water.” She yelled, falling herself on a sofa.

The maid hurriedly took out a bottle of water from the fridge and poured some water into a crystal clear glass.

Maasi! Does it have worms?” She asked, sneaking a look into the glass.

“Oh, oh, my child…. I told you not to go in the desert to shoot that advertisement…. The evil spirits fell in love with the pretty faces like yours.”

Maasi! They haven’t fallen in love, but it’s me who has fallen in love.” Ruby said, staring the maid with her red eyes.

Maid’s lips started to quiver. She was reciting Ayat-ul-Kursi, silently. Ruby went up-stairs.

“Why the space not magnanimous?  Why the sky not blue? How the stars are dim! The moon is pale and sick…. Where the night bird lost? Why is the air squeezed? Where am I? Where have I come? Why am not there, where my soul is? Where is my soul? It has travelled centuries back when I silently went out alone into the desert, the moonbeams danced on the miles spread sand, a lonely bird flew over the mounds and I saw my soul leaving my body and flying along with the bird, who took me there through the unknown paths, where a little family dwelled in a hut among the sand mounds. Mother gyrated the spinning wheel, stitched the patched quilt, and daughter-in-law extracted butter out of the whey. The child played with the lamb and the father took the camels to fodder. They had calm on their faces.” She thought.

Ruby felt that they were her forefathers. Huts, patched quilts, clay pots all those were her bequest. It was the beautiful world she had lost. She didn’t know how many hours of the night she soaked in the fog, surfed in the moon rays, and travelled so many eras.

The sun arose. She started travelling back with his team. The director stopped the jeep nearby a pond which was filled with rain water. The women, wearing blue and yellow kilts, fetched water from the pond.  The director started his shooting there. Ruby stepped down and stopped by the pond. She gazed into the water. She saw swimming frogs in it.

“What will do with this water?” Ruby asked a woman. “There are frogs in it.”

“It has leeches and other worms, too.” The woman replied, smilingly.

“Will you drink it, really?”

“Yes. Should we die of thirst?”

Ruby felt that her soul, which had been drenching in the fresh air and moonlit night, again fell into the pond. The worms clasped her body. She drowned in the muddy water. She returned to the jeep. The team also returned. In the hotel, they drank crystal mineral water from the bottles but Ruby sucked her dry lips.

“Take some water.” The director said.

“I’ll never drink this water.” She said, struggling to gulp back her tears.

And then, one day she was jogging in front of highly sprouting colorful fountains in the Race Course Park to lessen the burdens from her heart, mind and soul because now she was a flop model.

….

(Translated from Saraiki by Najam-uddin Ahmad)

****


[1] Aunt, sister of mother. An elderly home maid is also called respectfully Maasi. Here it is home maid.

[2] An Ayah (verse) from Holy Qur’an recited by the Muslims for protection from evil spirits.

“Silence…. Camera on…. Start!” The director shouted.

“I won’t drink this water.… It has worms.” Model Ruby cried, looking into the bottle of Coke. She retched and ran out of the studio to inhale fresh air.

“Shit…. How will it be recorded? She would have to be dropped off from this advertisement for her these stupidities.” The director again shouted in rage.

 

Ruby reached her home, driving the car rashly.

Maasi![1] Bring me water.” She yelled, falling herself on a sofa.

The maid hurriedly took out a bottle of water from the fridge and poured some water into a crystal clear glass.

Maasi! Does it have worms?” She asked, sneaking a look into the glass.

“Oh, oh, my child…. I told you not to go in the desert to shoot that advertisement…. The evil spirits fell in love with the pretty faces like yours.”

Maasi! They haven’t fallen in love, but it’s me who has fallen in love.” Ruby said, staring the maid with her red eyes.

Maid’s lips started to quiver. She was reciting Ayat-ul-Kursi[2], silently. Ruby went up-stairs.

“Why the space not magnanimous?  Why the sky not blue? How the stars are dim! The moon is pale and sick…. Where the night bird lost? Why is the air squeezed? Where am I? Where have I come? Why am not there, where my soul is? Where is my soul? It has travelled centuries back when I silently went out alone into the desert, the moonbeams danced on the miles spread sand, a lonely bird flew over the mounds and I saw my soul leaving my body and flying along with the bird, who took me there through the unknown paths, where a little family dwelled in a hut among the sand mounds. Mother gyrated the spinning wheel, stitched the patched quilt, and daughter-in-law extracted butter out of the whey. The child played with the lamb and the father took the camels to fodder. They had calm on their faces.” She thought.

Ruby felt that they were her forefathers. Huts, patched quilts, clay pots all those were her bequest. It was the beautiful world she had lost. She didn’t know how many hours of the night she soaked in the fog, surfed in the moon rays, and travelled so many eras.

The sun arose. She started travelling back with his team. The director stopped the jeep nearby a pond which was filled with rain water. The women, wearing blue and yellow kilts, fetched water from the pond.  The director started his shooting there. Ruby stepped down and stopped by the pond. She gazed into the water. She saw swimming frogs in it.

“What will do with this water?” Ruby asked a woman. “There are frogs in it.”

“It has leeches and other worms, too.” The woman replied, smilingly.

“Will you drink it, really?”

“Yes. Should we die of thirst?”

Ruby felt that her soul, which had been drenching in the fresh air and moonlit night, again fell into the pond. The worms clasped her body. She drowned in the muddy water. She returned to the jeep. The team also returned. In the hotel, they drank crystal mineral water from the bottles but Ruby sucked her dry lips.

“Take some water.” The director said.

“I’ll never drink this water.” She said, struggling to gulp back her tears.

And then, one day she was jogging in front of highly sprouting colorful fountains in the Race Course Park to lessen the burdens from her heart, mind and soul because now she was a flop model.

….

(Translated from Saraiki by Najam-uddin Ahmad)

****



[1] Aunt, sister of mother. An elderly home maid is also called respectfully Maasi. Here it is home maid.

[2] An Ayah (verse) from Holy Qur’an recited by the Muslims for protection from evil spirits.

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Authors

  • Mussarat Kalanchvi, born on 10 November 1956 in Bahawalpur, Pakistan, is a trilingual short story writer, playwright and non-fiction writer of Urdu, Saraiki and Punjabi. Her father Prof. Dilshad Kalanchavi was also a renowned scholar, critic and novelist of Saraiki. Mussarat Kalanchavi did her MA (History) from Islamia University, Bahawalpur. She was appointed as a lecturer in 1983. In 1985, she moved to Lahore after her marriage with senior journalist Aslam Malik. She retired as the Principal of Government College for Women Gulshan Ravi Lahore in 2016. She has also been a member of the Board of Studies (Saraiki) of Islamia University, Bahawalpur. She also enjoys the honor of being a jury member for several National Literary Awards, member of Board of Governors of Majlis Traqhi Adab, Government of the Punjab and member of Board of Governors of Punjab Institute of Language, Art and Culture (PILAC), Government of the Punjab. Mussarat wrote her first story when she was a fifth grade student. She is the first women who published a collection of short stories in Saraiki language, “Uchi Dharti Jhukha Asman” in 1976, which brought her accolade with the title of “The First Lady of Saraiki Literature”. When Radio Pakistan Bahawalpur started in 1975, Mussarat was a part of its pioneer team as an Assistant Producer and also voiceovers. She wrote her first play “Peekian Di Naukrani” (The Maid of Wife’s Paternal Home) for Radio. She also wrote and produced scripts for several programs. Her works include two books of Seerat of the Prophet Muhammad (SWA), three collections of short stories and a long story in Saraiki, ten long plays in Urdu, two drama serials in Punjabi and two in Saraiki. She is the first trilingual playwright. She won several prestigious literary awards. Recently, the Government of Pakistan has honored her with the Presidential Award of Pride of Performance on 23rd March, 2024 (announced on August 14, 2023) in recognition of her literary services.

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  • Najam-uddin Ahmad is Urdu novelist and short story writer. He has published three novel: 𝘔𝘶𝘥𝘧𝘶𝘯 (The Burials) in 2006, 𝘒𝘩𝘰𝘫 (The Explore) in 2016, and 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘮 (The Partners) in 2019, and two collections of short stories: 𝘈𝘢𝘰 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘒𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘯 (Brother, Let’s play) in 2013 and 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘋𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘈𝘧𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘺 (Flee and Other Short Stories) in 2017. Presently, he has been working on his Urdu novel, 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘢 𝘑𝘦𝘦𝘵. A collection of Urdu Short Stories is also expected soon. He is also renowned for his translations into Urdu. Among other translations, he has recently translated the famous Turk epic “The Book of Dede Korkut” into Urdu, published by the Pakistan Academy of Letters. He has also translated a number of Urdu short stories into English. He has been bestowed with Pakistan Writers Guild Award, 2013 (𝘈𝘢𝘰 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘒𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘯), 7th UBL Excellence Award, 2017 (Translation of selected short stories of Nobel Laureates), and National Award of Translation, 2019 by the Pakistan Academy of Letters. His Novel 𝘒𝘩𝘰𝘫 was also short listed for 7th UBL Excellence Award, 2017.

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