An Invisible Man
An Invisible Man

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I had been experiencing a decrease in my height for some time back then. I was uncertain if it was really a disease or just an illusion of me. It was so weird that I did not want to discuss it with anyone. I have never had any friends.
I seldom talked to my colleagues at the office. They were always busy in chatter about salary, allowances, inflation and office politics. In just a few days, this overwhelming feeling had compelled me to rise from my office chair time and again to check my height. Whenever I did this, a colleague sitting beside me would stare at me, and I would pretend to be busy to avoid embarrassment.
This feeling would become more intense when I returned home. However, I spent very little time at home for various reasons. I had to go to work after dropping off the kids at school in the morning. I had to hurry to pick up my kids from school during my break. Every evening when I returned home, I had to gulp down the dinner so that I could take my kids to the tuition center on time. I would hurriedly swallow some morsels, grab their bags, and drop them off at the tuition center on my way to work overtime at a factory to increase my income. During working extra hours at the factory, I was required to review the balance sheets on daily basis. It usually took two hours to complete me the task. Once I finished the work, I would pick up the kids from the tuition center. Every day, when I got back home, it was already dark. “I have been bored the entire day,” my wife often said. “Let us go to visit my sister.” Many of her sisters lived in the same city. We never missed a day of visiting any of her relatives. Although my brother also lives in the same city, I rarely met him. My wife used to say that my bhabhi (sister-in-law) did not know how to act around the guests. Sometimes I came across my brother on the road. After saying hello, we did not have anything to talk about. We never invited each other over. In fact, we always understood the situation and made excuses for leaving.
Sunday was always tough day for me. Weekend activities included attending ceremonies, grocery shopping, and machine repairs — a lot of things I could not fit in during the workdays. Aside from this, I had to deal with criticism from my wife. Her favorite hobby was comparing me to the husbands of her sisters. I was the most useless person in the world, according to her. She had a list of successful people, but all I was a master’s degree holder in mathematics working as a clerk in a private firm. She once claimed that my sly and astute father duped his innocent father, which was how I came to marry her. Her innocent father was fired from his job for fraud. I knew this, but I did not say anything. She always took my silence as an offence. I always wanted to find an excuse to avoid brawl, but I could never think of one.
One day, the office environment suddenly changed. The new officer’s arrival had tensed the milieu. Every day, I felt my confidence dwindling. The officer frequently rang the bell to summon people to his room in an attempt to prove his superiority. Though, he reprimanded everyone but gave me distinct treatment. He summoned me repeatedly, too. He never used the intercom phone. I did not like it, but I never expressed my disliking. He started to raise numerous objections against my work, sensing my abhorring. On one occasion, I disagreed with him. It seemed as though he was waiting for any moment like that. He tossed the file in my face. I walked out of his office, panting. From behind, he yelled at me with abusive words. Contrary to my expectations, not a single one of my colleagues expressed his support for me. They all came to my desk after the officer left. Some of them were members of the union. I expected help from them, but they advised me to offer my apology to the officer.
One day, when I arrived home, my wife was already dressed up and ready to go. “Sometimes, you must realize your responsibility,” she said as soon as she looked me, “I already told you our going to my nephew’s khatna (circumcision) ceremony, but you are so narcissistic that you ignore everyone else.” I had a severe headache. I wanted to express my feelings to her and to discuss the office events, but she was not in the mood to listen to. I was flabbergasted, which enraged her and she stormed out of the room. I dropped the files onto the couch and chased after her.
I had already stopped talking to people at work. I did not go on tea breaks. Most of the time, I confined myself to my desk. I felt losing my important with each passing day. I frequently went to the washroom and stood in front of the mirror to reassure myself of my existence. One day, I marked the mirror directly above my head with a marker. I frequently used that scale to measure my height. That gave me a sense of satisfaction. My colleagues had stopped coming to my desk because they knew the officer shunned me. It did not bother me. But whenever they walked by and acted as if I did not exist, I would become anxious. The officer had stopped summoning me after I apologized. One day, peon informed me that the boss was calling for me. I grew perplexed. But he greeted me with a big smile and invited me to sit beside him. He said, “Mr. Dawood, you hold a master’s degree in mathematics. My older son struggles with math. His exam is imminent. I want you to teach him after work.” I wanted to tell him about my busy evening schedule, but I couldn’t. Looking me hesitant, he said, “Mr. Dawood, you are well aware the company is going to be downsized after three months. Lists are almost ready.” I promised to teach his son at 8:00 p.m. every day.
This new responsibility put a significant negative impact on my domestic life. I came home late, and found my wife and children already gone to bed. It was their way of protesting and making me feel chagrined. I tried to make them understand, but I failed. I was also busy in the morning. I had to drop off the kids on time. I could not afford to be late from job. Nobody talked to me when I was at home. I felt fatigued like an overworked donkey. Fright crept through my body like a leech. I had nightmares every night. I dreamt as if a hungry mule devoured half of me while I slept. Sometimes, I dreamed a crow attacked me in the street and snatched away one of my eyes. Asleep had become excruciating for me. On a holiday, I decided to talk to my wife. Some guests had to visit us. Time was short and I was unable to find the right words. Nonetheless, I was able to inform her that I was not feeling well. She gave me a look and said nothing. “I feel like I am becoming invisible.” She got up and said, “You make a scene every time my parents visit us.” She shouted for a long time. But I was unable to hear her.
I stopped going to the officer’s home. My health was deteriorating. I took a few days off from work. During that time, I scheduled an appointment with a doctor. I told him that I was fading into oblivion. He sought an explanation. I told him that my height was gradually decreasing. He inquired about my height. I explained him that no one had ever tried to measure me. My reply surprised him. I told him that I had fallen one foot short of the mark on the mirror. He showed no concern. He jotted down a prescription and advised rest to me. He also advised me to have get-togethers with my loved ones and confabs with my friends. I put the prescription in my pocket and left the clinic.
When I again joined office after holidays, I discovered myself a victim of downsizing. Contrary to the prospects, I showed no trepidation. I stayed there for a while. Then, I left the office after glancing at the mirror mark, which was now higher than before.
I was very serene on my way to home. The fact that I had lost my job was the last thing I wanted to ponder. But, as soon as I turned into my street I began to feel heartbroken. I wanted to walk more. I passed by my home. I walked aimlessly for a long time without feeling sapped. I returned to my door shortly before the evening. I could hear the kids’ voices from inside the house. I gathered my nerve and pushed the doorbell button. I overheard my wife asking the kids to see who was at the door. My oldest son opened the door. He looked around as if no one was there. Then he slammed the door in my face and shouted, “No one is at the door, Mama!”
….
(Translated from Urdu by Rehan Islam)
****
I had been experiencing a decrease in my height for some time back then. I was uncertain if it was really a disease or just an illusion of me. It was so weird that I did not want to discuss it with anyone. I have never had any friends.
I seldom talked to my colleagues at the office. They were always busy in chatter about salary, allowances, inflation and office politics. In just a few days, this overwhelming feeling had compelled me to rise from my office chair time and again to check my height. Whenever I did this, a colleague sitting beside me would stare at me, and I would pretend to be busy to avoid embarrassment.
This feeling would become more intense when I returned home. However, I spent very little time at home for various reasons. I had to go to work after dropping off the kids at school in the morning. I had to hurry to pick up my kids from school during my break. Every evening when I returned home, I had to gulp down the dinner so that I could take my kids to the tuition center on time. I would hurriedly swallow some morsels, grab their bags, and drop them off at the tuition center on my way to work overtime at a factory to increase my income. During working extra hours at the factory, I was required to review the balance sheets on daily basis. It usually took two hours to complete me the task. Once I finished the work, I would pick up the kids from the tuition center. Every day, when I got back home, it was already dark. “I have been bored the entire day,” my wife often said. “Let us go to visit my sister.” Many of her sisters lived in the same city. We never missed a day of visiting any of her relatives. Although my brother also lives in the same city, I rarely met him. My wife used to say that my bhabhi (sister-in-law) did not know how to act around the guests. Sometimes I came across my brother on the road. After saying hello, we did not have anything to talk about. We never invited each other over. In fact, we always understood the situation and made excuses for leaving.
Sunday was always tough day for me. Weekend activities included attending ceremonies, grocery shopping, and machine repairs — a lot of things I could not fit in during the workdays. Aside from this, I had to deal with criticism from my wife. Her favorite hobby was comparing me to the husbands of her sisters. I was the most useless person in the world, according to her. She had a list of successful people, but all I was a master’s degree holder in mathematics working as a clerk in a private firm. She once claimed that my sly and astute father duped his innocent father, which was how I came to marry her. Her innocent father was fired from his job for fraud. I knew this, but I did not say anything. She always took my silence as an offence. I always wanted to find an excuse to avoid brawl, but I could never think of one.
One day, the office environment suddenly changed. The new officer’s arrival had tensed the milieu. Every day, I felt my confidence dwindling. The officer frequently rang the bell to summon people to his room in an attempt to prove his superiority. Though, he reprimanded everyone but gave me distinct treatment. He summoned me repeatedly, too. He never used the intercom phone. I did not like it, but I never expressed my disliking. He started to raise numerous objections against my work, sensing my abhorring. On one occasion, I disagreed with him. It seemed as though he was waiting for any moment like that. He tossed the file in my face. I walked out of his office, panting. From behind, he yelled at me with abusive words. Contrary to my expectations, not a single one of my colleagues expressed his support for me. They all came to my desk after the officer left. Some of them were members of the union. I expected help from them, but they advised me to offer my apology to the officer.
One day, when I arrived home, my wife was already dressed up and ready to go. “Sometimes, you must realize your responsibility,” she said as soon as she looked me, “I already told you our going to my nephew’s khatna (circumcision) ceremony, but you are so narcissistic that you ignore everyone else.” I had a severe headache. I wanted to express my feelings to her and to discuss the office events, but she was not in the mood to listen to. I was flabbergasted, which enraged her and she stormed out of the room. I dropped the files onto the couch and chased after her.
I had already stopped talking to people at work. I did not go on tea breaks. Most of the time, I confined myself to my desk. I felt losing my important with each passing day. I frequently went to the washroom and stood in front of the mirror to reassure myself of my existence. One day, I marked the mirror directly above my head with a marker. I frequently used that scale to measure my height. That gave me a sense of satisfaction. My colleagues had stopped coming to my desk because they knew the officer shunned me. It did not bother me. But whenever they walked by and acted as if I did not exist, I would become anxious. The officer had stopped summoning me after I apologized. One day, peon informed me that the boss was calling for me. I grew perplexed. But he greeted me with a big smile and invited me to sit beside him. He said, “Mr. Dawood, you hold a master’s degree in mathematics. My older son struggles with math. His exam is imminent. I want you to teach him after work.” I wanted to tell him about my busy evening schedule, but I couldn’t. Looking me hesitant, he said, “Mr. Dawood, you are well aware the company is going to be downsized after three months. Lists are almost ready.” I promised to teach his son at 8:00 p.m. every day.
This new responsibility put a significant negative impact on my domestic life. I came home late, and found my wife and children already gone to bed. It was their way of protesting and making me feel chagrined. I tried to make them understand, but I failed. I was also busy in the morning. I had to drop off the kids on time. I could not afford to be late from job. Nobody talked to me when I was at home. I felt fatigued like an overworked donkey. Fright crept through my body like a leech. I had nightmares every night. I dreamt as if a hungry mule devoured half of me while I slept. Sometimes, I dreamed a crow attacked me in the street and snatched away one of my eyes. Asleep had become excruciating for me. On a holiday, I decided to talk to my wife. Some guests had to visit us. Time was short and I was unable to find the right words. Nonetheless, I was able to inform her that I was not feeling well. She gave me a look and said nothing. “I feel like I am becoming invisible.” She got up and said, “You make a scene every time my parents visit us.” She shouted for a long time. But I was unable to hear her.
I stopped going to the officer’s home. My health was deteriorating. I took a few days off from work. During that time, I scheduled an appointment with a doctor. I told him that I was fading into oblivion. He sought an explanation. I told him that my height was gradually decreasing. He inquired about my height. I explained him that no one had ever tried to measure me. My reply surprised him. I told him that I had fallen one foot short of the mark on the mirror. He showed no concern. He jotted down a prescription and advised rest to me. He also advised me to have get-togethers with my loved ones and confabs with my friends. I put the prescription in my pocket and left the clinic.
When I again joined office after holidays, I discovered myself a victim of downsizing. Contrary to the prospects, I showed no trepidation. I stayed there for a while. Then, I left the office after glancing at the mirror mark, which was now higher than before.
I was very serene on my way to home. The fact that I had lost my job was the last thing I wanted to ponder. But, as soon as I turned into my street I began to feel heartbroken. I wanted to walk more. I passed by my home. I walked aimlessly for a long time without feeling sapped. I returned to my door shortly before the evening. I could hear the kids’ voices from inside the house. I gathered my nerve and pushed the doorbell button. I overheard my wife asking the kids to see who was at the door. My oldest son opened the door. He looked around as if no one was there. Then he slammed the door in my face and shouted, “No one is at the door, Mama!”
….
(Translated from Urdu by Rehan Islam)
****
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Authors
Sahir Shafiq was born in 1980 in the Khanewal district. After receiving his early education from his village, he moved to District Multan. He did his master’s and doctorate in Urdu from Bahauddin Zakariya University, Multan. He is working as an Assistant Professor of Urdu at Govt. Graduate College, Dunyapur, Punjab, Pakistan. Sahir Shafiq started his creative writing journey during his school years. Now, he has five books on his credit: four poetry collections, including prose poems and haiku: Sard Mosam Mein Dhoop (Sunshine in Cold Weather) in 2000, Gypsum (Gypsum, 2005), Kaya (Appearance, 2007), and Khud Kashi Ka Dawat Nama (An Invitation to Commit Suicide, 2010). His only short story collection is Akely Logon Ka Hujoom (A Crowd of Lonely People, 2010). He is currently working on his debut novel. Recently, he has founded Khalid Saeed Translation Society, which has produced a plethora of translations of other languages to Urdu.
View all postsMuhammad Rehan, who uses Rehan Islam as his pen-name, is from Multan, Pakistan. After doing his M.Phil in English Literature, he studied Chinese Language, Culture, and Literature for two years in China. After his return, he worked as a Chinese Interpreter for some time. Presently, he is a lecturer in English at Govt. Graduate College, Dunyapur, Punjab, Pakistan. He has translated the stories of Chinese Nobel Laureate Mo Yan as Mo Yan Ki Kahaniyan (2023), and Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami’s South of the Border, West of the Sun as “Sarhad Kay Par Sooraj Say Paray” (2024) into Urdu under the banner of the Khalid Saeed Translation Society. He has also published Urdu translations of various English short stories in Urdu literary journals.
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Great story
Great translation
Thanks Dear for the encouragement
Nice work dear sir Rehan grow and achieve more successes in your life wonderful article 🥰
Thanks Dear for the encouragement
Rehan Islam and Sahir Shafiq both are legends and asset of Pakistan and special honor for Education Department… Good work keep it up. Best wishes for both of you ❤️❤️
Very Carefully crafted. Flow and Communication is great. 👍🏼
It is superb keep up good work 👍
Thanks
Beautifully narrated the concept of bitter reality of life
Thanks for the encouragement
Impressive work done by Mr Sahir and Mr. Rehan. Wish to see more from them in future.
Thank You bro
Great work Sir..
Thanks Hamza
ساحر شفیق اس صدی کے عظیم ادیب ہیں ،آپ نے موجودہ دور کے انسانی ذہن کی انتشاری حالات کو اپنے افسانوں میں عمدگی سے پرویا ہے
شکریہ
Thanks Rehan for this honour
👍👍👍
Impressive work.Proud of you(Sir Rehan)
Good translation easy to understand
Superb sir g🥰
Loved giving it a read! 👍
Beautiful story. I like how the author has used simple language.
Such a great short story and translation
Very pensive and impressive
Great story
Great work❤
Awesome and professional translation. Keep it up Rao Shb👍
Great work , Rehan you did a great job
بہترین ترجمہ۔۔۔۔ پسندیدہ افسانہ
Impressive
Amazing rehan. Thank you for making it easy.
great piece of art. keep it up dear Rehan.
Great effort, really appreciative translated literary work.👏💐
Impressive work Mr. Rehan… hmesha kamyab rahen.. aameen.. waiting for more…
Incredibly creative work! Looking forward for more content.
Great work
The story is gripping and discusses what every man in this modern world is going through. This masterpiece is beautifully written and it leaves the reader with qualms about the materialist society.
It doesn’t seem to be a translation work, seriously. The translator has kept the originality so elegantly.
You are such an inspiration..
A good short story by sahir shafiq, and nicely translation Mr Rehan islam