Sugra - A Short Story by Farah Ahamed - from The Mechanics Institute Review - May 2020
You may read this delightful story here
Sugra is the seventh Short Story by Farah Ahamed upon which I have posted. I have been reading her work since April, 2015. Obviously I see Ahamed as writer of significant talent and insight. I was very happy to have an opportunity to read another of her stories.
Sugra is one of four daughters from a very poor family in Lahore. Here is how she describes herself:
"To tell you the truth, I don’t like to remember that day, or the days that followed, but the memory of it is fresh. I can recall that hot afternoon vividly and in detail, when that man showed up at our doorstep. I suppose I could blame him or my parents for what happened later, even though you could say they had nothing to do with it.
However, to return to that day, I was sitting on the floor chopping potatoes for a soup. This was my daily chore with my mother scolding over my shoulder.
‘Chop the vegetables smaller and add more water to the pan,’ she said, ‘unless you want to give up your share.’ My sisters were playing outside, but because I had been born with a bad leg I was always kept indoors."
Her parents are not literate. They have one room with mattresses on the floor, a nonworking TV, a working computer. They share a bathroom with neighbors as well as a water tap. A man, claiming a connection through marriage of third cousins shows up.
After some acrimonious remarks by Sugha's mother who at first things the man wants a wife, we learn he wants to hire Sugra to be a security guard at a tourist site. After being assured he is not planning to put her in a brothel, the mother agrees under the condition that all her wages beyond maintenance be sent home.
They see being a security guard as a highly prestigious job.
The story is both sad but there is an hilarious side also.
Here is how her new boss explains why he wants to hire her and his the bargain is settled between the man and the mother:
"Job, what job?’ my father said. ‘She isn’t fit for anything.’
My mother shook her finger at Joseph. ‘I know what kind of work you’re thinking…’
Joseph leaned forward. ‘Allow me to explain dear sister. At Reliance Security, we have a “quota policy,” and we must recruit a certain number of people with disabilities. I want to employ your daughter, and if you agree, I will take her to Lahore with me today.’
‘Please mother, no,’ I said. ‘Sorry for everything. I’ll be good.’
‘Keep quiet, no one asked you,’ my mother said to me.
‘Her work will be to sit at the entrance to Jahangir’s tomb and check ladies’ handbags for lighters, bombs, guns and alcohol. She’ll be a security guard.’
‘Security guard? Who knew my prayers would be answered in this way?’ my mother said. ‘Praise the Lord, I knew he would not let me down.’ She kissed the crucifix around her neck.
‘Are you saying women in the city carry such things in their purses?’ my father said. ‘What’s the world coming to?’
‘Shut up,’ my mother said. ‘Who cares what they carry or they don’t.’ She looked Joseph straight in the eye. ‘How much will her salary be?’
‘Ten thousand rupees a month, minus my commission as her sponsor,’ Joseph said.
‘Ten thousand,’ my father said. ‘That’s too little.’
‘What do you want?’ Joseph said. ‘A little while ago you were complaining she was a burden.’
‘Why do you interfere?’ my mother said to my father. ‘Let me handle this. You’ll spoil everything.’
‘No,’ I cried. ‘No, please no…’
My mother came over to me. ‘You listen to me and listen carefully. Whatever we decide is what will happen, and your tears and whining won’t help.’ She turned to Joseph, ‘You can take her today. The money is fine, but you better not be lying to us. If you’re secretly planning to take her to one of those dirty places, then we should know. I don’t want people saying we sold her to you…’
Sugra has an adventure of sorts on her new job. I laughed so much over the idea of Sugra being told that if she finds a bomb in a ladies purse she should confiscate it and then return when she leaves.
This is a wonderful story. I hope to follow Ahamed's work for a long time.
Farah Ahamed's short fiction and essays has been published in Ploughshares,The Massachusetts Review, Comma Press, and Kwani?. Her stories are bound by an overall sense of oppression and rebellion and explore how culture, religion, and politics constrain and determine the lives of her characters. The stories range in time from the early days of independence in East Africa to the present.
Recently she was shortlisted for the Primadonna Festival Writing Award, and longlisted for the Canadian CBC Books Short Story Award. Previously, she was joint winner of the inaugural Gerald Kraak Award and highly commended in the London Short Story Prize. Her essays and stories have been shortlisted for the Thresholds Essay Prize, Screen Craft Prize, SI Leeds Literary Prize, DNA/Out of Print Award, and The Asian Writer Short Story Prize. She has been nominated for The Pushcart and Caine prizes.
Farah is a lawyer with a Diploma in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia. She was born in Kenya and has lived in Nairobi, Vancouver, Kampala, London and Bilbao. She is currently between London and Lahore, working on a short story collection inspired by Lahore. She is also compiling an anthology on menstruation experiences in South Asia which will be published by Pan Macmillan, India.
1 comment:
That sounds like a story with some great fun in it (to balance out the sorrowful parts); I'll look out for her work!
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