The most handsome boy

Hello everyone. The story that I am going to tell you does not have a hidden agenda. This is not an item to sell any product. This is just when I get nostalgic and enjoy the warmth that some of the past events give.

I grew up in a typical lower middle class Indian family. Although my father was an MBBS from Mumbai’s prestigious Grant Medical College, he responded to Mahatma Gandhi’s call for doctors to go to the villages and so we landed on Nasik Road, 200 km from Mumbai. Today, this sprawling city will give you no idea of ​​what it was like 60 years ago. Suffice it to say that there were no paved roads, no electricity or water taps, and we lived the life that comes with such a lack of basic services.

We lived in a chawl. These are apartment blocks with only two rooms without a bathroom. There was a communal latrine for everyone with dry sanitation. The residents were a mix from all regions. There were Sindhis who came to India later, there were independent Gujrati-speaking Bohara Muslims, there were South Indians who had learned Marathi well, and also Christians. Some singles from the UP shared a flat. One of them used to sing. We loved our chawl. There is no privacy in such places. Even if you sneeze in a flat, the whole flat would know about it. So everyone knew everyone’s secrets.

We occupy a corner flat. Our immediate neighbor was a Christian family named Kureshi, his wife Ratan and his daughter Jyoti. He was a violinist and often did ex tempo background score for many performances. Next to them was a Bohara Muslim family. The man of the house, Hasan Bhai, had a petrol shop on the ground floor. The couple did not have children for a long time. Then four girls came over a period of ten years. The eldest was Nafisa, then Nilofer, then Yasmin, and finally Nasreen. Her mother Shirin (we called her Aunt Shirin) was a beauty and an excellent cook. The girls shared their parents’ handsome features and looked good too. No one had maids or nurseries to which children are now sent. Shirin Aunty was a stay-at-home mom, but with hundreds of chores to do and small children to attend to, she invariably left the girls behind at our home. She told me that she should continue studying and that the girls would only play and they had been strictly warned not to bother me. A difficult task indeed. She invariably came to school without finishing my homework…

We enjoyed his presence and his childish chatter was music to our ears. They loved Diwali and had to be included in the firecracker squad. Bhaiya Dooj was a special occasion for them as both me and my older brother gave them gifts. In turn, we used to expect Id and Biryani cooked by Shiirin Aunty.

My mother was a devout Hindu, she observed all the rituals. Then once she wanted to perform a Hindu ritual called havan right in our little house. I don’t remember what the occasion was, but the havan was arranged, the pundit was called, my parents sat in front of the holy fire, and the pooja was in progress. Nilofer, the second girl, was then about four years old. Something was going on in our house and how could she not be part of the fun? She walked in and went directly to my mother and sat on her lap. Someone spoke something into the pundit’s ears. Pooja stopped. My mother looked at him and raised her eyebrows, “what’s the problem sir?” Pundit pointed at Nilofer and said, “Ma’am, she shouldn’t be here.” “Come on, she’s just a kid and what harm can there be?” “No ma’am, our shastras do not allow this.”

Nilofer, of course, had no idea that she was the cause of the interruption.

My mother thought for some time and then said, “Whatever it is. She is on my lap and nothing can take her from me. You have to make your choice. The pooja will stay with her on my lap or it won’t be necessary.” be any pooja”.

The pooja went ahead with this little problem solved.

I soon finished school and was in a university for about a year in Mumbai. I was selected for pilot training in the Indian Air Force and joined Air Force Flying College in Jodhpur. Six months of hard training had transformed me. A new and exciting world had opened up for me. I successfully completed the first term and was a pilot of small planes. When I returned to Nasik Road during the 2 month break everyone was excited and I bragged a lot and got special treatment.

After a couple of days I was showing my flight kit, uniform and all that to the Bohari girls. The eldest was then about 12 years old. They were all zapped and his eyes told me his admiration. At their request I put on my flying overalls and was appreciating myself in the mirror with this all-appreciating lot. suddenly I said,
“Nafisa, don’t you think I’m the most handsome boy on this side of the Suez Canal? I look so good.”

There was a stunned silence. Nafisa’s face showed surprise, she couldn’t contain her laughter and then she ran to the kitchen and blurted out: “Ai, look at him, he says that he is the most handsome man in the world, ho ho ho.”

Nilofer, 9, began to argue: “If you think you are handsome, what an idiot you are. You will regret it if you continue like this.”

Yasmin, 6 years old, started hitting me in a rage.

For 4-year-old Nasreen, the situation was so tense that she began to sob.

It was bothering me a lot. I asked them in a stern voice, “Now tell me once and for all, am I or am I not the most handsome man, yes or no?”

“NOOOOOOO” was the emphatic chorus.

“no” came Nasreen’s sobbing echo.

Alright, I see that, Sabko dekh loonga.

During my marriage, about seven years later, I introduced my girlfriend to them.

“Nina, meet my admirers. According to them, you are married to the ugliest toad ever born on this side of the Suez Canal.”

That hit them bad.

“No No No No, my God, he’s a liar! Don’t believe it. We never said such things.” But then they knew what he was hinting at and somehow the outburst from him wasn’t convincing. He had taken my revenge on me.

All these girls did well in school and graduated. Nafisa at the moment is HOD of English at Udaipur University. She is a guide for PhD students. Nilofer was a school teacher but has settled in domestic affairs. Yasmin is a wealthy businesswoman and Nasreen is teaching. Who says Muslim girls are not allowed to study?