Upon the birth of my first son, Jeth distributed sweets throughout the village, celebrating joyously. For three days, the courtyard gates echoed with the sound of drums, and so much food was prepared that all the people of the neighborhood ate to their heart's content. Yet, there were leftovers, which were then donated to the orphanage.
The reason behind this was that my father-in-law owned considerable agricultural land, but he had two sons as his heirs - one being Jeth and the other my husband. Jeth had three daughters, but no son. They prayed, "Oh God! If there's no son in my fate, then bless my brother-in-law with a son. Let there be an heir to our property and honor. Remember, in our region, most landowners deprive their sisters and daughters of their inheritance rights. They raise their daughters in such a way that upon reaching adulthood, they willingly give their inheritance rights to their brothers. If husbands or in-laws ask them to claim their share of property from their fathers and brothers, they prefer divorce over asserting their rights. This tradition still prevails in many households in southern Punjab. Mir Alam was very happy about the birth of a son. He asked me what gift he should give me on this joyous occasion. I replied, "If you want to give me a gift, buy a mansion in Multan in my name, but the condition is that I will live there myself." My husband replied, "Buying a mansion is not a big deal. I will buy one for you today in your name, but it must be inhabitable, although it's a bit tricky because permission must be obtained from the elder brother. Here, it was a custom that women lived in their paternal homes while men resided in nearby towns. They would come to their paternal homes and oversee the land whenever they wished. The distance from our village to Multan was sixty miles, which could be covered in an hour by car. Nevertheless, I stuck to my condition. The reason was that he had brought me from the city to marry me, and my family was in Makkah, while I was in Lahore. Lahore was a big city, so there was a difference in lifestyle between there and here. There was open space in the village and the charm of lush fields, but there was no electricity or gas for cooking. Food was cooked on wood stoves. Even in harsh summers, living without AC was necessary. This life was torture for me, although there were servants, employees, and all sorts of comfort-filled lives present. But there was no vibrancy in life. After marriage, I couldn't adjust to life in the village. I wanted my husband to settle in the city. Not necessarily in Lahore, but at least in Multan, as it was the closest big city to our village. Mir Alam had a law degree, and he practiced law as a hobby, but his practice was limited to district court, while lawyers from Dera pursued most cases. If he had to go to the High Court, he would go to Multan. I suggested to Mir Alam that I wanted to see a big and famous lawyer. I wanted him to become a lawyer in the High Court. For this, it was necessary for him to reside in Multan. So why not move to Multan? When coming to the village, it's an hour's journey, and we will keep coming and going. Expressing my intense desire, he bought a house in Multan, and we shifted to the city. After coming here, I realized how big a blessing servants, maids, and cooks were. He brought two male servants from our village, but the female house help was not happy about permanently coming to Multan. After some time, they stayed with us, but then they started demanding the fare for returning to the village. When someone missed their children, they took it as a habit of gasping for breath in the open air. On any pretext, they disturbed. Every month, we would ask for a new woman as a maid from the village, and she wouldn't stay calm for even a month. This kind of turmoil led to mental distress. One child was small, and besides taking care of him, I also needed the assistance of elderly women for the upbringing of the elder child, while I had no one here except me. My mother-in-law was already fond of me. Leaving Lahore and coming to Multan was not satisfactory for her because her own housework was there. The two younger sisters were studying in college. They didn't come either. In the village, Jathan, his three daughters, and my sister-in-law's daughter, along with my maternal grandmother, were engaged in taking care of my child. I didn't have to do household chores there. There were servants. I didn't even touch water. When thirsty, I would ask the maid to bring water. It's true that a person never remains happy in any situation. There were a hundred blessings in my village home. There was comfort and ease. I would sit on the wooden cot and rule, yet I would be sad. The lament of the heat and the absence of electricity. That was the biggest sorrow, and arranging for the solitary mansion here, cooking for my husband's daily guests, and the little child seemed like a mountain of responsibilities on me. It's true that shared family hardship is also a great blessing. When I had to face the problems of solitary life, my brain was exhausted. In Multan, whichever maid we got, it didn't mean anything. They came and went at their whim, and they were like a passing breeze when it came to money. If you say something small, they would leave their job. Then you have to find someone else. You have to explain every job from scratch. It started bothering me a lot. The biggest problem for me in city life was not finding a good female servant. One who gives peace, does good work, and suits my mood. I found some good female servants who were good helpers and did my work, but they stole some of my belongings. When I found out, I thought it best to dismiss them. This issue was still ongoing when Allah blessed me with another child, and I became a mother to another son. My first son, Mir Muhammad, was only a year and two months old when the second son, Mir Khizar, was born. Taking care of two small children became very difficult. Sometimes there was a maid, sometimes there wasn't.
One day, Roopa prayed to God, "O Allah! Grant me a good servant, so that I may perform grateful prayers." God listened to my prayer. These days, when the woman who used to come to clean my house said that a woman in my neighborhood had told her that she wants to leave her eleven-year-old daughter in a respectable household for a day and night. If you agree, then bring the girl with you tomorrow. Blindly take what's offered. I replied. The next day, Gulzar brought a woman and a girl with her. When I saw the girl for the first time, I liked her. Whatever happened, despite poverty, her face still resembled that of a princess. Such a beautiful girl could not belong to this woman. Seeing her fair and plump mother, I thought. The mother wasn't bad-looking either, but the girl's beauty was exceptional. Is she your own daughter? That's why I asked the woman. "Yes, Begum Sahiba, she is my own daughter, born to me." It seems her father must be handsome. I thought to myself. "Bibi, quickly settle the salary, my husband is waiting outside, I have to go back soon." Has your husband come with you? Yes, I'll take her back alone. We came here by Qasim Bela, my house is far from here. Alright, what salary do you want? You can keep her for a day and a night for six thousand. I'll take her tomorrow for sure. I'll take her in the morning and drop her back in the evening. She'll meet her brothers and sisters. I agreed. Now you can leave her. Don't worry about the environment of my house. Aman Gulzar has been working with me for six months. She knows our environment. I reassured her. Bibi, give me some advance. We are very poor and we don't have the return fare. Alright. When I handed her two thousand rupees, she was happy. When she left the house, before closing the gate, I looked back for a moment. I saw a dark, rough, and ugly person who was her husband. Oh God! Is this the father of the beautiful girl? Absolutely not. This man cannot be the father of this girl. The features of the girl's mother were fine, but the father, may God forgive me, was especially ugly, even repulsive. I thought I needed the girl. She'll stay with me for twenty-four hours. She'll see my little children. Little children have a hundred things to do upstairs, they'll run around. What would she think of the appearance of her mother and father? After her mother left, I asked the girl her name. Saira... she said. Your name is very good. Yes, my father gave it to me. Alright. I didn't dwell on her statement. Saira stayed with me for a day or two, then she returned to normal. She turned out to be very good and obedient. She tried to do whatever work she was told to do with full attention and readiness. She quickly adapted to my wishes, and she became a diligent servant as I wanted her to be. Saira's arrival brought me a lot of peace. Her mother also came to see her fifteen days later. I had no objection. I didn't lack money. I just needed peace, which Saira gave me. In return, I fulfilled whatever her mother asked for. When she demanded money, sometimes she asked for pairs. I collected my little earnings and she took them. Once she asked for some household items. I handed her ten thousand and said, go and buy it yourself. When she came back, she said, it rains from the roof in the rain, everything in the room gets wet. I said, spend twenty thousand to get a new roof. I didn't want to return Saira under any circumstances because she had become a part of my house. She almost took all my worries related to household chores on her fragile shoulders. If I even called her at midnight, she would get up. Saira, get up, Mohammad is crying, take him to your room and put him to sleep. She would get up quickly, bring Mohammad to her room, and soothe him to sleep. She would either tap him lovingly or feed him milk in a feeder. Now she had become so accustomed to these tasks that what seemed like a chore to her? Now I couldn't imagine a day without her. So much so that if she went to meet her brothers and sisters for a few hours, she would become restless without her until evening, as if both my arms had been cut off. Gradually, those people realized that Saira had become my weakness, so her mother's demands increased. For example, Saira's elder sister is getting married, we need money for her dowry. Our house is small, we only have one room on one floor, there is no bathroom. The adjacent plot is being sold. I have eight children, there is no place to live, they sleep at their grandmother's house and sometimes at their uncle's house. If you give two million, we can buy three plots and build a big house. When demands started to increase, one day it slipped out of my mouth. Saira, your parents' demands are increasing beyond limits. Do I have to return you to them now? She said... Sister, my mother is not greedy but my father is. He's the one who insists on all this, but I will stay with you. I won't go back home. Why? Don't you miss your parents, siblings? I miss my siblings, but I don't love my parents. How can that be, Saira? After all, they are your parents. They are not my parents, sister! They're not my biological parents! Don't talk nonsense, Saira. Your face resembles your mother's a lot. My mother is your biological mother, after all. She's not my mother, sister! I can't bear to tell you. If my father comes to pick me up one day without me, somehow don't hand me over to him, otherwise, he'll sell me to someone.
Why would he sell her? Especially when he has other daughters too. You're not a threat to them, so why is Saaira a threat? That's the point, and that's why he kept her here. Let me tell you the truth now, Bibi. Saaira wasn't born yet, and I was only the mother of three children back then. My husband, Rashid, worked at the mansion of a wealthy man named Rashid. I was their domestic worker, and my husband was the financial manager of their mansion. They had also given us servant quarters. Rashid's wife was often not present at home. She was very beautiful but was from Lahore. She used to go to Lahore every month, which bothered Mr. Rashid a lot, but the woman didn't care about what he said. They had three sons and no daughter. Mr. and Mrs. wished for a daughter. When I got pregnant, they said, "Bakht, if you have a daughter now, give her to us. We will adopt her." I agreed and said, "Yes, sir, I will give her." By the grace of God, I gave birth to a daughter in their servant quarters. I already had three daughters. They named her Saaira and reminded me of giving them the daughter. At that time, Mumtaz resisted, but compelled by her promise, I handed Saaira over to Mr. Rashid and his wife. For a few days, his wife looked after my daughter and accepted her, but perhaps not wholeheartedly. Mr. Rashid had a beautiful cradle made for the girl, adorned her with gold jewelry, and was very fond of her. But one day, when there was a quarrel between the husband and wife, the lady took all three sons and went to Lahore, leaving my daughter behind just for taking care. I had entrusted Saaira to them, so I returned home to stay away from the girl and find peace. If she had stayed there, I wouldn't have been able to love her from my heart. Love for children comes from the heart. I fell ill due to the thought of the girl. Suddenly one day, there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Rashid came. He was sick. He told me that his heart arteries were blocked, and he needed an operation. The chances of survival are low. His wife has left him. So he has come to entrust his daughter to you. If my life has not been loyal, then who will take care of her? No one can take care of her except you. I thanked God in my heart that my child came back to me again, but Mr. Rashid was also sad. I prayed that God would grant him a new life after the operation. While leaving, they gave me a considerable amount for taking care of the girl. My husband collected the money. My husband and his family suspected that this girl was not theirs, but the result of some mistake between me and Mr. Rashid. Anyway, during Mr. Rashid's operation, he passed away, and my daughter became permanently mine. My husband is not a good person. He started bothering me by saying that Saaira resembles Rashid and that's why he adopted her.
Why did he pay all the expenses of her birth, why did he show so much affection, and why did his wife leave him? She left Saaira and her husband! I had no answer to my husband's questions. I also had other children. Taking separation from my husband, where would I take the children and how would I raise them? I am still living in pain and distress. Until Saaira was little, things weren't too bad. My suffering was limited to myself, but now that she has grown up, my husband's attention has shifted a bit more towards her. I am worried that this attention might harm Saaira. If he takes any retaliatory action against her, it will harm her, or he might sell her to someone else. What should I do if he goes against my husband? How will I go to court against my husband? I also have other children. She was crying, and seeing her helplessness, I was also crying.
Now, how do I explain to this girl that I am her stepmother? My husband used to constantly fill her mind with this idea that she is not your stepmother. If she were your stepmother, why would he give you to the woman from Lahore and her husband Rashid? Saaira is naive; she doesn't understand my husband's false love. I'm not worried about myself, but my husband is very bad. I don't trust his intentions. I want her to find a good relationship, and as soon as a good match is found, I'll marry her off, so she goes to her house instead of coming to mine to avoid influencing or misleading my husband. After hearing the whole story, I said, "Bakht, I am saddened by your oppression, I am with you, and I will support you, but the controversial point in this story is that your daughter is very different and separate from all your other children in appearance. What about the suspicion your husband has cast on you? Would you like to say anything about it?" She remained silent for a while, her eyes fixed on the ground. Then she spoke in a subdued voice, "Baji, it is true that a person is prone to error, and if someone makes a mistake, they also get punished. Whatever mistake I made, I am suffering its consequences. Who knows how many more will I face, but I pray that I get the punishment for my sins, Saaira remains safe, and she lives a respectful life. We are very poor people, and poverty is a curse. Sometimes, in poverty, one is forced to put honor at stake. By doing so, he felt ashamed, as if he had put his secret in my lap. I felt it inappropriate to talk further. I gave her some money and said, "Don't worry, your daughter is safe in my house. No one can harm her here. I'll increase your wages and support you. If your husband demands money, then take it. But this is getting serious now, find a good relationship for her, and when you find one, don't worry about the dowry. We will marry her off with respect from our house. Bakht thanked me, then four years passed, and Saaira stayed with me. Now my children started going to school. One day her mother came. She said, "Saaira has found a good match. He is my brother's son, but my husband, my brother, demands three lakhs in exchange. I mentioned it to Mir Alam. He said that this girl has worked sincerely for so many years and loves our children. In return, three lakhs are nothing. He invited Bakht's brother-in-law and, after discussing the matter, gave three lakhs to ensure that you make your sister-in-law your daughter-in-law. Let me tell you that this is the custom of the poor people of villages that instead of a girl, they take another girl (exchange) or settle the matter by paying money, so by taking the money, Bakht's husband gave his relationship to his cousin's son. Today, Saaira is happily settled in her house. Sometimes she comes to meet me.
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