"She is going to be worth over 5 lacs." said our host as he opened his hands to hug his 3 years old beautiful daughter. His wife smiled back at him in agreement.
We, myself and my wife, went into an awkward silence for a few moments as we stared at each other.
Thread.
We, myself and my wife, went into an awkward silence for a few moments as we stared at each other.
Thread.
On a beautiful bright sunny day last summer, we were playing with our kids in the children park close to where we live when we noticed a lady speaking in Pashto with her two kids, a 5-6 year old boy & about 3 years old daughter.
Pleasantly surprised, we approached her & introduced ourselves in Pashto. Her husband was sitting away in a corner, she called him and we had a good initial chat while kids played together.
They told us that they were refugees and had taken a long dangerous journey to reach Germany. The man, let's call him Ghairat Khan, has 3 other brothers and all had come with their families totaling about 14 head counts, including children. Only their mother had stayed behind.
In Germany, they remained for sometime together but then the authorities sent each of his brother, with family, to different cities. Ghairat Khan moved into our neighborhood to a refugee house where about 8 other refugee families live. They have a roof over their head but have to
share kitchens, washrooms etc., among themselves. The kids go to schools & kindergartens, and the elders attend German language and integration courses.
It was getting dark, and kids had enough of their play time so we got up to leave for our home.
It was getting dark, and kids had enough of their play time so we got up to leave for our home.
Before we would leave, Ghairat Khan, though a freshly arrived refugee, invited us to a meal at his shared refugee house. I respectfully declined and instead invited them to our place and insisted that they must visit us first as they are new in the neighborhood.
They accepted our invitation, and we met again at our place. Had detailed discussions on their background, and sufferings they had gone through. Ghairat Khan lived in Abbotabad, and his wife, also his cousin, had lived in Peshawar. After their marriage, they lived in Iran for
sometime where Ghairat Khan's sister was married. I asked how come his sister was married to someone in Iran while most of his family was in Pakistan. He explained that they married her to their Persian speaking neighbors in Haripur who later moved to Iran.
Ghairat Khan's wife said that they, family of Ghairat Khan, married off their sister for some good money as her Persian speaking in-laws were financially well off. Her comment wasn't that much of a surprise for me as I knew there are still some people who receive some money in
exchange for marrying off their daughters or sisters. But I could see Ghairat Khan's face color changed. He was visibly displeased at his wife for sharing these details. My wife was surprised though, and she curiously asked her if her father got some money in return for her
marriage to Ghairat Khan, to which she said yes. She explained that since Ghairat Khan was her cousin so her family didn't demand that much amount but relatively less. Ghairat Khan appeared visibly uncomfortable with all this discussion, so I asked him about his job to change the
topic. For the rest of the sitting, we discussed various other topics.
Before they left, Ghairat Khan insisted that we accept his invitation. I tried to reason with him that there is no need for it and it would be difficult for him and other families who shared the house with them. But he wouldn't listen, so we agreed to visit them the next week.
Fast forward, we arrived at their place. Our kids go out to play while we sit on the beautiful Persian carpets. Their Distarkhwan had every delicacy and I believed that they had gone out of their budget, though consistent with their hospitality tradition, to arrange all that.
Afterwards, they brought green tea and we were discussing one topic after another. Their daughter, who had come back into the room, was looking into drawers of a small cupboard in the room. There she found some lip-stick of her mother and she put it on her lips.
As she turned around, she had the lip-stick all over her mouth, not just her lips. All of us were now looking at the blushed and shy little princess, and who continued to smile looking at her mother and father.
Ghairat Khan, opened his arms signalling his daughter to come to him and hug him. A pure spectacle of love of a father for her daughter. She took small steps towards her father, and hugged him tightly.
Smiling, he looked at his wife and said "She is going to be worth over 5 lacs." His wife smiled back in agreement. Something that was so lovely seconds ago, turned awkward for us. My wife and I, didn't say anything for the next few moments. I felt really bad inside my heart.
I politely asked Ghairat Khan if he really meant that. He laughed and said that no, he didn't mean so. He, apparently refused to accept what he had said. He didn't want to discuss the topic any further. I, however, spent the next 20 minutes discussing the plight of women in our
region and our society. Anything that I said, he apparently agreed with everything that I said to him. I intentionally said to him that look Ghairat Khan, the practice of "selling off" daughters and sisters is inconsistent with everything a Pashtun, a Muslim, a civilized Human
would stand for. He tried to explain to me he didn't "sell" his sister and would never "sell" his daughter. The money that they got from their sister's in-laws, was spent on the wedding itself. To our surprise, his wife cut him there saying that was lie and that the amount was
equally distributed among the brothers. Ghairat Khan shouted at her that she knew nothing about the whole wedding affair and that she should just shut up. I immediately intervened that there is no harm in discussions and we should be respectful towards each other.
I quoted Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) respectful treatment of women of his family - wives and daughters. Ghairat Khan calmed down but the whole atmosphere had turned bitter. At this point, we thanked them for their warm and generous hospitality and left for our home.
