One : 'The Chief Guest' by Akhtar Jamal

The Chief Guest

Akhtar Jamal

The Sunshine looked beautiful after the snowfall. It created a rainbow-like effect on the glassy snow, which reflected many brilliant colours! If the sun remained so, the snow would begin to melt. It was as if the kindly sun was full of love and warmth for the little valley.

Everyone was happy--- coal-fire is no substitute for the warmth of the sun, which penetrates the very pores of the body. This soft, glowing heat is like God's love. What would happen if this very sun came closer to our Earth? Everything would scorch, like on Doomsday. But that would be the only time when the North and South Poles would be rid of the bitingly bitter cold and the eternal snow.

What dry, freezing cold weather... it had travelled to the bones. One really wanted the sun to come down on the earth and scorch it.

Shivering, I looked at the sun and pulled the coat up to my ears. I went inside to have a look at my daughter who was sleeping, and instructed the Ayah about her feed. I then left home to catch a bus.

As I walked, my shoes left marks on the pure, white snow. I wondered if I could walk barefoot, so that the beautiful snow could remain unblemished--- but what a naïve thought! Very soon, the military boots, jeeps, lorries and trucks would ruin this beauty and eventually, the snow had to melt. And then how could I walk barefoot? Even with shoes on, my feet were frozen and it seemed as if I was not supported by flesh but by wooden crutches. Walking barefoot would certainly make me ill.

Maybe, walking barefoot on snow wasn't impossible after all. If it were, then all the tales about people roaming in the wilderness would be untrue, like the story of Majnoon walking barefoot on the scorching sand. Walking barefoot on snow or on scorching sand were after all one and the same thing---

I ruminated on teaching Ghalib that day. His poetry would produce the warmth my freezing bones needed. Whenever I taught Ghalib, it occurred to me that people with a limited capacity to understand should not study this poet. Being part of the syllabus, it was Ghalib's misfortune to be read by those who could not appreciate him.

When I reached the college, I cleaned my shoes. Here I was greeted by smiling faces. I went into the staff room where everyone sitting by the heater cursed the cold weather.

'You people are never happy. In summer its the heat that bothers you. You never seem to enjoy the changes in the weather.'

'Here is an idealist, our story-writer,' someone remarked.

'Come join us and warm your feet,' they tried to make room for me.

'No, I don't need the heater,' I said.

'We were anxiously waiting for you, some begums were being discussed.'

'Begums are good to look at, but uninteresting to talk to. I cannot tolerate them. Why I was being missed in this conversation?'

'Do you know of any smart, good-looking wife of a brigadier?' I was asked.

'Why?'

'The sports day must be celebrated before the winter vacation and we cannot find a chief guest, and if it has to be a begum, she should at least be smart and good-looking.'

'Captains, and not brigadiers have attractive wives. If the husband's rank is not important, I can find a smart enough lady,' I said.

'The rank is important,' someone said.

'This is not how educated people ought to think,' I sounded disgusted, 'Why does the chief guest have to be a begum?' I inquired.

I considered suggesting the name of a lady who had spent her entire life for the cause of education. Now, after retirement, she was voluntarily teaching poor children. She cared about the people of the locality and always worked for the benefit of the community. She never publicized her contributions, never got her photograph published, never cut ribbons on inaugural ceremonies, but worked selflessly, educating the village girls. She was much more suitable to be the chief guest than some “dressed up doll”.

However, I did not propose her name. Everyone knew her. She was always clad in simple clothes whereas my colleagues were looking for someone smart and well-dressed. The photographer, the newspaper men and even the school management would be critical about her. School teachers were not at all revered by college teachers.

On the other hand, a pretty wife of a government officer, expensively dressed, fully made-up, with an attractive hair-do and bedecked with jewels would be discussed long after the sports day. Photographers would be more than satisfied and women reporters would quote lines from poetry for such a guest.

Locating such a lady was always a problem, especially in a small city. Wives of almost all government officers had already been invited on one occasion or another. It was therefore decided that someone from the cantonment area should now be approached.

'We were hoping you'd help us but you don't seem interested. What are we to do now?'

'I envy you all, living in the city area with no barbed wires, officers or sepoys, begums and their maid-servants,' I said, 'You are fortunate--- living in such a clean environment with no pollution around.'

'But fresh air is such a blessing. For this I walk four miles everyday.'

Just then Miss Shahnawaz, wearing a red coat came into the room. She was smiling.

'Listen all of you,' she said, 'the new Deputy Commissioner has married a second time.' Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. The Deputy Commissioner had resolved the difficulty. His old wife had arrived over the last year's debate and was very attractive despite her age but couldn't be invited this year. Good for us, the DC had married again. Else we would be looking for a begum in the distant cantonment.

Hearing the bell ring, I went to my class. I could not, therefore, learn more about the DC's second wife. However, I was glad the problem had been solved.

Now that the sun was appearing, the wet grounds would dry up to make the sports occasion possible before the vacation. Many competitive events were already over and prizes would be given away.

The next day, on Miss Shahnawaz's insistence it was decided that I should accompany the others to invite the DC's new wife. Reluctantly, I agreed to go.

'Don't you want to see the new bride?' I was asked, and I was left with no option. I also thought it might be interesting to see the woman for whom the DC had given up a long companionship and his children. She must certainly be worth it.

We arrived at the Deputy Commissioner's house around ten o'clock in the morning. We were taken to the drawing-room and informed that the lady had just woken up and was getting ready. I mused that this DC must have been a “ranker”, for directly recruited officers were quite young.

There was a photograph of the couple in the room. The wife had a funny hair-do but remarkably long eyelashes. 'The face looks familiar,' I remarked. Miss Shahnawaz looked closely at the photograph and exclaimed, 'It's that Glaxo baby! She used to be turned out of my class all the time. What do we do now?' She asked a simple question.

'Just imagine! We've come to invite the worst girl of our college as the chief guest,' Miss Durrani commented sadly. I tried to console them, 'She might have changed now. After all, the DC must have noticed something good in her before proposing for marriage.'

Knowing who she was, I somehow felt at ease. In fact, I had always felt sorry for her. I looked closely at the picture and behind those false eyelashes I could see the Glaxo Baby of only two years ago smiling at me---

One day when I had entered the classroom, all the girls were gathered around a new student, all of them smiling. As soon as I entered they went up to their seats and there, sitting without uniform was this new girl, very plump, with a funny hair-do and very tightly fitted clothes. She had a rosy complexion and auburn hair, but this was marred by her disproportionate figure.

In a few days time, it was obvious that she was very weak in her studies. The teachers had all kinds of complaints against her. She had been to a convent school and had got high grades but we were unable to relate those grades with her current performance. Her father's wealth could be an explanation, though, of her high grades in the matric examination. Girls had started calling her Gkaxo Baby from day one. All her teachers were fed up with her.

She was a disaster in the annual exam. Her mother though was a frequent visitor to the college.

'You should get her married,' Miss Shahnawaz said to her mother one day.

'Please promote her to the next class. We'll make sure she clears the board examination,' pleaded her mother.

Was getting through exams so simple!?

When her mother realized that she would not be promoted, she got her registered as a private student and she was allowed to attend the college. She used to come to college all decked up.

Miss Shah one day confiscated a very objectionable book from her and was disgusted at her level of morality. I tried to help her but it was just a waste of time.

With the introduction of manual work in the prescribed course, things improved. Before any college function, the manual work day would be declared and the whole college would be swept clean. Even girls from well-to-do families participated with great enthusiasm, but Glaxo Baby did not budge.

She took the F.A examination and passed in second division. Her mother had rightly claimed the responsibility of ensuring her success----

The door opened--- the DC's wife entered the room. She was dressed up like a bride, no longer fat and looking extremely attractive. Everyone was surprised at this pleasant change in her.

'Hello everybody,' she said arrogantly and sat down on the sofa. Miss Shahnawaz responded by a very cold 'hello'. Everyone was quiet. I thought I should say something to break the awkward silence.

'You've changed a great deal over the last couple of years,' I said.

'Daddy was posted to the United States,' she responded happily, 'there I attended some courses on slimming--- but now after my marriage I've started putting on weight and I don't mind it because my husband likes me this way.'

No one wanted to extend the invitation. Miss Shah was the most uncomfortable.

However, the DC's wife saved us the embarrassment.

'When my husband's personal secretary informed me that the girl's college wanted to invite me as chief guest I was delighted. I told him I'd love to go there as I was their old student.'

To have one's own student as a chief guest is an honour, but this time it was not so. Miss Shah, who was the organizer, was particularly upset.

'That is very nice,' I said.

She insisted that we should have tea and ordered it. She then went inside and brought a photograph album.

'I want you to see my wedding photographs,' she said.

The tea-trolley arrived.

When we broke the news about the chief guest in the college, everyone was horrified.

'It is wrong to object now. You'll have to accept her. She talks of her old college with great affection. Moreover, you are not inviting her as an individual but as the wife of the Deputy Commissioner.'

Miss Shah was still upset. She even considered postponing the programme and then inviting somebody else after a few days. Someone suggested that everyone should pray for a heavy snowfall and that the sports day may be called off.

'Our brilliant and promising students are unemployed,' I remarked, 'looking for jobs, finding a suitable match for marriage. We cannot therefore, invite any of them as chief guests. If one of the slow ones has succeeded in life, we must be happy about it. Moreover, it's our own attitude that has led us into this situation.'

When the principal came to know about the whole affair, she was quite disgusted.

It did not snow on the sports day. The college was beautifully decorated. Important people of the city and mothers of our students were all invited.

The chief guest's car arrived. The Deputy Commissioner's wife alighted from the car, wearing a beautiful wig and false eyelashes. Her dress, her shoes, everything was expensive. She walked daintily.

The college Principal along with the lecturers was there to receive her. The audience rose as she came along. Miss Shah presented her the scissors on a plate. The chief guest said 'thank you' with a winning smile and cut the ribbon. All clapped and the proceedings of the occasion commenced.

When everything was over, she delivered her address.

'I am happy to be here today. This is my alma-mater. My teachers and my friends are present. I am glad to meet all of you.'

Many of her former classmates were to receive prizes from her, with a photograph as a souvenir to take home.

The Principal thanked the chief guest and said that she was an old student of the college, dearly loved by all. The Principal hoped that their outstanding demands such as a construction of the science block, cafeteria and the hall would not be favourably considered.

The chief guest then chatted with her old friends, 'You people are wasting your time reading course books, taking exams and then waiting for results. If you wish to get anywhere in life you must read books as the one confiscated from me by Miss Shah. I believe it's lying locked up in one of the cupboards.'

After she left, the girls surrounded Miss Shah:

'Which book was that?'

And Miss Shah was dumbfounded.

Translated from Urdu by Shakeel Ahmad.

Notes

Few Important Lines:

1. Begums are good to look at, but uninteresting to talk to.
2. 'Just imagine! We've come to invite the worst girl of our college as the chief guest,' Miss Durrani commented sadly.
3. The chief guest's car arrived. The Deputy Commissioner's wife alighted from the car, wearing a beautiful wig and false eyelashes. Her dress, her shoes, everything was expensive. She walked daintily.

Main Themes:

• Superficiality
• Appearance vs. Reality
• Deterioration of Morality
• Wealth, Power and Status

Some Important Points:

This story has a very descriptive introduction and there are several symbols used such as snow, which represents the purity of nature before man's destructive footsteps mar it. The writer is observant about seemingly petty things such as walking barefoot on snow. The exposition of the story shows negative influences of technology on nature. The story has a linear plot and is in the form of first person narrative.

There is the implication of nature vs. nurture in the story as well as nature vs. man. The writer talks about the superficial lifestyle of people and their lack of knowledge. 'Begums' are only worth looking at, there is the outward beauty and ostentation but the inner personality lacks anything impressive. For many, only status, social class and looks matter. The rest can be compromised if the person has wealth and power.

The snow in the beginning of the story represents the cold-hearted, frozen society of today. Our attitudes are frosty, selfish and materialistic, but this frost can be thawed. The sun is symbolic of hope, guidance and nourishment of positive, morally accurate attitudes which can help melt the frost of our hearts.

The writer is showing a mirror to the readers. The Pakistani society of today is no different. Power and dynamics are deeply rooted in our society and we cannot get rid of these ideas. We always try to associate ourselves with someone famous. An inversion of values has occurred and we appreciate those who are rich and renowned, not those with a good personality or an honest heart. This is the modern lifestyle. In the mad race for power and success it has become almost necessary to leave behind morality and honesty in order to fight our way to the top. To get what we want we take any measures necessary; flattery and sycophantic attitude is common in this matter. Those who are manipulative, cunning and clever are the ones who find a shortcut to success just like Glaxo baby.

The title of the story is ironic as most of the teachers in the story pressed on inviting a 'smart, good-looking' wife of a brigadier, and that rank is important. However, this profile fit on an ex-student, a corrupt, slow and dull-minded girl named Glaxo Baby. Upon an uproar, the narrator said that we should all remember we are not inviting an old student but 'the wife of the Deputy Commissioner'.

The story has made a direct statement on the Pakistani society. We can relate to it and identify with it. We should not blindly follow these modern ideals and try to revert back to our moral selves.

Questions:

1. What are the important symbols used in the story?

2. How can we relate the story to present day society?

Credit- Muneeza Rafiq