A Pair of Jeans and other stories

The new spectacles through which he was viewing her weren’t to be removed.

She wasn’t born to be locked up in a marriage where she danced to her husband’s tune.

But whereas before he’d thought he was the only one entitled to admire her looks, now he wasn’t so sure.

After years and years of being worshipped as a village elder, whose every word and sigh was a law and command onto itself and whose ideas and wishes were respected, here, Sher Khan felt as if he had been robbed of his identity.

And the decades simply slipped away, melting away his youth and gradually severing the links with his homeland.

Times had indeed changed. They lived and were brought up in different worlds, traditions and cultures. Above all, the world was quickly changing around them.

With the subject of their growing children’s futures looming on their domestic horizons, the two mothers had, as a matter of course, discussed and dwelled at length on the subject of their children’s marriage prospects.

Somehow here, in the vicinity of her home, however, she felt different. As she crossed the road and headed for her own street, she was very conscious of her appearance and hoped that she would not meet anyone she knew.

Her higher station in life forestalled natural discourse between them.

Since her teenage years, when she had become aware of her beauty, she knew how to exploit it and to command attention, respect and authority.