Jugnu was deeply disheartened by her family. Every member was upset with another, each one complaining, and the grievances were so prolonged that life would end, but the grievances wouldn’t. However, when news of a relative’s death came, everyone would cry and be at the forefront, even those who couldn’t bear to mention the deceased’s name during their lifetime. In her heart, Jugnu referred to this as ‘dead worship.’ She would think, ‘What do our tears mean to someone who is now indifferent to all good or bad behavior?’ Amidst the tears, foolishness would be mentioned (with a teary smile), forgotten tales were recounted one by one, and there was no hint of the past which had caused so much of life to be wasted in complaints and grievances. At such moments, Jugnu would always shake her head.
The Tale of Grandfather’s Regret
Grandfather might constantly put on a heat scarf in the winters, reveal it to the sun, and lightly run his surrender it as if trying to find a hint, often lost in reminiscences while wrapped in it. He would inform Jugnu that it belonged to his late brother, with whom he had a quarrel over monetary dealings. The dispute escalated to the extent that the 2 brothers couldn’t meet till the younger brother’s death. When Grandfather heard the information of his younger brother’s most cancers, he taken into consideration it a ruse. The ill brother kept calling for him, however Grandfather remained shrouded in his satisfaction. When he acquired the information of his brother’s loss of life, he became struck by means of grief. He wept bitterly, and while nothing else passed off to him, he delivered his brother’s heat shawl. He could put on it, reveal it to the sun, and hold it carefully.
‘I wish relationships could be preserved with such care,’ Jugnu often thought. Open-hearted Jugnu finally gave voice to her thoughts one day. ‘Grandfather, wouldn’t it be better if we put aside false pride to save relationships?’ Grandfather continued to stare ahead in sadness and then slowly responded, ‘This pride is a cruel thing, my child. It turns a person into ashes and destroys relationships. It does not release its prisoners before the death of relationships.’ Regret and sorrow spoke from his tone. Jugnu, who wanted to shame him, who wanted to talk about his hard-heartedness, found herself saddened by his melancholy tone.
At her home, Jugnu noticed a beautifully designed turquoise ring always on her father’s right-hand finger. He never removed this ring. Mother would tell her it belonged to Rafou Phuppho, who was the youngest and most beloved of all, especially to her father. She had a grand wedding, but a few years later, she demanded her rightful share of the inheritance. Upon hearing this, her brothers became enraged. Only Grandmother observed the impending situations with teary eyes for three years.
Jugnu remembered how her father, uncles, mother, and aunts humiliated Phuppho and threw her out of the house. ‘We’ve given you everything we could: education, dowry, clothes, jewelry!’ Phuppho lost her way to the house. As long as Grandmother was alive, she maintained phone contact. After Grandmother’s death, even this connection ended. Years later, when news of her death came, everyone went to her funeral. There, it was revealed that due to financial troubles and her husband’s illness, she had asked for her rightful share. Even if the brothers hadn’t given her the share, they could have at least consoled her, shown compassion.
During Phuppho’s funeral and the fortieth-day ritual, the brothers organized a grand event and gained praise from the world. ‘Mother missed you a lot. She awaited you until her last moments,’ Farwa said softly. Father looked silent and burdened. ‘You gifted her this ring, didn’t you?’ Farwa took the ring out of her purse. ‘Mother cherished it dearly.’ Father quickly wore the ring and never parted from it again. Jugnu felt no sympathy for anyone. ‘I will never let false pride dominate my life. If relationships are dear, there’s no harm in bending.’ She made up her mind.
Life continued with the grievances and pride in relationships. Perhaps this is human nature. Instead of changing others, we have to change ourselves. With this thought, she left her parents’ house and moved to Faisal’s. Everyone appreciated her broad-mindedness and generosity. Even Aunt wouldn’t be upset with her. Sister-in-law would always initiate meetings. Brother-in-law and sisters-in-law would say, ‘She’s more than a daughter, may you live long.’ Whenever her mother-in-law placed a hand on her head, she would pray for her well-being.
Time was moving forward. From the beginning, Jugnu liked Salim Bhai’s daughter, Fizza. Her son also respected his mother’s choice, and thus, Fizza and Raza’s engagement was fixed. During this time, Faisal and Salim Bhai had a falling out over some matter, which escalated to the point of severing ties. ‘If you even mention your parents’ house…’ Faisal would say, clenching his fists. The relationships broke, and so did the hearts. Salim Bhai quickly fixed Fizza’s marriage with his friend’s son, seemingly as a tit-for-tat. Thus, Jugnu became a victim of the game of pride to uphold her husband’s and son’s respect. Sometimes, we don’t let our pride rise, but the pride of our relatives compels us. The same happened with Jugnu. Her maternal relatives all sided with Salim Bhai.
Occasionally, she would hear news from her maternal home—someone’s illness, trouble, or joy. Jugnu would feel distressed. Five years passed. During this time, she heard news of Fizza’s broken engagement. Naturally, she felt sad. Then, Salim Bhai had an accident. She longed to visit him, but Faisal’s pride was still intact. ‘No way.’ Faisal was, at that moment, just a man—a prisoner of false pride. Salim Bhai’s condition was serious. All the siblings were calling for her. ‘Brother keeps mentioning your name, Jugnu.’ She felt a pang but was helpless. Would she also spend her days relying on her brother’s belongings? She would recall the defeated faces of her grandfather and the regret-ridden face of her father. She wept so much that she fell ill. Faisal was nourishing his pride with hatred. When Raza saw his mother’s condition, his heart melted. He called his aunt after a long time. ‘Aunt, Mom is very sick, very sick…’ He couldn’t control the tremor in his voice.
‘Raza, I’m coming, just wait!’ Suddenly, the phone was snatched from the other end. Surely, someone had taken the cell phone from her aunt. And half an hour later, Fizza was at the gate. Fizza went straight to Faisal. ‘Uncle, I apologize for my father’s behavior. Please don’t punish Aunt so severely for her fault. Why do we wait for death to meet each other? I have come as a daughter; please don’t break my trust.’ She folded her hands.
Many moments were lost in silence. Faisal was indeed a prisoner of false pride but not a hard-hearted man. He appreciated Jugnu’s services and liked Fizza. He silently placed a hand on Fizza’s head and gestured for his son to bring the car keys. Moments later, they were at Salim Bhai’s side. Jugnu was crying, holding her brother’s hand. Faisal was serious, and Raza and Fizza looked content. ‘I’m older, but I apologize. There’s no shame in bowing down; otherwise, relationships turn to dust,’ Faisal said.
Salim Bhai’s voice was weak, but he reached out his hands. Both embraced. False pride convulsed one last time, then crumbled to dust. Today, the love of relationships had
