Read Typhoon for Free Online Page B

rooms. Reaching up for the bolt. Fatima opened the door wide, hastily stepping aside as Hajra pushed past.
    ‘
Bismillah! Bismillah!
’ Fatima offered her usual words of greeting. Taken aback by Hajra’s rudeness, her arms fell woodenly to her side. Normally they embraced.
    Ignoring her, Hajra stood aggressively poised in the middle of her friend’s courtyard, her head swaying from side to side, as if looking for someone.
    Deeply affronted by Hajra’s strange behaviour, Fatima ventured to ask, ‘Is everything all right, sister Hajra?’
    ‘NO! Everything is
not
all right!’ Hajra screeched, actively taking the cue her friend had innocently offered.
    ‘
Khair hai!
I am sorry. What is the matter?’ Fatima asked, so concerned she forgot to shut the door. It remained wide open.

    Outside in the village lane, Kulsoom Bibi and Naimat Bibi the two notorious village friends, by chance happened to follow behind Hajra. Hearing her angry tirade in Fatima’s courtyard, Kulsoom Bibi, her ears sharper than her friend’s, had quickly flashed her a significant look, promptly stalling their steps there and then. On tiptoe they sidled nearer to the open door, their eyes shining and ears cocked in speculative delight. Both women were known in the village as being very adept at eavesdropping and extracting scandalous information from behind any closed doors. And this was an
open
door! Heavenly opportunity!
    Inside, ‘Where is your niece?’ Hajra spat, her eyes gleaming with the fires of vengeance.
    A startled Fatima tried desperately to make sense of what her friend was doing and saying.
    ‘I beg your pardon, Hajra,’ she began, but was cut off by another verbal assault. ‘Where is that slut?’ Hajra hissed, her index finger poking menacingly at her friend’s chest.
    Thoroughly rattled now, Fatima cried out her concern. ‘I don’t know what is going on!’
    ‘Fetch that whore of a niece of yours!
Now
!’
    Behind the street door, Kulsoom’s dark eyes were sparkling with delight at her friend. She held tightly toher glass bangles on her bony arms, in case they jangled together and drew the attention of the two angry women inside the yard. Carefully peering between the dusty crack of the door post and the door, brushing aside spirals of old spider webs, she tried to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of them. Exactly what was going on? Did she hear right? The word
whore
? Her weak heart began to thump away.
    ‘What has come over you today, sister Hajra? Are you all right? What do you mean by abusing my dearest niece Naghmana like this?’ Fatima managed to
    croak out. ‘Yes, I am in my right senses, but I think you have lost yours. You are harbouring a snake in your house, do you know that? An evil, scheming whore and a home-wrecker! Definitely not a
nag
, a gem! A
whore
, I tell you!’ There was now a speck of foam at one corner of her mouth.
    Fatima was totally outraged, ‘I don’t know what’s come over you! How dare you say such things!’ she choked, as the words first jammed and then came rushing out of her mouth.
    ‘Call her!’ Hajra challenged, her mouth working away and glaring back at her friend.
    Baffled, shocked and with her heart thumping away like a large
dholki
drum inside her, Fatima went to the bottom of the steps and called her niece.
    ‘Naghmana, my daughter, can you come down?’ The words trembled on her lips.
    In the village lane outside, Kulsoom and Naimat fought for space to peer over each other’s shoulders through the crack. For here was the making of a grand village drama. A wonderful
tamasha
– and home-grown one at that. Definitely not imported!
    A few seconds later, light feminine stiletto shoes gaily clicked down the steps and Hajra’s head jerked up as Naghmana appeared. Bitterly Hajra noted the stylish, cut of the woman’s cerise chiffon suit, moulded against her sculptured chest; the short sleeves becomingly tailored well above her elbows; the neckline cleverly designed