Paper Marriage.
He was running very fast, faster than one could. He was running from last many years. He was very tired. His condition was very bad. He was out of breath. If he would have taken another step, he would have been dead. Whenever he thought of being copped he drowned himself in deep thoughts. He was in this dilemma and police was close to him. One of them shouted loudly, “Attention monsieur! Papier s’il vous plait”.
He wasn’t unaware of this phrase. Since he stepped in France . He knew about certain things. In these frangi (white skin people) countries, you can’t trust upon three things which were, “Work, women and weather” besides that where he was born, was elevated and uneven plateau (Satha Murtafa Potohar) and over there you can’t trust upon weather as well. Anyhow he was unable to answer them so they took him to jail and after little so called remand, they released him because they were unable to communicate each other. His French and their English weren’t sufficient.
Thanks God, he was safe otherwise they would have deported him to Pakistan. He took metro 1 and came to Chalet les Hales. This was his favourite place. He went at the top floor of Centre George Pompidou. He started a bird eye view. He was in love with Paris but without paper it was like a lockup or jail or you can say solitary confinement. You are living with millions of people and you are alone. He was scared of many things about his poverty, about going back to his country. He was in Paris from last many years and was unable to change his life. Means, earning money, bank balance, a so called Asian philosophy of Asians in European countries that you make money in Europe and you invest it in your promise land, in your own country. During his stay, he was unable to learn any skill like electrician, cook or any kind of technical work. Neither he was expert in painting. He always misunderstood, when someone asked him about painting. For him painting was on canvas and for them painting houses. He never accepted these things. On the other hand he studied a lot of things when he was student upon dignity of work. In his own religion Islam, “the one who does manual work, that person is very close to God”. For him it was all bookish stuff.
When he was in B.A. (Bachelor of Arts) in Pakistan. He never thought that he will face these things. His father was an office clerk and they were hardly surviving. Everyone was sacrificing for his studies because he was their asset. Mautassam Baqi Billa that was his name. When Mautassam was in university, he used to dream about his future that when he will pass the exam. He will get some nice governmental job and he will complete his masters as a part time student. Like this he will be able to help his parents and will continue his studies. His office will be nice and clean. He will be sitting on a revolving chair and electric typewriter and a peon will be sitting on a chair outside his office. Everyone will need permission to enter inside. Peon will ask him, “Sahib jee (add as a respect) shall I send him in or not” but since he passed the exam. He got his bachelor degree. He didn’t get any job. He had no approach or money to bribe them to get a job. His father and family were unhappier than him. It wasn’t him, there were many like him. They were even better than him but jobless. Their education system is strange, it’s theoretical not practical. After having degree you are handicap. They give you certain type of slow poisoning that you feel that you aren’t ordinary person, you are someone very special. It’s true education and knowledge grooms and polishes you but it doesn’t mean that you forget dignity of work. His father used to think in different manners. Alas he would have learnt some technical work. It wasn’t Mautassam’s fault, that decade was strange (Zia Ul Haque’s martial law period). Nobody was able to understand the situation. His biggest and greatest amusement was when he was in Pakistan, snooker club. Where his all friends used to come. He was unable to afford to play but for him it was a meeting place where he used to pass his time, the second place where he used to go regularly was any sub standard restaurant, where they used to take tea. It was very easy to find him in these restaurants or snooker clubs. He was a proper vagabond. He used to pass his time in the streets like loafers and coming home late was his daily routine.
While he was in these thoughts the waitress asked him in a very tactical way. He knew that because it’s a small cafe at the top floor of George Pompidou Centre, you can’t say it’s very small but its terrace is always jam pack and he knew the trick because he does this job sometime. When waiter bring the bill at the table and say, “finni”, it means leave the table especially when you are having only coffee. He left the table and came home. His flat mate used to call him Bao. (Babbo or Bao a short word for educated person or the one who is bit open minded and dress up nicely specially trousers and shirt). His name was Mautassam Baqi Billah (B’illah) but everyone used to call him Billa (the one who has eyes like tom cat) but his name wasn’t Billa, his name was B’illah which means something else.
One of them said Bao, “We will find some girl for you for paper marriage. You will get papers and it will cost you 50,000 thousand French francs”.
Mautassam started thinking which were nearly five lakh rupees (half million rupees). With that much money you can buy a two bed room house. You can start a small business.
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He found waiter’s job again. He was educated and good looking but he had strange habit. He never had permanence and serenity in his personality. Wherever he worked he worked for five months, seven months like that. During waiter’s job he used to think that somebody has thrown him from a multi story building and whenever someone spoke harshly and bitterly, he felt his words like a razor edge. He used to feel that somebody has placed a piece of red hot burning coal in his heart. He used to drown himself in deep thought, deep down in the bottom but without papers what you can say. Like a bastard or illegitimate child. If that bastard’s or illegitimate child’s secret will be disclosed, he won’t be able to face the world. During waiter’s job he never wanted to talk or came closer to some girl because their boss used to keep an eye on them. Whenever he made up some courage to speak with some girl, that courage, courage had gone in a blink of eye. He never liked waiter’s job but there wasn’t any choice. He was ordinary waiter but with lot of confidence. He used to think that with his one gesture he will shake the world. He did petty jobs but never degraded himself in his own eyes. He never ever said anything or did anything with which there would have been any chance of his country’s or his personality’s degradation or against his prestige. For him love was luxury and apart from that during his stay he never thought about his brother, sister and parents. Since he was in Europe he was in crises. He was lazy or unlucky. He didn’t know what his goal was. Whenever he saw some spot light in the dark, something happened so instead of thinking about that happiness and started resolving that problem.
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In the morning they were preparing restaurant for lunch. Usually they don’t have many customers during lunch time so until 11:30 they don’t have many customers. Everyone was busy in his work. Mautassam was setting tables and checking their clothes and placing glasses as well.
She was sitting at table no 3, for them it was normal, so he ignored her and reluctantly gave her menu card.
She said, “I don’t need this; give me cappuccino and couple of samosas”. (A triangle kind of thing made of super fine flour, you can stuffed it with mince meat or boil mix vegetables of potatoes) she wasn’t bad looking, she was young. He passed the order to chef through intercom and looked at her suspiciously. She wasn’t bad at all and suddenly an idea came in his mind and he made up his mind in a blink of eye that rubbish idea, forget it.
He asked her, “Vous avez finni mademoiselle” (you have finished) she said, “Oui”. He gave her bill like that waitress of George Pompidou’s cafe gave him.
She was thinking that she should escape without paying bill but it was difficult because there were lot of people in the street. Mautassam knew that she doesn’t have money and she wants to escape because this was his everyday’s job.
She said, “Look I don’t have money but you can take my id, passport or identity card. When I will pay you I will take them back”.
Mautassam said, “What shall I do with them”. He was very angry and annoyed but what you can do, you have to take decision quickly and amount wasn’t a lot. He thought of Urdu proverb, “If horse makes friendship with grass than what will he eat”. Suddenly something clicked his mind.
He said, “Listen, you give me your telephone number”.
She gave him her telephone number and said, “I will definitely bring you the money” and she went away.
It wasn’t new thing for Mautassam. It was like that. He just forgot it like an ordinary event and phone number; he wrote her number in his small diary.
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Today was Monday. Most of the Asians rather Indian and Pakistani restaurants are closed on Monday. It was his day off. He went to the launderette, washed his clothes than he came home, he prepared meal for himself and for his mates as well because it was his turn today. After finishing everything, he watched a romantic Indian film than in the evening he went to Champs Elysees. He was doing window shopping. His favourite stores were music stores and book stores. He was fond of fine art. It was nearly impossible for him to buy designer clothes but it was cost less to look at them through window. He was walking in front of Lido. It’s big and famous hall for musical programmes, concerts and competitions. He saw a public telephone booth and thought of phoning her. I must phone her, what was her name, “Shantel”, why not. He had a telecom Franciase card. Still there were some minutes. He inserted the card and dialled her number. Phone was ringing and after a while someone picked up the phone and said, “Alo (hello). Mautassam responded, “It’s me Mautassam can I speak with Shantel”.
She said, “Yes it’s me”.
“Mautassam, Pakistani restaurant”. Said Mautassam
“Oh, I am sorry I didn’t come”, said Shantel.
He said, “It’s ok, what are you doing”.
She said, “Nothing”
He said, “Can we see each other next Monday, if it’s please you”.
She said, “Fine, I would love to”.
He said, “Ok than I will phone you next Monday. Aurevoir, abientot.
Now Mautassam was waiting for next Monday desperately. He wasn’t very hopeful but like this he passed the week.
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Today Mautassam was looking very good. He did his best. The date was at George Pompidou Centre. She was there at exact time. First of all she gave him money but he refused to take it because it was nominal amount. He took her at the top floor of George Pompidou centre at the same cafe where he used to come quite often.
Shantel was from a good family she wasn’t from mediocre or rich family but wasn’t bad. She was in her final year of fine art but there she got habit of drugs. She left her studies in the middle and drugs were her sole interest. She was thinking if this gentleman will ask me to go into bed with him, she will accept it like this she will have some more money for drugs.
Both of them were sitting quietly because for Mautassam it was very difficult to say. His conscience wasn’t permitting him but from last many years he was running. Finally he made up his mind and he said what he wanted. Gave her proposal and explained her how this will be work out. After hearing his idea, Shantel thought like this she will earn lot money. He said I will give 40,000 thousand French francs in three instalments. First will be at the registration second will be, when I will get Carte Sejour and third when I will give you divorce.
She said, “Fine”
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Mautassam got married and got Carte Sejour for ten years. He gave her two instalments. He was very happy. During this period Mautassam and Shantel came very close to each other. Mautassam was fond of literature and Shantel was fond of fine art. Since they were married even though it was paper marriage, Mautassam started working regularly and Shantel now she was using less drugs. Mautassam was like a free bird, he never took life seriously but now he was working and living with her like it was a mission. Sometime he used to feel guilty conscience that he was using her for his purpose. He used to feel pejorative. On the other hand Shantel was feeling guilty conscience as well that she has taken a lot of money from a helpless person just for the sake of her drugs. It had been two years and divorce time was very near and last instalment was remaining. It was first time that Mautassam worked at some place and same place for two years regularly. First reason was that that he was working legally and second reason he didn’t know because he never worked at some place for more than six months. Shantel left fine art but after this marriage she started painting again. She persuaded towards art. Again she started visiting art galleries and seeing exhibitions. This was after a long time, she wanted to restart painting. She had knowledge of surrealism, realism, frescoes, cubism and abstract art but her inclinations and tendencies were towards cubism. She started working on a painting. Neither Mautassam nor Shantel knew what the reason behind all this change was.
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Today when Mautassam came back from work he saw that Shantel was chatting with some young man. Mautassam said bonsoir to both of them and went to the wash room. It was pretty obvious that they were husband and wife only in papers, it was contract marriage. It was marriage of convenience but he didn’t like it. He pretended that everything is okay. After couple of weeks Mautassam went to see the film with his colleague Claudia. When Shantel came to know about this, she didn’t like it but she didn’t mention him. She was feeling fidget and squirmed but the problem was that that it was paper marriage. As the divorce days were coming closer the stress was increasing among them. In two years time, they were habitual and addicted off each other. They never lived together continuously and regularly but they had to stay together until their divorce would not have been sorted out.
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Mautassam gave her divorce’s paper and she signed them. After some official technicalities and formalities court accepted their divorce and now both of them were free. Even Mautassam was free when he got Carte Sejour but he was scared of some uncertain things. When they were coming out from the court, Mautassam offer her to go to George Pompidou Centre where they met two years before. He said, “This will be our last coffee together and I will give you last instalment, is that okay with you”.
Shantel liked his idea and said, “Yes”.
It was nice and sunny day and they ordered their coffee.
Shantel, “Mautassam what you will do now”?
Mautassam, “I will go to Pakistan to see my parents, brother and sister. I will marry there as well. It has been ages that I haven’t seen my country and family. What about you Shantel”?
Shantel, “I have planned that I will join my fine art college and I will complete the education. I will dedicate my life to fine art.
Mautassam, “If you like it, I have an offer for you. I know a Pakistani guy. He hasn’t got documents. You will earn money and he will get papers. He is a decent guy”.
Shantel, “No Mautassam, I can’t do it. You don’t even know that how I have passed these two years. Only I know that how bad I felt. Paper marriage is worse than common law marriage”.
Mautassam, “Okay! Fine, it was an offer. Here is last instalment”.
Shantel, “Let’s go”.
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Mautassam was perturbed and uncontrolled. He was feeling strange. His studio flat was empty. He was feeling that he has lost his some precious thing.
Shantel was upset as well at her place. Both of them were sitting close to telephone. He checked all the miss calls and she checked as well.
One day Shantel got the message that Mautassam is going to Pakistan and his flight is on such and such date. He is going there for marriage. With trembling hands she dialled his number. Bell was ringing. He picked up the phone and after knowing Shantel is on the line, he responded her question and confirmed her that he is going to Pakistan and he will marry there.
Shantel said, “I know we weren’t husband and wife but there was some relation between us, so if I request you, if we can see each other”.
Mautassam said, “Fine, listen Shantel, we will have dinner together tonight, if you aren’t busy”.
Shantel said, “Done, tonight”.
As usual they were there at exact time. They ordered their meal and were quiet than Shantel broke the ice and said, “Mautassam you like someone in Pakistan or than what, how? God will drop some girl for you from the sky”.
Mautassam said, “It’s not like that in Pakistan like we do here in France or Europe. My parents will find girl for me and like an obedient son I will have to marry her without seeing her”.
“And if girl is from other country and other religion”, said Shantel.
Mautassam said, “Than she will have to accept our certain values”.
Shantel said, “Mautassam shall I tell you one thing that when you went to see film with Claudia, “I didn’t like it”.
“And Shantel”, said Mautassam, “That when you started going out with that French guy, I didn’t like it as well”.
“He was just a friend. We were class fellow in Fine Art College. He didn’t even know that we have done paper marriage”, said Shantel.
“You know Claudia was my colleague and that day she was upset, she had an argument with her boyfriend, so I just wanted to divert her attention”.
“Anyhow apart from these things Mautassam, I have something for you. I made this painting for you. Since I came closer to you I started working again. I left drugs as well”.
“And you know Shantel; I never worked permanently since I came to Europe. This much persistency came in my personality first time in my life. You know when we were coming out from court, after that stage I gave you cold shoulder. I wanted to be free and myself as well”.
“Mautassam you are going to Pakistan, you will definitely need money”, said Shantel.
“Yes I will but I have taken some advance where I work and my Pakistani friends, they have given me some loan as well”, said Mautassam.
“Mautassam how long you gonna stay there”, said Shantel.
“Most probably two months, could be less than that”, said Mautassam.
“Can I come to the airport to say good bye”.
“Yes you can”.
They didn’t say anything what they wanted to say.
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Charles de Gaulle airport was jam pack as usual. Mautassam was waiting for someone. He didn’t get his boarding pass. His friends were saying, you don’t know them, these goris (any white girl, usually goris are English girls and she was French, but for Asians any white skin lady is gori). They all are same. You have sorted your problem. You used her and she used you. Now there isn’t any problem. Now you will marry with the girl of your own country, religion and tribe. While they were chatting Mautassam saw her. She was bit late and she was running hurriedly towards him. She came closer and hugged him. She was crying and saying, “You didn’t realise that you broke someone’s heart but why should you care, your problem has been sorted. Here are your 40,000 thousand French France and let me get rid of my conscience. You don’t even know how I have passed these two years. I didn’t sleep well. I suffered of guilty conscience”.
“No Shantel take them, this is your right because of me you didn’t get your shomage (unemployment benefit). You faced agony and pain”.
Mautassam’s all friends were watching this live theatre. For them it was new thing.
Shantel shouted, “You go to Pakistan and marry there and forget me and just forget this thing that you ever met with some girl Shantel in your life”.
“What are you saying Shantel. We will be good friend. You take this money”.
“I don’t want your friendship because I love you. I want to marry you. Once, you asked me for your own purpose, now I am asking you for my future”.
“Shantel I am Muslim and you are Christian”.
“I will change my religion even though it isn’t a hurdle when you are in love”.
“For me it isn’t important as well”, said Mautassam but my parents are fanatic, anyhow now we both will go to Pakistan because I love you as well. I wanted to tell you many times but after doing paper marriage with you I felt degraded and disrespected not even in my own eyes, sometime I used to feel that the whole Pakistani nation has been kneeled down in front of French nation but I was so much scared of being copped again. My scariness defeated my conscience”.
“You know Mautassam when I accepted your offer and when I took money; I was feeling that I am selling the prestige and dignity of France for this little money in the hands of Pakistani nation. But later on, love knocked at my door. Your honesty and humanity gave me such an impression that I never thought for even a single moment that Pakistanis are inferior than French”.
“You know Shantel I was in love with you but I never mentioned it to you because I thought you might think that this could be my new trick for saving money. Now Shantel between us there is no greed and self interest. No paper marriage, no contract. We will marry again, it will be on papers but this time we will give these papers some meaning. These papers will be respectable because both of us have won the battle of conscience.
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