THE FAULT IN THE STARS

There are two kinds of relatives: those you’re glad to have in your life and those who make you curse your life. The former celebrates your existence; the latter makes you wish you weren’t born at all. I’m sure you have many relatives. Let us suppose Uncle Z is a relative of yours. It is entirely up to you to either thank your stars or curse them for making him part of your family. Let me introduce you to Uncle Z !

Uncle Z became famous in the whole village as soon as he was born, which is, seven months after his parents’ wedding. His mother and father thanked God profusely for their premature baby’s life and health. When the villagers gave free reign to their imagination, the couple referred to Khuda ki marzi in giving them a premature son. Uncle Z’s grandfather sacrificed four black goats to ward off the evil spirits from his grandson and express the family’s acceptance of their qismet and the male heir. With the grand aqiqa feast held for the whole village, everyone became convinced that it had indeed been a fault in the stars that a miscalculation occurred in the timing of birth.

When Uncle Z grew up, he exhibited his grandfather’s extraordinary skill at narrating bawdy stories and his father’s amazing talent at carrying them out. He loved to be the centre of attention and entertained his audience with anecdotes of his youthful days. The family remembers that when Uncle Z was in the twelfth grade, his principal sent a warning letter home on disciplinary charges. The actual charges have been forgotten over the years, but the moral lesson deduced from that warning letter lives on in the memory of all living relatives: Partying and drinking do not make a good combination (within college premises). When his mother, Chachchi Shabbiran, reprimanded him, the young Uncle Z had only one reply up his sleeve, “Ami Ji, it was the fault in my stars that I got caught. I wonder how Abba Ji never gets caught.”

From that day to the end of his miserable, lonely life, the poor Chachcha Shabbir kept scolding his stars for bestowing him with a filthy-mouthed son. The rest of the family has learnt to be careful not to let either fate or Uncle Z intervene in their private matters for fear of him spilling the beans on anyone as he has been doing so since his birth!

Uncle Z has probably inherited this shifting of responsibility from himself to any other terrestrial or celestial being from his elders. His father kept pestering him with only one demand throughout his college life: Son, get into the armed forces. One day, Uncle Z asked his father, “Why exactly do you want me to go into the armed forces?” Chachcha Shabbir’s reply could go down in history books, “Son! By getting into the army you may even become the president of the country!”

Fueled by this Icarian ambition, Uncle Z did get into the army but to this day he laments the fact that he couldn’t be the one to hold the prestigious office of a president. In fact, he keeps telling everyone the reason behind his retirement as a major was “the fault in his stars.”

After years of working and family pestering, Uncle Z finally decided to tie the knot. By now he had given up all hope of securing the presidency. Feeling naughty at forty, he thought he might as well secure the hand of a lady. One evening, driving back from a social gathering, he confided to a friend, “I’ve lost my heart.” His friend asked him, “To whom?” Uncle Z told his friend the name of the venerable lady. “What?” The friend was thunderstruck. “She’s already taken, man! Back off!” With this the friend hoped to dash the seductive spirits of Uncle Z, but his blood roused at this challenge and he replied, “It’s always fun to score a goal where there’s a goal-keeper already!” At this, his friend’s blood boiled, “Well, I am that goal-keeper!” Within a matter of days, Uncle Z was forced to call his lady-love his ‘bhabhi’ and confess to himself, “Just my rotten luck!”

His rotten luck forced him to apply to his mother’s assistance in search of a “good wife”. Uncle finally got married through the desi arranged marriage system. His mother had got her heart’s wish fulfilled to wed a daughter-in-law who observed shara’i purdah and who could guide her wayward son on the path of righteousness. Uncle’s tremendous hopes to go abroad on his honeymoon were soon shattered. His wife quickly became the darling of the whole family including her mother-in-law. Women wanted tips from her to reform their husbands. Auntie Fareeda was the apple of everyone’s eyes except her husband’s. Poor Uncle Z had only one refuge: he started praying bajamaat namaz five times a day, including tahajjud, repenting to God, “I know that I am a bad, bad man. But is this a test or a favour to have a nun for a wife?”

The thought of sadqa e jaaria (continuous reward) later compelled the couple to break the ice. Twenty-seven years and three kids later, Uncle Z has accepted the reality that his stars have not destined him to get married four times. However, he flagrantly declares, “If I had gotten the chance to become the president, the first thing I would have done would be to abolish monogamy legally.” At this, Auntie tells him curtly, “I’m sure that’s the only thing you would have done, but taxpayers don’t pay for your fantasies.” “To hell with tax! The only hell is the one I live in!”

Speaking of hell, it has been years since uncle’s father passed away. Once, he appeared in a relative’s dream, complaining about the shoddy treatment he was receiving at the other end. When the old man is interrogated about his responsibilities as a father, a husband, a responsible human, unfortunately, he can’t get away with saying, “But, it was all in my stars!”

It is believed that the accountability board on the other side will have you and only you responsible. Uncle Z has begun to display signs of silent contemplation these days. It looks like he is taking this accountability drive quite seriously!