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heard her cursing.
    Riaz Ali looked up in surprise at what the Bibi had said. Again he scrutinised her face. She had always respected her son-in-law and was openly proud of him. Tipping the required amount of milk in Hajra’s jug and wiping the lid of his milk container clean with a tea towel, he politely bade Bibi Hajra salam, and then withdrew.
    Hajra returned to her kitchen to place the milk in the fridge. ‘All those jugs of milk he has swallowed down his greedy throat in the past five years, all that travelling to the nearest town for the best cut of lean meat. Is this how he repays us? By cheating on my daughter! I have been a very good mother-in-law – cooking for him, washing for him. Did it not even occur to him to think of
me
? That it is my daughter he is betraying? Oh Haroon, Haroon! My curses will be singing all the way to your grave! You deserve nothing else. You have badly wounded us two women. My daughter has never hurt a fly. How could you hurt her so? As for that woman….’
    Hajra wouldn’t wait for the niceties of people having breakfast. She and Gulshan weren’t going to have any, so why should that bitch? When I have finished with her, she will wish that she had never come to this village! I will blight her face for all eternity. I will have my revenge on her – the whore!’ Hajra swore, her chest a tight painful knot. She wanted to stamp her balled fist on the woman’s face.
    She left the kitchen and went to her own room, where she stood against the bed. Her daughter stared miserably into her mother’s eyes. Hajra stared back.
    ‘I am going to Fatima’s home and then to see Baba Siraj Din,’ she announced.
    ‘Mother!’ Gulshan ventured, her timid heart thudding. ‘No, Mother, please. Not yet!’
    ‘Yes, now! By the time this day is over, and by the time I have finished with those two haramzadas, this village will see a
tamasha
that it has never seen before. They cannot destroy you and expect to get away with it!’ As her daughter’s body convulsed once more, Hajra bent down and pulled her into her arms, letting her weep on her shoulders. ‘I am so sorry. You are the broken piece in this mess, my beloved, but what can we do? We have no choice.’
    She patted Gulshan’s head reassuringly. ‘And remember keep away from that beast. Don’t speak to him or make him any breakfast. He deserves nothing. Don’t listen to him, if he comes near you.’ Hajra gently eased her daughter’s body back on the bed, wiping her wet cheeks with the fold of her own chador. She was so afraid of that ‘rascal’ sweet-talking her daughter. Gulshan was gentle and naive. He, on the contrary, was a callous and scheming scoundrel. Her Gulshan was no match for him. And more importantly, her daughter simply worshipped him. If he told her lies, or tried to make excuses, she knew for sure that Gulshan would forgive him. She couldn’t let that happen. Haroon had to pay!
    ‘How can I go near him when I have seen him in the arms of another!’ Gulshan bitterly reminded her mother. The sight of the woman’s head leaning on her husband’s chest would stay with her for eternity. ‘Mother, are there such women in the world who just steal someone else’s husband in the middle of the night? Are there?’
    Her mother’s sad head dipped.
    ‘There are many types of women, my beautiful daughter. The world is full of them – from all walks of life. They exist in every society, from the dawn of mankind. There are your type and then there are the others. There are the innocent wives pitted against the whores! You tend to judge people by
your
standards,’ her mother reminded her. It was a terrible lesson for the girl to learn, and she had learnt it the hardest way: with her own eyes and with her own husband! No woman deserved that. Hajra’s heart turned over in pain. How could she ever forgive Haroon for doing this?
    Gulshan watched her mother leave the room, cross the courtyard and then bang the door shut. She