Not again please?!!!!

“Aik to khala ko bhi pata nahi kya masla hay….main hi phass jata hoon”, was one of the many phrases being murmured by Umar as he was watching his mother moving to and fro, checking her bag and the list she made before dragging him along to the car. While some of you may be anticipating that maybe Umar was being taken to a doctor or even to tuition, judging by his resentment and words mincing, well you are fairly incorrect as neither one of them pisses Umar off to such an extent. The day began on a high-note for Umar, playing Fifa on his PS4, enjoying his procrastinating routine as the summer holidays had just begun two days ago. He should’ve suspected that something wasn’t right as his mother was being extra nice to him, even serving him a chilled, creamy mango milkshake early in the morning. The poor lad had to wait till lunch to discover the ‘conspiracy’.
Mummy: Khaanay kay baad meray saath chalna zara
Umar: Kahan?
Mummy: yehi M.M Alam
Umar: Khana kha kar? Raat ko chalain gay jab Abu bhi aa jain
Mummy: Nahi wo na asal main Khaadi jana tha Sale lagi hui hay
Umar: ……..kyun? Aap ko to wo buri lagti thin?
Mummy: But tumhari Khala nay bola hay aur aaj sale ka first day hay
Umar: But?
Mummy: Main khud chali jaoon phir kya?
For those of us who may be unfamiliar, the two comebacks “main khudhi chali jaoon” and “tum nay namaz parhi hay?” are the ultimate comebacks, compelling the poor child to submit to the will of his mother. So reluctantly, Umar was forced to get dressed, with an ‘amazing’ Khaadi trip looming just around the corner. It was the summer of 2015, the year where Pakistanis were crazy about Lawn suits. Everywhere you go, the billboards would show either Sadia Khan or Sadaf Kanwal, promoting specific clothing designers. People would consider Lawn suits something as a status symbol, with the elite showing no hesitation to give away their expensive dresses to their maids with the arrival of a new edition, deeming the previous wardrobe as ‘unusable’. While some may consider it as an act of generosity, the bitter truth is that the elite considered it a matter of sheer embarrassment to wear clothes from the previous edition. Nevertheless, Umar wasn’t bothered. Inside his head, the scarce brain cells un his head had already decided that at the shop, he will casually look for a bench at the very distant end, use his mobile internet to text his friends while his mother looked for the clothes she intended to purchase.
However, he was soon to discover that like most of the plans he makes, this one was going to be nothing like the situation he was mentally preparing himself. With Khaadi hardly twenty yards away, Umar noticed a large crowd surrounding the main entrance like a swarm of bees, reminding him of the recent viral video of people breaking the doors of a “Sapphire” outlet, charging inside to grab the precious merchandise before others. With his mobile phone in his hands, Umar was eager to make a video if such an event was to be repeated, only to be disheartened that it was a crowd of people who felt claustrophobic inside the shop. With that being said, they proceeded inside the shop only to be left shell-shocked with what they saw. The whole shop was overcrowded with customers, jostling with one another for the limited available stock, fighting with each other, aggressiveness getting the better of most. It wouldn’t be wrong to compare it to a fish market which was quite uncharacteristic as only a few days earlier, Umar had visited this place with only a handful of customers alongside him with each one of them being individually escorted by a representative of the company.
Nevertheless, Umar decided not to give much thought, beginning his search for a vacant bench or seat. After wasting five minutes scampering all around the outlet, he realized that his efforts were in vain as there wasn’t a single seat available. Flustered with the thought of standing, he leaned against the wall adjacent to a rack, and eventually sat on the floor as there weren’t many shoppers in this portion of the shop. Next, he decided to observe the scenery in front of him. Aged women well above sixty were eager to buy the suits he would commonly see his classmates dressed in, men trying their best to handle their infants while the mothers explored one rack after the other, people misbehaving with the poor lads acting as the representatives of Khaadi and the ever-so-long queue for the changing room (mainly because people take nearly half a dozen clothes with them, not leaving until every single one is tried on). Shaking his head, he opened Whatsapp and started sending memes to some of his friends.
After nearly twenty minutes, Umar’s mother came to him with a pile of clothes that she had selected to buy. Umar casually took them, continuing using his mobile. Since his concentration was fully invested in texting, he didn’t realize the impending danger approaching him. Four women, all in black-veiled burqas, with quite a reasonable physique, displaying a sense of aggression with their authoritative gait. They had to go between Umar and a box to reach the rack. BAAAAMMMMMM!!!!! While getting past Umar, one of them smacked him with her elbow on his tummy. That blow reminded him of one of his middle school fights. He didn’t mind it too much as such accidents do take place in crowded places, the fact that they showed no remorse, was what Umar felt was wrong their part. The four women went through the rack, picking out clothes, and much to Umar’s surprise threw them on a nearby stand after deciding not to buy them. One of them must’ve noticed the pile of clothes on Umar’s lap as all four of them surrounded Umar, and without any hesitation, bullied Umar to grab hold of the five shirts his mother had given to hold for her. Despite the protest from Umar on this appalling behavior, the women paid no heed and eventually took one of those shirts and left while Umar was left figuring out what just took place.
Once his mother arrived, Umar explained the whole embarrassing situation that took place with his mother insisting that he should bury the hatchet as she could easily get another one from the shelf she earlier found it on. Mothers have the unique ability to cheer up their children regardless of the severity of the event they may have been involved in as Umar’s frown was swiftly changed into a smile as they finally decided to leave the overly crowded outlet and go back home. But they had to pay for the products they had decided to buy and were greeted with a line of almost thirty ladies at the counter. Umar noticed that there was a separate line for men which hardly consisted of 4–5 gentlemen. Thus, to save time, he volunteered to stand in the line while his mother stayed behind. As earlier elaborated in the story, things do not quite go according to plan for Umar. While standing in the line, he heard a fight being started in the other queue, with ladies hurling abuses at one another. Next thing he knew, most of them broke the line and came to the line designated for men. Ladies twice or maybe thrice his age were pushing him, grabbing his arms and shoulders, shouting in his ear with mere frustration. This was something he had never experienced before. The cashier kept screaming, “Please step aside, you are hurting the kid in front of you Madam”, but no one bothered to listen to his plea. With the situation worsening and Umar almost on the floor after being repeatedly shoved, someone grabbed his left arm and pushed him out of the line. He wasn’t even sure who was it but was just delighted that he was out of the mess before being squashed. “Lanat bhejo in sab Jahilon par, hum ja rahay hain”, and Umar’s mother further tightened her grip on his arm, barged towards the door, leaving everything behind, even ignoring the request of the cashier that they can pay immediately as a priority.
The drive back home was an uneventful one with neither one of the two exchanging any words or talking about the events that had unfolded earlier at the shop. This gave him time to ponder over certain matters he had earlier questioned but after his experience at this shop made it pivotal to give a mind-boggling thought. Starting with the attitude of the elite. For someone who belongs to the topmost tier of the society, being well off, is it appropriate to consider clothes as the main standard of showing how well-off you are? Are you willing to act barbarously, brawling one another for a piece of cloth? Will you prefer making an impact over others with your latest “Khaadi Khaas” collection or leave an ever-lasting impact with your manners, humbleness, and modesty? Is it justified to buy over-priced clothing, some even exceeding the monthly salary earned by workers, just because of the brand and the approval of some individuals? Shouldn’t you buy and wear clothes based on what you like and not what the trend is? Would it not be better to utilize the excessive money for something better? Moreover, due to social pressure, even those who cannot easily afford such highly costed clothing, end up excessively spending a fair proportion of their income to buy them.
Another lesson that Umar least expected was the trouble faced by women in everyday life. While being surrounded by women at the shop, he felt oppressed being the opposite gender. The constant elbowing and being shoved in the back by ladies is something that made Umar feel insecure. Ladies grabbing hold of his arms and shoulders left him with a permanent scar. If such an incident had a traumatizing outcome for him, imaging the struggle of working women facing harassment at work is beyond comprehension. Reading a recent survey, Umar recalled that 78% of women have faced harassment while traveling on public transportation but chose to remain silent over it due to a lack of conviction and accountability for the harassers. Furthermore, Umar recalled all the incidents he saw at “Speedo Bus Service”, ranging from men intentionally sitting on the seats allotted for women and surrounding them just to tease them, cursing himself for not taking a stand against such injustice by simply labeling it as an everyday routine.
With that being said, currently, Umar tries his best to discourage his relatives and friends from being a part of this unjustified bandwagon, urging them to utilize their money for better reasons. If he is forced to accompany someone to buy clothes from such elite brands, he doesn’t shy from intentionally calling them “Sardi ki razai”, “Rooti ka rumal”, “Daddi kay kapron ka print”, etc-small efforts to prevent them from buying the clothes. On the other hand, he now dares to help all the women he believes are being oppressed while traveling on public buses, spreading awareness of the helpline “1043” to counter harassment and publicly defending Aurat March from its critics with the dream that one day, Pakistan would be free of class barriers and disparities faced by gender.