Dreams and Promises

Young Riaz had come to Karachi with the hope of a better life and a brighter future for his family. He had sold off his belongings back in a remote village of Punjab and managed to buy a small one-room house in one of the slums of ’Mini Pakistan’.

His family consisted of his young wife Barkatay and son, Akram. They had no relatives or friends here. Riaz was a daily wage earner. They had been in Karachi for about six months and just when things were beginning to look up, Riaz died. He was killed in cold blood by some trigger happy monstrous sniper. Barkatay broke into pieces. She did not know what to do. Being young and alone she now faced many problems.

With the help of a God fearing lady, she started working as a house maid (Maasi) in various homes. Being an honest and a hard working woman, she soon stood on her feet and started her life afresh. The purpose of her life now centred entirely on the well being of her four year old son. It was Akram’s desire to own a TV, like other sahibs’ children. Barkatay had been saving penny by penny to meet her son’s wish and finally managed to raise enough funds to buy a black and white TV set.

That morning, when Barkatay came for work at my residence, Akram’s excitement was at its peak. He walked up to me and said, “ This evening, I am going to watch my own TV.” His face wore a broad smile and eyes shone with innocent delight. Barkatay told me, how difficult it was for her to buy this TV. "It is not easy to raise two thousand rupees for a TV set, Sahibji. But, I could not refuse Akram. I wish, I could give him every thing he wants!"

Next day, when Akram came with his mother, he looked dejected. "When is the matter?" I asked him. "Nothing", he replied quietly. Not knowing the real cause of his unhappiness, I tried to cheer him up, "You promised to tell me about the programs on your TV. Did you enjoy the programs?"

"No," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I did not watch the TV," he replied with almost wet eyes. I looked at his gloomy face and made him sit next to me and asked, "why didn’t you watch your TV?"

"It is burnt." He replied weeping.

"Burnt? How?"

Barkatay, who was sweeping the floor and listening to me, spoke out, "I don’t know Sahibji. We switched on the TV and just after two minutes the screen went blank with a small explosion and lots of smoke." Explaining that the TV had 'burnt out' due to a sudden rise in the voltage and that it would now cost her a few hundred rupees for repairs. "What can I do ? I am ruined." Her voice choked with emotions.

The poor soul had suffered a great mental and financial loss, due to no fault of her own. Had it happened in some civilised country, the government would have ensured not only compensation but also appropriate action against the concerned authorities. Unfortunately, no one here bothers to give any serious thought to such mishaps. The rich ones are least pushed about losing their appliances to the vagaries of the electricity department. The poor on the other hand are not in a position to raise their voices. The electricity people, who are paid to provide amenities, are least concerned about the losses to consumers which are often due to the frequent power breakdowns or fluctuations between 440 volts and 220 volts. Their sole job seems to rotate around collecting electricity ’charges’ from the citizens who don’t tamper with their electricity meters. It is hard to believe that in this age of advanced technology, our electricity technicians cannot ensure a regular flow of 220 volts.

"It is sheer negligence and nothing else. These people must be made to realise their obligations and should account for the losses to the poor consumers." I thought and immediately decided to talk to Sam, (his real name is different, but I being an old friend call him Sam), a senior electricity official. He is known as a hard task master in his office. I was confident, that he would understand the agony of poor consumers like Barkatay and take some remedial steps to prevent such a recurrence in future. I deliberately chose to meet him at his residence, to have a heart to heart chat.

Sam greeted me with the usual warmth and a broad smile, befitting a senior bureaucrat. After usual chit chat, I told him the purpose of my visit. He heard me with patience and concern, "I am sorry for being so worked up about this issue, but you know Sam, being an old pal, I can take liberties with you," I told him.

"My dear it is perfectly okay." He looked me in the eyes and said with a professional smile, "I understand your feelings and concern for well being of our nation. Even if you were not my friend, I would have heard you the way I have done now. It is my job and I also understand that the consumers have all the right to voice their protest. But, for God sake, don’t for a minute think that we are ignorant of the troubles."

"If you know the problems, then why don’t you solve them ?" I asked.

"We are doing our best to improve and provide the best possible services to our consumers but you see, such mishaps can occur any time, due to technical faults or... or maybe, some times, due to negligence." He uttered the last portion reluctantly.

"It is easy for you to say this. What about the losses to the consumers, like Barkatay?" I asked.

"What about that?" He counter questioned, and went on to say smilingly, "You wouldn’t believe it. It is a fact that, my own VCR has also been damaged beyond repairs. So, what can I say? Perhaps, dismiss the whole issue as Allah’s will, like Barkatay said."

"But this is unfair," I protested. "You may bear the losses, but Barkatay can’t."

He smiled and said, "Don’t get worked up. Every thing will be all right. Be assured that I shall do all within my powers to provide improved services!" Sam gave a standard bureaucratic answer.

Before I could say any thing else, a servant entered carrying a carton. He placed it on a table in the corner and announced the arrival of some Salman Sahib. He was called in. A well groomed man in his thirties walked in. Salman, probably, was not expecting to meet me. He was feeling a little uneasy and jittery.

"Hello Salman Sahib, how are you?" Greeted Sam and then turning towards me, said, “Mr. Salman is a dynamic and enterprising industrialist!” I shook hands with him and said hello. He responded smilingly but I could see signs of uncertainty on Salman’s face. Sam realising his nervous state tried to put him at ease by saying, “He is (Pointing towards me) a very old and a close buddy of mine."

Salman sat down, apparently relaxed, and said, "Actually sir, I was passing by, and thought of thanking you personally for your co-operation, in getting additional connection for me."

"Don’t mention it Salman sahib. I only did my job. But where had you been? Its been a long time." Sam said matter of factly.

"I had gone to Singapore on a business trip." Salman paused for a while and casting a confused glance over me told Sam while pointing towards the packed carton on the table," I... I brought a birthday gift for your son. I am sure he would like it sir."

Sam looked at me sheepishly and then turning towards Salman said with a forced tone of protest, "No, no Salman sahib, you shouldn’t have done this. I cannot..."

Salman interrupted him, "Sir, this is between me and my ‘nephew’! I know he is very fond of VCRs. This is the latest model!" Before Sam could say anything, I got up and begged leave, lest Sam had died of embarrassment. I knew Sam didn’t have a son!