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Fiction: A Muslim Wife's Birthday
Ms. Anona
It was his wife's birthday, but no one would have known if not for Jane.
Rabia. her name was Rabia.
It was only acknowledged after Rabia asked Jane's husband, Johan when was the birth date of Annabelle, their daughter. Johan hesitated and looked to Jane for help. Jane didn't know what they were discussing, but after it had been revealed in English, she rolled her eyes and spit out the date along with "And, when is my birthday?!?"
Forgotten birthdays was a topic Jane liked to bring up among his friends where she could become playfully upset. This was one of many traits men of all cultures seemed to share and she had no inhibitions in saying so.
Jane heard a soft, light voice say something brief from the kitchen where Rabia was preparing dinner. She had said placidly and without contempt in their language that it was indeed her birthday. Here it was her birthday and no fanfare or complaint. Yet this white woman had the audacity to complain all year!
Within a few minutes of the revelation, the men were out the door to retrieve a cake. This of course caused much consternation between the children. The two oldest were chosen to accompany them while Anabelle and the youngest stayed behind.
All of a sudden, Jane and Rabia were left alone with the two young ones biting at their ankles. They talked tentatively about their families. Jane had previously learned that Pakistani women rarely would open up to her and oftentimes wondered if they even had anything burning inside of them to open. They seemed genuinely content.
Jane wondered if Rabia ever got upset or angry with her husband, her kids, life in general. She seemed so much like Jane's own mother- always giving, never receiving. Jane wished she could just curb her temper and attitude that so often furled up into something resembling anger or depression in any given moment. Johan wanted Jane to be like Rabia, except keep all the good things that came with being an educated, young, white woman. He wanted a beautiful subservient maid- A Paris Hilton maid. She wanted to please him, but her body and mind just would not contort to this kind of distress. They fought constantly about this. His vision of a woman should not be forced. She should just naturally be this way from loving him, he thought.
The men were still not back. Jane took the children downstairs. They played quietly. The house was silent. She knew if she had three young boys at home, all she would want for her birthday would be a few minutes alone.
She heard clanging of plates in the kitchen. The kitchen was her life, Jane thought. She sought comfort there whereas Jane felt entrapment. There is a saying in both Eastern and Western cultures that goes "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." Jane thought of a more appropriate saying for Eastern women and came up with "The way to a woman's soul, is through a man's stomach."
The men returned. At sometime around 10:30, dinner was served. There was one chair missing at the table and Rabia lagged behind. Jane called to her to come join them. Her husband explained that she did not eat late at night. Johan made a fat joke aimed at Jane and said he wished that his wife did not eat at night. It flared her temper, but she remained calm, like most times. She was not fat and he knew that she hated eating so late at night, well after most children's bedtime.
After the dinner that her husband would complain about the first thing they rolled out the driveway, the cake was presented on the table. Rabia was calmly serving her own birthday cake!
"Oh, no... there is something really wrong here! Where are the candles?" Jane said. "At least we have to sing 'Happy Birthday'!" The children were rallied together and sang a half-hearted 'Happy Birthday to you....'
The cake was cut and served by Rabia. Everyone ate it except her. Rabia then joined them at the table and ate the leftover dinner of rice and chicken.
On the drive home Jane thought about life and if it would really be easier on her if she acted this way. Easier, maybe, but still Rabia rarely smiled and did not seem to share in any joy.
Rabia's home was one where items seemed to just pick themselves off the floor and put themselves in their right position. No one would have even known she was there.
IdeaSmith
URL
February 28, 2008
07:16 AM
Nicely written piece. I'm just wondering though, whether it is too stark, too much of a black-and-white picture. But I guess if you're simply describing the world as seen by one person, it is quite perfect.
temporal
URL
February 28, 2008
03:28 PM
a/m:
welcome to DC:)
since you are new here let me begin with this caveat: no offense intended:)
now, i don't really know where to begin with...there is so much that can be avoided here
yesterday in a comment i mentioned "show don't tell"
let me illustrate above:
take this scenario: as a director you have to execute a scene in a busy restaurant...dinner time...a table for two...the 30+ couple is about to break up...
a smart director would "show" the story...camera panning the restaurant...focussing on the ring in his/her hand....moving to fingers clutching the glass very firmly eyes looking past her at others in the restaurant...camera cutting to her misty eyes....cutting to her hands fidgeting nervously with table cloth...voice a few decibels above normal to show anger,resentment, bitterness...this is how the director is showing the audience something not normal exists between the couple and they are about to break up...
a lazy director would just show an angry he-said-she-said scene and wrap up
the former effort could be remarkable while the latter is forgettable
***
back to this story
* the heading is simplistic...first you are already "telling" ...and why muslim? ... what follows is too universal to confine to muslims alone
the first sentence It was his wife's birthday, but no one would have known if not for Jane. is unremarkable...and rather torturous...
you have introduced THREE characters here ALREADY!
(in short stories or even in a chapter of a novel in the beginning ... you have to take the reader with you...do not overwhelm your reader)
second paragraph: Rabia. her name was Rabia.
need i say anything?...the construct is more torturous and out of genre ( based on the format as it follows)... and really...it is not the editor who can fix the writer's spelling errors...they are all voluntary editors here and have time constraints...the principal onus is on the writer to check and if necessary double and triple check before submitting for publication
again FOUR character rather undeveloped are introduced... and for an american (as you confessed elsewhere .. the narration is faltering and unsmooth)
i guess i have said enough?
story telling is magical mesmerism...you have the story...you have to mesmerize and spell bound the reader/audience...if you falter...they will lose interest...
don't feel like going through the rest...maybe others can chip in and carry this forward...
Ms.Anona
URL
February 28, 2008
05:09 PM
I don't expect you old farts to get this, but
"Last night a DC saved my life!!!"
kerty
February 28, 2008
05:58 PM
Anona.
T is not known to be highly verbose and he kind of surprised me. But your retort ate the cake.
What do you mean by 'you old farts'? Where did that come from? It smells fishy to me. I hope you are not out to rattle gaseous windpipes here right from your first post. I also couldn't make out what "Last night a DC saved my life!!!" meant. Are we suppose to know what happened to you last night? Are we going to see personal drama unfold here?
Ms.Anona
URL
February 28, 2008
06:13 PM
Ok, just forget about that last post, not important. Yes, you will see personal drama unfold here, is that a problem?
I think deep inside temporal likes me, but he's not the type to say it. Temporal, I do really appreciate the long retort and I do not see you as a hazard. I would expect nothing more from you, no offense.
This isn't my best piece, but I like it, that's enough for me right now.
The one I wanted you guys to read is pretty long and tending towards erotic. A negative response is much much better than silence.
Poena
February 28, 2008
06:28 PM
That was a very moving story. It captures, through a single event, a forgotten birthday, much of the inter-cultural tensions between a white woman and a muslim husband. It's got subtleties that address not just the dynamic between the husband-wife but also the transference and identification with others with culturally different backgrounds.
The concept is very strong. The form could use a little work. But i think you said a lot with a few words.
Keep writing!!
commonsense
February 28, 2008
07:43 PM
Ms. A,
a bit too black/white, but, keep writing. temporal is, by his own admission "a man of few words", but sometimes he is not. as poena says,
keep writing!
Deepti Lamba
URL
February 28, 2008
08:47 PM
Mrs Anona, as writers we give our readers and critics the freedom to judge our stories.
Temporal merely provided feedback.
Take it in the spirit it was intended.
And welcome to DC:)
Ms.Anona
February 28, 2008
08:53 PM
Deepti, you misunderstand me. I like temporal's response a lot, especially after I have been told he posts in small quantities.
Please, take another stab at me, feels great.
Deepti Lamba
URL
February 28, 2008
09:22 PM
Lol! I know how it feels, one needs nerves of steel when a work is ripped apart but being writers we are glutton for punishment;) I am looking forward to your next piece:)
commonsense
February 28, 2008
09:45 PM
Ms A:
""The one I wanted you guys to read is pretty long and tending towards erotic."'
You might just end up hurting my a-erotic sentiments. Just kidding! Let it rip!
kerty
February 28, 2008
10:25 PM
Anona...
Men in general tend to forget or trivialize dates and anniversaries and I would certainly include myself in that category. I know why I do not attach too much importance to them, but I do not know about others though.
I do not know enough about Moslem culture to know how widely b'days and anniversaries are celebrated in their culture. Nor I would pretend to know how wide spread it is among hindus as they tend to be too diverse in social-cultural matters to be amenable to generalization. I know that my family historically never celebrated them, nor all the families, communities and towns surrounding mine that I knew growing up. B'days and anniversary milestones were confined to Gods and other events of religious/cultural importance. Individual-centric celebrations were confined to weddings and other sanskaras. We certainly celebrated death anniversaries of departed family elders in the form of homage. But not the living ones. I think things began to change gradually after 60s and main exposure to these new rituals came from Bollywood movies. Still, it was confined to rich and Baniyas, while common folks like us wondered what the big deal was all about. Our calander was never dull, always full of ceremonies and festivities of weddings and religious festivals celebrated at whole village level. So nobody needed additional excuses to create new ones. But in last 20 years, I have seen a sea change. B'day celebrations have became a norm in most families I come across. Though cake and candles are not always part of celebrations. In my own family, with the birth of our kids, we too have started celebrating b'days but in a little subdued manner(my wife cornered me into it as she was feeling embarrassed not celebrating while all other family relatives were celebrating their kidss' b'days) - we make it a point to go to a local temple on that day and than feast on specially prepared dinner or sometimes go out for a lavish dinner, but still, it strictly remains a private family affair. I still have not come around to celebrate my own b'days yet. The point is, these things are ingrained culturally in many parts of India. There is no personal slight of loved-ones intended or involved in such cases. I know many Indians who do not celebrate mother's day but their mom remains number #1 in their lives 365 days a year. But if one were to look at such things from different cultural sensitivities, lots of things would look baffling and one could end up reading more into it than there really is the case.
If one were to look everything as caricatures without being mindful of each other's cultural sensitivities, than blending or co-existence of two cultures within a family relationship can become a very rough and bumpy ride. And that is what nations and communities usually go thru because they lack that glue of will, love and sacrifice among different cultures that a loving personal relationship is able to have. If a personal relationship lacks or is not able to develop that glue, such relationship would likely inherit some of the prejudices and struggles that both cultures at large may be projecting. Bottom line, only spirit of love and sacrifice can bridge the divides in relationships.
commonsense
February 28, 2008
11:11 PM
kerty:
"If a personal relationship lacks or is not able to develop that glue"
Erotic, gooey stuff....
commonsense
February 28, 2008
11:14 PM
kerty:
"And that is what nations and communities usually go thru because they lack that glue of will, love and sacrifice among different cultures..."
Wanted: a national glue company...
(a+b)^2
February 29, 2008
04:54 PM
The title and the passage doesnt relate to each other. Either the author's pen is highly influenced by western rhetoric or the author is trying to attract readers by using the word muslim.
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