House Number 12 Block Number 3 by Sana Balagamwala

Author:Sana Balagamwala
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: karachi, south asian literature, pakistani novels, diverse books, historical fiction about women, diverse spines, pakistan book, pakistani authors, south asian authors, south asian books
Publisher: Hidden Shelf Publishing House

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I wondered if Jameela's conversation with Nadia had raised any suspicions in her mind, but I doubted it. It was difficult to be suspicious of Uncle Jee. He was a wealthy man who donated money to many causes and was extremely well respected in the community. Additionally, he was practically family and an investor in Haji Rahmat's business.

The more days that passed after Uncle Jee left for Dhaka, the more cheerful and happier Nadia seemed, small smiles creasing her lips more often than not. The recurring stomach aches that Nadia used to have subsided considerably, and once again she seemed relaxed, like her usual self.

One quiet afternoon, while Jameela hemmed Nadia's kurta, the conversation drifted to East Pakistan. Nadia's friend Mariam was over, and the girls were sitting with Zainab, cross-legged on either side of a substantial sixteen-by-twenty poster, working on a school project. Glue, magazine clippings, and markers were scattered around them. Jameela was sizing the hem of Nadia's school uniform kurta with pins.

"Jameela, before you stitch it, hold it up against Nadia, please, " Zainab said. "I want to make sure it's the right length."

Nadia stood up next to Jameela, who held the kurta up against her.

Zainab looked up at her daughter." You're getting tall, beta." She smiled. "I think soon you will be taller than me." To Jameela she said, "Take it down, an inch and a half. It's looking too short."

Nadia held the kurta up against herself and faced Mariam. "Don't you think this is too long?" she asked her friend. "It looks so silly."

Mariam grimaces. "Aunty Zainab, Nadia is right, it looks like an old woman's dress."

"Ammi, see."

"Ufh. You girls are so silly." Zainab said. "It doesn't look proper to wear these kinds of short shirts to school. Jameela, keep it long. She'll grow again next month and then it will be a waste."

Nadia folded the hem up two inches. "No, do it this way. Don't listen to Ammi, Jameela. She is too old-fashioned!"

"Nadia. No arguing."

When her mother's back was turned, Nadia gestured to Jameela to make it shorter and put her finger to her lips to imply the need for secrecy. Mariam clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Jameela shook her head and smiled. She undid the silver pins, folded the hem up a little more, and marked it with chalk. Then she threaded her needle and began sewing. It was quiet for a few minutes, while the girls applied glue on the backs of photographs and stuck them onto the poster. Then Jameela spoke.

"Baji, it's been quite a few weeks since Uncle Jee left. Have you heard from him? Or from Khansama? Or Javed?"

Nadia's face took on a pallid, jaundiced hue.

Zainab replied, "No word at all. Nothing. Aunty Rabab is getting worried. I hope Khansama is with his family. Javed—no one has heard from him in a month."

Jameela shook her head sadly.

Nadia gripped her marker tightly and colored with renewed intensity the border pattern she was working on.

Jameela continued.

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