Child Bride 1916 - Part Two

Jeevani wondered what this new home would be like for her.

Bauji had set her down weeks before the wedding.  Sitting on her usual seat of honor, her father’s lap, Jeevani had listened.

“Puttar, your new home is the capital of Balochistan.  See here on this map,” he traced his finger across the spread out sheet, “this province spreads out into Afghanistan and Iran.”

“O ma! It’s so big.  I’ll get lost there.”  She exclaimed.

Her father smiled as the map sat sprawled on his large desk in front of them.  He pointed to a spot on it, “Look here, this is the Bolan Pass.  In spring, after all the snow has melted away, visitors of different tribes herd their sheep and goats and come into Quetta through here.  To them there is no Afghanistan or India or Iran, just one big Balochi Land.”

Jeevani leaned over to take a closer look.

Bauji continued, “These tribal people don’t live in one place.  When the Pass is clear and safe, they trudge through the mountains.  It is very rugged there and these nomads carry handicrafts to trade like mirror-work embroidery, carpets…”

“Does Quetta have bazaars?  Like the one we do here?”  Jeevani jumped in with excitement.

“Just as colorful as we do, but they are more fun in spring.”  Her father responded.

“What happens in winter?”  Jeevani asked.

Her father looked up with a faraway gaze, “Beautiful.  Those copper red and russet rocks, the crests of the mountains powdered with snow.  I can never forget such a charming city.”  A shadow then crossed his face, “I also remember very well becoming stuck there for days after a blizzard.”

Jeevani shivered in her seat and huddled close to Bauji to rest her head on his chest.  She could hear the slow thump of his heart beneath the white cotton shirt.  She thought she felt a wet drop on her head, but it could not be raining indoors.

“Jeevani, dinner time,” Amma called out from the kitchen.  Jeevani tore away from her father’s story-time to help with dinner preparation.  She had to learn to make good food for her new family.  Amma advised her on the regional delicacies of Quetta made from sheep and goats.

“Amma, what are we making today?”  Jeevani skipped in.

“Kababs and tomorrow will be mutton pulao.” 

“Yum, I love Kababs.”  Jeevani licked her lips.

“Your mother-in-law will teach you the more ethnic dishes,” Amma assured.

“What are those?”  Jeevani asked.

“Sajji is the leg of lamb and landhi is a whole lamb dried in the shade and preserved for the winter.”  Amma explained.

“Amma, why can’t you come with me to Quetta?  I like to learn from you.”

Amma hugged her daughter, tears wedged in corners of her eyes, and said, “Ameerni will make a good teacher and mother.”

to be  continued...