Thanks God the killer of seven-year-old Zainab has been found. Turns out he was a naat khwan. He’s confessed to raping and killing seven girls from age of three to nine. Aged three to nine. And all the while he was going around reciting naats. Monster.
And then that hafiz at a Malir madrassah beat a nine-year-old boy called Hussain to death with a steel pipe. For not reciting his lesson properly.
What’s with these guys? Why are they such sadists? What is their religion, haan?
When I was ten and Jonkers seven Mummy and Aunty Pussy kept a Maulvi Saab to teach us the Holy Quran. He was so humble and nice in front of them, kept his eyes down and a sickly smile pasted on his face, but behind their back – uff, don’t even ask! Every time I stumbled in my reading Moll Saab would pinch me on my thigh. He’d also sit so close to me that his onion breath stirred the hairs on my neck. So horrid. So creepy. Poor Jonker’s Arabic reading was even worst than me so Moll Saab would device all sorts of punishments for him. Sometime he’d grab his ears and twist them right round like they were radio knobs, sometime he’d take his shoe off and hit him. What I’ve never forgotten is the look on Moll Saab’s face when he was punishing us. Like he was eating ice cream. Once when Jonkers got the same word wrong three times, Moll Saab slapped him so hard that Jonkers fell off his chair and hit his head on the marble floor. I screamed. Mummy came rushing in and when she saw Moll Saab’s red hand mark on Jonker’s cheek, she grabbed Moll Saab’s thela, flung it out of the window and shouted: ‘Out! Get out at once!’ He started whining but Mummy cut him short: ‘OUT!’
That day and this day, we’ve never had another one. Not for me, not for Kulchoo. Janoo’s mum The Old Bag, has taught Kulchoo the Holy Quran. One useful thing she’s done in her life.
And then that hafiz at a Malir madrassah beat a nine-year-old boy called Hussain to death with a steel pipe. For not reciting his lesson properly.
What’s with these guys? Why are they such sadists? What is their religion, haan?
When I was ten and Jonkers seven Mummy and Aunty Pussy kept a Maulvi Saab to teach us the Holy Quran. He was so humble and nice in front of them, kept his eyes down and a sickly smile pasted on his face, but behind their back – uff, don’t even ask! Every time I stumbled in my reading Moll Saab would pinch me on my thigh. He’d also sit so close to me that his onion breath stirred the hairs on my neck. So horrid. So creepy. Poor Jonker’s Arabic reading was even worst than me so Moll Saab would device all sorts of punishments for him. Sometime he’d grab his ears and twist them right round like they were radio knobs, sometime he’d take his shoe off and hit him. What I’ve never forgotten is the look on Moll Saab’s face when he was punishing us. Like he was eating ice cream. Once when Jonkers got the same word wrong three times, Moll Saab slapped him so hard that Jonkers fell off his chair and hit his head on the marble floor. I screamed. Mummy came rushing in and when she saw Moll Saab’s red hand mark on Jonker’s cheek, she grabbed Moll Saab’s thela, flung it out of the window and shouted: ‘Out! Get out at once!’ He started whining but Mummy cut him short: ‘OUT!’
That day and this day, we’ve never had another one. Not for me, not for Kulchoo. Janoo’s mum The Old Bag, has taught Kulchoo the Holy Quran. One useful thing she’s done in her life.