Short story:
The Handkerchief

Originally written in Balochi by:

Abbas Ali Zaimi

In English translated by:

Uzair Mehr

At this time, Meeran was not more than 17 or 18 years of age. But, in
his early youth, he maintained the financial state of his home with
diligence and exertion. He accompanied other labors in the
construction and plastering of houses. He was healthy and robust
because of his parents’ good wishes and prayers. He kept himself away
from the company and gatherings of other wicked youths of his area,
and in his area, all people deemed Meeran, as a capable and righteous
young man.

Today, he had to travel from his own area to another town nearly 40 Km
away, on the order of his higher-up for a major work. He told his
mother to prepare some viaticum for him. His mother packed some dates
and four breads at the skirt of his chador and gave him a leather
canteen of water. She bid him goodbye with her good wishes.

Meeran embarked on his journey from his home at seven o’ clock in the
morning.  The transportation station’s routes of available vehicles
for transit, was about 5 Km far from his area. Instead of taking the
bus route, he started moving toward a mountainous avenue. Saving
himself from the twists and turns of the bus and reaching the
destination earlier, he moved with rapid steps.

It was also a very hot and torrid weather today. After proceeding
about 20 Km away, he reached near a stream of water. He was hit by the
heat, and his clothes were drenched in perspiration. This stream of
water was coming from a crack of far-flung mountains and heading
toward an area. From this area, a 100 steps ahead he entered a small
well for taking a bath in that underground water, which was coming
from far away and he also put his silky handkerchief in the water for
soaking.

All of a sudden, he lost that handkerchief and it went into the deep
abyss of the underground water. He strove to retrieve it, but the
handkerchief went deeper into the underground water and vanished.
Within the well from where Meeran had bathed and lost the
handkerchief, he discovered another small well, which was almost a 100
steps out, yet, very close to the area. At the edge of this small
well, several women and other gorgeous damsels were rinsing clothes.
One or two of the women entered the brink of the water and dipped
their bodies to the water.  .

Meeran was tenderly, yet circumspectly, stepping from the edge of the
river away, and reached a short span afar. He saw a silky handkerchief
dangling on the Acacia tree. Meeran recognized his handkerchief as the
same one he lost, previously in the underground water, however, as he
could not go ahead, but he called from a far distance.

“Was my handkerchief brought here by the water?”

Among the women, a gorgeous and enchanting damsel uttered,

“Yes, your handkerchief was found hanging on the tree, but I can’t
give it to you because it is a keepsake and mark of my love, given to
me, by God.”

This utterance and response of the maiden, as if agitated the wefts of
his heart and imbued in his soul.

Meeran couldn’t say anything and propped against the palm tree next to
him. He sat there and stared at the very eloquent ladylove who was
standing on the riverbank.
The pulchritudinous lady was frequently looking at Meeran
affectionately and sending him presents of unfelt smiles. Meeran was
subdued between his being and the nonentity of such gifts.

Nearly after half an hour later, the sweetheart lady, along with her
girlfriends, put the clothes on their heads and went away. She kept
the handkerchief in her handbag with blandishment and turned her face
to him for the last time. She looked at Meeran and perturbed his heart
with her glamorously winsome eyes and with that dalliance, walked away
from him.

After a while, Meeran also left the riverbank, and set out toward his
destination for which he embarked on the journey since morning.
However, his heart was immensely captivated by the luxuriant and
gorgeous figure of that mistress. After six or seven months, Meeran
accomplished his toils and returned to his town. But, when he was
about to get married to a girl from that town, where he lost his
handkerchief six or seven months prior, he went to sit near that
riverbank and turned his face toward that direction where his beloved
with her coquettish posture and figure, had appeared.

After half an hour, he dejectedly returned to his town with
heart-rending wishes. He passed his almost three years as a traveler.
Within his three years duration, Meeran’s nuptial knot was woefully
tied with a girl from a remote area and Meeran was quite melancholy
and apathetic about this marriage. Similarly, the lady who bewitched
Meeran; the handkerchief bearer’s knot was also tied with a man from a
different town.

Today was the day when Meeran became a bridegroom and reached the
bride’s town. After the marriage ceremony, Meeran was brought to the
bride and sat beside her. When the relatives and bride’s dresser left
the room, Meeran advised his bride and offered instructional words to
her. In fact, Meeran was greatly sorrowful because he was pondering
that why he wasn’t married to his sweetheart.

Thus, he also didn’t look at his bride’s visage and nor remove the
veils from her face. Meeran said,

“Now you are my housewife, whether it’s my good fortune or ill, but
it’s your obligation to respect my parents and you will never perform
any deeds that will cause trouble to my family and me. Abide by my
every order and heedfully care for the things.”

Meeran, after saying his words, still didn’t look at her countenance,
and laid upon the bed for sleeping. The bride couldn’t sleep the whole
night. When Meeran completely slept, the bride’s eyes suddenly cast a
glance at Meeran. She became astonished and flabbergasted.

In the Morning, when Meeran awakened from the sleep, the handkerchief
which he had lost in the underground water’s depth three years ago,
was lying on his face.