The Permanence of Things
Saeed Urrehman
The smell of shit was everywhere. The pipes of the toilet next to the master bedroom had been blocked and the commode was throwing a thick slush of shit and water back on to the floor. I could have ignored the whole mess and closed the door. Forgotten. No problem. There were two other toilets in the house. But the acrid smell of what my body had expelled and what had now been rejected by the toilet was difficult to ignore.
There was no way I could have fixed the toilet on my own. I possessed no deep insights about drain pipes. For me, the complexities of plumbing were as great as those of the human genome project. I needed professional help.
I left the house, looking for someone who knew plumbing. Squinting and trying to adjust my eyes against the intensity of the midday Lahori sun, I started walking towards the shops where I usually bought bread and eggs. Near the shops, I spotted a group of young boys. They were always there, just like the footpath. They were loud and harmless, hanging between unhappy homes and Toyota Camry daydreams. I ignored them and walked up to the shopkeeper.
“Salam. I just wanted to ask if you knew where I can get a good plumber? My toilet is spewing out a huge mess.”
“Forget about the plumbers, sahib. Try to find a bhangi.”
“Bhangi?”
“Oho, the sewer cleaner, bhai sahib. The municipal committee-wala. The bhangi is the person who can really unblock your pipes.”
“Oh, ok. Where can I find a bhangi?”
“Just look around the khokhas over there. The bhangis usually spend their afternoons there.”
I walked over to the khokhas where lots of men were sitting around on rickety wooden benches, drinking chai.
I asked the chai-wala if he knew any bhangi. He pointed towards a man sitting on his haunches under a tree. I walked over to the man. A sweaty, sunburnt, moustached face with knife-sharp slits as eyes. A loosened turban on the head. On the ground to his right, a thick broom and a long bamboo pole with twine wrapped on the joints. In his long gnarled fingers were a cup of chai and a sweat-soaked filterless cigarette.
“Can you help me? My toilet is blocked.”
“Yes, of course. That’s what I do.”
“Okay. How much do you charge?”
“I’ll have to have a look. Depends on the job.”
“Ok. Are you free now?”
“Yes. After I finish this chai.”
I waited for a while, looking at the crows perched on the branches of an acacia tree. He finished his chai, rubbed out his cigarette and stood up.
We walked back to the house without saying another word. I showed him the toilet. He looked around the commode and gave a royal, sardonic smile. He was on his familiar territory. I felt I was his helpless slave.
“This is a real mess. Five hundred rupees.”
“That’s a bit steep. How about four?” Afraid of being swindled, I tried to negotiate.
After we had agreed at four hundred and fifty, he told me that he would need to go and fetch another man because the task was too big for him. It was fine by me as long as the fee would not change. It wouldn’t, he assured me. Okay. He left his broom and bamboo in a corner of the bathroom.
While waiting for Bhola, I spread some old sheets over the carpets in the lounge and the bedroom. After half an hour, the door bell rang. I went to see the door. He and his helpmate were already in the driveway. The helper was a willowy man, with a high-bridged nose, sunken cheeks, and drooping shoulders. The tubercular hawk was called Sitar.
They both walked over to the toilet. I watched them as they took off their worn-out sandals, waded through the fetid water and looked at the commode from all sides. Sitar pressed the flush button. The bowl gargled out more muddy slush. Bhola looked at the helpmate who looked back and nodded. I guessed it was serious stuff.
“Sitar will have to go and look at the pipes in the other toilets.”
“Why?”
“We need to look at how the pipes connect and where the trouble may be. He’ll have a look at the drain pipes outside of the house as well. And I’ll try to push the blockage from here with my bamboo.”
I got worried. Their working at two different spots in the house meant I couldn’t watch over them at the same time. Either could steal anything. The house was full of expensive decorative art pieces I had brought from my visits to different countries. At that moment, I decided that I would never again allow more than one worker in the house. It was already looking like a plot to me. If Bhola could clear the pipes with his bamboo, why did he ask Sitar to come along? Of course, one of them would try to pinch things while I watched the other. It seemed obvious.
I didn’t know what to do. I showed Sitar the other toilets. This was not my idea of getting help. How would I know what Bhola was doing while I was escorting Sitar around? This was worse than a shit-filled toilet. Two unknown men were moving around at different places in a house which I had never wanted to share with anyone.
Sitar finished checking at all the taps, shower heads, joints, knobs, buttons, and pipes in the toilets and went to the front yard as I was trying to decide if I should follow him or go and see what Bhola was up to. I walked back to the master toilet. Bhola was bent over the commode with his bamboo inside the drain pipe of the floor. Somewhere underneath the floor and deep into the pipes something needed to be pushed aside, moved, or broken into pieces and flushed away.
After a while, I came out on the drive way. Sitar had lifted the iron mesh off a big sewer pipe near the main gate and was bent over the hole, peering in the darkness and trying to listen to the sounds of the refuse and water. I stood there and just watched the concentrated look on his face.
Watching Sitar meditating the open sewer and listening to the faint sloshing sound of Bhola’s attempts to clear the pipes, I suddenly felt something like an insight breaking out and an immense calm filling my mind.. Nothing in the life of these two men would change even if they stole all the art pieces in the lounge or the blankets and sheets in the bedroom? I could replace everything I owned several times over and they would sell all the booty to have a week of drunken and well-fed leisure and would go back to cleaning shit again. Nothing major in the world of these men would change for a very long time. I almost wanted to laugh at my earlier panic. I gave up watching Sitar, stopped thinking of Bhola and came inside. With a relaxed buoyancy in my step, I walked to the kitchen and started preparing my afternoon cup of coffee.
Footnote:
Bhangi - Addict
Khokha - Tuck Shop
Chai - Tea
The opinions expressed in this article are of the author and not necessarily of Vibes.
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June 3, 2009 3:25pm
It seems like the author stoped panicking when he realized that the cleaners would always be poor no matter what they stole. Sort of an odd idea to draw consolation from.
May 21, 2009 5:04am
has taken $hit to a different level.
May 22, 2009 4:55pm
Read it for the 2nd time today. Great piece or writing, mate. Look forward to your next installment.
May 25, 2009 6:13pm
The first sentence of your article has put me right off my dinner. Erm, thanks mate. A warning wouldn't go amiss next time!
May 19, 2009 5:36pm
It is quite natural for different people to see the same thing or read the same piece and interpret them differently. These differences in interpretation reflect diverse tastes/inclinations and myriad experiences/thoughts. It is evident that you find this article well-pleasing, it speaks to you at a level that you are able to connect to. You will, however, appreciate the fact that not everyone shares your likes and dislikes and that therefore not everyone is inclined to view this particular piece in the way that you do. In such matters, it is wise not to attempt to compell others to accept that which you find acceptable - everyone must be permitted to express their honest opinions without fear of being condemned for doing so. Respect and courtesy is of paramount importance, argumentation and conflict is exclusively reserved for the intellectually and spiritually challenged. Thus, I submit, with the greatest of respect, that the following remark is unworthy of you - "i am sorry but did all of naseeb just go to hell in a hand-basket????" Please be assured that no offence or hurt is intended, Ma'Salaama
May 19, 2009 4:26pm
verry nice
May 14, 2009 2:05pm
has no place in literature.
May 14, 2009 8:53am
I most certainly agree to what Jadz has to say and Yes, this too is my personal opinion. The first paragraph is loathsome and exhibits cheap thrills to get attention of the readers. Very unprofessional. After the first para I really could not concentrate on reading, neither could I enjoy what most others have. Yes, it also adversely reflects on naseeb's editorial/administration.
May 13, 2009 4:38pm
It is rather unfortunate that my comments have been misconstrued. Be that as it may, as a writer I know that there are many different ways and means of expressing and conveying concepts, thoughts or experiences by employing an infinity of words/terms/phrases. Compositions which are well-presented and beautifully worded are far more appealing than those which offer slang/Americanisms/modern jargon/so-called trendy words or terms that are currently in vogue/and so on. This of course is a personal view and I in no way, shape or form intend to impose my opinions upon others. But, like everyone else, one does at the very least hope that one has the right to air these views. I alluded to the fact that I did not read this piece because of the language in its introduction - if something has been lost here then In Sha Allah perhaps I may find it (whatever "it" is) elsewhere. Having studied English Literature I suppose this has influenced my approach to all things linguisitic. In any case, please accept my apologies - I do not wish to detract from the article and the enjoyment that most readers appear to have derived from it. Ma'Salaama
May 13, 2009 6:34pm
what a change from the extremely boring material that's usually written in vibes. real and honest... best way to be.
May 13, 2009 6:03am
Sorry saeed i take my words back nothing persosnal...it was just kinda funny for a while!.
May 13, 2009 7:37am
cherroo analyse the start no opression just kinda sullenly funny...read this intro deep and in literal translation...what would any person percieve-The smell of $hit was everywhere. The pipes of the toilet next to the master bedroom had been blocked and the commode was throwing a `thick slush of $hit and water` back on to the floor.Is this not fecal matter!
May 13, 2009 10:19am
If anyone has watched films such as: Panic Room & Funny Games, this piece can be taken to a whole new level and I'd love to see a film adaption...Can you imagine being chased around your own house by Bhola trying to impale you on his bamboo....I'm shaking in my shalwar just thinking about it.. On a more serious note, so what if the author decided to utilize feces to convey something deeper? It got my attention, that's for sure. ugh. Get over yourselves.
May 12, 2009 12:33am
It usually takes me a few trials to read vibes but this one right of the bat, "smell of shit..." made me burst into laughter. Whether this is fictional or not, I can simply say that "been there, done that". From my experience, it never made sense to me to flush the toilet and everything goes outside on sidewalk on an open sewer for miles. gd one, keep it coming...
May 12, 2009 6:05am
Nice. Well written. Graphic & descripitive. :-)
May 12, 2009 5:30pm
May I respectfully request the administrators of this Site to excercise their discretion when approvinng or editing articles for the Vibes section? The introduction to the current piece is sufficient to cause some people to read no further. There are other words in the English language which describe or refer to human waste - to employ the word which appears in this piece repeatedly displays a lack of knowledge of the language in which it has been composed as well exhibiting a complete disregard to any prospective readers. Such an article would never have been published in any reputable newspaper or magazine - so why has Naseeb published it? This is ostensibly a Muslim website, please therefore ask your contributors to observe the decencies and etiquettes of language and thus ensure that they communicate their ideas/experiences in a manner that befits Muslims and also sets a good example to both Muslims and non-Muslims. Many thanks for your patiance and time, Ma'Salaama
May 12, 2009 8:56pm
you totally missed the point of this story!
May 13, 2009 5:44am
Thats a very vivid picture of defacus(as naseeb is not allowing me to use the term S hit) in the toilets oozing out or whatever...but still dont get it whats ur focus here the vividly written intro about s hit begetting more s hit or the change in the life of the bhangis?BTW what did u have for dinner the night before cause you couldnt seem to ignore the vivacious detail of the acrid/rancid smell of bodily expulsions....LOL.
May 11, 2009 4:05pm
i love this story every time i read it again... brings out our insignificance in the grand scheme of things!
May 11, 2009 6:31pm
I don't agree. Things could change at any moment, including your life and theirs, nothing is permanent, expect death. I guess after reading this, I realize that you consider yourself to be above the less fortunate in society and aren't thankful for the service you were provided that you were incapable of doing yourself...who is the useful / productive one now? :o)
May 13, 2009 6:07am
To quote the author: "The smell of $hit was everywhere." of all things to focus on, the class debate, the insignificance or ourselves, the void of post-modern living, how can you be focused on fecal matter??? ...am i the only one feeling the weight of oppression in this piece...
June 21, 2009 12:59am
He thinkz Bhangi is an addict!! So much for knowing what Mr. SurR is writing about. Dude, haven't you heard "don't know, don't talk"?
May 20, 2009 12:11am
i don't see what the big deal in that comment was. but ok then!
May 20, 2009 7:51am
i agree with Jadz and pink diamonds
May 19, 2009 12:48am
does no one get the apathy in this piece!!!! ajah, this piece IS about class struggle, and our insignificance in the grand scheme of things, and instead of applauding the author for making you think about these things you are lambasting him. i am sorry but did all of naseeb just go to hell in a hand-basket????
July 8, 2009 10:45pm
Sometimes I get really excited and spell the word 'steal' like 'steel', twice in a row.
May 13, 2009 10:55pm
This was an interesting piece. It makes one realize how insignificance is limiting, but on the other hand, how those with the ability, should realize this and help others.
July 6, 2009 4:58am
I never thought I would say stuff like 'this is a shi-ty story' or 'this article was full of shi-t' .... and not offend the author.
July 6, 2009 5:22am
So at first you were worried that they may steel something and sell it and their lives might change and become better... but once you were satisfied that "nothing major in the world of those men would change for a very long time" ... you almost wanted to laugh??? Allah hu akbar.. what is this world coming to :P You should have just gone to Bhola and said 'na nana na na.. in your face Bhola!'
July 6, 2009 5:59am
You might think you had an epiphany ... and be calm and relaxed... and happy to be a new man. but when you return from your coffee break and see that the bhungi has left... you'll say BLOODY HELL SITAR TOOK MY IPOD! FYI - nobody steels art pieces or blankets or bedsheets.. where are they gonna hide it? in the pocket? and they know you can easily replace them "several times over"... so they go for stuff like your cellphone or watch or ipod. So be careful my brother the next time you open up to your commode.
July 8, 2009 9:00am
Last login was in May. What do you guys think of that?
June 26, 2009 7:07pm
Haven't you created enough mess on Earth? You got to clean up that first before thinking about Moon. I smell elitism in this article, which is quite prevalent in Pakistani society and trust me it smells worse than a broken toilet.
May 18, 2009 5:54am
This is definitely not a literary piece, nor a writing to learn something from. I am surprised that after feeling so helpless with your situation you did not feel grateful to those skilful handymen who solved your problems. This is below humanity. It's a shame how we take people for granted and look down upon them no matter what they do for us. I am disappointed on your mentality. Grow Up! Come out of this class mentality as this is against Islam too.