Travelogue – 13 – Pakistan to England in 30 days
I travelled (Travelogue – 11).in March 1965 to get married in Pakistan as my wife’s mother had insisted. I drove a VW in getting to Pakistan and we were married in Lahore on March 29, 1965 (Travelogue – 12). I came in a new VW but in May1965 I had to drive my brother-in-law’s old Corsair back to England. My wife’s family help Jugnoo and her uncle Niaz Rasool and his one friend Hameed also joined.
Before leaving Pakistan we visited my sisters. We went to Peshawar to see one. We went to Sialkot to see another whose husband was a Major in Army. As a recent transferee their furniture was still on the way and only folding cots were in their house. My sister told me to sit on a cot but my wife said, “Apa, don’t tell this giant to sit there; he will break it.” My sister said that Army cots were strong. I sat and the cot collapsed (perhaps it was not locked in securely).
In Pakistan our last night in May 1965 was in Rawalpindi. Next morning my aunt had walked us to the car and congratulated us on soon becoming parents. Massi Ji had noticed my wife’s pregnancy just a few weeks in our marriage and we didn’t know. Our first dinner out of Pakistan in a Kabul restaurant served us an Afghani dish with no spices. My wife told Jugnoo to fetch chili from the car, and was informed that I threw it in Rawalpindi. What a nightmare I had to suffer for the next month as my pregnant wife needed spicy hot food. But no stores on the way sold the hot chili perhaps because there was no local demand for that. In every city we drove thru I tried for hot chili to make food spicy for my wife but did not find. The stores in Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Yugoslavia, Austria, Germany or France sold no chili. Eventually at home in England we got chili and I never forgot that discarding chili was wrong.
In Afghanistan we did not find the spicy food for my wife or chili to spice her food. But Afghan highway between Kabul and Qandhar provided us a memory never to forget. Dibi my wife’s brother had driven six months earlier the Corsair from England to Pakistan. His Mother Mrs Ruth H Khan had given financial guarantee for return of the car to England. My wife and I agreed that I must return to complete my LLM studies in London University. Dibi just dumped my VW on his one friend and flew to his wife and three kids in England. So I was left to drive their car back to England with two of its tires retreaded I found later. We were merrily driving on the Kabul-Qandhar highway and were talking of things around. The wheat fields on the side caught our eyes since in Pakistan wheat was already harvested. Suddenly a loud banging under the car and loss of control almost threw us off the highway. Thank God the car kept going on the three tires around 60 MPH and did not tumble over. On stopping on the edge we noticed the highway was higher than the ground on both sides. We realized we were lucky to stay on road as the retreaded rubber on one tire had peeled off. The One Upstairs had again saved us from a possible disaster that could have consequences. It reminded me of what I had experienced just 3 months earlier in Turkey (Travelogue 11). It took several towns ahead to find a new tire to fit our car and we paid for it through nose. And we had more countries to travel after this first leg.
In Iran we had to visit American Hospital. Rough road leaving Hirat in Afghanistan and Shahpasand in Iran caused my wife some bleeding. She insisted that nothing was serious but no medical doctor was in the car and I took no chances. We went to the American Hospital in Tehran for a medical check-up and a Doctor examined her. Medical tests showed that my wife was in good health and had nothing to worry about the baby. All our fears proved ill-founded.
In Turkey was another battle that my wife won when we were in the mountains west of Erzurum. We were driving to Trabzon intending to take the picturesque southern shoreline of the Black Sea. In a casual conversation about a book The Third Reich I remarked that Hitler was an evil genius. My wife angrily told me that she could not speak to a man who thought that evil Hitler was genius. She proved her words for the whole day as she talked to her uncle and help Jugnoo but not to me. She saw the frighteningly deep valley out of the car and nestled her head in my lap but no words. Half an hour later she sat up, saw similar scenery and again put her head in my lap but no words. She did the same thing for a few times until the dusk when we reached Trabzon but still no words. Eventually I apologized. In fact for the next half century I always apologized for all my mistakes. Also all her because she said she never did a wrong.
In Bulgaria we stopped to buy fresh grapes and berries from road-side vendors. I was using hand signs to buy fruit when a woman vendor went to the other side of the car. She went to the front-seat where my wife sat and touched her gold bangles on her forearms. She uttered a joyous scream as she rubbed her hands on my wife’s arms and then on herself. Very soon about half a dozen women assembled there and did the same one after the other. My wife was scared for no more than a minute until she realized what was happening there. She relaxed on seeing them excitedly rub their forefingers of their hands against each other. That gesture conveyed to their other friends that they had just found a newly married bride. The maidens touched a new bride and rubbed the touch on their bodies to get married soon. Lots of fruit was dumped in the lap of my wife by vendors who refused to take any money. The drama kept on lingering until we drove off with many friendly waiving hands.
In Yugoslavia my physical conditions reached the extreme and forced us to prepare for the worst. Two days ago we had crossed the Black Sea ferry at Istanbul and entered Europe and I had felt pain. Recurring pangs of pain kept increasing in severity as they decreased my ability to withstand them. Pains grew inside from stomach to chest and all places in between and my face turned very pale. It reached a point that I could not drive anymore or even lie down in the car without severe pains. Uncle Niaz was forced to take the wheel and finally my wife agreed that I must go to a hospital. The Doctors saw my pale face and concluded that my symptoms mandated immediate surgery. My wife had to sign papers authorizing the Hospital to open me up and do necessary procedures. I was wheeled in an Operation Room and given an anesthesia injection to prepare me for a surgery. My wife and uncle Niaz were told to return later in the day and take post-operative instructions. They left but soon returned since my wife preferred to come back to the Hospital and wait there. As they approached the operation room they were greeted by a heartily laughing medical staff. My wife and uncle were led to the surgery where they saw me sitting upright beaming free of pain. We were told that the anesthesia had relaxed the muscles and released loads of gases in stomach. The staff had been forced to open up the surgery windows to let in fresh air to defuse the stink. Apparently several days of driving had trapped gas inside me and had mimicked a heart-attack. I drove out of the hospital in health. The suspected heart attack turned out just a blocked wind. No surgery. No huge bill to pay.
On German Autobahn we saw a European woman parked on the road-side struggling to change a flat on her VW. The 30/40 times of replacing flat tires on our VW (Travelogue – 11) was my experience. Our experience of barely six weeks earlier in Pakistan was still quite fresh in our minds. My wife initiated my pulling over to help the woman just as the two truckers had helped us. The truckers in Pakistan had stopped on road (Travelogue – 12) and changed our flat in VW. Between four of us men and my experience it took us no time at all to change her flat tire. Gratefully she offered money and alternatively cigarettes which we thankfully refused.
In England we finally arrived. My wife got what she wanted: the spices after having suffered a month of spice-free bland food as her first major post-marriage ordeal. I got what I didn’t want: my allergies kicking in non-stop sneezing just as I put my foot on English soil.
Thank God our married life continued for fifty-one and a half years. Today it appears as if it passed away like a swift dream. We got blessed with a splendid family. Four children, three daughters-in-law, a son-in-law and nine grandchildren are God’s gift to us. Our oldest son Rashid A Buttar practices medicine, writes books, lectures around the world and lives in New Zeland. Our middle son Zahid A Buttar with a Master’s Degree in Computer Sciences is a multi-millionaire President of his marketing company. Our only daughter Rashdah M Buttar is a writer and a corporate Power Attorney whom the money magazine “Inc” printed as a recipient of a seven figures bonus. Our youngest son Shahid A Buttar is a Composer, Singer, Writer and Civil Rights Attorney whose speaking circuit spans from San Francisco, Boston, New York, Washington DC, St Louis to Houston and all metropolitan areas in between.
During her life my wife did not lose too many battles even though she suffered many sad spells. At 7, she was yanked out of the school she loved and travelled for days in trains as the Partition had sliced Pakistan from India. At 13, she had to leave big posh home she loved and travelled for days in ship when religious riots in Pakistan forced her family to migrate to a tiny house in England. At 19, she saw her father she adored collapse when a fatal heart attack struck him in front of her. She braved through her personal tragedies under the cover of beating all odds stacked against her. But then on September 19, 2016 she lost to cancer although many of us who knew her well believed that she was going to beat the cancer and win this battle too.
Being the oldest grandson from my father’s side and my mother’s side I was filled with love. Being raised with prayers and optimism I grew up confident that I can scale any height in world. Being the son of a Judge I knew how to throw my weight around to always get what I wanted. Being in college at 15, I sailed through in the next seven years with Law and Masters Degrees. Being extrovert I won distinctions, trophies and stories too many and unbelievable to try telling. Being a coveted brother of six siblings and their successful spouses I got a boost in being loved. Being a friend of a mile-long list of people I was fortunate to become an Attorney to help many. Being married to a wife like mine had fulfilled me in every which way for over fifty-one years. Being graced by God in so many ways led my better-half and I believe that we were invincible. On becoming aware of her own transition my wife’s last advice about me to our daughter was: ‘Look after him but don’t spoil him any more for he is spoiled enough.’ Yes, she had spoiled me.
