I turn around as I overhear this observation. Four labourers are sitting at a tea shop at the wholesale cloth market in Sukkur. They seem to be on a break.
The eldest one takes a puff of his cigarette. The younger one looks up at him through the tiny cloud of smoke and says, “But Chacha [uncle], you have to appreciate one thing. These Americans are dying to free their man.”
“They care about their people there,” Chacha replies in a voice laden with the gravity of experience. “Not like here. Nobody bothers about us.”
The third labourer leans forward and wags his finger before slurping his tea. “But he should not be released. He murdered two people after all.”
“He should definitely not be released,” nods the younger one in agreement. He sips his tea and takes a moment. “But yaar [buddy] our leaders don’t have it in them. How will we compete with America,” he says.
I am intrigued with their political acumen. But their nattering is interrupted by a cynic who has walked slowly over to their table. “What do you people know about Ramon,” he snarls. “Go do your work. Our fathers were labourers, we are labourers and our sons will be labourers too.”
“Kaloo, this is none of your business. Who do you think you are?” retorts the older labourer. “Chacha, I’m saying this for your own good,” he replies. “Really? What would you do otherwise?” The younger gets up in anger. The tea-shop owner has noticed the table heating up. “Off you go, all of you!” he cries, shooing them with his dishcloth. “Go, the seth is calling you. Do your work and go home.” They get up to leave, but something tells me this conversation is far from over.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 22nd, 2011.
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