The news I heard regarding Muslims entering US wasn’t good. Their cards being torn down, and were told to return back to the places from where they had come. My brother trying to find my whereabouts over the phone told me to hurry back to Houston before my mad uncle banned me from entering. He was referring to you know who I mean. For a moment I couldn’t understand what he meant by uncle as both my real uncles are no longer alive.
Meanwhile my son, and I were trying to get the papers to our house, and land in the village. Last year I had tried to sell the house, and land, and found out that unless the whole thing wasn’t transferred to my name, I couldn’t do so. I was under the impression it was mine, and my husband had given it to me in my marriage papers. In reality it had no legal standing.
The house in the village was built in 1988 on land gifted to us by my late mother in law. My late husband should have dealt with the paperwork, and secured it in his name. He neglected, and the result was my home wasn’t my home. I learnt that in case the two brothers of my late husband died (God forbid), my home and land was going to my husband’s step brother. I still can’t understand the twist, or logic behind the land deeds.
Officials called Tehsildar, and Patwari deals with land matters in Pakistan. The Tehsildar was (is) a highly corrupt person, and so are his minions. He tries to make money on the side anyway he can. The Deputy Commissioner (DC) kept on ordering the Tehsildar to finish our papers, whereas he kept stretching our case, making one excuse, or the other.
I was slowly going out of my mind over the delay, and seeing no end in sight. It meant we couldn’t leave unless our papers were ready. Each day was harrowing. We had to get the papers signed by my two brother in laws, my late sister in law’s husband, and children that they had no objection.
My sister in law’s children were being mercenaries, and asked how much money I was going to pay them for signing. The day I brought a taxi (there wasn’t sufficient space in my car for all of them) in the bitterly cold, and rainy day to take them to court, they refused to go along. My tears mingled with the rain on their behavior. All I was asking for was my own home and land, which wasn’t theirs in the first place.
The future looked uncertain both back home, and here in the US too. The day the papers were ready, my son, and I brought forward our date of retuning by paying a thousand bucks to the airline. God Bless the judge in this life, and the hereafter who issued the stay order.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.