My husband R and I were living in an Army Mess at Rawalpindi. We had shifted there due to R’s bout with cancer. He needed to be near to CMH (Combined Military Hospital) to get chemotherapy. Staying in a hotel in the long run was an expensive issue, and R didn’t want to be 24 hours in CMH where he had a room in the Senior Officers Ward.
Almost all his course mates rallied round him once it was known he was residing in Pindi. Many bought home cooked meals and soups when they came to visit with R. God bless them.
To show how much he appreciated them, R wanted a party. We arranged for a dinner in the dinning room of the Officers Mess. The only problem was with me not having party clothes or shoes. I had brought along with me (from Peshawar) few clothes, and hardly any shoes at all. I wasn’t expecting a party, and never thought that in the circumstances we were having I would be the one hosting one such event.
As soon as R had his chemo of the day, I went with our driver to the local market to look for shoes and clothes. None of the tailors I met with that day were ready to stitch me clothes in two days time. I came to the conclusion that I will have to forgo new clothes and will have to wear one of the washed (many a times) old one.
I searched for shoes in some of the shops, but none were to my liking. Finally I spied what I wanted. It looked like glass shoes, but they looked beautiful. It had one drawback. The front of the shoes was decorated with gaudy material I didn’t like. Fortunately it could be removed.
I still have those shoes in my wardrobe in Peshawer. It’s a reminder of a day in my life.
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