Make a Wish

by Shoana Manzoor

1.

She sat in the shade of a champak tree in the garden of her host family. It was late October and slightly chilly. Not a single flower bloomed in the garden and not one spec of joy in her heart. Her six-year-old son played by an old fountain with the statue of a water nymph and she watched him unmindfully. Tears welled up in her eyes uncontrollably. There were all gone – all her four brothers. They would never hug her again, or even tease her about her cooking, or the splattered kajal around her eyes. A spasm of renewed grief shook her and she bit her lower lip to control herself. Her mouth filled with warm fluid with metallic taste. Just a little blood, she thought. But her brothers, mother, and father lay in pools of blood, and there was nothing anybody could do. All killed on the same night.

That was when she saw him. An elderly man was seated in another chair not too far away. She could have sworn that he was not there minutes ago.

“Where did you come from?” she asked, her voice croaking. “And who are you?”

“You wouldn’t recognize me, even though you’ve seen me before,” he said, a faint smile on his lips.

She looked at him suspiciously. Dressed in a plain white punjabi and white pyjamas, the man had an elegant aura about him. He wore a pair of gold rimmed glasses and his greyish beard was trimmed. He did seem familiar, but she could not recall where she had seen him.

“Do you want anything from me?” she asked. “I was a princess like Snow-White even two and a half months ago. But as she lost her mother, I have lost my entire family. Now I don’t have a country or home, I am worse off than a beggar woman…” her voice faltered.

He nodded. “You cried so much young lady that I had to come. Make a wish. What do you want?”

She laughed through her tears. “Make a wish? Like a fairy-tale?”

He nodded. “You just said you are a fallen princess, didn’t you? So, tell me Princess, what do you wish and it will come true.”

She smiled sadly. “Thanks for trying to make me happy. But I… I don’t know…”

“Is it so difficult to wish when you crying for your loved ones everyday?” He paused and nodded. “Keep thinking then. I will come back.”

When she looked for him a moment later, he was not there. Was she hallucinating or something? This was bad. Her husband often said that she was drowning in depression. But what could she do?

2.

She waited at a huge airport. Life in the past five years had been difficult. A well-wisher here, a friend there. She had been hosted by so many people in so many countries that she had lost count. Finding asylum had been difficult. Then two months ago, she had this phone call telling her that the military commander who had taken over after her father’s death had been killed in a coup. The ruling government was inviting her back to her country. She and her husband would be reinstated as honourable citizens.

Now that she was finally going home, things seemed unbelievable to her. But was there actually a home waiting for her? Her family was gone like the spoof of a smoke. A handful of cousins and tattered memories were all she had left from that past life.

She looked at her two children sitting across her in the airport lounge and her husband who was a doctor by profession. Where would they house her, she wondered. It could not be their old house where her entire family was killed, could it? The team of young men who had worked as a go-between had said that she and her family would be living in a guest house until other arrangements were made. Her husband had suggested that they could be living in his family residence which was not too far away from her late father’s house.

He leaned towards her. “We’ve two hours still. I’ll have the children eat something. Do you want anything? Orange juice?” He was never a very handsome man. But talented. And reliable. That’s what her father had wanted for his only daughter. “Marriage and love are two different things,” he had said. She looked at her father’s chosen man. Yes, he was reliable and had followed his fallen princess of a wife like a doting husband. But her heart never really warmed up to him. Not quite.

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry. You go ahead.”

He left with the children throwing a worried glance at her. These days he saw a gleam in her eyes that made her appear very different from the tearful woman he had grown used to seeing.

“Is it time for you to make your wish?” A mild voice woke her up from her reverie. A man in a plain full-sleeve grey shirt sat in the chair vacated by her son. His parted hair was slightly ruffled and he wore gold rimmed glasses.

She had not forgotten him, but she had thought that he might have been just a figment of her grief-stricken mind.

“What can I wish for?” she asked as she bent forward. Her hazel eyes shone as if they had some lurking secret not yet fully realized.

“Anything. You are the chosen one, and we thought you deserve a chance.”

“Who are we?”

The man did not reply at first. Then he said, “It’s too complicated. Just tell me what you wish.”

“And everything will change?” she scoffed.

“It will happen eventually.”

She sat up straight. “I want revenge,” she whispered.

“Revenge? On who?”

“Those who killed my family.”

“What do you want to happen?”

“ I want them to suffer. I want justice.”

The man seemed thoughtful. Then he said, “Revenge and justice are two separate things. Your wish has not taken a concrete shape yet. As long as it is not a concrete wish, it can’t really happen. Keep thinking. I will come again.”

And he was gone.

3.

The welcome reception at the airport blew her away. She had not expected so many people and such a mountain of flower bouquets. When her father had returned home after being held in the enemy prison, wasn’t it exactly like this? That was more than ten year ago. She saw many faces through her tears—welcoming her home as the lost princess, the only remaining descendant of her great father. She wept tears of sorrow and tears of joy. All this time she had wondered how not a single person protested the gruesome murder of her father. He was the leader of the nation, and he was always surrounded by people. How could they have forgotten him like that? Now she learned that there were many who loved and respected him. But they were also afraid, of their children and family even if not for themselves. And yet, there were people who protested and died for him too.

She met the new president. He was a military man but he was respectfully calling her “elder sister.” He had promised her a new house and status already. Her husband was to join as one of the directors at the nation’s most prestigious hospital.

“I assume you would want to rebuild your father’s political party? I understand that the leaders are eager for you to join and perhaps take over? Do what you need to do. You have my heartfelt support.”

The world around her started to change fast. But soon she realized that stepping into her father’s shoes would not be so simple. She was a woman and while the people saw and respected her as her father’s daughter, she was also expected to listen to the male advisers of her party. She often thought about the old man she had seen in the garden of her old friend, and later again at the airport. When would he come again? She wanted to become a great leader like her father. She wanted the nation to follow her and she would lead this poor country to become a leader in her part of the continent.

At night, she sat before her dressing table and said, “Make a wish,” she whispered. “Now I know what to wish for.”

But it would be still some more years for her to come across him again.

4.

Eight years later she stumbled across a scenario she had never envisioned. Even though the military leader helped her to reinstate, his was not a democratic government. And there were movements to overthrow him.

In her mind there was not a shred of doubt that hers was the most prominent political party in the country. But lately she had noticed that one of the other parties also gained a lot of attention. She did not understand public sentiment—how they could support a party that was at least partially involved in the murder of her family. She often wondered how the people of the country forgot history so easily. She promised herself that when she became the prime minister, she would make sure that people knew the correct history.

The election took place and the results just stunned her. Her party did not win the majority of votes. It was the other party, the man slightly younger than herself at the helm of the party, who was elected as the next PM. The people of the country called him “the uncompromising leader,” while she herself was recognized as “the autocrat’s adopted sister,” albeit her father being the most respected leader of all times. All their preparations for celebrating victory were discarded. She found herself crying in her room, alone.

“Now is perhaps the time to make your wish?” She saw him sitting in the easy chair of her bedroom. How did he get in here? She had no clue. But she sat up straight and said, “I want to become the prime minister of this country.”

The man took off his glasses and started cleaning them with a piece of cloth. “You want to be a leader?”

“First, I want the power to punish those who destroyed my family. Then yes, I would also become a leader greater than my father.”

“Hmm.”

“What? You think I can’t be a leader because I am a woman? I don’t want to be that princess who ‘lives happily ever after.’”

“There is no happily ever after,” the man said finally. “You should, however, know that such a choice will harden your heart. You will become the prime minister, but you will also cease to be the daughter your father cherished, the sister you were, or the woman who is loved by all those around her.” He paused again and looked at her fully for the first time. She realized that his golden eyes saw the past and could decipher the future.

She faltered and asked, “Is it wrong to seek justice?”

“What you seek is revenge and power. And those are the things that destroy the human soul.”

She went silent.

“I will come to you again. You must let me know then.”

5.

Years passed like the running waters of a river. She noted that the dynamics in her family had changed. Her husband stopped complaining that she was not the loving and caring wife she used to be. Her son and daughter did not seek her out to share their troubles. They sought solace elsewhere. She tried to compensate her time for her children by providing them with all kinds of comfort she could find—the best teachers, the best schools, the most modern gadgets, expensive dresses, all the best things. They were her children, her most cherished treasure after all.

Then that time came when two of her most trusted friends and allies were killed in a bomb blast. She questioned her old advisors—how come they had no inkling. Her capacity to lead the party was questioned. She felt battered and bruised.

She sat at the back of her residence on her favorite swing. She had cried so much that she felt she had nothing left.

“Where are you? I am ready to make my wish,” she almost spat out the words. “I will sacrifice everything. I have to become what even my father could not become.”

“So be it,” the faint whisper came not from too far away. The old man stood near the guava tree. Brown leaves fell around her as blessings or curse, she did not know. There was something akin to regret in his eyes. And then he disappeared.

6.

The next several years were years to rebuild what she had lost, and claim what she never had. Those around her noticed her iron-will. She took decisions that often seemed cruel, but they were necessary for her party. She discarded old friends and advisors of her father and invited new blood. There were lawyers, business tycoons, media people, all those who had something to offer. She secured funds, promised power and positions to her new supporters.

Her party rose and she started to being recognized as the formidable daughter of the old leader. Finally, her turn came and she became the prime minister.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the smartest of them all?” she whispered to the full-length mirror of her dressing room. Once upon a time, she thought she was like Snow White. But the words she spoke were uttered by Snow White’s step-mother who wished to devour human hearts.

What she wanted was to become the most powerful of them all—something that the next election might change. So, she started strengthening her empire. She also started eliminating her enemies one by one. She would never make the mistakes her father made. She had come to rule, and she intended to rule as long as she lived. Maybe from beyond grave.

During the next election, there was nobody left to contest her. Only 17% of the voters came to the polling centre. The results showed that 82% voters came. And she became the PM again.

7.

One evening, she was getting ready for a social program when she saw her old friend sitting quietly at one corner of her dressing room. Did he have a special message for her? She was suddenly happy, but was taken aback by his words.

 “What do you mean that someone else is getting to make a wish? Am I not the chosen one?” she asked.

“Your time is up. There is only one way for you left—to go down.”

“But why?” she asked in a trembling voice. The dreams of her father had only started to come true.

“Look into the mirror. You had it designed in a way that it would show the reflection  of the daughter your father loved—a young, innocent girl yet untainted by the muck of life.”

“Are you trying to say that I am tainted now? Let me tell you I have always upheld my father’s teaching.”

“For once, do take a look at yourself. Humans most often don’t even know what they wish for.” He sounded impatient.

She closed her eyes, and slowly she turned around swirling and twirling in her pale blue jamdani saree that cost more than four lakh taka. She was seventy-two years old, but this full-length mirror hid her age well and showed a woman closer to her girlish figure at twenty-two. Yes, the saree was a bit on the expensive side, and there were reports that the country people were facing famine. But she was a queen and the queens never faced famines. Slowly, she opened her eyes and as her gaze rested on the reflection, she could only belch and stare.

A piercing scream brought her attendants to the dressing room finding the PM in total disarray.  She was trying to disentangle herself from her saree and screaming, “Bring that old man to me. That wicked old man that made me see false dreams.”

“What old man?”

“The man who was here just a few minutes ago.”

They looked at each other. “But no man came this way, Madam.”

Then someone gasped, “What happened to the mirror?”

Everybody turned to see the super-expensive full-length mirror in the PM’s room cracked from side to side.

8.

She had heard about the girl who was rising fast. A mere chit of a girl who was a student leader. Unlike her she carried no legacy. And yet, Fate had chosen her as her replacement. The only thing she could do was to wait. To wait for the girl to make her choice. She wondered what would happen to her. Would she end in the prison like many of her enemies? Or would she be killed in a coup like her father or the military general who had him murdered? How many did she herself had tortured and murdered? A cold, black fear coiled and recoiled in her heart and she felt she was falling down, down, and down.

If only she had another chance. She would make things different. She promised.

9

She woke up in a room that certainly was not her lavishly furnished bedroom. She looked around. It was an ordinary bedroom in an ordinary house. The bed she was lying in was a single bed and there was a window at the foot of the bed. She got up. She was dressed in plain cotton shalwar kameez of a light pink and white print. A table and  a chair stood in one corner. A few books were on the table along with a small flower vase with Arabian jasmines. A wooden closet also stood beside the table. Where was she? The room did seem vaguely familiar.

Gingerly, she walked toward the door when her glance fell on a mirror hanging on the wall. An oval shaped mirror with a bronze frame. But who was she seeing? A slim young woman with hazel eyes stared back at her. She wore her long, dark hair in a plait. She froze momentarily in surprise. And then she heard a long forgotten booming voice, “Tell your sons not to act like hooligans. Beating up other people’s sons makes me look bad. Where are those rascals?”

A woman’s voice followed. “They are just boys, a little too spirited perhaps. But they are your sons. Give some money to the father and say you’ll reprimand them. It will be okay.”

“Right! How many more shall I pay off? Do you know your eldest son insulted one of the senior members of the party?”

“I will talk to Salim,” said his wife in a placatory voice.

She stood rooted to the spot. That’s why the room seemed familiar. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of being back with her parents, her brothers. She wanted to rush out and hug them, and yet she just stood there. A small seed of a thought had started to germinate in her mind already. Now that she had another chance, would she back her father and help him reprimand his sons? Or should she, like before, stand with her mother and pamper them? What had happened in that other life? The boys that used their father’s name and ran amok the streets like bandits. Looting banks, beating up opponents, raping women—what did they not do? They paid with their lives bringing down their parents and other family members as well.

And her father? Was he really the great leader she had tried to present to the world? Didn’t he also have his opponents mercilessly murdered? If he was a true leader, why was he killed like a common criminal? The searing pain of that loss maimed her in a way she had never envisioned.

She stood behind the closed door of her old room, a different thought already taking shape in her mind. Her promise was to change things. But what would she change? She was merely the daughter of the family. She would never come to the limelight if her brothers lived. Could she give up all that glory and power and live under the shadow of her brothers?

Her heart throbbed. Slowly she turned the knob of the door, ready to face her family. This time, she would make her choices consciously.

BIO

Sohana Manzoor is a writer and storyteller from Bangladesh, with a PhD in English from Southern Illinois University Carbondale. Her work has appeared in Bellingham Review, Eclectica, Litro, Apple Valley Review, Best Asian Short Stories, and elsewhere. She is the editor of Our Many Longings: Contemporary Short Fiction from Bangladesh, published by Dhauli Books in 2021.Currently, she resides in Vancouver, Canada.