Pakistani Daughter

A daughter takes over

Ayesha was shopping locally with her mother, getting to know the new area. She hoped not to run into anyone from the new school while wearing traditional Pakistani clothes. Although, while wearing an abbaya and head scarf, there wasn't much chance she would be recognised. The clothing completely covered her, leaving just her face partially bare to the outside world.

If she saw anyone she knew, the scarf could be used to cover her face. Not that it mattered much, as she hadn't started in the new school yet. Not starting until Monday meant no one knew her there, but she didn't want to make a bad first impression.

They were approaching two boys, standing in the mall, looking casual and very handsome. They wouldn't look at her when they had girls in short skirts to ogle.

There should be a badge, telling everyone she wasn't wearing panties. That would gain their interest. Maybe another badge would be useful, indicating she was available to be held and kissed. For someone especially handsome, another badge would indicate she was available, completely available.

Predictably Ayesha walked by without a glance from the two boys. She was an attractive young woman, and even her mother was attractive, though no one could tell that, from the way they were dressed. Of course, her mother wouldn't want to be attractive to boys, she was a traditional Pakistani, married woman. Covering herself up was natural, and an important part of her lifestyle, instilled in her from a young age.

It wasn't Ayesha's chosen lifestyle. Sent to school as a traditional Pakistani girl, she changed into a school uniform once there. If her parents found out, she would be in dire trouble. Especially as she had shortened the skirt to show off her long legs. She had to keep up with the other eighteen-year-old girls, or lose out on the social scene.

'Stop it, Ayesha,' Ishrat hissed.

Had she spoken out loud, or was her mother reading her thoughts?

'What?' Ayesha asked, trying hard to sound innocent, though sounding annoyed like a normal teenager.

'Your eyes! I can see the lust in your eyes, girl. You take after your father's sister. They are all harlots. your aunty entertained a man, when her husband was away in the army,' Ishrat said.

This was a shock to Ayesha. There was no need for her mother to put on a disapproving tone of voice, as the very idea of a woman doing such a thing was bad enough to be pilloried in a small village. Evidently she hadn't been punished by the men and women in the village, as Ayesha knew her aunt carried on the marriage when he returned home. So, some Pakistani women got away with bad behaviour, despite what her mother said.

Ayesha thought about the badges again, and stifled a giggle. Clenching her cheeks without the feel of cotton, brought on a sense of freedom, despite being with her mother. Not wearing panties was her only means of rebellion, when out with the harridan.

Wearing a boyfriend's ring was another rebellious move. She told her mother it was a chastity ring. Seeing the consternation and confusion on her mother's face had been fun in itself. The idea of chastity until marriage was a good Pakistani moral concept, but the ring was a Christian groups idea, and so her mother should be against it. How could a mother be against a daughter being a chaste virgin?

Ayesha's boyfriend was in the previous school, so she would have to start all over again in the new school. New friends to meet and get close to, and new boys to tease. Some of it she was looking forward to. She'd even bought a school uniform by stealing the money from her mother's allowance.

When a baby everyone said she looked like her father. Ayesha had grown to look like her mother, and it was uncanny how alike they were. For some time she wondered if it could be used to her advantage, but so far nothing came to mind. She'd practiced her mother's signature , but that seemed to be a waste of time.

'You're too conservative and rigid in your outlook, you should relax, mom,' Ayesha complained.

'No! I was brought up properly, and you will behave like a proper Muslim girl. How do you expect to get a husband if you misbehave and disrespect our parents? What have you got in that bag? Come on, do as you are told! I'll thrash you when we get home. You've been such a bad girl this morning. Give it to me, now!' Ishrat fiercely told her daughter.

'What's this? A school uniform! You can't wear it, I've told you before. This is for devil children not my daughter. You will go home and wait for me there. I'll take this terrible garment back, and when I get home you will be thrashed, girl!' Ishrat ranted.

Ayesha was pleased to get away from her mother. It started raining so her plans to hang around in town were scuppered. Instead she did as she had been told, and went home. At least it was warm and dry, and she had some piece until her mother got home. Damn the woman!

'I'm eighteen, she can't spank me!' Ayesha complained to the empty house.

***

Ishrat slipped on the wet curb, and fell awkwardly. Someone helped her get up, and luckily she hadn't hurt herself. Her ankle felt sore, but the slight pain could be walked off. The abbaya had been ripped, and she tried to hold it together.

Nervously looking around, she hoped no one had seen her nakedness. No one was looking at her, as everyone's attention was taken up by the heavy rain. The material was quickly soaked and stuck to her body. A clothing store right in front of her might be of use, as she had to urgently get something to wear. It was embarrassing holding her clothes together, as when she walked, her legs were bared. How could she go home like this and face her bad daughter?

A quick walk into and through the store was made, on the way she picked up a dress, and headed to a changing room. She stripped off the abbaya and pulled on the western dress. Over the dress she wrapped the abbaya around her. Turning in the mirror she wasn't entirely happy, but her legs were now covered. They had been shown off in public right up to her upper thighs!

The shame of it had her reeling. Now that she was relatively safe, the fear and trepidation rattled her. She shook with fear, on the off chance someone had seen her uncovered.

A security guard spotted the nervous girl, and figured she was up to something. It was obvious from how guarded and nervous she looked.

'What are you up to?' He heavily asked.

'What? Oh! Nothing, sir,' Ishrat squeaked.

'What's this you are trying to cover up? One of our dresses? The label is still on it,' he said.

He said nothing else, expecting her to break the silence with some silly excuse they all came out with. He marched her to the check out, wanting her to pay for the dress, as he couldn't be bothered with the paperwork.

Ishrat went through all the bags, but couldn't find her purse. With her mind in a whirl she couldn't think straight. The woman who picked her up must have stolen her money! About to tell the security man, he instead shut her up.

'No excuses, just pay for the dress, and go,' he told her.

It was so embarrassing, she wanted to curl up and die. Brought up in a Pakistani village, she had been taught to obey men, and especially to be wary of western men. This one was built like a house. If he fell on her, she would be crushed.

'I don't have any money,' she quietly admitted.

A heavy sigh was emitted, and he led her by an elbow, to the back room he used as an office. She stood in front of a desk where he sat digging out forms from a draw. He wrote down her name and telephone number, then stood up.

'I'll phone this number, which had better be right. In the meantime you will remove the stolen dress, and that other thing. I'll keep them as evidence. You will get changed into your school uniform, and stand where you are now, until I return. Do you understand? Good. You will do as you are told, or I'll hand you over to the police. No, don't get undressed, wait until I leave,' he scolded her.

In a hurry to conform to his orders, she had unwound the abbay and nearly dropped it to the floor in front of him. He was a man of authority, which meant she feared him, and must do as she was told. The mention of the police was enough to have her shaking again. Holding on to the abbay, she waited until the door closed behind him.

Not wanting him to catch her out, she quickly dropped everything, and pulled on her daughter's school uniform.

The irony was lost on her, as she worried with fear of the police. If she didn't do as she was told, he would involve the police and she would be in serious trouble. She kept pulling at the hem, hoping it would somehow cover her thighs. Her daughter was the same size as her, so why was it so short?

The dress, and her abbay were neatly folded upon his desk. He said it would be used as evidence against her for shoplifting. That sounded serious, if he decided to call the police.

***

'Hi, is that Mrs Kahn, I'm the security guard at Hester's store. Your daughter, Ayesha, is here, caught shoplifting. I haven't called the police, and if you get down here with some Id, and payment for a dress, you can take her home. When can you get here?' he asked.

On the bus Ayesha wondered what had happened. If it was a friend or family member, she would help them out. The man hadn't given her time to answer, he just launched into what seemed to be the usual story. He assumed he was phoning the girl's mother, so who did he have there? Whoever it was she'd given him her name.

With both passports in her bag, she felt something could be done. Was it her cousin, because the girl could be a terror at times. Though shoplifting wasn't something she would bother with, as her family were wealthy. Could it be a rebellion from family values? She understood that.

Walking into the store, she tried to look and sound like an adult. She'd put on one of her mother's most serious looking abbay. Something to wear when visiting a bank manager. Not that her mother would dare visit a bank manager, or anyone of authority. She was fierce in the family, and among the community, though a pushover when confronted by western men. Even western women made her nervous.

'My daughter is here, where?' Ayesha asked, trying disdain as an approach.

'Mrs Kahn, thank you for coming down so quickly. I'm sure we can sort this out, and you can take your daughter home,' the big man said.

'I should hope so,' Ayesha said.

'Don't be cross with me, Mrs Kahn, it's your daughter who committed shoplifting. It's an offence and I could have called the police. So please don't give me a hard time,' he said, looking bored, rather than angry.

His hand was on the door, where the someone pretending to be her was held. Maybe she could sue them for holding whoever it is against their will. Making some money out of this would help. She needed a new school uniform now her mom had taken it back.

She put her hand on his, and said, 'I'm sorry, it's just a bit of shock for me. You see this kind of thing all the time, but having my daughter found shoplifting is a very serious matter. Thank you for not calling the police.'

Ayesha was trying hard to look sincere. Stating she was the girl's mother meant he wouldn't be questioning it now. Unless the girl was one of her white friends, then it would be difficult. The more she considered it, it was more likely to be one of them.

'Ayesha, your mother is here,' the man spoke loudly, making the girl flinch.

She stood up with bowed head, looking very sorry for herself. Ayesha recognised the girl from somewhere, even though she didn't get a clear look at her face. Why she was dressed in a school uniform was a bit of a mystery, as it was Saturday. Who did she know in the new school? Another mystery.

'Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl,' the man heavily spoke.

Ayesha gasped, and wobbled a little.

'Do you want to sit down, Mrs Kahn?' the man said.

He brought the only chair over to beside his desk, and guided Ayesha onto it. The mother was only a slight little thing, but she was pretty. Her hand on his had sparked something in him.

'It is a jolt for you, so I assume this is the first time your daughter has broken the law? Maybe I should send for the police, so they can give her a short sharp shock. How old is she? Mrs Kahn, how old is Ayesha?' he asked.

It was a shock to see her mother dressed in the new school uniform. She looked the picture of a dispirited schoolgirl. Ayesha would have to think of a way out of this. Her mother had used the name Ayesha to protect her reputation. What about her reputation?

'Why are her clothes on your desk?' Ayesha asked.

'Evidence, Mrs Kahn. She used this traditional dress, sorry, whatever you call it, to hide one of our dresses. She didn't have any money, so she was clearly stealing the dress,' he firmly stated.

'Oh! I see,' Ayesha said, knowing why her mother didn't have any money.

It was because she had mom's purse in her bag. Id, credit cards, cash, and everything else, had been handed over when her mother sent her home. Why she was stealing a western dress, she had no idea, but that could wait. The mystery of why she was wearing a school uniform was solved, and why she then thought to call herself Ayesha.

'Call me, Fred,' the man told her.

Ayesha went through the form with, Fred, filling out a name, date of birth and other details. Fred marked on the form that he'd seen a passport as identification, though Ayesha had read it all out to him, as they worked through the store's shoplifting form. To embarrass her mother, and to get her off the hook, she lied about the age.

'Was it bigger kids who put you up to this?' he asked.

Ishrat nodded her head. She wasn't glad her daughter was playing along, she was merely relieved. The thought of being arrested was a horrendous prospect. She would never be able to face her cronies in the community ever again. They would be gossiping about her, and all her good works would be for nothing.

'I can't search a female, so my colleague will carry out a body search, then she can go home with you, Mrs Kahn,' he said, sounding more officious.

'Yes, whatever you have to do,' Ayesha said, hoping it would be a cavity search, to teach the stupid woman a lesson.

How dare she sully her reputation! It was alright to blame her daughter for shoplifting, yet she was due a spanking when they got home. At least that would no longer be possible, after this debacle. In fact, never again would a thrashing be possible. She could threaten to tell her father about this, to get away with anything she liked.

Gladys walked in and Fred walked out. The woman looked like a tough character compared to Fred.

'The girl is usually very good at home, and in school.. She's only sixteen, so maybe she doesn't have to be charged. I'll spank her when we get home,' Ayesha said, holding her mother's eye.

The woman realised what her daughter was saying. She was trying to help her, and at the same time, tell her she had something on her, and would use it. The girl was trying to embarrass her, and succeeding. Did she mean that at sixteen, she couldn't be prosecuted?

Ishrat was confused and scared. If her daughter said the wrong thing, she might be in serious trouble.

'Get undressed, girl,' Gladys ordered.

Ayesha enjoyed her mother's humiliation, but also felt she should be defending her. Reminding herself her mother had planned on thrashing her for misbehaving, she determined to make the woman suffer.

Her mother leant against the desk with both hands griping the edge. She looked away from her daughter with an expression of fear and shame on her face. The security woman was obviously enjoying the task. Her hand went between Ishrat's cheeks, and Ayesha was about to protest. An internal examination wasn't intended just the thrill of intimately touching her victim.

'That's enough, no more, 'Ayesha warned.

She watched the woman running both hands up her mother's body, looking professional, yet Ayesha knew it was all unnecessary. Around Isharat's neck a necklace was pulled and examined.

'What's this?' the woman asked. 'Do you have a receipt?'

'No we don't. It was bought some time ago,' Ayesha told the woman.

Gladys smiled unpleasantly.

'Store policy is to call the police if more than one item is found,' the security woman stated.

'Oh! Hell! That necklace wasn't stolen!' Ayesha angrily said.

'Don't give me a hard time, it's store rules, not mine. Get dressed girl,' Gladys dismissively said.

Ayesha sat by the desk, pointedly not looking at her mother, who was standing in front of it. Her mother stared at the floor unable to face her daughter. Ayesha had tried to save her dignity, so no one could blame her for this terrible situation. Ayesha looked angry, and her mother looked ashamed. This had gone too far, but it was too late to explain who she really was. They were stuck with it until it blew over.

***

In the police station no one was interested in them. They had to wait in an interview room, until someone took note of her mother's details. The security guard hadn't really looked at the passport, and the police put into their system what the security guard had written down. Ayesha was relieved that they hadn't found out her mother's real age. This way she would get away with it, as a first offence.

Then they ahd to put up with more waiting. All the while the two women were wondering what disaster was to befall Ishrat. Ayesha couldn't bring herself to talk to her mother. When she held her close for a moment or two, trying to reassure her, her mother shrugged her off.

A woman walked in and sat on a chair opposite them, where the policeman sat earlier. The plain sparsely decorated room was intimidating, and the woman looked serious, which heightened their anxiety.

'I'm a social worker not the police. I'm pleased to tell you there won't be a prosecution. The store has dropped the charges, and they have the dress back so there's nothing to pay. I want to talk to you about your daughter, Mrs Kahn,' Elizabeth said.

Ayesha looked at her mother, and was relieved to see the woman couldn't bring herself to admit who she really was. The shame had hit her hard. She slumped in the chair, looking like a schoolgirl, caught being a very bad girl. Had her mother ever been a bad girl, or even a slightly bad woman? She doubted it.

'What can I do to help,' Ayesha asked.

'I have a copy of the forms you filled out and they have gone on record hare and in the department. Your daughter's DNA and fingerprints are also on record with the police. The school will be informed, but they will still register her on Monday,' Elizabeth informed Ayesha.

Ayesha glared at her mother, and said, 'That's not a good start. It's the first day at a new school, and I'll, err, you'll have a bad reputation,' Ayesha glowered.

'Don't worry, I'll see you Monday morning and let you know how things stand with the welfare department, and the school,' Elizabeth said, then turned to the mother, 'Until then young lady, you must be a good girl and do as you are told. Your mother will look out for you and remember, she has your best interests in mind, so do as she tells you, alright?' Elizabeth lectured.

'Yes, miss,' Ishrat murmured.

'I mean it, Ayesha. You are not responsible for your actions, so others must guide you. I need to know you are going to follow that guidance. Now, tell me,' Elizabeth heavily said.

'Yes, ma'am, very sorry, ma'am. I'll be a good girl and do as I'm told. At home I will follow my, err, my mother's instructions, and in school I will do as I'm told by my teachers,' Ishrat humbly promised.

Ayesha wanted to giggle in embarrassment for her mother. The woman was hunched over, looking and sounding like a naughty little schoolgirl. How many hours had she been subjected to this indignity? She had succumbed to behaving like a schoolgirl, and even looked like one.