Does the fundamental right to marry a person give someone the right to divorce his wife?
Bhabhi Nazeeran talked to me on telephone; she sobbed, and said, “Your friend is getting married.”
Surprised, I said, “But, Bhabhi all my friends are married!” Bhabhi Nazeeran said, “He is marrying for the second time.”
I thought for a while, and then asked, “Is he Joseph?”
“No.” She sobbed and said, “He is not Joseph.”
“Then, is he Jamshed Irani?” I asked.
“I am not talking about your friend Jamshed Irani.” She broke down.
I suddenly realized my query was meaningless, for Christians, and Parsis do not enter into second marriage unless their first wife seeks divorce, or passes away.
I asked, “Bhabhi, is he Ramesh Bhatnagar?”
“No Bhai, no.” She blew her nose, collected herself, and said, “He is your bosom friend.”
“Why don’t you tell me his name?” I asked.
“No. I can’t. I am forbidden” She once again broke down.
I solved the riddle. A rural woman in Sindh refrains from referring to her husband by his name! Bhabhi Nazeeran was talking about her husband Ghulam Ali Ghugho. He too comes from interior of Sindh. He is an appraiser in Customs Department. He has amassed fortunes. He is so rich that the senior Collectors of Customs vie for becoming an appraiser. He knows how to keep his senior officers happy and contended. His is a household name in his bosses’ families.
Ghulam Ali Ghugho dislikes being pretentious. He without mincing words admits his corruption and fraudulence, and then adds, “This is how it is. The bosses won’t tolerate you if you are honest.”
What I personally like about Ghulam Ali Ghugho is that even after becoming a man of fabulous riches he hasn’t forgotten his forlorn friends like me. He hasn’t forgotten the days when he had set his foot in Karachi for the first time, and had stayed with me for years. After prolonged periods of part time jobs, and frustration Ghulam Ali Ghugho got hold of an MNA whose younger brother was Revenue Minister in Sindh Cabinet, and he landed in Customs Department. He became an Appraiser. Thereafter there was no looking back for Ghulam Ali Ghugho. He acquired an elaborate apartment, and then brought his wife from the interior of Sindh, and he began swelling with wealth.
More than four decades ago three Ws had tormented the lethal bowlers all over the world. They were Worrel, Weeks and Wolcott, the menacing run-making machines from West Indies. Though not a befitting simile Ghulam Ali Ghugho was first bewildered, and then he was flabbergasted by three Ws — wealth, wine, and women. He began losing finer qualities in life that he was made of. He lost his simplicity of a rural man. He lost his innocence that of a raw youth in a corrupt society. He learnt the art of cunningness and connivance. He became sharp and avid entrepreneur.
However, Ghulam Ali Ghugho remained a sincere friend and a caring husband. When I heard from his wife that he was getting married for the second time I naturally felt surprised. It was unbelievable. Bhabhi’s sobbing and wailing made me believe there was some truth in what she had divulged.
“Bhabhi, please don’t cry. Everything will be alright.” I asked, “Who is she?”
She sobbed, and said, “I do not know.”
“Don’t worry. Just calm down.” I said, “I’ll find out.”
It did not take me long to unearth her. She was (and still is) a socialite, and a well-known activist for human rights, women’s rights, and the children’s rights. Her name is Dilnashin. Ghulam Ali Ghugho was often spotted in her company. They dinned, and attended parties together. She represents a European funded global organization concerned with human rights. I contacted her in her office. She was extremely attractive and vivacious. She smiled, and said, “What can I do for you?”
“A woman is on the verge of being robbed.” I said, “I beseech you to help her.”
“You should have better gone to a Police Station.”
“It is not a Police case.”
“Then, what kind of a robbery is it!”
“She is on the verge of losing her husband.”
“Losing to whom?” She shrugged her shoulders, and asked, “The kidnappers?”
“No.”
“Is he terminally sick?”
I looked at her, and said, “She is losing him to a charming, and a beautiful woman.”
“Oh, these incorrigible men!” Dilnashin leaned forward, and said, “She must seek divorce from such a disloyal husband. It is her fundamental right. I’ll help her get rid of that worthless person.”
“Is there no other way-out for her?” I asked.
“She must exercise her fundamental right.” Dilnashin insisted, and said, “My global organization would help her come out of this unsavoury situation.”
I thought for a while, and then asked, “Can’t we prevail upon other woman not to get into wedlock with a married person, and ruin his fist wife’s life?”
“How can you prevent her from exercising her freewill?” Dilnashin said, “It is her fundamental right to marry any person, whether married, or unmarried.”
