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would people react? What if you died? Would your family, friends and lovers be sad? One of my favourite daydreams was now my only reality. If God had just upped and decided to start granting my wishes why didn ’ t he do the one about the hips?
    Mamu had filled Amna Mumani in on what the doctors had told my mother. She stroked my arm lightly as she thought.
    â€˜ We have to get a second opinion, ’ she said brusquely.
    â€˜ Shouldn ’ t we wait for forty-eight hours like the doctor said? ’
    â€˜ We should find out whether we should wait or whether there is something else that needs to be done. ’
    â€˜ But the doctor … ’
    â€˜ Look around you Najam! ’ The voice was still gentle, but the tone suggested ever so delicately that a straightening of the spine was the only proper way to respond. ‘ Look at where we are? Don ’ t you read the papers? Haven ’ t you seen a million accusations of malpractice and neglect on the city pages? And this is not a standard appendectomy; it ’ s a head injury. If I know my niece, she considers that the most important part of her, and you need to do your duty and see that it ’ s well taken care of. ’
    I was beginning to enjoy this. Really, I was. Mamu was very endearing when nervous. When he had lived with us, Adil and I used to yell ‘ Fire, ’ or ‘ Dacoits, ’ every once in a while just to watch his reaction. He was like a sparrow trapped in the old children ’ s trick of basket, seed, stick and string; even now in stillness that same frenetic hopping nervousness seemed to ripple under his skin.
    â€˜ Right. Er … yes. ’
    â€˜ Yes what? ’
    â€˜ Yes we should get a second opinion. ’
    â€˜ Good. Now go out and arrange for one. Perhaps we should move her to another hospital like the Agha Khan. ’
    â€˜ Is it a good idea to move her? ’
    â€˜ Why don ’ t we ask that doctor you ’ re going to go and get? ’ Mumani smiled sweetly.
    At the door Mamu turned. ‘ How do I find the right doctor? We don ’ t know any. ’
    â€˜ Isn ’ t that boy she ’ s been seeing well connected? Talk to him. His father probably has connections with a lot of medical people. ’
    She had no idea how right she was. After years of assiduously courting the patronage of the movers and shakers of the Pakistani medical realm, Saad ’ s father had connections with a lot of ‘ medical people ’ indeed. In this part of the world, criminal complicity was the start of many a beautiful friendship.
    Pharmaceutical malpractice, while widespread, didn ’ t get a lot of press in the home country. Newspaper owners not supported by government advertising in exchange for ‘ editorial restraint ’ relied on corporations. In essence, take a harsher line with officialdom but turn a blind eye to the policies of the big private corporations. Of course it was same all over the world, but at least in developed countries there were watchdogs baying for their blood. Pakistan ’ s consumer protection initiatives were generally stillborn.
    The point was, Saad ’ s not-quite doting daddy ’ s connections with certain luminaries of the medical community weren ’ t entirely based on the principles enshrined in that oath they took. Tickets to regional conferences, sponsored junkets in Bhurban, an avalanche of calendars, diaries and wall clocks, it was more about presents than products. His generosity always made it easier to ‘ win friends and influence people ’ . But whether he was willing to exploit those relationships for me was a different matter altogether. In his version of the film about our lives, I was definitely the villain.

AA BAEL MUJHE MAAR
    FOLK SAYING
    ~
    W hen Saad first began showing an interest in me that was beyond the professional, his father was probably the fourth person to know about it. Right after Saad, me and the