Courage to Say No

by Raana Mahmood

  It made me feel good that he was growing and maturing, becoming independent. One day he proved how independent and brave he could be. He had been asking me to take him to the Sunday Bazaar. I hesitated to shop at this place, as it was crowded, noisy, and there are always unruly people there. But he insisted. So one Sunday we went shopping there, strolling among the stalls, perusing the variety of goods. It didn’t take long before a group of vulgar young men began following me, whistling and making crude remarks. This, unfortunately, is typical of the bazaar, and the police were nowhere in sight. I sped us up to try and escape this bunch of rowdy boys, but they chased me.

  We couldn’t escape them, so in an inspired moment of bravado, Taimoor jumped up on one of the stalls so that he was the same height as the boys, and shouted directly at the leader, the most obnoxious one, “Uncle, go home and bother your mother. Don’t bother my mom.”

  The lead boy was so ashamed, his face turned red, he stopped harassing me, and they all left.

  My little Taimoor was growing up. We stayed in the bazaar, and I purchased a few things for him. It was rewarding to not have to be chased away from a day of shopping because of the boorish behavior of a pack of wolves.

  Things were going well. When our Chapal apartment was completed, Taimoor and I finally moved in. After settling in, we arranged a housewarming party for my family and neighbors. It was a cordial event, and it was nice to meet all the neighbors.

  At work in the KT clinic, I began seeing female patients in a small exam room they had built for me. As my reputation for helping women spread, my caseload increased, and management arranged for a nurse to help me. One day Dr. Uqali asked me about my work. I told him I was happy working in the clinic seeing female patients, and that more and more women were coming to see me. He was glad to hear of my progress and assigned me to work five days at the clinic.

  On another occasion, a junior officer came into my office and asked me for a letter of referral for his wife to allow a medical procedure. The particular procedure wasn’t allowed by our company policy, and I thought it unusual that the woman didn’t come herself. I told him to have his wife make an appointment, and I would examine her and prescribe the appropriate treatment.

  He began arguing with me that the procedure only cost 500 rupees, ($4) and that I should just approve it. When I refused without seeing his wife, he threatened to inform the union leaders. I knew that if I allowed him to intimidate me, men would be breaking down my door to get procedures for their wives. So I refused the pressure to give in.

  Soon the officer came back to me, pleading for the procedure. There is a custom in Pakistan when a man wants to humble himself to supplicate a superior, he will kneel at the person’s feet and hold them. This is what he did, right in my office. I stood in panic.

  “What are you doing? Please don’t insult yourself like this for such a little bit of money.” I opened my handbag, took out 500 rupees, and handed it to him. He took the money and left.

  I just couldn’t bear him humiliating himself like that. I felt a sudden surge of hatred for men—they were so manipulative. When the man grabbed my feet it reminded me of Erfun when he took my feet before I left his house. He had also done that to my father to convince him to allow me to marry him.

  Despite all of these experiences, I began to realize that I worked with some very decent men. Slowly, my hatred for all men vanished from my heart. There were men around me who not only treated their wives well, but treated every woman with great respect. I began to see the kindness in many men’s hearts. It was a liberating experience.

  Rumors were spreading amongst the staff that Dr. Uqali was ready to retire. Instead, he was promoted to General Manager of the medical department. He had the strong endorsement of the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP). Everyone in the medical department was happy, including me.

  Javed Khan, manager of the medical department, called to tip me off. “Dr. Raana. The lady doctor from Units A and B is pushing her friends to get her transferred to your department, and for you to get reassigned.”

  I knew it was Dr. Sheela. She was up to her old tricks. She wanted to send me back to work in the abhorrent Units A and B. I had worked hard to carve out a place for myself, and I was pleased with my office, the staff, and my patients. And now the old shadow of Dr. Sheela cast a pall over my happiness.

  A few weeks later, I received a letter from Dr. Uqali. Effective immediately, I was to begin working in Units A and B on the first floor of Rimpa Plaza. Dr. Sheela would take my place in Unit C, and take over my practice.

  That news hit me as if I had been caught in a bomb blast. I had worked hard to make my office a calm and attractive place to work, and now I had to give it up. I feared I wouldn’t be able to take the pressure in my new assignment. I called Javed to see if there was anything that could be done for me. He again said, “I’ve been warning you for a while now that it will happen. She is too well-connected for her not to get her way. While you were working hard at your job, she was over here at headquarters working on her connections.”

  I had made the honest mistake of thinking job performance counted more than connections. But this was the way the system worked, and I had to resign myself to it. The next morning I reported to Dr. Iqbal at the clinic in Rimpa Plaza. It was situated in the heart of the Saddar district, which was filled with blaring traffic noise and pollution from trucks, buses, and cars. The clinic itself was chaotic. The workers were unruly, shouting and carrying on. Workers and union leaders were in the habit of always asking for favors, and they often refused to follow well-established policies. Most of the employees, it turned out, were the most egregious abusers of the company medical system. They not only brought their entire extended families to be treated, but also demanded expensive medicines and referral letters to specialist doctors and for surgeries. When I refused to go against company policy, I spent half my day arguing with employees, their families, and others. It was exhausting.

  I tried to keep up with the pace, but it became impossible, and I began to suffer from severe headaches. I came home exhausted not only physically, but emotionally, and I was of no use to Taimoor. I couldn’t help him with his homework or spend time with him without thinking about the horrible conditions of my job.

  After a few months, Taimoor and I had suffered enough. I called Dr. Uqali and asked him kindly to return to my former clinic. He said that it was beyond his powers.

  I was surprised to hear that. Sitting in my apartment, considering what to do, I decided to talk to God. I started a series of special prayers. I prayed a whole night for God to do something for the sake of my son. I believed He had the power to do anything.

  After a few days, Javed Khan, who had always been sincere and kind, called and suggested I come to the head office and meet with the Managing Director, Mr. Javeed ul Hassan. On my first day, I had visited Mr. Hassan in his office on the fifth floor. He told me that his doors were always open to me to discuss any issues or concerns I might have. I decided to take him up on his offer.

  That day, I left work early and went to his office. His secretary said he was in a meeting, and then he had to leave directly afterward. I should return another day. I decided to wait for him. When his meeting was over, a line of executives streamed out of his office. I stood when I saw Mr. Hassan in his office doorway holding his briefcase. He stopped to see me.

  “Sir, I came here to speak to you if you can give me a few minutes.”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  His secretary Ms. Dsouza also stood. “Sir, I told her you were leaving soon.”

  He offered me a seat, and he asked how he could help me. I reminded him that when I first came to work I was appointed to work in Unit C. Only later did Dr. Sheela come to work in Units A and B. I told him everything, how she came and looked over my office, and then began lobbying the head office staff for a transfer, and how I had developed an all-female practice in Unit C. And now she had changed everything.

  After I finished
my story, I said to him. “I have a small son, and I have some personal issues. The noise and pollution in my workplace and traffic in that area are intolerable. I need my office back.”

  The next day I was transferred back to Unit C. I was thrilled to work in my own office again. No doubt, Mr. Hassan was the most decent man I had ever met.

  My work routine quickly returned to normal, and the clinic operated smoothly. Soon, Javed Khan called me to tell me I was being considered for promotion to chief medical officer, along with Dr. Sheela, and a newly arrived male doctor who had transferred in from Hyderabad, Sindh. The new physician had powerful political connections to PPP, but I had the most seniority and the best job performance reviews.

  Not giving up, Dr. Sheela kept manipulating head office staff to find a way to take my job in Unit C. I knew another transfer was coming, and I decided I wanted to see if I could make the best of it by changing the work culture in Units A and B. I had meetings with all the doctors and the staff and tried to boost employee morale, but none of the other doctors cooperated. They wanted to maintain the status quo, get what they could, and be done with it. After several months of effort, I gave up.

  Since Dr. Uqali, Mr. Hassan, and few other good executives had retired, I visited the head office of Units A and B, and met with Mr. Khursheed, the same general manager who had hired me. I knew he preferred Dr. Sheela, but I decided to take a chance that he would listen to me. I prayed hard that day and visited him full of hope. He listened carefully, and afterward, he transferred me back to Unit C. I had found a kind man with an open heart. But I knew in my heart that my battle with Dr. Sheela had only just begun.

  After Dr. Uqali retired, there was a panic in the medical department. He was such a kind man, and no one knew what to expect from our next Chief Medical Officer Dr. Iqbal. The General Manager of the Medical Dept., Mr. Waheed, had always behaved well in the presence of the previous management. But as soon as they were gone, he began harassing the doctors and medical staff. After a few months Mr. Waheed was transferred to another department, and Captain Arif was appointed general manager of the medical department. Javed called to reassure me that Arif was a decent and religious man who had been working elsewhere in the head office. He said everything will be alright now.

  In his first meeting with the medical staff, Captain Arif said he was aware of all the issues we were facing, and that he intended to resolve them. Everyone left the meeting buoyed by his positive attitude and willingness to support the physicians and staff.

  Not too long afterward, Javed called me from the head office. Evidently, he’d seen Dr. Sheela visiting Captain Arif’s office. They had met for several hours, but Javed didn’t know what they discussed. He assumed I was about to get transferred again, and wanted me to prepare myself. I was transferred the next day. This time I met with a new GM, Dr. Fiyaz. He also belonged to PPP. He listened to everything I said, and promised to resolve my issues once and for all. He appointed both of us to the same office in Unit C. Now Dr. Sheela sat in my office with me, and she tried very hard to gain my trust. The next week, Dr. Sheela told me she was going to meet with Captain Arif, to give him some suggestions.

  After her meeting, Arif began visiting Karachi Terminal. He ordered me to vacate my room and give it to Dr. Sheela. I started seeing patients in the waiting room just opposite the office. They had converted the waiting room to my office with doors and chairs. I continued to use the restroom in my previous office during breaks.

  Captain Arif began visiting her office every day at lunch. They ate together in her room, or at least that’s what I thought. Once I entered the room to use the restroom, and they were embracing. Embarrassed at being caught, he quickly let her go. I was told that I could no longer use the restroom inside that office. Instead, Arif wanted me to go to the other side of the building to use the restroom for male doctors.

  I understood why. He did not want any interruption during their sexual activity. I refused to use that restroom and started using the one for the female patients, which was adjacent to Sheela’s office. I could hear them. I ignored them since what they were doing was their business.

  Once I glimpsed their tryst, but I did not intend to bother them or inform anyone of their behavior. Arif stopped me from using that bathroom, too.

  I began going home at lunchtime, to pray, to eat lunch, and to use the bathroom in my Chapal apartment, which was a five-minute drive away. After I came back from lunch break one day, a few employees were gathered outside the office in the parking area. The two lovers had neglected to close the window coverings all the way, and staff had spotted Dr. Sheela and Captain Arif having sex. Word spread, and reached the union leaders, who began to protest that those two should not be doing that at work on the table used for examining patients.

  Management didn’t do anything about their behavior. So the protests continued.

  I received a letter from Captain Arif that I can no longer leave the premises during lunch.

  I went back to using the restroom for the female patients. After a few days, someone put a padlock on the door so no one could use it. Still, the protests continued, so Captain Arif invited all the union leaders and employees who witnessed their tryst into his office. He offered them favors if they would stop protesting. Instead, they should start a campaign against me.

  I only heard about this later.

  The next day, I heard a knock at my door during lunchtime. Arif stood at my door. “From now on,” he said, “I will sit in your room during lunchtime.” I refused to allow him into my office.

  “Listen, you can’t sit in my room. I am not Dr. Sheela. Go to her room. She welcomes you. I am Dr. Raana, and always remember, I am a different person.”

  “Why are you so proud?”

  “I think it is self-respect and the morals that my parents taught me.”

  “If you don’t let me in, you will find out what I can do.”

  I closed and locked the door before we could say anything else to each other. I just wanted him to go away and leave me to do my job, but I feared he would not do that. All the peace and harmony that Dr. Uqali had brought to our department had disappeared. Now a sense of foreboding came over everyone in the office: something terrible was about to happen.

  Soon after I refused Arif’s advances, his entire demeanor and attitude toward me changed. He began pressuring me to go along with the usual practices in Units A and B of writing prescriptions for expensive medications for patients and their families that weren’t needed. The labor leaders complained to the head offices about my refusal to give in to their demands, despite the fact they knew I wasn’t allowed to order the expensive medications they demanded.

  Warning letters from Captain Arif began arriving soon after. The letters threatened me with disciplinary action for not prescribing the proper medications and for not having my office available to see patients during my scheduled hours. Because of these false letters in my file, I was denied raises and promotions that I had earned.

  Dr. Sheela would not stop trying to thwart me. New people came to see me as patients, people whom I knew were friends of Dr. Sheela, and they made loud, emotional scenes when I prescribed medicine for them or gave a diagnosis. One in particular, Nasrin Naz, a telephone operator, made a despicable scene. She usually saw male doctors, but she came to me that day. I was busy examining a patient and the waiting area was full. She opened my office door without knocking and began shouting nonstop until spittle oozed from her lips. She claimed I was incompetent, stupid, ignorant, and a worthless doctor.

  I was so humiliated and too shocked to speak. I decided the best thing for me to do was to remain calm. After she left, I had to sit alone for some time to regain my composure. After that episode, I decided that I wasn’t going to tolerate this behavior anymore.

  I checked the directory for the GM of the Telecommunications Department and was very glad to discover it was someone I knew, Mr. Naeem Akhond. I had met him several times and knew him as a decent and fair-min
ded man.

  I called him and told him about his employee’s behavior. He was shocked and promised to investigate my complaint. Not long after, he called me back and said Nasrin Naz had admitted to her ugly behavior. She confessed that Dr. Sheela had put her up to it. She was crying, promised not to do it again, and asked for my forgiveness. Mr. Akhond was certain she would never bother me again. Her family would suffer if she was fired, so he was certain she would behave.

  Of course, I forgave her. She was just a pawn in someone else’s game. It gave me some satisfaction that he would reprimand her. But I knew that wouldn’t put a stop to the efforts to discredit me.

  CHAPTER 13

  Unseen Forces

  ONE DAY AT A FAMILY gathering, I overheard my father asking my cousin to help him find a match for me. He said it would be painful for him to see me stay unmarried my entire life. When I heard him talking, I took him aside and said, “Yes, I am ready to consider marrying again, if you have a nice person to introduce me to.”

  One day he introduced me to a man from my cousin’s circle. His name was Osman.

  He was young, good-looking, divorced, and a well-educated civil engineer. He worked for the Civil Aviation Authority. Over the next few weeks I met his mother and married sister. I also visited his office at the Civil Aviation Authority.

  We spent time together talking. I wanted to go into a new relationship with my eyes open. I asked him many questions directly: Did he drink? Did he have a girlfriend? Would he allow me to continue working as a doctor? What did he think of having children? I refused to allow a man’s inflated ego to box me in again.

  He was adamant that he didn’t drink, didn’t have a girlfriend, and wouldn’t even consider making me quit my job as a doctor. He admired the fact that I had made my own way in the world. He seemed eager and asked me to marry him.

  I had no reason to rush into another marriage. But he began asking me for a decision every time I saw him.