“Bhindi!” Muaz groaned as soon as he saw his plate. He pushed the lady’s fingers to one side of plate and eat the meat curry with roti (bread). Then, making sure his mother was nowhere in sight, he grabbed a plastic bag and emptied the vegetable inside it from his plate.

After finishing his dinner, Muaz went to the kitchen and beamed, “Look, mum, look at my plate!” He dragged his finger across the plate while making a squeaky sound from his mouth. “Squeaky clean. You won’t even have to wash it now,” he grinned.

“I won’t have to wash it, but you still have to,” replied his mother with her eyebrows raised.

“Fine!” Muaz obediently replied, and ran towards the sink and gave the plate a quick scrub. Then he went to his mum and hugged her.

“Good job, Maazi!” said his proud mum. “Here, let me get you some kheer.”

“Kheer, yum!” Muaz was thrilled. His mum was very strict about him finishing his veggies, especially if he wanted dessert.

When Muaz had finished enjoying the kheer, he took the plastic bag with the lady’s fingers and headed towards the trash can.

“Wait! What are you doing?” a voice came.

“Huh?” Muaz froze. There was no one around.

“Wait!” The sound came again.

This time he was sure the voice had come from the plastic bag he was holding.

“Who is this?” Muaz felt ridiculous conversing with a plastic bag.

“It is me, the lady’s finger!”

“Oh, my goodness!” Muaz exclaimed as he rubbed his forehead. “Am I talking to a lady’s finger?”

“Yes, precisely,” the voice came again. “Listen up, boy. I demand to know why you are not eating me and are instead throwing me out in the trash can.”

“Oh — well, you see,” Muaz stammered. “I don’t like bhindi. I mean,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t like the taste. Uh, this is not coming out right.” Then Muaz took a long breath and spoke more calmly, “Look. It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t like eating bhindi. And it’s not just bhindi, but all vegetables.”

“Really?” came the voice again. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Not even potatoes?”

“Oh, well, I do love potatoes,” Muaz admitted.

“Aha!” said the lady’s finger.

“Okay, well, so maybe I like certain….” he mumbled. “Well, why is my mum always asking me to eat vegetables? I don’t like them and I don’t want to eat them.”

“I suppose it is because vegetables are healthy. They are nutritious and add so much value to your diet,” lady’s finger said with pride.

“But isn’t it better that your life will be spared if I don’t eat you?”

“Spared? More like wasted! Oh dear, here you are throwing my life away, and saying I’m being spared! Well, ‘spare’ me your logic, mister,” wailed the lady’s finger “But what’s the big deal?” Muaz asked again.

“Oh, I will tell you what the big deal is. Rather I will show it to you! Let me take you on a ride.”

Whoosh!

Muaz felt like he had entered a tunnel. There were lights all around him and they were moving very fast. Muaz felt dizzy and feared he might faint. In a matter of seconds, they were standing in a lush green field. A cool breeze was blowing through his hair.

“Welcome to my hometown where I grew up,” said the lady’s finger.

Farmers were ploughing seeds in the ground. “See that farmer to your right? That seed he is ploughing is me!”

“Wow! This place is really clean,” Muaz was impressed.

“Yes, it’s one of the most well-maintained agricultural fields in Pakistan,” said bhindi with a hint of pride.

Muaz saw everything in time-lapse — the sun set and rose, the farmers came and tilled the land, went home, came back, mowed the land, watered the seeds, took out weeds and looked for pests that might eat the plants.

With the backdrop of the rising and setting sun in consistent motion, the seeds began to sprout and burst forth from the soil. Tiny leaves began to grow on the stem. The stem elongated. Little flowers sprouted on the stem and turned into beautiful yellow flowers. Finally, from the yellow flowers, small dots were seen growing. In no time, they turned into beautiful lady’s fingers hanging on the stem.

As soon as the lady’s fingers ripened, some men and women with baskets hanging behind their backs plucked the lady’s fingers and stored them in their baskets.

The scene again changed, now the lady’s fingers were stored in racks. The truck came and loaded these racks and took them to a wholesale market where a local vendor bought several of these crates. The vendor loaded the lady’s fingers in his truck and arrived at a local vegetable market, where Muaz saw his dad!

Muaz called out to his dad, waving with eagerness. But his dad didn’t notice. He bought some vegetables along with the lady’s fingers. Then Muaz saw his home, where the lady’s fingers were put in the kitchen counter. His mother cut the lady’s fingers, and added spices and meat pieces.

“And look,” said the lady’s finger motioning to the food mum had dished out to Muaz. “There I am!”

“You know, I never thought of food like that! It’s unbelievable how much effort and time is put into making one small vegetable. I feel bad now because I really don’t like eating lady’s fingers,” he confessed with a sighed.

“Well, you should eat more vegetables because they are healthy,” the lady’s finger explained. “But even if you decide not to eat them, at least don’t throw them in the trash can. Give it to someone else who can eat it.”

Muaz thought about it, “You’re right. I will give this to someone else and I will try not to waste food from now on.”

“And consider telling your mum that you don’t like lady’s fingers!”

Muaz hesitated, “Ah … that will not turn out well!” But in his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do.

Published in Dawn, Young World, October 19th, 2024