Strange days.

The school exam - not so long ago.

I am worried about Niggle, who is showing marriage withdrawal signs. His divorce has gone through successfully and he is getting more and more unhappy. Nothing affects his teaching, however. He is a hit with the boys in the class, as he is a Muslim, and I feel the pressure on to follow suit. He calls it the "cherry on the cake" this charismatic effect of being a convert. I resist, grinning and bearing it.

Meanwhile, Appa is more and more worried about the fate of the section as the government reveals discrimination against O level students in the choices for seats in the leading Medical and Engineering colleges. Niggle and I are sent to investigate.

I make my way to Dawood College of Engineering, to meet the Dean/Principal there. Walking through a rather shabby and dilapidated campus, I am given admission to the study with its whirring AC and plush seats. The desk is huge, and the small figure of the Dean sits behind it. I know immediately how this will go.

Niggle and I meet to compare notes then tell Appa the bad news. Only a designated number of seats will be allocated to ) level based candidates. The best route, and the least risky one, for most students, will be to give up Cambridge and follow the Matriculation line to make it easier to get a place. We lose a sizeable number of girls in Class IX, the seniormost class. Only two brave souls are left: Hina and Farah. The rest - eleven of them - are boys.

The shrinking of early batches is a risk Appa is prepared to take - pursuing a quality education. It makes little sense to the management, who see the school as a business, but Appa digs in her heels.  The O levels are still two years ahead of us.

At the end of the term, Niggle entertains the rest of the staff with his laid-back approach to invigilation, by 1) sitting down; 2) reading a paperback during the examination. Appa has been very strict about this. We are to remain 'vigilant' for the two hours or so. Tensions have been growing between Appa and Niggle anyway.

We take the students out for a trip to the wrongly named Safari Park in Karachi. It's a depressing place with lots of sand and a few shrubs and one or two trees. The animals, such as they are (a few scruffy deer, a dejected peacock, a donkey and a horse) scratch about and the students whine to go home.

Safari Park, Karachi

Later tells me how one of the students, Fatima, managed to get stuck up a tree. He had to catch her and carry her to settle her down. I am a bit alarmed. Here girls are never ever to be touched by men. We had a woman teacher, the chemistry Miss, with us - he could've called her. I say nothing, however.

"She is so light..." he says. Well, she is a teenager and a very skinny one at that.

"Lah - di - dah," he says. And then concludes, "Muddle - muddle."

Fatima is exhilarated by the incident and just in case she gets wrong ideas, is given a lecture by the aforesaid chemistry Miss.

Small picture of a small TV

By the end of the year a new face is on our TVs. Omer has given me a tiny TV, about the size of a matchbox, to watch. Niggle and I watch "Neelam Gur" a local quiz show with Tariq Aziz. The new face is much prettier and also that of a trailblazer for women in politics. A muslim country has its very first female Prime Minister.