“Mrs Mahmood” explores the idea that certain kinds of escape can lead to mental clarity and emotional catharsis. The manager of a busy sports shop in London, Mr. Mahmood finds comfort in fulfilling his day-to-day tasks and being in the lively environment of his shop, often shutting his mind off as he works. While there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the excitement and busyness of city life, Mr. Mahmood’s need for the sound of an underground train to lull him to sleep suggests that stress and discontentment may lurk beneath the surface of his everyday life. In fact, after almost losing his temper at the teenage boy who tries to steal shoes from his shop, Mr. Mahmood finds himself needing to listen to loud music and distract his hands, showing that he’s accustomed to avoiding his more negative emotions through these small means of escape and distraction.
At the same time, when Mr. Mahmood escapes his usual environment of his sports shop and city for more prolonged periods of time, he enters a headspace in which he can begin reflecting on his emotions in a more honest manner. For example, chasing the teenage boy down the street is what prompts Mr. Mahmood to think back to his brief career as a track and field runner in his youth, which he ultimately gave up on. Similarly, boarding a random bus to get out of the city and into a public park is what allows Mr. Mahmood to run on a track for the first time in years, clear his mind, and admit to himself that he’s uncertain about everything in his life aside from his wife. As such, the story doesn’t portray escape in a purely negative light. Rather, the narrative demonstrates how getting away from the constraints and demands of life can sometimes help a person leave the past behind and begin to look to the future with a clearer state of mind.
Escape and Catharsis ThemeTracker
Escape and Catharsis Quotes in Mrs Mahmood
Now, sometimes I lie awake at night waiting for another train to pass so that I can fall asleep; I find it comforting somehow. The regularity, the mild vibrations, the dim, distant thrum of carriages carrying other people elsewhere. I couldn’t live in a quiet place now.
I think they would prefer me out the back taking care of the accounts, harrying suppliers, rushing in new stock. I don’t know this for certain. I am the manager, I should have mentioned. Perhaps it puts them on edge, as if I am constantly watching, scrutinizing.
Perhaps it is odd to see an older man puffing down the street. The clumsy sweep and sway of it, the heavy body bounding along. All I know is that very few people were looking at the boy, but all eyes managed to fix on me. Paths cleared. People stood back.
I could feel suppressed rage seeping from my chest, like a disturbed wound. I raised my hand, then slowly brought it down again and scratched the back of my neck…The boy didn’t even cringe. He showed no emotion whatsoever. I didn’t like to see that in children, coldness, valves already shut off.