Finding the Unseen

by Taj63622

  Chapter 6

  Jameel received him with relief, and embraced him dearly. Scarcely did he have the opportunity to question the reason, that he notices someone else present in the room.

  There, stood behind Jameel, he sees the unforgettable face.

  Her brother advised her to keep indoors until he settled the matter with the landlord. So tactful her brother was, and so naïvely unaware she became to her brother’s secret designs that she did as told. But God is kind, and kinder to the innocent. She became aware that her marriage was secretly underway.

  Her brother took advantage of her gullibility. He fixed the date for her marriage, and the truth would have remained outside her understanding too had she not received a visit from one of the children of the landlord. The girl was the youngest child of the landlord’s four children. The little girl asked her if her dress was pretty. When Nargis enquired to what occasion she would wear this dress, the girl answered that she will wear it to her father’s wedding, which is to be in a week’s time.

  “Who is he to marry?” she asked next with a sinking feeling. The girl embraced her warmly, addressing her endearingly as “Chuto Amma”. She was to become the girl’s second mother.

  Fear and anger collided with each other in such violence that she could not divide one from the other. Her brother betrayed her. He was intent on her marriage to the landlord. Her sensibility dissolved, and impulsiveness took cover. She could not placate her heart to this marriage, and it certain that her brother will remain equally determined upon it. In a state like this, no order of rationality seemed forthcoming, and all possibility of irrationality was inviting. Thus, taking advantage of her brother’s absence, she decided to leave this accommodation. She took nothing with her, too determined with the single objective of getting as far away from her brother and this impending marriage. But where was she to go? She had no money and knew no one that could help her. In her overcoming despair, she recalled the mention of the lodge the Englishman and his guide was staying in, when she was in the bazaar that day. She prayed that the Englishman did not leave, and so set forth to the lodge.

  Shock does not come nearer to the description when he opened the door to the unexpected visitor yesterday. For a while, he was unable to find his voice. She pleaded that she needed help. He allowed her in, and she began to narrate her story. She was afraid, that much was clear. Her hands were shaking and her mouth was so dry that often she could not speak. He offered her water, and she drank the contents heartily, receiving the strength to conclude her narration. The Englishman’s interference has created a huge turmoil. He had good reason to worry. The girl’s brother was bound to look for her throughout the whole town, and this prediction soon came true this evening.

  He has kept her hidden in his room since last night. He deliberately kept the matter unknown from the journalist, fearing his reaction. Francis was a good man, and should he learn of the girl’s escape from her brother, then it may postpone his return home. Until the English journalists do not leave for England tomorrow, he decided to let the girl stay here. Admittedly, he did not know what to do with her after that, but that was the least of his worries then. However, as events have proved, she was no longer safe here. He has already fallen under the brother’s suspicion. Had he not diverted the brother’s attention towards Francis, then there was a strong possibility that he would have searched his and Jonathan’s room to find his sister. Thankfully, he spoke in Bengali to avert Jonathan’s understanding of his conversation with the brother. He had to lie to protect the girl, but that did not reduce his worries for Francis. He was making swift preparation to visit Francis that he found answering his call instead.

  He sincerely wished to keep this proceeding outside the journalist’s knowledge. His efforts have gone to vain. The complications of keeping the girl here are many, and to none could he or the Englishman come to resolve.

  Accosted in the corner of the room, the two men continue to discuss in great lengths. She watched the scene like a silent spectator. Unlike her brother, she did not understand English. Her parents invested more liberally into his education, for it was not the custom to undertake the inconvenience with daughters’ education. Girls are to ultimately marry and settle down with a family. The brother she depended on and hoped to care for her welfare after her parent’s decease, schemed to pass on the responsibility to someone else in return for money. It was disheartening to learn that an educated man would have such selfish thoughts. If education results with such characteristics, then she was grateful that her sex was kept impoverished of it.

  The two men continued their discussion. She blamed herself for placing them into this unnecessary trouble. She should not have behaved so rashly. Her rashness had neglected her to consider the reality. It was unfair on them. She had no right to disburden her worries onto those unrelated to her affairs. She should return to her brother. Perhaps marriage will solve everyone’s problems.

  Her gaze lifts again at the closed door, which was conveniently near her. She looked over her shoulder again, her eyes peering through the tiny holes of the mosquito net. Each hole clustered together, finely forming a mosaic picture of the Englishman engrossed in conversation with Jameel. They remained immersed in their discussion, nodding at intervals, but shaking their heads in disapproval more often. She rose quietly from the bed, and overcoming those few feet, left the room.

  So immersed they were in conversation that the two men failed to notice her leave. Francis began to sense a strange emptiness in the room. He could not distinguish the reason, but he felt an urgency to look at the bed. Eyes piercing through the dim lighting of the lantern, he looks for the girl behind the draping nets. He could not see her, and felt the first beats of alarm. He nears the bed, and at once, realises Nargis was truly gone. Giving no explanation, he quickly follows her unseen trail.

  He ran through the unlit corridors, and so quickly, that he misses a few steps while descending the stairs, falling onto the landing with a hurtful thud. Flustered, he tries to recollect his footing when he feels someone helping him up. He believed it was Jameel, whom he thanked. He felt a twinge on his elbow, finding it bruised and bleeding. He flinched in pain as it throbbed against the touch of his helper’s hand, and at once realises that the hand did not belong to Jameel.

  She was here, stood before him. Her small face looked distressed as her gaze studies his bruised elbow. Then, bringing forth a corner of the drape of her sari, she dabs the wound gently, wistfully blowing cool air on it as does. He did not move, watching her absently as she treats his wound.

  The sudden arrival of Jameel makes them both start. He expresses his relief on finding them safe, but adds that they must find some way of getting the girl out. The receptionist does not know that she has been staying as an unpaid guest in this lodge.

  They whispered, but in this surreal quietness, even a whisper can sound like thunder. Perhaps the reception heard something, for they heard rushed footsteps coming towards them. The noise grew threateningly clearer, nearing them with ease. A cloud of yellow light gradually pushes aside the heavy darkness, and a voice yells through it, demanding who wanders here unauthorised. They take a cautious step back so to conceal themselves between the two walls of the staircase. Alarmed, she looks at the journalist, and he read accurately the concerns in her dark eyes. He nods in reply, and she willingly places her trust in him. Any sudden movement could deteriorate the situation. They keep still, noticing the yellow light becoming brighter as the watchman progresses along the corridor, determined to catch the intruders.

  Then he suddenly stops.

  Lifting his lantern, his hand follows carefully the whispering breaths, expertly detecting the suspected intruders. But before the dimmed ray should reveal their identity, he, Nargis and Jameel immediately disperse. Jameel heads upstairs towards his room, while Francis and Nargis seek an escape. They have to get out of the building. The watchman becomes alert at once, chasing the shadowy figures, threatening them to stop.


  He holds her hand firmly, and she unconsciously allows him. They run, unknown to the direction, but each in the consolation that they were not alone.

  ‘You have been silent for a long while now,’ Dhadhi whispers, her voice low and heavy.

  Nargis has been stealing frequent glances at her granddaughter, observing her grey eyes intently as they read the decaying article that Francis wrote many years.

  Mayah starts at her Dhadhi’s voice. She has lost count on how number of times she read this article. “Improve Here or Betterment Elsewhere?” The article was her Granddad’s first piece of published work upon his return from East Pakistan. Her Dhadhi keeps the most celebrated articles of Granddad close by her reach, referring to them whenever her heart sought some consolation. It has been two years since her Granddad passed away, but Dhadhi has not overcome the loss. The length of her mourning has quietly prolonged and none could do anything to recover a genuine smile from her lips.

  Folding the article, Mayah slips it back into the album leaf, and turns to the next one. Most photos in this album are black and white, of which the majority are of her Grandparents. This one in particular always drew her attention, for it was the photo of Dhadhi and Granddad’s marriage. Her Dhadhi is dressed in bridal attire, her gaze demurely downcast as Granddad looked at her in shameless admiration. Her Dhadhi is an undeniable beauty, and despite the photographs lacking colour, Mayah could easily deduce that Dhadhi was doubtless glowing. Her Granddad looked fittingly handsome in his suit, which he wore to accord with the customs of an Islamic marriage.

  She looks on wonderingly at the picture. A chance encounter had forever united her grandparents. Jameel Dhadha was one of the few witnesses to the ceremony. The photos evidenced their joys accurately. It was a small ceremony, and a controversial one. The marriage disconnected her from her native home. Her brother had disowned her upon her refusal to marry a scheming landlord. The games of Fate are truly applauding. She often wondered what would have happened if her Granddad was not in East Pakistan that day, amidst the fires.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’ Mayah asks, clasping her Dhadhi’s warm hand.

  ‘I feel like I haven’t eaten for days,’ her Dhadhi humours.

  Her expression changes instantly into disapproval as she recalls the incident that hospitalised Dhadhi.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ she asks, looking away angrily. ‘Why did you harm yourself like this?’

  ‘To scare your father,’ Dhadhi admits, whilst trying to instil some humour. ‘Did he get scared?’

  ‘This is not funny,’ Mayah says impatiently.

  ‘I know,’ Dhadhi abates her. ‘I also knew nothing would have happened to me. There is plenty of time left for me to meet your Granddad again. Besides, you have to prove my intuition correct.’

  She shakes her head helplessly at Dhadhi, who claims her intuitions lead her to believe that she will provoke some needful change. “It will be a change that many have wanted to see for a long time now,” her Dhadhi will add in wise tones.

  Her Mayah will prove nothing less, and she waited eagerly to greet that day. It took two miscarriages before Fate finally granted her son and daughter-in-law a child. Previously doctors had given their word. Her daughter-in-law’s chances of conceiving were very slim. They presented options of evasive medical treatments, and if that should fail, then there was the possibility of adoption. Discussions were merely ongoing when news of Mayah’s arrival concluded the debate. The sweetest fruit is the one that takes it’s time to ripen. Her Mayah was doubtless one of those. She possessed a certain rebellious streak that keeps slyly dormant. Her round face and soft feature could quite easily deceive others to believe she was a quiet, peaceful girl.

  ‘I want you to be part of my success too,’ Mayah replies at length. ‘What you did the last two days was inconsiderate to my feelings.’

  ‘What else was I supposed to do?’ her Dhadhi asks in irritation. ‘Your father will not take heed to my pleas any other way. I had to resort to the extreme. Your words of consolation cannot deny the inevitable,’ her Dhadhi explains looking away, unable to meet her searching eyes. ‘I am but merely a guest to life. We all are. I fear time will pass me so quickly that I shall not have the time to reconcile. I have no complaints against anyone, no grudge to settle, and no such desires I wish to fulfil. I have only one request,’ she says meeting Mayah’s eyes. ‘I want to reconcile with my brother.’

  ‘Your health is very weak,’ Mayah explains, feeling compelled to disoblige with Dhadhi’s request. ‘And that’s not the only reason Dad refuses your request. There are many risks. The country has changed very much since you left it. Unfortunately, people don’t change. Your brother will not accept you. Seeing you suddenly may provoke his anger. He has a family of his own, and you have yours. Why can’t we just accept matters as are they are?’

  ‘Because he is my family,’ Dhadhi corrects her. ‘He is your family. Your father cannot keep denying the truth of his connections. Why does he fear for my health? I am at an age where I cannot fear the unexpected. What is the worst my brother can do to me?’

  Dhadhi’s question had silenced her. She wanted to argue her cause, but to her irritation, she found no validation.

  Dhadhi has not visited her native country since marriage brought her to England. That was over forty-seven years ago. After Granddad's death, Dhadhi has expressed fierce desires to see her brother, hoping to reconcile with him, but her father constantly objected. Once, her mother suggested accompanying Dhadhi to Bangladesh. Her father's objection was so firm and her mother's intention so determined that her parents got into a huge argument. Dhadhi felt she was the cause, and reasoned with her daughter-in-law to confiscate their plans. To amend one relation, she could not stake another. Circumstances forced Dhadhi to quit her hopes, but recently she been undergoing fresh desires. Very recently, Dhadhi secretly booked tickets online to Bangladesh. They only discovered this when her father found the printout of the confirmation of travel on Dhadhi’s bed.

  ‘I may not get another chance, Mayah,' her Dhadhi says. ‘Tell Sam to let me go.’

  ‘Mayah,’ she hears her Granddad call her.

  She follows the voice, looking over her shoulder at the window behind her.

  ‘Come,’ here he persists.

  She looks at Dhadhi’s closed. Her deep unhesitating breaths indicated that she was asleep. Gently, she unclasps Dhadhi’s hand from hers, and walks over to the window. She opened the curtains until she could peak at the night sky.

  ‘My Nargis is right, you know,’ her Granddad clarifies.

  Mayah shook her head hopelessly at his agreement.

  ‘This was a narrow escape,’ he adds. ‘Hunger strike at her age!’ he exclaims, reproaching Dhadhi’s obstinacy. ‘Who does she think she is? Mahatma Ghandi? But she's right. This hunger strike would have most certainly sent her up to me! I don‘t want your Dhadhi to come here feeling famish. You must persuade Sam to let his mother visit her estranged brother.’

  ‘Dad will not agree,’ she reminds him. ‘Mum has also tried, but Dad is impossible to persuade.’

  ‘Son like mother,’ her Granddad huffs in irritation. ‘Both are obstinate as each other. If your father had even the slightest quality of patience from me –’

  ‘From you?’ she raises her eyebrows questioningly at him.

  A smoky cloud passes over the crescent moon as if to cover her Granddad’s brief embarrassment.

  ‘You will have to do something to fulfil my Nargis’s request,’ her Granddad suggests recovering from his embarrassment.

  ‘But Dad is not being irrational,’ she defends her father’s decision. ‘He refuses Dhadhi’s request because he worries for her health.’

  ‘No one is immortal, Mayah,’ her Granddad reminds her dutifully. ‘Death is a certain path for all. You cannot gamble with its uncertainty. Would it please you if your Dhadhi comes here undone? It is her brother after all she wants to see.’

  ‘I
t is not me that has any objections,’ she says defensively.

  ‘But you are the only one that can make it work regardless of the objections.’

  Unable to comprehend him, she looks confusingly at the night sky.

  ‘You are the only one,’ her Granddad explains, ‘who is free of suspicions.’

  She listened attentively, while her eyes gazed absently at the sky. Dhadhi’s health has been deteriorating steadfastly since her Granddad’s death. Her asthmatic attacks have become more frequent, doubtless provoked by her fear of never seeing her estranged brother again. As such, she has become a regular visitor to the hospital.

  Her father’s unchanging refusal may seem ruthless, but it was necessary. He was simply observing the duties of a son. There was no one there to accept them as their family. Why should his mother make the first step towards reconciliation? His mother did not break the ties.

  Death is a certain path for all Mayah fearfully recalls.

  She turns away abruptly from the window, stunned gaze landing immediately upon her Dhadhi. She seemed peacefully asleep, but Mayah knew that was merely a display. Her Dhadhi was afflicted with an unceasing pain. The hunger strike tactic was a faint reflection of that pain. This was the first such manner of persuasion Dhadhi employed to break her rigid son’s decision. This will not be her last attempt either.

  She walks up to Dhadhi’s bed in an unrushed pace, staring cautiously at the frail figure. She reclaims her seat beside Dhadhi. For a long while, she sat here, thinking hard. On one side, she saw a sister’s affection, and on another, she saw a son’s duties. Her thoughts swayed this way and that.

  Then, she stopped thinking.

  She left her Dhadhi’s side, walking resolutely towards the door. Her hand had scarcely touched the handle, when she stops, looking over her shoulder, catching another glimpse of her Dhadhi. She does not know what is right or wrong, or whose side she should take. She only knew that much that she was not ready to lose her Dhadhi.