Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor

by Umera Ahmed

  They spent the entire night talking, worrying—they had not slept a wink. The next day they did not attend classes—there was no point in going in their sorry state. Imama used to get back by nine on Saturdays when she went home for the weekend, but there was no sign of her. Rabia and Javeria were at the end of their wits—it was two thirty and she hadn't returned. Ashen-faced and trembling, they left their room to see the warden, making up their statements.

  They were a short distance from the warden's room when they saw Imama entering, calm and collected. Bag slung over her shoulder and folder in hand, she was certainly returning from college. Javeria and Rabia felt as if the ground slipping away from beneath their feet had suddenly become firm. Their stilled breath was restored and the headlines that seemed to be screaming at them from the next day's papers miraculously evaporated. All these fears were replaced by the anger that was aroused in them by the sight of Imama.

  She had seen them and was moving towards them; there was a very pleasant smile on her face.

  'Why didn't you come to college toady?' she asked after greeting them.

  'We would think about going anywhere if we had respite from your woes.' Rabia's tone was bitter and sharp.

  Imama's smile disappeared. 'What's the problem, Rabia, why are you so angry?' she said with some concern.

  'Just step into the room, and I'll tell you why.' Rabia grabbed her arm and pulled her in. Javeria followed them without a word. Imama was surprised, confounded by Rabia's and Javeria's attitude. Rabia shut the door and faced Imama.

  'Where are you coming from?' she asked in a sharp, angry tone.

  'Islamabad, where else?' Imama put down her bag. Her reply added to Rabia's fury.

  'You should be ashamed of yourself, Imama...deceiving us like this, pulling the wool over our eyes...what do you want to prove? That we're duffers? Idiots? Fools? Fine, we are, I admit, or else we'd not blindly believe you nor be so deceived,' said Rabia.

  'I fail to understand you...what deception are you talking about? It would be better if you sat and spoke to me calmly.' Imama appeared helpless.

  'Where did you spend the weekend?' For the first time, Javeria interrupted the conversation.

  'I told you, I was in Islamabad and I came to college directly, and now from college...' Rabia did not let her complete her words.

  'Stop this rubbish, Imama. The lie is not going to work—you did not go to Islamabad.'

  'How can you say that?' Imama raised her voice.

  'Because your father was here yesterday.' The color drained from Imama's face. She was silent.

  'Why are quiet now? Why don't you insist that you were in Islamabad?' Rabia was sarcastic.

  'Baba was here?' Imama asked slowly.

  'Yes. He brought some clothes for you,' said Javeria.

  'He got to know that I was not in the hostel?'

  'I lied to him that you had stepped out on an errand. He gave the clothes and left,' replied Javeria. Imama drew a spontaneous sigh of relief.

  'That means he did not get to know anything,' said Imama as she sat on the bed and undid her sandal straps.

  'No... he did not find out. Next week you can take off somewhere else.

  Mind you, Imama, I am going to talk to the warden about this business.

  We've had enough worries on your behalf and we're not going to take any more. It is better that your parents should know what you're up to.'

  Rabia was terse; Imama looked up at her.

  'What am I up to? What have I done?'

  'Done what? You say you're going home and disappear from the hostel—that's nothing unusual for you.'

  Imama did not reply. She began to undo the straps on the other foot.

  'I should have gone to the warden,' said Rabia as she moved towards the door.

  Javeria got up and stopped her. 'We'll talk to the warden later. Let's first talk to her—don't be hasty.'

  'But just look at her cussedness...her attitude. Not a trace of embarrassment on her face,' Rabia gestured towards Imama; she was furious.

  'I'll tell you everything; there's no need to get so agitated. I haven't done anything wrong nor gone to any wrong place...and neither did I run away.' Imama spoke softly as she released her feet from her shoes.

  'Then where had you been?' Javeria enquired.

  'With a friend.'

  'Which friend?'

  'There is one...'

  'Why did you have to lie?'

  'I wanted to escape your questions and if had told my family or asked their permission, they would never have allowed me.'

  'Where did you go and why?' Javeria was mystified.

  'Didn't I say I'll tell you? Give me some time,' replied Imama.

  'Give you time so that you disappear again and perhaps not return this time!' Rabia was still angry, but spoke less severely now. 'You didn't even realize you were putting us in an awkward position. Do you know how humiliating it could be for us—have you any sense at all?' she continued.

  'I never expected Baba to turn up here so suddenly, nor did I think it would create an embarrassing situation for you—I would not have done such a thing otherwise.' Imama's tone was repentant.

  'At least you could have trusted us and told us where you were going,' added Javeria.

  'I'll never do this again,' promised Imama.

  'Well, I don't have any confidence in you or your promises,' said Rabia brusquely.

  'Rabia, let me clear my position—you are grossly mistaken,' Imama replied weakly.

  'Do you realize that our careers and our lives are at stake? Is this what you call friendship?'

  'All right, I made a mistake—I am sorry, forgive me.' Imama conceded defeat.

  'Until you tell us where you had disappeared to, we're not going to accept any apologies or forgive you.' Rabia was adamant.

  Imama looked at them silently. After a while she said, 'I had gone to Sabiha's.'

  Rabia and Javeria exchanged surprised glances. 'Who?' they asked in unison.

  'You know her,' replied Imama.

  'That fourth year student, Sabiha?' Javeria could not contain herself.

  Imama nodded. 'But why did you go there?'

  'She's my friend.'

  'Friend? What friend? You barely know her. You only meet her in college; you don't even know what kind of person she is, and you go off to spend the weekend at her place,' exclaimed Javeria.

  'And that too by deception—at least there was no need for you to lie to us or to your family about this,' added Rabia. Her tone reflected her anger.

  'You can call her up and ask her if I had been there,' offered Imama.

  'Fine, you were there, but may we ask why?' persisted Javeria.

  'I needed her help,' said Imama after a pause.

  They looked at her, surprised. 'Help with what?'

  Imama looked up and stared at them without blinking. Javeria squirmed. 'What sort of help?' she repeated.

  'You know very well,' replied Imama softly.

  'I?' Javeria was somewhat taken aback; she looked at Rabia who was watching her intently.

  'Yes, you know very well.'

  'Don't talk in riddles, Imama. Come out with it,' Javeria spoke sharply.

  Imama looked at her quietly for a few moments and then lowered her head—she had lost her case.

  'Tell me, what is your life's dearest desire?' That day Imama had pursued Javeria.

  Javeria looked at Imama's face for a while and then said, 'My dearest wish is that you become a Muslim.'

  A current shot through Imama—shocked and uncertain, she looked at Javeria who spoke on softly, slowly.

  'You are such a dear friend, so close to me that it hurts to see you on a misguided path...not just you, but your entire family. If God should send me to heaven for any good deeds, then I would like you to be with me—but it is essential that you be a Muslim.'

  A myriad expressions passed across Imama's face. It was a while before she could say anything.

  'Javeria, I did not
expect that you would speak to me like Tehreem; I thought you were my friend, but you too...'

  Javeria interrupted her gently. 'Whatever Tehreem told you then was right.' Imama stared at her steadily: she was deeply hurt by Javeria's words. 'I wasn't friendly enough with you then to tell you, though I wanted to, that I agreed with Tehreem. If she said that you aren't a Muslim, she wasn't wrong—you aren't.'

  Imama's eyes filled with tears. She got up abruptly, without a word.

  Javeria stood up too. Imama tried to leave but Javeria grabbed her arm.

  'Let go of my arm... let me go. Don't even try to talk to me again.' Imama's voice was choked and she tried to free herself from Javeria's grip.

  'Imama, try to understand what I am saying...'

  But Imama did not let her finish. 'You have really hurt me, Javeria. I did not expect this of you.'

  'I do not want to hurt you: I am telling you the truth. Instead of getting emotional or crying, just think objectively and coolly about what I said. Why would I want to hurt you for no rhyme or reason?' Javeria did not let go of her arm.

  'You may know why you're doing this, but what I know is that there's no difference between you and Tehreem. In fact, you have caused me more pain than her—she was not such a close and old friend as you.'

  Tears streamed down Imama's face and she tried to wrest her arm out of Javeria's grip.

  'You insisted that I tell you what was closest to my heart. This is why I was not telling you—I even warned you that you would be upset, but you assured me that you would not,' Javeria tried to remind her.

  'Had I known that this would be your reply, I would never have asked you what your life's desire was,' Imama said angrily.

  'Well then I shall never talk to you on this subject,' replied Javeria defensively.

  'What does it matter? I know now what you think about me. Our friendship can never be the same again. I have never criticized your beliefs, but instead of considering my faith as being one of the sects of Islam, you have put me outside the pale of the religion,' Imama said.

  'If that's what I'm doing, then I'm not wrong—all the sects of Islam do share the belief that Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) is Allah's last messenger and that prophethood ended with him.' Javeria too was angry and upset now.

  'Mind your language!' Imama burst out.

  'I'm telling you the truth, Imama...and it's not only me...everyone knows that your family changed its faith to acquire wealth. There's no need to get so worked up—try to think objectively—try to reason...'

  'I have no need to think coolly over your words,' Imama interrupted. 'I know what's true and what isn't...'

  'You don't know anything, and that is the sad part,' retorted Javeria.

  Imama said nothing. She pulled her arm away with a jerk and walked away with quick steps. Javeria made no attempt to follow her. With concern she watched her walk away—Imama was not given to such a display of temper and this worried Javeria.

  END OF CHAPTER 1

  Chapter 2

  All this began with an incident in school. Imama was then a student in the Matric class; Tehreem was one of her good friends. They had not only been together in school for many years, but their families knew each other very well. Amongst all her friends, Imama was closest to Tehreem and Javeria, but she was upset that, despite their friendship, these girls shrank from visiting her home. Imama would invite them to her birthday and also to other events at home, but they would always decline on the pretext of not being allowed to go out. On a few occasions Imama herself spoke to their parents, but they still did not allow their daughters to visit her. Finally, she complained to her parents about this.

  'Both your friends are Syeds. Generally, they do not approve of our sect and this is why your friends' parents do not allow them to come to our house,' explained her mother.

  'What's the meaning of this? Why don't they approve of us?' Imama was surprised at her mother's words.

  'Only they can tell you why they don't like us. They even call us non-Muslims.'

  'Why do they say that? Are we not Muslims?' retorted Imama. 'Of course we are Muslims...but they do not believe in our prophet,' said her mother. 'Why?'

  'Now what can I say to this "why"? They're just very rigid in their beliefs.' 'But Ammi, they never talk to me about religion, so how come religion becomes the problem? What difference does it make and how does it involve visiting each other's homes?' Imama was confused.

  'Who can explain these matters to them? They accuse us of lying and harass us. If they knew more about us and the teachings of our prophet, they wouldn't do this. Anyway, if your friends don't visit you, there's no need to fret—you shouldn't go to their homes either.'

  'But Ammi, their mistaken notions about us should be corrected,' said Imama.

  'You can't do this—their parents are constantly brainwashing them against us, filling their hearts with poison.'

  'No, Ammi! They are my best friends—they shouldn't think this of me. I'll give them some of our books to read...maybe then their minds and hearts will be cleared of these misunderstandings.' said Imama with hope. Her mother fell silent. 'Don't you like my idea?' asked Imama.

  'It's not that... give them your books but not in such a way that they think you're trying to preach your faith. Just tell them that you'd like them to know more about us so as to be able to understand us better,' said her mother. Imama nodded quietly.

  -------------------------

  A few days later, Imama took some books with her to school. When they were together during recess, she brought the books along.

  'I have something for you.'

  'Really? Let's see what it is.'

  Imama held out two sets of books from the bag, one towards Javeria and the other towards Tehreem. They quietly glanced at the books. Javeria said nothing, but Tehreem reacted.

  'What's this?' she said coldly.

  'I brought these books for you,' Imama replied.

  'Why?'

  'So that some of your wrong impressions about us can be corrected.'

  'What sort of wrong impressions?'

  'The wrong impressions you have about our sect,' Imama explained.

  'Who told you that there are any wrong impressions about your "religion" or your prophet?' Tehreem asked very seriously.

  'I can judge that myself: that is why you do not come to my house. You think perhaps that we do not read the Quran or that we do not consider Hazrat Muhammad, peace be upon him, a prophet although that's not the case—we believe in all of these things. It's only that we say that after the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), we have another prophet of our community who is as revered as Prophet Muhammad (PBUH).' Imama explained with great seriousness.

  Tehreem handed back the books she was holding. 'We have no misunderstanding about you or your religion. We know more than enough about your religion, and there's no need for you to give explanations,' she said brusquely. 'And as far as these books are concerned, neither I nor Javeria have spare time to waste on this pile of foolish claims, fanciful ideas, and misguided beliefs that you call your books.'

  Tehreem snatched the books from Javeria and handed them back to Imama, whose face was crimson with embarrassment. She had not expected Tehreem to react so violently or else she would never have made the mistake of bringing the books or showing them to these girls.

  'As for this reverences that you have, you should know that there's a vast difference between a prophet ordained by God and a self-appointed prophet.

  If you truly believed in the Quran then you would believe in every word of it—it's one thing to be a prophet and another to become one.'

  'Tehreem, you are insulting me and my faith!' Tears welled up in Imama's eyes.

  'I am not insulting anyone—I am merely speaking the truth and if you find it insulting, it's too bad. I can't do anything about it.' Tehreem spoke in an abrupt and sharp manner.

  'But we do believe in the prophethood of Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH),'

  Imama stressed.

>   'We also believe in the prophethood of Jesus and that the Bible is a divine book, so does that make us Christians? And we believe in the prophets Moses and David too...are we Jews?' Tehreem queried in a mocking tone. 'Our faith is Islam and we are the followers of the Holy Prophet, and though we respect other prophets and their teachings, we remain followers of Islam, we are not followers of their faiths. Similarly, you follow your prophet thereby denying the finality of the prophethood of Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH) but yet you insist that your faith is also a sect of Islam. Your prophet and the leaders of your community claim that whoever denies Mirza as a prophet is not a true Muslim—in effect, we've all been thrown out of Islam.'

  Throughout Tehreem's harangue Javeria remained quiet.

  Tehreem continued firmly, stressing each word. 'It would be better for you not to discuss your religion or mine. We have been friends for many years. Let the friendship continue as it is.'

  'As regards us not visiting you at home, you're right...my parents don't approve of it. Being friends with you in school is another matter—one can be friends with many people and religion is not an issue, but visiting each other's homes is different. I don't think my parents would object to my going to the homes of my Christian or Hindu friends because they follow their own beliefs and do not call themselves Muslims. But in your case they would disapprove because the reality is that your people have changed to a new faith —yet you pretend to be part of us.'

  Tehreem finally rose to go.

  Watching her go, Imama turned to Javeria who was sitting beside her. 'Do you think the same way about me?'

  'Tehreem said all this in a fit of rage—don't get upset by her words,' Javeria tried to pacify her. 'Just ignore it. Let's go back to class...the break's about to end.'

  Imama got up and went with Javeria.

  -------------------------

  When Imama got home that day, she locked herself in her room and cried her heart out. Tehreem's words had really hurt her.

  Hashim Mubeen got back from work earlier than usual that day and his wife Salma told him that Imama was unwell. He went to her room to see her. He was taken aback to see that her eyes were swollen.