Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor

by Umera Ahmed

  As she feared, the family was still in Peshawar. 'When are they expected back?' she asked the chowkidar who opened the door to her and recognized her from her earlier visits.

  'I do not know for sure, but they should be back in a couple of days,' he replied.

  'Do you have the phone number for Peshawar?' Try as she might she could not disguise the disappointment she felt.

  The chowkidar replied that indeed he did have the phone number. Relief flooded through her being as she followed the domestic into the house. She waited in the drawing room till the man fetched the phone number. She dialed from her cell phone. A gentleman answered the number and on her query told her that Sabiha was out but would return in a little while.

  'I have been unable to talk to Sabiha,' she told the chowkidar. 'I will wait here till I can talk to her.'

  An hour later she was able to get through to Sabiha. Her friend was surprised to hear from her. As briefly as she could, Imama told her the full story of her leaving her house but she did not tell her about her marriage vows to Salar. She was not sure how Sabiha would react to that.

  'Your best bet would be to approach the courts,' Sabiha advised Imama after hearing the whole story. 'The law should provide some protection since you have changed your religion.'

  'I don't want to do that.'

  'Why?'

  'I had thought about approaching the courts, Sabiha,' Imama replied, 'but that is a course I don't want to take. You know my father and the position he has in society. The press would have a field day. My family would have to put up with much harassment; I do not wish that because of me my family should have to face hostility and embarrassment. In any case, Sabiha, you know what happens to girls who seek protection from the courts after changing their religion. They are sent to the Dar ul Aman—one might as well be in prison as at the Dar ul Aman. On top of it, the court case can drag on for years on end. The family can bring about one charge after another and thus prolong a final decision forever. And even if the court allows one to live freely according to one's beliefs, social pressure can still compel girls to return to their families.

  'I have no desire to spend my life in the Dar ul Aman nor do I wish to become the eye of the storm. I have left my house quietly and I wish to live my life in the same silence.'

  'I understand your point of view, Imama,' Sabiha answered, 'but whether you like it or not you will have to face the storm you have raised. Your family will make every effort to trace you. And once they start looking for you it will not be long before they reach me and my family. While I would love to help you, and my family will too, but I know they will wish to do so openly and not in secret. My father will say what I am saying: you need to approach the law. I have no doubt that the courts will decide in your favour.

  'In any case for now, stay in the house; I will speak to Abu about this. I'll also see if I can persuade him to return to Lahore tomorrow. Now let me speak to the chowkidar.'

  Imama gave the phone to the chowkidar and after speaking to Sabiha, he put the phone down and said, 'Sabiha Bibi has asked me to prepare her room for you. You are to please stay here till they come back.'

  Imama went to Sabiha's room, but she could not rest. If anything, her conversation with Sabiha had only served to further agitate her. She could understand Sabiha's concerns; she herself did not wish to be a cause of worry to Sabiha's family but she, for sure, did not want to approach the courts. She had no doubts that once her father, Hashim Mubeen, were to find out that it was Sabiha's family that had helped her escape, he would regard them as an adversary and would deal with them as such. Perhaps this was why Sabiha was so adamant that she should approach the law. But for Imama approaching the law was the tougher path to take.

  That the daughter of such a prominent figure of the community should forsake her religion would be akin to a slap in the face for the entire community and they would react—what the reaction would be she did not know; but surely it would not be pretty.

  She was still pondering over these issues when she thought of Syeda Mariam Sibt-e-Ali. Mariam Sibt-e-Ali was a friend and class fellow of Sabiha's and Imama had met her a couple of times in Sabiha's house. In fact, she was the only one Sabiha had told of Imama's conversion to Islam. Mariam had been surprised and delighted at the news. Shaking her hand warmly, Mariam had told Imama that if she ever needed any help she should approach her without any hesitation. Whenever they met again, Mariam would always renew her offer to help.

  Imama did not know to what extent Mariam would really help, nor did she know why she thought of her at this moment, but contacting Mariam seemed the right thing to do. She picked up her mobile to call but the battery was dead; she plugged in the mobile to recharge it and coming into the lounge picked up the diary to look for Mariam's number.

  Dr Sibt-e-Ali answered the phone when she dialed. 'Could I speak to Mariam please? I am her friend calling,' she said. This was the first time ever she had called Mariam on the phone. Dr Sibt-e-Ali asked Imama to hold while he called his daughter. In a couple of minutes Mariam was on the line.

  'Hello Mariam, this is Imama.'

  'Imama...Imama Hashim?' Mariam sounded surprised.

  'Yes, Mariam, I need your help.'

  Imama poured out the whole story of her leaving home to Mariam who listened in total silence while she spoke. Finally she said, 'Where are you now.'

  'I am at Sabiha's house but there is no one here. Sabiha and her family are in Peshawar.' Imama did not tell her of her conversation with Sabiha.

  'You stay right there. I am sending the car right away to fetch you. You are to come here with all your belongings. In the meantime, I am going to talk to my parents about what can be done.'

  Imama put the receiver down. She had not realized what a lucky coincidence it was that she had not used Salar's mobile phone to talk to Mariam. Had she done so, surely Salar could have traced her through the phone company to Dr Sibt-e-Ali's house. Lucky too, that she had not once used the mobile since reaching Lahore.

  Another lucky coincidence was that Dr Sibt-e-Ali sent his office car and driver to have her picked up, otherwise the servants would have recognized Mariam's car as she was a frequent visitor. Since neither the office car nor the driver was known to Sabiha's chowkidar, no one would be able to trace her movement from Sabiha's house.

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  Half an hour later, the servant came to tell her that a car had arrived to pick her up. Imama picked up her bag to leave. 'Are you going?'

  'Yes.'

  'But Sabiha Bibi said that you would be staying here.' 'No, I am leaving. If Sabiha calls tell her I have left.' She got into the car without letting the man know where she was going.

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  She had never been to Mariam's house before and was unsure of the reception she would get. However, she was sure she would have to face a barrage of questions and in the car Imama prepared herself. But this did not happen.

  'We have already had breakfast; but you must be famished,' Mariam said as she came out into the driveway to greet her. She took her in and introduced her to her parents. Dr Sibt-e-Ali and his wife greeted Imama warmly. The sorrow and stress on her face moved them to pity.

  'I'll set the table for breakfast, Mariam, why don't you show Imama to her room so she can freshen up,' Mrs Sibt-e-Ali said to her daughter.

  By the time she had changed and come out, breakfast was ready for her. Imama ate in silence. When she had finished Dr Sibt-e-Ali said, 'Imama, go and get some sleep, I am off to the office now; when I get back from work we can sit and discuss your problem.' He left the room instructing his daughter to take Imama to her room.

  In the room Mariam said, 'You are exhausted Imama, try and sleep. I'll get you a sleeping pill to help you rest. Take it if you feel the need for it.' Mariam left the room.

  She came back shortly with the sleeping pill and a glass of water. 'Try and rest,' she tried to reassure Imama. 'All will be well. Just think you are in your own home.'
She pulled the curtains, switched off the light and left the room.

  Although it was nine in the morning, it was a foggy day and with the lights off and the curtains drawn, the room was fairly dark. Imama took the sleeping pill; she knew well enough that she would not be able to sleep without this aid. She was far too fretful to rest otherwise.

  As she lay in bed she felt the tablet taking effect as drowsiness swept over her and in a short while she was lost to the world.

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  When she woke up the room was in total darkness. She got off the bed and groped her way to the wall and the light switch. She switched on the light; the clock on the wall showed it was 11:30 at night. She could not make out whether she had slept so long because of the sleeping pill or simply out of sheer exhaustion over the last few days. Whatever the reason, she felt refreshed after her long rest. She was also famished. Not knowing if the household was asleep or awake, she tiptoed to the door and softly opened it. Dr Sibt-e-Ali was sitting in the lounge reading a book. He heard the door open and looked up.

  'Did you sleep well?' he asked with a smile.

  'Yes...' she tried to smile.

  'Now this is what you have to do,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali continued pleasantly. 'See that door? It leads to the kitchen. Your dinner has been kept for you in the fridge. Take it out and heat it. When you have had your dinner, make two cups of tea and bring them here so we can chat.'

  Without a word Imama did as she was told. Having eaten, she made two cups of tea and came back to the lounge. Dr Sibt-e-Ali had put his book aside and was waiting for her. She handed him one cup, and with the second cup in her hand, seated herself on the sofa opposite him.

  'This is very good tea,' he said, taking a sip.

  Imama was so nervous that she neither smiled at the compliment nor thanked him. She just sat there and stared at him.

  'Imama, the decision you have taken is the right one. There are no two opinions about that. A decision like this requires a great deal of courage but sometimes it requires even more courage to stand by the decision one makes. As time goes by you will be more aware of this.' Dr Sibt-e-Ali was speaking in calm measured tones as he regarded Imama thoughtfully.

  'I would like to know,' he continued, 'if your decision to change your religion is based solely on religious grounds or is there any other factor involved.'

  Imama looked at him without replying.

  Since Imama did not reply, Dr Sibt-e-Ali continued. 'Perhaps I should make myself more clear. My question is that are you by any chance interested in a boy and has he influenced you in any way to change your religion and leave your home?'

  Without waiting for Imama to reply, Dr Sibt-e-Ali spoke on. 'I would also like to make it clear that if such is the case I will not have an ill opinion of you. The only reason I am asking this is that if it is so, it will be necessary for me to meet the boy and his family.'

  For the first time, Imama regretted that she had not thought of contacting Mariam and her family before she took the drastic step of marrying Salar. Had Dr Sibt-e-Ali talked to JalaL.she dismissed the idea from her mind and shook her head in the negative in reply to Dr Sibt-e-Ali.

  'No, there is no such thing,' she replied.

  'Are you sure?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali persisted in his calm way.

  'I did not embrace Islam for the love of any man,' Imama replied truthfully for indeed she had not accepted Islam for the love of Jalal Ansar.

  'Are you fully aware of the difficulties you will face?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali asked next.

  'l am.'

  'I am acquainted with your father, Mr Hashim Mubeen. He holds a very prominent position in your community. Your changing your religion thus and leaving the house will be a great blow to him and he will do everything possible to find you and persuade you to return home.'

  'I will not return home under any condition. I have thought about this very seriously and I have made up my mind,' Imama replied firmly.

  'You have left your house...but what is your next step to be?'

  Anticipating that Dr Sibt-e-Ali would suggest that she approach the law for protection, Imama pre-empted him. 'I will not go to the courts. I do not wish to be made a public spectacle. I am sure you will appreciate the problems that will confront me if I decide to take my case to court,' she said.

  'In that case, what is it that you wish to do?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali asked looking at her intently. 'You know you will not be able to complete your medical degree if you remain in hiding?'

  'Yes I am aware of that,' she replied forlornly putting her cup down. 'In any case, I will not be able to pay the tuition fee on my own.'

  'What if you transfer to another medical college in another part of the country?'

  'No, that will not be possible. My family will anticipate that as my first move and they will contact all the medical colleges in the country. In any case, there are few such schools and it will not be difficult for them to track me down.'

  'Then...?'

  'I would like to take admission in B.Sc. in some college in the country...not in Lahore; and I wish to change my name.'

  Dr Sibt-e-Ali did not reply immediately. He remained lost in thought for a while; then with a deep sigh he spoke. 'Imama for now you must remain here. Let's wait and see what steps your family takes. In a few weeks we shall know. Till then I suggest we wait. You are completely safe here. You do not wish to approach the courts, and I respect your judgment in that. Stay here, till we figure out what to do next. Your family will not be able to trace you here and, even if they do, they cannot force you to leave against your will. No one will make you do anything against your will; please be assured of that.' Dr Sibt-e-Ali tried to reassure Imama that she was safe and had sanctuary in his house.

  Looking at him, Imama was reminded of her father Hashim Mubeen and she went back to her room with a sad heart.

  It was five in the evening the next day when Dr Sibt-e-Ali came back from the office and summoned Imama to his study. The servant came to the kitchen where she and Mariam were to say that Dr Sahib was asking for her.

  She knocked on the door and entered.

  Dr Sibt-e-Ali was riffling through some papers in a drawer. 'Come Imama sit down,' he said. She sat on the chair opposite him.

  'I have made some inquiries today regarding your family and the search they are conducting to find you,' he said. Shutting the drawer, he abruptly asked, 'Who is Salar Sikandar?' He was watching her intently.

  Imama was taken aback. She felt her heart drumming in her chest. The color drained from her face— a fact that was not lost on Dr Sibt-e-Ali.

  'Salar...he is our neighbor...he helped me...escape from home...he...he helped me come to Lahore...from Islamabad...' she stammered.

  'Should I tell him about my marriage vows with Salar?' she wondered.

  'Your father has filed an FIR (First Investigation Report) against him accusing him of abducting you,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali informed her.

  Imama paled further. 'Has he been caught?' she cried out. She had not reckoned on her family tracing Salar so quickly, but that they had done so meant that they would soon find out about Jalal Ansar and then they would trace her to this house.

  'No. But they do know that he came to Lahore that night with a girl. He has admitted as much but denies that the girl was you. He claims to have come with a girlfriend and has already provided the proof.'

  Dr Sibt-e-Ali deliberately omitted the fact that Salar claimed to have come to Lahore with a prostitute.

  'No. His family too is not without resources and the police could not pick him up; but your family is convinced that he is the one who helped you run away.' Abruptly changing the subject he asked, 'What sort of a person is Salar?'

  'He is bad...' Imama spoke impulsively. 'He is very bad.'

  'But you just said he helped you...'

  'Yes, but he is not a good person. Perhaps he helped me because once when he had tried to commit suicide I had helped save his life; or perhaps he did it because he is my brother's friend. But he is
not a nice person...he has a mental problem...he says odd things...does odd things.' Imama was recalling in her mind the drive from Lahore to Islamabad and how Salar provoked her the entire way.

  The police have contacted all your friends, including Sabiha,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali continued. 'Sabiha is back from Peshawar but Mariam has not told her any thing about your being here. You are not to contact her in any way not even by telephone. Her house is under surveillance and the phone will be tapped. In fact, for now your best bet is to lie low and not contact anyone at all.

  'Can I contact them through my mobile phone?' Imama asked.

  'You have a mobile phone?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali was startled.

  'It belongs to Salar.'

  'They have tracked Salar down; it will not take them long to trace the mobile phone. When you called Mariam from Sabiha's house did you call from the mobile?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali sounded worried now.

  'No, I had used Sabiha's home phone to call.'

  'You are not to use that mobile at all—neither to call nor to receive calls.' He was somewhat relieved.

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  For the next few days Dr Sibt-e-Ali would come home in the evenings and tell her about the development regarding her family's quest to find her. The police were questioning everyone she could have been in touch with and going to all places where she may have sought refuge. Medical colleges, hospitals, hostels, friends, colleagues...Hashim Mubeen left no stone unturned. The only thing he did not do was approach the media. He knew that was a route that would lead to disgrace and disappointment. To whatever extent he could, he was trying to keep his daughter's disappearance a secret. He had contacted the police; his own community was aware of his predicament and was doing its best to help in the search.