by Umera Ahmed
Saeeda Amma was not to be consoled. 'I can understand how you feel...I feel your pain, my daughter. Forgive me Amina. It is my fault...'
'I am alright Amma; I am fine,' Imama smiled trying to calm Saeeda Amma down.
Still crying Saeeda Amma left the room.
Without saying a word to anyone, Imama too left the room. She went to her own room; all her things were spread out as she had left them. Quietly she began tidying up the room. Any girl in her place would have broken down given the circumstances, but Imama was strangely calm. 'If I can lose Jalal and accept it, why should I let this affect me? I had no emotional or physical attachment to this man,' she said to herself, folding her wedding dress and putting it away. 'What is the worst that can happen to me? People will talk, they will make fun of me; I will avoid them, I will bow my head to avoid their glances. So what is new about that for me?'
Mariam entered the room and began cleaning up too. 'We have called Abbu,' she said.
For the first time Imama got irritated. 'Why? Why bother him. Let him be at peace.'
'This has been such a disaster and you...'
Imama cut her short. 'Mariam, I have had to face so many problems in my life that I have gotten used to hardship. What is this compared to what I have had to undergo? Go console Saeeda Amma. I am alright. And don't bother Abbu unnecessarily; he will be pointlessly upset.'
Mariam looked at Imama calmly putting things away; she felt Imama's behavior was abnormal. Before she could reply, Kulsoom Aunty and Saeeda Amma entered the room. The girls were astonished to see their faces glowing with happiness in contrast to the tears of a few minutes earlier. Before they could react, Kulsoom Aunty began talking about Salar. 'If you have no objection, you could marry Salar.' Imama was stunned. 'Sibt-e-Ali knows him very well,' she continued. 'He is a very nice boy.'
'If Abbu approves then it is alright by me. I have no objections,' Imama replied.
'His friend would like a few words with you first,' Kulsoom Aunty made the strange request.
Though surprised at such an odd demand, Imama made no objection to seeing Furqan.
'Some eight or nine years ago, Salar had married a girl of his own free will,'
Furqan told Imama. 'He is willing to marry you but he says that you should know that he will not divorce his first wife. There are some reasons why the girl does not live with him, yet Salar himself wishes to have her live in his house. Salar wants me to ask you if you have any objection to this. If so, we should end the matter now. I would also like to say that it is highly probable that he may never find his first wife again. For the last eight or nine years she has made no contact with my friend. He has this nebulous hope that they may meet again. Dr Sibt-e-Ali regards you as his daughter; by that token you are my sister. I would advise you to marry Salar as the best way out of this situation. It is very unlikely that Salar will meet that girl again; she does not wish to live with him; she has not made any attempt to get in touch with him in all these years—in any case nine years is a long time.'
Imama had heard Furqan out quietly. 'A second wife...so Imama Has him, this is your destiny,' she thought cynically. 'But if Dr Sibt-e-Ali knowing this has proposed that I marry this man, there must be some good in it. In any case I was willing to marry Jalal and be the second wife,' she reasoned to herself, 'and I loved Jalal. So why should I not be a second wife to a man for whom I have no emotional attachment?'
'I have no objection, 'she said aloud. 'If his wife were ever to return, I would have no objection to their being together. I agree happily to the circumstances.'
Fifteen minutes later she got the first shock when the priest said Salar Sikandar's name. 'Salar Sikandar son of Sikandar Usman...' She heard the priest intone. A shiver ran through her spine...these were not common names; and in that order...it was too much of a coincidence for both names to be associated with another being. Was it possible that Salar was alive?
She felt the world collapsing around her. Had her face not been covered by her bridal veil, her perplexity would have been visible to all. The priest was repeating his words. Imama's mind was in a whirl. 'If he is alive then that would mean I have been married to him all this while...Oh dear God! What is all this? How does Dr Sibt-e-Ali know him?' Questions poured forth with no answers. She heard Saeeda Amma gently nudge her, 'The priest is waiting for your answer; say "yes"'.
'Say "yes" to a man like Salar Sikandar?'
She felt her heart was being squeezed as fear gripped her. What could she say but 'yes' at this moment? In a state of shock and confusion she signed her name to the nikahnamah. 'Oh God! Let there be a miracle. Let this not be the same Salar Sikandar,' she pleaded with God. Everyone had left the room. She was alone with Mariam. Mariam removed the veil off her face and saw her ashen face.
'What's wrong Imama? Are you alright?'
'Mariam, just do me a favor,' Imama did not even know what she was saying.
She grabbed hold of Mariam's hand in agitation. 'I have married him but tell Saeeda Amma that I do not wish for the rukhsati to take place today. Go tell Saeeda Amma that,' she pleaded.
'Why?' Mariam looked at Imama; she could not understand her anxiety.
'Please, don't ask me any questions now; just do as I ask, please. Tell Saeeda Amma not to send me off today.'
Mariam left the room and returned shortly. 'The rukhsati is not taking place today. Salar too does not wish it so,' she informed Imama.
Imama felt some of the panic subside.
'Abbu will be calling you in a while,' Mariam told her.
A little later, when Dr Sibt-e-Ali called, Imama went to the next room to talk on the phone.
Dr Sibt-e-Ali congratulated her on her marriage. 'I had wanted you to marry Salar, but since you were living in Saeeda Amma's house I felt it only proper that her choice be given pre-eminence,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali was saying.
Imama found it difficult to breathe; it was all she could do to not cry. 'I did not, however, know of his previous marriage. Furqan has just informed me of it. It was a marriage of convenience, but I do not know the details—neither do I think it is necessary for me to know the details. After hearing of Salar's previous marriage, I thought, had I known someone better than Salar, then I would have recommended him to you to marry, but I know of no one. Why are you so quiet Amina?' He finally realized that Imama was unnaturally quiet.
'Abbu, when are you coming back?'
'In another week or so.'
'There's a lot that I need to tell you. I have much to talk to you about.'
'Is everything all right?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali felt alarm bells go off.
'I will talk to you when you come back,' Imama spoke with finality. She did not wish to discuss any more over the phone.
That night she performed the ablutions, as usual, before going to bed. Then, instead of retiring, she came and sat down on the steps of the courtyard. There were no guests in the house. Saeeda Amma and she were alone as usual. Exhausted by the day's events, Saeeda Amma had gone to bed early. Imama and the maid had stayed up late cleaning and tidying up after the guests. Because of the wedding, the maid had been staying in the house overnight. It was half past ten in the night before most of the cleaning up had been done and she had sent the maid off to sleep. Imama herself continued with completing the odds and ends left to do.
It was past midnight when she finished her chores. She was exhausted. Crossing the courtyard, she felt a sudden aversion to going into her room and sat down in the verandah. In the soft glow of the lights in the courtyard, she looked at her hands, covered half way up to her elbows in beautiful deep red filigree. Imama had always been fond of henna. Before she left her father's house eight and a half years ago she would often apply henna, not only on festive occasions but whenever she felt like it. But since leaving her own home she had never applied it. Without meaning to she had lost interest in such activities. Now for the first time in eight and a half years, she had joyfully had her hands and feet covered in these beautiful patterns. Wrapping her sha
wl tightly around herself, she covered her hands and feet with the shawl and pulled it close around her. 'From Asjad to Jalal...from Jalal to Fahd...from Fahd to Salar...one man I rejected, two rejected me...and the fourth, who has become a part of my life...is the worst of them all...Salar Sikander.' She felt a fog envelop her soul; she could imagine him standing before her. The same image—shirt open down to the waist, chains hanging from his neck, hair tied back in a ponytail, the cold arrogant stare, the cynical smile which brought a dimple to his cheek, bands and bracelets dangling from his wrists, those tight jeans—it was as if the world's most beautiful dream had turned into a nightmare. She had not the slightest bit of respect for Salar Sikandar.
'I know I have committed many errors in my life, but I am not such a bad human being that I should be castigated by having a man like you in my life.'
She had said this to Salar on the phone many years ago.
'Perhaps that is why Jalal refused to marry you; good men are meant for good women, not for women like you,' Salar had retorted. She clamped her lips together remembering Salar's unsympathetic attitude.
'Whatever may happen Salar, I will not live with you. It would have been so much better had you died,' she muttered.
She had completely forgotten that there was a time when Salar Sikandar had come to her aid.
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The night Dr Sibt-e-Ali returned from England, Imama was at his house but she did not find an appropriate moment to talk to him. Mariam was still in Lahore and the time passed merrily in small talk.
The next morning too passed much in the same way. Dr Sibt-e-Ali was telling Imama of the gifts he had brought for her and Salar when Mariam piped in,
'Let's call Salar bhai over for iftar,' she said.
Dr Sibt-e-Ali thought that was a good idea and immediately called Salar, extending the invitation. Imama still did not say anything.
In the afternoon as Dr Sibt-e-Ali was leaving for the mosque for prayers, Imama followed him out. 'I need to talk to you, Abbu,' she said softly.
'Right now?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali sounded surprised.
'No, later when you come home from your prayers.'
Dr Sibt-e-Ali watched her intently; then without saying anything he went off to the mosque.
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'I wish to take a divorce from Salar.'
Dr Sibt-e-Ali had come back from the mosque and Imama had followed him into the study. Without any preamble or explanation she said what was on her mind.
'Amina?' He could not believe his ears.
'I cannot live with him.' She was staring at the floor refusing to meet his eyes.
'Amina, I know this is his second marriage but the first does not count.
Furqan has told me that his first wife disappeared some nine years ago and has not been in contact with him since. In any case, it was not a real marriage; they had only taken their vows.' Dr Sibt-e-Ali had assumed her concern was Salar's first marriage. 'Who knows where she is. Nine years is a long time.'
'I know his first wife.' She still refused to meet his eyes.
'You know her?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali was astonished.
'It is I,' she lifted her eyes off the floor and looked him in the face.
Dr Sibt-e-Ali was struck speechless.
'You remember nine years ago I came from Islamabad to Lahore with a boy; later you told me that my family had filed a case with the police against him.'
'Salar Sikandar...is this the same man?'
'Yes. The same'
Imama nodded her head in affirmation. Dr Sibt-e-Ali looked like a man in shock. He had first come in contact with Salar through Furqan. This had happened four years after Imama had come to stay in his house; he could not have imagined that this man had any connection with Imama. A name casually heard four years ago could not be connected to a man met four years later. In any case this man was religious: he had learnt the Quran by heart.
Neither in speech, nor in his mannerisms, nor in his character could one find those weird characteristics that Imama had described when talking about Salar. He had been deceived by Salar, but was that a genuine mistake on his part or was it something that was 'fated' to be?
'So nine years ago you had married him?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali still found the whole situation unbelievable and was reconfirming what he had just heard.
'We just took our wedding vows,' Imama spoke in a whisper.
Then in a rush she split out the entire story. Dr Sibt-e-Ali listened quietly. He stayed quiet for a long time then he said, 'You should have trusted me Imama.
I could have helped you.'
Imama's eyes were wet with unshed tears. 'You are right. Yes, I should have, but you cannot even imagine the mental turmoil I went through in those days.
Perhaps this trial too is fated for me.' She pondered over her statement for a while then she lifted her tear filled eyes to Dr Sibt-e-Ali. Smiling timorously she said, 'But now all is right. You will help me with the divorce.'
'No. I cannot help you with a divorce, Amina. I am the one who arranged this marriage.'
'That is exactly why I am asking you to arrange for a divorce.'
'But why? Why should I help you get a divorce?'
'Why? Because...because he is not a good man...because I do not wish to spend the rest of my life with a man like Salar...we are people from two different worlds.' She was losing heart. 'I have never complained to Allah, Abbu. I have always accepted my fate, but now I do have a complaint against Allah. I have been given the worst man on earth.'
She broke down in tears. 'Most girls want so much...I have never asked Allah for anything except a "righteous" man and he has not granted me my wish.
Am I not worthy of such a man?' Imama was crying uncontrollably now.
'Amina, he is a righteous man.'
'Why do you say that? I know he is not. I know him well and he is not good.'
'But he is Amina, I also know him well.'
'You do not know him as closely as I do. He drinks alcohol, he is psychologically ill, and has tried to take his own life many times. He walks around with his clothes unbuttoned to the waist and stares rudely at women instead of lowering his gaze—do you call that righteous?'
'Imama, I do not know of his past. What I know is his present and he does none of the things you have described.'
'Abbu, how can you say that he doesn't behave this way? He's a scheming liar, a cheat—I know him.'
'He's is not like that'
'But he is, Abbu!'
'It is possible that he loved you and that love has transformed him.'
'I do not need a love like that. His looks repulse me. The way he dresses repulses me. I cannot love such a man. Such men never change; they simply disguise their true selves.'
'That is not true of Salar. He is not pretending.'
'Abbu I cannot live with a man like Salar. For him everything is a joke— religion, life, women—what is it that he can't be cynical about? He thought my change of religion was a silly thing to do; for him talking about religion and religious issues is a waste of time. He is a person for whom attempting suicide was simply an experiment to gauge the next level of ecstasy. For him the only meaning of life is materialistic. Suppose he is in love with me, am I supposed to base my marriage only on love? No I cannot do that'
'Imama, he has maintained this accidental relationship for eight and a half years. Despite knowing your religious inclinations he has remained true to you and is still waiting for you and wishes to spend his life with you. Is it not possible that this desire may have brought about a change in him, in his thinking?'
'I do not wish to spend my life with him. I will not live with him,' Imama was stubbornly insistent. 'I am within my rights in asking for a divorce.'
'But have you considered, Imama, that God has brought this man before you twice? You have taken your vows twice and both times with the same man.'
'Perhaps I have sinned and am being punished for it.' Her voice was heavy with tears.
'Amina, I have never known you to be stubborn before so what has happened to you now?' Dr Ali was really surprised.
'If you force me to remained married to Salar, I will obey you; you have been so kind to me that I cannot but obey you. But I will not, and cannot, of my own free will agree to living with Salar. I am not interested in how educated he is or what position he holds and how much he can give me. Had you asked me to marry an uneducated man but one who is right-minded, I would not have objected....but Salar... he is the fly I cannot swallow. You only know that of Salar which you have heard. What I know of him is what I have seen.
For fifteen years he was my neighbor; you have only known him a few years.'
'Amina, you know I will never force you to do anything against your will. If you wish to maintain this relationship of your own will and volition, then it is fine. But if it's only to please me, then there's no need for that. My only request is that you meet Salar once; after that if you still feel that you wish to end this marriage, it will be so.' Dr Sibt-e-Ali spoke softly and seriously.
The bearer came into the room to say that Salar had arrived. Dr Sibt-e-Ali looked at his watch, then he told the bearer to send Salar in.
The bearer was surprised. 'Here?' he questioned.
'Yes, here,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali replied.
Imama stood up hurriedly. 'I do not wish to talk to him in this state.' She was referring to her tear stained face and disheveled condition.
'You have not seen him yet; I want you to see him,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali spoke gently.
'Not here. I can have a look at him from inside my room.'
She turned around and went to her room. The room was in semi-darkness.
She left the door half open so that she could look into the well-lit lounge without being seen herself. She sat down on the bed. She rubbed her hands across her eyes to clear them. After nearly nine years she was to see the man she despised, the one she thought of as one of the worst men on earth, the man who she thought was dead, the one to whom she had been married all these years. What else could this be but fate?