The Holy Woman

by Shahraz, Qaisra

  ‘It can be, and it is going to be, Fatima. I tell you that I am powerless to prevent the tide of events which will likely take place in the next few days.’ Shahzada looked at Fatima with eyes full of misery. ‘You people of the lower caste envy us our wealth, but at this moment I would give anything to swap lives with you, or a woman living in a mud-baked hut. Fatima, my daughter’s hands will never be painted with red henna wedding patterns.’ She sobbed as if her heart would break.

  Fatima’s mouth remained open as the full implication of what her chaudharani had said sunk into her mind. It couldn’t be! Her hands began to rub against each other of their own accord, signalling her inner distress.

  Squatting on the floor, she laid her head against her mistress’s lap and began to weep. Having brought her up since she was seven years old, she loved Zarri Bano like a mother would. She had fed her, bathed her and dressed her. Over the years, she had loved listening to her chatter, her sarcastic remarks, and had peeped at all of her suitors for her benefit and described them to her, prior to her meeting them. In her heart, like Zarri Bano’s father, Fatima was never satisfied with any of them. She always thought her Zarri Bano was too good for those men. It was only Sikander who had passed the test. And only because she had glimpsed a light and a wistful expression in Zarri Bano’s eyes that Fatima had never seen there for any other man. The housekeeper’s heart had swelled with pride and joy, knowing that, at last, Zarri Bano had met her match. A man she could both respect and love.

  Now this. ‘It just cannot be!’ She wanted to run and beat her head against the wall in Chaudhury Habib’s presence, bring him to his senses!

  They remained huddled together, locked in their personal grief for long silent minutes. It was only when the cook, Naimat Bibi, came to ask whether they should set the dining tables for breakfast, that Shahzada stood up with a heavy heart. Life had to go on. Personal crises had to be swept aside in deference to daily routines and appearances.

  An hour later, most of the guests, dressed and washed, had come down to the large dining room. They sat in groups and while they ate, they talked and passed the food round the tables. When Habib came in, he sat alone on a sofa, not at any of the four large dining tables, and chewed a cake rusk with his tea. He was deep in thought as Shahzada looked at him, while hovering around the tables, making sure that all their guests were well served. Even with her personal grief tucked deep inside her heart, she kept a keen eye on everything, checking that the china was spotlessly clean, and that napkins were widely available.

  Ruby and Zarri Bano entered the dining room. Looking round and smiling warmly at everybody, they sat down together at a table with two vacant seats. Everybody stopped eating, feeling sorry for them – poor sisters who had lost a beloved brother.

  Habib and Shahzada exchanged a nervous glance across the room as their eyes rested on Zarri Bano’s bare head. In the presence of her relatives, Zarri Bano had never made any effort at covering her head.

  Ten minutes later Sikander and his mother Bilkis came into the dining room. Zarri Bano had her back to him, but she happened to look up from her cup at her father at that moment, and the wary look on his face alerted Zarri Bano to Sikander’s presence. On seeing him, her mouth curved into a warm smile – her eyes shone with pleasure. Sikander smiled back, his eyes caressing her face; he did not care who witnessed it.

  The dried rusk in Habib’s hand snapped loudly, shattering the moment. Sikander politely moved away, leading his mother to the other end of the room to another dining table. Zarri Bano followed his movement with wistful eyes. She turned to her father and noticed his tense expression and the nervous movements he was making with his hands. A dread feeling tugged at her mind, as she recalled once again her mother’s words.

  As if testing, her eyes sought Sikander’s. Again she found her father’s gaze intercepting theirs. She felt guilty, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. ‘It isn’t a crime to make eye-contact with the man I am going to marry!’ she wanted to shout at Habib. She looked at her mother for an explanation, but Shahzada avoided her in a pretence of handing a napkin to one of the guests.

  Reluctantly, Zarri Bano raised the muslin shawl over her head and then deliberately stared at her father. She didn’t smile at him this time, he noted. There was something else in her eyes and expression now.

  Has the penny dropped? Has she realised? he thought wildly. He quailed at the thought of what the future held for them, wondering if his precious Zarri Bano would ever smile at him again. Already he could sense her antagonism seeping out of every pore of her being, from across the room.

  Chapter 9

  ‘YOU ARE TO become a Holy Woman, Zarri Bano!’ Habib imperiously informed his daughter.

  It was now two weeks since the incident in the dining room. In all that time, father and daughter had said very little to each other, systematically avoiding the other’s company.

  Sikander and his mother had left to return home. He was due to go to Singapore on business. Sikander and Zarri Bano didn’t have a chance to speak privately, nor for that matter had his mother been able to say anything to Zarri Bano’s mother. Shahzada was never quite available to have a private tête-á-tête. Thus both mother and son had left without sorting out anything about Sikander’s engagement to Zarri Bano.

  Zarri Bano had noted her father’s almost antagonistic attitude towards Sikander. It just didn’t make sense: once her father had begged her to marry someone, but now he appeared to be giving his future son-in-law the cold shoulder treatment.

  Most of the guests and visitors had departed. Only very close members of the clan remained behind, for the fortieth-day special prayer ceremony chaleesema, for Jafar.

  Like cowards, Shahzada and Fatima had opted for silence, and kept away from Zarri Bano. Guiltily, they guarded the evil secret, waiting fearfully for Habib to break it to her. And then for the world to explode around them.

  In the end, it had taken Habib two weeks to summon his daughter to see him. Now, standing in front of him, he could tell that her tall body was like a coiled spring. She had refused to sit down. Standing up, Habib cleared his dry throat. Never before had he found it so hard to speak to his beloved ‘star’. Once they had never stopped talking to one another. Since Jafar’s death, an ocean seemed to have sprung up between them.

  ‘I think Zarri Bano, my daughter, it is time we had a talk about your future,’ he said heavily, and began to pace around the room.

  ‘You mean my marriage,’ she ventured boldly, causing her father to flinch. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

  ‘No,’ he said coldly, then decided to grasp the nettle. This was no time for dilly-dallying. ‘Not your marriage. Your future, Zarri Bano.’ He paused. Then: ‘There will be no marriage for you, my daughter. Instead, there will be a ceremony of a different kind. We have decided that you should become a Holy Woman, a Shahzadi Ibadat.’

  Zarri Bano stared blankly at her father. What was he saying? Surely he couldn’t mean it!

  ‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to be a Holy Woman, Father. But you don’t mean it, do you? It is a joke – and a terrible joke at that.’ She looked at him reproachfully.

  ‘No, my dear daughter, it is no joke. I have never been so serious in my life.’ The ruthless, clinical voice speared through her. ‘You know very well about our tradition, about the male heir dying and the eldest daughter becoming a Shahzadi Ibadat. I have no choice. You must try to understand.’

  ‘No choice? I don’t believe you. There is no way I will become a Holy Woman, Father,’ she warned him. ‘I know what it entails and I am not cut out for that role. As you know I have hardly ever covered my head properly. I know very little about religion. I am very much a worldly woman. I cannot become a nun!’

  ‘You will grow into the role soon enough,’ Habib said implacably.

  ‘This is madness. Father, you cannot be serious,’ she said steadily. ‘I have accepted Sikander Sahib’s marriage proposal. You yourself
blessed and encouraged the match. I have decided to marry him. I want to marry him!’ She was ashamed of the appeal in her voice and the colour that she knew had rushed into her cheeks.

  ‘The situation has now changed,’ came that same implacable voice. ‘We have lost your brother. There will be no marriage ceremony for you. I will not grant permission for you to marry this man or any other man, Zarri Bano. Ever.’

  ‘Father, no!’ Zarri Bano stepped away from her father as if he was the devil.

  Habib watched the fleeting expressions of disbelief, horror and anger chase over his daughter’s face. He saw her struggle with herself, trying to make sense of his words. Then as the reality of the situation hit her, her face turned deathly white and she stumbled out of the room.

  Once in the corridor, she didn’t know which way to turn. A continuous ringing noise roared in her ears and her eyes were blurred with tears. Somehow, she found her bedroom door and, fumbling with the handle, she thrust it open and staggered inside. Her legs gave way and she slid onto the floor in a heap.

  This weakness was followed by a merciful blackness. Blissfully unconscious, Zarri Bano lost all sense of time and space. On the wall clock, the seconds and minutes ticked away, while Zarri Bano lay on the cold marble floor and her father paced up and down in his room.

  Chapter 10

  AN HOUR LATER Shahzada joined her husband. She found him standing near their bedroom window, as usual gazing down into the courtyard at the flowers in full bloom. She noticed the dejected angle of his head. Without further ado, he obeyed the urge to tell her what he had done. ‘I have spoken to her, Shahzada.’

  The tray of food in his wife’s hands shook and she placed it on the dressing table.

  ‘Wh-Where is she?’ she stammered, her eyes swelling with tears.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He turned to stare out of the window again. ‘She left some time ago,’ he said flatly.

  Shahzada walked quietly out of their room. Blindly, she made her way across to Zarri Bano’s room. The door wouldn’t open: something was blocking it. Pushing it further ajar, Shahzada squeezed her head in.

  In the semi-darkness of the room Shahzada saw her daughter lying in a heap on the floor, her eyes open but staring blankly into space. Choking back a scream, Shahzada stepped inside the room. At the back of her mind she still remembered that there were a lot of guests in her home and most were prone to eavesdrop.

  Squatting down on the marble floor, Shahzada raised her daughter’s head in her arms. Cradling it, she began to rock her gently to and fro. Rivulets of tears trickled down her cheeks.

  ‘Zarri Bano, speak to me, my child. Are you hurt? Why are you lying on the floor?’

  Heaving her daughter up by the shoulders, Shahzada dragged her across the cold floor and managed to lift her onto the bed in the centre of the room. ‘Ruby! Ruby!’ she called out to her younger daughter, down the corridor.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ruby asked, as she came running out of her room. Shahzada didn’t answer but gestured her into Zarri Bano’s room and switched on the bedside lamp.

  ‘What’s the matter with Zarri Bano, Mother? Why is she staring like that?’ Ruby asked in concern.

  ‘Go and fetch a glass of water for your sister, she is not well,’ Shahzada told her. ‘I think she has fainted.’

  There was no reaction from Zarri Bano as her mother moved around the bed and cradled her head in her lap once again. The girl’s eyes remained open but they didn’t focus on her mother’s face. She drank the water held up to her lips by a solicitous Ruby, but said nothing.

  ‘Shall I call Father?’ Ruby asked, panicking. She had never seen her sister like this. It was too frightening, on top of her brother’s death.

  ‘No, Ruby,’ said Shahzada slowly. ‘It is your father who has done this.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ruby didn’t understand.

  ‘Your father has just told Zarri Bano that she is to become a Shahzadi Ibadat,’ Shahzada whispered. A quiet stillness cloaked the room.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Ruby gasped. ‘Mother, it cannot be true. Zarri Bano is engaged to be married.’

  ‘No. There will be no marriage for my beautiful daughter,’ Shahzada said tiredly.

  Her faraway voice frightened Ruby more than hysterics would have done. ‘But Mother, listen to me! Who says that she has to become a Shahzadi Ibadat?’ she asked, pulling sharply at her mother’s arm.

  ‘It has been decided by your father and grandfather.’ Shahzada recalled the occasion when she was summoned to see Siraj Din, and was informed that Zarri Bano was to become a Bibi – the Holy Woman. And that she, as her mother, was expected to prepare her for that role. ‘Don’t turn against us in this, Shahzada,’ Siraj Din had warned her in his quiet, semi-menacing tone.

  ‘I will not let this happen!’ Ruby shuddered. ‘Mother, this is insane. How can Father do this – hide my gorgeous sister behind a black veil?’ She recoiled at the images in her mind. ‘Oh my God. To have my sister enveloped in a burqa, covering her from head to toe. Surely it cannot be? I will see my father! He cannot do this or let it happen.’ She turned to leave but her mother caught hold of her arm and pulled her back.

  ‘No, stop, Ruby! I have tried to persuade him, but it is no use. How can you succeed where I have failed? From this fate our Zarri Bano can never escape.’ Ruby watched her mother with horror dawning on her face by the second. ‘He has his traditions, his father and all his male relatives to support him,’ Shahzada continued fiercely.

  ‘But Mother, why are they doing this?’ Ruby was now trembling with fear and rage.

  ‘Don’t you understand?’ Shahzada’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Don’t you yet know that your sister is to be tied to these rotten fields of sugar cane around our property?’ At this Shahzada broke down.

  ‘Are you saying that my sister is to be wedded to our zemin – she is not allowed to get married, ever?’ Ruby gasped. ‘But Zarri Bano doesn’t need our wealth. Sikander can provide well for her.’

  ‘Ruby, my darling Ruby, listen to me. Zarri Bano is your father’s heiress. She cannot escape from that role, or from her inheritance. The two are forever entwined. It is only by taking on the role of Holy Woman that she can become the legitimate heiress …’ Shahzada stopped, staring wide-eyed at the open door, as Habib’s shadow fell across the floor.

  He read the scene in one glance. Ruby’s accusing glare; her mouth half open ready to shout at him, his wife’s restraining pinch on her arm from behind, stopping her. Ruby then turned and glared at her mother, Shahzada signalling with her eyes to calm down. ‘So Ruby knows as well.’ Habib came heavily into the room. A tall, stiff figure, he stood by the bed and looked down at his eldest daughter, lying motionless before him. He felt low. A novel experience, for him to be so estranged from his family.

  ‘Please, Shahzada and Ruby, will you leave? I wish to be alone with Zarri Bano,’ he requested. Shahzada made no move to leave.

  ‘Please do as I say!’ he ordered. ‘I am her father. I love her too. Don’t treat me like a leper. Do not usurp or undermine my authority.’

  The iron timbre of his voice immediately prompted Shahzada into laying her daughter’s head back on the pillow and pulling an angry Ruby out of the room behind her. Only years of filial duty and respect for parents and elders had prevented Ruby from shouting back at her father and venting her rage openly on him.

  Habib watched them leave. Sighing, he turned to look down at his daughter. Zarri Bano was still staring into space. Bending down, he lifted her head and cradled it in the crook of his arm. Almost squatting on the cold marble floor, Habib gently turned Zarri Bano’s face towards him. Smoothing away the curly wisps of hair from behind her ears, he whispered, ‘Look at me, my beloved daughter. Do not shut me out!’

  At his firm, quiet tone Zarri Bano’s eyes lifted to his face.

  ‘Thank you, my beautiful princess.’ He caressed her cheek the way he used to when she was a little girl, and used to fall asleep in his lap. Once she wa
s grown up, propriety dictated that they just talked, or at the most he kissed the top of her head. What he had always wanted to do was to caress her beautiful dimpled cheek, especially when she laughed and smiled teasingly at him. Today he wanted to communicate with her pain, on a level which did away with propriety.

  Zarri Bano continued to look at him. All of a sudden everything came jolting back like a black cloud and she hid her face from him.

  Habib stood up, letting his arms fall to his side. No matter how he tried to pretend to himself, the rejection hurt.

  ‘Forgive me, Zarri Bano, but it won’t be that bad,’ he told her. ‘I have no choice …’

  Zarri Bano stared at her father in horror. Habib saw the look of a trapped animal in her eyes.

  ‘Of course you have a choice!’ she told him. ‘Every human being has a choice! There is nothing in the world that is bound for ever. What you really mean is that you don’t have the choice of whether to give your daughter acres of land or nothing at all. I don’t want your fields, Father! And I don’t want to be your Holy Woman, your Shahzadi Ibadat.’ She paused, scanning his face closely for signs of having penetrated his core of human decency.

  The implacable expression, the cold, distant eyes only spelt one message to Zarri Bano. She was merely clutching at straws. Her voice sinking in appeal, she burst out anew, ‘I want to be a normal woman, Father, and live a normal life! I want to get married. I am not a very religious person, as you know. I am a twentieth-century, modern, educated woman. I am not living in the Mughal period – a pawn in a game of male chess. Don’t you see, Father, I have hardly ever prayed in my life, nor opened the Holy Quran on a regular basis. How can I thus become a Holy Woman? I am not suited to that role. Father, I want—’

  ‘What you are trying to say is that you want a man in your life,’ he sneered, cutting her short.