‘What do you mean?’ she asked in a barely audible voice.
‘You know what I mean. I know everything that has gone on in this village, Kaniz.’
She stared in disbelief at the wiry upright old man, with his thick cap of henna-dyed white hair and beard. Her eyes stood out large in her face.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about, Baba Jee.’ Kaniz pretended ignorance, in an attempt to bluster it out. She was surprised and shaken that the old man knew, even after twenty-nine years. ‘Why do I have to forgive Fatima?’ she continued, injecting a false note of sarcasm in her voice, as a smile lit her face.
Siraj Din’s lips twitched with laughter. Kaniz had an impeccable knack of recovering her poise quickly. The smile on his wrinkled face grew prominent. Nothing, and nobody could ever keep Kaniz down. She bounced back with a vengeance.
He continued to walk for a few more yards, tapping his walking stick on the way. Kaniz walked by his side, waiting for him to say something, her body tense. Siraj Din stood still in the middle of the dusty path, his stick drawing a circle, and turned to the woman by his side.
‘You are being deliberately obtuse, Kaniz. You know very well what I mean. You haven’t forgiven Fatima for jilting Sarwar, your husband. Now you see the pattern being repeated, with your own son interested in Fatima’s daughter.’
Colour flared high in Kaniz’s fair cheeks. Throwing social etiquette to the wind, she forgot the code of respect for elders.
‘Baba Jee, I think in your old age, your imagination has got the better of you. What …’ she was about to shout out the word ‘nonsense’, but she just about managed to pull it back in time, knowing that it would be too offensive to the elderly man.
Just then, Siraj Din’s loud laughter rang out through the air, startling her. Perplexed, she watched helplessly as his tall slim body shook with mirth. Only Kaniz had the temerity to stand up to him and say what she liked without mincing her words, and then get away with it. His own daughter-in-laws, particularly Shahzada, wouldn’t even have dared to look him in the face, while speaking to him – let alone insult him by saying that his imagination had run away with itself!
‘Khudah Hafiz, Baba Jee, I must go home. My sister is waiting there for me and I have no time to waste in discussing the washerwoman or her chit.’ Siraj Din’s words had put the life back into Kaniz. Finding the subject of his allusion too unsavoury, she wished to be gone before he said anything else, and before she herself said something she might later regret. Straightening her shawl around her shoulders, she scuttled off leaving Siraj Din behind.
Siraj Din continued his stroll back to the village with a smile still hovering around his mouth. He was immensely glad that Kaniz wasn’t his daughter-in-law. God forbid, he would have been in his grave by now. She would have led them all quite a dance if they had to put up with her waspish tongue night and day. Her self-centredness, her arrogance and volatility would have destroyed the domestic harmony in his son’s household a long time ago. Siraj Din was so grateful to his wife, Zulaikha, for choosing such suitable daughters-in-laws, like Shahzada, for example.
The thought of Shahzada, brought Habib to his mind. His son had still looked very unhappy when Siraj Din had last visited them in the town. It was over a year since Zarri Bano had become a Holy Woman. His daughter-in-law, Shahzada, was still not as forthcoming towards him as she used to be. Outwardly, he couldn’t fault her. She appeared the same. She paid him due respect, served him his meals and made the right remarks when he visited them in their home. What was the matter then? Siraj Din mused.
He knew the answer, just as his son had painfully come to know it. ‘She has closed the doors to her inner self and has left us outside. She will never let us in again.’ He wondered sadly whether Shahzada would ever forgive them. Surely time was meant to thaw hearts?
Zarri Bano, Habib had told him, had gone to England, on the invitation of one of her university friends.
Siraj Din missed his eldest granddaughter. He shook his head. She was definitely not the Holy Woman that he had envisaged. He was beginning to wonder whether it would have been better to have allowed her to marry Sikander. At least then she would have stayed at home, and led a normal life, rather than roaming around the world on the pretence of attending one convention or another.
His mind, no matter how broad he tried to make it, couldn’t yet digest the idea of his beautiful granddaughter all alone and in the vicinity of strange young men. It wasn’t safe for a woman to be without the protection of male kin. Their Zarri Bano was totally alone in Egypt! Siraj Din feared for his granddaughter. Men could mentally rape a woman just with one look, even if she was covered from head to toe.
He recalled the sight of his son’s solitary figure, as he paced the grounds of his estate. Habib’s words: ‘Have we done the right thing by Zarri Bano, Father?’ sprang into his mind.
‘Of course we have!’ Siraj Din spoke aloud to himself. Zarri Bano was destined to inherit all her father’s wealth and to become the Bibi – the Holy Woman! It was her kismet.
Chapter 30
KANIZ AGGRESSIVELY PUSHED the white wrought-iron gate open with her foot and let it bang loudly behind her, heralding her arrival to all. She immediately went in search of her sister. ‘Sabra!’ she bawled. Neesa came running out of the bedding storeroom on the ground floor. Catching sight of her mistress, she hurried to take the shawl off Kaniz’s shoulders.
‘Where is my sister?’ the chaudharani demanded. Neesa flinched. Anger appeared to exude from her mistress’s every pore.
‘She is resting, Sahiba Jee,’ Neesa informed Kaniz timidly moving away; wisely she wanted to place as much distance as possible between the other woman and herself. Kaniz was well-known for her tantrums and throwing and breaking things.
It was a good two hours later when Sabra came down from her afternoon nap. Still yawning, she hadn’t bargained for the verbal onslaught that hit her as soon as she saw Kaniz lying on a palang on the veranda.
Kaniz was fanning herself vigorously with a bead-studded hand fan. The electricity had just gone off; the generator wasn’t working either. The late afternoon’s heat and her hot flushes had literally lent more fuel to Kaniz’s anger. ‘Twice in one day! What is the use of paying thousands of rupees for air conditioners, when there is no electricity available to use them?’ she fumed, barely waiting for her sister to sit down on a cane chair before beginning to rant and rave.
Then: ‘She had me thrown out, Sabra!’ Kaniz exclaimed, her arms outstretched dramatically.
‘Who, Kaniz, dear?’ Sabra ventured innocently, totally unprepared for the molten lava of words ready to erupt from the crater of Kaniz’s beautiful mouth.
‘That witch Firdaus, of course – who else!’ Kaniz rasped, throwing her sister a murderous look. Trust Sabra not to understand!
Now wide awake. ‘What do you mean, she had you thrown out?’ Sabra asked gently, very anxious to calm her sister and to lower her own blood pressure, which had a habit of rapidly shooting up when Kaniz shouted.
‘When I went to visit her, she told her chaprassi to show me the door,’ Kaniz hissed, breathing fire. ‘She was entertaining her special guests – principals and all the top nobs. While she eagerly flew to hug them, she had me thrown out like a fakir by her minion!’
‘What, just like that? You must have said or done something, surely?’ Sabra knew all about the animosity her sister bore towards Fatima and her family.
‘I only told her what she rightfully deserved to hear: to leave my son well alone!’ Kaniz swung the hand fan in front of her face in long, heavy strokes. The heat was bursting out of her cheeks.
Studiously avoiding her sister’s eyes, Sabra lifted the second fan from the table and began to fan her own face languidly. She was not quite ready to get herself embroiled in Kaniz’s petulant outburst as yet. Well conversant with her sister’s erratic behaviour since childhood, she could read her moods and degrees of volatility like the back of her hand.
; ‘She has left your son well alone,’ Sabra eventually placated, now looking frankly into her sister’s eyes.
‘Oh no, she hasn’t!’ Kaniz was scandalised by her sister’s temerity in disagreeing with her. ‘It is he who has left me! Me – his mother, who gave birth to him! He has abandoned me and his home for that chit. What in Allah’s name does he see in her? She is too short and plain – a nobody,’ Kaniz spat, her nose in the air.
Sabra looked calmly at her elder sister, wondering whether she should be honest for once – and therefore speak very bluntly indeed – or whether to humour Kaniz, as she usually did, by keeping quiet.
In the end, honesty won the day – she owed it to her sister, after all. Sabra’s heart sank at the prospect, ‘but it has to be said,’ she told herself firmly. ‘In fact, it is time someone spoke out.’
‘Kaniz, my dear sister,’ she began, taking the plunge, ‘why don’t you let Khawar marry this young woman, if he really wants to? Then you could have him back at home.’
There was complete silence. Kaniz blinked at Sabra, unable to believe her burning ears – feeling totally betrayed. Her own sister, mouthing such infamy!
Kaniz’s almond-shaped eyes stood large in her face, her lower lip quivering with emotion.
‘You too, Sabra?’ she said, her voice incredulous. ‘It seems I am living amongst a nest of vipers and traitors. I have already had a lecture from the old man, Siraj Baba. I definitely do not deserve one now from my baby sister, my own blood. Has that chit got round to feeding her tweez to everyone? To you too? I tell you, sister, that I will never let that washerwoman’s daughter step over the threshold of this house. As long as I live, this house is mine. Do you understand?’
Sabra sighed. She had already dipped her foot in it, so she might as well dive straight into the dangerous deep end of her sister’s pool of wrath.
‘Have you ever considered, Kaniz dear, that that “washerwoman” as you like to call her, could have been chaudharani, in your place? If she had married Brother Sarwar she would have been mistress here. But Fatima turned him down: only then did you get the chance to become the chaudharani yourself.’
At that moment, Kaniz could easily have strangled Sabra. If she had been younger she would have leapt at her sister and pulled out her hair from her chunky thick plait.
‘First it was Siraj Baba, now you!’ she hissed. ‘Is everyone going to abuse and humiliate me?’
‘I just don’t understand why you bear such a grudge against them! You see, you have gained in every way, sister. You are the mistress of this place and of acres of land. Fatima, on the other hand, has to work hard at an uncongenial job to support her husband and her family. Firdaus could have been Sarwar’s daughter. She could have been a sister to Khawar.’
‘Khawar is my son, Sabra. Your imagination is running away with you.’ Kaniz’s voice was now threaded with steel.
‘Please, sister, don’t get yourself all worked up. Remember your blood pressure. You are both respected families. The girl is educated. Firdaus and Khawar apparently want to marry each other. Then why are you preventing it? I will tell you why sister. It is all due to your pride, which one day will prove your downfall. I am not going to mince my words any more to please you. I know you do not like hearing the truth and you can go purple as beetroot in the face, but if I don’t say it, nobody else will.’
Sabra looked her sister right in the eye as she told her straight: ‘If you don’t let this marriage take place, you will regret it to the end of your days. You have only one son, and if you lose him, you will lose everything. Love is what you are fighting here, my dear sister. It makes people do crazy things. People have murdered for love; kings have been known to abandon their thrones for love. I tell you, sister,’ her voice lowered, ‘you are at the losing end here.’
‘I already am. He has left home for that witch,’ Kaniz said despairingly.
‘Why do you hate them so much?’ Sabra wanted to know. ‘I don’t understand it! She is a very nice girl, this Firdaus, from what I have seen of her. I tell you, sister, she is a good catch. If she goes to the city, she’ll be one of the most eligible of young educated women. I would have thought that you would love to have a Headmistress for a daughter-in-law – one who earns thousands of rupees in salary. People will come flooding to your door out of respect. Later, she could even become a Principal.’ Sabra beamed at her sister.
But Kaniz was in no mood to listen. ‘I don’t want to hear another word, Sabra. You, my own sister, have turned traitor!’ Her fingers were now held to her burning ears, trying to block out the unwelcome words.
‘No, dear sister, I am not a traitor,’ Sabra said solemnly. ‘Your jealousy and hatred have eaten away all your commonsense.’
‘Jealousy! Of whom, may I ask?’
‘Of Fatima, of course. You cannot forgive her for turning your husband down. You cannot bear the thought that you were second best, that he really wanted to marry Fatima, but she refused. What you seem to forget is that if she had married Sarwar, where would you be? In a miserable three-room apartment in the inner city bazaar area of the town, in our parents’ home. You would certainly not be the chaudharani of all this!’ Sabra ended passionately, having lost both her fear and patience with her sister.
Insulted beyond belief, Kaniz stood up and strode away into the house, flinging the fan on to the marble floor. It fell with a sharp crack and broke into two pieces. Sabra shook her head resignedly. She had definitely done it now. Kaniz would throw her out, for sure.
When Neesa came to ask where they wanted to eat, whether inside in the dining room or outside on the balcony rooftop, Sabra ruefully told her that she had better bring her a tray in the courtyard; she didn’t think her mistress would be eating with her today. ‘I am afraid,’ Sabra continued, looking sheepishly at Neesa, ‘I am in her bad books at the moment. You might as well pack my bags; I will be leaving soon. I have definitely overstayed my welcome this time!’
Neesa flashed a conspiratorial smile at Sabra and nodded in understanding. It didn’t bode well for her either. Today she would no doubt be taking the brunt of the chaudharani’s anger, but she had spent twenty-nine years of her life doing just that. So what was another day? She sometimes wondered why she put up with her mistress’s tyrannical ways, but in her heart, Neesa already knew the answer: it was for love of Khawar, the young master she had helped to raise with Kaniz.
Chapter 31
SIKANDER SAT WITH his parents in their drawing room in Karachi. Over twelve months had passed since Zarri Bano had become a Holy Woman. They had learnt from some friends that Zarri Bano was now studying at Cairo University. Sikander had forbidden his parents to mention her name in his presence. ‘I can never forgive her, Mother!’ he had raged.
An idea had, however, been germinating in Bilkis’s head. Having toyed with it for so long, she found it difficult to give up. This evening, with both her son and husband in a notably relaxed mood, she gambled and took the plunge.
‘Sikander, do you know I can actually see some white hairs near your temple?’ she remarked. Sikander laughed. ‘It’s not funny,’ she remonstrated fondly. ‘As a mother I am concerned, not about your white hair, but about your single status. Your two sisters hardly ever visit us these days. My heart hungers for the sound of children in this large, lonely place. I want grandchildren, Sikander. I think it is time you decided to marry and settled down, my son.’
Sikander, working on his business accounts, moved them aside from his lap and respectfully paid heed to his mother’s words. He was about to make a conciliatory remark when his mother quietly slipped in, ‘What about Ruby?’
The words died on Sikander’s lips. He stared at his mother in stunned silence, as though receiving an electric shock. Thrusting the papers onto the floor, he stood up. ‘Never!’ His grey eyes dark with emotion, he strode out of the room.
Raja Din turned to his wife, his own eyes mirroring his surprise. ‘When and from where did you get this preposterous idea in you
r brain, my dear? That wasn’t very clever, or very sensitive of you. You know how he still feels about Zarri Bano. To tell you the truth, I can’t forget her myself,’ he told his wife with a wistful look in his eyes.
‘Well, Ruby is her sister,’ Bilkis began defensively. ‘She is just as nice and nearly as beautiful. I know you are both partial to Zarri Bano’s beauty, but in looks you can hardly tell the difference between the two sisters apart from Ruby’s hairstyle and the colour of her eyes. If Sikander cannot marry Zarri Bano, what is to stop him from marrying Ruby? After all, she is not a Holy Woman – is she?’
‘No, Bilkis! Sikander wants nothing more to do with that family. Marrying Ruby would only evoke memories of the past for him. You are right, of course, Ruby is a very attractive and eligible girl – but it doesn’t seem right. What would Zarri Bano think? What would Ruby herself think?’
‘Well, if she had any sense, Ruby would be pleased. Our son is so eligible, wealthy and such a good-looking man. As far as Zarri Bano is concerned, she now belongs to another world. From what I gather, she will be forever on her religious tours, seminars or pilgrimages. It is nothing to do with her, who her sister marries.’
‘But she still has feelings,’ Raja Din persisted.
‘She has no right to object. She gave up Sikander and marriage to become a Holy Woman,’ Bilkis stated firmly.
‘My dear, you argue everything so plausibly, but in the end it will all depend on Sikander. He is not keen on that family at all – you know that.’
‘Well, my heart is set on Ruby and I am not going to give up. I want to exorcise Zarri Bano’s ghost from my son’s heart, once and for all. I know in my bones that woman lives in his mind and heart all day, as much as he will deny it.’
And Bilkis didn’t give up. In fact, she kept on battering away at her son’s reserve. After three tries, she managed to get him to listen to her again.
‘I know what you felt for Zarri Bano, but that is all in the past now, my son. She is part of another world and another life. You must learn to forget her. She is out of your reach. But her sister isn’t, and Ruby is such a nice girl.’
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