‘Why did she do it? I didn’t tell her to,’ Khawar lashed out sulkily, his nostrils flaring in rage as he listened to his aunt’s account of the disgraceful incident. Repentant and guilty he immediately went to his mother’s quarters where, worn out, Kaniz was fast asleep. Sitting near her bed, Khawar watched over her for most of the evening.
Early next morning, Sabra kept a vigil over her sister, reassuring Khawar that she was going to stay until her sister recovered her normal spirits. Offering special prayers for Kaniz’s health, Sabra promised herself that she would have her sister’s sparkling, albeit waspish, self back in place by the time she had finished with her. Her daughter and grandchildren she sent back to Punjab the following day.
Khawar accepted his aunt’s help gratefully. All night while he had sat watching over his mother, his thoughts turned to Firdaus. ‘How dare you do this to my mother? I will see to you!’ he vowed, his jaw stiff with rage.
Chapter 48
TWO DAYS LATER, Khawar paid a surprise visit to Firdaus’s college. He was taken directly into her office and told: ‘The Vice Principal is in a meeting, but she will join you soon.’
Khawar glanced around the opulent furnished room. For some reason, he did not relish seeing Firdaus here, on her own territory. Returning to the college reception, he informed the young smartly-dressed secretary that he preferred to wait outside and would therefore be grateful if Madam Firdaus would see him there. When asked who he was, ‘Tell her an acquaintance from the village,’ Khawar said shortly. He followed the secretary out of the building to the semi-secluded verandah.
Declining to sit down, he leaned against the tall stone pillar and looked out at the green hockey lawn.
‘Assalam-Alaikum!’ A voice he recognised broke into his thoughts a few minutes later. His shoulders stiffening, Khawar took his time in turning round. When Firdaus saw his expression she blinked in shock. His eyes stared unsmiling at her. His body, though giving the appearance of lounging indolently against the pillar, was a tight coil ready to spring on her.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ Firdaus asked politely, her eyes on his shirt collar. Afraid, somehow, to meet his glance again.
Khawar lifted his eyebrow at her innocent question.
‘The pleasure is all on your part, Madam Principal. For I experience none in being here in your company.’ Firdaus paled at his insolence. Then, to her astonished gaze, Khawar stooped down theatrically on his knees and held up his two hands together in front of her. Shocked, Firdaus jerked back.
‘Khawar Sahib, what drama are you playing?’ she asked, bemused.
‘I am replaying the drama with you and my mother in it, Madam Principal,’ he jeered. ‘That is what my mother did, isn’t it? She held up her hands to you like a beggar with a begging bowl – didn’t she? My proud mother! The Chaudharani! One who has never been known to apologise to anyone, let alone beg from someone. Well, she fell from the lofty sky to your lowly feet, pleading for your hand, didn’t she?’
‘I never asked her to. I didn’t want her to beg.’ Firdaus’s quiet retort hit back at him.
‘But you threw her out, didn’t you?’ There was a dangerous thread of steel in his voice.
Cornered. ‘Yes, I did! So what?’ Firdaus screeched, now unable to hold on to her temper or her dignity.
‘Well done!’ Khawar cried, his mouth twisting in a sardonic smile. Getting up he clapped his two hands together, the sound vibrating strangely in her ears. ‘That is definitely the sort of treatment my mother deserves – so much so that after she had left you, she tried to commit suicide!’ he finished bitterly.
‘What?’ Firdaus’s head shot up.
‘Yes, Firdaus Principal. Her death would definitely have been laid at your door.’
‘I do not know how your mother’s mind works, but please don’t use me as a scapegoat.’ Shrinking from the look of raw loathing in his eyes, Firdaus tried to defend herself, her lips quivering in anger and distress.
‘You may not know my mother’s mind, but I know mine well enough. She must have been insane to resort to begging for your hand. You are not worth it, Firdaus. For your sake I shunned my mother and left my home. I haven’t spoken to her for over a year. In desperation she swallowed her pride and stooped this low. I tell you this because for someone of my mother’s stature, it is indeed a noble gesture. But she got nothing in return from you, did she? Just dishonour. Because of you, she is now suffering depression, crying all the time, not eating anything and staring into space. She has wanted to put an end to her life.’
‘I am sorry,’ Firdaus said tritely, her eyes lowered to the ground.
‘I haven’t finished yet.’ His voice sliced through her. ‘In the end you have proved yourself worse than my mother. I do not wish to marry someone who has no respect for my mother. You are a cold-hearted and a proud woman. I am a fool for having wasted years over you. At the end the gold I thought I was chasing was all the time brass. Dross, in fact! But then in your book, in your elevated stature as a principal of a college, Madam Firdaus, we are the brass, the village bumpkins from whom you were so desperate to escape. Well, you are free from us all now, Firdaus. We will not be troubling you ever again. Good day to you! Madam Principal.’
Stunned, Firdaus watched him leave. The colour had long since flown from her face. Shakily, she sat down on a chair on the verandah, her mind ablaze with thoughts, her heart thudding with shock.
Khawar disappeared through the double doors leading into the college corridor. With angry strides he reached his Jeep. The driver quickly opened the door for him and, seeing his master’s thunderous expression, forbore from attempting to make small talk.
Khawar’s spirits were low. The episode of his desire to marry Firdaus was over. It would take him a long time to recover, but his masculine pride was at stake. ‘She is welcome to those urban Sahibs who probably flock to her side every evening,’ he scoffed inwardly, then dismissed her from his mind.
Chapter 49
ZARRI BANO HAD taken Haris to the village to visit her grandfather and to familiarise him more with village life. Siraj Din loved to hear the chatter of his great-grandson in his hawaili.
Arriving on Friday to take Haris back to Karachi, Sikander hid his disappointment at not seeing his son. Sitting out on the verandah of the rear courtyard, Shahzada and Sikander talked generally for some time and about Haris in particular. The young man wondered how best to approach the subject he had had on his mind for the last few months.
‘Auntie,’ he uttered softly, avoiding her gaze, ‘I hope very much that you will not be offended by what I am going to say.’
‘What is it, my son?’ Shahzada looked up in concern, placing the rose china teapot on the white wrought-iron patio table in front of her.
‘I … I wish to marry your daughter, Zarri Bano!’ Shahzada darted a quick look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘I know she is a Holy Woman,’ Sikander went on before she could say anything, ‘but I also know that Uncle Habib Khan, over a year ago, released her from the oath never to marry. He personally gave her his blessing to marry if she so wished. Ruby told me all this.’
It was a very pleasant surprise for Shahzada. A smile curved the contours of her lower face but words failed to leave her mouth. Sikander waited anxiously and then hastened to explain.
‘I do not mean to offend you, Auntie. Please will you forgive me? You must appreciate that it is for Haris’s sake. I need a surrogate mother for him. This to-ing and fro-ing from Karachi to here will have to stop some time. It is tiring me out. It has been going on for over a year. I want my son with me, but he is also very close to his aunty and you. He regards Zarri Bano as his second mother. If I were to marry her, that would solve everything, wouldn’t it?’ His voice was earnest.
‘I am not at all offended by your suggestion, my dear son. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have my Zarri Bano happily married and also to become a mother to Haris. I am keenly aware of your situation. At the end you
have to remarry some time. I am just surprised it hasn’t been sooner. But tell me, my son, why do you want to marry Zarri Bano? She is not the same woman as the one you saw five years ago. Are you really marrying her entirely for Haris’s sake, or for personal reasons?’ This time Shahzada’s gaze remained steady on his face.
Sikander looked down at the cup he was holding, letting his fingers trace its gold rim. He took his time in answering, but finally opted for honesty.
‘I will not pretend to you, Auntie, it is very much for personal reasons. I do not know how to talk about this to you. After all, you are the mother of my dead wife.’ He sighed sadly. ‘All I can say in my defence is that I want to marry Zarri Bano very much – just as I wanted to marry Ruby. I have loved both of your daughters. I don’t know how it was possible to love both sisters, but I have and did. Please do not get me wrong. Zarri Bano is the one I wanted to marry originally, but it was Ruby that I ended up with.
‘I can truthfully say that Ruby and I were very happy together. I loved her as deeply as it is possible for any husband to do so, when you have shared four years of life together. The love just grew with time. The place she has in my heart will always be there. She was the mother of my child, the woman I shared my life with, twenty-four hours of the day. How can I forget her? If I close my eyes, I can still see her before me with her warm brown eyes and gentle smile.’ Shahzada watched Sikander’s face fold with the pain. His eyes closed as he continued.
‘I can still hear her footsteps on the marble stairs or in the orchard. Her clothes, still hanging in the wardrobe, bring forth aching memories every day of the week. I miss Ruby so very much, Auntie – but she has gone. I cannot bear the thought of a strange woman with my son. No other woman could be his mother in the way Zarri Bano can. He simply adores his Auntie Zarri Bano and she adores him in return. There is a chance that with her at his side, he will not ache for his own mother so much.’
‘Yes,’ Shahzada agreed quietly.
‘You asked if I want to marry Zarri Bano for personal reasons? Well I do, and not just for Haris’s sake. I am being totally honest with you. As you well know, Zarri Bano is the woman I originally intended to marry, the woman I fell in love with at first sight. It was at the mela …’ His eyes softened, as he recalled the instant.
‘She was standing under a tree in a black chiffon outfit, her hair swinging free around her face, and then she caught sight of me. Something happened between us. Across the crowd of men gathered at the fair, our souls seemed to leap to one another. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful. I was a lost man. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. It was not the same with Ruby, I am sorry to say. I knew from the first moment that Zarri Bano felt something for me. She has always attempted to deny it, but I know she did. The rest is all history. It was too late for us, another life was carved out for Zarri Bano by your husband. I am laying bare my soul to you, Auntie. I haven’t even come to terms with it fully myself – because it is such a personal and a painful topic.’ There were tears in his eyes as he spoke of these secret matters of the heart.
‘In all those years, I never forgot Zarri Bano,’ he told Shahzada. ‘I tried, but she was always there in my head and thoughts, haunting me. In Saudi Arabia, I was out of my mind with jealousy because of that bearded Egyptian. I couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her or being linked to her in any way. I have also hated her, too,’ he confessed in a low voice. ‘I have still not forgiven her for turning her back on me and our love.’
He looked imploringly at his mother-in-law. ‘I have undergone the bad kismet of loving not just two women but also two sisters, married to one but still aching for the other. As their mother, I don’t know what you will think of me.’
‘Thank you, my son, for being so honest.’ Shahzada was deeply moved. ‘I am very aware of how painful and embarrassing it is for you to confide your feelings to me, but you have proved to me the true feelings you have for both my daughters. You are right, I do not know how I ought to feel on this topic because they are both my daughters, born from the same womb. I am glad, my son, for your sake, for Haris’s sake, for Zarri Bano’s sake above all that you wish to marry my eldest daughter. As a grandmother of Haris, I would wish no other woman to take my dead daughter’s place.’
Now it was time for Shahzada to bare her soul to Sikander. ‘But it is not just for Haris’s sake,’ she said. ‘I have been plagued by guilt since the day Zarri Bano became a Shahzadi Ibadat. I wanted her to marry you and lead a normal life. She says that she is very happy with her current life, but in my heart of hearts, I know we did wrong both by you and especially by Zarri Bano. The day she learned that Ruby was going to marry you, I will never forget the look in her eyes, Sikander. It was the look of a woman devastated and toppling over the edge of reason. I saw my daughter nearly die before my eyes, but she battled with herself and won. My Zarri Bano always does. I am so proud of her. She is good in overcoming and facing crises, but at what cost? We’ll never know. We have killed her emotionally in the process.’ For a moment, Shahzada allowed her feelings to overwhelm her. Sikander remained quiet, instinct telling him to let his mother-in-law take this moment at her own pace.
‘Until the day we went on hajj, I never forgave my husband,’ she continued. ‘Sikander, the day my Jafar died, all our lives became shrouded by a chador of doom. I supported my husband, yet I betrayed my daughter. Now you tell me, my son, how can I forgive myself for betraying Zarri Bano? I was helpless to do otherwise. There was no way out for us two women. No way of defying my father-in-law and my husband’s joint decision. We are proud, yet obedient women, and for our clan’s sake, we bowed and gave in.
‘You must forgive her for turning you away. She simply had no choice, Sikander! Zarri Bano makes herself out to be happy and has forgiven her father. She has found a new lease of life in her adopted identity and has discovered a new world on an international scale. My daughter admirably suits the role. I, on the other hand, lost respect for both myself and him. I built a wall against my beloved husband that he could never batter down. My heart became a cold shell. Empty! He could batter away, and did so – but all to no avail. I knew he was lonely – but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. That is my bad kismet, my son. I wish that I hadn’t been such a cruel wife to him.
‘If you were to peep inside my heart, you would see nothing but heartache and suffering. Two of my beautiful children have died. I have lost a husband, and my grandson is motherless.
‘Therefore, dear boy, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have you marry Zarri Bano. I want my daughter to lead a normal life, the life that she was denied five years ago. I want to see her hands painted with henna patterns, a young baby in her lap. All the dreams I cherished for her, I want to come true. Let me speak to her first, my son. I need to break it gently to her. For you see, she now has no place for marriage or men in her heart nor in her mind.’
Chapter 50
ZARRI BANO DIDN’T return that evening. She sent a message that her grandfather Siraj Din wanted her and Haris to stay a couple more days in Chiragpur. Finding the quietness of the house unbearable, Shahzada decided to join them in the village.
When her mother arrived, Zarri Bano was alone in the drawing room of their village family home. Delighted, she hugged Shahzada warmly.
‘Where is Haris?’ Shahzada asked, desperate to hold her dead daughter’s son in her arms.
‘He has gone for a walk with his great-grandfather. He is probably having a ride on the tractor in the fields or playing around and swinging the tails of the milk buffaloes on our farm. He loves it here, Mother. It is good for him with all the fresh air and open fields. The village women adore him, taking him in turns to their houses. He has been invited twice to Chaudharani Kaniz’s house.’
‘I can well imagine. Our Haris is a gorgeous child. The village women used to do that to you when you were young. So you have decided to stay for a couple more days.’
‘Yes. Grandfather kee
ps insisting that we should all move back here in the village. He wants me to head the village madrasa that he and I are opening for young women to receive high quality religious education.’
‘I know he does, darling, but he can’t have his way, I am afraid. Haris already has a home in Karachi, with his father. We are being too selfish in keeping him with us all the time. By the way, Sikander came last night to collect Haris, and he was quite disappointed not to see him.’
‘Well, he could have come here to visit us,’ Zarri Bano answered sharply.
‘He had to go. You see, he gets tired with all the travelling. He’ll be returning in two days’ time. Or perhaps we could take Haris back to Karachi. It has been so long since I have been to that big city and visited its shopping plazas.’
‘I cannot go, Mother. You take him, if you like. I am quite happy here in the village. In fact I am thinking of taking up Grandfather’s suggestion and setting up a madrasa here.’
‘Could you really spend your whole life here, Zarri Bano? You are a city girl – I thought you didn’t like the country scene?’
‘I don’t know. It is so peaceful here, Mother. I have travelled a lot in the past few years and got it out of my system. I now want some peace in my life. Also the women here need me. I am training one of the teachers from Firdaus’s school to head the madrasa.’
‘What if you were to marry, Zarri Bano?’ Shahzada softly slipped in. She had been on the lookout for such a cue.
The book from which she had been making notes for the seminar fell from Zarri Bano’s hands with a thud on to the marble-chip floor.
The Holy Woman Page 34