‘Mother!’ Zarri Bano looked aghast.
‘No, not in the way you think. He was afraid of losing you to him. He glimpsed something in your eyes that he had never seen before for any other suitor and simply couldn’t cope with it. If you had agreed to marry Khawar, for instance, he would have happily blessed the union, for Khawar posed no threat to him and the love you bore him. But in Sikander he saw a rival for your affection. You need to know, Zarri Bano, that your father took a personal dislike to Sikander from the very first meeting. As a proud, doting father, he was used to men falling in love with you at first sight, but here was a man, he believed, who had snubbed his daughter. “He didn’t even bother to look up at Zarri Bano, but was more concerned with the biscuits” – that is what he said to me after that first meeting.’
‘But, Mother, Sikander, had already seen me – at the mela.’
‘Your father didn’t know that. During their second visit, when you returned from a walk alone with Sikander in our fields, again your father was piqued and distressed on your behalf. While Sikander appeared his normal cool, collected self – “arrogant bastard”, your father called him – there was a wistful look in your eyes which spelled to everyone that you were lost to Sikander. While I as a mother delighted in that look, knowing that my daughter had at last met her match, a strong man who would guide, love and respect her, it frightened your father, my dear. Habib couldn’t bear the thought of his proud, strong-willed daughter being vulnerable and helplessly in love with this man, who had the power to break her heart, to hurt her, and more importantly, replace him in her affections. He was also afraid that Sikander might even turn you down – and his pride could never have endured that insult. He could never have coped with that, my love.’
‘Mother, I don’t believe this. Please stop.’
‘I didn’t believe it either, my dear, until I surprised a look of sheer triumph on his face, directly aimed at Sikander, after your veiling ceremony. That look chilled me, Zarri Bano.’ She shuddered. ‘Any other man would have let you marry, but somehow he couldn’t permit Sikander to have you. In the end he made sure that you could never marry. Later, as you know, he regretted his action. He died a troubled man, unable to forgive himself for making you a Shahzadi Ibadat. In the process he alienated me, I became embittered. If he had brought home another woman then, I couldn’t have cared less. He could have kept a harem and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. Oh yes, he succeeded in keeping you at home, but he lost me in the process. From then on, we lived as strangers till the very last moment. And now I cannot forgive myself for not taking away that pain from his guilt-ridden soul. I failed my duty as a wife.
‘All I ask of you now, Zarri Bano, is to let something positive come out of the mess of our lives, since Jafar died. Don’t lose your husband and his love through your stubbornness! You are the most valued possession in Sikander’s life at the moment. Yet loved possessions lose their value, if they are proved unworthy. Don’t lose your worth, my daughter. Learn not only to take, but also to give. Human relationships are about giving and taking. Remember that, as an experience of life from your mother. As you should know, having studied your faith, you two are a garment unto each other – complementing one another.’
Shahzada left her daughter staring at the mirror. ‘I am not anybody’s possession!’ she muttered. ‘I do not want to be his garment!’ Alone she mulled over to herself what her mother had told her about Habib. ‘I would always have loved you, Father,’ she mourned. ‘You had no need to fear my loss. Oh Father, how I miss you!’
Zarri Bano bowed her head into her lap and wept for the second time that day.
Shahzada went in search of Sikander, eventually finding him sitting on a bench in the orchard. She sat down beside him, he turned an unsmiling face to her.
‘How are you, my son?’ she asked in a gentle tone.
‘Fine,’ Sikander said stiffly, staring ahead at the orange trees.
‘Forgive her, my son. She is finding it so hard to cope with the situation she is in,’ Shahzada explained.
‘Auntie, she said that I …’ He stopped, his eyes flashing in anger, ‘… that I raped her with my eyes.’
‘I know. You see, she is so afraid of you.’
‘But why, Auntie? I have noticed it too.’
‘Not of you personally, Sikander, but of the emotions, the feelings you arouse in her. You are a threat to her. Remember, she is a Holy Woman now, Sikander, therefore she is struggling to accept you as a husband. She is not ready to do so yet. Give her time, my son.’
‘I am, Auntie I really am. You know she is running away from me and our marriage by going on this tour tomorrow. I phoned Sister Sakina this morning. She informed me that Zarri Bano didn’t have to join them in Malaysia until later, but I am letting her go.’
‘I know, and I thank you, my son. You are a good man, and a good husband, and one day Zarri Bano will appreciate you, but at the moment, she is like a ship on a journey, and doesn’t know which way she is heading. Somebody else has always steered the course for her – you, me and her father. Let her find her own course and destination for once in her life.’
‘Like all ships, hers will eventually have to return to its harbour. I will be waiting for her here, or,’ a cryptic look flashed in his eyes, ‘or I may decide to join her on her journey and discover her course with her.’
Shahzada sighed. ‘Whatever you wish, my son. You have my blessing. Be strong but gentle, is all I can advise. She is like a fragile glass ornament, easily shattered, and this time it will not be easy to put the pieces back together. She suffered and bled for you once – went to pieces for you. She won’t do it again, my son.’
Still packing in her room, Zarri Bano heard the sound of laughter from the courtyard. Curious she went up to the window and looked out. Shahzada and Sikander were walking back to the house, laughing and talking together.
When Sikander looked up at her window and saw her he smiled and waved, making Zarri Bano’s heart skip a beat. Her own face relaxed into a smile. As she lifted her arm to wave back, from nowhere the menacing words: ‘We will always be lovers!’ darted in to her head.
Dropping her arm, she swept away from the window. ‘I don’t need you! I don’t want you, Sikander!’ Zarri Bano shouted to the walls of her nephew’s room.
Going to her suitcase she pulled out all her bridal outfits and threw them on the bed. She replaced them with her old, simple madrasah suits.
Chapter 64
ZARRI BANO’S FACE paled as she walked out of Sister Sakina’s room and saw her husband standing in the hotel corridor.
Lounging against the door of her room, Sikander watched her approach with amused interest. She was looking everywhere but at him. ‘Assalam-Alaikum,’ he greeted with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
‘What are you doing here, Sikander Sahib?’ Zarri Bano asked breathlessly, still unable to look him in the eye.
‘I can see I have taken you by surprise. You do not have a monopoly over Malaysia, you know, Zarri Bano. I can come too,’ he teased in a voice thick with laughter. ‘Here, let me help you,’ he offered as he saw her fumble with the room key.
Opening the door wide, he let her pass first and then followed her inside. Looking around at the room with interest, he placed his suitcase on one of the two beds.
Zarri Bano hovered uncertainly in the middle of her room, finding his male presence very threatening. She tried hard to smile, but it came out as a grimace.
‘I am sorry I didn’t tell you yesterday when I phoned,’ he said smoothly. ‘I wanted it to be a surprise. I have some business to sort out here. Also I have a lovely new wife here, waiting for me,’ he teased.
Zarri Bano silently continued to watch him, her mouth totally dry.
Sikander noticed her unease, and decided to act. ‘I am starving, Zarri Bano. Can we get something to eat?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Zarri Bano found her voice. ‘In fact, I was just going downstairs for dinner.’
His warm grasp was reassuring as he led her out of the room and down into the dining room. He only let go of her hand when she approached the table where her fellow group of Jamaati men and women were sitting. She blushed, as she quickly introduced him as her ‘husband’ and then sat down beside Sakina.
Sikander carried on watching her with a glint in his eye from across the table, as they had the meal.
Later that same evening, Sikander, Zarri Bano and Sakina went on a tour together, to look around Kuala Lumpur city. From the famous Petaling Street market, they bought souvenirs for everyone. Zarri Bano was happy for Sikander to haggle for the goods; strangely, she found herself enjoying his company immensely. It was good for the two women to have a legitimate male companion by their side, especially when the young Malay and Chinese men stared at them in their black burqas.
Later as they climbed into a taxi with their bargains on their laps, Sakina quipped, ‘It is nice to have you join us, Brother Sikander. We couldn’t have bargained in the way you did.’
‘What does my wife think?’ Raising one eyebrow, Sikander gave Zarri Bano a look of enquiry.
She dimpled at him, noting the use of the word ‘wife’. ‘I think we have just become lazy in your presence and let you do all the work – hey, Sister Sakina?’
‘Hmm,’ Sikander grunted, giving her a gentle pinch on her thigh to show that he was not satisfied with her answer.
They went next to the main indoor market in the centre of Kuala Lumpur and while Sakina and Zarri Bano looked at the crafts, batiks and silk scarves, Sikander disappeared on his own to look around and buy gifts. He returned carrying two parcels.
In the hotel they bade Sakina goodnight outside her room and then went to their own room. Closing the door behind them they placed their parcels on the bed.
Sikander gazed at his wife’s reflection in the mirror as he half reclined on one of the two double beds and watched her remove the burqa and brush out her hair.
‘Do you know what I wanted to do at the dinner table earlier today? But I thought I had better leave it in case I scandalised your holy team.’
Ignoring his question Zarri Bano chuckled, feeling herself relax. All of a sudden, she was happy that he was with her in the room. The trip had taken on a whole new perspective and in a strange way she was looking forward to spending more time with him.
He stood up to open his suitcase. ‘It is all right for me to share this room, isn’t it? I have brought my cases here.’ He saw the smile slip from her face. ‘There are two beds here. It doesn’t make sense for me to seek another room. However, if you are really against it, I will go to the reception and ask for another one.’
She fidgeted with her fingers. He could almost feel the tension building up inside her body.
‘Yes, of course you may stay,’ she said in a low voice, her eyes not quite meeting his. She stood up to pass Sikander to go to the bathroom. He blocked her way, holding her by the arm.
‘Zarri Bano, you must learn to trust me. All I will be doing is sleeping in this bed, nothing more. The nearest I have got to you is to touch your hand. All of a sudden, you have clamped up again. You were happy, relaxed and smiling a minute ago. Why are you suddenly turning cold on me? If my presence is upsetting you this much, then I will go now.’ Letting her arm drop, he turned towards the door.
‘No, Sikander,’ she called to him. ‘You don’t need to go. You can sleep on that bed. I have now got used to your presence. I can put up with you sleeping in that bed. That I can do, but no more.’
He listened with his back to her, his hand still on the door handle. ‘We are friends first, Zarri Bano,’ he said, turning towards her with a solemn expression on his face. ‘Everything else takes second place. All I want is your company, that is all.’
He began to unpack once more. Zarri Bano sat down on her bed and watched him. She saw the parcels he had bought.
‘What are those, Sikander?’
‘What?’
‘Those parcels you bought in the Central Market.’
‘Oh those, one is a present for you and one is for my mother. They are clocks set into pictures and I have had them engraved with a special personal message. That is what I wanted to give you during dinner. Here, would you like to look at yours? I am going to take a shower. Would you mind finding my pyjamas in my suitcase and hanging them outside the bathroom door? I hope you like it – the present I mean, not the pyjamas.’ Laughing he handed Zarri Bano one parcel and then went into the bathroom.
Unwrapping the newspaper covering the parcel she looked at the engraved message on the glass face of the clock. For my beautiful and beloved wife, Zarri Bano from your husband Sikander. Looking at the message in wonder, Zarri Bano was awed and flattered by it. The word beloved leapt at her. Suddenly, from nowhere, came the unwelcome thought: Did he write a similar message for Ruby?
Carefully she replaced the clock into its box, not quite ready to explore her own feelings towards her husband’s relationship with her dead sister. Who was his beloved? Both of them? One more than the other? She had known him earlier, but Ruby had lived with him for four years. In four years so much could have happened and had happened. They had a beautiful child to prove it and to share.
She remembered his request for his pyjamas and opened his suitcase. Her searching hands came across something black, and soft at the bottom of the case. She drew out the black chiffon garment in surprise. It was the black outfit, the one she had worn the first time she had seen him at the mela. What was it doing here? How had Sikander acquired it? The questions rattled away in her head.
Her fingers stroked the material. Closing her eyes, she tried to recapture that day at the fair – and the meeting with Sikander. She felt again his eyes travelling over her body as they had that day. Why had Sikander brought it? What special significance did these clothes have for him? She was suddenly humbled by his devotion. He must feel something for me, she thought. He must, or why else would he go to so much trouble to find this outfit and keep it?
As she heard the shower being turned off, she quickly replaced the garment in the suitcase and took out his pyjamas. She hung them outside the bathroom door, not daring to go inside.
When he returned she had already changed her clothing and climbed into her bed. He smiled down at her, as he dried his hair with a towel.
‘Did you like it?’ he asked, knowing that she would understand what he meant.
‘Yes, it is very beautiful. Did you bring Ruby gifts like these and inscribe them with such messages?’ she asked before she could help herself. The answer was important to her, but so was his honesty.
‘I did bring Ruby gifts – many as any husband would, but this is the first time that I have inscribed a message on one.’ He stared back at her with a solemn look in his eyes.
Zarri Bano looked down, hiding her own eyes, not happy with his answer. Sikander for his part felt he had revealed too much of his feelings.
‘I think it is time we phoned Haris. He has been missing you terribly,’ he said, quickly changing the subject. ‘He is probably waiting for our call. He said two days ago, “Why did Auntie marry you if she was going abroad”.’
He leaned over nearer the bedside to dial the number. Zarri Bano moved back, her eyes on his bare throat, where the button was undone. Intercepting her look, Sikander looked down at himself. Embarrassed, Zarri Bano turned away, feeling as if she had been caught doing something wrong.
Soon his call was connected and his mother answered the telephone. When Haris was put on, Zarri Bano came closer to listen to the conversation.
‘Here is your Auntie Zarri Bano, she would like to speak to you, Haris.’ Sikander brought the receiver and the phone line over her head and, in the process, encircled her with his arm.
As Zarri Bano
spoke to Haris, she was very aware of Sikander’s arm around her. She didn’t look at him, but heard his breathing as he listened to the conversation. Bilkis then came on the line to speak to Zarri Bano. As Sikander moved away slightly to make room for her, Haris came on the phone again, wanting to speak to his father. Zarri Bano handed the receiver to Sikander, but instead of moving away she remained where she was.
From whence the insatiable urge came she didn’t know, but she wanted to put her hand through his wet crispy dark curls. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand had already crept up to his neck.
Sikander’s eyes darted to his wife’s in surprise, but Zarri Bano looked down, pretending to listen to Haris. Her wayward fingers, however, continued their exploratory journey upwards until they reached his head, and then mischievously twirled themselves around his thick damp curls. Sikander moved his head to better accommodate her hand.
He then caught hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, gently kissing it, while still listening to Haris. Zarri Bano quickly snatched her hand away, coming to her senses – ashamed. Sikander’s teasing eyes laughed into hers as he ended the conversation with his son.
Then he went utterly still, the laughter disappearing from his eyes as he surprised, saw a look of sheer bewilderment mixed with desire in her eyes. She can’t even make sense of what she is feeling and doing! he realised, dismayed.
With a heavy heart he stood up and replaced the receiver. Too much was at stake. He couldn’t afford to make a wrong move. She was like a fragile silk flower in his clumsy male hands.
‘I think it is time I went to sleep,’ he informed her gently, ‘I am still suffering from jet lag. Allah Hafiz, Zarri Bano.’
Zarri Bano sat numbed, her body going hot and cold in shame. Her arms wrapped themselves protectively around her chest. I offered myself to him and he rejected me, she thought her mind reeling.
The Holy Woman Page 45