by Moni Mohsin
15
The car was a warm, snug cocoon as it sped through the dark to Sabzbagh. The windows were up against the cold night air, and there was a faint aroma of the chicken patties Yasmeen had stuffed through the open window of the moving car as it pulled out of her driveway.
‘In case the girls get hungry,’ she’d called out, waving till the car was out of sight. There had been tears in Fareeda’s eyes when she’d embraced her mother.
‘Now, now, there’s no need to weep.’ Yasmeen had patted Fareeda’s back. ‘I’ll be perfectly safe here. You take care of yourselves and telephone me every day.’
She had hugged and kissed the girls and held the Koran over their heads muttering prayers of safekeeping as they filed out of the house and into the car. The girls had kept up a constant chatter for the first half of the journey. But now, just a few miles short of Sabzbagh, there was silence in the car, except for the purr of the engine and the soft snuffles of Bua’s cat-like snores.
Laila stirred under the folds of her mother’s pashmina shawl and blinked in the headlights of an oncoming truck tearing towards them on the dark, narrow road. Barkat flashed his headlights and swerved to avoid the truck.
‘Are we there yet?’ she asked, rubbing her eyes.
‘No, a little while longer,’ murmured Fareeda.
There were no lights on the Lahore–Sabzbagh road. Laila could discern some dark smudges beyond the window, which she took to be the trees bordering the road. The car was lit within by the half-light of the dials and switches on Barkat’s dashboard. Laila could make out Sara’s head slumped against Bua’s shoulder on the front seat.
‘Barkat, what news of your son?’ Tariq asked the driver.
‘I haven’t had a letter for a while, Sahib,’ replied Barkat, changing to a lower gear as they reached Sabzbagh. ‘But, in the last one he sent, he seemed … strange. He didn’t sound like the boy I sent out.’
‘Hmm.’ Tariq didn’t like to ask what ‘strange’ meant. ‘I expect he will be a changed man when he returns. A man can’t fight a war and not let it affect him.’
‘I pray to Allah that he does return,’ said the driver in a gruff voice. ‘Or I won’t know how to face his mother.’
‘Of course he’ll return,’ said Fareeda. ‘Soon it will be all over and he’ll be home with you.’
‘May Allah hear your words,’ said Barkat, slowing the car down to drive through Sabzbagh bazaar.
‘Are we there yet?’ Laila asked again.
‘Yes, see, there’s the church?’ pointed out Fareeda. ‘You can make out the cross against the sky.’
‘Wake up, Sara, we’re home.’ Laila reached forward to shake her sister’s shoulder. ‘Bua, Bua, wake up. We’ve arrived.’
Golden light spilled out from the windows of their house. Dressed in a thick coat and muffler, Fazal came down the steps. Tariq opened the door, and swirls of cold air curled into the car.
‘Oh, Mother Mary, so cold,’ muttered Bua, covering her head with her shawl. ‘No use pushing me, Saru. I won’t open the door until you button up your sweater.’
Tariq stepped out of the car. The two-day break in Lahore had been a nice change. He had caught up with some friends over a long lunch at the Imperial Club and also paid a useful visit to Mr Davies of the British Development Association. Tariq stretched his arms above his head and looked up at the sky. It was a clear frosty night and the sky was the colour of lapis lazuli.
The girls tumbled out of the car, giggling and pushing at each other in their eagerness to get inside.
‘Here, here, do up your sweaters.’ Bua bustled after the girls.
With her handbag slung over her arm, Fareeda ascended the steps into the house.
‘Everything been all right in our absence?’ Tariq asked Fazal. The bearer was helping the driver lift their bags out of the boot.
Fazal put the suitcase down deliberately and said, ‘Well, Sahib, everything has been fine here with us, but at Kalanpur …’ His voice trailed off.
‘What’s happened at Kalanpur?’ Tariq’s tone was sharp. ‘Is my mother all right? Speak!’
‘Oh, yes, yes. Your mother’s still in Sargodha, Sahib.’
Suddenly, a scream tore through the house. Clustered around the boot of the car, the three men looked up, startled. Tariq bounded up the stairs and into the house. He saw Fareeda kneeling on the floor, facing Kaneez, who was huddled in a chair. Kaneez’s face was buried in her hands, and she was sobbing uncontrollably. The girls stood nearby, clutching Bua’s hands, looking on in troubled silence. A single drop of sweat trickled down Bua’s temple.
Nobody had noticed Tariq enter, but when he shook off his jacket, Bua looked up and saw him. She darted him a frightened look. Tariq motioned her to take the girls away. Bua scurried out, dragging the girls behind her.
‘What’s happened, Bua? What’s the matter with Kaneez? Tell, please.’ Their whispered questions were cut off by the click of the door shutting behind them.
Tariq approached the two women. Fareeda had her back to him and was murmuring to Kaneez. He touched Fareeda’s shoulder and indicated to her that he wished to speak to Kaneez.
‘Kaneez,’ said Fareeda, moving aside. ‘Tariq Sahib is here and would like to speak to you.’ Kaneez lifted her head and raised a ravaged face at Tariq. Her eyes seemed to have receded so far back into her skull that, for a moment, Tariq thought he was looking at empty sockets. Her pink scalp was visible through sparse strands of grey hair. Tariq drew up a chair and took one of Kaneez’s work-worn hands in his own.
‘What’s happened?’
‘She’s gone,’ Kaneez whispered hoarsely. ‘I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find her. It’s my fault. Me and my cursed bad luck. I wish I’d never been born.’ Her shoulders started to shake again.
‘Shh,’ said Tariq. ‘Who has gone?’
‘My girl.’
‘Fatima?’
‘No, Rani. Rani’s gone. Oh, my little girl. She never hurt anyone. She was so innocent, still a child.’
‘Kaneez!’ Tariq asked urgently. ‘Are you sure it’s Rani who is missing?’
Kaneez nodded.
‘How long has she been missing?’
‘Two days,’ she said in a choking voice.
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
‘Two days ago, I came home after locking up the haveli for the night.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘It must have been seven. I remember, I said my evening prayers at the haveli and then I checked all the doors and windows like I do every night. Only then I came home. She was there. We talked. Then I went back to the haveli, and when I returned, it must have been an hour later, an hour and a half at most, she was gone.’
‘Did you ask if anyone had seen her leave? Any of the neighbours?’
‘It was a foggy night. There was no one about. Everyone was indoors. I asked, but no one saw or heard anything.’
‘Where could she have gone?’ Fareeda wondered aloud. ‘Has she ever gone off like this before?’
‘Oh, no, never.’ Kaneez shook her head emphatically.
‘Do you have any idea why she may have disappeared? Could she have gone off with someone willingly? Or was she involved in some fight or something? I need to know, Kaneez, if we are to find her.’ Tariq pressed her hand.
Kaneez looked at Tariq and bowed her head. A tear splashed on to Tariq’s hand.
‘If you want us to help, you must tell us everything you know or even suspect,’ Fareeda said. ‘Could she have gone to see her mother, for instance?’
‘Why should she go there? Anyway, I’ve checked. I didn’t want to worry Fatima, so I asked a neighbour, and she said no one had seen Rani anywhere near there.’
‘And you’ve asked all of Rani’s friends?’ enquired Tariq.
‘I told you. No one’s seen her since that day. Everybody in Kalanpur knows that she’s missing. Allah knows what dirty thoughts they are thinking. The shame, the shame.’ Kaneez covered her face with her hands.
‘What happened, Kaneez? Tell me the truth,’ urged Tariq.
‘We argued.’ Kaneez spoke in a small numb voice. ‘I told her I didn’t want to see her. Then I left for the haveli. I had nowhere else to go. I sat in the kitchen. I tried to do some work – Nazeer is away, so I thought I’d clean out the masala box – but my hands were shaking so much that I couldn’t do it. So I gave up and sat there by myself. When I went back home, she was gone.’
‘Did she take anything with her?’ Tariq asked.
‘No.’
‘What did you quarrel about?’ Fareeda wanted to know.
Kaneez stared at her hands lying limp in her lap.
There was a cough behind them. Fazal stood in the doorway with the luggage.
‘Sahib, may I bring this in?’
‘Yes, take it through to the bedrooms.’
Fazal passed by, his face averted from the group around the chair.
Fareeda called out after the bearer. ‘Rehmat has cooked dinner for us, hasn’t he? Could you serve it to the girls on a tray in their room? Ask Bua to get them ready for bed as soon as they’ve eaten. We won’t eat just yet. We’ll be in the sitting room. Make sure we’re not disturbed. Kaneez, have you eaten?’
Kaneez shook her head.
‘I thought not,’ Fareeda tut-tutted. ‘There’s no point in starving yourself on top of everything else.’
‘I don’t want anything,’ said Kaneez.
‘All right, I won’t force it on you. But at least come into the other room.’
After the chill of the hallway, the sitting room was warm. A fire burnt in the hearth, and two table lamps with ivory-coloured shades bathed the room in a mellow light. The heavy damask drapes had been drawn, and the fruit tray sat on the rosewood coffee table. Tariq walked across to the fire and stood with his back to it, his hands tucked deep into his pockets.
Fareeda motioned Kaneez to a chair. But Kaneez sat down on the floor.
‘Sit on the chair, Kaneez,’ Fareeda ordered.
‘No, I’m happier here. I’m not used to chairs.’
Fareeda shrugged. ‘You were going to tell us why you and Rani quarrelled. Kaneez?’
‘Please don’t make me say.’ She was weeping again. ‘It’s too shameful. I can’t.’
‘You must.’ Fareeda insisted. ‘We have to know.’
Kaneez wiped her eyes. Then, in a halting voice, she told them about Rani’s sickness, her listlessness, her own growing suspicions, and then that evening’s terrible scene. She did not spare herself, recounting her shock and fury truthfully. But when she came to the part when Rani had tried telling her of her own disappointment and betrayal, she broke down again.
‘I didn’t listen to her,’ she sobbed. ‘I wanted to punish her. But what else could I do? I never dreamed, never ever imagined that such humiliation could ever visit our house. How was I ever going to hold my head up again? And now she’s gone. When a young girl goes missing, people believe the worst. Oh, why did I have to see this day? What will I tell Fatima? Why does Allah hate me so?’
‘Stop this nonsense at once,’ Fareeda scolded.
Kaneez shrank into herself, staring vacantly at the far wall.
‘Tariq,’ Fareeda asked in English, ‘do you believe her story?’
‘What do you mean, “story”?’ Tariq asked. How could Fareeda ask him that? Why on earth would Kaneez invent an account which she clearly found so humiliating, so distressing? Didn’t Fareeda know Kaneez well enough to realize how dearly she cherished her honour? To invent a story to besmirch it would be plain lunacy.
‘But the girl was so bright, so alert,’ Fareeda continued. ‘She couldn’t have been so foolish.’
‘She was an innocent,’ he snapped. ‘Girls like her get seduced and deserted every day. How can you have lived here all these years and not known that?’ The only thing that surprised him was that Rani had managed to keep it secret. Why, in that village where everyone knew everyone else’s business, did no one know?
‘If she was in trouble, why she didn’t come to us?’ asked Fareeda. ‘OK, not you, because you are a man, but me. Everyone knows I’m not judgemental. I would have helped her.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Fareeda, can’t you understand?’ Tariq shouted, striking his thigh with a balled fist. ‘The girl was confused and frightened, and there we were jabbering on about her bright future when she had a time bomb ticking inside her. She didn’t come to us because she probably thought she’d let us down. What could she say? “The schooling and job is fine, but could it just wait for a bit, while you arrange an abortion for me?” Have a heart!’
‘But she went to the nuns at the convent. If she was afraid of being judged, why go to a convent?’ Fareeda’s voice rose in exasperation. She was irritated at the thought of Rani throwing herself at the mercy of her adversaries. Why them and not her? It was just the sort of ammunition she did not want the nuns to have. ‘If they knew, didn’t she think I would find out? Sooner or later Sister Clementine was bound to … Oh, God, oh, God.’ Fareeda clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘What?’
‘Sister Clementine did come to me,’ Fareeda said slowly. ‘She came that day when you were away in Colewallah, and Jacob was here, and I was trying to write that wretched report. She said something about looking after – or was it helping? – young girls in trouble, and then sometimes not being able to help them.
‘I thought she was babbling, and I was in a hurry, so I sent her packing. I remember telling Hester that I couldn’t understand why she had come. She’d come to warn me about Rani, and I didn’t listen. Oh, God, what have I done?’
‘But why didn’t you listen? She came all this way to warn you, and you didn’t even give her a hearing?’ asked Tariq incredulously. ‘How could you be so careless?’
‘I told you I didn’t understand. And I was in a hurry to finish the report, which, incidentally, you should have done. So I told her that every woman in the village knew she could come to me. And I would help. Of course I would.You know that.’
‘So you failed to help the one person who needed your help the most.’ Tariq’s face was bleak.
‘Are you blaming me for her disappearance?’ Fareeda stared at her husband in astonishment. ‘I made a mistake, but it was an accident. I didn’t do it deliberately. You know how fond I was – am – of the girl.’
‘I know, I know, I’m sorry,’ said Tariq. He made a small, impotent gesture. ‘I’m not blaming you. Kaneez?’ he asked, switching to Punjabi. ‘Who did you say was the father of Rani’s child?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kaneez mumbled into her shawl.
‘This is no time for prudishness,’ said Tariq. ‘If we are to find the girl, we must know everything. She may have run away with him.’
‘I’ve told you, I don’t know who he was,’ repeated Kaneez. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. I asked, but she wouldn’t say.’
‘But if this cad has already left the village, how would she run away with him?’ asked Fareeda. ‘Unless he came back to fetch her?’
Tariq shook his head. ‘Even if he’d thought of marrying her, I think, once his family found out, they’d ensure it wouldn’t happen. Assuming the story is true, he’s probably been bundled off somewhere distant. I don’t think he’d come back to fetch her. If he’d had that sort of nerve, he would’ve married her in the first place. I was asking because I thought his family might be able to throw some light on her disappearance.’
‘Still, I wonder who it was?’ mused Fareeda. ‘Kaneez, have you any ideas?’
‘I never imagined she could do such a thing,’ sobbed Kaneez.
‘It could have been anyone,’ said Tariq. ‘From Rani’s account, it sounds as if he’s young. I suspect he is also relatively well off. Or so it seems from the way his people drove her off. We could ask around. Her school friends or gir
ls from the village may know something. Maybe she had confided in someone, or perhaps they’d been seen together. Someone’s sure to know something. I can’t believe she told no one.’
‘No, please, please,’ Kaneez moaned. ‘I don’t want it coming out. The girl will be ruined. We will be shamed. Have pity on me.’
‘But I thought you’d already asked around?’
‘I have, but I haven’t told them that Rani’s been missing for two days,’ mumbled Kaneez. ‘All I said was that she was late for some work I wanted her to do and, if they saw her, could they ask her to come home quickly. All of today I’ve been here, waiting for you. They think she’s with me. Her reputation is all she’s got. Once that goes, she may as well be dead.’
‘How can you say that?’ burst out Fareeda. ‘The girl may be in danger, and all you can think of is her reputation?’
‘Perhaps reputations don’t matter to rich people. But that’s all poor people think of,’ Kaneez muttered.
‘I know. I know. We’ll be as discreet as we can,’ promised Tariq. ‘No one need know her condition. But we have to tell the police and start a proper search. With any luck, she may be at a friend’s, someone you’ve overlooked, but we can’t take any chances. You say she’s been gone for two days. You’ve had no news of her. None of the people you’ve asked have seen her. A girl can’t evaporate like mist without …’ Tariq halted.
‘Without what?’ questioned Kaneez.
‘Nothing. Have you informed my mother?’
‘I haven’t. At first I didn’t think it was anything serious. I thought Rani was sulking somewhere. It was only after the next morning, when she hadn’t returned, that I started getting worried. Then I did what I could. Asked the neighbours, Fatima …’
‘But you say she doesn’t know.’
‘No.’ Kaneez’s eyes welled up again. ‘I don’t know what to tell her. Also, I’m afraid of what Mashooq will do if he finds out.’
‘You will have to tell Fatima. She has to know.’
‘Please, please, find Rani first,’ Kaneez beseeched Tariq. ‘Find her, help me, help us all. Please, I beg of you. I can’t face Fatima.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ He put an arm around the old woman.