by Moni Mohsin
‘No, darling, I don’t think so,’ Fareeda said softly. ‘But tell me, does Dadi also know about Rani? Her wedding, I mean?’
‘No. Rani only told me and made me promise on everyone’s life that I wouldn’t tell anyone. Not you, not Bua, not Sara, not anyone,’ sobbed Laila. ‘I crossed my heart and hoped to die. So I couldn’t tell. Not ever. But now I’ve broken my promise and we’ll all die.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ve only broken it for her safety. Not for anything else, so it doesn’t count.’ Fareeda patted her hand.
Suddenly, Laila remembered that Mashooq also knew about Rani’s wedding. Rani had told him. He didn’t know the name of the man either, but he did know when she was getting married, except that he’d forgotten the exact date. Laila wondered whether she should mention it to her mother. She peeped at Fareeda from under her lashes. Her mother’s lips were set in a straight line, and her jaw was clenched. Perhaps she’d better not mention Mashooq. Besides, Fareeda hadn’t asked her if anyone else knew. All she’d asked was whether her grandmother knew – a question she had answered truthfully.
‘See, Mrs Azeem? Bua didn’t know.’ Sister Clementine couldn’t keep the triumph out of her voice. ‘She wasn’t deceiving you. She herself didn’t know.’
‘But Bua knew,’ Laila explained. ‘She told me that Rani had been a naughty girl. She said Rani had broken a jug in Dadi’s house and told no one. That’s why she had come here to Sister Clementine to ask for forgiveness in the church.’
Fareeda and the nun exchanged a look. Fareeda rose from the table. She smoothed down her shirt and beckoned to the girls. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you, Sister. Thank you for all your help.’
‘No trouble, Mrs Azeem,’ said Sister Clementine, relieved that her interrogation was over. ‘Oh, look at me.’ She slapped her forehead. ‘I haven’t even offered you a cup of tea. What a junglee you must think me!’
‘Please don’t worry,’ Fareeda assured her. ‘We’ll come again. Or better still, you must come and see us, when all this has blown over. I’m sorry I was so short with you that day. You must allow me to make amends.’
‘Oh, surely, surely. But let me know what happened to the girl, yes? I’ll be waiting and praying.’
‘You do that, Sister. Pray for her.’ Fareeda touched the nun’s shoulder lightly.
‘One last thing.’ Sister Clementine placed a restraining hand over Fareeda’s. ‘They are saying there’s going to be a war with India. Hundred per cent. Is that true? If so, how will I go home?’
‘I don’t know, Sister. All I can say is, pray. Pray for our countries, pray for yourself and pray for Rani. Pray for everyone’s safe homecoming.’
‘Especially Rani’s,’ added Sara meaningfully.
‘Yes, but you are rich and important.’ Sister Clementine clutched at Fareeda’s hand. ‘Please help me get home. If anyone can do it, you can.’
A refusal was on the tip of Fareeda’s tongue, but when she saw the longing in Sister Clementine’s face, she averted her eyes.
‘Er, we’ll see, Sister. We’ll see.’
‘That means, yes. No?’ Sister Clementine’s eyes sought Fareeda’s.
‘As I said, Sister, we’ll see.’ Fareeda removed her hand from the nun’s grasp.
Fareeda was preoccupied on the way home. She seemed unaware that the girls were finding it difficult to match her pace. Trotting by her side, Laila asked, ‘It wasn’t the jug, was it?’
‘What?’ Fareeda asked absently.
‘Rani didn’t come to the church for the broken jug, did she? She wouldn’t have been so upset just over a jug. She came for something else. What was it?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Why did she come?’ Laila was running now, as she increased her pace to match her mother’s.
‘I’ll tell you later.’ Fareeda did not look at her daughter.
‘Please, Ammi.’
‘I said “later”.’ Fareeda sounded annoyed.
‘Nobody tells me anything.’ Laila gave up trying to keep up with her mother and fell back with Sara. Her head was flooded with images from the past few days – Rani bedraggled and desperate, banging at the church door; Bua’s frigid disapproval in Kaneez’s quarter; Sister Clementine following Fazal into the house, looking back at Bua over her shoulder; Rani embroidering purple roses; Mashooq peering over the hedge; Kaneez howling in the night; Rani framed in a doorway with her finger pressed to her lips.
She knew there was a mystery there. If she were a good detective, she would be able to solve it. George had gone missing once in Five Fall into Adventure, and Dick, Anne and Julian had found her. But there were three of them and she was only one. With Rani gone, she wasn’t even the Terrific Two, but just Laila Azeem, eight and a half, Class 4B, Convent of the Blessed Virgin, Lahore, Pakistan.
Sara saw that her sister’s shoulders were hunched and that her neck drooped as if it were too fragile for the weight of her head. Sara knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Fareeda’s frigid disapproval. Their mother seldom raised her voice at them, but she had a way of looking disappointed, let down even, that was designed to make the girls feel rotten about themselves. Given the choice, they’d much rather have a scolding than this silent censure. But they were never given the choice. Sara put an arm round Laila and squeezed her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault,’ she whispered. ‘I know what it feels like to have Ammi cross with you. But Rani will turn up.’
Laila gave her a grateful look.
‘Thanks. Do you know why Rani came to Sister Clementine?’
Sara shrugged. ‘Nope. Something shameful to do with marriage, maybe. But one thing I do know, Aba will find her, no matter what.’
Laila was less confident of Tariq’s ability to locate Rani. So far, he seemed as clueless as anyone else. She hoped Sara was right.
16
Tariq was about to climb into the car when his daughters and wife reached home. The girls dashed to their father, demanding to know where he was going.
‘To Kalanpur.’
‘To look for Rani?’ they chorused. ‘Can we come too?’
‘Not today.’
‘But I haven’t even seen Dadi yet,’ Sara complained.
‘I’ll take you tomorrow. I promise. Now run along. I’m getting late.’
‘Any news? Any luck with the police?’ asked Fareeda, once the girls were out of earshot.
‘None. They haven’t heard of a girl who answers Rani’s description. But I’ve reported it to all three police stations – here, Colewallah, as well as Hisar. The local inspector – decent chap by the name of Feroze – said he’d check personally in Sawan, Bridgebad and other villages across the canal. And I called the colonel in Colewallah. Since he has all those soldiers at his disposal, I thought he might turn up something that the police may well miss.’
‘I hope he was civil?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Tariq grimaced. ‘Very businesslike and to the point. Thankfully, he didn’t probe too much. What about you? Learnt anything useful?’
‘Nothing about Rani’s whereabouts. Anything specific you want to chase up in Kalanpur?’
‘A couple of things. One is to see my mother and talk it over with her. Then to check whether Kaneez has really alerted anyone or if she’s still trying to keep it quiet. I also want to make enquiries in the neighbouring villages. Run some basic checks and start a proper search. I’ll see if I can lay my hands on a photograph of Rani for a newspaper or television ad – should things come to that.’ Tariq lowered himself into the seat beside Barkat. ‘What’s your plan for the afternoon?’
‘I have some unfinished business with Bua, and then I’m going to question all the servants and also call a couple of busybodies from the village – perhaps that awful mullah as well – and see if anyone knows anything.’
‘Do remember Kaneez’s sensitivities, won’t you?’
‘I won’t broadcast Rani’s condition, if that’s what you mean,’ said Fare
eda stiffly.
After lunch, Fareeda spent a long time closeted in the dining room with Bua. The girls were sent out into the garden, where they pondered on what was transpiring indoors.
‘I hope Bua won’t be cross with me,’ said Laila. She sat cross-legged on the grass, watching Sara stand shakily on her swing.
‘Don’t worry, she won’t. I’ll tell her that it was Sister Clementine and not you who ratted on her,’ Sara replied in her best elder sister voice.
‘Thanks, but still … I hope Ammi’s not going to scold her too much.’
‘Bua will be OK.’
But Bua did not feel OK as she stood on wobbly legs facing her enraged employer. Fareeda sat at the head of the polished dining table, her reflection in it clear as a mirror. It seemed to Bua as if she was under attack from two Fareedas.
‘You work for me. Do you understand?’ Fareeda had not raised her voice, but it was sharp as a scythe. Her words came hissing and whistling at Bua across the length of the table like flung plates. ‘Your first loyalty is to me. Anything like this happens, you come to me. You don’t plot and plan behind my back.’
‘I didn’t plot …’ Bua’s words were cut off by another barrage from Fareeda.
‘Is this how you repay my trust?’ The veins in Fareeda’s neck were taut. ‘By taking matters in your inept hands, by keeping secrets from me, by sending emissaries to me? Who do you think you are?’
‘I was afraid you would be angry,’ Bua wailed. ‘I wasn’t to know the girl was going to disappear. If I’d known, I would have told you, I would have told her grandmother, I would even have told the Sahib. But how was I to know?’
‘You’ve made me look like a fool in front of my mother-in-law,’ said Fareeda. ‘She’ll find out the girl came here, pregnant, frightened and desperate for help, and we let her slip away. And why? Because a stupid ayah decided to play stupid games.’
‘Sister Clementine tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t …’
‘What is Sister Clementine to me? Why should I listen to her? If you’d had the sense to come to me yourself, the girl would be sitting safely at home. No one would have known a thing. Now, thanks to you, the news is all over the district, and we don’t know what’s happened to her – where she is, who’s got her, whether she’s alive or dead even. Who will take the blame if we can’t find her, Bua?’
‘Oh, no, no, don’t say that,’ Bua snivelled. ‘Sahib will find her. She’ll be all right. You’ll see.’
‘I’ve always trusted you. It hurts and angers me to think that you did not trust me.’
‘I did, I do, I promise. Forgive me. I made a mistake.’ Bua held out her hands to Fareeda, palms pressed together, begging forgiveness. ‘You can’t doubt my loyalty. I’ve loved the girls like my own. One is my heart, the other my liver. Please don’t say you don’t trust me.’
‘Go. Go to the girls.’ Fareeda made a weary gesture dismissing Bua. ‘If you hear anything about Rani now, you are to come to me immediately. Is that clear?’
When Bua reached the girls in the garden, her eyes were swollen and puffy. In mute sympathy, the girls went up to her and put their arms around her.
‘Laila didn’t tell Ammi about Rani coming to the church, Bua,’ said Sara. ‘Sister Clementine did.’
Bua received the news in silence.
‘I told Ammi that it was I who wanted to go to the church, to see the inside and hear the piano. That it wasn’t your fault that I was there that Sunday,’ added Laila. ‘I’m sorry if Ammi was cross with you. She was cross with me too.’
‘Very cross,’ confirmed Sara. ‘But it is Ammi’s fault too that Rani’s missing. If she’d listened to Sister Clementine, none of this would have happened.’ Though Sara did not know exactly what Sister Clementine had come to tell Fareeda, she had pieced together enough to guess that her mother’s refusal to listen to the nun had made things worse.
Bua pulled the girls to her and kissed their foreheads. ‘May Jesus bless you. You are good girls. Feeling for your old, wronged ayah. Come, let’s go to the kitchen. Your mother is busy in the house. Doesn’t want any noise.’
In the kitchen, Rehmat sat cross-legged in his swivel chair, pulling on a cigarette. Fazal was on the bench. When the girls entered with Bua, Fazal vacated the bench for them and pulled up another chair for himself. Both men noticed Bua’s puffy face but did not comment. The kitchen smelt of warm milk. Placing the hookah before Bua, Rehmat went over to the hearth. He returned with three thick pottery mugs full of steaming tea.
‘Here, have it with biscuits.’ He proffered an old Ovaltine tin to the girls. ‘Dip them in and nibble the soft bits.’
‘Aren’t you going to have some tea also?’ asked Laila.
‘We’ve had.’ Fazal held up his empty mug. ‘Strange business this, the girl disappearing like a wisp of smoke, no, Rehmat?’
Rehmat nodded. ‘But funny things happen to young girls.’
‘What funny things?’ asked Sara.
‘Some get possessed by jinns, others by evil spirits. Maybe she’s run off with a jinn. When Bibi asked me today if I knew anything, I told her as much.’
‘What did she say?’ asked Fazal.
‘She told me not to talk rot.’ The cook sniffed. ‘But the Others don’t know about jinns. Just because they don’t see them, they think they don’t exist.’
Fazal chuckled. ‘Be thankful she didn’t say worse. When she questioned me, I said even my guardian angels had no idea. That’s the truth. How should we know what’s happened to her? We’re not responsible for the girl’s safety. Ask Kaneez, she ought to know. This Kaneez, though, what a wretch she is. The minute I saw her face yesterday, I knew it was bad news. First her damned son-in-law comes and makes trouble, and then she howls the place down like a cat whose kittens have drowned. Do you know,’ he said, addressing himself to Bua, ‘until the Others’ arrival, she just sat on the front doorstep weeping for three hours? Not one word could we get out of her, except, “Hai, my kismet, my kismet.”
‘We asked her to come in, but she wouldn’t budge. Did she want water? No reply. Stubborn as a mule she is. We had to call Amanat and lift her bodily and bring her in, otherwise she would have frozen by the time all of you came. And the Others would have blamed us. Missing girl is missing girl, but we would have been in jail for Kaneez’s murder. So proud she is, as if she were an ambassador’s secretary. Won’t talk to you straight. Serves her right if the girl’s run off with someone.’ Fazal snorted.
‘Touch your ears, Fazal, and beg God’s forgiveness,’ shouted Bua, slamming down her mug. ‘May no evil enter a house with young girls. You have daughters of your own.’
‘And you shouldn’t make fun of Kaneez either.’ Sara rose to the maid’s defence.
‘Nor of Rani,’ added Laila.
‘He’s not making fun of them,’ placated Rehmat. ‘We are simply trying to understand what happened. Bua, do you know? When Bibi asked, I blamed the jinns because I didn’t know what else to say. It’s not nice to talk about unmarried girls, but I wonder if there was a young man involved?’ Rehmat gave Bua a sidelong look.
‘Shame on you for even suggesting!’ Bua glared at the cook. ‘Have you ever heard any such thing about Kaneez or, for that matter, Fatima, that you feel you can talk such dirty talk about Rani? And she living in the shadow of Sardar Begum’s house! You think young men can come and go as they like there? You think it’s a hotel, or, or … worse?’
‘Allah forbid, Bua. Whoever suggested such a thing?’ Rehmat backtracked hastily.
‘No one, no one,’ added Fazal. ‘No question, Kaneez is stubborn and standoffish, but no one can doubt her character. Fatima also is same. Still, I wonder what happened to Rani? Three whole days she’s been gone now.’
‘Why should you wonder?’ barked Bua. ‘People fall down wells all the time. They get abducted, lose their memories and drift off somewhere, have accidents. But none of this will happen to her. You’ll see. Tariq Sahib will find her. He knows every
thing and everybody in the whole district, no, the whole country. He has the police, the babus, the whole army in his pocket. When Bibi asked me, that’s what I said. “Just you wait and see,” I said.’
‘No doubt he’s a man of influence and courage,’ agreed Rehmat. ‘He should have been a general in Dhaka. Then we would have seen the Indians run like frightened girls.’
‘I don’t think he likes wars,’ said Sara. ‘He says he doesn’t believe in killing men.’
Fazal spoke. ‘That’s true. That’s his one problem. Too weak to kill. Not like General Latif, in whose house I worked in Rawalpindi. Now he was a soldier all right. Slayed ten fully armed Hindus – bristling with machine-guns, grenades, knives, pistols, even an atom bomb – in the ’65 war, with his bare hands. He used to say to me, “Fazal, you should have been a soldier. With your bearing and physique, you are wasted waiting at tables.” But I replied, “General Sahib, I go straight to heaven for waiting on a man such as you.” ’ Fazal looked around for approbation, but when none came, he sighed and asked, ‘How’s Barkat’s son doing? I don’t like to ask him.’
‘His wife says there’s been no news,’ volunteered Sara, who had already made a quick trip to the servants’ quarters to announce her return. ‘She’s very anxious.’
‘Must be,’ said Rehmat. ‘I heard on the radio that even Yahya Khan can’t get through to General Niazi. The Hindus, blast them, have cut all lines of communication.’
‘Does that mean we’ve lost?’ breathed Laila.
‘The war hasn’t even started yet, Lailu,’ said Rehmat. ‘But General Niazi says if the Indians want Dhaka, they will have to drive their tanks over his chest. He will never surrender.’
‘Spoken like a true soldier, and a true Muslim,’ declared Fazal.
The sky was still streaked with pink when the camouflaged army truck came to a halt on the canal road at six-thirty the next morning. A posse of soldiers sprang out of the tarpaulin-covered back, blowing on their hands and stamping their feet against the biting cold. At the sergeant’s whistle, they quickly fell into a neat column on the road. At his second command, they were off, jogging as one.