Until We Meet Again in Jannah

by Laki Khan

  ‘Saira, you must understand I never wanted any of this, but they just don’t get it,’ he said with a look of disgust on his face.

  ‘Who are you blaming? You’re a grown man, and you have made this decision consciously,’ I told him.

  ‘That’s just it, I’m not a man, and they will continue making me remarry until I prove that I am,’ he said facetiously. This confused me further, and I continued to question him until he gave me the answers I demanded; but I was unable to bear the truth. He revealed that he was infertile, and that Amma was in denial of this even though it had been investigated and medically diagnosed. Amma remarried him a second and a third time in her attempt to prove these findings to be incorrect – and to conceal the truth and appease their ever-questioning judgemental relatives. She believed that this truth would bring shame and dishonour to the family and lower their status drastically within the community. ‘She will continue doing this to me for as long as she can,’ he said with repulsion. I sat speechless, feeling numb and sad for both me and Hamid. I had held him responsible for my plight, when his had been much worse. Everything now began to make sense: this house, Amma and her behaviour, the luncheons and the relatives. Even Hamid’s behaviour towards me, I figured, was his way of trying to protect me from this reality. ‘I’m deeply sorry, Saira,’ he said with sadness.

  ‘Hamid, where are your other wives?’ I asked. He looked away in disgust, so I repeated my question.

  ‘Saira, Amma made everyone believe that they were infertile and so they were punished by stoning,’ he said, defeated, and I gasped in utter devastation. I could not help but cry out at the brutality of these people.

  ‘Hamid, you must tell everyone the truth – you can’t continue living in this way, this is no life,’ I said as he turned away. ‘Hamid,’ I shouted, now standing tall right behind him, but he just stood still and said nothing, which only intensified my frustration further. ‘Hamid,’ I shouted a second time, shaking his arm vigorously.

  He turned, wide eyed with rage, and looked at me intently. ‘Whether you like it or not, there is nothing that can be done, so it is better that you accept things for what they are and carry on the way that you have been,’ he shouted back.

  ‘No, I won’t, I will go and tell everyone the truth right away,’ I said and headed for the door. He grabbed my arm from behind and violently swung me around to face him, slamming the door shut. ‘You’re hurting me, Hamid, let me go,’ I protested as his grip on my arm tightened with a strength that was difficult to break away from. ‘I won’t live like this,’ I yelled; he continued holding my wrist so tightly it began to sting.

  ‘What will you do? You can shout and scream as much as you like. You are my wife and nobody will come to your rescue here,’ he warned, red-eyed with rage.

  ‘Argh, Hamid you’re hurting me,’ I pleaded. He yanked me closer to him and looked me in the eye with fury as I squealed in pain, then threw me to the floor with a thud that echoed so loud my ears hurt. ‘What kind of a monster are you?’ I cried out.

  ‘I am the one that you married,’ he screamed into my face, ‘and I can do a lot more, so don’t provoke me, take this as a warning,’ he shouted, pointing into my face as I sat sprawled across the floor grimacing in pain.

  ‘You think you will get away with this? I am leaving right now.’ I stood up, heading towards the door. He grabbed my arm a second time, cutting into the same wound and I shrieked in agony. This time he threw me as far as he could across the room where I landed on the dresser.

  ‘Don’t you dare ever try to leave this house. Even if you do, Amma will find you, and the consequences… well, you can imagine, can’t you? You’re an intelligent woman, so I suggest you continue the way that you have been,’ he shouted at the top of his voice and left the room, slamming the door behind. I cried out in pain, struggling to even breathe. I could barely move my wounded body, as I sat in darkness condemned by betrayal and deceit. This was the real Hamid, the man I had married and would have to endure for the rest of my life.

  I woke the next morning flinching at the very thought of Hamid, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his empty pillow. My arm was red and bruised, as was my leg, making it difficult to move. I’d heard the stories well enough to know that this was something that was considered to be an act of love. A man who is at the peak of his love for his wife often expresses this love by beating her. Not only was it something to be proud of, it was something that was passed on through ancestors and family traditions. Only my father rejected this notion and the people who practised it. Little did I know it still existed and that I would become its victim.

  I managed to make my way downstairs and into the kitchen; the sun was already up and I knew Amma would be, too. In anticipation I began preparing the tea, ensuring my sleeves were rolled down to my wrist. Kamla walked into the kitchen and greeted me. ‘Saira,’ she said, at which I flinched. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Why do you look so worried?’ She was standing right next to me.

  ‘It’s nothing, Kamla, I am just a little tired,’ I snapped. Kamla continued to stare at me with a knowing look, as if to say that she knew this was history repeating itself. I wanted to cry and tell her everything, only I knew this cold reality was not one that I could escape.

  ‘How long will I have to wait for a cup of tea this morning? All you two do is eat and sleep and walk around like princesses. You’re useless, the pair of you,’ shouted Amma upon entering the kitchen. In a state of panic I moved away from Kamla and began to pour tea frantically, as she served the breakfast snacks. ‘When your highness is ready,’ Amma sneered in return, leaving the kitchen with the tray of tea and snacks. I sat near the stove, dejected, almost in tears as I rolled up my sleeves to begin rinsing the pots for lunch preparation.

  ‘Saira,’ Kamla gasped, pointing down at my arms as she noticed the red bruising.

  ‘Kamla, it’s nothing.’ I flinched in fear and immediately put my arms behind me. She brought both my hands forward and touched the red bruises as I looked into her eyes, which must have told her everything.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ she asked, and we both cried together.

  ‘Yes, it does, a lot,’ I admitted as she massaged my arm gently.

  ‘Did he do that?’ she asked, and I nodded in between muted cries of fear.

  Kamla took it upon herself to take care of me, in an attempt to mend my heart which had been shattered into a thousand pieces. She massaged oil onto my bruises, prepared lunch and even swept, cleaned and washed, allowing me to recover from the barbarity of the previous night. When Amma had taken herself upstairs for her afternoon nap, Kamla sat with me near the stove and confessed that she had observed the same bruising on Hamid’s previous wives. Sometimes they appeared as redness on their arms, cheeks and even forehead; it seemed Hamid was no angel in all of this. The only difference was that those women had lived in complete isolation and fear of the consequences and of what society would say.

  ‘Saira, I warned you, this is how these people are. You must remain quiet or this will happen to you time and time again.’ Kamla tried to pacify me.

  ‘Kamla, this is injustice, they can’t get away with this,’ I explained to her.

  ‘Saira, we are women, this is how it is for us. Even if you try to leave, they will find you and bring you back here,’ she stated prior to walking out of the kitchen. Those words became the deciding factor; the words that made me realise that this is not how it is for us. The words that determined that one day I would leave, never to return. Although I was hurt and scared, I decided I would not succumb to this injustice; if not today then tomorrow I would find a way, no matter what it took. I continued sitting on the coolness of the muddy ground, thinking of my mother who would be devastated to learn my plight. My bruised leg made it difficult to move around the house and I needed to go upstairs and face Hamid; I knew he would have returned at daybreak. I felt scared and frail, although internally strong as my father had taught me to be. I knew I needed to p
rove to Hamid that I would not live in fear of him; although my fear was overwhelming.

  Slowly I crept upstairs and into the room and as predicted Hamid lay fast asleep. Quietly I grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the door just as Hamid sat up, making me flinch and tremble at the very thought of him coming close to me. ‘Saira,’ he called out, much to my surprise, as I stood still as a statue, barely breathing, with my back turned towards him. Within a few seconds he was standing directly in front of me caressing my frightened face; my heart skipped a beat. I immediately took a step back, moving away from him, but he came closer as I continued moving backwards in desperate search of safety and stumbled, nearly falling. Hamid grabbed me by the hand. He held my face as I struggled to breathe and caressed my hair. ‘Saira, you look terrified,’ he sneered. My entire body struggled for air as I stood, fearful. ‘Look, don’t be afraid,’ he continued as I gasped for air and tried to move away from him. But he followed and was in my face again. ‘Saira, I apologise for yesterday. However, as your husband I do have some rights over you. I am allowed to touch you now and again,’ he said, laughing and touching my cold cheekbones. I was repulsed by the feel of his hand on my skin; he had violated me like no other, and the sight of him revolted me.

  I somehow managed to stay composed and said nothing; this was how I needed to remain until I had devised an escape plan. ‘Please don’t be frightened of me. As long as there is never a repeat of yesterday then this lovely pattern on your arm will never reappear,’ he said happily, touching the redness of my bruises. I moved away at once taking deep breaths. ‘We just need to find a way to live together amicably. I am sure we can teach one another to do that right – after all, we are teachers,’ he continued. I maintained my closed posture and said nothing.

  Much to my relief, dusk was taking its course across the bright skies, and Hamid left for his nightly adventures. Immediately I breathed out a sigh of relief and sprawled out across the floor, crying out in dismay. The only person who was able to console me was someplace far away and out of reach. I missed my mother terribly and ached to feel the warmth of her hand once again.

  ‘Saira, Saira, where are you? You wretched woman, Saira,’ I heard Amma shout out in annoyance at the top of her lungs in a high-pitched voice. At once I wiped my face clean and made my way back downstairs. Amma stood tall and angry under the small kitchen doorframe and I stood behind her, timid and fragile.

  ‘I’m sorry, Amma, I couldn’t hear you,’ I told her in a quiet voice.

  ‘You couldn’t hear me, what were you doing, sleeping? What happened to the oil?’ she continued to shout. I stood still, diminished by her obscene behaviour towards me. ‘What did you do with the oil? How many times have I told you to only use a few spoonfuls at a time, and now it’s finished. Will your mother pay for it? Do you know how expensive it is to manage this house?’ she demanded. To hear my mother’s name from her in this manner enraged me, and Kamla nudged my shoulder reminding me to stay quiet. I clenched my hands and closed my eyes in surrender. Amma continued to mutter a few more obscene words and then walked off with the lantern she was holding. Electrical power cuts were very common in the villages; it seemed Amma needed some oil to fill the lantern, even though I had reminded her a few days earlier that we were down to the last few drops.

  That night I cried uncontrollably as Kamla sat close, consoling me as best she could by constantly reminding me to say nothing in retaliation. I spent the next few days mostly in sullen submission, trying my best to keep out of Hamid’s way and attending to Amma as she required. All the while I felt detached, as if I had become a bystander watching this oppression. Although my body was weak, my mind was strong and I had decided I would not stand by. I would retaliate, and I would leave at the earliest opportunity. My days were spent with Kamla who gave me much love and care, and my nights were spent thinking of my mother, father and Sumayah.

  I gradually adapted to avoiding Hamid almost like the plague, and would leave the room at sunrise just as he would enter. One morning he caught me off guard when he returned just before I was able to leave. ‘Saira, what a lovely surprise,’ he said, taking me by the hand. I squirmed, loosening the grip of his hand upon mine and managed to set myself free. ‘You’re doing very well, I have taught you well.’ He laughed as I left the room, breathing heavily. I despised the sight of him and this house. Quickly I composed myself and collected the firewood from the back courtyard; the scarlet sky reminded me of my home. Kamla joined me as we began to brew tea and prepare breakfast in preparation for Amma to descend. Just like every day, together we prepared snacks of Amma’s choice and poured piping hot tea into two small cups and waited for her.

  The early morning sunshine was now beating down, but surprisingly, there was no sign of Amma, which was extremely unusual. ‘Kamla, where is Amma today?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know, Saira, she is usually up and about by now,’ she replied. My father-in-law had been visiting relatives in another village and would be away a few more days, which left me pondering as to why Amma had not been for her breakfast. She was not one to go without food, especially breakfast. After much deliberation, Kamla and I decided to go up to Amma’s room to enquire.

  Kamla knocked timidly. ‘Amma, Amma, are you there?’ she called out. ‘Amma are you there?’ She knocked again as we waited. ‘Amma,’ she called out a third time.

  ‘What is it?’ Amma’s angry voice came through the door.

  Kamla and I entered the room to discover Amma lying in the dark holding her head in her hands. ‘Amma, we were worried… as you didn’t come downstairs for your breakfast. Is everything all right?’ Kamla asked hesitantly.

  At once Amma stood up. ‘How can it be all right when I have to look at you both? Have you come to check if I were dead?’ she said scornfully, screwing up her face as she looked at us.

  ‘No, Amma, we were worried about you,’ Kamla explained.

  Amma frowned and replied, ‘Looking at you both is making it worse.’ And she lay back down again holding her head, cursing us and then herself, it seemed.

  ‘Amma, what’s the matter?’ I enquired politely.

  ‘Can’t you see what the matter is? My head is going to explode and on top of that I have you two wretches to look at,’ she shouted. I had heard that Amma suffered terrible migraines, which lasted for days at a time, but this was the first one I had witnessed.

  ‘Can we get you anything?’ Kamla asked.

  ‘How about you bring me breakfast here – the pair of you are good for nothing.’ Amma scowled.

  We placed her breakfast in her room, allowing her some time to recover. ‘She is always like this when she has a migraine,’ Kamla stated upon our return to the kitchen, as if to pacify me more than anything, although I knew there was no excuse for her behaviour – or Hamid’s for that matter. I said nothing and smiled at Kamla for her kind efforts to maintain my sanity. There was hardly any housework that day, as Hamid was sleeping and Amma was left to rest. It was peaceful sitting with Kamla as she shared stories with me of her upbringing. She had no parents and was raised by a maternal aunt who could no longer support her due to financial constraints; therefore, she was handed over to Hamid’s family as a maid. This was the devastating plight of so many other young girls who had no one apart from keepers such as these. I was fortunate to have had such wonderful parents who gave me the life I had lived; only today they would be devastated to see me this dejected. I only noticed the sky become the grey of dusk when I heard Hamid leave; my heart skipped a beat and then returned to normal.

  ‘Kamla, it’s almost night and Amma hasn’t left her room yet,’ I said to her.

  ‘Shall we go and check on her?’ she asked. Together we went up to her room once again. ‘Amma, how are you feeling?’ Kamla asked, entering the room as I followed behind.

  ‘You leave me for dead the entire day, and now you’re asking.’ She frowned.

  ‘Are you feeling better, Amma,’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t
just stand there – go and get my balm,’ she shouted.

  I stood staring at her, unsure of what exactly she was asking for, until Kamla said, ‘Sure, Amma, I will just get it for you.’ I followed Kamla into another room where she picked out a small pot from a medicine cabinet. ‘Oh no, what will we do now? She will not allow us to get away with this,’ she cried out.

  I panicked. ‘What’s wrong, Kamla?’

  ‘Saira, the balm is finished and it’s the only thing that helps with her migraines. What will we do now?’ she continued anxiously.

  ‘Don’t worry, we can just go and collect some more,’ I reassured her.

  ‘No, Saira, there is nobody around to collect it. She will be hysterical,’ Kamla cried.

  I tried to pacify her. ‘We will go and explain to Amma.’ Panic stricken, we returned to Amma’s room. The dryness of my throat overtook me and I couldn’t speak.

  ‘Well, did you get the balm? Do you want to kill me with this migraine?’ she demanded. We both stared at her silently. Kamla had been correct that Amma would be hysterical.

  ‘Amma, the balm… it’s, it’s, it’s…’ Kamla stuttered.

  ‘It’s what? Get on with it.’ She scowled.

  ‘Amma, the balm is finished,’ I told her in a strained voice.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there and look at me – go and collect some more from the doctor’s hut. Do you want to kill me with this migraine today?’ she shouted.

  ‘We will do that right away, Amma,’ said Kamla and grabbed my hand, swiftly pulling me downstairs as quickly as she could move. ‘Saira, we get to go out,’ Kamla screeched.

  ‘Are you sure the both of us should go?’ I said.

  ‘Saira, we will never have this opportunity again. Come on, let’s breathe the open village air and nobody will see us because it’s dark,’ she said, tempting me all the more. Leaving this house for a short while sounded just like the relief I needed right now. Kamla wrapped a large shawl around her and then handed me one. I smiled, placing the shawl over my head and upper body: the perfect garment to conceal our identities, it seemed. Although I was hesitant, the thought of being out in the open village air enthralled me and I followed Kamla’s lead almost in exhilaration. The doctor’s hut was a tiny mud house situated near the end of the local bazaar near the large bamboo bridge. It was extremely popular amongst the villagers. Kamla and I walked the long distance as I revelled in being out in the open air after such a long time. There were many people who I did not recognise, but it reminded me of my village, my home.