Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor (17 page)

'Then why should you want to marry such a girl? It's better that you find someone else for yourself,' she retorted.

'I don't want you to ruin your life.'

'Ruin my life?' she laughed. 'What life? The life I am living with people who have sold their souls for worldly wealth?'

'Behave yourself! You seem to have forgotten your manners the way you speak so carelessly—saying what you like about anyone,' Asjad rebuked her.

'I cannot respect a person who's leading others astray,' she said curtly.

'At your age, people do become confused about their identity. When you're older, you'll understand whether we're on the right path or the wrong one.' Asjad calmed down and tried to pacify her.

'If you people think I'm in the wrong, then why don't you leave me alone, let me go free? Why am I a prisoner here? If you believe that your faith is true, let me find out for myself...'

'If someone so close is bent on self-destruction, and that too a girl, we can't just leave her to destroy herself. Imama try to understand the sensitivity of this situation—your family and all they have is at stake because of you.'

'Nothing is at stake because of me...even so, why should I care? Why should I go to hell for their beliefs or cast aside my faith for their sake? Asjad, I cannot tread this misguided path with you all—let me go where I choose.' Imama's voice was firm.

'And even if you forced me to marry you, it will be of no use to you: I will not be your wife in the real sense. I will not be faithful to you. I'll escape whenever I get the chance...how long will you imprison me or guard me? And I'll take your children away too—you'll never see them again.' She tried to paint a horrifying picture of their future. 'If I were you, I'd never marry a girl like Imama Hashim: it would be a total loss, the limit of foolishness. You still have the opportunity to refuse—your future is at stake. Why don't you marry a nice girl of your community and live a happy life? Not me—I'll prove to be the worst nightmare. Asjad, just say no to this match; tell Uncle Azam you don't want to marry me. Or go away somewhere and come back when this matter blows over.'

'Stop giving me this silly advice: I'm not going to give you up—never. Nor am I going to pull out of this relationship or run away from home. You're the only one I will marry. Now it's a question of our family's honor and name. If you had any idea of the losses we'll have to face should this wedding be called off, you would not come up with such crazy notions. As far as being a bad wife or running away is concerned, that is a later issue. I know your temperament well—you're not inclined to harass people unnecessarily— least of all me who you love,' Asjad concluded complacently.

'You're mistaken, Asjad, I've never been in love with you and, especially since I accepted Islam, I have severed my relationship with you. You're nowhere in my life now. If I can be a problem for my family, you should know what problems will follow for you and your family—so don't fool yourself. We cannot be together: I cannot be a part of your family.' She paused, and then went on. 'There's a vast gulf between us, Asjad—we're so far apart that I cannot even see you. And I will not bridge this gulf. I'm just not prepared to marry you.'

Asjad's color changed as he watched and heard Imama.

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'Can you do me a favor?'

'What do you think I've been doing all along?' asked Salar.

There was silence at the other end; then she said, 'Can you go to Lahore and meet Jalal?'

Salar closed his eyes momentarily. 'Why?' Imama's voice was low, heavy with tears.

To request him on my behalf—to marry me. If not forever, then temporarily—I want to leave this house and cannot do so without his help. Tell him to just have the nikah finalized.'

'You're in touch with him on the phone, why don't you tell him yourself?' Salar said while munching on potato crisps.

'I did' she replied more tearfully. 'He refused.'

'Very sad,' said Salar. 'So it's a one-sided love affair.'

'No.'

'Then why did he refuse?'

'What's it to you?' She was peeved.

'What is the point of my going all the way to talk to him—you can call him again.'

'But he does not speak to me; he doesn't receive the phone nor will he take any calls at the hospital. He's pointedly avoiding me.'

'Then why are you chasing him? Obviously, he doesn't love you.'

'You can't understand this—just help me out. Go there and tell him about my situation—he can't do this to me.'

'And if he should refuse to entertain me—then?'

'You can still try—at least once. Perhaps, a way can be found out of this mess.'

A smile arose on Salar's lips. He found Imama's predicament amusing. He switched off the phone and thought about her problem as he popped crisps into his mouth. He was getting more deeply involved in Imama's situation—it was the biggest adventure of his life, it seemed: first smuggling the cell phone to Imama, now contacting her boyfriend, Jalal. Imama had told Salar in detail about Jalal's home and the hospital. He was now thinking of what he'd say to Jalal.

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Salar took a good look at the man before him. He was disappointed—an ordinary face and build, and medium height; perhaps he would have looked better without that beard. Salar's good looks, tall frame and athletic physique made him very attractive to the opposite sex, but this person was bereft of such advantages. Salar wondered what it was that had drawn Imama to this man. He thought she was more foolish than he believed.

'I am Jalal Ansar. You wanted to meet me?'

'Salar Sikandar,' Salar extended his hand.

'Sorry, I didn't recognize you.'

'Naturally, we're meeting for the first time.' Salar had come to the hospital, looking for Jalal. With a little help, he found him and was now with him in front of the duty room.

'Can we sit down somewhere and talk?' asked Salar.

'Talk about what?' Jalal looked somewhat concerned.

'About Imama.'

'Who are you?' Jalal's expression changed.

'I'm her friend.' Jalal looked at Salar without a word and they began to walk.

'My car's in the parking lot—let's go there,' suggested Salar. They did not exchange a word till they reached the car.

'I've come from Islamabad,' began Salar. 'Imama wanted me to speak to you.'

'Imama never mentioned you to me,' Jalal said rather oddly. 'Since when do you know her?'

'Almost since childhood...our houses are adjacent. We're very good friends.' Salar didn't know why he made the last statement. Maybe he was enjoying the spectrum of expressions crossing Jalal's face—he had noticed his look of displeasure.

'I've spoken to Imama in detail. I cannot see what's left to talk about after that,' Jalal said in a flat tone.

'Imama wants you to marry her.' Salar's voice was equally expressionless, like a newsreader's.

'I have informed her of my decision.'

'She wants you to review it.'

'That's not possible.'

'She's a prisoner in that house, in custody of her parents, her family. If you cannot commit yourself permanently, she wants you to make a temporary commitment and get her released with help from a bailiff.'

'How can that be when she's being held captive?' queried Jalal and Salar said the nikah could be conducted over the telephone.

'No, I cannot take such a risk—I don't want to get involved in such matters. My parents will never allow this and they are not prepared to accept her anyway.'

Jalal's look was fixed on Salar's ponytail—he disapproved of Salar the way Salar had disapproved of him.

'She's ready to enter a temporary arrangement,' Salar reiterated, 'so that she can leave her home. You can divorce her afterwards, if you wish.'

'I think I've said clearly that I can't help her. Why don't you marry her if it's just a temporary arrangement? After all, you're her friend, aren't you?' Jalal said pointedly. 'If you can come all the way from Islamabad to Lahore to help her, surely you can do this too.'

'She didn't ask me to marry her, so I didn't think of it,' Salar shrugged. 'In any case, she loves you, not me.'

'What's love got to do with a makeshift marriage? You can divorce her later on.' Jalal suggested a solution.

'Thank you, I'll convey your advice to her,' replied Salar seriously.

'And if this is not possible, then tell Imama to find some other way out. In fact, why don't you go to a newspaper office and tell them about her predicament...how her parents are holding her against her will. When the media highlights this issue, her parents will be compelled to set her free, or you can go to the police and procure her release.'

Salar was surprised: Jalal was talking sense—why had Imama not thought of this herself? This was a safer way out.

'Fine, I'll convey this too.'

'Please don't come to me again and also tell Imama that she's not to contact me in any way in the future. As it is, my parents are planning my engagement.' Jalal added this revelation.

'Very well—I'll tell her all that you have said,' replied Salar casually. Jalal said nothing more and stepped out of the car.

If Imama had any hope that Salar would be able to convince Jalal to marry her, it was a great mistake on her part. Salar had no sympathy for Imama nor had he entered this tangle out of any desire to do a good deed; it was just an adventure for him, and Imama marrying Jalal was not part of it. If he had to justify their marriage the only justification he had was that they loved each other, but this was rejected by Jalal. Salar could not cite religious or moral reasons to persuade Jalal because he himself was so distant from the concepts of religion and morality. Above all, why would he get into a lengthy argument for Imama's sake, with someone whom he disliked at first sight?

These thoughts crossed his mind as he drove back from Lahore to Islamabad. It was curiosity that took him to Lahore in the first place—what did this guy Jalal look like? How would he react to Imama's request? He had conveyed her message verbatim and now he was taking back Jalal's response. It was an amusing scenario for Salar. What would Imama's reaction be? She was not going to marry Asjad and Jalal was not ready to marry her; she could not leave home and there was no one else who could come to her aid—so what would she do next? Usually, girls chose to take their lives in such circumstances.

'Oh yes, she'll come to me asking for poison or a revolver. Suicide...very exciting,' he thought, in a perverse fashion, contemplating the possibilities. 'After all, what else can she do?'

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'Will you marry me? By nikah, on the telephone?' A shock hit Salar—he was speechless.

On returning from Lahore, he had repeated Jalal's response to Imama. He thought she would burst into tears and ask him for a weapon to end her life. Instead, she was quiet for a few moments and then sprang the question which left him stunned and silent.

'I need your support just for a few days so that my parents cannot force me to wed Asjad. Then you can get me out of here with a bailiff's help. I will not need you after that and I'll never disclose your name to my parents,' Imama explained.

'OK, I'll do it, but this bailiff business is tricky—there are many legalities involved—hiring a lawyer and...'

Imama interrupted him at the other end. 'You can get your friends to help you—they must be experts in doing such things.'

Salar frowned with annoyance. 'What sort of things?

'These sort of things,' she replied calmly.

'How do you know?'

'Waseem tells me that you don't keep very good company,' blurted Imama and then there was silence. She regretted having said that—it was inappropriate.

'My company is very good—at least, better than Jalal Ansar's.' There was sharp irony in Salar's tone. Imama was quiet. 'Anyway, I'll see what I can do. But you should remember that this is a very risky course of action.'

'I know, but it's possible that my parents may throw me out when they discover that I have married; then there'll be no need of a bailiff. Or they may accept my marriage, in which case, I'll divorce you and marry Jalal.'

Salar shook his head with disbelief—he had never met anyone so stupid. This girl could be crowned the Queen of Folly.

'Anyway, let's see what can be done,' he said and hung up.

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'I want to sign a marriage contract—a nikah.'

Hasan stared at Salar and burst out laughing. 'Is it a new adventure or your last adventure?'

'The last adventure,' Salar replied in a serious tone.

'So you're going to have a wedding?' asked Hasan as he took a bite of the burger.

'Who's having a wedding? I just want to go through a nikah with a girl who needs help—I want to help her.'

Hasan looked at him intently. 'Are you joking?'

'No, not at all. I didn't call you here to joke with you.'

'Then what's this nonsense about a nikah and...helping a girl?' Hasan was annoyed. 'Are you in love or something?'

'My foot! Am I crazy to go falling in love and that too at this age?' Salar scoffed.

'That's what I was wondering...why are you doing this?'

Salar spoke to Hasan in detail about Imama and her problem but he did not tell him that she was Waseem's sister because Hasan knew Waseem quite well. However, Hasan immediately asked about the girl's identity.

Salar took a deep breath. 'She's Waseem's sister.'

'What?' Hasan literally jumped up. 'The one who studies in a medical college in Lahore?' Salar nodded in assent. 'You must be crazy to do such a senseless thing. You'd better tell Waseem about the whole situation.'

'I'm asking for your help, not your advice.' Salar was upset.

'What can I do to help?' Hasan was unsure.

'You arrange for a nikah registrar and some witnesses so that the nikah can be read over the phone,' Salar came to the point.

'How's this going to benefit you?' Hasan wanted to know.

'In no way, but then I'm not doing this for any benefit.'

'Damn it, Salar! Why are you getting into this mess and that too for Waseem's sister...'