Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor (60 page)

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Fahd's family insisted on the wedding being a simple one. Imama had no objection to that; in fact, it was what she herself wanted. What she did not know was that Fahd's family had an ulterior motive in wanting a simple wedding.

The wedding vows were to be taken on the eve of the mehndi. A few hours before the actual nikah ceremony, Fahd's family informed Saeeda Amma that the vows would be taken on the day of the wedding itself. This change in plans did not perturb Saeeda Amma. They had no idea that something was wrong at Fahd's end. The mehndi ceremony itself was not an elaborate event and was attended only by close relatives and neighbors. The dinner prepared for the nikah was enjoyed by those who came for the mehndi. The wedding itself was to be held in Saeeda Amma's house. The groom's family was to arrive at 4.00 p.m. and the rukhsati was to take place at 6:00 p.m. However, an hour before the marriage party was to arrive, a messenger came from the groom's house to inform them that Fahd had been missing for some days and that they regretted the marriage could not take place. Till that afternoon Imama had no clue as to what was happening. The wedding dress had arrived earlier from the groom's house and Imama had changed and was almost ready when Mariam walked into the room. She looked upset. She asked Imama to change back to her usual clothes since there had been a death in Fahd's family and they had asked to postpone the wedding. She did not want to tell Imama that the wedding had in fact been cancelled outright. Having spoken to Imama, Mariam hurried out of the room. Imama changed out of her wedding dress. For a few moments, she accepted Mariam's story but instinctively she knew something was not right. When she came out of her room, a glance at the consternation on the faces of the guests gathered there told her the whole story. She went into Saeeda Amma's room. A large number of people were gathered there. Kulsoom Aunty, Maimoona, Noor ul Ain Apa, other ladies from the neighborhood, Mariam and Saeeda Amma...Mariam was giving a glass of water to Saeeda Amma who looked as if she was on the verge of a collapse. Imama panicked for a moment. Was Saeeda Amma alright? All the ladies in the room had turned to look at her. Maimoona Apa moved swiftly to her side. 'Come Amina. Come outside for a moment,' she said taking Imama by the hand.

'What is wrong with Amma?' Imama brushed Maimoona Apa aside. She sat down next to Saeeda Amma. 'What is wrong with Amma?' she asked Mariam agitatedly.

Mariam did not reply. Saeeda Amma's face was drenched in tears. She looked at Imama with an uncomprehending glance. Then putting the glass aside, she hugged Imama and broke into loud sobs. The room had emptied. Only Dr Sibt-e-Ali's family remained.

'What is the matter Amma? Tell me,' Imama gently urged Saeeda Amma to speak.

'Fahd, without telling his family, has married of his own free will. His family came to tell us that a little while ago. They have called off this whole affair,'

Mariam replied quietly in place of Saeeda Amma.

For a couple of seconds Imama remained immobile...the blood in her veins, her heartbeat, her breath...all stopped for a heartrending moment. 'Was this too fated to happen to me?' she wondered.

'It is alright Amma. Don't cry,' Imama spoke gently, wiping away Saeeda Amma's tears. Her heart had begun to beat again, the blood was coursing through her veins, she could breathe again...only the color had not returned to her pale face. 'Don't worry Amma. It will be alright.'

Imama's words made Saeeda Amma cry even more. 'All this is my fault...all my...'

Imama did not let Saeeda Amma complete her sentence. 'Let it be Amma. It is alright. Please don't worry... why don't you lie down...get some rest...' she was trying her best to console Saeeda Amma.

Saeeda Amma was not to be consoled. 'I can understand how you feel...I feel your pain, my daughter. Forgive me Amina. It is my fault...'

'I am alright Amma; I am fine,' Imama smiled trying to calm Saeeda Amma down.

Still crying Saeeda Amma left the room.

Without saying a word to anyone, Imama too left the room. She went to her own room; all her things were spread out as she had left them. Quietly she began tidying up the room. Any girl in her place would have broken down given the circumstances, but Imama was strangely calm. 'If I can lose Jalal and accept it, why should I let this affect me? I had no emotional or physical attachment to this man,' she said to herself, folding her wedding dress and putting it away. 'What is the worst that can happen to me? People will talk, they will make fun of me; I will avoid them, I will bow my head to avoid their glances. So what is new about that for me?'

Mariam entered the room and began cleaning up too. 'We have called Abbu,' she said.

For the first time Imama got irritated. 'Why? Why bother him. Let him be at peace.'

'This has been such a disaster and you...'

Imama cut her short. 'Mariam, I have had to face so many problems in my life that I have gotten used to hardship. What is this compared to what I have had to undergo? Go console Saeeda Amma. I am alright. And don't bother Abbu unnecessarily; he will be pointlessly upset.'

Mariam looked at Imama calmly putting things away; she felt Imama's behavior was abnormal. Before she could reply, Kulsoom Aunty and Saeeda Amma entered the room. The girls were astonished to see their faces glowing with happiness in contrast to the tears of a few minutes earlier. Before they could react, Kulsoom Aunty began talking about Salar. 'If you have no objection, you could marry Salar.' Imama was stunned. 'Sibt-e-Ali knows him very well,' she continued. 'He is a very nice boy.'

'If Abbu approves then it is alright by me. I have no objections,' Imama replied.

'His friend would like a few words with you first,' Kulsoom Aunty made the strange request.

Though surprised at such an odd demand, Imama made no objection to seeing Furqan.

'Some eight or nine years ago, Salar had married a girl of his own free will,'

Furqan told Imama. 'He is willing to marry you but he says that you should know that he will not divorce his first wife. There are some reasons why the girl does not live with him, yet Salar himself wishes to have her live in his house. Salar wants me to ask you if you have any objection to this. If so, we should end the matter now. I would also like to say that it is highly probable that he may never find his first wife again. For the last eight or nine years she has made no contact with my friend. He has this nebulous hope that they may meet again. Dr Sibt-e-Ali regards you as his daughter; by that token you are my sister. I would advise you to marry Salar as the best way out of this situation. It is very unlikely that Salar will meet that girl again; she does not wish to live with him; she has not made any attempt to get in touch with him in all these years—in any case nine years is a long time.'

Imama had heard Furqan out quietly. 'A second wife...so Imama Has him, this is your destiny,' she thought cynically. 'But if Dr Sibt-e-Ali knowing this has proposed that I marry this man, there must be some good in it. In any case I was willing to marry Jalal and be the second wife,' she reasoned to herself, 'and I loved Jalal. So why should I not be a second wife to a man for whom I have no emotional attachment?'

'I have no objection, 'she said aloud. 'If his wife were ever to return, I would have no objection to their being together. I agree happily to the circumstances.'

Fifteen minutes later she got the first shock when the priest said Salar Sikandar's name. 'Salar Sikandar son of Sikandar Usman...' She heard the priest intone. A shiver ran through her spine...these were not common names; and in that order...it was too much of a coincidence for both names to be associated with another being. Was it possible that Salar was alive?

She felt the world collapsing around her. Had her face not been covered by her bridal veil, her perplexity would have been visible to all. The priest was repeating his words. Imama's mind was in a whirl. 'If he is alive then that would mean I have been married to him all this while...Oh dear God! What is all this? How does Dr Sibt-e-Ali know him?' Questions poured forth with no answers. She heard Saeeda Amma gently nudge her, 'The priest is waiting for your answer; say "yes"'.

'Say "yes" to a man like Salar Sikandar?'

She felt her heart was being squeezed as fear gripped her. What could she say but 'yes' at this moment? In a state of shock and confusion she signed her name to the nikahnamah. 'Oh God! Let there be a miracle. Let this not be the same Salar Sikandar,' she pleaded with God. Everyone had left the room. She was alone with Mariam. Mariam removed the veil off her face and saw her ashen face.

'What's wrong Imama? Are you alright?'

'Mariam, just do me a favor,' Imama did not even know what she was saying.

She grabbed hold of Mariam's hand in agitation. 'I have married him but tell Saeeda Amma that I do not wish for the rukhsati to take place today. Go tell Saeeda Amma that,' she pleaded.

'Why?' Mariam looked at Imama; she could not understand her anxiety.

'Please, don't ask me any questions now; just do as I ask, please. Tell Saeeda Amma not to send me off today.'

Mariam left the room and returned shortly. 'The rukhsati is not taking place today. Salar too does not wish it so,' she informed Imama.

Imama felt some of the panic subside.

'Abbu will be calling you in a while,' Mariam told her.

A little later, when Dr Sibt-e-Ali called, Imama went to the next room to talk on the phone.

Dr Sibt-e-Ali congratulated her on her marriage. 'I had wanted you to marry Salar, but since you were living in Saeeda Amma's house I felt it only proper that her choice be given pre-eminence,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali was saying.

Imama found it difficult to breathe; it was all she could do to not cry. 'I did not, however, know of his previous marriage. Furqan has just informed me of it. It was a marriage of convenience, but I do not know the details—neither do I think it is necessary for me to know the details. After hearing of Salar's previous marriage, I thought, had I known someone better than Salar, then I would have recommended him to you to marry, but I know of no one. Why are you so quiet Amina?' He finally realized that Imama was unnaturally quiet.

'Abbu, when are you coming back?'

'In another week or so.'

'There's a lot that I need to tell you. I have much to talk to you about.'

'Is everything all right?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali felt alarm bells go off.

'I will talk to you when you come back,' Imama spoke with finality. She did not wish to discuss any more over the phone.

That night she performed the ablutions, as usual, before going to bed. Then, instead of retiring, she came and sat down on the steps of the courtyard. There were no guests in the house. Saeeda Amma and she were alone as usual. Exhausted by the day's events, Saeeda Amma had gone to bed early. Imama and the maid had stayed up late cleaning and tidying up after the guests. Because of the wedding, the maid had been staying in the house overnight. It was half past ten in the night before most of the cleaning up had been done and she had sent the maid off to sleep. Imama herself continued with completing the odds and ends left to do.

It was past midnight when she finished her chores. She was exhausted. Crossing the courtyard, she felt a sudden aversion to going into her room and sat down in the verandah. In the soft glow of the lights in the courtyard, she looked at her hands, covered half way up to her elbows in beautiful deep red filigree. Imama had always been fond of henna. Before she left her father's house eight and a half years ago she would often apply henna, not only on festive occasions but whenever she felt like it. But since leaving her own home she had never applied it. Without meaning to she had lost interest in such activities. Now for the first time in eight and a half years, she had joyfully had her hands and feet covered in these beautiful patterns. Wrapping her shawl tightly around herself, she covered her hands and feet with the shawl and pulled it close around her. 'From Asjad to Jalal...from Jalal to Fahd...from Fahd to Salar...one man I rejected, two rejected me...and the fourth, who has become a part of my life...is the worst of them all...Salar Sikander.' She felt a fog envelop her soul; she could imagine him standing before her. The same image—shirt open down to the waist, chains hanging from his neck, hair tied back in a ponytail, the cold arrogant stare, the cynical smile which brought a dimple to his cheek, bands and bracelets dangling from his wrists, those tight jeans—it was as if the world's most beautiful dream had turned into a nightmare. She had not the slightest bit of respect for Salar Sikandar.

'I know I have committed many errors in my life, but I am not such a bad human being that I should be castigated by having a man like you in my life.'

She had said this to Salar on the phone many years ago.

'Perhaps that is why Jalal refused to marry you; good men are meant for good women, not for women like you,' Salar had retorted. She clamped her lips together remembering Salar's unsympathetic attitude.

'Whatever may happen Salar, I will not live with you. It would have been so much better had you died,' she muttered.

She had completely forgotten that there was a time when Salar Sikandar had come to her aid.

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The night Dr Sibt-e-Ali returned from England, Imama was at his house but she did not find an appropriate moment to talk to him. Mariam was still in Lahore and the time passed merrily in small talk.

The next morning too passed much in the same way. Dr Sibt-e-Ali was telling Imama of the gifts he had brought for her and Salar when Mariam piped in,

'Let's call Salar bhai over for iftar,' she said.

Dr Sibt-e-Ali thought that was a good idea and immediately called Salar, extending the invitation. Imama still did not say anything.

In the afternoon as Dr Sibt-e-Ali was leaving for the mosque for prayers, Imama followed him out. 'I need to talk to you, Abbu,' she said softly.

'Right now?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali sounded surprised.

'No, later when you come home from your prayers.'

Dr Sibt-e-Ali watched her intently; then without saying anything he went off to the mosque.