The Holy Woman (24 page)

‘Are they though, my dear Habib?’ Shahzada asked curtly. ‘Would
you
like to be the one to tell Zarri Bano when she returns that the man you stopped her from marrying is to become her brother-in-law?’

Disquieted by her words, Habib said nothing. Put like that, he definitely didn’t want to be the one to break the news to Zarri Bano, or even to face her. He had suddenly recalled, all too clearly, his eldest
daughter’s
passionate words:
‘I want to marry Sikander.’

T
HE PREPARATIONS FOR
Ruby’s trousseau were in full swing. The jewellery had been chosen and commissioned from their family jewellers. Three master tailors
in their exclusive boutiques had received orders to
prepare
an array of outfits in various designs, styles and fabrics. Ruby, Shahzada and Fatima made daily
excursions
to the shopping plazas and bazaars to buy items for Ruby’s dowry. Ruby chose while Shahzada and Fatima ordered. Almost like a ritual, every day they left home early in the morning and returned late in the afternoon, exhausted and carrying numerous bags of goods.

Sikander telephoned Ruby often in the evenings following their engagement. With a light spring to her heels, Ruby would sprint to the telephone, when Fatima informed her who it was. Her face often split into a full smile as she chatted to Sikander. Fatima watched her with mixed feelings. On one occasion, Ruby caught the expression on their housekeeper’s face as she turned away from the telephone.

‘Fatima, are you all right?’ Ruby asked, the smile slipping from her face.

‘Yes, my dear. Why do you ask?’

‘Nothing. I … Fatima, you do not approve of me marrying Sikander, do you?’

Fatima stopped in her tracks. A long silence followed, while the older woman debated with herself as to what to say.

‘Ruby, of course I approve! I am very pleased for you. Sikander will make a fine husband.’ She tried not to pay heed to the inner voice saying, ‘
He would have made a finer husband to Zarri Bano.
’ Her heart wept for her princess, Zarri Bano. She would never say
anything
to anybody, not even to Shahzada, who confided almost everything in her. She would mourn for her beloved Zarri Bano alone. The inner voice said so loudly she was almost afraid that Ruby would hear:
‘Sikander should have been Zarri Bano’s husband, not yours!’

It was a weird twist of fate, Sikander marrying the other sister. What sort of a father
was
Habib? she thought disgustedly. He could have rejected the
marriage
proposal if he had wanted to. Preventing one daughter from marrying Sikander, then encouraging another to do so. It wasn’t right in Fatima’s way of thinking – it was immoral!

Sikander telephoned Ruby on the afternoon when Zarri Bano was expected back from India. A momentary pause and tension ensued on the line when Ruby told him that her sister was returning home that night.

‘I see,’ was all he said. In normal circumstances he would have received and welcomed Zarri Bano at the airport, as her future brother-in-law. Because of their past relationship, he wasn’t quite ready to meet her yet. Therefore, he said nothing. Instead he asked what Ruby had brought from the bazaar that day.

‘It is such a foolish thing to do, to buy all these items, Ruby.’ He laughed, a lighter note entering his voice on hearing that she had acquired a silver cutlery set.

‘I know,’ she responded, warming to his laughter. ‘I am well aware that you have everything in your
household
, and yet it has become a custom for parents to give presents to their daughter, from a fridge down to a toothbrush. What about Zarri Bano? She had a
trousseau
and she wasn’t going anywhere.’ Ruby stopped, her cheeks smarting with heat, regretting the words as soon as they were out. Once again she felt the tension at the other end of the line. Was she forever to suffer the pangs of guilt on behalf of Zarri Bano? ‘It isn’t fair!’ she cried to herself.

‘I have to go now, Ruby. My manager, Ali, has come in.
Khudah Hafiz.’
And Sikander abruptly rang off without telling her whether he was going to call the next day.

In his office, Sikander flicked through the accounts of the computer parts he had received from Singapore. His mind, however, was with Zarri Bano. She was due to arrive that afternoon at Karachi Airport. He hadn’t seen her since the ceremony, nor did he harbour any desire to see her. He had had his fill of Zarri Bano. He could never forgive her for what she had done to him. He could not help wondering, however, what her reaction would be to the news of Ruby’s forthcoming marriage. His lips twisted. ‘This is my revenge, Zarri Bano!’ he said bitterly, wishing he could be there when she found out that he was to become her brother-in-law …

Habib and Shahzada went to meet Zarri Bano with their chauffeur at the international airport in Karachi. They saw her coming through the customs in her long black
burqa,
accompanied by Sakina and two other women. The latter were dressed less severely than the two Holy Women.

‘How was Ajmeir Sharif, my daughter?’ Habib began as soon as they settled in their car. Sakina and the other two women had left with their respective families.

‘It was great, Father. There were so many people to see. We actually spent our time in a house next to the
darbar.
The people we lived with were so hospitable. Every day, at that
darbar,
it was like a festival. There were recitations from the Holy Quran, lasting for hours, and offerings of food made in the afternoon and into the night. A lot of people came flocking to the holy
premises seeking advice, moral and religious guidance. I was on the floor for almost eighteen hours a day, only getting up to offer prayers. I was so busy, I just couldn’t get away from there. Women clamoured to get near me. My limbs ache all over.’

‘My poor daughter. You can relax now that you are at home. You can take walks around our village fields and get lots of fresh air. You’ve been on a long journey, and away from home for so many months. We have missed you!’ Shahzada squeezed her daughter’s arm in affection.

‘Do you know, Mother, women came with different desires and hopes, seeking my audience. They had heard that I was a Holy Woman, and therefore they treated me with great reverence. I offered prayers for them all as well as for myself.

‘I tell you, sometimes I cried with them in their need. That in turn made them cry more. I think they appreciated me empathising with their pain and their inner hopes. Many of the women came begging to me to pray to God to provide them with children. Others wanted me to offer prayers for their physical health. They desperately required medical help. I knew that what most of them probably needed was to see their doctors. But it was their belief in their faith, and in us as “go-betweens” between Allah and themselves that made them come to us. Doctors apparently gave them no incentives. Another woman or another man, could have taken advantage of their vulnerability, as I am sure they do and have done. It is so easy for all of this to go to one’s head, to one’s ego – but I was upset by it all.’ She looked at her parents and tried hard to explain.

‘At times I felt as if I was a fraud. For I had no cures or miracles for them, only prayers and my faith.
My reputation was built up to such an extent that they felt I merited special attention and worship. There were some women who kissed, not only my hands but also reached for my feet, Mother. Horrified by their action, I drew my feet away and wanted to shout out to them: “Look, I am a mere woman like you,” but my lips remained sealed; I found I was reluctant to disillusion them and turn them away from their inner belief that my prayers could help them. I also had Hindu and Sikh women coming to see me for the same purpose, as well as the Muslim women.’

‘You are not just a mere woman, my beloved
daughter,’
Habib replied sharply. ‘You are a
Shahzadi Ibadat!
That is why they come to you. Not just to seek miracles but also knowledge and guidance. You are an educated and now quite a learned woman in religious matters. With time you’ll become the most knowledgeable woman on religious matters in our community.
Therefore
you must not denigrate yourself or ever think of yourself as a fraud. What a word, my dear. You should have faith in your own ability. Never doubt yourself, Zarri Bano!’ he told her proudly.

‘Enough about me and Jajmeir Sharif. I still have so much to tell you about Egypt and Cairo, but later. How is Ruby and everybody else?’ Zarri Bano asked
innocently
, missing the look in her parents’ eyes, as they exchanged surreptitious glances in the car mirror.

‘Ruby is fine and so is everybody else, my daughter. We missed you so much, Zarri Bano,’ Shahzada replied, putting her arm around her daughter to clasp her in a semi-embrace.

‘And now tell us about Cairo!’ Thus Shahzada steered Zarri Bano away from the dangerous topic of Ruby.

‘Z
ARRI
B
ANO
IS
due any minute now!’ Ruby
anxiously
watched Fatima putting frantic finishing touches to the vase of flowers on the dining table. Her eyes fixed on the clock on the wall, she was feeling more and more like a traitor by the minute.

Just as Ruby had anticipated, Zarri Bano swept into the room in her flowing black
burqa,
and embraced her younger sister in a tight hug. She did not notice that Ruby had avoided any eye contact with her.

During their evening meal, after she had showered and refreshed herself, Zarri Bano asked innocently if anything of importance had happened while she was abroad.

‘I feel that I have been away not just for one year but for a decade. What have you been doing in my absence, Ruby?’ Zarri Bano turned innocently to her sister. Ruby dropped her gaze.

‘We have got some good news for you, my dear,’ Shahzada answered smoothly, feeling the scalding warmth of both Ruby’s and Habib’s eyes on her face.

‘What has happened? Tell me, Mother,’ Zarri Bano enquired pleasantly.

‘We have set a date for Ruby’s wedding.’ Ruby and Habib now held their breath, waiting anxiously for Shahzada to continue.

‘What a wonderful news! When and with whom? You never said anything to me on the phone.’ Zarri Bano looked at them both with surprise.

‘I will tell you all about it later, after you have
rested,’ Ruby intervened before her mother or father could say anything – her heart going out to her sister, wanting to give her privacy.

‘Is it somebody I know?’ Zarri Bano asked softly, unaware of the charged atmosphere in the room.

‘As Ruby said, she’ll tell you later.’ Licking her dry lips, Shahzada stopped her husband with a look. ‘It is Ruby’s privilege, Habib Sahib, to tell her sister. You must be feeling tired, my daughter, why don’t you go to bed?’

‘It is true that I am tired, Mother, but I am dying to know who my sister is going to marry. It must be Khawar, am I right? Chaudharani Kaniz must surely have succeeded by now. Well, you all kept it very quiet. You make me feel like an outsider now. What a
secretive
goose you are, Ruby!’ Zarri Bano teased, laughing at the warm blush spreading over her sister’s face. She stood up to leave the table. Habib and Shahzada exchanged a glance, both breathing more freely.

‘Ruby, come up to my room and tell me all about it!’ Zarri Bano beckoned to her sister before closing the door behind her.

Ruby sat frozen on her seat. The moment of
reckoning
had come. On legs that felt as if they were suddenly shackled to lead weights, she stood up, darting an appealing look at her mother to come to her aid. Shahzada, however, shook her head sadly at her
daughter
, deeming the matter deserved privacy between the two sisters.

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Shahzada urged gently, as Ruby looked at her before leaving the room.

In her bedroom, Zarri Bano glanced around with enormous pleasure. It was so good to be back. She looked
out of the window at the lawn and the rose beds in full bloom in the courtyard.

‘It is Sikander!’

Zarri Bano didn’t hear Ruby enter, but the three, softly spoken words sliced across the room, freezing her on the spot. A paralysis of some sort attacked her body, depriving her of all feeling and sensation; her eyes grew wide.

Ruby waited for Zarri Bano to face her. The seconds ticked away on the wall clock. Sitting awkwardly on the corner of Zarri Bano’s bed, she wondered bleakly what to do.

‘I wasn’t the one who desired this match,’ she pleaded, feeling as if she had just sunk a machete into her sister’s back. ‘Zarri Bano, it wasn’t me! Please
forgive
me. I know how you must be feeling.’ Hiding her face in her hands, she began to cry.

Her sister’s weeping echoing around her, Zarri Bano forgot about herself and moved towards the huddled figure.

‘Don’t cry,’ she whispered against her sister’s hair, gathering her in her arms. ‘There is nothing to forgive, my princess. I am so pleased for you.’ And yet the quivering voice belied the words drawn out from the depths of her being.

‘But he was your fiancé. I
do
feel guilty, Zarri Bano,’ Ruby countered, raising her tearstained face up to her sister’s.

‘Yes he was.’ Zarri Bano managed to keep her
expression
neutral. ‘That was the past, my dearest sister. You have nothing to apologise for. Never feel guilty on my account. It was my
kismet,
my destiny. I gave up Sikander, remember, when I decided to become a Holy Woman. I forfeited all rights to him. It doesn’t matter
to me or, more to the point, shouldn’t matter to me who he marries: you or any other woman.’

‘Oh my dearest sister, you are so generous. Thank you, Zarri Bano, for being so understanding.’ Tears shone out of Ruby’s eyes.

It was at that very moment that Shahzada entered the room and saw her two daughters locked in an embrace. Zarri Bano was taller than Ruby, and saw her mother first over her sister’s shoulders.

Shahzada immediately glimpsed the naked pain in Zarri Bano’s eyes; she had hidden it from her sister behind her words of assurance, but she was unable to conceal it from her mother.

How did one deal with a pain of this kind? Shahzada wondered wretchedly, her heart leaping out in
sympathy
to her eldest daughter. There were no solutions to this situation. The only avenue open was total negation of oneself and one’s longings.

‘Ruby, you have told your sister?’ Shahzada asked in a dull voice.

‘Yes, Mother, she has.’ Zarri Bano let her sister out of her embrace. Ruby decided that it was an appropriate time to retire for the night and thankfully left.

Alone, mother and daughter stared across the room at each other. Zarri Bano moved to stand near the window. Lifting the net curtains she looked down at the
courtyard
and the lawns below, through a blurred vision. Her beautiful home had suddenly become a fortress of pain. Silence stretched between the two women.

‘I am sorry, Zarri Bano.’ Shahzada went to stand next to her daughter. ‘It wasn’t us – you must believe me. It was Bilkis’s suggestion. I was against it, Zarri Bano. Before we knew what had happened, the
engagement took place.’ She prayed that her daughter understood.

‘Mother, you don’t have to explain to me how it happened. Nor do you have to apologise.’

‘Zarri Bano, why are you holding yourself back? You don’t have to pretend to me, or safeguard my feelings. Why don’t you just say what you feel? Remember, I am not Ruby, I am your mother. I know it was both insensitive and wrong of us to allow the engagement to go ahead. I told your father so.’

‘Mother, please leave me alone. What is done is done. I can never marry, so what does it matter to me who Sikander marries? He was bound to marry someone one day. I am a
Shahzadi Ibadat,
I am not supposed to care.’ But she was unable to hide the despair in her eyes.

‘You are not only a Holy Woman. You are a woman first, with feelings.’ Shahzada reached out and shook her arm.

‘Then as a woman tell me how I can fight this, Mother!’ Zarri Bano cried in anguish. ‘Show me how I can come to terms with this, the greatest emotional hurdle in my life – to triumph over my female feelings. It is a God-sent task, Mother, but I
will
triumph. I tell you – I will! But first tell me how. Show me how I can stop this knife spearing through me and ripping me apart inside.’

The anguish in her daughter’s voice brought tears springing to Shahzada’s eyes.

Holding her arm tightly against her chest, Zarri Bano doubled over and leaned down on the
armchair
, hiding her ravaged face from her mother in shame.

‘Hush, my darling. Cry, if that’s what you want to
do. You can trust me with your feelings, my daughter.’ Shahzada’s own voice broke with tears.

‘Cry, Mother?’ Zarri Bano accused, with tears of agony glimmering like green mysterious gems in her eyes. ‘Please,
Allah pak,
help me!’ she beseeched.

She let herself be drawn into her mother’s arms, leaning on her shoulders. ‘He said … He said …’ Her voice broke, tripping and choking over the words. ‘He said that I will remember him till the day I die, Mother. Now I’ll never get away from him. How I fooled myself! I thought that I had killed and buried the old Zarri Bano behind the folds of this
burqa,
this black shroud – but she lives, Mother. She lives! Oh,
Allah pak
have mercy! I never knew my parents could be so cruel. Tell me, Mother, how I can kill this woman inside me, still passionately in love with this man.’

Moving out of Shahzada’s arms, Zarri Bano tried desperately to retrieve the tatters of her self-control. She stood up tall, angrily brushing away the tears from her cheeks.

‘I should like to rest now. Forgive me, Mother, for this outburst of a weak woman. I am so ashamed. You never thought to see the day when your proud Zarri Bano wept for a man. I never knew love could be so painful. This is Allah’s way of punishing me for turning away all those poor suitors. I should be congratulating you, Mother. I am so sorry.’ Her body wracked once more, Zarri Bano turned her face away and closed her eyes.

Helpless, Shahzada stared at her daughter’s back for a long time. Afraid to touch. Afraid to say anything that might break Zarri Bano’s fragile control and push her over the precipice of mental breakdown.

At the end she quietly left the room – her eyes brimming with tears. She went straight down to the kitchen, where Fatima was scrubbing a large silver pot at the sink.

‘She knows, Fatima. She said, “I never knew my parents could be so cruel”,’ Shahzada murmured quietly behind her housekeeper’s back.

Fatima’s body went still. Her soap-sudded hand remained poised in mid-air. ‘How did she react?’ she half whispered, without turning.

‘As can be expected – she is totally devastated. It is a wicked thing we have done, Fatima. I never thought to see the day when my daughter would lose complete control of herself. She has always been so strong. But she went to pieces, Fatima. Allah help us and my daughter. She hasn’t yet got over him.’

‘It is both unkind and unethical for her sister to marry the man that Zarri Bano loved and wanted to marry,’ Fatima said forthrightly. ‘It is going to be a very painful experience for her, Shahzada Jee.’

‘Please, Fatima, don’t say any more. As she says, we must remember that she is a Holy Woman. She cannot marry anybody, so must learn to trample on those feelings.’

‘Even if it kills her emotionally in the process?’ Fatima questioned.

‘Hush, Fatima! That we already did, the day we made her into a Holy Woman. Don’t say any more. If your master hears you …’

‘So what if he does? What more can he do than he’s done already?’

Fatima returned to scouring the pot, with a long hard sweep, venting both her grief and rage on it. The pot was thus assured of an extra layer of shine.
Tears swam in her eyes, which Shahzada would have seen, if she hadn’t left the kitchen. Fatima sighed.

‘Habib and Kaniz are two of the same kind. They both know how to destroy their children’s happiness.’ Fatima’s mouth curled bitterly. Feeling hot she shrugged the heavy Kashmiri shawl angrily off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor in a heap.