The Holy Woman (35 page)

Early next morning, Sabra kept a vigil over her sister, reassuring Khawar that she was going to stay until her sister recovered her normal spirits. Offering special prayers for Kaniz’s health, Sabra promised herself that she would have her sister’s sparkling, albeit waspish, self back in place by the time she had finished with her. Her daughter and grandchildren she sent back to Punjab the following day.

Khawar accepted his aunt’s help gratefully. All night while he had sat watching over his mother, his thoughts turned to Firdaus. ‘How dare you do this to my mother? I will see to you!’ he vowed, his jaw stiff with rage.

T
WO DAYS LATER
, Khawar paid a surprise visit to Firdaus’s college. He was taken directly into her office and told: ‘The Vice Principal is in a meeting, but she will join you soon.’

Khawar glanced around the opulent furnished room. For some reason, he did not relish seeing Firdaus here, on her own territory. Returning to the college
reception
, he informed the young smartly-dressed secretary that he preferred to wait outside and would therefore be grateful if Madam Firdaus would see him there. When asked who he was, ‘Tell her an acquaintance from the village,’ Khawar said shortly. He followed the secretary out of the building to the semi-secluded verandah.

Declining to sit down, he leaned against the tall stone pillar and looked out at the green hockey lawn.

‘
Assalam-Alaikum
!’ A voice he recognised broke into his thoughts a few minutes later. His shoulders
stiffening
, Khawar took his time in turning round. When Firdaus saw his expression she blinked in shock. His eyes stared unsmiling at her. His body, though giving the appearance of lounging indolently against the pillar, was a tight coil ready to spring on her.

‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ Firdaus asked politely, her eyes on his shirt collar. Afraid, somehow, to meet his glance again.

Khawar lifted his eyebrow at her innocent question.

‘The pleasure is all on your part, Madam Principal. For I experience none in being here in your company.’ Firdaus paled at his insolence. Then, to her astonished
gaze, Khawar stooped down theatrically on his knees and held up his two hands together in front of her. Shocked, Firdaus jerked back.

‘Khawar Sahib, what drama are you playing?’ she asked, bemused.

‘I am replaying the drama with you and my mother in it, Madam Principal,’ he jeered. ‘That is what my mother did, isn’t it? She held up her hands to you like a beggar with a begging bowl –
didn’t she
? My proud mother! The Chaudharani! One who has never been known to apologise to anyone, let alone
beg
from
someone
. Well, she fell from the lofty sky to your lowly feet, pleading for your hand, didn’t she?’

‘I never asked her to. I didn’t want her to beg.’ Firdaus’s quiet retort hit back at him.

‘But you threw her out, didn’t you?’ There was a dangerous thread of steel in his voice.

Cornered. ‘Yes, I did! So what?’ Firdaus screeched, now unable to hold on to her temper or her dignity.

‘Well done!’ Khawar cried, his mouth twisting in a sardonic smile. Getting up he clapped his two hands together, the sound vibrating strangely in her ears. ‘That is definitely the sort of treatment my mother deserves – so much so that after she had left you, she tried to commit suicide!’ he finished bitterly.

‘What?’ Firdaus’s head shot up.

‘Yes, Firdaus Principal. Her death would definitely have been laid at your door.’

‘I do not know how your mother’s mind works, but please don’t use me as a scapegoat.’ Shrinking from the look of raw loathing in his eyes, Firdaus tried to defend herself, her lips quivering in anger and distress.

‘You may not know my mother’s mind, but I know mine well enough. She must have been insane to resort
to begging for your hand. You are not worth it, Firdaus. For your sake I shunned my mother and left my home. I haven’t spoken to her for over a year. In desperation she swallowed her pride and stooped this low. I tell you this because for someone of my mother’s stature, it is indeed a noble gesture. But she got nothing in return from you, did she? Just dishonour. Because of you, she is now suffering depression, crying all the time, not eating anything and staring into space. She has wanted to put an end to her life.’

‘I am sorry,’ Firdaus said tritely, her eyes lowered to the ground.

‘I haven’t finished yet.’ His voice sliced through her. ‘In the end you have proved yourself worse than my mother. I do not wish to marry someone who has no respect for my mother. You are a cold-hearted and a proud woman. I am a fool for having wasted years over you. At the end the gold I thought I was chasing was all the time brass. Dross, in fact! But then in your book, in your elevated stature as a principal of a college, Madam Firdaus,
we
are the brass, the village bumpkins from whom you were so desperate to escape. Well, you are free from us all now, Firdaus. We will not be troubling you ever again. Good day to you! Madam Principal.’

Stunned, Firdaus watched him leave. The colour had long since flown from her face. Shakily, she sat down on a chair on the verandah, her mind ablaze with thoughts, her heart thudding with shock.

Khawar disappeared through the double doors
leading
into the college corridor. With angry strides he reached his Jeep. The driver quickly opened the door for him and, seeing his master’s thunderous expression, forbore from attempting to make small talk.

Khawar’s spirits were low. The episode of his desire
to marry Firdaus was over. It would take him a long time to recover, but his masculine pride was at stake. ‘She is welcome to those urban
Sahibs
who probably flock to her side every evening,’ he scoffed inwardly, then dismissed her from his mind.

Z
ARRI
B
ANO HAD
taken Haris to the village to visit her grandfather and to familiarise him more with village life. Siraj Din loved to hear the chatter of his great-grandson in his
hawaili
.

Arriving on Friday to take Haris back to Karachi, Sikander hid his disappointment at not seeing his son. Sitting out on the verandah of the rear courtyard, Shahzada and Sikander talked generally for some time and about Haris in particular. The young man
wondered
how best to approach the subject he had had on his mind for the last few months.

‘Auntie,’ he uttered softly, avoiding her gaze, ‘I hope very much that you will not be offended by what I am going to say.’

‘What is it, my son?’ Shahzada looked up in concern, placing the rose china teapot on the white
wrought-iron
patio table in front of her.

‘I … I wish to marry your daughter, Zarri Bano!’ Shahzada darted a quick look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘I know she is a Holy Woman,’ Sikander went on before she could say anything, ‘but I also know that Uncle Habib Khan, over a year ago, released her from the oath never to marry. He personally gave her his
blessing
to marry if she so wished. Ruby told me all this.’

It was a very pleasant surprise for Shahzada. A smile curved the contours of her lower face but words failed to leave her mouth. Sikander waited anxiously and then hastened to explain.

‘I do not mean to offend you, Auntie. Please will you forgive me? You must appreciate that it is for Haris’s sake. I need a surrogate mother for him. This to-ing and fro-ing from Karachi to here will have to stop some time. It is tiring me out. It has been going on for over a year. I want my son with me, but he is also very close to his aunty and you. He regards Zarri Bano as his second mother. If I were to marry her, that would solve
everything
, wouldn’t it?’ His voice was earnest.

‘I am not at all offended by your suggestion, my dear son. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have my Zarri Bano happily married and also to become a mother to Haris. I am keenly aware of your situation. At the end you have to remarry some time. I am just surprised it hasn’t been sooner. But tell me, my son, why do you want to marry Zarri Bano? She is not the same woman as the one you saw five years ago. Are you really marrying her entirely for Haris’s sake, or for
personal
reasons?’ This time Shahzada’s gaze remained steady on his face.

Sikander looked down at the cup he was holding, letting his fingers trace its gold rim. He took his time in answering, but finally opted for honesty.

‘I will not pretend to you, Auntie, it is very much for personal reasons. I do not know how to talk about this to you. After all, you are the mother of my dead wife.’ He sighed sadly. ‘All I can say in my defence is that I want to marry Zarri Bano very much – just as I wanted to marry Ruby. I have loved both of your daughters. I don’t know how it was possible to love both sisters, but
I have and did. Please do not get me wrong. Zarri Bano is the one I wanted to marry originally, but it was Ruby that I ended up with.

‘I can truthfully say that Ruby and I were very happy together. I loved her as deeply as it is possible for any husband to do so, when you have shared four years of life together. The love just grew with time. The place she has in my heart will always be there. She was the mother of my child, the woman I shared my life with, twenty-four hours of the day. How can I forget her? If I close my eyes, I can still see her before me with her warm brown eyes and gentle smile.’ Shahzada watched Sikander’s face fold with the pain. His eyes closed as he continued.

‘I can still hear her footsteps on the marble stairs or in the orchard. Her clothes, still hanging in the
wardrobe
, bring forth aching memories every day of the week. I miss Ruby so very much, Auntie – but she has gone. I cannot bear the thought of a strange woman with my son. No other woman could be his mother in the way Zarri Bano can. He simply adores his Auntie Zarri Bano and she adores him in return. There is a chance that with her at his side, he will not ache for his own mother so much.’

‘Yes,’ Shahzada agreed quietly.

‘You asked if I want to marry Zarri Bano for personal reasons? Well I do, and not just for Haris’s sake. I am being totally honest with you. As you well know, Zarri Bano is the woman I originally intended to marry, the woman I fell in love with at first sight. It was at the
mela
…’ His eyes softened, as he recalled the instant.

‘She was standing under a tree in a black chiffon outfit, her hair swinging free around her face, and then she caught sight of me. Something happened between
us. Across the crowd of men gathered at the fair, our souls seemed to leap to one another. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful. I was a lost man. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. It was not the same with Ruby, I am sorry to say. I knew from the first moment that Zarri Bano felt something for me. She has always attempted to deny it, but I know she did. The rest is all history. It was too late for us, another life was carved out for Zarri Bano by your husband. I am laying bare my soul to you, Auntie. I haven’t even come to terms with it fully myself – because it is such a personal and a painful topic.’ There were tears in his eyes as he spoke of these secret matters of the heart.

‘In all those years, I never forgot Zarri Bano,’ he told Shahzada. ‘I tried, but she was always there in my head and thoughts, haunting me. In Saudi Arabia, I was out of my mind with jealousy because of that bearded Egyptian. I couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her or being linked to her in any way. I have also hated her, too,’ he confessed in a low voice. ‘I have still not forgiven her for turning her back on me and our love.’

He looked imploringly at his mother-in-law. ‘I have undergone the bad
kismet
of loving not just two women but also two sisters, married to one but still aching for the other. As their mother, I don’t know what you will think of me.’

‘Thank you, my son, for being so honest.’ Shahzada was deeply moved. ‘I am very aware of how painful and embarrassing it is for you to confide your feelings to me, but you have proved to me the true feelings you have for both my daughters. You are right, I do not know how I ought to feel on this topic because they are both my daughters, born from the same womb. I am glad, my son, for your sake, for Haris’s sake, for Zarri
Bano’s sake above all that you wish to marry my eldest daughter. As a grandmother of Haris, I would wish no other woman to take my dead daughter’s place.’

Now it was time for Shahzada to bare her soul to Sikander. ‘But it is not just for Haris’s sake,’ she said. ‘I have been plagued by guilt since the day Zarri Bano became a
Shahzadi Ibadat
. I wanted her to marry you and lead a normal life. She says that she is very happy with her current life, but in my heart of hearts, I know we did wrong both by you and especially by Zarri Bano. The day she learned that Ruby was going to marry you, I will never forget the look in her eyes, Sikander. It was the look of a woman devastated and toppling over the edge of reason. I saw my daughter nearly die before my eyes, but she battled with herself and won. My Zarri Bano always does. I am so proud of her. She is good in overcoming and facing crises, but at what cost? We’ll never know. We have killed her emotionally in the process.’ For a moment, Shahzada allowed her feelings to overwhelm her. Sikander remained quiet, instinct telling him to let his mother-in-law take this moment at her own pace.

‘Until the day we went on
hajj
, I never forgave my husband,’ she continued. ‘Sikander, the day my Jafar died, all our lives became shrouded by a
chador
of doom. I supported my husband, yet I betrayed my daughter. Now you tell me, my son, how can I forgive myself for betraying Zarri Bano? I was helpless to do otherwise. There was no way out for us two women. No way of defying my father-in-law and my husband’s joint decision. We are proud, yet obedient women, and for our clan’s sake, we bowed and gave in.

‘You must forgive her for turning you away. She simply had no choice, Sikander! Zarri Bano makes
herself out to be happy and has forgiven her father. She has found a new lease of life in her adopted identity and has discovered a new world on an international scale. My daughter admirably suits the role. I, on the other hand, lost respect for both myself and him. I built a wall against my beloved husband that he could never batter down. My heart became a cold shell. Empty! He could batter away, and did so – but all to no avail. I knew he was lonely – but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. That is my bad
kismet
, my son. I wish that I hadn’t been such a cruel wife to him.

‘If you were to peep inside my heart, you would see nothing but heartache and suffering. Two of my
beautiful
children have died. I have lost a husband, and my grandson is motherless.

‘Therefore, dear boy, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have you marry Zarri Bano. I want my daughter to lead a normal life, the life that she was denied five years ago. I want to see her hands painted with henna patterns, a young baby in her lap. All the dreams I cherished for her, I want to come true. Let me speak to her first, my son. I need to break it gently to her. For you see, she now has no place for marriage or men in her heart nor in her mind.’