The Holy Woman (41 page)

F
IRDAUS SPOTTED
THE
white horse and the tall figure on top, from the wrought-iron railings of the rooftop. It was definitely Khawar going for his morning ride. He had done this for years. As a young teenage girl, she used to surreptitiously watch him ride out on his horse, early every morning, to return an hour later for breakfast. Sometimes he caught her watching him, even though she used to duck her head down in
embarrassment
. He would then slant her a rakish look and give her a knowing smile.

Firdaus knew Khawar would take a good hour for his morning ride. It gave her just enough time to get changed and have breakfast. She went back to the
rooftop
and waited patiently, keeping an eye on the horizon for a glimpse of the white horse. He was the only one who rode a steed of such a compelling colour and with such a sleek coat. Spotting the pair, she quickly ran down the stairs and called Fatima, who was still having her breakfast in the kitchen, ‘Mother, I am going for a walk in the fields.’

Seeing Kulsoom Bibi and Naimat Bibi walking in the village lane, Firdaus hastened her pace. She was in no mood to make small talk with the two village
gossip
-makers, and just hoped that they didn’t follow her. Briskly, she walked out of the village and along the path in the direction she judged that Khawar was likely to take, praying that she woundn’t meet anyone else on the way.

Khawar didn’t see Firdaus until she reached up and touched him. He looked down in surprise, then immediately jerked his leg away, but her hand remained on his calf.

‘Kindly remove your hand, Madam Principal,’ he said pompously. ‘I am not in the habit of being mauled by a woman during my morning ride.’

At any other time, his words would have made her chuckle, but this was no laughing matter. Colouring, Firdaus removed her hand. She had come to apologise, therefore she would not pick a quarrel with him.

‘I was only trying to stop you, Khawar Sahib,’ she said quietly. ‘Please do not be so insulting. I do not make a habit of touching men, let alone mauling them.’

He heard her, and for a second was tempted to smile, but he still felt very raw and bitter where she was
concerned, after the incident with his mother. He wished to be gone – to put as much distance as possible between himself and this woman.

Firdaus continued to watch him, trying to gauge his thoughts, while Khawar stared back. Firdaus was
evidently
caught up in the urban glamour process. She had exchanged her long chunky plait for a shoulder cut. Her raven-black hair framed her face most
attractively
, he was forced to admit. One of the things he had always admired about Firdaus was her long braided hair, reaching below her waistline. He had always reckoned that there was a certain elegance, and an aura of femininity about a woman with a plait hanging down gracefully behind her shoulders. Her blue floral, lawn outfit was cut in stylish urban designer lines and her
dupatta
lay nonchalantly draped around her shoulders, instead of on her head as was the normal village custom. On the whole she presented a very alluring picture, but she wasn’t the old Firdaus he had once known. This was the urban, sophisticated Madam Principal.

His hand tightening on the horse’s reins, he was about to move on, when Firdaus caught hold of his calf again.

‘Am I never to be forgiven?’ she beseeched. ‘I have come to ask for your forgiveness, Khawar Sahib.’ Her eyes didn’t waver before the fury of his.

‘For what, Madam Principal? For insulting and debasing my mother …’ he said angrily…. ‘and reducing her to a mental wreck?’

Bravely, Firdaus stood her ground and continued to smile at him, knowing instinctively that she had to humour him. ‘Whatever you say, Khawar Sahib. I am very sorry I acted stupidly – I admit it. I realise now
what I have done. In fact, later today I am going to visit your mother and apologise to her on my own knees, if that will assuage your pride, Khawar, or persuade you to forgive my youthful stupidity. Remember this, I am doing it for your sake.’

‘Oh please, Madam Principal, do not demean
yourself
by begging on my account,’ Khawar replied stiffly. ‘Now good day to you.’ Once more he made to leave.

‘You are cruel, Khawar Sahib,’ she burst out. ‘I am not enjoying this. You are not making it easy for me.’ By now Firdaus was beginning to hate every second of this encounter.

With rage in his eyes, Khawar retorted: ‘Did my mother enjoy begging for your hand? Did you make it easy for
her
?’ Leaning down, he spat the words into her face.

Parting with the last vestige of her pride, Firdaus cried out. ‘If she were to ask me now, I would say yes!
Yes
!’ Her calm exterior had completely crumbled.

Khawar straightened up on the horse. An uneasy silence stretched between them. His heartbeat had stood still for a second. Then, looking away, he delivered the final insult.

‘I am not in the habit of taking stale offerings – and from women themselves!
We
like to do the asking here. Now why don’t you run along and offer yourself to some city sahib, who would be more compatible with your new urban image anyway!’ With that parting jibe he rode swiftly away.

Firdaus remained rooted to the spot. Still shuddering from his insulting tone, she felt soiled and debased, as if balls of mud had been thrown at her from the village ditch. She had actually proposed herself – and he had rejected her, with such biting contempt! What had
come over her? How low could she have stooped? Her cheeks burned red with humiliation.

Walking home in a daze, she felt both crushed and mentally bruised. ‘I deserve it!’ she kept telling herself. And if cruelty offered one form of salve to his pride, she reasoned with herself, then she didn’t mind – as long as he forgave her at the end.

Holding up her head, she entered her parents’ home. By that time, she had forgiven him. The thought
suddenly
leapt through her, ‘This is what Chaudharani Kaniz must have felt and experienced, when I turned her away. It dawned on Firdaus that rejection was a bitter pill to swallow. It rent one apart, diminishing one’s self-esteem.

For the rest of the day Firdaus avoided her family. She had performed one Herculean task that she now thoroughly regretted. She still had one more to
perform
, however, and she definitely didn’t relish the prospect! Her mother, though, would see to it that she went to visit Kaniz and humbled herself at her feet to ask for forgiveness.

F
IRDAUS PUT OFF
the dreaded visit for two more days. She had nightmares about the meeting and what she had to do – to beg forgiveness on her knees. On the third day, putting aside her fear and pride, Firdaus decided to take the plunge. From the rooftop of her home, she kept an eye on Kaniz’s
hawaili
. As soon as she saw Khawar climb into his Jeep and drive out of the village with his chauffeur, Firdaus decided to ‘honour’
Chaudharani Kaniz and the
hawaili
with her presence. It would be the first time in ten years that she had entered that place.

‘I am doing this for two reasons,’ she told herself. ‘To ask Kaniz for her forgiveness, only because she is older and therefore it is my duty. For Khawar’s sake, because if I don’t do it, he will never forgive me. Then there will be no chance of a reconciliation between the two of us, let alone marriage.’

Sadly, she accepted the fact that, through her foolish pride, she had sunk all her ships. Firdaus now had her eyes fully opened to her inner heart, which revealed clearly to her that she
did
really want to marry Khawar – and deep down had always wanted to – but Kaniz’s opposition had put her on the defensive. Now she
realised
what she had lost. If the key to winning Khawar back was in laying herself at his mother’s feet, then she would gladly do it. After all, hadn’t that same proud
chaudharani
prostrated herself at
her
feet, for the sake of her son’s happiness?

Khawar’s dismissive comment that she was ‘brass’, and ‘stale offerings’ still rankled. She was beginning to learn, to her cost, that pride was an evil phenomenon, which achieved nothing, but only created chasms between loved ones.

Dressing herself with care, and appropriately, in a subdued and dowdy outfit, Firdaus braided her hair and pinned it down at the back away from her face. Scrubbed clean of make-up and wearing a large,
discreetly
coloured shawl fully draped over her head and around her shoulders, she looked every bit a local village woman and not a College Principal.

Each step to the
hawaili
was a measured one. ‘If only I could turn the clock back and eat those words of mine
that “I’d die before I would set foot in your
hawaili
”.’ Well here she was, very much alive. Not only going to step over the threshold, but also to beg in the presence of that woman. Fate was cruel, Firdaus was learning. It delighted in throwing people’s words and actions back at them. Hadn’t Kaniz herself begged when she had sworn that she would never do so.

Fatima had personally escorted her daughter out of the house, ensuring that she didn’t get cold feet at the last moment. She had asked Firdaus whether she wanted her to come along for moral support. Firdaus declined, wanting it to be a private meeting.

With a fast-beating heart, Firdaus stood outside the large wrought-iron gates of the
hawaili
, her hand poised on the bell. There was no turning back. She had to face the music – even if it cost her both sanity and pride.

Kaniz was sitting on the carpeted floor of the large room in front of her sister Sabra, having her routine almond oil head massage, when Neesa came to inform them that a Miss Firdaus was waiting in the guest room to see Chaudharani Kaniz.

An electric silence filled the room. Sabra stopped dabbing drops of oil from the bottle onto Kaniz’s scalp. Kaniz turned a bewildered gaze up at her younger sister, as if to ask, ‘What is going on?’ Panic spilled all over her face. The hand holding her
chador
in her lap began to tremble.

Sabra stood up and said to Neesa, ‘Bring Miss Firdaus up here, please. Thank you.’

‘Why is she here?’ The distress looming in Kaniz’s eyes and voice sent a chill through her sister. ‘I don’t want to see her, Sabra. Please.’ Kaniz’s teeth were
chattering with fear. Even after four months on
medication
, prayers said on her behalf, almond oil head
massages
and
tweez
– amulets wound around her neck and ankles – minor incidents still sent Kaniz hurtling into a state of panic and hysteria.

‘It is all right, Sister. I am here,’ Sabra comforted, patting Khaniz on the shoulders. ‘She will not say
anything
to upset you, I assure you. In fact, I will give her a piece of my mind.’

‘No, Sabra, please. I don’t want any quarrel in my presence. My heart couldn’t stand it – it is already bouncing like a yo-yo. Why is she here?’ she asked again, nervously pulling up her
chador
and spreading it around her shoulders and over her open oily hair.

‘We will find out soon enough, dear. Here, let me straighten your shawl. Please sit on the sofa. Don’t worry about anything, I will handle her,’ Sabra reassured her sister.

Kaniz had only just sat down on the sofa, facing the door, when it was thrust open to admit first Neesa, followed closely by Firdaus.

A heavily shawled figure stood in the doorway. Her face held straight, Firdaus bade them ‘Salam.’ Unabashed, her eyes moved from one sister to the other.

Seeing her sister’s eyes drop in fear before Firdaus, pain sliced through Sabra. Her proud sister’s gaze had never dropped before anyone’s in all her life, yet here she was, sitting nervously with her eyes downcast because of that jumped-up female! Sabra shot a look full of hatred at their unwanted guest, and Firdaus flinched.

‘
Wa Laikum-Salam
, Miss Firdaus!’ The loud, sarcastic tone grated on Kaniz’s overwrought nerves. ‘To what do we owe this visit? Is it so that you can insult my sister
in her own home now? Have you not done enough damage already, young woman?’

Ignoring her Firdaus looked steadily at the silent figure of the Chaudharani, surprised and moved to pity by her nervous posture, the hands clutching the edge of the sofa. Something caught at Firdaus’s heart.

It was then a strange thing happened. Firdaus forgot her own pride. She forgot herself. She even forgot Khawar – and only saw the lonely, suffering woman, and remembered Khawar’s words that his mother had tried to take her own life as a result of that unfortunate episode.

Firdaus didn’t have to pretend; didn’t need to seek any prelude – no formalities to be got over. Just raw feelings of pity and empathy for the forlorn figure on the sofa cut through Firdaus and, on an impulse, she flew to Kaniz’s side. Squatting on the floor in front of the older woman, she placed her head in Kaniz’s lap.

Kaniz froze. Drawing back on the sofa she darted first a look of sheer panic at her sister, then looked down, dumbfounded, at the covered head in her lap, and the hands touching her bare feet. Kaniz’s
trembling
fingers gnawed at the edge of the seat, gripping the sofa even tighter.

‘Please forgive me, I beg of you,’ Firdaus beseeched, her voice muffled, ‘Forgive my youth, Auntie Kaniz. I didn’t know what I was saying or doing. I know I hurt you dreadfully on that terrible day.’

‘What
chal
is this? This game may work on my poor sister, who is ill, but not on me, young woman,’ Sabra taunted, having found her tongue.

Lifting her head from Kaniz’s lap, Firdaus turned a blank stare at Sabra. Kaniz too looked at her sister. Sabra stared back at them both – defiant. She wasn’t
going to fall for this rubbish. Apparently she had underestimated the young woman. Hadn’t the devious creature in one second laid herself at her sister’s feet? What a piece of drama! The audacity of the woman!

‘I don’t know what you mean. What
chal
?’ Firdaus stammered.

‘There is no need to play games with us, or to act the innocent. You are a spiteful young woman, we all know that. What are you hoping to gain by this act? Do you think that by laying yourself at my sister’s feet, you can turn everything rosy again? Did your heart and head take an almighty flight from your body when you humiliated my sister by turning her away. The woman you see in front of you is a mental wreck – the result of going on her hands and feet before you, begging! And, if that wasn’t enough, you had to callously throw her out. Not once but
twice
!’

‘I … I …’ Firdaus was looking down in
embarrassment
and shame.

‘Lost for words? You, the articulate Principal, the head of a college?’ Sabra jeered.

‘Sabra, stop.’ Kaniz’s quiet tone momentarily dammed Sabra’s outburst. ‘Get up my child,’ Kaniz commanded softly, her hand gently propelling Firdaus up from her feet.

Sabra shot a questioning look at her sister. Why was Kaniz behaving like this?

Firdaus stood up and sat on the sofa beside Kaniz. The woman’s whole demeanour, her words, the tone and the expression in her eyes signalled to Firdaus that Kaniz bore her no grudge – not at the moment,
anyway
. Humbled, she dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap. She didn’t deserve this treatment. Kaniz had indeed ennobled herself in Firdaus’s eyes.

‘It is all right, my dear. You are forgiven.’ Kaniz spoke gently to Firdaus. ‘We all do silly things in our youth and I should know! I am no exception. We all have unfortunate episodes tucked away inside us, that we are ashamed of and which haunt us for life. Welcome to my home!’

At her sister’s words, Sabra’s eyes grew huge in her face and her lips fell wide apart. She was totally stunned.

‘Thank you. You are very kind.’ Firdaus looked uncertainly from one sister to the other.

The atmosphere was now highly charged. Having achieved her goal, Firdaus wisely decided that it was an appropriate time to escape. ‘I only came to apologise. You are very generous, Chaudharani Kaniz, you have put me and my actions to shame. I will bid both you aunties good day.
Khudah Hafiz
!’

On unsteady legs, and with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, Firdaus walked out of the room. Kaniz’s hand rose to stop Firdaus, but then catching the fierce, warning look in her sister’s eyes, she let it drop to her side.

Outside the
hawaili
gate, Firdaus rested her hand on her chest, feeling her heart thumping away as if she had been skipping for hours on the village’s cobbled lanes. She had climbed a mountain, but oddly she felt no triumph in her achievement. On the contrary, she felt ashamed of herself in the face of Chaudharani Kaniz’s generosity. The woman was indeed a changed person. Had she herself caused all that? Firdaus shuddered. She could clearly now imagine Kaniz trying to take her own life.

Inside the
hawaili
, the two sisters stared at each other. Sabra was bursting to rant and rage, but she struggled
to contain herself. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to simmer down and managed to place the lid on her pent-up feelings. She just couldn’t afford to upset her sister.

‘You are annoyed with me, aren’t you, Sabra dear?’ Kaniz ventured timidly. ‘But what could I do? She came to my doorstep. She fell on her knees. I couldn’t bear to hear you talk to her like that, Sabra. I had to stop you. You do understand, don’t you?’ she pleaded, wanting her sister on her side, unable to bear being estranged from her Sabra.

‘No, I don’t,’ Sabra said frankly. ‘Why couldn’t you bear it? She is the daughter of a woman you have hated for years, the person who grossly humiliated you and was the cause of your depression and illness. The callous creature almost killed you!’

Listening patiently to her sister, Kaniz chose her next words with care, knowing that Sabra would be surprised by them.

‘What you say is all true, or was, my sister, but the reason I couldn’t bear it is because she
is
my son’s destiny.’

Sabra was totally silenced. When still no words left her sister’s astonished mouth, Kaniz felt compelled to explain.

‘I know you are surprised, Sabra. But listen to me, please, and hear what I have to say. It was because I knew she held my son’s happiness in her hands, that I went to ask for her hand in marriage. You yourself advised me to do so – remember?’

‘But not after what has happened,’ Sabra replied sharply, having at last found her tongue.

‘We all make mistakes, my dear Sabra. Mine was holding a grudge against her mother for over two
decades. I love my son so much. All I hanker for is to see a smile on his face and a light to enter his eyes. It has been quenched for so long, Sabra. And it is all because of me. I have stood in the way of his happiness, as you have always told me. I care nothing about my loss of face. I know, in my very bones, that my son’s heart is entwined with this woman. Who am I to tear them apart, Sabra? I tried to do it, but I learnt a bitter lesson, to my cost. Tell me, where did it lead me? As you yourself warned me, I lost my son in the process.

‘Now I want my son back! I want to see him, now, today – this afternoon! This very second! Sabra, a
burden
has been lifted from me. I feel light-headed and happy. I am so glad she has come – remember, she came herself, I didn’t call her. She begged for my forgiveness – I didn’t demand it. We can now ask for her hand
properly
. She will not refuse us now. She dare not, and she will not. She loves my son! You see, I know her so well!’ Kaniz ended triumphantly, her eyes alight with
pleasure
and excitement, scanning her sister’s face eagerly.

Nonplussed, Sabra didn’t know what to say – whether to rant, rage or to laugh at her sister. In the end she opted for silence, imagining in her mind, her sister blooming with life and joy again as she found herself beginning to believe Kaniz’s words.

‘Sabra, there is so much to do. Send Neesa for the matchmaker, Kulsoom. I am raring to go! Every
minute
is precious! I cannot wait to have Firdaus in this house as my daughter-in-law.’

‘Sister, I think you have truly become deranged. I cannot take it all in. You are too fast for me, I am afraid,’ Sabra sighed, with an answering smile and warmth in her eyes which flashed the answer that Kaniz had sought.

‘I know I have knocked you for six,’ Kaniz giggled, ‘but remember I am the new Kaniz. Just forget the old one. I killed her the day I decided to ask for Firdaus’s hand. Now are you going to sit there all day, or will you go for Neesa?’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘I am dying to have a chat with Kulsoom. The village will see a wedding that it will never forget! After all, it will be my only son’s – my beloved’s. There will be a trousseau for Firdaus that even Habib’s daughter Ruby didn’t receive from that Karachi tycoon, Sikander. Also I want the
halwaie,
the sweetmeat chef, to be summoned here immediately to take down the order for the
engagement
party. I want, not only all the normal sweetmeats, but also the traditional white sugary
pathasay
made especially for the children. The whole village will receive enough food to stuff themselves silly. There is so much to do, Sabra dear, and I am so excited. And I desperately need your help. So, you see, you definitely cannot leave us until after the wedding,’ Kaniz ended happily.