The Holy Woman (45 page)

T
WO HOURS AFTER
the simple wedding ceremony and reception, her trousseau packed, Zarri Bano left for Karachi with Sikander and his family.

Waving them off from the verandah, Fatima wept on Shahzada’s shoulder.

‘Don’t cry, Fatima. Aren’t you happy?’ Shahzada said chokily, her own eyes wet with tears.

‘Yes,’ the other woman sobbed. ‘That is why I am crying. I’m going to miss her so much.’

‘We must pray for them both, Fatima. I hope their marriage works out. We both know that Zarri Bano has entered it very reluctantly. Only this morning she told me that she would only stay in this marriage for a year.
She had that look on her face, you know the one. Fatima, I am so afraid she means what she says.’ Shahzada stared anxiously at her friend and woman helper.

‘You have nothing to worry about, Mistress Shahzada. They will work it out, you’ll see,’ Fatima reassured her
chaudharani
smoothly, with her strong conviction. She had great faith in human chemistry. There had always been magic between her princess and Sikander.

Zarri Bano sat perched in the corner of the car. Haris sat between herself and Sikander. His childish chatter helped to diffuse the tension building up between his father and aunt. Beneath the fringe of the large
dupatta
on her head, Zarri Bano chaffed under Sikander’s eyes – they seemed to be roaming everywhere.

‘I want to sit next to the window!’ Haris demanded during the journey. Everyone thus rearranged
themselves
to let him sit where he wanted. As they moved, Sikander’s thigh accidentally brushed against Zarri Bano’s, making her swivel round in panic. Her husband stared steadily back at her, as he saw her inch further away from him. Pulling the heavily embroidered
dupatta
around her, Zarri Bano draped it further over her face to shield herself from his scorching gaze.

Suddenly, Sikander grabbed hold of her hand and held it tightly in his grasp. Shocked, and lost for breath, she tried to pull it away. In a voice too low for his mother or chauffeur to hear, Sikander growled out, ‘I’m not going to eat you.’ He moved his fingers over hers and began to caress them gently. Helplessly, Zarri Bano let him play with her fingers for a moment or two. Then she pulled her hand away.

Haris climbed back from the window and once again wriggled between them, hugging both adult in turn, he stayed there until the end of the journey.

As the car came to a standstill Zarri Bano stared at Sikander’s home in Karachi. The imposing facade of the large villa was garlanded and lit with colourful lights. Inside, a group of women well-wishers and relatives were waiting to welcome home Sikander’s new bride. They ceremoniously came forward in turns, as soon as she sat down on the sofa in the drawing room, to give her the ‘initial greeting’
salami
presents in the form of money. The women were especially keen to meet the new bride. For they had heard that she was the elder sister of Sikander’s dead wife and was reputed to be not only more beautiful than Ruby, but also a very devout woman. She was said to be always in
hijab.
Some believed the rumour that she even slept in it.

Today, however, the
burqa
was nowhere to be seen and she didn’t look at all devout. On the contrary she was a blushing picture of a bride and almost like a glamorous actress. They just couldn’t visualise her in a
burqa.
Her hair was elegantly styled, her eyes shone like gems. To match the wonderful smiling mouth, Allah had blessed her with a most attractive dimple that seemed to peep out at you every time she smiled.

‘As you can see, the groom simply cannot take his eyes off her. He pretends that he is not looking at her, but have you noticed, my friend, he has not looked at a single soul in this room. Nor is it surprising as she is so beautiful. I told you so, didn’t I?’ whispered one woman to her friend; she had had the pleasure of having seen Zarri Bano’s photograph in advance.

‘Did you know that she was the one our Sikander
wanted to marry in the first place?’ she further elaborated.

‘Was she really?’ The friend stared in wonder at the good-looking pair. ‘Oh, how romantic!’ As their
neighbour,
she was definitely going to cultivate a friendship with Sikander’s new bride.

The evening meal was served to Sikander and Zarri Bano alone, on a special table, with only Haris joining them. It was a silent affair, during which Sikander frequently looked at his bride. She, on the other hand, kept her eyes down. It was as if they were complete strangers. God, she looks so vulnerable, he thought. It is almost as if she is afraid of me! He smiled, wanting to reassure her, but didn’t quite know what to say.

Later in the evening, Sikander’s elder sister Rahat suggested to Zarri Bano that she should go and rest in her room. Awkwardly, holding up her heavily embroidered silk skirt, she followed Rahat up the
staircase
into the large bedroom. Throwing open the door, Rahat stepped aside for Zarri Bano to enter.

Recognising the room, Zarri Bano froze. A large bed stood in the centre with a canopy of wedding streamers draped becomingly around it. Zarri Bano closed her eyes tight, feeling her legs giving away beneath her. Reaching for a chair, she sat down and looked at the bed with horror dawning on her face and in her eyes.

‘Are you all right, dear sister?’ Rahat asked in
concern.
It was just at that moment that Sikander appeared in the room. He looked at the bed and then at Zarri Bano’s white face.

‘Rahat, please leave us,’ he urged. ‘I will look after her.’

‘All right, Brother Sikander.’ Rahat quickly left,
disturbed by her sister-in-law’s behaviour and
wondering
what was wrong.

In one neat movement, Sikander pulled down all the decorative streamers and threw them into a corner on the floor. Angry with himself, his sister and the whole situation, he bent down and spoke to his new bride in a tortured voice. ‘Believe me, Zarri Bano, I had no idea they were going to bring you to this room!’

Zarri Bano stared at the bare, forlorn-looking bed.

‘This was her room. That was her bed!’ she cried out in agony, in a voice full of reproach. ‘This was how it was for her. I can’t sleep here! You
promised
me, Sikander.’

Then before his very eyes, shudders passed through her body. Her eyes were closed, as she deliberately shut him and the room out of her mind.

‘You aren’t sleeping here,’ he said gently. ‘You have your own room. My sister doesn’t know of our
situation.
They have only done what people normally do for any bride. Please forgive her.’

‘Ruby slept in that bed, Sikander!’ Zarri Bano cried, breaking down and weeping for her dead sister. Her small forehead pendant dangled in front of her face.

Sikander moved away from her, watching her
helplessly.
She is not the only one with memories. Ruby was my wife! Doesn’t she realise that I too am afraid of those painful memories? Sikander thought resentfully. He wanted to comfort her but didn’t know what to do. If he touched her, he was sure to send her over the brink, shattering her fragile self-control. Instead, he used his voice to reach out to her.

‘Zarri Bano, this is not your room and never will be.
If it makes you feel safe and happy, you can share Haris’s room for the time being. Come on. Let’s get out of here.’

Wiping her tears, Zarri Bano followed him
wordlessly
into Haris’s room. ‘Here, make yourself at home,’ he said cheerfully. You are used to sleeping in this room with Haris, aren’t you? Either Mother or I will bring you some milk later. Our woman helper will fetch your suitcases.’ Zarri Bano nodded gratefully, and Sikander left her.

After changing into her night clothes, Zarri Bano put Haris to bed. Straight after her prayers, she settled down beside him and planted kisses on his sleepy
forehead
. ‘I’ve done all this for you, my darling nephew,’ she whispered over his yawning face.

Zarri Bano tensed when someone knocked on the door. Sikander entered with a glass of milk in his hand. She had hoped that his mother would come rather than him. In the semi-darkness of the room, his dark hair gleaming after a shower, he looked tall and very
attractive
in his dressing-gown over his pyjamas. Zarri Bano felt a spate of nervousness.

His eyes on her face, Sikander came forward and placed her glass of milk on the bedside cabinet. He hid his disappointment from her. She had removed her
jewellery
, her make-up and bridal suit – thus robbing him of one of the groom’s prerogatives, that of helping her to remove her ornaments.

He stepped back, away from the bed and smiled down at her. Zarri Bano blushed. Then she pulled the quilt up to her neck to hide herself. Noting her gesture, Sikander turned to look at his son.

‘He is fast asleep,’ he whispered.

‘Yes,’ Zarri Bano gladly commented, pleased to say
something to break the tension in the room and
praying
that he would leave soon.

Sikander moved over to his son’s side of the bed and sat on the opposite corner. Zarri Bano relaxed.

‘He’ll be very happy to find you sleeping with him.’

‘So he should be. After all, we married for his sake, didn’t we?’ Zarri Bano retorted.

Sikander looked down at the attractive appliqué
pattern
of birds and trees on the quilt cover, not answering her immediately. ‘Yes, Zarri Bano, we did marry for Haris’s sake, but I am still hoping that at the end it will be a real marriage. I didn’t marry you just for Haris’s sake, but for my sake too.’ He wanted to say so much to her, to open the doorway to his heart, but he knew instinctively that it wasn’t the right moment. A wrong move, a wrong step by him and Zarri Bano would surely blow her top. He couldn’t risk that and
jeopardise
his relationship with her. Already they had both been dealt a blow in the other room.

‘Zarri Bano, I get the feeling that you are afraid of me,’ he ventured, looking up with a solemn expression in his eyes, ‘afraid of my very presence. Please don’t be. What is your ultimate fear, Zarri Bano? That I’ll demand my rights? For the consummation of our marriage?’ He saw her cheeks colour.

‘That
is
what you fear most, isn’t it? I know you too well for you to deny it, Zarri Bano. You must learn to trust me. I promised you before we got married that everything will be as you wish. The ball will always be in your court. Therefore you have no need to fear me or my presence. The woman I knew five years ago wasn’t afraid of me – of anything, for that matter. I ask
nothing
, my dear, but pure friendship and companionship. What I don’t want is you scurrying away from my
slightest touch. Apparently you’ve done a damned good job on yourself, on becoming totally a
pakeeza
woman, that even the shadow of a man frightens you. Yet I knew and had a glimpse of a very passionate woman once. But enough, I’ll not talk about the past.’

‘Have you finished with the lecture? The woman you talk about was a wanton one who I am ashamed to remember,’ she told him flatly.

‘I disagree. She wasn’t wanton, just a normal woman, with normal instincts.’

‘Therefore, you must know then that the woman you have in front of you is not a normal woman.’

‘I will prove to you, one day, just how normal you are, Zarri Bano. But I’ll not argue with you tonight. And yes …’ he ended with a laugh and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes ‘… I have finished my lecture.’

Zarri Bano finally let a smile creep over her face. For the first time he noticed a sparkle in her eyes. His heart swelled with pride and hope. His old Zarri Bano wasn’t dead, just lying dormant. She desperately needed time and support to awaken.

‘Just learn to trust me,’ he appealed, once more
coming
round the bed and standing near to her. He stared at her face and hair on the pillow, her lips half open. This was the image that had haunted him for so long.

Zarri Bano saw the look in his eyes and tensed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and unable to help himself, reached out and caressed her cheek. Zarri Bano found herself trapped in the fathomless pool of his eyes, which had darkened in shade. Recalling his words, she willed herself to relax, knowing she had to learn to trust him. By now his fingers were on her hair. Heat rushed through her, but she let him carry on.

There was a curious expression on his face. ‘You are
the most beautiful woman I have ever met,’ he said simply, his voice caressing her like velvet.

‘Even more than Ruby?’ Zarri Bano shocked herself by her question.

A look of sorrow passed across his face. ‘Of course. She was your pale shadow, Zarri Bano. You are still exquisite behind your veil. It is this very face that has tantalised me and haunted me for the past five years.’

Zarri Bano didn’t answer. Amazed at the warm glow bursting into life inside her, she revelled in the
knowledge
that she still held the power of her attraction over him. He still thinks of me as beautiful, she thought gladly.

His fingers finally rested on her lips and traced the shape of them. Then Sikander reluctantly withdrew his hand and he pulled the quilt up over her shoulders, covering her. Then he stood up to leave. One step at a time, I have told myself, and that is how it shall be, he reminded himself silently.

‘Goodnight, Zarri Bano. And welcome to my home. You are going to the Far East the day after tomorrow, aren’t you?’ he said aloud.

‘Yes,’ she answered, feeling guilty for some reason.

‘I’ll drop you off at the airport myself. Have all the arrangements been made?’

‘Yes.’

‘
Allah Hafiz,
Zarri Bano.’ He turned to leave.

‘Sikander, thank you for everything. Another man would not be so understanding. I appreciate it.’

He turned round to face her. She was now sitting up. The quilt had fallen from her shoulders and her body’s contours were outlined against her nightshirt. Feeling his eyes on her shoulders, Zarri Bano made no move to pull the quilt over herself.