The Holy Woman (23 page)

K
ANIZ AGGRESSIVELY PUSHED
the white
wrought-iron
gate open with her foot and let it bang loudly behind her, heralding her arrival to all. She
immediately
went in search of her sister. ‘Sabra!’ she bawled. Neesa came running out of the bedding storeroom on
the ground floor. Catching sight of her mistress, she hurried to take the shawl off Kaniz’s shoulders.

‘Where is my sister?’ the
chaudharani
demanded. Neesa flinched. Anger appeared to exude from her
mistress’s
every pore.

‘She is resting, Sahiba Jee,’ Neesa informed Kaniz timidly moving away; wisely she wanted to place as much distance as possible between the other woman and herself. Kaniz was well-known for her tantrums and throwing and breaking things.

It was a good two hours later when Sabra came down from her afternoon nap. Still yawning, she hadn’t
bargained
for the verbal onslaught that hit her as soon as she saw Kaniz lying on a
palang
on the veranda.

Kaniz was fanning herself vigorously with a
bead-studded
hand fan. The electricity had just gone off; the generator wasn’t working either. The late afternoon’s heat and her hot flushes had literally lent more fuel to Kaniz’s anger. ‘Twice in one day! What is the use of paying thousands of rupees for air conditioners, when there is no electricity available to use them?’ she fumed, barely waiting for her sister to sit down on a cane chair before beginning to rant and rave.

Then: ‘She had me thrown out, Sabra!’ Kaniz exclaimed, her arms outstretched dramatically.

‘Who, Kaniz, dear?’ Sabra ventured innocently, totally unprepared for the molten lava of words ready to erupt from the crater of Kaniz’s beautiful mouth.

‘That witch Firdaus, of course – who else!’ Kaniz rasped, throwing her sister a murderous look. Trust Sabra not to understand!

Now wide awake. ‘What do you mean, she had you thrown out?’ Sabra asked gently, very anxious to calm her sister and to lower her own blood pressure,
which had a habit of rapidly shooting up when Kaniz shouted.

‘When I went to visit her, she told her
chaprassi
to show me the door,’ Kaniz hissed, breathing fire. ‘She was entertaining her special guests – principals and all the top nobs. While she eagerly flew to hug them, she had me thrown out like a
fakir
by her minion!’

‘What, just like that? You must have said or done something, surely?’ Sabra knew all about the animosity her sister bore towards Fatima and her family.

‘I only told her what she rightfully deserved to hear: to leave my son well alone!’ Kaniz swung the hand fan in front of her face in long, heavy strokes. The heat was bursting out of her cheeks.

Studiously avoiding her sister’s eyes, Sabra lifted the second fan from the table and began to fan her own face languidly. She was not quite ready to get herself embroiled in Kaniz’s petulant outburst as yet. Well conversant with her sister’s erratic behaviour since childhood, she could read her moods and degrees of volatility like the back of her hand.

‘She has left your son well alone,’ Sabra eventually placated, now looking frankly into her sister’s eyes.

‘Oh no, she hasn’t!’ Kaniz was scandalised by her sister’s temerity in disagreeing with her. ‘It is he who has left me! Me – his mother, who gave birth to him! He has abandoned me and his home for that chit. What in Allah’s name does he see in her? She is too short and plain – a nobody,’ Kaniz spat, her nose in the air.

Sabra looked calmly at her elder sister, wondering whether she should be honest for once – and therefore speak very bluntly indeed – or whether to humour Kaniz, as she usually did, by keeping quiet.

In the end, honesty won the day – she owed it to her
sister, after all. Sabra’s heart sank at the prospect, ‘but it has to be said,’ she told herself firmly. ‘In fact, it is time someone spoke out.’

‘Kaniz, my dear sister,’ she began, taking the plunge, ‘why don’t you let Khawar marry this young woman, if he really wants to? Then you could have him back at home.’

There was complete silence. Kaniz blinked at Sabra, unable to believe her burning ears – feeling totally betrayed. Her own sister, mouthing such infamy!

Kaniz’s almond-shaped eyes stood large in her face, her lower lip quivering with emotion.

‘You too, Sabra?’ she said, her voice incredulous. ‘It seems I am living amongst a nest of vipers and traitors. I have already had a lecture from the old man, Siraj Baba. I definitely do not deserve one now from my baby sister, my own blood. Has that chit got round to
feeding
her
tweez
to everyone? To you too? I tell you, sister, that I will never let that washerwoman’s daughter step over the threshold of this house. As long as I live, this house is
mine.
Do you understand?’

Sabra sighed. She had already dipped her foot in it, so she might as well dive straight into the dangerous deep end of her sister’s pool of wrath.

‘Have you ever considered, Kaniz dear, that that “washerwoman” as you like to call her, could have been
chaudharani,
in your place? If she had married Brother Sarwar
she
would have been mistress here. But Fatima turned him down: only then did you get the chance to become the
chaudharani
yourself.’

At that moment, Kaniz could easily have strangled Sabra. If she had been younger she would have leapt at her sister and pulled out her hair from her chunky thick plait.

‘First it was Siraj Baba, now you!’ she hissed. ‘Is everyone going to abuse and humiliate me?’

‘I just don’t understand why you bear such a grudge against them! You see, you have gained in every way, sister. You are the mistress of this place and of acres of land. Fatima, on the other hand, has to work hard at an uncongenial job to support her husband and her family. Firdaus could have been Sarwar’s daughter. She could have been a sister to Khawar.’

‘Khawar is my son, Sabra. Your imagination is
running
away with you.’ Kaniz’s voice was now threaded with steel.

‘Please, sister, don’t get yourself all worked up. Remember your blood pressure. You are both respected families. The girl is educated. Firdaus and Khawar apparently want to marry each other. Then why are you preventing it? I will tell you why sister. It is all due to your pride, which one day will prove your downfall. I am not going to mince my words any more to please you. I know you do not like hearing the truth and you can go purple as beetroot in the face, but if I don’t say it, nobody else will.’

Sabra looked her sister right in the eye as she told her straight: ‘If you don’t let this marriage take place, you will regret it to the end of your days. You have only one son, and if you lose him, you will lose everything. Love is what you are fighting here, my dear sister. It makes people do crazy things. People have murdered for love; kings have been known to abandon their thrones for love. I tell you, sister,’ her voice lowered, ‘you are at the losing end here.’

‘I already am. He has left home for that witch,’ Kaniz said despairingly.

‘Why do you hate them so much?’ Sabra wanted to
know. ‘I don’t understand it! She is a very nice girl, this Firdaus, from what I have seen of her. I tell you, sister, she is a good catch. If she goes to the city, she’ll be one of the most eligible of young educated women. I would have thought that you would love to have a
Headmistress
for a daughter-in-law – one who earns thousands of rupees in salary. People will come flooding to your door out of respect. Later, she could even become a Principal.’ Sabra beamed at her sister.

But Kaniz was in no mood to listen. ‘I don’t want to hear another word, Sabra. You, my own sister, have turned traitor!’ Her fingers were now held to her
burning
ears, trying to block out the unwelcome words.

‘No, dear sister, I am not a traitor,’ Sabra said solemnly. ‘Your jealousy and hatred have eaten away all your commonsense.’

‘Jealousy! Of whom, may I ask?’

‘Of Fatima, of course. You cannot forgive her for turning your husband down. You cannot bear the thought that you were second best, that he really wanted to marry Fatima, but she refused. What you seem to forget is that if she
had
married Sarwar, where would you be? In a miserable three-room apartment in the inner city bazaar area of the town, in our parents’ home. You would certainly not be the
chaudharani
of all this!’ Sabra ended passionately, having lost both her fear and patience with her sister.

Insulted beyond belief, Kaniz stood up and strode away into the house, flinging the fan on to the marble floor. It fell with a sharp crack and broke into two pieces. Sabra shook her head resignedly. She had
definitely
done it now. Kaniz would throw her out, for sure.

When Neesa came to ask where they wanted to eat, whether inside in the dining room or outside on the
balcony rooftop, Sabra ruefully told her that she had better bring her a tray in the courtyard; she didn’t think her mistress would be eating with her today. ‘I am afraid,’ Sabra continued, looking sheepishly at Neesa, ‘I am in her bad books at the moment. You might as well pack my bags; I will be leaving soon. I have definitely overstayed my welcome this time!’

Neesa flashed a conspiratorial smile at Sabra and nodded in understanding. It didn’t bode well for her either. Today she would no doubt be taking the brunt of the
chaudharani’
s anger, but she had spent
twenty-nine
years of her life doing just that. So what was another day? She sometimes wondered why she put up with her mistress’s tyrannical ways, but in her heart, Neesa already knew the answer: it was for love of Khawar, the young master she had helped to raise with Kaniz.

S
IKANDER SAT WITH
his parents in their drawing room in Karachi. Over twelve months had passed since Zarri Bano had become a Holy Woman. They had learnt from some friends that Zarri Bano was now studying at Cairo University. Sikander had forbidden his parents to mention her name in his presence. ‘I can never forgive her, Mother!’ he had raged.

An idea had, however, been germinating in Bilkis’s head. Having toyed with it for so long, she found it difficult to give up. This evening, with both her son and husband in a notably relaxed mood, she gambled and took the plunge.

‘Sikander, do you know I can actually see some white hairs near your temple?’ she remarked. Sikander laughed. ‘It’s not funny,’ she remonstrated fondly. ‘As a mother I am concerned, not about your white hair, but about your single status. Your two sisters hardly ever visit us these days. My heart hungers for the sound of children in this large, lonely place. I want
grandchildren
, Sikander. I think it is time you decided to marry and settled down, my son.’

Sikander, working on his business accounts, moved them aside from his lap and respectfully paid heed to his mother’s words. He was about to make a
conciliatory
remark when his mother quietly slipped in, ‘What about Ruby?’

The words died on Sikander’s lips. He stared at his mother in stunned silence, as though receiving an
electric
shock. Thrusting the papers onto the floor, he stood up. ‘Never!’ His grey eyes dark with emotion, he strode out of the room.

Raja Din turned to his wife, his own eyes mirroring his surprise. ‘When and from where did you get this preposterous idea in your brain, my dear? That wasn’t very clever, or very sensitive of you. You know how he still feels about Zarri Bano. To tell you the truth, I can’t forget her myself,’ he told his wife with a wistful look in his eyes.

‘Well, Ruby is her sister,’ Bilkis began defensively. ‘She is just as nice and nearly as beautiful. I know you are both partial to Zarri Bano’s beauty, but in looks you can hardly tell the difference between the two sisters apart from Ruby’s hairstyle and the colour of her eyes. If Sikander cannot marry Zarri Bano, what is to stop him from marrying Ruby? After all, she is not a Holy Woman – is she?’

‘No, Bilkis! Sikander wants nothing more to do with that family. Marrying Ruby would only evoke memories of the past for him. You are right, of course, Ruby
is
a very attractive and eligible girl – but it doesn’t seem right. What would Zarri Bano think? What would Ruby herself think?’

‘Well, if she had any sense, Ruby would be pleased. Our son is so eligible, wealthy and such a good-looking man. As far as Zarri Bano is concerned, she now belongs to another world. From what I gather, she will be
forever
on her religious tours, seminars or pilgrimages. It is nothing to do with her, who her sister marries.’

‘But she still has feelings,’ Raja Din persisted.

‘She has no right to object. She gave up Sikander and marriage to become a Holy Woman,’ Bilkis stated firmly.

‘My dear, you argue everything so plausibly, but in the end it will all depend on Sikander. He is not keen on that family at all – you know that.’

‘Well, my heart is set on Ruby and I am not going to give up. I want to exorcise Zarri Bano’s ghost from my son’s heart, once and for all. I know in my bones that woman lives in his mind and heart all day, as much as he will deny it.’

And Bilkis didn’t give up. In fact, she kept on
battering
away at her son’s reserve. After three tries, she managed to get him to listen to her again.

‘I know what you felt for Zarri Bano, but that is all in the past now, my son. She is part of another world and another life. You must learn to forget her. She is out of your reach. But her sister isn’t, and Ruby is such a nice girl.’

‘Mother, this is my life you are talking about. It was Zarri Bano I wanted to marry, not Ruby. How can I
suddenly think of Ruby as my wife? Also, she would always remind me of her sister.’

‘Zarri Bano is the past, my son,’ Bilkis repeated firmly.

‘I know, Mother – so you keep reminding me. I have tried to remove her from my mind and heart, I really have. But linking myself to Ruby will bring it all back again. I will never be able to get away from her or her family. Don’t you see?’

‘No, my son, I do not see. You need to adjust yourself to the idea, that is clear, but Zarri Bano is the past while Ruby is the present and the future. She is a
person
in her own right. She also has the qualities and looks that you found so attractive in Zarri Bano. She is not Zarri Bano, we know that, but she is a wonderful woman. Give her a chance, my son, please. She is an intelligent, beautiful, graceful woman and has a warm sunny personality.’

‘But with no sparkle,’ Sikander added mentally to himself, recalling that one vivid quality in Zarri Bano. He knew he would not find it easily in another woman. The new Zarri Bano, the Holy Woman, had lost it too. It was buried with the old Zarri Bano, behind the
burqa.

‘Mother, have you ever thought of what Ruby might have to say, or how she would feel on this subject? After all, I was her sister’s fiancé once. I find it an abhorrent idea. I am sure that she will find it even more so, especially as it is her sister I should have married in the first place. If you want the truth, Mother, I hate the idea. As a matter of fact, I hate that family.’

‘Forget about Zarri Bano and her father! Do you hate Ruby?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Then why don’t you marry her?’ Bilkis persisted doggedly.

‘Mother! Please stop!’

‘I am not going to stop until you agree to at least think rationally about it and allow me to get in touch with Ruby’s parents, rather than dismiss it rashly because of your prejudice.’

‘All right, Mother, I’ll think seriously about it. Now can we change the subject?’

Bilkis stopped and triumphantly lowered her gaze, hiding her pleasure from him. She had partially reached her goal.

Sikander did think about it. He thought about it as he lay in his bed at night-time and as he walked in the orange orchard. In fact, he thought of nothing else. A few days later he announced to Bilkis that he had capitulated.

‘Mother, you may go ahead and approach Zar—Ruby’s parents,’ he said a week later. He had decided that it was time to bury the past and make a fresh start. Zarri Bano had, hadn’t she? Now he was entitled to do the same. She had forgotten him. It was time for him to forget her.

‘I will, my handsome son,’ said Bilkis, hugging him, her cheeks warm with pleasure. ‘You don’t know how happy you have made me. You’ll not regret it, I assure you. Ruby is a wonderful girl, my darling.’

‘That is to be seen, Mother. She’ll never be Zarri Bano, will she? I won’t kid myself, but I am a fool for wanting to get involved with that family again and for listening to you.’

Bilkis wasted no time in setting the wheels in motion and two weeks later Sikander was formally engaged to
Ruby. Bilkis had telephoned Ruby’s parents that very evening, when Sikander had given her the go-ahead. Shahzada and Habib were very surprised by Bilkis requesting Ruby’s hand for her son in marriage. Since Zarri Bano’s ceremony it had been an awkward affair for both the parties. Wanting to make amends for having broken their ties over Zarri Bano’s engagement, Habib agreed in theory – even before approaching Ruby.

When Shahzada gently broached the subject with her daughter, Ruby’s face went scarlet in
embarrassment.
She was expecting to marry soon, but not her sister’s ex-fiancé, and she recoiled inwardly. Of course she was very flattered by the proposal, but there was something not quite right. Sikander was very wealthy, educated, good-looking and of a high social standing, she told herself – but he was to have been her sister’s husband. How could she marry him? He was the only man her sister had ever wanted to marry, and he was the one her sister had been prevented from marrying. How could she ever face Zarri Bano if she were to marry Sikander? She would be betraying her in the worst possible way. She felt like a traitor for even harbouring the thought in her mind. Luckily Zarri Bano was not around. She was now in India, at Ajmeir Sharif, visiting the famous Indian Darbar. How would Zarri Bano react? What would she say?

And what about her own feelings? Ruby mused. Twinges of awareness had already alerted her to the fact that she did find Sikander attractive. And yes, she would like to marry him; after all, which woman would not? She argued the pros and cons with herself. The only obstacle and problem was Zarri Bano and her reaction when she found out.

After two days of wrestling with her conscience, Ruby accepted the proposal. As yet Sikander and Ruby had not come in direct contact with each other. Sikander didn’t drive over immediately to meet his fiancée. ‘I already know her. I have seen her,’ he told his parents, dismissively and gave them permission to act as his go-betweens.

The engagement was formalised by Sikander’s parents a fortnight later. They brought presents for her, including a very expensive engagement ring. Sikander accompanied them to Ruby’s home, only agreeing to it after finding out that Zarri Bano was not in Pakistan. Otherwise he would have preferred the engagement party to take place at his home.

After a short, formal meeting in the lounge, with everyone taking refreshments, Ruby and Sikander were left alone to get to know one another better –
prompting
Sikander to bitterly recall another time, when he and Zarri Bano had been left alone to take a walk in the fields.

Both Sikander and Ruby felt uneasy in the other’s presence. The last time Ruby had seen him, he had been a prospective brother-in-law and now she had to view him as her own fiancé.

Sikander’s eyes swept over Ruby. Undeniably, she was an attractive woman. In terms of looks he couldn’t fault her, apart from the colour of her eyes. He accepted, however, that she was no match for Zarri Bano and never would be. She would never kindle the fire in him like Zarri Bano had.

Sikander gave himself a mental shake. He must stop comparing Ruby to Zarri Bano. ‘She means nothing to me any more!’ he told himself angrily. Then why did his heart always trip over when he heard her name
mentioned, or when an image of her face came startling fresh before his eyes?

It was an awkward repartee with Ruby constantly dropping her gaze before his.

‘Are you happy with this match, Ruby Sahiba?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she answered, finally meeting his eyes, a blush suffusing her cheeks. ‘And you? Are
you
happy to go ahead with it?’ There was a solemn expression on her face, replacing the earlier shyness.

‘Yes,’ came his firm answer. He had seen and felt her reserve and that, in turn, had melted his own. His attractive mouth now curved into a spontaneous warm smile.

Ruby blossomed under it – caught. She forgot her sister but instead welcomed the union with this
good-looking
man with all her heart.

As she stood up to return her tea plate to the table, Sikander’s eyes followed. ‘She is Ruby, not Zarri Bano,’ he told himself. Zarri Bano had to be exorcised from his heart, and he now felt happy and confident in the belief that Ruby would certainly help him to do that. The sisters were so alike and yet so different. As he smiled into her brown eyes, Sikander vowed that he would never compare the two in his mind again.

Ruby returned with a cup in her hand, a tremulous smile still playing on her lips. Feeling his eyes sweep over her, her woman’s intuition signalled to her that this was the first time Sikander was seeing her as a woman in her own right and not as Zarri Bano’s sister. A triumphant glow lit up inside her and she exulted in it.

They talked for a long time. There was not the electric awareness, the powerful desire that he had
harboured for Zarri Bano on his first encounter, Sikander mused, but he had begun to enjoy Ruby’s company and felt happier for it.

When the parents returned they found the couple relaxed and laughing. Both sets of parents exchanged glances and smiles, knowing that a marriage between Ruby and Sikander would indeed be imminent.

That same evening, a date was set for the wedding – a month later. By that time Zarri Bano would be back from India. If anybody felt any tension in the room when Shahzada mentioned Zarri Bano’s name, nobody gave any indication of it.

Sikander and his parents declined to stay overnight as Sikander was flying off to Malaysia on a business trip early the following morning. They left late that same night.

Shahzada joined her husband in their bedroom, after they had seen Sikander and his parents off. She sat on the sofa facing Habib, who was sitting on his bed.

‘Do you know, it is going to be my Ruby’s wedding, but I do not feel at all happy about it, Habib,’ she began solemnly.

‘As parents of a daughter we are not culturally meant to feel happy, my dear. We will be losing a daughter. Well, at least we shall still have Zarri Bano, once Ruby leaves us …’ He stopped, noting the expression on his wife’s face.

‘That is just it, Habib – Zarri Bano.’ Shahzada hoped that she wouldn’t have to digress further.

‘What about her?’ he asked, not meeting her gaze.

‘We should never have agreed to this match with Sikander. Have you considered Zarri Bano’s feelings on the subject?’

‘She is a Holy Woman now, Shahzada. What does it matter to her who Ruby marries?’ came his sharp reply. Habib was annoyed with his wife for referring to that matter and spoiling it all.

‘Sikander was the man Zarri Bano was supposed to have married, Habib! Surely you remember that? Don’t you think that you’ve done enough damage as it is, without hurting her more? Can’t you be sensitive enough to see it from her point of view?’

‘Shahzada, you are delving too much into Zarri Bano’s feelings. We have no idea what she’ll think. As she is not marrying anybody, what will it matter to her who Sikander marries? She is too busy with her new life to give any of us much thought. Anyway, I feel happier that I have been able to make amends to Sikander and his family. What is the difference between Ruby and Zarri Bano, anyway? To me they are both the same.’