The Holy Woman (51 page)

‘I am glad, Sikander Sahib,’ she answered shyly, glorying in his look of love.

Sikander plucked one of the brilliant orchids from the tree and placed it tenderly in her hair.

‘I love you very much, Zarri Bano,’ he murmured.

Z
ARRI
B
ANO’S EYES
focused on a large Raja Brook butterfly as it fluttered and landed on a small bush in front of her. She didn’t know what to say nor what to feel. Afraid to speak. Afraid to feel.

Gazing down at her bent head, Sikander waited. Then: ‘Zarri Bano, did you ever love
me
?’ he asked, breaking the poignant silence enveloping them. ‘I have laid bare my soul to you, but I don’t know if I ever captured the heart of the woman who bewitched me with one glance at the
mela.
You agreed to marry me then – but I have no idea for what reason. Tell me!
Look at me, Zarri Bano!’ he demanded in a voice roughened with pain and longing.

Eventually, she turned away from the huge black and green butterfly and stared up at Sikander, letting him see her wrestling with the painful forces within her.

‘You ask if I ever loved you, Sikander?’ she said in a quivering voice. ‘I have died for you, Sikander, a thousand times. You slew me! The day I found out that you were to marry my sister, I begged and prayed to my Allah Pak to help me! To rid me of both you and the ache I harboured for you. You were the deadly serpent, who had eaten away my innocence. While I sat on the prayer-mat I begged Allah Pak to smother and bury the woman who was, though heavily cloaked in a mantle of devoutness, still passionately in love with you.
Still longing for you!
I had to kill that woman who bled for you. Otherwise I was doomed. My Allah Pak, who is so generous, heard my prayers – those of a sinner. On the day you were married, I promised myself that Zarri Bano would never die or cry for another man ever again. It was at that moment I became a true Holy Woman. Allah Pak doused out my fire for you, as if my whole self was rinsed with the holy
zam zam,
the water from Mecca – and I became totally pure.’

With the gateways of her soul now thrown wide asunder and with nothing left to hide, there was nowhere for her to shelter from him.

‘Before Jafar died,’ she continued. ‘I simply adored you. You were the man of my dreams, the handsome stranger of the
mela
who strode ruthlessly into my world and, with one piercing look, stole away my heart. The man who robbed me of my innocence, drowning me in a torrent of longing for you. Like Sikander, the ancient King of Greece, your namesake, you conquered
and I helplessly became the spoils of your conquest, and would have followed you to the ends of the earth. You turned me into a passionate woman, someone who was frighteningly beyond my comprehension and control.

‘Then, as you know, fate conspired against us.
Circumstances
forced me to turn you away.’ Zarri Bano’s voice dipped with sadness. ‘You thought I was cruel, but you will never know how hard it was to sacrifice you! Nor will you ever know the sheer agony I suffered in turning my back on you and letting you walk out of my life. I bartered you, my love, and womanhood for duty to my parents. I ached and wept for you for months, Sikander.

‘In your bitterness, that day in the courtyard, you promised me revenge. Well you had it – when you married Ruby!’ She stopped, tears sprang into her eyes. She would never forget that night. ‘Why did you marry her, Sikander? Was it to punish me? For if it was, you couldn’t have chosen a better weapon. It was a fatal blow. I died for you then, Sikander. I’ll never do it again!’ Zarri Bano wept in agony.

Sitting down beside her on the tree trunk, Sikander gently turned her face towards him with his fingertips.

‘I never meant to punish you,’ he whispered. ‘You must believe me, Zarri Bano. As Allah is my witness, I could never do that to you. You see, it was the same for me. No one had ever set me on fire like you did, and when you said that you would not marry me, I felt like dying – I felt so betrayed. I had thought you loved me and I couldn’t understand how you could suddenly turn away from me. I was very bitter and revenge
was
often on my mind. The marriage between Ruby and me, however, was not done to punish you. Although it was my mother’s idea originally, if I am honest with myself,
at the back of my mind I wanted to be near to you. If I couldn’t have you, at least I could be a part of your world. But, Zarri Bano, it all backfired on me.

‘While you truly became a Holy Woman, I, on the other hand, was left to burn in the flames of hell. I still desired and wanted you, while married to your sister. Can you imagine this sort of hell, Zarri Bano – married to one while still lusting after the other?’ Zarri Bano saw his eyes change colour with the intensity of his feeling, that his words tried to express.

‘While truly loving my wife, your sister, I never forgot you either, Zarri Bano. You were always there. I tried my very best to be a good husband to Ruby, but at times it was as if she knew that a part of me was forever locked away with you. Many a night, in my bed, I agonised over it.’

Sikander stopped and stood up. His hands in his trouser pockets, he looked around at the beauty of the jungle. Everything seemed strangely silent. It was as though all the wild animals and birds had stopped to listen to them and pay homage to their story.

‘My punishment, Zarri Bano,’ he continued, turning to her with a pain-creased face, ‘was loving two women – two sisters. Seeing you with that bearded Egyptian in Minah made it all crushingly obvious that the past was
not
buried, as you so wanted us to believe. My explosive feelings for you were always simmering beneath the surface. I couldn’t endure the sight of that man
standing
so close to you, no matter that you regarded him as a brother. My jealousy led me to make an utter fool of myself.

‘Zarri Bano, I need to know. I am still plagued by the thought: did that man ever mean anything to you? I can still see you both, standing talking so intimately
together. He had no right to look at you like that, Zarri Bano! No man has that right – except me,’ he ended passionately.

‘You did us all an injustice, Sikander,’ Zarri Bano replied sadly. ‘He is married now. He married Selima as soon as he returned to Egypt. Perhaps we can visit them some time?’

‘Perhaps,’ Sikander shrugged, knowing it was the last thing he would want. He would never be able to endure the thought of any man wanting his Zarri Bano in the same way as he did.

‘No man meant anything to me then, neither him nor you, Sikander,’ Zarri Bano explained.

‘And now?’ he prompted, after a long pause and with a catch in his voice. He was terrified of her answer.

Zarri Bano’s eyes drifted away from his again. ‘I am sorry, Sikander. I am so afraid! Afraid of you – of what you arouse in me. Afraid of myself, of the woman buried deep within me. Don’t ask me to fall in love with you again, Sikander. I couldn’t cope with it. I have suffered so much …’ she looked up at him ‘… that I truly believe I am now emotionally bankrupt. I don’t know if I am capable of taking that big leap you are asking of me.’ Her eyes shone like emeralds, magnified once more with tears.

Sikander’s heart leapt in response to his wife’s pain and plea for understanding. Taking her hand in his own he held it against his cheek. ‘My beautiful bride. My Holy Woman.’ His earnest voice reached out to her. ‘You are not emotionally bankrupt. There is nothing to be afraid of, my beloved. You’ll not have to suffer on my behalf, nor die for me ever again. No one should have to. With Allah’s grace, I will be by your side, always.

‘I am not asking you to take a big leap, Zarri Bano.
All I request is that you let me step back into your heart once again. Make space for me there, please – even a tiny one will do, my darling. Don’t fight me or your feelings. Let down your barriers! We have always had something special between us – you know that. You can sit on a prayer-mat all your life, but you will know in your heart it will never be over between us. Never!

‘Let the passionate woman come to life again. There is nothing to be afraid of, nor to be ashamed of, Zarri Bano. We are not committing a sin or a crime. I promise you, you will always be a Holy Woman. You can still carry on leading your life the way you have chosen to do. You can run your
madrasas,
go to
conventions
, hold seminars – whatever you want. I am not going to stop you or be the
Shahzadi Ibadat’
s rival. I will not strip you of your religious identity, if that is what you are afraid of. I respect and accept you as you are. In fact, it is a great honour for me to have a
pakeeza
woman and a scholar for a wife. Do not see me as a threat to yourself, but as a friend.

‘Zarri Bano, there is a unique relationship between a husband and a wife, between a man and a woman. All I ask is that you include me in your life, and allow yourself to discover the joys of womanhood, and of motherhood.’

His eyes searched her face, assessing her feelings, thoughts and expression. ‘Zarri Bano, don’t let your mind say no when your heart and body are saying yes. Please don’t turn your back on what we have always had between us. You cannot! I will not let you! Don’t fight what neither of us can help. Last time you let your father decide for you. This time,
you
have to decide, Zarri Bano.’

He stopped, his face growing pale as he came to a
sudden turning-point in his mind and in his life. His heart sank, for he knew distinctly what he had to do. He had no choice – the stakes were high, but he had to gamble. For he would have it no other way. ‘You have to decide,’ he continued, ‘whether we go forward in this marriage or …’

‘Or?’ Zarri Bano prompted, holding her breath.

He stared at her for a long time. Her heart beating, she waited.

‘Or …’ She would never know what it was costing him to say these words. ‘Or I am letting you go! You threatened to walk out of this marriage after a year. Well – I free you to walk out of this marriage
now.
You married me under compulsion for Haris’s sake. You must only stay in it now of your own free will. If you wish it, you may return to your total life of
Ibadat,
if that means more to you than our marriage or me. For you see, I will have it no other way, Zarri Bano.’

Zarri Bano stared up at his strained face, unable to believe what she had heard. He was letting her go free! Leaning forward, she put her head on her bent knees. Then crossing her arms she held them in front of her, shielding her eyes and face from him.

I am swamping her! Sikander chided himself, gazing down at her bowed head. Resolutely he walked away.

At the sound of Sikander’s feet moving through the low undergrowth of the clearing, Zarri Bano’s head jerked up. A wave of longing washed over her. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let him walk out of her life a second time.

‘Don’t you dare walk away from me, Sikander!’ she shouted, springing to her feet.

‘I am giving you the physical space you obviously
need and want!’ he threw back at her, over his shoulder, but continued to walk.

With a light tread, she reached his side.

She touched his arm, then hesitantly slipped her hand into his. Holding her gaze steady, she let him read her face. There was no smile, but a gentle, poignant openness about her. The bereft look was still in his eyes. She couldn’t bear it.

‘You have won, Sikander,’ she offered simply. She let her eyes say it all. They whispered to him: ‘
I need you! I want you! I love you!
’

‘No, Zarri Bano,
we
have won. There are no losers,’ he teased her gently.

They stood side by side at the edge of the clearing, staring down at the green blanket of treetops as the jungle suddenly fell and spread itself into a lush green valley below them. It was as though the blanket was covered with jewels from the shining colour of the flowers, birds and butterflies. Both were silent with awe, overcome by the true greatness of Allah’s world.

‘What do you want to do next?’ Sikander asked, after a few poignant seconds. ‘The taxi is waiting. Shall we go on with our tour as planned, or shall we return to the hotel?’

‘Whatever you say,’ Zarri Bano uttered softly,
looking
up at him with her heart in her eyes.

‘No, Zarri Bano!
You
decide. The ball is in your court, as it has always been,’ he told her, his face solemn.

‘Then,’ she said simply, her eyes shining with open honesty, at peace with herself at last. ‘I prefer the hotel.’

There was no hiding his triumph as his eyes gleamed with joy at her reply. He looked at her tousled hair, where his fingers had roamed and tugged. ‘I’ll get your
burqa,
otherwise that old Malay rubber tapper will be wondering what has been going on up here in the jungle,’ he joked.

Zarri Bano laughed. A rich, natural sound that sang in the air around them.

Sikander returned to the tree to collect her
burqa.
‘After all,’ he continued naughtily, ‘we wouldn’t want to shock him, would we?’

In a companionable silence the couple retraced their steps through the jungle and the rubber plantation, down the gentle slope to their waiting taxi.

On the journey home, Zarri Bano stared out again at the majestic scenery, blessed with natural beauty. She moved close to Sikander’s side and placed her hand over his. His fingers crushed it tightly, his face
unfolding
into a smile meant only for her. She smiled unreservedly back at him. There was nothing to hide. Nothing to hold back. He had unlocked all her doors and also held the key – to everything.

‘After tomorrow, we are heading down south to Singapore for the honeymoon I promised you five years ago, Zarri Bano,’ he whispered in her ear.

The old Malay rubber tapper on the hill, scraping away at the tree to let the rubber gum ooze out for the benefit of some new tourists, watched out of the corner of his eye as he saw the taxi, with the woman in the black veil in it, drive away.