A Promised Land, page 10
‘Today’s a day for sweets,’ announced Taji, placing the tea kettle on the table. ‘If you all say so, I’ll heat up the pot and fry gulguley. Kazim Miyan is going to become an officer—oh my, I will die of happiness!’ As she spoke, she stared tauntingly at Saleema and Sajidah.
‘Oh, great! Taji, heat up the pot. Sajidah will also fry gulguley with you,’ guffawed Kazim.
‘Stop talking rubbish,’ Saleema growled. ‘Taji, leave the room. We don’t need anything right now.’
‘Oh, my, Saleema Baji. Someone merely suggested frying some gulguley and you’re the one who got hit with the boiling oil!’
This was the first time Taji had ever talked back.
‘What impudence!’ scolded Khala Bi, turning red with anger. ‘Get out of here, bitch, you’re getting uppity!’
‘Enough, enough, Khala Bi! Spit out your anger. Please do turn her out, but with a bit of class. I’ll find her a babu-type to look after her,’ laughed Kazim, glancing over at Taji.
‘What greater babu is there than you now!’ laughed Nazim.
Kazim acted as though he’d heard nothing, but Khala Bi started and looked at Nazim. When Taji left the room crying, Khala Bi clasped her head in her hands. ‘My God! What is all this? This household wasn’t always like this,’ she lamented. ‘You’ve all been strong-willed since you were small; no one listens to me. I’ve given everything to this household. I’ve sacrificed my own happiness for everyone else, but no one thinks of me.’ She began to weep. ‘Now I’m tired. Now I’m ready to die.’ She hid her face in her hands.
‘You . . . you’re crying?’ Malik put down his food.
Sajidah watched with alarm as tears rolled from his eyes. He got up quickly and retired to his room.
For a moment, all was still. Saleema stared at her weeping mother with a strange look. Hate, love, helplessness, madness, disloyalty: what were those emotions reflected in her eyes? Sajidah watched her with bewilderment.
‘Khala Bi is returning to childhood,’ quipped Kazim, opening his treasury of humour. He chuckled loudly at his own joke.
‘You bastard!’ Saleema screamed.
Kazim suddenly turned serious.
‘Everyone is happily sitting and watching Khala Bi to see how much she can cry and I’m the one being called a bastard. This is not your mother, Saleema. She’s actually my mother.’ He glared at Saleema tauntingly and strolled calmly out of the room.
Sajidah got up and put her arms around Khala Bi, hugging her tightly, overwhelmed by emotion. Then she began to weep as well.
By the time Khala Bi had started patting her to calm her down, she saw that everyone else had left the room.
18
The house had been abuzz with activity since the morning. Kazim had completed his education, and his appointment letter had arrived from Lahore. He would be assigned to the rank of Sub-Divisional Magistrate forty miles away and was to assume his duties today. Malik and Khala Bi were bursting with pride.
Nazim stared hard at Kazim as he ate. Kazim looked smug.
‘Oh, I forgot to congratulate you. Congratulations, Kazim!’ said Nazim, as though he were self-consciously trying to prove himself the elder.
‘You’re congratulating me for leaving, or . . .’
‘. . . for both things,’ interrupted Saleema with a laugh.
‘Forty miles isn’t that far away. I can easily return to spend the night with everyone at home,’ said Kazim as though he were announcing an important piece of news.
Sajidah glanced at Saleema nervously. Today, for the first time in two days, she’d finally sighed with relief. She’d felt a sense of freedom at the thought that Kazim was leaving. She’d become Saleema’s shadow ever since Kazim had tormented her.
‘Have you told my sister that you begin your position today?’ asked Khala Bi fondly.
‘That was the very first thing I did this morning. Amma Bi also gave me a blessing,’ said Kazim.
‘What was it?’ asked Malik, with a laugh.
‘May Allah bless you with the strength never to bring sorrow to another,’ Kazim laughed.
‘She’s right,’ said Taji, stacking hot rotis on the plate. ‘The heart where God resides should never be hurt. You people don’t know Punjabi. In Punjabi, if . . .’
Kazim, Malik and Khala Bi all looked at Taji and began to laugh. She became nervous and left, and Sajidah wondered if there were hearts where God did not reside and how God’s residence gets destroyed time and again, and is brought to sorrow. How can human beings face God with their hearts thus wounded?
19
Sajidah had been spending her nights in Saleema’s room after the incident with Kazim. If he was at home, she stayed with her out of fear. Just then, she sat alone in Saleema’s room wondering what to do. Where would she go if she left? She recalled Nazim’s eloquent words: ‘Mr Officer rules the roost here now. Who will heed your complaints?’ She could not scrub the stench of fresh blood in Taji’s quarters from her mind. She wished she could scream at the top of her lungs. She hid her face in her hands with dread.
When Nazim entered the room, she calmed herself with great difficulty.
‘Please have a seat,’ she said in a restrained tone.
‘Sajidah Bibi, what do you think? Can we not spend our lives together?’ Nazim asked softly.
‘Anything is possible now, Nazim Sahib,’ she said hollowly. ‘I just want to tell you one thing. I am in love with someone else; I don’t remember for how long. I wait for him night and day.’ She sighed deeply as though to save herself from drowning.
‘That makes no difference to me. I’m thankful you love and do not hate,’ said Nazim calmly. He didn’t appear alarmed.
‘I still love him. Perhaps I always will. I’m waiting for him. Please put an end to my waiting. I can no longer tolerate the agony. You do understand, don’t you?’ she asked, mournfully.
‘How can I put an end to your waiting, Sajidah Bibi?’ he asked, staring at her in confusion.
‘Please put an advertisement in the papers saying, Sajidah, daughter of the late Muhammad Ramzan, a refugee from Delhi, awaits Salahuddin, son of Alauddin. Please come and meet her at this address, wherever he may be.’
She looked up at Nazim with lost eyes.
‘I’ll submit this advertisement today. God willing, he’s alive and well and will quickly come to see you. Anything else?’ Nazim asked.
‘He must be here somewhere,’ she muttered. ‘He was Punjabi, but I don’t remember where he lived. He had come to Delhi to study.’ She started. ‘Nazim Sahib, please make sure to write the correct address.’ She peered at him suspiciously.
‘You’ll read it yourself in the paper tomorrow.’
He stood up to leave.
‘I’ll wait for eight days, that’s it. Then, whatever you want . . .’ she wept.
Nazim stopped in the hallway for a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes. He wasn’t sure what emotion had inspired them.
In those days, the news was so exciting that no one was about to sit around reading advertisements. Sajidah saw the ad and folded up the paper. She hadn’t even told Saleema about it. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to mention this to her.
The ad began to run the next day and Sajidah watched the front door vigilantly. The slightest rattle startled her. ‘Who is it?’ she’d whisper.
Many people came and went, and her eyes stung with the anguish of waiting. She was so overwhelmed with hope and fear that she began to seem like an invalid. During that period, she stopped coming out to eat with everyone else. Saleema would force her to eat a few bites in her room and grieved at the thought that Kazim was the one who had put her in this state. Khala Bi, Amma Bi and Malik came to see her a few times. Everyone thought she was suffering from jaundice. Only Taji stared at her strangely, though she didn’t dare say anything for fear of Saleema.
One afternoon, Taji brought her something to eat when Saleema was in the bathroom.
‘Sajidah Baji, does your stomach ache?’ Taji asked, placing her hand on Sajidah’s stomach. She felt her belly, and then rubbed her hands together with disappointment.
‘Do you feel better now, Taji? Can’t you think of anything else?’
‘Baji, when you have a stomach ache, you feel weak like this,’ said Taji, brazenly ignoring her words. ‘One time, I ate something unripe . . . then I got a stomach ache. My mother massaged my stomach and I was better in a couple of days, but I have no idea what you’ve come down with.’
‘Hmph!’ said Sajidah, closing her eyes.
Taji tiptoed away.
Six days had passed. Sajidah lay with her eyes closed, wondering, Where is the one who searches for me? Where has he disappeared? Where can he be?
Saleema stayed by Sajidah’s side as much as she could. She said all sorts of things about Kazim and kept urging her to marry Nazim and she disparaged Kazim, telling her that it was she who was the honour of the family. Sajidah listened to all this and stared at her helplessly.
The eighth day of waiting finally passed; it felt like a century. And now Sajidah felt the sort of inner peace one feels on returning from a cemetery. When she got out of bed on the ninth day, her legs were wobbly. All the same, she went to eat breakfast with Saleema.
She looked up at Nazim once while drinking tea, and then looked down again. She wondered: Was she ready for this sacrifice? Were there no more miracles in this
world?
Who could explain to her that reality is brutal indeed?
She set her teacup down on the table when her hands trembled, and went back to Saleema’s room, ignoring everyone’s questions, where she fell upon the bed as though she’d never rise again.
‘Are you all right, Sajidah?’ asked Saleema, following her into the room.
‘I’m completely fine, Baji!’ Sajidah burst out laughing. ‘Please go and eat breakfast. I feel nauseous.’
‘Oh! I thought maybe something was wrong.’
As soon as Saleema left, Nazim entered the room. He must have been waiting outside. Sajidah looked at him for a minute, then looked down.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said and fell silent.
‘Tell me your decision, Sajidah Bibi,’ he said calmly, pulling up a chair and sitting down.
‘You will forget everything. You will never speak Salahuddin’s name, and . . .’ her voice became tearful.
‘All I know is that I am in love with you, and that’s it. Trust me.’
‘Who are you in love with?’ asked Saleema, entering the room as she wiped her hands with the pallu of her sari.
They both stared back at her foolishly.
‘Saleema, I want to marry Sajidah Bibi. You also hoped for this, didn’t you?’ Nazim asked, gazing at Saleema affectionately.
‘Oh, brother! You said that so casually, as though you were saying, “I want to eat some kheer.” Have you considered the storm this will unleash in the household?’
For a moment, the room was filled with silence, and Sajidah thought, A storm will surely break out. She was no more significant than Taji in this household. The only difference between the two was that she’d been an educated Taji when she came from the camp.
‘I’m prepared for the storm, Saleema! Don’t you worry. I only need to get Amma Bi’s permission.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Saleema Baji!’ Sajidah cried out, trembling from head to toe.
‘What is it, my darling?’ asked Saleema, hugging her.
‘Amma Bi . . .’ Sajidah began, but she was unable to continue.
‘Come with me to Amma Bi; then you’ll see that she’s not like everyone else,’ said Saleema, grabbing hold of Sajidah’s hand.
As they walked to Amma Bi’s room, they encountered Khala Bi sweeping and dusting. How exhausted she looked. She woke up at the crack of dawn and personally supervised the preparation of Kazim’s breakfast, then made his lunch before bidding him farewell. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.
When Saleema and Sajidah entered Amma Bi’s room, she was kissing Nazim on the forehead.
‘Nazim, my son! This is your first and last wish, is it not?’
‘Yes, Amma Bi. You can count on it.’
When Amma Bi held Sajidah’s trembling head to her bosom, Sajidah fell into her arms.
20
‘Walk quickly. Kazim may not come home tonight, so Ammi said goodbye to him and is lying sadly in her room. Taji’s cooking dinner.’
Saleema held an attaché case in one hand and pulled Sajidah up from the bed with the other. Nazim stood by, watching Sajidah’s face turn pale.
‘For God’s sake get up, Sajjo, my darling! If anyone sees us leaving the house, we’ll be deluged with questions.’
Sajidah started and dragged herself up as though a deluge of questions had already drenched her. She held out her cold hand to Saleema, and the three of them walked to the old car that stood by the road near the gate.
They arrived at an old mansion, where they were welcomed into a wing of the building by Nazim’s friends. As Sajidah sat on a decorated bed, she noticed that the house was all done up for a wedding. She was surrounded by smiling, laughing women dressed in silks. The room was draped with red and yellow bunting, there was a wedding drum on the floor, and she could hear laughter from outside.
A little while later, everyone sat about the drum, and the singing began—classic wedding songs about a rich father with a large haveli. Sajidah sat with her head down, thinking, Abba built a house with only two rooms, and a yard where a chameli plant grew.
When the wedding songs were over, the film songs began:
Pitter-pat the clouds rain, the thrilling breezes blow,
Beloved, come home, come home, beloved, come home!
And Sajidah thought, Amma used to say ‘if a traveller begins a journey at night he will lose his way’.
Then, suddenly, there was a great uproar.
Out of the way! Out of the way! The Qazi ji has arrived!
The women immediately hid their faces under dupattas; Saleema covered Sajidah with a shawl, and when she was asked before the witnesses if she accepted the nikah, she immediately said, yes—an uninfluenced yes; an unemotional yes. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry the way other girls did.
In a short while, Saleema and her friend, Khurshid, had made her up and dressed her as a bride. Sajidah didn’t even notice she wore the same gharara suit that Saleema sometimes wore to weddings. The necklace and earrings were also the same ones Saleema often wore.
When she was ready, a lovely woman adorned her forehead with an inlaid tikka, and Saleema whispered to Sajidah that this was Sabirah, the wife of Nazim’s best friend.
‘Is that what I should be called, Saleema Baji? Patience?’ she murmured, touching the tikka. Saleema hugged her tightly.
She had no memory of what happened next, as though she had fallen into a deep sleep. It wasn’t until the car had entered the gate, and evening was changing into the raiments of night, and Nazim had helped her out of the car, that her consciousness awoke completely.
The moment she entered the hallway, she lifted her eyes and stood tall. Today, she entered the house as Nazim’s wife. She could hear Kazim talking and laughing loudly in Khala Bi’s room. The tea things were set out on the table, and Taji was taking ladoos from a basket decorated with silver lace and arranging them on plates.
‘Thank goodness you’re all back! We were waiting for you. Kazim Miyan brought home two baskets of ladoos today,’ Taji cried out enthusiastically. Then she started. ‘Sajidah Baji! Did you go to a wedding? And you, Saleema Baji, you dressed so plainly.’ She gazed at them in shock. ‘You all went out this morning and you’re only coming back now! Khala Bi has been in a state worrying about you.’ She stared at Sajidah.
‘Get us some nice hot tea quickly, Taji. We’ll be right there,’ said Nazim and they went to Amma Bi’s room without waiting for a response.
Amma Bi hugged Sajidah and wept for joy. Sajidah wanted to lie against her bosom and weep but her eyes were dry.
‘Go on now, have your tea. You’ve come home quite late; everyone was upset. Taji said that Malik and Saleema’s mother hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since morning.’
The three of them had only just emerged from the room when Khala Bi came rushing to see them and instantly burst into tears.
‘Where were you girls since morning? Why didn’t you tell me where you were going before you left?’
She rushed forward to hug Saleema eagerly but Saleema stepped back as though she hadn’t seen her mother coming towards her.
‘We went to a wedding. Come let’s have tea,’ said Saleema. She walked into the dining room holding Sajidah’s hand and seated her by her side. Then, she immediately began to talk of random things. She didn’t notice that her mother hung near her like a shadow.
‘And you went to a wedding dressed like this! You dressed her in your clothing. If you’d told me, I could have given her my old gharara,’ said Khala Bi, staring at Sajidah.
‘Taji! Tea!’ Saleema yelled.
‘Have a little patience, Saleema Baji! Why are you yelling?’ Kazim came into the room laughing. But when he saw Sajidah, he stopped in shock.
‘Have a seat, Kazim. Your legs will tire from standing. And then I’ll have to yell more to get you to sit down,’ said Saleema.
Kazim sat down on his chair, embarrassed, but soon he fixed his gaze on Sajidah’s face. Nazim and Saleema were calmly drinking their tea. Sajidah suddenly stood and glared back at Kazim.
‘You, Kazim! You’re so rude. You don’t even know how to look at your own sister-in-law! You don’t even have the manners to say hello.’
Sister-in-law. Khala Bi jumped from her chair as though a bomb had gone off in the room. Kazim, Taji and Khala Bi stared stonily at Sajidah.
‘Yes, sister-in-law, Khala Bi! Sister-in-law . . .’ Today, there was pride in her tone. ‘Please teach your favourite some manners, or I shall break his face.’
