by Sabina Khan
I considered not giving it to him. Would he try to get it from my purse? Or would he have another panic attack? Hating myself for the pang of fear and guilt that pierced my heart, I fished the phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. He looked at it cluelessly for a moment, and then handed it to my mother without a word. She swiped the screen and typed in my password. I wanted to kick myself for not changing it. I’d always told Mom my password when she asked me, because I had never thought I would find myself in this situation. It had never occurred to me to protect myself from her. Now I looked on helplessly as she scrolled through my messages. Then she looked up triumphantly, her face transformed by an evil smirk.
“Look, Ibrahim … look at what your clever daughter has done.” She passed the phone to him. He read it and looked at me, shaking his head.
“How can you do this to us?” he asked in disbelief. “Did you think of what would happen if anyone found out about this?”
“And you dragged poor Irfan into your mess too?” Mom chimed in. “That nice boy, what will his parents think of us now?”
“Mom, I’m not going to marry someone just because you can’t deal with the fact that I’m gay.”
That just set her off.
“Keep your voice down,” she said through gritted teeth. “Do you want the whole house to know about your—I can’t even say it.”
“Mom, can you at least try to understand? What you and Dad are doing is ridiculous. You can’t force me to marry anyone. Especially not some guy.”
They didn’t say anything at first.
“Rukhsana, we’re worried about you,” Mom said eventually. “Do you have any idea what will happen when people find out? We’ll become the laughingstock of our community. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not. But why do you care what some narrow-minded people think about us?”
“Because we have to live the rest of our lives among them,” Dad said. “Maybe you can go somewhere and start your life over, but what is going to happen to us? We will have nothing. We have a business to run that we worked very hard to build. Who do you think will want to shop there after they find out about you? Our good reputation is all we have.”
I stood there, unable to speak, unable to move, watching as my only chance of escape went up in smoke. I never hated my mother as much as I did in that moment. Hated her for every time she made me wish I was a boy, every time she made me feel that I was less than. But most of all I hated what she had done to Dad. She had made him see me through her eyes.
“Did you think I would keep quiet and just let you marry me off?” The delicate thread of self-control I’d been holding on to for so many weeks broke and the hate came spewing out. My mother narrowed her eyes and gave me a hard look.
“You will do exactly as we say, do you understand? Now, go to your room.” She pushed me slightly when I didn’t move and followed me up the stairs to my bedroom. Without a word, she turned around and left, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, I heard a key turning in the lock. I ran to the door and pushed down the brass handle. It was locked.
This could not be happening. Did she actually think she could just lock me up in a room and that I would agree with her medieval ideas?
Well, she can try. Let’s see how she explains to Nusrat Mami why I’m locked in my room.
I sat there fuming at first, angry at myself for being so stupid. I should have kept the passport on me. I should have known Mom would snoop around in my things.
I expected her to come through the door any minute now, smug in her assumption that I had been scared straight.
I remembered storing Nani’s diary in the top drawer of my nightstand, so I pulled it out and began to read the next entry.
Today was not a good day. Baba was supposed to bring the rest of my dowry, but instead he came to ask for more time. After he departed, my mother-in-law came to me in the kitchen, where I was boiling water for our baths. She grabbed me by the arm and plunged my left hand into the pot. I screamed in pain and tried to pull away but she held my arm tight. It was so unbearable I thought I was going to faint. She let it go after a few seconds, but there were already angry red blisters forming on my fingers and across the top of my hand. When Arif came home in the evening, he asked me about my bandaged hand. I lied and told him I spilled hot water on it. He sneered and said I was a clumsy good-for-nothing and if my father didn’t bring the money soon, he would send me back. I cannot go back. Baba will kill himself from the shame. I haven’t told them about the baby. But I will tell them tomorrow and maybe then the beatings will stop for some time. I will pray to Allah that it is a boy.
I was sick to my stomach. I’d seen the marks on Nani’s hand when I was little. I’d asked her about them, running my little fingers along the edges of her scars. But she’d said it was just an accident. Now my heart constricted with pain at the thought of what they had done to her. I turned back to the diary and continued reading.
It has been a week since I told them I am carrying a child. A week in heaven, without beatings. Arif has even stopped coming to me at night because he is afraid he might harm his unborn son. Mother-in-law brings me fruit every day and I get the good pieces of chicken as well. One day she even made goat curry. If they continue to treat me like this then I will have ten children. Today mother-in-law took me to a soothsayer in the village. Everyone says that she can predict whether I will have a boy or girl. Mother-in-law brought saris, sweets, and money for her. I was so happy and relieved when the soothsayer said I would have a boy. She put her hands on my belly, which is getting bigger every day. She said she could feel his soul talking to her. Mother-in-law was very happy too. When Arif came home he brought me a flower and put it in my hair. I haven’t felt so happy for a long time.
I closed my eyes for a bit and pressed my head against the pillow. Did Mom know about this diary? Nani had said she wanted me to have it, so maybe nobody else had seen it. Nobody knew the hell she’d lived through. I was exhausted but I couldn’t help myself. I had to know what happened next.
It has been a month since I had my baby girl. I am constantly hungry, because the baby is drinking so much milk. I’m not allowed to eat meat and fish anymore. Only rice and daal and sometimes vegetables. Mother-in-law says we cannot waste so much food for a girl. Arif is very angry with me these days. More than usual. He has started to force himself on me almost every night. Yesterday I was feeding Zubaida and I asked him to let me finish. He punched my breast and Zubaida started crying. I put her on the side until he was done. She cries all the time, and if I cannot keep her quiet, he beats me. I don’t say anything because then he might beat her. So, I let him take his anger out on me until he is finished. Sometimes I cry with Zubaida, but nobody can hear me because she cries so loudly.
The pillow on my lap was wet with tears. I hadn’t noticed when I’d started crying again. I felt as if I had walked right into the middle of a horror movie. But there were no serial killers or demons in this movie. These were just ordinary people. But they were so cruel and unfeeling they may as well have been monsters. How could anyone do this to another human being? I wasn’t naïve and I’d heard my share of horror stories about people who were victims of domestic abuse. I knew it happened in every community, but this was different because it happened to someone so close, someone I loved so much. I’d always thought of Nani as a strong woman, the heart of our family, the one who had held it all together after my grandfather died. But until now I’d had no idea just how strong she really was. It was incredible to me that she had survived.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. She’d lived in fear of beatings and torture at the hands of her husband and mother-in-law for years. But she had obviously stayed, because my uncle was born. Tanveer Mama was around four years younger than my mom. I skimmed the pages until I found mention of a baby boy.
I am with child again. I told Arif and mother-in-law as soon as I knew, because that would mean better days for Zubaida and me. Although I pray th
at this baby will be a boy, I am not hopeful. It is better that way. They must feel the same way because this time they are not as nice to me as the last. But at least they are not beating me. Zubaida is three and a half now and asking why her baba beats us. I tell her I don’t know but that we must be very careful not to make him or her grandmother angry. But she is too young to understand. She wants to play and sing songs, but I must squash her spirit so that she is invisible to them. If they cannot see or hear her, she will be safe. It has been one month since the last time he beat me. But he said if I have a girl again he will bring home a new wife. He won’t send me back because I am good at housework. Then he looked at Zubaida and smiled. He says it will be nice to have her in the house when she is a little more grown. I am very afraid of what will happen to my Zubaida. I cannot protect her from what he will do to her.
I snapped the diary shut. I felt dirty inside and couldn’t bear to read any more. I needed to be with Nani right now and tell her how I felt. I went to the door and tried the handle. It was still locked. This was stupid. I would not be treated like a prisoner.
“Shaila,” I called. “Shaila, are you there?”
Does anyone even know that I’m up here?
“Rokeya.” No answer.
I banged on the door. Nothing.
I hammered away again, harder this time, calling out to anyone who would hear me. I went to the window and pushed aside the curtains. The windowpane stuck a little, but I managed to open it. I stuck out my head. The two-story drop was too far. There was no way I could make the jump without breaking something.
There had to be a way out. I went back to the door and pounded on it again. Still nothing. I slumped on the ground and closed my eyes.
The sun was setting when I heard a key turn, so it must have been about an hour later. I got up off the floor and sat on the bed. I would not give her the satisfaction of thinking she had won.
Mom walked in carrying a tray. She put it on the small table by the window and left, locking the door behind her again. I looked longingly at the cup of chai and cumin cookies. But I had no intention of touching any of it. Night fell and I could hear the watchman calling out his warnings. His muffled cries of “Shabdhan” reverberated throughout the room. Strangely, I only now noticed this nightly ritual, even though I’d been sleeping in this room for a few weeks now. It was probably around ten or eleven before the door opened a second time. It was her again with another tray. This time there was chicken curry, daal, and rotis. My stomach betrayed me by rumbling loudly. She threw a glance at the uneaten cookies and full cup.
“Eat something, Rukhsana.”
I didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t even want to look at her. But she walked over and stood in front of me.
“Rukhsana, you’re just making things harder for yourself.”
“What do you care?” I still refused to look at her, choosing to stare at my feet instead.
“We’re only doing this for your own good, Rukhsana. Do you think it brings me any pleasure to treat you this way?”
Finally, I met her gaze. “Then why are you locking me up like this?”
“Because, ammu, you’re going down the wrong path. And I can’t let you do that.”
“Why is it the wrong path, Mom? Because of your beliefs? What about my beliefs?”
“My beliefs are your beliefs. Why do you think that they are different?”
“It’s not the same anymore. Even here in Bangladesh, people are marrying whoever they want.”
Mom shook her head.
“No. We are Muslims. You are Muslim. Don’t forget that. What you are thinking is wrong. I will not allow you to make such a big mistake. Once you are happily married to a nice Bengali boy, then you will thank me.”
“I’m never going to marry anyone you pick for me, Mom. You can try all you want. But you can’t force me.”
“You’re still a child, Rukhsana. You don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m not a child. You just treat me like one. I’m going to college in a few months and I can make my own life choices.”
Mom scoffed. “You think that you love this girl? How do you know she will not leave you for someone else? Then what? You will come crying to me and then how will I find a husband for you? You will be damaged. No one will marry you.”
I pressed my hands against my eyes. It was hopeless. She would never understand. She put her hand on my head, but I jerked away.
“Rukhsana, please … try to understand,” she pleaded. “Daddy and I only want the best for you.”
When I didn’t answer, she left the room. I was so hungry I could taste bile, but I would not make this easy for her. I was glad that she felt guilty. She seemed to have forgotten that I was her daughter and could be just as stubborn as she was.
I lost track of time, but I still refused to eat. By the number of meals that were being brought to me, I would guess about two days had passed. But I wasn’t counting anymore. There was no point; I’d missed my chance to get away from here. Ariana must be frantic. She had no way of getting in touch with me. I hoped Irfan would figure out that something had gone terribly wrong and would think to call Shaila. I’d given him her number in case of an emergency. And this definitely qualified as an emergency. I was sure that Mom would not let even a hint of this be known outside this house. Already she must have had to come up with some story for Nusrat Mami and Tanveer Mama. I wondered briefly what she would tell them. She couldn’t tell them I was gay. A lethargy took over and I just wanted to sleep the time away. I stared listlessly at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time I’d felt normal, just carefree and happy. It should have frightened me, but instead I felt an intense longing to close my eyes and never open them again. It was so much easier this way. I felt nothing, no pain or yearning.
I woke to the sound of a key turning in the lock again. But it wasn’t Mom this time. Shaila walked through the door with another tray. She started to put it on the table, saw the stack of untouched trays, and placed it gently on the bed instead before putting her arms around me.
“Rukhsana, how are you doing?” She took my face in her hands and wiped away the tears that had started to roll down my cheeks again. “Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you get away.”
Her hair had fallen across her face and I tucked it behind her ears. A gasp escaped me when I saw the purplish bruise on her left cheek.
“My God, Shaila, what did they do to you? I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”
“I’m fine, Rukhsana. But I’m worried about you. Aunty said you’re not eating anything.”
“I’m not going to eat anything until she lets me out of here. I just want to go home.” But I was so hungry and the food on the tray was making my mouth water. The toast and eggs looked delicious and I would do anything to have a sip of the steaming hot cup of chai. But I had to stay strong.
“Please, Rukhsana, have a little bit. Just for me,” Shaila pleaded. She picked up the cup of chai and put it to my lips. I took a sip and it was so good. I took the cup from her and drank some more.
“I’m sorry, Rukhsana. I tried to fight for you. But they threatened to punish me too.”
“I’m so sorry, Shaila.” I touched her cheek, causing her to wince. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Listen, they took my phone, but I have another one they don’t know about. I’m going to call Aamir and tell him to let Ariana know what’s happening.”
I nodded and tried to tell her to call Irfan as well, but the room was spinning and her voice started to fade. My head began to throb and my stomach churned. I probably should have eaten something with the chai. The key turning in the lock was the last sound I heard before my vision went black.
When I opened my eyes, the room was dark. I tried to sit up but my head was spinning and I fell back onto the pillow. My mom stood at the foot of the bed. I lifted my head to look at her. She wasn’t alone. I sat up again, the throbbing in my head quickening. A man wea
ring a stained and crumpled white kurta stood next to her.
Who the hell is he?
“Mom,” I said weakly, running my tongue over my dry lips.
Why does my mouth feel like cotton?
“Rukhsana, I have brought someone who can help you.”
“Help me with—”
“He can get rid of it.”
“Get rid of what?”
The pounding in my head was stronger now and I could taste something bitter.
“Nusrat Mami thinks that you may have been possessed by a jinn. And I think she might be right.”
This had to be a nightmare. Bile churned in my stomach and I fought the urge to throw up.
“What are you talking about?”
“He is a jinn-catcher. He knows how to get it out of you. Then I will have my Rukhsana back.”
“Mom, I feel sick. Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong, ammu. I just gave you something to help you stay calm.”
Confusion clouded my mind. I hadn’t eaten in days. When did—
Somewhere through the fog in my brain, realization pushed through. It must have been the tea. Mom had used Shaila to get me to drink it. Or was Shaila in on it too?
I couldn’t think straight anymore. My eyelids felt heavy and I succumbed to the plunging darkness again.
When I awoke, I heard a strange whispering in my ear. I turned and came face to face with the jinn-catcher. His dark, beady eyes stared into mine as he continued reciting something in Arabic. His teeth had the telltale reddish-brown stains of a betel leaf addict and a metallic tinge marked his breath. My stomach churned again and I fought the urge to throw up in his face. A thick fog clouded my brain and through the haze I heard Mom enter the room. He finished his chanting and gave her a slight nod.
“It’s working,” he said in Bengali. “But this one is a very strong jinn. She will not go easily.”
“Do whatever you have to do, Baba,” Mom said to him.
“It will cost you more than I initially thought.”
