She Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

by Zeenat Mahal

  “Money? How’s money going to help? Am I to marry her to money?” Her brother asked but his tone had changed and Zoella felt a deep sense of foreboding.

  “Maybe we should go home and sort this out?” she ventured loudly, to drown out the shame she was feeling.

  “Quiet!” Her brother spat. “You will not say a word, do you hear me? This is between us men.”

  Fardeen laughed at that, but no one said anything.

  “There’s been a misunderstanding beta, Zoella is like our own daughter. I’ll talk to Aurangzeb,” Fardeen’s father said.

  Her brother shook his head.

  “It’s too late for that. He’s been talking. She’s ruined. No one’s going to marry her now.”

  Farwa smiled and said, “Yes. My cousin wasn’t good enough for her, was he? Now see what she’s done. Thank God you didn’t agree to the marriage. My cousin is saved from such shame.”

  “This isn’t the time,” said Zoella’s brother. Then he looked at Fardeen’s father and said, “I don’t blame Aurangzeb. She’s here all the time, day or night. So many times I told our mother not to give her so much freedom, but no, Zoella had to go to Swaba’s because she was sad, or ill, or God knows what.”

  Then he took a step towards Zoella and said, “Look where you are now, you little tramp.”

  “Beta…” Abba’s voice now held a warning note.

  Zoella’s tears were coming thick and fast. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the accusations, and the way her own family was humiliating her. Swaba sat beside her, hugging her, giving her strength. Zoella was beginning to go numb. Her brother spoke again, as if from far away.

  “You have no choice, Malik saab. There’s no way but one.”

  An ominous silence followed.

  Zoella closed her eyes at the disgrace. Oh no, please, don’t let him say anything worse, she prayed. Her family had never really been hers and yet she’d loved them and believed that they loved her too, in their own way. She’d never felt the pain of their words before, because always, always there had been the faith that they loved her, that they knew her, that they were her family.

  But now, Zoella wished she were dead. Who were these people, stripping her of her dignity, her self-esteem, leaving her bare and naked so that she was afraid to even meet their eyes? The very people who were supposed to protect her and love her, were degrading her.

  Fardeen’s father cleared his throat and said, “Speak plainly, beta. What do you mean?”

  Her brother puffed his chest up and said, “I demand that one of your sons marries my sister as soon as possible.”

  FOUR

  “Ami, I’m telling you they’re vicious and cruel people. They hate her,” Swaba said almost in tears.

  “Swaba, don’t be silly. They’re her family, how can they possibly hate her? It was just some stupid misunderstanding and they’ll sort it out. We can’t interfere in her life like this.”

  “Ami, do you remember how Zoella was here for us when Fardeen Bhai had his accident? When he got engaged? When Abba was ill? When…”

  “Swaba, I know and I love that girl, but what can we do?”

  “That idiot fiancé of hers dumped her, saying that she and one of my brothers had illicit relations. Who’s going to want to marry her after that? That weasel is probably shouting it from the rooftops. You’re responsible for her because I am. If you won’t help her, I will.”

  “Be sensible, Swaba.”

  Swaba cried, threatened and begged, until finally she managed to convince them with an argument that appealed to them all.

  “Ami, Zoella is a part of our family. After what happened with Fardeen Bhai and Neha, he’s depressed. He needs someone to look after him, get him to want to live again. Who better than Zoella? You know how she is, so full of life and positive energy. She’d never look askance at him because of his handicap and the truth is, none of the girls we know from our social set are ever going to settle for him now.”

  Realizing the merit of her suggestion, her parents were soon won over. They did feel sorry for Zoella. She’d been like a daughter to them. Her brother was rather atrocious and the way her family treated her was abominable. Maybe a wife would be able to convince Fardeen of what they’d failed to in the past four months, and maybe have the surgery he was so opposed to having. A new beginning would be good for him. He might just start wanting to live a full life again.

  First, they’d have to convince him though.

  His response was predictable.

  “You’re not serious?” Fardeen looked stunned at the suggestion. “You expect me to marry? Me? And Swaba you should be ashamed of yourself. You can’t possibly be that cruel to a girl who’s been your friend since you were in diapers. You’re as bad as her family.”

  Swaba murmured something unintelligible.

  Abba said gravely, “Fardeen, she’ll be good for you. She’s different from the women you’ve known. You’ll need someone to take care of you when you finally see some sense and decide to have surgery. Your mother and I aren’t young anymore. Swaba will marry soon. You’ll need constant care and Zoella is a good girl, trustworthy, humble. Who’ll marry her now after all this mud-slinging, if you don’t? You know what our society is like.”

  Fardeen looked at his father as if he were insane.

  “Whatever gave you the idea that I’ll be having surgery? I’m not interested in putting myself through hell because people find it uncomfortable to be around me. Salaar can marry her. After all, her brother very generously gave us a choice.”

  His mother spoke up in a quivering voice, ready to cry. “Fardeen, stop this. Zoella needs us too. We owe it to her. I’ve had enough with walking on eggshells around you because of that heartless woman. Who is more important to you, your own mother or some girl you met three years ago?”

  His father added, “Stop doing this to yourself, Fardeen. Zoella is a good girl, she’ll be ideal for you.”

  “Abba, I’m not disputing her goodness. I understand that you feel you owe it to her because her family made ridiculous assumptions and…”

  He stopped and when he spoke again his voice was strained, “I’m still not doing this.”

  “Fardeen!” his father warned.

  Staring back at his father, he answered coldly, “I’m not in the mood to go ten rounds with you just yet, Abba. It doesn’t mean I can’t, I just won’t. I may not be the man I was once, or thought I was, but you don’t want to push me on this.”

  Swaba jumped into the fray.

  “Fardeen Bhai, are you seriously going to let one selfish, stupid woman define who you are? Because yes, then you really are not the man we thought you were.”

  “Watch it, Swaba,” Fardeen snarled.

  His sister had an agenda and nothing deterred her.

  “If you don’t marry her, that’ll be cruel, not if you do. I haven’t seen her or spoken with her in a month. She’s a prisoner in her own house. I fear for her life Fardeen Bhai, she’s like my sister. She’s always been in love with you, I’m sure even you could see that. Marriage to you would be her dream come true.”

  He didn’t deign to reply.

  “Fardeen, my son, I love you and I have great respect for you but this is one choice that is out of your hands. You may be capable of making all the decisions of your life but I will make this one for you—whether you like it or not.”

  His father looked long and hard at him to let the import of his words sink in. He addressed Swaba then, in his no-nonsense tone, “Tomorrow you and your mother will go and make the necessary arrangements with Zoella’s family.”

  ***

  Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Fardeen couldn’t help thinking that he’d been handsome once. The thought was without rancor or vanity, just a fact. Now, he was grotesque. Just another fact. All of his anger, his frustration and confusion had subsided into something cold and hard that he lived with now, every minute of every day. The hot anger of the early days erupted at times but
rarely now. He’d wised up to the world and reality. In the end, it was nothing more than a cliché; so trite, so common and predictable.

  He turned his face slightly. His right eye was almost fully enclosed in a punishing vice of stretched red skin. The scar spread across his cheek, touching the edge of his mouth, rendering the corner askew and puckered so that he appeared cruel, not just ugly. His one good eye stared back at him, without emotion, without masks, without any buffers. He recalled the times women had flirted, had wanted and coveted him. How transitory it had been. How meaningless and shallow that life had been. Money, looks and sexual magnetism—was that all he’d been? Was that all he’d cared to be?

  At least he wasn’t that man anymore. Silver lining and all that. He was a burn victim, now. Only, he didn’t want to be anyone’s victim. Not fate, nor any woman, who’d made declarations of love and then found it impossible to love the man behind the face.

  And now this.

  He turned away from the mirror. He couldn’t fight for other people. He could barely fight for himself. If that poor girl was willing to sacrifice her life for friendship or whatever idiotic accusations her family had made, what could he do? He’d thought she’d scream and run the other way. To his complete astonishment she’d agreed to marry him. She’d probably been given no choice in the matter of this marriage. What must she be facing at home, that marrying him was a better option? Just another sweet, youthful girl, full of typical dreams who’d be sacrificed for doubtful honor. Even if she’d dreamed of him, it hadn’t been as the beast he was now.

  This world was a cruel place for the weak, the have-nots, the marginalized and the powerless. Wasn’t that the way their society functioned? Take away choice, take away rights, take away freedom especially from women and the poor—the different. He too was amongst the marginalized now.

  God, he was in a mood.

  “Fardeen Bhai? Are you ready?”

  “Coming.”

  Fardeen walked out to meet his sister. She beamed at him.

  “You look wonderful, Fardeen Bhai.”

  “Really? You think your best friend will think so? The one who’s like your sister? Do you think she’d have wanted the same for you Swaba, if you were in her place?”

  The bitterness just spilled out and when it did, he felt a strange kind of satisfaction at the hurt he caused. It made him feel less alone, less like a victim. His sister’s lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. He didn’t even feel regret.

  “I couldn’t think of any other way of saving her.”

  A raspy, nasty sound escaped his mouth. That was what remained of his laughter. He shot over his shoulder as he left the room, “Swaba, darling, look up the meaning of ‘saving’ for me, will you?”

  His mother met him with an exclamation of disappointment, “Tsk! Fardeen, why aren’t you wearing the sherwani we got you?”

  “Probably because I don’t want to look any more bizarre and monstrous than I do already? Now let’s go and get this over with before sanity prevails and I realize what I’m doing,” he growled.

  That got them all moving.

  ***

  Zoella didn’t know whether she was devastatingly happy or happily devastated. She, along with her family and a few friends, had come to the Badshahi Mosque for the nikaah. Thankfully Swaba’s family had suggested that they have this simple ceremony at the mosque. That was the ‘new thing to do’. They didn’t have a big enough place in any case to entertain so many people. The red stone and white marble monument against the evening sky was beautiful and serene. Zoella felt a deep calm descend as she entered the mosque. She sent a quiet prayer of thanks upwards.

  She was getting married to Fardeen. Fardeen.

  Oh, but the difference in reality and the enchanted castles of her dreams! What was he feeling? What was he thinking? Did he hate her and her family for making him to do this? Could he, like she hoped he would, eventually fall in love with her? It happened, sometimes, didn’t it? Arranged marriages ended up as love marriages. Why couldn’t it happen to her...to them? Miracles happened in real life. He might realize, after all, that she was worthy of his love. Angels and trumpets and all that?

  Something niggled at her though. A little worm crawling in her consciousness, leaving a trail of rot behind. Fardeen’s engagement to Neha had been celebrated with more fanfare than his wedding. She was no Neha. He was marrying her out of necessity. He was no doubt still mourning his broken relationship. How would she ever compare? She also knew that Fardeen’s parents regarded her as a good compromise, given his situation. He was still depressed and who could blame him? His whole life had changed in a single night.

  Her life had changed too. She had changed. She wasn’t so silly that she didn’t know what was happening. With a deep sadness that emanated from the ruins of girlish dreams, Zoella realized that she had a lifetime of gratitude to look forward to. The girl she was now was sad for the girl she had been once, so long ago, so full of untainted dreams and hopes.

  The clothes she wore had been bought by Swaba and her mother. They weren’t as fancy as what they would have chosen for Swaba but they were far more expensive than what her family could have been able to afford. Zoella knew that, and was grateful. She had wised up to ‘real life’ but she had also saved a couple of dreams to help her get through it. She couldn’t entirely rid herself of the belief that there was a possibility for love in her marriage. Her natural state of being was positive energy. She saw the best in people. She believed good things happened to good people. Hadn’t she dreamed all her life that she would marry Fardeen? So what if it wasn’t happening exactly as she’d planned. He wasn’t in love with her yet, but he could be in a month or so?

  She believed, and she smiled.

  Neither her dreams nor her hopes were glowing and golden, but were faded, low glimmerings in the dark. She couldn’t let them die. It would kill her to see them die.

  It was a small baraat. Swaba sat with her at one side of the huge corridor, oohing and aahing as they waited for the nikaah ceremony to begin. Zoella’s heart sank as she recognized the vast chasm that had opened up between her and Swaba. Zoella knew that while Swaba was going to get to live her fairytale, she could be forever stuck in a mockery of her dreams.

  Doubts, now never too far away, converged, and collided with her hopes.

  What if nothing changed? What if Fardeen never fell out of love with Neha? What kind of life would I have then?

  Zoella pushed glum thoughts away when it was time to go to her new home, with her new family. Her mother came over crying and patted her on the head.

  Did she really feel sad that Zoella was leaving, or was it just a ritual?

  Then her brother shook hands with Fardeen and Salaar, and forgot to bid her farewell. Well at least some things were the same, Zoella thought mournfully.

  She sat with Fardeen in the backseat, while Swaba sat in the passenger seat in front and Salaar drove the car. It was almost like old times. Except that now, Fardeen sat with them. A silent specter, distant and aloof, but she stopped watching him after a while. He’d obviously done what he’d had to. He wasn’t interested in her or what was happening around him. He hadn’t even looked at her. It was too soon, she told herself. There was plenty of time. A lifetime. She blinked her tears away. She shook herself mentally, telling herself not to dwell on negative thoughts. She should look at the bigger picture. Rather be ignored by Fardeen as his wife, than loved by Aurangzeb as his. She shuddered, just thinking about what could’ve been.

  Salaar was making them all laugh with his funny observations about the behavior of their own relatives and hers. Already, her laughter had changed. She’d never had to try to laugh before. Swaba and Salaar chatted easily. Though acutely aware of the quiet imperious near-stranger, who had, by a twist of fate, become her husband, she couldn’t be gloomy for long. It just wasn’t in her nature.

  “Fardeen Bhai, are you going to sit there like a statue or are you going to join us for a laugh?”


  “Forgive me if I don’t find the situation as amusing as you do, Salaar.”

  That shut them all up for a moment. But then Salaar being Salaar, ventured, “Well, the weasel looked pretty funny when I hugged him after the nikaah.”

  She couldn’t help joining Swaba when she laughed uproariously. It had been fun to see Aurangzeb staring around, looking utterly confused.

  “Why was he even there?” Swaba gasped amidst her laughter. “After all his stupid accusations, it’s a wonder he dared to show his face.”

  Embarrassed at the reminder of that awful afternoon when her brother had demanded that one of Swaba’s brothers marry her, Zoella was silent. Salaar tried to change the subject.

  “Zee you want to have ice-cream or coffee before we go home?”

  Before she could say anything, Swaba replied with enthusiasm, “Yes, let’s have some ice-cream.”

  “Drop me home first.” Fardeen said shortly and then added as an afterthought, “Please don’t let me spoil your fun. I have some stuff to do, so you guys go ahead, okay?”

  Salaar replied tonelessly, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Bhai. We’ll all go home then.”

  Fardeen didn’t bother to answer.

  As the car cruised into the house Zoella had visited countless times for the last sixteen years or so, she felt a strange calm settle over her. It wasn’t happiness or even contentment, just peace. She lost herself in the chaos of her ‘homecoming’. Even though it was just close family and friends, it was still a great many people.

  “What a beautiful bride!”

  “She’s so pretty …”

  “…the poor girl…”

  “…doesn’t come from a very well settled back ground…”

  “…money is a great motivator…”

  A slow burn in the pit of her stomach began to churn and gurgle. Her ears felt hot. Her eyes prickled. She glanced over at Fardeen from under her eyelashes. He was trying to pretend he hadn’t heard but how could he not have? People were so cruel. Why couldn’t they just shut up?