Secrets of the Henna Girl

by Sufiya Ahmed

  ‘But what difference would it have made?’ I asked.

  ‘A lot,’ Sehar said quietly. ‘He looks like a proud bloke to me. It will probably hurt his ego to think his bride ain’t willing. You know I bet you he’s got this fantasy in his head that you’re besotted with the fact that he’s a man in uniform. Every other girl in this village is.’

  ‘Too bad I’m not.’

  ‘And when will he find out? On your wedding night when you start screaming at him not to touch you?’

  I burst into tears and ran back in the house. Sehar followed.

  ‘Oh, Zee,’ she said, stroking my hair as I sobbed into a cushion. ‘I just don’t want you to go through what I did. You can still find a way out. I’m sure your nannyma will be fine – she has the whole village on her side.’

  ‘But how?’ I asked.

  ‘Contact Tara,’ she said.

  ‘It’s too late,’ I sobbed.

  ‘It’s never too late,’ Sehar said firmly. ‘We all deserve happy endings but sometimes we have to work at them.’

  Chapter 20

  I wasn’t ready to ask for outside help. Even if Tara came and collected me I would be completely disowned by my family. Was I really ready to leave behind everything I had? Never see my family and friends again? I couldn’t make that decision. Deep down I still loved my parents and I had to find another way to get myself out of this situation.

  Lying awake at night, I decided to confront Asif. He was in the dark about what was expected of him as much as I was when I had been lied to about the reasons for this trip. I decided to tell Asif the truth.

  Early the next morning, I walked over to Farhat’s house and asked her if she could get a message to Asif through her fiancé, Abdullah. I wanted to meet Asif in the sugar-cane fields behind Nannyma’s house at four in the afternoon.

  ‘You sure meeting Asif in sugar-cane fields good idea?’ Farhat asked doubtfully.

  I stared at Farhat. What was the problem?

  ‘Sugar-cane fields is where people meeting to have affairs,’ Farhat explained patiently. ‘Very bad reputations. Like Joey in Friends … sleeping with girls who not his wife. Very bad.’

  I’d had no idea that sugar-cane fields acted as illicit locations for people having affairs, but it was the best place for me to meet Asif. We would have little chance of being spotted by anyone.

  ‘Farhat, please tell Abdullah to pass the message to Asif,’ I said firmly.

  I arrived at the sugar-cane field just before four o’clock. I’d thought about what to say all day, from an angry tirade to words pleading for mercy. In the end I decided to judge his mood. If I could detect kindness in him, then I would adopt a soft manner. If he was abrupt and impatient, then I would give as good as.

  ‘Zeba, as salaam alaikum.’ He approached me without a sound and I jumped. Was the ability to creep up like a killer panther part of his army training?

  I replied in kind, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands had started to sweat and my heart hammered in its ribcage. This was it. I had to tell him. It was my only way out.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’

  I nodded. ‘There is something I think you should know.’

  He waited for me to go further. I swallowed. Perhaps I should build up to my revelation I thought … break the ice a little.

  ‘So are you having a good time in the army?’

  ‘What?’ The question took him by surprise.

  ‘The army. You love it, right?’

  He gazed down at me from his great height, a slight frown creasing his forehead. ‘It is my life,’ he said simply.

  Here was my chance to tell him that the people who loved him the most wanted to end that life. I opened my mouth but he was already talking.

  ‘I’m glad you asked about the army. It is my life. My fellow soldiers are my brothers. We are united in a cause. A cause to save this country from everything that threatens it. It is important that as my wife you know about the type of life I will lead and how you will fit in as an army wife.’

  Army wife!

  ‘I wanted –’ I began but he cut me off, and to my shock his eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t believe it.

  ‘I was going to request that we delay the wedding.’

  My heart leaped with hope.

  ‘My best friend died in a special operation a month ago. That was why I had to disappear when you had only just arrived here.’

  For the second time my hope seeped away like water in a drought.

  ‘I knew it was rude of me to leave as soon as you came, but I had to.’

  ‘Your friend died?’

  ‘Yes. His name was Sarfraz Khan and he was from Lahore – an only son with five sisters. His parents were devastated and I thought it right to stay with them awhile before I returned here. He was killed doing his duty for his country,’ he added, clearing his throat. ‘It was his destiny.’

  I didn’t know what to say. Asif seemed lost in his own thoughts and the silence between us stretched. I tried to suppress my own thoughts but with little success. I couldn’t escape from the fact that I had an obligation to save Asif from the same fate as his dead friend. I shut my eyes. Somewhere in the background I heard the cawing of the black crows. They were ever-present in the fields, but only now did I hear them. Now their sound was like a siren warning that it was all over.

  ‘What else did you want to say to me?’

  My eyes flew open. There was one last chance. Could I tell him? The image of a shrouded body floated before my eyes.

  ‘Nothing.’ I shrugged, an awkwardness developing between us.

  ‘I have to leave with my father for some business shortly,’ he said.

  I nodded. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  I watched him walk away and then made my way slowly to the river, hot tears streaming down my face.

  Sehar and Farhat were already there. Sehar was standing in the water with her salwar hoisted up to her shins. I knew she found the cool water soothing when she was hot. Farhat was holding Sehar’s hand firmly to make sure she didn’t topple. They hadn’t seen me approach and so I stood under the shade of the giant tree, wiping away the last of my tears.

  ‘You coming in?’ Sehar yelled, spotting me suddenly.

  ‘Not today,’ I called back, not in the mood to splash around.

  I watched Sehar carefully make her way back to the bank and then lower herself slowly on to the grass with Farhat’s aid.

  ‘You been crying?’ was the first thing Sehar said to me.

  I crawled on to the blanket that Farhat had spread in the tree’s shade. Stretching out on my back, I fixed my gaze on the branches.

  ‘No,’ I denied.

  ‘Why are you lying?’

  ‘Yaah, Zeba-ji,’ Farhat chimed in. ‘Your eyes puffy and red. Making you look very ugly actually. Yaah – too much ugly.’

  My lower lip trembled and Sehar shot Farhat a dirty look. ‘Yes, thank you, Fatty,’ she snapped. ‘We don’t need your opinion.’

  Farhat shrugged. ‘Only saying Zeba-ji looking more pretty when not crying. Actually everyone look ugly when crying. Sehar-ji, you look most ugly when crying.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Sehar shouted.

  Farhat opened her mouth one more time, but then thought better of it and sat quietly.

  Sehar turned to me. ‘Did you speak to Asif?’

  ‘I’m going to go through with it,’ I said.

  Sehar didn’t say anything.

  ‘I know you don’t agree, but I don’t think I have a choice,’ I said miserably. ‘If I don’t marry him, then he will die in the army and then I will have to live with that guilt forever.’

  She still didn’t say anything.

  ‘Please say something,’ I begged.

  Sehar looked at me and I could see sadness in her eyes.

  ‘You have to do what is right for you,’ sh
e said quietly.

  ‘So the engagement is tomorrow,’ I persisted. ‘Will you come?’

  She smiled and nodded. ‘Nothing will keep me away.’

  My parents came to see me that evening. They wanted to take me back to Taya-ji’s house, but I refused, insisting that I would go in the morning. Mum looked like she wanted to argue but Dad held up a hand to silence her.

  We were sitting at the dinner table finishing our meal, although most of it lay untouched. Nannyma, my parents and I did not seem to have much of an appetite.

  ‘Zeba,’ my father said, ‘come out with me on to the veranda. I would like to talk to you.’

  I dipped my hands in the water of the finger bowl to clean them and followed Dad on to the veranda. He was sitting in Farhat’s usual position on the steps. I joined him and he did not waste any time getting to the point.

  ‘Your Taya-ji told me you met Asif in the sugar-cane fields today.’

  I gasped slightly, remembering Farhat’s words about the reputation of the sugar-cane fields and feeling embarrassed in front of my dad.

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I mumbled.

  He made a strange sound – like a cross between a laugh and a contemptuous snort.

  ‘I know you would never shame me like that,’ he said, turning to look directly in my eyes, ‘but I need to know what you said to him.’

  ‘How does Taya-ji know I met Asif?’ I blurted suddenly.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does! Did Asif say something?’

  ‘He didn’t. But Taya-ji has men everywhere keeping an eye on you. Surely you know that?’

  I sprang to my feet. This was too much. It was like being a prisoner.

  ‘Sit down, Zeba.’

  It was a command. I sat.

  ‘Did you say anything to Asif that could jeopardize tomorrow?’

  My blood was fuming. I bit my lip.

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  The fury coursing through my veins urged recklessness. ‘I told him the truth about the marriage … that we were getting married so he would leave the army.’

  My dad was as still as a statue and we both sat there waiting for the other to speak. Finally he said, ‘You didn’t say anything like that did you, beti?’

  A part of me wanted to carry on lying to provoke a stronger reaction, but then I thought: what was the point? My dad had always been able to tell when I was lying.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Then why did you meet him?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘It was to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t in the end. He told me about his best friend who died.’

  My dad closed his eyes. ‘Beti,’ he whispered, ‘you did the right thing.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘We all have our duties,’ he continued. ‘We owe Taya-ji.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said standing up. ‘You owe your brother as a brother, but clearly you don’t owe me anything as my father.’

  With those words I turned and walked back into Nannyma’s house, knowing the sanctuary it had offered me so far was about to end.

  Chapter 21

  I was back at Taya-ji’s house for my engagement ceremony.

  My mum placed a pink shawl on my head and then began fussing with the fabric. I looked at her through the dressing-room mirror and was reminded of how she looked when she arranged a bouquet of flowers in a vase. The arrangement had to be perfect. It had to be her way; rose petals got plucked and stems got cut off until it was to her liking. I always picked up the discarded velvet-like petals before she could bin them, keeping them in between the pages of old scrapbooks.

  Mum tipped my head slightly to secure the shawl to my hair with pins. The fabric was heavy and I wondered how many fingers it had taken to create this monstrosity. Every single pearl and bead was hand sewn.

  I pulled a face at my reflection as Mum continued to jab at my scalp. I looked like a Christmas tree from top to bottom. All I needed now was a star or an angel on top of my head to complete the outfit. The floor-length skirt and short top were beaded as heavily as the shawl. I looked so hideous that I could’ve auditioned for one of Cinderella’s ugly sisters in a pantomime.

  ‘Do I have to wear this?’ I asked meekly. ‘It’s hot and I’m going to boil.’

  ‘It’s your engagement outfit, and as the lucky girl you have to wear it,’ my mother insisted.

  Lucky? I pulled a face.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘It is time.’

  I shuffled along slowly behind my mum. She was leading the way and on either side of me were two girls brought in by Mariam-chachi to act as my friends, companions, bridesmaids … sidekicks. I had no idea who they were, only that they were from Karachi. Both were giggling for no reason at all, and I had to quash the urge to send them flying with karate kicks.

  After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at the top of the stairs and it was time to navigate the steps. Knowing I was likely to trip, I hoisted the skirt up around my ankles and raised challenging eyes to the girl on my right. She looked absolutely horrified at my inelegant behaviour and rolled her eyes at her friend. For a second I thought they might grab my hands to force me to release the material, but they didn’t. Instead, with disgusted expressions they looked ahead and preceded me. I followed clumsily.

  At the bottom of the stairs I released my skirt and took a ragged breath. With my heart suddenly pounding inside my ribcage, it hit me that I had to enter a room and allow someone to slip an engagement ring on my finger. My mum turned to me and gave a small smile. I didn’t return it, instead taking another shaky breath. I knew I had to do this – there was no way out any more – but all I wanted to do was turn round and run.

  We walked through the main door and into a hushed room. I kept my eyes lowered and allowed myself to be guided by the two girls. Their grip on my arms was firm.

  I thought of Sehar and wondered where she was in the crowd of people. I had expected her to come to my room as soon as she had arrived. Was she even here? Maybe she had decided not to come and see the bakri being led to the altar.

  I shuffled along slowly, following my mum’s salwar. Finally she stopped, turned around and guided me to sit next to Asif by placing both her hands on either side of my shoulders.

  Asif was already seated on the plush two-seater sofa and even with my lowered gaze I could see he was wearing his army uniform. I wondered if he owned any civilian clothes at all. Gritting my teeth, I tried to think of a happy place. I thought of walking to school with Susan, smiling and content. I thought of playing in the park when we were kids: warm sunny days on the swings, down the slide and around the merry-go-round.

  I was suddenly jolted out of my memories by someone trying to cram a sweetmeat into my mouth. I recoiled and pushed the hand away. There was nervous laughter.

  ‘Zeba,’ I heard my mum say. ‘It is tradition. It’s your day to be fed with sweets by your well-wishers.’

  I swallowed first and then parted my lips to allow what was really just a chunk of fried sugar into my mouth – and that’s how it continued. For another ten minutes I was fed jalebis, laddus, mithai and halwa. By the end of it I felt quite sick and was ready to retch. I gulped the air and someone must have noticed my discomfort because a fan suddenly materialized. I closed my eyes, wishing I was miles away, but then I was rudely jostled to my feet. This time it was Asif’s mum, Mariam-chachi, who was manhandling me.

  ‘Time to exchange gifts,’ she said loudly. ‘Asif and Zeba will give each other rings to mark their commitment to each other.’

  I didn’t know if this was the custom or not, but my hand was held up by someone and Asif slipped a diamond ring on my finger. I stared down at it. The white sparkling monstrosity might as well have been handcuffs. My mum came to stand beside me and placed a ring in the palm of my hand.


  ‘Now you put this on his finger,’ she instructed.

  Asif held out his hand and waited. I gazed down at the band of silver but I couldn’t will myself to do it. Again there was nervous laughter.

  ‘She’s shy,’ I heard my mum explain to the amassed audience before nudging me with her shoulder.

  I knew I had to get this over with. The longer I stood like a zombie, the more I would have to endure. I fumbled with the ring and managed to slip it on to Asif’s finger. It would not go on easily, so I just left it halfway and let my hands drop to my sides.

  A silence followed, broken eventually by Asif’s soft laughter. He pushed the ring into place before clutching my chin with his right hand. Forcing my face up to meet his, he murmured, ‘So shy.’

  I knew that in the view of the guests, Asif looked like a man who was cheekily trying to share a glance with his fiancée. For the next two hours I sat there staring down at my lap as Asif chatted away to his guests. People no longer seemed concerned with me. With the rituals performed, they all seemed more interested in having a good time with each other. I raised my eyes and they fell on my dad. Since his return we had barely exchanged more than a few words. He was standing with a group of men, seemingly part of a group discussion, but I knew my dad, and I recognized the glazed look in his eyes. He was physically here but his mind was somewhere else. He looked glum. Today was his only child’s engagement ceremony and he looked like he had the world’s worries on his shoulders. There was not a hint of happiness on his face, only misery. I knew in my heart that he didn’t want this for me, and I just couldn’t understand the obligation he felt to his older brother.

  I looked for Taya-ji in the crowd and I spotted him not far off, deep in conversation with another man. I found Mariam-chachi too. She was talking in a circle of women, hands gesturing, hair swishing and diamonds sparkling at her throat. She looked happy, but then why shouldn’t she be? Her son was getting engaged, just as she’d planned, and it was going to save his life.

  I did not know anyone else in the room aside from my parents, Nannyma, Taya-ji and Mariam-chachi. I did not spot Sehar or Farhat, and even Nannyma’s household of Kareem-baba and Ambreen-bhaji were not here. Husna-bhaji had not been allowed to attend the party. Nannyma and Sher Shah’s encounter had made waves across the village and Mariam-chachi had personally rung Nannyma to ban the widow. I had tried to object, but Nannyma had insisted it was not worth it. She said Husna-bhaji would only be ridiculed by the other women, guests who had come all the way from Karachi, if she was to attend.