‘Tehmina, Safdar is such a rascal!’ she said, shaking Tehmina.
‘Of course he is, but for God’s sake, don’t mention it to Amma, or who knows what will happen,’ Tehmina replied softly.
After dinner, the dhurrie was spread out in the veranda. The maid tightened the drum and pushed it into the middle of the veranda and hung the rented gas lantern in the middle—a little while later the guests began to arrive.
After eleven o’clock at night, when the mirasis had finished singing and gone home, Tehmina softly emerged from her room and into the veranda. The drum looked so lonely lying on its side on the wrinkled dhurrie. The maid was taking the chairs away and putting them back in the rooms, while searching for something at the same time.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, where could it have gone? I can’t find it. Blast my memory!’
13
‘Aliya, sweetheart, listen, if you ever see Safdar after I leave, tell him this message from me. You will tell him, won’t you?’ asked Tehmina helplessly as she lay down in the bed.
‘What, Tehmina?’ Her heart broke to see Tehmina in such a strange state.
‘Tell him I never forgot him, that’s all.’
‘Go to sleep now, Tehmina.’
Outside, they could hear the dogs barking. Aliya had no idea when she fell asleep.
In the morning, when Aliya opened her eyes, Tehmina was still sleeping soundly. She went about getting herself ready for school, but Tehmina did not get up. When everyone was up for tea, Amma sent the maid in to wake Tehmina and serve her tea.
As she entered, the maid screamed, and Abba and Amma came running as well. There they found the maid beating her breast and crying, ‘Our darling Tehmina is no more!’
‘Where did she go, where has she gone?’ Aliya wondered, as she began to tremble with fear. Somehow she made her way to the room where Abba stood holding up Amma, who had fainted. He looked as though he might collapse as well.
Tehmina truly was no more. Her mehndi-lined hands had turned yellow and fragile, and her lips looked black, as though they’d been smeared with missi powder. As soon as Amma came to, she began to flail about in a fit. Abba wept like a child and Aliya wrapped herself around Tehmina’s cold body and whimpered.
Abba quickly dried his tears. ‘She always had a weak heart, so it must have just stopped beating. Go heat some water, Maid. All is as Allah desires,’ he declared in a shaky voice.
As soon as the maid left the room, Abba whispered to Amma, ‘Be brave—this is a disaster! We must bury the body immediately.’ He let go of Amma to put his arms around Aliya and lead her into the other room.
‘You are very intelligent, you sit out here,’ he said.
Abba left her there alone and went away, but she didn’t have it in her to obey his orders at that moment, so she went and stood behind the door. Abba was reasoning with Amma. There was a scrap of paper in his hand which he burnt with a match; then he led Amma out on to the veranda.
The maid filled a metal pot with water and rolled out the dhurrie much earlier than usual, but she didn’t tighten the drum and set it out. Abba’s friends’ wives came, but no one would be throwing money on to the carpet; everyone wept, and Amma kept fainting. Tehmina was quickly cleaned, bathed and dispatched. Amma ran after her like a madwoman.
‘Darling, your big sister has been carried off,’ said the maid. ‘Sing:
Why did you marry me so far from home, my wealthy father?’
The maid’s words unleashed chaos inside Aliya. She ran into Tehmina’s room and collapsed on the ground where she unburdened her heart by weeping, as burnt scraps of paper flew about her.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, and she departed so full of desires!’ murmured the maid as she came into the room and began searching about like a madwoman. ‘I haven’t been able to find my opium box since yesterday, if I just eat a little I always feel better.’
Big Uncle, Big Aunty and Amma’s brother, Mamoo, came and stayed for two days of mourning, and then they all went away. Mamoo’s English wife had not been able to come because she was pregnant in those days and cousin Jameel had not come either. He could at least have come to see the tomb of his intended bride.
Amma was silent and withdrawn after this episode, and it was only to Aliya that she showed any affection. She kept her eyes on her at all times; if Aliya was away from her for a short while, Amma started throwing a fit.
Abba had grown so distant from Amma. When he came home from the office he’d just wash his face and hands in his sitting room, drink his tea there, and after eating, sit and debate in gatherings of his friends until eleven or twelve at night. At night, after everyone had gone to sleep, he’d come quietly and lie down on his bed. Since Tehmina’s death, the silence had become oppressive and nothing seemed to break it.
Nothing more was heard from Safdar. He’d been swallowed up by the earth or the sky. Aliya longed to find out where he was. She wanted to send a message to him, to tell him there was plenty of room next to Tehmina’s grave. Come back if you really loved her.
One day, when Abba came home to the sitting room, there was no one with him. Aliya went quickly to his side. How long it had been since she’d been able to sit by Abba! She’d had no chance to talk with him about anything.
‘Abba, you never come into the house, you never talk to anyone,’ she said as soon as she came in, her voice tearful. Abba started and hugged her to his chest.
‘Your mother has pushed me far from the house, you know how it is.’
How she wished that Amma hadn’t driven anyone from the house; it was Safdar who had divided everyone, and then Abba was so busy with his animosity towards the English that he wouldn’t even turn and look at anyone. He didn’t even acknowledge her love. But she couldn’t say any of this out loud. She herself wondered why, despite Abba’s indifference, she still loved him the most. Abba’s affectionate eyes were so expressive. She’d never been able to say even one word against him.
‘Your mother has never understood me; she’s never shared any of my aspirations. If I had the courage of my elder brother, I wouldn’t be so helpless today.’ Who knows what else Abba would have said, as Ray Sahib had just arrived.
Aliya had aged ten years with Tehmina’s death. She wished she could make Amma happy and was anxious to bring Abba back into the home. She wanted to get him away from politics. After she had complained to him, Abba began to spend some time in the house, but he still seemed to avoid Amma, and when Amma’s eyes met his, her face would contort with memories of bygone days and Aliya would think of Safdar. How heartlessly he had shoved Tehmina into the maw of death with just one letter!
A few months had passed since her death, but Amma hadn’t moved any of Tehmina’s things. Her bed was right where it had always been—all her books were still out. Whenever Aliya went into the room, she felt her heart sink. Amma had even stowed her dowry chest in that room. Aliya was overwhelmed when she saw it there. Soon enough, crickets would get into the chest and chew everything up; all the tinsel and gold embroidery would go black come the rainy season, she thought.
She had been totally idle since taking the matric exam; she had nothing to do all day. One day, she began to leaf through Tehmina’s books absent-mindedly. Such tales of love and fancy! Women would commit suicide for love and depart as examples of perfect fidelity, and then, some dark night, men would appear to momentarily light a lamp over the tomb, then leave, and that was that. She threw the books back in the cupboard and cried tears of rage, as she felt Tehmina watching her with disdain from the other side of her curtain of tears.
14
Abba had been extremely busy for the past two or three days, and was even coming home very late from work. His superior officer was due to visit for an inspection. Abba was not only setting everything in order, but was also arranging for his stay in the Dak Bungalow. The chaprasi had even come and asked for some of the tablecloths and pillowcases that Tehmina had embroidered.
‘Great! He curses the English and now that
an Englishman is coming, His Excellency is out of his mind with fear. How quick people are to waste their words.’ When Amma laughed sarcastically, Aliya burned with rage. If only she could become Amma’s mother for just a short while, she could tell her there was no use needling him. Abba was growing further and further removed from the household, and Amma was enjoying herself mightily.
When Abba returned home that night, exhausted, he said to Aliya, ‘Can you have something a little special arranged for dinner tomorrow night, dear? Just dinner for six or seven. He’s coming tomorrow morning for the inspection, then there will be a dinner party at our house that night.’
‘Well, I must say, you go around with a heart full of hate, and now all of a sudden you’re kissing up to him! Hmm . . . why didn’t you talk to me? I’ll arrange it all myself,’ retorted Amma, who did not even flinch before Abba.
‘If I didn’t kiss up to him you’d have to go begging,’ snapped Abba, as he walked out quickly. Aliya couldn’t say one word to Amma. When she saw the devastation on her face, she pitied her.
The next day, Abba rose under the shadow of the stars and went to the station. Amma sat at the edge of her bed with her feet dangling, laughing sarcastically, but Abba didn’t look at her.
By one o’clock in the afternoon, Abba still hadn’t come home for lunch. Aliya remained busy helping Amma prepare for the night’s feast. She decorated the sitting room in a new way and ordered two gas lanterns and cleaned them nicely. Amma was having several types of koftas and kebabs prepared and carrying on about how the spices must be ground without chilli peppers. Amma had never prepared a meal for anyone with such devotion.
The food was only just ready when the chaprasi, a look of alarm on his face, slipped into the house without calling out first to announce his presence. It seemed as though he’d come running from a great distance.
‘Begum Sahiba, the police have arrested Babuji; he got angry with the officer during the inspection and smashed him over the head with a ruler.’
Amma stared at him, eyes bulging, as though darkness had fallen all around her. Then she tried to scream but her mouth just opened and froze. Flies buzzed around the dinner party dishes.
‘Where is Abba, I will go to him!’ Aliya got up and ran forward like a lunatic, but the chaprasi blocked her path. ‘Where will you go, Baby?’ he asked.
‘How dare you stop me!’ She held up her fists and tried to hit him.
‘I am Baby’s faithful servant, but where will you go? Babuji is in jail.’ He covered his eyes with the tail of his turban. ‘He called our Babuji a damn fool, a bastard.’ He stared at her, his eyes red. ‘If I find them, I’ll sacrifice a thousand and one Englishmen to protect our Babuji and throw them off! I’ll kill them all!’
In a short while, Ray Sahib came over. Amma stood behind the door and spoke with him. She gave him her brother’s address so that he could send a telegram, but Aliya quickly gave Big Uncle’s address as well. She had fast become attached to Big Uncle after seeing him just twice . . . And if it hadn’t been for him, she thought, what would have happened to us? For Amma’s brother, Mamoo, had made it clear in his reply that attempted murder was an enormous crime, and that sheltering the wife and child of such a man would put him in danger. Amma had hidden this from Aliya, but she had heard it with her own ears, standing in the veranda. Since that day, she’d come to hate both Mamoo and the English so deeply she wished they’d all be destroyed.
When Big Uncle had arrived, he placed his hand on everyone’s heads, promising protection. In just two days, all their baggage had been packed and loaded on tongas. Uncle freely cursed the British throughout. What had happened to Abba had only increased his anti-British fervour. After he had taken leave of Abba’s friends, and Aliya’s tonga had begun to move along slowly, she saw the headmistress of her school rushing over. Mrs Howard was out of breath as she ran up to the tonga, and held on to Aliya’s hand affectionately.
‘You people be happy, don’t be sad, your father was a very good man, your country will surely find freedom,’ she cried. As the tonga pulled away, she called out, ‘Goodbye, goodbye!’
Oh, Abba, what will life be like for you behind the bars of your jail? As Aliya sat up in her bed and opened the shutter, a puff of cool air greeted her. She felt her head would explode in pain. If only she could fall asleep, morning would finally come, she thought as she lay down again.
Present
1
Morning had come, the clouds had dispersed and now the sun’s rays shone through the open window. Her eyes felt irritated after sleeping only half an hour, as though eyelashes had fallen into them.
‘Oh my! You’re still sleeping!’ declared Shamima, looking bright and cheerful. Aliya stared at her very hard: she had such an innocent face, as though she were protected by angels.
‘Oh, no, I’ve been awake for a long time!’
Aliya jumped up from the bed, but then suddenly remembered she was in a new place; this was a new world, and the soothing shade of Abba’s affection lay far away.
‘I haven’t had breakfast yet. I was waiting for you; everyone else ate long ago,’ said Shamima proudly.
‘Silly girl, you should have eaten breakfast too, Chammi,’ said Aliya, as she quickly joined her.
‘But why would I have eaten breakfast without you? No one here cares about anyone else, they’re all selfish.’ Chammi made a face.
The two of them made their way downstairs together. Smoke floated through the holes in the canvas curtains that hung in the veranda. Amma and Big Aunty were seated on the takht with the tarnished paandaan, preparing and chewing paan. The dirty sheet spread over the takht was covered in hundreds of paan stains. Kareeman Bua was seated on the low stool by the hearth talking non-stop in a cloud of smoke.
‘You got up, Aliya! I didn’t wake you earlier because I didn’t know if you’d slept well in this new place or not.’ Big Aunty had Aliya sit down beside her.
‘But I did sleep well, Aunty.’ She looked over at her mother, about whose face hovered traces of sleeplessness and the dust of worries.
‘Oh my God, the parathas I set aside for you are all dried out, they probably have no taste by now!’ Kareeman Bua put the pan back on the fire to warm the parathas. ‘If you knead puris in ghee they don’t dry out all day; it’s really just a sign of the times,’ sighed Kareeman Bua sadly.
‘All the bags are still packed. After you’ve finished breakfast, go ahead and unpack them,’ said Amma softly to Aliya.
‘Come now, how can she unpack them herself? Jameel and Shakeel will do it all when they get home. Aliya will take the upstairs room. It will be easy for her to study alone up there. Jameel used to sleep there, but he said last night to give that room to Aliya and her mother; but you’ll stay down here with me, won’t you?’ Big Aunty asked Amma.
‘Yes, I’ll stay here,’ Amma said after thinking it over for a moment. Perhaps she was remembering those days when she hadn’t even cared to set eyes on Big Aunty; poor Aunty had come from a home that had been financially ruined. She was already engaged to Uncle, so Granny had no choice but to get them married because Uncle insisted, even though Granny was firmly of the opinion that engagements should be broken if the bride no longer came from money.
As she ate her dry roti, greasy with ghee, and sipped her tea boiled in only a little bit of milk, Aliya could sense that this household had fallen on hard times.
‘What a great paratha, amazing! Just as dry as Kareeman Bua’s skin. Don’t you think so, Bajiya?’ This last was said so softly by Chammi that Kareeman Bua couldn’t hear it.
‘They are great, Chammi,’ Aliya said trying to stop her laughter.
‘God willing, Aliya and Mazhar’s wife will have no trouble here, the good days may be gone, but if Jameel passes his exam, things in this house will turn around, and our Mazhar will also be freed.’ Aunty fell silent as she spoke.
‘If he cared about his family why would he be in jail today? After all, what did the English ever do t
o him?’ Amma sighed deeply, then looked down and quietly wiped away her tears. For a little while everyone fell silent as though they were all recalling painful memories.
‘May God preserve this home from misfortune as well,’ Kareeman Bua murmured softly.
Just then, an exceedingly feeble voice came from the sitting room: ‘Kareeman Bua, it’s getting late to go to the shop, could you send in my breakfast?’ Kareeman Bua jumped in irritation, banging her tongs on the floor. She picked them up and snatched a roti from a small basket, then spilled some tea into a filthy cup and withdrew from the veranda bent over double.
‘Oh, what a fine one he is, that Asrar Miyan. I mean to say, there’s a limit to shamelessness, there is. There is no way to keep him patient until he gets his food. Only Kareeman Bua can fix him!’ laughed Chammi loudly.
‘Oh, so he’s still here? Must be thanks to his elder brother,’ said Amma.
‘Yes, that’s him. Where would the poor fellow go, anyway? And anyhow he does look after the shop.’ Aunty hung her head like a criminal and glanced over at Amma from lowered eyes.
‘Great!’ Amma retorted sarcastically and began chopping betel nut. She seemed aloof and proud in this house.
Aliya listened to all this silently and felt a wave of sympathy. Oh dear, if only poor Asrar Miyan’s brothers had not sucked on filthy fly-infested mango pits perhaps they’d be alive today, and companions to Asrar Miyan. How alone he must feel among all his legitimate relatives.
‘Go sit with Granny a little,’ Amma told Aliya. So she quickly got up to go. Tehmina’s death and Abba’s arrest had made her very dutiful. Perhaps that would make Amma happy.
The Women's Courtyard Page 6
