by Laki Khan
I realised that Omar had seen my face that night, which meant that he knew I was the strange girl he had rescued. The very first time we met here in this village, in this house, he was sure to have recognised me right away. How had I remained oblivious to this fact up until now? How had I not made this connection before? Why had he not directly asked me about that night? I thought out loud and brought my knees up to my face, feeling ashamed. He had seen me in my most vulnerable state. I felt unable to look him in the eye, feeling guilty and shameful at the same time. I lay down my head, ruminating over the events and revelations of the day one by one, until my eyes finally surrendered to much-needed sleep.
The next morning I awoke feeling tired and achy. My mind was like a cloud filled with dark grey areas. I felt trapped within this intricate web that had now become my reality. Slowly, I crept out of bed and then rushed to prepare breakfast. I heard Omar walking into the kitchen and quickly scurried over to the stove, attempting to avoid making eye contact with him. ‘Morning, Saira,’ he called out. I fastened my hijab, pulling it forward covering the majority of my forehead.
‘Morning,’ I replied, looking away and attempting to appear busy.
‘You look tired, Saira,’ he said, ‘did you not sleep well?’ I stopped to reflect on my discovery, which had been the primary cause of my lack of sleep.
‘I did, thanks,’ I replied, with an undertone of submission to my voice. I served him breakfast as I did most mornings, only today felt different. Today I served him with a new-found realisation, which brought along a new compulsion. I wondered whether or not I should confront him and ask him why he had pretended not to recognise me. I very much doubted that he would forget meeting an insane girl almost hanging off a bridge in the middle of the night. Just as I was about to confront him, I noticed he was wearing a big smile on his face from one side of his cheek to the other.
‘Saira, I just wanted to thank you,’ he said, beaming with joy. I stood, confused, wondering what he had to thank me for. ‘Your kind words yesterday have helped me immensely, and you’re absolutely correct. I will do whatever it takes to protect my father’s land,’ he continued. He appeared elated, and, astonishingly, that infectious smile had returned, this time with a meaningful purpose, it seemed. I held back my emotions, contemplating the consequences of what I was about to do. What would it actually achieve if I confronted him? Would it change anything or would it only bring about more distress to us both. To cause him distress was not my intention at all, especially now he had so much to deal with, and would it not be extremely selfish of me to repay his selfless gratitude with yet another confrontation? These questions continued to chase through my mind, without abate. After some thought I decided there was no need for me to inform Omar of the truth, burying this revelation deep within my heart. I walked over to the stove, and stared at Omar’s smiling face.
First and foremost I was grateful to God Almighty; secondly I was grateful to Omar, for saving me from myself that night, and then teaching me that life still goes on no matter how deep or severe the wounds may be. He had taught me many things, especially the importance of self-belief, perseverance, and a passion to live life to its full. How did I have the audacity to want to take away his peace of mind when he had managed to return the smile to my mother, which I was unable to accomplish? I truly felt disgusted with myself and my actions, and decided that, no matter what, this was one secret I would never again contemplate divulging to anyone.
Immersed in a world of my own I had neglected to check on Ammu today and when I walked into the room she was wide awake. ‘You all right, Ammu?’ I asked her softly.
‘I’m okay, Saira,’ she said, pulling herself up gradually and out of bed. I served her breakfast followed by her medication. Ammu seemed different today; there was something about her behaviour, something unidentifiable, almost as if she was keeping a low profile around the house. I thought perhaps she was contemplating her precious memories of Abbuji, so I allowed her to sit out on the patio and have her moment, as I scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom floors. Then, one by one, I put the clean utensils back into their places. I was kneeling down, reaching for a pot on the floor, when suddenly I heard a very loud bang coming from one of the rooms in the house. Immediately I ran, my heart beating wildly. I gasped for air upon entering Ammu’s room and discovered her lying on the floor face down.
‘Ammu, Ammu, what happened?’ I asked her urgently. I touched her head and face frantically checking to ensure she had not hurt herself severely. ‘It’s okay, you’re going to be fine,’ I shouted, reassuring her whilst attempting to lift her off the floor. Just then Omar walked into the room to discover us both on the floor. At once he lifted her up and onto the bed. I had been so immensely preoccupied with things that had been utterly meaningless that I had been neglecting my mother, I thought, with tears now streaming down my face. I gave her water to drink while Omar sat beside her. She drank a little sip and took a minute to compose herself. She explained she had been feeling weak all morning and dizzy which had caused her to fall.
I pulled her into an embrace so tight that she began laughing. ‘I’m fine, Saira.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were not feeling well?’ I demanded.
‘Saira, I am sure Ammu must have just forgotten,’ said Omar attempting to lighten the mood for us all. I thoroughly checked her arms and legs for bruising. ‘Ammu, are you sure you’re okay?’ Omar asked her again, massaging her legs.
‘You both need to stop worrying, it was a little fall,’ she replied. placing her arms around both our shoulders.
‘I will ask the doctor to come and check you over,’ Omar added.
‘No, you will do no such thing. I am absolutely fine,’ she persisted, looking at us.
‘You rest and I will brew some tea for the three of us,’ I told her. I stumbled into the kitchen almost breaking down; I wanted to crawl into a corner and cry to my heart’s content. I felt terribly guilty; I had become so self-absorbed that I had become neglectful. I rebuked myself for not being more attentive and alert; then, perhaps, I would have noticed she was feeling dizzy and would not have left her alone for long periods.
I poured the tea, brushing away my tears, and carried a tray filled with snacks for the three of us. Upon entering the room I heard them talking and laughing so I completely immersed myself in the sound of Ammu’s laughter; it was a beautiful sight as I sat close and listened to their banter. Fortunately Omar had no plans to travel out today. Hence he offered to sit with Ammu as I prepared dinner.
Dusk arrived with the sweet sound of the call to prayer, once again taking my breath away. I prayed for Ammu today, asking God to protect her always. When I returned to the room I discovered Omar and Ammu kneeling down in prayer together, side by side; my eyes filled with this beautiful image of Omar close to her, ensuring she did not fall a second time. How thoughtful he was; despite having his own difficulties to contend with, he chose to look after my mother, a woman he shared no blood relation with. He was truly commendable.
I quickly composed myself, informing them, ‘Dinner is ready. Ammu, are you feeling okay?’
‘How can I not be? I have you both looking after me,’ she replied, smiling. Omar walked beside her to the dinner table as she appeared unwell and extremely fatigued. This picture of her was the total opposite of the busy working lady she had once been back in our beloved home. My much-loved Jahed Pur seemed a million miles away and I longed for it and missed it dearly. I missed seeing Ammu happy; in my memories she had been happiest with Abbuji. It had been an extremely long day and my feet ached in agony as I began to clear the table and the dishes.
‘Ammu is all tucked up in bed,’ I heard Omar say to me as he walked back into the kitchen. He seemed tired and I felt guilty because allowing us to stay here had now become another responsibility for him to shoulder.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said to him.
‘You’re very welcome, Saira,’ he said, and retired to bed. That night
I lay down almost unable to keep my eyes open.
With great difficulty I awoke earlier than usual the next morning. I wanted to ensure that Ammu had all her medications at the correct times and would be extra attentive and vigilant towards her. Dawn was still breaking, and gradually the village was coming to life with the sound of birds, cockerel, cattle, ducks, and the early swarming of mosquitoes followed by the breathtakingly beautiful call to prayer, along with the familiar sounds and movement of the people.
The entire house was dust covered and desperately needed attention. I began by preparing breakfast for the three of us, while Ammu was still asleep.
‘Morning, Saira,’ said Omar. Without even allowing me to reply he left the kitchen, heading towards Ammu’s room, I presumed. A short while later both of them walked back into the kitchen and she appeared smiley and well rested, to my relief. I served them both warm tea with fresh home-made yoghurt and a milky rice pudding dessert sweetened to Ammu’s liking. The day was beautiful, the sky was an azure blue and the sun was bright. It was hot and humid and I felt happy; happy to see my mother feeling much better, secretly thanking God in abundance.
I then started the mundane task of dusting the back courtyard and kitchen, but my attention was quickly diverted by the painful shrieks of my mother, making me sprint back into her room. She lay in bed with one leg curled up and her face screwed up in pain. I asked her what was wrong, to which she was unable to reply. I began to massage her legs frantically, instructing her to sit up. After a short while she was able to explain that she’d had another dizzy spell. We were soon joined by Omar who sat beside her, worried. I managed to calm and settle her back into bed but she continued to complain of an acute headache with dizziness. I sat beside her, desperately helpless. Just then Omar returned to the room informing us both that he had contacted a doctor and arranged for him to come over to examine Ammu; admittedly this was a relief to my ears.
The three of us waited patiently for the arrival of the doctor and that half hour seemed to last forever, with Ammu still appearing to be in pain. It broke my heart that I was unable to do anything to make her feel better. I continually massaged her feet and her forehead, while Omar sat close by with a face full of worry and tension, duplicating mine. The doctor finally arrived. He seemed friendly and was known to Omar, and resided in a village nearby. I hoped he did not belong to the same village as Hamid, and led him into Ammu’s room as a matter of urgency. The examination took around thirty minutes, although it seemed longer, while Omar and I stood close by, the entire time. He looked at me with benevolence as if telling me to stay strong without the use of words, so I acknowledged his support by nodding. I began to wring my hands; overwhelmed with fear of what the doctor may conclude. The doctor then asked for a glass of water, which I brought over right away, and then he instructed Ammu to take some medication which he had brought along with him.
The doctor sat Omar and me down, and said that Ammu’s blood pressure was extremely high, causing dizziness, blurred vision and severe headaches. This was in addition to the acute arthritic pain she was already suffering. I sat beside Ammu, terrified, as this information engendered a new fear within me. The doctor then prescribed a new set of medications; Omar thanked him and left for the local bazaar, where there was a large pharmacy, to collect the new prescription.
I sat massaging Ammu’s head as my subconscious mind began to accumulate a number of dark thoughts. Somewhere, somehow, I knew I had contributed to her slowly becoming this unwell; the amount of stress placed on her in the last few weeks was unimaginable. My head began to hurt as I thought about the many tragedies we had confronted, beginning with the end of my deception of a marriage, then being ousted from our village and leaving our beloved home, to arriving here, consequently losing everything that we had ever known and loved. Even now the fact was that we were in hiding from the clutches of Hamid; should he ever discover my whereabouts then I knew that the consequences would be dire. These events were mostly caused by me and now my beloved mother was suffering the consequences. I should have thought about her well-being more and sacrificed myself if needed, then maybe today she would have been all right, she would have been her old self: well, healthy and happy. I watched her sleep while I ruminated over a thousand possibilities and thoughts, brushing away the tears that were now flowing uncontrollably.
A short while later Omar returned with the new medication. He unsealed the bag, explaining the medications to me one by one as I listened attentively.
‘Saira, are you okay?’ he asked, no doubt noticing my red eyes and nose.
‘Yes,’ I muttered, trying to understand what he was explaining. ‘I’ll go and sort you out some lunch now,’ I said to him, standing up.
‘Saira, stop, I won’t die of starvation. I think it’s best you stay with Ammu, don’t you?’ he said with a stern face. If I were honest all I wanted was to sit next to my mother and care for her and ensure that she made a quick and full recovery.
Sometime later she opened her eyes as I remained beside her holding on to her hand, just as she used to nurse me when I was unwell. I asked her softly how she was feeling.
‘I am much better, my darling,’ she replied, slowly sitting herself up. I gave her some juice for sustenance and massaged her head with some balm.
‘Ammu, I’m just going to get you something to eat,’ I said to her. I figured a hot drink and bread would suffice until I managed to clean the stove, wash the pots and then eventually prepare dinner.
I ran into the kitchen; I was mesmerised by the sight of Omar standing over a hot stove stirring a pot. My initial reaction was to stand and stare until a feeling of guilt overcame me. The fact remained that I was a maid here, and I had been so caught up in my own emotional battle and instability that poor Omar had been left to prepare his own meals.
‘Saira, does this look right? I am not sure if I have added all the right ingredients,’ he asked, pointing down at the pot with that infectious smile he always wore. I looked into the pot to discover that he had prepared one of our native dishes, comprising a mixture of rice and lentils with added spices to enhance the flavour.
‘It looks lovely,’ I said. ‘I will serve it now,’ I told him as he walked towards Ammu’s room. Secretly I added a little more turmeric, while I admired his initiative. Did his generosity never cease? I contemplated. I served up the khichri and walked into Ammu’s room with three steaming plates.
‘Looks delicious, Saira,’ Ammu said.
‘I can’t take credit for this, Ammu, this is the handiwork of Omar,’ I told her as he laughed.
‘You have many talents, my dear,’ she told him. I then encouraged her to eat, and I followed. To my surprise the khichri tasted exactly as I would have prepared it, and I wondered how he had managed to prepare this all by himself.
‘Okay, so I have a confession to make,’ Omar said, looking at Ammu, who was just as surprised as I was. ‘I asked Layla to help me prepare the khichri,’ he revealed. I smiled as Ammu began to laugh, with Omar now joining in.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked, sitting close to her. I could tell she was having another severe headache. Swiftly I cleared away the plates and, when I returned to the room, the lights were turned down low as that appeared to ease the discomfort of her eyes. Omar then retired to bed; I knew he would be leaving early in the morning for a land-related meeting he needed to attend. Sitting beside her I prayed with conviction, asking God to make her better; even with the new medication I was beginning to see only a little improvement.
Chapter 14 – The Miracle that Never Came
The next morning I brewed tea and placed it on the table along with Omar’s favourite snacks. My eyes were tired, and that weariness was accompanied by an aching body and a hurting head and heart.
‘Morning, Saira,’ Omar called, followed by, ‘how is Ammu?’
‘She struggled to sleep,’ I said quietly. Prior to leaving he requested I contact him should we need anything, which I appreciated immens
ely. He had already helped me so much; how could I ever express my gratitude, so I did the only thing I had left. Along with Ammu I kept Omar in my prayers, hoping that his land dispute would be resolved, enabling him to hold on to his precious memories of his parents. I returned to Ammu who was now wide awake and perspiring. I rushed to her side immediately with a wet flannel to cool down her burning forehead. Worry and panic overtook me as I had never seen her this unwell before. It was almost as if she was physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted and had altogether given up on life itself. I deliberated about whether or not I should contact Omar, then realised I might jeopardise his important legal meeting.
Shortly after nightfall I heard the door open and secretly welcomed his return. Immediately he walked into our room smiling and greeted us.
‘How is she?’ he asked, looking in my direction. I informed him the medication was having little effect and that she had been perspiring with a fever for most of the day – all of which Ammu denied, stating that I was exaggerating. She continued to stubbornly insist that she was feeling well and did not require medical attention. Omar, exercising his own stubbornness, then firmly informed her that he would be contacting the doctor first thing in the morning whether she liked it or not, and I watched as she surrendered to his insistence.
