by Laki Khan
‘Of course you can talk to me, Saira.’ I began to feel guilty: a guilt that was beyond any level of comprehension. ‘These bags are my belongings, Omar. I can’t thank you enough. Even if I was to thank you a million times it would not express how grateful I am to you. Everything you have done for Ammu and me since we have been here… I deeply appreciate it and will never be able to repay you for any of those things. Especially what you did yesterday – I will never forget that and will remain forever indebted to you, but I have decided to leave this house, this village, today,’ I said, choking back tears.
I saw an array of emotions displayed across his innocent face, beginning with confusion, then fear, some anger, and then pain. ‘Leaving, why? Where to and why so suddenly?’ He stood up.
I collected my bags and turned away from him, while I fastened my hijab tightly around my face. ‘It’s time for me to leave. What happened yesterday was not fair on you, and I don’t want to defame you anymore.’
He was now standing in front of me, looking angry, and I avoided eye contact with him. ‘Where will you go?’ he asked in a stern voice.
‘I don’t know yet,’ I answered. I knew that he was hurt by my ungrateful behaviour although that had never been my intention.
‘Saira, do you really think I would let you just walk out of here? How would I ever face Ammu?’ he continued.
‘I am sorry. I know I should have given you more notice to find another maid, but I really think this is for the best,’ I said, almost sobbing.
‘A maid,’ he scoffed to my surprise, ‘you think this is about finding a maid?’ I stood in submission allowing him to have his moment. ‘I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I just… I just can’t understand why you want to leave like this, where will you go? Have I done something to upset you?’ he asked in a gentle voice.
‘Omar, no, please – you have done no such thing. But this isn’t right. How long can I continue living here like this? We share no relation and the entire village is against me and is spreading malicious gossip, and I don’t want to cause any further harm to your reputation.’
He was angry; standing up immediately he placed his hands up to his head in distress.
‘Omar, you live abroad, you don’t know the culture of the village and the mentality of the people here. I don’t care what they say about me, honestly, it makes no difference, but I don’t want anyone to raise questions about your integrity and reputation, which is why the best solution is for me to leave,’ I explained to him.
‘Saira, you’re wrong, no one has the right to question your integrity and reputation either,’ he said calmly.
‘Omar, unfortunately this is part of the culture and traditions of us villagers,’ I told him and began to walk out.
‘Saira, wait,’ he called from behind. ‘So they are gossiping because we don’t share any relation, right? That does not bother me whatsoever, but I can see that it is affecting you. So what if you were to continue living here in this house as co-owner of this house, as my wife?’ I turned to look at him, aghast. I didn’t know if this was some sort of a joke, although the expression on his face was serious.
‘Omar please, I don’t expect a gesture that grand from you, this is absurd,’ I told him.
‘Saira, look at me. I am serious. I want you to become my life partner, my wife, my best friend, I want us to build a life together,’ he continued. I stood still as if held captive as his prisoner. My mind travelled back to how Ammu and I had been ousted from our beloved home by the villagers who had raised questions about my chastity. Ironically, history was now repeating itself, and who knew what the consequences would be this time? I recalled my short-lived marriage to Hamid and what had followed from there. Omar knew nothing about me or my history and all the skeletons I came with, and I wondered how he would react should he discover the whole truth. I questioned whether he would still feel the same and still be determined to commit his life to me. ‘Saira,’ he said, bringing my attention back to reality.
‘Omar, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart for this wonderful, kind gesture, but there are so many things that you don’t know about me, about what’s happened with Hamid and his family,’ I told him.
‘I don’t care about the past, and nothing you tell me will make a difference.’
‘It will, Omar, it will, I have done so many things that…’ I continued, now distressed.
‘What did you do? You didn’t return to Hamid and his evil-minded family because you wanted to protect yourself. None of that was your fault and the fact that you were both made to leave your home just because of small-minded villagers is disgusting,’ he blurted out. I turned my face away from him, feeling ashamed that he had discovered my innermost secrets, feeling bare and vulnerable. ‘Saira, please believe me, none of that matters to me,’ he said softly, attempting to convince me further.
‘Please, Omar, I am not the person that you think I am. I’m tainted and ill fated,’ I reiterated.
‘Shush,’ he said holding his hand up. ‘No, you’re not, you’re pure and more than enough for me.’
I wiped the tears from my face and asked him firmly, ‘How do you know everything?’
‘The day I asked Sumayah and Mesabji Chacha to come and visit he appeared hesitant about bringing Sumayah here. When I asked why, he told me everything.’ I stood in silent awe, unable to find any words. ‘Saira, please believe me, none of that makes a difference to me. I want to marry you for the person that you are,’ he said, looking at me. We sat down and an awkward silence encompassed the entire room. ‘Can I suggest something?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. He said he realised I must be in shock and that decisions such as these should not be made lightly. He suggested I sleep there that night and take some time to think, and give him my decision the next day.
‘Look, Saira, I don’t want to force you into anything, and if your answer is no, then I am willing to accept that, too, and I will happily escort you wherever you want to go,’ he said. He took my bags back into the room and then went to his. I sat in contemplation for a while, trying to comprehend what had just unfolded. Times such as these I needed my mother, who would have known just what to do; this was one of the most important decisions of my life and I craved support and her much-needed guidance. I had been prepared to leave this house, and instead had received a proposal of marriage. My emotions were in turmoil.
Omar spent a while in his room. I procrastinated about whether or not I should check to ensure he was all right, then turned away from his door silently. I made a start on dinner, setting out two places, and the cold reality once again ripped through my heart. My mind was heavy with many conflicting thoughts running wild, only increasing my emotional burden. I knocked on Omar’s door to let him know that dinner was ready and sat at the table as he joined me shortly after. He appeared subdued and preoccupied with his own internal battle.
‘Saira, you’re not eating,’ he said. I was holding a spoon and staring at it. I looked at him and took some sips of water to allow my blood to circulate oxygen around my body. ‘Look, Saira, I’m sorry if I said anything out of line before. If I have upset or offended you then please forgive me,’ he said in a soft, apologetic tone of voice.
‘No, you haven’t,’ I replied firmly and began to eat. He had known the innermost secrets of my life and still continued to only want the best for me, without a doubt, without pausing to think about what the consequences would perhaps be for him and his reputation. He was truly the definition of inspirational. We sat mostly in silence throughout dinner, both of us slightly uncomfortable amidst the awkward silences and pauses in the little conversation we engaged in. In my grief I had completely forgotten to enquire about what had transpired regarding the dispute over his father’s land. ‘Omar, I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask about your land issues, are they sorted?’ I asked him.
‘No, they are not, the official papers are still being processed,’ he replied, quite obviously worried about it all. I cleared away
the dishes and left Omar in the kitchen drinking tea. I wished him goodnight and retired to bed. It had been a long, tiring and eventful day and the soles of my feet were aching. I was exhausted but sleep was probably the furthest thing from my mind, which chose to remain alert. I sat near where Ammu used to sit, battling with the internal dilemma I now had to contend with.
Chapter 17 – Crossing the Distance
I sat in thought, reminiscing about how we would wrap up in thick woollen blankets to escape the chill of the Grishmo nights and drink warm ginger tea to warm our cold bodies. I opened my cupboard and took out my most prized possession: my beloved Abbuji’s prayer mat. I had preserved it all these years, only bringing it out when I missed him terribly and wanted to feel his presence close to me. I placed it on the floor, inhaling the musky aroma of the perfume I recalled him rubbing onto his wrists and cheeks almost every morning, perfume which he would then rub onto mine. Both of us would then laugh for ages, and Ammu would wonder what the joke had been. In response, Abbuji would tell her that it was a special joke between father and daughter. I sat on the mat in submission, relieving myself of the burden within. I asked for guidance and entrusted my utmost faith in God to show me the path that was best suited for me. My faith remained immensely strong and I knew that whichever path I was destined to walk, that would be the one deemed best for me. Sitting here like this brought me hope, happiness and a feeling of contentment, and I liked the notion of my parents dwelling together peacefully in the gardens of Jannah, holding hands side by side in eternal bliss.
I then thought of Omar; in many ways he resembled my father. He was kind, loyal, humble, liberal minded, successful, extremely handsome and always wanting to do good for others; he had a heart of gold. He had strong faith in himself and somehow managed to elevate the people around him, especially me. Everybody in the village had immense respect for him and the majority had even asked for his hand in marriage for their daughters at some point; it seemed he was the most eligible bachelor in this village as well as the surrounding ones. I lay down my heavy head as my imagination continued to flit between my deserted home and the one I was lying in right now. I desperately sought clarity, but it wouldn’t come. I needed to reach a decision, a solution. I knew Omar was a good person – how could he not be? He had arranged my mother’s funeral so assiduously, allowing me to do nothing but grieve and, even when I had become mute, he summoned Sumayah, bringing hope back into my life to enable me to continue living. The way he protected me through the unexpected appearance of Hamid’s mother was incomparable. Inexplicably, he brought happiness, hope, growth, guidance and strength into my life, be it through words or actions. It was like the morning sun rising out of darkness bringing with it a new day, a new experience, a new moment and a new ray of hope.
One by one I began to collate and recall the many tragedies I had battled with. The first one being the dreaded night I had escaped via the bamboo bridge, which it later transpired was my very first encounter with Omar. The second was being ousted from our home before Omar had employed us as his maids. I reflected on the way he showed us hospitality throughout our stay here, treating us more like family members than employees, and the unprecedented way he had cared for Ammu, paying for her treatment, ensuring she had eaten, taking her for walks and making her smile with his presence alone. Throughout her last moments it was Omar who had sat beside her taking care of her as if she was his own mother. All through my grief, he had stood strong beside me, wishing me well and supporting me in the best way he knew. We had shared many moments of both joy and sadness, through which we had stood side by side as one another’s strength and courage. In my moments of darkness he had been the one to show me the light. In many ways we had formed a bond: a bond that was based on concern for one another, a bond based on humanity. Only today this bond was in question; my existence in his house and in his life was in question. Today societal expectations required a name, a definition of this bond, and perhaps marriage was the most appropriate course of action for us both. Perhaps this had been the reason that fate allowed Omar and me to join our paths at a time of calamity, intertwined so unimaginably that departing from one another would be a challenge in itself. I wondered if perhaps this was all part of my destiny, and if this was God’s subliminal way of telling me that Omar was meant only for me.
I thought about the way Ammu had interacted with him; he seemed to elevate her with his presence alone. She was always so happy and comfortable around him, and even missed him in his absence. She cared for him as she had cared for me. My mind then halted – and I questioned why she had told me about the gown the very night that she had passed away and what significance this held. Did it mean that perhaps she had known that she would be gone, and I wondered if this was another coincidence, or again was it fate unfolding my destiny? I wondered if Ammu had known all along and she had already granted her blessings to this alliance; perhaps that was why she and Omar had a connection almost from their first meeting. I contemplated how my beloved Abbuji longed for me to be able to live a life away from the cultural and societal expectations that were imposed upon women in our village. He was a strong, courageous man and if he were with me I knew his very words would have been, ‘My dear Saira, follow your heart and be happy.’ He always taught me and Sumayah that when choosing a life partner, you should always look at two characteristics: a person’s character and their manners. In this case, those words were befitting for Omar, as he possessed qualities and mannerisms that were both praiseworthy and impeccable. The deeper I thought the more my mind and heart surrendered to the idea of binding my life to Omar. I had never contemplated becoming betrothed to him, hence the mere thought overwhelmed me.
Dawn was almost here so I decided to go to the place that had given me the clarity and perspective I was in dire need of today. I quietly climbed out of bed and went out through the kitchen door, carefully unlocked the green gates and went up to the rooftop balcony and stared over the white picket fence and everything beyond it. I looked over the front of the house onto the pond, the line of trees and the greenery beyond. The sunrise was beautiful and I watched the black sky give way to yellow, orange, red, white, and then blue. It was so full of light, renewing my belief in the saying ‘The darker the night the lighter the day’. A new day had begun, ironically reflecting the start of something new and perhaps extremely beautiful. I closed my eyes, immersing myself in the dewy, morning-fresh air. Just then the beautiful early morning call to prayer made its mark, harmoniously resounding through the entire village. It took my breath away as ever, only this time it was further confirmation that I had reached a clear and correct decision. With that thought in mind I opened my eyes to embark on the journey of a lifetime with one single step. I climbed back down and went into the house. Splendid is the sun that never ceases to rise, out of its dedication and commitment to the Earth. Similarly I should perhaps dedicate and commit myself to Omar.
I stepped into the kitchen knowing that this decision would now shape and contour my existing life and what was yet to come. I also knew that whether or not this decision would bring me joy was a gigantic question in itself, one that I was unable to articulate at this point.
I must have been standing lost in thought for a short while, when I heard a softly spoken, ‘Morning, Saira.’
‘Morning,’ I replied, pushing away the strands of hair that were covering my face.
‘You look tired, did you sleep well?’ he asked, evidently concerned. ‘Are you feeling unwell again?’ he continued.
‘No, I am feeling fine, thank you,’ I replied, turning away so that I could conceal my tired-looking appearance from him. I began to occupy myself with cooking breakfast. My entire body felt tense at the thought of Omar approaching me about my decision before allowing me to conjure up the courage to speak to him about it independently. To my surprise he spoke no more and chose to stand outside on the back patio looking ahead into the intricate maze of trees. I looked at him, observing his subdued expression. Th
e sun shone brightly onto the contours of his face, illuminating the twinkle in his eyes as I continued to stare, mesmerised, until I noticed his forehead crease with apparent lines of worry. I disliked seeing him distressed or upset as we shared a mutual concern and respect for each other, and perhaps in many ways this was the solid foundation that was required in order for us to continue forward on this journey together as one.
‘Breakfast is ready, Omar,’ I said to him, stepping out onto the hot patio floor. He sat himself at the table, clearly immersed in a world of his own. I took a deep breath, right into my gut, and attempted to conquer my fear of the conversation that was the deciding factor in our combined fate. ‘Omar,’ I said, and then paused.
‘Saira, take a seat.’ He pointed to a chair opposite him. I sat down, almost unable to breathe. ‘I spent most of last night thinking about everything: what you said, the time I have spent here, and the… I think you’re right about what you suggested.’ I was speaking in a jumbled and confused manner. He appeared a little unsettled and fidgety, as perhaps I wasn’t articulating exactly what I had planned to say. ‘I only have one request, if you’re agreeable,’ I continued.
‘Of course, Saira, anything you want,’ he said with a determination in his voice.
‘I, erm… would like a very small ceremony and would like for Mesabji Chacha to conduct our Nikkah, and Omar I don’t want anything from you, if you’re happy with those things,’ I asked.
‘That is absolutely fine, whatever you need.’ He smiled reassuringly. There was an awkwardness between us following the dreaded conversation, which continued throughout breakfast.
I began to clear the dishes when suddenly I heard, ‘Saira,’ and I turned to find Omar standing in front of me with a fearful expression upon his face. ‘Are you positive about this?’ he asked.
