Until We Meet Again in Jannah

by Laki Khan

  The next morning I opened my sleepy eyes expecting it to still be dark outside. I listened out carefully, unsure of whether I had missed the call to prayer. I rose to peep through the window, only to discover that it must have been mid-morning as everybody was already out and about in the village. I could even hear the children splashing out in the big pond. I gasped at the realisation I was standing in Omar’s bedroom as I recalled the events of the previous day. I sat down on the bed in my own world of turbulent emotions. I wondered where Omar was, and if he had purposefully left the room to enable me to feel comfortable. In a hurry I placed my scarf around my head loosely and walked down the hallway; the tiled floor felt warm underneath my bare feet. I walked into the kitchen to find Omar sitting at the table sipping tea. ‘Morning,’ he said.

  ‘You should have woken me,’ I said to him sternly.

  ‘I thought you could do with the rest,’ he replied. ‘Let’s sit outside,’ he suggested, handing me a warm cup of tea. We sat in the shaded area and just as I had expected he chose not to highlight or comment on the fact that I had chosen to share his room. We sat in silence for a short while as I gazed at his olive skin, shining in the sunlight.

  ‘I was thinking of giving out some Mitai to some of our neighbours, if you would like to accompany me, Saira,’ he asked. Mitai were a delicacy in our villages, shared between family, friends and neighbours during celebrations such as engagements and weddings. It seemed fitting for this occasion. I must have been deep in thought when I heard ‘Saira,’ again.

  ‘Yes, I would like that, but I don’t think our neighbours would be very accepting, you know, given what’s happened,’ I replied hesitantly.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, Saira. I am a part of this village just as much as they are, and you are now my wife and this is your home and village,’ he said with assurance. I looked at him, nodding, knowing all too well that the villagers would never accept me here as I was a woman scorned, with a tarnished reputation, who served no purpose in their traditional society. I also knew that Omar, being the man he was, would go to any extreme to make me feel accepted here, even it meant distributing Mitai to people whose views and opinions he did not accept.

  I attended to my appearance, trying to imitate what Layla had done yesterday. Omar carried bags full of Mitai that were pre-packed in delicately decorated boxes. Our first stop was Layla and Abdullah and their adorable daughter. Layla welcomed us with open arms, smiling wholeheartedly. They both appeared to be overjoyed by our visit as well as the sweets. Our next stop was the big pond where Omar handed out a box each to the children who were playing. Little Jamal made his way towards me, embracing me with open arms at once. ‘Apa, don’t you like playing with me anymore?’ he asked with an angelic expression on his face.

  ‘Oh, sweetie, I will come soon to play with you again,’ I said and he smiled before diving into the water, splashing Omar. I watched as he laughed and then playfully splashed water right back at him. He appeared elated in mood, happier in himself, and his eyes sparkled just a little more when he smiled – or perhaps I now had a different perspective. Together we continued our journey and visited a few other houses close to ours, handing out a box of Mitai to each; mostly, people welcomed and congratulated us. I watched Omar smile coyly as one of the older ladies of the village told me that my face was now glowing as a newlywed, at which I looked away politely without responding. We walked back towards the concrete path with the heat of the midday sun now beating down. While most of the villagers had been welcoming and accepting, there was a small minority that remained quite clearly intolerant of our alliance, which was clearly expressed through grunts and whispers as we walked past. However, Omar ignored them and engaged me in conversation; secretly I was grateful that we hadn’t been verbally abused or pelted with stones.

  ‘Saira, I need to go out for some urgent work. I will be back shortly,’ Omar said as we entered the kitchen.

  ‘Sure, that’s fine,’ I replied, relieved that the ordeal of going round the village had now ended.

  Chapter 19 – So Long, Gobind Pur

  I climbed up to the rooftop to collect the drying laundry. I enjoyed spending time there as it was peaceful and provided me with space to free my mind of any thoughts, if only for a short while. I walked to the front and looked out onto the village, and saw local men preparing their nets for a day of fishing. They often brought their catch back to the village and would go round from house to house to find anyone who wanted to purchase the fish at the end of the day. I recalled the time a local man had come here carrying a large jute basket on his head. As he placed the basket on the floor of the front patio and opened the lid, a dozen eels jumped out onto the floor, slithering as if they were in search of water. I began screaming as the man explained that they were fresh fish literally just out of his net. Ammu and Omar had sent him away and Omar politely asked him never to return. The thought of Ammu filled my eyes with tears once again, leaving me paralysed with grief.

  The sun had set. I welcomed in the light of the moon, and waited for Omar’s return. I wondered what the urgent task had been that was taking him the entire day to complete. On his return, we spoke a little about his day, but over dinner he informed me that his uncle no longer wanted to continue with the fight for his ancestral land as the legal fees were increasing for him. ‘That’s great news, Omar, I am so pleased for you,’ I said cheerfully. He became silent for a few minutes, appearing worried.

  ‘It is good, although it has ruined my relationship with the only family I had left,’ he said, sounding dejected.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Life goes on,’ he said slowly. We went to sit on the front patio, taking comfort in the warmth of our tea. ‘Anyway, how was your day?’ he asked. ‘You have spent the entire day thinking about Ammu, haven’t you?’ he said when I didn’t reply. There was a short silence between us before he said, ‘Tomorrow I will have to plan another tour of the village to keep your mind busy. Perhaps we can visit the remainder of the elder ladies so they can tell you how you are glowing again.’ I laughed and he joined in, teasing me some more. ‘You finish your tea, I’m going to bed,’ he said, walking down the hallway.

  I sat in contemplation for a short while, mostly in disbelief that he had been aware of my innermost secrets and not once had he become judgemental. Even today when he was evidently distressed he continued his utmost to try to make me smile. He would much rather suppress his sadness to bring me happiness. We were two people who ultimately came together through sadness and grief, like sleepers in passing dreams. I desperately desired to free him of his burden and wanted to see him happy, only I was unsure how I could make that happen. I pondered whether our friendship would prove to be the unbreakable foundation that was required for a harmonious marriage. I recalled my parents and the way that they had spoken to each other, the time they spent together laughing, talking. They had been so happy and comfortable in one another’s company. That was the kind of relationship, the kind of bond and the kind of marriage I wanted to emulate and aspire to. They were truly the role models I needed in my life; their upbringing made me the person I was and for that I was eternally grateful. That night I carried Ammu’s shawl into bed with me, wrapping it tightly around me, and fell asleep staring into Omar’s angelic face.

  The next morning I woke to find Omar sitting in the kitchen appearing subdued. He told me he needed to talk to me urgently and I sat next to him. ‘Saira, I am terribly sorry that I have to even have this conversation with you, but I will have to… to leave,’ he said, sounding devastated. I was confused for a moment and then understood that he must be referring to his return to the UK. ‘I initially visited to resolve the dispute over my land. However, fate had other plans for me, which I’m not complaining about,’ he continued. I stared down to the floor, lost in thought. ‘Saira, are you listening?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ I assured him.

  ‘I had planned to stay longer as I don’t want to leave you a
ll alone here, but your visa for the UK will take a while to arrive, so I want to apply for that as a matter of urgency,’ he explained. The word ‘visa’ replayed in my mind over and over again; I should have realised this would be the next course of action.

  ‘A visa…’ I said out loud, and he looked at me, perplexed.

  ‘Yes, Saira, I have to submit an application for you to join me in the UK,’ he said. I continued to listen as my mind and heart refused to process the information. ‘I’m trying to arrange for a ticket for me to fly back in the next few days, and I have already consulted a solicitor who has started the application process, so I will just need to approve it,’ he explained. I looked at him and nodded as he informed me about visiting the travel agent, and then sat in devastation and disbelief.

  Omar was arranging for me to relocate and settle in the UK with him. I was expected to leave my native land, this village I was just beginning to call home, the muddy soil, the streams, the open blue skies, the sound of the birds, the open fields, and most importantly all the memories of my beloved mother that were etched into this land. How could I leave all that behind and travel to the UK in search of a new life? I walked out onto the hot patio, cooling my feet in the water from the pump outside, appreciating the greenery that surrounded me as I listened to the many wonders of my land. I listened to the sound of birds, the chatter of people. I could hear a lady shouting, ‘Who wants bangles, green, yellow, pink, blue? I have every colour!’ repeatedly. She would go round from house to house every morning carrying a large jute basket on her head that held an assortment of different coloured bangles for people to purchase, and she never seemed to take a day off. I inhaled the open, fresh village air feeling free almost like a bird about to fly over the high skies. This land was my home – how could I depart from it? It was embedded into my subconscious mind and soul.

  Omar returned just before dusk, hot and bothered as a consequence of the levels of humidity in the air today. I offered him cool water to drink and then watched as he splashed it all over his face, prior to serving him late afternoon snacks. ‘Saira, I have managed to book my ticket to the UK in three days’ time. I hope you understand that I wouldn’t leave in such a hurry if it wasn’t for the fact that I want you to join me as soon as possible,’ he said, and smiled.

  ‘Omar, it’s fine, I can continue living here,’ I suggested to him.

  ‘Saira, I promised to take care of you and I want to fulfil that promise,’ he continued. He always chose to prioritise me and my needs before his; how could I not want to travel to the UK to live my life with him? ‘Don’t look so despondent, Saira,’ Omar said, ‘I won’t leave you here all alone. I will ask Layla and Abdullah to stay here with you and take good care of you, I promise,’ he assured me.

  ‘I’m not worried about that, Omar, I trust you completely,’ I told him. That night, after dinner, I lay in bed sobbing silently. Omar lay asleep next to me as I stared at his immaculately perfect face. How could I disclose to him that I did not want to relocate to the UK, and most of all depart from my beloved mother? How could I explain that the thought of this was ripping through the cords of my heart? I wanted to stay here where my Ammuji’s memory was very much alive and I could cherish it all day, every day. I knew that if I revealed this truth to him, it would probably break his heart, and seeing him upset hurt me. If anything, I wanted to shield him from pain and sadness. He had become my guiding light through the darkest nights, so surely I could make a sacrifice for him and his happiness – which ultimately meant our happiness. No matter how much I deliberated I was unable to convince my mind and my heart that this was the path meant for me; this was where I was meant to be.

  A few days later

  It was mid-morning and Omar was busy preparing to leave for his flight to London. Just as he had suggested, Layla and Abdullah with their daughter had moved into our house, ensuring I had some company and security. I assisted him with the last of his packing and then walked into the kitchen to bring him an early lunch prior to his departure. ‘Do you have everything?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ he replied, checking over everything one final time. I began to feel strange suddenly, a feeling I was unable to comprehend. Watching Omar pack confirmed the reality of actually being apart from him, and secretly I longed for him to stay. I had become so used to his company that the thought of being without him was inconceivable. ‘Saira,’ he said, and gestured for me to sit next to him. He looked into my eyes, smiled, and softly said, ‘A lot has happened in the last few weeks. We have experienced lots of happy moments and some sad ones too. I know you think about Ammu every second of every day, and I wish that I could take some of your pain along with me. What I want to say is – while I am gone please take care of yourself. I care for you more than I can express. So whenever you need me, night or day, please don’t hesitate to make contact. I just don’t want you to feel lonely or that you have no one to turn to because I will always be here for you. Besides, I have given Layla and Abdullah strict instructions to take care of you, and should Hamid or his family turn up again then don’t you worry – Abdullah will take care of that too, I promise.’

  I was overcome with emotion by the sheer sincerity of his words. ‘Omar, don’t worry about me. I will be just fine here – thank you for everything,’ I said, choking back the tears.

  ‘No tears,’ he whispered, and took my hands in his, brought them up to his face and gently kissed them. Just then there was a knock on the door.

  ‘We will need to leave now,’ Abdullah stated.

  ‘Yes, just coming now,’ Omar informed him, as he picked up his luggage. Together we walked through the hallway and into the kitchen and I noticed Layla look in my direction to give me a cheeky smile, which I reciprocated. ‘I have everything, Abdullah,’ Omar told him, as he bade goodbye to Layla and their daughter.

  ‘Omar, I want you to be completely free of worry. Be reassured that we will take care of Saira,’ Layla told him with determination, and then laughed with him, looking at his tense face. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Layla continued to tease him.

  ‘Saira, are you sure you won’t accompany us to the airport?’ Abdullah asked me. I shook my head. I felt as if I couldn’t speak. Was Omar’s departure affecting me more than I had expected, or was it that I had just become so used to being around him that the thought of separation was now unbearable.

  ‘I will call you on the other side,’ he said softly, and left with Abdullah. I watched from inside the grill gates of the front patio as he walked down the concrete pathway leading to the big pond, until he disappeared beyond the path leading to the road out of the village. I waited until I could no longer see him and began to feel uneasy and restless. I walked up to the rooftop and stood close to the immaculately clean white picket fence. One by one I began to recall the myriad events that had taken place here, which had miraculously transformed into a marriage. My mind flitted to thoughts of my mother; I missed her so much that words were unable to express the pain inside. Although Omar was a great man and I knew he had all the qualities I needed in a life partner, there was still a part of me that did not want to let go; I wanted to hold on to this part of my life, this village, and all the memories of my mother. I did not want to part with a place that was vividly alive with her existence, and wanted to preserve her memory for as long as I could. I took comfort in the image of Omar’s angelic sleeping face and the warmth of his hand upon mine; we had developed a bond, a connection that I was beginning to hold very close to my heart. That moment, as I stood looking out onto the village, sobbing silently, with thoughts of my parents, Sumayah, and then Omar, I decided I would never allow him to know of my reluctance to leave this land.

  A short while later I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder which took me by surprise, as this had been a place that was only known to and shared between Omar and me. I looked over my shoulder to find Layla standing there, staring at me with concern. ‘Layla, is everything all right?’ I asked her, quickly wiping m
y face.

  She sat next to me and said, ‘You missed a spot,’ pointing to tears left on my chin.

  ‘How did you know I was up here?’ I asked her.

  She just laughed and said, ‘Your dear husband warned me that you may be up here reliving memories and upsetting yourself. I guess he was right.’

  ‘He’s worked me out.’ I laughed.

  ‘He cares for you deeply,’ Layla stated. I should have expected this; I knew that he paid attention to the smallest of my needs and indulged them. ‘Saira, believe me when I say that time is a great healer,’ Layla assured me, and I nodded and walked back down the stairs into the house.

  The next morning Omar telephoned as promised, assuring me that he had reached the UK safely. It felt good to hear his gentle voice once again, as he repeatedly instructed I take care of myself. Omar called me every day and sometimes even twice a day, when he would tell me about his day at work, what he had eaten, what the weather had been like, the humorous jokes shared between him and his work colleagues, almost as if subconsciously he was educating me about the UK prior to my arrival.

  Back in the village Layla and Abdullah were taking great care to keep me occupied, whether it be engaged in conversation, taking me for walks around the village, or allocating me tasks. Most of all I enjoyed spending time and playing with their daughter, which I immersed myself in. Those three months went by very quickly, although a day did not go by when I did not think about my mother. Then one day I received a telephone call from Omar informing me that my visa had been granted and that he was in the process of arranging a plane ticket for me to travel to the UK to join him imminently. A large part of me was in denial, which soon became a feeling of dread, when a few days later Abdullah was arranging for a taxi to transport us to the airport. Before my mind was able to process any of this Layla was busy packing for me in excitement and joy. All I had wanted was for everything around me to slow down – I wasn’t yet ready to leave this house and certainly not my memories. I felt unable to discuss any of this with Layla, so I guess she took my subdued state as nerves about my journey to my new home and the change of environment. My ticket had been booked and confirmed for the following day and everything had been set in place for me, except I was unable to convince my mind and my heart that in this lay my best interests. I now needed to accomplish one final task, so I went to Abdullah and requested his help.