Salar took a good look at the man before him. He was disappointed—an
ordinary face and build, and medium height; perhaps he would have looked
better without that beard. Salar's good looks, tall frame and athletic
physique made him very attractive to the opposite sex, but this person was
bereft of such advantages. Salar wondered what it was that had drawn
Imama to this man. He thought she was more foolish than he believed.
‗I am Jalal Ansar. You wanted to meet me?'
‗Salar Sikandar,' Salar extended his hand.
‗Sorry, I didn't recognize you.'
‗Naturally, we're meeting for the first time.' Salar had come to the
hospital, looking for Jalal. With a little help, he found him and was now with
him in front of the duty room.
‗Can we sit down somewhere and talk?' asked Salar.
‗Talk about what?' Jalal looked somewhat concerned.
‗About Imama.'
‗Who are you?' Jalal's expression changed.
‗I'm her friend.' Jalal looked at Salar without a word and they began to
walk.
‗My car's in the parking lot—let's go there,' suggested Salar. They did
not exchange a word till they reached the car.
‗I've come from Islamabad,' began Salar. ‗Imama wanted me to speak to
you.'
‗Imama never mentioned you to me,' Jalal said rather oddly. ‗Since when
do you know her?'
‗Almost since childhood…our houses are adjacent. We're very good
friends.' Salar didn't know why he made the last statement. Maybe he was enjoying the spectrum of expressions crossing Jalal's face—he had noticed
his look of displeasure.
‗I've spoken to Imama in detail. I cannot see what's left to talk about after
that,' Jalal said in a flat tone.
‗Imama wants you to marry her.' Salar's voice was equally
expressionless, like a newsreader's.
‗I have informed her of my decision.'
‗She wants you to review it.'
‗That's not possible.'
‗She's a prisoner in that house, in custody of her parents, her family. If
you cannot commit yourself permanently, she wants you to make a
temporary commitment and get her released with help from a bailiff.'
‗How can that be when she's being held captive?' queried Jalal and
Salar said the nikah could be conducted over the telephone.
‗No, I cannot take such a risk—I don't want to get involved in such
matters. My parents will never allow this and they are not prepared to
accept her anyway.'
Jalal's look was fixed on Salar's ponytail—he disapproved of Salar the
way Salar had disapproved of him.
‗She's ready to enter a temporary arrangement,' Salar reiterated, ‗so that
she can leave her home. You can divorce her afterwards, if you wish.'
‗I think I've said clearly that I can't help her. Why don't you marry her if
it's just a temporary arrangement? After all, you're her friend, aren't you?'
Jalal said pointedly. ‗If you can come all the way from Islamabad to Lahore
to help her, surely you can do this too.'
‗She didn't ask me to marry her, so I didn't think of it,' Salar shrugged. ‗In
any case, she loves you, not me.'
‗What's love got to do with a makeshift marriage? You can divorce her
later on.' Jalal suggested a solution.
‗Thank you, I'll convey your advice to her,' replied Salar seriously.
‗And if this is not possible, then tell Imama to find some other way out. In
fact, why don't you go to a newspaper office and tell them about her
predicament…how her parents are holding her against her will. When the
media highlights this issue, her parents will be compelled to set her free, or
you can go to the police and procure her release.'
Salar was surprised: Jalal was talking sense—why had Imama not
thought of this herself? This was a safer way out.
‗Fine, I'll convey this too.'
‗Please don't come to me again and also tell Imama that she's not to
contact me in any way in the future. As it is, my parents are planning my engagement.' Jalal added this revelation.
‗Very well—I'll tell her all that you have said,' replied Salar casually. Jalal
said nothing more and stepped out of the car.
If Imama had any hope that Salar would be able to convince Jalal to
marry her, it was a great mistake on her part. Salar had no sympathy for
Imama nor had he entered this tangle out of any desire to do a good deed;
it was just an adventure for him, and Imama marrying Jalal was not part of
it. If he had to justify their marriage the only justification he had was that
they loved each other, but this was rejected by Jalal. Salar could not
cite religious or moral reasons to persuade Jalal because he
himself was so distant from the concepts of religion and morality.
Above all, why would he get into a lengthy argument for Imama's
sake, with someone whom he disliked at first sight?
These thoughts crossed his mind as he drove back from
Lahore to Islamabad. It was curiosity that took him to Lahore in
the first place—what did this guy Jalal look like? How would he
react to Imama's request? He had conveyed her message
verbatim and now he was taking back Jalal's response. It was an
amusing scenario for Salar. What would Imama's reaction be?
She was not going to marry Asjad and Jalal was not ready to
marry her; she could not leave home and there was no one else
who could come to her aid—so what would she do next? Usually,
girls chose to take their lives in such circumstances.
‗Oh yes, she'll come to me asking for poison or a revolver.
Suicide…very exciting,' he thought, in a perverse fashion,
contemplating the possibilities. ‗After all, what else can she do?'
----------------------
‗Will you marry me? By nikah, on the telephone?' A shock hit Salar—he
was speechless.
On returning from Lahore, he had repeated Jalal's response to Imama.
He thought she would burst into tears and ask him for a weapon to end her
life. Instead, she was quiet for a few moments and then sprang the
question which left him stunned and silent.
‗I need your support just for a few days so that my parents cannot force
me to wed Asjad. Then you can get me out of here with a bailiff's help. I will not need you after that and I'll never disclose your name to my parents,'
Imama explained.
‗OK, I'll do it, but this bailiff business is tricky—there are many legalities
involved—hiring a lawyer and…'
Imama interrupted him at the other end. ‗You can get your friends to help
you—they must be experts in doing such things.'
Salar frowned with annoyance. ‗What sort of things?
‗These sort of things,' she replied calmly.
‗How do you know?'
‗Waseem tells me that you don't keep very good company,' blurted
Imama and then there was silence. She regretted having said that—it was
inappropriate.
‗My company is very good—at least, better than Jalal Ansar's.' There
was sharp irony in Salar's tone. Imama was quiet. ‗Anyway, I'll see what I
can do. But you should remember that this is a very risky course of action.'
‗I know, but it's possible that my parents may throw me out when they
discover that I have married; then there'll be no need of a bailiff. Or they
may accept my marriage, in which case, I'll divorce you and marry Jalal.'
Salar shook his head with disbelief—he had never met anyone so stupid.
This girl could be crowned the Queen of Folly.
‗Anyway, let's see what can be done,' he said and hung up.
------------------------
‗I want to sign a marriage contract—a nikah.'
Hasan stared at Salar and burst out laughing. ‗Is it a new adventure or
your last adventure?'
‗The last adventure,' Salar replied in a serious tone.
‗So you're going to have a wedding?' asked Hasan as he took a bite of
the burger.
‗Who's having a wedding? I just want to go through a nikah with a girl
who needs help—I want to help her.'
Hasan looked at him intently. ‗Are you joking?'
‗No, not at all. I didn't call you here to joke with you.'
‗Then what's this nonsense about a nikah and...helping a girl?' Hasan
was annoyed. ‗Are you in love or something?'
‗My foot! Am I crazy to go falling in love and that too at this age?' Salar
scoffed.
‗That's what I was wondering…why are you doing this?'
Salar spoke to Hasan in detail about Imama and her problem but he did not tell him that she was Waseem's sister because Hasan knew Waseem
quite well. However, Hasan immediately asked about the girl's identity.
Salar took a deep breath. ‗She's Waseem's sister.'
‗What?' Hasan literally jumped up. ‗The one who studies in a medical
college in Lahore?' Salar nodded in assent. ‗You must be crazy to do such
a senseless thing. You'd better tell Waseem about the whole situation.'
‗I'm asking for your help, not your advice.' Salar was upset.
‗What can I do to help?' Hasan was unsure.
‗You arrange for a nikah registrar and some witnesses so that the nikah
can be read over the phone,' Salar came to the point.
‗How's this going to benefit you?' Hasan wanted to know.
‗In no way, but then I'm not doing this for any benefit.'
‗Damn it, Salar! Why are you getting into this mess and that too for
Waseem's sister…'
Salar cut him short. ‗Just tell me if you'll help me or not? You need not
bother about other things.'
‗OK, I'll help you, I'm not refusing you. But you'd better think twice
because this is a very dangerous step.' Hasan seemed to have given up.
‗I've thought about it. Now tell me the details.' Salar was more relaxed
now. He popped some French fries into his mouth.
‗There's one more thing—what if your parents find out?'
‗They won't—they're not here, they're in Karachi and will be there for
some days. It would have been tough for me if they were here.' Salar tried
to appease Hasan. They continued to munch on the fries, but Hasan's mind
was somewhere else. Salar, however, was not too concerned on that
account. Hasan was not worrying about the situation—he was figuring the
best strategy. Salar had no fears about Hasan: he was Salar's best friend.
------------------------
Hasan made all the arrangements very smoothly. Salar gave him some
funds and three witnesses were arranged for while he himself was the
fourth witness. The nikah registrar had some apprehensions that something
was amiss about this whole affair, but apart from a handsome fee he was
also given a clear warning, and he quietly obliged.
It was late afternoon when Hasan came over with the registrar and the
witnesses. They all went into Salar's room and the nikah papers were filled
out. Salar had already informed Imama and at the appointed time the nikah
contract was read out over the telephone. Salar sent the nikah forms over
to Imama through the maidservant. As soon as she received the papers, Imama signed them swiftly and sent them back to Salar. The maid brought
them back to him but the mystery was killing her—who were these people
in Salar's room? What were they doing? What were these papers that
Imama had signed?
She had a suspicion that Salar and Imama were getting married, but she
could not control her curiosity. Handing the papers to Salar, she put on an
air of innocence and asked ‗Salar Saab, what are these papers?'
‗How do they concern you? Mind your own business,' he told her off
sharply. ‗And understand this very clearly that you are not to talk about this
to anyone. You'd better keep your mouth shut—it's best that you do so,' he
warned her sternly.
‗Why should I go about talking, sir? I was just asking you. You can rest
assured Salar Sahib, I won't breathe a word to anybody.' She was petrified.
As it was, Salar had an abrupt and terse manner and she was scared to
approach him. He gestured imperiously for her to leave. He did not worry
about the maid telling everyone what was going on—even if she did, so
what?
-------------------------
‗Please meet Jalal once again…please,' Imama was pleading to Salar
over the phone.
Salar was irritated by her request. ‗Imama, he does not want to marry
you—he's said this so many times. Why can't you understand that there's
no point in talking to him again? He said his parents wanted him to get
engaged…'
‗He's lying,' Imama intervened, ‗just so that I shouldn't contact him again.
His parents can't fix him up so soon.'
‗Well then, if he doesn't want to marry you; doesn't want you to contact
him, then why are you wasting yourself on him?'
‗Because it is my fate to be wasted.' She was crying.
‗What does that mean?'
‗It doesn't mean anything…you won't understand. Just go and tell him to
help me. He holds Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH) in such high esteem, tell
him to marry me for the Prophet's (PBUH) sake.' She broke into sobs.
Salar was unmoved by her tears. ‗What logic is this? Will he marry you
for saying this?' But Imama did not reply, she was weeping uncontrollably.
Exasperated, Salar said ‗Either cry or talk to me.'
Imama hung up. Salar called back at once but she did not receive the
call. After about twenty minutes, Imama called again.
‗I'll talk to you if you promise not to cry again…otherwise hang up,' he said when he heard her voice.
Instead of replying, Imama asked, ‗Then you'll go to Lahore?' Salar was
amazed by her determination—she was tough and she stuck to her stand.
‗All right, if you say so,' he conceded. ‗Have you told your family about
the nikah?'
‗No, not yet.' She had regained her composure.
‗When will you tell them?'
‗I don't know. When will you go to Lahore?'
‗Soon enough. I have some work here or I could have left immediately.'
This time Salar was lying: he had no work as such and he did not intend to
go to Lahore either.
‗What do you plan to do once the bailiff helps you leave your house? I
mean, where will you go, since Jalal may not be willing to help you?' he
tried to distract her attention.
‗I'm not assuming any such thing—he will help me,' Imama asserted.
Jalal shrugged.
‗You're not ready to make any assumptions otherwise I'd have told you
that things won't turn out the way you want them to. What will you do then?
You'll again need your parents' help so it's better for you to stay put—don't
get into the court and bailiff tangle because ultimately you'll come back
here.'
‗I'll never come back, under no circumstances.'
‗That's being emotional,' he observed.
‗You can't understand these things.' Imama repeated her pet phrase.
Salar was cheesed off. ‗Do what you please,' he said and hung up.
about 6 months ago
Umera Ahmed Official
‗Your nikah with Asjad and the rukhsati will take place tomorrow
evening,' Hashim Mubeen came to Imama's room that night and
announced gruffly.
‗Baba, I will refuse. It's better that you do not force me into this marriage.'
‗If you refuse, I'll shoot you on the spot. Keep that in mind.'
She looked up at him. ‗I have been married, Baba,' she announced. ‗This
is the reason for my refusal.'
Hashim Mubeen's expression changed. ‗You're lying.'
‗I'm not lying: I got married six months ago.'
‗Who did you marry?'
‗I can't disclose that.'
Hashim Mubeen had never imagined that this child would be the cause
of such misery. In a fit of rage, he sprang upon Imama and began to hit her left and right. She tried to cover her face with her hands but to no avail. The
noise from the room drew in Waseem, who got hold of his father and pulled
him away from Imama. She stood against the wall, weeping.
‗Baba, what are you doing? This matter can be resolved peacefully.'
The other family members followed Waseem into the room.
‗She has married someone.' Hashim Mubeen was in a state of anger and
despair.
Waseem did not accept that. ‗Baba, she's lying—how could she have
done this when she hasn't been out of the house even once?'
‗She got married six months ago.'
Imama did not look up. Waseem could not believe she'd do such a
thing—he knew too well. Imama looked at him with blurred eyes and quietly
said, ‗It's true—I am married.'
‗What's the proof? Do you have the nikah papers?' he asked roughly.
‗Not here, they're with my things in Lahore.'
‗Baba, I'm going to Lahore tomorrow to get her stuff. We'll see then,' he
declared. Imama regretted having said that—what could they find among
her things?
‗Even if you are married, it makes no difference. I will get you divorced
and then marry you off to Asjad.' Hashim Mubeen spoke with finality. His
face was red with fury as he walked out of her room. Gradually, all the
others left too. She sat down on her bed—she knew now what a trapped
bird must feel. It was a coincidence that they did not send her a copy of the
nikahnama; even if she had it, she could not have shown it to her father as
Salar's name was on it. It would be child's play for Hashim Mubeen to get
to Salar and get rid of him. On the other hand, if they did not find the nikah
papers in her belongings, then no one would believe her statement.
Imama locked the door and called up Salar: she told him everything.
‗Go to Lahore once more and tell Jalal about me…I cannot live here any
longer—I have to get out of here and there's nowhere else I can go but to
him. Hire a lawyer for me and tell him to file a case against my parents on
my husband's behalf for unlawful confinement.'
‗You husband? Meaning on my behalf?'
‗Don't give the lawyer your name. In fact, it's better if one of your friends
hired a lawyer and filed the appeal—you can ask them to use any fictitious
name. If my parents get to know about you, they'll get you and I don't want
that to happen.'
Imama did not reveal the extent of her fears to Salar and he didn't try to
probe. The next day, around 11 a.m. a lawyer called up Hashim Mubeen
and spoke to him about Imama; the lawyer also informed him about the case being filed against him by Imama's husband. Hashim Mubeen needed
no further proof. Erupting with rage, he stormed into Imama's room and
beat her up badly.
‗You'll see how you are destroyed, Imama…you'll be deprived of
everything. Girls like you who gamble away their parents' honor and dignity
deserve to be treated so! You have dared to take us to court when we've
done so much for you—you have been thankless. Daughters like you
should indeed be buried as soon as they are born.'
Imama endured the beating quietly. She could understand the state of
her father's feelings but she could not explain her own emotions and
thoughts to him.
‗You have left us without a shred of honor—we cannot face anyone. You
have literally buried us alive.' Salma had followed her husband into the
room but made no attempt to stop him.
‗You have destroyed our confidence,' her father continued. ‗I wish you
were not my daughter—not born in our family—or that you had died at birth
or that I had killed you with my own hands.'
Today, Imama did not weep at his words or at his beating: she just took
the blows and accusations without a word. Hashim Mubeen, exhausted,
stopped hitting her—he was breathing heavily. Imama stood silent before
him.
‗You still have time—leave everything behind. Divorce the man and
marry Asjad: we'll forgive you everything, forget it all.' This was Salma
speaking firmly.
‗I did not accept Islam to revert to the old ways. I will not return to your
faith.' Imama spoke softly but with determination. ‗Just set me free, let me
leave this house.'
‗If you leave this house, the world will kick you around. You have no idea
of the world outside—people are waiting like crocodiles to swallow you up.
The man you have married, and insulted us, will make your life miserable.
He must have married you for our money and status, but when you are
turned out with nothing to your name, he'll ditch you. You will have no
refuge, no shelter.' Salma tried to frighten Imama by painting a grim
picture.' There's time yet Imama—you still have time.'
‗No Ammi, I have no more time—I have made up my mind, I have told
you my decision. I cannot accept this life—please let me go. If you want to
cast me out from the family, do so. If you want to disinherit me, do so—I
have no objections. But I will do what I have said—I have chosen a path for
my life and neither you nor anyone else can change my decision.'
‗If that's the case, then just dare step out of this house—I'll kill you but I will not let you leave this house! As for that lawyer, I'll take good care of
him too. If you think that any court can take you away from my custody, you
are grossly mistaken. I will never let you go anywhere. I'll move you before
the bailiff gets here—I'll see how you do not change your decision then.
And if I do not find the man you have married, I will marry you to Asjad,
regardless of whether or not your nikah has taken place. I refuse to accept
this nikah—your wedding will only be by my wishes or not at all.' Saying
this in a state of agitation and anger, he walked out with Salma. Imama
stood silent, confused and frightened, staring at the door. The very purpose
for which she had married was now disintegrating before her. She had
gained nothing from it. Hashim Mubeen was like a rock in his
determinatio.
‗Poor Imama Bibi!' exclaimed Nasira as she cleaned Salar's room. Salar
was organizing the papers, etc. on his writing table; he turned around to
look at her.
‗She got a really bad beating last night,' added Nasira, noticing his
attention.
‗Who got a beating?' Salar asked, arranging his books.
‗Imama Bibi, who else…' Salar stopped to look at Nasira. She continued
that her daughter had informed her that Hashim Mubeen had been very
violent with Imama.
Salar appeared amused. ‗Really? Very nice.'
Nasira couldn't fathom his remarks which were in English. Salar inquired
about the reason behind this episode. The maid was surprised by his
reaction and his sardonic smile—she did not expect this reaction.
According to her understanding of the relationship between them, Salar
should have been saddened but the situation was quite the opposite.
‗If poor Imama Bibi found out that Salar Saab was smiling at her plight,
she'll die of shock,' she thought.
‗Why else would her father be so furious,' she said aloud. ‗She refused to
marry Asjad Saab because she wanted to marry another boy.' Nasira
stressed on the last word and looked meaningfully at Salar.
‗That's all?' he remarked casually.
‗It's not an ordinary thing, sir. Their household is in an upheaval. The
wedding dates have been fixed, invitations sent out, and now Imama Bibi is
refusing stubbornly—so her father beat her up.'
‗That's no reason for such punishment,' he commented. ‗You may think so, but for them it is a very serious matter. I feel very
sorry for Imama Bibi—such a nice, polite girl and now she's in such a
mess. Hashim Saab has locked her up at home. My daughter tells me that
she's in poor shape.'
Nasira went on about Imama's sad condition in the hope that, believing
her to be a sympathizer, Salar may reveal some secret. But he was no
one's fool and nor was he interested in Nasira's so-called sympathy. He
was not concerned about Imama's hardships and punishments but he did
find it amusing that in this day and age, there were people who would raise
their hand against grown-up offspring for defying them—and that too
people of Hashim Mubeen's status, rich, affluent. It was a revelation. Many
conflicting thoughts crossed his mind.
Nasira went on talking as she went about her work but Salar took no
notice of her words so she finally quietened down, rather disappointed. She
had never seen such indifference between lovers. ‗His reaction is so
peculiar—no distress, no anxiety, even after listening to all that Imama has
gone through. Perhaps she may also feel amused if he were to suffer a
similar fate,' Nasira wondered as she dusted a picture and put it back on
the shelf.
--------------------------
The decision to leave home was the most difficult and most painful
decision of Imama's life, but she had no choice. She had no clue as to
where her father would take her or how he would dissolve her marriage to
get her married to Asjad. All she knew was the reality that once Hashim
Mubeen took her away somewhere else, she had no way out: he would
never kill her, but she preferred death to the kind of life she knew would be
her fate if she stayed on.
When her father left the room, Imama wept for a long time. Then, for the
first time, she took stock of her life, her situation. She had to get out of the
house before morning and find herself a safe place. ‗Safe place?' the
question arose in her mind and she thought of Jalal Ansar again. To her, he
was the only one who could give her that security in the real sense of the
word. ‗Perhaps, if he sees me in person, he may change his mind, his
attitude…perhaps, he'll be compelled to review his decision and give me
support and protection…perhaps his parents will have pity on me.'
A faint hope arose in her heart. Even if his parents did not help them, at
least she would be free to live her life the way she wanted to. ‗But the question is how am I going to get out of here and where will I go?' She was
agitated and then she thought of Salar: if she could reach his house in
some way, he could help her out.
She called Salar on his mobile. It was switched off. She tried several
times but couldn't get through. She put down her mobile, and she put some
clothes and other things in a bag.
She had some jewelery and some money, which she also put in the bag.
Then she collected all her other valuables which she could easily carry and
which could fetch her ready cash. Finally, she shut her bag, changed her
clothes and prayed two nwafil.
Her heart was heavy and her whole being was engulfed in sadness and
despair. Even her tears did not provide her relief. After offering the nwafil,
she recited all the ayaat and surahs she could remember.
Imama took the bag, switched off the light and tiptoed out of her room.
Except for one light in the lounge, all the lights were off and it was quite
dark. She cautiously descended the stairs to the ground floor and made for
the kitchen, where it was pitch dark. Feeling her way in the kitchen, she got
to its door which opened on to the lawn where, at the rear end, some
vegetables were grown—the kitchen door was the only exit that was not
locked but just bolted. The door was not locked that night also. She quietly
opened it and exited. At some distance were the servants' quarters; very
cautiously, she walked across the lawn to the boundary wall separating her
house from Salar's. She quietly tossed her bag over the wall and, after
some effort, managed to scale the wall and get to the other side.
-----------------------
The sound of a knock entered the subconscious of Salar who was in
deep sleep. This turned into a tapping—intermittent but persistent. He was
lying prone, fast asleep, but the sound awakened him.
He sat up in bed and, in the darkness, tried to look around. A shiver of
fright raced through him. The faint tapping sound was coming from the
windows. Perhaps someone was trying to open them. Salar's first reaction
was that it may be a burglar trying to get in because these were just sliding
windows and, unfortunately, there was no grill. But it was not felt necessary
to provide an iron grill because the glass was high quality, imported, and
could not be easily broken and, further, the windows could only be opened
from the inside. Besides, the lawn surrounding the house was patrolled by
three guards and dogs. But, in spite of these precautions, there was
somebody in the small verandah on the other side of the window trying to open it.
Salar got up and moved silently towards the opposite end of the window;
he lifted the curtain carefully and peeked out. He was shocked to see the
figure standing outside, visible in the light of the garden lamps.
‗She's crazy,' he said involuntarily. If their ferocious pedigreed dogs had
seen her, they would rip her apart even before Salar or anyone else got to
her and if the guards saw someone moving suspiciously, they would shoot
instead of wasting time questioning the suspect. But she stood there
safely—certainly, she had jumped over the wall, Salar thought.
Teeth clenched, Salar switched on the bedroom light. The knocking
stopped. The dogs had started barking. He drew the curtain and slid the
window open.
‗Come in quickly!' he told Imama. She entered somewhat nervously, bag
in hand. Salar closed the curtains and turned to her. ‗For God's sake,
Imama—you're insane!'
Saying nothing, she put the bag at her feet.
‗You crossed over the wall? If the dogs or the guards had seen you,
you'd have been history; your body would be lying out there.'
‗I called so many times, but your mobile was switched off. I had no
choice.'
For the first time, Salar observed her face. Her eyes were swollen and
her face drawn. She was wrapped in a wide, white chadar which, along
with her clothes, had stains on it.
‗Can you give me a ride to Lahore?' she asked him.
‗At this hour?' Salar was taken aback.
‗Yes, right now—I have no time.'
Salar looked at the wall clock in surprise. ‗The lawyer had called at your
house…didn't that solve your problem?'
Imama shook her head. ‗No. they're planning to send me away
somewhere. That's why I was calling you so desperately to tell the lawyer
to get a bailiff and secure my release. It could not wait till the next day as
they would have moved me to some unknown place.'
Salar yawned: he was sleepy. ‗Sit down,' he said as she was still
standing.
‗If you can't take me to Lahore, then drop me off at the bus stand—I'll
make my way to Lahore.'
He was about to tell her that they would leave in the morning, but she
interrupted him. ‗No, not in the morning. I want to get out of here before
that. If I can't catch the bus to Lahore, I'll go to some other town and take the Lahore bus from there.'
‗At least sit down,' Salar gestured. She hesitated, then took a seat on the
sofa. Salar sat at the foot of the bed, facing her. ‗Where will you go in
Lahore?'
‗To Jalal's.'
‗But he has refused to marry you.'
‗I'll go all the same. He loves me—he can't leave me in the lurch, and
ditch me this way. I'll request him and his family; I know they'll listen to me,
they'll understand my situation.'
‗But you are now married to me.'
Shocked, Imama looked at him. ‗But that's only a paper marriage. I made
it clear that the nikah was only out of necessity—it's not a real marriage.'
He gave her an unblinking look. ‗Do you know that I've been to Lahore
today to meet Jalal?'
Color paled from Imama's face. ‗Did you tell him about my problem, my
circumstances?'
‗No.' Salar shook his head.
‗Why not?'
‗Jalal got married.' He spoke casually. Imama's breath caught in her
throat as she stared at him. ‗It's been three days now,' he continued. ‗He's
going to the Northern Areas with his bride in a couple of days. He told me
all this even before I could say anything—perhaps because he didn't want
to hear any more about you. His wife is a doctor too.' Salar paused. ‗I think
his family rushed through the wedding because of your relationship with
him.' Salar went on lying effortlessly.
‗I cannot believe this.' Her voice seemed to float in from space.
‗Yes, I couldn't believe it either, nor I did not expect you to believe it—but
it's true. You can ring him up and discuss this with him if you want to,' Salar
said with apparent unconcern.
Imam found herself in a dark void. That ray of hope she had followed to
this stage had suddenly been extinguished. Let alone find a way out, she
could not find her own being.
‗It's up to you now—what will you do in Lahore? He cannot marry you
now, nor can his family provide you any shelter. It's better for you to return
home before your family finds out.'
Imama felt as if his voice was coming from a great distance. She looked
at him, blankly and muttered, ‗Drop me off to Lahore.'
‗You'll go to Jalal?'
‗No…I won't go there. But I cannot go home anymore.' She suddenly
stood up. Salar looked at her with concern and took a deep breath. ‗Or walk me to your gate—I'll find my way. Tell your chowkidar to let me out.' She
picked up her bag.
‗Have you any idea how far the bus stand is? Can you find the way on
your own in this fog and cold?'
‗When I have nothing left, then what do the cold or fog mean?' Salar saw
her smile wanly, eyes brimming with tears as she wiped them away with
the back of her hand. He had no intention of going anywhere with her, let
alone to Lahore. He was very sleepy and he did not like this girl who stood
before him.
‗Wait—I'll come with you.' He didn't know why or how these words were
spoken. Imama saw him go towards his dressing room. He emerged a
while later, having changed from his pajamas to jeans and a pullover. He
picked up his key chain, watch and wallet from his bedside table. Coming
to Imama, he put out his hand to take her bag.
‗No, thank you, I can carry it.'
‗Let me,' he said and slung it over his shoulder. They walked down in
single file to the porch. Salar put her bag on the back seat and opened the
front door for her. As the car approached, the chowkidar opened the gate
for them. Passing by, Salar noticed the amazement in the man's eyes when
he saw the passenger in the front seat; he must certainly wonder what she
was doing in the house at this hour and how she got in.
‗Will you drop me at the bus stand?' asked Imama as the car
approached the main road.
Salar turned to glance at her. ‗No. I'm taking you to Lahore.' His eyes
were fixed on the road ahead.
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CHAPTER 3 END