Salar stayed house-bound for a few days but then he insisted and got his
own way. He resumed classes at college. Hashim Mubeen and his family
had moved heaven and earth in search of Imama. Although they tried to
keep the whole business under wraps, Sikandar came to know of it though
the police and the servants. The Mubeens were also trying to contact
Imama's friends in Lahore.
Then Salar saw a ‗wanted' notice in the newspaper, offering a handsome
reward for information on the whereabouts of one ‗Javaid'. Salar was
familiar with the name as it was given by Hasan as Imama's husband to the
lawyer. Surely, this advertisement had been placed by Imama's family,
although the contact member given was not theirs. Salar was certain that
the police had reached the lawyer who could not have provided ‗Javaid's'
details. Only Salar, the lawyer and Hasan knew that there was no real
person by the name of Javaid Babar. Salar was a little relieved that he had
succeeded in misleading Hashim Mubeen to some extent.
Throughout this period, Salar waited for Imama's call. He called her several
times on her cell phone but it was always switched off. He was puzzled as
to where she could be--Hasan's frequent queries about her added to this
anxiety.
At times he would react. ‗How do I know where she is or why she doesn't
get in touch? I feel you are more interested in her than I am.'
He had no idea that Hasan's queries and anxiety were the result of
pressure. Hasan was under a lot of stress, Salar believed Imama might
have met Jalal and even married him, although he had lied to her about
Jalal's marriage--but he was certain she didn't believe him. She must have
approached Jalal again. Salar wanted her to contact Jalal or meet him, if
only once. He wanted to know if Imama was with Jalal, but there was no
way of finding out.
Sikandar Usman had Salar under watch round the clock and he was aware
that he wasn't the only one keeping a watch on him; Hashim Mubeen
Ahmed was doing the same. If Salar had decided to go to Lahore, his
father would not let him go--and even if he did allow Salar, he would probably accompany him, which Salar did not want. As time passed, Salar
was losing interest in this affair. Thinking back, he considered his actions
and the adventure that cost him dearly to be foolhardy. Sikandar and
Tayyaba were always home and he had to seek their permission to go out.
Hasan hardly visited him. Salar was thoroughly bored with this situation.
about 6 months ago
Umera Ahmed Official
That night he was surfing the net when he got a call on his cell phone. He
picked it up casually and looked at the incoming call number—a bolt of
lightning seemed to hit him. It was Imama, calling from the cell phone he
had given her.
‗So you remembered me after all.' And he whistled under his breath.
Suddenly, he was wide awake, fresh—the ennui that had plagued him a
while ago had vanished.
‗I was almost convinced you'd never call me: what took you so long?' he
said.
‗I've been wanting to ring you up for quite a while, but just couldn't get
round to it,' Imama replied.
‗Why? What was the problem? You had my cell phone.'
‗There was a problem.' Her response was brief.
‗Where are you now?' Salar asked, somewhat mystified.
‗Don't be childish, Salar. You know I'm not going to tell you, so why do you
ask? Anyway, how's my family?'
Salar was taken aback by this unexpected question.
‗Oh, they're fine—very happy, enjoying themselves,' he mocked her. ‗You
are a very good daughter indeed. You're so thoughtful about your family
even after running away from home. How nice!'
There was silence on the other side. Then she said ‗How's Waseem?'
‗I can't say, but he must be okay, very good, I think. How can he be bad?'
he continued in the same taunting tone.
‗I hope they didn't discover that you'd helped me.' Salar found Imama's
tone rather odd.
‗Discover? Imama, my dear, the police turned up at my door the same day
that I got home after dropping you off in Lahore.' Salar's manner was
derisive. ‗Your father filed an FIR against me on charges of your abduction.'
He laughed. ‗Just imagine, can a person like me kidnap anyone, least of all
you, who'd shoot anybody, any where, any time.'
He continued, ‗Your father's trying his best to land me in jail for the rest of
my life, but I suppose I'm lucky to have escaped that fate. I'm being guarded on way from home to college and back. I get dumb calls. All sorts
of things are happening. What can I say except that your family is making
our life miserable.'
‗I didn't think they'd get to you,' Imama said ruefully. ‗I thought they'd never
suspect you. I am sorry to have put you through all these problems. My
intention was to first secure my position and then to call you. I am really
safe now.'
Salar was listening to her with curious interest.
‗I'm not going to use your mobile any more and I want to send it back, but
it's not possible now. And I'll also send you some money to cover all the
expenses you incurred on my behalf.'
‗No need to send any money…and you can also keep the mobile and use
it; I have another one,' Salar interrupted her.
‗No, I won't because I don't need to use your mobile.' After a pause, she
said, ‗I want you to send me the divorce papers and along with them a copy
of the nikahnama that I couldn't take from you earlier.'
‗Where do I send these?' asked Salar in response to her demand. It
suddenly struck him that she was asking for a divorce, she wanted the right
he had granted her in the nikahnama as she had asked.
‗You can send them to that lawyer you had hired, and give me his name
and address so that I can get them from him.'
Salar smiled: she was being very cautious. ‗But I have no direct contact
with him nor do I know him, so how can I send the papers to him?'
‗Then send them through that friend of yours who arranged for the lawyer.'
She was determined not to reveal her whereabouts.
‗Why do you want a divorce?' Salar was in full swing. There was silence at
the other end: she had not expected this question.
‗Why do I want a divorce? This is a very odd question since it was agreed
that I will divorce you,' she replied, a little surprised.
‗But that was then—a long time ago—and I don't want to divorce you now,'
he said seriously. He could gauge that the ground literally shifted under her
feet.
‗What are you saying?'
‗I'm telling you, dear Imama, that I don't want to divorce you, and I will not.'
He gave her another shock.
‗You have already given me the right of divorce,' she retorted.
‗When? Where? How?' Salar spoke calmly.
‗You should remember that before the nikah I had told you clearly that I
want the divorce clause retained in the nikahnama. Even if you don't
divorce me, I can file for divorce,' she claimed. ‗You could have exercised this right if I had given it to you—but I did not.
You saw the nikah papers when you signed them; there's no such clause
there. Anyway, you must have seen them; otherwise you wouldn't be
talking to me about divorce.'
There was silence again on her part. He had taken a chance, a shot in the
dark, but it was on target. Imama had certainly not bothered to read the
papers carefully before signing them. Salar was getting a kick out of this
situation.
‗You have deceived me,' he heard her say after some time.
‗Yes, just as you deceived me by pulling a gun on me,' he retorted. ‗I think
you and I can have a great life together. We both have so many
shortcomings and failings that we complement each other quite nicely.' His
tone was sober once again.
‗Spend a lifetime together, Salar, and that too with you? Impossible!
‗I should quote Napoleon that the word ―impossible‖ does not exist in my
dictionary. Or perhaps request you to join me in making the impossible,
possible.' He was joking again.
‗You have done me countless favors, Salar…Do this last favor and divorce
me.'
‗No. I am tired of being kind to you and cannot do it any more, and
especially this favor that you ask, it's not possible.' He spoke seriously.
‗I'm not your type, Salar. Our lifestyles are very different; otherwise, I could
have considered your offer, but in the present situation it cannot be. Please
divorce me,' she said in a soft, almost pleading voice. Salar felt like
laughing out.
‗If you promise to consider my offer, I'll change my lifestyle,' he said gently.
‗Try to understand…we have nothing in common: we are totally different,
our philosophy of life is different. We can't live together.' Imama was
exasperated.
‗No, I don't think so. Our philosophy of life is actually very similar. You need
not worry about this—even if there are some differences, they can be
overcome with minor adjustments.' He spoke as if talking to his best friend.
‗Otherwise too, what do I lack? I may not be as handsome as your ex-
fiancé, but I'm not as plain as Jalal Ansar. You know my family fairly well,
and you have no idea how bright my professional future will be. I'm better
than Jalal in every way.' Salar stressed his words. His eyes were sparkling
and a naughty smile played on his lips as he teased Imama who was
irritated by his comments.
‗No one can replace Jalal in my eyes—least of all, you—never.' Her voice
reflected her annoyance. ‗Why?' he asked with mock innocence.
‗I don't like you! Why can't you understand this? If you don't divorce me, I'll
go to court,' she threatened him.
Salar burst out laughing. ‗You are most welcome! You can do so whenever
you wish. What better place can there be to meet and talk face to face? It
will be such fun!' He was enjoying this sparring.
‗You'd better remember that not only I, but your parents will be there too, in
the court,' he warned her.
‗Salar, there are enough problems in my life and these are growing by the
day. At least you don't have to add to them.' Imama spoke sadly,
despairingly, but Salar was gloating at her plight.
‗Adding to your problems? My dear, I am wasting away trying to make your
life easy, sympathizing with you. Just consider what a secure and happy
life you can have with me,' he pretended to be serious.
Imama's response was brutally honest. ‗You know why I put myself through
all this, Salar. Do you believe that I will agree to spend my life with a man
who has indulged in all the cardinal sins our dear Prophet (PBUH) has
condemned? Good women are the partners of good men, and evil women
are for evil men. I may have done wrong things in my life, but I am not so
bad that someone like you should be part of my life. I could not marry Jalal,
but I will certainly not spend my life with you.'
Imama spoke bitterly.
‗Perhaps, that's why Jalal did not marry you—because for good men there
are good women, not someone like you.'
Salar's words were like cold steel. The silence on the other side was
interminable—till Salar queried ‗Hello? Are you listening?'
A choked voice responded. ‗Salar, divorce me!' Her anguish gave him a
strange thrill.
‗Then you can go to court for it, as you said you would,' he concluded and
heard the phone being switched off.
----------------------
In these last few months, Hasan claimed he had tried his best to worm
some information about Imama from Salar but without any success. He
refused to believe that there was no contact between them, but had failed
in his attempts to call Imama on her mobile.
Sikandar had told Salar to apply for admission to various universities in the
USA—he knew that Salar's academic record would ensure his entry to any
one of the best institutions. Imama did not call Salar again, although he thought she would. Then he
would tell her that he had already ceded her the right of divorce in the nikah
papers and would send them to her. He'd confess he was just joking. But
she did not contact him, nor did he bother to see the marriage documents
again. Had he done so, he would have learnt much before that his
nikaahnama was missing.
The day he got home after his last examination, he found Sikandar waiting
for him.
‗You'd better pack your stuff. You're leaving tonight for the US, to stay with
Kamran.'
‗Why, Papa? This is very sudden! Is everything OK?'
‗Yes—everything except you,' his father retorted acidly.
‗Then why are you packing me off like this?'
‗I'll tell you on the way to the airport tonight. Now go and do your packing.'
‗Papa, please tell me why you're doing this? It's all so sudden,' Salar
protested weakly.
‗Didn't I say I'll tell you? Now go and pack up or else I'll leave you empty-
handed at the airport, Sikandar threatened. Salar watched him quietly, then
turned towards his room.
His mind was in a turmoil as he put his belongings together. Why had
Sikandar Usman taken such a sudden decision? A thought struck him like a
bolt and he began to rummage through the papers in his desk drawer. He
could not find the nikah papers—where were they? He could now
understand his father's strategy. He regretted his own carelessness in
leaving those papers lying around. They were in possession of no one
other than his father, because no one else would dare to go through his
belongings, except Sikandar.
Salar felt no more confusion, no more anxiety. He quietly packed his bags.
All he thought of was what his father would tell him on the way to the
airport. When they left that night, only father and son were together; Tyaba
did not accompany them. They spoke dryly, without emotion. Salar too did
not raise any queries. As they got to the airport, Sikandar took a sheet of
blank paper from his briefcase and giving Salar a pen, said, ‗Sign here.'
‗What's this?' Salar looked at the blank paper with surprise.
‗Just sign it. Don't ask questions.' His father's tone was brusque. Without
another word, Salar signed the paper. Sikandar folded it and put it away in
his briefcase. He then turned to his son.
‗After whatever you have done, there's not much point in talking to you.
You have lied to me constantly, time after time, thinking that I'll never get to
know the truth. You know, instead of sending you off to America, I feel like handing you over to Hashim Mubeen so that you realize what a fool you
have been. But my problem is that I am your father—and I have to save
you. You have been taking advantage of my weakness, but no more. I am
going to hand over the divorce documents to Imama and if you ever contact
her again or even try to do so, you will regret it, I promise. You have no
clue of what I'll do then! You have created enough problems for us, Salar,
and this has to stop now—do you understand?'
Sikandar was furious and upset. Instead of replying, Salar kept looking out
of the window. He seemed strangely content and carefree: Sikandar was
incensed. Here was his son who had an IQ of 150+, but anyone looking at
him would have wondered if he had any IQ at all.
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END OF CHAPTER FOUR