Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor (14 page)

'If I had any hope of support from my family, I would not have searched for help outside nor from you.' Imama was speaking softly, trying to control her voice from breaking down.

'Imama, I will help you...my parents will not reject me though it will take time to convince them. I will help you...you're right, I should help you.' Jalal was thoughtful but disturbed.

Imama felt a slight sense of relief; Jalal had not let her down. 'I made the right choice,' she thought to herself.

'This idiotic advice must be from Asjad—no one else can suggest such a thing! Doesn't he realize that I am still studying?' Imama fumed at her sister in law.

'No, it wasn't Asjad or any of his family—it was Baba's idea,' she replied with composure.

'Baba's idea? I can't believe it! When I got admission in the medical college, there was no such plan on the horizon. In fact, he used to tell Uncle Azam that I would not be married till the completion of my house job. What's overcome him now?' Imama was nonplussed.

'There must be some pressure, but Ammi told me that Baba wants it this way,' her sister in law explained.

'Then tell them that I don't want to get married before I've done my house job.'

'Fine...I'll convey your message, but it's best that you talk to Baba yourself,' she advised.

Her sister in law left the room, but Imama was very concerned. This news was so sudden and unexpected that she was jolted by it—not just figuratively but actually. She was hoping to complete her house job and then start her practice: that would make her financially independent and she could go ahead with her plan to marry Jalal who would also have established himself by then. But this sudden business of her wedding—why had it come up now?

'Asjad's family have not made any requests; I have spoken to them myself,' Hashim Mubeen calmly explained. Imama was in his room—she was insistent to know what was going on.

'You've already spoken to them—without even asking me, Baba? How could you do that?' Imama couldn't believe it.

Her father looked at her seriously. 'If you remember, Imama, this marriage proposal had been accepted with your consent,' he said.

'An engagement is something else...and marriage is different. You had agreed that there would be no wedding before the house job,' she reminded him.

'Why do you have an objection to the wedding? Don't you like Asjad?'

'It's not a question of liking or disliking him. I do not want to get married in the middle of my studies. You know very well that I want to be an eye specialist: if I get married now, then my plans, my dreams will never materialize.'

'Many girls continue with their education after getting married. We have examples in the family...' he tried to pacify her, but she interrupted.

'Those girls must be very smart, very intelligent—I'm not. I can do just one thing at a time.'

'I've spoken to Azam Bhai and they are coming over to finalize the dates.' Hashim Mubeen's tone was firm.

'You are wasting all my efforts,' she protested. 'If this is what you wanted, then you shouldn't have made any promises.'

'Things were different then; the situation is different now...'

She interrupted him again. 'Why? What has changed now that you should treat me so?'

'I assure you that Asjad will cooperate fully in letting you complete your education; he will not stop you in any way,' Hashim tried to reassure her.

'Baba, it's not Asjad's cooperation but yours that I need,' she pleaded. 'Please let me complete my studies.'

'Imama, stop being obstinate...I am going to do what I have decided,' he said firmly, ignoring her pleas. 'You've been engaged for four years and that's a long time. What if they decide to break off the engagement?'

Then let them do it. They can call it off now—why wait till tomorrow? After all, it's not the end of the world!'

Hashim was shocked and angry. 'Have you any idea what it means? The humiliation...what will people say?'

'What humiliation? It'll be their decision, not our fault. Nothing's going to happen, believe me: tongues will wag for a few days and then it'll all be forgotten. Baba, you are worrying unnecessarily,' she said with nonchalance, trying to persuade her father.

'You must be out of your mind...talking such nonsense. Now please leave,' Hashim Mubeen said sharply, looking at her with disapproval.

Imama left, feeling wretched: she could hardly sleep that night. The next day she went back to Lahore. Her father had not spoken to her again in this regard, and she tried to put the matter out of her mind. She had to study for the forthcoming exams.

Her father had not dismissed this conversation, though. He was a very cautious person. He had become worried about Imama when the school incident involving Tehreem had taken place. It was not so serious, but to play safe he had Imama's betrothal to Asjad confirmed. He believed that the development of a new relationship would divert Imama's thoughts from her doubts about her faith; and he was right. Imama began to show more interest in Asjad and also to participate in the religious activities of their faith. But what Waseem had revealed to him shook his very being. He could not gauge to what extent Imama had explored Islam, but he could see that there was a distinct change in her beliefs and views. This was a cause of concern not just for him but for their entire family.

He wanted her to be well-educated like his older daughters, and more so because she would be married into a family that prided itself on its education; Asjad himself wanted Imama to be well-qualified. Hashim Mubeen could not cut short Imama's studies till the wedding—much as he wanted to—without having to explain the rationale behind such a decision. He'd rather they did not know—they would find it hard to accept Imama's doubts and queries about their faith and her married life with Asjad would be unhappy.

On one hand, he strictly forbade his family members from any discussion on this topic and, on the other, he pleaded with Imama to let good sense prevail.

Imama was so careful about her presence at Sabiha's lectures and her meetings with Jalal that these matters did not come to the notice of her family. Secrecy could be maintained also because Imama had also kept Javeria and Rabia in the dark; otherwise rumors would have floated around and reached Hashim Mubeen's ears. He was satisfied on that score, but the subtle change in Imama's attitude bothered him and the only solution that he could come up with was to marry her off. He thought it would relieve him of her responsibility, so he took this abrupt decision.

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'Jalal, my parents have decided on my wedding...to Asjad,' she revealed. He was the first person she met when she got back to Lahore.

'But they were going to let you finish your house job.'

'That's what they'd said but now they say I can complete my studies after marriage. Asjad will find a place to live in Lahore so that I can study.' Jalal could fathom her distress by looking at her. 'There's no way that I can marry Asjad.'

'Then come clean with them, Imama—tell them you want to marry me, not Asjad,' he said decisively.

'You have no idea how they'll react...I'll have to tell them everything.' She thought for a moment and said, 'Jalal, ask your parents to talk to mine. Tell them about me. If my parents pressurize me, I'll have to leave home and I'll need your help.'

Jalal agreed; he reassured her that they would understand and accept his decision. For the first time, a faint smile arose on her face. She was busy with the examinations for the next few weeks and did not have the chance to meet Jalal. The day the examinations ended Waseem turned up in Lahore to take her home. He had caught her by surprise.

'Waseem, I can't go home today. My papers have just finished and I have some work to wind up,' she said.

'I'm here till tomorrow; I'm staying with a friend, so you can do whatever you have to and then come along,' he replied, closing her last option. Imama agreed half-heartedly.

'You'd better pack up all your stuff,' he called as he was leaving. 'You'll be spending all the holidays at home.'

She nodded, but she had no intention of packing all her belongings or of spending the entire vacations in Islamabad. She planned to return to Lahore after a few days—but she was mistaken.

She was with her family around the dinner table when her father asked, 'How did your papers go?'

'Very well, as usual,' she replied, helping herself to some rice.

'Good! At least there's no more tension about exams. Now you can start your shopping tomorrow,' he said.

Imama was startled. 'What shopping?'

'First go to the jewelers and then for furniture. The rest of the preparations can follow at your pace.' Instead of replying to Imama's question, Hashim Mubeen addressed his wife.

'But why, Baba?' Imama asked again.

'Didn't your mother tell you that we have fixed the wedding date?'

The spoon in her hand fell onto her plate and the color drained from her face. 'My wedding?' She looked at her parents uncertainly; they could not grasp the situation.

'How can you do this...without asking me?' She stared wildly.

'We spoke to you about this the last time you were here,' Hashim Mubeen's tone was somber.

'I had refused. I...'

'I do not care about your refusal. I have already discussed this with Asjad's family,' he angrily rebuked her.

There was silence at the table as they ceased to eat. Imama stood up suddenly. 'I'm sorry Baba, I can't marry Asjad now. You fixed the wedding date so you'll have to tell them to postpone it. Or else. I'll talk to them myself.'

Hashim Mubeen was about to explode with fury.

'You'll marry Asjad and on the day I have decided,' he shouted.

'It's not fair!' Imama was almost in tears.

'So now you're going to tell me what's fair and what's not—is that so?' He was furious.

'Why are you forcing me when I'd told you I don't want to get married now?' Imama was crying.

'Because I have the right to do so!' He screamed at her. She did not reply. Clenching his teeth and blazing with anger, he walked out of the room.

'Please sit down and have your dinner,' Salma Mubeen went after Hashim. 'I'll talk to her. Don't get so worked up—she's just being emotional.'

As soon as her mother left the room, Imama turned on Waseem. 'Get out! Get away from here!' she screamed, shoving him away.

'Why? What have I done?' He moved back.

'You lied and brought me here by deceit. If I'd known about this in Lahore, I'd never have come back with you to Islamabad.'

'I did what Baba told me to—he forbade me to tell you why you were coming home. I was just following his orders,' Waseem tried to clear himself.

'Then go and sit with him—what business do you have here?' Imama could hardly contain her temper. Waseem left without saying a word.

After coming into her room Imama sat down on her bed—the earth had shifted beneath her feet. She had never imagined her family could do this to her, be so rigidly conservative in their views. She still could not believe this was happening to her: her heart began to sink. 'I have to face this situation; I cannot give up. I must contact Jalal somehow, as soon as possible; he must have spoken to his parents. I'll find some way out by talking it over with him,' she thought as she restlessly paced her room.

After midnight she came out to call Jalal. She knew her parents and siblings would have retired for the night. She dialed Jalal's number: the phone kept ringing without response. She tried several times for the next half hour but to no avail. She couldn't call Javeria or Rabia as they were in the hostel. Then, Imama tried Sabiha's number. Her father answered and told her that Sabiha had gone to Peshawar with her mother for a family wedding; he said he'd be leaving the next day.

'Peshawar?' Imama became tense.

'If there's a message for Sabiha, I can tell her,' he offered.

'No, thank you, Uncle,' she said softly. What could she possibly tell him—she hung up. Her heart plunged into despair at the thought of not being able to contact Jalal. She dialed his number again, but someone took the receiver away from her—it was her father.

'Who are you calling?' His tone was very composed.

'A friend,' she replied, without looking at him. She could not look him in the eye and lie.

'Ill dial the number for you,' he said and pressing the 'Redial' key, held the receiver to his ear. Imama paled as she watched him. He put the receiver back after a while: obviously, there was no response.

'Who's this friend that you were calling at this hour?' he asked sternly.

'Zainab,' she said, as it was Zainab's number on the CLI window. She did not want her father to have any doubts about Zainab that would lead him to Jalal.

'What for?'

'I had to give her a message for Javeria,' she said with some hesitation.

Tell me what it is, I'll deliver the message personally. Imama, tell me honestly, are you interested in someone else?' he asked without any fuss.

She looked at him for a while, then said, 'Yes.'

Hashim Mubeen was stunned. He repeated his words and Imama nodded in acceptance. Impulsively, he slapped her across her face. 'That's just what I feared.'

Imama, lost in thought, her hand still on her cheek, looked at him. It was the first time in her life that he had hit her, his favorite child—she could not believe it. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

'You will not be allowed to marry anyone else except Asjad. Even if you are interested in someone else, you have to forget him...Now! Never, never, never, will I let you get married anywhere else! Now get back to your room, and if I see you near the telephone again, I'll break your legs!' He was trembling with rage.

She returned to her room without a word and flinging herself on her bed, burst into tears. She could not get over her father's violent reaction. After crying a long time, she got up and, mindlessly, began to look out of the sealed glass window panes. Beneath was the garden of her own home and its lawns. Her glance fell across the wall at Salar's house. His room was on the ground floor; she could see some movement there and gauged that it must be Salar.