Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor (61 page)

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'I wish to take a divorce from Salar.'

Dr Sibt-e-Ali had come back from the mosque and Imama had followed him into the study. Without any preamble or explanation she said what was on her mind.

'Amina?' He could not believe his ears.

'I cannot live with him.' She was staring at the floor refusing to meet his eyes.

'Amina, I know this is his second marriage but the first does not count.

Furqan has told me that his first wife disappeared some nine years ago and has not been in contact with him since. In any case, it was not a real marriage; they had only taken their vows.' Dr Sibt-e-Ali had assumed her concern was Salar's first marriage. 'Who knows where she is. Nine years is a long time.'

'I know his first wife.' She still refused to meet his eyes.

'You know her?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali was astonished.

'It is I,' she lifted her eyes off the floor and looked him in the face.

Dr Sibt-e-Ali was struck speechless.

'You remember nine years ago I came from Islamabad to Lahore with a boy; later you told me that my family had filed a case with the police against him.'

'Salar Sikandar...is this the same man?'

'Yes. The same'

Imama nodded her head in affirmation. Dr Sibt-e-Ali looked like a man in shock. He had first come in contact with Salar through Furqan. This had happened four years after Imama had come to stay in his house; he could not have imagined that this man had any connection with Imama. A name casually heard four years ago could not be connected to a man met four years later. In any case this man was religious: he had learnt the Quran by heart.

Neither in speech, nor in his mannerisms, nor in his character could one find those weird characteristics that Imama had described when talking about Salar. He had been deceived by Salar, but was that a genuine mistake on his part or was it something that was 'fated' to be?

'So nine years ago you had married him?' Dr Sibt-e-Ali still found the whole situation unbelievable and was reconfirming what he had just heard.

'We just took our wedding vows,' Imama spoke in a whisper.

Then in a rush she split out the entire story. Dr Sibt-e-Ali listened quietly. He stayed quiet for a long time then he said, 'You should have trusted me Imama.

I could have helped you.'

Imama's eyes were wet with unshed tears. 'You are right. Yes, I should have, but you cannot even imagine the mental turmoil I went through in those days.

Perhaps this trial too is fated for me.' She pondered over her statement for a while then she lifted her tear filled eyes to Dr Sibt-e-Ali. Smiling timorously she said, 'But now all is right. You will help me with the divorce.'

'No. I cannot help you with a divorce, Amina. I am the one who arranged this marriage.'

'That is exactly why I am asking you to arrange for a divorce.'

'But why? Why should I help you get a divorce?'

'Why? Because...because he is not a good man...because I do not wish to spend the rest of my life with a man like Salar...we are people from two different worlds.' She was losing heart. 'I have never complained to Allah, Abbu. I have always accepted my fate, but now I do have a complaint against Allah. I have been given the worst man on earth.'

She broke down in tears. 'Most girls want so much...I have never asked Allah for anything except a "righteous" man and he has not granted me my wish.

Am I not worthy of such a man?' Imama was crying uncontrollably now.

'Amina, he is a righteous man.'

'Why do you say that? I know he is not. I know him well and he is not good.'

'But he is Amina, I also know him well.'

'You do not know him as closely as I do. He drinks alcohol, he is psychologically ill, and has tried to take his own life many times. He walks around with his clothes unbuttoned to the waist and stares rudely at women instead of lowering his gaze—do you call that righteous?'

'Imama, I do not know of his past. What I know is his present and he does none of the things you have described.'

'Abbu, how can you say that he doesn't behave this way? He's a scheming liar, a cheat—I know him.'

'He's is not like that'

'But he is, Abbu!'

'It is possible that he loved you and that love has transformed him.'

'I do not need a love like that. His looks repulse me. The way he dresses repulses me. I cannot love such a man. Such men never change; they simply disguise their true selves.'

'That is not true of Salar. He is not pretending.'

'Abbu I cannot live with a man like Salar. For him everything is a joke— religion, life, women—what is it that he can't be cynical about? He thought my change of religion was a silly thing to do; for him talking about religion and religious issues is a waste of time. He is a person for whom attempting suicide was simply an experiment to gauge the next level of ecstasy. For him the only meaning of life is materialistic. Suppose he is in love with me, am I supposed to base my marriage only on love? No I cannot do that'

'Imama, he has maintained this accidental relationship for eight and a half years. Despite knowing your religious inclinations he has remained true to you and is still waiting for you and wishes to spend his life with you. Is it not possible that this desire may have brought about a change in him, in his thinking?'

'I do not wish to spend my life with him. I will not live with him,' Imama was stubbornly insistent. 'I am within my rights in asking for a divorce.'

'But have you considered, Imama, that God has brought this man before you twice? You have taken your vows twice and both times with the same man.'

'Perhaps I have sinned and am being punished for it.' Her voice was heavy with tears.

'Amina, I have never known you to be stubborn before so what has happened to you now?' Dr Ali was really surprised.

'If you force me to remained married to Salar, I will obey you; you have been so kind to me that I cannot but obey you. But I will not, and cannot, of my own free will agree to living with Salar. I am not interested in how educated he is or what position he holds and how much he can give me. Had you asked me to marry an uneducated man but one who is right-minded, I would not have objected....but Salar... he is the fly I cannot swallow. You only know that of Salar which you have heard. What I know of him is what I have seen.

For fifteen years he was my neighbor; you have only known him a few years.'

'Amina, you know I will never force you to do anything against your will. If you wish to maintain this relationship of your own will and volition, then it is fine. But if it's only to please me, then there's no need for that. My only request is that you meet Salar once; after that if you still feel that you wish to end this marriage, it will be so.' Dr Sibt-e-Ali spoke softly and seriously.

The bearer came into the room to say that Salar had arrived. Dr Sibt-e-Ali looked at his watch, then he told the bearer to send Salar in.

The bearer was surprised. 'Here?' he questioned.

'Yes, here,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali replied.

Imama stood up hurriedly. 'I do not wish to talk to him in this state.' She was referring to her tear stained face and disheveled condition.

'You have not seen him yet; I want you to see him,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali spoke gently.

'Not here. I can have a look at him from inside my room.'

She turned around and went to her room. The room was in semi-darkness.

She left the door half open so that she could look into the well-lit lounge without being seen herself. She sat down on the bed. She rubbed her hands across her eyes to clear them. After nearly nine years she was to see the man she despised, the one she thought of as one of the worst men on earth, the man who she thought was dead, the one to whom she had been married all these years. What else could this be but fate?

Imama rubbed her eyes once again. The man whom Dr Sibt-e-Ali was now greeting had his back to her. Before embracing Dr Sibt-e-Ali, he put a bouquet and a parcel he was carrying on the centre table. Having greeted Dr Ali, he now sat down on the sofa. Imama got her first good look at Salar.

The gaudy look with the shirt open down to the waist, chains hanging from his neck, hair tied back in a ponytail, bands and bracelets dangling from his wrists, tight jeans—all was gone. He was clad in a simple cream colored shalwar kameez and waistcoat.

'Yes he has undoubtedly undergone a change—at least as far his outer appearance goes,' Imama thought. 'Nobody would believe that this man...' her thoughts were interrupted. Salar was talking to Dr Sibt-e-Ali who congratulated him on his marriage. She could hear them clearly from her room. On Dr Ali's firm persuasion, Salar was telling him all about his earlier marriage and the circumstances in which it had transpired. He spoke of his regret at his treatment of Imama, how he had lied to her about Jalal Ansar's marriage and how he had tricked her into believing that he had not granted her the right to file for divorce.

'When I think about how I treated her I am filled with remorse,' he was saying in a low tone. 'I cannot even express how sorry I am about my behavior; I can't get her out of my mind. For long I was in a state of anguish. She had asked me to help her in the name of our beloved Prophet (PBUH). She trusted me because I am a Muslim and I believe in the finality of the Prophet. And look at me—I betrayed her; despite the fact I knew it was her love for our beloved Prophet (PBUH) that caused her to leave her home and all its comfort. Instead of helping her, I just made fun of her; I thought she was crazy and told her so. The night I dropped her to Lahore she said that one day the other side of life would be clear to me and then only would I learn humility.' He laughed bitterly. 'She was right; I have learnt much. In all these years, I have begged God for forgiveness over and over again....' he had stopped speaking. Imama watched him as he ran his finger over the edge of the centre table. She knew he was trying to suppress his tears. 'At times I felt that God had accepted my prayers and had forgiven me...' he stopped again.

'But that day when I signed the papers solemnizing my marriage to Amina, I realized my worthlessness. Had my prayers been accepted I would have been marrying Imama not Amina. God grants desires that seem as if only a miracle could make them come true. What was my desire? What had I prayed for? A girl who loves someone else, who thinks I am the scum of the earth, a girl who I have been searching for the last nine years but whom I have not been able to trace.'

Salar continued to speak, 'As for me...I live life in the hope I will find her. As though I will be able to live the rest of my life with her; as though she will agree to live with me; that she will have forgotten her love for Jalal Ansar. Had I been capable of praying with the fervor and devotion of those whom

God favors, perhaps my prayers would have been heard and God would have created a miracle for me...for a sinner like me. People go to the Khana-e-Kaaba and pray for the forgiveness of their sins; I went there and prayed that I may be reunited with Imama. Perhaps that is what God did not like.' Imama felt a shiver run up her spine as she heard Salar's voice and recalled her dream.

'Oh God!' She put both her hands to her lips. In a state of disbelief she stared at Salar. In the dream she had not seen the face of the man. Was it possible...? Was that the same man as this who sits before me? Then she had thought the man in her dream was Jalal; but Jalal was not tall—the man in her dream had been tall and Salar was tall. Her hands began to tremble. Jalal was dark complexioned. The man in her dream was fair—Salar was fair. There was one more detail of her dream that she recalled—the man had a strange mark on his shoulder. That mark...She covered her face with trembling hands. In the room Salar was talking about miracles not happening. Dr Sibt-e-Ali sat quietly listening. Why was he so quiet? Only he and Imama knew the answer to that question; Salar had no inkling. Imama rubbed her eyes and uncovered her face. With tears streaming down her face she looked at the man on the sofa. He was no saint, nor was he a holy man; he was just an ordinary man who had repented sincerely for his sins. Looking at him, for the first time she realized what it was that stood between her and Jalal Ansar; the reason why her prayers for Jalal were not realized; what it was that turned Fahd away from her at the last moment. There must be something in the man that God accepted his prayers and not hers; and that at every twist in her fortunes she had been turned towards him.

With tearful eyes she looked at Salar. Dr Sibt-e-Ali was speaking now; he was calling Salar a 'righteous man'. She knew why he used those words. It was not to comfort Salar but for Imama to hear. It did not matter, however. Even if Dr Sibt-e-Ali had not used those words she was compelled to admit that Salar was a 'righteous man'.

She needed no witness to testify to the fact; the witness she had was greater than any witness that man could provide. She needed no proof for the proof that she had for it was greater than any proof that could be given by man. What she had been 'told', what she had been brought to 'understand', she knew...only she could know.

The tea was laid out. Afterwards Dr Sibt-e-Ali took Salar to the mosque for the late evening prayer.

Imama washed her face and hands and went to the kitchen and with the help of the staff, laid out the dinner before Dr Sibt-e-Ali and Salar returned from the mosque. After having dinner Salar left. When Dr Sibt-e-Ali came into the kitchen, Imama was seated at the table having her dinner. Her eyes were moist with unshed tears but her face reflected tranquility.

'I have not spoken to Salar about you but I am sure you would like to meet him,' Dr Sibt-e-Ali said.

Imama put down the glass of water she had been about to drink. 'There is no need for that. God has chosen him for me and who am I to reject what God has chosen for me. He says he has repented of his sins. Had he not done so, had he been the same man he had been before, I would still have accepted him had I known this is what God wants of me.' She picked up the glass of water again. 'Tell him I am ready to go with him'

By the time Salar came back from the late evening prayers, Imama with the help of Furqan's wife, Nausheen, had laid the table. Despite Nausheen objecting to her doing any work, Amina had insisted that she help with the dinner.