The Holy Woman (21 page)

‘Uncle was probably happier than you in his
marriage
,’ Habib couldn’t help adding quietly. ‘He
probably
led a more fulfilling life than you did with our
mother. I am the master in my household, Father, just as you taught us to be. But luckily for me, I had no wife whose spirit needed breaking. Shahzada has always been a loving, kind and supportive wife. A wife from whom I have become tragically estranged, because I gave into our desire to keep the land in the family.’

‘My son, if you have come here to sing songs of your wife, then you have come to the wrong place.
Remember
this: you are the master and head of your home – its abiding foundation. If that goes, then the whole
building
will fall at your feet. Do not become weak, my son! Your wife will forgive you, with time. I agree with you that one good thing your mother did amongst other things was to match you with Shahzada. She is a fine daughter-in-law and always has been. My Zarri Bano is a lovely granddaughter. I am proud of her and I am proud of you too. You are a good son.’ To Siraj Din’s utter horror, he saw tears form in Habib’s eyes. ‘Hey! Don’t cry.’ Leaning forward he patted his eldest son on his shoulders.

‘My life is so empty, Father,’ Habib wept, his
shoulders
doubling over as he gave free rein to his grief. ‘Jafar has gone. Zarri Bano has gone. Ruby doesn’t look at me. Shahzada shuns me. I am not like you, Father. I want and need my family. I cannot live this life. I just wish that Jafar had never died and that I never forced Zarri Bano to become a Holy Woman.’

‘Oh, my son, I am so sorry. Forgive me! You are very sad inside. I forget that you are not like me –
thick-skinned.
You were always the sensitive one of my four children.’ Siraj Din’s earlier irritation now gave way to concern for his son’s anguish. Habib’s words had pierced him.

I
BRAHIM
M
USA, A
young man of twenty-nine years, sat in his study in the family apartment in Cairo,
overlooking
the River Nile. His hand moving over his closely cropped black beard in a gesture of meditation, he looked through some research papers. Deep in thought, he heard a car door close – their guests had arrived. He stood up and, taking off his reading glasses, rubbed his tired eyes.

Leaving the study, he looked out of the dining-room window balcony, down at the small courtyard where a car had come to a halt. He saw his parents climb out, followed by his sister, Pakinaz, and then two women dressed in long black veils. His eyebrows raised, he peered further over the balcony railings. He hadn’t expected this. Believing in the veil himself, he was highly pleased.

Leaving the dining room, he went down a set of stairs to stand in the hallway, to welcome the two guests. His interest now keenly aroused, he was
especially
curious to meet the young Pakistani woman who had come to study at Cairo’s Al-Azhar University, where he taught. The door held wide open, Ibrahim stood with a smile of welcome on his handsome face and uttered the Arabic words of welcome: ‘
Ehlan Sehlan
Marhaba
!’ First his parents entered, then the two women, followed by Pakinaz.

‘This is my son, Ibrahim Musa.’ An indulgent smile played on his father’s face, as he introduced his son to their two guests. ‘I am very proud of him. This is Zarri
Bano, my friend Habib Khan’s daughter, and this is her companion, Sister Sakina.’

‘
Assalam-Alaikum
!’ Zarri Bano addressed Musa, taking a quick look at him.

‘
Wa Laikum-Salam
, you are most welcome to our home,’ he replied in English, his dark eyes on her face. Feeling rather shy, she followed Pakinaz into the dining room.

They all sat down on a sofa suite, generously piled with plump home-made cushions in rich colours.

‘Would you like to take off your
hijab
?’ Pakinaz asked awkwardly, not sure whether she had done the right thing in asking.

‘It’s all right,’ Zarri Bano reassured her, noting the girl’s unease. ‘We wear it at home all the time.’ From the corner of her eye, she was still conscious of the young man’s presence. She knew he was surveying her from behind his glasses at the other end of the room. With him hovering nearby, they had no intention of removing their
burqas
!

‘I see,’ Pakinaz replied after a pause, hoping that they didn’t expect her to wear it or to follow suit.

Then there was an exchange between the mother and daughter in rapid Arabic as Pakinaz’s mother couldn’t speak either English or Urdu.

‘I hope you won’t mind us speaking in Arabic,’ Pakinaz apologised, turning towards Zarri Bano. ‘She says that you are welcome to stay as long as you like and hopes that you enjoy your time in Cairo. Are you hungry enough to have dinner?’

‘I think we are. We didn’t eat much on the plane. We just fell asleep,’ Zarri Bano laughed.

Pakinaz’s mother spoke again. This time her son quickly translated for her.

‘Our mother hopes and wishes that you will enjoy our Egyptian cooking. Obviously it is different from yours.’ He stood up and politely guided them into the dining room.

Musa stood aside for the two black-cloaked figures to pass. There weren’t many women, apart from the rural Egyptian peasants, who wore a veil like this. Wishing there were more, he was nevertheless surprised by an inexplicable urge to see what the woman with green eyes looked like in conventional female clothing.

He didn’t know how it happened, but Musa
somehow
found himself sitting directly in front of Zarri Bano. As he sat down, Zarri Bano had looked up and then dropped her gaze. Not wanting to have anything to do with any young men, she hadn’t bargained for living in the same house as this one. The feeling of disquiet somehow communicated itself to him, for when he saw his sister enter with a tray full of cooked lamb on a bed of boiled rice, he quickly got up, vacating the seat for her.

‘Pakinaz, you sit and eat with our two guests. I’ll eat later.’ He spoke in English for Zarri Bano’s benefit. As he stood up, he caught her grateful glance. Now she smiled at him for the first time, appreciating what he had done. He stared at her face, noting the attractive dimple suddenly peeping in her left cheek.

Zarri Bano and Sakina saw Ibrahim Musa the next day, just as they returned from a visit to the Giza pyramids with Pakinaz. Back from the university, he decided to join them in the dining room for a cool drink and politely asked the guests whether they had enjoyed their outing. He addressed Zarri Bano, as she was the one who could speak fluent English.

‘The pyramids are a tremendous sight, but I found the descent into the tomb very claustrophobic. I don’t think that I will be eagerly rushing down those steps again very soon, Brother Musa!’ she told him, laughing.

‘Yes, those passages are very narrow in the pyramids at Giza, I agree, Sister Zarri Bano.’ He, too, laughed. ‘The other tombs in the Valley of the Kings have much wider passages. Perhaps I can arrange for us all to visit the Valley of the Kings and the Queens, as well as Luxor and Karnak. Sadly, I have to go now. I will see you later.
Assalam-Alaikum.’

‘
Wa Laikum-Salam.
Thank you for your suggestion, we would like that very much, once we have settled in. My first priority, however, is to enrol at the University and make a start with my academic work.’

‘Yes, of course. If you like, Pakinaz and I can take you to the University to show you around, as well as letting you see some of the other sights at the same time.’

‘Oh, that is very kind of you, but we do not want to put you to any trouble. We know how busy you both are teaching and preparing for your lectures.’

‘Not at all, sister, you are most welcome. But I must go now.’

‘Of course,’ Zarri Bano answered politely. She watched him return to his study.

Three days later Zarri Bano telephoned her parents and sister in Pakistan. She spoke at length with Ruby.

‘It is hot here, but quite nice. The apartment that we are living in overlooks the River Nile. Imagine, Ruby, from our balcony we can watch the boats sailing to and fro on this legendary river. I can picture Queen Cleopatra floating in her ship in ancient times.
You really must come and visit us in Cairo as soon as you can.’

‘I should be so lucky,’ Ruby snorted crossly at the other end of the line. ‘I miss you, Zarri Bano.’

‘I miss you too, Ruby, I still cannot come to terms with where I am and what I am doing here, and why I am doing it.’

‘I know, sister. Tell me, what kind of people are they?’ she asked, wisely changing the subject.

‘Oh, they are really very nice, Ruby. As well as the parents, there are two unmarried children living at home. The rest are married and live either in Cairo or Alexandria. Tomorrow Pakinaz, that is their unmarried daughter, is taking us to visit the oldest University in Cairo, the Al-Azhar, and to meet her sister. I am really looking forward to that.’

‘Are there two sisters? You said children.’

‘No. One is their son. He is a lecturer at the University where I will be studying.’

‘What is he like?’

‘Oh, he is OK. I hope that he will be able to assist me a little, once I start on my course. I will be joining his department. He has already passed me a couple of books on how to learn Arabic. It is very handy having him as a resource. I am trying to get my tongue around Arabic.’

‘Is he good-looking?’ Ruby’s voice had dipped to a teasing banter.

‘Ruby! Yes, he is good-looking, for your information. He has a black beard and a dark wide pool of eyes that you disappear into. Does that satisfy you? To be honest, I wish that he didn’t live with the family. I have to wear the
burqa
all the time because of him. I only take it off in my room.’

‘Oh, you poor thing. You must be suffocated. It is supposed to be so hot there. How is Sakina?’

‘Sakina is enjoying herself tremendously. She has done a lot of shopping already and has bought at least a dozen beautiful glass perfume phials. I’ll send you some, when Sakina returns in two weeks’ time. Give my love to everyone.’ Zarri Bano ended her first
conversation
with her sister from Egypt.

Later that day, Ibrahim drove them all to the old University and showed them around, explaining some of its colourful history to them.

Zarri Bano glanced up at the papyrus calendar, with a painting of the Egyptian tree of life, pinned on the wall of Ibrahim’s study. Three months had already passed. In that time she had enrolled at the University. The second semester had begun and she was now making headway with her studies. She had chosen as the theme of her thesis
The Travels of the Early Arab Historians Ibn Khaldun and Ibn Battuta.
Finding it difficult to master classical Arabic, she had learnt enough of modern Arabic to cope with her everyday needs for shopping and for conversing in the streets. Although she had a room of her own, with a desk unit, Ibrahim Musa had given her permission to use his study when he wasn’t using it himself. Zarri Bano marvelled at the
wall-to-wall
shelves of books on Islam, religion and Islamic history.

She enlisted Pakinaz’s help for interpretation of words and making sense of Arabic colloquial phrases and idioms. Ibrahim Musa offered to spend some time with her every other day to oversee her study and to help her with her acquisition of classical Arabic.

After the first few days, Zarri Bano began to relax in
his company, addressing and regarding him as a brother. He, for his part, respected and addressed her as ‘sister’. Enjoying her company immensely, he was gratified to share his enthusiasm in his subject with Zarri Bano. Pakinaz and his parents weren’t interested in his studies. Here, however, was an intelligent and vivacious woman from halfway across the world making the most of his learning.

‘Sister Zarri Bano, I am most impressed by how much you have mastered in such a short time,’ he said, praising her progress one day, leaning back in his chair and surveying her from behind his glasses, his dark eyes resting on her face. Zarri Bano felt her forehead to check that no strand of hair had escaped from her
burqa
hood.

‘Thank you for the compliment, Brother Musa. I find all the subjects I am studying very interesting. I feel as if I am a sponge. I want to absorb as much knowledge as possible. It is my goal to become a very learned woman on religious matters, and in as short a time as possible. Of course, as you well know, much of my progress is due to you, Brother Musa. If I didn’t have you as my mentor, tutor, or whatever you would like to call yourself, I could never have progressed to such an extent.’

‘You are welcome. It really is a pleasure to have your company, Zarri Bano,’ he replied warmly, leaning
forward
. She noticed, with a sinking heart, that he had dropped the word ‘sister’. A physical awareness had suddenly crept between them that had not been there before.

Zarri Bano leaned back and pensively looked down at the book in her lap. Then she stood up, keeping her eyes carefully averted from his. ‘Excuse me, Brother
Ibrahim. I think that we are both tired. I will leave you in peace.’

Taken aback by her abrupt manner he watched her go with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

I
T WAS A
Friday morning and Ibrahim’s family had gone on holiday to Alexandria, on the Mediterranean coast, to visit their relatives for a week. They had asked Zarri Bano to accompany them. Thanking them for their kind invitation, she had graciously declined, saying that she had so many books to read for her research.

Having showered for the
Juma
prayers, Zarri Bano decided to put on a long red cotton Egyptian dress, which she had purchased from Cairo’s central souk market. She sat by the open wooden-shuttered window, in Ibrahim’s study, letting the warm breeze from the River Nile dry her hair, as it framed her face in a riot of natural fiery curls. Eyes closed, she savoured the feel of the warm breeze on her face while she thought about her assignment on twelfth-century Muslim scientists and mathematicians.

Hearing steps outside the study door, she sat upright, eyes open and very alert. Who could that be? Everyone was supposed to be in Alexandria. Next minute, the study door was thrust wide open. Zarri Bano stared up in shock as Ibrahim Musa entered the room.

‘
Assalam-Alaikum
!’ he greeted her, startled to see a strange woman in his study. It was only for a few
seconds, but his eyes behind his spectacles had blinked and quickly clicked the image of her firmly onto his retina. The short sleeves of her dress revealed her arms above her elbows. Her throat and the rest of her feminine beauty was apparent to his gaze in all its glory.

Colour sweeping high in her cheeks, Zarri Bano eventually came to her senses. Her arms rose and crossed over her chest, shielding herself from him and his gaze. She turned her back to him, and looked down at the Nile.

‘
Wa Laikum-Salam,
Brother Musa.’ She returned his greeting in a shaky voice. ‘I thought you were in Alexandria visiting your eldest sister.’

Ibrahim Musa had instinctively looked away as he saw her gestures of female modesty. He felt both ashamed and embarrassed, in causing her to be caught in such a compromising situation. And it was all his fault. He had just walked in, while she had thought she was all alone in the house and had thus availed herself of the comfort of moving around without the veil. He, Musa, had robbed her of that comfort, by invading her privacy.

‘Forgive me, Sister Zarri Bano. I must sincerely apologise. I just hadn’t realised you were here …’ His voice trailed away, waiting for her to say something. His eyes focused on her slim back and shoulder-blades highlighted by the cut of her dress. He was still finding it difficult to come to terms with the image of the
vulnerable
-looking woman standing in front of him, to the strong woman constantly enveloped in a long baggy veil.

‘It is all right, Brother Musa. It is your home,’ Zarri Bano answered quietly, still unable to recover her poise
after having been seen by this young unmarried man; without her
burqa,
she felt naked under his gaze. Her back throbbed, imagining his male eyes roaming on it. ‘I thought you had gone to Alexandria and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night,’ she said again still with her back to him.

‘I decided to come back early, as I had a meeting with my colleagues at University. I am sorry to disturb you, sister. Please forgive me if I have upset you in any way. And please feel free to move at your leisure in this home. I assure you, you will not be disturbed again. I am going to visit my second sister, here in Cairo, later, and I will stay with her for the night. I will see you tomorrow evening when the rest of the family return. I apologise once again, sister.
Assalam-Alaikum.’

‘It is all right.
Wa Laikum-Salam,
Brother Musa.’

He left, closing the door firmly behind him. Zarri Bano remained standing by the window until she heard the outside door close and the sound of a car driving away. Only then did she let her arms fall to her side and turned to sit again at the desk.

She looked at her open book on the desk, but it was no use! Ibrahim Musa had spoilt it all. She was angry with herself for being caught like this. ‘I should always be in my
burqa
!’ she scolded herself. What if she had had an accident, and there was nobody around to help her except Musa. Could she stand him touching her body without the veil, while helping her?

An hour later she returned to her room and ritually pulled the
burqa
over her body. It was only then, sitting behind the protection of the veil, that she was able to concentrate on the book she was reading. She knew in her heart though, that she would never feel the same in Musa’s presence again. She wished to Allah, over and
over again, that he had either not come, or that she had been wearing her
burqa
at that time.

Ibrahim Musa drove through the late-afternoon traffic of the densely populated city centre to his sister’s home. As he passed the central souk market and saw one of the traditional Egyptian dresses hanging on the stall amidst the rest of the wares, he recalled Zarri Bano in her red dress. Ashamed though he was to voice the thought to himself, it couldn’t be denied that Zarri Bano was a very attractive woman. He had suspected it, from her face, hands and eyes. Now having seen her without the veil, his eyes had sinfully learnt to
appreciate
what lay behind the black garment. At the same time he was angry with himself. He had done wrong. He had no right to look at a woman without her veil. That was a privilege only available to her family or her husband to enjoy – and he was neither. In this way he had shamed both her and himself. He just hoped that she would forgive him, and learn to trust him again and not build up any barriers in the light of that incident. He wanted nothing to mar the warm relationship which they already shared.

With dismay he recalled how she had kept her back to him all the time while he was in the room. Perhaps she would always be on her guard now and would maintain her distance from him. If she did, he had no choice but to accept it, and respect her for it.

The image of Zarri Bano in her red dress and her crown of curls around her face flashed a number of times in front of his eyes that evening, as he played with his sister’s children.