Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor (51 page)

She seemed quite pleased with his explanation. 'Very good! Very good!

No wonder you have such a radiant glow on your face!' Her perception had undergone a change.

'What would you like to have?' Salar switched the topic—he did not want to hear any more observations on his looks. 'Would you like some breakfast?'

'No, I've already eaten. I have my breakfast around six or seven in the morning. In fact, my lunch is around eleven or eleven thirty,' she informed him of her routine.

'Then have some lunch. It's already half past ten,' said Salar.

'No, I'm not hungry. Come here and sit by me.'

'I'll be with you,' said Salar as he returned to the kitchen.

'I've been waiting for you since six months and not once have you come to see me,' she called out.

'I was very busy, Amma!' he replied. He was making tea for himself.

'What could it be that kept you so busy? Those who are married and have families are kept busy and involved. You are neither married nor do you live with your family, and yet you say you were busy...'

He smiled at her words as he made some toast for himself.

'Now look at you,' she chided as she saw him bringing the tea tray. 'This is not your job.' Smiling silently, he put the plates and cups on the table. 'Had you been married, your wife would be doing all this. It doesn't behoove a man to do such chores.'

'You're right, Amma, but what else can I do, since I don't have a wife?' he said, passing her a cup of tea.

'That's no answer—what can you do—son, the world is full of young women, and your parents are also alive and around, so tell them to find you a nice match. Or if you want, I can try.'

Salar promptly realized that the situation was critical. 'Oh no, thank you. Please have some tea. I'm quite happy with my life. And as far as housework is concerned, then our Blessed Prophet too attended to his own chores.'

'Now you've gone off on a tangent—I was talking about you,' she said, a bit confused.

'Won't you take some biscuits...or perhaps some cake?' he tried to veer her attention.

'Oh yes, I quite forgot the reason why I'd come here,' she said, suddenly remembering something as she opened her capacious bag and started fumbling around in it.

'Your sister's wedding has been fixed.'

Salar suddenly choked on his tea. He was puzzled. 'My sister got married about five years ago,' he informed Saeeda Amma.

Meanwhile, she fished out a card. 'Oh, I'm talking about my daughter, Amina—she's like a sister to you, isn't she?'

She looked at him with some disappointment as she handed him the card. Salar was thoroughly amused. Till a day ago, she was trying to get her daughter married off to him and now suddenly, she had become his sister! Nevertheless, he was enormously relieved: at least now he was in no peril from her or her daughter. He gladly took the card from her.

'Congratulations! When is the wedding taking place?' he asked as he opened the card.

'Next week.'

'That's good, Ammaji, at least your worries are over.' He had stressed the word 'your' in stead of saying 'mine'.

'Yes, Allah be praised. It's a very well-placed match. My responsibility is over now and once she's settled, I can join my sons in England.'

Salar glanced cursorily at the card.

'I came here especially to give you the invitation. No excuses this time— you must come to the wedding. You're a brother, and you must see her off to her new home.'

Salar held back his smile as he sipped his tea. 'Don't worry; I'll be there,' he assured her as he buttered a toast for himself.

'I've got a card for Furqan too. I have to go and give it to him.' the thought began to bother her.

'Furqan had to go to his in-laws today with his wife. He must have left. You can give me the card, I'll deliver it.'

'And if you should forget?' Saeeda Amma was not convinced.

'I won't forget. Why don't you speak to him? I'll call him up now.'

She brightened up. 'Oh yes, that's fine. Call him up for me.'

Salar brought the telephone to the table, dialed Furqan's cell phone number and flicked on the speaker switch, while he continued with his breakfast.

'Furqan, Saeeda Amma's here with me,' he said. 'Talk to her.'

He kept quiet as Furqan and Saeeda Amma spoke. By the time their conversation ended a few minutes later, Salar had done with his breakfast. As he was putting away the stuff in the kitchen, a thought struck him.

'Who did you come with?' he enquired.

'With my son,' Saeeda Amma complacently replied.

'Oh, so your son's here? Which one—the older one or the younger?' Salar asked with some interest.

'I'm talking about my neighbor's son, Rashid,' she elaborated, with some annoyance.

Salar realized that for her every boy was her son, every girl her daughter—she built up relations with great facility.

'So where's he?'

'He went back. I came with him on his motor bike—he drives like the wind! We started at nine and he got me here at exactly half past ten. I kept telling him to slow down but he wouldn't listen. When we got here he said it was the last time he'd give me a lift on his motorbike. "The next time, I'll walk you down" he said...'

Salar was amused. He could well understand the frustration of the young man at having taken an hour and a half to complete a journey that would not be longer than half an hour. It was not easy to spend time in the company of old people—this had become quite clear to Salar when he had first encountered Saeeda Amma.

'So how will you go back? Will Rashid come for you?'

'Yes, he did say he'd come after the match was over. Let's see when he turns up.' She then continued to add to his knowledge about her daughter and her in-laws. Salar listened patiently though he could have had no possible interest, but he realized that after all she could not be discussing banking issues with him. Whatever she was saying made little sense to him but he pretended to be most interested.

She also had lunch with him. He didn't try to warm up something from the freezer as he did not want another round of advice on the benefits of marriage. So he ordered some food from a takeaway. When Rashid had not yet arrived, Salar offered to drop her home. She gladly accepted saying that he'd also get to know where she lived.

'I know your address,' he reminded her as he looked for his car keys. Half an hour later he was at her house. He walked her to her door, but when she asked him to come in, he declined politely saying he had a lot of work at home. He regretted saying that as her admonitions began again.

'Oh, child! That's why I've been telling you to get married. Your wife would look after the housework and you could go out instead of spending your weekend in domestic chores.' She looked at him pityingly.

'Yes, of course, you're right. May I go now?' Salar said, surpassing himself in obedience.

'Very well, but remember, you must come for the wedding. And also remind Furqan once again and give him his card.'

Salar rang the doorbell and then turned away. He heard the door open behind him and then Saeeda Amma in conversation with her daughter.

'Then what's your programme? Are you coming along?' Furqan queried as he came to collect his card the next day.

'No, I'm going to Karachi this weekend for an IBA seminar. I'll be back on Sunday and plan to sleep the rest of the day—nothing else. You can go. I'll give you the gift envelope for her; do remember to give it with my apologies.'

'That's shameful Salar. She came all the way to invite you with such affection,' Furqan chided him gently.

'I know but I can't just go there and waste my time.'

'We won't be there too long—we'll be back soon.'

'Furqan, my return is not confirmed...! may not return by day, it might be Sunday night.'

'You're really useless! And she's going to be very disappointed.'

'That makes no difference—my not being there won't stop the wedding from taking place. Maybe she's got an inkling that I won't attend. Besides, you and I are not such important guests,' Salar stated carelessly.

'Anyway, my wife and I will attend, regardless of how unimportant we may be,' Furqan replied angrily.

I'm not stopping you—you're most welcome to go there. Otherwise too you have a more comfortable and informal relationship with Saeeda Amma.'

'But she still cares more about you,' Furqan claimed.

'It's out of kindness,' Salar brushed him off lightly.

'Whatever it is, she does feel concerned. If nothing else, you should attend out of regard for Dr Sibt-e-Ali because she's his next of kin.' Furqan tried this angle to persuade Salar.

'Dr Ali himself is out of town; and had he been here, he wouldn't be forcing me to attend the wedding, the way you're doing.'

'Fine, you can do as you please. I'm not forcing you.' Furqan gave up.

Salar resumed working on his laptop.

-------------------------

It was a lush green place, a garden as it were, and they were together there among the trees and flowering bushes. It was quiet all round. They were sitting in the sunshine by a bush in full bloom. Imama sat with her arms wrapped around her knees while Salar lay supine on the grass, his eyes closed. Their shoes lay some distance away. Imama was wearing a beautiful white shawl. They were in deep conversation and Imama was looking at something as she spoke to him. He had taken a corner of her shawl and covered his eyes with it, as if to keep out the sun. That shawl seemed to bestow peace, a sort of elation on him. Imama made no effort to pull it back from him. The sunshine refreshed him and eyes shut, he could feel the soft touch of the shawl on his face. He began to feel drowsy and was soon in the grip of a deep sleep.

Salar suddenly opened his eyes. He was lying flat across his bed. Something had broken his slumber, and he looked around uncertainly. This was not where he wanted to be—another dream...another illusion...he closed his eyes again. His attention was then drawn by the ringing of his cell phone by his bedside—that was what had pulled him away from his dreams. Thoroughly annoyed, he reached out for the phone. It was Furqan calling.

'Where were you Salar? I've been calling for hours...why weren't you attending the call?' said Furqan the minute he heard Salar's voice.

'I was sleeping,' replied Salar, as he sat up in bed. He caught sight of the clock—it was four in the afternoon.

'Get to Saeeda Amma's at once!' Furqan told him.

'Why? I'd told you that I ...'

'I know what you told me,' interrupted Furqan, 'but there's an emergency here.'

'What sort of emergency?' Salar was anxious.

'You'll find out when you come here. Now get here at once; I'm hanging up.' Furqan switched off.

Salar looked at the phone, worried. Furqan's voice, his tone, expressed his anxiety but what could be the nature of the concern at Saeeda Amma's? Within fifteen minutes, Salar had changed and on his way. Furqan's next call came as he was driving.

'At least, tell me what has happened? You've really got me worried,' Salar asked again.

'No need to get worried—you're coming here, you'll get to know. I can't go into the details over the phone.' Furqan hung up again.

Driving fast, Salar covered the distance of half an hour in fifteen minutes. Furqan met him outside Saeeda Amma's house. Salar had expected there would be much noise and celebration here, but that was not the case. There was no hint whatsoever of any wedding party or procession at the scene. He accompanied Furqan into an old-fashioned drawing room to the left of the main door.

'What was it that you had to summon me like this?' Salar was getting irritated

'There's been a big problem with Saeeda Amma and her daughter,' said Furqan as he sat opposite him. He looked very worried.

'What problem?'

'The young man who was going to marry her daughter has backed out and he has gone and married a girl of his own choice.'

'My goodness!' Salar exclaimed.

'Those people just called up Saeeda Amma some time ago to inform her and expressed their regrets. They are not going to come here. I went to their place a while earlier—they really have no choice. They have no information about their son or where he could be. He just called to tell them about his decision.' Furqan disclosed the details.

'If he was not interested, he should have told his parents honestly. If he had the guts to elope then he should have had the guts to refuse his parents too.' Salar found the whole affair very distasteful. 'Saeeda Amma's sons should have been here to handle this situation.'

'Yes, but since they're not here someone has to deal with this.'

'Doesn't Saeeda Amma have any other close relatives here?' Salar queried.

'I spoke to Dr Sibt-e-Ali a short while ago,' Furqan informed him.

'But Dr Ali's not here—it would have been a different story if he were present,' noted Salar.

'He told me to have you speak to him on the phone.' Furqan's tone was a little slow this time.

'Me? How can I help?' Salar was suddenly alert.

'By marrying Amina.'

Salar couldn't believe what he had heard—he stared at Furqan dumbfounded. 'Are you out of your mind?' he could barely get the words across.

'Yes, I'm quite sane.'

'Then you don't know what you're saying.' Salar's face was an angry red. He shot up to leave but Furqan blocked his way.

'What made you say such a thing?' Salar could hardly control his voice.

'Whatever I said was on Dr Ali's instructions.'

Salar's face was a kaleidoscope of emotions. 'Why did you suggest my name?'

'I did not suggest anything, Salar! He himself suggested it. He told me to ask you to help Saeeda Amma at this juncture by marrying her daughter.'

Salar felt as though the ground had been pulled away from under his feet, or the sky from over his head. He turned and slumped down on the sofa.

'Furqan, did you tell him that I'm already married?'

'Yes, I did—that you'd been married years ago, but the girl just disappeared and you never found her.'

Then?'

'Despite this he wants you to marry Amina.'

'Furqan...I ...' he stopped, then asked, 'and Imama? What happens to her?'