The Holy Woman by Qaisra Shahraz

Author:Qaisra Shahraz
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781909807006
Publisher: Arcadia Books Limited
Published: 2013-06-09T23:00:00+00:00

On the day of the wedding, Zarri Bano, like her parents, was kept busy and thus had little time to dwell on Sikander. The guests had all duly arrived and had to be seen to. All the wedding arrangements had been carried out. The hall was decorated for the reception and the ceremony. The morning passed in a hectic whirl of different activities. Ruby was locked away with Gulshan and the beautician.

Zarri Bano helped her mother with the last-minute errands. At about eleven o’clock she decided to check up on her sister to see how her bridal preparations were progressing. Beholding Ruby’s breathtaking appearance, a lump caught in her throat. ‘Oh my dear, you look wonderful!’

At precisely twelve-thirty, the groom and his party arrived for the ceremony from Karachi. Most of Zarri Bano’s clan were assembled in the front courtyard to receive and welcome them. Young girls holding small china bowls were waiting to shower rose petals over the heads of the groom and his party.

Alone, Zarri Bano watched from her bedroom window – the line of cars, the accompanying band of musicians, on foot, gaily playing wedding tunes. Heading the procession was the groom on a white horse, leading the way, following the centuries-old custom.

Zarri Bano hardly recognised Sikander dressed as a groom, with a traditional bead-studded khullah on his head and a long white jacket with a matching shalwar. Zarri Bano’s eyes rested on his face. The horse cantered to a stop outside the gate.

‘Kismet, you are so cruel.’ Zarri Bano turned from the window, wondering how many other women and men had experienced this nightmare scenario. ‘How do they came to terms with it?’ she murmured.

Then: ‘I am a Shahzadi Ibadat!’ she bitterly reminded herself. ‘A woman who has denounced marriage and a normal life. I am the one who turned him away.’ Yet she was paying for it now. His words mocked her: ‘You will die for me on my wedding day.’

She had prayed to Allah and had kept herself busy. Today, however, the mere sight of him had shown her that beneath it all she was still a vulnerable human being – just another victim of life’s pains and triumphs.

‘I am dying for you, Sikander. You’ve had your revenge.’ Zarri Bano brushed the tears angrily from her cheeks. Through gritted teeth she promised herself, ‘Zarri Bano will never cry for a man again! I am going to lock away, bury forever, these vulnerable parts of me. I will show myself and the world that I am indeed the pure one, the holy one! To do this I have to first unearth Sikander from the essence of my being.’

She fumbled open one of the drawers of her dressing table and drew out three seashells hidden in a small trinket box. Nestled against the palm of her hand, Zarri Bano looked at them for a long time. Lifting the net curtains, she threw the shells through the open window, far over the wall of her home. Her last link with Sikander was gone.

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