CHAPTER 28
THE LAST MEETING
Since morning that day, patches of clouds had been running after one another like naughty children. At last, the cold weather of September had set in, the heat of the sun had lost its intensity and the shadows had become long and cold. Finally, the mischievous patches of clouds caught one another and the whole sky was covered with dark clouds. When the first drop of rain kissed my forehead, I was unloading the luggage from the goods train that used to arrive at eleven. Heavy rain started in a few minutes and labourers began running here and there in search of some shelter from rain. Ghafura began calling me from a veranda which had a tin and wooden roof. He was urging me to come there to protect myself from the falling rain. I wonder why people like to hide from rains which wash away all the impurities of the body and the mind. In the meantime, from the last end of the platform, Mr. Siddiqi's servant was seen coming towards me. He had an umbrella and was taking long strides in the rain water that had already gathered there. He informed me that someone wanted to talk to me on the telephone in Mr. Siddiqi's office.
"Someone wants to talk to me?" I mumbled in astonishment. But there was no more time for further questions and answers and I went after him towards the office. With the signal of my hand, I told Ghafura from some distance that I was going to attend a telephone call. By the time I reached Mr. Siddiqi's office, I was completely wet with rain water. And before entering the office, I had to wipe off the rain water from the whole body. As I entered the office, I saw a number of visitors or passengers gathered around Mr. Siddiqi's table. He had two lines of the same number. One of the telephone sets was placed on his table while the other one lay on the head clerk's table in the same room. Most of his calls were received by his head clerk, but at that time, both telephone sets were lying silently on their cradles. As I looked enquiringly towards Bashir, without taking his eyes away from the files, Mr. Siddiqi remarked, "The call was becoming longer and I told the caller to call after some time. Sit down here; we may again receive the call at any moment."
I sat down in the chair in front of the head clerk's table.
"It was a girl's call," whispered Bashir into my ears.
In utter amazement, I looked towards him, but there was no information on his face except an innocent smile. Who could be this girl who was calling me at Mr. Siddiqi's number? Outside, it was raining cats and dogs and as far as I could see through the window, everything at the platform and the station seemed to have been washed by the shower of rain. With their black umbrellas, people were hurriedly going about here and there. In the morning some people had closely watched the changing weather and were expecting heavy rain. They had come out of their homes wearing long overcoats. Now, with the raised collars of their overcoats, they were looking towards, hoping to be praised for their ability to foresee this heavy rain. Then suddenly, the telephone bell rang. I was so much lost in my thoughts that I almost jumped from my seat. Bashir attended the call.
"Yes, he's here. You can talk to him."
I got the receiver from Bashir.
"Hello, it's Hammad speaking."
A soft and delicate voice was heard from the other side. "Hello,"
"Who's on the line?"
"I'm Haya."
I almost dropped down the receiver. Was it really Haya calling to me in this heavy rain?"
"But how did you get my number? I mean is everything O.K.?"
Haya seemed to be somewhat worried and in some hurry. "Yes, all is well. Can you come to the old Haveli at four this evening?"
"Old Haveli? Yes, I'll surely be there. But----"
"Don't ask any questions. With a great deal of difficulty I'm talking to you from our neighbour's house. I only want to convey the message to you from my sister Iman that you must be there at the right time. It's most urgent. Do come at four and the rest of the discussion will take place there. Good-bye."
"Iman's message? O my God! What was that girl doing? Was Iman also coming to the old Haveli that evening? In order to stop her I said, "Hello, please listen to me."
But the line had been dropped from the other side. A violently fast torrent of rain struck against the window with a fierce gust of wind which forced open the window and several things in the room became wet with the rain water. Bashir at once shut the window while I still sat silently. What did Haya actually want to say? Why had Iman invited me to the old Haveli that evening? Was she herself really coming to the Haveli? But how's it possible" She's going to be married after three weeks. How can she leave her home in such circumstances? But then why did Haya call me to the old Haveli and say that there was Iman's message for me? Iman might have sent a message for me in response to Ghalib's couplets which I sent to her.
A few days ago, Mr. Siddiqi had allotted to me a small wooden hut having a tin roof, situated at the end of a road covered with trees at the back of the station. A long time ago, several such huts had been built for the unmarried railway officials. When one of these huts became vacant, it was temporarily allotted to me by Mr. Siddiqi. After attending the telephonic call, I got up from Bashir's table and quietly went to my hut, where I sat for a long time, while the rain drops falling on the tin roof were producing a typical musical sound. It appeared as if rain had decided to fall that day with all its force and intensity. Had it been some other day, I would surely have enjoyed this rain and the musical sound produced by it on the tin roof. During my childhood, whenever there was such heavy rain, Kamran and I used to rush to my grandmother's tin roofed room in her Haveli. There, by banging the table, we used to make unsuccessful attempts to mould the sound of the rain or hailstones falling on the roof into various musical tunes. Along with this sound, we used to sing loudly all the favourite songs of our childhood. But while sitting in my hut that day, my whole attention was focused on Haya's telephone call. The next few hours were spent in the same process and I was suddenly roused from my day dreaming when the large clock at the station struck three.
Oh! By now, I must have left the station. I wondered whether I would get some conveyance or not in this downpour. As I looked around, I saw my only shirt and pants hanging in my room. As usual, Ibrahim the servant had got them washed and ironed from the railway washerman. I quickly changed my dress but then I laughed at myself. I had removed my wet uniform but I did not have an umbrella to protect my pants and shirt which I was wearing now. Anyhow, there was no time left for me to look for some umbrella. I swiftly came out of the room and walking under the cover of trees, reached the platform. On account of the heavy rain, there was nobody there. After coming out of the main building of the station, I looked around in search of some conveyance. The few tongas and taxis that passed by, had passengers in them. Khairu was also not seen there. Instead of standing there and wasting my time, I thought it better to walk on the long road in the hope of finding some conveyance. Rain was continuously piercing into my whole body. Although I was quite away from the station, I had not yet found any conveyance and I became apprehensive that I would not be able to reach the old Haveli at the appointed hour, because it was already 3-30 and I was still in the city. I was bitterly angry with myself for not coming out of the station earlier. But then, all of a sudden, Nature had some mercy on my helplessness and frustration. After crossing the Litton Road, I had now entered the cantonment area and was about to reach near the Staff College Road, when I suddenly saw a tonga which was perhaps going back after dropping some military passengers at the Staff College. I at once signaled the tonga driver to stop, put my hand into my pocket brought out all the money I could find, gave it to the driver and told him to take me to the old Haveli within the shortest possible time. He at once spurred the horse and with a great speed, the tonga started running on the paved road which had been washed by the rain shower. On account of the dark clouds, there already prevailed the late evening darkness and in that situation, whenever there was a blaze of lightning, it appeared as if someone had whitewashed the whole atmosphere for a moment. As the clouds were thundering loudly in the continuous downpour, the galloping horse was soaking wet with the rain water; and as it snorted in excitement, it produced clouds of hot steam in the air. After leaving the paved road, the horse was now on its way to the old Haveli, passing through the puddles of rain water on the unpaved wet ground. The tonga driver did full justice to the large sum that I had paid to him as fare and dropped me at the gate of the old Haveli at exact four. Another tonga was already standing there and it seemed that some other passengers had also come there a short while ago; but in view of the hostile weather, they had told the tonga driver to stop there and take them back after some time. The driver of my tonga offered that he could wait for me for some time and take me back if I so desired. I accepted his offer and told him to wait for me. As both the tonga drivers got busy in talking to each other, I opened the wet wooden gate of the Haveli and went in. A strange type of sadness and silence prevailed in the whole atmosphere. All of a sudden, the Haveli's old watchman Allah Bakhsh appeared from somewhere and after saying Salaam to me, informed me that Nighat had just gone towards the round room. All the old servants of the Haveli had witnessed my childhood and perhaps, all of them knew my secrets. All of them knew about my leaving the home and my occasional visits to the old Haveli to meet Shakir and Nighat. They also knew that my family members were unaware of my coming to the old Haveli, but none of them had ever informed my father or mother about it. Perhaps, by doing so, they had endorsed my decision to leave my home. After meeting Allah Bakhsh, I went towards the courtyard, at the end of which there was the veranda. During the summer season, a number of large wooden reed screens were spread in front of the veranda. But now, all the reed screens had been folded up and tied to a strong rope hanging in the veranda. The dust coloured water was speedily flowing down from the drain pipes built on the rooftop of the veranda. Passing through the small mud brick drains, the water was going into the flower beds. With the exception of the sound of the falling and flowing of water, everything seemed silent and still. As I turned towards the round room in the veranda, I saw Haya wrapped in a white sheet standing in one corner. She was standing with her hands outstretched in an attempt to catch the spray of water falling down from the drainpipes built on the rooftop of the veranda. On seeing me, she immediately pulled back her hand and greeted me with Salaam. I went to her and said, "How did you reach here in this weather? Is everything all right?"
She gave a gentle smile. "Even in ordinary fine weather, we are unable to leave our home. But the four lines written by you forced us to come here. You left us with no other option."
I was rather confused by her reply. "I couldn't understand what you mean."
Then suddenly, I thought of Nighat. "Where's Nighat? What are you doing here alone?"
With her typical mischievous expression in her eyes, she pointed towards the room. "I'm not alone. Go to that room and meet her."
In a state of surprise and confusion I went towards the room. If Nighat had been inside the room, why was Haya standing alone in the dripping rain in the veranda? Perhaps, the supply of electricity had been disconnected shortly after the start of the rain and there was only the light of a few candles in the room. As I opened the door, I could see nothing in the darkness. But then, with a loud thunder of clouds, there was a flash of lightning and for a moment, everything became bright. There was some movement in a silky body that could be seen shrinking beside the wall in one corner of the room. With the flicker of the flame of a candle placed on a nearby mantelpiece, the same strand of hair became visible on her forehead and the whole room became bright with her light. It was Iman. Of course, it was Iman. Stunned by this wonderful miracle, I stood outside the door for a while in a state of disbelief, trying to convince myself that it was not a dream. I thought that it must have been a dream because since ages, my fate had not been so kind to me. But it was Iman, clad in a simple white dress and covered in a black shawl. Perhaps, Iman and Haya had come there in the other tonga that stood outside the Haveli but moisture produced by the rain drops could still be seen in her hair and on the forehead and even in the lock that hung along her forehead. Sitting in one corner of the room, she was as usual, scratching the carpet with the nails of her delicate feet. With her lowered head, she greeted me with Salaam. For a few moments, I stood dumbfounded and speechless. Then, after a great deal of effort, I was able to utter a few words. "You? Here? Just a minute please, it will take me some time to believe that I'm really so fortunate."
I noticed a red line of modesty moving across her face. Then, she lifted her head and looked towards me. She wanted to say something but finding me wet in rain, she became rather worried. "Oh, you are terribly wet. I'll ask Nighat to arrange some towel for you."
She tried to stand up, but I interrupted her talk because I was afraid that if once she left the room, this most delightful dream of my life would be shattered. "Please remain sitting, I'm all right, and everything will dry up in a few minutes time. Don't go anywhere please."
I quickly moved away from the door and went near her. She was about to stand up but again sat down. Now, she was only at a distance of two steps from me and I could feel the trembling of her body. I sat there near her and felt how she was shrinking with modesty and shyness. I wondered whether she was a girl or a bunch of flowers. For the next few moments, she sat there silently with her bowed head, making unsuccessful attempts to control the trembling of her body while I continued watching her without winking my eyes as the interval of winking the eyes seemed quite odious to me at that time. She was sitting in front of me and I could not decide whether to watch her or talk to her. Never in my life had it been so much difficult for me while talking to someone. The silence existing between us was only broken by the rain that was pouring down outside. It seemed as if both of us had a burning desire to speak out the tumultuous passions of our hearts but we had suddenly lost all of our words. Then, with her dainty hands, she took out a wrapped piece of paper on which I had written a few couplets of Ghalib and sent to her. I knew that Nighat would surely convey it to her.
"What a strange thing you wrote to me. I only requested you to give up your obstinacy and go home. Why don't you agree to do what I want you to do?"
She became a bit emotional while speaking. As I looked towards her carefully, she looked much weaker than before. Her face had turned pale and blue veins were vividly visible on the back of her delicate hands. "You seem to be ill. Are you all right?"
She cast a wounded look on me. "I've come here to get a promise from you that you would no more torture yourself. You can't imagine my plight when I saw you at the railway station as a coolie. I bitterly condemned myself for everything that had happened. If you hadn't seen me, nothing of this sort would have happened."
"For God's sake, don't say so. Seeing you has been the most fascinating accident of my life and Loving you has turned out to be the most blissful experience of my apparently meaningless life. This love enabled me to recognize myself, otherwise, I would have departed from the world, without the joy of self-recognition Now, I've got no complaints about my life and now, I'm even ready to welcome death with open arms."
She was shocked to hear my words. "Why do you say such things? Why do you degrade me in my own eyes again and again? Why?"
Before the completion of her sentence, she burst into tears, but before her two large tears could fall down on the ground, I bent forward and caught them in my palms. Then, under the force of some indescribable passion, I held her soft velvet hands into my own hands. There was another burst of thunder outside and the rain further intensified. While the skies were weeping outside, tears were raining down from our eyes inside the room. As soon as I caught her hands, a huge torrent of tears streamed out of my eyes. Instead of consoling her, I myself was weeping with the storm of tears bursting out of my eyes. I was holding her soft hands while she sat with her bowed head. Could there be a more blessed moment than this for breathing one's last and leaving this world? With her wet eyes, she looked towards me and it was for the first time that I got a chance to observe her bewitching beauty from so near. Nothing was lacking in her beauty and her whole structure seemed to be the master creation of a master painter. Her star like forehead, her large black eyes, her thin elegant nose, the curve of her chin and her delicate lips like red rubies, were all unique and marvelous. There was a strange radiance on her face. With my fingers, I wiped away the tears from the tips of her eyes. She again spoke in a low tone. "Would you accede to my request, Hammad?"
For the first time, she called me by my name and never in my life had I felt my name to be so sacred, respectful and dreamful as I did at that moment.
"If it can give you some pleasure, I'll do it as well for your sake."
She gently pulled away her hands from my grip, untied her head cover took out something from it and put it in her fist. As she opened her fist before me, I saw in it those two shining pearls which I had sent back to her through Nighat. "They are yours. You were insisting that I should personally return them to you. Today, I've fulfilled this desire of yours. Keep them with you. I've got nothing else to present to you."
While she was uttering these words, she again burst into tears and hid her head in her knees. I was at a loss to understand how to console her, because she looked more wounded than I was. I got the pearls from her touched them with my eyes, kissed them and put them in my pocket.
"Please Iman, stop crying. These two pearls are more precious for me than all the blessings of this universe. What else can a person give to another? Honestly speaking, my love now seems something disdainful to me. It has taught me how to weep but today, it has also filled your eyes with tears. I'm very bad indeed and much worse is my love."
Shocked by my words, she lifted her head and unintentionally gripped my hand, as if she had not liked my words and wanted me to stop saying such things.
"Don't talk like that. If someone is to be blamed, it's me. If someone is to be condemned, it's me. Alas, I couldn't give you anything in response to your love. You can't imagine Hammad, how helpless and powerless I am. Throughout his life, my father has never seen any real joy. While Haya and I were still very young, our elder brother suddenly fell ill and passed away. Till this day, Father has not been able to forget that grief. But he arranged for me and Haya every worldly comfort and convenience which a child can be desirous of. He himself continued to wear patched clothes but never allowed our dresses to become dirty. After our brother's sad demise, Father pinned all hopes on me, arranged for me worldly and religious education at home and provided me all the required books. He takes maximum delight in discussing various problems with me. I am his day, his night and his whole world. Even the slightest blemish on my character can take his life. He was much perturbed by your stormy love and hastily arranged my marriage; otherwise, he wanted me to get further education and had sent my B.A. admission. But everything was swept away in your fanaticism, infatuation and craze." As she spoke, she looked like a marble statue and I listened to her dumbfounded. "Do you also regard my love, infatuation and craze as false?"
Iman tightened her grip on my hands and I felt that by clasping my hands, she would squeeze out my soul. "In the beginning, when you invited me to this Haveli through Nighat, I really disliked this whole affair very much. Till that time, like my father, I also strongly despised all such things. Your entire struggle to gain my attention appeared to me as a frivolous attempt by an aristocratic young lad to get cheap entertainment and amusement at the expanse of a poor innocent girl. Later, when your family members humiliated my father with their disparaging remarks, I was heart broken to think that they had punished us for something wrong done not by us but by you. Later, when I came to know from Nighat that you had abandoned your home, I considered it to be an emotional decision taken in a temporary fit of passion and thought that you would return home after a few days. Afterwards, I noticed that my father often remained worried. Since the day you came here with your marriage proposal till now, I haven't seen him sleeping peacefully. He is often seen walking throughout the night. My mother is a simple woman who can only share her husband's sorrow by weeping. Later, Abdullah informed me of your regularly coming to the mosque. But quite surprisingly, he has never used any harsh words for you, despite knowing everything. I couldn't believe that a person can renounce the whole world for the sake of someone whom he hasn't met properly even twice. But at last, the same thing happened which my heart had been refusing to admit till that day. The sight of you as a labourer at the railway station suddenly altered the course of my life, smashed all my pride and changed all my previously held views about love. Your love came like a violent storm and penetrated into the innermost cores of my heart, after breaking open all its locks. I couldn't do anything. On that day I realized that in some remote corner of my heart, I had been nursing this love since that day when you blocked my way in the library of this Haveli. But perhaps, till that time, I was unaware of the force of this passion and could not recognize it. But then came that railway station episode which almost killed me and since then, I haven't been able to enjoy even a single peaceful moment. I always think that love is a strange passion that transforms an emperor into a beggar and a beggar into an emperor within no time. It is an invisible pain that continuously pierces into the heart with each and every breath. How helpless and powerless I've become under the force and pressure of this passion, you can't simply imagine it."
Full of astonishment, while I was listening to her, she seemed to me some princess of the fairyland and whatever she was saying, resembled some tale of the Arabian Nights. Within these few moments, my apparently worthless love had suddenly become credible and my wild goose chase had assumed glory and become meaningful. She continued her discourse,
"The two couplets that you sent to me proved to be the last nail in the coffin. Previously, I had decided never to meet you and never to reveal to you the true condition of my heart, because, any such meeting would only be an exercise in futility. But those two couplets revolutionized my whole inside being and tears spontaneously gushed forth from my eyes. Someone inside me was loudly shouting to me that I must not let you go without saying something to you, because it would amount to an insult of your immortal love. This is how I decided to meet you for the first and last time. There was another flash of lightning outside and inside the room there was some light for a moment which enabled me to notice the frozen dew on her quivering lips. She informed me that the Maulvi had gone outside the city for two days in connection with some urgent piece of work and this gave her a chance to arrange the meeting. After getting the station Master's phone number from Nighat, she sent Haya to the neighbour's home in order to call me and invite me to the Haveli that evening. She further stated that she alone knew what an uphill task it had been for her to reach the Haveli in that inhospitable weather. If Haya and Nighat had not assisted her in this adventure, she would not have been able to meet me. I could now very well imagine the traumas through which she had been passing during the [past few weeks. The constant emotional strain and stress had wrecked her to such an extent that time and again, she was out of breath while talking. I bitterly scolded myself for having dragged that simple, innocent and flower-like girl on the thorny path of love. The deadly venom of love had penetrated into her whole existence. But I was even more critically wounded than her. But who was to blame for the whole tragedy? Of course, it was love that had ruined both of us. But love cannot be described as the real culprit. The real culprit was He who sowed the seed of love in our hearts, and nourished its venomous offshoots to such a degree that their deadly poison had now thoroughly devastated both of us and brought us to the point of death. Of course, the real culprit was He who creates the passion of love in the hearts of weak human beings and then amuses Himself watching its fatal impacts on them. Iman was still crying. "I know that by confessing my love, "I've committed a cardinal sin today. I fear that God may never forgive me for this sin, because love without any lawful relationship becomes a sin. But my Creator is also aware of the fact that I was left with no alternative other than meeting you. I couldn't see you ruining yourself for my sake. Perhaps, the rest of my life would be consumed in begging forgiveness for this sin. But I want you to make a solemn commitment with me that you would no more torture yourself for the sake of your love for me. It's our last meeting but I'm sure that you won't let this first and last real meeting with you to end up in vain. It is my earnest desire that if ever again your name comes into prominence in any context, it should not be accompanied by all such self-annihilating and self-destructive ideas. For the sake of my happiness, I've come here to ask for your happiness."
In a state of shock, I looked towards her. "If you had asked for my life, I would have readily given it to you because it's in my power, but don't ask me to do something which I'm myself powerless to do."
"Why? Isn't it possible to spend the few remaining years of this brief life relishing the memories of this joyful meeting? I'm confident that I'll certainly be with you in the next world, if not in this world.
The confidence and conviction of that ravishing girl made me virtually speechless for a while. I could very well imagine the crippling trauma through which she was passing at that moment. I knew that she was being torturously pricked by her conscience for doing something which she regarded as a grave sin; and in this state of utter helplessness, she won't be able to express her love freely. In those few moments, the concept of divine punishment and reward in the light of sinful and virtuous deeds seemed to me as something most abominable and most detestable. I had a feeling that religion was once again ruthlessly plundering my love.
There was no let up in the heavy rain outside and the rain drops were continuously falling on the rooftop in a rhythmic manner. Inside the room, there were the quivering shadows of the candles trying to diffuse the impact of the advancing darkness. In this dream-like atmosphere, she was sitting with me with her folded knees, looking extremely restless tense and upset. Her strand of hair had become wet and had once again descended on her cheeks. In this state of ecstasy and under the force of an uncontrollable passion, I removed the lock from her cheek and placed it back on her forehead. In extreme nervousness she looked towards me and almost bent due to shyness and modesty. Then, she looked towards the old wall clock and almost jumped up in confusion.
"O my God! It's too late. I must be on my way back before it's too dark outside. Mother must be terribly worried about us at home as we've never been away from home for so long."
I felt as if I had been suddenly stabbed by someone. So at last, this most fascinating dream of my life was about to be over. Iman was going and when I requested her to stop for a while, she revealed her helplessness in the form of tears. I knew that she won't be able to stop any more. If Nature had taught us some means of halting the flow of time, I would surely have earned a few more moments in exchange for all the blessings of the heavens and the earth. Someone came outside the room and gently knocked at the door. As Iman immediately picked up her black shawl, Nighat and Haya momentarily appeared at the door and then disappeared. They had also come there to make us realize the swift passage of the murderous time. Iman anxiously looked towards me. "I'm waiting for your promise."
I helplessly looked towards her. While leaving my home, I also made some promises with the members of my family and I must honour them, lest someone should cast doubts about the truth of my love. But you may go home without any tension and I'll do whatever you wish. I only want some more time lest I should be degraded in my own eyes."
Iman shook her head. "No, it will never happen."
Now she looked somewhat calm and relieved. "I know you would never disappoint me."
As she turned to leave, I was seized by an overwhelming desire to clasp her in my arms forever. Having reached near the door, she again turned around and saw me. Despite her enormous self-control, tears again appeared in her large black eyes. For a moment, we saw each other and then she went out of the room. With all my restlessness, I ran after her. Nighat and Iman were already present in the veranda waiting for her. Seeing tears in her eyes, both of them were on the verge of breaking down but as they saw me, they at once wiped away the tears from their eyes with their head cover. With her bowed head, Haya was standing with Iman in front of me. Apparently, I was a stranger for her but with all her sincerity, she had done for me whatever she could do. It was she, who had enabled me to have that rare meeting with Iman, despite all the obstacles and difficulties. Quite involuntarily, I placed my hand on her wet head. Feeling the pressure of my hand on her head, she was startled and noticing my hand on her head, she couldn't control herself and burst into tears. I pressed her head against my shoulder and tried to console her. Perhaps, the entire universe was shedding tears at that time. Outside the veranda, the skies were shedding tears while inside the veranda, tears were gushing forth from the eyes of Nighat and Haya. The tonga driver blew the horn and Iman rushed towards the gate. But while she was on her way, she was repeatedly looking towards me with her tearful eyes. Standing at the gate with her dazzling beauty, she cast a final glance on my ill fated face and then vanished forever, like the moon which shines for a while in the sky and then disappears into a cluster of dark clouds. I sat down on my knees in the veranda and wished to cry and shout so loudly as to smash up the heavens and the earth.
After Iman's departure that day, I realized that in case of true love, the agony of meeting the beloved is always much more severe and vicious than the pain and suffering of not being able to meet her. The fire of love instead of dying down further flared up in my heart after my last meeting with her. It seemed to me that everything would be burnt to ashes in this violent and uncontrollable fire. I had promised with Iman to return home to my family but I had not yet decided how to fulfil that promise. Sometimes, I thought of leaving the city permanently after conveying a false message to Iman through Nighat that I had returned home. Nighat was the only link between me and her and I knew that she (Nighat) would agree to tell this lie to her for my sake, as it might prove to be our last lie. But then, this very idea made me ashamed of myself. How could I tell a lie to her who had put at stake all the valuable assets of her life and come to me to honour my love and in the hope that I would surely do what she wanted me to do. I was at a loss to understand what to do. The more I thought about the matter, the more confused I became. She had asked me if it was not possible to spend the whole life relishing the memories of just one meeting. Now I thought that such a thing was possible but for this purpose, it was necessary to deprive me of all my senses and my memory immediately after that one meeting. After that meeting, my memory was proving to be my worst enemy. Even after the passage of one week, I could still imagine her sitting in front of me. I could still feel her familiar fragrance in my breaths and hear her sweet melodious voice and the jingle of her bangles echoing in my ears. What a strange and wonderful meeting it was which had made me utterly forgetful of all the happenings of my previous life. I had forgotten all my likes and dislikes, all my feelings, tastes and sensations and in fact, the whole of my existence and even my shadow which I had prior to this meeting. It appeared to me as if I had come into existence and perished during that single day when I had my last meeting with her.
It was perhaps the ninth day after my meeting with Iman. In these early October days, the sun had started setting early and before the setting of the sun, the golden sunshine seemed pleasantly warm in the slightly cold atmosphere. This golden colour of the sun was gradually increasing with the advancing cold weather. For a long time that evening, I had been sitting in that particular corner of the platform from where I could see the sun finally setting behind a mountain that stood in front of me. Then suddenly, I saw Shakir coming towards me. In those days, for some unknown reason, whenever I saw an old acquaintance of mine, my heart was filled with strange fears and apprehensions. Shakir did not stay with me for a long time that evening. He had come to deliver Nighat's letter to me. Talking about the members of my family, he told me that Mother had been completely devastated inwardly because of my prolonged disappearance from home. She had several heated discussions with the Commissioner about me. By now, all the members of my family had come to know that instead of shifting to Karachi or Islamabad, or going to Kamran in London, I had been living somewhere in Quetta. Someone who had seen me might have informed me about my presence in the city. But I knew very well that they must have gone in search of me in the five star hotels and main guest houses of the city, because, they could have never imagined me working at the railway station as a coolie. While leaving, Shakir said, "O Mr. Hammad, by kicking away all the material pleasures and comforts of life, you've assured your family and the whole world of the greatness of your passion. Now, I humbly request you not to refuse to go home if the members of your family want to see you back with them. Nighat remembers you a lot. She's going to be married next month and if it's possible for you, please come to see her once before her marriage. Now I beg your leave."
After hugging me, Shakir went away and I opened Nighat's letter, each and every word of which indicated that it must have been written in a state of intense agony and pain.
"My dear brother, I knew very well that no one would be able to stand against your passions. What seemed to be impossible has now become possible only due to the force of your crazy love. Even a girl like Iman had to yield before your passion. I've always been and shall always be proud of you. Iman is a delicate and innocent girl and, therefore, I request you to pray for her, because I know that your prayers never go ungranted. Since her meeting with you, she has been burning with fever and her condition is worsening all the time. Her mother thinks that the fever has resulted from her becoming wet in the cold rain water but I firmly believe that it is the outcome of the intense passion of love that you have awakened in her heart. It's for the first time that she has experienced this passion because till now, she has been quite unaware of any such passion. I didn't want to tell you about Iman's deteriorating condition because she strictly prohibited me from doing so. But Haya has urged me to tell you everything and requested you to pray for Iman's recovery. May all your sorrows be given to me and may you get all my joys."
Sisters are indeed quite innocent creatures who cannot understand the simple fact that somehow or the other, all of us have to endure the pains and sufferings of our share in this world. I was much worried by Nighat's letter. Haya was expecting me to pray for her sister without realizing that if my prayers had been so powerful and effective, Iman would have surely become mine. In those agonizing and painful moments, I wished to have wings in order to fly to her in the twinkling of an eye. Moreover, I was extremely angry with myself because it was I who had filled her veins with the deadly poison of love; and quite surprisingly, people were expecting me to provide some antidote for it. It is true that love descends upon the body like a pleasant pink weather but gradually, this weather is transformed into a violent and destructive fire which burns into ashes all the fragrant flowers and beautiful butterflies. Furthermore, the scorching heat of religion was also quite sufficient to burn the whole existence of that delicate innocent creature. Her sense of guilt on talking to a stranger was enough to keep her in a constant state of agony throughout the rest of her life. The effect of this heat was redoubled by the fire of love and I could very well imagine its accumulated impact on her. I knew that her whole existence was being roasted up in this war of love and religion. Religion was pulling her towards Maulvi Alim while love was pushing her towards me. In this tug of war, her fragile body was being shattered into bits and her soul was being fragmented. I was still unable to understand why religion has always been against such love. If this type of love is a sinful crime, why does this crime bring joy and pleasure for the lovers instead of sorrow, fear and sense of remorse and regret? Why do the lovers wish to commit this crime again and again? I believe that whenever we commit a sin, we are filled with remorse although for a few moments. But the sin of love is strange because, with every passing moment, it appears as more charming and more beautiful than before. Instead of bringing death for the lovers, it always infuses a new spirit into their bodies. If it is the case, should I conclude that the religious formula or interpretation of love has always been wrong? On one hand religion teaches us to love our fellow human beings, animals, plants, flowers and even the insensate objects but on the other hand, it describes as a sin even that form of love in which the lovers only wish to see and talk to each other. Why is this contradiction? Religion regards this form of love as a sin because it is apprehensive that at some later stage, when the lovers get some moments of solitude, they may be overpowered by low and vulgar passions. But if physical satisfaction has never been among the priorities of some lovers, can their love become acceptable to religion? If not, why not? Instead of trying to restrict love, religion should only try to restrict the passion that is born out of love. I was utterly unable to understand the religious philosophy about love. It was love that had brought me closer to religion. But now when religion was preventing me from love, I was naturally drifting away from religion. I believed that religion was directly responsible for the present pathetic condition of Iman. In this miserable situation, I wished to go to Maulvi Alim, fall down on his feet and request him not to erect the wall of religion in the path of our love and instead of shackling our feet with the chains of religion, he should enable us to enjoy love and allow our affairs to be decided by love and not by religion. But I was completely helpless. All I could do was to make desperate attempts to fight against the onslaught of such thoughts. Days were passing by and Iman's marriage was only two days away. If Iman had permitted me to make another request to the Maulvi, I was even prepared to hang myself to death in front of his mosque, in the hope that it might eventually soften his heart for me. But she had imposed further restrictions on me. By mentioning her own honour and chastity and the compulsions of her poor father, she had virtually fettered my mad love for her. If she had not said such things, I might have gone to the Maulvi's house with a beggar's cup and banged my head against its walls, hoping that he might be persuaded to hold my wounded head into his own hands to provide me some comfort and relief. But alas, I could not do any such thing.
It was another sad October evening. The redness of the twilight in the sky resembled the blood oozing out of my wounded desires. The air was cold and signs of autumn were vividly visible on the platform. After turning yellow and then red, the mulberry leaves were falling down on the ground like stray kites. The platform seemed to be covered with a sheet of yellowish red leaves. Sitting on a bench placed on the same sheet under the lamp post, I was thinking that within two days, Iman would be married to Abdullah and would leave her home with him. Nighat had informed me that the Maulvi had decided to send Abdullah and Iman to her sister in Mach after their marriage. He had even arranged some job for Abdullah in Mach. There are several coal mines in Mach and around these mines; there are a number of small settlements for the coal miners. Abdullah's name had been approved as the Imam (Prayer leader) for a mosque of one of these settlements. I strongly believed that the Maulvi had made all these arrangements because of me, otherwise, how could he live away from her dear daughter? Nighat further informed me that after Iman's marriage, the Maulvi himself would not stay in Quetta for a long time, because he had made up his mind to shift to Mach along with his wife and Haya some time after Iman's marriage. Once again, my heart was filled with bitter hatred for religion which, after brutally murdering my love, did not even like to see its corpse being buried in this city. Then, the flow of my thoughts turned towards Abdullah and I began to envy his fate. How fortunate he was because very soon Iman would belong to him. Fortunate indeed are all those lovers who are crowned with success in their love. I began to imagine the condition of those who are so close to achieving their goal in love. If I had been in Abdullah's place, my heart would surely have burst and I would have died with delight before the blissful moment of the fulfillment of my love. Gradually, my thoughts about Abdullah became so powerful that I saw him coming towards him on the platform. I attempted to brush aside all such thoughts but I could still see Abdullah rapidly advancing towards me. I stood up in a state of bewilderment and noticed that it was none other than Abdullah, who was trampling the red and yellow dry leaves on the ground and briskly coming towards me with a much perturbed look on his face. I could not even walk a few steps towards him. Instead, standing silently, I simply saw him coming towards me. As soon as he came near me, he spoke in a hurried and breathless tone, "You'll have to come with me at once."
In utter nervousness I looked towards him. "But where?"
"To our home. Don't ask too many questions. Hurry up."
Abdullah's condition at that time did not allow me to ask any other question. As he turned, I followed him like an enchanted or hypnotized soul. It was getting dark and all the lamp posts and gas lamps at the station had been turned on. These were the final days of October and the whole atmosphere had been enveloped in the clouds of fog and mist in such a way that all the lights seemed dim, fade and flickering. It appeared as if someone had released a large number of fireflies in the thick white clouds.
In the same fogy and hazy atmosphere, we came out of the main building of the railway station and observed that the road was deserted and wrapped in fog. It seemed as if some widow clad in white Sari had just returned after morning the death of her husband. We stood for a while looking around in search of some conveyance. Like a fish out of water, Abdullah seemed most restless and was repeatedly rubbing his hands to give the impression that time was swiftly slipping out of his hands. I wondered why he was in such a hurry. In the meantime, like an angel of mercy, Khairu was seen coming there, apparently after dropping some passenger at his destination. I immediately called him and the very next moment, both of us were seated in his galloping tonga and were heading for Maulvi Alim's home situated in an old locality of the city. But on account of the severe fog and mist on the way, Khairu's horse was running at a very slow pace. As a precautionary measure, Khairu had turned on both the gas lamps hanging along the two front poles in the hope of increasing the visibility level but it too did not make any real difference. In this biting cold, the steam coming out of the horse's nostrils indicated that it was breathing after all. Passing through the circles of the dim pale lights of the distant lamp posts on the dark roads, we were making our way on the Litton Road which was bordered by tall trees on both sides. If some distant passerby had seen us travelling in Khairu's tonga in that particular atmosphere that evening, he would surely have recalled several such scenes found in the movies of Sherlock Holmes.
At last, the tonga entered the old locality through its gate. The whole area looked deserted and both of us immediately came down from the tonga. As Abdullah rushed towards his home, I suddenly realized that I had once again come to that street and that house which had become a forbidden tree for me. Maulvi Alim had prohibited me from coming there. I did not care for any restriction imposed by him but this restriction had been imposed by that charming lady who had become the sole honour of my life, my body, my soul and my whole existence. On realizing that I was not keeping pace with him, Abdullah turned and said "Why have you stopped? Please hurry yup."
"I can't go inside your home. I've been forbidden by Iman." The very next moment, I realized the mistake that I had made quite unintentionally in my hasty nervousness. By mentioning Iman's name to her would-be husband, I had revealed the secret of her meeting with me. In confusion, I attempted to change my words. "I mean the Maulvi has---. It's not appropriate for me to---."
As Abdullah carefully looked towards me, I noticed tears in his eyes. "Come on! Perhaps, he won't mind your coming now. Please come in. We're running out of time."
I still remained motionless. How could I break the promise that I had made with Iman?
"It was Iman who told me to go to the station and bring you here," informed Abdullah and added, "She's waiting for you." Leaving me standing stunned and mystified, Abdullah went forward to open the door and I was left with no option but to follow him. Iman's house was also covered with fog and the door of the courtyard was already open. That part of the city was experiencing the load shedding of electricity. With the force of the wind, Iman's cradle was swaying and it seemed as if Iman had just gone away after rocking in the cradle. A strange type of silence prevailed in the whole house. Suddenly, I was astonished to see Nighat coming out of the veranda. Candles placed in the small shelves of the veranda were twinkling. Tears hidden in Nighat's eyes were clearly visible in this dim light. Cutting through the thick fog, she rushed towards me and started sobbing, with her head pressed against my chest. While I was still perplexed by this incredible situation, Abdullah caught my hand and took me towards the women's [portion of the house. Why was he taking me towards that part of the house? If the Maulvi caught a glimpse of me walking freely in his house, he might do something terrible. But without letting me say anything, Abdullah dragged me to the room at the edge of the veranda. Clinging to my elbow, Nighat also entered the room with me. In the dim twilight of the room, the first face that I saw was that of Maulvi Alim himself. I was startled and became motionless. A strange helplessness was writ large on his face. This type of helplessness is visible only on the face of that person who single handedly fights a prolonged battle and finally, when he is sure of victory, the tables are suddenly turned on him and he meets a humiliating defeat. Haya was also sitting there. Besides her, there was another bright faced woman wrapped in a shawl sitting at the feet of a bed placed in one corner of the room. Why were all of them sitting silently? As my eyes became familiar with the murky twilight of the room, I observed that someone was lying on the bed and Haya and her mother were sitting on both sides of the bed to place cold strips on her forehead. Beside the bed, there lay a large silver pot full of cold water in which white strips could be seen. There was a sudden flash of lightning in my mind. I was roused from my sleep and became wide awake. I realized that the person lying on the bed was none other than Iman. Signs of severe weakness and intense fever were clearly evident from her face. But the pink halo of light around her face could still be seen. She was breathing irregularly and with her eyes shut, she seemed to be in some deep trance. For a few moments, Maulvi Alim looked towards me and then he lowered his eyes. While I still stood at the door confounded and stupefied, Abdullah looked towards Nighat, indicated something to her with his hand and she entered the room holding my hand. I followed her like some enchanted or hypnotized soul. Abdullah sat near Iman's feet and spoke gently. "Iman, open your eyes. Look around, someone has come to see you."
But Iman's sleep or unconsciousness still continued. But then, Haya came forward, stroked her hair with her fingers and whispered something into her ears. There was some movement in Iman's body and she slowly opened her eyes, the same large murderous eyes. Then she saw me and for the next few moments, she continued watching me without winking her eyes. It appeared as if she wanted to absorb my image in her eyes. Quite surprisingly, her debilitating fever and weakness had not done any damage to her dazzling beauty. She still looked as captivating and charming as before. But it was quite evident from her irregular breathing that the deadly poison of love had completely pierced into her veins. That brutal poison had ruined and wrecked the whole existence of that innocent, vibrant and delicate girl. What an astonishing day it was, full of extraordinary events. In the presence of Maulvi Alim himself, I was present in the room of her sick daughter. All the members of his family including his would-be son-in-law were present around him in the same room but on that particular day, he seemed to have become speechless. There were tears in his eyes and his hands were trembling so violently that he could not even properly roll the rosary in his hands. Iman's lips quivered for a moment but nobody could understand anything. In a state of shock, the Maulvi went forward, kissed her forehead, recited something and blew on her. Tears were flowing out of his wife's eyes, but she was weeping so silently that no one could imagine her condition without having a closer look at her. My gaze was constantly fixed on Iman. It was on that day that I came to know of the miraculous powers of love. One such miracle happened when Maulvi Alim himself caught my hand and took me near Iman. Haya got up and enabled me to stand at that place. Iman looked towards me and for a moment, there appeared on her lips that faint but vibrant smile which was sufficient to sustain life in the whole universe. It was the same characteristic smile of hers which made dimples in her cheeks. As her eyes came into contact with mine, she conquered the whole universe in a moment and while doing so, she seemed to be saying "Love conquers all." Then, she shut her eyes again and for the next few minutes, I continued watching her, waiting for her to open her eyes again, but her sleep prolonged. Then, I heard Maulvi Alim's voice, as if coming from somewhere in space. He was reciting the Quranic verse which means "To Allah we belong and to Him is our return." This is the verse which is recited by the Muslims on hearing the news of someone's death. I could not understand why the Maulvi was reciting this verse at that time. Had someone died in the neighbourhood? I looked towards him rather disapprovingly and angrily. He should not have recited this verse while watching his princess like daughter sleeping peacefully on the bed. It might prove ominous. But then I saw Haya and Nighat clinging to each other and crying. What had happened to them? I asked myself. In order to get some help from Abdullah, I looked towards him. I wanted him to take away both the stupid girls so that their crying might not disturb Iman in her sound sleep. But I saw another strange spectacle. With his head buried in his knees, Abdullah too was weeping most passionately. Same was the case with Iman's mother. Instead of consoling her, Haya and Nighat were also weeping with her. Time and again, Haya and Nighat were kissing her luminous forehead and combing her hair with their own fingers. Why were they unable to understand the simple fact that it was not proper for them to disturb her peaceful sleep? The Maulvi was still loudly reciting some Quranic verses. As a last resort, I looked towards him, hoping that he might be able to convince the other members of his family to behave in a reasonable way. But to my utter astonishment, his own face and beard were wet with the flowing tears. I wiped away the tears from his face and by placing my finger on my lips, I beckoned all of them to keep quiet but it proved counter productive for Haya and Nighat. Haya was now crying hysterically and it was becoming extremely difficult for her mother to prevent her from total collapse. Nighat came to me, caught hold of my shoulders and shook me violently. "Brother, Iman is gone. She has left us forever. She would never return to us now." The snow and fog frozen on my mind began to melt but I was still finding it difficult to come to grips with the situation. What was Nighat trying to say? Why were all of them still weeping and crying? Then, all of a sudden, the Quranic verses which the Maulvi had just recited began echoing in my ears and I sat down beside Iman's bed. With her eyes shut and breathing stopped, she was lying on the bed, wrapped in a sheet of cloth, with all her bewitching beauty and mesmerizing charm, like a princess, surrounded by a halo of light. She still had a faint smile on her lips but it was I alone who could perceive this smile, because her last smile was only meant for me. In this emotionally charged atmosphere, I called her in a low voice "Iman." But she still remained motionless. Alarmed at her condition, I looked towards the Maulvi who was standing behind me. "What has happened to her? Why isn't she speaking? Tell her to say something. She never disobeys you and has a great love and respect for you. She will surely speak if you ask her to do so."
Instead of answering, the Maulvi burst into tears, pulled me towards him and caught me in his arms. The moment I went into his arms, a flood of tears gushed forth from my eyes. The more he attempted to console me, the more bitterly I cried. Gradually, I began to understand why her breathing had stopped and why she was not responding to our entreaties. But still I was unable to find appropriate words which are used to describe the eternal silence of someone. At that catastrophic moment when Iman was breathing her last, the skies should have burst, the earth's rotation should have stopped and all of us, who were present around her at that time, should have perished. I wondered why nothing of this sort happened. Eversince my first encounter with her, I had become habitual of seeing things with her eyes, but why was light still present in my eyes when she had shut her eyes forever? Why was my power of speech not snatched away from me, in spite of the fact that I had become accustomed to using her words? My ears were always waiting to hear her, sweet, soft and melodious voice, but why did my sense of hearing still remain intact, when there was no more chance of hearing her voice again? My heart which was in the habit of beating along with her heart should have burst the moment her heart beat stopped. I was not willing to give even the shadow of hers to someone else, but how was it that in my own presence, someone took away her soul from her body? In other words, all of my claims proved false. I felt an irresistible urge to cry and scream at the top of my voice but look at my helpless condition. The thought of her sanctity and modesty was preventing me from openly lamenting her death. With the passing moments, as my tears began drying up, I understood the meaning of weeping without shedding tears. The Maulvi tried his best to console me but in a short while, I had to lose control over my consciousness. Before falling unconscious, I saw Iman's mother for the last time. She was still kissing her forehead and covering her face with a sheet of cloth. But then, I became totally oblivious of my surroundings and lost consciousness while I was still in the Maulvi's arms.
After the dramatic events of that day, it took me another fifteen days to regain consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on the bed in a room In Mr. Siddiqi's house, with syringes and drips pierced into the different organs of my body. I was later on told by Mr. Siddiqi that after keeping me in the railway hospital, he had shifted me to his own house, because, the railway hospital did not have all the required facilities. Moreover, he had hired the services of an eminent private doctor of the city and it was not possible for him and the rest of his team to pay daily visits to the railway hospital. For the first few days, I had completely lost my memory. In utter amazement, I only stared at the unfamiliar faces of all those who were frequently walking around me, giving me injections and examining my fever. According to Mr. Siddiqi, the doctors finally decided to shift me to the main hospital of the city, because, my physical condition was gradually improving but my memory was still lost and consequently, my body and mind were not working in harmony with each other. It was a matter of great concern for the doctors who shifted me to the city's main hospital. My physical condition was improving and my fever was becoming less frequent. At times, the nurses found it difficult to make me eat porridge and other such liquid foods. But on such occasions, Mr. Siddiqi came to their help and by means of love or force, made me eat something. Perhaps even in this state of mental stupor, I found myself buried beneath the heap of favours that he had done to me during the past few months. After some time, the hospital attendants began taking me out on the wheel chair to the large lawn and grassy plots of the hospital, so that I could have a stroll in the fresh air.
But there was no improvement in the foggy condition of my mind. I only stared at the faces, attempted to recognize them but failed. Everything seemed to be happening in a dream. Maulvi, Alim, Abdullah, Shakir, Khairu, Ghafura and many other people might have been coming to see me in the hospital and I might have been looking at their faces as if all of them were strangers to me. Although, my body was positively responding to the medicines being given to me by the doctors, my mind was still showing no response to them. In view of my improved physical condition, the doctors permitted Mr. Siddiqi to shift me to his home but at the same time, they advised him to take full care of me. It was perhaps my last evening in the hospital, because I was going to be shifted to Mr. Siddiqi's home the next morning. All of a sudden, there was a stir in the corridors of the hospital. Sitting on my wheel chair beside the window, I was looking outside with vacant eyes. A few moments ago, I had seen two large Mercedes cars entering the hospital compound. In a short while, all the noise that had suddenly erupted in the corridors of the hospital ended up near the door of my room. As the door opened, a woman with a somewhat familiar face was seen entering the room. In a state of shock, she watched me for a few moments and then suddenly, it seemed as if something happened to her. With a loud cry, she ran towards me and held me in her arms most passionately. After her, a ripe aged honourable and dignified man elegantly dressed entered the room, followed by two boys. One of the boys, who looked one or two years younger than I, also started weeping like the woman and began touching my hair and face. I did not like their actions. After a while, the doctor entered the room and said something to the dignified man who came forward with heavy steps and told the woman to keep quiet. They stayed in my room till late at night and when I became sleepy, I was taken to bed by one of the helpers present with the nurse. But before I could sleep, a strange thing happened. The honourable man came to me and lovingly caressed my cheek. I suddenly recalled something. At times during my childhood, while I was going to sleep, someone used to caress my cheeks in the same manner. When I woke up the next morning, all preparations had been made to shift me to Mr. Siddiqi's home. All those people who had come to my room during the previous evening were also present on that occasion. The man and the woman were discussing something with the doctor who was perhaps, trying to make them understand something. Perhaps, they were insisting that they should be permitted to take me with them while the doctor was telling them that it would be better for me to stay with Mr. Siddiqi till my complete recovery. To be very honest, I myself did not want to go with them, because whenever I saw them, I felt a strange kind of burden on my mind. At last, on seeing the signs of dislike for them on my face, they also decided to act in accordance with the doctor's advice. However, they accompanied me in their cars to Mr. Siddiqi's home. Afterwards, they began coming there quite regularly and watching me while I was sitting on my wheel chair in the veranda or the garden and looking at some flower or wall.
Another strange thing happened a few days later. A man dressed as a driver arrived there with a young girl. Both of them seemed quite familiar and for some unknown reason, the girl burst into tears, as soon as she saw me. With a great deal of difficulty, the uniformed driver and Mr. Siddiqi made her silent. When the girl asked Mr. Siddiqi about my clothes and other things, he brought from somewhere a shirt and a uniform worn by the coolies. As the girl was looking into the pockets of the uniform and the shirt, two pearls fell down on the ground from some pocket. The moment they tossed on the floor, quite involuntarily, my hands advanced towards them to pick them up, as if they were a valuable possession of mine which I did not wish to lose at any cost. With the sound of the falling pearls, something crashed inside me. After falling on the floor, they again tossed in the air and there was another crash inside me. It seemed to me that a movie was being shown in slow motion. Before the pearls could come down on the ground for the third time, I could feel thunder like explosions taking place in my mind. My befogged mind and benumbed sensibilities were suddenly jolted and I remembered that the pearls had been given to me by Iman. Yes of course, these were the same pearls but how did they reach here? I realized that the girl standing before me was Nighat who had come there with her father Shakir and the other man standing with them was Mr. Siddiqi. Afterwards, I gradually recalled all the events that had taken place since that dark ominous night and recognized all the faces that I had seen during the past few days in the hospital and in Mr. Siddiqi's home. Shakir was accompanied by none other than the Commissioner, my mother and the rest of the members of my family. Iman had gone but what a shameful thing it was that I was still alive. My head was gripped by a severe pain. I was later on informed by the doctors that I had temporarily lost my mental equilibrium due to the sudden shock of that night. In medical terms, it is perhaps known as temporary amnesia. I had seen several such events in the movies on the cinema screen without knowing that I was also destined to pass through the same experience. The events that took place afterwards can be described in a few words. The Commissioner, and my mother repeatedly came to Mr. Siddiqi's home in the hope of taking me back with them. Mr. Siddiqi also had the same opinion but I frankly told all of them that I could shift to any other place but would not like to return home. On hearing my refusal, they no more insisted on my going with them. All the members of my family including the Commissioner, my mother, my brother Sajjad and his wife were extremely ashamed of their behaviour but now I had no concern with them. The girl for whom I had been living and for whose sake I had forsaken everyone and everything no longer remained in the world and now, it did not matter where and how I would spend the rest of my life. Ibad however daily came to meet me at the station. By now, all the employees at the station had become aware of my identity. But Khairu, Ghafura and other workers at the station were still my friends and always took care of me. However, even after regaining my consciousness, I could not get back my words. For hours and hours, I used to sit at the same place, staring in the sky, without saying anything to anyone. Till then, I had not been able to reconcile myself with the idea that Iman had died. I was fed up with the whole world and was full of hatred and disdain for religion which had grabbed away my Iman from me. The innocent girl had been fatally caught up and ruthlessly crushed in the war of love and religion. Her tender heart and simple mind could not stand up to the pressure of this brutal war and eventually, she lost the battle of her life.
On a couple of occasions, Abdullah also came to see me at the station. But on each occasion, we simply sat facing each other, without exchanging even a single word. His immense sorrow and grief at the loss of Iman was not so much different from that of mine. Instead of using words, we were capable of conveying our feelings and emotions in a better way through the language of silence. At times, words deprive our feelings and emotions of their real worth and value, scale down their honour, prestige and importance and are unable to describe their force and intensity. The fact is that on certain occasions, words disgrace our feelings and emotions and, therefore, instead of talking to each other, Abdullah and I preferred to remain silent in order to feel each other's pain and agony.
During my first meeting with Nighat after regaining consciousness, she described to me about Maulvi Alim's change of mind. I came to know from her that before her death, Iman had been suffering from the same deadly fever for the last two nights. It appeared that her soul was eager to leave her body but she seemed to be desperately waiting for someone before letting her soul fly to the heavens. Two days before her death, the doctors had expressed their hopelessness about her recovery but still, the Maulvi firmly believed that his prayers were more powerful and more effective than all the medicines. But this faith in the power of prayers began to crumble on the third day. Abdullah fell down on the Maulvi's feet and implored him to let Iman have a final glimpse of mine before dying, because all the other members of her family knew that this was exactly what she wanted. But at the same time, all of them were fully aware of the fact that due to her modesty and shyness, she would never say this thing to anyone, even if it required her to remain in the same miserable and agonizing condition for an indefinite period. Haya had also requested Abdullah to fetch me from the station. Instead of taking any personal initiative in this connection, Abdullah approached the Maulvi and lodged a humble appeal to allow him to fulfil this last desire of Iman Initially, the Maulvi was infuriated and bitterly scolded him but with the passage of time, as Iman's condition rapidly deteriorated, the rigid religious father of his inside crumbled. Finally, on the third evening, when Abdullah literally wept before him, he had to surrender. For the first time in his life, he allowed a stranger to cross the threshold of his house and even permitted him to go to the women's portion. Perhaps, he was shattered from inside that very moment, when he realized that Iman's passion of love for me was as strong as was mine for her. It was something quite unimaginable for him. He was absolutely sure of Iman's faithfulness and obedience to him and could not simply imagine that someone else could ever secretly enter her heart. It was the worst shock for the strict and rigid religious man present inside him. But at the same time, he was a loving father as well and the fact that her beloved daughter sacrificed her life for the sake of his pleasure without letting him know about the real condition of her heart, was most agonizing for him. Perhaps, the man who finally permitted Abdullah to bring me from the station was not Maulvi Alimuddin but a kind and loving father. But it was too late when he took that step because by then, he had lost his daughter forever.
During her severe illness, Iman had given Nighat a closed envelope containing a letter for me and had requested her to give it to me after her marriage with Abdullah. While giving her last letter to Nighat Iman could not have imagined that her own days had been numbered in this world. Anyhow, Nighat handed over that envelope to me but for several days, I could not open it. Daily, I summoned up my courage and thought of opening it, but I always lost courage at the last moment and carefully put it back into the drawer. Daily, I brought out that closed envelope from the drawer like some very sacred writing, kissed it, touched my forehead and eyes with it and then put it back in the same drawer. Perhaps by doing so, I endeavoured to strengthen my notion that Iman was still with me with her unread letter. I wanted to find an excuse for passing the rest of my life imagining that I could hear her unsaid words. But this situation could not last long. One day, Mr. Siddiqi who was in his office, telephoned his servant Rahim to bring some particular paper from home. At that time, Rahim was cooking meal. He could not properly understand which paper was required by Mr. Siddiqi. In a hurry, he took out Iman's closed letter from the drawer and gave it to Mr. Siddiqi in his office. As soon as he opened the envelope and began reading the paper inside it, he realized his mistake. Sitting in a desolate corner of the platform at that time, I was watching two labourers unloading goods from the goods train. As I looked around, I saw Mr. Siddiqi coming towards me. I immediately stood up and greeted him. "I'm sorry gentleman. I had asked Rahim to bring a paper from home but he mistakenly brought this envelope which seems to have your personal letter. Although I've opened it, yet, rest assured that I haven't read even a single line of it."
After giving me Iman's letter in the open envelope, Mr. Siddiqi went away. The moment I held it in my trembling hands, my condition changed dramatically. My legs became lifeless and I seemed to be suffering from some paralyzing disease for several years. In utter bewilderment, I sat down on the bench with my violently beating heart. I had a feeling that Iman herself was sitting beside me. For several days, this letter had been lying in my table's drawer but I had not been able to read it. Now that Mr. Siddiqi had mistakenly opened it and given it to me, I had a burning desire to read it. The disturbed condition of my heart at that moment was not different from that which I had while I was attempting to talk to Iman during the couple of meetings that I had with her. Finally, I took out the letter from the envelope with my trembling fingers. Tears began flowing out of my eyes quite spontaneously as soon as I glanced at her captivating style of writing.
"I know that you wouldn't have returned home till now. You seem to have forgotten what I told you about love. I told you that there is no obstinacy in love. Love is the name of surrendering, even after victory. Only true lovers know how to surrender after winning. Hammad, you have also won and, therefore, please surrender for my sake. Moreover, love does not necessarily mean achieving your objective as I told you that the whole life can easily be spent relishing the memories of a single meeting. It doesn't matter if I haven't been able to become yours in this life. I will always be praying for your eternal company in the next world. I'm fully aware of the fact that in order to return to your home, you'll have to swallow many bitter pills and fight against strong opposition from your own inside. But I know that you're fully capable of doing all these things.
Take care of yourself and always be happy."
For a long long time, I sat at the same place, reading her letter again and again and shedding tears choking with emotions. I was suddenly startled when someone placed his hand on my shoulder. It was Abdullah who must have been standing their for a long time, watching my condition. He wiped away the tears from my cheeks and then looked into my eyes. "For how long will you continue to make us weep? Just have a look at those who've come to see you today."
As I followed Abdullah's gaze, I stood up in confusion. The platform seemed to be crowded with the members of Shakir's family and those of my own. I could see Mother, my elder Brother Sajjad, his wife Abrina, their son sunny, my younger brother Ibad, Nighat and Shakir. But most astonishing for me was the sight of the Commissioner standing hand in hand with Maulvi Alimuddin. They were standing ahead of everyone. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the Maulvi with tearful eyes holding the Commissioner's hand. How was it that the most powerful and most arrogant retired commissioner of the city was standing shoulder to shoulder with a poor Maulvi? The amazing thing was that his eyes were full of regret and remorse instead of pride and arrogance and his back that had always been erect was now bent. All the others stood there, only the Maulvi came towards me and I automatically lowered my eyes when he placed his hands on my shoulders. "Hammad, you have won and your love too has won. You have proved that true love can defeat the whole world. All of us have been shattered from inside. We are all ashamed of our behaviour. The Commissioner himself came to my home. He, his wife and all the others have made amends for their misbehaviour. Forgiveness is a great virtue. I humbly request you to forgive me and the members of your family. We all consider ourselves to be very low and humble as compared to your lofty and sublime love. Those who are low and humble, are not punished, they are forgiven. You should also forgive us all. I am even ready to fold my hands before you."
But before he could fold his hands, I immediately caught them in my own hands. As he embraced me, our eyes flooded with tears. While trying to console me, he could not control his own tears. Holding my hand, he took me to the Commissioner standing a few steps away. As I stood there with my bent head, he caressed my cheeks as he used to do in my childhood. All of a sudden, the Retired Commissioner Amjad Raza disappeared from my sight and instead, I could see my dear father whom I had known in my childhood. As he extended his arms, I buried my head into his chest and burst into tears. Holding me in his arms, he too went on weeping for a long time. After several years, a father and his son were locked in a warm and loving embrace. Seeing us in this condition, Mother, Sajjad, Ibad, Abrina, Shakir and Nighat surrounded me. All of them were touching me and expressing their love for me. They were all shedding tears, as tears are one of the most effective means of expressing our feelings and emotions. We shed our tears only for those who are very near and dear to us and it was for the first time that I had seen tears in my father's eyes. Standing at some distance with Khairu and other workers, Ghafura was also wiping away the tears from his eyes with a large handkerchief. There was a strange delight on their faces but at the same time, they all seemed somewhat sad inwardly. Perhaps, they had realized that I would no longer stay with them. I knew very well that physically, I might be away from them but spiritually, I would always be among them because there are certain relations which are unbreakable. Ghafura, Khairu and others were somewhat afraid of the Commissioner and, therefore, could not come closer to me. When my father saw them waving hands towards me from a distance, he himself took me to them and I introduced all of them to him one by one, exactly as I used to introduce my friends to him during my childhood. He shook hands with all of them and thanked them for taking care of me. In the meantime, Mr. Siddiqi also arrived there and Father hugged him for a long time. Perhaps, Shakir had told him everything about Mr. Siddiqi and his kind treatment with me. All of them gave me a hearty send off as if I had been a bridegroom embarking upon my matrimonial journey.
Apparently, Iman had gone away from me, never to come back again, but in reality, she was always with me, talking to me, encouraging me, loving me, wiping away my tears and touching her eyes with my hands. At last, I was back home again, but there was nothing which could attract my attention or interest. I myself asked Father to arrange my admission in London's Kingston University and filled in the application forms. One month later, I received call letter from the University and on a cold November evening, I left Iman's city carrying with me an inexhaustible treasure of her memories.
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