Mehrunnisa:

A love story from Lahore

By Zeenat Mahal

[Chapter 5]

Mehru would’ve screamed but she was too scared to do even that. The shadow that had detached itself from the rest of the darkness became solid and in the next instant, she saw that it was her father.

‘Mehru, my dear…’
She didn’t move.

How long she’d hoped to hear these words, to see that expression of love but it was too little too late. Yet, he still looked uncomfortable. Mehru wanted to laugh so she wouldn’t cry, but she did neither.

‘I know I haven’t come to see you before. I should have but…’

‘It’s alright. You don’t have to. In fact, I don’t even have to stay here. Bibi won’t let me leave, however.’

He looked even more uncomfortable.
‘This is your home. This is where you belong. Why should you want to leave?’

Pretence

Mehru cocked her head to the side just a bit and said, ‘No. This isn’t my home. Nor do I belong here. My mother didn’t, so I don’t either. I haven’t forgotten, nor will I ever. So maybe you should give up with the pretence.’

His face dropped.

‘Mehru, this isn’t pretence. I’m sorry for what happened with Lispeth. I loved your mother.’

‘Then I hope to God, no man ever loves me.’

‘Mehru!’ he growled in warning. ‘Just because I understand I’ve wronged you does not mean you can forget your place or mine. I’m your father.’

‘Unfortunately.’

Her calmness had the desired effect and he pleaded again, ‘Mehru, my dear, won’t you give your father another chance?’

She looked back at him and said in a steady voice, ‘I will.’ He smiled with relief and gratitude and took a step forward.

Mehru added in the same calm voice, ‘The day you’re able to give my mother a second chance at a happy life, my dear father, I’ll give you a chance too.’

He stopped in his tracks and she turned around to leave.

‘Mehru. You might not be able to forgive me, but I know you love me. I know that and I will wait for you to get over your anger. I brought you this, for Eid. Tomorrow’s Eid…and I just…’

Unshed tears

Mehru didn’t stop nor did she look back because already her eyes were stinging with her unshed tears.

Bibi was there to comfort her, to hug her and soothe her aching heart, but like always she was also full of advice Mehru had no desire to take.

‘You must not blame him so much, little dove. What was he to do? In those days, young men were not as defiant as they are now, with their new-fangled English education. Your father was a man of his times, and he had to do what his mother decreed. He didn’t have a choice…’

Bibi went on and on, but Mehru’s thoughts entangled and got stuck at the mention of her grandmother. She was the spider who had spun this web that even now had them all captured like flies. Mehru felt the stickiness of those thin strands that she couldn’t disentangle from, or her life, her thoughts, in fact, her very being was pinned down by events that had happened long before she was even born.

Bibi was right, it wasn’t just her father, it was his mother who must pay for what they’d done to Lispeth, for what they were doing to Mehru.

Eid-ul-Azha was a grand affair.

Excitement

With such a large household, there were 15 goats to be sacrificed. Everyone was dressed. Mehru had never seen her family so relaxed. Men and boys were sitting around in the main sitting room as if they belonged there. Though all the girls had their heads covered, they were sitting there with them, sometimes even talking with the unmarried boys. Mehru exchanged looks with Bibi and tried not to laugh at the girls, who were hard-pressed to contain their excitement.

Apparently twice a year the rules were relaxed. Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-ul-Azha were the two festivals, which, being religious, were sanctioned safe and holy enough for the boys and girls to at least see each other, at times even talk.

Mehru’s secret posse of female admirers sat around her giggling along with her, while Bibi glared and shook her head at them, which made them laugh all the more.

There was a wooden chess table on one side of the room, polished and stained to perfection, and the large solid wood chess pieces were fabulous specimen of extraordinary craftsmanship. When Mehru saw one of the little girls playing with the knight, she told them about her love of chess and how she used to play with Bibi.

Her grandmother overheard and said, ‘So you think you can play chess? Let’s see you keep your claim, Mehrunissa.’

Silence

There was absolute silence in the room. Mehru looked up. Her grandmother looked austere and slightly mocking.

‘I made no claims. I just told you the truth. I can play but I haven’t played in a while…’

Her grandmother laughed.
‘What, giving up already?’

Mehru felt her back turn to steel and she said softly, ‘Not without a fight.’
Ajoo Chacha laughed and said, ‘Takes after me, I see.’

Ajoo Chacha and his wife, Mallo Chachi, were Mehru’s favourite people. She was most comfortable with them.

‘Mallo, you play chess, don’t you? Let’s see you tackle your niece then.’
Your niece. Your daughter.

So be it. Mehru didn’t really care.

Her uncles laughed and Mallo Chachi stepped up. Mehru checkmated her in three moves. Ajoo Chacha offered to play next, saying he had to save the family honour. That made everyone laugh. Mehru was a bit reluctant to finish him off too soon. The game went on for about five minutes and she’d done no real damage to him.

‘Mehru, are you being kind or am I that good?’

Mehru laughed but saw her grandmother sneering. That was enough. She stopped playing nice.

‘How did you do that?’ Ajoo Chacha gasped, when he was checkmated two minutes later.

‘I’m sorry Ajoo Chacha…’

Laughing, he replied, ‘Don’t worry, Mehru. Well done. You should play someone who’s really good. We’re no match for you. Shahbaz Chacha?’

Her other uncle declined gallantly. ‘Not me. I won’t be walloped by my own niece.’

Mehru laughed.

Clearing her throat loudly, her grandmother said, ‘Jamal, you play chess rather well, I remember?’

Champion

Her grandmother threw the gauntlet and her champion into the arena. Jamal’s bedroom eyes were on Mehru. He smiled and said, ‘I think I do, Ami Begum. But there’s only one way to find out.’

Mehru rearranged the pieces and raised her finely arched eyebrow at her adversary.

Jamal gave another half-smile, as if he was afraid to smile too much with her, she thought, and took the chair his sister had vacated.

All eyes were on them. She made the first two or three moves automatically. Her grandmother looked alert and apprehensive. Good, thought Mehru and her eyes returned to the board and…she was startled.

This man wasn’t as much of an amateur as she’d thought. She took stock quickly and made her move, hedging his knight. Immediately, he took her castle with his bishop.

His eyes glittered with challenge. Mehru gave him an appraising look. He thought he was clever, did he? Concentrating on the game, she proceeded to snag his castle and his bishop in the next three moves.

He smiled appreciatively but didn’t relent or look crestfallen. Soon she’d forgotten everyone else as the game grew more serious. If he won, which was impossible because she was really good and had an IQ he had no hopes of matching, but in the off-chance that he did, she’d be humiliated before her grandmother and she just couldn’t allow that to happen.

Golden cheeks

Jamal watched her unashamedly. No one could find fault if a man stared at his opponent…and had anyone had a more beautiful adversary ever? Her golden cheeks were slightly flushed now, her plump lower lip caught in a wickedly inciting vice with her pearly white teeth, as she concentrated on the game.

He watched her, riveted, completely and utterly beyond the point of return. Was he in love, he wondered vaguely. He knew the many shades her grey eyes flashed when she was angry or happy and how they stilled into darker pools when she was sad.

How her full-lipped mouth drooped slightly at the corners when she felt out of place. His mind switched off as she smiled at him. The beautiful grey eyes no longer sad but alert.

He looked down at the board. She’d cornered his queen and his last remaining bishop.‘Who asks whether your foe was defeated by strategy or valour?’She said, trying not smile, and he couldn’t help smiling back. She looked so happy at having bested him…almost.

‘Voltaire.’ She clarified with a bigger smile.

He chose to save his queen. She took his bishop, cornering his castle and knight.

A round of applause went up and she laughed a little. There was a certain degree of satisfaction returning to those grey eyes. His next move was deceptively docile, which cost him his castle. She fell for it. He took her queen with his knight.

Her grandmother chuckled.
Suicidal

Jamal smiled as Mehru’s eyes flickered. Watching the board like a hawk, she played a move that was too simple…almost suicidal.

What was she doing? She’d put her knight in jeopardy for no apparent reason. He could easily get her and it’d be all over for her in a few more moves.

He looked up at her, to watch for any sign of foul play. He didn’t see anything except that glow on her golden skin, her dark eyelashes fanning over her cheeks. Maybe her grandmother’s obvious glee had made her lose her concentration? It was too good a chance to miss and he went after her knight.

‘The knight is my favourite chess piece.

The romance attached to the knight perhaps. But it’s so crucial to remember all the pieces.’

She’d lost the knight, and ignoring the bishop that was still too precariously positioned she moved her castle to cage his king between it, and the bishop.

‘Checkmate.’

God, he was a fool. She’d baited him. Child’s play. He felt humiliated; not because he’d lost but because of the way he lost.

And she wasn’t even looking at him as she enjoyed her victory. She was looking at her grandmother. He’d been a pawn between two queens.

Check and mate.
Glossary of terms

Eid-ul-Fitr: Religious Muslim festival after Ramadan, the month of fasting.

Eid-ul-Azha: Religious Muslim Festival after the obligatory performance of Hajj in Makkah, where an animal is sacrificed for Allah, in remembrance of Abraham’s sacrifice of his son Ismail for God. Ismail was saved, and a sheep was placed there in his stead.

Chacha: Paternal Uncle
Chachi: Paternal Aunt