Mehrunnissa:

A love story from Lahore

By Zeenat Mahal

[Chapter 12]

Mallo Chachi looked at Bibi. Ajoo Chacha looked at the sky and the trees. Bibi sighed and came forward.

‘The poor dear is exhausted. Must be the heat. Go on then Mallo Jee. Goodbye.’

‘Bibi!’ Mehru stared at her. ‘You can’t do this. We have to go with them. He’s going to imprison me. He said so…you don’t know him. He’s not who you think he is…’

They looked at her, and each other in alarm. Mallo Chachi hugged her and whispered, ‘Hush now! You can’t talk like this about your husband.

Of course he’s going to lay down a few rules Mehru but he’s an educated man and don’t you remember how he said he loved you, in front of everyone?

He’s going to make you very happy. You’ll see. I know my Jamal.’

‘Oh I think you don’t!’

Bibi held her from the shoulders making soothing sounds one would make to a hysterical child.

‘Bibi stop this. You know what I’m talking about. Tell them.’

When she turned her head again she was looking at the departing coach. She stared after it, listening to the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves.

‘Thanks a lot Bibi. Now you are a prisoner as well.

Bibi laughed and said, ‘Oh my dear. I cannot believe you told your husband that you made a fool of him and expected him to not react like he has.’

Mehru glared at Bibi and flounced inside.

She cried herself to sleep. She sobbed and howled and didn’t even try to control it. She refused to speak with Bibi, who went to find herself some tea and livelier company in the kitchen.

So when Jamal entered her room that evening she was exhausted with crying. Her eyes were swollen and she felt helpless and all alone.

Moment

He watched her quietly for a moment, and then in his icy, contemptuous voice, he said, ‘If I have to come to your—lair—to warn you again, it will be most unpleasant for you. Don’t keep making the same mistakes. If you listen to me, you’ll make your life a little easier for yourself.

Mallo Apa told me about your theatrics and I’ve told them not to come here again until I ask them to, seeing as you’re susceptible to hysteria. I told you, I don’t want to have to look at you. So stay out of my way. Conduct yourself in a manner that doesn’t oblige me to give you repeated warnings. Is that clear?’

Last chance

She didn’t answer. Her last chance at escape had been vanquished by none other than Bibi. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even look at him.

‘Is that clear Mehrunnissa? Do not make me stoop to doing things I might learn to enjoy.’

That made her look up. Was he hinting at violence? Giving her a disdainful look, he left.

But he shouldn’t have said what he did. He shouldn’t have threatened her. He should not have made the mistake of thinking she was a coward or could be cowed.

Mehru raised herself from the bed slowly. He really shouldn’t have. She knew at some level that she’d wronged him. She knew it. But she was a Rajput like her grandmother.

And nothing energised Rajputs, more than vendettas, her mother had told her once.

There are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help and what they cannot. Plato was nobody’s fool.

Jamal had sealed his own fate, with this feudal attitude. She dragged herself off the bed and took a long cleansing shower to wash away her previous guilt over using him, and then she went downstairs to eat. She hadn’t had a decent mean in three days. How was she going to plot, if her mind wasn’t working?

Brief hiatus

Jamal ate separately. He obviously couldn’t stand the sight of her. Mehru ate single-mindedly. Her eyes fixed at a spot on the table she ate mechanically, neither tasting nor looking at her food. Just eating to fuel her brain and letting her mind grind back into life after its brief hiatus into helpless victimized mode.

‘Thank God for small mercies,’ said Bibi.
‘You are not my friend.’ Mehru told her stuffing her mouth with a chunk of paratha.
‘Of course I am. The only one.’

‘You should’ve listened to me. He is a monster.’ Mehru bit off a piece of chicken off and put it in her mouth.

‘He is a man.’

‘Exactly my point.’ Mehru scooped peas up in a spoon and chewed like there was no tomorrow.

Bibi looked at her with a faint look of alarm.

‘You sure look hungry.’

Friend

‘I am. Haven’t eaten in two days. That….man…made me marry him, brought me to this place and my one and only friend won’t help me escape. I am on my own. And I will not let this happen to me. I have to eat.’

She put a piece of potato in her mouth and glared at Bibi chewing judiciously.
Bibi looked away quickly.

‘You think this is funny? You think I will let a man treat me like this after what happened with my mother?’

Bibi said, ‘This is completely different. Jamal is not your father.’
‘He’s worse.’

‘No, he isn’t. He is in love with you Mehru, and you told him you used him—‘
‘So that he wouldn’t marry me! To save him.’

‘Men don’t want to be saved. Especially not from women. He wanted to marry you. He fought with his entire world for you. You shouldn’t have told him.’

‘Ah, so I’m wrong because I told the truth?’

‘Truth is over-rated.’
Mehru laughed.

‘Bibi, trust you to say something like that. Maddening as you are, I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t feel so alone and helpless anymore.’

‘You will never be alone, my love. Never. Not ever again.’

Bibi smiled looking at Mehru thanking God that the marriage had taken place despite Mehru’s unwise confession. If something were to happen to her now, Mehru would be safe. Jamal would always protect her.

‘All we have to do now, is plan.’
Drawn out of her reverie, Bibi merely raised her eyebrows.

‘Well, it’s very simple Bibi. Jamal is very honourable, very decent. You are right. I miscalculated. He was protecting his honour by making sure we got married.’

‘Exactly. It was nothing to do with you.’

Bibi said wryly. Mehru frowned but continued, ‘So the only thing to do now is to make sure his honour demands that he let me go. I am going to make his life so miserable, he will have to let me go. Viola. Freedom.’

Bibi looked at her little girl and sighed in resignation as she chewed and smiled, with her eyes glittering as she planned vengeance.

Glossary of terms

Chachi: wife of paternal Uncle
Chacha: Paternal uncle
Paratha: traditional layered flat bread made with oil
Apa: older sister