has lost Jafar.’ Shahzada’s voice had sunk to a whisper. She waited for the significance of her comment to register in her daughter’s mind, hoping she understood , but as Zarri Bano continued to stare blankly, Shahzada was compelled to explain.
‘Your father …’ Shahzada swallowed, finding it hard to say the words, ‘… wants you to become his heiress, and our
Shahzadi Ibadat
, our “Holy Woman”, in the traditional way.’
Zarri Bano stared, stupefied, as the meaning of what her mother had just said sank in. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
In fear Shahzada looked up and Zarri Bano saw her own horror mirrored in her mother’s warm brown eyes. The eyes of a hunted, wounded animal. The world turned on its axis for Zarri Bano.
‘No, Mother!
No
!’
The cry arose from the very depths of her soul.
Chapter 7
S URELY M OTHER HAS misunderstood! Zarri Bano thought wildly in her room after Shahzada had dropped the bombshell and then rushed out, her long white
chador
trailing behind her.
‘It cannot be! – they couldn’t do that to me!’ Zarri Bano implored the walls of her room. ‘I must talk to my father and rid this bizarre idea from my mind.’ She shook her head to see if that would do the trick, but she only felt more dizzy and confused than before.
Pacing up and down in her room, Zarri Bano wondered who she could confide in. If she told Ruby, her sister would be just as horrified and shocked as herself. Why burden her further in her grief?
Later in the day, she tried to talk to her father, but all to no avail. Wearing a mask of mourning, Habib was surrounded by other men and she couldn’t reach him. Zarri Bano couldn’t rest, however, until she confronted him with it. ‘I must talk to him tonight!’ she fretted.
At about half past eleven, when she knew her parents would be in their bedroom, Zarri Bano knocked ontheir door and entered. The large room with its tall ceiling was in semi-darkness, but the walnut furniture gave it a warm glow. Her mother was praying in one corner on her prayer mat. Habib sat on the sofa near the bed, flicking through the
Jang
newspaper. He put it aside when he saw his daughter enter.
‘How are you, my princess?’ he began indulgently, his face splitting into a smile. ‘With all these guests everywhere, I haven’t been able to talk to you or to comfort you, my dear daughter.’
When Zarri Bano sat down next to him, Habib gave his full attention to his favourite child, his beautiful gem. Even his only son hadn’t been able to compete with the affection he felt for Zarri Bano. Taking hold of his hand, she kissed it and held it against her cheek.
‘Father, I miss our brother. How will we ever survive without him?’ she cried, leaning her head against his shoulder. Putting his arm around her, he squeezed her tight. Then, remembering why she had come, Zarri Bano pulled her head away.
‘Father, I didn’t have a chance to tell you about my visit to Karachi,’ she said.
Habib lowered his gaze to the newspaper. ‘ Huhumm !’ He made a noncommittal sound in his throat. Zarri Bano watched as the kindly smile was replaced with a blank look.
‘Sikander Sahib proposed to me,’ she continued softly, waiting for him to look up so that she could see his reaction. Instead she saw his shoulders and neck go rigid. ‘Did you hear me, Father?’ Zarri Bano prompted nervously.
‘Yes, I heard you, Zarri Bano.’ Habib turned towards her. ‘I knew about it. Your mother told me. What did you say to him?’ His voice was hard.
Stooped on the mat, Shahzada forgot the prayer sequence she was reciting as she waited, with a thumping heart, for her daughter’s reply.
‘I accepted. I know that it is the wrong time, but I thought that I ought to tell you first, before Sikander’s parents approach you.’ Zarri Bano found herself rushing the words in one breath. Her cheeks burnt with embarrassment when no reaction was forthcoming. ‘Aren’t you pleased, Father?
Learning to Kill: Stories