Authors: Qaisra Shahraz
T
HERE WAS A
flurry of activity at the villa. After
alerting
everyone that their expected guests from Karachi were well on their way, Zarri Bano dashed straight
upstairs
to her bedroom, two steps at a time, and quickly changed into another designer outfit, this time in a pale shade of pink. Her younger sister Ruby came into the room and teasingly assessed Zarri from head to foot.
‘You have changed! You are actually going to go down and face the guests! I don’t believe it,’ she said, pretending to be astonished. ‘Normally you don’t even deign to meet either your suitors or their parents. This man must therefore be very special if my
malika
, my queen of a sister, makes an effort to change.’ Ruby’s eyes moved appreciatively over her sister’s slim figure.
‘Oh, come on, Ruby. I have been to the
mela
with Jafar. I felt hot and sweaty and decided to change. Who says that I am actually going down to meet him? He has a cheek in coming personally, and not even
bothering
to send a photograph of himself in advance.’ Zarri Bano chastised her sister in the mirror, while fixing a curl in place as she pinned her hair up in an attractive chignon on top of her head, letting some wispy tendrils escape around her ears. She was piqued that the stranger had seen her and probably knew who she was. He had caught her at a disadvantage.
‘So that you could have a preview?’ Ruby read her sister’s thoughts accurately.
‘No,’ Zarri Bano lied.
They had both had a preview. Remembering his
searing
glance she felt herself go hot with embarrassment and indignation. When her car had passed his Jeep, he had again looked at her closely – almost as if he had dived deeply into her soul. Shuddering in front of the mirror she glimpsed a look of uncertainty in her eyes, and something else.
Finished, she went to stand near the window
overlooking
the large, beautifully landscaped central
courtyard
of their villa. It was then that the black Jeep entered through the open gates and came to a halt next to the Banos’ grey car.
Sikander helped his father out, then both men stood and looked round the courtyard with interest. There was a central rose bed in full bloom, and on all sides, profusely flowering oleanders and perfumed
bougainvillaea
climbed to the top of the six foot walls. A long veranda, with alabaster pillars and a mosaic tiled floor, led into the house. As the young man’s eyes swept up to the bedroom windows, Zarri Bano hastily stepped back behind the curtains, afraid that he might have seen her.
Noting her sister’s actions, Ruby moved to the
window
and peered down. Jafar had now joined their two guests.
‘Gosh,
Ma’shallah
, he is very attractive. No wonder you have changed.’ Ruby chuckled at the tide of colour sinking into her sister’s cheeks.
Irked by this teasing, Zarri Bano said crossly, ‘Who says he is attractive? Do you remember Ali? Could any man compete with his looks!’
‘Yes, Ali was very, very good-looking. But there is something about this man – some kind of charisma. I think he may have the bait to draw you into his net, his web – even if it is not his looks.’
‘Don’t talk to me about nets and webs!’ Zarri Bano snapped, moving away from the window. ‘I am not a fish to be angled at, caught and trapped, Ruby.’
‘I am sorry,
Baji Jan
. That was unforgivable of me, especially knowing how you feel about such analogies and with you being a feminist too.’
‘Yes, so you should be. I am a free woman. I will decide if I want this or any other man. This is why ten years have elapsed and I have still not married. You’ll probably marry before me, and I will be an old maid,’ she joked.
‘You’ll never be an old maid, Zarri Bano. You are too
beautiful and glamorous to be left on the shelf.
Someone
will snap you up some day, if not this man. Do you know, I
will
probably end up marrying before you, the way you are turning people down. I shall probably land up with one of your jilted suitors. Do you know how many times Chaudharani Kaniz has been to visit us, even after you declined to marry Khawar? I think she has got her eye on me now. If you won’t marry him, she thinks I’ll do instead.’
‘Neither of us will be marrying Khawar. He is more like a brother to us. Anyway can you imagine you or me as the next snobbish Chaudharani Kaniz in the village? No thanks. I’d be bored out of my wits.’
This little exchange had done Zarri Bano the world of good. It had helped her to recover her normal poise. Just because I have caught him staring at me from a crowd of people, and I have stared back, she told herself resolutely, it doesn’t mean anything. I am not going to fall under his spell, as Ruby seems to think.
She did, however, wonder why, contrary to her
normal
practice, she was prepared to go and meet these guests and spend time in their presence. Normally she found these meetings with would-be suitors nauseous and demeaning, particularly when she knew she would be declining their proposals of marriage.
To hell with all the analysis, she thought
emphatically
as she descended the ornate circular staircase
leading
into the central hallway, and walked with a firm step towards the guest drawing room. She was a mature woman of twenty-seven years of age, not a simpering teenager, whose hand had been asked for. She was going to treat this man as a normal guest. Holding herself tall and erect, Zarri Bano stood outside the door, ready to make her formal entrance.
Sikander and his father Raja Din were sitting and
talking
to Zarri Bano’s parents. Tea had been served by Fatima, their housekeeper. It was the first time that they had all met. Jafar and Sikander had got to know each other in Karachi on business. On one occasion Sikander had invited Jafar to his home.
A friendship had quickly blossomed between the two men. On one such occasion Sikander’s mother mentioned to Jafar the subject of finding a suitable bride for her son. At that time all Jafar could think of was his own two sisters. The elder one, he had informed them, had declined so many suitors that they had lost count and were embarrassed on behalf of the people who had come to ask for her hand. ‘You are welcome to try, however,’ he had informed Sikander. ‘If not, there is always my younger sister, Ruby,’ he chuckled.
After meeting Sikander and getting to know him better, Jafar knew instinctively that his eldest sister, Zarri Bano, was the woman for his friend. In age, education, looks and temperament, they were well matched on all accounts.
On his return, Jafar had informed his parents and Zarri Bano about Sikander. She, for her part, had
dismissed
the matter from her mind straight away – she wasn’t interested! Although for a moment or two it did occur to her that it would be handy to be married to someone settled in Karachi, when she set up her publishing company. Jafar’s father, Habib, and mother, Shahzada were, however, very interested. They asked Jafar to invite his friend and his parents to their home.
Yet in their hearts they despaired. It had almost become routine, turning suitors away. It wasn’t only
Zarri Bano who rejected the men who came to see her and ask for her hand; her father, too, was every bit as fastidious. Somehow, none of the callers ever seemed to measure up to his very intelligent and very beautiful eldest daughter. He always ended up by declaring
arrogantly
: ‘The man has to be the best.’ When Zarri Bano declined, Habib secretly applauded and was grateful for her decision.
His wife, on the other hand, saw things from a mother’s point of view. She was on the point of sheer desperation. Zarri Bano was in her late twenties and still there was no marriage in sight. ‘When will she settle down and raise a family?’ she kept asking her husband, and Habib was wont to reply flippantly that there was plenty of time.
‘Do you want to saddle our beautiful daughter to any
nathu pethu?
’ he asked her. ‘I’ll only let her marry a man of the highest pedigree from a land-owning family at that, with a good name and social standing.’
His wife was then duty-bound to scold him. ‘Don’t say that, Habib Sahib. All children are precious in their parents’ eyes, including those suitors. It is not good to keep dismissing them. You and your daughter will gain a bad reputation. They will think that she is too grand, proud and opinionated, when in fact, she’s just been unable to make her choice. You haven’t helped either. You have been colluding with her in rejecting the suitors, haven’t you?’
‘Don’t be silly! I am just very possessive of my daughter and want the best for her.’
‘That is just it – you are
too
possessive! That’s the problem. It is not healthy, Habib Sahib.’ Shahzada’s gaze had pinned his accusingly.
‘Now you are being melodramatic.’ Habib turned
away from his wife, laughing, bringing the
conversation
to an end.
Here were the guests, come to meet and get to know their daughter. If all went well there would be a
follow-up
meeting two weeks later. If it came to some sort of rapport developing between Sikander and Zarri Bano, as well as between their two sets of parents, then Zarri Bano could visit them in Sikander’s home in Karachi.
On seeing Sikander and exchanging a few
pleasantries
, Shahzada was highly pleased, her heart warming immediately to him. Her eyes often strayed to his handsome face. Habib, however, held himself in reserve. In looks and manner Sikander was most appealing – he couldn’t fault him, but he was going to wait and see his daughter’s reaction and then decide.
A knock at the door made them all look up.
Zarri Bano entered. She stood before them: tall, majestic in bearing and stunning in her smart pink outfit. Sikander swiftly took in her appearance, satisfied himself that it was the same woman of the
mela
, then bent forward, seemingly preoccupied in the act of breaking a biscuit on a plate. It was at that moment that Habib glanced across at him, to assess his reaction to his beloved daughter. His mouth tightened as he saw the time Sikander took in looking up.
His father, on the other hand, setting eyes on Zarri Bano for the first time, was totally captivated. A wide grin on his face, he followed her every movement as she walked towards them.
She bade them
Salam
. Sikander heard her and still didn’t bother to look up. The voice was pleasing, he noted. It matched her looks.
Zarri Bano allowed her gaze to pass over
everybody
, catching their eyes individually and smiling.
Coming further into the room, she sat down next to her mother, on a sofa opposite Sikander and his father. Now she willed him to look up, piqued that he had not met her gaze, but had been more concerned with his stupid biscuit than with her!
She didn’t know where the impulse came from but it was totally in character, in her case, to go against
normal
etiquette. She decided to address him personally, so that he would
have
to turn to her and look up. She wasn’t going to be ignored by this arrogant, handsome stranger who had stolen into her peaceful world and had dared to violate her earlier with his gaze – suitor or otherwise!
‘Sikander Sahib,’ she began sweetly. She had learnt his name from Ruby on the stairs. ‘Did you have a pleasant journey? Was our
mela
to your liking? We are a bit gauche in the country compared to the sophisticated world of Karachi, you see.’
He looked up then!
His eyebrows shot up; he was surprised at her audacity in speaking directly to him in the very
presence
of their parents, and without any formal
introduction
as such. Then, for her to remind him of that scene at the
mela
! It was most improper. A disapproving
expression
entered his eyes. She is too unconventional for my liking! darted the thought at the back of his mind.
Now he gave her the benefit of his full gaze. Smoky grey in colour, his eyes seemed to have plunged directly into her open soul again. Yet they remained cool and there was no answering smile on his lips.
‘Yes, Sahiba, we had a lovely journey,’ he said politely. ‘And yes, too, your
mela
was a nice interlude on our way. It was a pleasant surprise – a preview of what to expect here in your home.’
Zarri Bano’s cheeks delicately coloured. Only he noticed it, because he knew the cause of it. He had reminded her of their earlier encounter and was pleased to note that there was a dent in her poise after all.
Zarri Bano turned to Raja Din, dismissing Sikander neatly, and began to talk animatedly about Karachi and the university course she had studied there. Raja Din beamed at her, her incredible beauty swimming before his eyes. He envisaged beautiful grandchildren with the face of this woman. It was those eyes verging between blue and green, sparkling at him: to have a grandson with those eyes! He responded to her questions enthusiastically.
While they talked, Sikander covertly watched and listened, amused that his father was so smitten with her. Hadn’t the same thing happened to him, Sikander, at the
mela
? One glance had him hooked!
After half an hour Zarri Bano left them. That was how far it reached with this first meeting.
Sikander and his father stayed for dinner. This time Ruby joined them, while Zarri Bano remained in her room. ‘Even if I was interested, which I am not,’ she said haughtily, ‘Why should I go back to that room? I have never done so before, so why should I start now? Especially to please a man who has not even bothered to smile at me.’
She couldn’t, however, stop herself from listening to the sounds downstairs and waiting to see when they would leave. At the end, she saw them go while
hovering
behind the curtain. ‘You will return for me, Sikander, you conceited fellow,’ she murmered. ‘It will then give me great pleasure – to turn you down!’ And Zarri Bano whisked away from the window, dismissing him totally from her mind.