In Mourning...

Shahnawaaz Qureshi was in a business meeting when he felt an agonizing pain making incisions through his chest, shooting down his left arm. He clasped his arm tight, but within a matter of seconds, the pain increased in severity. He wanted to scream and attract Adel’s attention, who was talking to a client. But suddenly, everything became blurred. Darkness engulfed his vision and he collapsed.

The phone rang. Jameela answered it. “Salaams Adel, how…”
“Khalajaan, please take a chair and sit down,” Adel requested, interrupting her, “I’ve something important to tell you”. Jameela was puzzled with the strange urgency in Adel’s tone. He was her husband’s close associate in the newly established business and had come home yesterday for lunch with his wife. Everything was fine then. Jameela hoped everything was fine now.

“Khalajaan, Shahnawaaz chacha has had a heart attack,” Adel broke the news in a faltering voice. “Please, Khalajaan,” Adel pleaded when he heard Jameela cry out, “stay calm and don’t worry. I am here with him in City Hospital”. Jameela hung up, slowly drowning in a pool of dreadful thoughts and disturbing questions.

Sameera, who had heard the scream, rushed from the kitchen to her mother’s aid. “Ammi, what happened? Who had called?” Sameera asked, praying in a corner of her heart to let everything be okay. Everything around was finally beginning to settle down. Let it just be this way, please God. Let it just be.

“Abba has had a heart attack,” Jameela murmured under her breath. Jameela felt there was a block somewhere in her windpipe as she uttered these words. Sameera was aghast, her eyes moistening as she gaped at her mother for a moment. Both mother and daughter were caught in an unspoken language that clearly expressed innate fears. “We’ll have to leave now”, Sameera spoke suddenly, composing herself and taking charge of the situation. “Ammi, please, nothing will happen”, she tried consoling her mother, praying that what she said was true – that nothing wrong would happen. She ran to the window to see if she could stop Ali. Sameera could see him walking towards the gate of the compound. She called out to him but in vain. It was quite unlikely to be heard from the 5th floor of a building amidst the bustling noise of the city dwellers.

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Jameela held her sobs when she saw the doctor step out of the operation theatre. She looked at him inquisitively, wanting to inquire about her husband. But her voice seemed to have lost the valor and her mind did not want to miss a moment of whispering the prayers. As the doctor walked towards them, everyone around her seemed to have taken refuge in the comfort of silence.

“Mrs. Qureshi, your husband suffered a severe cardiac arrest”.
Rehem Allah, Have Your Mercy on us. Jameela’s heart skipped a beat.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Qureshi”
My children, Allah, please, let him be okay. Just let him get through this.
“Your husband is no more. I am sorry.”

Sameera let out a shriek with gush of tears. Adel tried controlling his emotions, rubbed his eyes to hold back the tears and ushered a prayer. Jameela stood still. The next minute, she fell on the ground – unconscious.

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A light shone at the end of the dark passage. He could hear a cry. “Abba”, the voice cried in between sobs. Sameera – he could see her crying uncontrollably. From the corner of the living room, he looked around. A lot seemed changed – the sitting area was spaced out and the dining table constricted in the farthest possible corner of the room. Jameela! What had happened to her! She sat inertly against the wall – her eyes were red and puffy, her hair was untidy and her face was expressionless as though she lay dead. He had never seen her so distressed and anguished through the 27 years of their marriage. Jameela has always been, and still is, the most important to him since the first day of their marriage, since his mother’s miserable death – and life.

He saw Jameela’s sister and cousins had gathered around her, crying yet trying to comfort her. Most of the people, dressed in the shades of white, seemed to be in mourning. Some were talking in whispers, perhaps gossiping, with a somber look on their faces. He could hear murmurs across the living room. Someone behind him was talking in a hushed voice about money and the ziarat– the family gathering for lunch and prayers to bless the deceased which is held a day after the burial rites are completed. The manner in which ziarat was performed these days, always made him wonder if families gathered to pray and bless or just for a free round of meal at a family get-together to catch up on the latest gossips.

He turned around and walked past the pillar from where he thought he heard the voices.

He saw his cousin wailing and saying to a relative who was comforting her, “May Allah forgive him for whatever sins he did in his lifetime”. He didn’t quiet know how to react to that hence moved on. His cousins and younger brother were sitting against the pillar, their heads either hanging from their shoulder towards the earth or resting on their palm covering their mouths, seemingly engaged in remorse. He stared at them for a moment, attempting to comprehend their doing, which looked nothing more than a futile activity. But he soon lost interest in them and moved to the other side of the pillar.

“Jameela Khanum is not in the state. What a shock. Allah! It was quite unexpected.”
He recognized the hoarse voice. It was Omar Bhaijan, the eldest brother and a prominent businessman. Standing with him was Huzair, the second brother. Shahnawaaz was the third sibling and Taha and Ameena were the youngest.

“Such is life. He remained stressful, worrying about Sameera’s marriage and his new business. He had a mild attack earlier also,” Huzair testified.
“He was bold. At 50, quite strong-willed to start life afresh - setting up a house and business along with the responsibility of finding a groom for Sameera – all alone,” Omar Bhaijan approved, nodding his head sideways sympathetically. “What will happen of his family, I worry. Bechaare.”
“Bas,” Huzair sighed, “I pray his soul rests in peace and Allah grants saber to his family.”
“Yes. May Allah grant them patience.”

He could see his brothers’ dismay as they had this conversation. He hated that kind of sympathy, more so being felt sorry for. His brothers seemed wedged in their own grief and shock. Who was talking about ziarat? His eyes suddenly caught glimpse of a sudden movement at the other end of the room. Ali rushed to wrap his arms around Sameera and both wept. He watched them, tears in his eyes and a longing in his heart – a longing to hold them in his arms and protect them. He began moving towards them when suddenly he heard a hoarse voice from behind speak in a sigh.

“I will discuss about the ziarat’s costs with Taha. Let’s see what he has to say.”

He turned around and saw his brothers depart.

He moved towards Sameera and Ali. Who would take care of them now? Sameera had come of marriageable age. Ali was in his XIIth standard. He looked at them. He remembered the moment when Sameera was born – she had brought joy in his and Jameela’s married life. With Ali’s birth, their world was complete.

Jameela? Where was she? He realized Jameela was nowhere in the room. His eyes searched for her. He peeked into what was his bedroom during his lifetime. Jameela lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. He moved towards the bedroom to see her, when he heard someone saying something about Akhlaak Caterers ‘ were good and affordable to order the ziarat lunch’. He stopped and turned to see Omar Bhai’s wife, Zainab Bhabijaan talking to Huzair and his wife as she wiped off her tears.

He moved on but he could hear voices… maybe mutton…the maid’s presence…Aamir has come…he got divorced…girl was too demanding…children are not responsible these days…Bless Sameera with proper mind… good groom… no father also now…Jameela cant handle… not in state… poor thing… Shahnawaaz Bhai…a noble man… brave… Bechaare…Akhlaak served dal gosh in Suleiman Bhai’s wife’s ziarat…mutton pieces were good and soft… we can arrange…

He knelt down near the bed and drew his face close to Jameela’s. “Jameela,” he whispered. Images crossed his mind in that single moment of seconds – images of her in her bridal dress, of seeing her for the first time, of their first touch, of making love to her, of her holding little Sameera and Ali, of… He closed his eyes and cried in silence.

It was as though life breathed in her once again. She looked in his direction. Perhaps she sensed him there. Why was she fading out? He could just about see a silhouette. Maybe… yes. Shahnawaaz knew it was time… He was ready. And sure, Jameela would now not be lifeless.

Time to walk to the other end of the passage. He murmured a short prayer and begged Allah to let everything be okay this time.

The light at the end of the passage dimmed.