Pir-E-Kamil: The Perfect Mentor

  'Okay, shut up! Stop arguing senselessly.'

  'Talking about these things at this point is to dig up old issues.' Hasan was serious. 'Suppose the police do get to us and want to know Imama's whereabouts, what will we say? I don't think they'll buy your story about not knowing anything—what do you plan to do then?'

  'Nothing—I'll tell them just what I told you,' Salar's raised his voice.

  'Yes, and that's where the problem will begin—with this statement of yours:

  "I don't know anything about Imama."' Hasan repeated Salar's words. 'You should know very clearly that they will get to her by any means.'

  'That's a later scenario. I don't worry myself to death over hypotheses and possibilities. We'll cross the bridge when we come to it,' Salar casually dismissed Hasan's fears. 'The only help I need from you now is to keep this entire affair a secret and keep yourself out of the clutches of the police.'

  'I'd do that even without your saying so. If I were to get caught, I'll be in no position to face Waseem. You've landed me in a really embarrassing spot this time.'

  I'm going to hang you because you're heading for another fit of dire warnings and regrets—you're acting like my father!'

  Salar abruptly ended the call. His brow was furrowed as the events of the past night crowded his mind.

  -------------------------

  'I could never have believed he'd sink to these depths. Red light area—God Almighty! No one from our past seven generations would have gone there and this boy—what did I not do for him? Have I deprived him in any way? And yet he tries to kill himself, and now this...Oh God, how far will he go?'

  Sikandar Usman sat holding his head in his hands.

  'I am really angry about the servants—they should not have let that girl enter the house. They should keep an eye on what goes on in our absence,' said Tayyaba, veering away from the topic.

  There's a world of difference between keeping an eye on the house and keeping an eye on the master of the house,' Sikandar retorted bitterly. 'In this case, it was not the house but the master who had to be watched.

  Moreover, no one saw the girl enter the house—he said he brought her over the same day and then dropped her back. The chowkidar denies seeing any girl come in with him, but they all agreed that he drove out with a girl.'

  That means that he made sure she was well-hidden.'

  'He's got the devil in him...you know that. Just pray that this matter ends here, that Hashim Mubeen finds his daughter and we're out of this mess—

  then we'll think about what to do with him. God knows where we went wrong that are being punished so...I really don't know what to do.'

  The next morning, he woke up and got ready for college as usual. When he came down for breakfast, he was surprised to see Sikandar Usman at the table. Normally, he did not have his breakfast at this time as he went to the office later. Salar was somewhat taken aback to find him there, but his drawn face and reddened eyes showed that he had not slept well.

  Seeing Salar ready to go out early in the morning, he asked rather sharply,

  'Where are you going?'

  'College.'

  'Are you out of your mind? After hanging this albatross round our necks,

  you're going off to college? Look here, you're not going anywhere till this matter's settled. Don't you realize the danger you're in?'

  'What danger?' Salar's mind was alerted.

  'I don't want you to suffer at Hashim Mubeen's hands, so it's best for you to stay put at home.' Sikandar spoke curtly. 'Once his daughter's found, you can resume your classes.'

  'If his daughter goes missing for a year, does that mean that I stay home?

  Didn't you tell him about my statement?' Salar spoke sharply to his father.

  'I did and Saneeya also verified your statement.' His voice was sad and bitter when he mentioned Saneeya's name. 'But Hashim Mubeen insists that you've abducted his daughter.'

  'So what should I do? Too bad if he won't believe me—what difference does it make?' Salar reached for the food on the table.

  'It may not make a difference to you—it does to me. You don't know Hashim Mubeen—how influential he is and to what extents he can go, but I

  know. And I don't want you getting hurt so just stay home for the time being.'

  Sikandar Usman spoke more gently this time. Perhaps he had realized that his sternness would have no effect on Salar who wouldn't listen to him.

  'But Papa, this will affect my studies. Sorry, I can't stay home.' Sikandar's leniency had no impact on Salar.

  'I'm not concerned with the effect on your studies—I just want you to be home, do you understand?' Sikandar suddenly snapped at him.

  'At least, let me go today; I have some urgent work to wind up.' Salar was puzzled at his father's temper.

  'You can instruct the driver, he'll do the work for you. Or call up one of your friends to do so,' he spoke firmly.

  'But papa, you can't...'

  Sikandar Usman walked out without listening to Salar, who grumbled loudly and shut up in frustration. He knew his father would curtail his movement,

  but he didn't expect to be locked up like this. He had thought that bringing Saneeya into the picture would have convinced his own family as well as Hashim Mubeen, and would take this onus off him. He was amazed when his father revealed that Hashim Mubeen still did not accept his statement.

  As he finished his breakfast, Salar sat there for a while pondering over these developments. Not going to college meant being cooped up at home,

  and he didn't want that. The thought put him in a foul mood. He pushed away the food and went to his room.

  -------------------------

  'Sikandar Sahib, I would like to speak to you.' He was in the lounge, reading the newspaper when the maid approached him, hesitantly. 'Yes, what is it? Do you need money?' he replied while reading. He was generous with his servants.

  'No sir, it's not that. There's something else I need to tell you.' 'Then say so...' he was still absorbed in the newspaper. Nasira was worried. After much consideration, she had decided to tell Sikandar Usman about Salar and Imama, because the matter was getting very complicated. She did not want that, sooner or later, her role as a go-between should be discovered and that she and her family be hauled up before the police for being accomplices. She discussed the situation with her husband and decided to confess all to Sikandar Usman—she needed the backing of at least one of the two families involved in this.

  'Why don't you speak?' Sikandar asked her, eyes fixed on the paper.

  After a long pause, she said, 'Sir, I want to tell you about Salar Saab.'

  'About Salar? What do you want to say about him?' Sikandar put down the paper on the table and looked at her. He was serious now.

  'I have to tell you some things about Salar Saab and Imama Bibi.'

  Sikandar's heart took a somersault. 'What about them?'

  'Many days ago, Salar Saab gave me his mobile phone and told me to send it to Imama Bibi through my daughter.' Sikandar Usman was rooted to the spot: so Hashim Mubeen's persistence and his worst suspicions were well-founded.

  'Then?' It seemed to him as if his own voice came from some distant cavern.

  'I refused, saying I couldn't do this, but he threatened me. He said he'd have me thrown out, so I was forced to agree and get the mobile to Imama Bibi.'

  To protect herself, Nasira added lies to her statement. 'Then some days later, he gave me some papers to be given to Imama Bibi and brought back to him at once, so I gave them to my daughter and did as he had instructed. I asked him what those papers were but he didn't tell me. I

  suspected it was a nikahnama because there were five people present in his room at that time and one of them was a moulvi.'

  Sikandar Usman broke out into a cold sweat as she divulged these details.

  'How long ago did this happen?' he inquired.

  'A few days before Imama Bibi went away.'

  'Why didn't you tell us all this earl
ier?' he said sternly.

  'Sir, I was very frightened...Salar Saab had threatened me that if I told you or anyone else, he would have me thrown out,' she replied

  'Who were those people in the room? Do you know any one of them? Can you recognize them?' Sikandar Usman was very agitated.

  'Only one, sir...Hasan Saab,' she named one of Salar's friends. 'I don't know who the others were. I was very worried, sir. I wanted to tell you, but I

  was afraid of what you'd think of me...but I couldn't keep this to myself any more.'

  'Who else knows of this besides you?' he asked.

  'Only myself, my husband and my daughter, sir,' she said quickly.

  'Do any of the other servants know anything?'

  'May Allah forgive me, sir! Why would I let anyone else know? I haven't told a soul.'

  'I will deal later with whatever you have done, but get this straight—you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Keep your mouth shut for all times otherwise not only will you be thrown out, but I'll tell Hashim Mubeen and the police that you were behind all this business—you led them astray, you carried messages back and forth. Then think of what the police can do to you and your family—you all will spend your entire lives in jail.' Sikandar threatened her in a fit of rage.

  'No sir, never...cut out my tongue if I ever breathe a word about this again.' Nasira was petrified.

  'That's enough—you can go now. I'll talk to you later.' Sikandar curtly dismissed her.

  He began pacing up and down in a state of anxiety. The heavens had indeed fallen on him: for the first time he was aware that he and his family had been fooled by Salar. He had been brazenly lying to them time and again with absolute cussedness and deceit; he had been cheating them with impunity and so smoothly that they never suspected him. Had it not been for the maid, they would have taken his word for it and been content that he had nothing to do with Imama and her disappearance. Salar had resumed his classes at college after a few days of incarceration at home. His father knew that a watch was being kept on Salar and also what it would mean when Hashim Mubeen came to know the details—he knew this too well. The relief he had earlier felt had evaporated: he had a good idea of the nature of those documents, of the presence of five people in Salar's room, and the nature of the relationship between Salar and Imama. At this point he wanted to strangle him or shoot him but he knew he could not do any such thing because among his children he loved Salar the most. Having been so deceived by him, Sikandar thought to himself that he would never trust Salar, and would keep him in the dark about his plans, just as Salar had been doing with them.

  -------------------------

  'How did he get to know Imama?' Sikandar Usman, pacing restlessly in his room, turned to Tayyaba.

  'How should I know? He's not a child to be led around,' she reacted with some annoyance.

  'I had warned you more than once, to keep an eye on him... but of course,

  if you can spare the time from your own activities...'

  'It's not my responsibility alone to watch over him, Tayyaba burst out. 'You should also curtail your activities-why blame me for everything?'

  'I'm not blaming you, and anyway, end this argument. Do you have any idea what this marriage with Imama means? Hashim Mubeen is going to play hell when he gets wind of this.'

  'I am still shocked... what led Salar to do such a thing-he gave no thought to our position in society.

  Sikandar was sitting with his wife worrying about their problems with Salar.

  'Hardly are we over with one problem, and he throws up another one at us.

  This business must have started last year when she saved him after that suicide attempt. It was our stupidity not to have paid attention; otherwise this could have been nipped in the bud.'

  'And I'm sure this girl has been involved in this affair of her own will it's not so simple to go marry someone by force. Look at the way Hashim Mubeen is accusing Salar for all that's happened-as though his daughter's totally innocent!' Tayyaba was all worked up again.

  'Whatever it is, it's our son's fault-he'd not be in this mess if it weren't for his deeds,' said Sikandar flatly. 'Now you've got to find a way out of this.'

  'It's not as bad as you think,' said Tayyaba.' The police or Hashim Mubeen have no evidence as yet to frame Salar-and without evidence, they can't do anything.'

  'Have you thought about what happens when they get the evidence? What then?' Sikandar Usman retorted.

  'You are talking of possibilities-"what ifs"—but it has not happened and maybe, it won't either.'

  Sikandar pondered over this.

  'If he has deceived us to this extent then perhaps another aspect of his deceit could be his not being in touch with the girl. Perhaps, he is in touch with her...'

  'Perhaps-then what do we do?'

  'If I speak to him, it will be like hitting my head against a wall-he'll lie to me again, He's an expert liar,' Sikandar's voice was filled with loathing. 'There are a few more months to go, to complete his BBA, and then I'll send him abroad. At least that will take care of our fears of what Hashim Mubeen can do to him,' Sikandar pulled on his cigarette.

  'But you've forgetting something, Sikandar,' said Tayyaba seriously, after a short silence.

  'What's that?' Sikandar sat up.

  'Salar's secret marriage with Imama: you have to do whatever needs to be done about it.'

  'What else can one do except file for divorce?' Sikandar spoke with finality.

  'When he's not ready to accept the marriage, will he be ready to divorce her?'

  'When I show him the proof, he has no choice but to accept it.'

  'And what if he accepts that he married her but refuses to divorce her?'

  'We will have to find a way out—whether he divorces her of his own will or we force him to do so—I will put an end to this matter. Marriages like this are nothing but a permanent problem. This situation has to be ended once and for all-if not, I have decided to disinherit him completely.'

  -------------------------

  Hasan was at one of the Islamabad hotels when his father called him, asking him to get home immediately. His tone was unusual, but Hasan did not pay heed. However, when he reached home shortly afterwards, he was shocked to see Sikandar Usman's car on the porch. He could recognize all of Salar's cars by their make and registration numbers.

  'Sikandar Uncle has no proof of my involvement in this business, so I

  needn't worry. He must have come because I'm Salar's friend and I could answer some of his questions. I'll do that very calmly and refute any allegations-my anxiety may make me suspect in my father's eyes so I

  must not reveal anything when I meet Sikandar Uncle.

  Hasan had it all thought out and planned. He walked into the study,

  confident and composed. His father, Qasim Faruqi and Sikandar were having coffee. Hasan saw that their faces reflected unusual concern and seriousness.

  'How are you, Uncle Sikandar? You've came to our place after a long time.'

  Sikandar and Qasim maintained their silence-there was no response to Hasan's cheery greeting, but he carried on casually. Sikandar Usman looked him up and down.

  'Sit down,' Qasim said tersely. 'Sikandar has some questions for you: you must answer correctly. If you lie then Sikandar has my permission to take you to the police. As far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell-I'm not going to do anything to save you.' Qasim Faruqui had come to the point immediately.

  'What are you talking about, Papa? I don't get it.' Hasan tried to act surprised, but his heart was racing. The situation was not as straightforward as he imagined.

  'Don't try to be overly smart,' his father rebuked him,' Sikandar, ask him whatever you want to—I'll see how he dares to lie.'

  'Did you attend Salar's marriage with Imama?'

  'Uncle—what marriage? Whose marriage?' Hasan behaved as if he was surprised.

  'The same wedding that took place in my house, in my absence, for which papers were sent to I
mama.'

  'Uncle, please! You are accusing me. I do visit your house but I don't know anything about Salar's wedding. As far as I know, he has not done any such thing. I don't even know the girl you're naming....possibly Salar is involved with some girl, but I don't know about it—he doesn't tell me everything.'

  Sikandar Usman and Qasim Faruqi heard him in silence. When he stopped speaking Sikandar Usman picked up an envelope lying on the table before him and drew out some papers. Hasan's face went white-it was Imama and Salar's nikahnama, the marriage document.

  'Look at this carefully—these are your signatures, aren't they?' Sikandar asked coldly. Had Hasan not been questioned before his father, he would have flatly denied it, but how he was trapped.

  'It is my signature, but I did not sign this,' Hasan stuttered.

  'Then who did this—Salar, or some spirit on your behalf?' Qasim asked, his tone dripping sarcasm.

  Hasan was speechless; he nervously looked at his inquisitors. He had never suspected, for even a moment, that Sikandar Usman would thus place the nikah papers before him. He didn't even know where he got those papers-from Salar or...all his cleverness and cunning had got him nowhere.

  'So you'll not admit that Salar and Imama's nikah took place in your presence?' Qasim Faruqui interrogated Hasan.

  'Papa, I had no hand in this; it was all Salar's obstinacy. He forced me.'

  Hasan suddenly decided to confess. There was no point in hiding anything and lying would only weaken his position.

  'I tried to talk him out of this but...' Qasim Faruqi cut him short. 'This is no time to explain or justify—that's not what you've been called for. Just tell me where Salar has kept the girl.'

  'Papa, I know nothing about that,' Hasan said at once.

  'You are lying again.'

  'I swear, Papa, I really do not know anything. He dropped her off in Lahore.'

  'I don't believe this pack of lies—just tell me the truth.' His father spoke sharply.